On Learning Love…

Tags

care, church, community, hatred, Jesus, learning, LGBTQ, love, love is love, pride, witness

This past weekend, our family was invited to meet up in DC with some friends from California.  They were attending the pride parade that afternoon, so we decided to meet them for a late lunch and then join them for as much of the parade as our little ones could handle.  We did not tell the children much about the visit – just that we would have lunch with friends and watch a parade.  Our oldest had already been a part of a pride parade with my husband’s work last year.  But everything would be new for our youngest.  It would also be my first pride parade.

What struck me about DC that day was the prevalence of invitations to love.  That may sound simple, obvious, or overused.  Perhaps we have become desensitized now that “Love is love,” has become a motto of sorts.  But as I watched all those gathered that day, I was overwhelmed by the outpouring of love.  This is a community which has every reason to embrace defensiveness, anger, and a sense of righteous indignation.  The LGBTQ community has been the victim of judgment, oppression, prejudice, violence, anger, ostracization, and emotional abuse.  They have been the victims of laws that limited their ability to not only be in relationship, but even to be in committed, monogamous, legal marriages.  They have been denied jobs, housing, adoptive rights, and patient rights.  They have every reason to be a community that reflects the hatred they have experienced.

And yet, I felt nothing but love that day.  I felt nothing but a celebration of love, care, and community.  And I cannot tell you how powerful it is to have your children surrounded by strangers who exude that kind of love.  My heart was warmed and I felt humbled by the community’s ability to show love in the face of hate.  As a person of faith, and as a pastor, I was hoping to see the church out, making the LGBTQ community feel welcome.  But after our day together, I wondered if the movement perhaps needed to be in reverse.  Perhaps the Church needs to be inviting the LGBTQ community in to teach us more about the love Christ talks about.  The love I felt that day was nothing short of the kind of love Jesus teaches throughout his ministry.  I was grateful for the wonderful witness of the LGBTQ community.  I just hope the Church can catch up and follow their example.

On Disagreement and Hope…

Tags

Bible, Christian, clergy, community, conversation, disagreement, God, hope, interpretation, Jesus, love, protest, relationship, scripture, sexuality, witness

Photo credit:  www.gwinnettpl.org/nine-books-on-hope-in-troubled-times/

Last week, I received an email directed to local pastors from a fellow pastor.  He wanted to draw our attention to the fact that the local elementary schools would be hosting an author whose most recent book features a family with two gay dads.  He was upset that the author had been invited and upset that the school board and principals had not been more upfront about the invitation to the author to parents and the community.  His email was an invitation for the clergy to come together to discuss what we might be able to do to voice our protest.

There were several things that alarmed me in the communication.  First, as a pastor and parent, not only am I not opposed to the author coming, I am quite pleased that a non-heteronormative story is being featured in our schools.  Second, and more importantly, I was concerned about a group of clergy gathering to present to the community the voice of the clergy – as though we are all of one mind.  At first I thought I would email the pastor, and then I thought I should email the schools and board.  But then I realized, no email or letter could fully express my concerns, and that kind of one-sided communication often leads to misunderstanding and assumptions.  And so, I decided to go.

I did not make that decision lightly.  I have many friends and family members who have a very different interpretation of the Bible and the issue of sexuality than me.  I have engaged in some deeply hurtful conversations around those topics, and knew I could be walking into a lion’s den going to the meeting.  But I kept thinking of my goddaughter, raised by two incredibly loving men, who have created a home that is a shining example of Christ’s commandment to love God and neighbor.  And so, I went.

I suspected we were heading for trouble as I listened to people talking before the meeting about how Christian morals are being corrupted by the world.  But when the meeting started, things shifted.  The inviting pastor opened with scripture, and then asked us to pray for God’s guidance and for each member of the School Board.  Out of those prayers came the same words I always use when talking about the wideness of God’s love:  inclusivity, love, transformation, loving neighbor as self, being a witness to Christ’s love.  I was fascinated to see how two opposing opinions could be rooted in the same biblical text and the witness of Christ Jesus.  After our enlightening time of prayer, people began to speak.  Some of the concerns were quite legitimate:  a lack of transparency from the schools and board, a lack of intentional engagement with the parents around the choice of the author, and a lack of clarity around why the decision was made.

Of course, where we differed was in the result we desired.  I braced myself and shared with the group why I was there.  Much to my surprise, no one freaked out, no one condemned me for my different perspective, and no one shut down.  Most of the other pastors and lay leaders were quite clear that they believe that scripture should be interpreted differently than I do, but there was no hate or malice.  We even learned that another pastor in the room shared my viewpoint.

What I came away with from the meeting was a sense of hope.  I have never seen such civility, such Christ-like conversation, as I saw that day.  I have rarely seen people of radically different opinions be able to stay at the table without walking away.  We did not change each other’s minds, but we also did not denigrate or disrespect one another.  Suddenly it hit me:  if we could take that kind of civil, Christ-like engagement out into the world, that would be a much more powerful witness of Christ’s love than pastors simply telling people to love each other without actually doing it.  I could even envision the two groups peacefully gathered at a School Board meeting, calmly presenting our opposing views; not witnesses to whether or not an author should be invited into the schools, but witnesses to what holy conflict and conversation look like.  It was a beautiful image, and a wonderful counter to our current political climate.

Now, I do not know if that image will ever come to fruition.  I do not know if the relationship-building we discussed will ever materialize.  But if nothing else, the meeting taught me that there is hope.  There is hope that God can work in the midst of conflict and disagreement and transform it into something sacred.  There is hope that we as a people can engage with one another respectfully despite our differences.  There is hope that Christ can do infinitely more than we can ask or imagine.

Sermon – Jonah 3.1-10, Psalm 51.11-18, and Luke 11.29-32, Ecumenical Lenten Worship Series, March 8, 2017

Tags

change, ecumenical, God, hero, immature, Jonah, journey, judgment, Lent, listen, neighbor, Nineveh, renewal, repent, repentance, Sermon, sin, temper tantrum, together, witness

I have always loved Jonah’s story.  He is probably one of the most juvenile characters in the Hebrew Scriptures.  When God tells him to go to Nineveh, he runs in the opposite direction.  Only when God makes the seas roar, and he is swallowed by a fish, does Jonah call out for God’s mercy.  Jonah finally submits to God and goes to Nineveh as he is told, but then he throws a temper tantrum at God when God forgives Nineveh.  He is angry God doesn’t punish the city, and so he storms off to pout.  When a bush giving him shade withers, he ramps up his tirade.  God asks if Jonah has any right to be angry, and Jonah, in classic toddler style, whines, “Yes! Angry enough to die!”  You can almost imagine him stamping his foot, pouting his lower lip, and furrowing his brow.

Jonah is easy to make fun of because his behavior is so incredibly immature and self-centered.  We laugh at his adult-sized temper tantrum because we all know adults are too old for that sort of behavior.  But that is what is tricky about Jonah too.  Deep down, in places we do not like to talk about, we know Jonah’s experience all too well.  When we are really honest, we can confess that may or may not have thrown an epic temper tantrum in our adult lives too.  Whether over the reoccurrence of an illness, the death of a loved one, a lost cause, the job we did not get, or the love that was not returned, we have all had our Jonah moments.  Though we publicly all can say, “Silly Jonah, when will he learn?!?”, privately, we all think, “That sounds uncomfortably familiar.  I hope no one noticed my temper tantrum!”

Of course, at the end of the day, Jonah does what he is told – witnesses to the people of Nineveh, as God requests.  But in the drama of Jonah’s story, we often forget one minor, and yet central component of Jonah’s story.  Nineveh is the Rockstar of this story.  Nineveh, for all its sinfulness and shame, has no problem admitting Nineveh is wrong.  When Jonah tells Nineveh the city will be overthrown if Nineveh does not repent and change its ways, the people immediately believe God.  They proclaim a fast, and everyone – adults, elders, and children, put on sackcloth.  Even the king of Nineveh immediately rises from his throne, puts on sackcloth and sits in ashes.  He decrees that everyone in the city – humans and animals – will fast, be covered in sackcloth, and cry out their repentance to God.  He declares, “All shall turn form their evil ways and from the violence that is in their hands.  Who knows?  God may relent and change God’s mind; God may turn from God’s fierce anger, so that we do not perish.”

The king of Nineveh and the people of Nineveh are quite unlike most modern recipients of judgment.  In Nineveh, no one holds a press conference to defend their motives and actions.  No one holds a counter-protest to the judgment.  No one even argues with Jonah or asks, “Are you sure?”  Nineveh is told a cold, hard, ugly truth that exposes their deep sinfulness and grievances, and instead of getting defensive, Nineveh drops everything.  They stop in their tracks and change their ways.  They take the judgment with sobriety and honesty, and they make a change.  Though we like to give Jonah the attention, the real heroes in this story are the king and people of Nineveh.

When Jesus talks about repentance in Luke’s gospel today, and when the Church talks about repentance in the season of Lent, this is the kind of repentance we are talking about.  Jesus basically shares that he is to the people of Israel as Jonah was to the people of Nineveh.  He is their sign that repentance is needed.  The people of God are to use Nineveh as their guide for what true repentance looks like.  Jesus’ instruction and Nineveh’s example come at an opportune time for us.  We have managed to work ourselves into a time of finger pointing and name calling.  Our division is found on the political scene, between denominations of churches, and even in our families.  We have presumed that we are Jonahs and everyone else is Nineveh.  The reality, though, is much scarier.  We are not Jonahs.  We are Ninevehs.  Jesus is the Jonah of our time, calling us into repentance and renewal.  We can follow the model that Nineveh set for us, dropping everything to evaluate our sinfulness and changing our behavior immediately.  We can sit in sackcloth and work to deeply understand the role we play in sinful behaviors.  We can invite our neighbors to sit with us as we both work toward repentance.  That is what Lent is all about.

So how do we repent?  How do we take this time of Lent as a time for intentional, dramatic, meaningful change in our lives?  The psalm appointed for today gives us a few clues.  “Create in me a clean heart, O God, and renew a right spirit within me.  Cast me not away from your presence and take not your holy Spirit from me.  Give me the joy of your saving help again and sustain me with your bountiful Spirit.”  First, we ask God for help.  We ask God for help, because we know our God will enable us to do the work God has given us to do.  The psalm also tells us to bring others into our journey, “I shall teach your ways to the wicked, and sinners shall return to you.”  We not only bring our broken, sinful, hurtful selves to God, we witness our work to others, using our own vulnerability and humility as an entry to shared journey.  And then we sing.  “Deliver me from death, O God, and my tongue shall sing of your righteousness, O God of my salvation.  Open my lips, O Lord, and my mouth shall proclaim your praise.”  We use our mouths to praise our God – a God who can change course, who can see the repentance of God’s people and take away the horror of judgment.

That’s why I am grateful that we are together tonight.  We come to God across denominational differences and we sit together in worship.  We hear the witness of Nineveh tonight, and then we start the work of emulating Nineveh.  First, we hear Jonah and Jesus’ word of judgment, letting God create in us clean hearts and renewing right spirits in us.  Then, we turn to our neighbor, and work on creating a community of repentance, working to love the Lord our God and our neighbor as ourselves.  Finally, we turn to those not gathered here tonight – those who may not have a church home, and we share our witness.  We share our witness of how we have been a people of sin, and how we are hoping to change our ways.  And we ask if they might help us on that journey – not taking the judgment of Jonah out into the world, but taking the repentance of Nineveh out into the world.  Listening to our neighbors, working together for meaningful change, and creating a city that is humble enough to know that God may relent and not let us perish.  God will renew a right spirit within you, will give you the joy of God’s saving help again, and will sustain you with God’s bountiful Spirit.  Thanks be to God!  Amen.

Sermon – John 1.29-42, EP2, YA, January 15, 2017

Tags

come, disciples, followers, glow, growing edge, Hickory Neck, Jesus, John the Baptist, light, ministry, point, renewal, see, Sermon, strength, witness

A little over a year ago, I got an email from the Search Committee at Hickory Neck, asking me to think about submitting my name for consideration as Rector.  They detailed how they obtained my name and several reasons why I should consider applying.  “Oh, and by the way,” they said, “the deadline is in one week.”  I remember experiencing a wave of emotions from that email.  But the first cogent thought I had next was, “Well, I better go and see what they are all about.”  I spent the next twenty-four hours pouring over the available information.  I could not really explain why, but I knew I wanted to know more.

That is how most of the discernment process went.  In various ways, Hickory Neck kept saying to me, “Come and see.”  And I kept saying, “Okay.”  When confidants would ask what I liked about Hickory Neck, I had a hard time explaining my experience.  All I could say was that something about Hickory Neck was very compelling to me.  With every email, phone call, interview, or visit – I wanted to know more, to see more, to connect more.  Each, “Come and see,” had a note of expectancy, hope, and promise.  And every time I came and saw, I wanted to experience more.

The first followers of Jesus are drawn to Jesus in a similar fashion.  In our gospel lesson today, John the Baptist keeps pointing to Jesus, trying to convince those around him that they have got to go check out this Jesus character.[i]  Three times John basically says, “Come and see this Jesus!”  Jesus himself engages others with a similar invitation.  He asks what the seekers are looking for, and when they answer, Jesus says, “Come and see.”  Jesus does not talk about himself at length, or even really answer the questions of John’s disciples.  He simply invites them to “Come and see.”  One of John’s disciples, Andrew, after going and seeing Jesus, turns and does the same thing – he grabs his brother, and says to him, “Come and see.”  He does not give an elaborate explanation.  He brings his brother to Jesus and shows him so that his brother can see too.

We do the same today through the vehicle of our Annual Meeting.  Now, for many people, the Annual Meeting is code for the boring business of church.  The same thing happens every year:  we elect Vestry members, look at the budget, and hear about the state of the church.  Some years we might actually be interested in the reports – certainly last year we were eager to hear news from our Search Committee.  But most years, the Annual Meeting is sounds about as exciting as the title.

Perhaps the problem is simply the title – perhaps we should call today our Annual Celebration or our annual Come-and-See Party.  Because that is what our Annual Meeting really is:  a chance for us to come together and see the good work that Jesus is doing in our midst.  In 2016 alone, Jesus set our hearts on fire.  There were the obvious things:  new leadership being installed and ordained; good friends and leaders being sent off to new adventures; hungry, cold neighbors using these walls for shelter and protection; children, youth, and adults finding new inspiration, learning, and joy in their journey; curious visitors becoming brothers and sisters in our growing community; monies, food, and supplies being raised and collected for our neighbors in need; homebound members being brought into our midst through our Eucharistic Visitors; new worship experiences that touched our hearts and sparked something fresh in us; social media giving us tools to invite, welcome, and connect with seekers in our community; witnesses that inspired us to live generously and dream new dreams; laughter, tears, and songs bouncing off these walls; and all manner of traffic on our grounds – from people with gardening tools, to people with casseroles and Brunswick stew, to people with beloved pets, to brides and babies in white gowns, to old friends in caskets, to blue grass musicians.  And all of those obvious things do not even touch the not so obvious things:  the faithful parishioners who gather weekly in prayer, meditation, and study; the quiet volunteers who send cards, make calls, and visit hospitals; the parishioners who watch small children so their parents can worship; the women who clean the silver, polish the brass, and arrange the flowers; the men who rearrange furniture, hang greens, and cook meals; the children who teach us, inspire us, and lead us in worship; the youth who lead us in song, who ask hard questions, and call us to authenticity; and the brave who keep bugging their neighbors to come and see Christ at Hickory Neck.

This past year has been a year of incredible, rich, life-giving ministry.  We see that renewed spirit in the wonderful growth in our ministry this year.  Much of what happens at our Annual Come-and-See Celebration will give us the opportunity to do just that – come and see the incredible work Jesus is doing in our community.  And the celebration of the good work of 2016 is inspiring work on our growing edges in 2017.  Today, parishioners will receive time and talent forms to prayerfully consider how Jesus is inviting us to give back to this life-giving parish.  As we look at our budget, we can celebrate how generous giving has helped us grow our staff – and how extended giving will allow us to do even more in 2017.  Seeing the many successes of our engagement in social media, we will be looking at even more ways that our online presence allows us to invite more people to come and see Christ at Hickory Neck.  Celebrating our work in feeding, clothing, and giving shelter to our neighbors will help us consider how we might encounter Christ in new and more meaningful ways with our neighbors in Upper James City County.  With the Holy Spirit blowing behind us, we are filled up with Christ’s light and ready to shine our lights even brighter from this holy hill.

But all that we see and hear today is not just for us.  Just like John the Baptist, and Andrew and Simon Peter, when we see all that Christ is and all that Christ is doing, we cannot keep the good news to ourselves.  We do not need some lengthy explanation or some canned evangelism speech.[ii]  We do not even need to worry about what baggage others might be carrying around about Church.  All we need to do is harness those three words, “Come and see.”  Those powerful words are all we need because the light of Christ is already aglow in our faces when we talk about Hickory Neck.  I know that when I was engaged in the discernment process with the Search Committee, with words failing me, I felt that same glow.  The people, the work, the passion, the life present here fills us up with such light that all we need to do is say, “Come and see,” and others will find their way to the same joy we have found in this community.

Like any Sunday, we come together today, especially on this Annual Meeting Sunday to celebrate all that has been, all that is, and all that is yet to come.  We gather together to celebrate both our successes and our growing edges.  We assemble today to remember what about Jesus draws us in, especially in the context of this community of faith, and then to do our parts to be Johns, Andrews, and Simons, pointing the way for others, and with a twinkle in our eyes, saying, “Come, and see!”

[i][i] Rodger Y. Nishioka, “Pastoral Perspective,” Feasting on the Word, Yr. A, Vol. 1 (Louisville:  Westminster John Knox Press, 2010), 262.

[ii] David Lose, “Epiphany 2A:  A Question, Invitation, and Promise,” January 9, 2017, as found at http://www.davidlose.net/2017/01/epiphany-2-a-a-question-invitation-and-promise/ on January 11, 2017.

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!

Working Together to Make it Work

Tags

Christ, church, faith, family, generation, grow, love, multigeneration, witness

Photo credit:  https://www.indacoriskadvisors.com

Every year our family vacations at a place called, “Memorial House,” in Rehoboth Beach.  The house is owned by the Diocese of Delaware and is an 11-bedroom home used for retreats, meetings, and, in the summer, for family and church vacations.  Each family or individual has a private room, but the dining and living area is shared.  Each day in the summer, a full, hot breakfast and dinner is served buffet-style, and enjoyed at shared tables with the other guests.

This year, our family vacationed with another family with two children.  Joining us were a family with adult children, older couples, and some retired singles.  Our four children were the only children this year, making our eight-person dinner table the most raucous.  I lost count on how many tablecloths we changed, and the broom was never far from hand.  The other mom and I worried a bit that we might be disturbing what could have been a perfectly peaceful vacation for the others.

Luckily, I had two encounters that told a different story.  The first was with a grandmother who talked to us as we were preparing lunches.  She joked with us about how much work she saw us doing.  She confessed that she had already spent one week this summer at the beach with her own family – including children and grandchildren.  But she had done so much work that week that she decided to come to Memorial House so she could have an “actual vacation”!  Another grandmother talked to me at the end of our week.  She pulled me aside and said, “You know, I had forgotten how much work I did as a young mom.  You guys are doing a great job!”

What Memorial House does is a little like what Church does, when Church is at its best.  You see, Church is one of the few places that multiple generations gather to worship, learn, and grow together.  When the Church is at its best, grandmothers distract an inconsolable child when a mom or dad is at her or his wits end.  When Church is at its best, a retiree is teaching children his favorite Bible Stories in dramatic and fun ways.  When Church is at its best, youth know adults who might give them the same answers as their parents, but the youth can hear it better from someone else.  When Church is at its best, we are a multigenerational family, welcoming those from all walks of life, making sure we are all fed, nurtured, and empowered to go out into the world to witness the love of Christ.  This week, I am especially grateful for that gift!

Sermon – Luke 10.1-11, 16-20, 2 Kings 5.1-14, P9, YC, July 3, 2016

Tags

collaboratively, commission, detail, gospel, help, humility, insider, Jesus, joy, mission, Naaman, outsider, power, Sermon, seventy, side effects, story, terrifying, transformation, vulnerable, witness

I remember when I was on maternity leave I ended up watching a fair amount of daytime television – mostly because that was the extent of intellectual stimulation that my sleep-deprived brain could handle.  Not being someone who watches a lot of television, I was fascinated by one phenomenon in general:  pharmaceutical commercials.  There are tons of them and they are all filled with very convincing actors and stories.  The story is always the same:  the patient was sad, scared, or in pain, struggling with no cure; they or their doctor find a little-known drug; and, bam, they are returned to health and wholeness.  Sometimes the actor or narrator will mention a few possible side effects.  But in tiny print below the glowingly happy patient is a longer list of side effects that, quite frankly, sound terrifying – maybe even more terrifying than the disease or symptom they are trying to heal.  If you are not careful, you can miss the messy stuff altogether because everyone looks so happy:  from hair loss, to abdominal pain, partial paralysis, or in rare cases, even death.

That same sort of list of side effects is what our gospel lesson today glosses over too.  The severity of the situation is clearly grim when Jesus commissions the seventy to go ahead of him, proclaiming the kingdom and healing people.  Jesus is unambiguous.  He tells the seventy that they will be like sheep among wolves.  He takes away any forms of security:  no purse, no bag, no sandals.  He warns them that some people will not receive them well, and they will have to dust off their bruised egos and keep going.  He advises them to be gracious guests, eating whatever is put before them (even if it is Brussel sprouts).  Truly, this has to be the worst ad for a mission ever.

But here is the funny part.  The text jumps over the mission of the seventy and simply says, “The seventy returned with joy.”  We do not get details of all the side effects they experience.  We do not get to hear how hard eating what is put before them is.  We do not get to hear how scary traveling with no money or shoes is.  We do not even get to hear how many times they have to dust of their feet in protest from ill treatment.  No, the commercial just glosses straight to the end, “The seventy returned with joy.”  The reading today feels like all the bad stuff is just shoved into fine print so that we do not get a sense of what going out into the mission field really feels like – because, based on what Jesus says, the mission field sounds terrifying.

Feeling frustrated by the lack of detail this week, I found myself wondering how we might get a glimpse into the real experience of following Jesus and sharing the good news.  Then I stumbled back into the Naaman story and realized perhaps he is the key.  Naaman seems like an unlikely candidate at first blush.  He is a foreign national in the time of Elisha.  Jesus does not come onto the scene until hundreds of years later.  But Naaman has much more in common with the followers of Jesus – in fact, more in common with us – than we might imagine.

You see, Naaman is a mighty army commander.  Because of the Lord’s favor, Naaman has led the king’s troops to victory.  Naaman is not one of the Israelites, but he is someone with great power – a prowess we are familiar with as modern Americans.  In that way, he, us, and the seventy commissioned by Jesus are similar – we are insiders with power.  But despite his power, Naaman suffers from leprosy.  He has longed for healing and would use his power, influence, and money if he could.  But so far that has not led to success.  Instead, Naaman has to go another way.  As it turns out, Naaman has to go on a journey that is very similar in conditions to what the seventy must do.

In order to find healing and wholeness, Naaman must give up his power, sense of control, and must rely on others – especially those most marginalized in society.[i]  Basically, like the seventy, Naaman must give up his purse, his bag, his sandals, and must rely on the hospitality of others.  His story starts with a tip from a slave girl from Israel.  She learns of the commander’s leprosy and suggests he seek out the Israeli prophet, Elisha for healing.  So, Naaman gets a blessing from his king and heads off to the king of Israel.  Only, the king of Israel misunderstands Naaman and thinks he is being setup for failure.  Elisha, who is clearly not in the king’s court, saves the day, and sends word that he will help.  So, Naaman takes his bountiful gifts to this non-ranking prophet seeking help again.  But instead of greeting Naaman, Elisha sends out one of his messengers to Naaman with instructions for healing.  Instead of dusting his feet off at the apparent insult, Naaman gets angry.  But some of Naaman’s unnamed servants gently appeal to him to try the remedy anyway.  Naaman eats humble pie again, and is healed.

Naaman gives us a glimpse into the fine print of Jesus’ commissioning of the seventy.  Going without a purse, sandals, and relying on the hospitality of others takes a lot of humility.  Facing rejection, which Jesus guarantees will come, will take a lot of anger management.  Going in Christ’s name will mean accepting help from anyone and everyone – not the easiest of tasks for us, who as Americans prefer to be self-sufficient, independent, strong survivors.  We prefer to be people who help instead of people who need help.

I have been on a variety of mission trips over the years:  medical missions, missions building homes, missions building schools or community centers, and missions meant to build relationships.  On almost every mission trip I have joined, the team members came back feeling like they gained more than they gave.  This conclusion invariably leads to a discussion about whether money is best spent in direct aid than expensive overseas trips that seem to benefit us more than the people we serve.  While that conversation always needs to happen, what that argument fails to see is the power of Christian witness – that even if we do not turn communities around socio-economically, part of what we leave behind is the love and fellowship of Christ – the message that you are not alone in your suffering.  In part, being able to host us and show us hospitality gives those we serve more of a sense of worth and honor than being recipients of aid.

But in order for any of that to happen, we have to make ourselves vulnerable.[ii]  We have to put ourselves in the position of Naaman to receive aid and healing from the least likely persons.  True mission is not about the powerful and wealthy bringing their resources to the poor and downtrodden.  True mission is about the powerful and wealthy realizing their own spiritual poverty and creating an environment where rich and poor, healthy and sick can share healing, wholeness, and health in a way that recognizes we all have needs before God – and that God uses us all of us when we work collaboratively for healing and building up the kingdom of God.[iii]

Jesus was right to warn us with the possible side effects of sharing the good news:  vulnerability, insecurity, bodily danger, hurt egos, and long days.  Though the seventy do not show us what that looks like, Naaman certainly does.  He reminds us of the fine print:  that the side effects may lead to anger, feelings of abandonment, a loss of self-worth and importance.  But the benefits are still the same:  healing and wholeness for the whole community, redefining who is in and who is out of the community, and new purpose in the larger world.  The good news is that part of our prescription involves partners for the journey:  Jesus sends the seventy out two-by-two.[iv]  Even Naaman does not go alone, but takes others with him – others who keep him in check and support him in his sense of loss.  And the result is the same:  healing, transformation, and joy.  Those kind of results make the side effects worth it!  Amen.

 

[i] Stephen Reid, “Commentary on 2 Kings 5:1-14,” July 3, 2016, as found at http://www.workingpreacher.org/preaching.aspx?commentary_id=2904 on June 29, 2016.

[ii] David J. Lose, “Homiletical Perspective,” Feasting on the Word, Yr. C, Vol. 3 (Louisville: Westminster John Knox Press, 2010), 219.

[iii] Adriene Thorne, “Moral Leprocy,” July 3, 2016, as found at http://www.onscripture.com/moral-leprosy on June 29, 2016.

[iv] Karoline Lewis, “The Security of Seventy,” June 26, 2016, as found at http://www.workingpreacher.org/craft.aspx?post=4683 on June 29, 2016.

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.

More…

Tags

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

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

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

Plainview-Old Bethpage Interfaith Clergy, November 24, 2015

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

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

Sermon – Mark 5.21-43, P8, YB, June 28, 2015

Tags

baptism, Christ, communion, community, doubt, faith, God, hemorrhaging woman, Jairus' daughter, Jesus, powerful, saints, strong, weakness, witness, women

Today we are surrounded by some powerful women.  Many of you do not know Charlotte and Piper, who we are baptizing today, but they came into the world fighting.  While they were in the womb, their lives were threatened.  Doctors were able to operate in the womb at twenty-one weeks to ensure their survival.  Despite that help, they were born early and very tiny, but amazingly, had to have very little medical support.  Once they gained weight, they were able to come home and enjoy a healthy infancy.  My guess is that the strength these two children of God harnessed is what has pulled them through – a strength that their parents might regret when they hit their teenage years!

When we baptize Charlotte and Piper, we will baptize them into a communion full of strong saints – women who have paved the road before them, who have shown great faithfulness and strength, and who will serve as mentors and guides in their earthly pilgrimage.  We meet a couple of those women today.  First we meet Jairus’ daughter through her father.  Now, we might not think of her as a strong woman, since she is near death, but this young woman was powerful nonetheless.  She evokes such devotion in her father that he, a synagogue leader, is willing to bow down to the controversial Jesus and beg for healing for his dying daughter.  Jairus’ love for this powerful young woman made him willing to cross boundaries, to show vulnerability, and put great faith in Jesus.  We also know that Jairus’ daughter is twelve, about the age that women start menstruating, making them capable of producing life – one of the most powerful gifts of nature.  Though she is at death’s door, her power as a woman and as an individual bring people like Jesus to her, so that she might be restored to wholeness of life.

Of course, we also meet another strong woman today.  By all accounts, this woman should not have been strong.  In those days, menstruation alone meant that women had to be separated from the community for a period of time for ritual impurity.  But to have been bleeding for twelve years means that this woman has been ostracized from others for as long as Jairus’ daughter has been alive.  Furthermore, she spent all her money trying to obtain healing from doctors.  Her poverty and her impurity make her a double outcast.[i]  But this woman will not quit.  She boldly steps into a crowd (likely touching many people that she ritually should not) and she grabs on to Jesus’ clothing, knowing that simply by touching Jesus she can be healed.  She does not ask Jesus to heal her or mildly whisper among the crowds, “Excuse me Jesus, could you please heal me?”  No, she takes matters into her own hands, and though Jesus demands to speak with her, her own determination and faith make her whole.

In many ways, the baptism that we witness today is a same expression of strength and faith.  When we are baptized, we (or in the case of infants our parents and godparents) boldly claim the life of faith.  We renounce the forces of evil and we rejoice in the goodness of God.  We promise to live our life seeking and serving Christ, honoring dignity in others, and sharing Christ in the world.  This action is not a meek or mild one.  This action is an action of boldness – one in which we stand before the waters of baptism, and stake our claim in resurrection life.

Now, here’s the good news:  even though we are surrounded by powerful women today and we are doing and saying powerful things, we do not always have to be strong.  All the women we honor today are strong – but they have moments of weakness too.[ii]  I am sure over the course of twelve years, the hemorrhaging woman has doubts.  As bold as she is today, I am sure there are moments when she fears – maybe even that day – whether she could really reach out and claim Jesus’ power as her own.  And as Jairus’ daughter feels the life fade from her, I am sure she doubts.  I am sure she wonders whether she will ever be able to claim the life-force that is budding inside of her or to live a long life honoring her parents.  And though Charlotte and Piper have been warriors thus far in life, they will both have their own doubts and weaknesses.  In fact, that is why we as a congregation today promise that we will do all in our power to support them in their life in Christ.  That is why her parents and godparents promise by their prayers and witness to help them grow into the full stature of Christ.  That is the good news today.  For all the moments of strength that we honor in one another, we also honor the doubts, fears, and weaknesses.  God is with us then too, and gives us the community of faith to keep us stable until we can be strong witnesses again.  Amen.

[i] Mark D. W. Edington, “Theological Perspective,” Feasting on the Word, Yr. B, Vol. 2 (Louisville:  Westminster John Knox Press, 2009), 190.

[ii] David Lose, “Come As You Are,” June 24, 2012 at https://www.workingpreacher.org/craft.aspx?post=1493 found on June 25, 2015.