Holy Desperation: Nov. 28, 2020

 Year B, Advent 1                                                                Isaiah 64:1-9                                                                           

            Typically when we come to the first Sunday of Advent, I find the readings rather jarring and incongruous with the holiday season. First Advent usually comes right after Thanksgiving when people are doing their Christmas shopping and decorating their homes. People come to church expecting some of that same light and joy.  Then they hear readings like the ones we heard today, which are depressing and a little scary. 

If this was any other year, I would start by apologizing for the readings as they just don’t seem to fit where we are right now.  But this year I read them and thought: “Sure, that sounds about right.” The Gospel reading is about the end times, the 2^nd coming of Christ. The sun is darkening and stars are falling from heaven.  There has been more than a few times this year when I have thought, “Yup, this is it. The end is coming.”

            However, the reading that really appealed to me this year was Isaiah.  “O that you would tear open the heavens and come down, so that the mountains would quake at your presence…”  When this was written, the people of Israel were desperate for God to make himself known, to be an unavoidable reality in their lives.  Things were so bad, they wanted God to tear apart the heavens, because he clearly wasn’t on earth with them.           

They knew their history---they knew that there were many times when God had intervened.  Isaiah wrote, “When you did awesome deeds that we did not expect, you came down, the mountains quaked at your presence.”  God had done it before for the people of Israel when he sent the plagues and delivered the people from the Egyptian army.  God toppled the walls of Jericho with just the shout of the army.  God delivered the 10 commandment and fed the people for 40 years with manna from heaven.  God had done marvelous and astounding things. They wanted to know, “Where is that all powerful God now?” 

            When I think of the themes of Advent, I think of preparation, expectation, repentance, waiting and hoping.  These are the tame themes, the ones that work well with the 5 candles of our Advent wreath.  So I was surprised when one of the commentaries I read mentioned that this reading from Isaiah contains two of the major Advent themes and neither were themes I usually consider.  The first theme Isaiah highlights is a deep sense of desperation about a situation that is out of control. I thought, wow, that sums up 2020 pretty well. I mean--- it doesn’t really work with any of our candles, but it fits our current situation to a tee.

Photo by Brian Kairuz on Unsplash

The people of Israel understood desperation. The book of Isaiah tells of a country that was defeated in battled. The land was devastated.  The Holy City (Jerusalem) was demolished. Most of the people were carted off to a foreign land where they were enslaved for generations.  In our reading for today, the long exile was over. They had returned to find a home that looked nothing like the one they remembered, nothing like the stories they had been told. They had to rebuild.  They were weary and they wanted a divine intervention.  They wanted God to burst through the heavens because no matter how scary that might sound, it was nothing compared to their current predicament. 

The first 4 verses demand and insist that God come down and make things right.  But then starting in verse 5 they acknowledged their own sin and seemed to give reasons why God should not come down.  It’s like they had this burst of self-awareness and realized that maybe there was something they should have been doing instead of simply demanding that God fix things.  There is another shift in verse 8. “Yet, O Lord, you are our Father, we are the clay, and you are our potter, we are all the work of your hand….Now consider, we are all your people.”

            In just 9 verses, we can observe massive shifts in the way people perceive themselves and God. It begins with a desperate demand that God display his great power and shake the very foundations of the earth. Then the people acknowledge their own guilt. Then they shift to their relationship with God, the relationship of the creator and the creation, the parent and the child.  That is an intimate relationship, one of trust and love.  And that is the 2^nd theme of Advent that Isaiah highlights--- a bold and confident trust.[1]

            I resonate with this reading from Isaiah, probably more than I ever have before. I understand what it is to go from desperate fear--- to guilt-- to trust and hope—sometimes in less than an hour.  Everything is so unpredictable and chaotic right now. Desperation can do funny things. If we look inwardly at our desperation, that can lead to hopelessness and grief.  If we look to God in those desperate times, that can lead to a renewed appreciation of what God has done for us and continues to do for us.

            There is a part of me that yearns to skip over Advent this year and go straight to Christmas. We have had enough of waiting and preparation.  No doubt, the people of Israel felt the same way.  The themes of desperation and trust might not be what we want right now---but they might be what we need. When this pandemic is over, things will not be like it was before.  The people of Israel returned to a land that had been demolished. It was nothing like they remembered.  They had to rebuild despite their weariness. We will have to do the same.  I know that I will yearn for a quick fix, because really, haven’t we been through enough?  Yet that will not be an option for most of us. 

Maybe this Advent we need to focus less on preparation and expectation and more on surrender…surrendering to our own powerlessness and brokenness.  Allow yourself that feeling of desperation. But in the midst of that desperation, let us remember that no matter how hard rebuilding might seem, we have the creator as our guide.  Our God knows how to create and recreate. It is ok to be desperate (perhaps even necessary), but let us never lose our faith, even when we are in the midst of that desperation.  Let it be a holy desperation—one that leads not to despair but repair.  If we are the clay and God is the potter, then we are never broken beyond repair.  Our world is never broken beyond repair.  Our broken places are places where God’s light can shine that much more brightly.  That light, that is the light that will give us the power to rebuild.

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[1] Texts for Preaching, Year B Commentary p. 2

Risky Business: Nov. 15th 2020

 Year A, Pentecost 24                                  Matthew 25:14-30  

              This is one of those parables that’s a bit confusing.  It starts with Jesus telling a story about a man he refers to as a master.  In this story the master went away and left enormous sums of money in the hands of three of his slaves.  He left 5 talents to one, 2 to another and 1 to the last.  Jesus was known to use hyperbole in his parables and this was a huge sum of money that the master left to his slaves. In Jesus’ time a talent was equal to 20 years of wages for the average worker.  It’s impossible to know exactly what that would equate to today, but 5 talents would have been at least a million dollars. 

The first two slaves traded with the master’s talents and doubled their money.  The last one buried it in the ground to keep it safe. The master commended the first two and punished the third because he didn’t invest the money and make more money for the master.  It is understandable that the master chose to reward the first two slaves who made him more money.   What always troubles me is the reaction he had to the third slave who chose to bury the money to keep it safe.  The master was so angry that he threw him into the outer darkness where there is weeping and gnashing of teeth---which seems like a bit of an overreaction. I mean, this third slave could have lost it. He could have run away with it and never returned. He didn’t do anything like that.  He saved it and kept it secure.  Granted, he did not display the business savvy of the other two slaves, but at least he didn’t lose the money.  

            If we simply read it as a story of financial risk taking, then it would indeed seem like an odd story for Jesus to tell, especially in this part of the Gospel of Matthew.  This story comes grouped with a number of parables that directly precede the story of Jesus’ arrest and crucifixion.  According to the Gospel of Matthew, these were some of his final words to his disciples.  He was preparing them for life without him.  While life with Jesus was certainly no cake walk for the disciples, life without him was an extraordinary challenge.  After Jesus died it was the disciples who had to carry out the Gospel.  That must have been a huge and terrifying endeavor.

The Gospel of Matthew was written in about 80 AD.  Most, if not all of Jesus 12 apostles were dead by the time this story was actually written.  Jesus had been dead for about 50 years.  There were small groups of Christians across the land, but it was barely even considered a religion at this point. We often talk about persecution of Christians in the early church.  But the Romans weren’t persecuting Christians at this point because they were so insignificant in numbers that they were not even a threat.  It was assumed this group would disappear in a generation or so. 

That certainly could have happened—but it didn’t.  Why? Was it because Jesus had left them with a clear structure for church governance? No.  Was it because they had money and powerful people leading the movement? No.  It was because they were bold, tenacious, and convicted.  The early Christians were confident in their belief that Jesus was the one true God and believing in him was essential for this life and the next.  They also believed that he was coming back and was probably coming back fairly soon, which is why there are so many references in the Bible to being ready.  That meant that there was some urgency in their actions.

The Gospels were not merely written to educate people, they were meant to inspire.  Many Christians felt it was enough to simply practice their faith in the comfort of their homes. They saw no reason to try to share the message with others---partially because while Christians weren’t necessarily persecuted, they weren’t respected.  The authors of the Gospels and early church leaders knew that this faith would only survive past the 1^st century if every believer was willing to share the Gospel.  This story of the master and the three slaves isn’t about investing money, it’s about investing in your faith and the faith of others.  It’s about a willingness to take risks for the sake of the Gospel of Jesus Christ.

When the master returned, the 3^rd slave told the master that he buried his talent because he was afraid.  His own security was his priority, not his service to the master.  He didn’t want to take risk because it wasn’t his money and it was all going to the master anyways.  I still think his punishment was a little extreme, but the stakes were high for the early Christian community.  They believed that Jesus was the way and the truth and the life. By keeping that Gospel message to themselves, they were saying that they didn’t care about the souls of others. They only cared for themselves.  If that were the case, and they kept it to themselves, we would not be Christians today. There would be no Christian faith.

Each one of us has taken some risk in our lives.  Maybe you went against your parents to pursue your own dream.  Maybe you started your own business, and took a great financial risk in doing so.  One of the riskiest things I ever did was going through the adoption process, knowing that there was always a chance that the birth mother could change her mind.  What I didn’t realize is that parenting in general is a huge risk because you become responsible for the life of another.  Marriage is a risk because it’s a commitment you make for the rest of your life.  Most things in life that are worth having demand risk. Yet for some reason, we have decided that our faith should not demand risk and courage.  We have decided that our faith should enable security and comfort.   I wish that was true, it would make things a lot easier.

We worship a God who risked everything on a helpless baby being cared for by a teenage, unmarried mother.  We worship a God who asked his son to risk his very life.  And all he gave him was a promise, a promise that death would not be the end.  We worship a God who demands that we too take risks, that we be willing to have our lives a little disrupted for the sake of the Gospel.  I can’t tell you what that will look like for your life.  It looks different for all of us.

Right now, it seems like the last thing we need is more risk in our lives.   Even going to the grocery store carries risk.  Most of are afraid of either getting sick ourselves or seeing someone we love sick.   Therefore when I tell you to take risk, I am not encouraging you to do lick a door handle of a public restroom. I would even discourage touching the handle.  Perhaps, we can each take some time to pray for direction from God.  Risk your own assurance of what and who you are supposed to be right now. Admit that maybe, you don’t have all the answers.  You don’t even have most of them. Sometimes, actually listening to God is the riskiest thing we can do.  

God Plays the Long Game: Nov. 1, 2020

Year A, All Saints                                               1 John 3:1-3, Matthew 5:1-12        

          If you read too much about All Saint’s Day, you will get confused.  It’s kind of a weird day. Most Episcopal churches celebrate it by reading the names of those who have died in the past year.  It’s an opportunity to mourn and remember. Yet the term “saint” is not what we think it is.  Frankly, I blame Billy Joel and his hit, “Only the Good Die Young.” One of the lines is: I'd rather laugh with the sinners than cry with the saints.  He makes a distinction between the sinners and the saints, saints being those who are perfect and boring, while the sinners are… everyone else. 

Now, Billy Joel isn’t completely to blame.  I believe it was the early church that started it.  They wanted to honor those who had died for their faith, the martyrs.  They declared them saints after they died which led to the idea that saints were Christian superstars, the people who were super holy. They might have sinned a little, but definitely not much. 

However, if you read the New Testament (especially Paul’s letters), you will find the definition of saints is far different. When the Apostle Paul refers to saints, he refers to all Christians—not just the really good ones who have died, but all Christians, anyone who has been baptized.  I think it is good and appropriate to read the names of those who we have lost because they were and are saints of the church. They were not perfect, but they were God’s children, just as we are.  It is interesting that we find it easier to identify saints as those who have died, rather than those of us who are still living.  I think that is partially because we still have that idea in our heave of a saint being an extra holy Christian.  But it’s also natural to remember those who have died for their good qualities.  And you know, I have to admit, that when I looked at our list this year, there were several who I knew well and I perceived as especially good and committed Christians, people I would feel comfortable referring to as a saint.  But I doubt most of them would have considered themselves that way. 

Our three readings today effectively depict the various ways we define saints.  The reading from the Book of Revelation considers the future, after Jesus comes again and all are gathered together in paradise.  It’s a very traditional All Saints reading because it is otherworldly/heavenly---and while we know that a saint is any Christian, we still associate this day with those who have passed. 

The Gospel reading (the Beatitudes) is much more relevant to the living saints. It talks about those who are struggling today, right now.  Those who are poor in spirit, those who mourn, those who are meek….they are blessed right now.  It refers to what will be, but the blessing is now.   It even goes further to describe the Kingdom of Heaven as a place we can inhabit right here, right now. “Blessed are those who are persecuted for righteousness safe, for theirs IS the kingdom of heaven.”  Even the kingdom of heaven is now.  The reading from 1^st John combines the past, present and future.  “See what love the Father HAS given us….we ARE God’s children NOW….when he is revealed, we WILL be like him…”

I had a hard time deciding which text to preach on.  If I went with the Book of Revelation, then the focus would be on the saints who have died, the saints we remember today.  If I went with the Beatitudes, then it would be about the living saints.  I was leaning toward the Beatitudes when I happened to read something about Paul.  While Paul is not represented in our readings for today, his description of a saint is a big part of this day. It said a theme of Paul’s writings is, “Become what you are.”  I had never heard that before.  It kind of sounds like something that I would hear in a yoga class, but the more I thought about it, the more relevant it seemed, especially for today.

In fact, it is exactly what our reading from 1^st John is saying, “See what love the Father has given us, that we should be called children of God; and that is what we are.”  It’s refreshingly simple compared to what Paul usually writes.  We are called children of God and that is what we are.  Become what you are.  My friends, we can wait for our death for people to see us as saintly, or we can become what we already are.  We can claim the sainthood that was bestowed on us at our baptism.  Why are we so afraid of that?  Partly we are afraid because we lack confidence in our identity as children of God.  I mean we hear it a lot, but we don’t really take it in. But I think we’re also afraid to claim our sainthood because it means that we have to be more like Christ.  It’s much easier to admire Christ then emulate him. 

It’s ok if we are a little rusty on living like saints, because we will have ample opportunities to claim our sainthood in the near future.  This next week will be one of the most divisive in recent history.  It will divide families, neighborhoods and it even threatens to divide churches.  I know this election is important.  I really am aware of that. But it’s not the most important thing.  Our political leanings cannot define us. Why? Because we are children of God first.  We are citizens of the United States of America.  But before that, we are citizens of the Kingdom of God.   That is our most important citizenship and our most important loyalty. And guess what, God always wins. It doesn’t always seem like that because God plays the long game, but God always wins. Vote. Pray. Be passionate.  But remember who deserves your loyalty.  Remember to whom you belong. You are a saint, in God’s kingdom.  You belong to God.

Photo by Jude Beck on Unsplash

Religion and Politics: October 18, 2020

 Matthew 22: 15-22                                                              October 18, 2020

        At some point in 9^th or 10^th grade, I became obsessed with politics.  I think it was the presidential election that got me interested and maybe living in Northern Virginia, which was so close to Washington DC. I remained obsessed all the way through high school and majored in political science. My honors thesis senior year was on religion and politics. For a long time I have been fascinated by the intersection of religion and politics. One of the things that drew me to the Episcopal Church is the way that it’s governed.  The structure of the Episcopal Church was created at the same time as the structure of the United States government.  It was even created by the same people in the same city.  You will have to take the Episcopal 101 class to learn more, but there are some considerable parallels.          

Despite all of that, I have always been wary of getting too close to politics especially in the pulpit.  I preach the Bible and how it applies to our lives.  Sometimes there is some overlap, but I will never tell you how to vote or what I think of our current tax structure. Yet, I believe that Jesus was willing to confront the political and religious leadership of the day.  Since he was God, he had the right to do that as he had the absolute moral authority.  He deserved that right.

This Gospel reading is a familiar one. People like to depict it as Jesus’ definitive stance on the separation of church and state—as if Jesus had a political platform and this was part of it.  “Give therefore to the emperor the things that are the emperor’s, and to God the things that are God’s.”  The popular interpretation is that Jesus was telling people that there are two spheres with a clear wall in-between them--religion and the government. 

            There are a few problems with this interpretation.  First of all, we cannot compare the political environment of Jesus’ day to ours today…and thank goodness for that.  We live in a democracy, an imperfect democracy, but a democracy none the less.  Jesus was a Jew living in an occupied territory.  Israel was under the control of the Roman Empire. Because they were a people in an occupied territory, they had no rights.  They didn’t get a vote on who their leader was.  Even the Roman citizens didn’t get to choose their leader. They had an emperor—not an elected official. To complicate matters further, the Roman emperor considered himself a god and demanded the devotion of a god. There was no separation of religion and government.  That is impossible when the leader of the government portrays himself as a god. This put the Jews in a very difficult situation because the first commandment is to worship no other god but the one true God. 

            The Romans, while not known for their overall sensitivity, were fairly tolerant of other religions. They knew that the Jewish people would never worship another god.  The Jews would revolt before they did that.  The Romans were able to keep some modicum of peace by not forcing the Jews to worship the emperor.  But they did make them pay a tax…lots of taxes.  Those taxes were controversial because they actually supported the Roman occupation of Israel. The Jewish people were paying to be subjugated.  

In our story for today, there were two groups who came together to challenge Jesus.  We don’t know much about the Herodians.  There is only one other reference to them in the Bible.  People have assumed they were supporters of Herod who represented the Roman leadership. If that was the case, it was odd that they were teaming up with the Pharisees in trying to trap Jesus.  The Pharisees didn’t usually associate with Herod’s people. It just goes to show you how threatening Jesus was to every power structure that existed at the time. 

            They thought that they had the perfect question to trap Jesus. “Is it lawful to pay taxes to the emperor?” If Jesus answered the question in a way that indicated that he supported the tax, he would alienate his Jewish followers.  If he said that they shouldn’t pay the tax, he could be accused of rebelling against Rome.  Instead of answering whether it was lawful to pay taxes to the emperor, he asked for the coin…the coin that would be used to pay this particular tax.  He did not have the coin.  The people asking the question did.  That is an important detail to note.

wikipedia commons

            They brought him a denarius.  We know what was on that coin because archaeologists have found examples.  It had a picture of the emperor with the inscription: “Tiberius Caesar, Son of the Divine Augustus Pontifex Maximus.”  Augustus was a smart man and a very effective emperor.  When he took power, he made himself not only political leader, but a religious one as well.  When he died, he was a declared a god, making his son, the son of god.  It was his son’s picture on the coin.  Even possessing this coin was considered idolatry in the Jewish faith.  It broke the first commandment. The Pharisees should not have even had the coin, but they did.  When Jesus asked for the coin, he was proving that he was not complicit with the Roman government, they were…especially if they were allying themselves with the Herodians. It was a brilliant way to point out their hypocrisy.

            Jesus’ answer to the question wasn’t clear.  I am not sure he meant it to be.  “Give to the emperor the things that are the emperor’s and to God, the things that are God’s.”  Jesus paid his taxes.  We know that from chapter 17 of Matthew.  We also know it because otherwise he would have been arrested a lot earlier.  It would have been impossible to remain in a land occupied by Rome and not pay taxes.  That doesn’t mean Jesus respected the emperor or agreed with the tax. He just knew that was what he had to do.  The more important part of this response from Jesus is the 2^nd half, the half people don’t quote nearly as often.  “Give  to God, the things that are God’s.” We know (in theory) that everything is God’s.  Everything in creation is God’s.  This isn’t Jesus demarcating a separation between God and the government.  Everything is God’s.  Caesar can have his coins, but that’s because God is allowing it.  God doesn’t want part of our love and commitment.  He wants all of it—not just the change in our pockets.

            One commentator summed it up like this, “Live with the emperor but live for God.”[1]  We live with and within the government.  We might ally ourselves with a political party or a certain leader, but that is not our identity---that is not the heart of who we are.  Our heart is with Jesus, the one true God. We can never stop living for God, because then we lose ourselves. 

When we say that God doesn’t have a place in our government or that our faith and our politics can never touch, then I fear that we are missing the bigger picture.  God has no interest in a portion of our loyalty.  He wants all of it and he wants all of us.  Politics is occupying  large part of our attention these days.  Can you imagine if we spent as much time worshipping and serving God as we do complaining about politics? Try it. Just for a day.  Then maybe we will understand what it means to “Live with the emperor but live for God.”

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[1] http://www.workingpreacher.org/craft.aspx?m=4377&post=5458

Rejoice? Peace? Really?: October 11, 2020

 Year A, Pentecost 19                                                              Philippians 4:1-9                                          

            “Rejoice in the Lord always; again I will say, Rejoice…The Lord is near.  Do not worry about anything…”  When I read this, my gut reaction was, “Whatever Paul, you aren’t experiencing 2020.”  I am not proud of that, but I doubt I am the only one who had that reaction.  That said, Paul would never be confused for a Pollyanna.  As I mentioned in my last sermon, everything was urgent and of the utmost importance because all things circled back to Jesus Christ crucified for us.  While 2020 has been a rough year, I haven’t been beaten, shipwrecked, or imprisoned….not once.  Any of you?  But Paul experienced all of that after he became a disciple of Christ.  He experienced each of those things multiple times. He was writing this letter to the Philippians from prison.  Therefore, for him to be able to advise people to “Rejoice in the Lord always…” is rather astounding.

            If you look at the word “rejoice” in Greek, which is the language most of the New Testament was originally written in, you will find it is in the plural form.  He isn’t telling individuals to rejoice because their individual lives are joyful.  He is referring to the collective act of rejoicing.  It’s not a personal state of being, but a communal experience.  This communal joy doesn’t even come from communal good fortune, it comes because of the faith of the community. This is interesting given that it comes right after he has urged Euodia and Syntyche to be of the same mind.  Given that message and the reference to dissension in previous chapters, there is a clearly some division in the community.  It is a concern for Paul, but also an opportunity to a deeper experience of community.   

When he tells these two women to be of the same mind, he isn’t telling them that they need to agree on everything.  We all know that it is impossible.  He is reminding them of what they do agree on.  Right after he tells them to be of the same mind, he reminds them and the community that they have struggled beside him in the work of the Gospel.  Whatever their differences are, they believe in the same Gospel, the same Jesus Christ.  Not only that, but they have given their lives to proclaiming the Gospel, even though it is a struggle.  If they can do that, then they can get past these differences. 

I think the only thing harder than rejoicing in the time of COVID is Paul’ next request: “Do not worry about anything, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your request be made known to God.”  Do not worry about anything—except a pandemic, wildfires, hurricanes, murder hornets, a national recession, racial tension and an election more divisive than any other in recent history. Other than that, it’s smooth sailing.  It’s so annoying when people tell you not to worry because it feels as though they are downplaying a concern of yours, one that they probably don’t understand. The other thing that irritates me about Paul’s advice, is that he doesn’t seem to be able to follow it. Earlier in this very same letter to the Philippians, he said that he was sending his co-worker and minister so that he (Paul) would be less anxious.  But remember, for Paul, it was always about the other.  He was worried for them, God’s people, not about his own life.  He wasn’t stewing about when he would get out of prison or if he would get out of prison.  He was worried for this new Christian community.  So he sent his colleague, a fellow Christian who would carry the Gospel, which would in turn alleviate Paul’s worry.

Paul didn’t deny that there were things to be anxious about, he just didn’t want people to dwell on it.  He didn’t sit there in prison worrying about his friends.  He sent someone, someone he knew would help them and thus alleviate his anxiety and theirs.  “Do not worry about anything, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God.”  For Paul, as long as the relationship between Christians was strong, as long as the relationship to God was strong, then anxiety would never prevail.  It would never be the all-encompassing emotion it can be so often.

The following verse is my favorite part of his letter…the part that comforts me every time I hear it---the part I don’t feel the need to argue with. “And the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding will guard your hearts and minds in Christ Jesus.” We could try to do all the right things, follow all Paul’s advice and every single commandment.  And things could still unravel around us.  There is so much in our lives we cannot possibly control.

Yet God’s peace operates beyond our daily life.  We often hear people refer to inner peace.  I think that’s because people want to hold on to it and claim it as their own.  They want it to be something that they can attain.  God’s peace, the peace that surpasses all understanding is bigger and  bolder than whatever peace we think we can attain and grasp by ourselves.

Paul says that the peace of God will guard our hearts and minds. I love that image. I have never thought much about it until I read a commentary explaining it this week.  It said that the literal translation is “The peace of God will stand sentry over your hearts and minds.”  I read that as I sat on my deck, ½ mile from Norfolk Naval Base as planes flew over my house, so close the pictures hung on my wall are always a little slanted because of the vibrations. I feel safer when I hear those planes and helicopters, knowing that such strength and power is so close and omnipresent.  I wish that I, like Paul, felt God’s peace as strongly as I feel the planes that fly overhead.  I don’t now, but I believe I can one day, I will one day.  That feels more attainable than never worrying or always being happy. The thing about God’s peace is that like so many things Paul discusses, it is best experienced communally.  God’s peace doesn’t just guard us…it guards everyone. If we can accept that, then we will know that God’s peace isn’t simply guarding us, it is enfolding us.

REMEMBER THE BIG PICTURE: September 27, 2020

Year A, Pentecost                                                                               
Philippians 2:1-13                                                                           

                                                                             

           The Apostle Paul was in intense man. He was not the kind of person you wanted to bring over for dinner for casual and enjoyable conversation.  Sometimes I like to imagine what he would have been like in an age of e-mail and text.  There probably would have been a lot of ALL CAPS, and cross emoji✞✞✞✞✞✞✞✞✞. For Paul, everything was urgent and significant. Most points that he made eventually came back to the cross. 

 Paul was most likely writing to the Philippians during one of his imprisonments in Rome. He knew the community he was writing to and was obviously fond of them. He had been to visit them before and was hoping to return. It doesn’t appear that they had any major issues like other communities Paul wrote to.  He commends them for their obedience.  But they weren’t perfect. There was clearly some dissension in the group.  There is evidence of that in our reading for today.  Paul is even more explicit in the 4^th and final chapter of this letter when he mentioned two women and encouraged them to “come to an agreement in the Lord.”  Paul was incredibly concerned about the unity of the Christian community.  We see that theme over and over in his letters.  He didn’t need everyone to agree all the time, but he wanted people to care for one another and live alongside one another, even when they were disagreeing.

In our reading for today, it’s not clear what the dissension is. He says, “be of the same mind, having the same love, being in full accord and of one mind.  Do nothing from selfish ambition or conceit, but in humility regard others as better than yourselves.”  He goes on to talk about the importance of considering the interests of the other above your own interests.  This has come up a lot lately in our readings from Paul.  For him, it was always about the other, never about the self.  That was something he was continually preaching.

That’s a tough pill to swallow because it is contrary to everything we experience in this day and age.  I mean, most of us walk around glued to a device called an “iphone.”  However, we know from reading Paul’s letters that even before Apple products, people were preoccupied with themselves.  Otherwise, Paul would not have had to talk about putting the needs of the other above your own as much as he did. 

What makes this text distinct from the ones we have been reading over the past few months is verses 6-11.  They are familiar verses because we hear them every Palm Sunday.  “Though he was in the form of God, he did not regard equality with God as something to be exploited but emptied himself…he humbled himself and became obedient to the point of death---even death on the cross.”  This is often referred to as a Christological hymn, which means it was essentially a statement of belief about who Jesus was.  It’s an interesting thing to put in the middle of a letter—it almost seems out of place.

But that is the beauty of Paul.  Paul felt that every problem, every disagreement could be solved by knowing Jesus and knowing the sacrifice that Jesus made for God’s people.  You don’t agree on what traditions to follow in this new community, remember that Jesus died for you.  You are having some leadership disputes, remember that Jesus was a born a human and died a horrible death, for you.  It almost seems a little manipulative, as if nothing we face compares to Jesus’ sacrifice.

It was more than that for Paul.  For Paul, every issue was theological. In other words, it always came back to Jesus Christ—but not just the name of Jesus, but who he was and what he did.  How can we squabble about who gets to make decisions or be in charge when Jesus (God in the flesh) agreed to come down to the earth, be born in a barn, live like one of us, then be betrayed, denied and ultimately killed by humans who he was trying to save.  He truly emptied himself of privilege and to some degree power by living with us on earth.  So when Paul says, “Let the same mind be in you that was in Christ Jesus…” he is talking about embodying Christ by emptying ourselves from selfish ambition.  It’s the opposite for being full of oneself. 

            Apparently there has been significant debate about what Paul really meant when he said, “Let the same mind be in you that was in Christ Jesus.”  Was he saying that we have to follow his example, perhaps even make the same kind of sacrifice?  I think it is more than that---because it is so easy ignore that.  Who wants to follow Jesus’ example of death on the cross? It’s impossible.  If that is what we have to do, it’s tempting just to give up.

 What if Paul was talking about something deeper…the idea of being in Christ.   It comes back to the mission statement of St. John’s: “To live in the Spirit of Christ.” That is more than following an example.  It is living the Christian life knowing deep down what Jesus did for us.  It is being transformed by that understanding of radical love and acceptance. 

Jesus is not a role model to follow.  Jesus is the way, the truth and the life.  Often times when I am facing a difficult decision, I start combing through the Bible, hoping I can find the verse to convince myself and ultimately everyone else.  But you know what, that almost never works.  What might be more effective is too back up and look at the big picture like Paul does.  Don’t ask what would Jesus do.  Ask: What does a person transformed by Jesus’ sacrificial love do?

Throughout our Sunday morning liturgies and virtually every other liturgy of the church, we have reminders of who God is and what has done for us.  If you just look at the Eucharistic Prayer, it is full of prayers to remind us of who Jesus is and what he did for us. What if we extended that idea beyond Sunday morning and found a way to remind ourselves of the way and the truth and the life, every day. The last verse of our reading reminds us that God is at work in us, enabling us to do God’s will.  God is at work in us---- but we also need to make space, empty ourselves so God can do that work.  We need to remind ourselves of the sacrificial love that God poured out for us, his children. 

In a time of our lives where everything is different—nothing goes according to plan—hold fast to Jesus Christ.  Perhaps find a Christological hymn for yourself, something you keep coming back to.  It could be the one we had in our reading for today.  It could be “Christ has died. Christ is risen. Christ will come again” from our Eucharistic prayer.   Write it down, put it on your iphone as a daily reminder. Embrace it as the part of our world that doesn’t change, that remains true and holy.  Embrace God as not simply part of the world, but a part of who you are, the best part.  Don’t let anyone or anything take that part away from you.  God is bigger than any disagreement or conflict the world will ever see, as long as we give him the space.

For the Good of the Whole: Sept 13, 2020

Year A, Pentecost 15                                                            Romans 14:1-12                                                                                    

           If you had asked me one year ago, if I would ever use this tacky gadget to distribute communion, I would have told you, “Absolutely not.”  If you would have told me a year ago that we would go 7 months without receiving communion, I would have declared you to be slightly insane and definitely not Episcopalian.  If I knew there would be no congregational singing, I would have started predicting the apocalypse.  Every business, family, group, school, has seen such changes in the last 7 months—changes they never imagined they would have had to make.  When you compare the changes the church has made to the rest of the world, they don’t seem very radical.  But all of us here know that the church has never had an easy time with change. While all of this change has been unsettling to say the least, the experience has also helped us determine what is truly important in the church, in our faith and in our lives.

            The church has not always succeeded in seeing the bigger picture.  Like humans everywhere, we get bogged down by the details. Since Jesus’ ascension into heaven, the church has been led by humans…well meaning humans, but imperfect.  We are also different from one another. God created us to be so.  It makes life beautiful and interesting; it also makes it a challenge to live in community. It comforts me to know that even Paul and the earliest Christians struggled with coming to terms with their differences and how to manage in a new community, based not on ethnicity or social class, but belief in Jesus Christ.

            Much like the Christian Church today, the church in Rome was a mishmash of people.  There were the Jewish converts who were holding onto to the traditions of the Jewish faith. There were the pagan converts who were trying hard to let go of their old ways.  There were people like Paul, who had grown up Jewish, but were ready to follow the new covenant that Jesus had established. These people were not as worried about following all the rules they once followed.  They had found a new way to be, a new way to worship.  All of these people from different backgrounds and faiths were trying to live and worship in one community that had little structure and no tradition to fall back on in times of uncertainty. 

            In his letter to the Romans, Paul speaks of the weak and the strong.  As a vegetarian, I have to admit, I don’t appreciate Paul’s comment on the weak eating only vegetables.  However, he wasn’t talking about vegetarianism. The reason these people were eating only vegetables was because they were worried about how the animals were slaughtered.  The people who were pagan converts did not feel comfortable eating an animal that might have been sacrificed in a pagan ceremony.  On the other side, the Jewish converts were concerned about keeping the dietary laws of the Torah.  Just because they believed in Jesus now did not mean they were willing to throw out all the laws that were given by God to the Hebrew people.

 Both of these groups had religious reason for avoiding meat. The reason these vegetable eaters were being labeled “weak” was because they were unwilling to move away from these old rules.  They were worried about the letter of the law, but not the purpose.  It is easier to obsess about superficial things, like what we eat and drink, then who we love, and how we show that love.  What was interesting is that while Paul associated with the strong, he told those who were strong to make compromises (like avoiding meat) so that the faith of the weak would not be shaken.  For him, it was worth making small sacrifices for the sake of the other.

            For a very long time in the church, we have been arguing about things that some might consider are on the periphery of our faith.  Easy examples would be things like the color carpet we are  using or whether we demand that ushers wear a coat and tie, or whether we kneel or stand at certain times of the service, or even if we have communion wine in the midst of a pandemic. I think we can agree that those things are not critical to the faith.  But the problem is that we cannot always agree on what is and is not critical to the faith.  Something I might consider periphery, you might consider incredibly important.  If you read Paul’s letters, you will see the areas that he considers critical to the faith.  There are also some things (like what we eat and drink) that Paul determines are not critical to the faith.  One thing that is consistent for Paul is the importance of caring for the community and for our neighbors.  Paul’s concern is not for the self, but for the other. 

            Over the course of this pandemic, many of us have realized how important community is.  We have realized it because we have missed it and yearned for it.  We have also yearned for the sacraments in the context of the community. The one thing we have never lost during this pandemic is Holy Scripture.  This experience has given me a greater appreciation for scripture, but it has also reminded me of how hard it is to apply scripture to our daily life.  How do we use it to consider present day issues? In many ways, that was what Paul was struggling with, how to apply the Hebrew Scriptures (Old Testament) to disagreements in the new Christian community. 

            A year or so ago we used a book in Christian formation called “Making sense of the Bible.” The author used a really helpful analogy in how we determine what is and what isn’t critical to our faith. He said that the Great Commandment (which is “You shall love the Lord you God with all your heart, soul and mind and love your neighbor as yourself.”) is like a colander. You put all the other verses of the Bible through that colander.  If the verses aren’t consistent with Jesus’ Great Commandment, then they drain through.  What remains is what is critical to our faith.[1] For example, verses about slaves being obedient to their master would filter through.  Verses about parents beating their children would filter through. Verses about women covering their heads in worship would filter through.  It doesn’t mean we erase these verses from the Bible.  It just means we don’t use them to defend our actions, because they are not consistent with the Great Commandment.

            This analogy made a lot of sense to me and it is also consistent with what Paul said in his letter to the Romans. I am sure we could still find things we disagree about in terms of what does and doesn’t filter through the colander, but it provides a helpful baseline, unless we are talking about carpets, in which case we can just be grateful we don’t have a carpet in the church.  One thing I think we can all agree on is what Paul says about the danger of judging one another: “Who are you to pass judgment on servants of another? It is before their own lord that they stand or fall.  And they will be upheld, for the Lord is able to make them stand.” We will disagree at times.  Sometimes we will have to make compromises that seem anathema to us.  The way we stay together through whatever may come is to try desperately not to judge one another.  Remember that in the end, we all fall short of the glory of God, it is only God’s grace that allows us to stand. 

 

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[1] Hamilton, Adam. Making Sense of the Bible. Page 176.

Genuine Love: August 30, 2020

Year A, Pentecost 13                                                     Romans 12:9-21      

              When I was in 10^th grade, I decided to take on a new discipline for Lent. My plan was to go out of my way to show kindness to someone who I felt had wronged me.  This started as a genuine attempt to follow Jesus’ and Paul’s words regarding love for our enemy.  But here is where I went wrong, I told a number of people what I was doing.  So everyone knew that the person who I made cookies for was someone who had really ticked me off.  And it went as far as to make the recipient of my kindness a little paranoid.  I will be honest with you, at the time, it was extraordinarily gratifying.  I was doing the Christian thing while also delivering a clear rebuke to my enemy.  In the back of my head, I had some doubts that what I was doing was the Christian thing because I was pretty sure (even at the age of 15) that loving my enemy wasn’t supposed to feel this good.  That knowledge did not change my actions.  Now, I know I was doing exactly the opposite of what the apostle Paul was telling people.  He wrote, “Let love be genuine…”  There was nothing genuine about that display of love.

            But in my defense…what makes love genuine anyways? I mean, that can be hard to decipher. Well, not really…not if you actually read the rest of this chapter from Romans.  There is lot of explanation in these 11 verses.  I could preach a sermon for every verse, but I am only going to reference the ones that help define genuine love.  “Rejoice with those who rejoice, weep with those who weep. Live in harmony with one another; do not be haughty, but associate with the lowly; do not claim to be wiser than you are.”  Those first few exhortations seem like they should be easy.  Rejoice with those who rejoice.  That’s easy if it’s a birthday or an anniversary.  But what if someone is rejoicing over a new job, a job that you wanted…or a promotion, a promotion you will never receive. Or…the election of a candidate you don’t support. The same year (in 10^th grade) when I had that Lenten practice, I wore black for a week when the candidate I supported didn’t win. I was that mad and I wanted everyone to know it.  Therefore, I am well aware of how hard it can be to rejoice when you don’t feel like rejoicing.

            That brings me to the next part of genuine love—humility.  “Do not claim to be wiser than you are.”  Have you ever noticed that the truly wise people are those with the most humility, the people most willing to admit that they’ve been wrong a lot and probably will be wrong more in the future? They are not the overly confident know it alls.  They are the people willing to listen.  And man is that hard in an election year when so many of us know exactly how right we are, and how clearly wrong the opposition is.  If we can love people, even when we disagree with them fiercely, then we know we have found genuine love.  And I don’t mean the kind of love where we say, “I love them but I can’t stand to be in their presence right now.”  Nope.  I am pretty sure that doesn’t count. 

            Now, it’s ok if you aren’t there right now.  Paul never said this was easy. You might need to take baby steps toward that genuine love. You might even have to say, I might not get there in this election cycle.  But there is a clear beginning in the path toward humility---that is to admit that we don’t know as much as God.  Start there. It seems obvious, but I think we forget that a lot. 

            “Do not repay evil with evil.”  This is tricky, because so far we have been talking about how to genuinely love people who we already love or have some affection for.  But this is Paul assuming that we are not just talking about people we already have a good relationship with, but people who we don’t even like...people who may not necessarily be evil, but do evil things.  Paul is saying that if our love for God is genuine, then we won’t respond to evil with more evil.     That almost seems like we are being asked too much---few people can be that selfless.  Yet a few verses later, Paul returns to this idea. He closes with, “Do not be overcome by evil, but overcome evil with good.”  When we respond to evil with more evil, we are not merely hurting the other person, we are hurting ourselves. Someone once said that “Resentment is like swallowing poison and waiting for the other person to die.”  We could say the same of repaying evil with more evil.   If we are repaying evil, it means that we are carrying it around in our soul, and that is a dangerous place for evil to reside. 

            There is a specific line in this reading that is rather confusing.  Paul writes, “if your enemies are hungry, feed them; if they are thirsty, give them something to drink; for by doing this you will heap burning coals on their heads.”  When I first read this, I thought this was Paul’s humanity coming out a little---that he was saying, “If you show goodness, don’t worry, your enemies will get what is coming to them.”  But that interpretation probably said more about me than Paul.  One commentator suggested that a better interpretation is that genuine love and action has the potential to bring about repentance in your enemy.  Repentance is often associated with the refiner’s fire.  It is not a fire that burns to punish.  It burns to purify.   Good deeds, genuine love---can burn away the heat of the enemy.[1]         

     

       Let us love our enemies not because they deserve to be loved, not because they have earned our love, but because God has taught us that this is the only way to overcome evil.  It is the only way to defeat the darkness that surrounds us.  It is the only way to heal the fissures in our hearts and souls.  It is not merely about treating others better, but it is the path to redeeming ourselves.  Genuine love isn’t only about how we love others, it’s how we love ourselves and more importantly, how we love God. 

            Paul was particularly sensitive to the need to love the enemy, love those who persecute you, because he had been a persecutor of Christians. He had been the enemy.  Then God showed him love and Christians gave him the chance that he didn’t deserve.  He was redeemed as a result of that love.  While I don’t think any of us persecuted Christians like Paul did, most of us have embodied the enemy at one point in our lives.  But the amazing thing about our faith and God’s love for us is that we never stay the enemy for long.  Redemption is as close to us as the words in our mouth are to our heart.  Let love be genuine, because that that is the love that will not merely hold the darkness at bay, it will defeat the darkness. 

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[1] Achtemeier, Paul. Interpretation Commentary on Romans, page 201.

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