Redemption is here: December 1

 Year C, Advent 1                                       Luke 21:25-36                                                   

          Every year when Advent comes along, I have 2 contrasting thoughts: “Dear God, not these readings again.” AND “Oh good, these readings give me a great chance to complain about the Advent calendar industry.” Seriously, have you all seen what has been happening with Advent calendars? You can get them with any kind of alcohol, any sephora item, legos, jewelry…even cheese.  Why--- might you ask-- would these readings give the pastor a chance to talk about Advent cheese calendars? Because these readings
are so contrary to almost every way we prepare for Christmas in our world. 

In our culture, we prepare for Christmas by buying things, cooking extravagant food, attending festive events, decorating our homes, buying more decorations because our neighbors look more festive than we do…doing everything we can to artificially brighten our world that gets darker and darker with every passing day.  At times, it feels to me like the Advent Calendars, the holiday preparations, are basically trying to distract us from whatever might bring us down.  Meanwhile in church, we move to more penitential language (that means talking about our sins and seeking forgiveness) and warning people of the possible end of the world.   That is how we prepare for Advent.

Let me just say, I love Christmas lights.  I am all for providing light in the midst of darkness.  But I worry that in our rush to cover up the darkness, we lose what the darkness teaches us.  We forget that even a small flame can pierce the darkest night.

Just two weeks ago, we had a reading from Mark that was very similar to our reading from Luke today.  It was Mark’s little apocalypse.  Today is Luke’s little apocalypse.  What I said in my sermon 2 weeks ago is that Jesus wasn’t suggesting that these events were the end of the world, he said that these events were leading to the end of the world.  Since we seem to have these apocalyptic events frequently, then maybe we can reframe our way of thinking and accept that we are living through that difficult time right now. So all these warning signs (the fires, tornadoes, hurricanes, super storms) are happening right now. It’s just life and life is difficult. 

Life is full of events like the ones that Jesus described.  Is there distress among the nations? Absolutely.  Are weird things going on with our oceans? Yup.  Are people terrified and sometimes incapacitated with fear? Yes again. Have we seen the Son of Man coming in a cloud? Anyone? No.  So that means we are in this liminal space, the time between when Jesus lived, died, and was resurrected…and the time when Jesus returns.  Humanity has been in that space for over 2000 years.

So what are we to do in this liminal space?  Buy more lights? Leave them up all year round? Stick our heads in the sand and wait for it all to end? No.  Jesus gives us the answer.  After describing all these terrifying things, Jesus said, “Now when these things begin to take place, stand up and raise your heads because redemption is drawing near.” Stand up and raise your heads. It’s ok to be afraid and a little worried.  It’s ok to be sad and to grieve.  It is ok to feel all those feelings.  But in the end, we still rise because redemption is near.

Right after this exhortation, Luke switches gears a little and told a parable about spring. He said as soon as you see those first buds, those new leaves, you know that summer is close. “So also when you see these things taking place, you know that the kingdom of God is near.”  We can look at these events in our world a few ways.  We can see them as a sign that the world is getting worse and we have lost control.  Or we can see them as a reminder that the kingdom of God is near. 

Because here is the thing---the kingdom of God is more than just what it is to come.  In a sense, it has been here.  That is what Jesus brought when he was born on this earth.  He gave us access to that kingdom. But we have gotten so weighed down, so distracted by the worries of this life, we forget that redemption is not just near.  It is here.  When Jesus was born to this earth, he brought the kingdom of God with him. 

You might think, well he’s not here anymore and this world doesn’t look like the Kingdom of God. And I get that, I really do. We want the Kingdom of God to be all powerful, to right all the wrongs in this world. If this was the Kingdom of God, there would be no poverty, no prejudice, no hunger, no injustice, no war.  That is the ultimate expression of the Kingdom.  Now, we have glimpses of the kingdom, moments when earth and heaven touch.  Think of those moments you just got goose bumps for no reason, when you heard a piece of music that just took your breath away, when you saw hope where you thought hope was dead, when you found laughter in the midst of pain, when you found the courage to fight, when all you wanted to do was cry. Those are glimpses of the Kingdom of God and it’s our job as Christians to make those glimpses last a little longer and appear to more people.  We want more people to see the Kingdom of God, because it is magnificent.

Our opening prayer (which we call a collect in the Episcopal Church) reads: “Almighty God, give us grace to cast away the works of darkness, and put on the armor of light…”  As much as I love Christmas lights, the only light that will really cast away the works of darkness is the light of Christ.  I love that image of Christians being clothed with the armor of light.  Because not only does this armor protect us from desolation and despair, it also enables us to bring light into the world for others who might be scared, worried, despondent.  In sharing that light, we can bring more and more glimpses of the Kingdom of God to our world right now. That way not only can we find the strength and courage to stand and embrace redemption, we can help others do the same.  Because the true Kingdom of God is not a few people standing while others struggle to rise, it’s all of us standing together because redemption is already here. I have seen it. You have seen it.  Redemption is here.  “So we light one candle for hope.  Because the world is broken and the wait is long, but hope just won’t let go.[1]”

---

[1] From Advent Lighting Prayer by  Rev. Karen Ware Jackson 

Don't be alarmed: November 17, 2024

Year B, Pentecost 26                            Mark 13:1-8    

                Do you remember at the beginning of COVID, when every time you turned on the news or checked your newsfeed, it was a string of stories about how horrible things were looking? If I were to sum up those stories it would be, “be alarmed, be very alarmed.”  I remember the Daily Show started a segment called, “Is this how we die?”  It was funny…until people started dying.   It feels a bit like that now, every time I check the news, there are some new dire threats.  This is the end of democracy.  This is the end of freedom. This is the end of women’s rights. Because of the magic of algorithms, someone else is looking at their news and seeing a different set of stories: the stock market is sky rocketing, it’s the end of politics as usual, it’s a new golden age in America.  Either way, the news has been attention grabbing.   Some people are feeling great. Some are neutral and some are alarmed. Pretty much everything about the pandemic was horrible, but the one thing that was kind of refreshing was that the majority of people agreed that COVID was bad. It was unifying in a weird way. 

            I will confess that in general, I am prone to being alarmed by any drastic changes, sometimes even small changes. Thus, I pay attention whenever I see something in scripture telling me not to be alarmed.  The reading we had from the Gospel of Mark is sometimes referred to as the “little apocalypse.”  In it Jesus says, “When you hear of wars and rumors of wars, do not be alarmed…” Then it goes on to say: “nation will rise against nation, and kingdom against kingdom; there will be earthquakes in various places; there will be famines.”  Now, I have already admitted that I am prone to being alarmed, but is it just me, or are those verses extra alarming?

Someone brought this up at our Wednesday Eucharist—how interesting it was that Jesus would tell us not to be alarmed about war.  I thought, well, people said that kind of thing a lot in scripture.  One of the most common pieces of advice in scripture is: Do not be afraid.  It’s usually the first thing that an angel says when he brings a message to a human.  Jesus is often telling people in his midst not to be afraid, especially after a miracle or a healing. It makes sense that in the presence of holiness one would expect the words: Be not afraid. It’s helpful advice, when you are in the presence of something awe inspiring and something that is so unexpected that it’s frightening. 

I assumed that the Greek word translated to alarm and the Greek word translated to afraid were the same word.  They are not.  The word translated to alarm only appears in two other places in the New Testament. One is the version of this same story that Matthew tells. Often the Gospels tell the same story is slightly different ways. The other instance is in 2^nd Thessalonians.  The Greek word translated to alarm can also mean troubled or disturbed.  In each of these three readings, the advice to “not be alarmed” comes in response to what is referred to as the 2^nd coming or the apocalypse. 

What is interesting is that Jesus wasn’t even talking about the end of the world (which is what many of us think of when we hear warnings like this).  Jesus was talking about the events that would lead up to the end of the world. The funny thing is that every time I preach on an apocalyptic text, I come up with many examples of how what is going on in our country or our world feels kind of apocalyptic.  Yet, not even once since I have been preaching, has the world ended.  I am beginning to think that maybe these events that Jesus mentions are not pointing to the end of the world. They are just life.

  Last Sunday, I got out of my car and the weather was lovely.  Thirty minutes later I walked outside, and it was smoky. You could not even see the sun.  Someone told me it was from the fires in New Jersey.  I thought since, when were there fires in New Jersey?  This is clearly a sign of the world ending.  Apparently when you preach these texts too much, that is where your mind goes.  Guess what, we are still here. The world has not ended and Jesus is telling us all: “Do not be alarmed.”

Does that mean we become complacent? Does that mean that the fire fighters shouldn’t put the fires out and we can feel free to use fireworks in the middle of a dry forest?  No.  It means that we don’t let the fears that come out of these events paralyze us.  The problem with fear is that it narrows our vision.  All we see is the worst case scenario.  Then the only people who we talk to are other people who are also alarmed…very alarmed.  Suddenly anyone who isn’t alarmed is blind and foolish and we definitely don’t want to be associating with those people. 

As much as I appreciate a little company in my misery, I do worry about how we handle our little apocalypses.  The literal definition of apocalypse is revelation or unveiling.  Many think this election revealed something about our country.  Maybe it did.  I wonder if what we should also examine is our reactions to these apocalyptic events and what those reactions reveal.  I don’t know what any of this reveals.  Perhaps time will tell.  What I know is that refusing to engage with people who think differently will accomplish nothing.  I am not telling you to take this moment to reach out to your family and friends who voted differently. We might not be ready for that. My brother reached out to me and offered to talk and I said, “Thank you for the offer, but I am not ready.”  He responded that he loved me. I responded that I loved him too even though he was wrong. (just kidding, I just said I loved him too.) Thus I understand how hard this advice is, but I think it is what Jesus would want.

This week President Biden invited the president elect to the White House.  It appeared extremely awkward.  There were some who criticized Biden for maintaining this tradition.  They said it showed weakness. I think it showed decency and strength. Would he have done that if that was not the tradition? I don’t know. That is the beauty of traditions. They hold us accountable.  They give us guardrails on our life.  Sometimes when we get too attached to tradition, those traditions can make us rigid and stubborn.  But sometimes, perhaps many times, traditions help connect us with our ancestors and people today. 

So many parts of our liturgy are about connecting to God and one another. I was raised Catholic and the first time I visited an Episcopal Church, I found the tradition of kneeling at the rail very uncomfortable and awkward.  Now, I see it as an important reminder of what it is to be a community. It doesn’t matter how you vote, what your job is, your sexuality, your race…none of that matters in that moment.  All that matters in that moment is that we are together, gathered around the altar yearning for a piece of God’s presence.  Yearning for communion.

**The article about the "doomsday fish" popped up on my newsfeed after preaching this sermon.

 

Alleluia Anyways: November 10

Year B, Pentecost 25                                      Psalm 146                                                                             

            I often direct people to the Psalms when they are struggling with prayer. Many times people need direction in prayer and get insecure about what to say or they are just overwhelmed with the enormity of it all. I understand because I sometimes feel the same way, this week for instance.  The great thing about the psalms is that they encompass virtually every human emotion: anger, envy, frustration, joy, fear and utter desolation.  While there are 150 psalms, often times you will encounter several contrasting emotions in one psalm. I like it because it is true to life.  One moment you are on top of the world, the next moment you are asking God to vanquish your enemies.  Some days are like that.

            Given the last week, I had hoped we would have a good lament psalm.  One third of the psalms in the Bible are lament psalms, so I felt that the odds were in my favor. But no, not this week. This week was a praise psalm with the first word—Hallelujah.  I imagined how it would sound if I asked you all to say it. It would be a bit like when I ask my son to apologize for something he’s confident he bears no guilt.  Hallelujah. When I think of the word Hallelujah, I think of Easter and joy that cannot be contained— but it’s more than that.

It’s actually a transliteration of two Hebrew words that translate to: Praise God. It’s one of the few Hebrew words in the Hebrew Bible that wasn’t translated to Greek, then Latin, then English. All the other words were translated, but not this word. A music professor at Yale said it suggests the word was already charged with an emotion that transcends its linguistic meaning.[1] It’s like it was too beautiful, too lyrical, to translate it.

            When I think of praising God, I consider the times when it has just come out of me spontaneously, which frankly has been rarer than I would like to admit.  We praise God every Sunday through prayers, music and the celebration of the Eucharist.  But what I hear when I spend a lot of time contemplating the word Hallelujah, is singing the Alleluia chorus. It’s powerful and enthusiastic song of praise. I think so many of think of Alleluia in that context.  But the word Alleluia appears in all kinds of music.  I was struck by one piece the choir sang in our All Soul’s service last week.  It was a Ukranian piece written in 2007.  The whole piece is just Alleluia, but it’s much more contemplative and less triumphant then you would expect.  The author of the piece said he wrote it after a mission trip to Ukraine.  It was meant to be the “quiet voice of faith, praise and hope in the midst of suffering and tragedy”. That is how the composer of the piece described it. We don’t have to associate Hallelujah with joy.

            The Hebrew word is actually an imperative---it’s a command.  One commentator described it as a discipline. That means that even when we don’t feel it, we still say it.  We praise God not because of the wonderful things that are going on in our world.  We praise God because our God is worthy of praise. It’s not supposed to be easy.  It’s not supposed to be something that we only do when things are going our way and we are grateful to God for all the blessings in our life. We can’t just believe in a good God when all is right in the world.

That’s easy to preach, but how can we praise when we find ourselves in times of despair, when we have lost faith in people, when we have worked so hard and not achieved the outcome we wanted.  We grieve.  We act.  We organize. We remember the verses of this psalm that tell us not to put our trust in rulers, because they cannot save us…even when we have a really good one who we voted for. They cannot ruin us, no matter how very bad they are.  Only God can save us.

Because we still worship a God who loves us, a God who gives justice to the oppressed, food to the hungry, sets the prisoners free, opens the eyes of the blind and cares for the immigrant, the orphan and the widow.  When our human leaders let us down (and they will, because they are humans---and some of them are very flawed humans), we cannot lose hope.  Our hope is not based on who we elect or don’t elect.  Our hope has one source—God. So we continue to praise the Lord, not because we are pleased with what is happening in our nation and our world, but in spite of it.  Let your praise be your protest. 

            And I know how hard that is. Praising God is part of my job description and I still find it difficult in the midst of division and hatred.  There will be moments when we can’t praise God and instead we pray Psalm 13, “How long must I bear pain in my soul, and have sorrow in my heart all day long? How long shall my enemy be exalted over me?” There have been many moments over the last several years when I have asked, “How long?” I don’t care what political party you are in, I don’t know anyone who believes things are going swimmingly.  I don’t know anyone who feels that our government is doing a great job of standing up for the poor, the oppressed, the immigrant, the imprisoned, all those people that the God of justice, (the God of psalm 146) promised to love and lift up.

What I fear more than anything, is hopelessness, people giving up hope.  So I ask that when we sing our final hymn, we will sing with whatever energy we have left-- these words: “Save us from weak resignation, to the evils we deplore..  Grant us wisdom, grant us courage, serving thee whom we adore.” Let us not forget who we serve. We serve a loving God who cares deeply for all those people the world just tosses aside.

Because of that, we keep saying Hallelujah, even if it’s barely a whisper. You don’t have to say it with triumph.  You don’t even have to say it with joy.  Say it however feels right in your soul. You know how we don’t say Alleluia during Lent? The one exception is at funerals. Because even in the midst of death and grief, we make our song—Alleluia, Alleluia, Alleluia. Even when we feel that all is lost, our God continues to save us and the people we love.  Let our Alleluia be our protest, our protest to the division, the hatred, the misogyny, the racism, the homophobia---all of those things that create walls instead of bridges. No one gets to take Hallelujah away from us.  Don’t stop praising God. Let our praise be our protest.

---

[1] Hallelujah! The remarkable story behind this joyful word - Los Angeles Times.  Quote is from Markus Rathey, a professor at Yale

Tearing up the Shroud of Death: November 3

Year B, All Saints                                                       Isaiah 25:6-9                                                                                                 

            It’s complicated. All Saint’s Sunday is complicated. This is partly because the understanding of this day has evolved over the years. It was originally meant to be a day to commemorate all the Christian martyrs (those who had been persecuted and died for their faith).  In the first few centuries of the church, they would commemorate a martyr with a specific day. But by about the 4^th century, with the increased persecution of Christians, it became clear that they were going to run out of days.  Finally, by the 9^th century, they picked one day and called it All Saints Day.  This was to be the day that would not only commemorate all Christian martyrs, but all Christians who had died.  With all of these changes, the understanding of what it was to be a saint shifted to what many people perceive as the original intention…the intention of the New Testament—to include all Christians who have died and all Christians still living.

            When Paul used the word saint, he was almost always referring to those who were alive. In his letter to the Ephesians he wrote, “I have heard of your faith in the Lord Jesus and your love toward all the saints…” Even knowing that---that saints includes the living and the dead, I have never completely wrapped my head around the reason that the Episcopal Church specified this day as a day when we should have baptisms.

There are 4 recommended days in the prayer book for baptisms.  One is Easter, which makes sense. It’s a celebratory day when we talk about new life and hope.  Pentecost is another as it marks the day when the Holy Spirit descended on the assembly and thousands of people were baptized as a result.  The other recommended day is the day when we celebrate the baptism of Jesus, which seems like an appropriate place to have a baptism.  But All Saint’s Day?

The challenge with having baptisms on All Saint’s Day is not just the grief  that comes with the recitation of the names of those who have died in the last year, but also the biblical readings themselves. The readings that we have on All Saint’s Day are the same readings that are recommended for funerals. They are about death and grief, at least that is what I associate them with. I recommend this reading from John when I am officiating a funeral for someone who has died unexpectedly, because people can often empathize with Mary’s frustration and anger and Jesus’ grief and tears.  I use this reading from Isaiah that talks about the feast of rich food and wine when the person who has died loved to cook or host gatherings.  I imagine them in heaven at this amazing banquet, finally being the recipient of hospitality rather than the host. 

While I associate these readings with death and funerals, our funeral liturgy in the Episcopal Church is about more than death and grief.  We try to emphasize with our readings, music and prayers, that we are also celebrating the resurrection of Jesus and the resurrection of us all.  Thus, it’s appropriate to have baptisms on this day when we read the names of those we have lost over the last year.  Because both baptisms and death are new beginnings—in very different ways, but they are new beginnings.

This year, I am just having a harder time with that idea.  I attended a funeral of a good friend a few weeks ago and I wanted to embrace the message of resurrection and this beautiful life to come, but it was hard.  The final hymn was, “It is well with my soul.” I struggled through singing that hymn, because it didn’t feel well with my soul.  My soul felt like it was covered in that shroud that Isaiah describes so perfectly in the first reading.  Isaiah talks about a shroud that is cast over all people.  Isaiah said that God will destroy that shroud and swallow up death forever.  But Isaiah was predicting what was to come in that time where there would be no death, when sin would be no more, when God would wipe away the tears from our faces. That time has not yet come.  People we love still die. We still live under the shroud of death, and sin is all too present in our world. 

In some ways, having baptisms on All Saint’s Day is little act of rebellion, and we do love our rebellions at Christ Church.  When we baptize our new saints, whether they be a small child like Rory or an adult who teaches the children of our city like Leah, we aren’t pretending that sin and death don’t exist. We are acknowledging their presence, but also protesting them. We are saying, yes, death is still a reality in our world. Evil and hatred are still present. In spite of all of that, maybe because of all that, we are still bringing new saints into our communion of saints. Not only that, we as a congregation are making a promise to support these new saints and be a community of saints with them, not because we are all perfect, or even close to perfect, but because we all know how much we need God in our lives. 

One of my favorite lines in the baptism is “You are sealed by the Holy Spirit and marked as Christ’s own forever.”  When we say that line, we use oil blessed by our bishop.  We use that same oil for people who are very sick or about to die. It’s reminder that wherever we are on this journey that is our life and our faith, we are sealed by the Holy Spirit and marked as Christ’s own forever.  We will all die one day.  It’s the reality that we all face.  Before we die, we live, we live knowing that while death and sin are a shroud on this beautiful world, moments like this, when we are together celebrating new saints in our midst, provide tears and rips in that shroud and one day, God will come again and tear the shroud to pieces. 

The final line in our reading from Isaiah is: “This is the Lord for whom we have waited; let us be glad and rejoice in his salvation.” Let’s not wait until God comes again to be glad and rejoice.  Let’s claim every moment we possibly can and rejoice in God’s love and salvation. Let’s do it now.

 

Before we follow: October 27, 2024

 Year B, Pentecost 23                       Mark 10:46-52                                                                                                     The Gospel readings from Mark over the last few weeks have not been easy.  The disciples have made some serious missteps.  They have misunderstood Jesus, argued with Jesus, bickered amongst themselves about who is the greatest, and requested special seats of honor. I have struggled with these readings not because I am horrified by the disciples’ words or actions, but because I can identify with the disciples in so many of their words and actions. I know their fear and anxiety because I often feel that fear and anxiety. 

            Today’s reading is a welcome reprieve from the readings of the last month---finally, a simple miracle story.  I mean, who doesn’t love a good miracle story? Often commentators talk about Bartimaeus as an example of what discipleship should look like. They contrast him to the story we heard earlier in chapter 10.  That story was about a rich man who had come to Jesus and asked him what he must do to receive eternal life.  Jesus reminded him of the commandments and the man confirmed he had followed them all. Then Jesus told him he needed to sell all he had and give his money to the poor—then he could follow him.  The man went away grieving because he had so many possessions. We don’t know what happened to the man, but it would appear that he did not become a disciple of Jesus. 

            Bartimaeus provides a perfect foil for the story of the rich man. What we know of Bartimaeus is this: he was a blind beggar. That’s all we know.  If he was begging on the streets, we can assume he had few resources.  It would also seem that he had few friends supporting him.  When he initially called out to Jesus from the crowd, he was sternly ordered to be quiet.  There are other stories in the gospels where friends or family advocated for someone needing Jesus’ help.  This is not one of those stories. Since he didn’t have anyone advocating for him, he had to advocate for himself.  He had to be as persistent and bold as possible. Despite being ordered to be quiet, he continued to call out to Jesus.  Jesus always appreciated persistence and asked him to come forward. 

The gospel author wrote, “So throwing off his cloak, he sprang up and came to Jesus.”  He threw off his cloak.  Given that he was a blind man begging on the streets, it’s very likely that his cloak was his most important possession.  He didn’t have three other cloaks hanging in a closet somewhere. To throw that cloak off was in incredible display of faith. He either knew that Jesus would give him his sight, or he believed that someone would help him find that cloak again.  That means to get this cloak back, he required a miracle or the kindness of the strangers who were trying to silence him. He gave up his most important possession for the opportunity to be in the presence of Jesus and the chance that he might see.

            He had most likely heard about Jesus. He had probably heard that he was a miracle worker---perhaps even more than a miracle worker. But given the fact that he was blind, he was totally going off what other people had told him. What he had was faith. In chapter 11 of Hebrews, we are told that “faith is the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen.” He had more than faith, he had desperate faith.  Often times desperation makes us do idiotic things.  But sometimes, faith with a little desperation can enable us to believe and reach in ways that comfortably content people cannot possibly imagine. 

Bartimaeus took a risk in giving up his most valuable possession and in the end gained his sight.  And here is a crazy thing, he didn’t call out and say, “Jesus, help me.” or “Jesus, heal me.” He said, “Jesus, Son of David, have mercy on me.” He understood something that the rich  man didn’t understand, that before we can be saved, before we can reach eternal life, we must first ask for mercy, from the one person, the God who can grant it. Mercy.

            Now you might think, well it was probably easier for him to give up a cloak than the rich guy to give up everything….which was probably the point of Jesus saying, how hard it was for those who have wealth to enter the kingdom of heaven. The more you have, the harder it is to let go.  Anybody who has downsized a house gets that. I have experienced the reverse recently. Since we are living in the rectory of my husband’s church and the rector who originally lived there had six children, we live in a much larger house than I am accustomed to. Every time I walk in, I think, “we need more furniture.”  We don’t need more furniture, but all those empty rooms seem to be mocking me.  So for the first time in my life, I understand that need to acquire more things to fill empty space.

            Now it’s highly unlikely that any of us are going to sell everything we have.  But there are disciplines we can add to our life that enables us to prioritize what we do with our stuff. The first time I pledged to a church was when I was 22 attending a Catholic Church. I gave $10 a week and I was proud of that.  I felt very adult in making that pledge. Then I decided to start investing because a friend was working at an investment firm and he went through my budget with me. He asked me how much I spent on certain things---what I gave to charity and the very next question was how much I spent on entertainment.  I had to admit that I spent more on entertainment then I did on charity.  I was embarrassed, but not enough to change my spending. 

It was really not until after I was ordained that I made giving a priority…where I budgeted the essentials like housing & food and then the very next thing was what I gave to charity. It took me about 10 years, but eventually I got to 10%.  There have been a few years since then when I could not make 10%, sometimes not anywhere close to that. But I have realized that the more resources I have, the more effort I have to put in to giving more of myself.  It requires more intentionality in my life.  That is one of the reasons why the act of creating a pledge and writing it down has always been meaningful to me.

            After Bartimaeus sprang up and threw off his cloak, Jesus asked him, “What do you want me to do for you?”  Bartimaeus answered, “My teacher, let me see again.”  I think it’s important that we consider this question that Jesus asked of Bartimaeus, which is the same question he asked his disciples earlier in the Gospel.  What do we want Jesus to do for us?  But since it’s our Ingathering and we are talking about stewardship, it might also be a good time to wonder, what does Jesus want of us? Once Bartimaeus was given his sight, he immediately followed Jesus.  We often focus on how we can follow Jesus, but what Bartimaeus shows us is that there is a step that comes before the following part.  Before we can follow Jesus, we have to be willing to let go of something.  He threw off his cloak so he could run to Jesus.  What might be holding us back…both as individuals and as a church? What do we need to release or give away so that we can rise up and follow?

Keep Trying: Oct. 20, 2024

 Year B, Pentecost 22                          October 20, 2024                                                                                                  I have a confession.  I am slightly obsessed with a reality show called Love is Blind. The premise is that single people go into this experiment where they date people without seeing them. They only see the person after they have fallen in love and gotten engaged---all in a few short weeks.  After that they have one month to plan their wedding and figure out if love is really blind.  It’s fascinating.  Anyhow, I am on the 7^th season and finally a couple had a conversation about whether they wanted their wedding ceremony to be religious. Both individuals in the couple had been raised in religious households.  One said that she wanted it to be spiritual, but she had to be front and center, not God.  The other person said that he was still Christian, but didn’t feel the need to actually practice Christianity.  He figured if he went to heaven, God wouldn’t judge him for that-- God would not judge him for having questions.  I have preached plenty of times about why its ok to have questions and doubt, but I struggle when people seem to just give up and stop trying to look for the answers.

Since the beginning of our faith, there have been questions and confusion. One of the debates of the early church was how to describe Jesus.  He was born as an infant, like all children are born, except he was born to a virgin, which made his birth unique. He declared himself to be God, but he was also human.  He got hungry and thirsty.  When it was hot, he sweat. If he was cut, he bled.  The early Christians really struggled with how he could be both human and God. 

In the Greek culture, gods sometimes came in human form. They were called demigods.  They were part god and part human.  Some people assumed it was the same with Jesus—he was part god and part human. Maybe he just went through the motions of being a human but didn’t really suffer as a human. In the end, the church leadership described him as fully divine and fully human.  That meant that he suffered in the ways humans do, but didn’t sin as humans do. 

Unfortunately this was all determined and described after Jesus lived, died and was resurrected.  While the disciples had a close relationship with Jesus, they didn’t fully comprehend who he was.  It was hard for them to see Jesus as a God who would have to suffer. The Gospel of Mark in particular shows the confusion of the disciples unabashedly.  Between chapters 8 and 10 there are three passion predictions.  A passion prediction is when Jesus describes that he must suffer, die and then be raised again. 

The first time he told the disciples about his death, Peter pulled him aside and told him he must be wrong, there had to be another way.  Jesus then used the infamous line, “Get behind me Satan.” The 2^nd time Jesus described his death and resurrection, the disciples started arguing about who was the greatest disciple. This time Jesus didn’t respond sharply, he simply said, ‘Whoever wants to be first must be last of all and servant of all.’   Our reading for today comes after another passion prediction.  This time, he is a little more specific: “See, we are going up to Jerusalem, and the Son of Man will be handed over to the chief priests and the scribes, and they will condemn him to death; then they will hand him over to the Gentiles; they will mock him, and spit upon him, and flog him, and kill him; and after three days he will rise again.”

How did they respond to this 3^rd passion prediction? James and John asked for preferential treatment. They wanted him to promise them that they would have places of honor in his glory.  At this point, you might think Jesus would be getting just a little annoyed.  He has explained this three times.  He has to suffer and die---then rise again.  He never said anything about glory.  But instead of reprimanding them like he did Peter, he simply told them that they didn’t know what they were asking.  So he asked them, “Are you able to drink the cup that I drink, or be baptized with the baptism that I am baptized with?”  Jesus was speaking metaphorically.  The cup represented life and experience.  The baptism wasn’t baptism in the way we do baptism, the Greek word literally meant to be submerged.  So Jesus was asking, “Do you really want to experience what I have to experience and suffer in that way that I will have to suffer?”

Here is the shocking thing: they said they do.  You see, at that point in the conversation, I would have been slowly backing away hoping that we could forget this whole conversation ever happened.  Many assume that they simply didn’t understand what he meant and they were still just wanting to share in the glory.  He didn’t really have to suffer. Or if did…it was going to be really quick.  Surely James and John had no idea what they were signing up for and were just acting like entitled brats.  And who knows…who knows what the truth is, but I have a theory.

The disciples were not looking good at this point.  First Peter had argued with him and tried to tell them there was an easier way---acting like he knew better than Jesus.  Then they argued about who was the best disciple. Now they wanted the spots of honor.  None of this makes them look good.  But here is the thing…they were not giving up on Jesus. Despite Jesus’ predictions of suffering and death, despite Jesus’ lack of popularity with the religious leaders of the time, despite the fact that none of this journey had been easy at this point—they had all left their families and homes to follow this man who kept talking about suffering and death.  Despite all of that, they were still with him. 

Many had witnessed Jesus’ miracles and compassion. Many had heard him teach.  Many had come to follow him.  But most had left when things got too challenging.  These disciples who were confused and tended to blunder their way through all kinds of things, were still committed to being with Jesus.  Yeah, they wanted positions of power and honor, but they were committed.  And I think that is why Jesus didn’t get that upset with them.  He didn’t promise them positions of honor, but he also didn’t castigate them for their foolishness.  Jesus saw their ambition and instead of shaming them for it, he offered redirection and redemption.  He could see that they were trying, they were making an effort and that means something. 

I think that the challenge the church is now facing (and has been facing for many years) is not misplaced ambition, but complacency.   Our God is a God of love and forgiveness.  And maybe that guy on my favorite show is right. Maybe he will get to those pearly gates and God will say, “Don’t worry about it.  I don’t care that you ignored me the majority of your life, it’s all good.”  I really don’t pretend to know how we will be judged.  But I do believe this, God cares about our effort. God wants to know us and God want us to know him.  And we can’t know God if we stop trying.  God will forgive our misdirection and our mistakes as long as we seek God’s forgiveness and keep trying to know God.  

James, that confused disciple who was desperate for honor was beheaded because of his belief in Jesus Christ. He was one of the first martyrs of the Christian faith.  John lived a long life, but also suffered for the sake of the Gospel.  They never gave up on Jesus.  They followed him to the end.  We all have to decide what path we will take. Will we give up or will we keep trying to follow Jesus, no matter where it leads.  I make mistakes all the time. I watch reality TV when I should be reading the Bible.  I get distracted by silly things and spend way too much time worrying about what will upset people.  But I always return to the words of Jesus and I know that in the end, his life, death and resurrection will save me.  I won’t give up no matter how much I mess this up and I hope you won’t either.

Divorce and Healing: October 6 2024

     Mark 10:2-16                                                  October 6, 2024

 

                In the other churches where I served, we always had the animal blessing as part of our Sunday morning service that was closest to St Francis day.   On that day, we used different readings than those that were assigned, which means I have never had to preach these texts that come up every three years.  This week, I spent a fair amount of time thinking about how I could avoid this Gospel reading, but I realized that when we have texts like this read aloud, it’s best to preach on them.  I imagine that when some of you heard these words about marriage and divorce, your heart sank a little. Perhaps you thought, you know I have been through enough, do I really need to hear this kind of judgment on Sunday morning?  So I want to start by telling you that this sermon is not going to be explicitly about divorce or why divorce is bad.  The goal is that those who have already suffered through the heartbreak of divorce will find healing rather than judgment.

                Last week I talked about the fact that Jesus was always looking out for the least of these. He was passionate about protecting those who were vulnerable and unfairly treated. The reading we heard today was likely the same day that he warned people against hurting the little ones, the least of these.  For all we know, he’s still holding that child in his arms who he held as an example of the little ones.  My guess is that he wanted to continue talking about caring for the least of these, not the legal loopholes available to men who wanted to divorce. 

                The pharisees wanted to test Jesus. Given that the laws around divorce were a controversial topic and that King Herod had divorced his wife so he could marry another, they figured that they might be able to trick Jesus into saying something that would get him into trouble.  At the time, there were two interpretations of Deuteronomy 24, which says that a man could divorce his wife if he found something objectionable about her.  One of the interpretations allowed a man to divorce his wife for any reason…including bad cooking.  The other interpretation was that the man could only divorce his wife in cases of adultery.  Surely Jesus had an opinion on this important matter of legal loopholes available to men who wanted to divorce their wives. 

                Jesus refused to debate legalities.  He didn’t even want to debate divorce.  Instead he shifted the conversation from divorce to one about the importance of marriage.   Many of the pharisees got twisted up in legalese.  They wanted to know what they could get away with, rather than talk about the intent of marriage.  Jesus brought them away from the law to the intent of the creator—that people would create lifelong unions.  He ends by saying, “Therefore what God has joined together, let one separate.”  We actually quote that in our wedding ceremony and it is my favorite thing to say. 

The Greek text says “no man” rather than “no one.”  I am inclined to think that this is one of those examples where Jesus really means men…because he was talking to men who made the rules about what men could do to get divorced.  At the time, men made the rules and in many places they still do.  There was only one case where a woman could request a divorce and even then, she would still suffer the consequences of the divorce. 

Remember who Jesus was talking about before the pharisees interrupted him, how we care for the vulnerable and the marginalized…the least of these.  Last week I talked about the fact that children had no rights at the time. Women also had few rights and were vulnerable. In most cases, women’s economic stability was dependent on a male relative.  If her husband divorced her, she had few options.  If she was lucky, she would have a male relative who could take care of her.  If she was very lucky and young enough to bare children, she might be able to find another husband. If she did not have those safety nets, she would be impoverished and forced to beg on the streets or prostitute herself. In Jesus discouraging divorce, he was once again protecting the most vulnerable. 

What does that mean for us today?  Divorce is rarely equitable, but it’s more equitable than it was in Jesus’ time.  Would Jesus be as vehemently against divorce now as he was then? I really don’t know.  I suspect if it came up now, he would once again return to the purpose of marriage.  No one goes into a marriage wanting it to end in divorce.  People enter marriages for the purposes of commitment.  And we should honor that commitment as best we can. But we have all seen marriages that needed to end and we have seen beautiful examples of remarriage.  If Jesus was alive today, I don’t think Jesus would be prohibiting people from getting married again.  If you read the text closely, he’s acknowledging that people will get divorced and remarried, but he’s also acknowledging that divorce hurts people.  And just because people are legally divorced, doesn’t mean the marriage never happened.  Jesus is acknowledging that there is brokenness…but there is also healing.

In the Gospel of John, there is a wonderful story of Jesus meeting a woman who had 5 husbands. The text doesn’t say why she had been married that many times, but it seems unlikely (or very unlucky) that 5 husbands died.  What is more likely is that she was divorced that many times because she was infertile.  It was a common reason that men divorced their wives. Jesus sat with this woman who had probably been ostracized and talked to her.  He never condemned her.  He never judged her. He had one of the longest conversations between him and another person in all of scripture.  She then went and told the whole town about him.  She became an evangelist.  Jesus saw past what had stigmatized her and treated her the way he treated his disciples, maybe even better.  That is an example of how Jesus treated people who divorce and remarry.

It is no random thing that right after the pharisees forced Jesus to address divorce he decided to bless the children.  It says that he laid his hands on them.  When Jesus lays his hands on people, that usually means that he is healing them.  Given the way children were often treated at that time, there is no doubt that they needed healing.  We all do.  I think the reason that the Gospel writer put this story of Jesus blessing the children right after Jesus’ words about divorce was to show the reader what really matters.

Jesus came and lived among us for many reasons.  The stories I find most powerful are stories where he sits and listens, when he heals people, not necessarily the external things, but those parts of us that are broken because of whatever has happened in the past or is happening now.  So whether you are existing in a challenging marriage (because let’s admit, all marriages have their challenges), or recovering from a broken one, or soaking in gratitude for your second or third marriage, know that Jesus came not to judge, but to bring love and wholeness to this broken world.