Glory Is All Around: Feb 19, 2023

 Year A, Last Sunday of Epiphany                                       Matthew 17:1-9                                                        

         It’s the last Sunday before Lent begins, the last Sunday for us to sing as many Alleluias as possible and sing them loudly. This Sunday ends our season of Epiphany, the time we talk about light and revelation. It’s a season that we can easily overlook, like the calm before the dark storm that is Lent.  Lent isn’t really stormy.  It’s just a season that we happen to associate with suffering and darkness.  The first day of Lent is Ash Wednesday.  What do we do on Ash Wednesday? We smear ash on people’s faces and remind them that they are going to die.  It’s truly a wonder that anyone comes to that service. 

            This Gospel reading is an interesting transition from Epiphany to Lent.  It’s a story of light and revelation, but there is a certain foreboding within the story---well really on either side of the story.  Right before Jesus ascended the mountain with three of his disciples, he explained that he would have to suffer and die.  Peter argued with Jesus when he made this revelation.  Peter could not wrap his head around the idea that the messiah—the person who was supposed to save them all—would soon be killed. 

It was after this information was relayed that Jesus brought his friends to the top of the mountain.  I have often wondered about the timing.  Was Jesus hoping to provide some clarity for his disciples about the message he had just given them, or was he just trying to have some quality time with his friends who were probably reeling from this new and disturbing information?  We really don’t know. 

            We often hear people talk about mountain top experiences.  Sometimes it is literally about the experience of climbing to the top of a mountain and witnessing an extraordinary view that takes your breath away.  Sometimes people use that phrase to describe a time of transcendence—a moment where they felt closer to God, a time of faith and assurance.  We can actually use that phrase for a lot of different things.

Mount Tabor

However, Jesus’ disciples would have had some specific associations with mountain tops. The mountain was where heaven and earth met. It was a place that people encountered the divine.  Mountains are mentioned more than 500 times in the Bible, most notably in Moses’ interactions with the voice of God.  That is where Moses received the 10 Commandments. Important things happened on mountains in the Jewish faith. All of Jesus’ disciples would have known these stories well and thus known the significance of the mountain.

            Therefore, it’s not surprising that these amazing things would happen at the top of the mountain.  First Jesus was transfigured before them—meaning his face got shiny and his clothes were extra bright. Then two prophets, who were long since dead, appeared.  After that a voice from heaven spoke to the disciples…the disciples.  And here is the crazy thing, of all those miraculous events that happened on that mountaintop, it wasn’t the glowing Jesus or two dead prophets back to life, it was something as simple as a voice.  That is what really got the disciple’s attention.  It wasn’t just any voice.  It was God’s voice. And for once, God was talking directly to the disciples. 

That is what really freaked them out. They were accustomed to things happening to Jesus, and maybe even to the people around them.  They had witnessed their share of miracles. But this was different, because God was talking to them and more importantly he was telling them to do something, to listen to Jesus.  And what had Jesus just told them? He had told them that he had to suffer and die and they too would have to take up their cross if they wanted to be his followers.   It’s not the kind of thing you want to hear from a heavenly voice. It’s the kind of thing you want to tell yourself was just a big misunderstanding and of course Jesus didn’t mean that he was really going to suffer and die.

            When the three disciples heard the voice from heaven, they fell to the earth in fear.   Because the earth was what they knew.  It was firm. Maybe, just maybe if they stayed there for a while they could forget this all happened.  Then Jesus bent over and touched them and he said, “Get up and do not be afraid.”  When they looked up, they saw it was just them and Jesus, just the way it should be.  And maybe they thought this was all just a dream and they could forget it.  But no, Jesus made sure to remind them on the way down the mountain, that he would have to suffer and die. This time, no one argued with him. 

            Lent isn’t merely a time of suffering and darkness.  It’s a time when we confront certain truths, maybe truths that we don’t want to confront.  It’s a time to repent from our sins.  No one likes to talk about sin.  But repentance isn’t just a about feeling guilt and shame, it’s a reorientation. It’s an opportunity to change, for the better.  The reason we have the story of the transfiguration right before Lent is to remind us that even in the midst of suffering and repentance, there is also glory and light.  There is a God who desperately wants us to listen to him, but is also willing to get on the ground with us, put his hand on our shoulder and say, “It’s time to get up and stop living in fear.”

            On the way down Jesus told his disciples not to tell anyone about what happened until he was resurrected.  I like to think he told them this because he knew that they would need this reminder of a light that we can find even in the darkest of times.  They didn’t need to use this moment to evangelize and teach.  It was just for them, a place to return in their mind and heart when the world seemed to be ending.  When Jesus was hanging on the cross, they could close their eyes---see the light and feel his hand on their shoulder telling them not to be afraid.

            That’s what many of us need—a reminder to find courage when we are afraid, a reminder that we need not fear the terror of the night—that we can confront those things we would rather avoid and forget.  Lent is a time to face our fears, our failures, and our sins---but to do that with the knowledge that those failures and sins can never defeat us because we have a God who can both glorify the earth and also kneel down next to us when our face in on the ground, brush us off and tell us not to be afraid because glory (God’s glory) is all around us. 

Don't Hide Your Light: Feb. 5 2023

Year A, Epiphany 5                         Matthew 5:13-20                     

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Photo by Ihor Malytskyi

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

Here Comes the Sun: December 25, 2022

 

John 1:1-18                                     Christmas Day                     

When I find it particularly difficult to come up with sermon material (which often happens around Christmas), I start googling random questions that come to me while I am studying the text.  Sometimes these questions are relevant, sometimes just barely relevant. This year I wanted to refresh my memory on how we came up with the date of Dec. 25^th for the birth of Jesus.  It’s not in the Bible.  The Bible doesn’t even say what season of the year it is when Jesus is born.  A lot of people think December 25^th was chosen as it coincided with a pagan holiday and the relatively new Christian faith was trying to supplant the pagan faiths. However, there is no proof that December 25^th was chosen for this reason.  It’s just an educated guess from what I can see.

I found one fascinating article while I was doing my searching.  It was a description of Christmas in a newspaper out of India.  Only about 2% of the population of India is Christian.  They are probably as familiar with Christmas as we are with the major Hindu holiday—Diwali.   I don’t want to criticize their depiction, but I want to share it, because I found it really interesting.  The article said, “Many believe this day to be the truth of spiritual life. They believe that before the birth of Jesus the world was full of hatred, greed, and hypocrisy; however the birth of Jesus eradicated all the evil things and prevailed happiness in the world.” [1]

Wouldn’t that be nice—if Jesus eradicated all the evil things and happiness prevailed? Yet we know that’s impossible. His birth could have not accomplished that---because he was crucified and that would not have happened if all the evil things had been eradicated. So when was all evil eradicated? Was it when he was killed? Resurrected?  As Christians, we say that Jesus conquered death through his resurrection which has given us all the path to eternal life.  Yet even the miracle of the resurrection didn’t rid the world of all evil.  In fact, the average observer would have probably said that absolutely nothing changed after Jesus was resurrected.  Most people living in the time of Jesus didn’t even know that he was resurrected.  So what was the point of it all?

            “What has come into being in him was life, and the life was the light of all people.  The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness did not overcome it.” John uses a great deal of light and darkness imagery in his Gospel.  As you can see from this passage the light represents both life and Jesus Christ.  There are many theories about what darkness is and in this passage it is not clear. It could be evil.  It could be death.  It could be anything that separates us from the love of God. For me darkness often represents hopelessness.

            What I find interesting here is that John doesn’t say that the light defeated the darkness or eradicated the darkness.  It simply says, “The light shines in the darkness and the darkness didn’t overcome it.”  Jesus didn’t eradicate all the evil from the world.  I wish he did.  It would make our lives a lot easier.  And frankly, if I had it my way, that’s the way it would have happened.  Jesus would have been born in a manger, died on the cross, resurrected and then defeated darkness once and for all. But that is not what happened.  What John tells us is that darkness didn’t win.  That’s great.  I am glad that darkness didn’t win, but sometimes I wish we could have had a little more progress than just not losing.

            What happened?  Why didn’t Christ’s birth, death and resurrection eradicate all evil? One explanation John provided, is that not everyone accepted him.  So we could just blame the people who don’t believe in Jesus for all the evil in the world.  And Christians have done that on more than a few occasions.   But I also have to admit that even as someone who has accepted Jesus, I haven’t always done my part in shining light in the darkness.  Sometimes, Christians can even contribute to the darkness.

“But to all how received him, who believed in his name, he gave power to become children of God, who were born not of blood or the will of the flesh or of the will of man, but of God.”  Most Christians love the Christmas story, of a baby born in a stable, surrounded by animals, shepherds and angels.  It’s a sweet scene that reminds us of the humble origins of the savior of the world.  The Gospel of John doesn’t share the story of Jesus’ birth.  There is no baby Jesus wrapped in swaddling cloth.  Instead John focuses on the light and how that light enabled us to become children of God, how we have become children of the light.  And it’s not our effort that brings light into the world, it’s God’s power and glory, and even humility. 

Jesus’ birth didn’t eradicate evil from this world, but it brought a new and powerful light into the world.  It isn’t a light that eliminates all darkness, but it holds it back.  It gives us a path of light that we didn’t have before.  That doesn’t make for an easy life for any of us, but it can be a glorious one. 
            I don’t like that there is still evil in this world.  I don’t like that I am not 100% good.  I don’t even get to 75% most of the time.  But I love being a child of God. I love being with you and seeing the way we can all be beacons of God’s light.  And I know that one day, evil will be defeated and at that time we will all walk in the path of light and goodness. We hope, pray, and work to make the path of light wider so that the power of darkness can be minimized and more people can be witnesses to that light.

Photo by Robin S 

One of the theories about how the dates of Christmas was chosen was that European Christians wanted to usurp the pagan celebration of the winter solstice, which we mark as the longest night.  The longest night has an ominous feel, but it’s also the time when the days are getting longer.  It’s when new light comes into our life.  So I think having Christmas during a time of new light works out pretty well for us Christians.  It’s almost like God wanted it that way.  When you see the days getting longer, the sun rising a little earlier, I hope you will remember that’s not just sunlight, that’s God’s light and that light is shining on all of us, making sure that darkness never wins. 

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[1] https://timesofindia.indiatimes.com/life-style/events/christmas-2022-why-is-christmas-celebrated-on-december-25-history-significance-traditions-and-all-you-need-to-know/articleshow/96396037.cms

The Weight of the Prayers of the Faithful: Longest Night

     Psalm 30                                                                        Dec. 21, 2022

            I am a very light sleeper.  One of my pet peeves is when birds just start chirping ridiculously early.  I get mad when I hear them. I realize this makes me sound like a bird hater.  I don’t hate them, they just annoy me when they wake me up before I am ready to be awake. I am not the kind of person who welcomes the first light.   

            But 2022 was a different kind of year for me.  Many of you know that I was hospitalized for a month this past January.  I started in the ICU with MRSA and septic shock and moved through the various stepdown units.  The ICU was the noisiest and most unpleasant place. But whether it was the ICU or just a normal room, one thing was consistent, I hated the nighttime. It was the height of COVID, so I could only have visitors at specific times during the day.  From 8pm to 7am, I was alone.  My door had to be shut because of the MRSA and people had to be gowned up to come in, which meant people avoided coming in if they could.  It didn’t matter how many pain killers or sleeping pills they gave me, I couldn’t sleep. I was desperate for the night to end. 

            It wasn’t a whole lot better when I got home.  It was much quieter, but the anxiety kept me awake.  On my first morning back, I heard the birds chirping and I smiled.  I rejoiced in their sounds.  I realized as I listened to them, that it was the first time I had heard birds, the first time I heard any nature sounds for weeks.  When I remember that time, I think of the line from Psalm 30, “Weeping may spend the night, but joy comes with the morning…”  Now I would love for this to be the giant turning point in my story where everything got better, but life rarely works that way. Two days later, I was back in the hospital and I when I went back, it was the middle of the night.

            I have had my share of struggles before 2022…but I found those times brought me closer to God. But almost dying from a mysterious infection didn’t bring me close to God. I barely prayed at all.  Before my first surgery, I asked my Dad to read scripture for me, and I found his voice comforting, but not the scripture or the prayers. There were moments when God’s grace would break through, but those moments were incredibly rare.  More often, I was despondent and angry.  I couldn’t do anything. I just spent hours staring at the walls.  

            In the rare moments when I was thinking clearly, I was angry at myself for not being more faithful.  And I wish I could tell you that I was angry at God, but I couldn’t care enough to be angry at God.  Being a priest, I knew that was an incredibly perilous place to be.  Because apathy is so much worse than anger.  It’s when we stop talking to God when things really get bad.

            My husband made the mistake of bringing me a get well card from someone in his parish I didn’t know. He told me they prayed for me every day and I told him that there was no point because the prayers weren’t working.  When I returned from the hospital the 2^nd time, my husband nervously handed me a stack of cards, many from people in this parish.  I didn’t look at them for a few weeks, but eventually, slowly I started opening them and the vast majority told me that the person was praying for me…sometimes an entire church was praying for me.  And that pile continued to grow and I eventually moved all those cards into a bag. 

My bag of cards

            When I was feeling especially anxious or depressed I would hold the bag and the heaviness reminded me of the multitude of prayers that were being offered. Even though I still struggled with my own prayers, I felt the weight of the prayers of others, and those prayers were what got me through the nights and days, the weight of the prayers of the faithful. 

            It took months before I healed and walked normally again.  Sometimes I wonder how I would have handled it if I never recovered or lost the use of my leg. Would I have lost my faith? I don’t have the answer to that. I would like think my faith would have eventually carried me, but I don’t know. Sometimes the nights can last far longer than a few months.    

            Some of you are here because you are in mist of a particularly dark time, some might be experiencing a grief that you have been carrying for years.  Each one of us carries some pain.  You might even think that you have lost your faith, but you haven’t.  You are here. You are here on the longest night. Something/someone brought you here. You haven’t given up and that is what matters the most.  But I am also here to tell you that even if you give up, God won’t.  I have been so ashamed of my own lack of faith and I forgot I don’t need to put my trust in myself.  God makes up for what we lack. 

            Psalm 30 says that “You have turned my mourning into dancing.”  I am not sure that is what always happens.  Things don’t always shift that dramatically.  I will say that I don’t get nearly as irritated when I hear the birds now.  While their song doesn’t bring me joy necessarily, it reminds me that I am still alive and that is a precious thing.  So if you can’t dance, maybe you can sing.  And if you can’t sing, you can listen.  You can let others sing for you. That is why the Christian community matters so much.  I am a priest—I am a professional pray-er.  And when I needed God the most, I couldn’t pray.  But others could and did and that is why I am here today.  My prayer for you is that you will lean on this community—or some community when you don’t have the strength yourself.  Because I am here to tell you, most of us aren’t nearly as strong as we think we are…and that’s ok.

We Need More Dreamers: December 4, 2022

Year A, Advent 2                                       Isaiah 11:1-10                                                                                                  

          I am horrible with plants. I love them and I am always trying to grow them, but it just never seems to work out for me.  Therefore, bringing a dead plant back to life seems almost unfathomable.  However, after reading this text from Isaiah about 10 times, I started to wonder if a dead stump could actually sprout. The text says, “A shoot shall come out of the stump of Jesse, and a branch shall grow out of his roots.”  According to my extensive research on two different gardening websites, it’s possible. Apparently, you can grow a brand new tree out of an old stump. 

            Who is this Jesse and why does he have a stump? Jesse was the father of King David.  This stump represented the dynastic line of David.  Clearly things weren’t going particularly well for the House of David when Isaiah prophesized.  A stump doesn’t exactly project strength and vitality.  Israel had been ransacked by multiple enemies by the time the Book of Isaiah was written. The people were exiled, the kingdoms fell. They had a few good and righteous kings after King David, but the line was almost unidentifiable 500 years after King David reigned.  Since our country is less than 300 years old and created without a king, it’s hard to imagine a 500 year dynasty.  Seem like a pretty good run to me.           

            But this dynasty was about more than just leadership.  To some extent, it was about salvation.  It was about God’s commitment to Israel.  The people of Israel were supposed to be God’s chosen people and David was the chosen king.  When all they had was a stump, there was despair.   Yet what today’s text tells us is that this stump still held life within it.  Perhaps that is not the best description.  The stump wasn’t alive as much as it was receptive to the spirit that washed over it. The spirit gave that stump life. It changed everything.

            The first part of our reading is about the transition from despair to hope.  It speaks of a new leader who will be righteous and just.  This leader will receive God’s wisdom, the spirit of knowledge and the fear of the Lord. “Righteousness shall be the belt around his waist, and faithfulness the belt around his loins.”  Of course one of the reasons that we read this in Advent is that Christians believe this is all pointing to Jesus.  And one cannot deny that Jesus was righteous and faithful.  I am not sure that he was the leader people were really hoping for as he ended up betrayed by many of his followers and crucified.  He was not the leader people imagined, but he was the leader people needed.

            The 2^nd half of the reading paints a picture of utopia.  It’s actually a kind of ridiculous image.   I can imagine a cow and a bear hanging out, but a child playing with a poisonous snake seems a little crazy.  Of all the creatures to play with, why a snake?  As you can tell, I am not a fan of snakes.  Of course if you think too much about the image, it loses its appeal.  The point is that this new world has no natural enemies.  Forget about the enemies we create.  There are no enemies at all. The whole natural order is thrown out in this new world. 

            Now part of me wants to say, this image is too unrealistic.  Look at the state of our world right now.  We’ve had 4 mass killings in the last month—and that’s just our country.  This idea of a world with no conflict is beyond our hopes and dreams.  Yet perhaps we have been trained to dream too little.  In our need for realism and attainable goals, we have lost sight of a God who wants us to see something we can barely imagine.  Unfortunately we lose that ability to dream as we age.  We forget what it is to imagine.  This place where there are no conflicts and only harmony is God’s dream for our world.  It’s God’s dream for us.  God wants our dreams to go beyond what we can see.  Isaiah’s vision isn’t a goal to be achieved.  It’s a dream by which we set our course.[1]  One of my favorite prayers is sometimes also used as a blessing. It reads, “Disturb us, Lord, when we are too pleased with ourselves, when our dreams have come true because we have dreamed too little…”  I wonder in our desire for attainable goals and benchmarks, we have lost the ability to see what God so desperately wants us to see.

            Our Gospel reading was brought alive by that powerful depiction of John the Baptist.  John the Baptist is a typical prophet in many ways.  He was delivering hard truths to people who did not want to hear it.  John appears in all the gospels, but it’s only in this gospel when he specifically calls out the Pharisees and Sadducees, the people who were far too comfortable in their lives and confident because of their religious pedigree. 

            I think what was really frustrating John the Baptist wasn’t that the Pharisees were wrong or even immoral.  It was that they had become too complacent.  They were ok with the system as it was because it was benefiting them.  I think it’s fair to say that most of have become a little too comfortable in our lives. There are times, like in the pandemic when changes come that we can’t control and we are forced to change how we live.  That definitely shook a lot of us out of our complacency. But most of the time, we just move through our days quite contentedly.  This isn’t to say that things are smooth sailing or we never have bad things happen to us.  But all in all, we don’t want someone coming in here and telling us that everything has to change, that we have to change. 

            Like Isaiah, John was also trying to paint a picture of a new kind of leader.  He wasn’t presenting some utopian future.  In fact, the way he describes Jesus sounds a little scary. But he knew this leader would be led by the Spirit and would change people--- change the world.  John clearly still had the ability to dream and imagine.  He knew that whatever was going at that time wasn’t right. Too many people were suffering.  So he dreamed of another world.  I think it’s why he dragged people into the wilderness.  He wanted them to get away from their everyday lives, force them to see things from a different perspective. 

            As we age, it’s hard to keep dreaming, but there are moments when the blinders slide a little and we dream again.  Often it’s when we are with babies and children.  Children allow us to hope like we once did. They make us see new possibilities.  They also challenge us to make changes.  I never cared as much about the environment as I did after I became a mother.  Because the more I imagined his future, the more I realized that he was going to be on this earth a lot longer than me and the things I do now can have a major effect on him in 50 years. Children can remind us that there is a future worth fighting for, a future that can and should be better than what we have now.

So it is fitting that we have a baptism today.  Because baptism reminds us not only of the wonder and innocence of babies and children, but also about the renewal that is available to us all. That is why we do the baptismal covenant.  We want to remember who we can be as children of God.

            I want to give you all some homework. I want you to take some time to daydream, to remember what you hoped for as a child and also try to consider what you truly hope for now.  What is God’s dream for you?  Don’t be realistic. Don’t be reasonable.  Don’t try to create a smart goal.  Be like Isaiah.  Be like John.  Just open yourself to God’s dream and then take one step, any step, in the direction of that dream.  If an old stump can grow a new tree…if Jesus Christ can rise from the dead, then surely we can remember how to dream again. 

 

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[1]  https://www.davidlose.net/2016/11/advent-2-a-reclaiming-repentance/

A Safe Place in the Chaos: Nov. 20th, 2022

Christ the King, Year C                                Psalm 46                                                                               

            Chaos.  That is what Psalm 46 is describing.  It doesn’t sound like chaos as they are using poetic words.  In the psalms, a roaring sea is typically used to describe chaos.  It’s a sign of cosmic disorder.  The psalmist writes of the earth moving---earthquakes.  Waters that rage and foam could be any extreme weather.  They didn’t have weather forecasters like we have, predicting what will happen, when it will happen, and then explaining why it happens. It was all a mystery, and thus even more terrifying.  The other symbol of chaos was nations at war.  The psalmist wrote that the nations raged and the kingdoms were shaken.  Chaos.

            I don’t remember a time in my adult life when the world has not seemed a little chaotic---at times, overwhelming so. Just this week we had mass murders on two separate college campuses.  Young  people are traumatized and terrified, and not for the first time. It’s been a particularly bad week in our country.  And of course, there is no shortage of bad weather or nations at war.  Nations are shaken.  The waters rage and foam.

            While the causes of chaos might be slightly different than they were when the psalms were written, I don’t think the feelings were that different. We like to think that people in the Bible lived in relative peace and security. How else could they have such faith in God’s protection? Yet we know that the Hebrew people were rarely at peace.  They were usually at war, often being displaced.  And when things were relatively calm, there was fear and uncertainty.

            Yet for some reason they were able to say, “God is our refuge and strength.”  Is it because they didn’t have any other source of safety and strength? Perhaps. But I think there was more.  I wonder if God’s presence was more tangible then. There were specific places where God was present. The text mentions the “city of God.”  That is mostly likely a reference to Jerusalem.  One of the things that made Jerusalem the city of God was that it was a place that held the ark of the covenant.  Interestingly, the ark of the covenant was built to be transported.  Some think it was never meant to be confined to one place.  Because God was not meant to be confined to one place.

            The beginning of the Psalm is: “God is our refuge and our strength.” It doesn’t say that the city of God is our refuge and strength—but God.  The reality is that no city, no state, no country is impenetrable.  Even our schools have become places of violence. I yearn for something solid, a place or even a moveable trunk that could hold the holiness of God, so I could reach out and touch it, feel that presence in a way that would not require faith.

            In the New Testament, God delivers that divine presence in a unique way.  It’s once again moveable, even transient.  It’s a human body.  Previously the ark of God was protected in a tabernacle. With the birth of Jesus, the tabernacle became flesh and blood. There were no walls of protection, no people standing guard.  Jesus was among God’s people for about 30 years.  That is what I really want, I want God in human form.  I want to be able to talk directly to God, see God, feel God. I don’t want to pray for God’s presence.  I just want it. Then maybe I would feel safe and secure.  We all could.

            But that’s not what we have. That tabernacle, that bodily temple was destroyed.  It was resurrected, but then taken away again.  Now we have no ark, no body.  It feels at times as though we are alone in the chaos.  “God is our refuge and strength, a very present help in trouble.”  We no longer have tangible connections to God’s presence, not like they once had.  However, this psalm does give us some tips, a guide if you will.  “The Lord of hosts is with us…Come now and look upon the works of the Lord, what awesome things he has done on earth.” In some ways we have to try harder to feel God’s presence.  In other ways, God’s presence is evident when we look for it.  We can see it in nature. We see it in people. We see it in the sun that comes through these gorgeous windows.  The psalmist also tells us to “Be still then, and know that I am God.” The Hebrew word that is translated to still can also be translated to “stop or sink in.” 

            This psalm is about finding God in the midst of chaos.  When the waters rage, when the nations are shaken, God tells us to stop. Most of the time, we cannot control the chaos around us.  We try. Sometimes we try really hard and that can makes us absolutely crazy.  My mom and I are worriers. My Dad always asks, “Why would you worry about something you can’t change?”  Rationally that makes sense, but it’s hard.  At some point today, make a list of those things that are stressing you out, that are maybe even creating more space between you and God’s presence.  Then cross out the things you can’t control. I bet you will whittle that list down considerably.  Then find a time or place to soak in some natural beauty, some part of God’s creation and stop.  Just stop.

            One reason we have worship is to provide that opportunity to stop, to sink into God’s presence. While God is no longer with us in an ark or the form of a human, we have the sacraments of our church that allow us to soak in God’s presence.  The definition of a sacrament is “an outward and visible sign of inward and spiritual grace.”  It’s our moveable ark.  It’s why after we consecrate (bless) the bread and wine, we put the left overs in something we call an aumbry.  Some denominations call it a tabernacle. 

            The Gospels tell the story of Jesus being in a boat with his disciples when a great storm descended upon them. The waves crashed. The ocean roared.  The disciples were terrified. Jesus stood and rebuked the wind and then there was calm.  What had once been chaos was now peace.  If you look at the ceiling of many churches, you will see exposed beams.  It almost looks like a ship upside down.  In fact, the proper liturgical name of the part of the church where the pews are located is called the nave.  It comes from navis, the Latin word for ship.  The church is meant to be a place of safety and security where God’s presence is pronounced.

I know that a lot of people think that there is no good reason to have church buildings, that you can find God anywhere.   But (and I know I am biased), I think there is something uniquely holy about churches.  They are places of stillness and calm.  They are place where the sacraments dwell.  And hopefully, they are a safe place, a harbor in the storm for all of God’s people. Because our world is now, and will always be chaotic.  Yet here is a place where we can say with assurance, “God is our refuge and our strength.”

 

All Saints is Complicated: November 6, 2022

Year C, All Saints                                  Luke 6:20-31                                                                           

            It’s complicated. All Saint’s Sunday is complicated. This is partly because the understanding of this day has evolved over the years. It was originally meant to be a day to commemorate all the Christian martyrs (those who had been persecuted and died for their faith).  In the first few centuries of the church, they would commemorate a martyr with a specific day. But by about the 4^th century, with the increased persecution of Christians, it became clear that they were going to run out of days.  Finally, by the 9^th century, they picked one day and called it All Saints Day.  This was to be the day that would not only commemorate all Christian martyrs, but all Christians who had died.  With all of these changes, the understanding of what it was to be a saint shifted to what many people perceive as the original intention of the New Testament—to mean all Christians who have died and all Christians still living.

            When Paul used the word saint, he was almost always referring to those who were alive. In his letter to the Ephesians he wrote, “I have heard of your faith in the Lord Jesus and your love toward all the saints…” Here at St. John’s, and in many other churches, we attempt to embrace both perspectives. In the evening, our choir provides a lovely Evensong where we read the names of those in our parish who have died in the past year. 

            At this service we sing, “I sing a song of the saints of God” and we talk about how we can meet them at school, on the sea, in church, in trains and at tea—and then we end by singing, “…and the Saints of God are just folk like me and I mean to be one too.”  I don’t know about you, but I have always interpreted that as, I mean to be one in this life.

            But that is the thing about the Christian life, the line between the living saint and the saint that has died is blurred.  We live in this life—it’s all we know.  But we live this life with a promise of what is to come.  We live knowing that life as we know it could end at any moment. We have all experienced that too many times, someone we love dies unexpectedly or even a personal health crisis that has taught us how incredibly fragile life is and how narrow the line is between life and death.

            A lot of people think that we come to church or read the Bible to learn how to be good Christians/saints, so that we can get into heaven when we die.  But the Bible isn’t a how to manual on heavenly acceptance.  Jesus was a lot more concerned about how we live in the here and now—how we love the saints in our midst. 

            Our gospel reading is often referred to as “the beatitudes.”  You can also find the beatitudes in the Gospel of Matthew.  However, Matthew’s beatitudes are a little tamer, more palatable. Both gospels contain blessings (which in Latin is translated to beātitūdō). However, Luke contains fewer blessings and balances them with woes. Like All Saint’s Day, Luke’s beatitudes are complicated. 

            First of all, they contradict what we think of as being blessed. Usually when someone says that they are blessed, they are talking about something good that has happened.  They just had a healthy child.  They got a new job, a nice house, a clean bill of health.  No one ever says, “I just lost my job. I am so blessed.   Everyone is mad at me. I am so blessed.  I am so depressed…and blessed! I have never heard anyone say anything like that.

            But that was what Jesus was telling his disciples—“Blessed are you who are poor, for yours is the kingdom of God. Blessed are you who weep now, for you will laugh…”  Another way that blessed is translated is to be happy. That makes even less sense.  The best translation that I have found is “unburdened or satisfied.” While that is better than happy, it still makes this text complicated. Usually when people are struggling with money, they don’t feel unburdened or satisfied.  People who are grieving are not unburdened. Sometimes you can tell someone is grieving by the way they walk as if they are literally sinking under this invisible weight. So what in the world is Jesus talking about?

            We aren’t blessed because we are poor or sad or persecuted. We are blessed because in our grief or poverty, we are (hopefully) able to reach out to God, we are able to acknowledge that we need God and that we are nothing without God. That is where the blessing comes in. It’s subtle, but it’s there.

            Luke also has a woe section—“But woe to you who are rich, for you have received your consolation.” This doesn’t mean you aren’t blessed if you are rich. In means that if you find your consolation (or your comfort and security) in your wealth, then woe to you.  Alas, that doesn’t really make me feel a whole lot better because most of us find comfort in financial security. That is why it’s called financial security. That’s not necessarily a bad thing.  But if we put too much faith in that and not enough in God, then our priorities are askew.  Because in the end, money can only do so much. It can’t protect us from grief or illness.  It definitely cannot protect us from death. And when we face those things, we better have some other place where we can find comfort and strength.

            That’s why I think Jesus said that the poor, hungry, weeping and persecuted were blessed.  It wasn’t because their life was easy. In fact, it almost guaranteed that their life was hard. It was because their hope was in God.  Remember who Jesus was talking to in this text—the newly chosen disciples, who had just left their homes, their family and any chance of financial security. They needed to hear this. While I find the beatitudes a lot more challenging than comforting, I bet the disciples found comfort in these words. 

            All Saints Day was first created to commemorate the lives of Christians who were persecuted for their faith and died as a result.  There was a time in the church when sainthood was exclusively connected to martyrdom and how you died.  Today, I think most of us want to be remembered for how we lived. 

            I’ve buried a lot of saints since I have been at St. John’s.  Many of them inspired me with their faith and service.  Yet I think the ones that inspired me the most are the ones who found blessings even in the midst of trials, those who never gave up on God. This isn’t to say that they didn’t question or struggle, but they found strength in their weakness, they found God’s strength.  I have seen that in many of our living saints as well.

And if I have just one hope for each one of you, it would be that—to find blessings not merely in the success and security that life can bring, but also the hard and scary times when we can see glimpses of God’s presence in our lives and the lives of those around us. When we are overcome by darkness, the blessings come in narrow rays of light that break through the broken places in our lives.  Those narrow rays of light might be the most beautiful and life sustaining light we’ve ever seen.