Habakkuk 1:1-4; 2:1-4 (semicontinuous)
Luke 19:1-10 (continuous)
Revised Common Lectionary
21st Sunday after Pentecost
November 2, 2025
Turning our heads
In “Last Scraps of Color in Missouri,” poet Karen Craigo writes about her desire for a flash of color amid a cold, wet landscape in late fall. After gazing at a sea of bare trees, she found that if she shifted her gaze from the tops of the forest towards the ground, there were smaller trees with golden leaves nearly glowing. “Some blessings find us when we move to them — they’re waiting only to be seen,” she reflects. In other words, a lot can change when we shift our perspective, sometimes only by a couple degrees.
Anger as an act of faith
Rachel Wrenn notes in her Working Preacher commentary on Habakkuk 1:1-4, 2:1-4 that Habakkuk never addresses the listener — the book is a conversation between God and a prophet. And an angry prophet, at that. His cry is raw: “O Lord, how long shall I cry for help, / and you will not listen?” Violence surrounds the prophet, and God seems unaware or indifferent. Perhaps this thought resonates.
What’s remarkable in Habakkuk is not the prophet’s anger, but God’s response. There is no rebuke. No shame. Only generosity. God listens and offers a vision to the prophet (which readers do not see), then tells the prophet – and us – to wait.
Who stands by you?
When I read the divine invitation to hope in Habakkuk, my mind’s eye goes back to the prophet on the rampart, a solitary shadow on a barren landscape (Habakkuk 2:1). This is our work — to watch for God’s action, to trust in God’s goodness. But as I dwell on the passage this week, I find that this image is incomplete, for Habakkuk is alone on the bulwark.
Who taught you to wait for the Lord?
Who taught you to wait for the Lord? A grandfather setting up church chairs? A felt-board-loving Sunday School teacher? A high school friend who invited you to youth group? A stranger who stopped when you were stranded?
This year, the 21st Sunday after Pentecost falls right after All Saints’ Day, where Christians remember all those, known and unknown, who have handed down faith. All those who have loved the Lord and worked to love their neighbor.
The horizon may look barren, but when we turn our heads, who stands beside us? Who braces us from behind? Who lays a kind hand on our shoulders?
In my mind, part of the miracle of Scripture is that it has a marvelous way of shifting our perceptions — of turning our heads from the barren branches touching the sky to the colorful forest floor. And the longer I walk on my journey of faith, the more I realize that Scripture always seems to turn my head towards connection: towards my neighbor, a stranger, my enemy. After all, God’s work is reconciliation, and reconciliation is never solitary.
Who are you overlooking?
Zacchaeus, the villain turned loving neighbor in Luke 19: 1-10, is one of the better-known Bible stories, but I have always heard the ending in the same way: the short tax collector meets Jesus and is so transformed that he promises to give away half of his possessions.
However, Joel B. Green suggests a different possible interpretation in his commentary on Luke. Green notes that verb tenses in Luke 19:8 are present tense. Greek tenses are flexible so the typical future-tense translation (“I will give” and “I will pay back”) is not incorrect, but an alternative version is also possible. What if Zacchaeus is not promising what he will do but sharing what he already does: “I give to the poor; I pay back when I fall short.”
Maybe Jesus isn’t cleansing Zacchaeus of greed but his neighbors of judgment.
If so, Zacchaeus isn’t being transformed — the crowd is. Jesus isn’t cleansing Zacchaeus of greed but his neighbors of judgment. “You have it all wrong,” Jesus says. “Look at it this way.” Even the tax collector belongs. Without him, the community is incomplete.
There is so much to be angry about in the world right now. Enough to have you yelling at God. The horizon, from which the fulfillment of God’s perfect vision will come, seems to be moving further away rather than closer. But Habakkuk and Zacchaeus together remind us: God can handle our anger, and we can be transformed in our communal waiting. Sometimes, all we need to do is shift our perspective.
Questions for reflection on Habakkuk 1:1-4; 2:1-4 and Luke 19:1-10
- What does it look like to wait as a community? Is it passive? Active? Quiet? Loud?
- What does faithful anger look like in your context? How can it be directed toward hope rather than despair?
- In what ways might your congregation need transformation – like the crowd in Zaccheaus’ story – in order to make room?
- Who surrounds you as you wait for the Lord? Who is missing? How can you reach them?
View the corresponding Order of Worship for the Twenty-first Sunday after Pentecost.
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