You Count: December 24, 2019

Year A, Christmas Eve                  

Luke 2: 1-20                                                                                                                    

            I remember my first Christmas as a newly ordained deacon.  I was very anxious about reading the Gospel at the late service.  That church had a tradition of processing around the church (there were aisles on both sides of the pews) before reading the Gospel on big feast days.  It felt like a very long walk.  One of things I had practiced over and over again was the name Quirinius.  In doing so, it was burned into my memory so that every time I hear Quirinius, I remember my nerves on that Christmas night 14 years ago.  But this year for the first time, I started wondering, just who was this Quirinius and why does he matter.  Why did Luke bother mentioning him?  Luke saw himself as a bit of an historian.  He starts his Gospel by saying, “I too, decided, after investigating everything carefully from the very first, to write an orderly account for you.” Therefore, it was understandable that he set this scene in the context of history.  But there was more to it than that.  He had to explain, why Mary and Joseph felt the need to take a very long journey to Bethlehem when she was extremely pregnant. 

            They were making that trek so that they could be counted for the census.  “All went to their own towns to be registered.”  The census was a required by the Roman Empire.  They required it so they could know how much to tax these people who were under their control.  It was also so they could determine how much military they needed to keep these people in check. As you can imagine, many Jews resented the census. When hearing the story of Jesus, we can never forget that he was born to a conquered people.  His family lived with few rights or privileges under the control of a foreign government.  They were making this difficult journey because it was required and the Romans knew they could make them do it.  It was dehumanizing. This is what powerful people often do to a conquered people (or anyone who might be vulnerable), they try to take away their humanity.  It was this world and family that Jesus was born into. 

            If you have been to church on Christmas enough times, you have probably heard the word incarnation.  It means that God was born in the flesh, as a human.  That’s spectacular for so many reasons.  But when you put it in the context of Quirinius and the census, it’s revolutionary.  This census, like so many things the Romans did, was an attempt to control people.  It was an attempt to take away their dignity, their humanity.  In the midst of this inhumanity, Jesus was born as a human baby to a woman, with even fewer rights then the men in this occupied territory.  It was like God was watching what the Roman Empire was doing, how they were wielding their power and he said, “Oh you think you can take away my children’s humanity, watch this.”

            While I admire God’s creativity and sense of irony, sometimes I wonder if God could have used more effective and efficient means.  If Jesus was born to a king, in a palace, he would have gotten a lot more attention. He could have had the weight of an empire behind him. Everyone would have followed him because he would have been forced on them.  But that is not what God wanted. God didn’t want to force Jesus upon people-- he wanted  to invite them into a relationship with Jesus--God in the flesh.  The Romans thought they had control over the Jews, but it was a flimsy and superficial control.  Jesus, being born as a human is a reminder that no power, no principality can ever take away our humanity.  Even if you are born in a barn amongst animals, you are a child of God, a human who deserves basic rights and more importantly, who deserves to be loved.

            The census was counting people so that they could be efficiently exploited.  In sending Jesus in the flesh, God was telling everyone on this earth (both then and now) that they counted to him.  He counted them as his children and he would stop at nothing to let them/us know that.[1] That means that I can tell all of you tonight that you count, you matter to the greatest power this world has ever known.

            Now we don’t live in a place that suffers under a foreign rule.  Yet, we still see people in our world, our country, our community who are exploited and treated as less than human.  On this night, I want you to go home with warm fuzzy feelings and the knowledge that God loves you with reckless abandon.  However, I also want us all to remember that Jesus was born to people who were oppressed, people who worried that God had forgotten them.  He was born in this way to ensure that we never forget any human, that no person is ever treated as less than human.  God’s gift to us is our lives and this world.  Our gift to God is how we care for one another and this world.   I would like to close with a lovely poem by Howard Thurman, who we are reading in our Sacred Ground program.

When the song of the angels is stilled,
when the star in the sky is gone,
when the kings and princes are home,
when the shepherds are back with their flocks,
the work of Christmas begins:
to find the lost,
to heal the broken,
to feed the hungry,
to release the prisoner,
to rebuild the nations,
to bring peace among the people,
to make music in the heart.[2]

---

[1] This idea came from a Working Preacher podcast for Christmas 2019 by Rolf Jacobson

[2] “The Work of Christmas” is from Howard Thurman’s The Mood of Christmas and Other Celebrations

Mr. Rogers and Isaiah: December 8, 2019

Year A, Advent 2                                                              

Isaiah 11:1-11                                                                                 

            Lately my son has been talking a lot about good guys and bad guys (mostly bad guys).  Not only do humans fall into these categories, but animals do as well. Once we were playing a game where we were running from a lion.  Joshua decided to shoot the lion.  We don’t let Joshua have toy guns, but he can make anything into a gun.  I explained to him that I didn’t want him shooting a lion.  He replied, “But lions are mean.”  I then tried to explain to him that while lions are dangerous, they are not innately bad.  We then had to discuss whether there would be any circumstance where shooting a lion would be appropriate and it all got very muddy.  I decided perhaps we should avoid a safari for a family vacation.     I have noticed that in most popular children’s shows and almost all movies, there is always a bad guy or bad animal.  I guess it makes things interesting for a young mind.  But it makes me sad that at the age of 3, my son is already categorizing people into good and bad and thinking about injuring people and dangerous animals.  I have attempted to explain to him that God created us all good, but so far, that’s just not working.  If a 3 year old is already programmed to perceive people as good and bad and talk about shooting people, imagine how we adults have been programmed. Even if we intellectually have moved past that, it’s still there in the back of our minds lurking, like an unwanted intruder. 

            This reading from Isaiah (our first reading) is often referred to as “the Peaceable Kingdom.”  It’s a beautiful and poetic passage with a moving message. There are many works of art modeled after the image that Isaiah paints.  The reading from Isaiah last week was another famous passage.  It read: “They shall beat their swords into ploughshares, and their spears into pruning-hooks; nation shall not lift up sword against nation, neither shall they learn war any more.” That passage is about peace between the nations, which is a fairly lofty dream.         This week the dream seems even more unfathomable.  “The wolf shall live with the lamb, the leopard shall lie down with the kid, the calf and the lion and the fatling together, and a little child shall lead them.” Instead of peace between the nations, Isaiah is now envisioning peace within nature. All the animals are vegetarians.  The laws of evolution are basically tossed out. There is no longer survival of the fittest.  Every person—every animal—survives and lives together in harmony. It’s basically the Garden of Eden before the fall.  It’s a place where there are no good or bad people.  There are no good or bad animals.  All are just as God intended, inherently and permanently good.  

            This is the image that should be planted in our children’s mind. I’m not saying we should shelter them from all that is bad.  We can’t.  But it’s like we don’t even try to create this peaceable kingdom in our books or our movies.  It’s not even worth dreaming about or imagining.  That’s a sad thing.  It means that not only has hope died, but the dream that carried the hope is buried under our low expectations.    You might think, well that’s just too depressing. There is no point in dreaming or hoping for something that cannot be.  Isaiah didn’t think so when he wrote this text.  And if you think that the prophet Isaiah was some kind of Pollyanna, just read virtually any chapter in the book of Isaiah and you will see that this guy was living in a very precarious situation.  He was living in a land about to be invaded, preaching to a people who were miserable, angry, and scared.  It wasn’t exactly a utopian paradise. Isaiah called for repentance and spoke of the need for change.  He spoke the truth, even when it was unpopular. Yet in the midst of his dire warnings about the fate of Israel, he stopped and painted pictures like the one we heard today, a picture of the peaceable kingdom.  He wanted people to remember that God’s vision for our world was audacious and bold.  It wasn’t just meant to be a dream or vision but a reality, a goal to strive for. 

            Therefore, we can never stop painting these pictures, telling these stories of goodness and peace.  You might think, “That’s not effective. Then you’re just living in a fantasy.” However, consider the resurgence of Mr. Rogers. There are books about him, a documentary and now a film starring Tom Hanks.  Mr. Rogers didn’t fight bad guys.  He was just good.  He created a world of make believe where animals and people lived alongside one another in peace and harmony. He invited people into that world so they could see glimpse of what could be.  And he did more than just provide a dreamscape.        

         In the late 1960’s racial tension in America was high.  Martin Luther King was assassinated in 1968 and race riots followed.  Segregation was technically illegal, but many places were still not integrated. One of those places was public pools.  Near the one year anniversary of Martin Luther King’s death, Mr. Rogers invited one of his neighbors over, a friendly black police officer.  They decided to cool their feet in a plastic kiddie pool.  Then they shared a towel.  Mr. Rogers never said a word about integration or race relations, but the image was clear. This is the peaceable kingdom.

What is amazing about that image is that when we look at it now, we don’t see anything remarkable about a white man and black man sitting beside one another with their feet in the same water.  That’s because it’s our new normal.  I’m not saying we have eradicated racism, we have a long way to go. But we have made progress.  We’re swimming in the same water now.  I’m not saying Mr. Rogers fixed the problem single handedly.  Many of our African American brothers and sisters suffered and died in that fight. But, it played a small part.

            Most of the time, a small part is the best we can do.  Yet we fear even doing that because we think, it won’t make any difference.  Despite everything Mr. Rogers accomplished in his life, he still wondered if he made any difference at all. But  we know he did.  On Friday, the church commemorated the life of St. Nickolas.  We do every year on December 6^th.  He was a bishop and probably attended the Council of Nicea, which was a big deal.   But what he is remembered for his kindness toward strangers in need. The church is not just hear to worship God serve others.  We are also hear to support one another be the people who God created us to be and build the world that God intended, the Peaceable Kingdom. 

The End of the World: Nov. 17, 2019

Year C, Pentecost 23                                                              

Luke 21: 5-19                                                                          

We have a prayer that comes right after we sing the Gloria.  It changes every week and often echoes themes found in the readings.  Today’s is a favorite of clergy and seminary professors:

Blessed Lord, who caused all holy Scriptures to be written for our learning: Grant us so to hear them, read, mark, learn, and inwardly digest them, that we may embrace and ever hold fast the blessed hope of everlasting life…

It’s a great opening prayer, but it seems an odd choice for the readings for the day, especially the first one that starts with:  “See, the day is coming, burning like an oven, when all the arrogant and all evildoers will be stubble; the day that comes shall burn them up, says the Lord o hosts…”  We are supposed to read, mark and inwardly digest that?  That would give most people indigestion.  And that’s just the first reading.

            This Gospel reading for today is typically referred to as apocalyptic literature.  Most of you are probably familiar with the word “apocalypse.”  It’s thrown about quite a lot in popular movies and books.  It’s typically refers to the end of the world.  It fascinates a lot of people.  It always has.  The Jews of Jesus’ time were no different.  They too wanted as much information as they could gain about the end of the world.  But that is not how this conversation started.  It started in a fairly benign way.  Jesus and his disciples were in the temple, as they often were.  Jesus had just remarked on the widow who gave everything she had—often referred to as the widow’s mite.  (That is the reading right before this one.) 

            Then after that profound teaching about the importance of sacrificial giving, some person starts talking about how pretty the temple is.  They were probably trying to change the subject.  Apparently people didn’t like talking about stewardship anymore then than we do now.  But it’s true, the temple was stunning.  The temple that existed during Jesus’ day was one of the finest temples that had ever been built.  It was built under the reign of King Herod in about 20 BC.  This temple was twice the size of the old one and the outer walls were covered with gold plating.  Pilgrims poured into the city and were overwhelmed by its magnificence. 

            That is why Jesus’ declaration that the temple would fall was so unbelievable.  It would be like telling Americans that the capital would soon be rubble.  When the Jews heard Jesus say this, they assumed that he was talking about the end of the world.  How else would such a formidable structure—one that was blessed by God—fall?  What we know, and the people who were first hearing this Gospel knew, was that the temple would be destroyed less than 40 years after Jesus said this.  The world didn’t end, but it seemed like it would.  It was a horrible war that decimated the Jewish population and destroyed much of Jerusalem. 

            The disciples didn’t know any of this, so they immediately started asking questions.  When will this be? How will we know it is coming?   First Jesus warned them about false prophets who would try to tell them that the end is near. We’ve had a few of those, haven’t we? Then Jesus went on to say that when you hear about wars and insurrections, do not assume this means the world is ending. That is comforting.  Then he said what a lot of people perceive as apocalyptic, “Nations will rise against nation, and kingdom against kingdom; there will be great earthquakes, and in various places famines and plagues.”  Sounds terrifying.  Sounds a lot like what is going on now, what has been going on for awhile.  Then he tells them that before this happens, “they will arrest and persecute you…you will be betrayed even by parents and brothers, by relatives and friends.” Also sound pretty scary, and it was.  Every one of the disciples was persecuted. Days after Jesus shared this “apocalyptic” statement, he was betrayed by his friend Judas.  All the things that Jesus predicted, happened and many of these things are still happening.  These things might not be happening to us right now, but I can guarantee you that somewhere in this world right now, is famine, war, insurrection, plagues, persecution.  Every single one of those things is happening now and has been happening for millennia. 

            It doesn’t mean that the world is ending. It means that life is happening.  There is a lot of bad news in the world right now.  There have been two cases of the bubonic plague in China…this week.  Children are being shot down in their own schools.  Parts of our country are on fire. I don’t need to elaborate.  You all have read or watched the news. Jesus wasn’t preparing his disciples for the end of the world, he was preparing them for life. He’s preparing us now as well. What does he tell us to do?  Testify.  Talk about Jesus.  Talk about love.  Testify that there is light in darkness. Despite the horror of our world…no because of the horror in our world, it is our job to testify. 

            Now you might think, Episcopalians don’t do that.  We don’t know what to say unless it’s in our prayer book.  Well Jesus has an answer for that as well, “So make up your minds not to prepare a defense in advance; for I will give you words and a wisdom that none of your opponents will be able to withstand or contradict,” Don’t tell me that Episcopalians can’t testify to the love of Jesus, because Jesus gives us the words.  That brings up back to the opening collect.  “Grant us to hear the scriptures, mark, learn and inwardly digest them, that we may embrace and ever hold fast the blessed hope of everlasting life…” The scriptures don’t always tell us what we want to hear. They tell us what we need to hear, what we need to know to be followers of Jesus Christ. 

            A lot of Christians use readings like this to scare people into submission.  These words of Jesus were not meant to scare people.  They were meant to prepare people and even bring comfort.  He’s telling us that through the hardest times in our world and our individual lives, he will equip us with the tools and the support that will help us endure.  He won’t remove us from the hardship, nor will he remove the hardship.  He will support us, love us and be the light for us when all we can see is darkness. We are surrounded by darkness, but also by points of light.  These points of light are each of you here, each of you who think you don’t have the words you need to testify, or don’t have the faith or credibility to do so. You don’t have to have faith in yourself.  You don’t have to even believe in yourself because God sent his son to this earth to prove----that he believes in you.  The temple in Jerusalem was breathtaking, but it was not evidence of God’s love or power.  We are the evidence of God’s love and power.  We are the temple that cannot be destroyed.

Claim It: Nov. 3, 2019

All Saints, Year C                                                      

Ephesians 1:11-23                                                             

All Saints Day was actually Nov. 1^st.  We are allowed to celebrate it the following Sunday, which is what we are doing today. The day after All Saints Day (Nov. 2^nd) is All Souls Day. Why two different days? It sounds like the same thing. Originally the term saint was used to describe all Christians. That would include everyone here today.  However, early in the history of the church, the meaning of the word saint began to evolve.  It came to describe people who did marvelous deeds, achieved heroic sanctity and piety.  The Roman Catholic Church even created an extensive process to determine who was and who was not a saint. Saints became the especially holy people, the people Christians looked to for inspiration.

Because the word evolved to such an extent, it was decided that a new day needed to be designated to commemorate all the departed.  It is this day when the church remembers all the people who might not be officially approved saints.  It is a time to remember all those who have died, but are still near and dear to our heart.  They might not have performed official miracles, but their existence was miraculous to us nonetheless.

 Most churches combine the two and read the list of those who have died in the All Saints Day service. This is a good an appropriate thing.  At St. John’s, we have separated the two.  We have a separate service Sunday night when we remember our friends, our family—the people from our community of believers (St. John’s). It’s more of a solemn and contemplative service with beautiful music from our choir.  But if we do that for our evening service, what do we do this morning?

This morning, I want us to focus on the original meaning of the word saint—which is all Christians.  That is why we asked people to submit names of those living saints in their life. In a way, it’s a trick question because every Christian is a saint. That list could be virtually endless. In Paul’s letter to the Ephesians, he thanks the Ephesians for their love toward all of the saints.  He was talking about how they cared for one another in their fledgling Christian community. 

At first glance (or in my case, for the first several hours of studying) the reading from Ephesians seemed…well…unhelpful.  Compared to the clarity of the Gospel reading, it seemed too elaborate, too full of churchy language, stuff that is totally irrelevant to our present day.  But the more I studied, the more I realized this is probably more relevant now than it has been for about 1800 years. 

The people who Paul was writing to were committed Christians, but also people who were part of a small faith group.  They were a minority community in very new territory and they were not sure where they were going.  What they had was written letters from Paul, and maybe stories from the Gospels that were passed on orally.  They had no established church, no formal rules and directions on how to be church. Paul was telling them how thankful he was to them for remaining faithful and caring for one another in an uncertain time. 

He was also praying for certain things for them, certain attributes of a Christian.  He asked God to give them the spirit of wisdom and revelation to know God more fully.  He asked that God might enlighten their vision so that they may know the hope to which God has already called them.  But he also reminded them that they already had been sealed by the Holy Spirit---which means these lofty attributes that Paul is praying for them are things that they already have.  They just can’t see it.  They lack the vision and clarity to fully understand what God has already given them.

While we are in a place and a time much different than Ephesus, we share some of their needs.  We too lack vision and clarity. We lack the wisdom to see what we have already been given.  We lack the strength to fully claim those attributes.   We lack the confidence. We didn’t end up printing all the names that many contributed.  We were overwhelmed by names, which is good for our faith, but hard on us administratively. What I was surprised to see was that about 2/3 of the names were people from St. John’s.  I don’t know why that surprised me.  It shouldn’t have. But I would guarantee you that most people who were listed would have been a little surprised to learn that someone saw them as an inspiration. 

Therefore since we didn’t print the names, I have a favor to ask you. Tell them. Tell the person whose name you submitted that you listed them as your saint.  If you are shy, pass them a note, send an e-mail, write a text.  Because they need to know. All of us need to be reminded that we are sealed by the Holy Spirit.  God has already given us wisdom and enlightenment. We just need to claim it.

We desperately need to claim it as a church today. We are not that different than Ephesus.  Our churches are dwindling every year.  In the past 10 years, attendance at Episcopal Churches has dropped by 25%.  Churches used to be important in this country. They are not anymore.  And  you know what, that is not our concern. We don’t need our world to affirm our reason for existence; we need to be the ones affirming the world of their reason for existence. 

One of the last lines of our reading is, “And he put all things under his feet and has made him the head over all things for the church, which is his body, the fullness of him who fills all in all.”  Now if I had 30 more minutes, I could explain what that means. Instead, I want to read from another translation which is called “The Message.” “The church is not peripheral to the world; the world is peripheral to the church. The church is Christ’s body, in which he speaks and acts, by which he fills everything with his presence.” That’s us St. John’s.  We are the saints of God and we have some work to do on this world around us. We also have some work to do on ourselves. 

And you know what, sometimes I am consumed by worry that we can’t do it—that it’s too late, too hard.  But then I read this text and I am reminded that we have everything we need.  We have the wisdom of God.  We know the hope to which God has called us.  More importantly, we know Jesus Christ and he knows us.  We have everything we need.  We just need to start acting like we believe it. 

St Francis Didn't Say That: October 6, 2019

St Francis, Galatians 6:14-18                                          

Year C                                                                         

“Preach the Gospel at all times.  When necessary, use words.”  This quote is attributed to St. Francis of Assisi, the saint who we are celebrating today.  It’s a great quote, but he didn’t actually say it. He said, “It is no use walking anywhere to preach unless our walking is your preaching.”  I think you would agree that his actual words are a little more nuanced than the quote we normally associate with him.  The problem with his actual words is that it’s not a quote you can just drop in the middle of a sermon or an article and expect people to make sense of it.  Frankly, I prefer the real one, partially because I preach.  But I also think that people like to pull that misattributed quote out when they want to have an excuse not to talk about their faith.  It’s a perfect quote for Episcopalians who fear evangelism.

            The other problem with that quote, is that it doesn’t fit with St. Francis because he loved to preach. What made St. Francis unique in his preaching was that he didn’t preach in the church.  In fact, he wasn’t a clergy person.  He preached anywhere and everywhere.  He would go to fancy parties and preach to the rich and entitled, which probably took him off the invite list pretty quickly.  He would walk from village to village preaching in up to five different places a day.  If he was in the country, he would get on top of a bale of straw.  In the city, he would be on a box or on the steps of a building.  He was described as “the strange but fiery preacher.” Apparently there were times when he would get so animated, it would look like he was dancing. 

            So how did that quote get attributed to him?  “Preach the Gospel at all times.  When necessary, use words.”  It’s about action and how your actions match your words.  It’s about authenticity.  No one ever doubted that Francis lived what he preached.  He was known as a peacemaker, whether it be between the Christians and the Muslims, the rich and the poor or even between humans and animals.  He sacrificed everything he had.  He came from a wealthy family.  He could have done anything.  Instead, he gave away all he had, including his inheritance.  He chose a life of poverty. 

            That is one of the reasons that this reading from Galatians is assigned for the Feast of St. Francis.  In it Paul writes, “May I never boast of anything except the cross of our Lord Jesus Christ…” It’s a little confusing when you take it out of context, so let me explain it. One of the things Paul was frustrated about was that Jewish Christians were trying to tell new Christians who were not previously Jewish that they had to be circumcised, despite the fact that was not a requirement of the Christian faith.  Some people wanted it to be a requirement, because it was a visible marker.  It was physical proof. It was also a way that they could escape persecution as some Jews were persecuting Christians at the time. 

Paul was an observant Jew and he was circumcised. He wasn’t against the practice in general. He was against doing it for the wrong reasons, doing it simply to win human approval. That is why he said that he would only boast in the cross of Christ.  While Paul had plenty to boast about, he refused to boast in anything besides the God who created him and died for him.

            St. Francis, much like Paul, didn’t feel that he had to prove himself.  He acted the way that he felt called to act.  He didn’t even seek the approval of his parents who ended up disowning him because of the life he chose.  He only boasted in the God who loved him, and loved all the people and animals he cared for.  Because he didn’t have to prove himself, because he didn’t have to earn the acceptance and love of others, he was able to achieve peace within himself.

That was why he was able to bring peace to so many people and situations, because he had found peace within himself.  That peace was not rooted in his self-perfection or actualization.  That peace was rooted in the cross, the sacrifice that Christ made, that unconditional love that he experienced and was able to share with others.  Imagine how much better our lives could be if we didn’t have to constantly earn the love and acceptance of others, if we didn’t have to prove our worthiness to ourselves and the people around us.  Imagine how free we would be.  That is what it means to boast in the cross of Christ.  I bet that is why he danced when he preached.  He was free of the weight that bears down on so many of us. 

We all know that Francis cared for animals.  One of the things that I learned when I was working on this sermon was that he started the tradition of the living nativity.  He set up an animal trough for a manger in a cave in Italy.  There were live animals and people.  He wanted people to experience the messy reality of the birth of Christ. He wanted scripture not just to be read, but experienced.

That is why I think having an animal blessing as part of our worship service is such a great way to commemorate St. Francis. Sometimes it’s messy.  Sometimes the animals are a little disruptive and distracting.  Things don’t always go according to plan and that is ok.  It’s one of the few times when Episcopalians give themselves freedom to worship without formality.  That’s why I try to embrace any disruptions in our worship service, because God is supposed to be disruptive.  That is why St. Francis made such an impression on people.  He lived into that disruption and ironically, that brought him peace and enabled him to bring peace to others.

I am not suggesting that we throw out the beauty and solemnity of our worship.  I am suggesting we remember that it is not beauty or solemnity that we worship.  We worship a God who was born in a barn to unmarried parents and turned our world upside down.    

Sermon for Ann Tormey

John 10:11-18                                                                                 

            About a month ago, Tara (one of Ann’s granddaughters) called me and asked me when we could baptize her son, Noah.  She wanted her grandparents to be there for the baptism as she knew it would be important to them.  I offered a few dates and Tara picked Sept. 15^th.  Even just days before, we thought that her grandparents would be there.  Unfortunately, they could not make it.  The family suggested I bring them communion so that the whole family could share communion that day. I also brought the chrism.  I had explained to Tara and Stuart the day before that we use consecrated oil for baptisms, for prayers of healing and often before death.  It’s not the exact same oil, but it’s very similar.  When we baptize someone, we mark the sign of the cross on the child/adult’s forehead and we say, “You are sealed by the Holy Spirit and marked as Christ’s own forever.” I always ask the parents and Godparents to put the oil on the child’s forehead as well.  It’s my favorite part of the baptism because it reminds me of the permanence of God’s promise to us. “You are marked as Christ’s own forever.”

Since Ann and Jim could not be at the baptism, I brought the oil to them and Tara held Noah for them so they too could anoint Noah. Ann was reluctant at first.  She was never one to make herself the center of anything, but her family encouraged her and she did with a huge smile.  After I found out that she died about 12 hours later, I wished that I had used that oil to anoint her, but I know she would not have wanted that. It was never about her.

            Most Christians are so accustomed to the image of Jesus as the Good Shepherd and us as his sheep. We are so used to it, we forget that it’s kind of an odd way to describe God, the creator of heaven and earth, the redeemer of all humanity.  The Greek gods were powerful and often frightening.  The Romans made their most powerful leaders into gods.  Yet Jesus refused to be the kind of god that so many wished for.  He would not wield his power with violence or even displays of majesty.  He showed his power with radical and unconditional love.  In this Gospel reading, he uses the imagery of the shepherd, who lays down his life for the sheep.  Jesus was a leader, but he was a servant as well.

            Ann’s dear friend Gwen told me that Ann would never be the first to go through a door.  She would always insist the other person go before her.  And that in many ways, summed her up. Her son told me that she had the life of 10 people.  She did. She had a wonderful life full of adventure, amazing places, dear friends, a loving family, and a husband she adored and who adored her.  Yet she did not take that for granted.  She never acted as though she was entitled.  She was a leader, but she was a servant leader.  Now, all over town, you will see free lunches for children in the summer because people realized that many children go hungry without school to feed them.  Yet long before the rest of us figured that out, Ann was in the kitchen with a small group making sandwiches for a local apartment complex where she knew that there were lots of children who might otherwise go hungry.  She never advertised this.  She never advertised anything she did.  She did it because she cared.  She did it because she knew the Good Shepherd and she followed him.

            I was a little disappointed that I did not offer to anoint Ann and Jim.  We don’t offer Last Rites in the Episcopal Church---at least we don’t call it that.  But we do sometimes anoint people before they die if they request that.  Yet the more I thought about it, the more I realized that was not how Ann operated. She died not because she felt closure because she was anointed, I believe that she was able to find some peace because once again, she was able to perform one last act of service, by blessing her great grandson and marking him as Christ’s own forever.  There are some in the church who will tell you that only priests can bless.  Yet I feel safe saying that while Ann didn’t anoint all of us, she blessed us all with her love, her compassion, her kindness and her selflessness.  She left her mark on us all.  We will miss her, but her Spirit will always be in this church and this community.  

Bigger Family: Sept 8, 2019

Year C, Pentecost 13                                                                  

Luke 14:25-33                                                                       

            Like many of you, I was disturbed to see the images of Hurricane Dorian battering the Bahamas and I was of course worried for the people of Florida and the Carolinas.  But I have to confess, I wasn’t that worried. I wasn’t overly concerned---until we were in the path of the hurricane and suddenly I was glued to the news because it had the potential to affect me, my family and the people near and dear to my heart.  While that is not a noble admission, I don’t think it’s particularly shocking to hear someone admit that they are more concerned about things that directly affect them than those things that have no direct effect on them.  Humans are innately self-centered.  Our primary concern is our survival and the survival of our family.  While that is normal, it’s not particularly Christian.  To be Christian, is to care for all people, especially those in need. 

            This Gospel text today is painful.  I have had two Sundays off preaching.  The last time I preached, Jesus announced that he had come not to bring peace, but division.  Now Jesus is telling the crowd that is following him, “Whoever comes to me and does not hate father and mother, wife and children, brothers and sisters, yes, and even life itself, cannot be my disciple.” If Jesus was trying to recruit more people to his mission, that was a serious misstep.  There are some things in this Gospel text I can explain that might make this reading a little more palatable.  But to be honest, it’s not supposed to be a comfortable reading.  While there are all kinds of Bible passages that bring comfort and solace, this is not meant to bring comfort. Jesus was many things—but he was not—a people pleaser.  He was a truth teller.  Some of those truths got him killed.

            I often think of this text when people reference family values in the context of the Bible.  The way we think about family values now has very little to do with what Jesus taught.  It’s true that hate is probably not the best translation.  To hate is a Semitic expression meaning to turn away from, to detach from.[1]  In using the word hate, Jesus was not suggesting that we have a disdain for our family, or even a mild dislike.  When Jesus told people they had to hate their family and even their life—he meant that family was no longer to be your priority.  Jesus was very clear on what was to be the priority of his disciples---following him.  When a disciple asked to bury his father before following Jesus, Jesus told him to let the dead bury the dead.  Jesus did not typically give people time to get their affairs in order and then follow him.  The 12 apostles left their homes and family.   Jesus left his home.  While he certainly had a loving mother who he cared for, that love was rarely described in the Gospels.  

            Earlier in the Gospel of Luke Jesus was speaking to another crowd.  Someone told him that his mother and brothers were there and they wanted to talk to him.  He replied, “My mother and my brothers are those who hear the word of God and do it.”  On the one hand, I would think that would have been fairly painful for his family to hear that.  On the other hand, this is the same boy who walked away from his parents at age 12 and went to a temple.  When his parents found him 3 days later he replied, “Why were you looking for me? Of course I would be in my father’s house.”  Now this is not to say that Jesus was cruel or uncaring to his family. I am sure he was a loving son.  But for him, family was bigger than those related to him by blood.  His family was all those who heard the word of God and did it. 

At its essence, that is what Christianity is—it is the creation of a new broader family.  We are no longer merely linked to those we grow up with or those we know, we are linked to all Christians everywhere.  There are other places where Jesus implies we are linked to all people regardless or faith, but here, Jesus is talking about his followers.  That would have been a revolutionary idea at the time, because the Jewish faith was very focused on the family.  Those were your people.  You even married your cousin. Jesus was essentially saying that families no longer had borders.

            So what does that mean? Does that mean we have to love our families less?  Of course not.  But it does mean that God calls us to shift the way we think of our families.  There is no limit to our ability to love.  It’s not like we have a certain amount of love or compassion and we can’t possibly spare more.  God calls us to expand the circle of those we care for, those who we consider family. 

Having an adopted son who doesn’t look anything like me, and has a completely different lineage than I has shifted my understanding of family.  It has not led me to believe that color or culture doesn’t matter. Quite the opposite. What it has done is opened my eyes to different groups of people and different issues, because now, they are mine.   You don’t have to legally adopt a child to understand that.  Families come in all kinds of glorious shapes, sizes and colors. In Paul’s letter to the Ephesians he wrote,  ^“(God) destined us for adoption as his children through Jesus Christ…. to the praise of his glorious grace that he freely bestowed on us in the Beloved.” We are not merely children of God, we are adopted children of God.  We are a mishmash of race, sexual orientation, differing physical and emotional abilities, age, gender---you name it and our Christian family has it.

Typically when a storm passes us by, our initial reaction is to give a sigh of relief and then sometimes thank God that it spared us.  But the thing is, often when we miss the worst of a storm, it’s because the storm hit somewhere else.  Obviously we cannot control where a storm hits, but that doesn’t mean we are powerless.  When you find yourself thanking God for sparing you, your property or people you love, consider those who were effected and try to give something, even in a small way. With this hurricane, it might be giving to Episcopal Relief and Development or any one of the many organizations that provide assistance when disaster strikes.  Because the thing is, we are one big family.  This whole world is one family.  We take care of our family.

---

[1] Luke Interpretation by Fred Craddock p. 181

Jesus and division: August 18, 2019

Year C, Pentecost 10                                              

Luke 12:49-56                                                             

Last week we sang “Let there be peace on earth.”  It’s a beautiful song and always makes me tear up a little.  Given the recent back to back mass shootings, it seemed particularly appropriate.  Peace-- that is what we are about in the Christian faith--- right---promoting peace and love? Then we have the reading today.  Jesus asked, “Do you think that I have come to bring peace to the earth?”  We all think we know the right answer.  It’s so obvious.  We call him the Prince of Peace, at least we call him that near Christmas. Of course he has come to bring peace.  Then he answered his own question, “No, I tell you, but rather division.”  We probably  should have seen it coming given the beginning of our reading for today when he said, “I came to bring fire to the earth and how I wish it were already kindled.” It sounded rather ominous.  But other than that weird comment, this whole idea of Jesus bringing division and conflict is coming out of left field. 

            Well not quite.  Let’s go a little further back in the Gospel of Luke to the moment when Mary and Joseph brought Jesus to the temple when he was 8 days old.  They encountered two people, two prophets.  The 1^st prophet was named Simeon.  We refer to his prophesy as the Song of Simeon.  We often hear it sung around Christmas.  “Master, now you are dismissing your servant in peace, according to your word; 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 glory to your people Israel.”  You probably recognize it. It’s beautiful.  But unfortunately Simeon didn’t stop there.  He looked at Mary and said, “This child is destined for the falling and the rising of many in Israel, and to be a sign that will be opposed…and a sword will pierce your own soul too.”  

Now, the words still sound pretty, because they are in the Bible and those writers had a way with words.  But if you think about it, anyone who is destined to cause the falling and rising of many is going to have a difficult life.  He will be surrounded by conflict.  Simeon specifically said that he would be opposed.   Typically where we find opposition, we find division.

             Therefore, this information that Jesus is providing should not come as a shock.  We had known this might happen since he was 8 days old. But there have also been a lot of references to peace.  When the angels announced the birth of Jesus they sang, “Glory to God in the highest heaven, and on earth peace among those whom he favors!”  It seems like there are a lot of conflicting messages. The angels say that he will bring peace.  The prophets say opposition. 

            Which is it? In some ways, it depends on whether we are talking long term or short term. When the world ends and Jesus comes to raise the living and the dead, there will be peace.  That is what we hope and pray for.  But right now, peace is elusive at best.  If we really thought that Jesus’ goal was to bring peace when he came the first time, we would have to conclude that he failed miserably.  Does the world seem peaceful to anyone?  And if you look at the particular region that Jesus went to, that region has always been plagued by violence. 

I don’t believe that Jesus failed.  I believe that we have failed Jesus.  Jesus told people they could have peace, but everything would have to change.  We would have to raise up the lowly and bring down the proud.  We would have to stop pursuing money and status and instead share with all.  We would have to heal the sick and bind the broken hearted. It should not surprise us that his message was not well received by those in power.  He was opposed, just as the prophet foretold. 

Notice that Jesus didn’t say, “I came to bring violence.”  Jesus and his disciples never used violence. He condemned violence at every opportunity.  But he definitely brought division.  He divided the faith of his family.   He divided the faith that everyone thought he came to redeem.  In doing so, he divided families.  Just look at the disciples; they all left their families. He asked people to make a choice between following him and following the status quo. Whenever we shift from the status quo, there will be more division.

            There is nothing I can say to make these words of Jesus seem ok. We hear these words and recoil.  But consider the people that Luke was writing to.  They were new Christians, many of whom had been ostracized from their families and communities.  They were living in fear.  No one had to tell them that their world was divided.  Yet what they had, was a faith that gave them the strength to withstand the division and conflict  as it was necessary for lasting peace. 

            When we hear Jesus talk about fire, we all think of judgment and the fires of hell.  We don’t like that, especially in the Episcopal Church where we are about love.  However, fire has more meanings than damnation.  It also represents purification, refinement, and God’s presence.  Now frankly, purification and refinement don’t sound very tempting, but fire representing God’s presence is a bit more palatable.  In the story of the exodus, God led the people through the sea with a cloud.  When the Egyptians entered the sea in pursuit, the cloud turned into a flame and the entire Egyptian army was wiped out.  One commentator wrote that in the Exodus story, fire represents the power of God to effect change in the face of formidable resistance.[1]  The change was the people leaving their home and launching into the unknown wilderness. The resistance was the Egyptian army.

            Jesus came to bring peace, but the peace that he brought was so revolutionary, so otherworldly, it felt like judgment and conflict.  And you know, change can feel like judgment at times.  Often when we change things from the way that we have always been doing it, we wonder, well what was wrong with the way we did it before?  And you know what, Jesus was asking people to change.  Jesus is still asking us to change.  One of my favorite quotes, that I probably break out about once a year is, “Jesus loves us just the way we are, but Jesus loves us too much to let us stay that way.”  I wonder if change and even judgment would be less offensive if we understood that it was in the context of God’s love for us as his children and God’s desire for peace for all the children of the world.  God’s not just asking us to change to improve ourselves, but to change for the good of the world.

The song that we all love so much, “Let there be peace on earth.”  Let’s not forget that 2^nd line. “And let it begin with me.”   It doesn’t mean that we stop arguing.  It doesn’t mean that we smile more often.  It means that we do the work that needs to be done to achieve peace. That might be protest. That might be letter writing.  It might be working with the underprivileged in our community.  It might also mean being intentional about interacting with the people who you disagree with. Because while Jesus brought division, he never kept himself divided from people, even the people he knew would kill him. The more we interact with people who are different from us, the closer we can come to bringing more peace into this world.  It is very doubtful that we will see peace in our lifetimes, but we can each bring change.  We can start by changing ourselves.

---

[1] http://www.workingpreacher.org/preaching.aspx?commentary_id=4143  Matt Skinner