Resident Aliens

Grace Episcopal Church, Madison NJ

November 25, 2012

Year B: The Feast of Christ the King

2 Samuel 23:1-7

Psalm 132:1-13, (14-19)

Revelation 1:4b-8

John 18:33-37

Resident Aliens

            In my homily at our Thanksgiving service I talked a little about how most everything we do here in church is meant as a call to mindfulness.

            The architecture, the stained glass, the music, the vestments, the prayers, the Bible readings – all of it is meant to make us more mindful – make us more mindful of God at work in the past and more mindful of God at work in our lives right here and now.

            And, the Church’s call to mindfulness – the Church’s call to remember and to pay attention – has never been more needed or more difficult.

            Let’s face it - everyday life is full of worries and distractions that make mindfulness very hard.

            Since today is the last Sunday of the church year – the Feast of Christ the King – and since, of course, the calendar year is drawing to a close as well - it’s natural for us to take stock of this past year.

            It’s a year we look back on with mixed feelings, I’m sure. It was a year when jobs were lost, when relationships grew weak or collapsed completely, when beloved family members and friends died, when a huge storm battered our homes and our sense of security.

            But, it was also a year that brought new jobs and opportunities, the beginning of hopeful new relationships. It was the year some of us discovered Grace Church. And for some of us, it was a year when a huge storm helped us rediscover what we thought was lost forever.

            Whatever kind of year it was for us – with so much going on, big and small, it sure wasn’t easy to be mindful.

             And our culture is downright anti-mindfulness.

            You don’t need me to tell you that our culture is all about distraction. We’re bombarded constantly by images and noise. We’re assaulted by all sorts of appeals to want and to buy all sorts of stuff that we don’t need – and, often, isn’t even very good for us.

            And the distractions have only gotten worse in recent years with our cell phones and other gadgets incessantly beeping and blinking – insisting that we read the latest message and respond right away – with little or no thought or reflection – and certainly no mindfulness at all.

            And, we all know the distractions are going to get even worse and more intense over the next few weeks during what the world calls the Christmas season.

            Meanwhile, here at Grace – here in our house of mindfulness - we’ll be marking the holy season of Advent, this spiritually rich time when we remember the events leading up to the birth of the Messiah to a couple of nobodies who were given an awesome responsibility and who did the best they could – but that meant placing the newborn King in a manger, feeding trough meant for animals.

            Here in our house of mindfulness, we’ll be marking the holy season of Advent when we don’t only look back but also look ahead to the new world in which Christ is indeed the king.

            Advent: there’s probably no time of year when the Church is less in sync with the world. Advent is just about as counter-cultural as we get.

            But, as we heard in today’s gospel lesson, there’s nothing new about us being out of step with the world.

            In this familiar scene from the Gospel of John, the Roman governor of Judea, Pontius Pilate, tries to figure out how this Jesus of Nazareth could possibly be a king. How could this nobody – this Jewish teacher without an army, this Jewish healer without even a large number of followers, how could he possibly be king?

            And, to be fair, Jesus doesn’t make it easy for the shrewd, ruthless, and practical Pilate to sort all of this out.

            Jesus tells the governor, “My kingdom is not of this world.”

            And, unfortunately, for the most part, that’s still true. Christ’s kingdom is still not of this world.

            In Christ’s kingdom, the poor are blessed.

            In Christ’s kingdom, the hungry are filled.

            In Christ’s kingdom, the mourners are laughing.

            In Christ’s kingdom, enemies love one another.

            In Christ’s kingdom, doing to others as you would have them do to you is the way of life.

            Pilate couldn’t figure out Christ the King. The world still can’t figure out Christ the King. And, usually, we still can’t figure out Christ the King.

            Yet, even though we usually can’t figure out Christ the King, through our baptism we are citizens of Christ’s kingdom.

            The Church is not just a house of mindfulness in our frantic world, but at our best the Church is a colony – a colony of Christ’s kingdom in the middle of a world that so often chooses hatred, selfishness and materialism.

            Back in 1989 Stanley Hauerwas and William Willimon published a book about the present and future of the Church. They called it Resident Aliens.

            And I think that’s exactly right. Resident aliens – that’s who we are, or at least who we are meant to be.

            We live out in the world but our true home is here in this house of mindfulness.

            We live out in the world but our true home is here in this colony of love, gratitude, forgiveness and generosity.

            We live out in the world but our true home is here in this colony of Christ’s kingdom – this colony of Christ’s kingdom right here on earth, right here in Madison.

            But, that’s not all.

            In Resident Aliens, Hauerwas and Willimon write, “The colony is God’s means of a major offensive against the world, for the world.”

            So, my fellow resident aliens, we come to the end of another church year and approach the end of the calendar year.

            It was a year that we look back on with mixed feelings.

            While the world drives itself nuts getting ready for what it calls Christmas, here we resident aliens prepare for the holy season of Advent – looking back to the humble birth of Christ the King and looking ahead to the new world yet to come.

            As a new year begins, let’s truly be a house of mindfulness and a colony of God’s resident aliens.

            As a new year begins, let’s be part of God’s major offensive against the world, for the world, by living mindfully, by serving the poor, by feeding the hungry, by wiping the tears of the mourners, by loving our enemies, by doing to others as we would have them do to us.

            Resident aliens of Grace Church, as a new year begins, let’s be part of God’s major offensive against the world, for the world, by moving out from our colony and going out there, helping to build the new world in which Christ is indeed the King.

            Amen.           

           

           

           

           

           

            

From Emptiness to Fulfillment

Grace Episcopal Church, Madison NJ

November 11, 2012

Year B: Proper 27 – The Twenty-Fourth Sunday after Pentecost

Ruth 3:1-5; 4:13-17

Psalm 127

(Hebrews 9:24-28)

Mark 12:38-44

From Emptiness to Fulfillment

            Well, it’s been a rough couple of weeks.

            Nearly two weeks after the “super storm” hit, many of us are still reeling from the loss of life, property, business and electricity.

            Maybe more than anything else, though, the storm battered our sense of stability and security.

            We find ourselves living like so many people around the world, wondering – worrying - what’s next for us. We’re not sure if our homes and possessions are safe – or can ever be truly safe again.

            On the other hand, many of us have a renewed appreciation for the so-called simple things of life: flicking a light switch and a light actually comes on - pulling into a gas station without waiting for hours – finding cold leftovers in the fridge – calling friends and family on the phone – getting to know our neighbors.

            And it hasn’t only been the storm. We also had to endure the last few weeks of a truly dismal, and obscenely expensive, presidential election. Whatever you think of the final result, I think we’re all glad it’s over.

            All of this has left me drained – has left me feeling empty. Maybe you feel something similar. Over these past few days I’ve wondered and prayed about how to get from emptiness back to fulfillment.

            From emptiness to fulfillment.

            Today’s lessons are filled with people experiencing emptiness. But, unfortunately, only some of them are able to get from emptiness to fulfillment.

            In today’s gospel lesson, Jesus is teaching in the Jerusalem temple where he has some not very nice things to say about the scribes. Since we think of a scribe as simply a writer, Jesus’ indictment seems over the top. But, in those days scribes we’re actually lawyer-theologians – people with a good bit of power and prestige in that time and place.           

            Yet, all of that power and prestige doesn’t seem to be enough for them, does it? It seems that, like some of us, they had a sense of emptiness. But, unfortunately, the scribes tried to fill their emptiness in all the wrong ways.

            The scribes tried to fill their emptiness by puffing themselves up; by drawing attention to themselves and by accumulating wealth as they greedily swindled others.

            I’m sure it didn’t work. It never really works. Those things – those actions – don’t fill the emptiness. Jesus says that they will receive the greater condemnation. By trying to fill their emptiness at the expense of others the scribes have already condemned themselves.

            And then there is the poor widow. Actually, a better adjective would be destitute. In that time and place widows owned little or nothing themselves  - and were at the mercy of their families.

            At the temple, people deposited their coins into metal trumpet-shaped receptacles. So the clinking noise would have sounded all too clearly the size of one’s donation. Compared to the deep sound of the thick coins deposited by the rich, the poor widow’s little copper coins must have resonated as tinny and pathetic.

            Yet, Jesus points out that since she gave everything she had, the widow was the most generous of all.

            Notice, though, that Jesus doesn’t say he approves of what’s just happened at the treasury. In fact, the implication is that the widow has been taken advantage of by the corrupt religious establishment.

            And, actually, this passage isn’t so much about the widow – who, we could argue, was generous to a fault. No, this passage is mostly about the scribes, the religious leaders and the rich who tried to fill their emptiness in all the wrong ways, ending up condemned.

            So, we know what doesn’t work.

            But, how do we get from emptiness to fulfillment?

            Today’s Old Testament reading is from the Book of Ruth – a book that has a lot to say about moving from emptiness to fulfillment.

            Do you know the story?

            It begins with Naomi and her husband, Elimelech, and their two sons leaving Bethlehem during a time of famine and going to Moab, a neighboring land on the eastern shore of the Dead Sea.

            Both sons married local Moabite women but then both sons and Naomi’s husband, Elimelech died.

            Talk about emptiness! It seemed like Naomi had lost everything – she had lost her husband and her sons and was living in a foreign land. She understandably decides to return home to Bethlehem. Naomi urges her Moabite daughters-in-law to stay in their own country. But, one of the daughters-in-law, Ruth, in an act of extraordinary generosity, insists on accompanying Naomi to Bethlehem.

            In the best-known passage from the Book of Ruth, Ruth says to her mother-in-law: “Do not press me to leave you or to turn back from following you! Where you go, I will go; where you lodge, I will lodge; your people shall be my people, and your God my God.”

            Naomi reluctantly accepts Ruth’s generosity and together Naomi and her daughter-in-law Ruth make their way to Bethlehem.

            In Bethlehem the foreigner Ruth goes to a field where she takes advantage of the Israelite law that required farmers to leave part of their harvest for the poor, the aliens and the widows. Ruth, of course, is all three.

            Fortunately, she goes to a field belonging to a man named Boaz – who goes beyond the law by warmly welcoming her, protecting her and sharing his meal with her.

            As we heard in today’s lesson, Ruth and Boaz end up married and had a son, Obed, who will be the grandfather of King David.

            The Book of Ruth tells the story of going from emptiness to fulfillment. Naomi and Ruth had nothing and yet by the end of the story their lives are fuller than they could have ever imagined.

            How did it happen? How did Naomi and Ruth get from emptiness to fulfillment?

            Generosity.

            Ruth could have stayed with her own people in Moab and yet she chose to stick with her mother-in-law.

            And it took some generosity for Naomi to accept Ruth’s love – to accept her help and loyalty. How many of us have trouble asking for or accepting help?

            Boaz could have just followed the letter of the law and simply allowed Ruth to gather the leftovers but instead he generously welcomes her into his home and into his life.

            And what was true long ago is just as true today.

            We’ll fail every time if, like the scribes, we try to fill our emptiness by just accumulating wealth and prestige – by trying to convince everyone how special and impressive we are. Instead, we simply condemn ourselves.

            But, we move from emptiness to fulfillment through generosity.

            Look at the generosity we’ve seen in the aftermath of the storm!

            As most of you know lifelong parishioner Don Van Court died on the Thursday after the storm. That morning, as the word got out, in the midst of toppled trees and downed power lines, so many neighbors – some of whom only knew Marge from seeing her walking her dog – offered help – charging phones, hauling over piles of firewood, sharing a generator, and bringing over a little care package of snacks and bottled water in a basket wrapped in cellophane.

            From emptiness to fulfillment through generosity.

            Yesterday some of us from Grace and other local Episcopal churches went to the Community Food Bank in Hillside where we and other volunteers packed over 500 emergency boxes of food for hurricane victims. It was the most fulfilled I’ve felt in weeks!

            And we’ve even seen some generosity of spirit in the days after the presidential election.

            In his concession speech, Governor Romney congratulated the president and his campaign and offered prayers especially for the president and his family.

            In his speech on election night, President Obama said this: “the Romney family has chosen to give back to America through public service, and that is a legacy that we applaud and honor tonight.”

            I know politicians are expected to say those kinds of things on election night. But, imagine if we had seen that kind of graciousness and generosity from both sides throughout the campaign. Imagine if our leaders behaved that way all the time! Imagine if we behaved that way all the time!

            From emptiness to fulfillment through generosity.

            These last few rough weeks may have left us feeling drained – may have left us with a sense of emptiness.

            But, we know the way from emptiness to fulfillment.

            It’s the way of Ruth generously giving herself to her mother-in-law Naomi. It’s Naomi accepting Ruth’s love and loyalty. It’s the way of Boaz who went beyond the law to welcome the stranger.

            We know the way from emptiness to fulfillment.

            It’s the way of a group of neighbors on the hill in Madison, who in the midst of devastation, generously reached out to a grieving neighbor.

            It’s the way of volunteers helping people we’ll never meet.

            We know the way from emptiness to fulfillment.

            On this Veterans Day we especially remember that it’s the way of men and women willing to sacrifice their lives for our safety and freedom.

            And, most of all, it’s the way of Jesus who gave away his life for us all – and calls us to give away our lives in loving service.

            From emptiness to fulfillment through generosity.

            Amen.            

Spiritual Stewardship

Grace Episcopal Church, Madison NJ

The Messenger

Associate’s Message

Spiritual Stewardship

This month began with All Saints’ Day, when we recall and celebrate the holy women and men who strove to live faithfully and helped build the kingdom of God in their own times and places. Some of the saints are nearly anonymous, their exemplary lives and good works known to only a few people, or perhaps to God alone. Then there are the saints known by everyone – like St. Francis whose holy life we celebrate each October in a uniquely raucous service. And then there are the saints who fall somewhere in between. These are the people who were distinguished enough to be honored on our liturgical calendar but whose names are hardly well-known even in the most pious households. 

I remember one of my seminary professors suggesting that we should get to know the great Christian men and women of the past so well that we might come to think of them as our friends.  Although that seemed a little goofy to me at the time, over these past few years in the course of preparing homilies for weekday services I have made the acquaintance of some remarkable and inspiring saints. I’m not sure I think of them as friends, exactly, but some have definitely challenged me to live more faithfully and proclaim Christ more boldly.

One new acquaintance is Vida Dutton Scudder (1861-1954), whose feast day was last month. In preparing my little homily on her life I learned that this remarkable woman taught English at Wellesley for decades while at the same time putting her deep Christian faith into action by standing beside the oppressed, insisting on pacifism and asking uncomfortable questions about our economic system. She challenged Christians to do more than offer charity to the poor. She confronted the powerful forces that made charity needed in the first place.

I was most impressed with what she had to say about prayer:

“Let us examine our prayers. How languid they are, how perfunctory, and alas! How often selfish! Sometimes one feels that men’s prayers must sadden God even more than their sins. Prayer is the deepest and surest measure of personality. As men pray, so they really are…A force more penetrating and powerful than gravitation or electricity is entrusted to us, and we are responsible for the steady use of it and its direction to the noblest ends.”

God has entrusted so much to our care! At this time of year when the Church tries to turns our attention to stewardship, we often reflect on, and take stock of, the material resources that we possess. And as Christians we are called to – in fact, expected – to give back to God by generously supporting the Church financially and through offering our time and talent.

But, God has not just given us material riches. We may not often realize it, but we have also been blessed with bottomless spiritual riches. Of course, we have been given Grace Church itself – our remarkable community through which God feeds us and provides us with opportunities to serve others in ways big and small but always profound.

Maybe most important, we have been given the gift – the power – of prayer, “a force more penetrating and powerful than gravitation or electricity.” Yet, I wonder how well we use this awesome power. Do we pray? And if we do, are our prayers selfish, more along the lines of letters to Santa than communication with the Source of Life? Do our prayers sadden God more than our sins?

At this time of year when we focus on stewardship, I’d like to challenge us all to increase our spiritual stewardship through a small, easy yet profound exercise. Each week when we come to church we get a copy of Grace Notes that’s jam-packed with information about upcoming programs and events. But, that’s not all. Grace Notes also includes the names of all those on our parish prayer list. These people – fellow parishioners, friends and relatives, total strangers – are all for a wide variety of reasons in need of our prayers.

So, here’s the challenge: let’s all take Grace Notes home after church on Sunday and pray for each person on the list every day of the week. It will take just a few minutes, but however we choose to do this – with a morning cup of coffee, while sitting on the train, before going to bed – we will be taking responsibility for the power God has given and directing our prayers to the noblest ends.

It’s very important to fill out our pledge cards and be as generous as possible. And it is at least as important to be good spiritual stewards, sharing our prayers for those in need.

Spiritual Persistence

Grace Episcopal Church, Madison NJ

October 28, 2012

Year B: Proper 25 – The Twenty-Second Sunday after Pentecost

Job 42:1-6, 10-17

Psalm 34:1-8, (19-22)

(Hebrews 7:23-28)

Mark 10:46-52

Spiritual Persistence

            On Friday some parishioners and I visited the Thomas Edison National Park in West Orange.

            This trip was different from the others we’ve taken lately because there was no obvious religious angle. I had hoped that Edison had been an Episcopalian or at least a Christian. But, although his second wife was a committed Methodist, the great inventor himself had no use for religion.

            Anyway, we had a great time touring Edison’s factory and lab and also his nearby estate. We learned a lot. One of the key points made by the park rangers about Edison was his persistence.

            Edison and his team performed thousands and thousands of experiments, determined to turn their ideas into reality and then, of course, turn a handsome profit on their amazing new inventions.

            The persistent Edison was perfectly pleased when an experiment produced a negative result because it still brought him a little closer to finding the right answer.

            Edison’s persistence paid off in many ways. He was awarded 1,093 US patents – still the most for any individual.

            And Edison’s persistence paid off in inventions that shaped the modern world, including the phonograph, the motion picture camera, the stock ticker, and, most important of all, the light bulb.

            Like Edison, most, if not all, of us know about the power of persistence.

            Persistence is powerful because it’s an act of faith. It’s an act of faith in ourselves.

            Many of us know the power of persistence at school or work.

            Many of us know the power of persistence in sports or learning a musical instrument or mastering a foreign language.

            Our parishioner Mike Kostial and his brother know the power of persistence when today, after many months of preparation, they run in the Marine Corps Marathon, raising money for the fight against cancer.

            We know about the power of persistence in our everyday lives, but we can easily forget the power of persistence in our spiritual lives.

            In our spiritual lives, persistence is even more powerful because it’s an act of faith in God.

            Persistence, that act of faith, creates room for God, makes an opening for God to do great things in our lives.

            In Scripture we have examples of people being persistent and people not being persistent.

            Remember a few weeks ago we heard the story of the rich man asking Jesus what he needed to do to inherit eternal life? He claimed to have followed all the commandments. But, when Jesus called him to give up his possessions, he threw in the towel.

            The rich man was unwilling to persist, unwilling to make that act of faith, unwilling to make room for God to do something great in his life.

            In today’s lessons, though, we have examples of people who do spiritually persist.

            For the past few weeks we’ve been hearing excerpts from the Book of Job – this ancient folktale about undeserved suffering. Remember as a result of a bet made between God and Satan, the righteous Job lost just about everything: his family, his wealth and his health.

            Job mourns and complains bitterly, crying out in despair because God seems to have abandoned him.

            Yet, through it all, Job persists – remaining faithful and never cursing God as Satan had predicted. And as we heard today, at the conclusion of the story, Job’s persistence is rewarded when God gives Job twice as much as he had before.
            And then there’s blind Bartimaeus in today’s gospel lesson.

            Blind Bartimaeus actually sees more than most when he calls out, “Jesus Son of David, have mercy on me!” And when many sternly order him to be quiet, Bartimaeus persists, crying out even more loudly, “Son of David, have mercy on me!”

            And, Bartimaeus’ persistence is rewarded when Jesus gives him his sight, saying “Go; your faith has made you well.”

            Essentially Jesus tells Bartimaeus, “Go; your persistence has made you well.”

            In our spiritual lives, persistence is powerful because it’s an act of faith in God.

            Persistence, that act of faith, creates room for God, makes an opening for God to do great things in our lives.

            So, what about us? How spiritually persistent are we?

            I can only speak for myself.

            And the bottom line is I’m not as spiritually persistent as Job or as Bartimaeus.

            How about you?

            I wrote an article in the upcoming Messenger called “Spiritual Stewardship.” I wrote that just as we’re called to be good stewards of our material wealth, God also expects us to be good stewards of our spiritual resources – and most especially the power of prayer.

            So, as you’ll see, I’ve issued a little challenge to the parish. Take a look at your Grace Notes. (This will be one time when it’s OK to look at your bulletin during the sermon!) On page 11 you’ll find our parish prayer list.

            For the next month I challenge all of us to take Grace Notes home and spiritually persist by praying for everyone on the list every day. There’s no one right time or way to do it. In the morning with your cup of coffee. At night before bed. Say the names aloud. Read them silently. Run your finger across the names.

            Just pray the prayer list in a way that feels right and works for your schedule. And if you miss a day, don’t give up. Persist. Maybe pray the list twice the next day.

            Like Thomas Edison, we know about the power of persistence in our everyday lives, but we can easily forget the power of persistence in our spiritual lives.

            Spiritual persistence is powerful because it’s an act of faith in God.

            Persistence, this act of faith, creates room for God, makes an opening for God to do great things in our lives, in the lives of others – and in the life of our parish.

            Amen.

           

           

           

            

God is With Us in Our Despair

Grace Episcopal Church, Madison NJ

October 14, 2012

Year B: Proper 23 – The 20th Sunday after Pentecost

Job 23:1-9, 16-17

Psalm 22:1-15

(Hebrews 4:12-16)

Mark 10:17-31

God is With Us in Our Despair

            I don’t know about you, but I enjoy reading newspaper obituaries of people who have lived long, full, and interesting lives.

            Earlier this month I read the obituary of Eric Hobsbawm, who was one of the most accomplished British historians of the past century.

            He wrote a series of books on the history of the 18^th, 19^th and 20^th centuries.  The first was what’s still his best-known book, The Age of Revolution. He followed that with The Age of Capital, The Age of Empire and finally The Age of Extremes.

            If something works, you stick with it. Anyway, after I finished reading Hobsbawm’s obituary, I wondered what title he’d give to a history our own time.

            My guess is: The Age of Despair.

            To a large extent we live in an age of despair.

            Much of the time we try to hide our despair from others – maybe especially from those closest to us.

            People ask, “How are you?” And usually, no matter what, we say, “great” or “fine” or maybe if we’re willing to be a little vulnerable, “OK”.

            But, try as we might, that despair comes bubbling up in all sorts of ways.

            In our personal lives despair bubbles up when we cut-off people from our lives or when we act out, maybe blowing small things out of proportion or making a nasty comment or passing along gossip. The despair bubbles up when make self-destructive choices - maybe drinking more than we should or simply neglecting our responsibilities and commitments.

            There’s a whole lot of despair bubbling up in the current election cycle. Our national problems and challenges seem to be beyond our leaders and those who want to lead us. And, though many of us have strong opinions, how many of us can honestly say we understand the complexities of the economy, the federal budget, health care reform, the Middle East, the environment, and on and on?

            We live in the age of despair.

            And there are two main causes of our despair.

            The first cause of our despair might be summed up as “stuff happens”.

            This is the despair caused by bad news from the doctor. This is the despair caused when we – or people we care about or depend upon - lose a job. This is the despair caused by fears of default and foreclosure. This is the despair caused by betrayal. This is the despair caused by crumbling or broken relationships.

            This is the despair that makes us cry to heaven, asking God, “Where are you?” “How can you let this happen to me?” “Why don’t you do something?”

            Of course, there’s nothing new about this type of despair. Long ago, the psalmist asked:

             “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?”

              In today’s first lesson we heard a little bit from the Book of Job. This unusual book is a folktale mostly about the despair caused by undeserved suffering – despair caused when “stuff happens.”            

            Do you know the story? Job is a blameless and upright man. He enjoys a full and prosperous life. But Satan suggests to God that Job is only blameless and upright because things have always gone his way. Faced with some misfortune, Satan is sure that Job will curse God.

            So, a bet is made in heaven between God and Satan.  Satan bets that, faced with terrible misfortune, Job will curse God.

            So for no reason that he can tell, the righteous and faithful Job loses his wealth and his children and is wracked with disease.

            And, just like us, when stuff happens blameless and upright Job despairs.

            Job despairs because God seems to be absent.

            Job says about God, “Oh, that I knew where I might find him, that I might come even to his dwelling!”

            And then, “If I go forward, he is not there; or backward, I cannot perceive him; on the left he hides, and I cannot behold him; I turn to the right, but I cannot see him.”

            The first type of despair is caused when “stuff happens.”

            And then there’s a second type of despair – an even worse type of despair that we make for ourselves.

            This “self-made” despair is caused when our priorities are out of order.

            This “self-made” despair is caused by focusing too much on accumulating possessions and preserving our wealth – things that, on their own, can’t make us happy, content or joyful.

            This “self-made” despair comes from worrying too much about professional success. It’s the type of despair that’s caused by caring too much about what other people think about us.

            This “self-made” despair comes from spending too much time bemoaning the state of the world and not enough time getting out there helping others.

            This “self-made” despair comes from trying to live someone else’s life and not living our own.

            The rich man in today’s gospel seems to be suffering from this “self-made” despair.

            Mark packs a lot into this little passage. The rich man approaches Jesus and seems to try buttering him up. He kneels before Jesus and calls him “Good Teacher” and asks, “What must I do to inherit eternal life?”

            Jesus answers him by running down some of the commandments, adding one that’s actually not part of the ten: “You shall not defraud.” Maybe this is a sign that Jesus knows that not all of this man’s wealth has been obtained in honorable ways.

            The rich man claims to have followed all of these commandments. And, like Jesus, let’s take him at his word.  Jesus loves him no matter what. But then Jesus calls him to one final and great sacrifice: sell all of his possessions, give the money to the poor and follow Jesus.

            We’re told, “When he heard this, he was shocked and went away grieving, for he had many possessions.”

            Sounds like “self-made” despair to me.

            After he’s gone, Jesus tells his disciples how hard it is for the wealthy to enter the kingdom of God.

            I know that makes my stomach sink a little. I bet that Sue and I have many more possessions and enjoy much greater luxury than the rich man in the story. And, for that matter, we live better than just about everyone else who has ever lived or is alive today.

            So, is it nearly impossible for us to enter God’s kingdom?

            Talk about despair! And then it seems to get worse. Notice what Jesus says next: “Children, how hard it is to enter the kingdom of God.”

            Turns out, it’s hard for everybody to enter the kingdom of God!

            So, where’s the good news in today’s lessons?

            The good news is that both the rich man and Job were wrong.

            The good news is the rich man was wrong. The rich man asked the wrong question. God’s love and eternal life are gifts given freely by God to those who are open to receiving them. We don’t have to “do” anything – we can’t do anything - to inherit them. God’s love and eternal life are not things that we can buy and own.

            Just before today’s passage from Mark, Jesus says: “Truly I tell you, whoever does not receive the kingdom of God as a little child will never enter it.”

            All that’s really required is not easy but is doable. All that’s really required is an open heart to receive God’s love – and then God, for whom nothing is impossible, takes it from there.

            Job knew about despair. But, the good news is Job was wrong.

            Job thought God had abandoned him. “If I go forward, he is not there; or backward I can not perceive him; on the left he hides, and I cannot behold him; I turn to the right, but I cannot see him.”

            But, Job was wrong. God was right there with Job the whole time.

            And God is with us in our age of despair. Whether it’s despair caused when stuff happens or despair that’s self-made, God is with us.

            I’ve seen God with us in our despair over and over again – and I bet you have, too.

            I saw God with us in our despair a while back when I visited the home of a dying parishioner and he and his family and I shared a simple and beautiful communion service on what turned out to be his last day of consciousness and just a few days before his death.

            I’ve seen God with us in our despair when people lose their jobs or when a marriage gets broken or when a frightening diagnosis is given. God’s love is shared as friends gather round offering support, offering shoulders to cry on, offering hands to hold, offering ears and hearts to listen - for as long as it takes.

            And we’ve seen God with us in our despair when a family took the brave step of asking us all to help a fragile little boy, asking for what probably seemed impossible – and God’s love was unleashed.

            We may live in an age of despair but there’s good news all around us.

            There’s the good news that all that’s required of us is not easy but is doable: an open heart to receive God’s greatest gifts of love and eternal life.

            And there’s the good news that God is always with us in our despair.

            God is with us.

            Amen.            

Paul Among the People

Grace Episcopal Church, Madison NJ

The Messenger

Associate’s Message

Paul Among the People

During this past summer, a determined, thoughtful and patient group of parishioners grappled with N.T. Wright’s provocative – and sometimes exasperating – book, After You Believe.  In this book, Wright argues that the early Christians introduced a new ethical system and, in fact, a new way of being human. Although Christian ethics and morality shares a passing resemblance to some classical philosophy, Wright insists that Christianity was wildly countercultural in the First Century, introducing notions like the precious value of every human life – and inspiring early followers of Jesus to sacrifice themselves for people unrelated and unknown to them, and who could offer nothing in return.

Wright bolsters his argument by quoting Christian Scripture, especially texts written by St. Paul, or written in his name. After Jesus, Paul is widely considered to be the most important and influential person in Christian history. After his dramatic conversion experience, this ex-Pharisee not only quit persecuting followers of Jesus but he spent the rest of his life traveling around the Mediterranean world telling people the Good News of Christ. Paul started congregations, squabbled with other disciples, suffered ridicule, arrests, beatings and ultimately martyrdom.  And, of course, Paul wrote letters, at least some of which survived and eventually were incorporated into the Christian Bible, making him the best-represented author in the New Testament.

Paul wrote his letters to specific communities in response to particular pastoral issues. Sometimes we are not entirely clear what those issues were since, unfortunately, we have only one side of the correspondence. Although he seems to have had a very healthy ego, undoubtedly Paul would be shocked to learn that his letters have been considered sacred for two millennia.

Paul would probably also be shocked by his reputation among many Christians today. My sense is that two things most commonly come to mind when – or if - we think of Paul. First we think of his familiar ode to love in First Corinthians, a passage often read weddings: “Love is patient; love is kind; love is not envious or boastful or arrogant or rude.” Second, today many people (including many committed Christians) think of Paul as the person largely responsible for twisting Jesus’ inclusive message of love and forgiveness into what they perceive as a rigid religion obsessed with rules, sexuality and patriarchy.

More than once during the summer we lamented that we didn’t know enough about the classical world or enough about Paul to evaluate Wright’s claims. Just how different were Christians from everybody else? Just how different was the message proclaimed by Paul from the teachings of others in the First Century?

In part to answer those questions, this fall everyone is invited to read and discuss Sarah Ruden’s book, Paul Among the People: The Apostle Reinterpreted and Reimagined in His Own Time. (You can find out details about the group on page X of The Messenger.) Ruden is a classicist best known for her translations of ancient literature including The Aeneid. She uses her deep knowledge of ancient literature and culture to place Paul in his First Century context. Employing a witty and accessible style, Ruden takes a fresh look at what Paul has to say about pleasure, homosexuality, women, government, slavery, and love. She contrasts Paul’s thought with what other writers were presenting at around the same time.

Thinking about Paul in his First Century context is not just an interesting historical exercise, however. Looking back at Paul among the people of his time just might prompt us to reflect on the counter-cultural nature of Christianity in our own time. After all, like Paul, we live in a society that reduces many human beings from beloved children of God to mere objects for pleasure or use of others. Like Paul, we live in a society that celebrates and even, in a sense, worships individual material success without also expecting and celebrating a commitment to the common good. Like Paul, we live in a society that shows little concern about the increasingly desperate plight of the poor.

As someone who gave away his life to follow Jesus and who offered a radically different way of life, Paul still has some important things to say to us today.

This fall I hope you will give Paul Among the People a try and (re-)discover this essential, fascinating, complex, puzzling and courageous apostle.

God Wants Our Help

Grace Episcopal Church, Madison NJ

September 30, 2012

Year B: Proper 21 – The Eighteenth Sunday after Pentecost

Esther 7:1-6, 9-10; 9:20-22

Psalm 124

(James 5:13-20)

Mark 9:38-50

God Wants Our Help

            When I was a teacher one of the hardest things to accept was that my students were going to forget just about everything we covered in class.

            And what was true in the classroom is also true in church. We preachers have to accept that people are going to forget most of what we say in our sermons.

            And that includes me, too! I’ve heard and given a lot of sermons and I don’t remember most of them either. But a few have stuck in my memory.

            One is a sermon I heard given by the famous South African archbishop and Nobel Prize-winner Desmond Tutu.

            He was visiting General Seminary while I was studying there and preached at one of the chapel services. No surprise, so many people wanted to be in his presence and to hear him preach that the seminary had to set up overflow seating and closed-circuit TV on the lawn outside the chapel.

            Unfortunately I was one of those who didn’t make it inside, but the distance from the pulpit had no effect on the power of Tutu’s preaching.

            His sermon was deceptively simple.

            He preached that God has a dream for the world – a dream for all of us.

            And he preached that God wants our help to make that dream real.

            He ended his sermon by allowing the voice of God to speak through him. (Now, I wouldn’t try this myself, but you can get away with it when you’re a living saint!)

            Speaking as God, Tutu said, “Help me.” And then he repeated that over and over, “Help me, help me, help me…” His voice grew softer and then finally he stopped and stepped down from the pulpit.

            God’s call, God’s plea – help me – gave me goose bumps – and I’ve never forgotten it.

            God wants our help.

            Considering how often we fail and fall short, this seems like a misguided decision, but God wants our help – God asks for our help to build God’s kingdom here and now.

            God wants our help.

            Today’s gospel lesson picks up right where we left off last week. You may remember we heard Jesus teach his followers about what it means to be a disciple – that true greatness comes through service and sacrifice, especially service to and sacrifice for the people the world considers useless unproductive nobodies.

            Today, we pick up with more Jesus sayings on discipleship. If you look carefully, you’ll see Mark has arranged this little passage based on four keywords – name, stumble, fire and salt.

            I want to focus on the second keyword, stumble.

            Jesus warns his disciples – warns us – of dreadful consequences if we lead others to sin.

            “If you put a stumbling block before one of these little ones who believe in me, it would be better if a great millstone were hung around your neck and thrown into the sea.”           

            What does this have to do with us?

            Most of the time we cause others to stumble in subtle yet very destructive ways.

            Most of the time we cause others to stumble when they see us being hypocrites.

            We cause others to stumble when we stand up in church promising to love our neighbor as our self, to respect the dignity of every human being, to strive for justice and peace – and then we go out through those doors and live pretty much like everybody else: quick to judge and condemn, happy to ridicule people because of their beliefs or their appearance or the kind of car they drive, willing to ignore people the world considers useless unproductive nobodies.

            By living like everybody else, we cause people to look at us and say our faith is fake and meaningless.

            By living like everybody else, we cause people to stumble, and fall away from Christ, to reject Christ.

            God wants our help.

            But, by living like everybody else, we say no to God’s call for help.

            And we choose to live like everybody else because that’s the easier choice. In fact, it’s so easy to live like everybody else – so easy to have the same values as the world – that we might even fool ourselves into thinking that it’s just too hard to say yes when God calls to us. We might even almost fool ourselves into thinking it’s impossible to say yes when God wants our help.

            But, in our hearts we know it is possible to say yes to God.

            The Bible is full of people who said yes to God.

            In today’s Old Testament lesson we heard a snippet from the Book of Esther. Esther is an unusual book – it doesn’t say much of anything directly about God. Instead, it’s really a tragic-comic historical novella set among Jewish exiles in Persia. It’s the story of a Jewish maiden, Esther, and her cousin and adopted father, Mordecai.

            To make a complicated story short, the lovely Esther ends up as the wife of the Persian king, Ahasuerus. As queen, she is able to outwit the evil Persian official named Haman who wants to kill the Jews.

            As we heard today Queen Esther is able to turn her husband the king against Haman, leading to his death and much rejoicing – and revenge – among the Jews. It’s this story that provides the basis for the raucous Jewish holiday of Purim.

            At its heart, the Book of Esther presents a familiar biblical character –someone who refuses to live like everybody else – someone who says yes to God’s call for help.

            God wants our help.

            And, if we look around we see that there are still people in our church, in our community, and around the world who say yes to God’s call for help.

            Recently I read in the newspaper about two people who refused to live like everybody else, who said yes to God’s call for help.           

            The first was Dr. Joseph Dutkowsky, a top orthopedic surgeon who specializes in the care of children disabled by cerebral palsy, spina bifida, Down syndrome and other conditions - people the world considers useless unproductive nobodies.

            There are other doctors who do similar work, of course. But Dr. Dutkowsky is also a committed Christian, bridging the gap between science and faith. Each day as he drives to the hospital, he prays, asking to know God’s will.

            Listen to how he describes his work:

             “This is my ministry. Some people stand next to the ocean to feel the presence of God. I get to see the likeness of God every day. I see children with some amazing deformities. But God doesn’t make mistakes. So they are the image.”

            And then listen to what else he says:

            “We have a culture that’s addicted to perfection. We’re willing to spend thousands of dollars to achieve it. The people I care for are imperfect. And I can’t make them perfect. I only hope that they can sense that I actually care they’re more than skin and bones, that we have a bond.”

            God wants our help. By caring for people the world considers to have little or no value, Dr. Dutkowsky has said yes to God’s call for help.

            And then there was the article that appeared marking the death at age 83 of a Catholic priest named John Flynn.

            Fr. Flynn could have moved up the church ranks and taken cushier assignments, but instead he spent 50 years serving the poorest of the poor in the Bronx – people the world considers useless unproductive nobodies.

            Fr. Flynn said yes to God, starting a campaign called Save a Generation to help high school dropouts. He walked the mean streets of the Bronx offering to exchange guns for crucifixes. He helped people stand up for themselves against landlords and others who were taking advantage of them. He ministered to the drug addicts and the drug dealers.

            Here’s how a Fordham professor summed up Fr. Flynn’s life:

            “Greatness takes many forms. It is not always associated with wealth and power and fame. In the Bronx, it may have reached its highest point in the person of a parish priest who walked the street with the lost boys of the community while bullets were flying. And who those boys learned to love as much as everyone else who knew him.”

            God wants our help. By caring for people the world considers to have little or no value, Fr. Flynn said yes to God’s call for help.

            In today’s gospel lesson, Jesus warns his disciples – warns us – of the dreadful consequences of leading others to sin, of causing others to stumble.

            Most of the time we cause others to stumble in subtle yet very destructive ways.

            We cause others to stumble when we are hypocrites.

            We cause others to stumble when we stand up in church promising to love our neighbor as our self, to respect the dignity of every human being, to strive for justice and peace – and then we go out through those doors and live pretty much like everybody else, saying no to God’s call for help.

            By living like everybody else, we cause people to look at us and say our faith is fake and meaningless.

            By living like everybody else, we cause others to stumble.

            But, still, God wants our help.

            Throughout history people both famous and unknown – people like Queen Esther, Dr. Dutkowsky and Fr. Flynn have said yes to God’s call for help.

            How about us?

            God wants our help.

            God wants our help.

            God wants our help.