St. Michael’s Episcopal Church, Gainesville FL
September 29, 2010
The Feast of St. Michael and All Angels
Genesis 28:10-17
Psalm 103
Revelation 12:7-12
John 1:47-51
Michaelmas on Holy Ground
God is always reaching out to us.
That’s the heart of our faith and the great theme of the Bible. Throughout the centuries, over and over, no matter how far we stray from the path, no matter how many times we reject God, God is always reaching out to us.
God is always reaching out to us, wanting to be friends with us, wanting to heal us, to guide us, and to strengthen us.
God uses everything at God’s disposal to reach out to us. God prods us through our consciences. God brings other people into our lives. God challenges us through prophetic voices. God feeds us through the Church and the sacraments. God inspires us through the beauty and wonder of the world.
Our tradition teaches us that God has also reached out us through the ministry of the mysterious, supernatural beings we call angels. Our tradition teaches us that the angels worship God in heaven and are also sent to us here on earth as messengers and defenders.
In today’s lesson from Genesis, we heard about a very early angelic appearance in Jacob’s powerfully vivid dream of the ladder between heaven and earth.
The angelic appearance helps Jacob to realize that he was asleep on holy ground. Jacob has a moment of extraordinary clarity and mindfulness. Jacob sees things as they really are. Jacob cries out, “Surely the LORD is in this place – and I did not know it!” “How awesome is this place! This is none other than the house of God, and this is the gate of heaven.”
God used this angelic dream to reach out to the snoozing Jacob. God used this angelic dream to help Jacob see things as they really are, to recognize God’s presence not just at the top of the ladder in heaven, but right here and now on earth.
God is always reaching out to us. And God’s ultimate and definitive attempt to reach out to us is in Jesus of Nazareth. In Jesus, God reaches out to us by breaking down the barrier that separated us. In Jesus, we see what God is really like. In Jesus, we see what we are really like.
In today’s gospel lesson, like Jacob, Nathanael also has a moment of extraordinary mindfulness and clarity. Nathanael also sees things as they really are. Nathanael cries out to Jesus, “Rabbi, you are the Son of God! You are the King of Israel!”
And then the Evangelist John quotes Jesus as saying, “Very truly, I tell you, you will see heaven opened and the angels of God ascending and descending upon the Son of Man.”
Long ago Jacob recognized that God was reaching out to him and that he was on holy ground, right here on earth.
The Evangelist John draws upon the story of Jacob’s ladder to offer us an even greater moment of clarity and mindfulness. John wants us to recognize that Jesus is both the revelation and the dwelling of God.
In Jesus, God has reached out to us in the ultimate way by breaking down forever the barrier that separated God and humanity.
From the start, Christians have understood that in the life, death and resurrection of Jesus, the victory has already been won – evil, fear and death are already defeated.
The angels should be able to enjoy a well-deserved retirement.
Unfortunately, from the start, Christians have also understood that evil, fear and death still stalk the earth; we have known that evil, fear and death still lurk in our hearts.
The victory is already won, but we’re not there yet.
Already but not yet.
So, our tradition teaches us that since we live in this “already, but not yet” time, the angels are still hard at work. And our patron, Michael, is one of the hardest working of all.
Michael, whose name means “Who is like God?” first appears in the Book of Daniel as the patron angel of Israel. Later, he appears in many non-biblical texts that were written after the Old Testament and before the New Testament. The mystics who wrote these texts saw Michael as both the leader of God’s army but also as a great healer.
In the vision of the Book of Revelation that we heard today, it’s Michael who leads the battle against Satan casting him and his demons out of heaven and down to earth.
So the author of Revelation writes, “Rejoice then, you heavens and those who dwell in them! But woe to the earth and the sea, for the devil has come down to you with great wrath, because he knows that his time is short!”
The victory is already won, but we’re not there yet.
We live in the “already, but not yet” time.
And it’s already, but not yet, here at St. Michael’s in Gainesville. God is still reaching out to us, wanting to be friends with us, wanting to heal us, to guide us, and to strengthen us.
God is still using everything at God’s disposal to reach out to us, including the angels, helping us to resist the powerful and very real evils of the world.
God is still using everything at God’s disposal to reach out to us, including the angels, helping us to have moments of clarity and mindfulness, so, like Jacob, we can wake up and see things as they really are, to realize that we are on holy ground.
And, in those moments of clarity and mindfulness, like Jacob, we can cry out: “Surely the LORD is in this place – and I did not know it!” “How awesome is this place! This is none other than the house of God, and this is the gate of heaven.”
On this, our patronal feast, may God send St. Michael and all the angels to help us in this “already, but not yet” time. May God give us the gifts of clarity, mindfulness, healing and strength.
Amen.
Wednesday, September 29, 2010
Sunday, September 26, 2010
GatorAID
The Chapel of the Incarnation, Gainesville FL
September 26, 2010
Year C, Proper 21: The Eighteenth Sunday after Pentecost
Jeremiah 32:1-3a, 6-15
Psalm 91:1-6, 14-16
1 Timothy 6:6-19
Luke 16:19-31
GatorAID
I’m envious of those of you who are really good at math. In school math was always my downfall – often keeping me off honors and providing me with many hours of upset stomach and sweaty palms. Pre-Calculus alone took about five years off my life.
In our family, Sue handles the finances – which is a very good thing. A number of years ago we thought we’d try our hand at some small-scale investing in stocks. I convinced Sue that we should buy stock in The New York Times Company. To me, my argument seemed flawless. I argued that with the internet becoming more and more popular people are going to want a brand they can trust for their news – and that brand would be the New York Times. Plus, I added with a flourish, people are always going to read newspapers!
Well, you can imagine how well that’s worked out for us over the years. Back in my former parish each Friday morning we had a men’s breakfast at a local diner. Most of these guys worked or had worked in finance and over three years they tried to tutor me on the ins and outs of the financial world. They tried to teach me how to invest wisely.
The brain trust, as I called them, had some success with me, though I still don’t trust myself to invest wisely. And judging from the way things have gone for many of us these past few years, it looks like most people shouldn’t trust themselves to invest wisely, either.
Jesus was very concerned that we learn how to invest wisely. He’s very interested in how we use – or misuse – our wealth. It’s a theme that runs throughout the gospel. How do we use or misuse our wealth, our possessions?
In today’s vivid and disturbing parable of the rich man and Lazarus, Jesus gives us a powerful vision of what happens when a person doesn’t invest wisely – when a person chooses to serve wealth rather than God – when a person chooses the love of money over the love of God and of neighbor. And it’s not a pretty sight.
It’s interesting that the first part of the parable contains nothing about morality. The rich man is rich and Lazarus is poor. Luke paints the picture expertly, the rich man “was dressed in purple and fine linen and who feasted sumptuously every day.” Meanwhile right outside the rich man’s gate, there’s Lazarus who was “covered in sores, who longed to satisfy his hunger with what fell from the rich man’s table; even the dogs would come and lick his sores.”
The rich man is about as rich as they come. And Lazarus, probably crippled and ritually unclean with skin ailments and dog saliva, is about as poor as they come.
But, notice, so far there’s nothing about the rich man being particularly bad or Lazarus being particularly saintly.
And then they both die and we see the Beatitudes put into action.
“Blessed are you who are poor, for yours is the kingdom of God. Blessed are you who are hungry now, for you will be filled."
They both die and we see the Beatitudes put into action.
“But woe to you who are rich, for you have received your consolation. Woe to you who are laughing now, for you will mourn and weep.”
But, this parable is not only – or even mostly – about reversal of fortune. When the scene shifts to hell we learn a lot about the rich man’s character and realize that the parable is really about investing wisely here and now.
So, the rich man’s in hell, he looks to heaven and sees Abraham with Lazarus beside him. And the rich man reveals a whole lot about his sense of entitlement when he has he nerve to ask Abraham to send Lazarus down into the flames to serve him.
In the parable, though, Abraham doesn’t chew out the rich man for his arrogance. Instead, Abraham maintains a sense of moral neutrality. Abraham says basically, “You had your good times on earth and now it’s Lazarus’ turn.”
It’s the next section that reveals what this parable is all about. The rich man still thinks Lazarus should be at his service. The rich man says to Abraham, “Then, father, I beg you to send him to my father’s house – for I have five brothers – that he may warn them, so that they will not also come into this place of torment.”
There it is. The rich man understands that he’s in hell not as the result of a reversal of fortune, not because he was rich. He’s in hell as a result of how he had used – or misused his fortune on earth. The rich man had not invested wisely. The rich man had invested in his fine garments and his sumptuous feasts instead of investing in loving God and loving neighbor.
I’m sure it seemed wonderful – the great clothes, the great meals, the big house and all the rest. And I’m sure he told himself that he was worth it, that he deserved what he had, that God must have wanted him to have all that he had.
But, later, I bet if the rich man reflected back on his life, he’d realize that he began living in hell long before he died. By over and over again choosing to satisfy himself and ignoring the desperately poor man right outside his gate, he had already begun to live in the hell of selfishness and materialism. He had not invested wisely.
And in our own culture we don’t have to look too far to find examples of the rich and famous living in the hell of selfishness and materialism. We don’t have to look too far to find examples of people investing in their own pleasure and extravagance rather than investing wisely in love and generosity.
But, what about us?
What kind of investors are we?
In my sermon last week I slipped in a phrase that I hope will become a central theme for all of us here at the chapel: Gators for Others.
In our high pressure world of tests and papers and resumes and interviews it is so easy for us to get so wrapped up in investing only in ourselves. It is easy for us to forget that for us Christians wise investment means loving God and loving our neighbor as ourselves.
So, we’ve created something to help all of us with our investing. It’s called the “GatorAID” box and it will be kept in the back of the chapel. The Gainesville Community Ministry has created a list of items that are particularly needed by the Lazaruses in our community. Each week an item from that list will be our “GatorAID Item of the Week.”
The “GatorAID Box” is a call to mindfulness. The “GatorAID Box” can help us avoid being like the rich man in the parable. The “GatorAID Box” can make it a little harder to ignore or choose to ignore the Lazaruses all around us. The “GatorAID Box” can help us be more faithful followers of Jesus.
The “GatorAID Box” can help us truly be Gators for Others.
Amen.
September 26, 2010
Year C, Proper 21: The Eighteenth Sunday after Pentecost
Jeremiah 32:1-3a, 6-15
Psalm 91:1-6, 14-16
1 Timothy 6:6-19
Luke 16:19-31
GatorAID
I’m envious of those of you who are really good at math. In school math was always my downfall – often keeping me off honors and providing me with many hours of upset stomach and sweaty palms. Pre-Calculus alone took about five years off my life.
In our family, Sue handles the finances – which is a very good thing. A number of years ago we thought we’d try our hand at some small-scale investing in stocks. I convinced Sue that we should buy stock in The New York Times Company. To me, my argument seemed flawless. I argued that with the internet becoming more and more popular people are going to want a brand they can trust for their news – and that brand would be the New York Times. Plus, I added with a flourish, people are always going to read newspapers!
Well, you can imagine how well that’s worked out for us over the years. Back in my former parish each Friday morning we had a men’s breakfast at a local diner. Most of these guys worked or had worked in finance and over three years they tried to tutor me on the ins and outs of the financial world. They tried to teach me how to invest wisely.
The brain trust, as I called them, had some success with me, though I still don’t trust myself to invest wisely. And judging from the way things have gone for many of us these past few years, it looks like most people shouldn’t trust themselves to invest wisely, either.
Jesus was very concerned that we learn how to invest wisely. He’s very interested in how we use – or misuse – our wealth. It’s a theme that runs throughout the gospel. How do we use or misuse our wealth, our possessions?
In today’s vivid and disturbing parable of the rich man and Lazarus, Jesus gives us a powerful vision of what happens when a person doesn’t invest wisely – when a person chooses to serve wealth rather than God – when a person chooses the love of money over the love of God and of neighbor. And it’s not a pretty sight.
It’s interesting that the first part of the parable contains nothing about morality. The rich man is rich and Lazarus is poor. Luke paints the picture expertly, the rich man “was dressed in purple and fine linen and who feasted sumptuously every day.” Meanwhile right outside the rich man’s gate, there’s Lazarus who was “covered in sores, who longed to satisfy his hunger with what fell from the rich man’s table; even the dogs would come and lick his sores.”
The rich man is about as rich as they come. And Lazarus, probably crippled and ritually unclean with skin ailments and dog saliva, is about as poor as they come.
But, notice, so far there’s nothing about the rich man being particularly bad or Lazarus being particularly saintly.
And then they both die and we see the Beatitudes put into action.
“Blessed are you who are poor, for yours is the kingdom of God. Blessed are you who are hungry now, for you will be filled."
They both die and we see the Beatitudes put into action.
“But woe to you who are rich, for you have received your consolation. Woe to you who are laughing now, for you will mourn and weep.”
But, this parable is not only – or even mostly – about reversal of fortune. When the scene shifts to hell we learn a lot about the rich man’s character and realize that the parable is really about investing wisely here and now.
So, the rich man’s in hell, he looks to heaven and sees Abraham with Lazarus beside him. And the rich man reveals a whole lot about his sense of entitlement when he has he nerve to ask Abraham to send Lazarus down into the flames to serve him.
In the parable, though, Abraham doesn’t chew out the rich man for his arrogance. Instead, Abraham maintains a sense of moral neutrality. Abraham says basically, “You had your good times on earth and now it’s Lazarus’ turn.”
It’s the next section that reveals what this parable is all about. The rich man still thinks Lazarus should be at his service. The rich man says to Abraham, “Then, father, I beg you to send him to my father’s house – for I have five brothers – that he may warn them, so that they will not also come into this place of torment.”
There it is. The rich man understands that he’s in hell not as the result of a reversal of fortune, not because he was rich. He’s in hell as a result of how he had used – or misused his fortune on earth. The rich man had not invested wisely. The rich man had invested in his fine garments and his sumptuous feasts instead of investing in loving God and loving neighbor.
I’m sure it seemed wonderful – the great clothes, the great meals, the big house and all the rest. And I’m sure he told himself that he was worth it, that he deserved what he had, that God must have wanted him to have all that he had.
But, later, I bet if the rich man reflected back on his life, he’d realize that he began living in hell long before he died. By over and over again choosing to satisfy himself and ignoring the desperately poor man right outside his gate, he had already begun to live in the hell of selfishness and materialism. He had not invested wisely.
And in our own culture we don’t have to look too far to find examples of the rich and famous living in the hell of selfishness and materialism. We don’t have to look too far to find examples of people investing in their own pleasure and extravagance rather than investing wisely in love and generosity.
But, what about us?
What kind of investors are we?
In my sermon last week I slipped in a phrase that I hope will become a central theme for all of us here at the chapel: Gators for Others.
In our high pressure world of tests and papers and resumes and interviews it is so easy for us to get so wrapped up in investing only in ourselves. It is easy for us to forget that for us Christians wise investment means loving God and loving our neighbor as ourselves.
So, we’ve created something to help all of us with our investing. It’s called the “GatorAID” box and it will be kept in the back of the chapel. The Gainesville Community Ministry has created a list of items that are particularly needed by the Lazaruses in our community. Each week an item from that list will be our “GatorAID Item of the Week.”
The “GatorAID Box” is a call to mindfulness. The “GatorAID Box” can help us avoid being like the rich man in the parable. The “GatorAID Box” can make it a little harder to ignore or choose to ignore the Lazaruses all around us. The “GatorAID Box” can help us be more faithful followers of Jesus.
The “GatorAID Box” can help us truly be Gators for Others.
Amen.
Investing Wisely
St. Michael’s Episcopal Church, Gainesville FL
September 26, 2010
Year C, Proper 21: The Eighteenth Sunday after Pentecost
Jeremiah 32:1-3a, 6-15
Psalm 91:1-6, 14-16
1 Timothy 6:6-19
Luke 16:19-31
Investing Wisely
I’m terrible at math. Throughout my days as a student math was always my downfall – often keeping me off honors and providing me with many hours of upset stomach and sweaty palms. Pre-Calculus took about five years off my life.
Fortunately, in our family, Sue handles the finances. One exception was a number of years ago when we thought we’d try our hand at some small-scale stock investing. I convinced Sue that we should buy stock in The New York Times Company. To me, my argument seemed flawless. I argued that with the Internet becoming more and more popular people are going to want a brand they can trust for their news – and that brand would be the New York Times. Plus, I added with a flourish, people are always going to read newspapers!
Well, you can imagine how well that’s worked out for us.
Back in my former parish each Friday morning we had a men’s breakfast at a local diner. (Maybe something for us to consider?) Anyway, most of these guys who came to the breakfast worked or had worked in finance. Over the three years I was there they tried their best to tutor me on the ins and outs of the financial world. They tried to teach me how to invest wisely.
The brain trust, as I called them, had some success with me, though I still don’t trust myself to invest wisely. And judging from the way things have gone for many of us these past few years, it looks like most people shouldn’t trust themselves to invest wisely, either.
Money is a touchy subject, isn’t it? It’s very personal. Most of us get uncomfortable, annoyed or even angry if anyone asks us how much money we earn, how much we have, how much we spend, how much we give away. My finances are none of your business.
I’m sure in the ancient world people who had money felt the same way. Yet, Jesus seems to have spent a lot of time talking about wealth – probably making some people awfully uncomfortable, annoyed and even angry. Nevertheless, Jesus seems to have spent a lot of time warning people – teaching people – to invest wisely.
Last week we heard the parable of the dishonest manager. At the conclusion of that parable Luke listed a series of Jesus sayings on wealth concluding with, “No slave can serve two masters; for a slave will either hate the one and love the other, or be devoted to the one and despise the other. You cannot serve God and wealth.”
Well, in today’s parable of the rich man and Lazarus we can almost hear Luke saying, “See, I told you so.” In this vivid and disturbing parable Jesus gives us a powerful vision of what happens when a person doesn’t invest wisely – when a person chooses to serve wealth rather than God – when a person chooses the love of money over the love of God and of neighbor. And it’s not a pretty sight.
It’s interesting that the first part of the parable contains nothing about morality. The rich man is rich and Lazarus is poor. That’s just the way it is. Luke paints the picture expertly. The rich man “was dressed in purple and fine linen and feasted sumptuously every day.” Meanwhile right outside the rich man’s gate, there’s Lazarus who was “covered in sores, who longed to satisfy his hunger with what fell from the rich man’s table; even the dogs would come and lick his sores.”
The rich man is about as rich as they come. And Lazarus, probably crippled, and covered with skin ailments and dog saliva that made him ritually unclean, is about as poor as they come.
But, notice, so far there’s nothing about the rich man being particularly bad or Lazarus being particularly saintly.
And then they both die and we see Luke’s very concrete version of the Beatitudes put into action.
“Blessed are you who are poor, for yours is the kingdom of God. Blessed are you who are hungry now, for you will be filled.
They both die and we see Luke’s very concrete version Beatitudes put into action.
“But woe to you who are rich, for you have received your consolation. Woe to you who are laughing now, for you will mourn and weep.”
But, this parable is not only – or even mostly – about reversal of fortune. When the scene shifts to hell we get a sense of the rich man’s character and realize that the parable is about investing wisely.
So, the rich man’s in hell, he looks to heaven and sees Abraham with Lazarus beside him. And the rich man reveals a whole lot about his sense of entitlement when, from hell, he asks Abraham to send Lazarus down into the flames to serve him.
In the parable, though, Abraham doesn’t chew out the rich man for his arrogance. Instead, Abraham maintains a sense of moral neutrality, saying essentially, “You had your good times on earth and now it’s Lazarus’ turn.”
It’s the next section that reveals what this parable is all about. The rich man still thinks Lazarus should be at his service. The rich man says to Abraham, “Then, father, I beg you to send him to my father’s house – for I have five brothers – that he may warn them, so that they will not also come into this place of torment.”
There it is. The rich man wants to warn his brothers to change their behavior because he understands he’s in hell because he had misused his fortune on earth. The rich man had not invested wisely.
The rich man had invested in his fine garments and his sumptuous feasts. The rich man had invested in his own pleasure, comfort and security.
And I’m sure the rich man told himself that he deserved these things, that he had worked hard for these things, that actually he didn’t really have that much, that he had to hold on to his wealth because you never know what the future might bring.
In fact, the rich man began living in hell long before he died. By choosing to satisfy himself and ignoring the desperately poor man right outside his gate, he had already begun to live in the hell of selfishness and materialism.
He had not invested wisely.
And in our own culture we don’t have to look too far to find examples of the rich and famous living in the hell of selfishness and materialism. Bernie Madoff, anyone? We don’t have to look too far to find examples of people investing in their own pleasure, comfort and security rather than investing wisely in love and generosity.
Well, what about us?
What kind of investors are we?
I don’t know this community very well, yet, but I’m guessing that none of us consider ourselves fabulously wealthy. Yet, as I’m sure members of the Cuba Committee and everyone else knows, by the standards of the world, we are some of the richest people who have ever lived.
Do we invest our wealth mostly in our own pleasure, comfort and security? Or do we invest our wealth primarily in living lives of loving service to the poorest and the weakest, regardless of their character? Remember, the parable tells us nothing about Lazarus’ character. All we need to know – all the rich man needed to know – was that he was poor and suffering.
This autumn, as we begin our life together, I invite all of us here at St. Michael’s to reflect on our investments. How much do we - individually and as a community - invest in ourselves and how much do we invest in sharing with the poor and suffering? And I invite us to reflect on who are the poor and suffering around us? Who are the people who might be right outside our gate? Who are the people we choose to ignore?
I invite all of us to invest wisely, to live our lives carefully and mindfully, because, just as for the rich man in today’s parable, whether we realize it or not, heaven or hell begin for us right here and now.
May God give us the wisdom to invest wisely.
Amen.
September 26, 2010
Year C, Proper 21: The Eighteenth Sunday after Pentecost
Jeremiah 32:1-3a, 6-15
Psalm 91:1-6, 14-16
1 Timothy 6:6-19
Luke 16:19-31
Investing Wisely
I’m terrible at math. Throughout my days as a student math was always my downfall – often keeping me off honors and providing me with many hours of upset stomach and sweaty palms. Pre-Calculus took about five years off my life.
Fortunately, in our family, Sue handles the finances. One exception was a number of years ago when we thought we’d try our hand at some small-scale stock investing. I convinced Sue that we should buy stock in The New York Times Company. To me, my argument seemed flawless. I argued that with the Internet becoming more and more popular people are going to want a brand they can trust for their news – and that brand would be the New York Times. Plus, I added with a flourish, people are always going to read newspapers!
Well, you can imagine how well that’s worked out for us.
Back in my former parish each Friday morning we had a men’s breakfast at a local diner. (Maybe something for us to consider?) Anyway, most of these guys who came to the breakfast worked or had worked in finance. Over the three years I was there they tried their best to tutor me on the ins and outs of the financial world. They tried to teach me how to invest wisely.
The brain trust, as I called them, had some success with me, though I still don’t trust myself to invest wisely. And judging from the way things have gone for many of us these past few years, it looks like most people shouldn’t trust themselves to invest wisely, either.
Money is a touchy subject, isn’t it? It’s very personal. Most of us get uncomfortable, annoyed or even angry if anyone asks us how much money we earn, how much we have, how much we spend, how much we give away. My finances are none of your business.
I’m sure in the ancient world people who had money felt the same way. Yet, Jesus seems to have spent a lot of time talking about wealth – probably making some people awfully uncomfortable, annoyed and even angry. Nevertheless, Jesus seems to have spent a lot of time warning people – teaching people – to invest wisely.
Last week we heard the parable of the dishonest manager. At the conclusion of that parable Luke listed a series of Jesus sayings on wealth concluding with, “No slave can serve two masters; for a slave will either hate the one and love the other, or be devoted to the one and despise the other. You cannot serve God and wealth.”
Well, in today’s parable of the rich man and Lazarus we can almost hear Luke saying, “See, I told you so.” In this vivid and disturbing parable Jesus gives us a powerful vision of what happens when a person doesn’t invest wisely – when a person chooses to serve wealth rather than God – when a person chooses the love of money over the love of God and of neighbor. And it’s not a pretty sight.
It’s interesting that the first part of the parable contains nothing about morality. The rich man is rich and Lazarus is poor. That’s just the way it is. Luke paints the picture expertly. The rich man “was dressed in purple and fine linen and feasted sumptuously every day.” Meanwhile right outside the rich man’s gate, there’s Lazarus who was “covered in sores, who longed to satisfy his hunger with what fell from the rich man’s table; even the dogs would come and lick his sores.”
The rich man is about as rich as they come. And Lazarus, probably crippled, and covered with skin ailments and dog saliva that made him ritually unclean, is about as poor as they come.
But, notice, so far there’s nothing about the rich man being particularly bad or Lazarus being particularly saintly.
And then they both die and we see Luke’s very concrete version of the Beatitudes put into action.
“Blessed are you who are poor, for yours is the kingdom of God. Blessed are you who are hungry now, for you will be filled.
They both die and we see Luke’s very concrete version Beatitudes put into action.
“But woe to you who are rich, for you have received your consolation. Woe to you who are laughing now, for you will mourn and weep.”
But, this parable is not only – or even mostly – about reversal of fortune. When the scene shifts to hell we get a sense of the rich man’s character and realize that the parable is about investing wisely.
So, the rich man’s in hell, he looks to heaven and sees Abraham with Lazarus beside him. And the rich man reveals a whole lot about his sense of entitlement when, from hell, he asks Abraham to send Lazarus down into the flames to serve him.
In the parable, though, Abraham doesn’t chew out the rich man for his arrogance. Instead, Abraham maintains a sense of moral neutrality, saying essentially, “You had your good times on earth and now it’s Lazarus’ turn.”
It’s the next section that reveals what this parable is all about. The rich man still thinks Lazarus should be at his service. The rich man says to Abraham, “Then, father, I beg you to send him to my father’s house – for I have five brothers – that he may warn them, so that they will not also come into this place of torment.”
There it is. The rich man wants to warn his brothers to change their behavior because he understands he’s in hell because he had misused his fortune on earth. The rich man had not invested wisely.
The rich man had invested in his fine garments and his sumptuous feasts. The rich man had invested in his own pleasure, comfort and security.
And I’m sure the rich man told himself that he deserved these things, that he had worked hard for these things, that actually he didn’t really have that much, that he had to hold on to his wealth because you never know what the future might bring.
In fact, the rich man began living in hell long before he died. By choosing to satisfy himself and ignoring the desperately poor man right outside his gate, he had already begun to live in the hell of selfishness and materialism.
He had not invested wisely.
And in our own culture we don’t have to look too far to find examples of the rich and famous living in the hell of selfishness and materialism. Bernie Madoff, anyone? We don’t have to look too far to find examples of people investing in their own pleasure, comfort and security rather than investing wisely in love and generosity.
Well, what about us?
What kind of investors are we?
I don’t know this community very well, yet, but I’m guessing that none of us consider ourselves fabulously wealthy. Yet, as I’m sure members of the Cuba Committee and everyone else knows, by the standards of the world, we are some of the richest people who have ever lived.
Do we invest our wealth mostly in our own pleasure, comfort and security? Or do we invest our wealth primarily in living lives of loving service to the poorest and the weakest, regardless of their character? Remember, the parable tells us nothing about Lazarus’ character. All we need to know – all the rich man needed to know – was that he was poor and suffering.
This autumn, as we begin our life together, I invite all of us here at St. Michael’s to reflect on our investments. How much do we - individually and as a community - invest in ourselves and how much do we invest in sharing with the poor and suffering? And I invite us to reflect on who are the poor and suffering around us? Who are the people who might be right outside our gate? Who are the people we choose to ignore?
I invite all of us to invest wisely, to live our lives carefully and mindfully, because, just as for the rich man in today’s parable, whether we realize it or not, heaven or hell begin for us right here and now.
May God give us the wisdom to invest wisely.
Amen.
Saturday, September 25, 2010
A Life of Love: Funeral Sermon for Thomas C. Maresco, Jr.
The Chapel of the Incarnation, Gainesville FL
September 25, 2010
Memorial Service for Thomas Carmine Maresco, Jr.
John 10: 11-16
A Life of Love
That famous passage of Scripture I just read comes from the Gospel of John. Most scholars think the fourth gospel was written sometime around the end of the First Century – some sixty years after Jesus’ death and resurrection.
At first, no one had written down their memories of Jesus, probably because few could write and most expected that the Second Coming was going to happen any day now.
As the years went by, the early followers of Jesus , inspired by God, began to assemble their memories of Jesus – who he was, what he had done, what he had taught, what he had meant – and what he still meant - to them.
The gospels don’t contain every single detail or fact about Jesus. In fact, at the end of the Gospel of John the evangelist writes, “But there are also many other things that Jesus did; if every one of them were written down, I suppose that the world itself could not contain the books that would be written.”
The gospels don’t contain every single fact or detail about Jesus, because, as John claims, there just isn’t enough room. Also, we have to admit, by the time the gospels were written, many early disciples had died and the memories of those still living must have faded.
The gospels don’t contain every single fact or detail about Jesus, but they capture his essence – who he was and who he is – the meaning of his life, death and resurrection.
And we hear the essence of Jesus in today’s reading from the Gospel of John. Jesus says, “I am the good shepherd. The good shepherd lays down his life for the sheep.”
That’s the essence of Jesus. Jesus is the good shepherd who loves each of us. Jesus is the good shepherd who poured out his life in loving service and sacrifice.
Jesus is the good shepherd who shows us what God is really like. Jesus is the good shepherd who shows us what we are really like. Jesus is the good shepherd who gives up his life for us, his sheep.
That’s the essence of Jesus that’s remembered in the gospels and that’s the essence of Jesus that has been remembered by the Church for these many centuries and passed down to us here today.
Just as Jesus poured out his live in love for each of us, so we are invited and expected to pour out our lives in love for God and for one another.
When Jesus was asked to name the greatest commandment, he replied, “You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with al your mind. This is the greatest and first commandment. And the second is like it: You shall love your neighbor as yourself.”
That’s the kind of life that Jesus lived. And it’s that kind of life of love that God invites us and expects us to live.
And, that’s the kind of life of love that Tom Maresco lived. I’m very sorry I never had the chance to know Tom, but everything I’ve heard from his friends points to the fact that Tom lived a life of love – a life of love for God and for his brothers and sisters, both here in America and in Lesotho.
Tom poured out his life in love for others, interrupting his promising career path in order to serve some of the poorest of us all. And on his last day, Tom poured out his life in love and care for others.
And our faith, our trust, teaches us that in the next instant Tom’s essence was in the full presence of the God who has loved him since before the beginning of time; the God who imagined Tom into existence. Tom’s essence is in the arms of the Good Shepherd and is at peace.
But, what about the rest of us?
For those of you who knew and loved Tom best, your loss and anguish are indescribable and unknowable to all of us who have managed to avoid such pain. Life will go on, but this tragedy is not something you get over or put behind you. Instead, the only hope is asking God’s help in accepting that Tom’s death is a wound - an absence - that you will feel for the rest of your life.
For the rest of us – those who weren’t that close to Tom or didn’t know him at all, the facts and details of his life will fade from our memories.
And eventually the day will come when we’ll all be gone – those who were closest to Tom and those who never met him. The day will come when no one will be alive who knew Tom or even knew about him.
Tom’s essence will live on forever in heaven. But Tom’s essence will also live right here on earth through us. Tom’s essence will live on right here and now if we follow his example and live lives of love, if we pour out our lives in love for God and in love for our neighbors both near and far.
And, just like Tom, if we live lives of love, then not only will we be in the arms of the Good Shepherd for all eternity, but our essence will live on through countless generations and centuries.
Tom Maresco lived a life of love. God is inviting and expecting us to be like Tom – to also pour out our lives in love of God and love of neighbor.
Amen.
September 25, 2010
Memorial Service for Thomas Carmine Maresco, Jr.
John 10: 11-16
A Life of Love
That famous passage of Scripture I just read comes from the Gospel of John. Most scholars think the fourth gospel was written sometime around the end of the First Century – some sixty years after Jesus’ death and resurrection.
At first, no one had written down their memories of Jesus, probably because few could write and most expected that the Second Coming was going to happen any day now.
As the years went by, the early followers of Jesus , inspired by God, began to assemble their memories of Jesus – who he was, what he had done, what he had taught, what he had meant – and what he still meant - to them.
The gospels don’t contain every single detail or fact about Jesus. In fact, at the end of the Gospel of John the evangelist writes, “But there are also many other things that Jesus did; if every one of them were written down, I suppose that the world itself could not contain the books that would be written.”
The gospels don’t contain every single fact or detail about Jesus, because, as John claims, there just isn’t enough room. Also, we have to admit, by the time the gospels were written, many early disciples had died and the memories of those still living must have faded.
The gospels don’t contain every single fact or detail about Jesus, but they capture his essence – who he was and who he is – the meaning of his life, death and resurrection.
And we hear the essence of Jesus in today’s reading from the Gospel of John. Jesus says, “I am the good shepherd. The good shepherd lays down his life for the sheep.”
That’s the essence of Jesus. Jesus is the good shepherd who loves each of us. Jesus is the good shepherd who poured out his life in loving service and sacrifice.
Jesus is the good shepherd who shows us what God is really like. Jesus is the good shepherd who shows us what we are really like. Jesus is the good shepherd who gives up his life for us, his sheep.
That’s the essence of Jesus that’s remembered in the gospels and that’s the essence of Jesus that has been remembered by the Church for these many centuries and passed down to us here today.
Just as Jesus poured out his live in love for each of us, so we are invited and expected to pour out our lives in love for God and for one another.
When Jesus was asked to name the greatest commandment, he replied, “You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with al your mind. This is the greatest and first commandment. And the second is like it: You shall love your neighbor as yourself.”
That’s the kind of life that Jesus lived. And it’s that kind of life of love that God invites us and expects us to live.
And, that’s the kind of life of love that Tom Maresco lived. I’m very sorry I never had the chance to know Tom, but everything I’ve heard from his friends points to the fact that Tom lived a life of love – a life of love for God and for his brothers and sisters, both here in America and in Lesotho.
Tom poured out his life in love for others, interrupting his promising career path in order to serve some of the poorest of us all. And on his last day, Tom poured out his life in love and care for others.
And our faith, our trust, teaches us that in the next instant Tom’s essence was in the full presence of the God who has loved him since before the beginning of time; the God who imagined Tom into existence. Tom’s essence is in the arms of the Good Shepherd and is at peace.
But, what about the rest of us?
For those of you who knew and loved Tom best, your loss and anguish are indescribable and unknowable to all of us who have managed to avoid such pain. Life will go on, but this tragedy is not something you get over or put behind you. Instead, the only hope is asking God’s help in accepting that Tom’s death is a wound - an absence - that you will feel for the rest of your life.
For the rest of us – those who weren’t that close to Tom or didn’t know him at all, the facts and details of his life will fade from our memories.
And eventually the day will come when we’ll all be gone – those who were closest to Tom and those who never met him. The day will come when no one will be alive who knew Tom or even knew about him.
Tom’s essence will live on forever in heaven. But Tom’s essence will also live right here on earth through us. Tom’s essence will live on right here and now if we follow his example and live lives of love, if we pour out our lives in love for God and in love for our neighbors both near and far.
And, just like Tom, if we live lives of love, then not only will we be in the arms of the Good Shepherd for all eternity, but our essence will live on through countless generations and centuries.
Tom Maresco lived a life of love. God is inviting and expecting us to be like Tom – to also pour out our lives in love of God and love of neighbor.
Amen.
Sunday, September 19, 2010
Gators for Others
The Chapel of the Incarnation, Gainesville FL
September 19, 2010
Year C, Proper 20: The Seventeenth Sunday after Pentecost
Jeremiah 8:18-9:1
Psalm 79:1-9
1 Timothy 2:1-7
Luke 16:1-13
Gators for Others
The gospel lesson I just read is usually called the parable of the dishonest manager. It’s found only in the Gospel of Luke – and, it’s one of Jesus’ more difficult parables. It’s difficult because at first it seems as if Jesus is praising dishonest behavior. But, since we know that can’t be right for nearly two-thousand years Christians have struggled to figure out what Jesus was trying to teach the disciples and is trying to teach us today.
The parable is about a manager who gets in trouble because he’s been squandering his master’s property. Jesus doesn’t give us any more detail, but I’m sure we can all fill in the blanks. We’ve all heard way too many stories of corruption and so-called white-collar crime.
Many of you know that it drives me a little crazy that so much of your knowledge of my home state comes from watching “Jersey Shore” and “The Real Housewives of New Jersey.” Obviously, those shows give New Jersey a bad rap. But even I have to admit that New Jersey, although a wonderful place, is notorious for corruption. Not too long ago a young guy was elected mayor of Hoboken as a…reformer. But, it turned out that he accepted $25,000 in bribes before he took office. He ended up serving as mayor for only three weeks before he was arrested. He admitted his crimes and it’s off to jail for him. Corruption is alive and well in New Jersey and all over, I guess.
Since this is the Bible, we might reasonably expect that, like the mayor, this dishonest manager would get his comeuppance and the moral of the story would be clear. The moral would be: Jesus teaches us not to steal. I could wrap up the sermon early and we could get on with the delicious meal made by our friends at Grace Church in Ocala.
Sorry, not so fast. Of course we shouldn’t steal, but that doesn’t seem to be the point of this parable.
The manager very cleverly goes around to all those who were in debt to the master and cuts their bills. He hopes to make these debtors happy enough that they will welcome him into their homes after he gets axed by his master.
The manager probably didn’t earn a salary. Instead he made his living by taking a cut of what people owed to the master. So most scholars think that the manager was eliminating his own “commission” on the debt. In that case, at least this time, he’s not really being dishonest.
But then, as usual, Jesus throws us a curveball. The master finds out what the manager has done. Jesus concludes the parable saying, “And the master commended the dishonest manager because he had acted shrewdly.”
“And the master commended the dishonest manager because he had acted shrewdly.”
And that’s it. That’s the end of the parable. In my imagination, I can see the disciples sitting around Jesus trying to make sense of this parable – and trying especially to make sense of that last sentence. What message are we supposed to take away from this parable?
And here we are two thousand years later here we are in Gainesville, sitting around doing the same thing - trying to make sense of this parable – and trying to make sense of that last sentence.
“And the master commended the dishonest manager because he had acted shrewdly.”
It seems followers of Jesus have struggled with this parable from the start. Luke himself seems to struggle with explaining it. After the conclusion of the parable, Luke offers us a series of Jesus sayings – as if hoping that something will fit. If you look at them, you’ll see that the sayings are mostly about how we use our wealth and the importance of being trustworthy.
But, I think it’s the first Jesus saying that is speaking to us today. “For the children of this age are more shrewd in dealing with their own generation than are the children of light.”
In the parable, the dishonest manager faced a crisis. The manager responded to the crisis cleverly and shrewdly.
Well, today you and I here at the chapel are also faced with a crisis.
We live in a world that is hungry and in pain. Much of that hunger and pain is in far-off places. I’m sure many of us suffer from compassion fatigue after seeing reports from the earthquake in Haiti and the floods in Pakistan – just the latest in a litany of disasters. We live in a world that is hungry and in pain, filled with people crying out to us. And God expects us to be shrewd and clever in responding to those cries.
Some of that hunger and pain is closer to home. The statistics on poverty in the US are bleak. In 2009, 43.6 million Americans lived below the official poverty line. And many more millions were poor by any reasonable measure. Many of our neighbors and maybe some of us here experience real economic poverty. In just a few weeks, I’ve been approached frequently by people looking for money – whether I’m wearing my clerical collar or not.
God expects us to be shrewd and clever in responding to that need.
We live in a world that is hungry and in pain. And some of that hunger and pain is just about invisible because it lives inside our own hearts. How many of us are anxious about the future? Will I be able to get a job? How many of us worry that we’re not good enough, not smart enough, not good-looking enough? How many of us feel guilty about what we’ve done or not done? How many of us feel alone? How many of us are angry - at someone else or angry at ourselves?
Yes, you and I are faced with a crisis.
Since we live in a world that is hungry and in despair, God is challenging us – daring us – expecting us - to be shrewd and clever just like the manager in the parable. We need to be shrewd and clever in figuring out ways to feed and heal our brothers and sisters who are hungry and in despair.
God is calling us to be Gators for others.
And we need to be shrewd and clever in letting our brothers and sisters who are hungry and in despair know about this special place. This is where we are fed – fed by the Word of God, fed by the fellowship, fed by the music, fed by the opportunity to serve and to lead, fed by this beautiful chapel, and most of all, fed by the Body and Blood of Christ that we will receive in just a few minutes.
We live in a world, in a community, that is hungry and in despair. So, we, the children of light, need to be clever and shrewd like the manager in today’s parable. We need to figure out here in Gainesville, here at UF – with all its challenges and distractions – how to serve others and to invite the hungry into our community.
We need to be Gators for others.
Like the master in the parable, God is challenging us – God is daring us – expecting us - to deal with this crisis.
And at the same time God is also giving us everything we need. The Holy Spirit will continue to guide us and inspire us and, yes, make us shrewd and clever. The Holy Spirit will strengthen us as we continue to build the kingdom of God right here on West University Avenue.
And, if we give this our best shot, the master will commend us for acting shrewdly; God will thank us and congratulate us for being Gators for others.
Amen.
September 19, 2010
Year C, Proper 20: The Seventeenth Sunday after Pentecost
Jeremiah 8:18-9:1
Psalm 79:1-9
1 Timothy 2:1-7
Luke 16:1-13
Gators for Others
The gospel lesson I just read is usually called the parable of the dishonest manager. It’s found only in the Gospel of Luke – and, it’s one of Jesus’ more difficult parables. It’s difficult because at first it seems as if Jesus is praising dishonest behavior. But, since we know that can’t be right for nearly two-thousand years Christians have struggled to figure out what Jesus was trying to teach the disciples and is trying to teach us today.
The parable is about a manager who gets in trouble because he’s been squandering his master’s property. Jesus doesn’t give us any more detail, but I’m sure we can all fill in the blanks. We’ve all heard way too many stories of corruption and so-called white-collar crime.
Many of you know that it drives me a little crazy that so much of your knowledge of my home state comes from watching “Jersey Shore” and “The Real Housewives of New Jersey.” Obviously, those shows give New Jersey a bad rap. But even I have to admit that New Jersey, although a wonderful place, is notorious for corruption. Not too long ago a young guy was elected mayor of Hoboken as a…reformer. But, it turned out that he accepted $25,000 in bribes before he took office. He ended up serving as mayor for only three weeks before he was arrested. He admitted his crimes and it’s off to jail for him. Corruption is alive and well in New Jersey and all over, I guess.
Since this is the Bible, we might reasonably expect that, like the mayor, this dishonest manager would get his comeuppance and the moral of the story would be clear. The moral would be: Jesus teaches us not to steal. I could wrap up the sermon early and we could get on with the delicious meal made by our friends at Grace Church in Ocala.
Sorry, not so fast. Of course we shouldn’t steal, but that doesn’t seem to be the point of this parable.
The manager very cleverly goes around to all those who were in debt to the master and cuts their bills. He hopes to make these debtors happy enough that they will welcome him into their homes after he gets axed by his master.
The manager probably didn’t earn a salary. Instead he made his living by taking a cut of what people owed to the master. So most scholars think that the manager was eliminating his own “commission” on the debt. In that case, at least this time, he’s not really being dishonest.
But then, as usual, Jesus throws us a curveball. The master finds out what the manager has done. Jesus concludes the parable saying, “And the master commended the dishonest manager because he had acted shrewdly.”
“And the master commended the dishonest manager because he had acted shrewdly.”
And that’s it. That’s the end of the parable. In my imagination, I can see the disciples sitting around Jesus trying to make sense of this parable – and trying especially to make sense of that last sentence. What message are we supposed to take away from this parable?
And here we are two thousand years later here we are in Gainesville, sitting around doing the same thing - trying to make sense of this parable – and trying to make sense of that last sentence.
“And the master commended the dishonest manager because he had acted shrewdly.”
It seems followers of Jesus have struggled with this parable from the start. Luke himself seems to struggle with explaining it. After the conclusion of the parable, Luke offers us a series of Jesus sayings – as if hoping that something will fit. If you look at them, you’ll see that the sayings are mostly about how we use our wealth and the importance of being trustworthy.
But, I think it’s the first Jesus saying that is speaking to us today. “For the children of this age are more shrewd in dealing with their own generation than are the children of light.”
In the parable, the dishonest manager faced a crisis. The manager responded to the crisis cleverly and shrewdly.
Well, today you and I here at the chapel are also faced with a crisis.
We live in a world that is hungry and in pain. Much of that hunger and pain is in far-off places. I’m sure many of us suffer from compassion fatigue after seeing reports from the earthquake in Haiti and the floods in Pakistan – just the latest in a litany of disasters. We live in a world that is hungry and in pain, filled with people crying out to us. And God expects us to be shrewd and clever in responding to those cries.
Some of that hunger and pain is closer to home. The statistics on poverty in the US are bleak. In 2009, 43.6 million Americans lived below the official poverty line. And many more millions were poor by any reasonable measure. Many of our neighbors and maybe some of us here experience real economic poverty. In just a few weeks, I’ve been approached frequently by people looking for money – whether I’m wearing my clerical collar or not.
God expects us to be shrewd and clever in responding to that need.
We live in a world that is hungry and in pain. And some of that hunger and pain is just about invisible because it lives inside our own hearts. How many of us are anxious about the future? Will I be able to get a job? How many of us worry that we’re not good enough, not smart enough, not good-looking enough? How many of us feel guilty about what we’ve done or not done? How many of us feel alone? How many of us are angry - at someone else or angry at ourselves?
Yes, you and I are faced with a crisis.
Since we live in a world that is hungry and in despair, God is challenging us – daring us – expecting us - to be shrewd and clever just like the manager in the parable. We need to be shrewd and clever in figuring out ways to feed and heal our brothers and sisters who are hungry and in despair.
God is calling us to be Gators for others.
And we need to be shrewd and clever in letting our brothers and sisters who are hungry and in despair know about this special place. This is where we are fed – fed by the Word of God, fed by the fellowship, fed by the music, fed by the opportunity to serve and to lead, fed by this beautiful chapel, and most of all, fed by the Body and Blood of Christ that we will receive in just a few minutes.
We live in a world, in a community, that is hungry and in despair. So, we, the children of light, need to be clever and shrewd like the manager in today’s parable. We need to figure out here in Gainesville, here at UF – with all its challenges and distractions – how to serve others and to invite the hungry into our community.
We need to be Gators for others.
Like the master in the parable, God is challenging us – God is daring us – expecting us - to deal with this crisis.
And at the same time God is also giving us everything we need. The Holy Spirit will continue to guide us and inspire us and, yes, make us shrewd and clever. The Holy Spirit will strengthen us as we continue to build the kingdom of God right here on West University Avenue.
And, if we give this our best shot, the master will commend us for acting shrewdly; God will thank us and congratulate us for being Gators for others.
Amen.
The Crisis
St. Michael’s Episcopal Church, Gainesville FL
September 19, 2010
Year C, Proper 20: The Seventeenth Sunday after Pentecost
Jeremiah 8:18-9:1
Psalm 79:1-9
1 Timothy 2:1-7
Luke 16:1-13
The Crisis
The gospel lesson I just read is usually called the parable of the dishonest manager. It’s found only in the Gospel of Luke – and, I’ll be honest, at first I wished we had a different gospel today.
Here it is my first Sunday as your new priest and we are given this strange and challenging parable about a manager who gets in trouble because he’s been squandering his master’s property. Jesus doesn’t give us any more detail, but I’m sure we can all fill in the blanks. We’ve all heard way too many stories of corruption and embezzlement.
Since this is the Bible, we might reasonably expect that this dishonest manager would get his comeuppance and the moral of the story would be clear. The moral would be: Jesus teaches us not to steal. I could wrap up the sermon early and we could get on with the rest of the service. Everyone would go home, call their friends and say – “Hey, great news, our new priest preaches short sermons!”
Well, sometimes, but not this time. Of course there’s a commandment about not stealing, but that doesn’t seem to be the point of today’s parable. The point is how the manager deals with this crisis.
He very cleverly goes around to all those who were in debt to the master and cuts their bills. He hopes to make these debtors happy enough that they will welcome him into their homes after he gets axed by his master.
Keep in mind, the manager probably didn’t earn a salary. Instead he made his living by taking a cut of what people owed to the master. So most scholars think that the manager was eliminating his own “commission” on the debt owed to the master. In that case, at least this time, he’s not really being dishonest.
In any event, up to this point, this is sort of interesting, but kind of a routine, everyday story of corruption. But then, as usual, Jesus throws us a curveball. The master finds out what the manager has done. Jesus concludes the parable saying, “And the master commended the dishonest manager because he had acted shrewdly.”
“And the master commended the dishonest manager because he had acted shrewdly.”
And that’s it. That’s the end of the parable. In my imagination, I can see the disciples sitting around Jesus trying to make sense of this parable – and trying especially to make sense of that last sentence. What are we supposed to take away from this parable?
And here we are two thousand years later here at St. Michael’s in Gainesville, sitting around doing the same thing - trying to make sense of this parable – and trying to make sense of that last sentence.
“And the master commended the dishonest manager because he had acted shrewdly.”
I would have chosen some other piece of Scripture, but this is what the Holy Spirit has given us to hear and to wrestle with today. And, more than that, I believe it’s the Holy Spirit who has brought us together this morning.
To be honest, I never thought I’d live in Florida. I had never even been to Florida! Sue and I were both really comfortable back in New Jersey. It’s where we both grew up. It’s where our families and friends are. When the opportunity of serving as chaplain at UF and serving as your rector, at first I just dismissed it.
It was too far away - too different from what we’ve always known.
But then I kept hearing this little voice gnawing away in my head. It was my own voice. It was my own voice in my own sermons. Over and over I had preached that we need to be open to how God might be at work in our lives. Over and over I had preached that we had to be mindful of the Holy Spirit gently but firmly nudging us along the road of life.
So, a few months ago I said, OK, I’d better not be a hypocrite. I’ll fly down to Florida and check it out. But, I was still only taking this openness business only so far. I said I’ll go down to Florida, but I feel bad wasting the diocese’s money because I’m pretty sure I’m not going to take this job.
I came down for just about twenty-four hours. I spent a whirlwind day meeting the bishop and the diocesan staff in Jacksonville. Then Canon Griffiths drove me to Gainesville and I toured the chapel and the apartment. And then we came to St. Michael’s. For some reason, we didn’t have keys to the church. So, I could only peer in through the glass. And, although it was different from anything I had known before, I could imagine myself here. I didn’t meet a single person from St. Michael’s, yet I could imagine us here together.
It was really inconvenient and not what we expected, but through the grace of God and the power of the Holy Spirit, here we are.
So, what might the Holy Spirit be saying to us today through this difficult parable of the dishonest manager? What does this story have to do with us?
Followers of Jesus have struggled with this parable from the start. Luke himself seems to struggle with explaining it, listing a series of Jesus sayings.
But, I think it’s the first Jesus saying that is speaking directly to us today. Jesus said, “For the children of this age are more shrewd in dealing with their own generation than are the children of light.”
In the parable, the dishonest manager faced a crisis. The manager responded to the crisis cleverly and shrewdly.
Well, you and I here at St. Michael’s are also faced with a crisis.
We live in a world that is hungry and in pain. Much of that hunger and pain is in far-off places. I’m sure many of us suffer from compassion fatigue after seeing reports from the earthquake in Haiti and the floods in Pakistan – just the latest in a litany of disasters. We get appeal after appeal for help. Yet, we still live in a world that is hungry and in pain, filled with people crying out to us. And God expects us to be shrewd and clever in responding to those cries.
Some of that hunger and pain is closer to home. The statistics on poverty in the US are bleak. In 2009, 43.6 million Americans lived below the official poverty line. And many more millions are poor by any reasonable measure. Many of our neighbors and maybe some of us here experience real economic poverty. In just a few weeks, here in Gainesville I’ve been approached frequently by people looking for money – whether I’m wearing my clerical collar or not.
God expects us to be shrewd and clever in responding to those needs.
We live in a world that is hungry and in pain. And some of that hunger and pain is just about invisible because it lives inside our own hearts. How many of us are anxious about the future? How many of us worry that our children and grandchildren will live in a world poorer and meaner and hotter than the world we’ve known? How many of us feel disappointed by our lives? How many of us feel guilty about what we’ve done or left undone? How many of us feel trapped and alone? How many of us are angry - at someone else or angry at ourselves?
Yes, like the manager, you and I here at St. Michael’s are faced with a crisis.
Since we live in a world that is hungry and in despair, God is challenging us – God is daring us – God is expecting us - to be shrewd and clever just like the manager in the parable. We need to be shrewd and clever in figuring out ways to feed and heal our brothers and sisters who are hungry and in despair.
And we need to be shrewd and clever in letting our brothers and sisters who are hungry and in despair know about this special place. I know enough about St. Michael’s and its history to know that you – and now we – are here because this is where we are fed. This is where we are fed – fed by the Word of God, fed by the fellowship, fed by the beautiful music, fed by the opportunity to serve and to lead, fed by this beautiful space, and most of all, fed by the Body and Blood of Christ that we will receive in just a few minutes.
Someone once said, “Evangelism is one beggar telling another beggar where to find bread.”
So, my fellow beggars, we are faced with a crisis. We live in a world, in a community, that is hungry and in despair. So, we, the children of light, need to be clever and shrewd like the manager in today’s parable. We need to figure out in this time and place – with all its challenges and distractions – how to let the other beggars know where to find bread.
Like the master in the parable, God is challenging us – God is daring us – God is expecting us - to deal with this crisis.
It’s a big job, yet God is also giving us everything we need. The same Holy Spirit who has brought us together will continue to guide us and inspire us and, yes, make us shrewd and clever. The Holy Spirit who has brought us together will strengthen us as we continue to build the kingdom of God right here in this corner of Gainesville.
And, if we give this our best shot, the master will commend us for acting shrewdly.
You know, maybe this difficult parable is just what we needed as we begin our life together. Let’s get started!
Amen.
September 19, 2010
Year C, Proper 20: The Seventeenth Sunday after Pentecost
Jeremiah 8:18-9:1
Psalm 79:1-9
1 Timothy 2:1-7
Luke 16:1-13
The Crisis
The gospel lesson I just read is usually called the parable of the dishonest manager. It’s found only in the Gospel of Luke – and, I’ll be honest, at first I wished we had a different gospel today.
Here it is my first Sunday as your new priest and we are given this strange and challenging parable about a manager who gets in trouble because he’s been squandering his master’s property. Jesus doesn’t give us any more detail, but I’m sure we can all fill in the blanks. We’ve all heard way too many stories of corruption and embezzlement.
Since this is the Bible, we might reasonably expect that this dishonest manager would get his comeuppance and the moral of the story would be clear. The moral would be: Jesus teaches us not to steal. I could wrap up the sermon early and we could get on with the rest of the service. Everyone would go home, call their friends and say – “Hey, great news, our new priest preaches short sermons!”
Well, sometimes, but not this time. Of course there’s a commandment about not stealing, but that doesn’t seem to be the point of today’s parable. The point is how the manager deals with this crisis.
He very cleverly goes around to all those who were in debt to the master and cuts their bills. He hopes to make these debtors happy enough that they will welcome him into their homes after he gets axed by his master.
Keep in mind, the manager probably didn’t earn a salary. Instead he made his living by taking a cut of what people owed to the master. So most scholars think that the manager was eliminating his own “commission” on the debt owed to the master. In that case, at least this time, he’s not really being dishonest.
In any event, up to this point, this is sort of interesting, but kind of a routine, everyday story of corruption. But then, as usual, Jesus throws us a curveball. The master finds out what the manager has done. Jesus concludes the parable saying, “And the master commended the dishonest manager because he had acted shrewdly.”
“And the master commended the dishonest manager because he had acted shrewdly.”
And that’s it. That’s the end of the parable. In my imagination, I can see the disciples sitting around Jesus trying to make sense of this parable – and trying especially to make sense of that last sentence. What are we supposed to take away from this parable?
And here we are two thousand years later here at St. Michael’s in Gainesville, sitting around doing the same thing - trying to make sense of this parable – and trying to make sense of that last sentence.
“And the master commended the dishonest manager because he had acted shrewdly.”
I would have chosen some other piece of Scripture, but this is what the Holy Spirit has given us to hear and to wrestle with today. And, more than that, I believe it’s the Holy Spirit who has brought us together this morning.
To be honest, I never thought I’d live in Florida. I had never even been to Florida! Sue and I were both really comfortable back in New Jersey. It’s where we both grew up. It’s where our families and friends are. When the opportunity of serving as chaplain at UF and serving as your rector, at first I just dismissed it.
It was too far away - too different from what we’ve always known.
But then I kept hearing this little voice gnawing away in my head. It was my own voice. It was my own voice in my own sermons. Over and over I had preached that we need to be open to how God might be at work in our lives. Over and over I had preached that we had to be mindful of the Holy Spirit gently but firmly nudging us along the road of life.
So, a few months ago I said, OK, I’d better not be a hypocrite. I’ll fly down to Florida and check it out. But, I was still only taking this openness business only so far. I said I’ll go down to Florida, but I feel bad wasting the diocese’s money because I’m pretty sure I’m not going to take this job.
I came down for just about twenty-four hours. I spent a whirlwind day meeting the bishop and the diocesan staff in Jacksonville. Then Canon Griffiths drove me to Gainesville and I toured the chapel and the apartment. And then we came to St. Michael’s. For some reason, we didn’t have keys to the church. So, I could only peer in through the glass. And, although it was different from anything I had known before, I could imagine myself here. I didn’t meet a single person from St. Michael’s, yet I could imagine us here together.
It was really inconvenient and not what we expected, but through the grace of God and the power of the Holy Spirit, here we are.
So, what might the Holy Spirit be saying to us today through this difficult parable of the dishonest manager? What does this story have to do with us?
Followers of Jesus have struggled with this parable from the start. Luke himself seems to struggle with explaining it, listing a series of Jesus sayings.
But, I think it’s the first Jesus saying that is speaking directly to us today. Jesus said, “For the children of this age are more shrewd in dealing with their own generation than are the children of light.”
In the parable, the dishonest manager faced a crisis. The manager responded to the crisis cleverly and shrewdly.
Well, you and I here at St. Michael’s are also faced with a crisis.
We live in a world that is hungry and in pain. Much of that hunger and pain is in far-off places. I’m sure many of us suffer from compassion fatigue after seeing reports from the earthquake in Haiti and the floods in Pakistan – just the latest in a litany of disasters. We get appeal after appeal for help. Yet, we still live in a world that is hungry and in pain, filled with people crying out to us. And God expects us to be shrewd and clever in responding to those cries.
Some of that hunger and pain is closer to home. The statistics on poverty in the US are bleak. In 2009, 43.6 million Americans lived below the official poverty line. And many more millions are poor by any reasonable measure. Many of our neighbors and maybe some of us here experience real economic poverty. In just a few weeks, here in Gainesville I’ve been approached frequently by people looking for money – whether I’m wearing my clerical collar or not.
God expects us to be shrewd and clever in responding to those needs.
We live in a world that is hungry and in pain. And some of that hunger and pain is just about invisible because it lives inside our own hearts. How many of us are anxious about the future? How many of us worry that our children and grandchildren will live in a world poorer and meaner and hotter than the world we’ve known? How many of us feel disappointed by our lives? How many of us feel guilty about what we’ve done or left undone? How many of us feel trapped and alone? How many of us are angry - at someone else or angry at ourselves?
Yes, like the manager, you and I here at St. Michael’s are faced with a crisis.
Since we live in a world that is hungry and in despair, God is challenging us – God is daring us – God is expecting us - to be shrewd and clever just like the manager in the parable. We need to be shrewd and clever in figuring out ways to feed and heal our brothers and sisters who are hungry and in despair.
And we need to be shrewd and clever in letting our brothers and sisters who are hungry and in despair know about this special place. I know enough about St. Michael’s and its history to know that you – and now we – are here because this is where we are fed. This is where we are fed – fed by the Word of God, fed by the fellowship, fed by the beautiful music, fed by the opportunity to serve and to lead, fed by this beautiful space, and most of all, fed by the Body and Blood of Christ that we will receive in just a few minutes.
Someone once said, “Evangelism is one beggar telling another beggar where to find bread.”
So, my fellow beggars, we are faced with a crisis. We live in a world, in a community, that is hungry and in despair. So, we, the children of light, need to be clever and shrewd like the manager in today’s parable. We need to figure out in this time and place – with all its challenges and distractions – how to let the other beggars know where to find bread.
Like the master in the parable, God is challenging us – God is daring us – God is expecting us - to deal with this crisis.
It’s a big job, yet God is also giving us everything we need. The same Holy Spirit who has brought us together will continue to guide us and inspire us and, yes, make us shrewd and clever. The Holy Spirit who has brought us together will strengthen us as we continue to build the kingdom of God right here in this corner of Gainesville.
And, if we give this our best shot, the master will commend us for acting shrewdly.
You know, maybe this difficult parable is just what we needed as we begin our life together. Let’s get started!
Amen.
Sunday, September 12, 2010
God's Search
Chapel of the Incarnation, Gainesville FL
September 12, 2010
Year C, Proper 19: The Sixteenth Sunday after Pentecost
Jeremiah 4:11-12, 22-28
Psalm 14
1 Timothy 1:12-17
Luke 15:1-10
God’s Search
I grew up in the 1970s and 1980s in Jersey City, New Jersey. It’s a pretty big city – with about twice the population of Gainesville. And like a lot of cities during that time much of Jersey City was pretty rough place. Poverty and crime were big problems. Fortunately, my family lived in a pretty safe area, but, still, we had to be careful.
For kindergarten, I went to the nearest public school, which was maybe a mile away from our house. Not too far, but the school was on the other side of a very busy four-lane street called Kennedy Boulevard. The boulevard was the unofficial dividing line between the relatively safe area where we lived and a part of town that was considered more dangerous.
Anyway, my mother and the mother of a kid who lived across the street, Michael, would take turns bringing us to school and picking us up at the end of the day.
Everything went very smoothly until one day Michael and I came out of school and I didn’t see my mother. As I remember it, I said to Michael something like, “Oh, I guess my mom forgot to pick us up. But, it’s OK, I know the way home, so let’s just walk home on our own.”
Michael stupidly went along with this great idea of mine. So, Michael and I, two little boys carrying lunch boxes, made our way home. We successfully crossed the four lanes of Kennedy Boulevard. We made all the correct choices at each intersection and got home safely.
Now, why did I do this? It was a long time ago so it’s hard to recreate my thinking. But, it seems to me now that there are a couple of possibilities. Maybe I really believed that my mom forgot to pick us up. But, I don’t think that’s it.
Probably I wanted to show off to Michael and maybe to my parents that I was smart enough and brave enough to get home on my own. You think I’m just a little kid, but, look, I don’t really need you! I can do it myself!
Probably I was just being selfish. Probably I was just thinking of myself and not giving a second thought to the fact that my mother would be frantically looking for me - and for her neighbor’s son.
While Michael and I were making our way through the streets of Jersey City, my mother was in a panic. I can imagine the increasingly scary thoughts that were racing through her mind as she searched for Michael and me.
The rest of my memory is a little fuzzy. I can’t remember my mother’s reaction when she got home and found us safely waiting. I probably can’t remember because it was painful to see how upset she was because she loved me so much.
A mother’s love for her child is profoundly strong. But, even a mother’s love is still only a pale reflection of God’s love for all of us.
One of the themes that runs throughout the Bible is the fact that God is always searching for us, always reaching out to us, always wanting to be close to us, always wanting to be friends. For me, one of the most powerful examples of that theme is in the Garden of Eden, after Adam and Eve have disobeyed God, eaten the forbidden fruit, and are now ashamed of their nakedness. God comes searching for them in the garden. And Adam and Eve hide from God.
God is still searching for us.
Today’s gospel is about God’s search for us. In fact, the whole Gospel is about God’s search for us. In Jesus, we see most clearly God’s search for us – God’s search for all of us.
So, in today’s gospel we find Jesus as usual hanging out with the “wrong” people. And, as usual, the “right” people, the religious people, tsk-tsk their disapproval. They say, “This fellow welcomes sinners and eats with them.”
It’s in that eating and drinking with the “wrong” people that Jesus embodies God’s search for all of us. And, Jesus tells these parables – about the lost sheep and the lost coin – to make the same point:
God is searching for us.
God is relentless in searching for us. God is like that shepherd, risking everything to find that one lost sheep. God is like that woman, searching and searching for her coin. God is searching for us.
After finding what’s lost, both the shepherd and the woman get their friends together and have a party.
And when God finds us and we return to God there is great rejoicing. When God finds us and we return, God wants to have a tailgate party much bigger and better than anything Gainesville has ever seen!
God is searching for us, but of course, God knows exactly where we are. God doesn’t need GPS. God knows where we are, but
God is searching for our hearts. And God finds us when we open our hearts to God.
God finds us when we spend even just a minute or two in prayer. God finds us when we reach out to a friend or a classmate who is in trouble. God finds us when we offer service to our community. God finds us when we sacrifice. God finds us when it’s not all about us. God finds us when it’s not all about what we can do on our own – when it’s not all about how we don’t need other people.
And God finds us when we gather right here in this chapel. God finds us when we listen to God’s Word, sing our hymns, and most of all when we open our hands and our mouths and our hearts and receive the Body and Blood of Christ.
A long time ago my mother’s search ended when she found Michael and me safe and sound after our little adventure on the streets of Jersey City. But, God’s search for me and for all of us continues.
God is still searching for us. And God finds us each time we open our hearts to God and to one another. And when God finds us there is much rejoicing and God invites everyone to tailgate.
Amen.
September 12, 2010
Year C, Proper 19: The Sixteenth Sunday after Pentecost
Jeremiah 4:11-12, 22-28
Psalm 14
1 Timothy 1:12-17
Luke 15:1-10
God’s Search
I grew up in the 1970s and 1980s in Jersey City, New Jersey. It’s a pretty big city – with about twice the population of Gainesville. And like a lot of cities during that time much of Jersey City was pretty rough place. Poverty and crime were big problems. Fortunately, my family lived in a pretty safe area, but, still, we had to be careful.
For kindergarten, I went to the nearest public school, which was maybe a mile away from our house. Not too far, but the school was on the other side of a very busy four-lane street called Kennedy Boulevard. The boulevard was the unofficial dividing line between the relatively safe area where we lived and a part of town that was considered more dangerous.
Anyway, my mother and the mother of a kid who lived across the street, Michael, would take turns bringing us to school and picking us up at the end of the day.
Everything went very smoothly until one day Michael and I came out of school and I didn’t see my mother. As I remember it, I said to Michael something like, “Oh, I guess my mom forgot to pick us up. But, it’s OK, I know the way home, so let’s just walk home on our own.”
Michael stupidly went along with this great idea of mine. So, Michael and I, two little boys carrying lunch boxes, made our way home. We successfully crossed the four lanes of Kennedy Boulevard. We made all the correct choices at each intersection and got home safely.
Now, why did I do this? It was a long time ago so it’s hard to recreate my thinking. But, it seems to me now that there are a couple of possibilities. Maybe I really believed that my mom forgot to pick us up. But, I don’t think that’s it.
Probably I wanted to show off to Michael and maybe to my parents that I was smart enough and brave enough to get home on my own. You think I’m just a little kid, but, look, I don’t really need you! I can do it myself!
Probably I was just being selfish. Probably I was just thinking of myself and not giving a second thought to the fact that my mother would be frantically looking for me - and for her neighbor’s son.
While Michael and I were making our way through the streets of Jersey City, my mother was in a panic. I can imagine the increasingly scary thoughts that were racing through her mind as she searched for Michael and me.
The rest of my memory is a little fuzzy. I can’t remember my mother’s reaction when she got home and found us safely waiting. I probably can’t remember because it was painful to see how upset she was because she loved me so much.
A mother’s love for her child is profoundly strong. But, even a mother’s love is still only a pale reflection of God’s love for all of us.
One of the themes that runs throughout the Bible is the fact that God is always searching for us, always reaching out to us, always wanting to be close to us, always wanting to be friends. For me, one of the most powerful examples of that theme is in the Garden of Eden, after Adam and Eve have disobeyed God, eaten the forbidden fruit, and are now ashamed of their nakedness. God comes searching for them in the garden. And Adam and Eve hide from God.
God is still searching for us.
Today’s gospel is about God’s search for us. In fact, the whole Gospel is about God’s search for us. In Jesus, we see most clearly God’s search for us – God’s search for all of us.
So, in today’s gospel we find Jesus as usual hanging out with the “wrong” people. And, as usual, the “right” people, the religious people, tsk-tsk their disapproval. They say, “This fellow welcomes sinners and eats with them.”
It’s in that eating and drinking with the “wrong” people that Jesus embodies God’s search for all of us. And, Jesus tells these parables – about the lost sheep and the lost coin – to make the same point:
God is searching for us.
God is relentless in searching for us. God is like that shepherd, risking everything to find that one lost sheep. God is like that woman, searching and searching for her coin. God is searching for us.
After finding what’s lost, both the shepherd and the woman get their friends together and have a party.
And when God finds us and we return to God there is great rejoicing. When God finds us and we return, God wants to have a tailgate party much bigger and better than anything Gainesville has ever seen!
God is searching for us, but of course, God knows exactly where we are. God doesn’t need GPS. God knows where we are, but
God is searching for our hearts. And God finds us when we open our hearts to God.
God finds us when we spend even just a minute or two in prayer. God finds us when we reach out to a friend or a classmate who is in trouble. God finds us when we offer service to our community. God finds us when we sacrifice. God finds us when it’s not all about us. God finds us when it’s not all about what we can do on our own – when it’s not all about how we don’t need other people.
And God finds us when we gather right here in this chapel. God finds us when we listen to God’s Word, sing our hymns, and most of all when we open our hands and our mouths and our hearts and receive the Body and Blood of Christ.
A long time ago my mother’s search ended when she found Michael and me safe and sound after our little adventure on the streets of Jersey City. But, God’s search for me and for all of us continues.
God is still searching for us. And God finds us each time we open our hearts to God and to one another. And when God finds us there is much rejoicing and God invites everyone to tailgate.
Amen.
Sunday, September 05, 2010
Hard Work
The Chapel of the Incarnation, Gainesville FL
September 5, 2010
Year C, Proper 18: The Fifteenth Sunday after Pentecost
Jeremiah 18:1-11
Psalm 139: 1-5, 13-17
Philemon 1-21
Luke 14: 25-33
Hard Work
It’s Labor Day weekend and sure enough today’s three Scripture readings are about hard work. It’s hard work to be a student and it’s hard work to be out in the world trying to earn a living. (And I guess today it’s especially hard work to be a Gator football player!) And it’s also hard work to be a person of faith. It’s hard work to be a Christian. It’s hard work because over and over God calls us to open our hearts, to deepen our love of God and to deepen our love for one another. It’s hard work to be a Christian.
All three of the readings: Jeremiah’s powerful image of God as the potter, Paul’s letter to Philemon, and Jesus’ tough teaching on discipleship, remind us that over and over God calls us to the hard work of opening our hearts. And like any other kind of hard work, we can choose to do it or choose not to do it.
The passage we heard from the Prophet Jeremiah probably took its final form around the 6th Century BC, when Judah had been defeated and most of its people were sent into exile in Babylon. Then and now, whenever bad things happen to us, we ask why? Or, more specifically, we ask, why me?
Well, the same was true for the Jewish people during the Babylonian exile. Why had this calamity happened? Why had God allowed this to happen?
First, the prophet Jeremiah makes it very clear that God is ultimately in control. Through Jeremiah, God says, “Just like the clay in the potter’s hand, so are you in my hand…”
God can do whatever God wants. But, first Jeremiah understands that God offers the people an opportunity, a choice. God reaches out, calls the people to open their hearts. God says, “Turn now, all of you from your evil way, and amend your ways and doings.”
Of course, then and now people can - and do - say no to God. Jeremiah understood that the people of Israel at that time had failed to open their hearts to God, had failed to amend their ways and doings.
But, the story of Israel didn’t end with the Babylonian Exile. No matter what, God continues to reach out to us, calling us to the hard work of opening our hearts.
God’s ultimate way of reaching out to us is Jesus. In the gospel lesson I just read, Jesus lays out the very stark reality of what it means to be his disciple. Talk about hard work! Luke mentions that, amazingly, Jesus is addressing large crowds. You’d think, considering how many people were listening, that Jesus might want to sugarcoat things a little. You know, tell people it’ll be easy to be a disciple; tell people if they follow him they’ll be rich, successful and happy.
Instead, Jesus is brutally honest about what it means to follow him. Jesus is brutally honest about the hard work of opening our hearts to God.
“Whoever comes to me and does not hate father and mother, wife and children, brothers and sisters, yes, and even life itself, cannot be my disciple. Whoever does not carry the cross and follow me cannot be my disciple.”
We have here some very hard and brutally honest teaching from Jesus. Jesus calls us to the hard work of opening our hearts. When Jesus calls us to hate the people we love, he’s not talking about emotion. Instead, he’s using a bit of exaggeration – very common in the ancient world – to make a point.
Jesus is calling us to the hard work of opening our hearts to God. It’s hard work to open our hearts to God, to put God above all the attachments and cares – even the good attachments and cares – of this world.
But Jesus knows being open to God is worth the hard work. Jesus knows that being open to God allows us to live more fully and to love our families and friends more deeply than we ever thought possible.
Still, being a disciple will cost us. So Jesus urges us to consider carefully the costs of following him. Jesus advises us to be like the person building a tower or the king planning to wage war. Consider the costs, then make the free choice to open our hearts to God.
But, wait, there’s more! Opening our hearts to God is not a once-in-a-lifetime event that happens at our baptism or when we are “born again.” Instead, God is always calling us to the hard work of opening our hearts.
And we heard an amazing example about the ongoing hard work of opening our hearts in Paul’s letter to Philemon. Here’s the story in a nutshell.
Paul had taught Philemon about Jesus and maybe had also baptized him. Now, Paul refers to Philemon as his “dear friend and co-worker.” Philemon is a leader of a house church. Philemon is also the owner of at least one slave, named Onesimus.
It’s not clear why, but the slave Onesimus had fled from Philemon and had gone to be with Paul in prison. There, thanks to Paul, Onesimus also became a disciple of Jesus. Now Philemon the owner and Onesimus the slave are both brothers in Christ. Starting to see the problem?
Now, Paul writes this letter to his “dear friend and co-worker” Philemon. By becoming a disciple of Jesus, Philemon had already considered the cost of discipleship and opened his heart to God in Christ. But, now Paul is calling Philemon to the hard work of opening his heart a little more.
Paul is clear that he could order Philemon to welcome back Onesimus but instead has chosen to ask Philemon to open his heart a little more. Philemon is free to say no.
Paul is calling Philemon to the hard work of opening his heart – to love Onesimus, as his brother in Christ. Paul is calling Philemon to open his heart a little more – to love his runaway slave, as himself. Paul writes,
“Perhaps this is the reason he was separated from you for a while, so that you might have him back forever, no longer as a slave but more than a slave, a beloved brother…”
Hard work. For Philemon, the cost of opening his heart - the cost of being a disciple of Jesus - has just gone up.
So, what about us? In what ways is God calling us to open our hearts? In what ways are we being called to deepen our commitment to being a disciple of Jesus?
What’s our hard work?
Are we too attached to material things – or too attached to certain people in our lives?
Do we really try to put God first and to love others as we love ourselves?
Are there some people we just can’t forgive?
Can we accept that God really loves us for who we are?
Do we have trouble forgiving ourselves for something we’ve done or not done?
We call ourselves Christians, but really, what difference does that make in our everyday lives?
Honestly, how much does it really cost us to be a disciple of Jesus?
What’s our hard work?
Just as Jeremiah heard God calling the people of Israel to open their hearts, God is calling us to the hard work of opening our hearts and deepening our love of God and deepening our love for one another. Just as Jesus told the crowds that following him would cost, Jesus is telling us here in the chapel today about the cost of discipleship. And just as Philemon the Christian disciple found out that the call to open our hearts never ends, so too for us on this Labor Day weekend the call to open our hearts never ends.
Yes, it’s hard work to be a Christian. But if we answer God’s call and do the hard work of opening our hearts, then it’s possible for us to live more fully and love more deeply, than we ever thought possible.
Amen.
September 5, 2010
Year C, Proper 18: The Fifteenth Sunday after Pentecost
Jeremiah 18:1-11
Psalm 139: 1-5, 13-17
Philemon 1-21
Luke 14: 25-33
Hard Work
It’s Labor Day weekend and sure enough today’s three Scripture readings are about hard work. It’s hard work to be a student and it’s hard work to be out in the world trying to earn a living. (And I guess today it’s especially hard work to be a Gator football player!) And it’s also hard work to be a person of faith. It’s hard work to be a Christian. It’s hard work because over and over God calls us to open our hearts, to deepen our love of God and to deepen our love for one another. It’s hard work to be a Christian.
All three of the readings: Jeremiah’s powerful image of God as the potter, Paul’s letter to Philemon, and Jesus’ tough teaching on discipleship, remind us that over and over God calls us to the hard work of opening our hearts. And like any other kind of hard work, we can choose to do it or choose not to do it.
The passage we heard from the Prophet Jeremiah probably took its final form around the 6th Century BC, when Judah had been defeated and most of its people were sent into exile in Babylon. Then and now, whenever bad things happen to us, we ask why? Or, more specifically, we ask, why me?
Well, the same was true for the Jewish people during the Babylonian exile. Why had this calamity happened? Why had God allowed this to happen?
First, the prophet Jeremiah makes it very clear that God is ultimately in control. Through Jeremiah, God says, “Just like the clay in the potter’s hand, so are you in my hand…”
God can do whatever God wants. But, first Jeremiah understands that God offers the people an opportunity, a choice. God reaches out, calls the people to open their hearts. God says, “Turn now, all of you from your evil way, and amend your ways and doings.”
Of course, then and now people can - and do - say no to God. Jeremiah understood that the people of Israel at that time had failed to open their hearts to God, had failed to amend their ways and doings.
But, the story of Israel didn’t end with the Babylonian Exile. No matter what, God continues to reach out to us, calling us to the hard work of opening our hearts.
God’s ultimate way of reaching out to us is Jesus. In the gospel lesson I just read, Jesus lays out the very stark reality of what it means to be his disciple. Talk about hard work! Luke mentions that, amazingly, Jesus is addressing large crowds. You’d think, considering how many people were listening, that Jesus might want to sugarcoat things a little. You know, tell people it’ll be easy to be a disciple; tell people if they follow him they’ll be rich, successful and happy.
Instead, Jesus is brutally honest about what it means to follow him. Jesus is brutally honest about the hard work of opening our hearts to God.
“Whoever comes to me and does not hate father and mother, wife and children, brothers and sisters, yes, and even life itself, cannot be my disciple. Whoever does not carry the cross and follow me cannot be my disciple.”
We have here some very hard and brutally honest teaching from Jesus. Jesus calls us to the hard work of opening our hearts. When Jesus calls us to hate the people we love, he’s not talking about emotion. Instead, he’s using a bit of exaggeration – very common in the ancient world – to make a point.
Jesus is calling us to the hard work of opening our hearts to God. It’s hard work to open our hearts to God, to put God above all the attachments and cares – even the good attachments and cares – of this world.
But Jesus knows being open to God is worth the hard work. Jesus knows that being open to God allows us to live more fully and to love our families and friends more deeply than we ever thought possible.
Still, being a disciple will cost us. So Jesus urges us to consider carefully the costs of following him. Jesus advises us to be like the person building a tower or the king planning to wage war. Consider the costs, then make the free choice to open our hearts to God.
But, wait, there’s more! Opening our hearts to God is not a once-in-a-lifetime event that happens at our baptism or when we are “born again.” Instead, God is always calling us to the hard work of opening our hearts.
And we heard an amazing example about the ongoing hard work of opening our hearts in Paul’s letter to Philemon. Here’s the story in a nutshell.
Paul had taught Philemon about Jesus and maybe had also baptized him. Now, Paul refers to Philemon as his “dear friend and co-worker.” Philemon is a leader of a house church. Philemon is also the owner of at least one slave, named Onesimus.
It’s not clear why, but the slave Onesimus had fled from Philemon and had gone to be with Paul in prison. There, thanks to Paul, Onesimus also became a disciple of Jesus. Now Philemon the owner and Onesimus the slave are both brothers in Christ. Starting to see the problem?
Now, Paul writes this letter to his “dear friend and co-worker” Philemon. By becoming a disciple of Jesus, Philemon had already considered the cost of discipleship and opened his heart to God in Christ. But, now Paul is calling Philemon to the hard work of opening his heart a little more.
Paul is clear that he could order Philemon to welcome back Onesimus but instead has chosen to ask Philemon to open his heart a little more. Philemon is free to say no.
Paul is calling Philemon to the hard work of opening his heart – to love Onesimus, as his brother in Christ. Paul is calling Philemon to open his heart a little more – to love his runaway slave, as himself. Paul writes,
“Perhaps this is the reason he was separated from you for a while, so that you might have him back forever, no longer as a slave but more than a slave, a beloved brother…”
Hard work. For Philemon, the cost of opening his heart - the cost of being a disciple of Jesus - has just gone up.
So, what about us? In what ways is God calling us to open our hearts? In what ways are we being called to deepen our commitment to being a disciple of Jesus?
What’s our hard work?
Are we too attached to material things – or too attached to certain people in our lives?
Do we really try to put God first and to love others as we love ourselves?
Are there some people we just can’t forgive?
Can we accept that God really loves us for who we are?
Do we have trouble forgiving ourselves for something we’ve done or not done?
We call ourselves Christians, but really, what difference does that make in our everyday lives?
Honestly, how much does it really cost us to be a disciple of Jesus?
What’s our hard work?
Just as Jeremiah heard God calling the people of Israel to open their hearts, God is calling us to the hard work of opening our hearts and deepening our love of God and deepening our love for one another. Just as Jesus told the crowds that following him would cost, Jesus is telling us here in the chapel today about the cost of discipleship. And just as Philemon the Christian disciple found out that the call to open our hearts never ends, so too for us on this Labor Day weekend the call to open our hearts never ends.
Yes, it’s hard work to be a Christian. But if we answer God’s call and do the hard work of opening our hearts, then it’s possible for us to live more fully and love more deeply, than we ever thought possible.
Amen.
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