Oct 16, 2022

Texts cited:  Jeremiah 31:27-34 and Luke 18:1-8

There is a story that comes down to us from the Desert Fathers about a hermit who was steadfast in his life of seclusion and prayer for thirty years. From the day he entered his cave in the desert he spent three decades never wavering in his faithfulness to constant prayer, never eating more than what the wilderness provided him, never sneaking off into the city for a respite from his solitude. “One day he said to himself, ‘I have now spent so many years here and I have had not a vision [or performed a single miracle]’. And he was tempted to give up on his vocation as a hermit and go back into the world. Then he was told, ‘What miracle do you want to perform that would be more extraordinary than the patience and courage God has given you and which allowed you to persevere for so long?’”^[i]

We’re not a culture that highly values patience, or encourages people to persevere without hope of reward or the perception of success. It’s probably a cliché by now to say that as life has sped up to the pace set by instant messaging and Snap Chat, our patience and endurance muscles have become atrophied. I was trying to reframe that into a more positive perspective, so I looked up the etymology of one of my favorite underused, old-fashioned words: steadfast. And boy was I in luck. While many priests are comfortable digging into Greek and Hebrew word studies, “steadfast” is a word that comes to us from Old English, and Old English is definitely in my wheelhouse.

So it turns out that in Old English “stead” or stede means place. And the “fast” in steadfast doesn’t have to do with speed or quickness, nor is it the kind of “fast” that means going without food. It means firmly fixed or even rooted. So to be steadfast, or stedefaest as our ancestors would have said it, means to be rooted in place, connected in a deep way to a particular location or people or community. Close synonyms might be stability or steadiness, but with more of an emotional charge than those words possess.

I suppose “steadfastness” could be seen as being stubborn or unyielding, but in the Bible the use of the word is universally positive. It is associated with faithfulness, loyalty, and endurance, with unfailing kindness, hope, faith, or even love. Very often it is seen as an attribute of God; you might be familiar with verses like “The steadfast love of the Lord never ceases” and “The steadfast love of the Lord endures forever.” This is a primary claim our scriptures make about the nature of God.

Today’s readings certainly highlight God’s steadfastness. In our passage from Jeremiah, God promises to make a new and lasting covenant with the people of Israel and the people of Judah. Even after the people have so disappointed God, breaking the covenant made with them and abandoning their promise of fidelity, God still initiates a renewed relationship: “I will put my law within them, and I will write it on their hearts; and I will be their God, and they shall be my people.” This tells us everything we need to know about the God we worship and what it means to be a part of God’s beloved community—we are eternally wrapped in a covenant with the One who embodies faithful love and steadfastness.

It makes sense then, that the unjust judge in the Gospel parable is not meant as a stand-in for God. Parables are not allegories, anyway; we don’t have to find an exact parallel for each character. The judge is simply a judge, and a bad one at that. He is a stock character in ancient literature, in fact; there are a lot of unjust judges and kings and landowners in old stories, as there must have been in life—people in power who were utterly without compassion for those who were powerless. This judge is one of those. In fact, his portrayal is so exaggerated that it’s likely that Jesus is having a little fun with his audience here. Apparently, he knows the pleasure we get from booing and hissing when the villain takes the stage!

The widow is also something of a stock character, again because she represents an all-too common reality. Widows and orphans were among the most vulnerable and exploited members of society in the ancient world. Widows easily fell through the cracks: at best they had to rely on the kindness of male relatives and become dependents without any rights or property of their own; at worst they ended up on the streets, begging for scraps just to survive.

The only things we really know about the widow in this story is that she has been wronged and that she is going to insist that she receive justice, if it is the last thing she does. She is a master of self-advocacy and persistence, finally wearing down the unjust judge with her steadfast pursuit of justice. This is a classic illustration of the weak overcoming the strong, the powerless getting the best of the powerful through simple, unstoppable endurance. The persistent widow always reminds me of Mary’s words in the Magnificat, when she proclaimed that God was scattering the proud in their conceit and lifting up the lowly.

God may not be a character in this parable, but God would clearly take the widow’s side in her relentless desire for justice. After all, didn’t God give up all claims to power when he became incarnate in the person of Jesus, a peasant without wealth or position whose power lay in his faithfulness and compassion?

I wonder what it is that causes some people to be so persistent in their pursuit of justice, not to mention in their lives of prayer (which is after all what this parable is really all about), while others of us find it so hard to persevere. Perhaps remaining focused on the outcome we desire is part of the equation. Did that hermit who was so faithful for 30 years perhaps forget what he was seeking in the first place? Did he really go into the desert to perform miracles and see spectacular visions, or did he do it so that he could draw closer to God with fewer distractions to pull him away from a life of prayer?

It can be helpful from time to time to ask ourselves what we are looking for in our own prayer life and in our community. It is normal and human to feel disappointed at moments, to feel as if God or our faith community is not meeting our needs. And yet, if what we are truly looking for is a life that puts God at the center, that values relationship and connection over status and achievement, then there is really no power on earth that can prevent us from getting what we seek.

We sometimes talk about St. Martin’s as a church that is rooted in faith, growing in hope, and reaching out in love. I see the power of steadfastness in that commitment to being rooted in faith. The more firmly rooted a tree is, the more hope it has of withstanding the stresses of stormy weather and even drought. Steadfastness doesn’t prevent us from adapting to changing circumstances; rather, it makes us more capable of bending and flexing without breaking.

The world right now seems full of stressful changes and storms of division and conflict. In the spirit of the persistent widow and the well-rooted mother trees hidden deep in our ancient forests, I urge you to hold fast, beloveds. Do not lose heart. Focus on the timeless virtues of loyalty and faithfulness. Be steadfast in your pursuit of justice, even as you are steadfast in your relationships with God and one another. The reward may not look like a miracle, and it may not come in your lifetime, but it will be another step toward the realization of the Beloved Community. Amen.

[i] A Desert Father
cited by Marcel Driot, from The Desert, An Anthology for Lent, John Moses. Cited in www.edgeofenclosure.com