It's Time to be Brighter: February 8

Isaiah 58:1-12 & Matthew 5:13-20               Year A, Epiphany 5              

     In the Episcopal Church, we don’t refer to people as saints, unless we are talking about all Christians. However, we do recognize certain people who have inspired others as a result of their faith and actions.  We have a calendar of those people.  On Feb 13^th, we celebrate Absalom Jones.  Absalom was enslaved to a wealthy Anglican in Delaware.  He expressed an interest in reading and was soon moved to the house where we created opportunities to educate himself. 

A few years later, the man who enslaved him sold his mother and 5 siblings, and took Absalom with him to Philadelphia where he joined St. Peter’s, our sister church at the time.  Absalom worked days but received an education in Quaker schools in the evening.  He then got permission from his enslaver to marry and was married by Jacob Duche who was the rector of Christ Church at the beginning of the revolution.  He purchased her freedom and after a lot of hard work, was eventually allowed to buy his own freedom. It took him decades because his enslaver didn’t want to free him.

Absalom started attending St. Georges Methodist Church where he and Richard Allen were lay preachers and grew the church dramatically. Around that same time, (1787) they formed the Free African Society which held religious services as well as doing work for the community. They even helped raise the money to add a balcony at St. Georges.  But as soon as that balcony was built, the white congregants said that African American congregants had to sit up in that balcony that they had paid for.  So they walked out.  In 1792, they built the First African Church—which would become the African Episcopal Church of St. Thomas. Absalom Jones and his church decided to go with the brand new Episcopal denomination while Richard Allen went on to form Mother Bethel, the first African Methodist Episcopal Church. In 1802, Bishop White (who is buried right there) ordained Absalom Jones as the first African American Episcopal priest. 

Absalom Jones believed God acted on behalf of the poor and oppressed and that Christians were meant to do so as well.  During the height of the yellow fever in 1793, while others fled the city, Absalom stayed and cared for people and even dug their graves.  He truly shined with the light of Christ for people in this city in the 18^th and 19^th century, and remains as a light in our church today. 

            It was disheartening to see those panels at George Washington’s House being torn down just a few weeks ago.  In addition to telling the story of those enslaved by George and Martha Washington, it also told a small part of the story of Absalom Jones and Richard Allen, and the churches they created.  It’s one of the reasons I spent a little extra time telling the story of Absalom Jones, because when those stories are silenced by others, it’s up to us to tell those stories. It is up to us to shine the light.

            Three of our four readings use the image of light in the darkness.  It’s a familiar and powerful image in the Hebrew Scriptures, the Christian Scriptures and many other religions.  The reading from Isaiah is similar to our reading from Micah last week. The people are once again trying to please God with rituals and sacrifices of animals.  They were frustrated as they felt that they were ignored by God.  They were doing many of the same things that had pleased God in the past. They were depriving themselves of food and comfort.  They were rolling around in ash and wearing sack cloth.  These were not easy things to do.  In their own way, they were trying.

But the problem was, what they were doing was self serving.  While they were doing these sacrificial acts, they were also oppressing their workers and serving their own interests as opposed to those of others.  God said, “Is not this the fast I choose: to loose the bonds of injustice…to let the oppressed go free and to break every yoke?”  He went on to tell them to share their food with those who were hungry, care for the unhoused and those without clothing.  I talked about this last week---how justice for God means taking care for the vulnerable.

            Unlike Micah, Isaiah displays more hope, probably because it was a much longer book.  While Micah has 7 chapters, Isaiah has 66 chapters.  There is more space for growth in Isaiah. He said, if you can do all these things (help the oppressed go free, care for the vulnerable), “then your light shall rise in the darkness and your gloom be like noonday…you shall be called the repairers of the breach, the restorer of streets to live in.”  Your light shall shine in the darkness.             

            That goes well with the text from our Gospel reading.  Our Gospel reading is a continuation of what we had last week.  We see more of this theme of light.  But while Isaiah speaks of the future (your light shall shine), Jesus speaks in the present tense. “You are the salt of the earth…You are the light of the world.”  Jesus brought light to this world with his life, his death and his resurrection.  While that light has dimmed at times, it has never gone out.  When Jesus ascended to heaven, he left that light with his followers.  We are inheritors of that light. 

Maybe this is your first time in church in a long time, or have only been coming a few months.   Maybe you have been coming your whole life, but you just don’t think you have the light.  God has given all of you the light.  You are all the light of the world.  Say it to yourself, “I am the light of the world.” It sounds a bit arrogant. It’s not.  You are not the source of the light, but you are a vessel of the light.  And without people carrying the light and shining the light for others, then people forget about the light. They forget about the truth.  They start thinking that darkness is the norm.  It’s not.

            One of the reasons I became a priest was because I realized that I loved to talk to people about God. I love hearing the stories of the Bible and hearing people’s faith stories.  Stories matter.  That is why it breaks my heart that those panels were taken down.  I am not going to talk about the politics of the decision…instead I want to focus on what we can do now.  It’s so easy to resign ourselves to powerlessness.  We are not without power. 

The first line of our reading from Isaiah is, “Shout out, do not hold back! Lift up your voice like a trumpet.” I saw on Instagram that residents of Old City are taking turns standing at the president’s house and reading the words from the panels.  People are hanging up construction paper and writing in chalk over those blank spaces where those panels once were. They aren’t vandalizing anything, but they are finding ways to bring the stories of those 9 enslaved people back to life. 

            I was at one of the vigils a few weeks back and there was a woman holding a sign that said something like, “Jesus said to love your neighbor.”  I heard her tell someone else she was from an Episcopal Church and while she had been to many protests, this was the first time she had felt comfortable holding an overtly Christian sign.   That made me both happy and a little sad. For several decades, it’s been a certain kind of Christian that has been loud while the rest of us have just stayed in the background and talked amongst ourselves about how Christians aren’t speaking up enough. 

Well it’s time for us shy and reserved Episcopalians to get a little louder.  Actually, I don’t want us to be louder. We don’t need any more loud people. I want us to be brighter---not just so people can see our light, but so we they can see God’s light, how it shines on everyone…not just certain people someone decided deserves it.  You are the light of the world.  Don’t cover it up. Don’t let anyone cover it up.  Because it’s not our light. It’s God’s and everyone needs to see it.

 

Don't Hide Your Light: Feb. 5 2023

Year A, Epiphany 5                         Matthew 5:13-20                     

          “You are the salt of the earth….You are the light of the world.”  Notice that Jesus doesn’t say: you can be the salt and you can be light of the earth, if you are super pious, kind and faithful.  He doesn’t say you should aspire to be the light and salt of the world.  No, you already are this.  And who is the you he is talking about?  I believe the proper translation is y’all.  Y’all are the salt and light of the world.  This is something that we are as individuals as well as the collective you—y’all.  Now that we have established that, what does it mean?  We should know that since we already are these things.

                Salt had slightly different purposes in the time when Jesus was telling people, “You are the salt of the earth.” It was used to preserve food.  It was even used for heat. They did not have gas or electric ovens like we have today.  They didn’t even use wood because it was hard to come by.  The stuff that was very abundant was camel or donkey dung.  This could be used as fuel, but only if you were able to mix salt with it.  Salt was essentially the catalyst that caused the dung to burn. While this is not the most appetizing image, it makes it clear that salt is more than just something that is supposed to give some zest to food.  It’s a catalyst for change.  It enables something totally ordinary (and a little gross) to become fuel.

          Light is a more obvious metaphor.  Most of what we do in this world requires light.  It enables us to see.  It warms our climate.  Light is required for plants and trees to grow, which provides us with food and oxygen. And sunlight, it makes most people feel better.  It increases the serotonin in our bodies which makes us happier.  Without any light, the world would end.  When Jesus was telling his disciples and followers that they were light, the importance of that can’t be overstated. 

One might even think it’s a little much.  Are we really the light, or are we vessels of God’s light?  Maybe it’s a little of both.  God is the source of all light and love.  We carry that light.  That is why Jesus was so confident in telling us that we are already light.  We have light because that light has been given to us.  It’s the same with the salt.  We have been given this ability to be a catalyst in our world.  How?  Because we worship a God who was and is one of the greatest catalysts.  Jesus changed death, into life.  You don’t get a bigger change or transformation than that.

          However just because we have these things doesn’t mean we can just sit back and relax.  We have to do more than just hold on to these things--we must share them and display them. When it comes to light, we are the window that it shines through. Yet when we are reluctant to talk about our faith, our church, or Jesus, then we are essentially covering up that window.  The light just gets stuck.  It might warm our hearts, but if it doesn’t touch anyone else, then we are not doing what Jesus asked of us.  Jesus told us to “let your light shine before others, so that they may see your good works and give glory to your Father in heaven.”

          This can make a lot of people uncomfortable.  We like to have our faith private.  We figure it’s no one’s business what we believe.  We are a good people and that is all they need to know.  And I get it.  We don’t want people to think we are trying to convert them.  We don’t want non-Christians to think that we are judging them.  But since when does talking about what you believe imply judgement?  If someone feels judged because you say that you believe in a God of love and compassion, then that’s on them.  That probably means they have heard a warped version of the Gospel and maybe, just maybe, hearing something non-threatening from you might change their life.

          Because that is what we as Christians are meant to do, change lives.  That’s where the salt comes in.  The animal dung needs the salt.  Otherwise, it’s just poop.  Salt allows that dung to turn into fire.

          A couple of years ago I was taking a writing class at a community writing center.  And while I wasn’t writing sermons, pretty much everything I wrote had something to do with God. I guess I am a bit of a one trick monkey.   Anyhow, we had to share what we wrote with this group of 10 people and I became convinced that one individual hated me.  He spent most of his time looking down, but when he did look up, it was to glare at me.  He responded to any comments I made with thinly veiled contempt.  I was ready to quit the class and then I got a long e-mail from  him where he actually said that he hated me, mostly because I was a pastor and I represented everything that was wrong with Christianity. He wasn’t saying this so we could resolve this, he just wanted me to know that he hated me. 

As you can imagine, I felt like this required a nuanced response.  I realized it really wasn’t about me and he had clearly had a negative experience with other Christians.  I can’t remember what I wrote, but it started a dialogue and we eventually became friends, not like making dinner together friends, but occasionally exchanging a facebook message kind of friends. 

While it was an awkward experience, I like to think that his view Christians changed a little.  I would never tell him this, but I think he saw the light of God…just a little.  And it wasn’t because I am some amazing Christian, but that I was willing to be open about what I believed and also what I wasn’t quite sure about. And if I can do that with someone who hated me, anyone can do it with a friend or acquaintance who has no opinion of Christians.         

You might assume, well everyone knows something about church, especially the people I spend time with.  Let’s just assume that’s correct.  Let’s assume everyone in your circle knows about church. What do they know about church? Do they know about church from their experience of being a child or a teenager in church? Do they know about church because of the church that refused to officiate their second marriage?  Is their last memory of church a place that hurt them and made them feel “less than?” Because if that is the case, then they have an incomplete view of church. You can provide a fuller picture.

Most of the children who are born today, are being raised by parents who have never been part of a church, which means, they won’t even be going on Christmas or Easter.  Their experience will be limited to what they see on the screens and what they hear from friends and family, which will be limited.

Photo by Ihor Malytskyi

          Don’t underestimate the impact that your light—or God’s light that shines through you—can have another person. This person doesn’t know that the church you go to is a place of love an acceptance, a place that doesn’t care what you do, how much money you make, or even who you voted for.  They just care that you are there.  Don’t deny someone else the light that you have experienced.  Because God’s light, is just as important as sunlight for every living and growing thing. It enables life, breath, joy and yes, even change.  If you aren’t sharing that light, then you are hiding that light.  And let me tell you all, I have seen your light, I have seen your fire and it’s a beautiful thing to behold.  Don’t hide it because there are people out there, who need it---they need it desperately and you…you can  provide it. 

Salt and Dung: February 9, 2020

Year A, Epiphany 5                                                                 

Matthew 5:13-20                                                                    

            In the 20^th century, salt got a bad rap in the nutrition world.  It became connected with high blood pressure and heart disease.   Today, if you are eating hospital food, good luck finding salt.  Despite the fact that there have been numerous studies showing that salt isn’t really as bad as everyone says, we still have negative associations with it.  So it’s kind of weird when the first thing we hear in the Gospel story is, “You are the salt of the earth…” Salt isn’t particularly inspiring, at least not today. However, in the time of Jesus, salt didn’t have a bad rap.  In fact, salt was good for a lot of things.  The obvious one is what we still use salt for----seasoning.  It was also a preservative for food, which was important since they didn’t have refrigerators.  Additionally, it was sometimes mixed with manure to create fertilizer. 

And it was also used as a catalyst for fuel.  Typically when cooking, they used outdoor earthen ovens.  Wood was not easy to come by and they didn’t have easy access to other kinds of fuel.  A cheap way to create fuel was to use animal dung.  They would make it into patties and then add salt. For the outdoor oven, they would have a slab of salt under the dung patty and that would essentially be the catalyst for the fire.  At some point, the salt would lose its catalytic ability and become useless.  It would simply be thrown out, which is why Jesus said that when salt loses its taste, it isn’t good for anything.

            Thus when Jesus said, “You are the salt of the earth,” he was not simply saying that we give flavor or that we preserve, he was calling us the catalyst that start a fire.  We, as followers of Christ are the ones who not only provide heat and light, but create the heat and light, enable the fire to burn. Now, you may be thinking, well he probably wasn’t thinking of Episcopalians.  We aren’t exactly known for our heat and energy.  Or, you might be thinking, well he’s definitely not talking about me.  I’m tired and over committed. I don’t have the time or the energy for fire, especially not on Sundays. 

He is talking about all of us.  This text is part of the Sermon on Mount.  He has just finished telling people, “Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of God.  Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted.”  He is speaking to a crowd, most likely a crowd full of beleaguered people, people who are hungry, people who are tired, people who feel like they are anything but catalysts for fire.  He was speaking to a crowd then and he is speaking to us all now…saying the same thing.  “You are the salt of the earth.  You are the light of the world.”

            Notice that he doesn’t say, “You will be the salt of the earth if you try hard enough or if you do x, y, and z.”  No, he is saying, “You are the salt of the earth right now.”  And it’s not because you have something no one else has or that you simply have a fiery disposition.  You are the salt of the earth and the light of the world because that is what and who God created you to be.  We are born into this world to be fire.  I can’t speak for any of you, but I must confess that I have a hard time really believing this.  Because most of the time, I don’t feel fiery.  I don’t feel like a catalyst.  I don’t even feel particularly salty.  I feel kind of tired and stressed, a little overwhelmed and weary.  And given the amount of energy drinks at the store, and the ever expanding reach of Starbucks, I don’t think I’m alone in feeling weary and overwhelmed. Am I?  

            Have you ever just eaten plain salt? Meaning, you aren’t adding it to something, you are eating salt.  I hope not, because that’s kind of gross.  Salt alone is no good.  Salt is only good when it accompanies something.  Animal dung isn’t very useful, unless you add some salt, and all of a sudden, it heats an oven. These metaphors Jesus is using cannot be taken singularly.  They only work well accompanying something else.  So it is with us as Christians.  Sure, there are people who can do amazing things all by themselves.  At least, I assume there are, but I’ve never met one.  Most people find energy, power, and fulfillment in their work with other people, or with the support of other people.  So if you think you are too tired, too busy, too old, too sick, too young to be the salt of the earth, to be the catalyst that sparks the flame, you might be right.  You can’t do it alone. That’s why we have Jesus to be that support. That is why we have the community of Christians, to inspire and motivate one another.

            I witnessed this several times this week.  On Wednesday, we delivered 1594 cans of soup to the HELP food pantry.  Now, I admit, the Lutherans had more and I was a little irritated about that, but then the Lutherans helped us unload all our cans because they had more people.  We all worked together and I was reminded of the importance of Christians working together. Don’t get me wrong, we will win next year, but I am still grateful to them for motivating us and supporting us.  Then this Friday we hosted a dialogue of race in our parish hall.  The Unity Commission of Hampton Roads organized it and there were a few people from our church there.  But there were also 50 other people there who were committed to finding ways for people of all tribes, all colors to work together.  As many of you know, I have an African American son. There are times I am overwhelmed by what I don’t know and understand.  But on Friday, I was reminded that I am not alone.  And as I looked around that room, I could see there were people there who would help, who wanted to help.  All of a sudden, I didn’t feel so weary.  I felt energized and hopeful.

            Unfortunately we are currently in a culture that doesn’t encourage people who are different or who disagree to be together or even pray together.  That is a travesty, because more than ever, we need one another to inspire us, or sometimes just hold one another upright and accountable.  You are the salt of the earth. You were born to be fire.  Together, as a community here at St. John’s and in the wider Christian community, we must find a way to work together and if we can we will set a fire this world has never seen.  Once we have done that, there is no way that anyone is going to hide that fire under a bushel basket.  No, we will be that city on the hill, a city that no one will dare hide.

Pragmatism is Overrated: February 5, 2017

Year A, Epiphany 5                                                               
Isaiah 58:1-9 and Matthew 5:13-20                                                                   

 

            When I was first ordained, I had a conversation with someone at a clergy event…well I suppose it was more of an argument.  At one point I said, “That’s just not realistic.”  He responded, “It really bothers me when people say something in our faith is not realistic.  There are a lot things in our faith that are not realistic.  That does not make them untrue.” That statement made an impact on me. While he was no doubt wrong about the argument itself, he definitely won that point.  Consider the Christian story. A baby was born to a virgin.  Kings from the East followed star to find the baby who was in a manger.  This baby grew to be a man who healed people, brought people back from the dead, walked on water, turned water into wine, and on and on.  He gathered a small band of followers who were mostly fishermen. This man Jesus, died so that people he did not know could be saved.  He came back to life and later floated up into heaven.  A religion was created from this small group of followers and now claims the greatest following in the whole world.  Is any of that realistic?

            Of course not! That is an indictment of Christianity, or really any faith.  People say it’s like believing in dragons or magic.   There is nothing real about.  It’s just there to make us feel better, or worse to give certain people power and dominion over others.  That’s what some people say.  If you are here in church, it is very likely that you already believe the unbelievable.  You might have a hard time believing it all, but there is something that draws you to Jesus and to faith…something that is extraordinary. So you keep coming back to this house of worship.  Many of us find holiness in these walls with this community.  We are emboldened by the prayers and the music.  But when we leave this sacred enclave, often our faith becomes private and personal.  It is still real, but it is real only in a corner of our lives.

            Jesus said, “You are the salt of the earth; but if salt has lost its taste, how can its saltiness be restored? ….“You are the light of the world. A city built on a hill cannot be hid…”   Referring to people as light is not a new concept for most of us.  We sing. “This little light of mine, I’m going to let it shine…” We might describe someone as “lighting up a room.” Light is a good thing.  It enables us to see where we are going and what we are doing.  Light gives us hope.

Salt is a trickier metaphor.  When we think of salt, we think of something that is not good for us or something we have to cut out of our diet because we have high blood pressure.  We use it to season food that is bland.  It’s a common ingredient.  Nevertheless, it is something that almost everyone has in their kitchen.  It can be quite handy.  It can bring out the flavor in those bland things.  It adds a little zest.  Have you ever had french-fries without salt? They are horrible! With salt, those are some tasty treats.

Salt had slightly different purposes in the time when Jesus was telling people, “You are the salt of the earth.” It was used to preserve food.  It was even used for heat. They did not have gas or electric ovens like we have today.  They didn’t even use wood because it was hard to come by.  The stuff that was very abundant was camel or donkey dung.  This could be used as fuel, but only if you were able to mix salt with it.  Salt was essentially the catalyst that caused the dung to burn. While this is not the most appetizing image, it is clear that salt, like light, had and has an important purpose.  Salt and light, by their very nature do something.  Part of what Jesus was saying to his followers and to us is that we have a purpose.  We are here on earth to do something. 

You might think, well that is great news, but what are we supposed to do?  The answer to that is in the reading from the Old Testament, the Book of Isaiah.  In this story, we hear all about what people are doing.  They are fasting.  They are humbling themselves by rolling in ash and wearing sack cloth (which is an incredibly itchy fabric).  They are doing all the important rituals to get God’s attention and gain his favor--- but God is not listening, or if he is, he is not responding in the appropriate way.  In fact when God does respond to these displays of piety, God tells his prophet Isaiah, “I don’t want these symbolic gestures.  I want these people to do something….to do something for the other people in their midst.   I want them to help the oppressed, to share food with the hungry and bring homeless people into their homes.” 

What was really irritating God about this situation is that these people were fasting and spending all this time rolling around in ashes.  They were so busy making these grand gestures, other people had to do their work.  And the people who were doing their work were the people who were their servants and slaves.  They were people who did not have the luxury to say no to the people in power.  These people who were doing all these rituals were also using it as an opportunity to argue about who was more godly, who was more holy.  They had totally missed the point. 

I know I sound critical of this pious group and I should not be.  I am a priest.  I am all about ritual.  I know that it is easy to get lost in the ritual and the rules and forget what we (the people of God) are really about.  It is a lot easier to talk about God than do the work of God. It is easier to describe the light than to be the light. What God was asking of his people hundreds of years ago is what he still asks of us today: to help the oppressed, the share food with the hungry and bring homeless people into our homes.  That is a lot easier said than done, especially when most of us cannot agree on the best way to do those things. 

This is one of those times when Jesus and the Bible don’t seem very realistic.  I cannot let a homeless person in my home.  I mean, it’s one thing if we know them, a friend or family member who has fallen on hard times.  But I cannot welcome just any person into my home.  It’s dangerous. 

Unfortunately I don’t know what the answer is.  On the one hand, I believe that we are called to do things that do not make sense to the world, things that most people would say is totally unrealistic and naïve.  On the other hand, I don’t know the best way to do those things, or I am too scared to do them.   This is the best answer I can come up.  Jesus said, “You are the salt of the earth.  You are the light of the world.” He did not say, “Once you have reached paradise, you will be the salt of the earth and light of the world.” He did not say, “Once you have studied, discerned and come up with a practical solution, then, then you are the salt of the earth and you are the light of world.”  No. He is telling us all, right now, just as we are, that we are already the salt of the earth and the light of the world. 

But here is the hard part, we have to share the light.  The light cannot be relegated to our Sunday morning ritual.  We also have to act as catalysts in this world.  That is all a huge responsibility and overwhelming.  To be this light, to be agents of change, we need to gather our collective strength.  Each person here has a way that they are being light and they are being salt.  Tell me what it is.  Send me an e-mail, stick a post it under my door, give me a call. Then collectively, let us find more ways to be salt and light.  For awhile, let us suspend judgment.  Let is not yet decide who is the brightest or who has the most zest.  And maybe (and I know this is hard for practical Episcopalians) let us be just a tad, unrealistic.  When it comes to our faith, pragmatism is overrated.