Sermon – Matthew 13.1-9, 18-23, P10, YA, July 16, 2017

Tags

business, evangelism, extravagent, fear, fertile, Good News, Jesus, listen, parable, seed, soil, sow, sower

I don’t know about you, but this gospel lesson always makes me a little nervous.  As soon as I hear about the different types of soil where seed is sown, I start to get paranoid.  I think of the countless times when I did not understand what the kingdom of God was about, or what God was trying to teach me, and how the evil one started clouding my thoughts.  Or, I think about that those moments where I have been filled with new fervor for God, only to get distracted or anxious, and lose that sense of intimacy with God.  And the good Lord knows that I have been more than distracted by the cares of the world and the lures or preoccupation around money and lost touch with my faith.  Of course, by the time I get through that litany of doubt and self-loathing, I feel a sense of doom.  I will never work hard enough to be good soil!

The good news is this parable is not about me or you.  At least not in the way we think.  Whenever scholars talk about this text, the text is referred to as the parable of the sower – not the parable of the soils.[i]  By getting distracted by all of the ways we do not measure up or the ways in which our faith is sometimes shallow, unsophisticated, or self-centered, we miss the point altogether.  This is about the nature of Christ – the original sower of the Good News, and the expectations of how the disciples will be similar sowers.  To understand what that means, we need to let go of our anxiety about our soil, and hone in on the nature of the sower.  You see, the sower might recognize that three-fourths of soil is not fertile.  The sower even confesses that of fertile soil, the yield will be different – some hundred-fold, some sixty, and some thirty.

Being aware of this math, you would think the sower would develop a strategic plan, assessing how to maximize productivity, avoid burnout, and get the best return.  That is certainly how modern farmers would go about things.  I learned this week of a new machine produced by a major farming company that has perfected the art of planting seeds.  The planter slows down the seed through the use of a small puff of air.  That puff of air makes sure the seed does not roll where it should not, and perfectly lands where the farmer intends.  The machine is a genius development through science.  And that machine is nothing like the sower in Jesus’ parable.[ii]  Despite all the data – that three out of four seeds will fail to thrive, and of those seeds planted in good soil, the productivity will vary in size, the sower casts seeds in all of the soil.  The sower takes his time, his money, his knowledge and, based on our standards, wastes it.  The sower just throws seed everywhere, letting whatever happens happen.  The sower knows that each seed will do something – whether be feed for birds, or experience the joy of new faith, or even get close to growth before distraction.  But the sower does not care.  The sower seeds with abandon.  The sower sows with reckless extravagance.

I am not sure I am capable of sowing like the sower sows in this parable.  I think about Jesus encouraging his disciples to be recklessly extravagant sowers, and instead, I think my method would be a little more like what Barbara Brown Taylor imagines.  Her modern retelling of Jesus’ parable goes something like this:

“Once upon a time a sower went out to sow.  And as he sowed some seeds fell along the path, and the birds came along and devoured them.  So he put his seed pouch down and spent the next hour or so stringing aluminum foil all around his field.  He put up a fake owl he ordered form a garden catalog and, as an afterthought, he hung a couple of traps for the Japanese beetles.

Then he returned to his sowing, but he noticed some of the seeds were falling on rocky ground, so he put his seed pouch down again and went to fetch his wheelbarrow and shovel.  A couple of hours later he had dug up the rocks and was trying to think of something useful he could do with them when remembered his sowing and got back to it, but as soon as he did he ran right into a briar patch that was sure to strangle his little seedlings.  So he put his pouch down again and looked everywhere for the weed poison but finally decided just to pull the thorns up by hand, which meant that he had to go back inside and look everywhere for his gloves.

Now by the time he had the briars cleared it was getting dark, so the sower picked up his pouch and his tools and decided to call it a day.  That night he fell asleep in his chair reading a seed catalog, and when he woke the next morning he walked out into his field and found a big crow sitting on his fake owl.  He found rocks he had not found the day before and he found new little leaves on the roots of the briars that had broken off in his hands.”[iii]

This version does not work as well as Jesus’ parable.  In fact, this version captures our resistance to the kind of extravagance Jesus is promoting.  We like control, measured actions, and predictable results.  We like efficiency, productivity, and practicality.  Just look at any church that has been planted in the last twenty years.  The Diocese conducts a study, location is considered for months, research is done to ensure maximum yield before a new church is ever begun.  Or even look at our own evangelism efforts.  We are strategically considering neighborhoods that are near the church, where people may be looking for a church home, or how people may fit in with certain demographics before we spend capital on evangelism campaigns.  And all of those efforts are smart business.[iv]

But that is not the kind of business that the sower in the parable is about.  The sower is about throwing the Good News everywhere.  The implication for us is clear.  The sower’s example means that we too need to be extravagant with our sowing of the Good News.  We cannot look around our neighborhood and say, “I mean, he already has a church, or she clearly had a bad experience with the church, or we’re not even that close, so….”  We tend to wait for months to ask someone to even come to a movie or a fall festival, let alone church.  What if they say no?  What if they avoid us afterwards?  What if they assume we’re pushy?  What if they ask me a question I can’t answer?  We get so caught up in “what ifs” that we are like a sower standing frozen with our pouches.  Instead, Jesus’ sower is standing beside us whispering, “Go ahead.  Throw the seeds anyway.”  The sower not only tells us to not be afraid of talking to others about our faith and the Good News of God in Christ, the sower tells us that we should not care – not care if the soil is fertile or what the yield will be.  In knowing the yield will be limited to 25% of those approached, the sower says we should just throw that seed, that Good News all over the place, because ultimately, what the seed does, or how the soil is, is not our responsibility.  Our responsibility is to sow the seed.

The sower in our story encourages us to be another way.  The sower says, “Hey you, on the path, in the thorns, in the shallow soil, and in the succulent soil, I want to share something with you.  Hey you with birds, thorns, rocks, and nutrition creeping in, I want to spend some time with you even though it may be a total waste of time.  I want to listen to you, I want to reflect with you on where God is acting in your life, I want to tell you why I got up today and drug myself to this awesome place called Hickory Neck.”  I know the work sounds scary and even illogical.  I know even attempting to sow seeds may feel like a task you are just ill-equipped to do – or you may assume is the work of the clergy.  But let me leave you with this:  you came here today because this community means something to you.  You came here because you are fed here, challenged here, loved here.  Why wouldn’t you want to invite someone into that wonderful experience?  Why are you clutching onto a pouch of seeds that could mean new life for someone else?  Jesus has already warned us that the return will feel low.  But you never know when you are going to encounter that soil that produces not just thirty- or sixty-fold, but sometimes a hundred-fold.  In fact, scholars tell us that those numbers indicate an unimaginably large amount of productivity.  A good amount of produce would have been seven-fold.[v]  Jesus promises much more return!  We cannot control how our Good News will be received.  Our invitation is to be as illogically, recklessly, extravagantly gracious and loving sowers as our loving Lord who could not care less about the results.  So grab your seeds, and let’s go!

[i] Barbara Brown Taylor, The Seeds of Heaven: Sermons on the Gospel of Matthew (Louisville:  Westminster John Knox Press, 2004), 26.

[ii] Rolf Jacobson, “SB549 – Sixth Sunday after Pentecost (Ord. 15),” Sermon Brainwave Podcast, July 8, 2017, as found at http://www.workingpreacher.org/brainwave.aspx?podcast_id=911 on July 10, 2017.

[iii] Taylor, 28-29.

[iv] Theodore J. Wardlaw, “Homiletical Perspective,” Feasting on the Word, Yr. A, Vol. 3 (Louisville:  Westminster John Knox Press, 2011), 237.

[v] Talitha J. Arnold, “Pastoral Perspective,” Feasting on the Word, Yr. A, Vol. 3 (Louisville:  Westminster John Knox Press, 2011), 236.

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On Baseball, Community, and Church…

Tags

baseball, church, community, disciple, God, Good News, Little League, Lord, love, meaning, ritual, serve, support

Photo credit:  newprovidencepal.org/baseball/

This summer we have had the joy of supporting both a friend’s and a parishioner’s little league baseball teams.  Not having boys myself, it has been a long time since I watched a little league game.  In fact, after the first game we saw, I shared with my husband that I could not imagine giving up so much family time for one member’s extracurricular interest.  He understood my hesitation, but invited me to look around.  You see, with all those mornings, afternoons, and evenings at the baseball field; with the ritual of packing chairs, canopies, and ice chests; and with the repeated gathering of parents and siblings, slowly, slowly a community is formed.  Parents learn about each other’s lives, siblings convert boredom into adventures, and guests are quickly made to feel welcome with a shared chair, beverage, or joke.

What those teams, especially travelling teams, have done is create a community.  They have created a group of people who know each other’s stories, who share wins and losses together, and who slowly learn to talk more than just baseball – but life!  They have created a community where kids do not just have one set of parents – they have a whole community of moms, dads, and siblings.  They have created a community that revolves around ritual, memory-making, and maybe even meaning-making.  In many ways, those teams have created something similar to what Church creates.  Church too creates a multigenerational community – where every elder is a grandma, and every adult can parent children.  Church too creates a community where wins and losses are shared together, where stories are known, and companionship is created.  Church too revolves around ritual, memory-making, and meaning-making.

Church creates community, but uses that creation for a different purpose.  The community of Church nurtures, forms, offers comfort, and creates community, but almost as a side-benefit to the main work we do.  Our purpose is to shape disciples for sharing and living the Good News of God in Christ.  So, while we are loved and supported in the community, we are loved and supported so that we can go out into the world to love and support others.  While we share stories, wins, and loses, we also go out to listen to others’ stories, naming where we see God acting in their lives.  While we participate in ritual, making memories and meaning, that same ritual sends us out to love and serve the Lord in the world.  We may come for the community Church creates.  But we stay because that community demands we be much more.

Today I am grateful for our many communities.  In fact, I think we all need more than just Church communities to keep us grounded in the world God created.  But if you haven’t been to church in a while, I invite you to give it a try.  You may find even more than you were looking for!

Homily – Luke 2.15-21, Holy Name, YA, January 1, 2017

Tags

alone, community, dependence, elders, Good News, Holy Name, homily, independence, Jesus, Joseph, Mary, need, share, shepherds

Our gospel today picks up where we left off a little over a week ago.  On Christmas Eve, we heard how Mary and Joseph journeyed to Bethlehem to be registered.  We learned of how there was no room for them in the inn, and how they ended up delivering little Jesus, the savior of the world, in a room designated for animals.  Exhausted, they placed him in a manger, in bands of cloth, making the best of an awful situation.  We also learned of some unsuspecting shepherds who experienced an angelic encounter.  An angel appeared to them in the fields and told them of the messiah who had been born, where they could find the messiah, and what they could look for – that manger and those bands of cloth.

Today we pick up where we left off.  The angels leave, and the shepherds decide to check out the story.  They visit with Mary and Joseph, confirm the story, and then share their experience with the tired couple.  We are told Mary treasures the words, but ponders them too.  She is clearly still figuring all this out.  Meanwhile, the shepherds go back to work, praising God.  And Mary and Joseph go back to work too – following the circumcision customs, but perhaps, more importantly, following through with what they were asked to do – naming Jesus as the Angel commanded.[i]

What I love about this story is that no one acts alone.  Mary gets the bizarre news of her pregnancy alone, but then her cousin Elizabeth affirms her and confirms the good news.  Shepherds are minding their business when the angels appear to them.  They could have stayed at home that night, but they go and share the news.  Mary and Joseph go on a scary journey that seems to be making one bad turn after another.  But then shepherds come and give them a good word.  Even the naming of Jesus takes place in community – at least a rabbi or priest comes and performs the naming right, knowingly or not, naming the child the same name the angel gave Mary – Jesus, or “Joshua, meaning salvation”[ii].

Going at things alone is part of our contemporary mindset.  We place a value on people being able to fend for themselves.  The number one goal of parents is to teach their children independence.  And Lord knows we hear a lot of, “I do it by myself!” at our house these days.  In and of itself, independence is not a bad thing.  We have gifts and talents of which God expects us to be good stewards.  But going at life alone can have the opposite effect of what we think.  By glorifying independence we forget the inherent dependence we all have.  If nothing else, we are certainly dependent upon our Lord and Savior, without whom nothing would be possible.  But Jesus teaches us that community is equally important.  Jesus was never a lone ranger in his ministry. He understood the people of faith to be a community – to need each other for learning and understanding.  Unlike what the world might have us believe, life is not all about independence.  Quite the opposite, we need each other in this crazy journey of faith – to learn from each other, to challenge each other, to support each other, and cheer each other on when we get weary.

As our children and I were reading our Advent and Christmas devotional this week, we learned about Simeon and Anna, whose story comes in the verses just following the passage we read today.  If you remember Simeon and Anna are elder members of the faith, living and working in the temple when Jesus is to be presented.  The devotional asked us what elderly people we know and what they teach us.  I was surprised to hear my seven-year old jump in with all sorts of idea about what our elders teach us.  She said that our elders have lived a lot longer and so they have a lot to teach us about the world.  She said they can help teach the children how to live and what they can do in the world.  When I asked the question about what our elders teach us, I had expected the standard, “I don’t know.”  Instead, I got a response that showed a great deal of insight into how much we need each other – young and old, rich and poor, male and female, liberal and conservative – if we are going to survive in this journey of faith and life.

All the parts of our Christmas story are a bit like a puzzle.  Each piece is important in its own right, but once you put the pieces together, the puzzle reveals something much more valuable.  Though the parts we hear about during Christmastide are some of our favorite parts, they are just pieces in the puzzle.  The story of Jesus would not be complete without angelic appearances, shared stories between cousins, and tired, weary people sharing good news together.  Mary would have nothing to treasure and ponder without the ragtag community that has gathered around her.

The same is true for us.  Our Christmas story is a beautiful story.  But unless we share the story in community, unless we share our story in community, we only get a partial glimpse into the good work Christ is doing in our lives.  We need each other to encourage and support each other in the faith journey.  We need each other to interpret God’s movement in our lives, and to teach us wisdom.  We need each other in those moments of treasuring and pondering our own story.  Today we give thanks for the tremendous community of faith who help us in our journeys toward Christ.  Thanks be to God!  Amen.

[i] Fred B. Craddock, Luke, Interpretation:  A Bible Commentary for Teaching and Preaching (Louisville:  John Knox Press, 1990), 36-37.

[ii] Craddock, 36.

Sermon – Philippians 1.3-11, A2, YC, December 6, 2015

Tags

action, affirmation, community, faith, family, God, Good News, Jesus, letter, love, mission, overflow, Paul, Philippians, seeking, Sermon, serving, sharing

This sermon was given on the occasion of our Annual Meeting.

My dearest St. Margaret’s, “I thank my God every time I remember you, constantly praying with joy in every one of my prayers for all of you, because of your sharing in the gospel from the first day until now.  I am confident of this, that the one who began a good work among you will bring it to completion by the day of Jesus Christ.  It is right for me to think this way about all of you, because you hold me in your heart, for all of you share in God’s grace with me…For God is my witness, how I long for all of you with the compassion of Christ Jesus.”

If ever I were to write a love letter to St. Margaret’s, I would steal these words from Paul to the Philippians.  You see, Paul saw in the Philippians what I see in you:  a community of faith alive with the Holy Spirit, sharing the Good News of Christ Jesus in our community.  A little over four years ago, I became your rector.  You were bruised and battered, having not only survived a tumultuous relationship with your last rector, but also a strained relationship with an interim, as well as the absence of consistent leadership for over two years through the limits of a supply priest.  Having had years of struggle, I quickly came to realize that St. Margaret’s had some baggage.  But St. Margaret’s also had a sense of tenacity, determination, and a deep-rooted joy that could not be stifled.  You see, as Paul writes, I could see that over fifty years ago, “the one who began a good work among you [would] bring [that good work] to completion by the day of Jesus Christ.”  I knew God was not done with us yet.

And so, over time, I came to love each of you:  not the dreamy romantic love of love birds, but the kind of love that family has for each other.  That is what people usually describe as being so wonderful about St. Margaret’s:  that we are like family.  Now when I first heard that description, I got a little nervous.  I have served at too many funerals and weddings to know that every family has some drama.  Every family has a loud Uncle Carl, crazy Aunt Bessie, or overbearing Grandma Jones.  Every family has experienced sibling drama or tensions between parent and child.  Describing St. Margaret’s as being like a family made me wary.  I began to wonder who the loud uncle, the crazy aunt, or the overbearing grandma were in this community.  But over the years, I began to understand more fully why the description of St. Margaret’s as family works so well.  Don’t get me wrong, we have our loud uncles, crazy aunts, and overbearing grandmas – though I will never tell you who they are!  But like a family, we know each other.  We know each other’s foibles, quirks, and tendencies.  We know each other’s hurts, failures, and embarrassing moments.  We even know how to predict the reactions of each other to any given situation.  But also like family, we love each other anyway.  We love each other in the way that loving mothers, protective fathers, supporting sisters, and encouraging brothers can.  We love each other not despite our weaknesses but because of those weaknesses.  In fact, no matter how much we might annoy each other at times, those foibles, quirks, and tendencies are what we have come to love about one another.  In essence, we have come to see each other with the loving eyes that Christ has for each of us.  We have come to love like Paul.[i]  Somewhere deep in our hearts, we too pray, “I thank my God every time I remember you, constantly praying with joy in every one of my prayers for all of you.”

Paul gushes about the Philippians today:  about how much he loves them, how proud he is of their work to spread the Good News, and how he sees Christ moving and acting among them for good.  But Paul’s letter is not simply a letter of affirmation – a love letter for the Philippians to put under their pillows and pull out when they are feeling low.  Paul’s letter is more.  Paul’s letter comes with a charge.  “And this is my prayer, that your love may overflow more and more with knowledge and full insight to help you to determine what is best, so that in the day of Christ you may be pure and blameless, having produced the harvest of righteousness that comes through Jesus Christ for the glory and praise of God.”  Paul does not want the Philippians to keep this love to themselves.  He wants them to let their love overflow into action.[ii]

The more and more I read Paul’s charge this week, the more and more I began to see the mission of St. Margaret’s in his words.[iii]  Several years ago, St. Margaret’s took up a mantra.  We want to be a community of faith seeking Christ, serving Christ, and sharing Christ in our community and beyond.  First, we want to be a community seeking Christ – a community committed to learning more about this God we follow, and deepening our journey with Christ.  As Paul says, we want to build up knowledge and full insight to help us determine what is best.  And so that is a part of our work here.  We are teaching our children how to walk in the way of Christ.  We are studying God’s word and challenging one another to grow through prayer, reading, and reflection.  We are engaging in meaningful worship that inspires and delights us, and helps us to connect with our God.  We are a community of faith seeking Christ.

We are also a community of faith serving Christ.  As Paul says, we are letting our love overflow.  St. Margaret’s is a community that cares about others – not just those inside the doors, but outside the doors too.  I see that love in the ways that wallets open as soon as we learn of a need in our community.  I see that love when you think of others when grocery shopping for yourselves, adding in a few extra cans or boxes for people you have never met.  I see that love when we spread peanut butter and scoop jelly, praying that the recipient of that sandwich might know the love of Christ that you have known and be encouraged in their struggle.  Our love overflows into vegetable gardens, into grief support groups, and into the hearts and minds of those who long for love.  We are a community of faith serving Christ.

We are also a community of faith sharing Christ.  As Paul says, we are to let our love overflow so that it might produce a harvest.  What I have loved about this community is that although we are nervous about sharing the Good News – of evangelizing – we share the Good News anyway.  When you gush with friends about the meaningful thing that happened at church, when you tell a stranger about how your church is doing good work, or when you serve as an example of Christ-like love in the world, you are sharing the Good News.  We do that when we walk in the parade, we do that when we put our name on baseball jerseys, and we do that when we wear our St. Margaret’s shirts to the gym, grocery store, or shopping mall.  We are a community of faith sharing Christ.

We are a community of faith seeking Christ, serving Christ, and sharing Christ because the love, joy, and acceptance we have found inside these walls is not just for us.  Fifty-two years ago, God began a good work in us.  God planted the seeds of righteousness in this community, and today we are invited to harvest that work.  And Paul assures us, as he assured the Philippians years ago, that God will bring to completion the good work began in us.  All we have to do is let our love overflow – overflow from us, overflow from our beautiful, complicated relationships with one another, and overflow from our community out into the world.  So tuck that love letter under your pillow when you need affirmation and a reminder that you are doing the good work that God calls you to do.  But also pull out that love letter when you feel weary – when you need to be inspired to get back out there, to seek Christ, serve Christ, and share Christ.  God loves you with a deep affection; and God wants your love to overflow to others more and more.  Amen.

[i] Leander E. Keck, ed., New Interpreter’s Bible, vol. 11 (Nashville: Abingdon Press, 2000), 484.

[ii] Philip E. Campbell, “Exegetical Perspective,” Feasting on the Word, Yr. C, vol. 1 (Louisville:  Westminster John Knox Press, 2009), 39.

[iii] Edward Pillar, “Commentary on Philippians 1.3-11,” December 6, 2015 as found at  http://www.workingpreacher.org/preaching.aspx?commentary_id=2695 on December 3, 2015.

More…

Tags

clergy, God, Good News, interfaith, Jesus, life, love, mercy, ministry, more, Thanksgiving, Transgender, wideness, witness, worship

Every once in a while, I have experiences in ministry when I think, “Well I never would have imagined that happening!”  I admit that the experience is rare.  There is not a lot that surprises me anymore in this line of work.  Though I am relatively young, I still feel like I have seen it all.

But that has not been the case this week.  This week I found myself in two situations I would have never anticipated.  On Sunday night, our parish hosted the Long Island Transgender Day of Remembrance.  I had no role in crafting the liturgy or planning the evening.  I simply offered our space and was asked to give an opening and closing prayer.  In fact, the planning committee warned me that this would not be like a “church service” – so I should not get my hopes up!  But as I sat in my pew, watching testimonial after testimonial, listening to over eighty names of those who were murdered because of their transgender identity, and hearing beautiful music about the wideness of God’s love and the call to love “the other” – I tell you, I experienced “Church.”  You see, Church is supposed to be about worshiping our God who shows mercy and compassion, who calls us to love the outcast and the oppressed, and who compels us to go out and witness the Good News of God in Christ.  Sunday night, I felt like the Good News came back inside and witnessed to me.

Plainview-Old Bethpage Interfaith Clergy, November 24, 2015

On Tuesday night, I participated in my fourth Plainview-Old Bethpage Interfaith Thanksgiving Service.  Every year I find the service moving. I am grateful for a holiday that we can all honor without fear of stepping on each other’s toes.  But as I sat there last night, I became acutely aware of my surroundings.  On my left sat the Mufti from the local Muslim community and on my right sat the priest from the local Roman Catholic parish.  It occurred to me in that moment that the Mufti usually only says prayers with men.  The women pray separately.  And yet, there we were, side by side, giving thanks to God.  It also occurred to me that although the priest has been warm and affirming, his Church does not recognize my ordination as appropriately apostolic – especially given my gender.  And yet, there we were, as equal leaders in our respective communities.  Despite having had long relationships with the fellow clergy leaders, this was the first time I realized how radical our relationships are – to sit next to each other despite profound differences – and yet still be able to praise, lead, and worship together.

Truthfully, I do not know what God is doing this week.  On a basic level, I suspect God is reminding me that I am not even close to having “seen it all.”  But on a deeper level, I also suspect that God is inviting me to go further, to delve deeper, and to see more widely.  Perhaps a disadvantage to my profession is a naïve sense that I have a hold on who this God is that we worship and serve.  This week, God has humbled me by reminding me that God is so much more. As I anticipate celebrating Eucharist on Thanksgiving Day, I expect to approach the Table with keener sense of wonder, gratitude, and awe for the ways in which God is so much more.  What a blessed gift this week has been.  Thanks be to God for being more than I could ask for or imagine!

Evangelism joy…

Tags

church, evangelism, fear, fun, Good News, joy, parade, worry

This Monday our parish walked in our local Memorial Day Parade.  I did a lot of cajoling to get our parishioners out among the community that day.  But I must admit, that morning all I wanted to do was stay in bed.  I had experienced some sleepless nights with the little one, Monday is normally my day off and walking in the parade would mean losing not just my day off but a holiday too, and it is a rare weekday that I get to have my whole family together.  So despite all my haranguing about our need to evangelize, all I wanted to do was stay in bed (or at least stay in my pajamas, since little ones do not believe in sleeping in around our house).

But as soon as the crowds began to gather, I realized how good God is.  While walking to the parade, we ran into one of my daughter’s friends from kindergarten.  Later, we ran into the clergy and staff of our neighboring Lutheran church and preschool, who had not seen our youngest child since our preschooler graduated last spring.  I found myself introducing St. Margaret’s parishioners to non-church friends.  We managed to gather the largest number of parishioners to ever walk the parade.  And, quite honestly, I had fun.

That’s the funny thing about evangelism.  We get all nervous about what will happen.  We wonder what we will say.  We fret about how people will react when we talk about church.  We worry it will be awkward.  But Monday gave me a renewed spirit for sharing the Good News.  Sharing your joy about church isn’t really all that awkward.  In fact, it tends to segue into other conversations, because joy is contagious.  Thanks for reminding me about my joy, St. Margaret’s!  Let’s do it again soon!

Sermon – Acts 2.1-21, PT, YB, May 24, 2015

Tags

comfort, disciples, familiarity, fear, God, Good News, Holy Spirit, inside, light, outside, Pentecost, public, Sermon, shadow, shame

There is something quite comforting about coming into the doors of a church.  There is a peace that comes over us when we enter the doors.  Despite the fact that a wooden bench would not be all that comfortable any other time, the sleek, hard pews give us a sense of stability and security.  The familiar motions of the liturgy give us just enough variety to keep us engaged, but enough similarity to give us a sense of comfort.  The distinct texture and taste of the bread and wine in our mouths somehow fill our entire bodies with tranquility.  When those doors close behind us, we feel protected from the outside world – a world that is noisy, harsh, and sometimes cruel.  Inside the doors we find warmth, calm, and serenity.  Slipping into the church is like slipping under a soft blanket that envelops us in security.

We are not unlike those disciples on Pentecost day.  The disciples had made a habit of retreating indoors ever since Jesus died.  Even though the miracle of Easter had happened, almost every time Jesus makes a resurrection appearance, the disciples are behind closed doors.  In fact, on the feast of Pentecost, the disciples were supposed be having a party with the rest of the community to celebrate the giving of God’s law.  But instead, we find them cowering once again in one room behind a bolted door.[i]  I suppose we cannot be too judgmental.  They saw firsthand what happened to Jesus.  Though his ministry had been revolutionary, he was tortured and killed like a common criminal.  Surely anyone associated with him or promoting his ministry and witness would receive similar treatment.  And we cannot forget their shame.  Though they had vied to be at his right and left hand during his ministry, and though they fawned over him when he was making an impact, when push came to shove, they all abandoned him.  And Peter was the worst.  Though he did not betray Jesus like Judas, he basically did the same thing.  In fact, his betrayal may have been worse because he vowed – swore to Jesus and everyone – that he would never, ever betray Jesus.  But he did betray him.  Over and over he denied he even knew the man who was an intimate friend and mentor.  We would probably be hiding behind closed doors too, trying to cover our shame.  Even with all the promises Jesus makes, and the ways he keeps appearing to the disciples, they just cannot seem to get over that hurdle of their shame and fear to step out into the light.

Maybe that is what the community of Christ would have been – a community that gathers in the shadows – had Pentecost not happened.  In the comfort of closed rooms that envelop like a warm blanket, they would whisper stories from the good ol’ days.  They could even develop some rituals just for their members – Jesus had taught them about washing feet and eating the Eucharistic meal.  In fact, maybe they could use that as a recruiting technique.  If word gets whispered around that they are gathering in the quiet, then maybe others will seek them out and ask to join them.  Maybe they do not need to go out like Jesus said and share the good news.  Maybe people will come to them.  They could even figure out a symbol – like a red door – to let everyone know how to find them.

Ah, but you see, God had other things in mind for those disciples.  I wonder sometimes how God ever puts up with us.  God tried for the longest to be in covenant with God’s people.  Over and over again God delivered them from peril.  Over and over again, God renewed God’s covenant with the people, even though they kept breaking that covenant.  Over and over again God chased after the people, longing to gather them like a mother hen.  God even went so far as to send Jesus, to be present among the people in flesh form, and died on a cross to redeem God’s people.  Even after the miracle of the resurrection, after destroying death forever, God’s people still sit hovered in fear, having forgotten all the ways that Jesus wanted them to live boldly.[ii]

And so, on this day, because they clearly could not muster that boldness themselves, something – or someone – breaks down the door – breaks down the walls – and explodes inside the disciples.  A violent, rushing wind fills the room and bursts the doors open.  Different languages – languages they had never spoken before – erupt out of their mouths.  The text says that the people are bewildered, amazed, astonished, and perplexed.  But the Greek text is much more vivid.  The original text says they are “confused, in an uproar, beside themselves, undone, blown away, thoroughly disoriented, completely uncomprehending.”  [You can imagine the chaos from just hearing the chaos of our reading today.]  No longer do the disciples hover in a darkened room.  They are loudly, boldly in the public square talking nonsense – and yet sounding perfectly clear to those gathered.  Even Peter, the one with the most to be ashamed of, the one who probably feels like the deepest failure, on this day manages to become all that Jesus intended for him to be.  When the disciples meet resistance and sneering, Peter stands up and does what he was meant to do all along.  He testifies.  He testifies in public, in the midst of scary chaos, and says the words that have been on his heart since Jesus died.  He proclaims hope, and promise, and fulfillment.  He steps out of the shadows and steps into the light.

How do they do it?  How do the disciples manage to get over their fear and shame and go out into the public square?  Well, they certainly do not do it alone.  The only way they are able to conquer their fear and shame and step boldly into the public square with their testimony is through the Holy Spirit.  Most of us do not really feel comfortable with the Holy Spirit.  We use words like the “Advocate” or the “Comforter” to describe the Holy Spirit.  We think of the Holy Spirit as the one who remains with us after Jesus is gone.  But in our text today, the Holy Spirit is not comforting.  In fact, the Holy Spirit is disturbing, disruptive, and life-changing.  As one scholar says, “The Holy Spirit is as much agitator as advocate, as much provocateur as comforter.”[iii]  In fact, the word in Greek for the Holy Spirit is Paraclete.  That word may be our best way to understand how this all words.  Paraclete is a compound Greek word that literally means, “to come alongside another.”  “In this sense, the Paraclete can be an advocate – to come along side to defend and counsel – or comforter – to come along side to provide comfort and encouragement.  But the one who comes along side might also do so to strengthen you for work, or to muster your courage, or to prompt or even provoke you to action.”[iv]

Last weekend at the Vestry Retreat, our facilitator gave us a challenge at lunch.  She gave us all an assignment.  We had to go up to a stranger in Panera and ask them whether they knew of an Episcopal Church in Plainview.  You should have seen the furrowed brows and the shifting in our chairs most of us did.  You should have heard the bargaining many of us did, promising to do it another day.  We’re not alone in our discomfort.  Tomorrow, you all have been invited to walk with us in the POB Memorial Day Parade to promote St. Margaret’s in the community.  Many of us have valid excuses for not going – the walk is rather long and some of us are out of town for the holiday.  But many of us just do not feel comfortable being the face of the church – giving witness to total strangers.  And that is not the only challenge before us.  Just this week, we posted the baseball schedule for the Little League team we are sponsoring.  The idea is for us not just to have our name in print on a big sign in the outfield.  The idea is also that we meet people where they are – at a baseball field at the POB Community Park on a Saturday afternoon – and just say hi.  We listen to their stories and we share ours.  I know that most of us will not get up the nerve to go sit with a bunch of strangers.  In fact, when we decided to sponsor the team and invite parishioners to go to games, one parishioner told me explicitly, “Oh, St. Margaret’s parishioners won’t go to a game.  They just won’t.”

Today we sit inside, huddled together in a place of comfort and familiarity.  We even painted our doors red and we hope people will find their way to us so that they might enjoy the beauty of St. Margaret’s as we do.  But our church is inviting us again and again to get out of that nostalgic pew, to go out in public, and proclaim the good news.  How in the world will we do it?  Amen.

[i] William H. Willimon, “Taking It to the Streets,” Christian Century, vol. 108, no. 15, May 1, 1991, 483.

[ii] Rob Merola, “Radical Reliance,” Christian Century, vol. 123, no. 11, May 30, 2006, 22.

[iii] David Lose, “Pentecost B: Come Alongside, Holy Spirit!” May 18, 2015, as found on May 20, 2015 at http://www.davidlose.net/2015/05/pentecost-b-come-alongside-holy-spirit/.

[iv] Lose.

Sermon – Matthew 13.1-9, 18-23, P10, YA, July 13, 2014

Tags

fun, God, Good News, haphazard, Jesus, seeds, Sermon, soil, sower

Growing up as the child of a rural Methodist Minister, there was never a lack of fresh produce in our home.  Now that was not because my family went to the grocery store a lot or because we grew our own vegetables, but because multiple times per week, we would find a brown bag sitting on our porch, full of produce from parishioner’s gardens or farms.  Sometimes we knew who they came from, but sometimes they were entirely unmarked bags just waiting for us.  And sometimes people caught us at home so we were able to thank them properly.  But my favorite bags of food came from a local farmer and church member named Frank.  Frank was a funny guy – always wearing his overalls, with a bandana hanging out of his back pocket.  Frank had lived on farms his whole life, and he had a funny way of talking about the farm.  Anytime we tried to thank him for the tomatoes, squash, or cucumbers, he would just scoff and tell us that they were some of Old Bessie’s volunteers.

Bessie was his tractor.  Frank used Bessie to seed his fields, but Bessie was temperamental.  The device that shot the seeds into the field did not really operate properly – it would turn off and on at will, and so Frank always tried to get Bessie into position as quickly as possible before she start spewing seeds.  But invariably, Bessie would spray seeds in the barn, in the ditch on the way to the fields, along the roadside, and even by their house.  Though he would curse and yell at Old Bessie, Frank never seemed to get the glitch fixed, and I guess he loved Bessie too much to trade up for a new one.  Consequently, he would get “volunteer” plants all over his property.  Instead of pulling them up, as they grew and produced all over his property, his youngest sons had to go around and pick them.  These “volunteers” from Bessie were the producers of much of the food we ate throughout the summer and fall.

In a lot of ways, I think the sower in Jesus’ parable today is a lot like Bessie the tractor.  Jesus says that the sower throws seed all over the place – on the path, on rocky ground, among thorns, and in good soil.  By farming standards, the sower is pretty awful at his job.  Most farmers and gardeners are quite careful about how and where they plant.  For those of you not involved in our own community garden here at St. Margaret’s you may not know that they spent quite a long time planning and researching for our garden.  They thought through where the best sunlight would be, how deep the bed should be, what kind of soil to put into the raised bed, and what kind of weed cover to put down.  They even managed to secure some fox urine pellets to spread around the box to deter rabbits from eating all our hard work.  Nowhere in the planning did our Garden Committee suggest we just take some seeds and throw them around the property and see what happens.  And yet this is what the sower seems to be doing in Jesus’ parable today.

The question is why the sower sows seed in such a seemingly wasteful way.  The sower must know that seeds do not get a chance to grow when they are so exposed that birds will eat them before they can germinate.  The sower must know that the soil is not deep enough in the rocky areas to take good healthy root.  The sower must know that thorns usually choke out plants, not letting them grow to full maturity.  So why does the sower not simply save the seed for the healthiest soil?

The scarier part of that question is the next natural question.  Why would Jesus also recommend that the disciples spread the Good News in such a haphazard way too?  When Jesus explains the meaning of his parable, he explains that when they share the Good News, there are going to be times when their sharing feels like fruitless sowing.  The devil is going to come in, people’s enthusiasm is going to wane over time, and others will simply be distracted by the cares of the world.  Very few will actually receive the Good News and flourish and thrive.  And yet Jesus seems to be saying, “Sew the seeds of the Good News with abandon anyway.”

Jesus’ advice to the disciples goes against any sound business practices.  I have been a part of many dioceses who do church planting, and in every case they spend years examining the numbers and making plans.  They look for areas of new population growth, where young families are moving in or are already present, where Episcopal Churches have not yet been built, and where there are many who are unchurched.  They develop carefully constructed publicity campaigns and gimmicks to spread the news about the newly forming church.  Billboards, paper ads, new websites, and promotional events are planned.  Nothing about church planting today is like what Jesus is talking about in this parable.  In fact, many of you have had similar feelings about church growth here in Plainview.  Many of you have expressed the sentiment that church growth in Plainview is pretty much a waste since our community has such a large Jewish population.  And of those neighbors who aren’t Jewish, the rest are Catholic.  So instead of throwing our precious evangelism budget away in our neighborhood, many have encouraged me to either figure out different neighborhoods or to target other towns altogether.

So what is Jesus really suggesting and why do we not seem to want to listen?  On Memorial Day weekend, about twenty parishioners walked in the Plainview Memorial Day Parade, promoting St. Margaret’s.  Two faithful parishioners dressed up as garden vegetables to help us advertise the work of our Garden of Eatin’.  As we walked along, we handed out seed packets and small brochures about St. Margaret’s.  Before the parade began, I remember wondering whether anyone would want our handouts.  I know people love to catch candy and other trinkets, but I could not imagine anyone actually being interested in what we had to offer.  I made a point to watch to see if my theory was right.  As I expected, a few people said “No, thank you,” when offered our handout.  However, I was almost shocked when I noticed that several people gladly took our handouts – in fact one woman specifically asked if she could have one.

What I, and probably many of us, would judge as rocky or thorny soil, actually turned out to be good soil.  That is what Jesus is hoping to get the disciples and us to see.  We can never know what different soils will do.  When we share the Good News, we have no way of knowing what kind of soil we are sowing seeds into.  In fact, I would be willing to guess that many times we often judge soil incorrectly.  And since we are probably not the best soil experts, Jesus instead tells us to sow with abandon – to throw our good news all over the place because you never know when a hand might extend toward us, wanting some of the good news we have to share.  That is a part of the fun!

For years I have suspected that Farmer Frank never repaired Bessie on purpose.  I think he enjoyed the mystery of where the tractor’s seeds would germinate and grow.  He liked sharing the abundance of that crazy tractor.  He liked teaching his children about volunteer plants and the importance of sharing God’s blessings.  And he especially enjoyed spying his neighbors who would stop along the road and pick some extra squash or tomatoes, because they knew Frank and Bessie would not mind.  Bessie made all of that possible, and to repair her would have been to take some of the joy and blessing out of life.

This is the invitation of Jesus to us today:  to be like an erratic, haphazard, wasteful sower of good news.  Yes, you might be known as that crazy lady or guy who talks about God too much.  And, yes, your words might fall on deaf ears or be forgotten tomorrow.  But occasionally, your words will be just the words that someone needed to hear that day.  Your reckless sharing of your blessed experiences with God might just be the food someone was longing for.  In time, you may just find that being a crazy sower of good news is kind of fun, and brings you as much fruit as it brings others.  Amen.

On discomfort…

Tags

discomfort, God, Good News, hypocrite, Jesus, need, neighbor, scripture, uncomfortable

I have regularly told people that when I preach, I am preaching to myself.  I find that my messages often resonate with others, but first and foremost, I make sure they resonate with me.  This has led to me needing to be honest about my faith struggles, to be vulnerable about how I still need to grow, and always seeking how God is speaking in fresh ways to me, calling me into deeper relationship with God.

This Sunday though, I found myself with a profound sense of conviction that I have yet to experience.  My sermon was about Matthew 5.38-48, and can be found here.  But what you would not know is that between our 8 am service and our 10 am service, a neighbor in need stopped by to ask if for financial assistance.  I had spoken with this neighbor before, and helped by covering the neighbor’s rent within the last month.  In general, I am able to help neighbors in similar situations because of my discretionary fund – a fund supported by the church and by contributions when I perform weddings or funerals.  But the fund is not large, and so my general policy is to keep within a certain range for each distribution of funds and to only offer assistance to the same family once every six months.  The idea behind the policy is that this allows me to help more families, and keeps enough monies in the fund for emergencies.  So when this neighbor came on Sunday, asking for further assistance, nowhere near the normal six-month wait period, the case seemed cut and dry to me.  I could not offer him what I would not offer to others.  Instead, I gave the neighbor some referrals for additional help, and we lit a prayer candle and prayed together before the neighbor left.

Courtesy of http://catholicworkeraustin.org/mercy.html

But the tricky part was getting back in the pulpit at 10 am.  I had just read aloud Jesus’ words from the gospel lesson, “Give to everyone who begs from you, and do not refuse anyone who wants to borrow from you.”  And I preached about seeing others with God’s loving eyes.  And though I felt like I was preaching the right message, and I know that ultimately I did the right thing with our neighbor, I still felt a little sick to my stomach.  As one who proclaims the Gospel, I felt like a hypocrite.  I remember wondering how if our neighbor had stayed for worship, whether the neighbor would have thought I was a hypocrite too.  And yet, I also felt an overwhelming sense that any kind of exceptions I had made that day would have undermined my ministry in our community.

I still have not come to peace about the situation.  I do not have some clean, clear answer that makes the situation feel resolved or redeemable, even if I still feel I made the right decision.  But in these last days, I have been thinking that perhaps my discomfort is the point.  I try regularly to find the Good News in scripture – to find where the hope might be in seemingly challenging or bad news.  But perhaps this week it is okay if I am just uncomfortable.  Perhaps we all need to dwell in the discomfort that the Gospel creates from time to time – only then can we be more authentic followers of Christ.

A spark…

Tags

church, conversation, evangelism, God, Good News, grace

One of the things we have been looking at as a parish is how to more intentionally engage in evangelism.  The conversation has not been easy.  We have all been victim of an overzealous religious person who has made us feel uncomfortable.  A few of us have hidden behind closed curtains from someone knocking at our door to share their testimony.  Some of us have crossed on the opposite side of the street from the guy with a Bible, a loud voice, and a handful of tracts.  And of course, we ourselves have begun to overcompensate, avoiding talking about our faith altogether in non-church circles for fear of becoming “that guy.”

But we have been prayerfully working on seeing evangelism not as uncomfortable, out-of-touch haranguing, but as a grace-filled conversation about the goodness and grace of God in our lives.  We have been prayerfully considering how we can create the environment for such conversations.  And we looking at ways to meet people where they are, knowing that we cannot expect to share the Good News if we stay closed up in our church.

Perhaps without even realizing it, this week we did just that.  Last Wednesday, we gathered with people of faith throughout the Plainview-Old Bethpage community and made 495 sandwiches to feed our hungry neighbors.  We shared the work together, we got to know people from other faith traditions and communities, and we prayerfully thought of the men and women whose lives would be touched by our strokes of peanut butter and jelly.

Then, on Monday, over twenty of our parishioners gathered to walk in the Plainview Memorial Day Parade.  I watched as parishioners, clad in St. Margaret’s gear, shook the hands of old friends, had conversations with strangers, and waved with gusto.  As we walked, I overheard onlookers wondering about our Garden of Eatin’ (check out our Facebook page for our fun shirts, props, and banners), talking about where we were located, and not-so-subtly realizing I was the priest.

After the walk, parishioners re-gathered at the church, and planted our Grow to Give Garden.  Our garden is located near the road that our church faces, and I can see that the garden might be a great invitation into our property.  The garden already has brought young and old together.  I am hoping it might also bring parishioner and non-parishioner together too.

This week, we started the work of evangelism.  My hope is that the experience gives us some energy around keeping it up.  I am already considering what local establishments I might begin to frequent when I do my sermon preparation.  The Vestry is beginning to ask some of our committees and groups to consider moving off campus to better be seen by and to encounter our community.  Our work is just beginning, but this weekend gave me the spark to keep it up.  See you at a local Starbucks, Cosi, or Panera soon!!