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.

Don't quench the Spirit: December 17, 2017

1 Thessalonians 5:16-24                                                
Yea B, Advent 3                                                                      

            One of the things I have enjoyed about being the parent of a toddler is imagining all of the things that he might become.  When he jumped off the couch and landed on his feet I thought, he is going to be a famous gymnast.  When he said his first full sentence, I decided he was most certainly going to be a Rhodes Scholar. When he played something on the piano that kind of sounded like something resembling a song, I reminded myself to look up when Mozart started playing the piano because there was a chance that Joshua could be a savant.  It’s fun thinking of all of these possibilities.  At some point, he might tell me he hates the piano and I will cross “next Mozart” off the list.  But right now, he could be anything. 

I remember a time when I was absolutely convinced I would be a senator.  There was no doubt in my mind that I could accomplish whatever I wanted.  And I hope that most of us have some memory like that, a time when anything was possible.  While I was thinking about all of this, I tried to remember the moment when I realized that not everything was possible…or that some or many of my dreams would not be realized.  I don’t think it was any one moment.  It was just a jumble of realizations, some of them painful, some of them enlightening.  I think part of what forms us, what makes us who we are is how we deal with the failures and rejections in life. 

It’s like we are born with a flame.  At first there is a flicker/a spark.  It grows and provides light and a little heat.  Then a couple of things can happen. 

1.      It continues to burn, but goes through different phases. Sometimes it flickers and seems like it is about to extinguish. Sometimes it grows so big it seems like it will burn the whole place down.  It never dies, but sometimes it may seem like it will.

2.      Or it could be a flame that stays sheltered.  It is steady and unchanging, but can only grow so much. 

3.      Or, it is a flame that rises to a certain height and then appears to be smothered, until all you see is embers.

We are these flames. Either we experience success and failure and keep burning through it all.  Or, we stay safe and controlled, not taking much risk.  Or we burn and then something or someone quenches our fire.  The flame ends in ash. The dream dies.  The Spirit is quenched.

            That line from Paul’s letter to the Thessalonians captured me when I was initially reading these texts.  I keep coming back to it, “Do not quench the Spirit.” Paul was talking to new Christians.  This letter to the Thessalonians is the oldest books in the New Testament.  It was written before the Gospels, less than 20 years after Jesus ascended to heaven.  As you came imagine, there was a great deal of fervor in the new community.  There was passion for Jesus and all that he had taught.  They believed in this new movement despite the fear of persecution.   They knew that they could be stoned for worshipping Jesus. This fledgling Christian community was surrounded by people who thought this Jesus thing was just a passing fad, another little cult that would end with that generation. 

In addition to this fervor and passion, these new Christians experienced doubt and fear as well. They had expected that Jesus would return in their lifetime. As people in their community died, they got worried.  What happened if Jesus didn’t come back?  Even Paul had expected Jesus to come back in his lifetime. Thus as the years went by and Jesus did not return, the fervor and the passion that had carried these new Christians wavered.  It was a scary place to be….this in-between place. Despite the fear and the doubt, they held on.  Paul continued to support them and reassure them.  They lived in hopeful expectation. But the longer they waited the less hopeful they were. 

            While we cannot be sure what was happening, it is evident from this letter that Paul was concerned for them.  Otherwise he would not have felt that he had to remind them not to quench the Spirit.  We assume that Paul was talking about the Holy Spirit, but I think it was more than that---at least more than how we perceive as the Holy Spirit.  For most of us, we see the Holy Spirit as something outside of us.  On our good days we see it as something that may inspire and guide us. Other days, we forget about the Holy Spirit entirely. 

But let’s assume for a minute that for the early Christians, the Holy Spirit was part of them.  It was the flame that I spoke of in the beginning of my sermon.  It was the flame that drove them through life. When it was quenched, when it was extinguished, then everything was quenched.  Without it, they were walking in the dark with no light to guide them.  Therefore, it was critical that the Holy Spirit not be quenched.

While we tend to relegate the Holy Spirit to Pentecost and ordinations, the Holy Spirit is part of us.  It is no coincidence that there is a preponderance of candles in churches.  They are not just for aesthetic purposes. The flames serve as reminders of the presence of the Holy Spirit.  They also represent the light of Christ.  The Holy Spirit is what sustains that light within each of us.  We do not have to worry when Jesus will come again, because we have this guiding light at all times.  We have a light that not only shines outwardly, but one that burns within each of us.

Here is the thing about the light of Christ or the flame of the Spirit.  No matter how hard we try to quench it, we can’t.  We can cover it up.  We can try to hide it.  We can ignore it.  But we cannot extinguish it.  Despite that, wouldn’t it be better if we fanned the flames instead of quenching them? Wouldn’t it be better if we tended to the flame in each one of us and one another? 

Much of Paul’s letter to the Thessalonians is about how to be a Christian community. “Rejoice always, pray without ceasing, give thanks in all circumstances…” All of our hopes and dreams might not be realized.  Some of us, many of us, will have moments when the flame within us will feel more like ash than flame…which is why we have one another to fan the flames.  We are here to be inspired and to inspire.  After Christmas, we will move the Advent wreaths back into our closets or attics, but that doesn’t mean that the light is gone; it just comes in different forms.  When the darkness seems like it will overcome us, try to imagine the light within you.  If that is too hard, find a candle to remind you that there is always light—the Spirit cannot be quenched. 

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.

Burning makes us Brighter: December 4, 2016

Year A, Advent 2                            

Romans 15:4-13                                                                    

            Most of us have heard of Sigmund Freud, a famous Austrian Psychiatrist who lived in the beginning of the 20^th century.  He was a Jew and died shortly after WW2 began.  There was another Austrian Psychiatrist who was younger, but considered Freud to be a mentor.  His name was Viktor Frankle and he was also Jewish.  In 1942, he and his whole family were sent to Auschwitz.  He spent three years in various concentration camps.  He was there until the concentration camps were liberated. 

As you can imagine, much of his later work was informed by this experience.  In reflecting on his experience in the concentration camps, he tried to determine what the difference was between those who died in the concentration camps and those who survived. He said that it was not about physical strength. He saw many strong men die and many weaker men survive.  He said that finding meaning in your own life was critical to survival and that sometimes we need to find meaning in the suffering. He concluded that the difference between those who died and those who survived was hope. 

            The Apostle Paul lived through a great deal of suffering.  He was a strong believer in hope.  Our reading for today begins with, “Whatever was written in former days was written for our instruction, so that by steadfastness and by the encouragement of the scriptures we might find hope.” Paul found hope in the Holy Scriptures. You might think, wait Paul wrote the scriptures.  That is true.  Paul wrote a good portion of what we consider scripture, the New Testament.  However, in Paul’s day, the only scriptures were the Hebrew Scriptures, what we refer to as the Old Testament. He believed that the hope the Old Testament promised was embodied in the life, death and resurrection of Jesus Christ.  Jesus fulfilled the prophesies of the Old Testament. 

This did not mean that Jesus brought utopia to earth. He did not bring freedom to the Hebrew people, which is what many expected from the Messiah.  In many ways, he left the earth in the same place it was before he was born---but not in the important ways.  For people who knew Jesus, who experienced his love, the world was forever transformed.  There was also a hope in what was to come, when Jesus came again.  Jesus left this world with a promise to return, a promise that something better was coming.  Paul believed in this promise.  He believed that after death, he would meet God.  He believed that we all have that potential, which is why it was so important to him that he share the good news of Jesus Christ. 

This did not change the fact that people were suffering under the Roman occupation. They were oppressed and hurting.  Even those who knew of Jesus and believed in Jesus were losing hope.  They had assumed that Jesus was going to return in their lifetime. But Jesus wasn’t back.  The Romans were still oppressing the Jews. Their lives were no better.  It is understandable that they were growing weary and losing hope. 

Earlier in Paul’s letter to the Romans, he wrote, “For in hope we were saved. Now hope that is seen is not hope. For who hopes for what is seen? But if we hope for what we do not see, we wait for it with patience.”[1]  One of the things we have to remember is that Paul did not know Jesus while Jesus was still living.  Paul heard the voice of Jesus only after Jesus died and ascended to heaven.  He did not even see Jesus--he heard his voice. 

Therefore Paul knew all too well what it was to believe without seeing. He knew what it was to suffer and hope when there seemed to be absolutely no reason to hope.  For Paul, hope was dependent not on the current situation but the ability to believe despite the current situation—to hope when there seemed to be no reason to hope.  

In my life, I have found hope in despair, but only when there was a spark, a spark of light in the darkness. I cannot imagine how difficult it must be to find hope when there is only darkness and a promise of more darkness.  As Christians, we always have a reason to hope, even when all seems lost.  We find that reason in scripture. We find it in this community of faith.  We find it in our worship. 

However, sometimes we do not have the energy to look for hope.  We don’t want to have to find it.  We want it to come to us. Occasionally that happens. Sometimes, hope is easy.  In times of suffering and despair, it is not. It can feel almost impossible.   

After his experience in the concentration camp, Viktor Frankle wrote a lot about humanity’s search for meaning.  He specialized in the study of psychology and religion.  While he survived the concentration camp, both of his parents and his wife died.  There is no way to explain away the murder of 6 million people.  We cannot always explain suffering away by saying there is a reason for it all.  While I doubt that Frankle claimed a reason for the suffering of so many, he found a way to learn from his own.  During his life and career, he was able to help a lot of people because of what we had learned from his own suffering.  He wrote, "What is to give light must endure burning."

In Advent, we talk a lot about light. We light a new candle every week and sing about the light of Christ.  Even in popular culture, there is light. We hang lights on our bushes and trees.  We put up a tree inside the house and cover it with lights.  We put electric candles in our windows.  We do that because it is festive and pretty. We do it because we don’t want to be the only house on the block without lights.  There is also a deeper reason.  We do it because the nights are longer and the days are shorter. We need more light in our lives. 

While Christmas lights are easy to hang (relatively) and candles are easy to light, discovering the light within ourselves can be much more challenging.  In life, we will endure hardship and pain.   Often we find the strength to endure those things because we know they will end.  Sometimes that hope that the suffering will end is not enough.  Sometimes the suffering is so great, the pain lasts so long, we need something else to keep us going.  In those times, we tend to look for a reason for the suffering.  Perhaps we would be better not to look for a reason why we are suffering, but to search for something that we can learn from that suffering. Because in learning something from our own suffering, we might be able to ease the pain of another.  We might be the light of Christ for someone who cannot find it on their own. 

While I do not agree with Frankle that what gives light must endure burning, I do believe that our lights have the capacity to burn a little brighter after we have endured the burning.  And because they are brighter, they will reach even farther into the hearts that need the light the most.

In the end of our reading, Paul provides a benediction.  Benediction is a fancy word for blessing.  We end every service with a benediction from the clergy. This was Paul’s blessing to the Romans and one I share for all of you, “May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace in believing, so that you may abound in hope by the power of the Holy Spirit.” 

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[1] Romans 8:24-25

The War We Fight: Nov. 27, 2016

Year A, Advent 1                                                      
Isaiah 2:1-5                                                              

WWI is sometimes described as a chemical war because of the use of chemical weapons.  One of the most effective chemical weapons was Mustard Gas.  One of the  first recorded uses was in Ypres Belgium in 1917.  While the effects of the gas were not immediate as it could lead to a long and painful death, it is believed that 10,000 men were killed from the gas in this one battle.  Many hoped that this great war would be the last.  However, we all know that is not the case.  When it became evident that another world war was on the horizon, scientists started to look into possible antidotes for Mustard Gas. Two American doctors studied the medical records of soldiers who had been exposed to Mustard Gas.  They learned that these soldiers had very low count of immune blood cells and hypothesized that if this substance could kill immune blood cells, then it could also kill the cells that lead to Cancer.  After more research and testing, they developed what would soon be known as chemotherapy--the first successful treatment of cancer. [1]

During the season of Advent and Christmas, we will hear a lot from the prophet Isaiah….every Sunday in fact.  The Book of Isaiah is one of the longest books in the Old Testament and one of the books of Old Testament most often quoted in the New Testament.  Isaiah preached over the span of three kings at a very critical time in the history of Israel.[2]  Israel was divided between the North and the South and these sides were often at war with one another and under attack from foreign lands who were often much more powerful.  Isaiah attempted to counsel the kings and lead them in the ways of God.  Sometimes they listened, but often they did not.  Often these kings would choose to ally themselves with more powerful countries like Assyria.  This never turned out well for Israel.  

In our reading for today, Isaiah is talking about the future, the time when all things will be made new.  This reading is sandwiched in between two sections in which Isaiah lectures Israel on their inability to remain faithful to God and the sinfulness of their people and leaders.  This reading is a brief reprieve in a litany of doom and destruction.   It is a spark of hope in a wasteland of fear and grief. 

One of the unique attributes of the prophet Isaiah and one of the reasons he is mostly likely referenced so often in the New Testament is because he refers to God as the God all of nations, not just the God of the Jews.  All nations will receive both the judgment and the forgiveness of God. Isaiah also speaks poetically of his vision of peace between the nations.  “He shall judge between the nations, and shall arbitrate for many peoples; they shall beat their swords into ploughshares, and their spears into pruning-hooks; nation shall not lift a sword against nation, neither shall they learn war anymore.”  This is a particularly beautiful part of our reading for today.  We know this quote from Gospel hymns, war protest songs, pop songs, and speeches of world leaders.  It is also depicted visually in paintings, statues and sculptures.  One of these sculptures is in front of the United Nations headquarters in New York City and depicts a man pounding a curved sword into the ground. The Soviet Union gave it to the United States in 1959, right in the midst of the Cold War.



By Neptuul - Own work, CC BY-SA 3.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=32412758

Not being a farmer or familiar with farming techniques, I had to look up what a plowshare is.  Not surprisingly, it is a part of a plow.  It is the sharp edge of the plow that breaks up the earth making it fertile for planting, for new growth.  It is therefore, not very farfetched to turn a sword into a part of a plow.  It is a nice image, taking something intended for destruction and making it into something that would create life…  But the idea of no longer needing weapons, of no more wars or fighting among nations--that seems like an impossible ideal, does it not? It seems like dream not worth dreaming, words that are not worth saying.

            In 1987, President Reagan addressed the United Nations and said the following, “Cannot swords be turned to plowshares? Can we and all nations not live in peace?” He then went on to hypothesize that perhaps the nations of the world could unite if we had some alien force against us. That always happens in the movies after all.  He then said, “And yet, I ask you, is not an alien force already among us? What could be more alien to the universal aspirations of our peoples than war and the threat of war?[3]”

            We have become so accustomed to violence and war, we have accepted it as the default and the norm. It is the status quo.  Since Cain murdered Abel, violence has been part of the human family.  However, just because that is the case, does not mean that is how God intended it.  Isaiah’s vision was that one day we would be able to take these instruments of war and turn them into instruments that would create new life.  We would not have to learn war anymore.  I am not sure that we will ever know a time where there is no violence.  Even for Isaiah, it was a dream, an image of what it would be when the Lord came to earth. 

            Yet even if we are to be practical and assume that wars will not end, that does not mean we cannot do our part to create peace.  One of the most destructive weapons of WWI became a drug to combat one of the most destructive diseases of our time…it became an instrument of new life.  Wars continue and Cancer continues to claim far too many lives, but that does not mean that this advance, this evolution did not make a difference for many people. 

            Right now, our nation is at war with itself.  It is not a Civil War like the one that burned this town and this church.  It is a war that we wage every day with our actions, our words, and our lack of actions.  Our brave military is not fighting this war.  It is each one of us.  We contribute to this war when we allow hate to spread, when we do not speak up for those who cannot defend themselves, when we talk over one another because we are too afraid to take a breath and listen to the other, when we forget that our God is a God of all nations. 

Our politicians did not start this war.  We cannot merely turn to the leaders of our world or our nation to stop this war.  One of the prophet Isaiah’s frustrations was Israel’s tendency to put their faith in human kings, instead of the Kings of Kings, the Lord of All. We continue to make that mistake.  Yes, our national leaders and government have a huge effect on our nation and our world and that effect is not to be underestimated.  Much like Isaiah, we have to continue to speak out to those leaders when we disagree or agree with what they are doing.  At the same time, we must also live in a way that shows that we serve a far greater power than any that exist in the world.  Each one of us has the ability to serve that power in such a way that we can help the people who are powerless, the people who cannot help themselves. Swords and spears will continue to be produced, but we can also create opportunities for life in the midst of words and actions that bring nothing but pain. 

The hope that Isaiah prophesied was that hope that Jesus brought when he was born, died and was resurrected.  We have tasted what life and hope is all about.  We taste that in the Eucharist every week.  We have seen the light and it is up to each one of us to walk in the light of the Lord…to be the light in the darkness.  Will you be that light? Can we be that light together?

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[1] http://scienceblog.cancerresearchuk.org/2014/08/27/mustard-gas-from-the-great-war-to-frontline-chemotherapy/

[2] Most scholars agree that there are multiple authors of the Book of Isaiah. For the purposes of the sermon, I will refer to the author as one person because it would take way too long to explain 1^st, 2^nd, and 3^rd Isaiah and would not contribute anything to the sermon. 

[3] https://reaganlibrary.archives.gov/archives/speeches/1987/092187b.htm Address to the 42d Session of the United Nations General Assembly in New York, New York   September 21, 1987