Why did Jesus say that?: Sept 8, 2024

 Year B, Pentecost 16                                       Mark 7:24-37                                                

As most of you know, the readings we have on Sundays rotate on a three year cycle. Every three years at about this time, we get this Gospel reading. There is another version of this story in The Gospel of Matthew, which means this story of the mother seeking healing for her daughter has popped up 12 times during  my ordained ministry.  There have been one or two times when I have preached a different text because I was weary of tackling this story, and then someone always asks me why I didn’t preach about Jesus calling a desperate mother a dog. I have realized if this text is read, it has to be preached upon because it is such an abrasive text. 

            I would like to tell you that in my many years of preaching this, I have been able to hone my message and come up with the perfect take on this complicated text. But I think it’s actually gotten harder.  Over the years I have read commentaries that provide an explanation that made just enough sense.  One was that Jesus was testing this woman. He wanted to see her fiery response and she passed that test with flying colors.  The other popular take is that this is a beautiful example of Jesus learning from a human. It displays his humility and vulnerability. I still like that explanation…but none of the explanations I have read adequately explain why Jesus insulted someone by using a slur.

We learn early on that Jesus was in Tyre, which was Gentile territory.  Jesus was a Jew and just the fact that he was there was unusual.  Yet we have come to expect that from Jesus— have we not?  We stress (especially in the Episcopal Church) that Jesus was someone who broke down the barriers that divided people.  He loved everyone and showed no partiality. 

If that is true, then why would he say, “Let the children be fed first, for it’s not fair to take the children’s food and throw it to the dogs.” The children represented the Jewish people. Up until now, Jesus had spent most of his time with other Jews.  He was a devout Jew, as were his chosen disciples.  The Gentiles were the dogs. That’s what many Jews called them. Jesus was simply repeating what he heard so many other say.

He wasn’t saying that the Gentiles were completely undeserving.  He was saying that the Jews were the priority.  That’s not so bad, right? Well I guess it’s not so bad if you are a Gentile who is healthy and not asking for healing for your possessed daughter.  But this woman was desperate.  She had already broken some serious rules when she went into a stranger’s house and addressed a man who she didn’t know.  Forget the Gentile/Jew divide for a minute.  Women were not meant to speak to men who were not related to them, especially if they were alone.  She was taking a huge risk in approaching Jesus when he was alone in a house. So yes, being told in that moment that her sick daughter was not a priority because she was not the right ethnicity was more than just an insult or a slap in the face.  It was cruel. 

I don’t know the mind of Jesus and I am not going to try to explain that insult away.  Instead, let’s try to put it to the side for a moment and focus on what comes next.  This woman, who was already in an incredibly perilous position, argued with a rabbi and a miracle worker.  She used an interesting technique.  She didn’t tell him that it wasn’t fair and that he was biased. She didn’t try to prove that she or her daughter were worthy of his power.  She didn’t beg him for compassion or mercy, which is the route I would have taken. 

No, she pointed out that his power was so abundant, that even a small morsel would be enough for her and her daughter. She reminded him that that there was more than enough of his love and mercy to share.  Remember what happened in the previous chapter—Jesus fed a crowd of 5000 with 5 loaves and 2 fish and there were leftovers…12 baskets of leftovers.  When it comes to Jesus’ love—there is always more than enough. What is amazing is that this woman knew that.  She knew that better than most of us.

Jesus was planning to share his message and love with the Gentiles. That is why he was in Gentile territory.  In going to Tyre, he was off the beaten path. There was no good reason to be there, unless he was planning to expand his mission.  Only a few verses earlier he had told the Pharisees that there was no food that was clean or unclean, which was a huge point of contention between the Jews and Gentiles.  He had already begun laying the ground work.  What she did was accelerated his ministry to the Gentiles. He told her “not yet” and she responded, “we need you now.”  Some things can’t wait.[1]

The Gospel of Matthew tells a similar story, except in Matthew the woman is commended for her faith and then told her that her daughter was healed.  In the Gospel of Mark, Jesus says, “For saying that, you may go—the demon has left your daughter.”  In Mark, she is commended for her grit and her determination, but also her insight into who he was.  She saw what even his disciples could not always see, that his power and his love were limitless.  It did not have to be focused on a certain group, it could be shared with the world. 

I believe that is an important message for us today as well. We live with such a scarcity mindset, not just when we talk about money and resources, but when we talk about who God’s message can reach.  I do it as well. I think, well that person or group would not possibly be responsive to the Gospel message. I tell myself, “It’s not that I don’t want to share with those people, it’s that they would not be responsive. It would be a waste.”

When we put a limit on who we think our faith can reach, we impose that restraint on God. We limit the reach of God, when that reach should be and can be limitless.  It’s time that we stop restraining the reach of God.  It’s time for us to stop worrying about how others will judge us and instead focus on how we can share the abundance of what God has given us. Because there is always enough. God doesn’t limit us. We limit God.  It’s time to stop with the limits and open ourselves and others to the relentless and boundless love and mercy of God.   

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[1] A lot of these ideas came from Dr. Matt Skinner from a working preacher podcast.  You can find it here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CiQqStpruhw

The Pharisee in us: Sept 1 2024

 Year B, Pentecost 15                                               Mark 7: 1-8, 14-15, 21-23                                                                                                              

            Over the last month and a half, we have been reading from the Gospel of John. The Gospel of Mark is a welcome reprieve from the theology of John. However, it’s a little unsettling to be suddenly dropped in the middle of an argument between Jesus and the Pharisees.  Let me provide a recap of the chapter that preceded our Gospel reading for today. It’s been a busy time for Jesus and his disciples. He fed the 5000, he walked on water and healed a bunch of people.  That was just the 2^nd half of chapter 6.  As a result, Jesus was a rising star, which meant that his actions and the actions of his disciples were more closely scrutinized then they had previously been.

          Who better to scrutinize actions and make judgments than the Pharisees and Scribes?  These men were the experts in the laws and the rules around the laws. They had dedicated their lives to the study of these laws. It was their job to explain the laws to people and make sure that people were following them. Often times, they get a bad rap and I am not sure it is always merited. 

A lot of people like to paint Jesus as this anti-establishment rebel who was trying to change the Jewish faith and dismantle the institution.  But this was not what he was doing.  He was trying to get them to go back to the basics, consider what the important things were  The laws of the Jewish people were the 10 Commandments and the first 5 books of the Hebrew scriptures (what we call the Old Testament).  However, over the years leaders of the faith built up rituals and traditions to protect these laws.

Many people compare these rituals and traditions to a fence.  They built a fence around the laws so they could protect the people from breaking the laws.  This fence became so high and so dense, that people sometimes forgot there was something behind it.  This is what Jesus was talking about when he said, “You abandon the commandment of God and hold on to human tradition.”

The rule that the disciples were breaking in this story was not a law.  It was a ritual that had been created by religious leaders over hundreds of years.  It was not for cleanliness, it was ceremonial.  It came out of the act of thanksgiving, like how we say grace before a meal.   It started for good reasons. They wanted to recognize that every meal was an opportunity to give thanks and an opportunity for religious fellowship.  Then some people got so obsessed with the ritual, they put more emphasis on that than the thanksgiving and fellowship.  Jesus was showing them that they could still give thanks and have fellowship without all these add ons.

Thankfully getting lost in the details never happens in Christians Churches.  We never create traditions and rituals and forget the reason behind the tradition.  We never get upset when something changes.  No one has ever said, “We’ve never done it that way before.” Of course we do.  We also have our own oral laws (or what Mark refers to as the tradition of the elders).  Some of our traditions have been honed over 100s of years.  But some have only been around for 5 or 10 years. It is amazing how quickly traditions can take root in the church.

Unfortunately when we acknowledge that we sometimes cling to our traditions, I have to admit that the clergy are often the Pharisees.  As a clergy person, I am the one who makes sure that the things we do in the service are liturgically proper.  This was part of my seminary training.  Let me show you an example some of these Episcopal oral laws that have been written down. 

*These are essentially text books.  They tell you how to stand, when to kneel, when to cross yourself. They don’t all agree.

*These  books are full of Episcopal vocabulary.  That’s right.  Many of these are words that we made up.  We had to memorize them and I have forgotten at least 50%. 

*This is a commentary on the Book of Common Prayer.  It tells you what all the things in italics really mean. 

Now some of these things are helpful, some of them even necessary.  But a lot is just unnecessary detail. Many clergy will disagree with me on that…and they are the one who own more of these books. Yet it’s not just the clergy who guard tradition---we all do. Some of these traditions that we guard are shared by many churches and some are specific to individual churches.  Christ Church is less pre-occupied with liturgical traditions because that isn’t really where the emphasis is.  But we have a default traditions that are based on what we don’t do.  Or we have traditions based on the building itself…because it’s historic.  The walls have to be a certain color.  If you came in and were disturbed by all the random stuff we have in here for the On Buried Ground performance, it’s because you are used to the ways things usually look. It’s unnerving to me as well and I’ve only been here 11 month.

The traditions that we have, come from a rich history and the great majority of them have a holy and profound purpose.  The problem comes when our commitment to these traditions gets in the way of how we love our neighbor or when we spend more time arguing about the rules than we spend actually doing the work God has called us to do.  That is when these rules and traditions are dangerous. 

The Pharisees were upset because the disciples were eating with defiled hands.  This is not because their hands were literally dirty. Their hands were defiled because they had not been ritually cleansed.  Some pharisees couldn’t recognize the good work that Jesus and his disciples were doing because they were concerned with how it all looked, how it reflected on them.  They were so focused on the change itself, they never noticed the positive outcome of that change. They could not see the people who were drawn to Jesus because he didn’t worry about laws that determine ritual cleanliness.

          There is a point in our spiritual journey, when we should look for the Pharisee within us.   You might think “I don’t have any Pharisee in me. I am not worried church traditions.” But consider what is underneath the need to protect traditions. It sometimes comes from a desire to defend what is sacred.  Sometimes, it just comes from not wanting to change.  Any of you have issues with change? I am not just talking about church—but any change.  I struggle with change, and I have had a lot over the last year. The hard part of change is that is usually involves some kind of loss.  It might lead to something good, but it can be hard to get past the loss.

          Just like the Pharisees built a fence around the law, we have built fences around our hearts.  Jesus was not only concerned about the heart of the law, he was and is concerned about the heart of each one of us.  Jesus said, “This people honors me with their lips, but their hearts are far from me.” 

When we become too comfortable in our life and our faith, when the status quo becomes our creed, then we will become stagnant. It means that we have become too attached to what once was rather than what could be.  Sometimes it feels like we have protect the church and in doing so, we are protecting God.  But God doesn’t need our protection.   In fact, God needs us to be a little more fearless, a little more open to the unknown.  Let us walk boldly forward.  May our traditions be something that grounds us, but doesn’t bind us.

 

 

Preaching with a broken heart: August 25

 Year B, Pentecost 14                                     Psalm 34:15-22 & John 6:56-69                                             

I can’t remember where I read it, some important preaching professor no doubt--- said that preachers must preach from our scars and not our wounds.  The idea is that we don’t unload our issues onto our congregation.  We can talk about that which troubles us, but only after we have reached some resolution.  It’s wise advice, and advice I have followed for many years.  But like all sage advice, there are exceptions.  One of my very dear friends died of lung cancer last Saturday.  She was my first priest friend and then became my go to for all things.  We started a writing group together and many years later, we wrote a book together about our experiences with illness and our irreverent prayers that came out of those illnesses. 

Unfortunately her lung cancer returned while we were writing.  Even after she was moved to stage 4 lung cancer, she continued to preach and write.  She wrote about the axiom of preaching from our scars rather than our wounds. She said she no longer had the luxury of preaching from scars---because her wounds would not heal.  That made sense given her situation, but I thought I would stick with that advice until I couldn’t anymore.

Then I read the psalm for today.  “The Lord is near to the brokenhearted and will save those whose spirits are crushed.”  When people have asked me how I am over the last week, my answer has typically been, “My heart is broken.”  Obviously this is not the first grief I have experienced in my life.  But it’s been particularly acute.  She was someone I communicated with multiple times a day.  She knew the worst things about me and celebrated the best things.   I like to think I did the same for her.  A friend of mine who is a grief counselor said that when you lose someone that close it’s like someone cuts a hole out of a piece of a quilt and that quilt is the story of your life….it’s like part of your story is gone and you don’t really know how to start writing again.

I am not afraid to admit to myself or you that I am angry at God. I know that good people die tragically long before their time, every minute of every day.  There are some clergy out there who preach the prosperity Gospel.  That is the idea that if you are good, if you love and serve God and of course give money to that preacher, good things will come to you. You will be compensated not only with a good life, but also with material goods.  It’s a complete heresy and contrary to so much of scripture, but it’s a convenient message and a popular one if that is what you need to believe. 

Yet this Psalm shows us that’s not how it always works.  “The Lord is near the brokenhearted…” That means followers of God still have their hearts broken, sometimes over and over again… It then says that “Many are the troubles of the righteous…”  It doesn’t get more direct than that.   Good people, righteous have troubles, many troubles. Most people are not comfortable calling themselves righteous. We associate it with being self righteous. Or we just don’t think we are worthy of being called righteous. In the Bible righteousness is more about the relationship between the person and God, or the person and others.  It’s right relationship.  It’s ok to associate yourself with the righteous—even if you have not yet achieved perfection.

  Unfortunately suffering is a reality for most us.  No one goes through life without suffering.  Sometimes I even wonder if being Christian brings us more suffering.  It’s not a great advertisement for Christianity.  I would never be an effective mega pastor.  It’s not that being Christian brings more bad things upon us---it just that our hearts become more malleable. We are more vulnerable to heartbreak.  If you never love, if you never open your heart to another, your heart will never be broken. 

So what does it mean that God is close to those who are broken hearted? That probably brings comfort to many, but I worry that shames some people. They think, if I don’t feel God’s presence when I suffer or when I am broken hearted, there must be something wrong with me.  I must not be righteous enough. 

The reason that Elizabeth and I decided to write our book together is because we both realized that when we were in the hospital---when we were the most vulnerable, we felt the furthest from God.  We could not pray.  We decided to write prayers that we would have wanted to pray, or we would have wanted others to pray for us. Please, hear me when I say, it’s ok if you when you suffer, you don’t feel close to God.  It’s not your fault. You are not a bad Christian.  You don’t lack righteousness.  Sometimes, you just need the prayers of others to lift you---which is why a Christian community is so vital.  The prayers of others can carry you when your own prayers feel as though they are falling on deaf ears, or when you can’t pray---when your broken heart doesn’t bring you any closer to God.

Over the last week, I realized that I was talking to God all the time. I was raised Roman Catholic.  We were taught that the saints interceded for us on behalf of God.  As Episcopalians, we believe that all Christians are saints…not just the perfect Christians who rarely sin, but all Christians.  My friend Elizabeth always advocated for those she loved, and she didn’t care who she upset doing it.  I realized that she’s with God, interceding in all my prayers. It made me want to pray more, talk to God more. That was one of the last gifts she gave to me.

We are on our 5^th week of the 6^th chapter of John’s Gospel.  We have been hearing about Jesus being the bread of life for 6 weeks.  It’s a long time to talk about the bread of life.  In our reading for today, the disciples said, “This teaching is difficult, who can accept it.” Jesus then said a few more difficult things, because he was never one to make things easy on people.  Then, realizing that many people in the crowd had left because it was too much for them, he asked his 12 disciples if they also wanted to leave. Peter replied, “Lord, to whom can we go? You have the words of eternal life.”

There are many times I have struggled with my faith over the years.  In the end, I believe that while Jesus never makes my life easier, Jesus has the words of eternal life.  And while so many people in this world come and go, Jesus has the words of eternal life. Jesus will save those whose spirits are crushed.

Benefits of Complaining: August 4, 2024

 Year B, Pentecost 11                 Exodus 16: 2-4, 9-15                                                               

I am always fascinated by people who say thing like, “well there’s no point in complaining.”  I always want to ask, are you sure?  I understand that sometimes it goes too far.  When all we do is complain and refuse to act, then we are just sabotaging ourselves and making others miserable in the process. I think that a little complaining can be healthy, especially if the person who is listening is sympathetic and might help you deal with the problem at hand. The other time when complaining can be helpful is when we are talking to God.  I will admit that there were times in the Bible when complaining kind of ticked off God. There were also times, like our story in Exodus, when it worked out well for everyone involved. 

          Some like to make a big deal of the complaining of the Hebrew people in the exodus story.  I remember in one church I served, there was a lay reader who generally read in a monotone, except when it came to the Exodus story.  Then she moved into this rather nasally whine that woke everybody up and elicited a raised eyebrow from the rector.  People love to imitate the whine of the Hebrew people.   They get a bad rap and I wonder if they really deserve it. They were after all in the desert with very little food or water.  It’s not like they were just on a long stretch of highway between Starbucks.  So why are we so quick to judge them?  

To some, they seem ungrateful. God just saved them from slavery and parted a body of water so that they could escape and now they are complaining again!  I admit their comment that it would have been better that they had died in Egypt where they had plenty to eat was a little obnoxious.  But they were hungry and scared.  People say desperate things when they are in desperate situations.  Plus, the God that they had experienced, the all-powerful God who rained down plagues and killed thousands of people was not necessarily the same tender hearted God that we picture.  In their minds, they had a God who was a warrior and a deliverer, but maybe not a provider of food and love.

          While Moses was a little annoyed with the people and their complaints, God showed no such judgment.  As soon as they complained to Moses, God said to Moses, “I am going to rain bread from heaven for you…”  Problem solved.  Yet God provided an interesting caveat.  “…each day people shall go out and gather enough for that day.  In that way I will test them, whether they will follow my instructions or not.”  The instructions were clear.  The people were to gather only enough…only enough as they needed for that one day.  But these were hungry people who had just been through a period of slavery and uncertainty.  Sure, God had freed them from slavery but that was after a long period of suffering.  Some Biblical scholars surmise that they were enslaved for 400 years.  The people who were freed had seen many of their loved ones die in slavery.  They had seen infants killed.  That was a high price to pay and not one that would be easily forgotten.  The people needed more than one miraculous act to believe in God.  They needed a relationship with God.

          God addressed that need in a couple of ways.  He started with communication.  He communicated directly with the leaders (Moses and Moses’ brother Aaron).   Then he did something rather surprising. Aaron told the people to “Draw near to the Lord, for he has heard your complaining.”   With those words, the glory of the Lord appeared to them.  All the people saw it.  Imagine if after every time I recommended that you grow closer to God, God appeared.  That would be effective, would it not?  What I find particularly interesting is that God never told Moses or Aaron that he would appear to the people.  He said that he would provide food, but he never mentioned that cloud of glory. It was an affirmation for not only the people, but the leadership as well.  They needed it too.

          The next way that God encouraged a closer relationship with him was by providing a test.  Most of us probably do not have warm and fuzzy feelings about tests.  I have not taken a test in about twenty years and I still have nightmares about them.  Recently I read about a new method they are attempting in education.  The teacher starts the year with a test. It would be similar to the test that the student would take at the end of the year, but there would be no grade.  The idea is that the student would see what was expected of them for the year.  The teacher would also know what areas needed more time than others. 

This is similar to the kind of test that God was providing.  There was no grade, but there were results.  It was not a test as much as it was another teaching opportunity.  The people were only supposed to gather as much as they needed.  But they were hungry. They were used to having to grab everything they could get because they did not know where the next meal was coming from.  Need is a relative term.  They probably felt they needed as much as they could gather.  Of course they could not eat all that they gathered, so they stored it for the next day….just in case God did not deliver the bread from heaven.   When they woke up, the food that they had stored was infested with worms AND the manna from heaven rained down again.  They didn’t pass the test, but they still got the bread and they learned something.  This God was not a warrior, and not merely a deliverer.  This God was God who cared about their day to day needs but also a God who expected obedience.  

          Perhaps we are quick to judge the Hebrew people for their complaints because we are also quick to judge ourselves for our own lack of faith, our lack of confidence in God.   That is what complaints about or to God seem to indicate to so many…a lack of faith.   Yet the complaints of the Hebrew people resulted in a closer relationship with God.  Now I am not encouraging you all to start complaining…especially not to me (unless it is non-church related in which case, fire away)!  However there is something to say about complaining to God.  Sometimes when we are questioning our faith or when we are frustrated with our own life, it is tempting to shut God out, but that is the time when we really need to talk to God, even if it sounds like whining. 

In the Episcopal Church we have loads of beautiful prayers, but there have been times in my life when those prayers didn’t cut it.  Instead I needed to weep, or rage or just whine.  And you know what--those prayers were just as appreciated as those lovely ones we have in our prayer book, maybe even more so. God wants all of us, not just the polished or polite part of us. When it comes to communicating with God, it’s not about the presentation, it’s simply a matter of follow through.  God wants to hear us.  We probably won’t get the immediate response that the Hebrew people received in Exodus, but what if that communication creates an openness in our hearts, an openness to the glory of God, the love of God, the presence of God. If there is even a chance of that, then that’s a conversation worth having.

That's Where You Are: July 28, 2024

Year B, Pentecost 10                                John 6:1-21                                                                                                                        

On occasion I like to do a first person narrative as a sermon.  That means I wrote this from the perspective of someone in the Gospel story. Most of what I am saying is based on the text, but some is what I imagine the feelings of one of the disciples would be, so take that for what it’s worth.

I told the others we should have waited for him.  We should never have gotten in the boat without him.  But Peter said we should.  Peter said that he probably wanted to be alone after feeding 5000 people…I mean, who wouldn’t want a breather after that? And you know Peter, he’s never wrong. Man is he stubborn. 

I was worried.  That crowd was intense.  They were grateful for the food.  Of course they were. But they wanted more from Jesus.  They wanted him to be king.  Jesus doesn’t want to be a king, at least not the kind of king they were looking for.  He has been clear about that all along.  I thought he might need a little protection.  What if those people followed him and took him away.  People want so many different things from Jesus. It seems to me that he’s always being pulled in different directions.  Everyone wants something from him.

Andrew said that Jesus could handle himself. He did just feel 5000 people with 5 loaves and 2 fish.  He would be fine.  It still felt wrong just to leave him.  I guess if I am honest, and I try to be most of the time, I really didn’t want to be without him.  Especially in the dark.  I have always hated being in a boat in the dark.  Bad things happen in the dark.  Everyone knows that storms came out of nowhere on the Sea of Galilee.  I think the others wanted to prove that they didn’t need him. I mean, we are adults.  We should be able to get in a boat without him. It’s just once you have been around Jesus, you don’t want to not be around him.  It’s like the dark is darker when he’s not there.  I know that sounds crazy.  But you know Peter, he’s never wrong, until he is.

            So I got in the boat with the others.   They had enough people rowing so I curled up in the corner hoping to get some sleep, hoping that when I woke up it would be morning and Jesus would be back with us.  As soon as that first drop of rain fell, I knew that we were in for a bad one.  I sat up and looked around me—I could not see land anywhere. We must have been miles from shore, which is a bad place to be in a storm.  Soon the rain was coming down so hard we could barely see.  That would have been ok except for the wind. The wind was the worst part.  It kept rocking the boat back and forth. The others were scared but I was the only one who was panicking. I yelled, “I told you that we should not have left without him.” They could barely hear me.  “We’ll be fine,” Peter shouted. “We’ve seen this before.  It will pass.”

            It didn’t.  It might have only been minutes, but it felt like hours to me.  We should never have left without him.  I started praying.  I should have been praying the whole time and maybe I was, but now I was praying out loud.  I was straining to see the shore in any direction.  If I could just see the shore, I would be ok.  It looked like something was moving.  Could it be another boat?  Could there be others as foolish as we were to be out in the middle of the night? It wasn’t a boat.  It looked like a person.  I thought I might be going crazy. Then I saw the others looking. They had all dropped their oars and were staring.  It was a person.  It was like he was walking on water, but that’s impossible.  I opened my mouth to scream, but nothing came out. I looked around to see if I was the only one who was afraid.  I wasn’t.  Peter was pointing and he kept opening and closing his mouth, like he was trying to speak but could not form the words. That was when I was really afraid because Peter is never speechless.  Never.

            I heard Thomas whisper, “It’s him.  It’s Jesus.”  He was right.  He was there, walking on the water with the storm raging around him. His clothes were soaked just like ours, but he was still above the water.  I thought, no it can’t be. Then he spoke. Despite the wind and the rain, I heard it clearly.  “It is I, do not be afraid.” I would like to say that I stopped being afraid, but I didn’t.  It just didn’t make sense. And what was he saying? Those are the words that only God can speak, “I am.”

As a good Jew, I knew that was God’s name. That was almost as scary as the image of him walking across water.  I begged him to get in the boat.  Everyone tried to get him in the boat.  It’s not that I was worried about him. He was fine.  I just needed him in the boat with us. I needed his presence.  I wanted to know that he wouldn’t leave.  If he got in our boat, then everything would be ok.  He refused. I guess if you can walk on water you don’t need a boat.

            Suddenly we were on shore.  It’s not that the boat sped up, it was more like the land just moved closer. The rain turned into a drizzle.  I turned to him and told him I was sorry that we had left him.  He just patted me on the shoulder and walked on.  I called after him and asked, “Why do you ever go in a boat if you can walk on water.” He turned and smiled, “Because that is where you are.”

The Walls Between Us: July 21, 2024

 Year B, Pentecost 9                                              Ephesians 2:11-22                                                           Over a week ago (this was before the shooting) I was listening to a podcast about the election. One person asked what it would take to bring the country together again.  The other person answered, it would have to be a crisis---like 9-11.  Then the person went on to talk about how the country was unified after 9-11, at least for a little while.  I thought, is that really the only way to bring unity?  A terrorist attack that killed over 1000 people and launched a war? Is the only way for our country to be unified to be against someone outside our nation? Then, this Saturday a presidential candidate and former president was shot. A person nearby was killed and two others were critically wounded.  Immediately people called for unity and to lower the temperature of the vitriol that was being spewed out.  I thought, well this might last a few days.  I don’t think we even made it 24 hours.  Let me be clear that I am not blaming one side or the other because it’s coming from all sides.

This reading from Ephesians can seem irrelevant at first glance.  Once the Bible starts talking about circumcision, most Christians tune out.  When Paul referred to those circumcised, he was talking about Jewish people. When he referred to the uncircumcised, that was everyone else.  Circumcision was a physical sign of a very real commitment that the Jewish people made.  At this time (about 70AD), the division between the circumcised and uncircumcised was drastic.  There were few interactions between a Jew and a non-Jew, and those interactions were superficial and limited.  There were no meals together, no inter-marriage, no friendships.

           In his letter to the Ephesians, Paul was saying that this barrier (as impermeable as it seemed) was no longer relevant or necessary because Jesus died on the cross for all.  They were no longer Jew and no longer Gentile.  They were Christians, followers of Christ and that is all that mattered.  Paul wrote, “For he is our peace; in his flesh he has made both groups into one and has broken down the dividing wall, that is the hostility between us.”  A lot of people have tried to figure out what wall he was referring to.  Was it a real wall? Was it the wall that divided the temple from the outer courts?  Was it a wall between heaven and earth? 

I am not sure why anyone is debating this as the text is clear.  It’s the hostility between us.  There is no real wall.  Humans have manufactured walls through fear, jealously, anger, and apathy. The walls were created by humans and  for humans. Unfortunately we build pretty good walls, even when they aren’t physical.  That is why Jesus had to live as one of us and then sacrifice himself on the cross. He had to show us what it was to love without walls.   

            “But now in Christ Jesus you who once were far off have been brought near by the blood of Christ.” Hearing about the blood of Christ has the same effect on some of us as hearing the word circumcision.  In many Christian communities, there has been an overemphasis on the blood of Jesus.  Some people and groups have attributed magic like qualities to the body and blood of Jesus.  It is the opposite of magical.  The blood of Jesus, and the broken body of Jesus are reminders of Jesus’ sacrifice for each one of us.  Jesus did not make the sacrifice for only one group or one country.  Jesus sacrificed for all of us so that those who were far off would be brought together.

           In this text, Paul wrote, “(Jesus) is our peace.” One of the most achingly beautiful ironies of the Christian faith is that the way Jesus embodied peace was to be executed by the Roman Empire.  We cannot be sure exactly why the Romans executed Jesus.  However, it is most likely because they were afraid that he would inspire people to revolt.  They recognized Jesus as a leader and one who could inspire the masses. The Roman Empire maintained peace through oppression.  They killed the people who threatened their rule.  Jesus’ mere existence threatened their rule. The irony is that this violent sacrifice that Jesus made paved the way for real peace, not peace maintained through violence and fear, but real peace.

           Jesus taught us what that could be. Yet in light of what happened last weekend or the 327 people who are shot daily in the United States alone, I don’t know that we have learned the lesson we were meant to learn. Recently a clergy friend of mine told me she had someone request that they stop exchanging the peace.  She said that they still wanted her to proclaim the peace, but didn’t want the interaction.  And this was not because of germs (although that’s a perfectly valid reason to do a wave instead of a handshake) but because the interaction was simply unnecessary.  That is perfect illustration of how we want peace in our nation.  We want someone to proclaim it, but we don’t actually want the interaction that would enable it.

          I am not exactly sure what that interaction looks like.  But I am sure it’ not between a pundit and their audience or a politician and their political party.  It should be between those who are not already in agreement.  How can we possibly dismantle the walls that are between us if we are too busy throwing rocks over them and then ducking as we await the return fire?

          We celebrate that Christ Church was a place where the signers of the Declaration of Independence and the framers of the constitution prayed.  And I love that.  But they also argued---vehemently.  They argued over who would lead the first prayer for the continental congress. They argued whether there should be a prayer to begin sessions.  They didn’t see these arguments as a sign that they should stop discussing.  It was an opportunity. We liked to think that everyone in our church was pro-independence, but they weren’t.  And when the Civil war came, they were divided then as well.  But here’s what the church has always been pretty good at, coming together in prayer even when we don’t agree.

We celebrate Holy Communion every Sunday.  One of the things we do in communion is we remember the sacrifice that Jesus made for us 2000 years ago.  Jesus knows that humans are fickle and tend to forget things. That is why he asked his disciples to share the bread and wine in memory of him.  Because not only do we remember the sacrifice when we celebrate communion, we come to this table together. Just for a few minutes, we remember that Jesus died so we could dismantle the walls and rethink what community is, what it could be.

Consider all of those who have gathered together at this altar over the years, people who gave disagreed about so many things. Our altar stands as a reminder of what we are called to do as Christians—to come together. Now our church probably has more people who agree than not.  But if you do know someone who is on the other side of the political spectrum (or maybe just a few notches over), offer to pray with them (and don’t say “I’ll pray for you” in that slightly passive aggressive way some people are known to do)—actually pray with them. 

I understand that sitting down and talking to someone who you don’t agree with is hard and I will admit that there are people in my family I can’t talk to about politics, but what if we started to pray with people? I understand, not everyone is the praying sort, but some are. I bet that’s scarier to most Episcopalians than actually talking about politics. If you can’t do it out load, do it silently.  It probably won’t change  them, but it can soften your heart just a little. It might lower that wall. It might bring you some of that peace that Jesus promised so many years ago.  It doesn’t matter where we are on the political spectrum, we all need more peace.

A time for action: July 14, 2024

 Year B, Pentecost 8                                                                       Mark 6:14-29                                                 During Advent, we hear the story of John’s the Baptist’s miraculous conception and birth…usually a few weeks before the story of Jesus’ miraculous conception and birth.  The miracle of John’s conception is that his parents were older and had long since given up on the idea of having a child. The circumstances were different for Jesus’ conception, but the parallels are hard to miss.  The Gospel of Mark doesn’t include the story of either John or Jesus’ miraculous conception and birth. Mark just left those out.  For Mark, the way to know Jesus, and maybe John as well, was through his death and sacrifice.  While Mark is the shortest Gospel, the story of John’s death is fairly extensive. It’s also unusual because it’s one of only three scenes in the entire Gospel of Mark, where Jesus isn’t present.  So why---why would Mark feel the need to include this rather gory story? Does it teach a lesson? Does it help us understand Jesus better? I don’t think so.

          One of the mistakes we can easily make when reading the Bible is assuming that the stories are morality tales---that every story can help us differentiate between right and wrong, just and unjust.  Yet in this story, the good guy gets killed and there are no consequences for the gruesome killing.  There is a reason that it doesn’t appear in many children’s bibles—at least not the ones I have seen.  There is also a reason we hear a lot of sermons about John’s birth and very few about his death.  It’s an odd and disturbing story. However, for Mark, the death and the sacrifice of Jesus and John are incredibly important to our faith and it’s helpful to look at the parallels between the two.

John was killed by Herod Antipas. There were a number of Herods in that time and it would be easy to confuse Herod Antipas with the Herod who ruled when Jesus was born.  That was Herod the Great. The Herod in our reading today is his son.  He had less power than his father because he was only in charge of a quarter of his father’s kingdom.  Despite the fact that Mark called him King Herod, that was not his title. He was not a king.  He wanted to be a king and even petitioned the Roman Emperor for that title, but he never got it. 

We can see from our reading that he wasn’t a strong leader.  He clearly had some respect for John and even liked listening to him, despite the fact that John openly condemned him for his marriage to his current wife who he stole from his step brother.  The basis of John’s critique was that marrying your brother’s wife would have been against Jewish law.  Even to non-Jews, this marriage was considered immoral because Herod divorced his wife so he could marry his brother’s wife. 

Yet despite the fact that Herod liked John and considered him a holy man, he was easily trapped by not only his wife’s manipulations, but his own need to please and his fear of looking bad in front of his guests.  The text says, “The king was deeply grieved; yet out of regard for his oaths and for his guests, he did not want to refuse her.” That means that he didn’t want to be embarrassed in front of his friends and the important people of the community.  He lacked fortitude. An historian named Josephus who wrote in the first century, wrote about John the Baptist’s death.  According to Josephus, Herod was worried that John was too powerful and was a threat to his own power.  Herod was an insecure man and a weak leader.

Jesus’ death was a little more complicated…perhaps just because we have a lot more information.  There were numerous groups of people conspiring to kill him.  Yet in the end, the person who made the decision was another Roman appointee---Pilate.  Pilate is depicted as man who was also swayed by the crowds. The Gospels portray him as not wanting to crucify Jesus, but being convinced by the Jewish authorities and the crowd.  Some Gospels seem to indicate that he was trapped and controlled by the Jewish leadership. The reality is that Pilate could have done whatever he wanted. He didn’t have to listen to the Jewish leadership. He simply didn’t have the backbone to stand up to the mob. He too was insecure and anxious about the threat to his authority.

          The bad news is that there is no shortage of examples of weak, insecure and immoral leaders today.  It would be tempting to read this story of the death of John and say, “Well political leadership has always been corrupt, what can we mere mortals do about it?” It’s true John was killed. Nobody could have stopped that from happening.  But let’s not forget the last line in our reading for today.  “When (John’s) disciples heard about it, they came and took his body, and laid it in a tomb.” 

Imagine the kind of courage that must have required.  John was killed because he challenged the authority of a powerful and volatile leader.  His disciples must have known that in claiming his body, they were claiming their devotion to him. It was a risky move.  While we hear little of John’s followers in the rest of the Gospel, we know from other sources that they didn’t go away.  Their commitment didn’t wane and that must have been extremely dangerous.  This was an act of defiance and faith.  Where Herod showed weakness and fear.  John’s disciples showed courage and love.  In the face of corruption they refused to be corrupted.

          Mark doesn’t tell us Jesus’ reaction to the news of John’s death.  Right after this story Jesus takes his disciples to a deserted place.  Some think they went to this deserted place to rest, but my guess is they were also grieving.  And they might have been seeking a safe place.  Jesus knew his death was inevitable, but he also knew he had more to do and this was not the time for him to die. He understood that the death of the prophet who described himself as Jesus’ forerunner meant that his situation just got more perilous.  Yet it was hard for Jesus to get away from the crowds. They found him and instead of dismissing them as the disciples suggested, he fed 5000.  That was Jesus response to the violence and instability around him.  He served his people. 

          We don’t always have control over what is happening around us.  Even the most powerful in our world don’t---we saw that in the shooting yesterday. Yet we do have control over how we respond to injustice and violence.  There are times when we are meant to speak out like John the Baptist, even when the truth is dangerous.  There are times when we need to show solidarity with those who have been brutalized, murdered and unfairly treated like John’s disciples did when they claimed his butchered body. There are times when we need to show people boundless compassion like Jesus showed to the crowds that followed him. 

This story of John’s beheading is gruesome and horrible. There is no neat and tidy message in this story.  Much like there in no neat and tidy message in our political climate today. But that doesn’t mean we can’t learn something here.  No matter what horrible things are happening, we are never powerless.  There are always ways to react and they are not the same ways for the same people.   What we cannot do it NOT act.  We must respond with hard truth, with love, and with compassion.