February 23, 2014: Matthew 5: 38-48

Year A, Epiphany 7                                                   

            When I was interviewing at my previous church, I knew it was a good fit when I saw that they had a Dr. Pepper soda machine…which had Diet Dr. Pepper.  It seemed like a direct message from God.  This time, it was a little more subtle.  I was reading your profile and it mentioned that the brickwork is Flemish bond.  I thought Flemish bond…that’s my favorite kind of brick work!  Ok, that was not it.  When I was very young, my father was stationed in Belgium.  My brothers were older and went to an American school but my parents thought it would be a good experience for me to go to a Flemish school.  I learned very little since the teachers didn’t know English and I did not know Flemish, but I still have a warm place in my heart for all things Flemish.  When I was on my tour, I made sure to ask a question about the Flemish brick work, but the search committee was not overly impressed with my Flemish expertise.  Yet I had a hunch that the Flemish brick work meant something about my place at St. John’s.

            The Gospel reading today is our final installment of Jesus’ Sermon on the Mount.  We have been listening to it for several weeks now.  Last week I talked about Jesus’ use of hyperbole to make important points.  He spoke at length about laws regarding how we are in relationship with one another, how we treat our brothers and sisters in Christ.  He had some helpful advice, but definitely not easy advice.  In fact, some of what he said was so challenging, we often just gloss over it. 

Today he says some things that are very familiar to us, so familiar it’s easy to forget how incredibly radical they are as well.  “If anyone strikes you on the right cheek, turn the other also; and if anyone wants to sue you and take your coat, give your cloak as well…” “Love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you, so that you may be children of your Father in heaven…”  If we followed this advice literally, we would never worry about self defense classes or protecting ourselves.  We would not lock our cars, homes or churches because we would let people steal what they want.  Not only would we have to love our friends, family and acquaintances who are sometimes hard to love; we would have to love the people who are trying to ruin us, people like terrorists.  How do you think it would go over if I added Al Qaeda to the prayers of the people?        

            Then, because all of that isn’t already hard enough, he concludes with, “Be perfect, therefore, as your heavenly Father is perfect.”  That kind of ruins the whole thing, doesn’t it?  Everyone knows that no one is perfect.  In fact, being a perfectionist is considered a character defect, something we feel we should overcome. 

As is often the case when reading scripture that has been translated by many different people over several thousand years, some things have been a little lost in translation.   For instance, the Greek word for perfect is telios.  The way the Greeks understood telios is not the same way we understand perfection.  Now we think of perfection as someone or something without flaw or sin.  The Greek understanding of perfection was more functional.  A thing is perfect if it fully realizes the purpose for which it was planned, designed and made. Therefore humans are perfect if we achieve the purpose for which we are created and sent into the world.   So you see, it is much easier than we thought, all we need to do is figure out our purpose in life!

I will admit that seems a little daunting, not as hard as perfection, but daunting nonetheless. However, Jesus was pretty clear about our purpose in his Sermon on the Mount.  It has something to do with the Greek word for love.  There are several Greek words for love, but the one that is used in these verses and in most of the Bible is agape, which is considered a divine love.   It means universal benevolence, unquenchable goodwill, and seeking the highest good for every individual. That is different than brotherly/sisterly love, parental love, or romantic love.  With agape love, it is less about the heart and more about the will. It is about caring for that person who makes you insane, or that person who has hurt you on the most profound level.  It is about seeing people, even your enemy, as God would see them.   That kind of love seems almost impossible….but just almost, not completely. In a way, it seems more reasonable than thinking that we have to love our enemy like we love our partner, parent, child, or dearest friend…because that is not the kind of love that Jesus is talking about.

How do we find a way to love people who have hurt us, maybe even scarred us? Jesus has some advice on that as well.  He says, “Pray for those who persecute you.”  That does not mean that you pray that they stop persecuting you, because that would be more of a prayer for yourself.  Instead, you pray for them out of good will and benevolence.   William Barclay, a commentator, wrote, “No one can pray for others and still hate them.  We cannot go on hating others (when we are) in the presence of God.”  Prayer puts us in the presence of God, with the person for whom we are praying.

I bet you are all wondering what this has to do with Flemish bond bricks.  One of the appeals of the Flemish bond bricks is the appearance.  They have glazed headers, which gives it a checkerboard look and that makes it unique.  The bricks were individually made, so they are not all the same shape and size.  I read an article about St. John’s that said the walls were constructed with roughly made, imprecisely shaped bricks that are “full of subtle variations and corrections-even clever adjustments- that the masons used as they persuaded those irregular bricks to take highly regular patterns.”[1]  When you look at it, you might call it imperfect.  It is because each brick was individually made, just like each one of us is individually made by God.  What makes these bricks so amazing is that it is the variations that help them fit together, and that makes for a very strong wall.  It’s not just about beauty.  It’s about strength as well. 

Each one of us has something that makes us imperfect in the worldly sense of the word, but absolutely perfect in the Biblical sense of the word.  Our variations and corrections are the things that give us a unique purpose, and when we put all those “imprecisely shaped” bricks together, we have a church, a community of Christians who fit together and create something strong and beautiful.  In Paul’s letter to the Corinthians, he talked about Jesus Christ being the foundation.  I believe that Jesus is not only the foundation, he is also the mortar that holds us all together.  As a church, as individuals, he gives us purpose.  In our striving to live into that purpose, we are moving towards perfection.  We will still have our flaws, but that is why we need one another.  As individuals we are merely roughly shaped bricks.  Together, with Jesus as our mortar, we are a great wall that no person, no one thing can ruin. 

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[1] Erickson, John.  Daily Press: “Hampton church’s Colonial brick hides an ornate Victorian interior.”  8/1/1998

Feb. 16, 2014: Matthew 5:21-38

 Year A, Epiphany 6                            

            When I started at seminary, I was a Roman Catholic.  Converting to another denomination was on the table, but the stubborn part of me really wanted to stay Roman Catholic.   I remember in one of my first classes, we went around the room sharing why we were at seminary.  Princeton was kind of unique in the sense that the students there weren’t all planning on being ordained.  It was a bit of a hodgepodge.  When it was my turn I said, “I’m a Roman Catholic and I am here looking for a loophole.”  I was joking, but part me was very serious.  I was going to stay Catholic until they kicked me out. As I continued in my studies, I got to know women who were seeking ordination in Protestant denominations.  It became more than just some ridiculous possibility; it became a calling with potential.  Then a funny thing happened. Instead of becoming full of hope, I got bitter.  When I went to Catholic church, I was just mad.  I would go up for communion and glare at the priest as he gave me communion. I thought, “He doesn’t even appreciate what he has…”  It was not the healthiest state of mind, especially when receiving communion. 

            The Gospel reading for today is one of those tricky ones.  When I was an associate, my boss and I switched back and forth on preaching.  When this reading came up every three years, whoever was not preaching would gloat a little because they could avoid it for another three years.   Now that I am the only preacher…it’s a bit harder to avoid.  Jesus seems a little over the top in the Gospel reading today, a little unrealistic in his demands for the people listening.  “If you say, ‘You fool,’ you will be liable to the hell of fire.’”  “If your right eye causes you to sin, tear it out and throw it away…”  When you read commentaries on this text, you will see the word “hyperbolic” tossed around quite a bit.  Either the commentators are breaking out their SAT vocabulary words, or they are referring to Jesus’ tendency to use hyperbole to make a point.  Jesus was a story teller.  Sometimes to make points, he would exaggerate a little, use hyperbole.  If he wanted every sinner to throw out their eye, there would be a lot of one eyed people in the world, and I am fairly confident that was not what he wanted.            

            That is not to say that what he was saying wasn’t important, perhaps even essential to our life as disciples.  In fact, when Jesus uses hyperbole, you can pretty much count on the fact that what he is saying is very important.  However, it is important not to get too caught up in the details of this text.  If you look at it more broadly (instead of with that one good eye you have left), you will see one common theme in all Jesus’s statements: relationship.  All of these laws that he is referencing are laws regarding how we treat one another. 

He begins with, “You have heard…. ‘You shall not murder…’ But I say to you that if you are angry with a brother or sister, you will be liable to judgment…” Before all of you only-children out there breathe a sigh of relief because you don’t have a brother or sister, I have to warn you that he wasn’t actually talking about siblings. He was talking about our brother and sister in Christ, which means everyone.   He is talking about that person who hurt you 20 years ago and you haven’t spoken with since.  He is talking about the friend you heard talking behind your back who you never confronted.  He is talking about those people who really deserve our anger; at least we think they do.

            I have been known to tell people that anger is a healthy emotion.  I have even counseled people that it is ok to be angry with God.  The Psalms are full of anger towards God.  Yet there are different kinds of anger.  The Psalmist never stays angry at God for the whole Psalm. There are two Greek words that are both translated to anger.  One of them deals with that anger that comes like a flame, but soon burns out. The other is the anger that starts as a flame and then smolders in our hearts for long periods of time.  It festers because we cannot forgive and we cannot reconcile.  It affects the way we treat others.  It even affects the way we treat God.  Perhaps you have experienced that kind of anger.  I have.  That was the kind of anger he was referring to.  He wasn’t talking about your reaction to the person who cuts you off in traffic.  He was referring to the anger that eats away at you like a poison.  Augustine of Hippo, a great theologian of the 5^th century once said that, “Resentment is like taking poison and hoping the other person dies.”  That is the kind of anger that Jesus is talking about.  That is the anger that leads to God’s judgment.

            Thankfully, Jesus had some suggestions about how to deal with this anger.  He said, “So when you are offering your gift at the altar, if you remember that your brother or sister has something against you, leave your gift there before the altar and go; first be reconciled to your brother or sister, and then come and offer your gift.”  What Jesus was referring to was the practice of bringing animal sacrifices to the temple.  Those were offerings to God.  We no longer sacrifice animals…which is a big relief I can assure you (to both me and the altar guild).  Yet we still offer things in our service.  We offer our sins to God when we say the confession.  We offer ourselves to one another in the exchanging of peace.  We offer our prayers in the prayers of the people.  We offer ourselves to God as we kneel before the altar and receive communion. 

Imagine if we followed Jesus’ advice.  Imagine as the choir sang the offertory anthem, I came down and squeezed into a pew and apologized to someone for something I said, or told someone how they had hurt me.  Imagine if every one of us did that.  That used to be the purpose of the Peace.  It was a time to reconcile with one another before receiving communion.  People were even discouraged from receiving communion if they were angry with a brother or sister in Christ.  Sounds a little crazy, doesn’t it?  Does it sound as crazy as tearing out your eye or throwing away your hand?  Not really.  In fact, it’s starting to make sense, isn’t it?  And there is the art and brilliance of Jesus’ hyperbolic statements.  We could tear our eye out, but how about we ask for forgiveness instead…how about we let go of our anger instead?

            One of the reasons I left the Catholic Church was because I didn’t want to be angry for the rest of my life…especially not in church.  The week before I formally became an Episcopalian I went to Catholic mass one more time and took communion.  Afterwards, I wept.  I was heartbroken, but I wasn’t angry anymore.  I think what helped was knowing that while I was releasing something, I was also accepting something at the same time. I was being welcomed into the Episcopal Church.  Sometimes it is hard to release something, (even when it is painful) until we have welcomed something else into our life.  So that is my prayer for each of you.  As you give your offering today (whatever it might be), consider what you might release with that offering.  Consider what has been chafing at your heart and keeping you from a full relationship with your neighbor and God.

           

Feb. 9, 2014: Matthew 5:13-20

Year A, Epiphany 5                                        

            St. John’s had their stained glass windows restored recently.  I wish I was able to see them before so I would have a better appreciation for the change that occurred.  I bet it was amazing to see them after they were restored.  The light must have shined so much more brightly.  One person told me that the window above the altar was referred to as “the hidden cross” because no one could even tell it was a cross!  I am so grateful for the fact that I can see it so clearly now. 

            Our reading from the Gospel is part of the Sermon on the Mount.   The Sermon on the Mount can be found in both the Gospel of Matthew and the Gospel of Luke.  However, in Luke, it is called “The Sermon on the Plain.”  That just does not have the same ring to it.    These two sermons have some similarities, but many differences as well.  In Matthew’s Gospel (the one we heard today) the Sermon on the Mount happens right at the beginning of Jesus’ public ministry.  He has just chosen his disciples and started curing the sick and proclaiming the good news.   In the previous chapter, Matthew tells us that Jesus’ fame began to spread and that crowds began to follow him.             

            He was the newest thing.  He was a miracle worker who preached and shared good news.  So he chose this time, when all the crowds were following him to sit down and do some teaching.    The beginning of chapter 5 says that , “ When Jesus saw the crowds, he went up the mountain; and after he sat down, his disciples came to him.”  A rabbi always sat to teach, so this act of sitting was a sign to all who were around that he was about to teach them. 

He began with the blessings: “Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.  Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted…”  He continued like that for several lines, providing blessing to the people in the crowds, to the people who really needed to be blessed, needed to be loved.  These were the people who thought that God had forgotten them.  He was reminding them that they were loved by God.  That was the beginning of the Sermon on the Mount.

            Our reading from today continues with, “You are the salt of the earth; but if salt has lost its taste, how can its saltiness be restored?”  “You are the light of the world…No one after lighting a lamp puts it under the bushel basket, but on a lampstand, and it gives light to all in the house…”  It’s an interesting transition from the Beatitudes (the blessings). We are still on the mount.  Jesus is still teaching, but the tone has changed somehow.   It seems to me that things just got a little more personal, at least it seems that way with the pronoun you.  “You are the salt of the earth…You are the light of the world…”  It is both intensely personal and communal at the same time.

            What does it mean to be salt of the earth?  Usually when you hear that phrase, you hear it in reference to another person: “So and so is a great guy….salt of the earth.”  Apparently that phrase comes from this biblical passage.  However, that was not quite what Jesus was talking about.  In Biblical times, salt had several important uses.

They did not have gas or electric ovens like we have to day.  They didn’t even use wood because it was hard to come by.  The stuff that was very abundant was camel or donkey dung.  This could be used as fuel, but only if you were able to mix salt with it.  A slab of salt was placed at the base of the oven and the lovely salted dung patty was put right on top of the slab. Salt is essentially the catalyst that causes the dung to burn. However, eventually the salt slab loses its catalytic ability and becomes useless. Salt is critical in that it creates the reaction needed to have the fire, but when it sapped and can no longer create a spark, it becomes useless.*

            Another way to look at salt is less smelly.  It is what seasons our food.  It makes whatever we are eating a little tastier.  It can add zest to an otherwise bland meal.  If salt is not your thing, think of your favorite herb or spice.  For me it would be cilantro.  I think that just about anything tastes better with cilantro.  What Jesus is telling his followers, his disciples is that they are zest of the earth.  They are the spark that creates the fire.  Those are some pretty important functions. They are not just descriptions.  They are more like vocations…Christian vocations. 

This zest, this spark cannot be for us alone.  They are not even just for our family or our social circle.  They are for the earth…for the world.  “You are the salt of the earth…You are the light of the world.”  You see, it is both personal and communal.  Some people say that Christians are boring.  If that is so, then that is tragic because Jesus wants us to be zest.  Jesus wants us to be the spark that creates the fire.  Does that sound boring to any of you?

            When Jesus talks about light, he says, “You are the light of the world. No one after lighting a lamp puts it under a bushel basket, but on the lamp stand, and it gives light to the whole house.”  When we think of lamps, we think of something with a cord, a light bulb and hopefully a lampshade.  Why would anyone put a lamp under a basket?  But in the 1^st century, a lamp was a sauceboat filled with oil, with a flame floating in it.  Once you lit the flame, you really did not want it to go out—no matches.  Consequently when people left they would remove the lamp from the stand and put a basket over it to keep the flame from going out.  The basket protected the flame. 

            That makes pretty good sense.  Why would Jesus tell people to keep the flame unprotected when he knew what a pain it was to light it? Have you ever been in place that was completely dark, no street lights, no ambient light, you could not even see your hand it front of you? That was how it was in the 1^st century.  At night, the only light was from those candles in people’s homes.  Imagine how much of a difference even one light would make in a pitch black environment. It would make all the difference. Jesus was not thinking about the people who might have to go to the trouble of lighting the lamp; he was thinking of all those people wandering in the darkness, desperate for just one point of light. We are not the light for those other people under the bushel basket with us.  We are the light for the world, a world that is so often lost in darkness.   People need to see the light and we have take the chance that it might get a little windy.

            Sometimes, churches get pretty comfortable staying under the bushel basket.  It’s safe there.  We don’t need to worry about the light going out and then having go through all the work of relighting it.  But the problem is….then no one sees the light.  It’s like when the stained glass windows were all grimy.  No one even knew there was a cross there.  What’s the point of having cross if you can’t see it?  What’s the point of having a light that only some people can see?

            When I was first here, I was telling someone how I was terrified of leaving a candle lit and having the church burn down on my watch. The person replied, “Hey, it’s happened before.  We can always rebuild.”  While I am still a huge proponent of fire safety, I think that’s a great attitude.  That is an attitude that will allow us to get out from under the bushel basket.  St. John’s needs to be seen.  We need to be a witness to the community and to the world.  We need to be zesty and sometimes risky.  But guess what, God’s not going to let us do it alone.  He will support us. We also have a phenomenal history of getting a little beat up, but then rising from the ashes.  Let’s topple over the bushel basket.  It’s time for the light of St. John’s to shine.  It’s time for each one of you to shine. 


*Information from this paragraph came from: http://liturgy.slu.edu/5OrdA020914/theword_cultural.html 

February 2, 2014: Luke 2:22-40

The Presentation of Our Lord Jesus Christ                                     

            Whenever I have preached this Gospel text, I have usually focused on the lovely hymn often referred to as the “Song of Simeon” or the "Nunc Dimittis."  However, this week it was Anna that really spoke to me.  Unfortunately, the Gospel writer did not record Anna’s words.  I found myself wondering what she said, what her story was.  Because of that, I have taken a slightly different approach to my sermon today.  It’s not really a sermon; it’s more of a narrative from the perspective of the prophet Anna. 

            I had been waiting for a long time for something to happen.  I had been waiting in this temple for years.  I used to grow restless, even impatient at times, but as I grew older, it got easier to pray  day and night.  I heard what people called me, a prophet…prophet Anna.  That seemed laughable.  Some people even come to me seeking wisdom, God’s wisdom, as if anyone can really know God’s wisdom.   I didn’t even know what a prophet was.  It had been many years since we had a prophet in these parts.  I heard stories of the great prophets: Elijah, Isaiah, Jeremiah… I am nothing like any of them. I did not go around proclaiming God’s word and upsetting the leaders of the nation and the leaders of our faith. I just stayed in the temple and waited.  If I was a prophet, wouldn’t I have known what I was waiting for?  But I didn’t.  I just had this feeling, deep in my heart that something great was coming, that salvation for Israel and all the world was near. 

            Just about a month ago, I felt that even more.  I woke in the night with dreams that were vivid and powerful.  Before there was only darkness, but now my dreams were full of light, full of hope.  I knew that my waiting was almost over.    

            Then it happened one day.  It was a day like any other, or at least I thought it was.  There are many people who come to the temple.  There are the priests of course.  They all wear long robes and look very holy.  Some looked right through me as if I was not even there.  Others spoke to me about the holy scriptures.  Then there are the people who come for special sacrifices. They bring their animals to sacrifice.  You can always tell the difference between these people and the professionally religious.

            From afar I saw a man and woman approach the temple.  As they got closer I recognized them because I had seen them many times before.   I had seen the man more recently than the woman and as she approached I realized why it had been so many months since I had seen her.  She was carrying an infant in her arms.  They were coming to dedicate their child to God. The man had two pigeons for the sacrifice.  They must have been too poor to afford a sheep.  Then I saw a man approach them.  His name was Simeon.   I knew him because he spent almost as much time in the temple as I did. I came closer so I could hear what he was saying. They called me a prophet, but he always seemed to fit the part a little better than I, maybe because he was a man.

            Simeon seemed so excited, jubilant even.  I thought he was too old to move that fast.  I thought I was as well.  As I came closer I started to see something.  It was the light from my dreams.  It seemed to surround the couple as if the sun shined on them alone.  I could feel the warmth as if it was radiating from them like a fire.  It filled my heart.  It filled my whole body.  As I broke from my reverie, I heard Simeon proclaim, “For my eyes have seen your salvation, which you have prepared in the presence of all peoples, a light for revelation to the Gentiles and for the glory of your people Israel.”  Simeon was not typically someone to use such language.  He rarely spoke at all.  The strange thing was that those words sounded as if they were directed to God, but he was looking at the child.

            The couple looked bewildered, which made sense given what this stranger was telling them.  Then I saw a cloud pass over the mother’s face.   I had missed a couple of Simeon’s words and when I came back to the conversation, all I heard was, “…and a sword will pierce your own soul too.”  That explains the look on her face.  What could he possibly mean?  Why would he start so joyful and end so tragic?

            I knew I shouldn’t, but I had to see this child that was causing such a reaction from Simeon.  Simeon said he could die now, that is life was complete.  Who was this child?  Simeon started moving away, although he obviously would have stayed with this couple forever if they let him.  But perhaps that one encounter was all he really needed.

 It was then when I saw the child.  At first I was confused.  He was cute, but nothing remarkable.  In fact, he looked like most children his age.  In an instant it all changed.  The light now seemed bigger than the sun, and the moon and all the stars together and it danced around them.  All the words I had been praying cascaded over me in a rush of images and sounds.  The scriptures that I had heard and studied…it was like it came alive in front of me.  It did not make sense.  I probably sound crazy.

            And then I spoke.  I said things I could have never prepared.  I talked about this child being the fulfillment of all that was promised. Through my weeping, words tumbled out of me, words that seemed to come from somewhere outside of me, or perhaps just so deep in me they were dormant for my whole lifetime.  This child would save all humanity.  He already saved me.  I did not know how, but he would.  He would save Israel and redeem us just as God had in all the stories of scripture.  Then at that moment I knew why they called me a prophet.  It was because I saw God in a place where others could not.  My years of waiting and praying…they were all for this exact moment.  I had seen God and I would never be the same.

            Just like Simeon before me, I found myself walking away from this divine being.  I knew that my purpose had been fulfilled.  I had shared something with this holy family.  I left the temple then, not forever, but just for a time. I didn’t need to spend all my time there anymore. Because the real temple, I knew now that it was not a building, but it was in the arms of that young woman.   The real temple, the house of God, was now flesh and blood, who would grow into a man and be called Jesus.   Salvation is here.