We Need More Dreamers: December 4, 2022

Year A, Advent 2                                       Isaiah 11:1-10                                                                                                  

          I am horrible with plants. I love them and I am always trying to grow them, but it just never seems to work out for me.  Therefore, bringing a dead plant back to life seems almost unfathomable.  However, after reading this text from Isaiah about 10 times, I started to wonder if a dead stump could actually sprout. The text says, “A shoot shall come out of the stump of Jesse, and a branch shall grow out of his roots.”  According to my extensive research on two different gardening websites, it’s possible. Apparently, you can grow a brand new tree out of an old stump. 

            Who is this Jesse and why does he have a stump? Jesse was the father of King David.  This stump represented the dynastic line of David.  Clearly things weren’t going particularly well for the House of David when Isaiah prophesized.  A stump doesn’t exactly project strength and vitality.  Israel had been ransacked by multiple enemies by the time the Book of Isaiah was written. The people were exiled, the kingdoms fell. They had a few good and righteous kings after King David, but the line was almost unidentifiable 500 years after King David reigned.  Since our country is less than 300 years old and created without a king, it’s hard to imagine a 500 year dynasty.  Seem like a pretty good run to me.           

            But this dynasty was about more than just leadership.  To some extent, it was about salvation.  It was about God’s commitment to Israel.  The people of Israel were supposed to be God’s chosen people and David was the chosen king.  When all they had was a stump, there was despair.   Yet what today’s text tells us is that this stump still held life within it.  Perhaps that is not the best description.  The stump wasn’t alive as much as it was receptive to the spirit that washed over it. The spirit gave that stump life. It changed everything.

            The first part of our reading is about the transition from despair to hope.  It speaks of a new leader who will be righteous and just.  This leader will receive God’s wisdom, the spirit of knowledge and the fear of the Lord. “Righteousness shall be the belt around his waist, and faithfulness the belt around his loins.”  Of course one of the reasons that we read this in Advent is that Christians believe this is all pointing to Jesus.  And one cannot deny that Jesus was righteous and faithful.  I am not sure that he was the leader people were really hoping for as he ended up betrayed by many of his followers and crucified.  He was not the leader people imagined, but he was the leader people needed.

            The 2^nd half of the reading paints a picture of utopia.  It’s actually a kind of ridiculous image.   I can imagine a cow and a bear hanging out, but a child playing with a poisonous snake seems a little crazy.  Of all the creatures to play with, why a snake?  As you can tell, I am not a fan of snakes.  Of course if you think too much about the image, it loses its appeal.  The point is that this new world has no natural enemies.  Forget about the enemies we create.  There are no enemies at all. The whole natural order is thrown out in this new world. 

            Now part of me wants to say, this image is too unrealistic.  Look at the state of our world right now.  We’ve had 4 mass killings in the last month—and that’s just our country.  This idea of a world with no conflict is beyond our hopes and dreams.  Yet perhaps we have been trained to dream too little.  In our need for realism and attainable goals, we have lost sight of a God who wants us to see something we can barely imagine.  Unfortunately we lose that ability to dream as we age.  We forget what it is to imagine.  This place where there are no conflicts and only harmony is God’s dream for our world.  It’s God’s dream for us.  God wants our dreams to go beyond what we can see.  Isaiah’s vision isn’t a goal to be achieved.  It’s a dream by which we set our course.[1]  One of my favorite prayers is sometimes also used as a blessing. It reads, “Disturb us, Lord, when we are too pleased with ourselves, when our dreams have come true because we have dreamed too little…”  I wonder in our desire for attainable goals and benchmarks, we have lost the ability to see what God so desperately wants us to see.

            Our Gospel reading was brought alive by that powerful depiction of John the Baptist.  John the Baptist is a typical prophet in many ways.  He was delivering hard truths to people who did not want to hear it.  John appears in all the gospels, but it’s only in this gospel when he specifically calls out the Pharisees and Sadducees, the people who were far too comfortable in their lives and confident because of their religious pedigree. 

            I think what was really frustrating John the Baptist wasn’t that the Pharisees were wrong or even immoral.  It was that they had become too complacent.  They were ok with the system as it was because it was benefiting them.  I think it’s fair to say that most of have become a little too comfortable in our lives. There are times, like in the pandemic when changes come that we can’t control and we are forced to change how we live.  That definitely shook a lot of us out of our complacency. But most of the time, we just move through our days quite contentedly.  This isn’t to say that things are smooth sailing or we never have bad things happen to us.  But all in all, we don’t want someone coming in here and telling us that everything has to change, that we have to change. 

            Like Isaiah, John was also trying to paint a picture of a new kind of leader.  He wasn’t presenting some utopian future.  In fact, the way he describes Jesus sounds a little scary. But he knew this leader would be led by the Spirit and would change people--- change the world.  John clearly still had the ability to dream and imagine.  He knew that whatever was going at that time wasn’t right. Too many people were suffering.  So he dreamed of another world.  I think it’s why he dragged people into the wilderness.  He wanted them to get away from their everyday lives, force them to see things from a different perspective. 

            As we age, it’s hard to keep dreaming, but there are moments when the blinders slide a little and we dream again.  Often it’s when we are with babies and children.  Children allow us to hope like we once did. They make us see new possibilities.  They also challenge us to make changes.  I never cared as much about the environment as I did after I became a mother.  Because the more I imagined his future, the more I realized that he was going to be on this earth a lot longer than me and the things I do now can have a major effect on him in 50 years. Children can remind us that there is a future worth fighting for, a future that can and should be better than what we have now.

So it is fitting that we have a baptism today.  Because baptism reminds us not only of the wonder and innocence of babies and children, but also about the renewal that is available to us all. That is why we do the baptismal covenant.  We want to remember who we can be as children of God.

            I want to give you all some homework. I want you to take some time to daydream, to remember what you hoped for as a child and also try to consider what you truly hope for now.  What is God’s dream for you?  Don’t be realistic. Don’t be reasonable.  Don’t try to create a smart goal.  Be like Isaiah.  Be like John.  Just open yourself to God’s dream and then take one step, any step, in the direction of that dream.  If an old stump can grow a new tree…if Jesus Christ can rise from the dead, then surely we can remember how to dream again. 

 

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[1]  https://www.davidlose.net/2016/11/advent-2-a-reclaiming-repentance/

A Safe Place in the Chaos: Nov. 20th, 2022

Christ the King, Year C                                Psalm 46                                                                               

            Chaos.  That is what Psalm 46 is describing.  It doesn’t sound like chaos as they are using poetic words.  In the psalms, a roaring sea is typically used to describe chaos.  It’s a sign of cosmic disorder.  The psalmist writes of the earth moving---earthquakes.  Waters that rage and foam could be any extreme weather.  They didn’t have weather forecasters like we have, predicting what will happen, when it will happen, and then explaining why it happens. It was all a mystery, and thus even more terrifying.  The other symbol of chaos was nations at war.  The psalmist wrote that the nations raged and the kingdoms were shaken.  Chaos.

            I don’t remember a time in my adult life when the world has not seemed a little chaotic---at times, overwhelming so. Just this week we had mass murders on two separate college campuses.  Young  people are traumatized and terrified, and not for the first time. It’s been a particularly bad week in our country.  And of course, there is no shortage of bad weather or nations at war.  Nations are shaken.  The waters rage and foam.

            While the causes of chaos might be slightly different than they were when the psalms were written, I don’t think the feelings were that different. We like to think that people in the Bible lived in relative peace and security. How else could they have such faith in God’s protection? Yet we know that the Hebrew people were rarely at peace.  They were usually at war, often being displaced.  And when things were relatively calm, there was fear and uncertainty.

            Yet for some reason they were able to say, “God is our refuge and strength.”  Is it because they didn’t have any other source of safety and strength? Perhaps. But I think there was more.  I wonder if God’s presence was more tangible then. There were specific places where God was present. The text mentions the “city of God.”  That is mostly likely a reference to Jerusalem.  One of the things that made Jerusalem the city of God was that it was a place that held the ark of the covenant.  Interestingly, the ark of the covenant was built to be transported.  Some think it was never meant to be confined to one place.  Because God was not meant to be confined to one place.

            The beginning of the Psalm is: “God is our refuge and our strength.” It doesn’t say that the city of God is our refuge and strength—but God.  The reality is that no city, no state, no country is impenetrable.  Even our schools have become places of violence. I yearn for something solid, a place or even a moveable trunk that could hold the holiness of God, so I could reach out and touch it, feel that presence in a way that would not require faith.

            In the New Testament, God delivers that divine presence in a unique way.  It’s once again moveable, even transient.  It’s a human body.  Previously the ark of God was protected in a tabernacle. With the birth of Jesus, the tabernacle became flesh and blood. There were no walls of protection, no people standing guard.  Jesus was among God’s people for about 30 years.  That is what I really want, I want God in human form.  I want to be able to talk directly to God, see God, feel God. I don’t want to pray for God’s presence.  I just want it. Then maybe I would feel safe and secure.  We all could.

            But that’s not what we have. That tabernacle, that bodily temple was destroyed.  It was resurrected, but then taken away again.  Now we have no ark, no body.  It feels at times as though we are alone in the chaos.  “God is our refuge and strength, a very present help in trouble.”  We no longer have tangible connections to God’s presence, not like they once had.  However, this psalm does give us some tips, a guide if you will.  “The Lord of hosts is with us…Come now and look upon the works of the Lord, what awesome things he has done on earth.” In some ways we have to try harder to feel God’s presence.  In other ways, God’s presence is evident when we look for it.  We can see it in nature. We see it in people. We see it in the sun that comes through these gorgeous windows.  The psalmist also tells us to “Be still then, and know that I am God.” The Hebrew word that is translated to still can also be translated to “stop or sink in.” 

            This psalm is about finding God in the midst of chaos.  When the waters rage, when the nations are shaken, God tells us to stop. Most of the time, we cannot control the chaos around us.  We try. Sometimes we try really hard and that can makes us absolutely crazy.  My mom and I are worriers. My Dad always asks, “Why would you worry about something you can’t change?”  Rationally that makes sense, but it’s hard.  At some point today, make a list of those things that are stressing you out, that are maybe even creating more space between you and God’s presence.  Then cross out the things you can’t control. I bet you will whittle that list down considerably.  Then find a time or place to soak in some natural beauty, some part of God’s creation and stop.  Just stop.

            One reason we have worship is to provide that opportunity to stop, to sink into God’s presence. While God is no longer with us in an ark or the form of a human, we have the sacraments of our church that allow us to soak in God’s presence.  The definition of a sacrament is “an outward and visible sign of inward and spiritual grace.”  It’s our moveable ark.  It’s why after we consecrate (bless) the bread and wine, we put the left overs in something we call an aumbry.  Some denominations call it a tabernacle. 

            The Gospels tell the story of Jesus being in a boat with his disciples when a great storm descended upon them. The waves crashed. The ocean roared.  The disciples were terrified. Jesus stood and rebuked the wind and then there was calm.  What had once been chaos was now peace.  If you look at the ceiling of many churches, you will see exposed beams.  It almost looks like a ship upside down.  In fact, the proper liturgical name of the part of the church where the pews are located is called the nave.  It comes from navis, the Latin word for ship.  The church is meant to be a place of safety and security where God’s presence is pronounced.

I know that a lot of people think that there is no good reason to have church buildings, that you can find God anywhere.   But (and I know I am biased), I think there is something uniquely holy about churches.  They are places of stillness and calm.  They are place where the sacraments dwell.  And hopefully, they are a safe place, a harbor in the storm for all of God’s people. Because our world is now, and will always be chaotic.  Yet here is a place where we can say with assurance, “God is our refuge and our strength.”

 

All Saints is Complicated: November 6, 2022

Year C, All Saints                                  Luke 6:20-31                                                                           

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

            When Paul used the word saint, he was almost always referring to those who were alive. In his letter to the Ephesians he wrote, “I have heard of your faith in the Lord Jesus and your love toward all the saints…” Here at St. John’s, and in many other churches, we attempt to embrace both perspectives. In the evening, our choir provides a lovely Evensong where we read the names of those in our parish who have died in the past year. 

            At this service we sing, “I sing a song of the saints of God” and we talk about how we can meet them at school, on the sea, in church, in trains and at tea—and then we end by singing, “…and the Saints of God are just folk like me and I mean to be one too.”  I don’t know about you, but I have always interpreted that as, I mean to be one in this life.

            But that is the thing about the Christian life, the line between the living saint and the saint that has died is blurred.  We live in this life—it’s all we know.  But we live this life with a promise of what is to come.  We live knowing that life as we know it could end at any moment. We have all experienced that too many times, someone we love dies unexpectedly or even a personal health crisis that has taught us how incredibly fragile life is and how narrow the line is between life and death.

            A lot of people think that we come to church or read the Bible to learn how to be good Christians/saints, so that we can get into heaven when we die.  But the Bible isn’t a how to manual on heavenly acceptance.  Jesus was a lot more concerned about how we live in the here and now—how we love the saints in our midst. 

            Our gospel reading is often referred to as “the beatitudes.”  You can also find the beatitudes in the Gospel of Matthew.  However, Matthew’s beatitudes are a little tamer, more palatable. Both gospels contain blessings (which in Latin is translated to beātitūdō). However, Luke contains fewer blessings and balances them with woes. Like All Saint’s Day, Luke’s beatitudes are complicated. 

            First of all, they contradict what we think of as being blessed. Usually when someone says that they are blessed, they are talking about something good that has happened.  They just had a healthy child.  They got a new job, a nice house, a clean bill of health.  No one ever says, “I just lost my job. I am so blessed.   Everyone is mad at me. I am so blessed.  I am so depressed…and blessed! I have never heard anyone say anything like that.

            But that was what Jesus was telling his disciples—“Blessed are you who are poor, for yours is the kingdom of God. Blessed are you who weep now, for you will laugh…”  Another way that blessed is translated is to be happy. That makes even less sense.  The best translation that I have found is “unburdened or satisfied.” While that is better than happy, it still makes this text complicated. Usually when people are struggling with money, they don’t feel unburdened or satisfied.  People who are grieving are not unburdened. Sometimes you can tell someone is grieving by the way they walk as if they are literally sinking under this invisible weight. So what in the world is Jesus talking about?

            We aren’t blessed because we are poor or sad or persecuted. We are blessed because in our grief or poverty, we are (hopefully) able to reach out to God, we are able to acknowledge that we need God and that we are nothing without God. That is where the blessing comes in. It’s subtle, but it’s there.

            Luke also has a woe section—“But woe to you who are rich, for you have received your consolation.” This doesn’t mean you aren’t blessed if you are rich. In means that if you find your consolation (or your comfort and security) in your wealth, then woe to you.  Alas, that doesn’t really make me feel a whole lot better because most of us find comfort in financial security. That is why it’s called financial security. That’s not necessarily a bad thing.  But if we put too much faith in that and not enough in God, then our priorities are askew.  Because in the end, money can only do so much. It can’t protect us from grief or illness.  It definitely cannot protect us from death. And when we face those things, we better have some other place where we can find comfort and strength.

            That’s why I think Jesus said that the poor, hungry, weeping and persecuted were blessed.  It wasn’t because their life was easy. In fact, it almost guaranteed that their life was hard. It was because their hope was in God.  Remember who Jesus was talking to in this text—the newly chosen disciples, who had just left their homes, their family and any chance of financial security. They needed to hear this. While I find the beatitudes a lot more challenging than comforting, I bet the disciples found comfort in these words. 

            All Saints Day was first created to commemorate the lives of Christians who were persecuted for their faith and died as a result.  There was a time in the church when sainthood was exclusively connected to martyrdom and how you died.  Today, I think most of us want to be remembered for how we lived. 

            I’ve buried a lot of saints since I have been at St. John’s.  Many of them inspired me with their faith and service.  Yet I think the ones that inspired me the most are the ones who found blessings even in the midst of trials, those who never gave up on God. This isn’t to say that they didn’t question or struggle, but they found strength in their weakness, they found God’s strength.  I have seen that in many of our living saints as well.

And if I have just one hope for each one of you, it would be that—to find blessings not merely in the success and security that life can bring, but also the hard and scary times when we can see glimpses of God’s presence in our lives and the lives of those around us. When we are overcome by darkness, the blessings come in narrow rays of light that break through the broken places in our lives.  Those narrow rays of light might be the most beautiful and life sustaining light we’ve ever seen.

Discerning with St. Francis: October 9, 2022

 Matthew 11:25-30                                  Year C, Feast of St. Francis                                                    

            In the Roman Catholic Church, St Francis is the patron saint of animals and ecology.  He was known for his love of animals and creation.  That’s why we have the animal blessing near his feast day.  Most people also know that he was committed to a life of poverty.  He was born to a wealthy family.  He could have done anything with his life---led a life of leisure if that was his choice.   And he did…for about 25 years. He worked for his father who sold fine cloth and did very well. But he gave it all up.  The story we typically hear of his conversion/transformation is that he was praying in a church in front of a crucifix and he heard the voice of God tell him, “Francis, repair my church.”  However, there was more that led up to that. 

            When he was a young man, what he really wanted, was to be a knight.  He wanted the honor and the glory.  When Assisi went to war with another town in Italy, he got his wish. However, he was soon taken as a prisoner of war and was held for a year.  Like many prisoners of war, he was held in deplorable conditions.  Since his father had money, he was ransomed and returned home, but only after considerable trauma.  Despite the ordeal, his dream of knighthood was not diminished. 

            In 1205 there was a call for knights for the 4^th crusade.  He got his father to buy him all the fancy and expensive armor.  He got on his horse and left, determined to be a hero.  A day into his journey he had a dream where God told him he had it wrong and he needed to return home. Amazingly, he listened.  

Imagine what that must have been like…returning home after 2 days, never even making it to battle.  It must have been a humbling experience.  He knew what God had told him, but everyone else knew him as the man who had gone off to prove himself in war only to return after 2 days.

            It was only after that and then more intense time in prayer that he had his true conversion experience.  Yet even with this profound experience, there was some confusion when God told him to repair his church.  He thought God intended him to repair buildings and that was what he initially did. He sold all he owned and begged, to repair buildings.  It was after years of that when he realized his true calling was to create an order of Franciscans who would live in poverty and served the poor and oppressed.  They had no need of restored buildings.  In some sense, they repaired the heart of the church.

            St Francis has so many things to teach us in his words and actions.  One part of his story that we don’t talk about is how discernment fit into his life and teaching.  Discernment is a word we often use but rarely define. It means trying to understand God’s will in your life.  The prayer we used for the collect today is a prayer written by St. Francis.  “Enlighten the darkness of my heart, and give me true faith, certain hope, and perfect charity, sense and knowledge, that I may carry out your holy and true command.”

I would think that almost all of us yearn for God’s direction in our lives.  We just have a hard time identifying that direction.  It’s comforting to know that St. Francis had this challenge as well.  He made mistakes, he sought glory and honor. He also faced consequences and learned from those consequences. 

            I imagine that when he returned from the crusade that he didn’t fight, people judged him harshly.  He almost surely judged himself. He might have felt like a failure.  This was his dream after all---to be a knight.  Yet in the end, that failure taught him something and can teach us something as well.

            This Gospel text is a famous one, mostly because it’s so incredibly comforting. At one time or another (probably many times) we feel as though we are carrying heavy burdens and long for rest.  A yoke is a tool used when working with animals that are pulling large loads.  The yoke can be used on one animal, or two animals can be yoked together.  Here, Jesus is offering to share the load with us—so that we might be yoked to Jesus. I have always loved that image. Yet there is a part that I have never really paid attention to.  “Take my yoke upon you and learn from me; for I am gentle and humble in heart...”  Learn from me. If we are truly yoked to Jesus, we cannot help but learn from him.  We can see what he sees, experience what he experiences.  When we see, or even just try to see with Jesus’ eyes, then everything looks different. 

            This text is perfect for honoring St. Francis---but not because of the promise of rest for the weary.  That’s important, but that wasn’t what St. Francis was all about. He was intent on knowing God and knowing the people who most needed God.  That requires humility. Jesus said, “Learn from me; for I am gentle and humble in heart…” If God, the creator and savior of humanity can be humble, why is it so hard for us?  Why are we so often convinced that we have the right answers?  I think some people mistake humility for insecurity or low self-esteem.  That’s not what it is.  It’s knowing your worth, but also knowing that your worth, and all that you have is dependent on God.  It’s means relying on God for direction and being willing to learn from all that you have experienced—even your failures. 

            St Francis wasn’t wrong to join the war. It was a step on his path and it helped form him.  Every step on our journeys is an opportunity to get closer to God.  Discernment isn’t a clear and direct path.  It’s a path.  The important thing is that while we are on that path, we are learning from God and about God.  We are praying to know God more deeply. And hopefully, we will have companions on that journey, others who will help us. (Sometimes they will companions with 4 legs who can remind us of what it is to care for another being, and to be loved unconditionally. Often it will be the two legged kind.)  Because it can be an exhausting journey.  But in the end…every step…every step leads us to where we need to be as long as we keep listening, keep learning from God.  

Is God Always Good?: September 11, 2022

 Year C, Pentecost 14                                   Exodus 32:7-14 & Luke 15:1-10                                                        

           We are going to try something right now that we don’t usually do in the Episcopal Church.  It’s called “call and response.”  I am going to say, “God is good” and you will respond “all the time.”  Let’s give it a try.  “God is good.” “All the time.”   I have been in faith communities when they have done this—never in an Episcopal Church of course… And when I hear it, I feel a couple of things.  For a moment, I get swept up in the optimism, the sheer joy.  But then a moment later, I think, “But is he?”  Many of us can think of times in our lives when things seemed so unfair, so desperately sad, we wondered, why is God doing this to me?  Why isn’t God showering me with the goodness I deserve?

            And if you have thought this, that’s ok. The Psalms are full of questions like this.  In the Old Testament, we see a number of examples of when God seems a lot more like an irritable human than a good and loving God.  For instance, was God good when he told Moses to leave him alone so his wrath could burn hot against the people and he could consume them?  He even offered to start a new nation with Moses as the father (rather than Abraham).  That means he was going to destroy the whole group, even though he promised after the flood he would never do that again.   

I will admit that God had some good reasons to be angry.  He was probably expecting that the people would be a little more grateful.  After all, God had brought the people out of Egypt, where they had been slaves.  He had shown them miraculous displays of power and mercy.  God had then given them 10 commandments to follow.  The first commandment was to not to create any idols.  Yet when Moses was delayed coming down from the mountain—where he was talking to God, the people began to panic and asked Aaron (Moses’ brother) to make gods for them.  Aaron complied. 

Now, in defense of the people, being lost in the desert is no small thing.  People die when they are lost in the desert. When your fearless leader disappears on a mountain, that would be fairly anxiety provoking.  So they turned to what they had known for so long…worshipping the most convenient and most accessible gods.  Unfortunately for them, there is nothing that makes God angrier in the Old Testament, than worshipping other gods.   

            God’s reaction is completely understandable to us humans.  We have all lost our temper at times.  But shouldn’t God be above such hair trigger anger?  Fortunately Moses is able to reason with God and this is where things get even more interesting.  Despite the fact that God is determined to punish his people, he is swayed by Moses’ arguments.  Moses reminds him of the promise he made to Abraham.  He basically says, “Remember Abraham? Do you remember how you told him that his descendants would be like the stars of the heaven?  Remember Abraham God?  He was a good guy.  Those are his descendants you are about to destroy.”  God changed his mind.

            This part of the story disturbs some people and I admit that it always makes me a little uncomfortable.  Most of us assume that God doesn’t change.  If God is all knowing and all powerful, he should not change.   Why would he? But when we talk about an unchanging God, we are really talking about God’s character that doesn’t change.  In the end, God is always good.  God is always merciful.  The fact that God was able to change his mind is further proof of his wisdom and goodness.

            If you look at our Gospel reading, you will see God’s character on full display, without any anger to cloud the true nature of his character.  Both parables tell a story of reckless love, compassion and devotion. In the first, Jesus tells the story of a shepherd who searches for the one lost sheep, leaving the other 99 to wander in the wilderness.  The other story is of a woman searching her entire house for a lost coin.  In both stories, the searcher rejoices upon finding the lost item.  The shepherd and woman don’t simply rejoice on their own, no they call their friends and family to rejoice with them.  Jesus then tells those who are listening that there will be more joy in heaven over one sinner who repents than 99 righteous.  In these stories, we see God as patient, determined and merciful.  We see a God who is good, all the time.

            One of the reasons I have a hard time with that phrase, is that I think about how I would feel if someone said that to me at a difficult time in my life.  I imagine someone walking into the ICU and saying, “God is good” and expecting me to respond, “All the time!”  I consider all the times I have counseled someone going through a difficult time and imagine myself saying that—saying “God is good” and expecting the weeping person to respond: “All the time.” It would not go over well.

Yet what I realized is that those aren’t examples of God not being good, those are times when life wasn’t good.  There is a big difference.  It’s tempting to blame God in times when life is difficult or unfair, but it’s important that we remember just because our circumstances have changed, doesn’t mean God’s character has changed.  It doesn’t mean God’s love for us has changed. God is bigger than what is happening in our world right now.  God is definitely bigger than what is happening in our individual lives right now.

 But here is what is astonishing about out God.  Just because God is bigger than our problems doesn’t mean that God is too big or too important to care.  In both our Old Testament reading and our Gospel, we hear of a God who cares deeply for his people, and not just the group, but every single person.  There is a moment in all our lives, perhaps many moments, when we are lost, even the most righteous of us.  God will not give up until each one of his people is found.  God will not give up on any of us until we are found, perhaps found many times. Not only that, but God will rejoice in those moments as well.  God will gather his angels in heaven and throw a party. That’s not just a good God. That is a great God.

Cheap Grace: September 4, 2022

 Luke 14:25-33                     Pentecost 13, Year C

Dietrich Bonhoeffer had a very promising career in academia and the church.  He received his doctorate at age 21 and began teaching at the University of Berlin at 25.  He was also an ordained Lutheran Pastor. Two years after his ordination, in 1933, Hitler seized control of Germany.  Bonhoeffer could have gone the way of the majority of the Protestant Pastors in Germany and sworn allegiance to Hitler while covering the cross with a swastika, which was not uncommon at that time.  Instead, he created the anti-Nazi Confessing Church.  He also started an independent seminary for the Confessing Church.  During that time, he wrote The Cost of Discipleship which remains on many seminary’s curriculum to this day.  While the seminary met in secret, it was discovered and closed after only two years.   

It was soon after that when violence against the Jews became publicly sanctioned and people like Bonhoeffer realized that it was only going to become worse.  He joined a resistance group which was made up of political, military and religious leaders.  One of their accomplishments was providing for the safe escape of seven German Jews to Switzerland.  Unfortunately, that was also the last piece of evidence needed for the SS Guards to arrest Dietrich Bonhoeffer.  He was 36 years old when he was arrested and newly engaged to woman named Maria.

Jesus was known to use a fairly common oratory tactic, that of the hyperbole, exaggeration.  I like to remind people of that whenever they mock me for my tendency to exaggerate, as it is God ordained.  Today’s Gospel reading is a good example of this tactic.  “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.”  This is a little extreme even for Jesus.  Hate, as we often like to say, is a strong word.   

The word that is translated to hate was a fairly common Hebrew* expression meaning “to turn away from, to detach oneself from….”  The text would then read, “Whoever comes to me and does not turn away from father and mother, wife and children, brothers and sisters, and even life itself, cannot be my disciple.”  While this is a little more palatable, it’s still pretty uncomfortable.  I am pretty sure you are never going find that on a book mark or magnet in a Christian Bookstore.  

One of the reasons that people struggle with this text is because it contradicts so much of what we consider Christian family values.  However, the Bible sends us mixed messages about family.  One of the 10 Commandments commands us to honor our mother and father.  But there are also horrific examples of violence against family. The first murder in the Bible is a man killing his brother.  Abraham, one of the great patriarchs of our faith was ready to kill his only son.  There are countless other examples of violence within families in the Old Testament.  While the New Testament lacks much of the violence we see in the Old Testament, it still has some mixed messages on how we consider families.  

The only stroy we know about Jesus as a child is when he leaves his parents so he can worship in the synagogue, never considering how his absence might affect them.  There is a story in Matthew where Jesus appears to ignore his family.  Jesus was addressing the crowd and someone told him, “Look, your mother and your brothers are standing outside, wanting to speak to you…” Jesus replied, “Who is my mother, and who are my brothers?” And pointing to his disciples, he said, “Here are my mother and my brothers! For whoever does the will of my Father in heaven is my brother and sister and mother.” I don’t know about the rest of you, but that would have hurt my feelings…just a little.

There is no doubt that Jesus loved his family and his family loved him.  Even after all his disciples abandoned him, it was his mother who stayed at the foot of the cross.  According to the Gospel of John, one of his last acts was to make sure that his mother was cared for after he died.  Jesus did not hate his family.  What he hated was the fact that so many people put other things or people above God.  Usually when we critique things that distract us from God, we mention things like wealth and success.  Yet, anything, even good things can get in the way of God.  Any time we put something, or someone over God, we are making a compromise in our lives as disciples. 

One of the books of that Bonhoeffer is best known for is the Cost of Discipleship.  In the book he argues vehemently against the idea of cheap grace.  He wrote, “Cheap grace is the preaching of forgiveness without requiring repentance, baptism without the discipline of the community, it is the Lord’s Supper without confession of sin.... Cheap grace is grace without discipleship, grace without the cross...”**    Bonhoeffer had seen all too clearly what happened to a church that chose safety and convenience over the sacrificial discipleship that Christ calls us to.  

For most of his life, Bonhoeffer was a confirmed bachelor, with no intent on marrying.  But he fell in love. During his two years in prison he and his fiancée Maria corresponded regularly.  She urged him to free himself to write emotionally and during that time some of his views softened a little and he went from writing theology to love poems.  Two days before his concentration camp was liberated he was hung.  When the liberators came, they buried or burned all the bodies because there were too many to identify.  Maria wandered Germany for months looking for him because she did not know he had died.  His parents learned of his death when they heard his memorial service on the radio.  His brother and two brothers in law were all killed at different concentration camps within days of each other.  Bonhoeffer loved his family and his family loved him. But in the end, he chose discipleship over them. That is what Jesus meant in our Gospel for today.

Most of us, probably none of us, will have to pay that kind of cost for discipleship.  But we are still called to make sacrifices.   In our Gospel reading, Jesus is telling his followers and all of us that there is nothing easy about the Christian life.  It’s not meant to be easy.  But if you think about your life, I think we often find that some of our most rewarding experiences have been the result of hard work and sacrifices. There will be times when we fall short and can’t make the sacrifices that are required. We can’t all be Dietrich Bonhoeffer.  We definitely can’t be Jesus.  But we can try to follow their example.  When we have an opportunity to choose between what is easy and what is right, we can choose to do the right thing.  We can choose God over convenience.   We can do that because we know that God’s love has already been poured out on us and there is nothing cheap about that.

[*] It was actually a common Semitic expression.   Semitic language includes a wide variety of languages in the Near East.  Hebrew is one the Semitic languages.

[**] Bonhoeffer, Dietrich.  Discipleship. p.44

A Story of a Woman: August 21, 2022

Year C, Pentecost 11                    Luke 13:10-17  & Isaiah 58:9-14           

(This is told from the perspective of the woman in the Gospel of Luke.)                  

          My back was worse than usual today.  It’s always bad. I cannot remember a time when it did not hurt.  But this morning as I attempted to get up off the floor, I felt a stabbing pain, worse than usual.  I confess that I considered lying back down and not coming to the synagogue.  It’s not as if anyone would know if I wasn’t there.  But God would. And so I slowly stood and dressed myself.  It’s hard to get dressed when you are bent over like I am, but I am accustomed to it. It’s been many years like this.  I can’t remember how it happened.   I wasn’t born like this.  It happened slowly. The pain came first.  Then one day I realized I could no longer stand straight.  I could not see the sunrise or the sunset.   The sky was a memory to me.

            I remember the sky. I used to love to gaze at the stars at night and remember the promise that God made to Abraham.  And rainbows, I loved to see rainbows as they reminded me of the promise God made to Noah after the flood.  There are so many reminders of God goodness and mercy in the sky.  I miss seeing those reminders.  Now I see the dust as I walk through the village. I see small rodents and insects.  I see feet and the dirty hems of robes.   But sometimes I see beautiful things, like a stone with brilliant colors, or a cotton thistle with its spiky purple petals, a large puddle that reflects the clouds.  Sometimes, when God is especially good to me, I will see a baby crawling under me.  They look into my eyes and I try not to weep because it is the only time that someone looks into my eyes.  It is a lonely life, but I am never really alone. I know that deep down.  It’s just easy to forget sometimes.

            That is why I go to the synagogue week after week….so that I never forget that I am not alone.  Even if I cannot see reminders of God’s grandeur above me, I can still feel his presence.  I know that I make some people uncomfortable.  They assume that since I have this deformity, that I have sinned or my parents have sinned.  I have sinned, but no more than those who look down upon me, and there are many who do.  Didn’t the great prophet Isaiah tell God’s people to “satisfy the needs of the afflicted?”  I am afflicted, am I not?   I am not saying that all of the religious leaders are bad. Some are wonderful and caring and try to help as much as they can. But there are some who are more concerned about the rules.

            Recently I had heard about a man who was a leader, but also different.  He didn’t wear all the fancy robes.  He prayed at the temple, but he didn’t spend all of his time there.  He was even criticized for eating at the homes of sinners---prostitutes and tax collectors.   There were rumors that he had even healed people.  I knew I would never see more than his sandaled feet, but I hoped, I hoped that I would hear him sometime.  I can tell a lot about a person by their voice. I can tell a lot about a person if they merely bother to talk to me. 

            As I approach the synagogue, I hear a different voice.  It is a voice of someone with authority who is teaching the Holy Scriptures.   This is not unusual.  There are always learned men teaching at the synagogue.  But the way he talks, it’s different.  It is almost like he was talking to me.  Wait, he is talking to me.  I feel hands on my  back as they guide me to him.  I want to cry out in pain as it hurts as they steer me through the crowd, but I try not to.   Finally, I can sense someone leaning toward me, trying to get close to my face, trying to see me.  “Woman, you are set free from your ailment.”

 Those words, they are beautiful, but they can only be words.   Then he puts his hands on my head and slowly lifts my face.  I want to resist as I am afraid of the pain, but as his hands touch me, the pain begins to recede.  It starts with my head, then my neck, shoulders, and then my back and the rest of my body. It happens slowly, gradually, but eventually, I am standing.  And I am looking into his eyes and he is smiling at me.  I see compassion and love in those eyes.

            As I realize the pain is really gone I raise my hands high and throw my head back so I can see the sky, the beautiful sky. I praise God. I am surprised to hear pieces of the prayers that I have come to know by heart in my years worshipping here.  At the time they felt like empty words.  But right now I feel them in a new way.  I am almost embarrassed, but I cannot stop laughing.  I am so distracted I almost miss the synagogue leader reprimanding the crowd, telling us all there are six other days to be cured.  I know I should be worried about his judgment, but I can’t be, because I have been healed.

            Through my laughter and prayers, I hear Jesus respond, “And ought not this daughter of Abraham who Satan bound for eighteen long years, be set free from bondage on the Sabbath day.”  He calls me a daughter of Abraham.  He recognizes me not by my disability, but by my faith.  He has not merely healed my body, he has set me free from bondage.  He has lifted the burden from my tired back.  Just as Isaiah told the people so many years ago, remove the yolk from the people and satisfy the needs of the afflicted.

            I am healed, but the Hebrew people still carry the yoke of the Roman Empire.  We are not free, not in that way.  Some say this Jesus will free us, but I wonder if that is what he is really here for. I wonder if he heals us, so we can help the others who are oppressed—the outcasts, the forgotten. I know that now that I have been healed, I will do my best to serve those who cannot help themselves.  I know that is what Jesus wants of me. That is how I can use my freedom.

 What is it that Jesus wants from you? How can you bring healing to this broken world and the people around you?  As Isaiah writes, how can we be “repairers of the breach?”

Faith in the Waiting: August 6, 2022

 Year C, Pentecost 9                             Genesis 15: 1-6 & Hebrews 11:1-3, 8-16                                

           Before we entered the adoption process, I spent six years going through fertility treatments.  When you are trying to get pregnant, there is a lot of waiting involved.  After I gave up on that and we started the adoption process---that was a whole new waiting game.  The adoption process as a whole took about two years.  After we brought Joshua home, there were 4 more months until the adoption papers came through and he was officially ours.  That was a total of 8 years of waiting for my husband and me.  During that time, there were a lot of desperate prayers, angry outbursts, and times of hopelessness.   The thing about waiting is that it usually involves a loss of control. Because if you were in control, you probably wouldn’t be waiting. 

            But the waiting I experienced, really doesn’t compare to the waiting that Sarah and Abraham experienced.  They waited about 25 years from the first time God promised them children until the day when Sarah gave birth to Isaac.    In our reading for today, we hear of the third time that God made this promise to Abraham.  We don’t know how many years have passed since the 1^st time, but let’s assume it’s been awhile.  We can tell from Abraham’s response to God’s greeting that he’s not delighted about how things are going. 

Notice that God doesn’t bring up the promise of future children.  He simply says, “Do not be afraid, Abram, I am your shield; your reward will be very great.”  It’s not clear what Abraham is afraid of at this time.  He just took part in a military battle and some commentators hypothesize that Abraham is still afraid that the enemy he just defeated will return. 

It’s hard to say as he and Sarah have been through quite a bit since Abraham first heard the promise.  They left their homeland as God instructed them in chapter 12. They survived a famine and a run in with the pharaoh.  Most recently he had fought a battle and saved his nephew Lot who had been taken captive.  Clearly, he hadn’t been twiddling his thumbs while he waited.  Yet despite all that he had been through, all that he had accomplished, he was not satisfied.  God had promised that he would make him a great nation and how could be possibly birth a nation if his wife could not birth a son.  He had amassed great wealth and land, but there would be no son to leave all of this to. 

            So when God told him not to be afraid, he argued with God.  He told God that without a child he would have to leave everything he had to a slave.  God replied with another promise—that he would give him a son who would be his heir.  Then God did something interesting.  He brought him outside.   Often in the Old Testament, God is perceived as this otherworldly being who cannot be seen or touched-- only heard.  But in Genesis, God is very human like.  In the Garden of Eden, he strolled through the garden and made clothing for Adam and Eve.  He wrestled with Jacob.  Here, God seems to be standing right next to Abraham in his home and then walks with him outside and points to the sky.  I love this image of God accompanying someone from a place of light and warmth into the dark and showing him part of God’s own creation. 

Photo by Yong Chuan Tan 

            Once God does this, he makes the promise again.  Abraham’s descendants will be as numerous as the stars.   This time, Abraham believes.  Why?  Abraham asked God to give him something… presumably a sign.  God didn’t give him that. He didn’t even give him any more information. He didn’t give him a timeline or provide a persuasive argument or pep talk.   Nope.  God repeated the promise and showed him the stars.  Why would that give Abraham the faith he needed to continue to believe in this promise that had yet to be fulfilled?

            Our reading from Hebrews says, “Now faith is the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen.”  Hebrews then goes on to use Abraham as the ultimate example of faith.  It was by faith that he was able to obey God and leave his home for an unknown land.  It was by faith that he could believe that even at the age of 75 (which was when God first made the promise) that Sarah would conceive a child.  God never gave him proof.  He didn’t give him a sign.  Instead, God showed him a revelation, the stars….a reminder of what God is capable of.  And so Abraham believed.

            Did that mean that suddenly Abraham became free from doubt and worry?  No.  Only a few verses later, Abraham was arguing with God again.  A few verses after that, we read: “As the sun was going down, a deep sleep fell upon Abraham, and a terrifying darkness descended upon him.”   Remember when God first showed him the stars?  It was night. Now we read that the sun is setting.  It sounds like Abraham and God have been talking and arguing for at least 12 hours.  Then, after all of that, there was still a terrifying darkness.

            Faith may be about assurance and conviction.  But it’s also about fear, anguish and lots of long conversations with God.  After this terrifying darkness descended, God continued to talk and he made a covenant with Abraham.  There in the dark, he made another promise.  I would like to tell you that did it for Abraham….from there on out he believed and never doubted. Alas no.  There were more missteps, more questions.  He even had a child with a slave of his house because he and Sarah needed to take control of God’s promise. 

            However, through it all, Abraham never gave up on God.  He continued to obey God, continued to serve God.  He still struggled with the promise, but he never lost that kernel of hope.  His faith wasn’t a roaring flame.  It was more like that pilot light on the stove that never quite goes out. That is what got him through the years of waiting.

            And here’s the thing about waiting.  Waiting in hope is not wasted time.  While I waited for a baby, I started writing about my experience.  I created wonderful fodder for future sermons.  I got into yoga.  I applied to St. John’s to be the rector.  I am not sure that would have happened if things had gone according to plan and I had two children by 2010.  Maybe it would have, but I can’t be sure. I made progress in those 8 years.   So did Abraham.  Abraham and Sarah built a foundation for the nation that they would one day birth.

            I struggle with this definition of faith from Hebrews.  I worry it makes it seem that if your prayers aren’t answered, then that means you must not have enough faith.  Don’t assume that if your prayers aren’t answered, it means that you don’t have enough faith or hope.  Don’t doubt your faith because you lack conviction and assurance.  That’s not what faith is.  Faith is about never giving up even when everything in life is telling you that it’s time to give up.  Faith is what happens in the waiting…what we do when the prayer goes unanswered.  Faith is a never ending conversation with God that sometimes happens in terrifying darkness.  Faith is knowing that even in the darkness, the stars still shine and God wants you to see them and know that not only did he create these stars, but he stands with you in the midst of that creation.