One Person at a Time: Dec 14

 Year A, Advent 3                                        Matthew 11: 2-11                                                                    

           As I mentioned last Sunday, when I was bemoaning the lack of John the Baptist decorations, John the Baptist pops up in two of the four Advent readings.  Last week he was baptizing people in the River Jordan calling out the religious elite.   This week he is imprisoned. John wasn’t in jail for criticizing the religious leaders, he was in jail because he had told Herod that he should not have married his brother’s wife as it was contrary to Jewish law.  Herod was the ruler of Galilee and one other region.  While he is sometimes referred to as King Herod, he wasn’t a king, but he did have a great deal of power.  He had enough power to jail an innocent man and then execute him. 

          Jails and correctional facilities are not pleasant places to be in any time or place, but they were particularly horrific during the time that Jesus lived.  People were not typically in jail awaiting trial.  They were usually awaiting execution.  John the Baptist was a great prophet and a holy man, but it would appear from the question that he asked in the Gospel today that he was having some doubts.  This Jesus was not the man he expected.  Because if he was the Messiah, why would he allow his cousin (and a prophet) to rot in jail?

          Now, a lot has been said about what the Jews expected in a Messiah.  Many will tell you that they were waiting for a military leader, which is true to some extent.  But the reality is that the Jewish people didn’t have one defined view of what the Messiah would look like.  However in our lectionary today, and last week we have two pretty good examples of what some people were expecting.  Last week John depicted a Messiah who would baptize with the Holy Spirit and fire and would judge the people.  This week it says that John the Baptist sent people to confront  Jesus after hearing about what Jesus had been doing.  What had he been doing? If you read the previous 8 chapters, you will read about Jesus preaching, teaching, healing and feeding. He hadn’t confronted any religious or political leaders.  He had not built an army. There was no sweeping change as a result of what he had done.  In fact, to John (who was in prison) it probably looked like he hadn’t done much of anything.  John had done all this work preparing people for what Jesus was going to do and now he was wondering…is this really who they were waiting for?  I think John was expecting a significant sea change and there was no evidence of that…not yet.

          We see another example of what people were expecting in the Song of Mary.  These are Mary’s words, that she expresses to her cousin Elizabeth (who was pregnant with John the Baptist at the time) after learning that she would give birth to the Son of God.  She said, “He has cast down the mighty from their thrones, and has lifted up the lowly. He has filled the hungry with good things, and the rich he has sent away empty. He has come to the help of his servant Israel…” Mary was anticipating this baby she would birth would be someone who would turn the world upside own.  The hungry would be full and the rich would have nothing.  The mighty would be cast down from their thrones. 

          Clearly, that was not what was happening.  The Romans were still in power and corrupt leaders like Herod were in charge and imprisoning the prophets who dared to speak truth to power.  Can we really blame John for being a little disappointed…for wondering if this guy who seemed like a good and holy person was actually the Son of God?

          I can’t tell you how often I have heard in the last year: “What it happening? What is the world coming to? Why isn’t God doing anything about this?”  I feel that too.  I felt that profoundly when I saw video footage of police officers kneeling on the neck of George Floyd. I felt that after seeing children in cages in the United States, separated from their families. I feel that when I see the utter desolation in Gaza.  I feel that whenever I see any hungry child, or any hungry person.  I even feel that on a smaller scale when I am going through a personal ordeal that I can’t see my way out of.  I wonder, why didn’t Jesus fix this when he came 2000 years ago?  Why did he die and then come back from the dead…just so this kind of stuff could continue to happen? I wonder that more than I would care to admit.

          But then I look at Jesus’ response to John the Baptist.  He didn’t get defensive.  Have you ever noticed that? Jesus never got defensive.  He was so confident that he was doing God’s will.  He said to the people who were asking the question for John, “Go and tell John what you hear and see: the blind receive their sight, the lame walk, the lepers are cleansed, the deaf hear, the dead are raised, and the poor have good news brought to them.”  He didn’t tell them to be patient.  He didn’t say, “Look, I am laying some ground work here, but in a 2000 years billions of people all around the world will be worshipping me and even talking about you during Advent---but you aren’t ever going to get decorations.” 

No, instead, he told him about the individual lives he was changing.  He was helping people see, touching people no one was willing to get close to, bringing people back from the dead, and giving good news to the poor.  He never claimed to be bringing about systematic change or solving the world’s problems.  But he was meeting people where they were and showing love and compassion to people who had not known love and compassion.  He was transforming the world….one person at a time. 

It’s ok to be frustrated with the way our world is right now.  In fact, I think you should be.  It’s even ok to wonder where God is in all this and to be a little impatient. What we can’t be is hopeless. Let’s follow Jesus’ lead once again. Do one thing. Help one person.  If you feel overwhelmed, don’t let that paralyze you.  Not one of us has the power of Jesus. But we each have gifts.  We might not be able to change the world, but we can make change and gradually….ever so gradually, we will change the world.  

Sorting Ourselves Out: December 7

 Year A, Advent 2                                                                   Matt 3:1-12                                                                 

    Like many of you, I have been busy trying to get things decorated and festive.  We have a lot of Christmas decorations as that is a go to present for a priest and there are two priests in our family.  I think we are up to 7 crèches…only one of which we purchased.  Yet you know what decoration you never see—John the Baptist in his camel hair with a dead locust hanging out of his mouth.  Yet, John the Baptist pops up twice in our Advent readings, calling people names, telling them to repent.  It’s a wonder he doesn’t have his own Advent calendar.

It’s interesting that he shows up during Advent for a few reasons. Remember this is the adult John the Baptist.  John the Baptist and Jesus are born within a few months of one another.  What is adult John the Baptist doing preparing us for something that happened 30 years before? John the Baptist was not preparing people for the birth of Jesus— he was preparing people for the reign of God.

Many people at the time thought that he was the prophet Elijah, who had lived 100s of years before and was also a little rough in his appearance.  Elijah did not die, he was taken into the sky in a chariot.  Since he didn’t die, many Jews expected him to return right before the Messiah was to come. Some Jews are still waiting for Elijah to return, which will herald the coming Messiah.  From the few texts we have in the Bible about John, he never said he was Elijah, but the author of the Gospel was obviously trying to make a connection.  If John was Elijah and pointing to Jesus, then that’s further proof that Jesus was the Messiah that they had all been waiting for.

At Christmas, we tell the story of Jesus’ birth…which is a pretty great story. I never weary of hearing that story.  But Christmas is also supposed to be about the incarnation itself, which means that God became a human being and lived among us.  John’s presence in our readings during the season of Advent wasn’t preparing people for the birth of Jesus, but he was preparing people for the life and ministry of Jesus. 

John had a very specific vision of this ministry.  He said, ‘I baptize you with water for repentance, but one who is more powerful than I is coming after me…He will baptize you with  the Holy Spirit and fire. His winnowing-fork is in his hand, and he will clear his threshing-floor and will gather his wheat into the granary; but the chaff he will burn with unquenchable fire.’

Whenever I read this, I recoil a little. I have to wonder, did John the Baptist get it wrong, or am I wrong about Jesus? Next week we will read another story about John the Baptist after he has been arrested where he asks Jesus if he is the one they have been waiting for, or if perhaps there is someone else coming.  He wasn’t yet convinced that Jesus was the Messiah, because he wasn’t what he expected. To that Jesus responded something along the lines of “I am healing people, raising the dead and bringing good news to the poor. “  Jesus clearly thought that those things were what made him the Messiah, not the winnowing fork and unquenchable fire.  That said, Jesus did talk about the fires of hell a few times in the Gospel of Matthew.  We don’t like talking about that in the Episcopal Church, but it’s definitely there. 

However, I wonder if there might be a way to consider this message that John the Baptist delivered as an opportunity for growth, rather than a judgment.  Typically when we think of the separation of the wheat and the chaff, we see them as groups of people. You are either the good wheat that is gathered lovingly or you are the chaff that is burned in the unquenchable fire.  Fire can be destructive, but it can also refine or purify when the fire is controlled.  At the time Jesus lived, they refined metals like gold and silver using intense heat, which would melt away the impurities. 

What if the fire that Jesus brought was a fire that refined, rather than a destroyed?  When Jesus talked about repentance, I believe he was asking us to look at ourselves, and how we might allow ourselves to be refined.  That refining would require that we release the sins that hold us down, our judgment of other people, our selfishness…whatever it may be.  That is what repentance is, it’s not only examining ourselves, but also accepting God’s guidance as we do so.  It’s allowing God to burn away the parts that get in the way of us being loving, generous, faithful and brave.  It’s not about sorting the good people from the bad people, but sorting ourselves out. 

At the end of the world, Jesus will still judge (if we are looking at it from a Biblical perspective), but I really don’t think that is what we should be focusing on right now.  The way we prepare for the incarnation, which is God in the flesh (God among us), is by acknowledging that while we are flawed and there is room for improvement, being human is at least partly divine because we are children of God.

There is not one single person in this church (or world) who is perfect.  There is not one person in this world who is worthy of God’s love because of who we are or what we do.  And there is such freedom when we can accept that.  What makes us worthy of God’s love—what makes us perfect, is that God loved us first.  When God came to this earth, God decided, these people who keep making the same mistakes over and over again, are worth everything to me.  Maybe, just maybe, showing up as a human, showing them God in the flesh will help them see —see what their worth truly is.  That’s what the incarnation is.  That is what we are preparing for in this season of Advent.  It is about preparation and repentance.  But it’s not about becoming someone else, it’s about returning to who we were created to be, beloved children of God.  That will take some work.  We might need some refining, but it will be worth it.

How to be a King: Nov. 23, 2025

Year C, Christ the King                                                       Luke 23:33-43      

               Many of us know the story of Ruby Bridges.  Ruby was one of four first-graders selected to integrate two elementary schools in New Orleans in 1960. She was sent alone to William Frantz Public School.  Every day she walked into school surrounded by adults screaming threats and insults at her because she had the audacity to attend a school she had every right to be at.

          There was a psychiatrist studying the students who were helping desegregate schools in the south who took a special interest in Ruby.  He was amazed by her courage in the midst of so much hate and bigotry.  He began meeting with her every week to help her through the trauma. Ruby’s teacher mentioned to him that she had noticed Ruby moving her lips as she was walking into school every day. The psychiatrist asked Ruby who she was talking to. She told him that she was praying for the protestors.  He asked why she would pray for those who were so mean to her. She said that was what her parents and her pastor taught her.  She said, “I just keep praying for them and hope God will be good to them. . . . I always pray the same thing. ‘Please, dear God, forgive them, because they don’t know what they’re doing.’”[1]

That comes straight from our reading from the Gospel of Luke.  Jesus prayed that exact prayer from the cross as he was slowly dying, while people mocked him and called him, “King of the Jews.”  This is one of the moments when I want to argue with Jesus.  Are you sure they don’t know what they were doing? These were adults here.  Of course they knew what they were doing.  Scholars have debated this line from the text a great deal.  Who is the they? Is it the soldiers? The leaders who ordered the killing? The crowd?  I am not sure that matters.  It’s so easy to get lost in the minutiae rather than accepting the words that are clear—that was Jesus forgiving the people who were torturing him. One of Jesus’ final acts on this earth was to show mercy to people who didn’t seem to deserve mercy at all.

This is the last Sunday of what we refer to as ordinary time in the church year…the last Sunday before the new church year begins…which is Advent.   This Sunday is usually referred to as Christ the King Sunday.  If you look at the readings, they all have some connection to kings or kingdom.  In seminary, about 20 years ago, I was taught to be wary of this king language.  Some people suggested that instead we refer to this Sunday as “Reign of Christ.”  People were worried that this king imagery reinforced a hierarchical nature of power rather than the humility which Jesus consistently displayed.  He was a servant leader rather than a king.  But over the years I have learned more about the origins of this feast day and I have come to perceive it as one of the more subversive feast days of the church. 

In 1925, Pope Pius created the feast day of Christ the King.  It was less than 6 years after World War I ended, 14 years before the second world war began.  It was the very same year that Hitler published Mein Kampf and Mussolini became the dictator of Italy.  While the right side had won World War I, totalitarianism was on the rise and the pope was close enough to see it all.  Creating a feast day to celebrate the kingship of Christ was a way to remind the world that Christians serve a different kind of king and that king is above all the leaders of the world, whether they recognize that king or not.

All four Gospels say that there was a sign on the cross that said, “This is the king of the Jews.”  If all 4 Gospels agreed on that, then we can be certain that is an important point.  We are so accustomed to hearing this king language for Jesus, we don’t get too surprised when we read this title.  Yet this was probably hysterical to the people who created that sign.  Crucifixion was a shameful way to die.   It was for common criminals, usually criminals who had upset the Roman Empire. They used this spectacle to scare people into submission. This is what happens to people who don’t respect Rome.  Their point was that no real king would die such a death. If he was a king, an army would have been at his beck and call. He would not have to suffer. 

Here is the great irony of the scene…under that sign that mocked him, declaring the title ridiculous…he showed what it was to be a real leader.  In forgiving the people who killed him and telling one of the criminals next to him that he would be with him in paradise---he was showing mercy.  Mercy and love is what defined his kingship, not displays of force or a need to take town the opposition.

So often in modern Christianity, we allow others to define our faith. Instead of dismissing the notion of Jesus as a king because of how the world defines kingship…what if instead, we insist that Jesus is what defines a king, not the other way around?

            I know that many of us are frustrated by the leadership in our country right now, and those who aren’t angry now were probably very frustrated a few years ago.  There is a part of me that keeps waiting for that one person to come out the government and be that leader that we all need and want.  We just want someone to save us, to fix it all.  And I agree that we need better leadership and we need to hold people accountable.  But I also think we need to remember that no person can save us or this country.  It is only God who saves.  God also gives us the strength to save ourselves, so we can help others.

One of the frequent themes in the Old Testament is of the Hebrew people longing for this amazing king who will save them.  God warned them not to rely on a king, but they refused to listen.  They kept praying for some man to be that perfect king and that person never came.  They were always disappointed. God sent Jesus (a very unexpected king) to show us all that what we want is not always what we need.  The Jewish people wanted an all powerful Messiah to save them from the Romans, and instead God came to earth as a human who was then killed by the Romans.  A crucified king who could not save himself, yet somehow saved us all. That is who we worship.  

To many, he died as a failure…but  showing mercy is never failure.  It’s courage.  That display of love and compassion has inspired people throughout history—people like Ruby Bridges to walk through hoards of people screaming and spitting and still manage to pray for them.  Jesus’ mercy and love inspired Mother Theresa, Dorthy Day, Oscar Romero, Martin Luther King and so many whose names we don’t know. It can inspire us all. A king who can inspire that kind of courage 2000 years after he died, that’s a king worth worshipping.  May God’s mercy and compassion continue to inspire us to pray for those who wish us harm and find strength to be the leaders who lead with compassion and mercy.

---

[1] https://www.christiancentury.org/first-words/when-ruby-bridges-prayed-her-enemies

What Holy Does: Nov. 2

 Year C, All Saint Sunday                        Luke 6:20-31         

          All Saint’s Sunday can be a little complicated.  We call it All Saints Day, but that’s confusing for a lot of Christians, especially anyone who has spent time in the Roman Catholic Church.  Catholics and Episcopalians share the belief that all baptized Christians (alive and dead) are considered saints.  This is how the apostle Paul used the word saint.   We hear that in his letter to the Ephesians: “I have heard of your faith in the Lord Jesus and your love toward all the saints…” When Paul used the word saint, he was always referring to the faithful, but imperfect Christians. 

What has led to some confusion, is that at some point the Roman Catholic Church created a process of canonization or beatification (and I am simplifying this greatly right now) in which a pope would declare a person worthy of veneration.  The pope doesn’t create a saint as they are already a saint because they are a Christian….the pope declares them worthy of veneration.  What is a bit confusing, is the person then has a “Saint” in front of their name…despite the fact that we are all saints.  I could refer to our baptismal candidates as Saint Matt, Saint George and Saint Owen….but let’s face it, that sounds a bit odd.

          What further complicates All Saints Day is that we read the names of those who have died in the last year and we have baptisms.  Reading the names of those who have died reinforces the idea that you have to be dead to be a saint.  In baptizing people we are reminding one another that saints are also the living.  I wonder if instead of asking what it means to be a saint, it would be helpful to consider what it means to be holy. 

In Hebrew and Greek (which are the languages that most of our Bible is translated from) holy meant to be set apart. To be holy meant to be separate from the world.  This caused some people to physically separate themselves from other people.  That’s why so many in the early church went to the dessert, to seek a deeper relationship with God away from everyone else.  It’s why even today there are Christians who think they should only associate with other Christians, as if non Christians would defile them in some way. 

I think one of the strengths of the Episcopal Church is that while we came from the Church of England, the Episcopal Church was really established in the very early years of our nation right here at this church and they were surrounded by different denominations and religions, very much thanks to the vision of William Penn.  Those church leaders who were around at that time understood that holiness didn’t mean that one had to be separated from those who weren’t like them.

          Yet over the years, especially the last 20-30 years, the Episcopal Church has been criticized for not being set apart quite enough.  We have been accused of going along with popular culture instead of standing up for the doctrines of our faith. Maybe that is true sometimes. Occasionally we can compromise a little too much.  But often we have worked along side popular culture because it’s actually the Christ like thing to do.  Ordaining women at the height of the women’s movement.  Did we do that just because that was what the public was telling us needed to happen, or were we listening to the movement of the Holy Spirit and studying the scriptures as well the traditions of the early church? When we consecrated the first openly gay man as a bishop, were we going along  with popular culture or were we once again moving with the Holy Spirit and as our baptismal covenant says---respecting the dignity of every human being?  I am biased, but I believe we were moving with the Holy Spirit. We have made many mistakes in the church over the years, but we have also corrected a lot of those mistakes, often with the help of people who are not in the church.

          Today, an interesting thing is happening. Popular culture is moving in a different way.   Many are trying to rebrand Christianity, in ways that I think are contrary to much of what Jesus taught. Some are trying to make Christianity the religion of the empire and that was never Jesus’ intention.  We Episcopalians have a unique opportunity right now to be counter cultural, as the church was when it started.  We can be holy in a different sense of the word.  We are not set apart from the world, we are just refusing to go along with what popular culture is trying to sell as Christianity. 

I was struggling with this sermon I asked my 9 year old son what he thought holy meant and he said, “When you host a party, you wash everyone’s feet.”  He didn’t try to define holiness.  He said what it does.  Holiness isn’t a state of being. It’s action.  And that is exactly what our Gospel is about.  After Jesus shared the beatitudes where he lifted up a very counter cultural message he said, “Love your enemies, do good to those who hate you, bless those who curse you, pray for those who abuse you.  If anyone strikes you on the cheek, offer the other also; and from anyone who takes away your coat do not withhold even your shirt.  Give to everyone who begs from you; and if anyone takes away your goods, do not ask for them again. Do to others as you would have them do to you…”

          It’s probably one of the hardest messages of the Christian faith.  It would be easier to be separate from these people who are hating us, abusing us, stealing from us, begging….  But holiness, and saintliness is not about how we separate ourselves.  It’s how we connect ourselves to one another.  That doesn’t mean we don’t stand for what we believe in even when it is contrary to what others are saying we should believe.  It means we don’t stand alone.  We continue to stand in the midst of the chaos, the crime, the self righteousness, the anger, the hate….all those things we want to ignore.  We stand in the midst, sometimes holding up the others who can’t stand for themselves because they have been too beaten down, too battered.  We stand with them or we don’t bother standing at all.

          This is where the community of the saints comes together. This is why we read the names of the beloved faithful who have died over this past year and we baptize children who have no idea what they are getting into (but have parents and godparents who do) and we baptize adults like Matt who knows mostly what he is getting himself into.  You are not just being baptized for yourselves, but for the whole community, so you have strength to stand for others, the strength to do the hard things like loving our enemies….even the really really annoying ones.  And it’s ok if you are not there yet, whether you are a child, or a young adult, or you are 94.  I am not sure I am ever going to get good at loving my enemy.

          But I worship a man named Jesus who was born as a baby to poor parents and was killed by the Roman empire for crimes he didn’t commit and forgave those people as he was dying on the cross….and then rose from the dead because he wasn’t just a really good guy. He’s God and he showed us all—not just what holiness looks like, but what it does. 

No hero here: October 26, 2025

Luke 18: 9-14                                                                 Year C, Pentecost 19                                                        

              Every time stewardship Sunday comes up, I look at the readings with a little more trepidation than usual.  Early on in my ministry I made a promise to myself that I would always preach the text of the day. I felt that would hold me accountable, rather than just talking about what I wanted to talk about on any given day.   Sometimes, that is really inconvenient, especially today, because it’s hard to fit a stewardship sermon into these texts (but I am going to try).

          Jesus loved to tell parables to illustrate a point.  The author of the Gospel of Luke used them more than any other Gospel writer.  Often parables seem like they were meant to be confusing. Sometimes they are confusing because they don’t translate well to our modern context.  Sometimes, they seem very obvious, but they’re not.

          That is the situation we have today.  The first line sets the scene, but in a kind of ambiguous way. “Jesus told a parable to some who trusted in themselves that they were righteous and regarded others with contempt.”  I have some questions. Who are these people?  Are they his disciples? Are they Jewish leadership who might be trying to trap him?   It would be natural to assume that Jesus was talking to Jewish leadership—the Pharisees, as there is a Pharisee mentioned in this parable.  Jesus often used parables when communicating with the Pharisees.  However, Jesus was usually a little more subtle with Pharisees. I don’t think he would have told them a story where they were the main character.  I believe the author of Luke intended this to be vague so that it would apply to lots of different kinds of people.  Most of us have trusted in ourselves from time to time…and maybe just once or twice, regarded another person with contempt.  This parable is for all of us.

          It seems straightforward, but isn’t, because they rarely are.  There are two characters…one is the righteous Pharisee and the other is the penitent tax collector. If you have heard enough of my sermons, you know that I like to be careful in how I talk about Pharisees. They were vilified in the gospels to some extent and that led some Christians to vilify all Jews.  We know that was not Jesus’ intent. 

The Pharisee’s prayer sounds obnoxious because he’s comparing himself to others.  It sounds like he’s bragging. But then he goes on to say, “I fast twice a week; I give a tenth of all my income.”  First of all, how many of you know someone who loves to tell you how great they feel doing intermittent fasting? Are they any worse than this Pharisee? Fasting was only required a few times a year in the Jewish faith.  This man was going above and beyond.  He wasn’t doing it to kick start his metabolism, it was a form of prayer.  The reason fasting is a spiritual discipline is because it focuses the mind and helps people focus on God.  He was praying and that’s a good thing. Then there is the giving.  This is why this is an unfortunate text for stewardship.   The guy who gives a tenth of his income is the one who isn’t justified.   He is righteous…but not justified.  Is it because he gives, or is it because he relies on what he can give, rather than what God has already given?

          It’s the tax collector who goes home justified.   Now, most people probably don’t love the IRS, but in general, we don’t perceive their profession as sinful.  During Jesus’ time, the tax collectors were often Jewish people who were working for the Roman government.  They were collecting taxes from their fellow Jews.  That money supported the Roman occupation of their land.  To make things worse, often tax collectors would take even more than the Romans were asking for to line their pockets.  Given the guilt this man was experiencing, there is a good chance he was one of those people.  Yet it’s him who is justified.  Was there something magic in this prayer, the prayer that is often referred to as the “sinner’s prayer?” “God, be merciful to me, a sinner.” It wasn’t the prayer itself.

          Let’s return to the first line of this reading.  “Jesus told a parable to some who trusted in themselves that they were righteous and regarded others with contempt.”  It’s not about either of their professions or even their characters.  It’s about with whom they were putting their.

          For all we know, the Pharisee was righteous.  He was following the law, praying, worshipping and being generous.  He was making sure that he was doing all the right things because he wanted to be right.  Righteousness is about what we accomplish, what we can earn and do.  It’s not a bad thing.  It’s actually a good thing to some extent.  But where we go wrong is when we use our righteousness to put other people down.  Where we go wrong is when we think that we can do this all ourselves.  We don’t need God’s forgiveness or grace because we are good on our own.  We still might worship God because that is the right thing to do, but we don’t worship God because we need God.

          The tax collector wasn’t righteous, but he went home justified.  The difference between being justified and righteous is that it’s God who justifies and if God justifies then we are counted as righteous no matter what we have done.  The tax collector went home justified because he recognized his own need and that he was nothing without God’s love and forgiveness.  The Pharisee didn’t bother asking for forgiveness because he didn’t realize he needed it.

          You might be thinking, well I am definitely not  like that Pharisee and you might be even thinking of a couple people who you have known who are a bit like the Pharisee and isn’t it great that you aren’t like them. And if you are thinking that, well then you have committed the same sin as the Pharisee.  That’s the little twist of the parable.   That’s why it’s not as simple as it appears.  If you walk away thinking there is a hero in this story and there is definitely someone who is wrong, then it’s time to reframe.

          The last line of this reading says, “I tell you, this man (the tax collector) went down to his home justified rather than the other…” If you look at the Greek that is translated to “rather than”, you will see that it could also mean “along side.”  It would read, “I tell you, this man went down to his home justified along side the other…”  There is no winner or loser.  There is no hero of this story.  They left along side one another.  Maybe they were 20 yards apart not daring to look at one another.  But in God’s eyes, they were the same, sinners in need of love and forgiveness. 

          It’s the same with this church community.  We are all in this together.  Some of us might be really good at following the rules and checking all the boxes.   We might be comfortable in these pews, confident that we belong here. Others might have had a rougher road and feel like we don’t belong here, that we aren’t good enough. In the end, we are all sinners in need of redemption. None of us are good enough on our own.  It’s God who makes us good.  It’s God who justifies. 

The thing about church is we need all sorts.  We need the people who are good at following the rules.  We need the people who know what it is to be desperate and to rely on God because God is the most steady thing in their lives.  We need the people who can give generously and we need the people who can’t provide financially, but can give in a number of other ways.  We are all in this together. 

          We give not because it’s the right thing to do, but because we are better people when we give.  We give not to be righteous, but because we have already been justified by the one who gave everything.

Wrestling/Boxing with Prayer: October 19

Luke 18:1-8                                Year C, Pentecost 22                                                                                                                                

            In 1974, Muhammad Ali was set to fight George Foreman who was the Heavy Weight Champion of the World.   Foreman was younger and stronger.  He was favored to win, not only because he was the Heavy Weight Champion, but because of his superior punching power.   In the first 5 or 6 rounds of the match, it appeared that Ali was being pummeled.  It looked so horrible, so painful, people watching were afraid he would die in the ring.  Yet, by the end of round 5, it was clear that Foreman was tiring and Ali was able to go on the offensive.  In the 8^th round, Ali knocked him out.  It is one of the most famous fights in the history of boxing and I promise that if you keep listening, I’m going to make a connection to the Gospel. 

 

            This Gospel reading is probably one of the most well-known parables about prayer.    It has a lot of different interpretations, but the most popular is that of the persistent widow. There are a couple of things you need to know about widows in ancient Israel.  They were the poorest of the poor.  If a woman did not have a husband to support her, she either had to remarry or depend on another male relative.  If she was too old to marry, then she would depend on a son.   If she did not have a son, then her only option was to beg on the street.  Because of this, there were several Jewish laws meant to protect widows, although they were fairly limited in their scope.  As a result, widows became a symbol for all those who were poor and oppressed; all of those who needed to fight for their right to be heard. 

            It is clear that this widow did not have a male relative who was caring for her.  If she did, she would not have been the one in front of the judge.    She was at the mercy of a judge who had no fear of God and no respect for anyone.  She could not beg for mercy.  She could not appeal to his sense of justice or his respect for the law.  The only power she had in her arsenal was perseverance, and it would appear, more than her fair share of feistiness.  

          Most of the New Testament was translated from Greek.  Some things have been lost in translation.  The English translation we use in the Episcopal Church (The New Revised Standard Version) says that the judge said, “Though I have no fear of God and no respect for anyone, yet because this widow keeps bothering me, I will grant her justice, so that she many not wear me out continually by her coming.”  Virtually every commentary I read said that the last part of the verse (wear me out continually) is not a good translation.   The literal translation would be, “she will end up giving me a black eye.”   

People are divided about what Jesus meant by this.  Some say the judge was actually worried that she would hit him.  Others say that black eye is a euphemism for public shame.  Still others, (and this is my choice) hypothesized that it was both.  He was afraid this woman would hit him and that black eye would result in public shame.  The judge, who had no fear of God and no respect for anyone, was afraid of public shaming, even if it was by a poor and powerless widow.   It would seem that she wasn’t so powerless after all.

            I believe that there are some times when it is good to feel a little powerless.  It is a humbling experience.  And we must always remember that we are all powerless before the majesty of God.  Yet there is a time when being powerless feels more like hopelessness, and that is never a good thing.  This woman, while powerless, was never without hope.  If she had been, she would not have gone back again and again.  Where did she get that hope?  The last line of the Gospel reading gives us a good clue.  Jesus concludes the parable by asking, “And yet, when the Son of Man comes, will he find faith on earth?”  Her hope was rooted in faith, and that faith gave her strength to persevere, even when the fight had probably gone out of her. 

            Some people think this parable means that if you are persistent enough in your prayer life, your prayer will be answered.  I have tried that and I have known many people who have tried it.  Sometimes it works, and sometimes it does not.   When it does not work, it can be faith shattering.  It can crush the strongest, the most powerful, and the most fortunate.  In my experience, prayer is about the process and not the outcome.   Sometimes that process will feel more like a boxing match, or a wrestling match than a quiet moment with God.   

            Jesus prayed a lot.  That probably seems obvious, but when you think about, it’s actually kind of odd.  He prayed, even though he had control over the outcome.  Sometimes he prayed all night.  The night before he was arrested, his prayer was such a struggle that he actually sweat blood.  Was he trying to change the mind of God, or was he preparing himself for what was about to happen?  I believe he was preparing himself, and that prayer, it was a battle.  He was going to work that out with God.  In the end, it did not free him from his death on the cross, but it gave him the strength to die in peace. 

            What Ali was doing the first 5 rounds of that fight was wearing out George Foreman.  In essence, he was preparing for the moment when he could overcome his opponent.  But in preparing, he took a beating and sometimes that is what prayer feels like, even when the outcome is the one we want.  He won that fight, but what I find most interesting was what happened to George Foreman.  He lost to Ali and he lost a couple matches after that. Then he became an ordained minister and did ministry full time for at least 10 years.  After that, he announced a comeback.  At age 45, 20 years after that fight against Ali, he won the Heavy Weight Championship again.  He was oldest person to ever win that.  It took him 20 years, but he never gave up.            

 Prayer is a process and it is not for the faint of heart.  It’s for those people who are willing to engage in a struggle.  Usually it is a struggle of the heart and not the fists (in fact we really discourage fighting in the Christian Church).   Yet most of us know that emotional blows can be just as painful as physical ones.  Sometimes our prayers will be answered after 5 rounds of beating like Muhammad Ali.  Sometimes it will take 20 years like George Foreman.  Sometimes it will seem like no matter how hard we fight, how good we are, how just our prayer, it will never get answered, not in this lifetime.  It is those times, when we have to remember that our prayer is not meant to change God’s mind, but ours.  

It is meant to make us into the person who can handle what an unanswered prayer feels like.   My prayer for each and every one of you is not only that your prayers be answered, but that when they are not answered in the way you think they should be, you will have the strength for the next round.  We are all fighting so many small battles and many of those battles have left us wounded.  The thing about the struggles we have with God is that while they don’t make us stronger physically, those struggles can strengthen us spiritually.  And if we have that strength at the core of our being, then we can handle the other struggles that come our way.  Even when our body is breaking or we feel like we are just this close to a mental breakdown, that core strength—that place where God resides in us—that will hold us up so we can face another day and never, ever, lose heart.

 

Clear as Mud?: Oct 12

 2 Kings 5:1-3, 7-17c                                         Year C, Pentecost 18                                                                               

            The seminary where I received my degree now has something called a “farminary.” It’s a farm on Princeton Seminary’s land where the students maintain the crops and can take classes like: “Thinking Theologically with soil.” One of the goals of the project is to understand the interconnectedness of life and death.  I was there for a conference and we went on a tour and heard a talk from the director of the project.  One of my friends had heard this talk many times and she said, “I really don’t need to bring home any more dirt.”  Apparently the director always made a connection about how compost was made out of dead things and then brought forth new life.  Then he gave everyone some dirt to remind them of this idea.  There were some pastors there who were weeping as they took their bottle of dirt but I kept thinking, “What am I supposed to do with this when I get home? I don’t garden.”

Recently I saw a friend who I attended that conference with and she said, “I always smile when I see that dirt and think of how annoyed you were when we got it.”  I had forgotten about my weird annoyance regarding the dirt. When I came home from my most recent conference, I realized, I still had that dirt on one of my book cases.  It’s in a nice little glass jar. Apparently it meant more to me than I was willing to admit at the time.

            Our reading from 2^nd Kings is relatable, even though it doesn’t seem like it should be.  Naaman is a commander in the army.  He is also a desperate man, but he is a desperate man with resources and probably a little too much pride.  He tried all the methods of healing in his homeland but none of them cured him.  He just happened to have an enslaved girl serving his family who was taken on a military raid.  It’s a detail that is just skimmed over, probably because it was a common practice at the time.  Yet, it’s interesting that this young girl, who has been enslaved, is the one to offer a suggestion for another avenue of healing….which turns out to be the one that works.  What is even more incredible is, someone (Naaman’s wife) listens to this young girl and Naaman listens to his wife.  Of course, it’s amazing what we will do when we have tried everything else and are still searching for healing.

            Our reading skips a few verses. Before Naaman went to the king of Israel, he went to his own king to tell him his plan.  That king sent a letter with him, kind of like a reference letter.  The text that was omitted mentions that Naaman took silver, gold and 10 festal garments.  He was prepared to impress people and provide payment for whatever healing he might receive.

            But the king of Israel can’t help him.  Hearing this, the prophet Elisha offers his help and sends for him.  When Naaman arrives with his impressive entourage, Elisha doesn’t even go out to meet him.  Two kings had met this man in person, but Elisha, leaves him on the doorstep with a message that he should go wash in the Jordan seven times. Naaman has proved that he is desperate to be healed and willing  to go out of his way to do so…but he is not pleased with this advice from Elisha, especially given that he had not even bothered to deliver the advice himself. 

He had water in his own country, from better rivers, and now this man is telling him to wash in their inferior river? If all he needed was a good bath, he would not have needed to come all this way with his gold, silver and 10 festal garments.  I bet he was even wearing one of these amazing outfits and now he was supposed to wash himself in the mud and the grime of the Jordan river.

He’s angry.  The text says that he walked away in a rage.  Then one of his servants approaches and says, “If the prophet had commanded you to do something difficult, would you not have done it?” It would seem that these servants know him very well.   Naaman listens and does as the prophet told him.  Wouldn’t you know it, it works? The water cleanses him and he is healed.  He returns to Elisha with his whole entourage and says, “Now I know that there is no God in all the earth except in Israel.”  Then Naaman offers Elisha a gift.  Afterall, he had brought all this gold and silver…the festal outfits.  Elisha refuses the gift.

Here is where things get even more interesting and this part isn’t in our text for today.  It comes right after.  Naaman doesn’t get offended as one might expect.  Instead he asks for something.  He asks for two wagons full of dirt.  He realizes that he is on holy ground and it isn’t holy because there is a magnificent temple.  It’s holy because of the God that they worship.  It is holy because it is a place he found healing.  It is holy because he set down his pride, listened to his servant and bathed in a muddy river. He came with gold and silver and left with two carts full of dirt.

It doesn’t say what he did with that dirt when he got home.  One theory is that he built and altar to the one true God on top of that dirt.  But I like to think that he just left it in a pile right by his house, waiting for inspiration to strike.  Maybe something grew on it.  Maybe nothing did, but it reminded him of how the most basic of things can bring healing, how even the muddiest rivers can still cleanse us.

I will admit that when I was at the conference and heard from my friend this was a talk that had been given many times, I prepared myself to be unimpressed.  I would not be moved by a rehearsed story about compost.  That was my pride and my loss.   I am not sure what I am going to do with this small pile of dirt.  I think, I might just hold on to it, as a reminder that even the most basic stories….even the most simple methods of healing can still be miraculous.  Sometimes a little water and the right dirt can heal wounds or grow something new.  It’s normal to assume our faith should be complicated and incomprehensible.  But sometimes it’s so unbearably obvious, we sophisticated Episcopalians have a hard time seeing it. 

In this story, wisdom comes from unexpected sources, like servants and an enslaved girl.  Healing comes from a muddy bath and an unassuming prophet. As Christians, we believe that eternal life comes from the death of a man who lived 2000 years ago and would never have been described as sophisticated or erudite.  Yet somehow, he was God…a God worth believing in, even though we might prefer something more complicated.  I love to preach on the texts that are complicated and confusing.  I love to dig into the details.  I tell people that the Bible and our faith can be confusing.  But then there are also aspects of our faith that are exquisitely simple…simple to understand and yet still hard to believe.

Paul’s 2^nd letter to Timothy was written while he was imprisoned.  He wrote, “Remember Jesus Christ, raised from the dead, a descendent of David—that is my gospel…”  This was before there was a creed, church councils or even the Gospels as we know them.  Before anyone was ordained and had theological training.  Paul said that we are to remember Jesus Christ who lived as human being and was raised from the dead.  Maybe it really is that simple.  Remember Jesus Christ.