Sermon – Mark 5.21-43, P8, YB, July 1, 2018

Tags

connection, intimacy, Jairus, Jesus, Mark, need, power, relationship, Sermon, story, storytelling, woman

I once had a parishioner who was both the best and the worst storyteller.  He was the best because his stories were always fascinating, funny, and fantastic.  Not only did he have an intriguing life, he also just had a real gift for telling stories in ways that brought them to life in your mind’s eye.  But he was also not the best storyteller because he was easily distracted.  He would be in the middle of a story and then veer off course, “Which reminds me of the time…” he would say, and off he would go.  Sometimes he would go back to the other story, but you had to really pay attention to remind him of where he had started.  Sometimes the dropped ending on a story would come back to me days later and I would wonder, “I wonder what happened after he dropped that note to his secret love…”

Mark’s storytelling today is a bit like that parishioner’s way of telling stories.  After the fantastic stories of the calming of the sea, and the healing of a demon-possessed man, Mark tells us of Jesus’ next dramatic moment.  Jairus approaches Jesus and falls at Jesus’ feet, begging him to heal his dying twelve-year old daughter.  This whole event is a big deal because if you remember, many of the other synagogue leaders were suspicious of Jesus, and even plotting against him.  For a synagogue leader to approach Jesus for help is a huge break in rank.  Jesus goes with Jairus without comment, but before we can find out what happens, Mark basically says, “Speaking of which, there was this woman who approached Jesus without Jesus knowing.  You won’t believe what happened…”  And off Mark goes telling another fantastic story.

This time, we learn of a woman who is a total outcast.  She has been hemorrhaging for twelve years, she is destitute because she has spent all her money on doctors – to no avail, and let’s not forget she is a woman.  We can almost imagine the clandestine approach of this triple outcast weaving her way into the crowd just to touch Jesus’ garment.  To her credit, the simple touch works!  Now, the story really could end there, but Mark tells us something even more fascinating – Jesus stops dead in his tracks, demanding to know who touched him.  In a crowd of thousands, he wants to know which person touched him?!?  The woman comes forward for what should be a great castigation and humiliation.  Instead, her honesty and vulnerability open Jesus up to giving even more blessing.  Not only has her faith in him made her well, he offers her the peace, health, and wholeness that will allow her full integration back into society – a double gift!

Now the good news is that Mark is not as bad of a storyteller as my former parishioner.  Mark jumps back to Jairus’ story – but the news is bad.  The daughter has died!  Everyone thinks the cause is lost, but Jesus encourages Jairus to believe.  So off they go, but this time with only Peter, James, and John.  The gathered crowd mocks Jesus’ assertion that the girl is just sleeping.  But when the six of them go in, Jesus quite simply takes her by the hand, calls the girl to get up, and then asks them to give her some food – dying can really take a toll after all!

You might be shaking your head at Mark at this point, wondering if we can’t just focus on one of these stories – truly either is powerful enough on its own.  But Mark is not really like my former parishioner – he does not simply tell stories because he is good at telling stories, or because he likes to entertain guests.  In fact, Mark does this more than once in his gospel.  The biblical critics call this practice “intercalation,” but many people just call this a Markan sandwich.[i]  As N.T. Wright explains, by sandwiching the stories together, “The flavour of the outer story adds zest to the inner one; the taste of the inner one is meant in turn to permeate the outer one.”[ii]

So what do we learn about Jesus through Mark’s sandwiching these stories together?  Well, let’s start with how they are different.  Jairus is an insider – as a male synagogue leader, he is well-known and respected in the community, presumably with some power and influence.[iii]  Meanwhile, the bleeding woman is an outsider – a female, impure, impoverished outcast.[iv]  Jairus publicly invites Jesus to touch his dying daughter; the woman secretly touches Jesus’ cloak herself.  Jairus’ daughter is just a girl, but the woman has lived a longer life.  More interesting though is how the two stories are alike.  Both Jairus and the woman kneel before Jesus.  “Both victims of illness are female and ritually unclean, one as a result of death and one as a result of hemorrhage; both represent the significance of the number twelve in Jewish tradition (the twelve years of hemorrhage and the twelve-year old girl); and both are regarded as ‘daughters’ (the little girl being Jairus’s daughter and the woman who is addressed by Jesus as ‘Daughter’).  An act of touch restores both women to new life even as those surrounding them lack understanding.”[v]

Mark uses these two stories together because we need their differences and similarities to teach us something about Jesus and about ourselves.  We learn from Mark’s sandwich that Jesus is present with both the powerful and the powerless alike.  Both requests, despite the baggage both a synagogue leader and an impure woman bring, are honored by Jesus.  What we note though is Jesus tends the woman first.  Now some scholars might argue the pause in the story, and the death of the girl before Jesus gets there, are meant to build suspense.[vi]  But equally important is that Jesus stops for the person without power first[vii] – even taking precious time to not just heal her but demand to be in conversation and relationship with her.  He could have kept walking, knowing that his power had flowed out but staying the course with the good deed he was about to perform.  But instead, he stops everything, everyone, and demands a connection – one that leads not just to healing but total restoration within the community – shalom.[viii]  Jesus also shows us about the wideness of family.  A few weeks ago, we read the gospel lesson where Jesus questioned the crowd about who his mother and brothers and sister were.  Today he keeps expanding the circle.  The powerful and persecuting are his family; the most ostracized outcasts are his family; even the vulnerable children are his family.  Finally, Jesus teaches us that healing or the good works we do are meant to be within the context of relationship.  That Jesus tends the bleeding woman and the young girl is much less important than how he tends the two females.  Jesus’ help is not about an impersonal exchange – a few coins dropped in a hat or a check written to a charity – though those are necessary too.  Equally important to dropping a coin in a hat might be stopping to talk to the person asking for a handout.  In addition to contributing to a favorite charity, knowing the stories of specific clients is equally important.

What is hidden in these two tales about Jesus is the “flash of precious intimacy between two human beings who are socially very distant from each other.”  As one scholar explains, what Jesus brings alive for us today is “Our relationships – in the church, in friendships, and in marriage – are not just something extra added on to life for distraction and entertainment, as if we would be complete human beings in individual isolation.  Relationship, ‘touch,’ if you will, makes us human and whole.  As the contemporary Scottish philosopher John Macmurray once phrased it, ‘I need “you” in order to be myself.’”[ix]  What Jesus’ actions and Mark’s adept way at combining stories do today is invite us to consider not what we do, but how we do what we do.  Jesus invites us to slow down – to take those moments when someone’s pain is presented to us, and not just offer help, but stop long enough to make a connection – to develop intimacy with others.  “A teacher once remarked, ‘You know…my whole life I have been complaining that my work was constantly interrupted, until I discovered that my interruptions were my work.’”[x]  Jesus also invites us to care for everyone – rich, poor, young, and old – but he especially wants us to start with those most in need.  Finally, Jesus invites us today to see, really see, where people are, and to be a people of compassion, healing, and love.  Before you know it, you may be the one at coffee hour, veering off one story to tell yet another story, all highlighting the wonderful, lifegiving, challenging ways that stepping into relationship with others has changed your walk with Jesus.  I can’t wait to try to track your stories!  Amen.

[i] Karoline Lewis, “A Lesson from Mark,” June 25, 2018, as found at http://www.workingpreacher.org/craft.aspx?post=5184 on June 28, 2018.

[ii] N.T. Wright, Mark for Everyone (Louisville:  Westminster John Knox Press, 2004), 58.

[iii] Efrain Agosto, “Exegetical Perspective,” Feasting on the Word, Yr. B, Vol. 3 (Louisville:  Westminster John Knox Press, 2009), 189.

[iv] John R. Donahue, S.J. and Daniel J. Harrington, S.J., The Gospel of Mark, Sacra Pagina Series, vol. 2 (Collegeville:  The Liturgical Press, 2002), 174.

[v] Beverly Zink-Sawyer, “Homiletical Perspective,” Feasting on the Word, Yr. B, Vol. 3 (Louisville:  Westminster John Knox Press, 2009), 191.

[vi] Lamar Williamson, Jr., Mark, Interpretation:  A Bible Commentary for Teaching and Preaching (Louisville:  Westminster John Knox Press, 1983), 108.

[vii] Mark D. W. Edington, “Theological Perspective,” Feasting on the Word, Yr. B, Vol. 3 (Louisville:  Westminster John Knox Press, 2009), 192.

[viii] Williamson, 109.

[ix] Michael L. Lindvall, “Pastoral Perspective,” Feasting on the Word, Yr. B, Vol. 3 (Louisville:  Westminster John Knox Press, 2009), 192.

[x] Williamson, 112 (quoting Henri J.M. Nouwen, Reaching Out, p. 36).

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On Needing Each Other…

Tags

community, discipleship, each other, equal, gifts, God, housing, need, others, value

Photo credit:  https://www.gcurley.info/news/2015/01/

This morning I attending a symposium about housing in the greater Williamsburg area.  The theme of the symposium was the effect of housing on health, both for individuals and the community.  One of the ideas that stuck with me was about the consequence of a lack of affordable housing.  What the researchers found was that a lack of affordable housing had a negative impact on the entire community – not just those struggling to make ends meet, but also on those in upper-income brackets.  When communities do not have affordable housing, service industry workers can eventually opt out of living and working in the community altogether, creating a void of laborers, and an increase in the cost-of-living for all.  Whereas many wealthy community members may not be concerned about affordable housing, in fact, a lack of affordable housing hurts the property values and economy for all.

The idea of affordable housing being a problem for everyone reminded me of an idea I have been pondering lately:  we need each other.  In the United States, we have long-held ideals about individualism, independence, and industriousness.  We value an “every man for himself” ethic.  But that kind of ethic only gets us so far.  Sooner or later, we eventually discover that every man (or woman!) cannot do everything for himself or herself.  In fact, we need each other.  I suspect that our need for one another is not a surprise when we are really honest.  But many of us have a hard time being honest about our mutual need because it means admitting vulnerability, dependency, and incompleteness.  Whether we like it or not, we need one another.

This Sunday at Hickory Neck Church, we are finishing a series on discipleship, using Rowan Williams’ book Being Disciples.  Williams argues that there are two principles of Christian faith and discipleship that we need to form the basis of a moral society:  we are each of equal value to God, and we are all dependent on each other.  His second point is what connected with me today.  Williams argues, “The community that most perfectly represents what God wants to see in the human world is one where the resources of each person are offered for every other, whether those resources are financial or spiritual or intellectual or administrative.”[i]  When we allow each person to be needed, to play a role in each other’s lives, we begin to be able to see that we are not just being kind – we actually need each other.

I invite you to take a look around this week, and try to imagine what each person you meet has to offer the world.  From infants to wise elders; from wealthy to homeless; from male to female; from convict to free – imagine what gift each person has for the world, and how you can honor and respect the dignity of each person you meet.  Even when someone is rude, unkind, or on the other side of the political aisle, I encourage you to find what you need in each other.  God will help you find the answers, and I hope you will share them here!!

[i] Rowan Williams, Being Disciples:  Essentials of the Christian Life (Grand Rapids:  William B. Eerdmans Publishing Company, 2016), 69.

Sermon – Isaiah 58.1-12, EP5, YA, February 5, 2017

Tags

church, fast, fasting, God, Isaiah, love, need, outreach, relationship, Sermon, serve, worship

In about three and half weeks we will gather in the Historic Chapel for Ash Wednesday services.  In the liturgy for Ash Wednesday, the priest invites us into the “observance of a holy Lent, by self-examination and repentance; by prayer, fasting, and self-denial; and by reading and meditating on God’s holy Word.”  I don’t know about you, but this invitation always makes me a little nervous.  The truth is, I am terrible at fasting.  I have often blamed the issue on low blood-sugar.  But really, I just hate the way not eating makes me feel.  I get cranky, I cannot focus on work, and I just want to crawl into bed.  And what makes fasting worse is that we get scriptural passages that warn us about grimacing while fasting – that we should go so far as to put oil on our faces so that we look shiny and happy during our fasting.

Knowing my utter sense of failure at my inability to engage in the most holy of spiritual practices, I confess that I was secretly pleased to read our text from Isaiah today.  The people of Israel have become quite good at fasting and pious worship.  We are told that day after day the Israelites come to God in worship, delighting to know more about God, and fasting like righteous followers of God.  They even bow down and lie in sackcloth and ashes.  They are the epitome of penitential Lenten worshippers.  Except for one small, teeny, tiny problem.  Despite their devotional fasting and their fervent prayers, God is angry with the Israelites.  You see, while the Israelites are piously engaging in reverent, penitential worship, their hired hands are working under their oppressive orders.  While they have been perfecting reverential bows, there are hungry, homeless, naked, impoverished peoples just outside their doors.  Oblivious, the Israelites complain to God, “Why do we fast, but you do not see?  Why humble ourselves, but you do not notice?”  God’s response is a brutal question:  Why are you here?

In polite Episcopal circles, we do not often ask that question:  Why are you here?  We might ask a visitor a much softer version of that question, “What brings you to Hickory Neck?”  But we almost never ask a regular or long-time church member, “Why are you here?”  I think part of why we do not ask someone else that question is because we are afraid someone will ask us that question.  We are afraid to be asked that question because the question feels like a trick.  If I say I am here because I want peace or comfort, does that make me a passive, self-serving Christian?  If I say I am here because I enjoy the community, does that mean my church is more like a country club than a church?  If I admit that I do not know why I am in church this morning other than a strange longing somewhere deep inside me, does that mean that my worship is superficial or doomed for ambiguity?

The scary part about our anxiety around that question, “Why are you here today,” is that God has a very clear response before we or the Israelites can even answer the question.  God says that if we do not come to worship to be changed, we are doing something wrong.  As one scholar argues, Isaiah’s words today tell us that, “Worship without justice has no value in the eyes of God.”[i]   For Isaiah, a gap has formed between the faithful’s seeking God and God’s ways and their actual way of life.  What Isaiah wants the people to know is that fasting, prayer, and worship are all well and good, but without some connection to the other 167 hours of their week, their worship, their fasting, their relationship with God is hollow.  Now, God is not telling us that worship is inherently bad or self-serving.  As another scholar points out, “worship is the most important thing we do together.  It is the place that forms us into the people of God.  It is the place where we inhale God’s love and grace, so that,” and here comes the important part, “so that we can be sent forth to exhale God’s love and grace in a broken world in need of redemption.”[ii]

One of the things that attracted me to Hickory Neck was the wide variety in styles of worship.  On any given Sunday, I can pray the Prayer of Humble Access in the midst of a quiet Rite I liturgy; I can belt out a praise song that is so familiar I don’t need to look at the words; I can chant the Eucharistic Prayer while the Choral Scholars respond with beautiful, precise, haunting harmonies; or I can sing a version of the Lord’s Prayer that my seven-year old daughter has learned by memory.  I love the variety of expressions of worship here, and love our unique gift that is rare in most parishes.  But variety can be dangerous.  Variety means bringing together people who don’t necessarily revel in the differences.  There will be people who only come to our early service because they find music to be a distraction.  There will be people who only come to the late service because anything other than traditional Anglican music interferes with their worship.  And there will be people who only like the middle service because they can let their hair down and be themselves.  Slowly, what is meant to be the gift of variety becomes a competition for the best – the most holy, most reverent, most relatable, most “of God.”  But what all that comparison leads to is not deeper relationship with God.  That comparison leads us to focus on the worship as an end unto itself, instead of as a means “right relationship.”[iii]

In order to get to the point of fasting or worship, God tells the Israelites to redefine fasting.  Instead of abstaining from food or drink, the fast God desires, “is outreach to those in need, which involves not only feeding the hungry, clothing the naked, and caring for one’s own, but also addressing the attitudes and structures responsible for injustices.”[iv]  In the Episcopal Church, we have codified this redefinition of fasting in our dismissal.  We take all of our prayers, all of learning, all of our confessions, and all of our feasting and we say, “Go in peace, to love and serve the Lord.”  In other words, we give ourselves the beauty of worship, and then remind ourselves of the point of that worship – right relationship with God and our neighbor.  I have often thought the church needs the words of the dismissal painted above the Narthex door, so that as each of us departs this space, we can jump up and slap the words – much life a sports team entering the arena who slaps a slogan or the team name.  Go in peace to love and serve the Lord.

Now some of you may be thinking about this radical redefinition of fasting and this question of why we are here in worship, and be wondering, “Can’t I just give up some food and call it a day?!?  Can’t I just sit in worship and not worry about why I am here?!?”  You may know well that righting relationships with God and neighbor is a lot harder than a day’s worth of sacrificing food or just showing up on Sunday.  But before you get too anxious, listen again to Isaiah’s words about what happens when we enter the kind of fast God prefers, “The Lord will guide you continually, and satisfy your needs in parched places, and make your bones strong; and you shall be like a watered garden, like a spring of water, whose waters never fail.  Your ancient ruins shall be rebuilt; you shall raise up the foundations of many generations; you shall be called the repairer of the breach, the restorer of streets to live in.”  God’s work is never too difficult – exhaling God’s love and grace in a broken world in need of redemption is as easy as breathing in the love and grace we inhale every Sunday.  The promise of God’s blessing is waiting – we just need to breathe.  Amen.

[i] Carol J. Dempsey, “Theological Perspective,” Feasting on the Word, Yr. A, Vol. 1 (Louisville:  Westminster John Knox Press, 2010), 314.

[ii] Andrew Foster Connors, “Pastoral Perspective,” Feasting on the Word, Yr. A, Vol. 1 (Louisville:  Westminster John Knox Press, 2010), 316.

[iii] Dempsey, 316.

[iv] Dempsey, 316.

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.

On Snow Globes and Other Deceptions…

Tags

blessed, deception, encounter, need, prayer, pretend, protection, reality, Savior, snow globe

Photo credit:  www.balsamhill.com/Christmas-Tree-Musical-Snow-Globe-p/4000824.htm

When I was growing up, we used to have a Christmas snow globe.  If you wound it up, it would play a lovely Christmas carol.  But you could also shake the large globe and snow would delicately swirl around the Christmas tree.  Something about the snow globe was mesmerizing.  I would wind up the music, shake the globe, and just stare into the glass.  There was something so peaceful about that globe – like a perfect world inviting me in to the snowy calm.

Of course, there were no snow blowers, plows, or ice melt in the snow globe.  There were no grumpy people shoveling out sidewalks and cars before the snow gets too heavy or the snow turns to a thick layer of ice.  No one was slipping on ice, sliding into a car accident, or shivering without shelter.  No, the snow globe does not invite that kind of realism.  The snow globe only captures the magical moment of freshly fallen, untouched snow, and dreamy winter.

Too often, we choose to keep gazing at snow globes, or to create our own snow globes.  We stare into snow globes because the destruction, hate, and violence of the world have caused compassion fatigue.  We create our own snow globes to insulate ourselves from the outside world so that we do not have to encounter the other.  Today our church delivered holiday gifts for seven families who live in a large public housing development.  As soon as we parked our car to drop off the gifts, I knew we were not in our snow globe anymore.  As a priest, those in need often come to me.  Today, I stepped onto their territory and it was a helpful reminder of how insulated my world can be if I create a globe around it.

The funny thing is that once I stepped out of snow globe, I did not slip on the ice.  I did not feel a sense of burden or dread.  Instead, people greeted me – making sure that I saw them.  Instead, a resident saw my colleague’s clergy collar and asked him to pray with him.  His friend said, “Well, while you’re at it, can you pray for my daughter too?”  Before I knew it, six of us were holding hands in the middle of this housing development, praying for health, wholeness, and the birth of our Savior.  I don’t know about you, but that’s better than any snow globe I can create.  What snow globes have you been looking into or what snow globes have you inadvertently created?  Join me this week as we pull our gazes away from the world of pretend protection and into the world of blessed encounter.

On Festivals and Jesus…

Tags

Fall Festival, festival, fun, hear, Jesus, mission, need, neighbors, outreach, see, speak, witness

Photo credit:  www.emetrotimes.com/come-celebrate-36th-annual-olde-town-conyers-fall-festival

This week, Hickory Neck is hosting its 16^th Annual Fall Festival.  Not having seen a Fall Festival at Hickory Neck myself, I cannot give you an endorsement from experience.  But here’s what I can tell you.  The Fall Festival highlights all that is good about Hickory Neck.  Parishioners old and young, newcomers and old-timers, those working and those retired have all chipped in to prepare for the event together.  People volunteered readily, volunteers charged forward with their assigned tasks, leaders recruited with ease, and parishioners have been baking and purging their “attic treasures.”  Church members and friends have been sharing the word with their neighbors, and the grounds are slowly transforming as we prepare for the big event.

Even more impressive to me is that all the proceeds of the Festival are earmarked for Mission and Outreach.  All the hard work going into this event is all for the benefit of our neighbors in need.  The passion poured into this event is as strong as the passion for the ministries we serve.  Just last week, I visited one of our beneficiaries, Avalon Center.  Avalon is an agency working to end domestic and sexual violence by breaking the cycle of abuse through prevention, education, shelter, and support services in the Williamsburg area.  Visiting Avalon and learning about their clients made me remember how easy it is to go about life when your life is not touched by violence, poverty, and suffering.  We could easily close our eyes, ears, and mouths and stay willfully ignorant about our neighbors in need.

But that is not the way of Jesus.   Jesus could always see and hear.  Jesus always spoke for the oppressed.  As we have journeyed through Luke’s gospel this year, we have heard over and over how Jesus sees us – even when we don’t speak.  That is what we are trying to do when we engage in mission and outreach – we are engaging in seeing, hearing, and speaking – in acting on behalf of our neighbor.

So yes, we are going to eat awesome barbeque and Brunswick stew.  We are going to ride on hayrides, bid on auction items, and shop through other’s treasures.  We will laugh, play, and have fun.  But what is tremendously inspiring to me is that all this hard work, all this nourishing fellowship, and all this use of our resources is rooted in walking the way of Christ.  Our work leading up to Saturday, and our work on the day of the festival is all our way of saying we commit ourselves to seeing, hearing, and speaking.  I hope you will join us!

Sermon – 1 Kings 18.20-39, Galatians 1.1-12, Luke 7.1-10, P4, YC, May 29, 2016

Tags

comfort, confession, discomfort, faithful, friend, God, Jesus, need, Sermon, Spirit, temptation, truth, witness

The older I have become, the more solid my support system has become.  Over time, I have figured out in which friendships to invest my time, and which friendships, while fun, are not necessarily nourishing.  I know which friend to call when I need fashion advice and which friend to call when I need major life decision advice.  I have learned which friend to find when I want to be comforted, and which friend to find when I need to be discomforted.  The discomforting friend is probably the most valuable one any of us has.  That is the friend who will tell you the brutal, ugly, harsh truth – not to be mean to you but to save you from going down a dark path, to snap you out of a rut, or to help you get your act together.  Of course, sometimes we avoid that friend like the plague because we are not ready to hear the truth.  But when we feel ourselves slipping away, when we feel drawn in by temptation, or when we simply feel incapable of doing the right thing, we know we can trust that friend to hold us accountable to being the best version of ourselves – the version God created us to be.

This morning, the lectionary seems to be filled with discomforting friends.  In First Kings, we hear about the ultimate showdown with the prophets of Baal and Elijah, the prophet of the Lord.  The story is dramatic, with Baal’s prophets comically trying to rain down fire to prove Baal’s power, and Elijah showing them up by demonstrating the Lord’s triumph.  But we quickly learn that Elijah is one of those discomforting friends when he says to the people of God, “How long will you go limping with two different opinions?  If the Lord is God, follow him; but if Baal, then follow him.”[i]  Desperate for rain in a three-year drought, the people of God have begun to hedge their bets.  They figure they can worship both Baal and the Lord.  But Elijah will not let them be so divided.  Either they trust in the Lord their God, or they do not.

If Elijah sounds harsh, you should hear Paul this morning.  Paul starts his letter to the Galatians with a traditional greeting, but we can tell from his lack of thanksgiving for the community, that some harsh words are about to come.[ii]  After a quick introduction, Paul cuts to the chase, “I am astonished that you are so quickly deserting the one who called you in the grace of Christ and are turning to a different gospel…”[iii]  At the heart of the issue is whether Gentile converts must adhere to Jewish laws.  The Galatians want to narrow the wideness of the gospel, while Paul wants to expand the reach of the gospel.  So angry and defiant is Paul that he practically shouts, “If I were still pleasing people, I would not be a servant of Christ.”[iv]  In other words, Paul has no interest in soothing feelings in Galatia.  He is only interested in correcting behavior and preserving the abundance of the gospel.[v]

And if Elijah and Paul were not harsh enough this morning, Jesus rounds us out with a scathing indictment of the faithful.  A centurion, a Roman solider, and sometimes enemy of the people of God, sends a message to Jesus.  Despite the fact that he is not Jewish, he sends word to Jesus twice – first, asking Jesus to heal his sick slave, and second, insisting that Jesus not make the journey, but only speak a word of healing from afar.  The text tells us that Jesus, who is very rarely reactive, is “amazed,” and criticizes the faithful of God by saying, “I tell you, not even in Israel have I found such faith.”[vi]  If we think about who is gathered around Jesus, we are not just talking about some delinquent followers.  Jesus says in front of disciples and everyone that none of them has had the same dedication and faith in Jesus as this outsider.  Jesus has no problem being brutally honest about the people’s lack of faith and trust in Jesus.

If you were hoping for a nice, affirming set of lessons today, a time set apart with that friend who always encourages and affirms you, you picked the wrong Sunday.  We might have guessed the brutal honesty was coming when we prayed our collect today.  The collect says, “O God, your never-failing providence sets in order all things both in heaven and earth: Put away from us, we entreat you, all hurtful things, and give us those things which are profitable for us…”[vii]  In other words, we prayed God would not be that comforting friend today – but would be the discomforting friend that we need.

Now you may be sitting here wondering what kind of discomfort I will be dishing out today.  Or you may be wondering on what issue I think we need work.  The good news is that I do not have such a charge today.  I suspect that you already know where you need discomfort.  Your discomfort may need to be from Elijah, who warns about putting idols before God – putting your trust and hope in places and things that will not satisfy.  Or maybe your discomfort needs to come from Paul, who warns about putting restrictions on the wideness of God’s mercy.  Or maybe your discomfort needs to come from Jesus, who can point to non-believers who seem to trust God more than you.  You alone know how the Spirit is speaking to your need for discomfort.

However, even though you alone know how the Spirit is speaking to your need for discomfort, you are not alone in needing that discomfort.  One of my favorite parts of our liturgy is the confession.  One, I find the confession immensely centering because every week, one phrase or part of the confession jumps out at me – whether something I have done or left undone is nagging me; whether I have sinned against God or my neighbor; or whether I have just strayed that week.  Even though we say the confession every week, the confession never ceases to unsettle me.  Two, I find the confession comforting because of all the voices that join me in the confession.  I love hearing young and old voices, male and female voices, and voices with every accent imaginable confessing the same failings that I confess.  The power of that communal act is always humbling and comforting.

Now I know I told you that you should not have come to church today if you were looking for comfort.  But the truth is, I find all the discomfort today wildly comforting.  Whether we are pushed by our discomforting witnesses in scripture, whether we are jolted by something in our communal confession, or whether we realize that we need to call our best discomforting friend immediately after church, I find the reminder that I am not the only one who needs discomfort comforting today.  I am comforted because I know after the discomfort comes, something akin to a fire is lit inside me.  The discomfort is usually just what I need to reinvigorate my walk with Christ and sharply focus on where God is calling me to be.  If that is not good news, I do not know what is.  Amen.

[i] 1 Kings 18.21.

[ii] Audrey West, “Commentary on Galatians 1:1-12,” May 29, 2016, as found at http://www.workingpreacher.org/preaching.aspx?commentary_id=2882 on May 25, 2016.

[iii] Galatians 1.6.

[iv] Galatians 1.10.

[v] Dan Clendenin, “No Other Gospel,” May 22, 2016, as found at http://www.journeywithjesus.net/essays/977-no-other-gospel on May 26, 2016.

[vi] Luke 7.9.

[vii] BCP, 229.

Showing forth love and light…

Tags

assumptions, charity, community, feet, generosity, gift, God, hands, Jesus, light, love, need

Photo credit: http://www.kiss925.com/2015/07/16/watch-man-surprises-strangers-by-paying-for-their-groceries/

This week I stumbled on a video published this summer about a guy who goes to a local grocery store and surprises customers by paying for their groceries.  The video portrays a series of about ten encounters.  The mystery man, walks up to the customer, looks at the total due on the cash register, gives the amount to the cashier, and walks off.  He doesn’t engage in conversation.  He pats a few people on the back, telling them to have a good day.  For the few people who ask him why, his response is, “God is good.”  The conversations that happen between the customers and the cashier are incredible.  Most end up having a conversation about God.  Many are shocked, some laugh, and several cry.

What I found most fascinating about the piece is who the man helps.  The first few customers looked like they could use the help – of course I say that recognizing my own stereotypes about class and race.  But one customer surprised me.  He was a white male, who looked middle-class, without much wear and tear.  When the mystery giver left, the man and the cashier had a conversation.  He confesses how nice the gesture was, especially considering he was just mugged the week before.  As they talk further, he confesses that he was held at gun point in front of his home.

What shook me up about the encounter were my own assumptions.  There have been several times at stores when I noticed someone using their WIC voucher or EBT card and could sense the tension as they managed how much money they had to spend.  It makes perfect sense to help someone like that.  But what does it mean to help others:  those whose need is not obvious to us?  How often do I cut short God’s work when my assumptions get in the way of how and when I help?  What this mystery giver was giving was not necessarily charity per se.  What he was giving was a chance to have an encounter with God.  The customers received a variety of things that day – a lightened spirit through the gift of generosity, a desire to share the gift with others (one customer actually said, “I’m going to do that for someone else!”), and a deep and profound encounter with God – a God that they could only see through the vehicle of the giver.  In essence, this giver became the hands and feet of Jesus.

I’m not sure this video is calling me to go out and do the exact same thing.  But what the video is inviting me to do is to see my brothers and sisters through the eyes of Christ.  To honor those around me who are probably going through things I know nothing about, who may be in a dark place, or who may actually have more to give me than I have to give them.  At St. Margaret’s, we already know there are needs in our community – in fact, we helped four families this month purchase the school supplies they needed to send their children back to school.  But there are needs beyond financial – there are needs for people to experience love and to experience our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ.  Those are things that they may not experience unless we are willing to offer those gifts.  How might you show forth God’s love and light this week?

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.

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.