What it means to be chosen: Oct. 15, 2023

 Year A, Pentecost 20                                               Matthew 22:1-14                                                          

The news from Israel and Gaza has been devastating and overwhelming.  It has resonated with Americans given our close ties with the region over the years. We also feel a connection as Christians.  When we read the Gospels, we are reading about the same places that we see in the news.  We, along with two other faith traditions, consider this holy land. And while it is heart breaking and overwhelming, it is not new.  I often hear Christians remark that they are not particularly fond of the Old Testament because of the violence.  Yet we see violence in the stories that Jesus tells as well.  We don’t like the violence.  We can even try to ignore it, but it’s there---just like it’s in our world.

Last week we had violence in our parable, but it seemed a bit more one sided. If you recall, the violence came from the tenants of the land and the other side (the landowner) didn’t respond with violence.  In fact, the landowner responded in what seemed like a foolish way, he sent his son.  Today’s reading is different.  The king is throwing a wedding banquet for his son.  And he is not pleased with the negative responses to his summons.

In Jesus’s day, wedding invitations were a little different than they are today, especially royal wedding invitations. They would send the invitations out ahead of time without a specific time mentioned. Then when the day came, the servants of the king would go out to the invited guests and summon them when the feast was ready.  Yet in this instance, when the servants of the king went to the guests, they refused to come.   Not only did they refuse the invitation, some beat and killed some of the servants.  As you can imagine the king was upset. He was insulted as a person, but especially as a king. 

But unlike the owner of the vineyard last week who merely sent out more servants to be beaten and killed, the king in this story sent out troops to kill the murderers and burn the city.  This seems a little harsh, on both the part of the guests who beat the servants and the king who burned the city.  On the one hand, it’s understandable that the king would be upset.  But why burn the whole city? 

You know what scary part is, those kinds of reactions happen all the time.  Someone gets offended and they respond in a totally disproportionate manner.  Jesus liked to tell stories that people would identify with, and sadly, the audience would have identified with this volatile reaction.  Even today, while it seems harsh, it feels familiar.

But here is where Jesus throws in the surprise twist…the part that would seem completely strange to the people listening at that time.  After the intended guests turned him down, the king decided to invite everyone and anyone.  This is held up as an example of God’s hospitality and even a model of how we can welcome people today.  For those of us hearing this story now, those of us who have heard of the abundant love of God, the story starts to make sense.  Maybe, just maybe, this parable can be redeemed.

Alas no. Jesus throws in another twist.  Someone had the audacity to join the feast without the fancy wedding robe. The king questioned him and the when the guest remained speechless, the king threw him into the outer darkness where there would be weeping and gnashing of teeth.  That sounds like an overreaction. 

Didn’t this king just bring people in from off the street? How could he expect them to have a wedding garment at such short notice, especially if they didn’t have the means? This is when we have to remember, that parables were not events that actually happened.  They were stories Jesus used to explain a deeper truth and challenge the status quo.

This story isn’t about wedding attire.  If it was, then no one would have had the proper attire.  All were summoned at the last minute from off the street.  This man could not have been the only one who had not come prepared.  Some commentators point out that in a circumstance like this, the host would provide the wedding garment for all guests.  This would mean that this person who was not wearing one had chosen not to put on what the host provided.  This would explain why he was singled out.  He had accepted the invitation, but then refused the gift of a new garment. 

The last line of this parable is one that makes us cringe, because it doesn’t sound like the Jesus we know and love.  He said, “For many are called, but few are chosen.”  If you think this sounds wrong, I would agree.  Perhaps a better interpretation would be, “Many are invited, but few choose to stay.”  Being called is the invitation that God provides to all of us.  We are all invited to the banquet.  We are all invited to be children of God.  Yet it is our choice whether we accept that invitation.  The man in this story was willing to come to the table, but he wasn’t willing to change.  In Galatians, Paul says that we are clothed in Christ.  That sounds lovely.  Unfortunately, it’s much harder than simply changing our clothes. God wants us to change our heart and our actions.  God is looking for a transformation.

One of my favorite quotes (and no one knows who first said it) is, “God loves us just the way we are, but God loves us too much to let us stay that way.” It’s true that God’s love for us is abundant and all encompassing.  But God also has expectations for what we do with that love.  If we accept God’s love, we must then love others…not just in word, but in action.  If we accept God’s love, we cannot simply witness violence and say, “Well that’s just the way it is.” And we can’t accept our own faults and refuse to change, because then we just end up wearing our guilt and shame like chains. 

While we are wrapped in the chains that we have refused to loose, God holds the lightest most beautiful garment we could possibly imagine. My theory is that this wedding guest wasn’t ready to let go of his own guilt and shame.  Maybe he didn’t feel like he was good enough to wear this beautiful wedding robe.  Maybe he felt like he couldn’t possibly deserve what he had been given.  So he refused to even try it on. 

We are all worthy to embody the love of God.  We are all worthy, no matter what has happened in the past, even if the past is this morning.  We are all worthy. The question is, can we believe that? Can we act in a way that shows we have accepted God’s love? 

We can. I know we can.  Yet it’s not as easy as simply changing our clothes. It’s slow process…more like releasing chains than changing clothes.  Sometimes we even put the chains back on because their heaviness protects us in some way, protects us from the freedom and love that both draws us in and terrifies us. That’s one of the reasons we have the confession every Sunday. Because we need weekly (maybe hourly) reminders that God’s forgiveness is ours if only we ask.  Redemption is ours if only we seek. It’s a journey.  It’s an arduous journey.  But it’s not one we take alone.  We make that journey with one another and with God. 

What we cannot do is give up.  We remove one chain at a time, and when they pile up again, we ask someone else for help.  You are worthy of God’s love. Israel and Palestine are worthy of God’s love.  All are worthy of God’s love.  Can we act in a way that shows we believe that?  Can we? We can— with God’s help, we can.

We Press On: October 8, 202

 Philippians 3:4-14                                               Year A, Pentecost 19                                                             

One of the things I have always appreciated about the Episcopal Church is that many of us seem to be comfortable in the gray areas.  We embrace the questions.  And as someone who has always had more questions than answers, I felt at home in the Episcopal Church.  I was raised Roman Catholic and my questions were not always appreciated by the clergy and Sunday School teachers.  Fortunately I had parents who encouraged my questions and never shut me down, which really helped my faith life. I love that the Episcopal Church has doctrine, liturgy and a commitment to scripture, but still encourages critical thinking and an open mind. 

Yet sometimes…I long for the certainty that so many Christians seem to have.  My first year in college, I joined one of the Christian groups on campus, which was almost exclusively made up of Evangelicals.  They were friendly and outgoing, which made it an easy group to step into, for me at least.   Often the events would center around a talk about a person’s conversion experience. Despite my doubts and uncertainties, I loved those stories because there was so much joy and confidence.  I craved both of those things.  That is the model we often see when people present life before and after they have been born again or committed their life to Jesus.  Before there was darkness and suffering, then there was light and joy.

            A lot of people hold up Paul’s conversion story as the quintessential conversion story.  There he was, a man who was actually persecuting and imprisoning Christians.  And then one day, he was simply walking down the road and a bright light came from heaven and he was knocked own.  Then a voice came from heaven and asked, “Saul, Saul, why do you persecute me?” After that--- the same voice (Jesus’ voice) gave Paul instructions on what to do next.  If that wasn’t dramatic enough, he was then blinded and his eyes were only opened when he was baptized.  It’s like a recipe for the perfect conversion. How could there be any room for doubt after that? 

Here is the interesting thing, that dramatic story is in Acts of the Apostles.  Paul didn’t write Acts of the Apostles.  I am not implying that it’s not an accurate story, but it is curious that Paul never told that story in the many letters he wrote. He talked about his conversion, but it was much more nuanced.  In fact he didn’t use the word conversion.  It seems to me it was more of an experience and then a change.  It was a journey.  Paul nor Acts ever used the word conversion. For Paul, that experience and change didn’t give him all the answers, nor unmitigated joy.  It gave him more questions, but also the ultimate answer, which was Jesus Christ.

Today’s reading from Paul begins with what appears to be an elaborate humble brag.  It’s so much more than that.  He was showing that before his Jesus experience he had the ultimate confidence in his own abilities, his knowledge.  He didn’t have any questions or doubts.   After he heard the voice of Jesus question him (remember that’s how the whole thing started, Jesus asked him a question), then all his knowledge, education and pedigree was considered a loss.  He lost all the confidence and arrogance and instead discovered the love, but also yearning that comes with knowing and being known by Jesus Christ.

One of the other things I always appreciated in those conversion stories I heard in college was the joy.  Paul talks about joy, but I am not sure anyone would call him a joyful person.   Many if not all of you know that Good Friday comes first and then comes Easter.  Good Friday is when Jesus suffered and died.  Easter is when he comes back to life and then everyone is joyful.  Yet note what Paul says, “I want to know the power of his resurrection and the sharing of his sufferings by becoming like him in his death…”  The resurrection (Easter) comes first and then sharing in suffering comes second.  Paul, one of the greatest theologians and evangelists of all time, seems to have it backwards.  According to Paul, first comes resurrection and then suffering.

Well I don’t know about you, but I will take joy and confidence over suffering any day of the week.  Sometimes I am baffled that Paul brought so many people to the faith because he didn’t sell the Christian faith well.  Perhaps, what spoke to people was that it was real.  Life doesn’t get easier once you commit your life to Jesus.  It gets harder. Yes, there is immense joy in knowing that God loves us deeply and unconditionally, but Jesus also tells us that we have to open our heart to the suffering in our world. So even if we don’t have personal suffering (which is unlikely), we are called to care for those who do…we refuse to close our eyes to the injustice in our midst and then act in a way that will bring about justice. All of that is hard…but I don’t want to be part of a faith tradition that refuses to acknowledge the pain in our midst.  Since you are here, I don’t think you want that either.

Before I end, I have to clarify that I don’t look down on Evangelicals.  A good portion of my family is Evangelical and they care for the suffering.  They don’t pretend to have all the answers.  When I was in college, those talks were coming from college students.  My guess is that if I tracked those people down, they would admit to some questions and doubting after their conversion.  They would tell me there journey was just beginning.  Even the pope, who so many people go to for answers, has said publicly that doubt can help us understand God better.

While I respect the denominations that focus on certainty, I still prefer the way we do it in the Episcopal Church.   I have never found a single Episcopalian who has made me feel bad about my questions and doubts.  Never.  While I find these words from Paul challenging, I also find them comforting. Because I still have a lot of questions. In 2 months, I will have been ordained for 18 years. If you had asked me 18 years ago if I would have more answers in 18 years, I would have said, absolutely. I would have been wrong.  Wherever you may be in your faith journey, don’t you dare be ashamed of your questions or doubts.  Don’t think you are a lesser Christian because you don’t bounce out of bed in the morning full of joy.  Embrace the challenge of Paul, but also bask in the comfort of the knowledge that you don’t need to know the answers. It’s ok to crave assurance and joy, but not yet have it. 

Paul ends by saying that he hasn’t yet reached the goal.  He is still straining forward and pressing on. That’s what we all must do, in the face of suffering and injustice…we press on. In the face of our own sins and failing, we press on. In a country where churches are getting smaller and some would say irrelevant, we press on. We carry a message that matters.  We carry a message of love and truth. We carry a message that can bring healing to the wounded.  So we press on my friends.  We press on.

Humility and Community: October 1, 2023

 Philippians 2:1-13                                    Year A, Pentecost 18                                     

My last church was situated in a lovely and relatively small city called Hampton. We didn’t have a minor league baseball team, much less a major league team.  We had a team that was made up of college baseball players who were looking for places to play in the summer.  The games were a lot of fun because you were able to get close to the action.  The people in my church were big supporters of the team.  There was one night where the baseball organization made a specific invitation to churches.  We decided to attend and someone finagled me an invitation to throw the first pitch along with another pastor from a different church. 

This was horrifying prospect for me.  I played soccer. The only time I had thrown a baseball was at a dunking booth and that was embarrassing enough.  I practiced a little, but when the time came, I was overcome with anxiety and the ball didn’t make it over the plate.  It was humiliating. So of course I posted the picture on facebook--- of me on the pitcher’s mound with my head in my hands and wrote, “Another opportunity for humility.”  At the time, I perceived any failure as an opportunity to gain more humility…which isn’t entirely wrong…but I will explain later why this experience wasn’t a great example of humility. 

          One of the themes you will find throughout Paul’s writings is the importance of community, unity, and humility.  Our reading from Philippians starts with the very beginning of chapter 2, but it’s very much connected to what he said in the first chapter.  There he said, “I will know that you are standing firm in one spirit, striving side by side with one mind for the faith of the Gospel.”  He returns to this idea of being in the same mind or of one mind several times in our reading for today. 

It’s natural to assume that Paul is telling everyone that they need to agree with one another and even think the same way.  But the Greek that is translated to “be of the same mind” is tricky to translate.  A more accurate interpretation might be “having a depth of understanding and practical wisdom, to know how to act correctly, even in complicated situations.”  That kind of makes just agreeing with one another sound a bit easier. Wouldn’t it be easier just to agree with someone rather than try to understand them? I have had a lot of practice in trying to understand people who I disagree with and it can be a brutal experience.  Rewarding—but brutal.

What does it mean to be of the same mind if you don’t have the same exact beliefs of others in your Christian community? Paul answers that in the direct yet indirect way he excels at.  “Do nothing from selfish ambition or conceit, but in humility regard others as better than yourselves.”  Regard others as better than yourselves.  Now that sounds a bit much.  It’s one thing to respect others and serve others, but why do we assume everyone has to be better than us?  It sounds more like self-degradation and self-deprecation, which can often lead to insecurity and even self-hatred.  Jesus loves his children.   He doesn’t want any of them hating themselves.  So what does Paul mean? I don’t think he intended to focus on how we feel about ourselves, as much as how we feel about others.  Paul wants us to see ourselves and others as beloved children of God.  Sometimes we are good at that, sometimes not so much. 

I saw a bumper sticker that said, “God loves everyone, but God loves me the best.”  And you know, I think we sometimes think that.  We think there is a tier system and surely we are on the top.  When I am really upset with someone, I try to remember, “God loves them too.”  I say it to myself, but I am not sure I am convincing myself. Because if we truly believe that God loves all  God’s children equally, we wouldn’t be able to look down on people.  That’s humility---it’s not about lowering yourself, but raising up others.

When we are able to truly humble ourselves, then we can live in an authentic community.  We can be of the same mind without agreeing about everything.  Because we can acknowledge, “Ok, we might not agree and I am may be absolutely right…but they are still loved by God and they deserve my respect.”  That is what a true Christian community looks like---always remembering that God loves us all equally.

So what does this have to do with my first pitch?  It was humbling and I remember adoring the people of my church as they cheered while the ball rolled across the plate.   They didn’t care that I threw a horrible pitch. They just appreciated that I tried.  But here is where I failed at humility.  You see…the other pastor, he had clearly played baseball. He had the right clothes and he threw a perfect pitch and I was not happy about that.  Because he was from the huge Baptist Church that didn’t allow women to be ordained.  Now I could have been a good Christian and gone up to him and introduced myself.  I could have invited him to lunch so as to get to know him and find some common ground.  But I didn’t do any of that.  I just muttered under my breath about his fancy pitch and found the people I knew loved me.  Because of my inability to see him as a beloved child of God, I missed a chance at being in a community with a different kind of Christians 

Now in my defense…since you don’t know me and might be thinking I am incredibly petty, I did get to know a lot of pastors and Christians from other denominations in my time in Hampton.  I became friends with pastors who I disagreed with on all kinds of levels, but we all cared about serving  people and bringing God’s love to those people.  We raised one another up and we formed a genuine community.  We formed that community when George Floyd was killed three years ago.  We knew that we could not help a diverse community heal without a diverse group of pastors coming together.  That was one of the times when I really learned how important humility is when forming a community of people with wildly different opinions.  It’s not about thinking less about yourself.  It’s about thinking more of others.

I have been here for less than a week, but I have been blown away by your kindness and hospitality.  You have brought my family food and offered to help unpack boxes. I have also seen how you care for one another through Good Shepherds, Parish Life, and small groups bringing communion to those who are homebound.  While I don’t know you, I am going to take a wild guess and assume you all don’t agree about everything all the time.  That’s ok. That’s actually good.  The church is the one place, the one community where you don’t have to have anything in common except faith or a desire to have faith.  You don’t need to vote for the same people, you don’t need to have the same level of education or the same amount of money.  You might not have anything in common with the person behind you.  You don’t even have to all like the Eagles!

That makes us unique and exquisite.  It also makes it hard to stay in community and you can tell from Paul’s letters, it was hard for the early Christian community as well.  But it’s worth it.  If we can just try to see others as God’s see them, then we will discover what humility really means.  It’s putting the needs of others above our needs.  I know you already have a good community, but my hope for my time with you, is that we will build an even more diverse community that is imbued with the Holy Spirit….a place where we can really know one another.  That is what we all crave, being known and loved for who we are. We can do that together, with humility and love.