Sermon – Luke 2.1-20, CD, YA, December 25, 2019

Tags

amazing, Christ Child, Christmas, Christmas Eve, church, glorify, God, love, new, noise, praise, quiet, Sermon, silence, Silent Night, story

This past year I have been learning a lot about Godly Play, the program we use with our smallest children in Sunday School, and more recently, the program we use with the Kensington School too.  At first blush, the program is pretty simple:  we tell Bible stories, using simple props to engage the children visually, we let the children play with the story, and then we wonder about the story along the way.  But when we are telling the story with the Kensington School, we have about fifteen kids, ages two-and-a-half to five years old.  I do not know how much time you have spent with that age group recently, but what that means is working super hard to hold their attention.  Being the loud extrovert that I am, I assumed holding their attention would mean using a loud, commanding voice.  But I have discovered from our seasoned teachers that the opposite is true.  They lower their voices to a slow-paced, almost whisper, and they manage to keep the children on the edges of their seats – as if something amazing is going to happen if they listen really hard.

Oftentimes, when we think of Christmas, we imagine a similar pattern.  When we gather on Christmas Eve, we look forward to savoring the familiar story, imagining being able to hear a pin drop as the beloved story is told again.  Our favorite song on Christmas Eve is usually Silent Night.  The song lulls us to imagining Mary and Joseph blissfully enjoying a silent night of wonder.  But that holy night, and most Christmas Eve services, are anything but quiet.  Bethlehem is inundated with people coming in for the registration.  The fact that there is no room for Joseph and Mary tells us how crowded Bethlehem is.  But Mary and Joseph not only have to tend with homecoming revelers, they also have to contend with the animals over whose abode they have taken.  Add into the mix a screaming newborn, and the idea of a silent night is almost comical.

But Mary and Joseph get even more noise than that.  You see, nearby shepherds hear a cacophony of praise from the heavenly hosts in the middle of the night.  Their night has been anything but quiet too.  Instead of trying to get the animals and themselves back to sleep, they decide to go into town and see this thing which has come to pass.  And so, they spend the night, talking to Mary and Joseph, maybe taking turns trying to soothe the baby Jesus.  When they leave those rudimentary quarters, they leave town praising and glorifying God.  This is no silent night for the shepherds either.

I think that is why I enjoy our celebration on Christmas Day so much.  Silence is in short supply on Christmas Eve.  We sing carols, we hear the giddy laughter of children awaiting gifts, stockings, and cookies, and we chant the mass, singing our traditionally spoken words.  For those of us with small children, even the wee hours of the morning on Christmas Day are loud – filled with cries of elation, joy, and battery-operated toys.  But on Christmas Day, after a noisy night and morning, we make our way to church and find, perhaps for the first time, the silence for which we have been looking.  We do not sing carols.  We do not have to speak over the hubbub of full pews.  Instead we gather in relative quiet, and tell the old story again – but this time with a softness that cannot be found on Christmas Eve.

What I love about finding true silence on Christmas Day is that our morning is structured a lot like I imagine that first holy morning being structured.  Christmas Eve is full of noise – of animals, shepherds, angels, and crying babies.  But that next morning, the dust has settled.  Gone are the shepherds and angels.  The animals have calmed down after too many midnight guests.  I even imagine baby Jesus has given in to sleep, since most newborns get their nights and days reversed for the first few weeks.  Into this relative quiet is when I imagine Mary treasuring all those words and pondering them in her heart.  The night before is just too loud.  The exhausted, travel-weary, physically and emotionally spent Mary gets a moment in the morning to begin to process what God has done in and through her.  After the break of dawn, as the sun rises and the loud revelers and news deliverers have gone, she can have a quiet moment as she rocks or feeds baby Jesus and ponder in her heart this child at her breast.

I do not think that night is silent.  But I understand why our hymnodists would want to talk about silence.  I think that is why I prefer the hymn, “Let all mortal flesh keep silence.”  Instead of depicting a silent night, that hymn invites us to keep silence as a form of reverence.  The first verse says, “Let all mortal flesh keep silence, and with fear and trembling stand; ponder nothing earthly minded, for with blessing in his hand, Christ our God to earth descendeth, our full homage to demand.”  I like the hymn because that is the kind of pondering I imagine Mary does in her heart this morning.  Unlike most new mothers, I do not think she is worried about the impact of birth on her body or even about her humble surroundings.  I imagine her thoughts that morning are consumed with nothing earthly minded.  Instead, I imagine her heart is pondering the blessing of Christ our God descending on earth through her – and the enormity of the event drives her to pay silent homage as she gazes on Jesus’ precious face.

That is what the church invites us to do today as well.  We structure a morning for worship.  The dust of gift wrap, eggnog, and stocking stuffers is settling.  The noise of carols, singing choirs and priests, and antsy children in pews is fading.  The anxiety of preparing for the big event of this day is easing.  And all that is left is a moment to let our mortal flesh keep silent before the Christ Child.  This morning we take a moment to ponder nothing earthly minded, and instead join Mary as she ponders all that has happened in her heart.  We come to church on this holy morning to ponder the miracle of the Christ Child.  We honor the way in which God is ever trying to honor the covenant God has made with us – willing to go to the extreme of taking on human form to care for and preserve us.  Our God’s love knows no bounds.  Humbled by that knowledge, we come to pay God homage.

The question for us in our pondering is what we will do with that love.  Though we make space this morning for silence, we do not remain here all day.  Like any other Sunday, the clergy will dismiss us to go in peace, and serve the Lord.  Anytime we feast at Christ’s table, that is our charge:  to take whatever sustenance we have gained and to go out into the world to do the work that Christ has given us to do.  Certainly that may involve cooking, travel, or more gift giving.  But the news we ponder in our hearts today is much bigger than today.  Today we are commissioned to consider the impact of the birth of the Christ Child on our lives, what our response will be to the God who is so faithful to God’s covenant with us that God would take on human flesh to redeem us.  As our talented Godly Play teachers might pose, I wonder what new work God is crafting in our hearts.  Perhaps this morning, or for at least the next few minutes, you can let your mortal flesh keep silence and ponder with Mary.  And then go out with the shepherds, glorifying and praising God in your work.  Amen.

 

Sermon – Lk. 16.1-13, P20, YC, September 22, 2019

Tags

ambiguity, black and white, dishonest, Episcopal Church, glorify, God, gray, Jesus, money, place, power, relationship, Sermon, via media, wealth

In seminary I took a class about Reconciliation, and one of the requirements of the class was to lead a Bible Study at the local jail.  Our team of four Episcopalians waltzed into the jail, prepared with study notes, a lesson plan, and as much of an air of confidence as we could muster.  Not very long into the Bible Study, though, we realized we were in trouble.  You see, many of us had been drawn to the Episcopal Church because the Episcopal Church embraces the via media, or the middle way; we are a church that affirms the sacredness of the gray over the black and white.  But an inmate has no time for gray.  Their whole lives are governed by black and white, right and wrong.  The rigidity of life in jail is applied to Holy Scripture as well.  Most of the inmates were either perplexed by our suggestion of any ambiguity or gray in Scripture, or simply thought we were wrong.  Fortunately, our professor had come along.  After about forty-five minutes of debate and disagreement, our professor quietly spoke.  He invited the men to reflect on life where they were from, the complexities of the street, racism, and poverty.  If life at home was so layered, ambiguous, and complicated, surely Scripture could be too.  I am not saying my professor made any great strides in the debate around the literal interpretation of Scripture, but I believe he may have opened a window for some of the inmates.

I think today’s Scripture lesson is a bit like that jail classroom.  At first glance, this could be considered a text that is black and white.  The final verse of our gospel says, “No slave can serve two masters; for a slave will either hate the one and love the other, or be devoted to the one and despise the other. You cannot serve God and wealth.”  There is no gray in Jesus’ words.  Either we choose God or we choose money.  And based on the fact God is one of our two options, there is no ambiguity about which of these options we should choose.  But here is the problem with trying to assert this passage of scripture is black and white.  Whereas as the end of the passage Jesus seems to be saying we must choose God or money, in the parable, Jesus seems to be saying something else.

If you recall, in the parable, we have a poorly-behaving manager.  The manager has squandered away the master’s money.  When he is caught, the manager takes a good look at himself and admits some honest truths – he is not capable of doing manual labor and he is too embarrassed to beg for money.  Having been honest about who he is, he connives his way into a solution:  he will engender goodwill among his neighbors by doing financial favors for each of them – forgiving portions of their debts in the hopes that they will sometime very soon return the favor.  Both the master and Jesus recognize the shrewdness or wisdom in the manager’s behavior because the manager uses his wits to get out of a devastating position.  In verse nine, the text says, “I tell you, make friends for yourselves by means of dishonest wealth so that when it is gone, they may welcome you into the eternal homes.”

This is where things get confusing.  At first, Jesus seemed to be clearly saying money is evil and we must choose God over money.  But when Jesus says to “make friends for yourselves by means of dishonest wealth,” Jesus seems to be claiming money can sometimes be one of those gray areas of life; in fact, money can be used as a means to an end.  Now, we all have varying philosophies about money.  Some of us manage to care very little about money, with money holding very little power over us.  Some of us struggle with money, sometimes remembering how money can be used for good, but most times feeling like money creates stress and anxiety in our lives that we cannot seem to shake.  And others of us become narrowly focused on money – either in how we can acquire more or what ways we can spend and enjoy money more.  What Jesus knows we often forget is money is inherently “dishonest.”  Money creates systems of injustice and hierarchies of power; money can destroy marriages and friendships; and money can be the ruin of many a person.  So when Jesus says to make friends through dishonest wealth, he does not mean to become a dishonest people; he means money inherently lures us into dishonesty, and we can either throw our hands up in the air in resignation and a refusal to be associated with that dishonesty, or we can use that dishonest wealth as a means to something much more important – relationship with others.

One of the things I like to do when I am struggling with a challenging Biblical text is to look at other translations to see if I can make more sense of Jesus’ words.  This week, I found the most help from a translation called, The Message.  Now as ample warning, The Message is a very contemporary paraphrase of the Bible, which takes a lot of theological liberties that I am often uncomfortable with; however, I also find that the language from the paraphrase opens up the biblical text enough for me to start seeing the text with fresh eyes.  The Message translates Jesus words in this way:  “Now here’s a surprise:  The master praised the crooked manager!  And why?  Because he knew how to look after himself.  Streetwise people are smarter in this regard than law-abiding citizens.  They are on constant alert, looking for angles, surviving by their wits.  I want you to be smart in the same way—but for what is right—using every adversity to stimulate you to creative survival, to concentrate your attention on the bare essentials, so you’ll live, really live, and not complacently just get by on good behavior.”

What Jesus is trying to say to us today is layered, and very much lives in the gray of life.  First, money has a corrupting force in our lives.  As I mentioned a couple of weeks ago, Jesus talks about money incessantly in scripture, from telling people to give away all their money, to scolding people about storing up their money in larger barns, to reminding people not to stress about money, to this odd text about money.  As Luke concludes today, Jesus tells us that we cannot serve God and money, because of the all-consuming way money can corrode our relationship with God.

Second, we cannot escape money.  Money is a part of our everyday lives, and as we all know is necessary for functioning – for food, for shelter, for clothing, for comfort, for ministry.  Even those monks and nuns who take on a vow of poverty still rely on the money of others for support.  Money, with all its potential for corruption, is inescapable in our lives.

Finally, once we understand the power and place of money in our lives, Jesus reminds us that when we are wise, keeping God at the center, we can use money as a means to goodness in our relationship with God and with one another.  The manager “transforms a bad situation into one that benefits him and others.  By reducing other people’s debts, he creates a new set of relationships based not on the vertical relationship between lenders and debtors (rooted in monetary exchange) but on something more like the reciprocal and egalitarian relationship of friends.”[i]   This kind of work is not about charity per se, but about making friends.[ii]

Many years ago, there was a commercial circulating around the internet.   In the video, a boy is caught red-handed trying to steal a bottle of medicine and a soda.  A woman is berating him in front of a marketplace, wanting to know why he would take these things.  He confesses that the items are for his mother.  A local merchant steps forward, and hands the woman a handful of money to cover the cost of the stolen items.  The man then quietly asks the boy if his mother is sick.  When the boy nods yes, the merchant has his daughter also bring a container of vegetable broth and other items, and sends the boy on his way.  The next clip of the commercial shows the merchant thirty years later, still working in his shop.  He collapses and is taken to the hospital.  The daughter becomes completely overwhelmed as the medical bills add up, even selling the shop they had once run together.  As she is found crying near her father’s bedside, she finds a revised copy of their medical bill.  The amount due is zero.  We find out through the video that the doctor who forgives the bill is that same boy who stole medicine thirty years ago.  He writes at the bottom of the bill, “All expenses paid thirty years ago with three packs of painkillers and a bag of veggie soup.”[iii]

Jesus knows how money corrupts our world.  To be sure there is no ambiguity about the place money takes when talking about God.  We are to choose God.  But Jesus also knows that we can shrewdly utilize our money as a tool to create relationships that glorify God.  This is Jesus’ invitation for us today:  to examine how our relationship with dishonest wealth can be used for goodness.  Jesus affirms for us this week that the way into the black and white, the right and wrong of life, might just be through the path of gray.  Amen.

[i] Lois Malcolm, “Commentary on Luke 16.1-13,” as found on http://www.workingpreacher.org/preaching.aspx? commentary _id= 1783 on September 18, 2013.

[ii] Thomas G. Long, “Making Friends,” Journal for Preachers, vol. 30, no. 4, Pentecost 2007, 55.

[iii] As found at https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XADBJjiAO_0 on September 20, 2019.

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/

Homily – 1 Corinthians 10.31-11.1, St. Ignatius of Loyola, July 31, 2014

Tags

accountability, community, glorify, God, homily, St. Ignatius Loyola

Today we honor St. Ignatius of Loyola.  Ignatius was born into a noble Basque family in 1491.  An enthusiastic soldier, he was seriously wounded in 1521.  During his convalescence, he experienced a profound spiritual awakening.  Ignatius began to share his experience with others, eventually writing the “Spiritual Exercises,” which continues to be an influential work.  Ignatius went to school in Paris to become a priest, and eventually gathered with others to form the Society of Jesus – known today as the Jesuits. Theirs was a strict vow of poverty and service to the needs of the poor.  Ignatius died in 1556, having sought to find God in all things and to do all things for God’s greater glory.

Ignatius certainly was living the life that Paul commanded to the Corinthians in our Epistle lesson today.  Paul says, “Whether you eat or drink, or whatever you do, do everything for the glory of God …”  Now I don’t know about you, but having everything in one’s life be for the glory of God is not that easy.  I am pretty sure my frustrations and occasional foul language while driving does not glorify God.  I am pretty sure my impatience at the doctor’s office does not glorify God.  I am pretty sure my actively ignoring a homeless person does not glorify God.

One of the great blessings of having young children in my life is the ways in which they are always watching me.  My older daughter regularly asks why I say and do certain things.  I often find myself either apologizing for setting a bad example or censoring myself before she can catch me.  But just because we might not have a 4-year-old in the back seat does not mean that others are not watching us – and making judgments about what living as a Christian means.

What I like about St. Ignatius of Loyola is that he does not try to do all things for God’s greater glory alone.  He gathers a community and they hold each other accountable.  Though we do not always invite that same accountability into our lives, the opportunity is there.  Whether it is in public or private confession, soliciting communal prayers or finding a private prayer partner – the church is here to help us follow Jesus.  Together we can glorify God better than any of us can on our own.  Amen.

Sermon – Luke 2.8-20, CD, YC, December 25, 2012

Tags

action, Christmas, fear, gather, glorify, go, God, Sermon, shepherds

In the wake of the tragedy in Newtown, fear has been a rampant part of our lives.  Parents have been afraid for the safety of their children.  I talked to many parents who really did not want to send their kids back to school in those first days, even though they knew logically that this was not an option.  We have also turned into a country fearful about guns – either fearful that they will be taken away from us or fearful that they will be used as a crutch to solve society’s ills instead of more peaceful means.  And at a time when we focus on the Christ Child today, many of us fear the loss of innocence.  We long for a more simple time – a moment of pure clarity when everything is made plain.

Over two thousand years ago on this day, things were made plain for a rag-tag team of shepherds.  “Do not be afraid,” the angel says.  “I am bringing you good news of great joy for all the people.”  Good news.  Great joy.  All the people.  These are words that do not strike fear in the hearts of the shepherds.  They are words that instead set them free from fear.  They are words that open up a window into hope.  They are words that fill them with joy.  For if this is good news of great joy for all people, then even people like unsavory, undesired, unloved shepherds are included in this news.  And with this outpouring of good news, the shepherds are blown away by the most awesome chorus of voices praising God’s name.  Fear is a fleeting feeling for these shepherds.

This fearless joy can be our gift too.  We can let go of our angst about safety, about politics, about control, and take hold of the Good News of the Christ Child.  We can gather around the host of angels and let the Good News rain down on us, and liberate us from fear.

Of course, that certainly sounds easy, and maybe even feels easy on this holiest of days.  But can we really expect us to be able to live free from fear?  The shepherds help us answer that question.  The response of the shepherds is full of immediate action.  The shepherds go with haste to find Mary, Joseph, and the child lying in a manger.  The shepherds gather with the Holy Family, and share their story.  Finally, the shepherds go out glorifying and praising God.  The shepherds go, gather, and glorify.

This is the invitation of the gospel for us today.  We too are to go, gather, and glorify.  First, we are invited to go.  When God speaks to us, we are to respond.  The shepherds go with haste.  And so, instead of pondering things in their hearts, or worrying about whether they might run into trouble along the way (which would have been a valid concern given the registration taking place in Bethlehem by Augustus and Quirinius)[i], the shepherds go with haste.  So our first invitation is to let go of our fears and simply act.  Act with immediacy when God calls us.

Next, the gospel invites us to gather.  This incredible God experience does not happen for the sole benefit of the shepherds.  The shepherds gather, creating a community of faith who share the Good News.  We too are invited to gather with a community of faith.  We do that today, as we gather on this holy day.  But we are invited to gather regularly, so that we can share in the faith journey together, making sense of God’s call as a community.  This work of discernment is not done alone.  We need a community of faith to shape us and form us.

Finally, the gospel invites us to glorify.  The Shepherds leave that manger scene with nothing in their hearts but praise of God.  Glorifying God seems so simple, but sometimes glorifying God is what is the most difficult for us.  We become so accustomed to coming to God, asking for things – for healing, for direction, for peace.  We struggle with God, and long for God.  But we sometimes forget to simply glorify God.  Just two weeks ago, we heard in the letter to the Philippians the call to “Rejoice in the Lord always; again I will say, Rejoice.”  This is one of those days when we really need a large gospel choir who can lead us into glorifying God with those words, “Rejoice in the Lord always, again I say, again I say, Rejoice!”  Sometimes we simply need to let go of everything and glorify God.

This Christmas, the Church does not let us go home with a message of comfort without action.  Instead, the Gospel is full of action:  go, gather, and glorify.  Now, I know you want to go home, eat a feast with friends or family, watch some basketball, and enjoy a day free of the obligations of work, school, and to-do lists.  But remember that even those meals, those times with others can be a place to go, gather, and glorify.  Go to your next stop with joy overflowing from the news of angels.  Gather with a community, not letting the opening of presents override your telling of the miracle of the Christ Child.  And glorify God – in your prayers over your meal, in your conversations with others.  Perhaps focusing on glorifying God will get you out of the normal kvetching that often happens at Christmas meals.  So, go, gather, and glorify.  May this be our work this Christmastide.  Amen.

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[i] Michael S. Bennett, “Pastoral Perspective,” Feasting on the Word, Yr. C, Vol. 1 (Louisville: Westminster John Knox Press, 2009),118.