Stay at the Table: January 31, 2021

 Year B, Epiphany 4                                             1 Corinthians 8                                                  

          Often times we read scripture and it’s easy to see how it relates to our life.  But today’s readings seem completely irrelevant to us.  In the Gospel reading, Jesus exorcized a demon from a man…not something we encounter much today.  In Paul’s letter to the Corinthians, Paul addressed the big argument over meat sacrificed to idols.  Now, I have had a few people tell me they thought they were possessed.  It’s rare, but it happens.  But I have never once had someone express concern over meat being sacrificed to idols.   

          Yet, like so much of the Bible, there is more to these stories than meets the eye.  In fact, I would venture to say that this part of Paul’s letter to the Corinthians is probably one of the most relevant things that Paul tells us for our lives today. 

          To understand why that is true, it is helpful to know a little about Corinth and the Corinthian people.  At the time when Paul was writing his letter, Corinth was a diverse and cultured urban center.  Most of the people were not Jewish.  Thus when they became followers of Christ, they were converting to a very different way of life.  For the Jewish converts, it was an easier transition.

Corinth was an epicenter of pagan worship.  You go to Hampton to sail and eat crabs.  You went to Corinth to be in a community of people who worshipped multiple gods and did it in a fairly big way.  While the Christian community was growing, it was still a small community and one that was fairly new.  These people were just learning about Jesus.  It was unlikely that there was a central place for Christian discourse.  The various small groups of Christians most likely lived in different parts of the city and then came together once a week for common worship.  The new Christians (and they probably did not even call themselves Christian at this point) were very different from one another. Some were wealthy and well educated.  Some were not. 

          The issue that Paul was addressing was meat that was offered to idols as a sacrifice.  You might wonder how big of an issue this could possibly be.  If you don’t want to eat meat sacrificed to idols, don’t go to the temple.  However, it was not always clear where meat came from.   After an animal was sacrificed, some of it would be burned, but the left overs were often sold in the market.  And unlike our grocery store, there were no packages or signs telling you where the meat was coming from.  It didn’t say: “grass fed”, “organic”, “local” or “sacrificed to idols.” 

Some people thought it would be safer to avoid all meat together.  That way they could be sure that they were not inadvertently part of any idol worship, which kind of makes sense.  But there were other people who ate whatever meat they wanted to.  They would even attend pagan ceremonies and eat the meat they knew had been sacrificed. They figured that since these gods weren’t real anyways, what difference did it make if they ate meat offered to these fake gods—these false idols? This created tension between those who were eating the meat and those who were not.

          The issue itself is not relevant to us.  The way Paul addressed the issue and encouraged the Corinthians to handle it is absolutely relevant.  First of all, Paul never pretended to be unbiased or neutral. He agreed with the argument that since there was only one God, then it was pointless to worry about what food is or is not sacrificed to those fake gods.  He even complimented the people who had used that argument- for their knowledge and religious understanding.  But he then added that there are some people who simply aren’t there yet. They might not have the same education. They might have a different background where they were more attached to pagan rituals-- making it more difficult to completely ignore where the meat came from. For those new Christians, it would have been deeply distressing to see other Christians doing something that seemed un-Christian to them.  He concluded by asking, is it really worth it to eat meat if you are going to destroy your sister or brother in Christ?

          What is interesting is that he didn’t dismiss those who felt they could not eat meat. It’s true he labeled them as “weak,” but I don’t think he meant it as an insult.  Because in the end, he chose to associate himself with the weak by promising not to eat meat.  While he didn’t agree with them, he felt that it was more important to love them and support them, rather than prove he was right.  He did this because he thought it would help them become better Christians instead of encouraging them to return to their idol worshipping ways. 

          It’s easy to read this and conclude that Paul was simply trying to keep this fledgling community together by convincing people not to offend one another.  But that’s not the case.  If he simply didn’t want to offend, he would have encouraged them to stop talking about it, or to stop eating together.  That would have solved it, right?  Just stop eating meals together and you don’t have to worry about what everyone is eating.  But Paul knew that sharing a meal was critical in a Christian community. It’s what Jesus did with his disciples.  And it’s one of the last things he asked of his disciples.  And let’s not forget, Paul never worried about offending people. He said some terribly offensive things.  Paul’s letters were consistently encouraging the church to be a place to talk about hard things. 

          That is something I fear we have lost.  We have a really hard time talking about hard things.  We do it when we have to.  But we also avoid it as much as we can.  And if the church isn’t a place to have difficult conversations, where are we having them? Social media?? The News?  We all watch different news channels.  There are rarely differing opinions unless it’s the token conservative or token liberal. There is no real conversation happening in the places where we often turn for news and information.  Instead community is torn apart by bickering and misunderstanding one another. 

          If the church doesn’t talk about hard things like racism, homophobia, sexism, government, mask wearing…then who is?  We are leaving these important conversations to social influencers on Instagram who are far more interested in selling us something than creating or maintaining a community.

          Paul wasn’t worried about offending people because he knew the Christian community was strong enough to have arguments and disagreements.  What he was afraid of was alienating people which might lead them back to idol worship.  In the church, when we alienate people, they don’t usually turn to idol worship, not literally at least.  However it’s still something we try to avoid. 

          How do we have these hard conversations without alienating people? I struggle with this, especially lately.  But I have seen it happen.  I saw it with our Sacred Ground series where Democrats and Republicans talked about politics.  Some people’s feelings got hurt and that was regretful, but to their credit, no one walked away from the conversation.  Right now we have a commission of people talking about the confederate memorial. There is a wide array of opinions, yet they listen and speak respectfully and they are going to find a compromise. I have no doubt about that. 

          This can work—but you have to stay at the table, even when you are hurt and irritated, even when you think, “How could a Christian possibly say that?” Because I can guarantee you, whatever side you are on…there is some merit on the other side as well.  We are called to love our enemies.  That’s hard.  Let’s start by loving our friends or acquaintances who disagree with us. Jesus doesn’t care who is right.  He only cares about how we love those we think are wrong. One way we do this is to stay at the table.

Photo by Elliott Stallion

 

Thoughts from the first week of 2021

 I have decided to try to write a blog post on the weeks I am not preaching about what ever I am batting around in my head.  Here is the first installment of something I have not yet named.

Photo by Hogarth de la Plante 

            Lately, I have been thinking a lot about wounds, specifically the wounds of Mary and Jesus.  In the 2^nd chapter of Luke, a prophet told Mary that a sword would pierce her soul.  We know that she was wounded emotionally just as Jesus was wounded physically.  Our nation has been wounded over and over since its very inception.  Yet the wounds of the past 12 months are fresh and deep.  And those wounds were apparent again on Wednesday as we witnessed the events unfold at the capitol.  It was particularly troubling because this violence occurred at the very seat of our democracy.  Many might contend that it was no worse than what has happened in the past.  I can’t be the judge of that.  But I can say that for me, it was bit of a breaking point.  It was the point when the division in our country felt less like a line in the sand and more like a chasm that we were all yelling across.  It feels like a wound that keeps reopening. 

I could pontificate about the causes of that wound, but I will leave that debate to superior minds and hearts.  What I would like to address is the healing.  I believe that healing is possible.  It won’t happen easily. We can’t just pretend this division doesn’t exist.  We also can’t ignore the causes, which are manifold.  Yet we can still resolve to overcome the differences. As Christians, we are called to rise above divisions---not to ignore them, but to rise above.  One of the most unique and powerful aspects of the Christian faith is we are a group that requires no common ground, except the ground at the foot of the cross.  We require no citizenship, but the citizenship of God’s kingdom.  We don’t have to agree to disagree because we don’t have to agree on anything except for the saving grace of Jesus Christ.         

While it might seem insurmountable, we can start small.  We can start in our homes and with our families.  We can start in our church which, like most, has a vast array of political opinions.  We can start in our city of Hampton whose diversity is both a strength and a challenge.  We can start with the relationships we have because those relationships are precious.  It’s so much easier during a pandemic, when we are cloistered in our homes, to focus on our differences.  But let us work to remember what binds us is not who we are, but who we belong to.  We are God’s children and God wants more from us than what we have seen over the last year.  Please pray with me. Pray frequently and fervently.  Pray in your words or the words of others.  I have found many of the prayers in our Book of Common Prayer particularly comforting.  I will leave you with this: O God, you have bound us together in a common life. Help us, in the midst of our struggles for justice and truth, to confront one another without hatred or bitterness, and to work together with mutual forbearance and respect; through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.

What Mary Kept: January 3, 2021

 Year B, Christmas 2                                                              Luke 2:41-52                                                                           

            While we were in the adoption process, I had a vision of how it would look when we finally brought our baby home---pure bliss.  All those years of waiting would culminate in this experience of joy.  There was tremendous joy, but there was something else—grief.  Because I knew that while I was bringing home a new baby, another mother was leaving the hospital with empty arms and conflicted emotions.  This knowledge didn’t temper the joy, it complicated it.  I was carrying this host of emotions and frankly, I wasn’t too happy about it.  I wanted something pure and free from pain.  I wanted what I perceived other new mothers had.

            I believe that experience gave me a new appreciation for Mary.  Throughout the first two chapters of the Gospel of Luke, we have witnessed her experience many new things and an array of emotions. When she learned that she was miraculously pregnant with the savior of humanity---she was frightened and bewildered, but also inspired. Then after she had the baby and the shepherds shared the news that they had learned from the angels, that this child she held was the Messiah—she was peaceful, but probably a little concerned. The text tells us, “But Mary treasured all these words and pondered them in her heart.” It’s not clear what she was feeling, but it sounds like it was messy.  She knew that being the mother of this child wasn’t going to be an ordinary experience.  She just didn’t know how extraordinary it would be.

            After all these angelic visits and one miraculous birth, the story we hear today seems almost mundane. I mean it would be terrifying for any parent, but the experience itself is ordinary in the sense that it was human.  Their child was missing. They were scared and beside themselves with worry.  It would seem, they might have even forgotten who exactly they were dealing with.  He was the Son of God, destined for greatness…he probably wasn’t going to just get lost. But he was also their son and they were not thinking rationally or even spiritually.  They were just feeling visceral fear.

They did what anyone would do, they retraced their steps, talked to people who might have seen them, probably had an argument that sounded like this, “You were supposed to be the one watching him!”  Finally, they went to the place where we always end up in the Gospel of Luke---the temple.  Remember, we were just in the temple…it was about 12 years before, but only a few verses back when Jesus was presented as an infant.   

            The temple is a theme in the Gospel of Luke.  The story begins in the temple when Zechariah hears the voice of God telling him that his elderly wife will conceive a child.  The Gospel ends in the temple as well.  After Jesus is resurrected and ascends to heaven, the apostles who witnessed his ascension returned to Jerusalem.  The very last line is, “And they were continuously in the temple praising God.”  Traditional Jewish customs were important to Jesus, his family and his disciples.  The first thing Jesus did after he was tempted by Satan was to go to the Temple to pray.  It’s a funny thing when you think about it.  I mean, if anyone shouldn’t need a place to worship, it’s Jesus (God incarnate).  Why does he have to go to a holy building to talk to himself?  Yet again and again we see him return to the temple, to a place that felt like home for him.

            Thus when his parents finally found him and expressed anxiety and frustration that he would leave them, he was perplexed.  This was the temple, the holy place where he felt close to God.  This is where they should have come first.  So he asked them, “Why were you searching for me?  Did you not know that I must be in my Father’s house?”  We don’t hear their response.  It just says that they didn’t understand him.  Now while his question seems almost disrespectful, we are told that he left with them and was obedient.

Then the Gospel writer adds, “His mother treasured all these things in her heart.” It’s the same words we hear right after Jesus’ birth when the shepherds visited her and told her about their angelic visitors and the message they sent.  Some translators say that a better interpretation would be, “She kept these things in her mind and heart.”  When we read the phrase “treasure in her heart” we sentimentalize the experience, as if she is creating a scrapbook of happy memories.  But I wonder if what was really happening was she was coming to terms with all of these conflicting emotions.  Fear and amazement.  Anxiety and relief.  Love and grief.  These events and words, were all wrestling around in her mind and heart. 

Just a few verses before the ones we heard today, Mary and Joseph presented Jesus in the temple when he was just a few days old.  The prophet Simeon saw Jesus and proclaimed, “This child is destined for the falling and the rising of many in Israel, and to be a sign that will be opposed  so that the inner thoughts of many will be revealed—and a sword will pierce your own soul too.”  It could never be simple for Mary.  It could not be a simple congratulations on your new baby.  Given everything she was being told from angels, to shepherds, to strange prophets, and eventually her own son---her soul, her heart, and her mind must have been in constant turmoil. 

Photo by Mateus Campos Felipe 

Yet we sing of Mary, meek and mild.  We paint her with a peaceful and placid expression. Then we use her as an example of a faithful servant, a model for all of us. I would agree that she is a model for all of us, but more so because her joy was not the bliss that self-help gurus try to sell us.  It was contemplative and mysterious.  Her life and faith was full, but she was also wounded, wounded by the knowledge that her son’s life would be difficult.   There would be pain and tragedy, but there would also be resurrection.

As we begin a new year, I know that I would like to just forget everything that has happened in 2020 and start over.  We can’t.  Over 350,000 people have died in the United States alone from COVID.  And of course, other things have been going on as well.  I could list them, but then it just sounds like I am listing the plagues.  We all know what happened in 2020.  Things will get better, but it’s not going to happen as quickly or easily as any of us want.  We have all been wounded, but so were Jesus and Mary.  Jesus was wounded physically and Mary was wounded emotionally and spiritually.

But she never lost hope. She probably asked God a lot of questions.  She probably wept and maybe even got angry at times.  But she kept all these things in her heart.  She didn’t throw it out because it made her sad or scared.  She held all those words and experiences close to her heart.  2020 and at least part of 2021 won’t be the year that most of us carry in our hearts with fond memories.  We won’t treasure most of these times.  But let’s keep them in our hearts.  Let’s learn from it, grow from it and tend to the wounds that need healing.  Then, when we come out the other side, let us experience the complicated joy that is life as a disciple of a crucified and resurrected God.  God willing…let us do it together, in this holy space where we meet God and one another.

Holy Desperation: Nov. 28, 2020

 Year B, Advent 1                                                                Isaiah 64:1-9                                                                           

            Typically when we come to the first Sunday of Advent, I find the readings rather jarring and incongruous with the holiday season. First Advent usually comes right after Thanksgiving when people are doing their Christmas shopping and decorating their homes. People come to church expecting some of that same light and joy.  Then they hear readings like the ones we heard today, which are depressing and a little scary. 

If this was any other year, I would start by apologizing for the readings as they just don’t seem to fit where we are right now.  But this year I read them and thought: “Sure, that sounds about right.” The Gospel reading is about the end times, the 2^nd coming of Christ. The sun is darkening and stars are falling from heaven.  There has been more than a few times this year when I have thought, “Yup, this is it. The end is coming.”

            However, the reading that really appealed to me this year was Isaiah.  “O that you would tear open the heavens and come down, so that the mountains would quake at your presence…”  When this was written, the people of Israel were desperate for God to make himself known, to be an unavoidable reality in their lives.  Things were so bad, they wanted God to tear apart the heavens, because he clearly wasn’t on earth with them.           

They knew their history---they knew that there were many times when God had intervened.  Isaiah wrote, “When you did awesome deeds that we did not expect, you came down, the mountains quaked at your presence.”  God had done it before for the people of Israel when he sent the plagues and delivered the people from the Egyptian army.  God toppled the walls of Jericho with just the shout of the army.  God delivered the 10 commandment and fed the people for 40 years with manna from heaven.  God had done marvelous and astounding things. They wanted to know, “Where is that all powerful God now?” 

            When I think of the themes of Advent, I think of preparation, expectation, repentance, waiting and hoping.  These are the tame themes, the ones that work well with the 5 candles of our Advent wreath.  So I was surprised when one of the commentaries I read mentioned that this reading from Isaiah contains two of the major Advent themes and neither were themes I usually consider.  The first theme Isaiah highlights is a deep sense of desperation about a situation that is out of control. I thought, wow, that sums up 2020 pretty well. I mean--- it doesn’t really work with any of our candles, but it fits our current situation to a tee.

Photo by Brian Kairuz on Unsplash

The people of Israel understood desperation. The book of Isaiah tells of a country that was defeated in battled. The land was devastated.  The Holy City (Jerusalem) was demolished. Most of the people were carted off to a foreign land where they were enslaved for generations.  In our reading for today, the long exile was over. They had returned to find a home that looked nothing like the one they remembered, nothing like the stories they had been told. They had to rebuild.  They were weary and they wanted a divine intervention.  They wanted God to burst through the heavens because no matter how scary that might sound, it was nothing compared to their current predicament. 

The first 4 verses demand and insist that God come down and make things right.  But then starting in verse 5 they acknowledged their own sin and seemed to give reasons why God should not come down.  It’s like they had this burst of self-awareness and realized that maybe there was something they should have been doing instead of simply demanding that God fix things.  There is another shift in verse 8. “Yet, O Lord, you are our Father, we are the clay, and you are our potter, we are all the work of your hand….Now consider, we are all your people.”

            In just 9 verses, we can observe massive shifts in the way people perceive themselves and God. It begins with a desperate demand that God display his great power and shake the very foundations of the earth. Then the people acknowledge their own guilt. Then they shift to their relationship with God, the relationship of the creator and the creation, the parent and the child.  That is an intimate relationship, one of trust and love.  And that is the 2^nd theme of Advent that Isaiah highlights--- a bold and confident trust.[1]

            I resonate with this reading from Isaiah, probably more than I ever have before. I understand what it is to go from desperate fear--- to guilt-- to trust and hope—sometimes in less than an hour.  Everything is so unpredictable and chaotic right now. Desperation can do funny things. If we look inwardly at our desperation, that can lead to hopelessness and grief.  If we look to God in those desperate times, that can lead to a renewed appreciation of what God has done for us and continues to do for us.

            There is a part of me that yearns to skip over Advent this year and go straight to Christmas. We have had enough of waiting and preparation.  No doubt, the people of Israel felt the same way.  The themes of desperation and trust might not be what we want right now---but they might be what we need. When this pandemic is over, things will not be like it was before.  The people of Israel returned to a land that had been demolished. It was nothing like they remembered.  They had to rebuild despite their weariness. We will have to do the same.  I know that I will yearn for a quick fix, because really, haven’t we been through enough?  Yet that will not be an option for most of us. 

Maybe this Advent we need to focus less on preparation and expectation and more on surrender…surrendering to our own powerlessness and brokenness.  Allow yourself that feeling of desperation. But in the midst of that desperation, let us remember that no matter how hard rebuilding might seem, we have the creator as our guide.  Our God knows how to create and recreate. It is ok to be desperate (perhaps even necessary), but let us never lose our faith, even when we are in the midst of that desperation.  Let it be a holy desperation—one that leads not to despair but repair.  If we are the clay and God is the potter, then we are never broken beyond repair.  Our world is never broken beyond repair.  Our broken places are places where God’s light can shine that much more brightly.  That light, that is the light that will give us the power to rebuild.

---

[1] Texts for Preaching, Year B Commentary p. 2

Risky Business: Nov. 15th 2020

 Year A, Pentecost 24                                  Matthew 25:14-30  

              This is one of those parables that’s a bit confusing.  It starts with Jesus telling a story about a man he refers to as a master.  In this story the master went away and left enormous sums of money in the hands of three of his slaves.  He left 5 talents to one, 2 to another and 1 to the last.  Jesus was known to use hyperbole in his parables and this was a huge sum of money that the master left to his slaves. In Jesus’ time a talent was equal to 20 years of wages for the average worker.  It’s impossible to know exactly what that would equate to today, but 5 talents would have been at least a million dollars. 

The first two slaves traded with the master’s talents and doubled their money.  The last one buried it in the ground to keep it safe. The master commended the first two and punished the third because he didn’t invest the money and make more money for the master.  It is understandable that the master chose to reward the first two slaves who made him more money.   What always troubles me is the reaction he had to the third slave who chose to bury the money to keep it safe.  The master was so angry that he threw him into the outer darkness where there is weeping and gnashing of teeth---which seems like a bit of an overreaction. I mean, this third slave could have lost it. He could have run away with it and never returned. He didn’t do anything like that.  He saved it and kept it secure.  Granted, he did not display the business savvy of the other two slaves, but at least he didn’t lose the money.  

            If we simply read it as a story of financial risk taking, then it would indeed seem like an odd story for Jesus to tell, especially in this part of the Gospel of Matthew.  This story comes grouped with a number of parables that directly precede the story of Jesus’ arrest and crucifixion.  According to the Gospel of Matthew, these were some of his final words to his disciples.  He was preparing them for life without him.  While life with Jesus was certainly no cake walk for the disciples, life without him was an extraordinary challenge.  After Jesus died it was the disciples who had to carry out the Gospel.  That must have been a huge and terrifying endeavor.

The Gospel of Matthew was written in about 80 AD.  Most, if not all of Jesus 12 apostles were dead by the time this story was actually written.  Jesus had been dead for about 50 years.  There were small groups of Christians across the land, but it was barely even considered a religion at this point. We often talk about persecution of Christians in the early church.  But the Romans weren’t persecuting Christians at this point because they were so insignificant in numbers that they were not even a threat.  It was assumed this group would disappear in a generation or so. 

That certainly could have happened—but it didn’t.  Why? Was it because Jesus had left them with a clear structure for church governance? No.  Was it because they had money and powerful people leading the movement? No.  It was because they were bold, tenacious, and convicted.  The early Christians were confident in their belief that Jesus was the one true God and believing in him was essential for this life and the next.  They also believed that he was coming back and was probably coming back fairly soon, which is why there are so many references in the Bible to being ready.  That meant that there was some urgency in their actions.

The Gospels were not merely written to educate people, they were meant to inspire.  Many Christians felt it was enough to simply practice their faith in the comfort of their homes. They saw no reason to try to share the message with others---partially because while Christians weren’t necessarily persecuted, they weren’t respected.  The authors of the Gospels and early church leaders knew that this faith would only survive past the 1^st century if every believer was willing to share the Gospel.  This story of the master and the three slaves isn’t about investing money, it’s about investing in your faith and the faith of others.  It’s about a willingness to take risks for the sake of the Gospel of Jesus Christ.

When the master returned, the 3^rd slave told the master that he buried his talent because he was afraid.  His own security was his priority, not his service to the master.  He didn’t want to take risk because it wasn’t his money and it was all going to the master anyways.  I still think his punishment was a little extreme, but the stakes were high for the early Christian community.  They believed that Jesus was the way and the truth and the life. By keeping that Gospel message to themselves, they were saying that they didn’t care about the souls of others. They only cared for themselves.  If that were the case, and they kept it to themselves, we would not be Christians today. There would be no Christian faith.

Each one of us has taken some risk in our lives.  Maybe you went against your parents to pursue your own dream.  Maybe you started your own business, and took a great financial risk in doing so.  One of the riskiest things I ever did was going through the adoption process, knowing that there was always a chance that the birth mother could change her mind.  What I didn’t realize is that parenting in general is a huge risk because you become responsible for the life of another.  Marriage is a risk because it’s a commitment you make for the rest of your life.  Most things in life that are worth having demand risk. Yet for some reason, we have decided that our faith should not demand risk and courage.  We have decided that our faith should enable security and comfort.   I wish that was true, it would make things a lot easier.

We worship a God who risked everything on a helpless baby being cared for by a teenage, unmarried mother.  We worship a God who asked his son to risk his very life.  And all he gave him was a promise, a promise that death would not be the end.  We worship a God who demands that we too take risks, that we be willing to have our lives a little disrupted for the sake of the Gospel.  I can’t tell you what that will look like for your life.  It looks different for all of us.

Right now, it seems like the last thing we need is more risk in our lives.   Even going to the grocery store carries risk.  Most of are afraid of either getting sick ourselves or seeing someone we love sick.   Therefore when I tell you to take risk, I am not encouraging you to do lick a door handle of a public restroom. I would even discourage touching the handle.  Perhaps, we can each take some time to pray for direction from God.  Risk your own assurance of what and who you are supposed to be right now. Admit that maybe, you don’t have all the answers.  You don’t even have most of them. Sometimes, actually listening to God is the riskiest thing we can do.  

God Plays the Long Game: Nov. 1, 2020

Year A, All Saints                                               1 John 3:1-3, Matthew 5:1-12        

          If you read too much about All Saint’s Day, you will get confused.  It’s kind of a weird day. Most Episcopal churches celebrate it by reading the names of those who have died in the past year.  It’s an opportunity to mourn and remember. Yet the term “saint” is not what we think it is.  Frankly, I blame Billy Joel and his hit, “Only the Good Die Young.” One of the lines is: I'd rather laugh with the sinners than cry with the saints.  He makes a distinction between the sinners and the saints, saints being those who are perfect and boring, while the sinners are… everyone else. 

Now, Billy Joel isn’t completely to blame.  I believe it was the early church that started it.  They wanted to honor those who had died for their faith, the martyrs.  They declared them saints after they died which led to the idea that saints were Christian superstars, the people who were super holy. They might have sinned a little, but definitely not much. 

However, if you read the New Testament (especially Paul’s letters), you will find the definition of saints is far different. When the Apostle Paul refers to saints, he refers to all Christians—not just the really good ones who have died, but all Christians, anyone who has been baptized.  I think it is good and appropriate to read the names of those who we have lost because they were and are saints of the church. They were not perfect, but they were God’s children, just as we are.  It is interesting that we find it easier to identify saints as those who have died, rather than those of us who are still living.  I think that is partially because we still have that idea in our heave of a saint being an extra holy Christian.  But it’s also natural to remember those who have died for their good qualities.  And you know, I have to admit, that when I looked at our list this year, there were several who I knew well and I perceived as especially good and committed Christians, people I would feel comfortable referring to as a saint.  But I doubt most of them would have considered themselves that way. 

Our three readings today effectively depict the various ways we define saints.  The reading from the Book of Revelation considers the future, after Jesus comes again and all are gathered together in paradise.  It’s a very traditional All Saints reading because it is otherworldly/heavenly---and while we know that a saint is any Christian, we still associate this day with those who have passed. 

The Gospel reading (the Beatitudes) is much more relevant to the living saints. It talks about those who are struggling today, right now.  Those who are poor in spirit, those who mourn, those who are meek….they are blessed right now.  It refers to what will be, but the blessing is now.   It even goes further to describe the Kingdom of Heaven as a place we can inhabit right here, right now. “Blessed are those who are persecuted for righteousness safe, for theirs IS the kingdom of heaven.”  Even the kingdom of heaven is now.  The reading from 1^st John combines the past, present and future.  “See what love the Father HAS given us….we ARE God’s children NOW….when he is revealed, we WILL be like him…”

I had a hard time deciding which text to preach on.  If I went with the Book of Revelation, then the focus would be on the saints who have died, the saints we remember today.  If I went with the Beatitudes, then it would be about the living saints.  I was leaning toward the Beatitudes when I happened to read something about Paul.  While Paul is not represented in our readings for today, his description of a saint is a big part of this day. It said a theme of Paul’s writings is, “Become what you are.”  I had never heard that before.  It kind of sounds like something that I would hear in a yoga class, but the more I thought about it, the more relevant it seemed, especially for today.

In fact, it is exactly what our reading from 1^st John is saying, “See what love the Father has given us, that we should be called children of God; and that is what we are.”  It’s refreshingly simple compared to what Paul usually writes.  We are called children of God and that is what we are.  Become what you are.  My friends, we can wait for our death for people to see us as saintly, or we can become what we already are.  We can claim the sainthood that was bestowed on us at our baptism.  Why are we so afraid of that?  Partly we are afraid because we lack confidence in our identity as children of God.  I mean we hear it a lot, but we don’t really take it in. But I think we’re also afraid to claim our sainthood because it means that we have to be more like Christ.  It’s much easier to admire Christ then emulate him. 

It’s ok if we are a little rusty on living like saints, because we will have ample opportunities to claim our sainthood in the near future.  This next week will be one of the most divisive in recent history.  It will divide families, neighborhoods and it even threatens to divide churches.  I know this election is important.  I really am aware of that. But it’s not the most important thing.  Our political leanings cannot define us. Why? Because we are children of God first.  We are citizens of the United States of America.  But before that, we are citizens of the Kingdom of God.   That is our most important citizenship and our most important loyalty. And guess what, God always wins. It doesn’t always seem like that because God plays the long game, but God always wins. Vote. Pray. Be passionate.  But remember who deserves your loyalty.  Remember to whom you belong. You are a saint, in God’s kingdom.  You belong to God.

Photo by Jude Beck on Unsplash

Religion and Politics: October 18, 2020

 Matthew 22: 15-22                                                              October 18, 2020

        At some point in 9^th or 10^th grade, I became obsessed with politics.  I think it was the presidential election that got me interested and maybe living in Northern Virginia, which was so close to Washington DC. I remained obsessed all the way through high school and majored in political science. My honors thesis senior year was on religion and politics. For a long time I have been fascinated by the intersection of religion and politics. One of the things that drew me to the Episcopal Church is the way that it’s governed.  The structure of the Episcopal Church was created at the same time as the structure of the United States government.  It was even created by the same people in the same city.  You will have to take the Episcopal 101 class to learn more, but there are some considerable parallels.          

Despite all of that, I have always been wary of getting too close to politics especially in the pulpit.  I preach the Bible and how it applies to our lives.  Sometimes there is some overlap, but I will never tell you how to vote or what I think of our current tax structure. Yet, I believe that Jesus was willing to confront the political and religious leadership of the day.  Since he was God, he had the right to do that as he had the absolute moral authority.  He deserved that right.

This Gospel reading is a familiar one. People like to depict it as Jesus’ definitive stance on the separation of church and state—as if Jesus had a political platform and this was part of it.  “Give therefore to the emperor the things that are the emperor’s, and to God the things that are God’s.”  The popular interpretation is that Jesus was telling people that there are two spheres with a clear wall in-between them--religion and the government. 

            There are a few problems with this interpretation.  First of all, we cannot compare the political environment of Jesus’ day to ours today…and thank goodness for that.  We live in a democracy, an imperfect democracy, but a democracy none the less.  Jesus was a Jew living in an occupied territory.  Israel was under the control of the Roman Empire. Because they were a people in an occupied territory, they had no rights.  They didn’t get a vote on who their leader was.  Even the Roman citizens didn’t get to choose their leader. They had an emperor—not an elected official. To complicate matters further, the Roman emperor considered himself a god and demanded the devotion of a god. There was no separation of religion and government.  That is impossible when the leader of the government portrays himself as a god. This put the Jews in a very difficult situation because the first commandment is to worship no other god but the one true God. 

            The Romans, while not known for their overall sensitivity, were fairly tolerant of other religions. They knew that the Jewish people would never worship another god.  The Jews would revolt before they did that.  The Romans were able to keep some modicum of peace by not forcing the Jews to worship the emperor.  But they did make them pay a tax…lots of taxes.  Those taxes were controversial because they actually supported the Roman occupation of Israel. The Jewish people were paying to be subjugated.  

In our story for today, there were two groups who came together to challenge Jesus.  We don’t know much about the Herodians.  There is only one other reference to them in the Bible.  People have assumed they were supporters of Herod who represented the Roman leadership. If that was the case, it was odd that they were teaming up with the Pharisees in trying to trap Jesus.  The Pharisees didn’t usually associate with Herod’s people. It just goes to show you how threatening Jesus was to every power structure that existed at the time. 

            They thought that they had the perfect question to trap Jesus. “Is it lawful to pay taxes to the emperor?” If Jesus answered the question in a way that indicated that he supported the tax, he would alienate his Jewish followers.  If he said that they shouldn’t pay the tax, he could be accused of rebelling against Rome.  Instead of answering whether it was lawful to pay taxes to the emperor, he asked for the coin…the coin that would be used to pay this particular tax.  He did not have the coin.  The people asking the question did.  That is an important detail to note.

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            They brought him a denarius.  We know what was on that coin because archaeologists have found examples.  It had a picture of the emperor with the inscription: “Tiberius Caesar, Son of the Divine Augustus Pontifex Maximus.”  Augustus was a smart man and a very effective emperor.  When he took power, he made himself not only political leader, but a religious one as well.  When he died, he was a declared a god, making his son, the son of god.  It was his son’s picture on the coin.  Even possessing this coin was considered idolatry in the Jewish faith.  It broke the first commandment. The Pharisees should not have even had the coin, but they did.  When Jesus asked for the coin, he was proving that he was not complicit with the Roman government, they were…especially if they were allying themselves with the Herodians. It was a brilliant way to point out their hypocrisy.

            Jesus’ answer to the question wasn’t clear.  I am not sure he meant it to be.  “Give to the emperor the things that are the emperor’s and to God, the things that are God’s.”  Jesus paid his taxes.  We know that from chapter 17 of Matthew.  We also know it because otherwise he would have been arrested a lot earlier.  It would have been impossible to remain in a land occupied by Rome and not pay taxes.  That doesn’t mean Jesus respected the emperor or agreed with the tax. He just knew that was what he had to do.  The more important part of this response from Jesus is the 2^nd half, the half people don’t quote nearly as often.  “Give  to God, the things that are God’s.” We know (in theory) that everything is God’s.  Everything in creation is God’s.  This isn’t Jesus demarcating a separation between God and the government.  Everything is God’s.  Caesar can have his coins, but that’s because God is allowing it.  God doesn’t want part of our love and commitment.  He wants all of it—not just the change in our pockets.

            One commentator summed it up like this, “Live with the emperor but live for God.”[1]  We live with and within the government.  We might ally ourselves with a political party or a certain leader, but that is not our identity---that is not the heart of who we are.  Our heart is with Jesus, the one true God. We can never stop living for God, because then we lose ourselves. 

When we say that God doesn’t have a place in our government or that our faith and our politics can never touch, then I fear that we are missing the bigger picture.  God has no interest in a portion of our loyalty.  He wants all of it and he wants all of us.  Politics is occupying  large part of our attention these days.  Can you imagine if we spent as much time worshipping and serving God as we do complaining about politics? Try it. Just for a day.  Then maybe we will understand what it means to “Live with the emperor but live for God.”

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[1] http://www.workingpreacher.org/craft.aspx?m=4377&post=5458