Not so comfortable words: Oct 1, 2017

Year A, St. Francis                                                    

Matthew 11:20-30                                                                             

            “Come to me, all you that are weary and are carrying heavy burdens, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me; for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light.” That is probably a familiar passage for most of you. The first part of it is used in the Rite 1 service.  It comes after the confession and absolution and is referred to as the “comfortable words.”  They are called “comfortable words” because they are verses that are supposed to bring people comfort.  It makes sense to put it right after the absolution, after we have confessed our sins and been forgiven.  Where it does not make sense is where it comes in the actual Gospel reading.  It comes right after Jesus tells several cities that they are doomed.  “You will all suffer! Come to me so I can comfort you.”  At first glance, it seems like a weird combination. 

            Generally, when Jesus starts a sentence with “Woe to you…” you pretty much know that it won’t end well.  Jesus seems angry as he condemns these cities.  He had done some of his best work in these cities.  There were miracles that were not even described in the Gospels, things we cannot  imagine.  There were sermons never heard again…because no one cared enough to write them down.  It would be easy to assume that these reproachful words to these cities came from a place of anger. 

While it is true that Jesus did get angry at times, the “Woe” statements were about more than anger. It was disappointment, sadness.  One commentator described these verses as “The accent of heartbroken condemnation.”[1] In these five verses, Jesus condemned five different towns.  One would expect that they would have done something pretty horrible.  Actually we don’t know of anything horrible that happened in these cities. It appears that the worst of their crimes was that they were indifferent to Jesus.  He performed the majority of his miracles in those towns, and they responded with apathy.  There was no reformation.   There was no transformation.  They did not reject Jesus or run him out of town.  They did not care enough to even respond to Jesus’ presence.

            Why is it that we have this interesting combination of verses as we honor St. Francis?  I read that St. Francis is one of the most popular and admired saints, but probably the least imitated.  It is not difficult to realize why that is.  He lived a life of abject poverty.  He gave away all that he had and renounced the wealth of his father.  He would not accept money for any work he did, only food.  When he did not have work he would go through the garbage for food. He worked with the lepers, the outcasts of society.  People were attracted to him for his air of joy, abandonment and freedom. The pope created the order of friars that would take a vow of poverty.  The order grew quickly and then suffered the loss of many people. Men who joined could not accept the lifestyle that was required. Francis was forced to make some concessions because so few people could follow in his footsteps.          

            On the feast of St. Francis, the Episcopal Church has a tradition of blessing animals.  I love that tradition because I love animals.  I believe that they too are part of God’s beloved creation.  When God created us, the expectation is that we would take care of this world that he created and that includes animals.  St. Francis is associated with animals because there are a lot of legends with him and animals. He loved animals…and not just the cute and cuddly kind.  While I enjoy the animal blessing, I fear that sometimes we overemphasize this part of St. Francis, and ignore the parts of St. Francis that are more challenging…like giving away all of your money and hanging out with lepers. 

            I think we do the same thing with Jesus and the Bible. We tend to tame Jesus and his words.  We emphasize the comfortable words and we skim over the parts where Jesus condemns a city for ignoring him and displaying apathy.  Both Francis and Jesus asked a lot of people and  Jesus continues to expect a great deal from us. He wants more than one hour of attention on Sunday morning.  He wants all of us.  Someone once said, “Jesus loves you just the way you are, but he loves you too much to let you stay that way.”  Jesus wants transformation and transformation is hard and usually inconvenient.

            This is why I have always found it strange that Jesus said, “My yoke is easy and my burden is light.” There is nothing easy about Jesus…so what does he mean when he says this?  A yoke is a wooden beam generally used on a pair of oxen.  The beam would go over the two oxen, connecting them to one another as well as to the load they were pulling. The best kind of yoke was one that was custom fitted to the ox so that there was no chafing.  This would allow them to pull heavy loads, but it would still be comfortable on their necks and shoulders.   The Greek word that is translated to “easy” in this text, could also be translated to well fitting or kind.  Well fitting yokes were kind to the animals because it kept them more comfortable.  It did not make the load lighter; it just made it easier to carry. 

If we were to go with this translation, Jesus would be saying, “My yoke is well fitting and kind.”  That makes a little more sense to me.  Jesus did not say that following him would be easy. He did not even say that he would lighten our burdens.  What he said was that if we followed him and did our very best to be his disciples, he would walk with us, even when the load seems unbearable.  The yoke goes over 2 oxen.  When we are his disciples, we are yoked to Jesus.  And if you are going to carry a heavy load, the best partner you can have is Jesus. 

 

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[1] Barclay 12

Forgiveness Can't be Counted: September 17, 2017

Year A, Pentecost 15                                                  
Matthew 18:21-35                                                     

 

            As you may know, there are many different English translations of the Bible.  For instance, there are some that use more modern language to make the Bible more accessible.  The differences between these different translations can be very subtle. Then there are weird differences.  For instance, in today’s reading, Peter asks Jesus how often he should forgive someone.  He suggests seven, which he probably perceives as a fairly generous allotment.  I certainly would. Jesus’s answer is: “Not 7 times, but, I tell you, 77 times.”  However, there are other translations where Jesus answers, “Not 7 times, but, I tell you, 70 times 7.”  That is 490 times for those of you who are not math people.  That is significantly larger than 77 times.  People have gone back and forth between those two numbers for centuries. Most people don’t worry too much about the specific number, because whether it is 77 or 490…it’s a big number.  Once you have forgiven someone 77 times, what’s another 413 times? 

Yet I find it interesting that different translations are determined to have the correct number, whether it be 490 or 77. Some people even feel the need to argue about it. In our culture, numbers, scores, scales, percentages---all of those things are important.  We put a lot of value in numbers, whether it is a test score, the Dow Jones, salaries, the price of gas, the temperature, the number of people who are at church on any given Sunday, our weight, etc.  Joshua goes to the pediatrician every 3 months.  They weigh him, measure is height and the size of his head.  Then they tell us how he stacks up compared to other children his age.  When my husband takes Joshua and I am not there, he always forgets to write down the percentages, which makes me crazy.  It’s important that I know how the size of his head compares to other children his age.  Numbers are important—maybe more so than they should be.

            It was no different in Jesus’ time.  Numbers mattered to people. That was why Peter was asking such a ridiculous question… “How many times should I forgive someone Jesus? How about 7 times?”  Jesus was smart and he knew that Peter was trying to pin him down.  He would have none of it, so he decided to play along.  77, how does that sound Peter? Or 490?  What Jesus knew—and probably what Peter knew as well-- was that the number doesn’t matter because asking Jesus to assign a number to forgiveness is crazy.  It would be like asking someone to rate how much they love you on a scale on 1 to 10.  There are some places in our lives where numbers are useless.  In some ways, they even get in the way because they distract us from things that matter. 

            Forgiveness is hard, even if you are trying to forgive one person once.  It’s not as clear cut as Peter wanted it to be.  When I read this text, my first thought was, “Not forgiveness again. I’m sick of talking about forgiveness.” It’s not that I don’t like forgiveness. I think it’s great.  There is only so much you can say about forgiveness.  It seems like almost every sermon comes down to this: You should forgive.  It’s good for you. It’s good for the person you are forgiving. God forgives you, so you should forgive others.  If that is true, then why is it so hard? 

I have read stories about people forgiving others for horrible crimes and atrocities.  The people who forgive typically talk about what it can do for the other person.  Being forgiven can break the cycle of sin.  It provides an opportunity to start again. It also provides a healing salve for the relationship and the people involved.  In these stories, the people who forgave the sin said it was good for them. It freed them.   When I hear these stories, I always envision a moment when someone just lets go and suddenly feels lighter and freer.  I have tried that.  I have even written it down.  I forgive so and so. I say it out loud.  Then nothing happens.  I don’t feel a weight lifted off of me.  I don’t feel transformed.  There are certainly sometimes when it is easier to forgive someone, especially when they apologize and seem contrite.  I find that having a conversation with someone and understanding what went behind their actions to be helpful. But it’s the other kind of sins that are harder to forgive, the ones that people won’t even admit are sins, the ones that keep being committed over and over again. 

            That’s what I think Jesus was getting at when he threw that unimaginable number out to Peter.  Forgiveness isn’t a one and done thing.  We can’t just wipe the slate clean and move on.  Forgiveness (for humans) is a process that takes time.  It’s like a wound that heals slowly.  At first you have the wound and it looks ugly.  It also hurts constantly.  Then the wound turns into a bright red scar.  It looks bad, but not quite as bad as before.  It doesn’t hurt all the time. The scar gets lighter every day and every year.  Sometimes it even disappears.  There are also times when the scar remains because the wound was too deep.  It’s better, but it’s still there. That is the way forgiveness works.  It starts the process of healing for you and hopefully the person you are forgiving. 

There are some sins that are easier to forgive and some that are much harder.  We can and should try to forgive and heal…we might try our whole lives and that scar never quite goes away. We might never get to the point where we experience that feeling of being lighter and freer.  Yet that does not mean that we should not try to forgive.  It might even be a matter of admitting that we cannot forgive and turning it over to God….saying, “God, I can’t do this so I am handing it off to you.”

            Often times when I preach about forgiveness, or loving our enemies, someone will say something to the effect of:  “What about the mass murderers…or the people who participate in human trafficking?” I don’t know the answer to that. I really don’t.  However, I think that often times, we go to those drastic examples because it’s easier than thinking about the smaller and more personal sins that are less dramatic, but still hurtful.  For now, let’s not worry about forgiving the mass murderers, the terrorists or the people selling children into slavery.  I am not asking you to forgive them and frankly I don’t think God is too worried about that either. God will judge those people.  God is more concerned about those things that keep us awake at night, the things that just get stuck in our heads as endless loops.  Sometimes those are the things that we need to be forgiven for and occasionally things we need to forgive.  It is those things that keep us from fully loving others, ourselves and most importantly God. 

            Sometimes the hardest sins to forgive are ones that we have committed.  Sure, we have asked forgiveness and we know that God technically forgives all sins…but do we really believe that? Remember who Jesus was talking to in this Gospel reading.  Jesus was talking to Peter, the disciple who denied him and abandoned him before his crucifixion.  Jesus forgave him.  Whatever sin we have committed, God can forgive us.  What we have to do is believe that God can and will forgive our sins, even the ones we commit 77 times.    

Loving mean people: Sept 3, 2017

Year A, Pentecost 13                                                          
Romans 12:9-21                                                                     

 

            At several of the major Episcopal Church events I have attended, protestors from the Westboro Baptist Church have showed up. You have probably heard of them.  They not only protest churches that open their doors to the gay and lesbian community, they protest at funerals of military personnel who have died in war. The signs they hold are incredibly hurtful and cruel, especially considering they are often appearing at places where people are grieving.  People have learned that inciting this small group is a mistake for a variety of reasons.  One of the most powerful responses I have seen  is people dressed up as angels with large wings that provide a barrier between those at the funeral and the people protesting.  These angels are essentially shielding people from these evil words.  The angels don’t say anything. They just stand there.  It is not only a powerful witness, it’s practical. 

            Our reading from Paul is part of his letter to the Romans.  Often times Paul is addressing specific issues that have come up.  This part of his letter seems to be more general advice.   It’s kind of a list of what it is to be a Christian.  In the beginning of the chapter, before our reading, Paul wrote that we are to be transformed by the renewing of our minds so that we may discern the will of God in our lives.  If we are transformed on the inside, then our actions should reflect that transformation.  In our reading for today, Paul tells us what that looks like—what it looks like to be transformed. “Love each other with genuine affection…work hard and serve the Lord enthusiastically. Be patient in trouble and keep on praying.  When God’s people are in need, be ready to help them.”  I think we can all agree this is good advice.  While it is difficult to follow all of this advice all of the time, it’s definitely something we should try to do. 

            But Paul never likes to make things easy on people.  After he provides this advice that would probably easily make it into any Chicken soup for the soul book, he takes it a couple steps further.  “Bless those who persecute you.  Don’t curse them; pray that God will bless them…Never pay back evil with more evil…Instead if your enemies are hungry, feed them. If they are thirsty, give them something to drink.”  In other words, we can’t just ignore the mean people, we have to be nice to them.  We have to bring them water and snacks!?  That sounds crazy. How will they know they are wrong? 

            When we think of non-violent resistance, we often think of the Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King. While he was not the first to use this method of resistance, he was the first to use it in the United States on a large scale. The thing about non-violent resistance in the Civil Rights Era was that it often led to violence against African Americans and occasionally the white people who were supporting them.  Some people got understandably frustrated. They were tired of getting beaten up and not responding in kind.   

            Martin Luther King knew the Bible and he knew Paul and I wonder if he was thinking of these words from Paul.  Paul said that we must respond to evil with good.  By doing so, “you will heap burning coals of shame on their heads.”  Have you ever seen pictures of the Civil Rights marches with non-armed people getting beaten by heavily armed police?  It is horrifying.  It is shameful.  When people saw those images, it had a huge effect.  Now, it is a travesty that it took those kinds of images to make an impact, but it is exactly what Paul was saying. It is why non-violent protest or passive resistance can be so effective.   Shame can motivate people.

            Yet, despite the fact that this was so effective in the Civil Rights Movement, I don’t think anyone should have to live through that.  I wondered as I was reading Paul’s words what it looks like to repay evil with good.  How could that possibly accomplish anything?  Recently we have seen a lot of protests and counter protests end in bloodshed.  Because of that, it makes sense that some people think the best response is no response…silence. However, silence implies complicity.  Paul is not arguing for silence. He is telling us to respond to evil and to respond with kindness and love.

            In researching this text, I saw a link to an article about a small town in Germany. This town had the misfortune of being the home of the grave of Rudolph Hess who was a deputy of Adolph Hitler.  As a result, every year neo-Nazis march through the town.  The town held counter protests. They attempted to stop this march through the legal system.  They even exhumed the body and moved the headstone. The Nazis kept marching.  In 2014, the town decided to try something new.  Without the marchers’ knowledge, local residents and businesses sponsored the 250 participants of the march in what was described as Germany’s “most involuntary walkathon.” For every meter they walked, €10 went to a program called EXIT Deutschland which helps people escape extremist groups. The people of the town had tables with free bananas with a sign that urged the marchers to take the bananas so they  could keep up their energy to continue to march and earn money to fight the Nazis.  At the end of the march a huge banner read, “Thank you for your donation.” They even threw rainbow confetti.  This method has spread to other small towns around Europe.[1]  I think Paul would approve of this method.

            Most of the time, we are not faced with such obvious displays of hate.  Typically, it is much more nuanced. Yet Paul’s words are still appropriate.  It’s difficult. I know it is because I have a hard time with it.  I get mad when people are rude.  I get really mad.  That’s not helpful. That has more to do with what is going on with me than what someone says or doesn’t say.  What I have noticed is that when I have not dedicated time to my relationship with God--that is when it is most difficult to love others.  Paul begins by urging us not to pretend to love others, but that we let our love be genuine.  The only way we can have that genuine love for others is if we know what that love feels like.  While God gives his love freely, it is up to us to embrace it.  After we embrace it, we can embody it.  Once we embody it…then we can share it with others, even the rude people.   The angels with huge wings are awesome at blocking the cruel signs, but God’s love can do more than just be a barrier to hate.  It can end it.

 

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[1] https://www.theguardian.com/world/2014/nov/18/neo-nazis-tricked-into-raising-10000-for-charity

Learning to Change: August 20, 2017

Year A, Pentecost 11                                                 
Matthew 15:10-28                                                     

            When I was little and I heard the story of the birth of Jesus, I thought he simply dropped out of heaven. There was no real birth.  One minute the manger was full of hay and the next minute there was a baby.  I never thought of him growing up, being a toddler, or an adolescent.  Part of the reason is that the Bible tells us almost nothing about Jesus before he turned 30.  He was a baby.  Then he was 12.  Then he was 30.  Some people believe that there were stories about Jesus as a child, but they did not make it into the Bible because he was a child, doing childish things.  For instance according to these stories, when a child spurned him, he retaliated.  When he got in trouble for making clay pigeons on the Sabbath, he turned the clay pigeons into living birds, because he could.[1]  These stories speak of a child learning how to handle his power. It makes sense.  If Jesus was fully human, then he had to learn and grow.  He had to change. He was not born in the body of 30 year old, nor was he born with the mind of a 30 year old man.

There were also occasions where other people encouraged him to change. One example is the wedding feast.  It’s a familiar story.  They ran out of wine.  His mother asked Jesus to turn water into wine.  He said, no this is not my time. He did not think he was ready. His mother persisted and he agreed. He performed his first public miracle at the request of his mother.  Another example is our reading from today. Jesus had left his home turf and was in the region of Sidon.  This is important because this is an area that was populated by Gentiles, not Jews.  These were people that good Jews did not interact with.  The disciples had probably never been in a place like this. 

            As soon as he got there, a woman came to him, shouting “Have mercy on me Lord, Son of David, my daughter is tormented by demons.”  I am sure that he noticed that she was using the Jewish title for him.  “Son of David.” She knew who he was.  Despite that, he tried to ignore her. That was the easy thing to do, maybe even the polite thing to do.  He did not want to have to tell someone that he could not help her. 

Yet this Gentile woman, was relentless.  She could not take a hint. She kept coming at him and by now she had everyone’s attention, even the disciples.  They wanted him to just get rid of her. He tried. He told her the party line. He was just there for the people of Israel.  She could not be deterred.  She knelt at his feet…his feet.  There was no avoiding her.  He said, “It is not fair to take the children’s crumbs and throw it to the dogs.” That was what they called Gentiles.  Jews called Gentiles dogs because dogs were dirty.  They did not keep the purity laws. The children were the Jewish people, the chosen people.  His first duty was to the children—the Jews. 

            Instead of acting offended or lashing out, this woman chose another tactic.  She responded, “Yes, Lord, yet even the dogs eat the crumbs that fall from their master’s table.” She understood and acknowledged what no one else had. That even if he was meant to tend to the Jewish people first, there was more than enough mercy to meet the needs of the rest of the world.  Even the crumbs, the tossed off waste of his abundant love was enough….enough for her, her daughter, and the world. 

            And here is when it gets tricky.  Jesus, the all-knowing, all powerful Messiah learned something in that moment.  All along, he believed that he was there for the lost sheep of Israel.  They were his primary mission. Yet he saw something in this woman. He saw perseverance, courage, faith and knowledge.  She understood him and his ministry better than the Pharisees, perhaps even better than the disciples. She knew that his love was so great, so powerful, that there was enough to go around.  She helped him see something that he had not yet seen.  Because of that he saw not just a woman kneeling at his feet, but a beloved child of God who was ready to hear his message and experience his mercy. 

            The reason people struggle with the idea of Jesus changing his mind is that implies that he not was right to begin with.  It means he was imperfect, that he was not all-knowing. Yet I believe that he was that much more powerful because he was open to change.  He was willing to learn, willing to learn from a woman, a Gentile, willing to let go of a belief that one ethnicity was better than another, willing to accept that his love was without limit.  There was enough to go around. He did not have to wait for the Jews to accept him before moving on to the next group. He could start his ministry to the Gentiles now.

As a church, we are called to be disciples of Christ, to follow his example.  Part of following this example, is being willing to change and to let go of our prejudice and fear.  Our world is a scary place.  Just this week, ISIS killed 13 people and wounded 100 in an attack on a popular street in Spain.  They gave no reason.  You don’t need a reason when your heart is full of hate.

Before that we experienced our own terror right here in Virginia.  We saw a display of hate that while not unprecedented, was certainly a wake-up call for those who thought that kind of racism was a thing of the past.  When I was a on a mission trip in Appalachia several years ago, I was driving alone looking for one of our groups. I was lost because GPS did not work there.  I drove down a stranger’s driveway hoping I could get some directions. Instead I ran into a member of the KKK.  He was not wearing a white hood, nor was he burning a cross.  He just wanted to share that I had wandered onto the property of a clansman. I was terrified, and I am a white Christian.  I kept thinking, what would have happened if our African American youth was with me in that car. I told myself that this man was just some crazy guy in the hills of West Virginia. 

Yet just last week, we saw it on a college campus.  We saw in on our newsfeed, twitter, facebook.  Hate was on full display.  The root of that hate is the belief that one group is better than the other, that one group is more deserving of God’s love.  Two thousand years ago, Jesus started something. He started to dismantle prejudice.  He told people that they were loved, no matter what they looked like, or who they were related to. He told people that they were to love their neighbor and their enemy.  As his disciples, we are called to continue his work.  Much like the woman who was seeking mercy, we cannot relent.  We must persist.  Like Jesus, we have to look at the prejudices within ourselves.  While we cannot produce miracles, we can bring healing to our community and our broken world. The first step in that healing, is acknowledging the brokenness.  In our Eucharistic Prayer for today, the priest says, “But we turned against you, and we betrayed your trust; and we turned against one another.” Then we break the bread as a symbol of Jesus broken on the cross, as a symbol of our own brokenness. That is not how it ends.  The way the prayer ends is that we all come to the altar. We all partake in the love that Jesus shared.   We become vessels of his love and grace. 

As those vessels, we have a responsibility to carry that love and grace.  While God’s love and grace has no limit, each person has a limit to the pain that they can bear.  No Jew should have to see someone wield a swastika, a symbol of their intended annihilation.  No African American should have to hear racial slurs hurled at them. Sometimes God’s grace looks like us, standing between hate and the recipients of hate. 

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[1] The Infancy Gospel of Thomas: http://gnosis.org/library/inftoma.htm

 

Just Jesus: August 6, 2017

Year A, Transfiguration                                                         
Luke 9:28-36                                                                                    

            Recently, I have been trying to get more organized.  I realized that I was feeling scattered, trying to do a million things at once, but never seeming to get anything done.  I thought, this has to be fixable.  I just need to figure it out.  I have made some changes in how I set my schedule and ensure I follow up on tasks.  But the major change is that I don’t try to do more than one thing at a time.  I am sure most of you have had this experience.  You are sitting down trying to accomplish one task, and then your computer chimes and you find yourself reading an e-mail.  You start to reply but are distracted because you see on your phone that a text has come in.  You start responding to the text and then see a news item pop up on your screen and go to read the article. This can all happen in about 3 minutes.  By the time you have read the article, you have completely forgotten what you sat down to do.  Most people have experienced some version of this. 

With all of our technology and devices, we have become more efficient in some ways and less efficient in others.  Most people pride themselves on their ability to multitask, but the whole concept of multitasking is a myth.  I have a good friend who is a neurologist and she told me that it is actually impossible to do more than one thing at once.  What we do is that that we shift from one task to another rapidly.  Sometimes this is handy. However, I think a lot of times, it makes us more fractured and scattered.  That is why at a time when we are more technologically advanced than ever, there is a movement to become more mindful.  That is why things like yoga are so popular because there is a focus on being present in that moment.   

            While Jesus and his disciples were not affected by technology, they still knew what it was to be pulled in different directions.  Often times, Jesus would go off to pray because even the savior of humanity needed time to be away from people and day to day tasks.  Occasionally he would take a few of his disciples with him.  That was what happened in our Gospel reading for today.  He took three disciples up to the mountain with him to pray.  Yet instead of having some nice quiet time with their friend and teacher, Jesus, the disciples experienced a bit of a light show.  While Jesus was praying, his clothes became dazzling white and his face changed.  As if this was not strange enough, two men appeared out of nowhere.  They were not just any two men, they were Moses and Elijah, two pillars of their faith, two people who were supposed to be dead. 

            It must have been an amazing thing to behold—these three men together. Peter did the logical thing, he offered to make some tents for them. He offered to make tents…for two people who were dead.  It seems like an odd offer.  Even the Gospel writer comments that Peter did not know what he was talking about.  Peter is one of those people who always seemed to be saying the wrong thing at the wrong time.  For millennia people have been speculating what Peter was thinking when he made that offer.  Was it a display of hospitality?  Was he being practical?  One theory I have always liked is that he was trying to convince Moses and Elijah to stay a little while.  They had come a long way… back from the dead.  There were so many reasons why Peter would have wanted this holy moment to last longer.

            Lately, I have been wondering if it was something else entirely.  I wonder if it was just too much for Peter.  I wonder if the moment was so astounding, he just had to do something else. He needed a task to accomplish. He wanted something to do with his hands so he would not have to think about the ramifications of this moment.  He would not have to hear Jesus talking to Moses and Elijah about Jesus’ departure….which was Jesus’ death.  Who can blame him?  Why would he want to think about his friend dying?  How many of us have turned on the radio to tune out our thoughts, or watched a stupid television show to zone out? 

So much of what culture seems to be pushing right now is not things to make us more efficient, but things to distract us.  One of the things I love about writing sermons is that it is the one time when I am forced to sit in silence and let my mind wander. Otherwise, I am always listening to music or podcasts or reading.  Being distracted has become a way of life.

God does not like it when people try to avoid him or his message.  Before Peter could even finish his sentence, God sent a cloud over them.  Our text says, “a cloud came and overshadowed them; and they were terrified as they entered the cloud.”  If this was not dramatic enough, God spoke from the cloud and said, “This is my Son, my Chosen; listen to him!”  No more chitter chatter Peter! Stop your yapping and listen!  This is what I love about this specific text.  It says, “When the voice had spoken, Jesus was found alone. And they kept silent…”  Moses and Elijah were gone.  There was no light show.  No clouds.  No booming voices.  It was Jesus…alone.   Thankfully the disciples had the presence of mind to keep silent.  I imagine that they had a lot of questions rolling around in their heads, but they knew that there was only one response to this kind of glory…silence. 

One of the things church should offer to every person is one hour a week where there is no distraction from God. It is one hour when we open ourselves up to what God might be telling us.  There are certainly people out there who have the ability to do that on their own, but those people are the exception and not the rule.  Of course we have our share of distractions, even in church, but the goal is to have time to focus on God.  Our opening prayer for today says, “Mercifully grant that we, being delivered from the disquietude of this world, may by faith behold the King in his beauty…” In case you are not familiar with this word, disquietude is the elegantly Episcopal way to say anxiety.

Life is full of so many anxieties, even if you are someone who does not suffer from technology overload.  Anxiety/worry is something we all carry.  Therefore, it is important to have some time in the week to unload those burdens.  Leave them at the door.  Because it is only when we can release these things (even release them a little) that we can truly behold the King—the King of Glory-- in his spectacular beauty.   After Moses and Elijah were gone—after the light show was over—after the voices stopped and the cloud receded, there was Jesus…just Jesus.  That is what we are looking for here every Sunday.  We are looking for Jesus.

Spirit of Adoption: July 23, 2017

Two churches celebrating Joshua's baptism (picture by Bob Harper Photography)

Year A, Pentecost 7                                                             

Romans 8:12-25                                                                     

            About two years ago, I wrote a newsletter article telling the parish that my husband and I were in the adoption process. People were extremely supportive and a number of people shared their own adoption stories with me.  There are several people in our parish who have adopted nieces, nephews or grandchildren. I loved hearing those stories.  By the time I had written that article, we had already been in the process for about a year.  When you are waiting that long, it is helpful to hear about adoptions that have really happened.  One of my favorite stories was from our pastoral associate Jane Price. Her granddaughter is adopted and Jane said something that made a real impact on me.  She told me that the adoption of her granddaughter had brought something new into their family, something that was unique and beautiful because it was so different.  She said that it was exciting because they had no idea what this child would become.  Her granddaughter ended up being an extraordinary dancer and she said, “She did not get that gift from any of us!”  Now surely, you all have stories of that special person in your family who broke the mold.  Just recently a friend of mine was describing her children. She said that her daughter was very similar to her…but her son, she had no idea where he came from.  He was not like either her or her husband.  She was not complaining.  She was simply marveling at his uniqueness.  

            I preach a lot about being children of God.  It is one of my favorite images. To be a child of God means that we have a special relationship with God.  It means that we are loved by God and no matter how many times we may disappoint God, no matter how many times God might disappoint us, we are family.  Paul’s letter to the Romans describes how we are children of God---but Paul describes this idea a little differently.  Paul writes that we are children of God because we have received the spirit of adoption.  It is by this spirit that we are given the privilege and the honor to call God by his most personal name—Abba.  The best translation for Abba is Daddy.  We have such an intimate relationship with God, we can call him Daddy. 



Before Jesus came to the earth and embodied God, people were not even able to say the name of God.  Even when writing the name of God, they would leave the vowels out because to say or write the name of God was forbidden.  Yet here Paul is telling the Romans that as adopted children of God, we call God Abba. 

            Now you might wonder, why do we need to even talk about being adopted children of God?  Why can’t we just be children of God?  There are a couple of reasons that Paul made this distinction. First of all, the early church was very much divided between the people of Israel/the Jews and the Gentiles.  It was initially thought that Jesus’ message of salvation was only meant for the Jews.  He was Jewish.  He spent most of his time with other Jews.  In the Old Testament/the Hebrew scriptures, it was the Jews and only the Jews who were the chosen people of God.  Therefore, it seems as though Paul had to find another way to describe how all people can now become children of God, even the Gentiles.  This illustration of adoption helped people see that even if you were not born a Jew, did not mean you were not a child of God, one of God’s beloved.   



The other possible reason has something to do with the recipients of the letter.  Paul was a citizen of Rome.  He was writing to the Romans and had a pretty good sense of the Roman laws and customs.  Adoption was a legal process in Rome in Paul’s time. At that time, having a son was critical to continuing the family line as well as caring for the parents as they aged.  If a family did not have a son or had a son who was estranged, it was common to adopt a slave who would then become their legal son. This son would now have the rights, privileges and responsibilities of being a legal member of this family.  It did not matter which social class this boy was born into. Once adopted, he was a member of this family and would inherit all that the family had.  The purpose of the adoption was not necessarily to benefit the child, but to benefit the family.  The hope of course would be that both the adopted child and the family would benefit from the adoption, but that was not the primary reason for it.



            So it is with our adoption as children of God.  Of course the adoption benefits each one of us personally, but it also benefits the whole human family.  With every new person who is adopted into our Christian family, we become stronger.  God has a vision for his family.  God knows what his family looks like.  With every new and different person, we begin to look more like this vision that God has for us.   

In some ways it is easy to talk about being children of God.  However, what we often forget is that if we are all children of God, than we are all brothers and sisters.  We are all part of this huge, wonderful, slightly crazy family.  And when we bring new people, different people into our fold, we discover new gifts and joys.  We also discover new challenges.   Being a part of this new family is not easy.  It takes work.  Not only that, it takes hope and patience. 



 So often with adoption, people look for similarities.  Even when it is crystal clear that your child is adopted, someone will tell you how similar their mannerisms are.  Those are wonderful things to hear, but I think it is helpful if we can find ways to celebrate the differences in our family, whether it is our biological family, our adopted family, or even our church family.  When my husband and I were beginning to think about adoption, we talked to other people who had adopted.  They said it was an incredibly difficult process, but that it was worth it in the end.  That is true in life as well.  Being an adopted child of God can be a difficult journey, but it is well worth it in the end. 

When we finalized our adoption 4 months after we brought Joshua home with us, the judge asked us several questions and said, “You know this is a no return state.”  Once those papers were signed, there was no going back.  Of course we joyfully agreed as that was what we were hoping and praying for, for years.  Yet that beautiful moment was not the end of the journey, it was just the beginning of another journey.  In our Christian journey, we occasionally have moments of clarity, moments when we get a glimpse of the beauty of this world, the beauty of the people of God. Paul wrote, “but we ourselves, who have the first fruits of the Spirit groan inwardly while we wait for adoption…for in hope we are saved.”  That groaning is not simply groaning in pain, but in expectation.  We groan in expectation because we know what could be.  We know of the great gift that God has given us, the potential that each one us has. Therefore, we persevere.  We keep moving forward.  We do so because we know that no matter how difficult it can be, as adopted children of God, we are all bound to one another and bound to God. We can’t be returned!! Well, that is not quite true. We can be returned.  We can return to God.  Every time we stray from the path, God welcomes us back and rejoices in our return. 

Failing the Christian Way: July 16, 2017

Year A, Pentecost 6                                                  
Matthew 13:1-9,18-23                                                                                                

Steven Spielberg, Walt Disney, Fred Astaire, Thomas Edison.  What do these four men have in common?  They were/are incredibly successful in their endeavors. Yet they have something else in common. Before their successes, they failed. Steven Spielberg was rejected by film school multiple times. Walt Disney was fired by a newspaper editor because he "lacked imagination and had no good ideas." In one of Fred Astaire's first screen tests, an executive wrote: "Can't sing. Can't act. Can dance a little."  Thomas Edison's teachers told him he was "too stupid to learn anything." Thankfully, not one of them gave up.[1]  They kept pressing on despite the failure and  rejection.

            In the last decade, there has been a lot of conversation and research about failure.  I became interested in this topic after reading an article about a conference called: FailCon. Apparently it was quite popular for a few years. The website describes it as a conference for startup founders to learn from and prepare for failure, so their businesses could grow quickly. It was an opportunity for people to share their failures and how they learned from their failures.  Most of the attendees were people who were technical entrepreneurs—the idea being that if you are starting something or inventing something, failure is inevitable.  But just because it is inevitable, does not mean that failure has to be the end of the story. It’s just a chapter of the book, not the conclusion.

            Moses, the Prophet Isaiah, King David, the Apostle Paul. What did they have in common?  They are leaders of our faith.  They are essential parts of our Christian story. They also failed.  Moses got lost in the desert for 40 years and never made it to the Promised Land.  The Prophet Isaiah was ridiculed, despised and miserable most of his life.  King David had an affair and had Bathsheba’s husband killed.  Paul went from being a leader of the Jewish faith to being a man without a home who was jailed and beaten numerous times.  Some might even say that Jesus was a failure.  He was God in the flesh and he was killed by humans.  Failure is part of the Christian story.  It is part of our story.

            It is also part of the Parable of the Sower. Many of us know this story well.  At least we think we do.  It seems obvious.  The sower scattered seed.  Some of the seed fell on a path and were eaten by birds.  Some fell on rocky ground, sprouted and then died quickly.  Some fell on thorns and when they sprouted, they were choked.  Then finally, there were seeds that fell on good soil.  Those seeds brought forth grain in abundance.   If you look at this story logically (which is rarely a good idea when reading parables), it seems like this sower was not very good at this job.  Three out of four of the areas he chose to scatter his seeds failed to produce grain.  He was incredibly inefficient and he was wasteful.  You have to wonder, what he was thinking.  He must have known which was the best place to plant seeds. Why not focus on the good soil instead of messing around with the thorns and rocks?

            Despite the sower’s apparent lack of skill, the seeds that fell on the good soil had an amazing yield. Some of that grain brought forth a hundred fold.  That is an exorbitant amount.  It is far above what would be expected with fertile ground.  Jesus wanted those listening to this story to know that the yield was so great—that there was an abundance where there should have been scarcity. Given the fact that ¾ of the seeds failed to thrive, it is remarkable that there was any harvest at all.  Yet there was and it was extraordinary.

            The vast majority of us are afraid of failure to some degree.  That fear affects people different ways.   Some people won’t take any risk, won’t try anything that might end in failure.  Others will take those risks but give up quickly when they sense failure or experience any kind of failure.  And some people will be like Moses.  They will wander for 40 years because while they seem to be going in circles, but they keep going because they know that the Promised Land is there.  It’s just going to take some patience and tenacity to get there. 

            About one year ago, we embarked on the Come and See program.  It was a program that entailed training and education about inviting others into our midst.  Virtually every church or faith community tells its members to invite a friend to church.  It sounds so simple, but few people ever do that.  When we first started the conversation, we talked about our fears.  Why are we so scared of evangelism of talking about our faith?  For many, it came down to a fear of rejection…of putting yourself out there, allowing yourself to be vulnerable.  This can be especially scary when the thing we are sharing with someone is precious and sacred to us and that person rejects it.  It leaves us a little raw.  There were some people who chose not to participate.  There were many who did. The majority of people who were invited never came.  Some came for a couple of Sundays and left.  A few stuck around. 

The lack of response was frustrating to me because we put a lot of time and energy into the program.  I was so nervous that I was sick the morning of Come and See because I was so afraid this program would fail.  Mark reminded me that this was about more than a couple of Sundays.  This was about changing the way people think about church and evangelism. It’s about teaching people to take risks.  That was helpful to me.  However, in preparing this sermon I realized that it is also about failure and learning how to move past that failure.  It is about experiencing rejection and not letting that rejection cripple us.  Of course this lesson applies to more than just a church program.  It applies to our whole lives.

            That sower could have been more careful about where he scattered his seeds.  He could have tested the soil and only spread the seeds on the soil he knew would produce a harvest.  He didn’t.  He threw it all over the place.  The reason he felt free to do that was because he knew there was an abundance of seeds.  He knew that as long as he kept planting them, God would keep providing them.  He knew that if he worried too much about the seeds that might fail and whether the soil was or was not fertile, then he would never plant anything.  So he just kept throwing the seed, knowing that there would be a lot that would produce nothing, but all God needed was a few. God would turn that small number into an abundance. 

So it is with the way we share God’s love with others.  If we worry too much about how our words are perceived—if we worry too much about the person who we are talking to, we will never accomplish anything.  The best we can do is put everything we have into our efforts.  Those efforts might only yield a small amount.  They might not appear to yield anything. It might even seem as though we have failed.  But if we keep trying, praying, hoping, believing---God will take our meager attempts and he will make them great. 

               

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[1] http://www.businessinsider.com/successful-people-who-failed-at-first-2014-3/#nston-churchill-was-estranged-from-his-political-party-over-ideological-disagreements-during-the-wilderness-years-of-1929-to-1939-1