Stop Freaking Out: July 17, 2022

 Year C, Pentecost 6                                   Luke 10:38-42                                                    

         Ever since the story of Martha and Mary was first read, it has been interpreted and misinterpreted in about 100 different ways.  Often times Mary and Martha are pitted against one another. You are either Mary or Martha.  And if you are Martha, you better learn how to be more like Mary. Books like: Having a Mary Heart in a Martha World, Having a Martha Home in a Mary Way, Made Like Martha: Good News for the Woman Who Gets Things Done---have oversimplified this story. (At least the titles have.) 

People have used this story to create archetypes for all women—you are either Mary or Martha. Mary is the devoted learner who sits at Jesus’ feet as a disciple would.  Martha is the worker bee who can’t be bothered to stop and listen because she has too much to do. At times, people seem to be trying to use this story to describe the right and wrong way to be a disciple.

          But really, it’s about different ways of being a disciple and the challenges that arise when all of the preoccupations of our life get in the way of being in relationship with God. There is little doubt that Martha was a wonderful disciple of Jesus.  Showing hospitality was incredibly important at that time.  One doesn’t have to look any further than the story we have from the Old Testament when Abraham drops everything to help three strangers wandering by his tent.  Anyone who has spent any time volunteering in the church knows that a lot of what needs to be done is the very stuff that Martha was doing. 

          Then why would Jesus be critical of Martha? I am not sure that is what is really happening here.  Notice that he’s not criticizing her for what she is doing, not even for what she is complaining about.  He said, “Martha, Martha, you are worried and distracted by many things….”  If you look at the Greek that this Gospel was originally written in, you might note that better translation would be: “Martha, Martha, you are completely freaking out.”   The Greek word that is translated to worried is describing someone absolutely panicked.

This was more than just dinner party stress.  It was stomach churning, headache producing---panic. I am sure there were a variety of things contributing to the panic.  But I don’t think it’s a coincidence that we are at the point in the Gospel when Jesus has set his face toward Jerusalem.  Just a few chapters before, Jesus had started talking about his imminent death.  Maybe Martha was thinking this might be the last time she would see him and here she is doing the dishes when what she desperately wanted to do was sit at his feet like her sister Mary.  But something was stopping her.

          When Jesus told her that Mary had chosen the better part and that was not to be taken away from her—he wasn’t minimalizing what Martha had accomplished.  He was simply reminding Martha that there was a better part to play at that moment.  There was something else she could be doing.  There was a way to step away from the anxiety and panic.  We don’t know how Martha responded, but I hope she sat down for a few minutes, to absorb God’s presence.  Because there he was, the very embodiment of peace, the balm for her weary soul.  All she had to do was stop for a minute and listen.

          If it was hard for Martha to find peace when she was in the presence of God in the flesh, it is no wonder that we have a hard time releasing ourselves from the burden of anxiety in times such as these.  I could start listing the many anxiety provoking things going on in our world, but I fear that would not be helpful.  We all know what is causing us anxiety because it seems to be constantly with us.  With the advent of smart phones, it’s impossible to step away even for a moment.  And it’s not just smart phone causing the problems. The pandemic has intensified all of life’s challenges. 

          In the last 2 years, the number of adults with anxiety disorders has increased by 26%. The number of children with an anxiety disorder has doubled over the course of the pandemic.  The number of people with mental health issues was increasing before the pandemic.  The pandemic simply accelerated the mental health crisis in our country. The rates of depression have also increased exponentially, but that is a conversation for another time.  The point is that we are in anxious times. 

          Many people wonder why Martha went to Jesus to complain about her sister rather than going directly to her sister to ask for help.  I think it was because she knew that that the help she needed was not the help Mary could provide.  She needed (like we all need) Jesus’ help.  She needed healing for her mind---a peace that passes all understanding.

“Martha, Martha, you are worried and distracted by many things; there is need of only one thing…” The word for distracted also means to be pulled in many different directions.  Even when we were in part of the pandemic when we were all locked down and limited in what we could do and where we could go, our minds were still being pulled in different directions.  When that happens, our lives become so fragmented, we can barely remember what the big picture is.  For Martha, the big picture was right in front of her---God incarnate.  For us, the big picture—God’s purpose for our lives is a little more elusive. We may hear God calling our name, but it’s a lot easier to ignore.

This is a hard sermon for me to preach because I struggle with anxiety.  I find that the distractions of life can consume me at times. I wonder. I wonder if we could find a way to be distracted by God. If our distractions have started to consume us, what if we found small ways to let God break through and distract us from our own fears and anxieties?

My view from traffic

 That will look different for each one of us. What I know is that God’s peace is here, in this place.  I felt it the first time I walked in. I feel it when the light passes through the windows in a new and glorious way. God’s peace is out there in our cemetery where the names of those who have passed on to the next life surround us.  God’s peace is looking out over the water (even when on the HRBT) when the sun hits the water in a way that makes you forget you are sitting in traffic. 

God’s peace is everywhere, if we look for it. Take some time to consider what thing or person or place distracts you enough to experience some peace and then make some space in your life for opportunities to search for God presence.  When you have found that presence (that peace that passes all understanding)--- bask in it.  Even for a moment.  Because that moment, that moment leads to other moments and those moments are the ones that will save you.

When Jesus Isn't Nice: June 26, 2022

Year  C, Pentecost 3                                             Luke 9:51-62                                                                                               

            I’m going to be honest with you.  These readings are not my favorite readings, especially for a baptism.  I could preach on the psalm.  It’s a nice one.  It has some very uplifting verses.  Or I could pull one line out of the Gospel or Galatians and take it totally out of context.  It’s tempting, but I am not going to do it.  Sometimes we have to talk about the uncomfortable passages in the Bible, even the ones where Jesus doesn’t act the way we think he should act.

            The Gospel starts out in a fairly standard way. Jesus had “set his face to go to Jerusalem.”  That means that Jesus was resolved to go to Jerusalem where he would be crucified.  We don’t like that he has to be crucified, but we are certainly used to hearing about it at this point and since we know how the story ends, we don’t get overly concerned with Jesus setting his face to Jerusalem.  He sent James and John (who he previously nicknamed the “sons of thunder.”) to Samaria to get things ready. 

            The Samaritans rejected them.  We don’t know why. It could have been anything.  But James and John were upset about it as they asked Jesus if he would like them to command fire to come down and consume the Samaritans.  Now before you label this as an overreaction on the part of James and John, it might be helpful to remember that there was precedent for this reaction.  There were a few times in the Old Testament when God rained fire on a city or a group of people. 

            Fortunately a cooler head prevailed.  Jesus rebuked them.  There would be no fire raining down on anyone. So far so good.  This is classic Jesus. He’s going to be crucified.  The disciples say something absurd. Jesus rebukes them and they move on. But this is where things get a little uncomfortable.  As Jesus walked along, three different people approached him and either asked to follow him or were asked to follow him.  When the first one offered to follow him, Jesus explained (using metaphoric language) that this was not an easy life as he was essentially a homeless man wandering from place to place.  He didn’t say no, but he wasn’t very encouraging.

The next person, Jesus asked. That person was willing but had one reasonable request: “Lord, first let me go and bury my father.”  Jesus said no. You either bury the dead or you proclaim the kingdom.  Not a very pastoral or kind response.  

The third potential disciple told Jesus he wanted to follow him, but he needed to say goodbye to his family first.  Another reasonable request.  Jesus was even harsher in his rebuke “No one who puts a hand to the plow and looks back is fit for the kingdom of God.”  When it comes to being Jesus’s disciple, there are no “but firsts.”  There is no looking back or saying goodbye.  You stop what you are doing and you follow.  You change your plan.  You change the course of your life.  This might be why Jesus didn’t have a large band of followers.  He had 12, maybe a few more that they didn’t count---but definitely not a large group.

            This is a disturbing story because we want Jesus to be kind, compassionate and loving.  A kind and loving person would be understanding if someone wanted to bury their father. He would say something like, “Take the time you need. I will be here when you are ready.” But here’s the thing. Jesus was a man on a mission.  His mission was to save humanity, to release people from the bondage of sin and death.  He was on his way to Jerusalem, which meant he was on his way to his death.  He didn’t have time to be patient with people.  They either followed him or they didn’t.  There was no “but first.”  There could be no other priority in their life, not even their family.  So no, he wasn’t very kind in these instances.  Nothing was more important than what he was doing.

            Ok.  Maybe we can accept that. We don’t necessarily like what Jesus had to say, but we can accept that was what was required of Jesus’ disciples when he was on his way to his crucifixion.  Here’s the tricky part---what does this passage mean for us now?  (Is it too late for me to preach on the psalm? I think it is.)  The thing is, it is highly unlikely that Jesus will return in the flesh, walk right by you and ask you to follow him.  Does that mean that we don’t have to worry about what is required of us as disciples?  Of course not.  We are still called to follow Jesus.  However, we are called to discipleship in more nuanced ways which makes it more challenging and easier at the same time. It is more challenging in that we don’t have Jesus in the flesh telling us exactly what to do. It is easier in the sense that the modern call to discipleship can be ignored or quickly forgotten.

            In the end, what Jesus was asking these potential disciples and what he asked all the disciples was, “Will you change your plans and your life for me?”  So we might each ask ourselves, would my life be any different if I wasn’t a Christian?  How has a relationship with God changed the way I live? Most people I know like to have some kind of plan for their life.  Then once that happens, they might try to fit God into that plan. But what Jesus asked his disciples 2000 years ago and what he still asks us now is to let our plans, our dreams, our goals, be secondary to his holy and life giving mission. I understand how hard to that is---how hard it is to follow God’s plan when it is far easier to fit God into a corner of our plan. 

            One of the final prayers in the baptismal liturgy is: “Give them an inquiring and discerning heart, the courage to will and to persevere, a spirit to know and to love you, and the gift of joy and wonder in all your works.”  We say that prayer for the baptismal candidate, but it’s a prayer that every baptized person shares.  And I wonder if it might help us to figure out how to be better disciples.  I would encourage us all to find this in the prayer book and read it every day.  But pray it for yourself, that you might have the courage to will and persevere and a spirit to know and to love God.  Because if you have those things, you will find a way to let God play a bigger part in your life, to lead you in the right direction.  It’s never too late to start following God’s plan for you.

                       

Diversity isn't a punishment: June 5, 2022

 Year C, Pentecost                                              Genesis 11:1-9 and Acts 2:1-21                                                                      

            Every once in a while, our lectionary gives us options on what readings we can use on a Sunday.  Typically we have a reading from the Old Testament, the Psalms, the New Testament and then a Gospel reading.   You might have noticed that in the season of Easter, we haven’t had an Old Testament reading.  Instead we have read from the Book of Acts.  On this Pentecost Sunday, we have the option of skipping the Old Testament reading again.  Often I do that on Pentecost, because it bothered me the way the story of the Tower of Babel was always set up against the story of Pentecost, as if Pentecost was a solution to the Tower of Babel.  It’s more complicated than that. 

            This year I found myself curious about the Tower of Babel. So often when we hear or tell the story, we tell the children’s Bible version of it. The people were bad and God punished them accordingly. If you read it that way, then one could conclude that diversity is God’s punishment to humanity and that just doesn’t ring true.

Photo by Ronan Furuta 

            When we tell or interpret the story of Babel, people often talk about the pride of the people.  It makes sense given what we hear from the people who are building the tower. “Come, let us build ourselves a city, and a tower with its top in the heavens, and let us make a name for ourselves; otherwise we shall be scattered abroad upon the face of the whole earth.”  They were trying to reach the heavens.  Why else would you try to reach the heavens unless you are competing with God? There probably was a bit of human pride going on.   However, I am not sure that was what was really bothering God.  If God punished humanity every time we demonstrated pride in an achievement, we would be in serious trouble.

            Instead, look at the actual reason they gave for building the tower.  “…otherwise we shall be scattered abroad upon the face of the whole earth.”  They were looking to settle in one place.  It says that in the 2^nd verse of the chapter.  “And as they migrated from the east, they came upon a plain in the land of Shinar and settled there.”  The word that is translated to settle is the same word as sit.  It literally means that the people stopped moving.  And who can blame them? They had been traveling, wandering perhaps. They were ready to settle down.  They didn’t want to live out of tents anymore.  It’s like how you hear people talk about moving into their “forever home.”  It’s usually when people are a little later in life, they realize they don’t want to move anymore. They are ready to settle in one place, the place.  So maybe these people are just ready for their forever home.  Is that so bad?

            Let’s consider where we are in the story of the people of God.  This is the book of Genesis. It’s actually pretty early in the Book of Genesis.  (Show where we are in the Bible)  We have a lot more to this story.  You don’t settle in your forever home at this point in the story, especially when the story is God’s story and the people are God’s people.  Of course you can’t really blame them. They might not have realized how important it was for them to continue to scatter and migrate. They were thinking of their own stories.  And you know what sounds great in our own stories?  Big accomplishments.  Big towers.  But God was carrying a much bigger vision.

            When we consider God’s response, we tend to focus on what he says.  He says, “Let us go down, and confuse their language there, so that they will not understand one another’s speech.”  That just sounds kind of mean.  Instead, let’s focus on God’s action.  What did God do?  “God scattered them abroad over the face of all the earth.”  God forced them to keep moving.  God would not allow them to get comfortable in their mammoth tower where they could protect themselves from outsiders.  No, God forced them to leave the confines of this walled city and scatter. 

            Was it a punishment?  Maybe, but it was an effective punishment in that it forced them to learn and to grow.  Sure, it started with some confusion.  But so much of our education and formation begins with a little confusion.  I feel like every time I have learned something really important, it started with me completely baffled.   Confusion is only a bad thing if we choose to dwell in the confusion and never find our way out.

            A lot of people say that the story of Pentecost in Acts was a solution to the confusion and scattering that happened in Genesis.  In Acts 2, everyone  was together.  But they weren’t living together on a commune. They had come together for a festival in Jerusalem.  When the Holy Spirit descended, the apostles were able to speak in different languages and the people present were able hear in their own language.  The Holy Spirit didn’t meld all the languages together or make Hebrew the official language.  The Holy Spirit simply allowed more people to hear the word of God in their own language.

            If Pentecost was the solution or the opposite of the Tower of Babel, the people would have all started speaking in the same language and subsequently stayed in Jerusalem.  But that was not what happened.  The people retained their native tongues and the apostles learned to speak in new languages. And after the sermons and the 1,000s of baptisms, then what?  Did they all decide to form a tight knit community and stay in Jerusalem? No!  The people who were visiting presumably went home. The disciples moved outside of the walls, far outside of their comfort zones. The Spirit descended on the disciples when they were in a locked room, but the Spirit also inspired them to break out, to break out of the locked room and scatter.

            God doesn’t want some kind of monoculture.  If that was what God wanted, we would all look the same, talk the same, think the same.  And perhaps we would be united in our sameness.  Maybe there would be less division.  But we would be boring.  And we would probably fight more.  Have you ever noticed that the people who are hardest to get along with are the people most like you?  We should thank God that he scattered the people who were building that tower. He gave us a beautiful gift in doing that.

             I think most of us are pretty capable of embracing diversity.  Once I heard the Mayor of Hampton point out that we started as the most diverse city in this nation.  We of course had the Native Americans, the first Africans and the colonists from Europe.  It took us a long time to figure out that was a good thing. We committed some grave errors at the beginning.  But now I think most of us can embrace the beauty of being in town with so many different kinds of people. The great thing about Hampton is you don’t have to go very far to meet the other.  You might only have to walk about 10 feet.  But you do have to leave your comfort zone…your safe place. 

            Our church is a safe place and it should be…but it shouldn’t be safe in a way that shields us from different people or different opinions.  It’s not a place we can cloister ourselves.  This cannot be our Tower of Babel.  We must scatter through the city, maybe even to Newport News and Norfolk.  We don’t have to move—just visit. We must scatter because we have received the gift of the Holy Spirit and it is God’s divine mandate that we scatter and share it.

People of God Do Extraordinary Things: May 22, 2022

 Year C, Easter 6                                                                  John 14:23-29                                                                                        

            Poor Judas (not Isacriot)---he gets one line, one recognition in the whole Gospel and the author feels the need to call him not by his full name, but Judas (not Iscariot).  In the Gospel of Luke, he has a full name---Judas, son of James.  In Mark and Matthew, his name is actually changed to Thaddeus.  Here in the Gospel of John, he is labelled not as who he is, but who he is not.   It’s understandable.  This scene comes right after Judas Iscariot left Jesus and the other disciples and went off to betray him.  It also comes right after Jesus predicts Peter’s denial.  Talk about and a tense meal.

And it wasn’t just tense, it was incredibly sad. Jesus had been trying to tell his disciples about his impending death for quite some time.  It wasn’t like he just sat them down for this one special dinner and laid it all out.  He had been preparing them, probably for years.  They were told it was coming, but they didn’t know when or how.  They probably hadn’t completely accepted it.   But Jesus knew.  Jesus knew he would soon die a horrible death. He would be denied, betrayed and abandoned by some of the people who he had been closest to. 

We don’t actually know what happened to Judas (not Iscariot) after Jesus was arrested.  We know he didn’t do anything horrible like Peter or Judas Isacariot.  He probably just hid with the rest of the disciples.  Because we know so little, Judas (not Iscariot) can sort of be a blank slate for us.  We might even imagine ourselves as him.  Have you ever been labeled for someone you are not rather than the person you are?

            When I have imagined Jesus telling his disciples not to let their hearts be troubled and not to be afraid, I imagined him saying these words with confidence and authority.  Isn’t that how we normally picture Jesus?  But as I studied this text and looked at where it fell in the story, I wondered if that was really the case.  Jesus was not one to hide his emotions.  He wept when we was mourning his friend.  He threw things when he was upset that people were taking advantage of the poor in the temple.   I would think it was incredibly hard for him to tell them not to be troubled, not because he wasn’t confident, but because he knew how hard it would be for them to believe and not be afraid.

            Before he tells them not to let their hearts be troubled and not to be afraid, he said, “Peace I leave with you, my peace I give to you.  I do not give to you as the world gives.”  Obviously we cannot know what the disciples were thinking when he said that.  But put yourself in their shoes (or sandals) for a moment.  Think of Judas (not Iscariot).  You have given up your life to follow this man.  You have seen him do incredible miracles. You have seen him raise the dead.  He has loved every person he has encountered, especially those who all others considered unlovable.  He has loved you unconditionally.  You believe he is God and will save the world.  But now he has told you he has to die a horrible death.   Then he tells you he will be betrayed and denied---maybe by you.  Then he gives you his peace.  His peace.  Would that bring you comfort? 

            Notice how he differentiates the peace that he gives from the peace of the world.  It was about 30 AD which was part of the 200 year period known as Pax Romana.  It was a period of relative tranquility in the Roman Empire, which meant there were no major wars.  The Roman Empire protected and governed individual provinces, allowing them to administer their own laws as long as they accepted Roman taxation and military control. Peace came at a price. Roman authorities would often violently crush any perceived opposition or threat to their rule.  It’s one of the reasons that Jesus was killed.  They were worried he would create an insurrection.  They crushed him and others to maintain peace. This was what people perceived as peace at the time…a lack of war. 

While we aren’t living in the Roman Empire, in many ways we perceive peace the same way, a lack of conflict, or lack of conflict immediately surrounding us.  But we don’t have to look to the Ukraine for examples of conflict. It is everywhere.  We saw it in a dramatic and deeply disturbing way in Buffalo a week ago. We see violence in our own small city. I wish that crime and hate was an anomaly, but it’s not.  This world has never known peace---whether we define it as the absence of conflict or something more holistic.  However, just because the world doesn’t know peace, doesn’t mean that we (Christians) cannot know peace.

I know that the disciple’s hearts were deeply troubled when Jesus was taken away by men with swords, and then whipped and crucified.  How could they not?  But that was not the end of the story.  Jesus was resurrected.  He returned to them and when he did, the first thing he said was, “Peace be with you.”  Because peace isn’t a one and done thing.  Even though Jesus tried to give it to them, he knew they would need more than the gift.  They would even need more than his resurrection and assurance.  They would need someone to come along side them and be with them as they attempted to carry the peace of God with them. 

He said to them, “The Advocate, The Holy Spirit, whom the Father will send in my name, will teach you everything, and remind you of all that I have said to you.” The word translated to advocate means, “one called to the side of.”  It is also translated to counselor and comforter.   The Holy Spirit reminds us of what Jesus said then and what he continues to tell us now. The Holy Spirit counsels us when we cannot make sense of what Jesus says.  And the Holy Spirit can comfort us when it feels that all is lost and peace is elusive at best.    

No one knows exactly what happened to Judas (not Iscariot).  Because he isn’t named in two of the Gospels, some believe he changed his name to Thaddeus.  It wasn’t unusual for someone to go by multiple names in the Bible.  Jesus loved changing people’s names. Judas was a very common name before Judas Iscariot made it the least popular name in the world.  It meant praise.

 I like to think that Judas did change his name to Thaddeus, which means heart or courage.   Because that is what Jesus was asking his disciples in this text, days before his death. “Do not let your hearts be troubled, and do not let them be afraid.”  We are living in a terrifying time right now.  Personally, I feel the fear profoundly.  I don’t think we all need to change our names.  That would just get confusing, but I do think it’s time to embrace the heart and courage of those early disciples.  They were able to build a church and spread the Gospel, not because they were full of confidence and had resources.  They did it because they believed in the gift that Jesus had given them, the gift of the Holy Spirit. We still have that gift!!  So why do we act like we don’t?  Why do we Christians act like beleaguered players of the losing team in the final quarter?  We have the same gifts that the early disciples had. We don’t need to define ourselves by what or who we are not. No, we are not the church we were in 1965.  No, we don’t have to add chairs in the aisles for Christmas or Easter.

Photo by Nick Fewings 

We must let go of those memories and embrace the new people, the new church we can become.  People with big hearts and deep compassion, people who love this city and the people of this city, people who always want to feed the hungry, people who make music even with masks on, people who consume the body and blood of Christ any way they can, people who sing outside people’s windows when they cannot come out….the people of God.  Do not let your hearts be troubled and do not be afraid.  You are not who you once were. You are not your mistakes or misdeeds.  You are the people of God.  And the people of God do extraordinary things.

Waiting for the morning: April 17, 2022

Year C, Easter                                                             Luke 24:1-12                                                                       

            When I was in the hospital, I hated the night.  Visitors had to leave at 8pm and could not return until 8am.  At 8pm I would start to panic because I knew I had 12 hours ahead of me.  And it’s the hospital, so it’s not like you can sleep at night.  Because I had an infectious disease, I couldn’t leave the room or open the door.  It felt like I was in a tomb.  Even when I came home, I dreaded the night.  Never in my life have I been so desperate for the morning.  As I look back on it, I am reminded of Psalm 130. "I wait for the Lord, my soul waits, and in his word I hope; my soul waits for the Lord more than those who watch for the morning, more than those who watch for the morning."  I would like to tell you that the Psalm came to me in the darkness of the night when I most needed it, but it didn’t. Sometimes you have to wait.  Some nights last more than 12 hours.

            I have preached on this text from Luke several times.  Every time I read it, something different strikes me.  This year, it was the time of day that caught my attention. “On the first day of the week, at early dawn, the women who had come with Jesus from Galilee came to the tomb…”  Early dawn. There are 4 Gospels that tell the story of the resurrection and they are all a little different in the way they tell the story.  One of the things they have in common is that the women come either right before dawn or at dawn. 

            There could be a ritualistic reason they came early in the morning.  Typically bodies were anointed before burial. However, because Jesus’ death and burial was unusual for a variety of reasons, the women had not been able to anoint him when they normally would have---right after death.  That must have been upsetting to them.  The act of anointing was a way these women could mourn someone who was dear to them.  It was their last opportunity to minister to him.  So it’s possible they were simply eager to move forward with this important ritual that they had been denied.

Because of COVID, most of us have had experiences of not being able to mourn people as we were once able.  It could have been being denied a timely funeral or even not being able to gather friends and family to share stories.  Some who died of COVID or were in nursing homes or hospitals with strict policies had to say goodbye through a computer or phone screen.  I said final prayers for someone through and open window while huddled with the family under an umbrella. The traumas of the past two years have been compounded by our inability to mourn and process.   Thus I think many of us can understand why it was so important for these followers of Jesus to anoint him as soon as they could.

Yet I also could not help but wonder what their nights must have been like after Jesus was crucified.  It has been two nights and two days.  Jesus rose on the third day.  The women who came to anoint him were the very same women who had been with him while he shared his parables, when he performed miracles, when he raised Lazarus from the dead.  They were the same women who had been with him when he was crucified. After witnessing the crucifixion of not just a dear friend, but a man you believed was God in the flesh…how well do you think you would sleep?  Trauma can do some crazy things to your sleep.

The psalm I opened with mentions someone watching for the morning.  I bet these women did more than watch. I would think they were desperate for the morning---desperate for a time that they could be with their friends who had shared this experience, friends they could weep openly with. Desperate for some sense of closure.

They arrived at early dawn, which means they started their journey when it was still dark.  Can you see it?  These heart-broken women trudging through the darkness to a tomb.  They must have been carrying more than just broken hearts and spices.  Because a broken heart will not propel you forward.  There must have been an ember of hope buried inside them—a memory dancing on the edges of their consciousness.  He said he would rise again.  It didn’t make sense when he said it, but what if??  It was desperation, but it was also hope that drove them into the night. Desperation and hope are often tangled together. 

I have traditional book commentaries that I consult when I am preparing a sermon and a few online commentaries.  When things get desperate (as they did this week), I occasionally just google random thoughts and words.  When I did that this week, I kept seeing websites and articles with titles like, “Evidence for the resurrection.”  Those were not links I pursued. We don’t believe in the resurrection because of evidence.  There is no body of evidence that can prove that the resurrection happened.  Despite that lack of evidence, we are still telling this story thousands of years after the event.  That in and of itself is amazing.  A religion that started with a man born in a backwater town, who collected a small band of followers and then died a gruesome death currently has 2.4 billion followers.  And that doesn’t include all of those Christians who have lived over the last 2000 years.  How could any movement survive that long without proof?

When the women went and told the other disciples that Jesus had risen, they had not yet see the risen Lord.  They had just seen the empty tomb and been told that he was risen by two men in white.  They had no real evidence. But they remembered who he was in life.  They remembered the hope he had given them, the hope they still carried even after he was crucified—when there was absolutely no good reason to hope.  Who holds on to hope after someone has been brutally murdered? Christians.  We do.  And that my friends, is what gets us through the darkest of nights and the haziest of dawns. It’s not the light that we currently see, it’s a light that we are promised. A light that seems heart wrenchingly dim at times, a light we can best see when we have experienced total darkness.

Photo by Daniel Joshua on Unsplash

Just like those desperately hopeful women, we too have to start in the night if we want to make it to the dawn.  Every single person in this church has suffered in some way over the past several years, some more than others.  I would do anything to be able to take some of that pain away.  I can’t.  I can’t give you proof of the resurrection.  But I can promise you this—that ember of hope that propelled those women through the darkness to an empty tomb burns in each one of us.  If it were not so, you would not be here.  Something brought you here. It might seem to be a family obligation, or a tradition---some perfectly ordinary reason.  But God’s works miracles in the ordinary. 

Today we receive communion at the altar for the first time in 25 months.  Communion is about a lot of things and one of those things is remembering Jesus’ words.  It’s a weekly reminder that despite the lack of proof, we still gather with hopeful expectation.  We still believe that we have a God who works miracles out of the ordinary—a God who promises that no darkness last forever.  The morning always comes.

Too Much Magic: January 2, 2022

 Epiphany  Year C                                           Matthew 2:1-12                                                     

 Over the last month several people have commented to me how wonderful it is to have Christmas with a child.  They often tell me to enjoy the magic of the experience, because this is the time when it’s especially magical for children.  I follow a few parenting groups online and I watched people talk about how to make this time especially magical for their children and then worry about losing the  magic.  I found myself wondering when we became so obsessed with having a magical Christmas.  I don’t remember that from my childhood. I remember the excitement and the anticipation, but I don’t recall people talking about magic. I have seen it in the Christmas cards as well.  Instead of religious language referencing Jesus,  cards will say something like, “Enjoy the magic of the season.” I suppose we could blame it on the secularization of Christmas.  But how weird is it that in order to secularize Christmas we have to give it magical powers?

            When I was much younger I was curious about astrology and psychics.  I went to a couple psychics and palm readers in high school and college.  For some reason I always felt drawn to these people. I know some people think it’s a sin.  I think it is only dangerous when people actually live their life according to what a psychic advises. I was never sure what to believe as they were never very helpful.  I guess I was so desperate for answers at that time in my life, I would try anything.  Obviously if Jesus was sitting at a table somewhere, I would have preferred to ask him the questions, but he was not.  I had to rely on my own ability to discern God’s answers to my questions, and as we all know, that is not very easy. 

I guess that was what I was looking for, something as tangible as a palm reader, but still magical in some way.  I was looking for the manifestation of magic, or really—the divine.  We are starved for those things when we grow up and enter the so called real world.  That is why books like Harry Potter and Lord of the Rings are so popular.  Yet where we fail to look is in the one story that we all know so well, the life of Jesus.

               One place where we can really see the miraculous is in the story of the wise men. There are many theories about the wise men.  Sometimes they are referred to as wise men, sometimes as kings.  The Greek word that was translated to wise men is magi.  It has many translations, but one of the most accurate is an astrologist.  Today, astrologers are not seen as extremely significant, but in this day, they were the wise and insightful people.  They were the philosophers, scientists and poets.  They were also very spiritual and adhered to another religion, Zorastrianism which was an ancient religion from the area which is now Iran.  The unique thing about this religion was its belief in one God (monotheism).  At this time, it was primarily the Hebrew people who believed in one god, so the fact that these magi coming from a far off place and believed in one true god is significant.  Knowing this, it makes more sense that these magi knew what they were looking for.  They were looking for the one true God. 

            Zorastrians believed that a star could be a counterpart or an angel to a great man.  Thus, each great man would receive a star at his birth.  This was a pretty common belief at the time.  So when news of a traveling star reached Herod, even he knew that this was no ordinary star, no ordinary child.  People have been trying to make sense of this star for many many years.  Some say it was Jupiter and Saturn because they were in close alignment at the time and therefore would create a bright light that would only be present for a short time.  Some say it was Hailey’s comet which passed through that region in 12 AD. 

While all these theories are interesting, I think the people who try to identify the star are missing the point.  If this indeed was the Star of David that had been prophesied in the Old Testament and if this star led the magi to the exact location of Jesus, do you really think there should be some rational explanation for that?  It’s the birth of God.  Isn’t that enough of an explanation?  You want to talk about magic, there it is.  There are so many things that are magical about the birth of Jesus.  Yet, it’s not just magical when we are talking about God, it’s miraculous.  Why do we have to explain it all?  Why do we need to come up with simple/rational answers for a mystery?  Doesn’t Jesus deserve more than that?  Don’t we deserve more than that?  We would not have to look for magic in other places if we could stop removing the magic and miracles from the greatest story ever told. 

            Perhaps these card makers are also desperate for magic, or know that all of us are.  Maybe that is why the story of the wise men is such a popular one.  We can identify with their search, their longing.  I have often wished that I were so bold as to follow a star.  I wish that I were not so desperate for easy answers, and so ashamed to admit it.   These wise men followed stars and their dreams.  They were able to see God in more than just scripture, more than just words—which is something that I think we as Episcopalians sometimes lose sight of. 

We love our books. We love the beautiful prayers, and as someone who considers herself a lover of the written word and a bit of a snob, I get that.  Yet what the Episcopal Church (and others like it) try to capture in our liturgy (which is the way the service is put together) is some of the mystery of God’s presence with us. Because in the end, words cannot capture the miracle of God in the flesh.  Nothing can.  But what we try to do in our worship is share glimpses of the miracle, glimpses of the divine.  

  And so my wish for you is that you too can have the courage to search for God in both unexpected and expected places.  I pray that when you find that guiding light, that you hold on to it with everything you have, and follow it no matter how difficult the terrain may be---no matter how evasive  the divine might feel. Because I promise, if you look for it, you will find it.   

Google has no good news: December 24

Year C, Christmas                  Isaiah 9:2-7  and Luke 2:1-20                                                                    

            This Christmas was supposed to be our triumphant return...or maybe that was last Christmas. At some point, we were supposed to have a triumphant return.  Yet even when planning back in November when the infections were low and omicron was just a word no one could properly pronounce—even then we knew it would not be as triumphant as we hoped.  There would still be masks, still be anxiety.  But…we would be able to sing Christmas carols and put on a Christmas pageant.  While I am usually someone who likes to be realistic and keep expectations low, I was pretty excited about Christmas Eve.  And then just this week, it has seemed like the sky is falling again.  It’s not.  But it feels that way.

            “The people who walked in darkness have seen a great light; those who lived in a land of deep darkness---on them light has shined.”  What a beautiful verse.  When I read it about 10 days ago, I thought—this is perfect.  We have been walking in darkness for almost two years and now we have seen the great light.  When I read it a week later (just a few days ago), I found myself asking—how great would this light have to be, to shine on those haunted by darkness.  Sometimes the darkness feels impenetrable.

            I have preached many times about the importance of not expecting huge miracles, or impressive signs from God.  God comes to us in more subtle ways.  Yet I found myself yearning for something dramatic this year, yearning for it more than ever.  So I come back to the question, how bright would that light have to be to penetrate the current darkness?

            We all know the Christmas story from the Gospel of Luke.  We hear it every year.  The repetition lulls us into a sense of complacency.  We see the story in gauzy light, like a halo in the fog. But this story is not meant to comfort.  It’s about disruption and drama.  When you consider the Christmas story—it’s full of disruption.  Mary and Joseph’s life was first disrupted by Mary’s pregnancy and then by the long and arduous trip to Bethlehem when she was 9 months pregnant.  And then we see the shepherd’s lives disrupted.  There they were, doing their jobs—protecting their flock and a heavenly host showed up and told them to leave that place, abandon their jobs and search for a baby.

            It’s easy to overlook the shepherds.  They are extras in the story and rarely have any lines in the Christmas pageant.  But imagine for a moment what kind of scene that must have been.  They were in their field in the middle of the night, probably sleeping and suddenly an angel appeared.   They were terrified- understandably.  Even if the angel did appear in human form, it must have still been unsettling. Now when I have imagined this scene, I have always imagined a bright light surrounding the angel.  That’s probably because every painting and picture I have ever seen has depicted the scene this way. Yet as I thought about it, I could not help but wonder why an angel would need extra light.  They would probably need a little light since it was pitch dark, but not much.  We all know how even a small amount of light can illuminate a very dark space.

            How bright would the light have to be? Now the shepherds had an angel.  Even if there was no magnificent light show, someone extraordinary appeared before them and gave them a message that inspired them to leave their sheep and search for a baby in a manger.

            The world right now is dark and I would really like an angel, or a light show.  At the beginning of the pandemic, I found myself googling “good news about COVID.”  There were no hits on the world wide web for that search criteria.  I found myself doing that again this week.  While there were not an overwhelming amount of hits, there were some.  There were some saying that while a new wave was hitting us, we are much more prepared than we were previously. We have vaccines and even medicine for those who have gotten very sick as a result of COVID.  Yet I have to confess, I found little comfort there.  It’s just been too long and we are all so tired of it all. 

            What I realized as I was desperately googling “good news” was that I was forgetting something kind of important about our Gospel message. It is the good news.  The Gospel—the story of Jesus’ birth, life, death and resurrection is the good news.  But I still feel like I need the light to illuminate the good news because it’s been a really hard couple of years. Then I was reminded of a line from Psalm 139: “If I say, ‘Surely the darkness shall cover me, and the light around me become night,’ even the darkness is not dark to you; the night is as bright as the day, for darkness is as light to you.”  I keep praying for a light that will overcome the darkness.  But perhaps what we should really pray for is that the darkness will no longer have power over us, because with God, darkness is just different lighting. 

            I don’t know what is going to happen with COVID, or the environment, or inflation, or the rampant violence in our nation and world.  What I know is that we cannot merely search for good news using google.  The good news is in God’s love for us.  The good news is in a God that loved the world so much that he sent his son to become a human so he would know what it is to walk in darkness and search for the light. The good news is that we have a God who loves us so much that he died and came back to life to show us what it really is to live in the light.