High Stakes For Esther, Jesus, and Us

St. Thomas’ Episcopal Church, Owings Mills MD

September 26, 2021

Year B, Proper 21: The Eighteenth Sunday after Pentecost

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

Psalm 124

James 5:13-20

Mark 9:38-50

High Stakes For Esther, Jesus, and Us

If you were here last week, you may remember that I talked about “women of valor” – the women found in the Old and New Testaments - and the women right here in our own church, past and present – the women who do whatever they do – in the home or out in the world - with dedication, fidelity, and, most of all, wisdom.

Hopefully, last week’s sermon set the stage for today’s Old Testament lesson, where we encounter one of the most valorous of all biblical women: Esther.

Unfortunately, today’s selection drops into what’s nearly the end of Esther’s story, so, unless you’re familiar with this tale, you may have hard time understanding what’s going on.

So, I’ll attempt a quick recap.

The setting is Persia, where a Jewish community is living in exile.

Among these exiled Jews were the beautiful Esther and her cousin Mordecai. (Mordecai raised the orphaned Esther as his own daughter.)

Esther’s beauty caught the king’s eye and she was made part of the royal harem. And, after the king’s wife disobeyed him, he chose Esther as his new queen – although he did not know that she was a Jew.

Meanwhile, Mordecai learned of an assassination plot against the king. He passes that vital information to Esther who warned the king. Understandably, the stock of both Mordecai and Esther rose in the eyes of the king.

After the failed assassination plot, a man named Haman became the king’s top advisor. Mordecai had insulted Haman, and in response a furious and ambitious Haman is determined to kill Mordecai and all of the Jews in Persia.

In order to save the Jewish people, Mordecai tells Esther to go to the king and tell him that she is a Jew.

Esther is reluctant to do that – she was not supposed to go to the king unless he summoned her. But, she asks her fellow Jews to fast and pray for three days and then she will go before the king.

When Esther goes to the king, he is so pleased to see her that he offers her anything that she wants, up to half of the kingdom.

Esther then invites both the king and Haman to a banquet. This special invitation convinces Haman that he is in favor with both the king and the queen. He’s so confident, in fact, that he builds a gallows over at his house, all ready for Mordecai’s execution.

And that, more or less, brings us to today’s passage.

At the banquet, Queen Esther finally announces her wish to the king – that he save her life and the life of her people.

The king gets pretty worked up and steps out of the room for a few moments. Haman uses this opportunity to throw himself on Esther’s couch, begging for his life.

The king returns to see Haman on the queen’s couch. And Haman’s fate is sealed.

The king agrees to Esther’s request. And, not only that, in an ironic twist, he orders that Haman be executed on the gallows he had built for Mordecai.

And, as we heard at the end of today’s passage, this turn of events is a cause of great celebration among the Jews in Persia – and that joy continues to this day in the holiday of Purim.

It’s hard to capture the spirit of the Book of Esther in a brief summary. If you haven’t read it, check it out. It’s one of the most entertaining parts of the Bible, often described as a novella.

But, I wanted to spend some time on the story both because Esther really is a woman of valor, and also because she didn’t start out that way.  

Early on in the book, Esther is passive, as would have been expected of her in that time and place. But, when Esther recognizes that the stakes are so high – we’re talking here about the very survival of her people – she gains the courage and wisdom she needs to approach the king.

The stakes were very high for Esther.

And the stakes were certainly very high for Jesus, too.

For the last two Sundays, we heard Jesus predict his suffering and death, and also his resurrection.

The disciples – at least the men – were not willing or able to hear what Jesus was telling them. The disciples just couldn’t or wouldn’t get it. Instead, Peter tried to turn Jesus away from his mission. And, as we heard last week, some of the disciples were busy jockeying for position, all wanting to be the “greatest.” 

And now, in today’s gospel lesson at first we have yet another episode of “The Disciples Just Don’t Get It,” when they complain to Jesus that a non-disciple is casting out demons in the Lord’s name.

But, instead of picking on the disciples, I want to focus on the middle part of today’s lesson.

Jesus offers a hard teaching on just how high the stakes are for the disciples and for us.

Using very graphic examples, Jesus teaches that we need to get rid of whatever it is that causes us to stumble, whatever causes us to sin – because what we do or don’t do now has long-lasting, even eternal, consequences.

Now, I’m convinced that Jesus does not want us to mutilate ourselves, but he does want us to understand - to really get - just how high the stakes are for all of us.

The stakes are as high as can be.

It’s a lesson we need to learn and relearn throughout our lives – a lesson that we are often forced to learn as we get older.

I suppose when I was young I looked out at the expanse of my future and it seemed to be almost infinite.

And because there seemed to be so much time ahead, I thought there would always be plenty of opportunities to fix whatever got broken, to say the words that needed to be said, and to apologize for mistakes that I made.

Maybe you’ve had similar thoughts.

But, man, life flies by, filled with all sorts of twists and turns. 

And over the years I’ve learned that sometimes what gets broken stays broken – that sometimes there just isn’t another chance to say what we’ve always meant to say – and sometimes we put off an apology for too long.

You know, as a priest, I’ve often had the privilege of being with people at the end of their lives.

There are some people who look back on their lives with few regrets – people who look ahead with confidence in the God who never lets go of us.

And there are also people who look back on their lives with lots of regrets – people who look ahead to a future that seems uncertain at best, because they haven’t given God and ultimate questions much thought or attention.

So, yes, the stakes for us are as high as can be.

But, remember, God gave Esther the courage to be a woman of valor at a time when her people needed her.

And, yes, it’s a lot of fun to point out how much the disciples just didn’t get it. But, remember, in the end, God gave them the faith and courage to recognize the high stakes and to give away their lives sharing the Good News.

And, God can do the same for us – giving us the strength and courage of Esther and the disciples – helping us to recognize just how high the stakes are – and, before it’s too late, inspiring us to change our ways and follow Jesus’ command to love God and love our neighbor.

May it be so.

Amen.

Women of Valor

St. Thomas’ Episcopal Church, Owings Mills MD

September 19, 2021

Year B, Proper 20: The Seventeenth Sunday after Pentecost

Proverbs 31:10-31

Psalm 1

James 3:13-4:3, 7-8a

Mark 9:30-37

Women of Valor 

Well, in today’s gospel lesson we have the latest episode in our long running series, “The Disciples Just Don’t Get it.”

Just like last week, Jesus predicts his suffering, death, and resurrection.

First, Mark tells us that the disciples didn’t understand what Jesus was saying so they chose to remain silent.

Now, that sounds like an appropriate and maybe even wise response, although wouldn’t it have been nice if Jesus got a little comfort and support from his friends?

But, then we find out that the truth is worse, or at least more complicated.

It turns out that while Jesus was trying to prepare his disciples for the hard days ahead, the disciples were arguing about who was “the greatest.”

Welcome to “The Disciples Just Don’t Get It,” Episode 612.

Jesus patiently explains to them that the one who wishes to be great must be the servant of all – servant of even little children – little children who represented all the many people then and now who have no status, the people who have no ability to pay us back for our gifts and service.

For Jesus, true greatness means serving the people who are dismissed by the world as not great at all.

Whenever we get an episode of “The Disciples Just Don’t Get It” I think how the often clueless and unfaithful disciples must have exasperated and disappointed Jesus, over and over again.

The fact that Jesus never gives up on them should be a great comfort of course.

But, for Jesus’ sake, I’m also comforted by the fact that some of his disciples were more understanding, and more faithful.

Some of the disciples really did get it.

I speak, of course, about the women.

In the gospels the usually clueless men get a lot of the attention, but we do get glimpses now and then of some of the women disciples – some of the probably many women who followed Jesus, who supported his work, and who will later share the Good News.

At the very start of the story, Mary, Jesus’ mother, said “yes” to carrying God into the world, even though she surely knew that her openness would cost her dearly.

Martha of Bethany kept busy – maybe too busy – offering hospitality to Jesus and the others, while her sister Mary sat at the Lord’s feet, not missing the precious opportunity to learn from Jesus.

And, Mary Magdalene was healed by Jesus and became one of his closest disciples, so close that the gospels agree that she is among the women who discover the empty tomb. And, in John’s version of the story, Mary Magdalene alone is the first to meet the Risen Christ – and, for a few minutes, as she raced to tell the others the Good News, she was the Church.

You know, the Bible – both the Old and New Testaments - is often dismissed as a kind of “boy’s club.” There’s some truth in that – the ancient world was very much a patriarchy – and, for that matter, so is much of today’s world, too.

But people also have that “boy’s club” perception because of what parts of the Bible we hear and teach – and also because of how we translate the ancient, foreign, words of Scripture.

Which brings me at last to today’s Old Testament lesson from the Book of Proverbs.

At first glance, a passage that begins with the question, “A capable wife who can find?” is one that seems very much a product of the “boy’s club,” a piece of Scripture that we might prefer to avoid.

But it turns out that there is a lot more going on here than meets the eye – much more than just an ode to the traditional roles of women.

Right up front, I need to give credit to Rachel Held Evans, a wonderful writer who died way too young a couple of years ago. She explored this passage in great depth, helping me and many others see it in a new light.

Today’s passage is the conclusion to the Book of Proverbs. In translation we miss the fact that in the original Hebrew it’s actually an acrostic poem - the first word of each verse starts with a letter of the Hebrew alphabet in succession.

And speaking of translation, “a capable wife who can find?” is not the only possible translation of the Hebrew.

Another, better, translation is: “a woman of valor who can find?”

“A woman of valor who can find?”

And rather than a poem that limits women to certain roles, this passage is actually a call for men to celebrate the “women of valor” – not necessarily women who do heroic things, although there’s that, but a call to celebrate the women who do whatever they do – in the home or out in the world - with dedication, fidelity, and, most of all, wisdom.

Rachel Held Evans was so inspired by this passage that she began using the expression “woman of valor” to celebrate her friends and family when they accomplished something or survived an ordeal.

And when Rachel died so young, many thousands of people described her as just that, a woman of valor.

So, today, in episode 612 of “The Disciples Just Don’t Get It,” we heard the men around Jesus ignore what he had to say. We heard them focused on their own greatness, while Jesus teaches that true greatness comes from serving those the world sees as not great at all.

The men don’t usually get it, but, fortunately, for Jesus and for us, the women disciples are often more understanding, and more faithful.

So, I’ve been with you now for about two months.

I’ve begun to settle into some routines, but I still have a lot to learn, and I’m still getting used to my surroundings.

Most days, as I go in and out of my office, I still notice the portraits of some of my esteemed predecessors that line the hall.

I’ve joked that they are there to keep an eye on me.

They’re all men, of course, part of a very exclusive 22-member “boy’s club.”

But, although it was only relatively recently that women have been able to take up formal lay and clergy leadership positions in the church, you know that from the beginning women have done – and still do – so much of the often thankless work that keeps the church going.

It’s been the women, many of their names lost to history but never forgotten by God, who have understood that true greatness means serving the people who are dismissed by the world as not great at all.

And, I’ve been here more than long enough to know very well that we have lots of women here, right now, at St. Thomas’ who are continuing this long tradition of love and service, doing so much ministry with dedication, fidelity, and, most of all, wisdom.

Long ago, the author of Proverbs asked, “A woman of valor, who can find?”

It turns out that’s easy, because they – you – are all around us.

Amen.

Fresh Starts

St. Thomas’ Episcopal Church, Owings Mills MD

September 12, 2021

Year B, Proper 19: The Sixteenth Sunday after Pentecost

Proverbs 1:20-33

Psalm 19

James 3:1-12

Mark 8:27-38

Fresh Starts

Some of you know that before I was a priest I was a high school history teacher.

I spent the second half of my teaching career at my alma mater, St. Peter’s Prep, in downtown Jersey City, just across the Hudson River from Lower Manhattan.

So, that’s where I was twenty years ago yesterday, gathered with a classroom full of bewildered teenagers, watching through the windows as the most horrible day of our lives unfolded.

I left teaching a few years later to go to seminary, but the truth is, even after all this time, there is a lot about teaching that I still miss.

Prep was a particularly wonderful place for me because I got to work with colleagues who were also some of my dearest friends.

So, I miss that closeness.

And, especially at this time of year, I miss the opportunity for a fresh start. On the one hand, I was always sorry to see summer vacation come to an end, but I was also excited by the possibilities of a new school year – an unwritten story, best symbolized for me by the blank first page of a brand-new notebook.

So much possibility and potential!

And, another great thing about Prep that I miss is that interesting guests were regularly invited to speak to the faculty and students.

During my time, maybe the most memorable speaker was Sister Helen Prejean, the Roman Catholic nun who has devoted much of her ministry to caring for inmates on death row, and advocating for the end of the death penalty.

She’s best known for her book Dead Man Walking. Maybe you read it, or saw the movie version in which Sister Helen was played by Susan Sarandon.

Anyway, along with some of my fellow teachers, I was fortunate enough to be invited to a dinner with Sister Helen before her talk.

Sitting at the table with her, I discovered that, like many nuns of my acquaintance, she has a very sharp sense of humor, and also a kind of joy and lightness, which maybe is surprising considering the grimness and heaviness of her work, or maybe it’s the only way to endure when you’ve regularly in close proximity to so much suffering and death.

Over dinner, and later in her talk with us that night and many times before and since, Sister Helen made a point about people on death row. It’s a truth that I try to remember when I consider my own life, and the lives of others:

“People are more than the worst thing they have ever done in their lives.”

“People are more than the worst thing they have ever done in their lives.”

Now, we don’t have to necessarily agree about the death penalty, though I think Sister Helen is awfully convincing.

But, there can be no argument that God sees us as far, far more than the worst thing – the worst things - we have ever done in our lives.

Now, I’m going out on a limb and assume that we don’t have any vicious criminals here this morning. But, the uncomfortable truth is that we all sin in small ways and, occasionally, in bigger ways – we all fall short of God’s hope and intention for us.

But God never defines us by our worst mistakes.

No, instead, each time we confess – each time we repent - God offers us forgiveness.

This is one of the best parts of the Good News – but it’s a piece of Good News that can be hard for us to accept when it comes to other people – and, actually, it’s a piece of Good News that can be sometimes hard to accept for ourselves.

Yet, time and again, God offers us a fresh start – as clean as the blank first page of a brand-new notebook.

In his usual way, Mark packs a lot into the gospel passage we heard today.

Jesus asks his disciples who people say that he is, and then he asks his disciples who do they say that he is.

Then, for the first time in this gospel, Jesus predicts his suffering and death. Jesus also predicts his resurrection, but at least for now, the idea of all that suffering drowns out any idea of new life.

And then, Jesus teaches about discipleship – that we are called to give away our lives in loving service to Jesus and our sisters and brothers.

There sure is a lot to chew on here, but as I’ve reflected on this passage, I keep circling back to Peter.

Out of the twelve, he’s the one we know the best. He was a hard working fisherman, a job that, then as now, requires skill, courage, and strength.

I find Peter a deeply lovable character because just like us, sometimes he gets it right, but more often he gets it very wrong.

And, we certainly hear that in today’s lesson.

When Jesus asks, “But who do you say that I am?” it’s Peter who speaks up with the correct answer: “You are the Messiah.”

In my imagination, I see him looking around at the other disciples with a mix of surprise, pride, and humility – kind of like when the kid in class you wouldn’t expect gets the answer exactly right.

But then, just moments later, Peter gets it very wrong.

When Jesus makes his prediction of suffering, death, and new life, Peter doesn’t hear the promise of new life. No, understandably, all Peter hears is that his Lord is going to suffer and die.

Peter is obviously very upset, so upset that he pulls Jesus aside and “rebukes” him – that’s a strong word, “rebuke.” 

Imagine that. Rebuking Jesus.

And then, in response, and in front of everyone, Jesus “rebukes” Peter – calls him “Satan” – not a cartoon Satan with a tail and pitchfork but a very real Satan – Satan the tempter, tempting Jesus by offering him a way out of his mission and fate.

Now, after all this rebuking we might think Jesus is done with Peter. But, this is not the end of Peter’s story. And, later, Peter does far worse, denying his Lord during his greatest moment of need.

And, even after Peter denies Jesus three times – it’s still not the end of Peter’s story.

Peter becomes the rock of the church, and nearly 1,900 years later, he lends his good name to a high school in Jersey City

Time and again, despite some big mistakes, God offered Peter – and offers us - a fresh start – as clean as the blank first page of a brand-new notebook.

It’s been a long time since I’ve been in the classroom, but my life is still shaped in part by the school year.

The church has its own calendar – for those of you keeping track, today is the Sixteenth Sunday after Pentecost. (Woo-hoo!)

God doesn’t go on summer vacation, of course, but because school resumes at this time of year, the church’s “program year” gets up and running right around now, too.

So, today is our “Kickoff Sunday” – scaled way back because of the pandemic, it’s true. But, even with masks and distance, there is still a little bit of that first day of school excitement – lots of hope about the days and weeks ahead, anticipating a story that has yet to be written.

So much possibility and potential!

And so, as we begin a new year together, let’s remember Sister Helen’s teaching, and the lesson of our brother Peter:

We are more than the worst thing – the worst things – that we have ever done in our lives.

Today, right here and now, if we’re willing to confess – willing to repent - God offers us forgiveness and the chance for a fresh start.

So, on this “Kickoff Sunday,” let’s open up our brand-new notebook.

Let’s give thanks for that blank first page and all the pages that follow.

Let us begin, again.

Amen.

 

In An Unfamiliar Land

St. Thomas’ Episcopal Church, Owings Mills MD

September 5, 2021

Year B, Proper 18: The Fifteenth Sunday after Pentecost

Proverbs 22:1-2, 8-9, 22-23

Psalm 125

James 2:1-10, 14-17

Mark 7:24-37

In An Unfamiliar Land

Back when I first started preaching, I worried that sometime soon I would run out of things to talk about.

But, as you may have noticed, despite making my way through our three-year cycle of readings about five times now, in fact I have not run out of things to talk about – maybe just the opposite!

Over the years, I’ve discovered that, although these Bible passages remain the same, the world changes, our circumstances change, and we change.

And so, the Word of God speaks to us differently each time we hear it.

For example, the last time I heard and preached on today’s gospel passage, I was the rector of the Church of St. Paul and Incarnation back in Jersey City. Since both Sue and I were born and raised – and lived most of our lives – in Jersey City, it was and is the place we know the best. I certainly didn’t need my GPS to get around.

And, since Sue and I entered the Episcopal Church at St. Paul’s, that was and is the church we know the best – its history, its people, its challenges and possibilities.

But, of course, back in July we moved from Jersey City to be here with all of you.

And, arriving here in this beautiful place, and praying with you, and beginning to get to know you, has been an incredibly wonderful blessing.

But, the truth is that Sue and I do find ourselves in an unfamiliar land. We have only just begun to learn our way around and, yes, still need to use the GPS nearly all the time (though a little less each week). Supermarket shopping takes twice as long as it used to because we don’t know where everything is – lots of backtracking up and down the aisles.

We have only just begun to understand the history of St. Thomas’ and to appreciate the particular traditions and dynamics of this place. And, since you and I don’t share much history yet, I can’t make as many assumptions, can’t use shorthand or the occasional inside joke like I could back in Jersey City.

I’m in a wonderful but unfamiliar land. And, sure enough, I hear today’s unusual and challenging gospel lesson a bit differently than I did three years ago.

Because it turns out that Sue and I aren’t the only ones in an unfamiliar land.

At the start of today’s gospel lesson, Mark tells us that Jesus “set out and went away to the region of Tyre.” That sounds like a throwaway line - unless you know that it means Jesus has left his homeland of Galilee, where he was known and where he knew a lot of people, where the sights and sounds and smells must have been so familiar.

Jesus has left his homeland and entered non-Jewish territory – the region of Tyre, which would be in Lebanon today.

And, maybe because he’s in an unfamiliar land, at first Jesus just doesn’t seem to be quite himself.

We’re told that he is approached by a Syro-Phoenician woman. That little detail tips us off that she was not a Jew. She was a Gentile.  And this woman’s daughter has been suffering from an “unclean spirit.”

Now, this is a pretty familiar situation for Jesus, right?

Once word had gotten out about Jesus, lots of people came to him looking for healing – happened all the time – and I can’t really think of a case where Jesus turns away anybody – except for what we heard today.

This Gentile woman, desperate for her daughter to be well, bows before this Jewish teacher and healer and begs him to help.

But, in maybe his least Jesus-like moment ever, Jesus spurns her. 

Jesus says to this desperate mother, “Let the children be fed first, for it is not fair to take the children’s food and throw it to the dogs.”

Because it’s so out of character it’s easy to miss what’s happening here. Jesus seems to be saying that his food is for the people of Israel – “the children” – and not for Gentiles like this woman and her child – “the dogs.”

Now, if Jesus seemed to reject me, said something like that to me, I’m pretty sure I would crawl away and weep, brokenhearted by the ultimate rejection.

But, not this amazing woman – not this bold and loving mother.

She goes right back at Jesus, “Sir, even the dogs under the table eat the children’s crumbs.”

Her amazing boldness and persistence seem to convince Jesus to heal the daughter.

So, what to make of this unsettling story?

Well, maybe, Jesus was testing the woman, to see just how much faith and persistence she had.

Maybe, but I think something else is going on here – something important for Jesus and for you and me and for everybody.

It seems to me that in an unfamiliar land, encountering unfamiliar people, our brother Jesus is challenged to stretch. Maybe it’s now, in this unfamiliar land, in this unsettling moment, that Jesus begins to understand that his mission is even bigger than he had thought – that his mission of love and healing and salvation is not just for his own Jewish people who he knew so well, but also for the people that even he might have been inclined to dismiss as outsiders.

It turns out that the Good News of Jesus is for the bold Syro-Phoenician woman and her suffering daughter.

The light of Jesus is meant to shine on the people in the region of Tyre - and the people of Jersey City and Owings Mills.

Jesus is a gift for the whole world.

I believe that Jesus’ encounter with the Syro-Phoenician woman changed him – and maybe we see – or better, hear – that change in today’s second miracle story when, while still in an unfamiliar land, Jesus heals the deaf man.

This time there’s no talk of dogs and crumbs – just the very Jesus-like gift of wholeness and new life.

So, it’s obvious that Sue and I are in an unfamiliar land – you may find us wandering the aisles at Giant.

And, in today’s gospel lesson we heard about Jesus’ momentous trip into an unfamiliar land.

But, I would suggest that today, even if you haven’t moved an inch, all of us find ourselves living in an unfamiliar land.

It’s a land where the culture changes so fast to make our heads spin – a land where we can no longer rely on the institutions we’ve usually taken for granted – a land that certainly seems so bitterly divided, though maybe not as polarized as some would want us to think.

It’s a land transformed by plague – and a land either parched or flooded by a destructively changing climate.

It’s a land where the church, which once sat proudly at the center of life, has been pushed – or maybe just drifted – to the margins.

Today we are all in an unfamiliar land.

And, yes, that is unsettling, but it can also be a God-given challenge to stretch.

I believe that Jesus was challenged – stretched - by his trip to an unfamiliar land and his encounter with that bold and persistent woman.

So, today, here in our unfamiliar land, maybe we can all hear these old Bible stories with new ears. Maybe we can see that our mission is wider than we had previously imagined – that, just like Jesus, we’re called to serve people usually dismissed as outsiders – the “dogs.”

Just like our brother Jesus, may our time in an unfamiliar land widen our vision, and make us even more loving, even more generous.

Amen.