The gift of role models…

Tags

anxiety, gifts, glorify, God, non-anxious, role model, stress, tension

This Saturday our parish has its Annual Fall Fair – a festive gathering with vendors, food, children’s activities, raffles, and other fall merriment.  We are blessed with an 11-acre property, so the event is a wonderful way for us to welcome people to our grounds and remind the community that they are welcome here.  Having done this event for so many years, most of our parishioners know what needs to be done – signs, publicity, donors, coordinating vendors, setting up the property, making baskets, bringing in donations.  The list goes on.  But even though we all know what needs to be done, there is usually a bit of anxiety and stress to make sure the event is a success, especially in the week leading up to the event.  As someone who can become easily stressed, I totally understand the reaction.  Though I am not involved in the execution of the event, I always empathize with our parishioners as the tension builds in this final week.

But this year, something has shifted.  I do not know if it is due to their personalities or if they are being intentional in their behavior, but our co-chairs for this event are being the epitome of a non-anxious presence in the community.  Don’t get me wrong, they have had plenty of reasons to become anxious: several key volunteers are unavailable this year, leading to some out-sourcing; the vendors are coming in a little more slowly; and we are trying some very different, new things this year.  But the co-chairs seem to be rolling with the punches, creating solutions, and keeping their cool.  And although the church is abuzz with activity, I sense that the non-anxious presence of the co-chairs is rubbing off on others.  People are doing their assigned tasks, and there seems to be much less tension going into the event.

It is in moments like these when I am grateful to be in a community with a wide variety of gifts.  Being a non-anxious presence is one of my primary goals in my role as pastor and priest in this community.  I feel like that action alone reduces challenges significantly and enables the body to live out its ministry in a healthy and God glorifying way.  But being non-anxious takes work and intentionality, and some days I exude that calm better than others.  This week, I am grateful for parishioners who are serving as healthy role models, and who invite me to live into my call in a more healthy way.

Courtesy of http://collegesoup.org/2011/03/31/reducing-college-test-anxiety/

Sermon – Matthew 20.1-16, P20, YA, September 21, 2014

Tags

equality, fair, generous, God, good works, gracious, gratitude, Jesus, judgment, justice, laborer, landowner, love, Sermon, unfair

Having worked in the non-profit sector for almost seven years before going off to seminary, I learned that even when people are trying to be at their best, sometimes ugliness slips in and makes the waters murky.  At Habitat for Humanity, as part of the homeowner application process, each applicant received a home visit before being selected to be in the program.  The home visit enabled us to get to know the homeowners better, to ask clarifying questions, and to get a real sense of how desperate their current housing situation was.  Since volunteers usually did these visits, we had to do a great deal of training – not just on the logistics of a visit, but really on how to be thoughtful visitors.  For example, many of our volunteers would come back to our staff and complain about the applicants.  “They would be a lot better off if they hadn’t bought that big TV and weren’t paying for cable,” some would argue.  Or another complaint often was, “If they weren’t giving so much of their income to church, they might be able to make ends meet.”

Both arguments were true – but they did not capture the full truth.  Yes, that big TV purchase and that cable bill might seem like an extravagance to one of our volunteers.  But if you can never afford going to the movies, eating dinner out, or going to a play or concert, the TV is the only thing that makes you feel connected to the world, offers release from stress, and gives some modicum of entertainment to your children.  Likewise, yes, that weekly donation to their church probably would be better used to pay down credit card debt.  But their relationship with God is probably the only thing that has helped them survive this long.  That contribution gives them a sense of grounding, of priorities, and a feeling like they too are contributing something to the world.  Even though the Habitat volunteers were generously giving of their time, and were generally kind-hearted people, sometimes their judgments got in the way of their good works.

The same can be true about our relationship with God.  We often give lip service to how much we appreciate that our God is a generous, gracious God who is full of love and compassion.  We have experienced that abundance many times in our lives and we strive to incorporate a sense of gratitude in our lives.  But our sense of gratitude often battles with our sense of justice – in a way that brings out the ugliest versions of ourselves.  Jesus knew this reality all too well.  Jesus captures that tension in the parable he tells today.  The parable is familiar.  A landowner goes out to the market five times in one day, hiring additional laborers each time.  The first group, hired at 6:00 a.m. is promised the usual daily wage.  Each subsequent group is promised “whatever is right” as a wage.  But when the time comes to pay the laborers, the landowner pays the group who only worked one hour a full day’s wage.  The group who started twelve hours earlier sees the landowner’s generosity and assumes they may be getting more than the landowner promised.  But when their turn comes, they only get the usual daily wage.  The workers do not like this, and immediately hoist up the “that’s not fair” flag.

The truth is that the twelve-hour workers are right.  The landowner is not fair.  I imagine any of us who saw a glimpse of the pay distribution at our jobs would be pretty miffed if the newest employees were making as much as the employees who had been there many years longer.  Many people have been advocating lately for legislation that helps to equalize pay for women.  And many activists have challenged the ways in which our justice system has a bias towards the wealthy.  We are a people who are passionate about fairness and justice.  Even when someone pushes back with the classic line, “well, life’s not fair,” we still will fight for fairness as much as we can.

The problem in our gospel lesson is that the kingdom of God does not value fairness over all other ethics.  The kingdom of God holds other values before fairness:  the value of love, the value of graciousness, the value of care.  Most of us can admit that when we hear of the landowner’s generous giving to the last round of workers, our immediate thought is how lovely the landowner’s generosity is.  We all love generosity until we see that some are getting more generosity than we are.  Then something awful happens.  The “evil eye” creeps in and starts to distort our view.  This is the very accusation the landowner makes.  The landowner’s response is simple, “Are you envious because I am generous?”  Other translations translate the phrase for “being envious” as “having an evil eye.”  In other words, insidious jealousy, envy, and greed immediately prevent any sense of celebration and goodwill among the workers.  Instead of a pat on the shoulder, or an acknowledgment of the incredible blessing the late workers receive, the early workers start grumbling about fairness and equality.  They forget that they got what they agreed to:  a day’s wage for a day’s work.

What the parable is trying to communicate, albeit a bit harshly, is that the fact that God is so generous is a benefit to all of us at some point in our lives.  For those of us who have ever been at the bottom, we know how blessed we can feel when God reaches out a generous hand to us.  But I think what makes today’s lesson so difficult for many of us is that although we know that God’s preference for generosity can help us when we are down, we do not ever want to actually be down.  We want to be earning our keep, striving for success, and achieving our way to the top.  We do not like the feeling of not being able to achieve our way through life.

I read an article this past summer about a woman who had been firmly ensconced in her middle-class life, making a reasonable amount of money.  She and her husband were pregnant with twins when two things happened in rapid succession.  First, they bought a house at the top of the housing bubble, right before the bubble popped, making their home depreciate in value by about $90,000.  Then, her husband lost his job.  The twins were born premature, necessitating very expensive formula.  The article goes on to explain how this middle-class, successful couple went from comfortable living to trying to make ends meet with assistance from Medicaid, food stamps, and the WIC program.  She describes the judgmental comments and gestures people made, from blaming her for her problems, to criticizing the food she was buying for her family.  She writes, “What I learned…will never leave me.  We didn’t deserve to be poor, any more than we deserved to be rich.  Poverty is a circumstance, not a value judgment.  I still have to remind myself sometimes that I was my harshest critic.  That the judgment of the disadvantaged comes not just from conservative politicians and Internet trolls.  It came from me, even as I was living it.”[i]

The invitation for the laborers in the field, and the invitation for with each of us is to remember the words from that offertory prayer, “All things come of thee, O Lord…”[ii]  When our hearts are set on gratitude for all that we have, instead of wrapped up in our manmade notions of entitlement, then celebrating with the one-hour workers is a lot easier.  Because we know, like that middle-class woman, that we could at any moment be one of those waiting all day for an hour’s worth of work.  As one scholar says, “This parable reminds us that God is a lousy bookkeeper and invites us to transform our pride, envy, and hardness into joy by admiring and celebrating God’s astounding generosity.  The parable calls us to look at ourselves honestly and lovingly, as God looks at us.  [The parable] invites us to turn from holding grudges because things did not go our way, to let go of the stuff of our lives that keeps us from being joy-filled and grateful people.”[iii]  When we accept that invitation, and turn ourselves toward gratitude, we catch a glimpse of the joyous party that is waiting with the landowner in the kingdom of heaven.  Amen.

[i] Darlena Cunha, “This is what happened when I drove my Mercedes to pick up food stamps,” Washington Post, July 8, 2014 found at http://www.washingtonpost.com/posteverything/wp/2014/07/08/this-is-what-happened-when-i-drove-my-mercedes-to-pick-up-food-stamps/.

[ii] 1 Chronicles 29.14.

[iii] Charlotte Dudley Cleghorn, “Pastoral Perspective,” Feasting on the Word, Year A, Vol. 4 (Louisville: Westminster John Knox Press, 2011), 96.

Redefining home…

Tags

church, comfort, community, construction, home, Jesus, joy, outside, renovation, welcome, world

Courtesy of Dan McGee, St. Margaret’s Parishioner

This past Sunday we rededicated our Undercroft.  The Undercroft has been under construction since November 2013, and includes two Sunday School Rooms, our Parish Hall, two bathrooms, and the kitchen.  All rooms were completely renovated with the exception of the kitchen, which only received new flooring.  During construction, our Coffee Hours were moved to the Narthex; a tight space, but one that sufficed – and certainly brought us closer, literally and figuratively.  Many of our normal fellowship activities were either moved off campus or were cancelled altogether.  Our support groups had to move to our Library, which meant meetings on those nights also had to go off campus.

As I looked around the room during our rededication celebration, two things occurred to me.  One, I had really missed being in that space.  Many warm memories have been formed in that space, which all came flooding back.  But mostly, I missed the sound – the noise of people talking, laughing, sharing stories, and lingering a little longer over a meal.  Though we had shared in communion at the altar upstairs, the communion meal was continuing downstairs:  and it was a raucous meal – one I am sure Jesus would have approved.

Two, I found myself a little wary by the sense of deep comfort that was overwhelming me.  One of the nice things about being forced off campus was that we finally did what we had been hesitant to do – take the church out into the world.  Our committees were meeting at local dining establishments, our coffee hours spilled out into the lawn over the summer, and we got to know each other’s homes more intimately.  My fear is that in the comfort of being back “home” we will stop venturing out into the world, sharing our presence and ministry with others.

My hope is that we can do two things with our space.  First, my hope is that we can share that feeling of home with others by inviting more outside groups to utilize our space.  I would love for us to share our joy and warmth with others, so that this can become their home too.  Two, my hope is that we can keep taking church to the streets and to one another.  There is a way in which having meetings here month after month starts to stifle joy and creativity.  My hope is that our committees will agree to keep going off campus at least a few times a year to mix it up; but more importantly, to show the community that there is life and activity at St. Margaret’s.  And they are most welcome to join us!

Homily – 1 Peter 2.19-23, Edward Bouverie Pusey, September 18, 2014

Tags

call, change, controversy, Edward Bouverie Pusey, God, homily, Oxford Movement, path, persecution

Today we honor Edward Bouverie Pusey.  Pusey was the leader of the Oxford Movement – a movement that sought to revive High Church teachings and practices in the Anglican Communion.  Born in 1800, Pusey spent his scholarly life in Oxford, England.  In 1833 he teamed up with others to produce tracts for the Oxford Movement.  But his most influential work was his preaching – which was both catholic in content and evangelical in his zeal for souls, but many of his contemporaries felt that he was dangerously innovative.  In fact, Pusey was once suspended from preaching for two years for preaching about the doctrine of the Real Presence of Christ in the Eucharist.  He was also responsible for helping revive private confession in the Anglican Communion.  He established churches for the poor and helped establish sisterhoods, including the first Anglican sisterhood since the Reformation.

A lot of Pusey’s work seems non-controversial to us now.  We are used to talking of Christ’s “Real Presence” in communion.  We are familiar with private confession and Anglican sisterhoods.  But Pusey was controversial in his day and faced much persecution.  I imagine he may have read our Epistle lesson several times in those days: “ … if you endure when you do right and suffer for it, you have God’s approval. For to this you have been called, because Christ also suffered for you, leaving you an example, so that you should follow in his steps.”  Our lesson reminds us that what is earthly suffering now can lead to powerful change later.  Pusey’s work and witness changed the entire Anglican experience and identity.  But he saw little of that fruition.

What Pusey and First Peter tell us today is that the work God has given us to do will not always be easy, but when we authentically live into our call, the reward goes beyond just us.  We bless people all the time through our call.  Living into our call takes courage and conviction.  But when we do, we can be encouraged that we are walking the path that many saints before us have walked, and one in which many saints will follow.  Amen

Sermon – Matthew 18.21-35, P19, YA, September 14, 2014

Tags

domestic violence, forgiveness, free, gift, hurt, Jesus, love, obligation, Peter, self, Sermon, terrorism

This week has been a bit rough.  We started the week talking about Ray Rice and the NFL’s handling of the physical abuse of Rice’s then-fiancée.  The incident raised all sorts of questions about domestic violence:  how genuine the NFL’s stance on domestic violence is, why people stay in abusive relationships, and what domestic violence really looks like.  And then, just days later, we honored the anniversary of September 11^th.  We made space for those who are still mourning deaths, we remembered our own experiences of that day, and we reflected on how much our world has changed in the shadow of that event.

Needless to say, when pondering the horrors of domestic violence and terrorism, the absolute last thing I wanted to do this week was to pray on our gospel lesson from Matthew.  The scene is familiar.  Jesus has just told the disciples about how to resolve conflict within the community of faith, and Peter appears with a question.  “Lord, if another member of the church sins against me, how often should I forgive?  As many as seven times?”  In other words, Peter basically comes to Jesus asking the question that we all want ask, “Okay, so I know you want us to be a community that honors God, even when we fight.  But how many times, exactly, do we really have to forgive someone?  I mean, surely there are limits to how many times we have to keep forgiving someone?”  I give Peter credit.  Peter manages to come off sounding pretty generous.  I mean, how many of us would propose forgiving someone seven times before cutting them off completely?  Instead, our most common colloquialism is “Fool me once, shame on you.  Fool me twice, shame on me.”  In our culture, we will forgive someone once and clear the slate.  But if people cross us twice, we believe we would be foolish to stay in a relationship with them because they have proven that they cannot be trusted.

But Jesus does not concede to our modern sensibilities about forgiveness.  Jesus’ response to Peter is shocking, “Not seven times, but I tell you, seventy-seven times.”  Now seventy-seven times is way more leeway with which most of us feels comfortable.  And that is not even taking into account that some translations translate Jesus’ instructions not as seventy-seven times but seventy times seven.[i]  Regardless, the point is that Jesus is basically saying that there is not true end to forgiveness.  “There can be no limit on forgiveness, because [forgiveness] is a never-ending practice that is essential to the life of the church.”[ii]

What ultimately makes us feel uncomfortable about Jesus’ words is that when we begin to talk about forgiveness, most of us have some pretty distorted beliefs about forgiveness.  Some of us believe that forgiveness means excusing or overlooking the harm that has been done to us and saying that everything is okay.  For those who hold that belief, forgiveness can be equated with stuffing our feelings down deep inside or downright lying in order to keep the peace.  Others of us believe that forgiveness means allowing those who have hurt us to persist in their behavior.  For those who hold this belief, forgiveness is so important, that we become recurring victims of offenses.  Still others believe that forgiving means forgetting what happened.  For those who hold this belief, forgiveness is pretending an old hurt does not still hurt.  Finally, others see forgiveness as something that we can do at will, and always all at once.  For those who hold this belief, forgiveness must be immediate and offered quickly.  The problem with all these models of forgiveness – of overlooking the harm, saying everything is okay, of allowing recurring behavior, of trying to forget, or forgiving once and for all – is that these models of forgiveness fall apart when we run into extreme situations like the ones from this week with Ray Rice or September 11^th.

The tremendously good news this week is that all of these understandings about forgiveness would have been foreign to Jesus.  I was reading one of my favorite authors this week on her thoughts about forgiveness.  Jan Richardson says of forgiveness, “The heart of forgiveness is not to be found in excusing harm or allowing [the harm] to go unchecked.  [Forgiveness] is to be found, rather, in choosing to say that although our wounds will change us, we will not allow them to forever define us.  Forgiveness does not ask us to forget the wrong done to us but instead to resist the ways [the wrong] seeks to get its poisonous hooks in us.  Forgiveness asks us to acknowledge and reckon with the damage so that we will not live forever in [the damage’s] grip.”[iii]

That is why Jesus tells the hyperbolic parable about the servant and the forgiving king.  The forgiveness by the king of ten thousand talents (or the equivalent of 150,000 years of labor)[iv] is almost ludicrous in its generosity.  The servant would never have been able to pay that amount back.  But then again, the forgiveness we receive from our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ is also ludicrous – ludicrously abundant, underserved, and more than we could ever earn.  And yet, the times we struggle to forgive will be like when the unforgiving servant cannot forgive the hundred denarii owed by another servant (or the equivalent of a hundred days of labor) – a much less egregious amount to owe.  In order to be a people who live under Jesus’ excessive forgiveness, we must be a people who are also willing to work on the art of forgiveness.  But we do not do that work out of obligation – instead we do that work as a gift to ourselves.

There once was a woman who went to see her Rabbi.  The woman was a divorced single mom who was working to support herself and her three children.  She explained to the Rabbi that since her husband walked out on them, every month she struggled to pay the bills.  Though she and the kids could not afford everyday treats like going to the movies, her ex-husband was living it up with his new wife.  The Rabbi suggested that the woman forgive her ex-husband and she was indignant.  “How can you tell me to forgive him,” she demanded.  The Rabbi responded, “I’m not asking you to forgive him because what he did was acceptable.  What he did was not acceptable – it was mean and selfish.  I am asking you to forgive him because he does not deserve the power to live in your head and turn you into a bitter angry woman.  I would like to see him out of your life emotionally as completely as he is out of your life physically, but you keep holding on to him.  Know this:  you are not hurting him by holding on to that resentment.  You are only hurting yourself.”[v]

Jesus does not propose that we forgive seventy-seven or seventy times seven times because Jesus is a sadist.  Jesus knows forgiving is hard.  But Jesus also knows that the worst part about forgiveness is not that the work is hard.  The worst part about forgiveness is that when we do not forgive, we only hurt ourselves.  And Jesus does not want us to be locked in a prison of resentment and anger.  Jesus wants us to be free.  One of the reasons Jesus asks us to forgive so many times is because Jesus knows this work does not happen overnight.  Forgiveness is not a once-and-for-all event.  Forgiveness requires us to keep going, to keep trying, because only in the practice of trying – in fact trying until our earthly lives are over – will we ever come close to the profound forgiveness that we receive through the life, death, and resurrection of Christ Jesus our Lord.  Our work on mastering the art of forgiveness is not a gift that we give to others.  Our work on mastering the art of forgiveness is the gift that we give to ourselves.  We work on the art of forgiveness because we are working on loving ourselves as much as Jesus loves us.  Amen.

[i] Lewis R. Donelson, “Exegetical Perspective,” Feasting on the Word, Year A, Vol. 4 (Louisville: Westminster John Knox Press, 2011), 69.

[ii] Charles Campbell, “Homiletical Perspective,” Feasting on the Word, Year A, Vol. 4 (Louisville: Westminster John Knox Press, 2011), 69.

[iii] Jan Richardson, “The Hardest Blessing,” Sept. 9, 2014, as found at http://paintedprayerbook.com/2014/09/09/the-hardest-blessing/#.VBOogcKwKi0.

[iv] David Lose, “Pentecost 14A: Forgiveness and Freedom,” Sept. 7, 2014, as found at http://www.davidlose.net/ 2014/09/ pentecost-14-a/.

[v] Paraphrased story by Harold S. Kushner, quoted by Charlotte Dudley Cleghorn, “Pastoral Perspective,” Feasting on the Word, Year A, Vol. 4 (Louisville: Westminster John Knox Press, 2011), 72.

Homily – Isaiah 42.10–12, Harry Thacker Burleigh, September 11, 2014

Tags

9/11, darkness, God, Harry Thacker Burleigh, homily, light, new song, September 11th, shadow

Today is a unique day.  Since 2001, we are unable to hear the words “September 11^th” without associating the date with the events of that fateful day 13 years ago.  We remember where we were, what we saw, and how we felt.  We remember those who died – family members, friends, co-workers, and acquaintances.  September 11^th is a day associated with pain – on both personal and national levels.  For many of us, we had never experienced a sense of such vulnerability to terror and devastation in our home country.  And though we do not live in an active war zone, the events of that day changed life here forever.  In fact, there is a whole generation now that has grown up in a post-9/11 world.

Harry Thacker Burleigh knew a little about what growing up in the shadow of darkness meant.  Born in 1866 in Erie, Pennsylvania, right after the Civil War, Harry’s grandfather, a former slave who had been blinded by a savage beating, passed along old spirituals to Harry.  That music was a gateway for Harry.  With some difficulty, Harry won admission to the National Conservatory of Music.  Meanwhile, he became a soloist at St. George’s Episcopal Church in New York City.  He faced resistance at St. George’s as a black man in the choir, but over time he became a beloved part of the congregation.  In time, Harry became a respected composer, arranger, and music editor.  He also played a key part in making old spirituals widely accessible.

Despite living in the shadow of slavery, Harry seemed to have embraced the words from Isaiah: “Sing to the LORD a new song.”  Harry could have easily kept his head down and simply survived in a post-slavery world.  Instead, he pushed for a new life – for the freedom to express himself.  He literally and figuratively sang a new song to the LORD, making music that reinterpreted the old spirituals, but also making a new life through music.  His making a new song made light shine into the darkness all around him – and he transformed the world around him.

God invites us to sing a new song in a post-9/11 world.  The invitation for us is to figure out what our new song will be.  We cannot erase what happened to us and to our country on that fateful day.  But we can change how we shine light into the shadows left over from that day.  So sing to the LORD a new song – in only the ways that you can.  Amen.

Homily – John 8.31-32, Paul Jones, September 4, 2014

Tags

Bishop Paul Jones, disciple, free, God, homily, Jesus, love, peace, truth, war

I have struggled with the issue of war and peace.  In my heart, I am anti-war and pro-peace.  I cannot condone killing others because others have killed.  War does terrible things to everyone involved.  And arguments for “just wars” just seem like cop-outs – ways of avoiding the call to be a peaceful people.  That is the argument of my heart.  But when faced with issues of genocide and oppression, my head tends to get in the way.  The recent movement by ISIS in Iraq has me in angst over why we are not doing something to stop the genocide.  And yet that “something” is often assumed to involve more violence or war – certainly not peace.

I wonder what Bishop Jones would have to say about this ethical debate.  Born in 1880, Paul Jones, who we honor today, was born and raised in the Episcopal Church.  He became a priest, serving in Utah as a missionary.  In 1914 he became archdeacon and later Bishop of the Missionary District of Utah.  Bishop Jones did much to expand the church’s mission stations.  But as WWI began, Bishop Jones openly opposed the war.  When he declared war to be “unchristian,” the press went wild.  The House of Bishops investigated and declared that Bishop Jones should resign because of his antiwar sentiments.  Though Bishop Jones finally caved in and resigned, he spent the next 23 years advocating for peace until he died in 1941.

I think Bishop Jones must have embraced Jesus Christ’s words from John’s gospel lesson today.  Jesus Christ says, “If you continue in my word, you are truly my disciples; and you will know the truth, and the truth will make you free.”  For Bishop Jones, he knew Jesus to be a man of peace and love.  For Bishop Jones, his pursuit of peace felt like the “truth” – and in some way resigning as bishop freed him to truly follow the gospel.

For us, I think discerning an ethic of peace verses war is not simple.  Issues of peace are complicated and unsettling – who can really define “truth”?  The good news is – no matter what we believe about war, we know our God is a God of love.  Love is a truth we can comfortably claim.  Once we meditate on love, we can often find a bit more clarity.  We can even come to some clarity about this contested issue of peace.  Today we thank Bishop Jones, Jesus, and all those who encourage us to struggle with injustice in the world – for in the struggle, we find truth – and the truth will set us free.  Amen.

Male and female, God created them…

Tags

Christian, created, creation, domestic violence, female, God, male, sexual assault, stewards, women

Courtesy of http://guardianlv.com/2014/03/sexual-assault-statistics-and-protection/

I have been thinking a lot these last couple of weeks about violence against women.  As college students have been moving onto campuses across the country, stories have been emerging about how campuses are handling sexual assault prevention.  One story has been catching attention about a woman protesting the handling of her rape case by carrying around a mattress on campus.  I also listened to a story on NPR as students debated about effective prevention methods.  Those stories made me realize how far we have to go on understanding culpability and protection.

Then, over the course of this week, the conversation about Ray Rice has been in the forefront.  Though the footage of his attack on his then fiancée is horrendous, what the footage has highlighted for me is how desensitized we have become when we talk about domestic violence.  Domestic violence has become an issue we talk about, but for many, not an issue for which we have a real, visceral understanding and sympathy.  The conversation and hashtag campaign, #whyIstayed, about why women stay in abusive relationships has enabled us to see how murky this issue really is.

Then today, my friend also shared a video from a non-profit in Atlanta that supports victims of domestic violence.  What caught my attention in the video was a statement from a volunteer from the agency.  He says, “It’s important for men to be involved in this work because we are both the cause of, and I believe the solution to, ending violence against women.”  His statement is one of the boldest statements I have heard about the responsibility to end violence against women, especially from a man.  But I would modify his statement.  I think we all have a stake in ending violence against women.

In Genesis, the text says, “God created humankind in God’s image, in the image of God, God created them; male and female God created them.”  Though we cannot erase the systems of power and patriarchy in our world, we can work toward reclaiming the fact that we are all created in the image of God – male and female.  God created us and blessed us, and I believe God longs for us to love and protect one another equally.  I know this is loaded blog entry, on a very complex issue that I could talk about and we could argue about for a very long time.  But I find myself this week mourning the ways in which we degrade God’s creation – in particular women.  I believe the confluence of events lately is not an accident, but an invitation to remember how God created us in God’s image – male and female; and perhaps an invitation to be better stewards of God’s creation, in whatever ways feel most compelling to you.

Sermon – Matthew 18.15-20, P18, YA, September 7, 2014

Tags

avoid, church, conflict, conflict resolution, God, Jesus, present, reconciliation, Sermon

I have heard the argument many times before.  When people see conflict, poor behavior, and ugliness in the Church, the complaint is always the same.  People feel like they see enough ugliness in the world, at work, at school, or even at home.  When they come to Church they just want to be around people who love each other, who never fight, and who are always on their best, most loving, supportive behavior.  Many imagine that the Church should be a conflict-free zone of love and joy; full of those who love the Lord, love one another, and love every person who walks through those doors.  We want an escape from the world when we come to Church – not more of the same.

And so, in order to create this magical conflict-free Church, we start engaging in behaviors that avoid immediate conflict, but probably make things a lot worse.  Instead of dealing with conflict directly, when we feel wronged by someone, we just talk about them behind their back.  Or, when someone sins against us, instead of approaching the problem with the person, we just call a bunch of people in the church to complain about them.  Or if we are feeling wronged by someone, instead of talking to them one-on-one, we just send them a nasty email, copy the clergy, and, while we are at it, we CC the bishop.  Or if all else fails, when someone does us wrong, we don’t say anything:  we just avoid them; un-friend them on Facebook; and, if we cannot avoid them on Sundays, then we just leave the church altogether.[i]

Part of the reason we engage in these behaviors that usually make the conflict worse is because the alternative is downright scary.  We hear Jesus’ instruction manual for dealing with conflict in the church in Matthew’s gospel and we panic.  First of all, Jesus’ instructions force us to admit that we will have to deal with conflict within the Church.  This premise totally dismantles our dream of the loving, conflict-free Church.  And we are not sure we are ready to let go of that dream.  But secondly, if we can let go of our tight grasp on our conflict-free Church dream, we sure as heck do not want to follow Jesus’ instructions.  Going to someone directly to talk about how someone has sinned against us scares most of us to death.  We are not sure what to say and we are not sure how what we say will be received.  And if we somehow manage to get over our fears and the person rejects us, we cannot imagine taking one or two others with us to approach the offender again.  That sounds way too much like an intervention, and we worry that the number of people in the room will only escalate things.  And since we can barely imagine taking one or two other parishioners along with us, we find the idea of bringing the offence before the entire parish unfathomable.  Jesus must be out of his mind if he thinks we are going to parade our personal business in front of the whole church.

I served in a parish once that went through a major conflict.  A parishioner who had been working with the youth group had developed some serious boundary issues which came to a crisis point.  After receiving complaints from several parishioners, the rector called the person-in-question into his office.  That one-on-one meeting did not go so well.  Rumors started to fly, and the offender’s version of the conversation was quite different from the rector’s version.  Eventually, others had to be brought into the conversation.  The whole issue took about a year to resolve, and the offender was so angry that he eventually left the church and many other parishioners were hurt and frustrated along the way.

Part of the challenge is that using Jesus’ model for conflict resolution is not as simple as the model sounds.  Meeting one-on-one can go horribly wrong, as the meeting with my old rector went wrong.  And having a meeting with three or four people can also go horribly wrong – the offender can feel attacked, confidentiality can be difficult to keep, and rumors can start to spread.  And sharing an individual offense with the entire parish is difficult in our litigious society.  Charges of slander and libel are much too easy to file.

The good news is that I do not think the specifics of Jesus’ conflict resolution plan really matter – at least not in the strictest sense.[ii]  What is more important is that this passage from Matthew does several critical things.  First, this passage debunks the notion that the Church will ever be conflict-free.  That this passage exists at all is evidence that conflict is a natural, unavoidable part of life, even life in the church.[iii]  I know that may sound like bad news to some of us, but actually the reality that conflict is unavoidable opens the door to the second good part of this passage.  In addition to helping us see the inevitability of conflict, this passage also reminds us that there are healthy ways to deal with conflict.  Though we may not choose Jesus’ exact method, there are ways to encourage reconciliation over back-stabbing and gossip.  And those reconciling methods are healthy for the offender, the victim, and the community as a whole.  Jesus is not worried about “whether or not we fight, disagree, or wound one another, but how we go about addressing and resolving those issues.”[iv]

Finally, Jesus reminds us that God is with us even in our ugly moments of conflict.  Jesus says, “For where two or three are gathered in my name, I am there among them.”  We often jokingly quote this passage when we are having low church attendance.  But what Jesus means when he says these words is that when two or three are gathered in resolving conflict, Jesus is there in their midst.  I cannot imagine a more assuring word from Jesus today.

I once knew a couple who were married for 55 years.  One day I asked the wife what their secret was.  She told me several things, but one of them stuck.  She said that if either of them was disciplining the children and the other parent disagreed with their decision, they never questioned the decision in front of the children.  Later that night, they might talk about their disagreement, but they always supported one another in the heat of the moment.  I remember thinking that their practice necessitated respect, biting one’s tongue, and a humble love that was free from pride.  All of that was not visible through the good stuff of their marriage, but instead through the hard stuff of their marriage.

Now I know some of you are going to go home disappointed today.  Your dream of Church being a conflict-free love fest is getting shattered today.  You may have been hoping after hearing Paul talk about love today that we could all just sing, “They Will Know We Are Christians by Our Love,” and walk out of here on a cloud.  Truthfully, having people see how we love each other and being able to recognize our Christian identity through our love is wonderful.  But equally wonderful today would be if we could sing, “They Will Know We Are Christians by How We Fight.”

In a few moments, we will do a few things that mark our Christian identity.  We will confess our sins, ask for healing, and pass the peace.  These are all steps toward reconciliation with God, with ourselves, and with one another.  Perhaps you have been experiencing conflict here in our church community, at home, or at work.  Now is your chance to reconcile that conflict, and live into what being a person of faith means.  There is no way to avoid the fact that Christians fight, disagree, and argue.  But how we fight means much more than that we fight.  The church invites us to be a people committed to reconciliation, knowing that where two or three are gathered in conflict together, Christ is in the midst of us.  Amen.

[i] Rick Morley, “Before You Unfriend – Matthew 18:15-20,” August 23, 2011, as found at http://www.rickmorley. com/ archives/803?utm_source=rss&utm_medium=rss&utm_campaign=proper18agospel on September 4, 2014.

[ii] Eric Barreto, “Commentary on Matthew 18:15-20,” as found at http://www.workingpreacher.org/preaching.aspx? commentary_id=2164 on September 5, 2014.

[iii] Jin S. Kim, “Pastoral Perspective,” Feasting on the Word, Year A, Vol. 4 (Louisville: Westminster John Knox Press, 2011), 46.

[iv] Kim, 46.

The Vulnerable Village…

Tags

children, community, God, kindergarten, prayer, scary, trust, village, vulnerable

Today is the big day.  Our oldest child’s first day of kindergarten.  As background, we are used to our child being in the care of others.  Since she was eighteen months, she has been doing four days a week of full-day care.  Though that was hard at first, we quickly saw how she thrives on the routine and the stimulation.  And we have also embraced the idea of our child being raised by a village.  In fact, our second child started a similar schedule at eleven weeks.  So we are no strangers to the hand-off experience.

Courtesy of http://www.dot.gov/fastlane/school-bus-safety-be-prepared-not-scared

But I must admit that today was quite different.  Our kindergarten program asked the parents not to deviate from how drop-off will normally occur.  So instead of passing her off at the school itself, our daughter boarded a bus that then drove away.  In fact, the whole transaction took all of a minute or so.  As the bus turned the corner, driving out of sight, I was left standing there with a pit in my stomach.  As I have thought about it since she went to school, I realized that what my daughter did today – stepping on to a bus with people she has never met, going to a school she has never attended, meeting a new teacher she has never met, and experiencing a totally new routine – takes a tremendous amount of courage.  And yet she boldly stepped onto that bus, with a big grin on her face.

Though I have often talked about the village that raises our children, and in some ways have had to embrace that model out of necessity, I rarely admit how wonderful and also scary that whole concept is.  The truth is that I have to trust many people with shaping and forming my child into an amazing person.  Though my husband and I do a lot of that formation, her formation comes from teachers, school staff, church parishioners, friends, and family.  I have seen in person how helpful that can be (like that time when we were arduously trying to teach her to use a spoon – a habit she picked up in minutes once she saw the other kids doing it at school).  But today, I was aware of how vulnerable relying on the village makes one feel.  There is really no getting around that sense of vulnerability – it is a necessary part of life.  But that vulnerability can certainly be unsettling.

This morning, as I have been sorting through that unsettled feeling, the only thing I have been able to “do” is to give that feeling back to God through prayer.  God knows how much I dislike that feeling of being out of control, and so I am sure my prayer is familiar to God.  But I have also found myself praying my daughter through her day – the other kids on the bus she met, the staff who walked her to her classroom, her teacher and new classmates, the staff who works in the cafeteria, her time learning and at play, and her time in after-care.  I pray that the village will be good to her, that she will feel God’s loving arms surrounding her, and that she too will be God’s light to others.  That is my small contribution to the village today – my prayers and my trust.  God bless our village and give us peace.