Keep Talking: March 12, 2023

Year A, Lent 3                                    John 4:5-42                                                                             

            Three strikes.  The woman in our Gospel reading for today had three strikes against her—three good reasons for Jesus to avoid her.  First, she was a woman.  Men and women who were not related didn’t interact, especially if they were alone. It would have been scandalous for a man, especially a rabbi to have an extended conversation with a woman he had just met.  Second, she was Samaritan.  The Jews and Samaritans didn’t get along—they hadn’t gotten along for centuries.   It was unusual for a Jew even to be in an area populated by Samaritans.  Third, she was not married and had 5 husbands in her past.  Some have described her as a harlot of even a prostitute, but let’s remember that women didn’t have the right to divorce their husbands at this time.  If she had 5 husbands, it was because they died or they divorced her, probably because she was barren.  Regardless of the reason she had gone through 5 husbands, she would still have been judged harshly by the people in her community. 

Any one of these reasons would have been a good enough reason for Jesus to avoid her. Instead, he engaged in a rather lengthy theological dialogue.  In all the Gospels, in all the recorded conversations that Jesus ever had with anyone, this was the longest.  Why? Was he just passing time until the disciples returned?  Of course not, if John felt this was important enough to include in the Gospel, then this conversation had a purpose.  It meant something—not just for the woman and Jesus, but for the people in the new Christian community, for whom the Gospel of John was written.

It starts with a simple request on the part of Jesus.  He’s sitting by a well in the heat of the day and he is thirsty.  So he asks the woman with the bucket if he could have some of her water. Seems like a perfectly natural and reasonable request.  She is shocked by this request because Jews and Samaritans didn’t share things and why in the world is this man sitting by a well without a bucket. (It’s not like there was a hose attached.)

And then, because this is the Gospel of John and John likes to use symbols as much as possible, Jesus starts talking to the woman about living water.  Now you might remember that just last week, in the chapter before this one, Jesus tried to have a similar conversation with a learned Pharisee named Nicodemus.  That conversation was much shorter because Nicodemus either didn’t understand or didn’t want to understand what Jesus was saying.  However this woman, who would not have had the education of Nicodemus or the confidence that would be required to converse with a man like Jesus— this woman engages with Jesus.  When Jesus starts talking about living water she asks how she can get this water instead of dismissing the idea.  When she thinks she understands what it means, she asks him for the water.  This is an extraordinarily brave dialogue for a woman with little social standing and probably considerable shame to have with a man like Jesus.

Then Jesus asks something rather peculiar, at least to my ears.  He asks her to get her husband and then come back.  Now, if I was in her situation, I think I would have just said, “Sure, I will do just that.” Then I would have just not come back.  I mean really, what does she owe this stranger? He doesn’t need to know anything about her personal life.  Either she wasn’t as ashamed as most women in this period would have been or she could tell Jesus was special and she wanted to continue the conversation.  She responds with a statement of her own, one that spoke to the difference between the Samaritans and the Jews. She points out that they worshipped at different places.  Some people think that she was just trying to change the subject, that he had gotten a little too personal and it was better to delve into theological differences instead of her marital history.

But I think that when Jesus reveals what he knew of her she could tell that he wasn’t just any man…not only because he knew something he had no reason to know, but because it doesn’t seem to bother him.  It doesn’t end the conversation.  He doesn’t judge her the way others might have.. because perhaps he sees her for what she is, not a cast off wife of 5 husbands, but a child of God who wants to know more about God.  She does the thing that Nicodemus (a supposed man of God) could not do.  She continues the conversation.  She allows herself to be known by this holy man she didn’t quite understand.  And in return, Jesus revealed himself as the God he is.

He speaks the word that eventually gets him killed.  “I am he.”  Literally translated, “I am.”  This is how God refers to Godself in the Old Testament.  When Moses asks God to tell him his name, God responds with, “I am.”  This became the name of God, the name that cannot be pronounced.  At this time, to say the name of God would be blasphemy.  Thus Jesus reveals to this woman the greatest and most dangerous truth of all.  He bears his own soul, which is what allows her to open herself to him and to start believing in him.

How do we know she now believes? Remember this is the Gospel of John and symbols matter.  She leaves the well, but also leaves her water jar. Most people only had one water jar.  It was the only way to collect water. Without it, she would die of thirst.  So either she was coming back or she understood more about this living water thing than most give her credit for.  Or maybe it was both.

She returned to the town, to the people who probably had all judged her for going through 5 husbands and told them, “Come and see a man who told me everything I have ever done! He cannot be the Messiah, can he?”  She still isn’t sure.  You can tell by the way she asks the question.  She is expecting a negative response.  Yet she also knows that there is something there, something worth sharing. 

She is the first person in the Gospel of John to spread the news about Jesus.  She is the first evangelist. And guess what, many came to believe because of her message.  It wasn’t just her message.  Her message led them to Jesus and he ended up being the one who convinced them.  That’s how evangelism works. 

We introduce people to Jesus and Jesus does the rest of the work. Sometimes I think people assume that they have to be secure in their faith and be outstanding Christians before they can possibly pass on the good news of Jesus Christ.   Yet this woman, this very first evangelist, still had questions when she passed on the news.  She also had passion and excitement.  Maybe that is what we are missing more than assurance.  We have forgotten what it is to be excited about what Jesus has to tell us and teach us.  It’s possible we never had that excitement.

 I think it’s harder to get excited about your faith when you been in it most of your life. We also don’t have the benefit of a face to face conversation with Jesus. That doesn’t mean all hope is lost for those of us who can’t meet Jesus at a well. It just means that we have to try a little harder.  We have to keep having the conversations with God and also having the conversations with others about God.  This Samaritan woman came to know Jesus through questions and conversation.  It wasn’t a miracle or a revelation. 

Perhaps that is the exciting part—we don’t need to wait for miracles or revelations in our faith journey.  No, we just get in there and talk to God.  We talk to God, we worship God, we serve God’s people and we talk to God some more. It’s not always fun or exciting.  Sometimes it can even feel a little dull.  That’s ok.  They key is that you never stop talking to God, never stop asking the hard questions and never be afraid to show your true self to God.    The more of ourselves we can share with God, the more God will share with us. 

Lent Will Break Your Heart: February 22, 2023

 Year A Ash Wednesday                        Joel 2:1-2, 12-17                                                                                         

            The reading from the prophet Joel begins, “Blow the trumpet in Zion; sound the alarm on my holy mountain! Let all the inhabitants of the land tremble, for the day of the Lord is coming near—a day of darkness and gloom…”  Welcome to Lent!  This is what you expect from Lent, isn’t it? Darkness, gloom, and then guilt and shame.  It’s your fault all these terrible things are happening.  If you want things to turn things around, you must repent.  That’s’ the way these readings from the prophets normally go. And if you read Joel with that expectation, that is what you will get.  However, upon closer inspection, you might see that Joel is a bit different than the other prophets.

            The first two chapters talk about the destruction of the land due to an enormous locust invasion.  A locust infestation would have destroyed their crops, which was their source of food and money.  It wasn’t just a nuisance; it was a disaster that affected every part of their lives.  What is interesting is that Joel never blames this invasion of locusts on the sins of the people, which was a fairly typical tactic at this time. 

            He painted an alarming and disturbing picture, but given the fact that this was their unavoidable reality, it seems a reasonable thing to do.  But he never blames anyone. In the midst of this disturbing picture, Joel shifts the tone and writes, “Yet even now, says the Lord, return to me with all your heart…” Typically when we see the word return in this context of Ash Wednesday, we think: repentance, confession. And Joel does suggest fasting, weeping and mourning—which we might also associate with repentance.  But consider this, their crops have been decimated.  They are already fasting out of necessity.  If they aren’t weeping and mourning, it’s only because they don’t feel comfortable doing so.  Maybe they are just holding it all together like so many of us do. In some ways, Joel is giving them permission to weep and mourn.

             Then Joel says, “rend your hearts and not your clothing.” Joes doesn’t want them to rip their clothing which is a traditional display of guilt and shame.  He doesn’t ask them to roll in the dirt.  He’s not asking them to repent of sins and he’s not accusing them of anything.  He asks them to fast, to weep, to mourn and to rend their hearts. 

`           Rend your hearts.  It literally means to tear your heart…which sounds a lot like a broken heart.  Frankly I would rather tear my clothing.  But we must remember that these people were already suffering. Their hearts were probably already broken.  Joel was asking them to break them a little more…but not so they could punish themselves.  He was asking them to rend their hearts so that they could renew their relationship with God.  “Return to the Lord, your God, for he is gracious and merciful, slow to anger and abounding in steadfast love.”

            We don’t know why the people have distanced themselves from God. Maybe it was something they did, maybe it was totally out of their control. Perhaps, they didn’t even know it was happening.  And then suddenly they realized, they no longer had a relationship with God. Maybe the stress of the famine had been too much for them. Or they lost too many people they loved. It could have been an intentional decision, but more likely, it was just a gradual distancing.  That is what it usually is. 

            Joel wasn’t telling people to repent (and just so you know, there is nothing wrong with repentance, it’s a good and important thing), but that is not what this story was about.  How do we know? Because he wasn’t telling them what to repent from.  No, his very ardent desire was for them to reconnect with God, reorient their lives in a way that God would once again be at the center. 

            Joel wasn’t spending time asking why all these horrible things are happening and why God feels so far away—as we so often see in the psalms and even our own lives.  No.  He was calling for action.  He believed that what we do as humans matter.  It affects the world and it affects our relationship with God.  In Hebrew thought, the heart isn’t the seat of the emotion as much as it’s a place of thought and reflection.  When Joel told the people to rend their hearts, he wanted them to spend time considering how they can repair their relationship with God. Don’t obsess over why it’s happening or why it isn’t fair.  None of that will help.  Instead, Joel is saying, “Ok, this is the horrible stuff we are dealing with and this is how we are going to climb out of it. 

            First we will fast. Then we will weep and mourn. Then we will spend time reconnecting with the God of grace and mercy.  Then…well Joel doesn’t actually predict what will happen after that.  He doesn’t promise that the harvest will return and all will be well again.  Joel doesn’t make any promises at all…it’s more like an appeal.  He encourages them to join together—weep together, pray together, reconnect with God and with the people of God.

            That is what we are asking during Lent as well. We haven’t had an invasion of locusts, but we’ve had about every other imaginable thing.  Maybe you feel like you are 100% committed to God right now and there is absolutely no way you can improve upon that. If so, you can stop listening.  Otherwise, it might be time to take the advice of Joel.  Fast…if not from food, from the thing that distracts you most from your relationship with God.  Weep and mourn…if not for yourself for someone else.  There is no shortage of suffering people in our world today.  Tear you heart, not with the intent to hurt, but to open it up a little more to God’s mercy and grace.  Join the community of faith, because this is hard stuff and you might need some support.  Come to our Lenten program Wednesday nights where people will be sharing parts of their faith journey.  Attend every Sunday service you can attend.  Make an appointment with Mark or me if you need to talk. Seriously, clergy live for those kinds of conversations.  Return to God with all your heart. 

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/