Sermon – Jonah 3.10-4.11, Matthew 20.1-16, P20, YA, September 20, 2020

Tags

anger, angry, emotions, God, grace, Jesus, Jonah, justice, laborers, mercy, parable, prophet, Sermon, steadfast love

Today, we hear some of the most fabulous stories in scripture.  The first is one of my favorites – the complete and utter temper tantrum of Jonah.  Jonah, the “anti-prophet”[i] who runs from God’s call so vigorously he risks an entire boat’s crew, and is swallowed and regurgitated by a large fish before doing what God tells him to do.  He finally goes to Nineveh, preaching the shortest, most reluctant sermon ever, and when the people repent and God relents from punishment, Jonah loses his mind.  Maybe Jonah hoped that Nineveh, home of the Assyrians who have battled and ruined the Northern empire of Israel, would finally get what they deserve.  Instead they get God’s mercy and grace.  Jonah is angry because he loathes the very nature of God – the God who is gracious, merciful, slow to anger, and abounding in steadfast love.  Jonah only wants that kind of God for himself – not for his people’s mortal enemies.  Jonah is angry.  In his tempter-tantrum-throwing words, “Angry enough to die!”

The characters in Matthew are not much different.  After laboring in the fields all day, as various workers are brought in from the marketplace, even up until the last hour, the day laborers are distributed their pay.  When the landowner gives those who worked an hour the same as those who worked all day – even though technically, the longest working laborers received exactly what the landowner promised – a living wage that can feed their families – the longest working laborers cannot see and praise the landowner’s generosity toward others.  No, they grumble – a pastime of God’s people from the beginning of time.[ii]  Everyone wants a gracious God – until that grace is extended in ways that violate our precarious notions of justice.  The problem, as once scholar submits, is “Justice and grace cannot be reconciled with one another.”  And yet, “they are both part of the character of God.”[iii]

Now I would love to stand here with you today and patronize these characters.  But those kinds of sentiments let us off all too easily.  If we have not acknowledged our own Jonah-like temper tantrums or our grumbled against God’s gracious mercy in the last six months, we are not paying attention.  Everything about our nation’s conversations right now are about justice, mercy, and grace:  conversations about race and privilege; anger at foreign countries where not only a pandemic originated, but where economic policies are cutting us off at the ankles; an election that has us so polarized we no longer see the humanity in our political enemies; an economy where the rich are either getting richer or are tending to their own, especially when related to the education of their children, while the poor are simply praying to keep their jobs and their homes where their kids are struggling to learn; where the death of an iconic judicial leader has us not just grieving, but taking up arms about the process of electing the next Supreme Court Justice before we’ve even uttered the words, “Rest in Peace.”  The list goes on and on, and I am sure at some point in the last six months we have all been “angry enough to die.”

I understand our emotions are raw right now.  Lord knows, I think every person in my household burst into tears about something this week.  Even the notion of singing the psalmist’s words today feels impossible when we think of “the other.”  But we have to remember when we say, “The Lord is gracious and merciful, slow to anger and abounding in steadfast love,”[iv] those words are for us too.  As much as Jonah runs, deceives, puts others in danger, resists God, half-heartedly does his work, stomps away from God, shows his anger, God keeps pursuing him.  Over and over, despite Jonah’s not deserving, God is gracious with him, full of mercy and steadfast love.  And despite the longest laborers’ grumbling, God provides them with their daily needs.  In God’s question to Jonah, “Is it right for you to be angry about the bush?” are a host of modern-day questions, articulated by a scholar.  She asks, “Could it be any more obvious that we — all of us, every single one of us — are wholly dependent on each other for our survival and well-being?  That the future of Creation itself depends on human beings recognizing our fundamental interconnectedness, and acting in concert for the good of all?  That what’s “fair” for me isn’t good enough if it leaves you in the darkness to die?  That my sense of “justice” is not just if it mocks the tender, weeping heart of God?  That the vineyards of this world thrive only when everyone — everyone — has a place of dignity and purpose within them?  That the time for all selfish and stingy notions of fairness is over?”[v]

I know today’s lessons are hard.  But when we allow ourselves to be fully consumed by God’s grace, mercy, and abundantly steadfast love, our hearts soften a bit – maybe just a tiny sliver.  That sliver is God’s gift to you this week – the gift that will enable us all to see we are all in this together.  God needs me, you, us, and them – however you are defining “them” this week.  God is not asking us to roll over and stop fighting for justice.  But God is inviting us to remember each other’s humanity while doing justice, loving mercy, and walking humbly with our God.  Today’s lessons remind us we can – we can see with the eyes of God’s grace, mercy, and love because we have experienced that same grace, mercy, and love.  When we start seeing with God’s eyes, we will be empowered to find a way forward despite ourselves.  Thanks be to God.

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[i] C. Davis Hankins, “Exegetical Perspective,” Feasting on the Word, Year A, Vol. 4 (Louisville: Westminster John Knox Press, 2011), 75.

[ii] Kathryn D. Blanchard, “Theological Perspective,” Feasting on the Word, Year A, Vol. 4 (Louisville: Westminster John Knox Press, 2011), 94.

[iii] Lewis R. Donelson, “Exegetical Perspective,” Feasting on the Word, Year A, Vol. 4 (Louisville: Westminster John Knox Press, 2011), 97.

[iv] Psalm 145.8

[v] Debie Thomas, “On Fairness,” September 13, 2020, as found at https://www.journeywithjesus.net/lectionary-essays/current-essay?fbclid=IwAR1uTVaenGNYgJX-mpph8V_97k_S-kIWEbuuSMwkzJKLohX0XbYvuveEk9k on September 17, 2020.

Sermon – Matthew 9.35-10.23, P6, YA, June 14, 2020

Tags

African-American, compassion, disciples, empower, God, harassed, helpless, Jesus, justice, love, mercy, police, protest, racism, rally, Sermon, Spirit, truth, witness

Last Sunday afternoon, I attended a rally in Colonial Williamsburg to renew the covenant between our Historical area police departments and the African-American community.  Established just three years ago, initiated by faith leaders in the African-American community, the covenant was established to proactively create collaborative relationships with our local police in order to prevent some of the racial divides that have occurred in other cities.  Although I was there to witness the support of the local clergy for this covenant, what I heard was the testimony of a community of people who have been harassed and feel helpless right here in our community.  Though we may have avoided some of the violence we have seen elsewhere in our country, the African-American community here in Williamsburg still feels the heel of racism pushing down on her neck.

Last week, we heard Matthew’s Great Commission, and we talked about the juxtaposition of civil unrest exploding around the issue of systemic racism and Jesus’ call to go out into the world doing works of justice, mercy, and love.  As some of the heat from protests simmered down a bit this past week, we could easily come to church today and long to turn down the heat too.  But our collect appointed for today, which you will hear later, holds our feet to the fire.  The collect says, “Keep, O Lord, your household the Church in your steadfast faith and love, that through your grace we may proclaim your truth with boldness, and minister your justice with compassion…”  Now the Collect of the Day is not just a random prayer, meant to sound good.  The Collect of the Day pulls themes from the scripture lessons appointed for the day – in essence, the Collect of the Day tries to articulate the thesis of our lessons.

After watching weeks of protests (maybe attending some yourself), hearing countless stories about unrest, reading articles or starting books about systemic racism, and praying diligently for peace, you may have come to church today hoping for some respite or reassurance.  But Jesus’ message to “Go!” from the Great Commission last week does not fade today.  Instead, Jesus’ words from Matthew’s gospel from almost 20 chapters earlier shows us our work is ever before us, beckoning us out into the world.

Years before his cross, resurrection, and ascension, we find Jesus teaching, healing, and proclaiming the good news to crowds of people.  In the midst of this work, we are told Jesus looks at the crowd and has compassion for them because they are harassed and helpless.  When Jesus sees the harassed and helpless, he does not simply fix the problem or strike down the system with godly power.  Instead, he turns to his disciples with a charge.  Jesus calls the twelve disciples by name (Simon Peter, Andrew, James, John, Philip, Bartholomew, Thomas, Matthew, James, Thaddaeus, Simon, and Judas), those who have been following him, learning from him, studying and praying with him, and sends them out, telling them how hard the work of showing compassion will be:  they will go without financial support, will be dependent upon the hospitality of strangers – some of whom will show them scorn rather than hospitality, will be persecuted and beaten, and will be betrayed even by their closest relatives.  This is the sobering work of love – of proclaiming God’s truth with boldness, and ministering God’s justice with compassion.

So how do the disciples hear such a sobering commission and still take the first step?  They take the first step because Jesus empowers the disciples.  Jesus gives the disciples power to heal and care for the oppressed; Jesus teaches them how to dust off their feet when they are scorned; Jesus promises when they need words, the Spirit of God will speak through them.  In other words, they just need to go, and God will take care of the rest.

Several of you have reached out to me over these last two weeks, longing for something to do in the midst of this important moment.  We have exchanged ideas and resources, and many of you have already begun to take specific action.  The content of how we respond in the coming weeks and months will vary widely, given our different gifts and abilities.  But our Collect today is not a prayer asking God to empower others to do the work of love or for God to just “fix it.”  Our Collect today is a request to God to help each one of us – called by name (Sue, John, Linda, Bob, Lisa, Bill, Tori, Don, Terri, Jim, Beth, and Dave) – to proclaim God’s truth with boldness, and minister God’s justice with compassion.  Jesus has already given us everything we need to do this work.  God is already keeping us in God’s steadfast faith and love; through God’s grace we can proclaim God’s truth with boldness, and minister God’s justice with compassion.  Amen.

Sermon – Luke 23.33-43, P29, YC, November 24, 2019

Tags

Christ the King, cross, fairness, humility, image, Jesus, justice, king, Mr. Rogers, need, Sermon, victory, want

Fifty-one years ago, Mister Rogers Neighborhood debuted on public television.  Many people criticized the show, saying the show was too slow and too boring to keep children engaged.  For critics, children’s programming needed to be loud, action-packed, full of silly gimmicks, perhaps with a few characters that were made fun of or teased.  Knowing how frenetic young children can be, television producers had decided to mirror young children’s behavior in their television programming.  But not Mr. Rogers.  In the midst of frenetic behavior, Mr. Rogers sought a different environment for his show – something slower and more thoughtful, something kind and engaging, something simple and attentive.  Critics said the show would never last, that Mister Rogers Neighborhood was not what children wanted.

On this Christ the King Sunday, the final Sunday of the Church year, this Sunday of jubilant triumph, we find a similar conundrum.  As we read from Luke’s gospel, we do not find Christ the King on a throne – we find him on a cross, leaders scoffing at him, soldiers mocking him, a criminal deriding him, and a crowd of people just standing there watching.  Nothing about today’s lesson connotes victory or royalty.  Jesus’ critics put a sign over his head that read, “This is the King of the Jews.”  The inscription is written as a declarative statement, but I wonder if there should have been a question mark at the end of that sentence.  This is the King of the Jews?  This is what royalty looks like?  This is what a savior is to you?

Of course, I am not sure the people of God were any surer about what having a king should be like.  The people of God never really had a king until they reached the Promised Land.  They saw the neighboring countries with their armies and their admirable kings, and they wanted one for themselves.  That was their first mistake.  God granted them a king to rule over them, but inevitably, the kings, like all humans, were flawed – some more than others.  Hence, there are four books in the Hebrew Scriptures about the kings who ruled and the judges who tried to correct their behavior.  Most of the kings were corrupted by power, money, and greed.  Many abused the people.  Even the most revered king, King David, was a mess.  He was the one who coveted Bathsheba, slept with her, and then killed her husband when he got her pregnant and realized he would not be able to get away with it.

Having been through a horrible patch of awful kings, the prophets predicted the coming of a Messiah – the king of kings and Lord of lords.  This king would be triumphant and would make the people of Israel dominant at last.  You can imagine that with such a great promise, the people of Israel are not too pleased with the man who finally claimed be the Messiah.  Nothing about Jesus says “king.”  He is nonviolent, hangs out with sinners of all sorts, and travels with a sorry band of misfits.  Even his grand entrance into Jerusalem where he is heralded as a king is not so grand – he rides in on a donkey, for goodness sake!  This could not possibly be the king Yahweh had promised them.

And yet, this is exactly the king God sends.  The Lord, who never wanted God’s people to have an earthly king anyway, makes a king that represents everything that is kingly:  a man who loves the poor and cares for the sick, a man who sees through the pretenses of the temple and calls for authenticity, a man who loves deeply and forgives infinitely.  So why are the people of God not excited about this king?  Why can they not love this countercultural king as much as the king they think they need?

In talking to a William & Mary student a couple of weeks ago, I was reminded of one of the first Political Science classes I took in college called Political Theory.  When we started reading the first book in our Political Theory class, I knew I was in trouble.  We read John Rawls’ A Theory of Justice.  In the book, he presents the best way to create a just political system.  He imagines gathering a random, diverse group of people who are essentially blindfolded about what their lot in life will be.  They have no guarantees about whether they will be old or young, rich or poor, male or female, member of a minority group or not.  In the midst of this blindness, the people gathered are given the task to create a set of rules to govern society.  Rawls’ basic argument is that if those people are truly blind about what their lot in life will be, they will be more likely to come up with a system of governance that is the fairest for all – since no one would want to take a chance on being the one victimized by an unfair system.  Although I appreciated what Rawls was saying, I was immediately annoyed at his argument.  How could we ever recreate a system of justice from scratch, and truly blind anyone enough to create such a system?  The entire premise seemed impossible, and thoroughly frustrating.  Needless to say, my focus in Political Science did not become Political Theory!

That being said, many years later, I think I may finally understand what Rawls was trying to communicate.  Our political system, or even this earthly life in general, is governed by a set of human-made standards that do not look out for the poor, create injustices, and benefit very few.  This is why so many of us get frustrated when we talk about justice or trying to make a difference – we see the system of injustice that fights against us and we can end up feeling helpless.  This is the very injustice that our king – Jesus – comes to fight.  Maybe Rawls saw this too.  Perhaps this world we can only achieve through blindness is the same world Jesus could see through God’s eyes.

In Rawls’ argument, when the blinded people make the rules, and then have their blindfolds removed, some are relieved to be well-off and others are dismayed to see themselves in poverty or at a disadvantage.  But all have some sense of acceptance because the rules they made do not make rich-life as advantageous and do not make poor-life as unbearable.  This is the kind of fairness into which Jesus invites us.  Jesus shows us a world where a humiliated man can look at his persecutors and forgive them.  Jesus shows a world where a man is willing to suffer for the salvation of others.  Jesus shows us a world where even a criminal can see truth in the last hour, can admit his guilt, and turn to Christ for leniency.

This is why we celebrate Christ as King today:  not because he is victorious in putting us in control over others, but because he invites us into a life that evens the playing field – the life of the kingdom of God.  There are certainly going to be days when we wish Jesus would just mount a mighty horse and triumph over evil.  Lord knows, in these days of political strife, of country-wide division and derision, of a time in our country where we say nasty things to one another, and the actions of the other side (whichever side we see as “the other”) are seen as the cause of all our troubles, we could use a Messiah, a king to come in and just “fix it” – to be a decisive, strong, powerful king to clean the slate.  But what Christ the King Sunday invites us to remember is we do not need a king on a throne; we need a king on a cross who enables us to create a world of fairness here and now – a world that is much more similar to the kingdom of God than the kingdom of humankind.

So why do we honor this not-so-kingly king today on the last day of the liturgical year?  I think the very best reason we close one year and prepare to start another with today’s gospel lesson is so that as we can more humbly approach the Christ Child.  If we can imagine ourselves gathered around that manger on that most holy of nights, not eager for vindication, but instead humbled by the path we will all walk with this king, then we enter into Advent with more reverence, less arrogance, and a healthy dose of gratitude.  This king – Christ the King – is the most sobering, challenging, merciful, joyous, steadying king for which we could hope.  He is not the king we always want, but he is certainly the king we always need.  Today we celebrate the wise gift by God of a true King – a king who makes us all better versions of ourselves, who helps us see there are no easy solutions, and who encourages us to embrace justice as fairness, not justice as vindication.  Our invitation today is to take a seat at the foot of the cross, to prepare our place in the hay surrounding the manger, to change out our shoes, to take off our jackets and zip up our cardigans, and to make a calm, quieter space for ourselves to hear how a real king can help us create not the kingdom we may want, but certainly the kingdom we need.  Amen.

On the Need for Mirrors…

Tags

advocacy, anger, baptismal covenant, blame, broken, evil, God, God's word, guilt, immigration, judgment, justice, race, shame, values

Photo credit:  https://fineartamerica.com/featured/mirror-reflection-loriental-photography.html?product=art-print

This weekend I was at the pool with our children.  We had the pool to ourselves for a while until a group of kids joined us toward the end of our time.  A few minutes after their arrival, the lifeguard called break, in keeping with the regularly scheduled breaks.  The new kids were justifiably disappointed, but what happened next was not justifiable.  About five minutes into the break, one of the teenagers starts ranting loudly about why a lifeguard should need a break – claiming his job was not all that hard.  She then asked the lifeguard directly how much longer the break would be.  The lifeguard did not seem to totally understand her question (our lifeguards are usually international students here for the summer), and she spoke to him as if he were a child.  I found my anger rising.  Her taunting behavior continued after the break, and another teenager joined her in disrespecting the lifeguard with audible side comments, and ignoring his instructions about safety.  The lifeguard finally blew the whistle, saying the pool was closed, and everyone would have to leave.

Fortunately, we were on our way out already, as the teenagers’ behavior had angered me so much that I was no longer having fun.  The lifeguard apologized profusely on our way out, and I reassured him that I totally supported his decision, given how disrespectful the other guests were being.  As we walked home, my children asked me why I was so mad.   I explained part of my anger – that we never disrespect others the way those teens did, and their behavior made me mad.  But what I didn’t share was I suspected the teens’ behavior was also related to the lifeguard’s ethnicity.  With tensions around race and immigration these days, I suspected the teen felt she was superior in some way to this man, and I wondered why.

But mostly, I was mad at myself.  As the night wore on, I felt nauseated about the fact I had said nothing to that teenager.  Though my body language probably reflected disdain for her behavior, I said nothing to defend the lifeguard.  The more I thought about it, the more I wished I had approached the teen and talked to her about her inappropriate behavior.  In reflection, I could not figure out why I said nothing to her; I just knew I was ashamed by my inaction – so ashamed, I have felt it for days.

As a country and community, I have heard many conversations about how our government is broken and the other side (whomever we view as the other side) is leading us into evil.  This weekend I began to wonder if, instead, we are the ones who are broken.  We have lost the very values we claim in our baptismal covenant – to respect the dignity of every human being, to strive for justice, and to seek and serve Christ in all persons.  I wholeheartedly support advocacy work and protest movements when we see injustice.  But this week, I humbly ask you to join me in the work on ourselves – to shift from being people outraged by injustice and to start doing justice; to shift from being hearers of God’s Word, to being doers of God’s Word; to turn our criticism of others to a constructive criticism of ourselves.  Next time you hear me complaining about the degradation of our morals or values, please ask me what I am doing about it.  I promise to do the same for you in return.  Let’s get started!

On Neighbors, Kindness, and Baptism…

Tags

baptism, Christian, church, community, covenant, dignity, Episcopal Church, God, identity, Jesus, justice, kind, kindness, love, neighbor, welcome

Photo credit:  https://www.92y.org/event/won-t-you-be-my-neighbor

This weekend our parish’s Faith & Film offering was Won’t You Be my Neighbor, the documentary about Fred Rogers.  My daughter had never seen a documentary before, and I was a bit anxious about her attending for fear she would be bored or the film would be too advanced for her.  Ultimately, it was a risk I was willing to take because although though I knew she had never watched Mr. Rogers, I also knew she would appreciate his message.

But the true test came on the drive home.  As we were riding along, my daughter said, “You know what, Mom?  I think if Mr. Rogers were alive today, he would be a part of WMBGkind.”  Right then, I knew that she got it – that she had been paying attention to the witness of Mr. Rogers and his ministry of teaching children about the dignity of every human being.  That is what kindness is really all about – honoring and respecting the dignity of other human beings – no matter their age, race, ethnicity, gender, sexual identity, socioeconomic status, ability, or even their own ability to show kindness in return.

This Sunday, we are baptizing a baby into the household of God.  As part of that ritual, we will make promises about our own spiritual journey.  We will promise to gather regularly in Christian community, breaking bread and praying together; to resist evil, and repent when we fail; to proclaim the Word of God in word and deed; to seek and serve Christ, loving neighbors as ourselves; and to strive for justice and peace, respecting the dignity of every human being.  We promise to do what Christ asked us to do:  love God, love your neighbor, love yourself.

I love that my daughter is affirming her baptismal identity at Hickory Neck – whether she sees Christian witness through Mr. Rogers or through her Sunday School teachers.  I love that our younger children and older youth are learning how to live into their baptismal identity – whether through nursery care providers or youth group leaders.  And I love that our adults are still learning to live into their baptismal identities – through preaching, teaching, and our children’s witness.  At Hickory Neck, we are working across generations to keep loving God, loving our neighbors, and loving ourselves.  If you are in need of a community to help you claim that same identity and purpose, know that you are always welcome here – won’t you be our neighbor?

Photo credit:  Hickory Neck Episcopal Church; permission to use required

GC79: When People Start Getting Real…

Tags

apathy, children of God, compromise, conversation, Episcopal, General Convention, Jesus, justice, prayer, relationship, truth, uncomfortable

General Convention, July 6, 2018.  Photo credit: Jennifer Andrews-Weckerly (reuse with permission)

One of the things that I am finding powerful about General Convention is a willingness to enter into a time of truth-telling.  Before I arrived, the House of Bishops hosted a listening session of stories from women who have been sexually harassed or abused in the context of the church.  From what I hear it was a powerful experience of honesty and vulnerability, and I believe many of the bishops (most of whom are male) were moved by the experience.

Last night, I sat in on a hearing for people to offer their testimonies about a couple of resolutions involving marriage rights, particularly same-sex marriages.  Much of the conversation was about a resolution put forth involving a compromise (B012).  According to the resolution, bishops can still make decisions with their conscious for their priests and diocese, but would give permission for any priests who feel called to celebrate same-sex marriages to do so with the oversight of another bishop of the Church.  The testimonies lasted for almost two hours (not including the two hours earlier in the day), and many things became abundantly clear.  Our LGBTQ brothers and sisters are hurting and longing to be treated as equal children of God.  And our more conservative brothers and sisters are fearful about not being able to be faithful to their understanding of Scripture and tradition.  The tension was high.  But also present was a spirit of graciousness.  People of opposing views were sitting beside one another, able to make eye contact and stay in the room.  I came away realizing that what I was seeing was what compromise looks like – no one fully happy, but a path forward for now.  And in a county that seems incapable of compromise, it was a gift to see the Church moving in that direction.

And then today, we spent time together talking about Racial Reconciliation – a topic that my conversation partner said has been a topic for twenty years of General Conventions – which means we haven’t gotten there yet.  It was an inspiring, beautiful, hard time, but a time I was glad to see us have.  One of my favorite speakers, the Rev. Nancy Frausto, had this to say, “This society has been contaminated by the plague of apathy.”  In other words, in a political environment where injustice is rampant, we cannot afford to let apathy infect us.

I do not know where these conversations will lead.  I suspect we will not solve the world’s ills at this Convention.  But what we are starting to do is show the world what it means to be a diverse people who stay together, find a compromise, and love and lead together.  It is not easy.  In fact, it’s pretty uncomfortable. But following Jesus is pretty uncomfortable too.  If the Church can’t do it, I’m not sure we can ask anyone else to do that work.  I’m proud of the Episcopal Church tonight.  And I will continue to hold her in my prayers.

The Revolution of Christmas…

Tags

Christians, Christmas, gifts, Jesus, justice, Magnificat, Mary, neighbors, oppression, poor, poverty, redemption, revolution

Last week our church got a call about whether we would be willing to “adopt” some families for Christmas.  The call came in late, was from an area we do not normally serve, and we had already run and completed a successful local “Angel Tree” program.   But after much discussion, we decided to offer the invitation and see what transpired.

Two surprising things happened out of that effort.  One, I was blown away by the money that came in from parishioners.  Although most were too tapped to do the shopping, they were willing to open their wallets.  Two, once I got the list, my heart melted.  There were basic items, like clothing and shoes.  But the “wish list” items got me.  There were the cute items – like racecars, baby dolls, musical toys, and card games.  Those gifts made me think of the innocence of Christmas gifts when we are young.  Then there were the bigger dreamers, who longed for electronic gifts.  Though I knew we could not afford them, I remembered stories I had read of homeless persons owning smart phones – in order to “fit in” with everyone else, and to have one form of connection to the world when all other ties had been cut.  There was a request by a teenager whose only wish was a gift card to a shop that caters to teens.  I suddenly remembered how hard it is to be a teenager, desperately wanting to blend in with your peers, and how hard that would be when parents can barely afford food or rent.  And then there was the teenage boy whose only wish was socks and stocking stuffers.  His innocent request at such a mature age broke my heart.  No greed, just some simple pleasures and a basic need.

Photo credit:  https://walktheway.wordpress.com/2013/12/21/solidarity-mary-with-elizabeth/

When a pregnant Mary visits with her pregnant cousin Elizabeth, Mary breaks into a song of justice for the poor (Luke 1.46-55).  When Elizabeth confirms everything the Angel Gabriel had declared about Mary’s baby, Mary sees the beginning of redemption for oppressed peoples everywhere.  And she does not just whisper the song to Elizabeth, but shouts it loudly among her people.  Christians today still sing her Magnificat, in hundreds of settings and languages, every day, around the world.  Though most of us are excited about gifts, parties, and the familiar smells and tastes at Christmas, as Christians, we are also excited for the revolution that Christmas signifies – the dawn of justice for the poor and oppressed.  A baby born into poverty who will be the champion of the poor.

Our gifts to our neighbors in need at Christmas are just one small way that we remember the revolution of Christ’s birth.  Of course, Christmas is just the beginning.  Our witness for Christ is not just about how Christ has redeemed us, but how Christ is using us as agents for change, as advocates for the poor and downtrodden, as servants who “lift up the lowly, and fill the hungry with good things.”  Our God of abundance invites us to be a people of abundance.  I look forward to hearing how you are celebrating the revolution of Christmas this year!

Sermon – Luke 13.1-9, L3, YC, February 28, 2016

Tags

allegory, barren, encourage, fairness, fig tree, fruit, gardener, God, insecurity, Jesus, justice, lectionary, Luke, redemption, Sermon, stength, transition

My dad, a retired Methodist Minister, and I have always disagreed about the use of the Revised Common Lectionary.  He always felt that the pastor’s duty was to listen to the movement of the Spirit and select scripture lessons that were relevant to what was happening in the life of the parish.  I argued that his method was rife with pitfalls.  The pastor could end up confusing personal preference with the movement of the Spirit, could push one’s own agenda too far, or could end up avoiding hard texts out of laziness or fear.  Instead, I argued, following the lectionary forces the preacher to be truly open to the Spirit – totally giving up control over what text is offered on any given day, trusting that the Lord will provide the message.

This week, I wished I had adopted my dad’s practice.  I looked at the gospel lesson and immediately, said, “Nope!  No way, now how.  There is no way I am going to preach that text to my people when we are in the midst of transition!”  My list of reasons for avoiding the text from Luke were long and, I believe, well-reasoned.  I did not want to preach about a tree not bearing fruit because in no way did I want to infer that I think St. Margaret’s is not bearing fruit, especially because my pending departure has created a sense of insecurity about the strength of St. Margaret’s.  The truth is, St. Margaret’s is bearing fruit.  There is the literal fruit that we are bearing in our Garden of Eatin’ which is feeding our hungry neighbors.  And then there is the figurative fruit:  the children we are raising up through reinvigorated Christian Education programs, the pastoral ministries we are offering to our cemetery families, and the love and care we offer to each other.

But I didn’t just want to avoid talking about barren trees.  I also had no desire to talk about manure today.  Quite frankly, I could just imagine how in the midst of transition a community could feel like they are getting a whole lot of manure dumped on them.  A gardener knows that to keep plants thriving we have to aerate the soil, pull out weeds, and double up with nutrient-rich manure.  But anyone who has driven by a recently tended garden knows that the stench of manure can make you want to quickly run in the other direction.  As we think about the burdens of a transition, the last thing I wanted to talk about today is the gardener’s suggestion of piling on hot, smelly manure.

Besides wanting to avoid talking about barren trees and smelly manure, I had zero desire to talk about trees getting chopped down.  For all of the conversations I have had with parishioners over the past few weeks, the most common one has been about fear for the future of St. Margaret’s.  Many of you are worried about our viability and fear what the instability of transition and new leadership will bring.  On one hand, your fears are not unwarranted.  We have watched neighboring churches decline to the point of closure.  We also know that we are in a time and culture when churches have to work a lot harder to grow and thrive.  But I do not think St. Margaret’s has to fear the ax in our passage today.  If we were having this conversation five or six years ago, I could see where the damage of past leadership could have been the end of St. Margaret’s.  But even that challenge did not pull St. Margaret’s under.  And we are in a much stronger place – we have changed so much for the better and grown into a tree producing fruit.  Are we in a transition?  Yes.  Is change coming?  Yes.  Is our tree going to be cut down?  I do not think so.

Unfortunately for me, we actually do follow the lectionary.  And since we do not get to pick and choose what scripture fits our needs at a particular time, we look for the ways that a text speaks to us despite our personal preferences.  The good news is that some of our initial reactions to this text are rooted in a misunderstanding of the allegory Jesus gives us.  Many of us assume that the landowner is God and the gardener is Jesus.  But nowhere in Luke’s gospel is God portrayed as an angry, vindictive God that needs to be placated or negotiated with by Jesus. Instead, God is the one who waits every day for the prodigal son to come home.  God is the woman who leaves no pillow unturned looking for her lost coin.  Luke’s depiction is of a God who rejoices over one who repents than over the remaining ninety-nine who need no repentance.

Instead, as one scholar suggests, “Given Luke’s consistent picture of God’s reaction to sin, then perhaps the landowner is representative of our own sense of how the world should work.  That is, from very early on, we want things to be “fair” and we define “fair” as receiving rewards for doing good and punishment for doing evil.  (Except of course, when it comes to our own mistakes and misdeeds – then we want mercy!)”[i]  But our God is a God of justice, not fairness.  When I struggle with these two words, I always remember a cartoon that has floated around.  The cartoon has three people trying to see over a fence.  One is short, one is medium-height, and one is tall.  All three are given two boxes to stand on.  Of course, the tall person can easily see over the fence.  The medium-height person can just barely see over, but the short person cannot see, even with the two boxes.  This frame is called fairness or equality.  But the next frame is called justice.  In this frame, the short-statured person gets three boxes, the medium-height person gets two boxes, and the tallest person gets just one box.  All three people can now see over the fence equally.

I tell you this story not because as short-statured person I totally get this cartoon!  I tell you this story because I do not think our God is an angry landowner demanding results and expecting everyone to figure things out themselves – to produce fruit without adequate help.  No, I think the gardener is actually God – our advocate looking for justice, not just fairness.    Perhaps God is the one raising a contrary voice to suggest that the ultimate answer to sin is not punishment – not even in the name of justice – but rather mercy, reconciliation, and new life.[ii]  So, in the threat of danger and even death, God is a god who intercedes, who demands mercy, and in fact, is willing to get down in the manure to make sure we thrive and bear that delicious, life-giving fruit.

Now, even the gardener is not naïve to think that our window for productivity is unlimited.  Even the gardener submits to the owner that if after a year, the tree does not produce, the owner may cut the tree down.  But I do not think God will let that happen.  God is “all in” with making sure we are redeemed – whether by getting dirty with us to help us grow, or by interceding again, even when the produce is just not there.  Not unlike Abraham who argued and argued with God to spare ten, twenty, even fifty people, our gardener is one of mercy, reconciliation, and redemption.

And that is why I love the lectionary.  Even when I fight, and kick, and say, “No way!” God finds a way to speak despite my reservations.  Where I had feared sending the wrong message about our walk with Christ, God comes through bringing good news of mercy, reconciliation, and redemption.  Bishop Curry says this about our text today, “The task of the disciple is to witness and then wait, to take our best step and leave the rest to God…We cannot do everything, and there is a sense of liberation in realizing that.  Being freed from managing the results of our actions enables us to do something, and do it well.  We may never see the end results, but that is the difference between the master builder and the worker.  We are workers, not master builders; ministers, not messiahs.  We are prophets of a future not our own.”[iii]  I do not know about you, but I am over the moon that our God is one who is willing to fight to the last pile of manure to encourage and strengthen us.  If our God can do that, we are bound to rise again in hopeful new life.  Thanks be to God!  Amen.

[i] David Lose, “Lent 3 C:  Suffering, the Cross, and the Promise of Love,” February 22, 2016, as found at http://www.davidlose.net/2016/02/lent-3-c-suffering-the-cross-and-the-promise-of-love/ on February 25, 2016.

[ii] Lose.

[iii] Michael B. Curry, “Homiletical Perspective,” Feasting on the Word, Yr. C, vol. 2 (Louisville:  Westminster John Knox Press, 2009), 97.

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.

Sermon – Luke 23.33-43, P29, YC, November 24, 2013

Tags

Christ the King, Jesus, John Rawls, justice, kingdom of God, kings, need, political science, Sermon, want

Today we celebrate Christ the King Sunday.  This is the last Sunday in the liturgical year, before we start the Church’s new year with Advent.  You would think on this last Sunday of the liturgical year, after having marked the birth of the Christ Child, journeyed through Epiphany, waded through Lent and Holy Week, celebrated Eastertide, and learned through Christ’s ministry during the season of Pentecost, that this very last Sunday would be some sort of culminating day – where we celebrate what the life in Christ is really about.  So what is our gospel lesson today?  A story of Christ on the cross, being ridiculed and humiliated.  Not exactly the happiest way to end the year, and certainly not the text most of us would choose to summarize a cycle celebrating Christ or even the way we might prepare ourselves for entering into Advent.

I have been thinking about Christ as King all week.  Not being able to shake that grim image of a bloodied, battered, berated king hanging on a cross, I began to think about what else we know about kings in Scripture.  The people of God never really had a king until they reached the Promised Land.  They saw the neighboring countries with their armies and their admirable kings, and they wanted one for themselves.  That was their first mistake.  God granted them a king to rule over them, but inevitably, the kings, like any humans, were flawed – some more than others.  Hence, there are four books in the Hebrew Scriptures about the kings who ruled and the judges who tried to correct their behavior.  Most of the kings were corrupted by power, money, and greed.  Many abused the people.  Even the most revered king, King David, was a bit of a mess.  He was the one who coveted Bathsheba, slept with her, and then killed her husband when he got her pregnant and realized he would not be able to get away with it.

Having been through a horrible patch of awful kings, the prophets predicted the coming of a Messiah – the king of kings and Lord of lords[i].  This king would be triumphant and would make the people of Israel dominant at last.  You can imagine that with such a great promise, the people of Israel are not too pleased with the man who finally claimed be the Messiah.  Nothing about Jesus says “king.”  He is nonviolent, hangs out with sinners of all sorts, and travels with a sorry band of misfits.  Even his grand entrance into Jerusalem where he is heralded as a king is not so grand – he rides in on a donkey, for goodness sake!  This could not possibly be the king that Yahweh had promised them.

And yet, this is exactly the king that God sends.  The Lord, who never wanted God’s people to have an earthly king anyway, makes a king that represents everything that is kingly:  a man who loves the poor and cares for the sick, a man who sees through the pretenses of the temple and calls for authenticity, a man who loves deeply and forgives infinitely.  So why are the people of God not excited about this king?  Why can they not love this countercultural king as much as the king they think they need?

When I was in college, one of the first Political Science classes I took was called Political Theory.  When we started reading the first book, I knew I was in trouble.  We read John Rawls’ A Theory of Justice.  In the book, he presents the best way to get to a just political system.  He imagines gathering a random, diverse group of people who are blind about what their lot in life will be.  They have no guarantees about whether they will be old or young, rich or poor, male or female, member of a minority group or not.  In the midst of this blindness, the people gathered are required to make up a set of rules to govern society.  Rawls’ basic argument is that if those people were truly blind about what their lot in life would be, they would be more likely to come up with a system of governance that is the fairest for all – since no one would want to take a chance on being the one victimized by an unfair system.  Though I appreciated what Rawls was saying, I was immediately annoyed at his argument.  How could we ever recreate a system of justice from scratch, and truly blind anyone enough to create such a system?  Since that seemed impossible, the whole premise was frustrating to me.  Needless to say, my focus in Political Science was not Political Theory!

That being said, many years later, I think I may finally understand what Rawls was trying to communicate.  Our political system, or even this earthly life in general, is governed by a set of human-made standards that do not look out for the poor, that create injustices, and that benefit very few.  This is why so many of us get frustrated when we talk about justice or trying to make a difference – we see the system of injustice that fights against us and we can end up feeling helpless.  This is the very injustice that our king – Jesus – comes to fight.  In fact, I am now curious to know whether John Rawls and Jesus were perhaps acquainted.  Though he professed to be an atheist, early in his life Rawls considered becoming an Episcopal priest.  Perhaps this world that we can only achieve through blindness is the same world that Jesus could see through God’s eyes.

In Rawls’ argument, when the blinded people make the rules, and then have their blindfolds removed, some are relieved to be well-off and others are dismayed to see themselves in poverty or at a disadvantage.  But all have some sense of acceptance because the rules they made do not make rich-life as advantageous and do not make poor-life as horrible.  This is the kind of fairness Jesus invites us into.  Jesus shows us a world where a humiliated man can look at his persecutors and forgive them.  Jesus shows a world where a man is willing to suffer for the salvation of others.  Jesus shows us a world where even a criminal can see truth in the last hour, can admit his guilt, and turn to Christ for leniency.

This is why we celebrate Christ as King today:  not because he is victorious in putting us in control over others, but because he invites us into that life that evens the playing field – the life of the kingdom of God.  There are certainly going to be days when we just wish that Jesus would mount a mighty horse and triumph over evil.  But most days we realize that what we really need is a king who enables us to create a world of fairness here and now – a world that is much more similar to the kingdom of God than the kingdom of humankind.

So why do we honor this not-so-kingly king today on the last day of the liturgical year?  I think the very best reason we close one year and prepare to start another with today’s gospel lesson is so that as we can more humbly approach the Christ Child.  If we can imagine ourselves gathered around that manger on that most holy of nights, not eager for vindication, but instead humbled by the path we will all walk with this king, then we enter into Advent with more reverence, less arrogance, and a healthy dose of gratitude.  This king – Christ the King – is the most sobering, challenging, merciful, joyous, steadying king for which we could hope.  He is not the king we always want, but he is certainly the king we always need.  Today we celebrate the wise gift by God of a true King – a king who makes us all better versions of ourselves.  Amen.

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[i] Revelation 19.16.