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.
Sunday, August 29, 2010
Some Things Never Change
The Chapel of the Incarnation, Gainesville FL
August 29, 2010
Year C, Proper 17: The Fourteenth Sunday after Pentecost
Jeremiah 2:4-13
Psalm 81:1, 10-16
Hebrews 13:1-8, 15-16
Some Things Never Change
When I first sat down to read, and pray about and think about today’s Scripture readings, I immediately thought, “Some things never change.”
The reading from Jeremiah comes from a time when the kingdoms of Israel and Judah lost their independence. The prophet clearly chalks up these devastating events to the people losing faith in God and putting their faith in false gods such as Baal. The prophet also blames these devastating events on the people losing their faith in God and instead putting their faith in alliances with other countries.
Without a doubt, the prophet believes that God is angry at this lack of faith. But, more than that, there’s a sense of God almost being hurt by this lack of faith.
Jeremiah interprets God as saying, “What wrong did your ancestors find in me that they went far from me, and went after worthless things, and became worthless themselves?”
You can hear the sadness in that divine question, “What wrong did your ancestors find in me?”
Jeremiah was a prophet who lived during a time when people put their faith in earthly things and suffered the consequences.
It sure seems like some things never change.
We also live in a time when we put our ultimate faith in earthly gods and suffer the consequences. Think of how many people put their faith in their wealth only to see it evaporate during this terrible recession. I read a news story about a former mayor of my hometown who had made a killing on Wall Street back in the ‘80s and retired when he was still a young man, and served as mayor for a couple of terms. Now, according to the news report, because of what’s happened to his investment portfolio, he and his wife have only $5000 in the bank.
Not unlike the long-ago people of Israel and Judah, too often we put our ultimate faith in earthly gods and suffer the consequences. Think of how many of us put our ultimate faith in our talents or our intelligence or our charm or our appearance. Think of how many of us put our ultimate faith in our political leaders or in our military power.
It sure seems like some things never change.
But, no matter how things seem, as Christians we know that things have changed and are changing. We don’t have the option of looking at the state of the world and shrugging our shoulders and saying, “Eh, what are you gonna do? Some things never change.”
That’s not an option because in Jesus, God reveals to us what God dreams we will be. In Jesus, God reveals to us what God dreams the world will be. In Jesus, God reveals what the kingdom of God is like and what the kingdom of God will be like.
In Jesus, the kingdom of God draws near. Things have begun to change.
So, in the reading from the Gospel of Luke, we find Jesus at a Sabbath meal with Pharisees and others. At first, Jesus offers what seems like just pretty good etiquette advice. Essentially, Jesus says, to avoid embarrassment at a dinner party, don’t sit at the place of honor unless you’re invited to do so by the host. And it’s true, it’s embarrassing to be told, uh, sorry, I’m saving this seat for my friend. Or, sorry, this area is reserved for our first class customers. You’re seat is back there.
So, OK, Jesus gives some good, sort of ho-hum etiquette advice. But, then, just when we think Jesus has made his point, he reveals something about the kingdom of God. Jesus reveals that in the kingdom of God things are different. Things are going to change.
Jesus says, “For all who exalt themselves will be humbled, and those who humble themselves will be exalted.”
In God’s kingdom, the world will be turned upside-down. We hear this message throughout the Gospel of Luke. Early on, when the pregnant Mary visits her cousin Elizabeth, she bursts into song, singing God’s praises, singing a vision of God’s kingdom. She sings, that God “has brought down the powerful from their thrones, and lifted up the lowly; he has filled the hungry with good things, and sent the rich away empty.”
And in Jesus’ great sermon in the Gospel of Luke, Jesus teaches that in God’s kingdom it’s the poor and the hungry and the weeping and the outcast and the mocked who are blessed.
In Jesus, the kingdom of God has drawn near. And in God’s kingdom things are changing, things are going to change.
So, what about us? Are we part of the change that begins with Jesus? In us, in the way we live our lives, does the kingdom of God continue to draw near?
In our New Testament reading, we heard a powerful passage from the Letter to the Hebrews – which, by the way, was neither a letter nor addressed to the Hebrews! Instead, it’s a sermon sent to an early Christian community made up of probably both Jews and gentiles. It seems that maybe this community had begun to lose some of its enthusiasm for Christian living. So the anonymous author of Hebrews sends some very clear and pointed reminders of how they – and we – are to live Christian lives.
Today’s excerpt began with the beautiful phrase, “Let mutual love continue.” Do we live lives of love? Or do we live like things never change – concerned only about ourselves or about our stuff?
Then the author of Hebrews tells that early Christian community to offer hospitality to strangers and adds “for by doing that some have entertained angels without knowing it.” Just how important is hospitality to us? Did we really mean it a few minutes ago when we sang “All are Welcome”? How well do we welcome the stranger into this chapel – or is there a tendency for us to be a nice, cozy little club?
Then we’re called to remember those in prison and those who are being tortured. Probably the author had in mind other Christians who were being persecuted for their faith. And there are many thousands of Christians around the world who being persecuted for following Jesus. Do we ever remember them? And, closer to home, how much thought do we give to the many tens of thousands who are imprisoned all around us?
I read a startling statistic in the diocesan newspaper. In the Diocese of Florida there are 33 prisons, containing over 33,000 prisoners. They are all around us and yet nearly invisible and easy to forget. Yet, if in us the kingdom of God is drawing near, then not only do we need to remember those thousands of prisoners but we also need to ask some uncomfortable questions.
Why is there so much crime in our country? Why are so many of our brothers and sisters locked up?
Finally, the author of Hebrews calls us to keep our commitments, to be faithful, and to avoid the love of money.
When we live this way then truly the kingdom of God draws near. When we live lives of love and compassion and humility and simplicity and faithfulness and integrity, then the kingdom of God draws near. When we live this way then the world turns upside-down and just about everything changes.
But, it turns out that some things really never do change. Living this kind of Christian life was a challenge back in the First Century and it’s a challenge for us today. But, we don’t do it alone. We live out our Christian lives together here in community and always supported by the love and grace and power of Jesus. And as the author of Hebrews writes, “Jesus Christ is the same yesterday, and today and forever.”
Some things never change.
Amen.
August 29, 2010
Year C, Proper 17: The Fourteenth Sunday after Pentecost
Jeremiah 2:4-13
Psalm 81:1, 10-16
Hebrews 13:1-8, 15-16
Some Things Never Change
When I first sat down to read, and pray about and think about today’s Scripture readings, I immediately thought, “Some things never change.”
The reading from Jeremiah comes from a time when the kingdoms of Israel and Judah lost their independence. The prophet clearly chalks up these devastating events to the people losing faith in God and putting their faith in false gods such as Baal. The prophet also blames these devastating events on the people losing their faith in God and instead putting their faith in alliances with other countries.
Without a doubt, the prophet believes that God is angry at this lack of faith. But, more than that, there’s a sense of God almost being hurt by this lack of faith.
Jeremiah interprets God as saying, “What wrong did your ancestors find in me that they went far from me, and went after worthless things, and became worthless themselves?”
You can hear the sadness in that divine question, “What wrong did your ancestors find in me?”
Jeremiah was a prophet who lived during a time when people put their faith in earthly things and suffered the consequences.
It sure seems like some things never change.
We also live in a time when we put our ultimate faith in earthly gods and suffer the consequences. Think of how many people put their faith in their wealth only to see it evaporate during this terrible recession. I read a news story about a former mayor of my hometown who had made a killing on Wall Street back in the ‘80s and retired when he was still a young man, and served as mayor for a couple of terms. Now, according to the news report, because of what’s happened to his investment portfolio, he and his wife have only $5000 in the bank.
Not unlike the long-ago people of Israel and Judah, too often we put our ultimate faith in earthly gods and suffer the consequences. Think of how many of us put our ultimate faith in our talents or our intelligence or our charm or our appearance. Think of how many of us put our ultimate faith in our political leaders or in our military power.
It sure seems like some things never change.
But, no matter how things seem, as Christians we know that things have changed and are changing. We don’t have the option of looking at the state of the world and shrugging our shoulders and saying, “Eh, what are you gonna do? Some things never change.”
That’s not an option because in Jesus, God reveals to us what God dreams we will be. In Jesus, God reveals to us what God dreams the world will be. In Jesus, God reveals what the kingdom of God is like and what the kingdom of God will be like.
In Jesus, the kingdom of God draws near. Things have begun to change.
So, in the reading from the Gospel of Luke, we find Jesus at a Sabbath meal with Pharisees and others. At first, Jesus offers what seems like just pretty good etiquette advice. Essentially, Jesus says, to avoid embarrassment at a dinner party, don’t sit at the place of honor unless you’re invited to do so by the host. And it’s true, it’s embarrassing to be told, uh, sorry, I’m saving this seat for my friend. Or, sorry, this area is reserved for our first class customers. You’re seat is back there.
So, OK, Jesus gives some good, sort of ho-hum etiquette advice. But, then, just when we think Jesus has made his point, he reveals something about the kingdom of God. Jesus reveals that in the kingdom of God things are different. Things are going to change.
Jesus says, “For all who exalt themselves will be humbled, and those who humble themselves will be exalted.”
In God’s kingdom, the world will be turned upside-down. We hear this message throughout the Gospel of Luke. Early on, when the pregnant Mary visits her cousin Elizabeth, she bursts into song, singing God’s praises, singing a vision of God’s kingdom. She sings, that God “has brought down the powerful from their thrones, and lifted up the lowly; he has filled the hungry with good things, and sent the rich away empty.”
And in Jesus’ great sermon in the Gospel of Luke, Jesus teaches that in God’s kingdom it’s the poor and the hungry and the weeping and the outcast and the mocked who are blessed.
In Jesus, the kingdom of God has drawn near. And in God’s kingdom things are changing, things are going to change.
So, what about us? Are we part of the change that begins with Jesus? In us, in the way we live our lives, does the kingdom of God continue to draw near?
In our New Testament reading, we heard a powerful passage from the Letter to the Hebrews – which, by the way, was neither a letter nor addressed to the Hebrews! Instead, it’s a sermon sent to an early Christian community made up of probably both Jews and gentiles. It seems that maybe this community had begun to lose some of its enthusiasm for Christian living. So the anonymous author of Hebrews sends some very clear and pointed reminders of how they – and we – are to live Christian lives.
Today’s excerpt began with the beautiful phrase, “Let mutual love continue.” Do we live lives of love? Or do we live like things never change – concerned only about ourselves or about our stuff?
Then the author of Hebrews tells that early Christian community to offer hospitality to strangers and adds “for by doing that some have entertained angels without knowing it.” Just how important is hospitality to us? Did we really mean it a few minutes ago when we sang “All are Welcome”? How well do we welcome the stranger into this chapel – or is there a tendency for us to be a nice, cozy little club?
Then we’re called to remember those in prison and those who are being tortured. Probably the author had in mind other Christians who were being persecuted for their faith. And there are many thousands of Christians around the world who being persecuted for following Jesus. Do we ever remember them? And, closer to home, how much thought do we give to the many tens of thousands who are imprisoned all around us?
I read a startling statistic in the diocesan newspaper. In the Diocese of Florida there are 33 prisons, containing over 33,000 prisoners. They are all around us and yet nearly invisible and easy to forget. Yet, if in us the kingdom of God is drawing near, then not only do we need to remember those thousands of prisoners but we also need to ask some uncomfortable questions.
Why is there so much crime in our country? Why are so many of our brothers and sisters locked up?
Finally, the author of Hebrews calls us to keep our commitments, to be faithful, and to avoid the love of money.
When we live this way then truly the kingdom of God draws near. When we live lives of love and compassion and humility and simplicity and faithfulness and integrity, then the kingdom of God draws near. When we live this way then the world turns upside-down and just about everything changes.
But, it turns out that some things really never do change. Living this kind of Christian life was a challenge back in the First Century and it’s a challenge for us today. But, we don’t do it alone. We live out our Christian lives together here in community and always supported by the love and grace and power of Jesus. And as the author of Hebrews writes, “Jesus Christ is the same yesterday, and today and forever.”
Some things never change.
Amen.
Sunday, August 22, 2010
Healers
Chapel of the Incarnation, Gainesville FL
August 22, 2010
Year C, Proper 16: The Thirteenth Sunday after Pentecost
Jeremiah 1:4-10
Psalm 71:1-6
Hebrews 12:18-29
Luke 13:10-17
Healers
This is a really exciting time. For my wife Sue and me, we’ve managed to finish the move of ourselves and our cat, Noelle, and (I hope) all our stuff from New Jersey to Gainesville. The unpacking is going to take a while, but we’re glad to be here and excited to be with all of you.
And, of course, with school starting this is an exciting time here at UF. It’s been fun these past couple of days to see freshmen and their parents wearing their brand-new Gator t-shirts, wandering around, taking it all in. We were over at Target a couple of days ago and there they were, filling the aisles, buying all the stuff needed to equip a dorm room.
Way back when I was in elementary school, I would moan and groan about the end of summer vacation. Maybe you did the same thing. But, secretly I was excited that school was about to start, excited that I was going to see my friends and excited to learn new things. Maybe you felt the same way. At the end of each summer I always liked going with my mom and sister to buy new notebooks and book bags and lunch boxes – although for a little kid it was a lot of pressure to decide which was the coolest lunch box to have.
Later in college I was always eager to get to the bookstore as early as I could – to get good deals on used books, but mostly just to see what books I’d be reading, to find out what new things I’d be studying and learning about that semester. You probably know the feeling.
And that’s all good. But, of course, school isn’t about the new books and book bags and clothes and laptops and textbooks, and all the rest. All of that stuff, including what will be blessed in a few minutes, needs to be used. The bindings of your books need to be broken. Notes need to be written on the margins. Your laptop needs to get beaten up a little bit. If we keep our supplies in mint condition we’ve missed the point. Those things are just means to an end.
When school would start and throughout the school year I’d also worry a lot about my grades. Maybe you can relate. I’d be especially worried about math. I was always weak in math and my math grades would sometimes keep me off of honor roll. I remember being at honor assemblies seething with resentment of my teachers and anger at myself when I’d see my friends and classmates get their little honor cards and I’d just be sitting there, fuming.
But, despite my bad attitude, there’s nothing wrong with wanting to get good grades, to do as well as you can, to receive honors for your ability and hard work. But, just like your notebooks and textbooks, grades are just a means to an end.
School isn’t about clean new notebooks or perfect grades.
School is about learning about the world and about yourself. School is about getting ready to go out into the world. School is about getting prepared to earn a living so you can support yourself. But, more important, school is about getting ready to go out into the world and help to build a better world. School is about getting prepared to go out and help build a better world. I don’t need to tell you that we live in a world bent by poverty and injustice and materialism and immorality. All of us are needed - all of us are called - to help heal our bent and broken world.
We need to be healers.
And what’s true about school is even truer about our religious life.
In today’s gospel lesson, we heard a story told only by Luke of Jesus healing a woman who has been bent over for eighteen years. Nothing unusual about that. The problem, of course, is that Jesus healed her on the Sabbath. According Jewish law, there should be no physical work on the Sabbath.
Now, since this woman had been in pain for so long, presumably Jesus could have waited another day to do the healing. But, obviously Jesus and Luke are trying to make a point in setting this healing on the Sabbath.
The point is that our religious practices are just fine so long as we remember that that they are means to an end. If our religious practices help us to be better Christians - better healers of a bent and broken world - then that’s great. But, we shouldn’t think that it’s our religious practices that make us Christians.
What makes us Christians is opening our hearts to the power of God. What makes us Christians is allowing God to work through us to heal our bent and broken world, to build the kingdom of God right here and now.
I don’t know this community very well yet, but I bet there are bent people all around us. There are people who are bent because they are unpopular or outcasts, who are bent by regrets about bad decisions, who are bent by worry about illness or money, who are bent by addiction, who are bent by fears about the future. I bet there are bent people all around us.
As Christians we are called to imitate and continue the healing work of Jesus.
We are called to be healers.
And you don’t have to wait until after graduation to get started on that healing work. In our Old Testament lesson we heard God’s call to the prophet Jeremiah. God calls him to the difficult work of being a prophet. Jeremiah replies, no way, God, I’m too young:
“Ah, Lord GOD, Truly I do not know how to speak, for I am only a boy.”
And God replies, “Do not say, ‘I am only a boy’; for you shall go to all whom I send you, and you shall speak whatever I command you. Do not be afraid of them, for I am with you to deliver you, says the LORD.”
So, two good messages for us as we begin an exciting new year. I pray that we remember that as Christians we are called to imitate and continue the healing work of Jesus, no matter our age. And I pray that through our life together here at Chapel House, we may receive the strength and the grace to do the healing work God has given us to do.
We need to be – and we are called to be – healers.
Amen.
August 22, 2010
Year C, Proper 16: The Thirteenth Sunday after Pentecost
Jeremiah 1:4-10
Psalm 71:1-6
Hebrews 12:18-29
Luke 13:10-17
Healers
This is a really exciting time. For my wife Sue and me, we’ve managed to finish the move of ourselves and our cat, Noelle, and (I hope) all our stuff from New Jersey to Gainesville. The unpacking is going to take a while, but we’re glad to be here and excited to be with all of you.
And, of course, with school starting this is an exciting time here at UF. It’s been fun these past couple of days to see freshmen and their parents wearing their brand-new Gator t-shirts, wandering around, taking it all in. We were over at Target a couple of days ago and there they were, filling the aisles, buying all the stuff needed to equip a dorm room.
Way back when I was in elementary school, I would moan and groan about the end of summer vacation. Maybe you did the same thing. But, secretly I was excited that school was about to start, excited that I was going to see my friends and excited to learn new things. Maybe you felt the same way. At the end of each summer I always liked going with my mom and sister to buy new notebooks and book bags and lunch boxes – although for a little kid it was a lot of pressure to decide which was the coolest lunch box to have.
Later in college I was always eager to get to the bookstore as early as I could – to get good deals on used books, but mostly just to see what books I’d be reading, to find out what new things I’d be studying and learning about that semester. You probably know the feeling.
And that’s all good. But, of course, school isn’t about the new books and book bags and clothes and laptops and textbooks, and all the rest. All of that stuff, including what will be blessed in a few minutes, needs to be used. The bindings of your books need to be broken. Notes need to be written on the margins. Your laptop needs to get beaten up a little bit. If we keep our supplies in mint condition we’ve missed the point. Those things are just means to an end.
When school would start and throughout the school year I’d also worry a lot about my grades. Maybe you can relate. I’d be especially worried about math. I was always weak in math and my math grades would sometimes keep me off of honor roll. I remember being at honor assemblies seething with resentment of my teachers and anger at myself when I’d see my friends and classmates get their little honor cards and I’d just be sitting there, fuming.
But, despite my bad attitude, there’s nothing wrong with wanting to get good grades, to do as well as you can, to receive honors for your ability and hard work. But, just like your notebooks and textbooks, grades are just a means to an end.
School isn’t about clean new notebooks or perfect grades.
School is about learning about the world and about yourself. School is about getting ready to go out into the world. School is about getting prepared to earn a living so you can support yourself. But, more important, school is about getting ready to go out into the world and help to build a better world. School is about getting prepared to go out and help build a better world. I don’t need to tell you that we live in a world bent by poverty and injustice and materialism and immorality. All of us are needed - all of us are called - to help heal our bent and broken world.
We need to be healers.
And what’s true about school is even truer about our religious life.
In today’s gospel lesson, we heard a story told only by Luke of Jesus healing a woman who has been bent over for eighteen years. Nothing unusual about that. The problem, of course, is that Jesus healed her on the Sabbath. According Jewish law, there should be no physical work on the Sabbath.
Now, since this woman had been in pain for so long, presumably Jesus could have waited another day to do the healing. But, obviously Jesus and Luke are trying to make a point in setting this healing on the Sabbath.
The point is that our religious practices are just fine so long as we remember that that they are means to an end. If our religious practices help us to be better Christians - better healers of a bent and broken world - then that’s great. But, we shouldn’t think that it’s our religious practices that make us Christians.
What makes us Christians is opening our hearts to the power of God. What makes us Christians is allowing God to work through us to heal our bent and broken world, to build the kingdom of God right here and now.
I don’t know this community very well yet, but I bet there are bent people all around us. There are people who are bent because they are unpopular or outcasts, who are bent by regrets about bad decisions, who are bent by worry about illness or money, who are bent by addiction, who are bent by fears about the future. I bet there are bent people all around us.
As Christians we are called to imitate and continue the healing work of Jesus.
We are called to be healers.
And you don’t have to wait until after graduation to get started on that healing work. In our Old Testament lesson we heard God’s call to the prophet Jeremiah. God calls him to the difficult work of being a prophet. Jeremiah replies, no way, God, I’m too young:
“Ah, Lord GOD, Truly I do not know how to speak, for I am only a boy.”
And God replies, “Do not say, ‘I am only a boy’; for you shall go to all whom I send you, and you shall speak whatever I command you. Do not be afraid of them, for I am with you to deliver you, says the LORD.”
So, two good messages for us as we begin an exciting new year. I pray that we remember that as Christians we are called to imitate and continue the healing work of Jesus, no matter our age. And I pray that through our life together here at Chapel House, we may receive the strength and the grace to do the healing work God has given us to do.
We need to be – and we are called to be – healers.
Amen.
Sunday, August 15, 2010
Love is a Verb
Grace Episcopal Church, Madison NJ
August 15, 2010
Love is a Verb: A Farewell to Grace Church
First, I’d like to thank everyone who worked so hard to make this a special day for Sue and me, and really for all of us, as we celebrate these three years together. So, thank you to the amazing and tireless Midge Cassidy for her very hard work putting this reception together under less than ideal circumstances. Thanks also to Mary Lea for organizing all of those pictures out in the lobby – it’s kind of overwhelming, actually. I can’t really take it all in at once. Thanks to Stacy Wilde for the decorations here today. And thanks to Dr. Anne and Eric Stroud and all the members of the choir who in the dog days of summer rehearsed this past week and as always gave us the gift of beautiful music. Sue and I are very grateful.
Looking back over the past three years, I’d like to thank the wardens (Geoff Brooks, Judy Jurgensen, Dave Gates and Chris Wilde) and vestry members past and present for their leadership and support. I’d also like to thank again Chris Wilde and all the J2A leaders past and present for their commitment to our youth. Thanks to Kit Cone for the many ways he has helped us over the past three years and now for volunteering to drive one of our cars to Florida next week. Thanks to the head acolytes, Will Brooks and Siobhan McCulloch – the acolytes are in very good hands with these two young leaders. And thanks to George Hayman for his friendship and in a quiet way for helping Sue in the strange role of clergy spouse.
On one of our first Sundays here the J2A group was having a fundraiser making and selling tie-dye t-shirts. And on the back of the shirts was printed the phrase, “Love is a Verb.”
I’ve liked that expression ever since and have worked it into a couple of sermons these past three years. It’s a phrase that captures what this church is all about. Grace Church is a church that expresses its faith and love through action. Love is a verb. Sometimes the verb is quietly opening a checkbook and offering remarkable generosity to the souper bowl fundraiser, the J2A pilgrimage, the Recycling Ministry, or simply in a pledge.
Sometimes the verb is standing for a couple of hours at the Community Soup Kitchen serving food or washing hundreds of trays and pots and pans. Sometimes the verb is day after day delivering furniture to the least among us. Sometimes the verb is personally visiting all of the places that receive outreach money from Grace. The verb is reaching out to a parishioner or a family in trouble. The verb is picking up the phone or sending a note to someone who is lonely or sad or frightened. Sometimes the verb is working on the church budget or managing the endowment or crafting new window sills, or upgrading our technology. Sometimes the verb is giving up a week of summer vacation time to go on a mission trip or pilgrimage with our youth.
Sometimes the verb is organizing the clothing sale and the auction, or volunteering at the clothing sale or auction. Sometimes the verb is spending hours polishing brass or ironing linens. Sometimes the verb is helping a fellow choir member who’s lost his or her place. Other times the verb is attending long vestry meetings. The verb is staying to clean up after an event. Sometimes the verb is sacrificing the time to teach Sunday School or lead a youth group. Sometimes the verb is coming by church near dusk or early in the morning to make sure the plants are getting enough water.
And sometimes the verb is simply being here, worshiping together, praying for ourselves, our families and friends, the community and the world.
Because I had used the phrase in a couple of sermons, a while back Jabez Van Cleef gave me the screen used to make “Love is a Verb” shirts. I will bring the phrase in my heart but this really belongs here as a reminder of who you really are. It’s been a while, so maybe it’s time to make some more shirts – and, if you do, don’t forget to send us a couple.
Believe me, this past month I’ve been thinking a lot of all I will miss about Grace Church. And as I’ve thought about it, I’ve realized how Grace Church is made up of little communities. So I give special thanks for Tuesday evening craft guild, the Wednesday and Thursday morning congregations, the Friday men’s breakfast, choir moms (and an occasional dad) on Friday afternoon, the Saturday breakfast group and the gang at the Last Chance Mass, and the list goes on. And if you’re not connected to one or more of the little communities here, I hope you’ll give it a try.
The little community I will miss the most is the group of colleagues I’ve worked with here these past three years. Working with them – you - has been not only an excellent professional experience, but also a great gift to me personally. We have been partners in ministry. Everyone in this little community of colleagues and friends has understood that love is a verb.
So, thank you to the three parish administrators, Nina Nicholson, Jabez VanCleef, and Kirk Petersen. Especially these days, it’s not so hard to find skilled people, but Nina, Jabez and Kirk brought not only fine skills but also a deep love for the Church and its mission. All three were also great fun to work with – and never once seemed to lose their patience when I would say something like, “I hate to ask you to do one more thing, but…”
It’s hard to find superlatives that are superlative enough to describe what it’s been like to work with Mary Lea Crawley and Anne Matlack. Both are geniuses with huge hearts and willing and able to work, keep working and work some more. One important and rare thing they both share is that they both care about the life of the whole church – not just the areas in their job description. The kind of pastoral care they both give to so many is a precious gift – and one of the most important reasons this is as strong a church as it is. They both have been great friends and although the team is breaking up I hope our friendship will stay strong.
A little more than three years ago I told a priest in this diocese that there was a possibility I would be going to Grace Madison to be Lauren Ackland’s curate. I told him that I had seen Lauren at different diocesan events and a couple of times over at General Seminary, but didn’t really know her at all. I told him I wasn’t sure about moving to the suburbs and what it would be like to work with her at Grace Madison.
He looked at me and said, “Jump at it.”
This priest went on to tell me how wonderful Lauren was, how smart and talented, how well-respected and how envious he would be if I had this opportunity. Frankly, I thought it was a little over the top. He did say that she would expect me to work hard, and, get this, she would want to read my sermons before she’d let me get into the pulpit.
All true, but what I’ve discovered is that he wasn’t over the top enough. When we first met and talked about the job, we seemed to hit it off and be on the same page about things church. But, one thing I remember from that day is she took me to lunch at Charlie Brown’s and when she said grace she thanked God for new friends.
At the time I was surprised, but she was right – we did become great friends. I was so honored to have her preach at my ordination and it has been the most amazing experience to learn from and to work side by side with a priest who is so deeply dedicated to the Church and its people; a priest who exemplifies the ordination vow to be a faithful pastor; a priest who is also a great friend.
When I interviewed here, I asked Lauren why she thought this church was doing so well while so many others seem to be struggling. There are many reasons, of course, many of whom are in this room, but Lauren said she believed that the fact that Grace has at lest one service of public worship every day of the year was an important reason.
Over my three years here I have come to believe that’s true. So much prayer in that beautiful building has a powerful spiritual effect. I also compare our daily services to the Sunday New York Times. I’m probably not going to read it all or maybe not even most of it, but it’s nice to know it’s there. So, even when I’ve missed a weekday service, it was comforting to know that at least one person was there praying for all of us.
When I began thinking about a gift for the parish, I thought about how much the weekday services have meant to me. Now, Lauren and I and the worship leaders know that the books containing the weekday lessons are falling apart. So, it may not be very dramatic, but it’s very meaningful to me to give to you a new set of lesson books; it’s very meaningful that these books will help with daily prayer in a place that has been a place of prayer for me and where I learned that love is a verb.
August 15, 2010
Love is a Verb: A Farewell to Grace Church
First, I’d like to thank everyone who worked so hard to make this a special day for Sue and me, and really for all of us, as we celebrate these three years together. So, thank you to the amazing and tireless Midge Cassidy for her very hard work putting this reception together under less than ideal circumstances. Thanks also to Mary Lea for organizing all of those pictures out in the lobby – it’s kind of overwhelming, actually. I can’t really take it all in at once. Thanks to Stacy Wilde for the decorations here today. And thanks to Dr. Anne and Eric Stroud and all the members of the choir who in the dog days of summer rehearsed this past week and as always gave us the gift of beautiful music. Sue and I are very grateful.
Looking back over the past three years, I’d like to thank the wardens (Geoff Brooks, Judy Jurgensen, Dave Gates and Chris Wilde) and vestry members past and present for their leadership and support. I’d also like to thank again Chris Wilde and all the J2A leaders past and present for their commitment to our youth. Thanks to Kit Cone for the many ways he has helped us over the past three years and now for volunteering to drive one of our cars to Florida next week. Thanks to the head acolytes, Will Brooks and Siobhan McCulloch – the acolytes are in very good hands with these two young leaders. And thanks to George Hayman for his friendship and in a quiet way for helping Sue in the strange role of clergy spouse.
On one of our first Sundays here the J2A group was having a fundraiser making and selling tie-dye t-shirts. And on the back of the shirts was printed the phrase, “Love is a Verb.”
I’ve liked that expression ever since and have worked it into a couple of sermons these past three years. It’s a phrase that captures what this church is all about. Grace Church is a church that expresses its faith and love through action. Love is a verb. Sometimes the verb is quietly opening a checkbook and offering remarkable generosity to the souper bowl fundraiser, the J2A pilgrimage, the Recycling Ministry, or simply in a pledge.
Sometimes the verb is standing for a couple of hours at the Community Soup Kitchen serving food or washing hundreds of trays and pots and pans. Sometimes the verb is day after day delivering furniture to the least among us. Sometimes the verb is personally visiting all of the places that receive outreach money from Grace. The verb is reaching out to a parishioner or a family in trouble. The verb is picking up the phone or sending a note to someone who is lonely or sad or frightened. Sometimes the verb is working on the church budget or managing the endowment or crafting new window sills, or upgrading our technology. Sometimes the verb is giving up a week of summer vacation time to go on a mission trip or pilgrimage with our youth.
Sometimes the verb is organizing the clothing sale and the auction, or volunteering at the clothing sale or auction. Sometimes the verb is spending hours polishing brass or ironing linens. Sometimes the verb is helping a fellow choir member who’s lost his or her place. Other times the verb is attending long vestry meetings. The verb is staying to clean up after an event. Sometimes the verb is sacrificing the time to teach Sunday School or lead a youth group. Sometimes the verb is coming by church near dusk or early in the morning to make sure the plants are getting enough water.
And sometimes the verb is simply being here, worshiping together, praying for ourselves, our families and friends, the community and the world.
Because I had used the phrase in a couple of sermons, a while back Jabez Van Cleef gave me the screen used to make “Love is a Verb” shirts. I will bring the phrase in my heart but this really belongs here as a reminder of who you really are. It’s been a while, so maybe it’s time to make some more shirts – and, if you do, don’t forget to send us a couple.
Believe me, this past month I’ve been thinking a lot of all I will miss about Grace Church. And as I’ve thought about it, I’ve realized how Grace Church is made up of little communities. So I give special thanks for Tuesday evening craft guild, the Wednesday and Thursday morning congregations, the Friday men’s breakfast, choir moms (and an occasional dad) on Friday afternoon, the Saturday breakfast group and the gang at the Last Chance Mass, and the list goes on. And if you’re not connected to one or more of the little communities here, I hope you’ll give it a try.
The little community I will miss the most is the group of colleagues I’ve worked with here these past three years. Working with them – you - has been not only an excellent professional experience, but also a great gift to me personally. We have been partners in ministry. Everyone in this little community of colleagues and friends has understood that love is a verb.
So, thank you to the three parish administrators, Nina Nicholson, Jabez VanCleef, and Kirk Petersen. Especially these days, it’s not so hard to find skilled people, but Nina, Jabez and Kirk brought not only fine skills but also a deep love for the Church and its mission. All three were also great fun to work with – and never once seemed to lose their patience when I would say something like, “I hate to ask you to do one more thing, but…”
It’s hard to find superlatives that are superlative enough to describe what it’s been like to work with Mary Lea Crawley and Anne Matlack. Both are geniuses with huge hearts and willing and able to work, keep working and work some more. One important and rare thing they both share is that they both care about the life of the whole church – not just the areas in their job description. The kind of pastoral care they both give to so many is a precious gift – and one of the most important reasons this is as strong a church as it is. They both have been great friends and although the team is breaking up I hope our friendship will stay strong.
A little more than three years ago I told a priest in this diocese that there was a possibility I would be going to Grace Madison to be Lauren Ackland’s curate. I told him that I had seen Lauren at different diocesan events and a couple of times over at General Seminary, but didn’t really know her at all. I told him I wasn’t sure about moving to the suburbs and what it would be like to work with her at Grace Madison.
He looked at me and said, “Jump at it.”
This priest went on to tell me how wonderful Lauren was, how smart and talented, how well-respected and how envious he would be if I had this opportunity. Frankly, I thought it was a little over the top. He did say that she would expect me to work hard, and, get this, she would want to read my sermons before she’d let me get into the pulpit.
All true, but what I’ve discovered is that he wasn’t over the top enough. When we first met and talked about the job, we seemed to hit it off and be on the same page about things church. But, one thing I remember from that day is she took me to lunch at Charlie Brown’s and when she said grace she thanked God for new friends.
At the time I was surprised, but she was right – we did become great friends. I was so honored to have her preach at my ordination and it has been the most amazing experience to learn from and to work side by side with a priest who is so deeply dedicated to the Church and its people; a priest who exemplifies the ordination vow to be a faithful pastor; a priest who is also a great friend.
When I interviewed here, I asked Lauren why she thought this church was doing so well while so many others seem to be struggling. There are many reasons, of course, many of whom are in this room, but Lauren said she believed that the fact that Grace has at lest one service of public worship every day of the year was an important reason.
Over my three years here I have come to believe that’s true. So much prayer in that beautiful building has a powerful spiritual effect. I also compare our daily services to the Sunday New York Times. I’m probably not going to read it all or maybe not even most of it, but it’s nice to know it’s there. So, even when I’ve missed a weekday service, it was comforting to know that at least one person was there praying for all of us.
When I began thinking about a gift for the parish, I thought about how much the weekday services have meant to me. Now, Lauren and I and the worship leaders know that the books containing the weekday lessons are falling apart. So, it may not be very dramatic, but it’s very meaningful to me to give to you a new set of lesson books; it’s very meaningful that these books will help with daily prayer in a place that has been a place of prayer for me and where I learned that love is a verb.
Uncomfortable Words
Grace Episcopal Church, Madison NJ
August 15, 2010
Year C, Proper 15: The Twelfth Sunday after Pentecost
Isaiah 5:1-7
Psalm 80 1-2, 8-18
(Hebrews 11:29-12:2)
Luke 12:49-56
Uncomfortable Words
Well, I don’t know about you, but I was hoping we were going to hear something a little more upbeat today. It’s an emotional day – we have a baptism at the 10:00 service, which is always an occasion for tears of joy and wonder – and sometimes shrieks of anger as water is poured over a baby’s head. And, as most of you are sick of hearing about by now, today is my last day as your curate. Tomorrow morning the movers arrive and Sue and I begin a journey into our exciting and humid future in Florida.
So, I admit I was hoping for something a little easier, a little lighter, a little more comfortable today. In our Rite I service we continue the very old Anglican practice of saying scripture verses known as the “Comfortable Words.” Now, one of those would have been great today. “Come unto me, all ye that travail and are heavy laden, and I will refresh you.” “God so loved the world that he gave his only begotten Son, to the end that all that believe in him should not perish, but have everlasting life.” Much better, right?
But, instead we get uncomfortable words. We began with a rich passage from the Prophet Isaiah, what’s called “The Song of the Vineyard.” The prophet compares Israel to a vineyard. God did everything God could to nurture Israel and expected it to produce good fruit.
We’re told that instead Israel produced “wild grapes.” And so the prophet tells us that God will withdraw God’s protection from the land and it will be destroyed. Uncomfortable words.
Of course, this song isn’t about growing grapes – it’s about human behavior, or misbehavior. It’s about how we respond to the great gifts God has given us – the gift of life itself, this beautiful planet, our families and friends, the Church, the ability to love and to create. It’s a song about how so often we take these beautiful gifts and warps them into something horrible.
The prophet writes that God “expected justice, but saw bloodshed; righteousness, but heard a cry!”
And that sums up much of the human story then and now, doesn’t it? From the senseless murder of a hard-working restaurant worker and family man just a few miles away in Summit to the senseless massacre of ten medical workers in Afghanistan, still today God expects justice, yet sees bloodshed. Right now, at least 80% of the world is living on less than $10 a day. Still today God expects righteousness, yet hears cries.
Bloodshed and tears are still the status quo for much of humanity.
The life and mission of Jesus was about challenging that bloody and tearful status quo. In his parables, Jesus reveals what God is really like. God is like the father who can’t wait, who runs out to welcome the prodigal son who has returned. God is like the shepherd who is willing to go out and search for the one sheep that got away.
In his teaching, Jesus reveals what God is really like. Jesus went around teaching people to love their enemies, to forgive seven times seventy times. Jesus went around telling people to give away their possessions. Jesus went around telling people that we are to show mercy to the outcast, the outsider, the bloody near-dead man lying by the side of the road, even if that means risking our status or even our lives.
In his vision, Jesus reveals what God is really like. Jesus went around telling people that the kingdom of God was coming near and in God’s kingdom blessed are the poor, blessed are the hungry, the weeping and the hated. Jesus went around telling people that the kingdom of God was coming near and in God’s kingdom woe to the rich, woe to those who are full, woe to those who are laughing and spoken well of.
In his actions, Jesus reveals what God is really like. God is not impressed or intimidated by the powers of the world. God is not satisfied with the ways of the world. God is always calling us something better, to the transformed world Jesus called the kingdom of God.
In his death and resurrection, Jesus reveals what God is really like. God still loves us even when we reject and rebel against that love – and despite what the world thinks, love is stronger than death itself.
Jesus knew very well that challenging the status quo would rock the world. And so it’s not the meek and mild Jesus we heard today. It’s the totally honest and realistic Jesus. “I came to bring fire to the earth, and how I wish it were already kindled!” “Do you think that I have come to bring peace to the earth? No, I tell you, but rather division!”
Uncomfortable words.
As some of you remember, for a long time in our country, going to church, being a Christian in the most superficial sense, was simply what people did. It was part of the culture. Being a Christian was mainstream, normal. There was very little cost – beyond paying one’s pledge – to being that kind of Christian.
In the past few decades the culture has changed, and at least in our part of the country churchgoing is not so normal anymore. (We’ll see about Florida!) But, there are now many young adults who have no experience of church, have only the haziest understanding of who Jesus is, of what Christianity is all about.
Back in the 1970s the people who created our prayer book had the insight to recognize how the culture was changing. The Church realized it had to be a lot more explicit about what it means to be a Christian. The Church had to be a lot clearer about the cost of being a disciple of Jesus Christ. The Church had to underline that Jesus upset the status quo and so we are called to upset the status quo, too. The people who crafted the prayer book realized they needed to include some uncomfortable words.
And they put those uncomfortable words in what may seem an unlikely place – the baptism service. But, if you think about it, it makes sense. In baptism we are transformed by the Holy Spirit and given the grace, the strength, the power to continue the work of Jesus right here and now. And that work will make us anything but comfortable. So, here are the uncomfortable words, the uncomfortable questions, the uncomfortable challenges of the Baptismal Covenant:
“Will you continue in the apostles’ teaching and fellowship, in the breaking of bread, and in the prayers?” Even when it’s inconvenient, even when we don’t feel like it, even when people think we’re weird?
“Will you persevere in resisting evil, and, whenever you fall into sin, repent and return to the Lord?” Do we resist that status quo of the world? Do we resist when the culture tells us profit above all, cut corners, nobody will ever know, look out for number one? Do we resist peer pressure in the office, or in school, or even in the emails and text messages we receive and send? And if we mess up are we courageous enough to confess, dust ourselves off, and try better?
“Will you proclaim by word and example the Good News of God in Christ?” Do we live our lives in such a way so that when people see us they say hey, maybe there really is something to this Christianity stuff?
“Will you seek and serve Christ in all persons, loving your neighbor as yourself?” and “Will you strive for justice and peace among all people, and respect the dignity of every human being?” Is there anything more counter-cultural, more upsetting to the status quo than loving your neighbor as yourself and respecting the dignity of every human being?
Uncomfortable questions. We can’t do any of this alone, of course. And that’s why in the Baptismal Covenant, we respond to each uncomfortable question with, “I will, with God’s help.” Or as I heard someone once say, maybe “With God’s help, I will” would be a better response.
But, if we’re open and willing, with God’s help so much is possible. I know that’s true because over the past three years here at Grace I’ve seen so many people take these uncomfortable words so seriously, not counting the cost. I’ve seen in countless, often small and nearly invisible ways people living profoundly Christian lives – loving wholeheartedly, giving generously, setting aside prejudices, joining together in prayer and work and fellowship. I’ve seen people live out the uncomfortable words of Jesus.
So, in baptism this is what we sign up for – or more often – get signed up for. If we take seriously continuing the work of Jesus, then, with God’s help, we will offer uncomfortable words, we will live uncomfortable lives, and we will challenge the status quo. If we take seriously the uncomfortable words of Jesus, with God’s help, together we will transform the world into the vineyard God always intended it to be, the vineyard God dreams of still.
Amen.
August 15, 2010
Year C, Proper 15: The Twelfth Sunday after Pentecost
Isaiah 5:1-7
Psalm 80 1-2, 8-18
(Hebrews 11:29-12:2)
Luke 12:49-56
Uncomfortable Words
Well, I don’t know about you, but I was hoping we were going to hear something a little more upbeat today. It’s an emotional day – we have a baptism at the 10:00 service, which is always an occasion for tears of joy and wonder – and sometimes shrieks of anger as water is poured over a baby’s head. And, as most of you are sick of hearing about by now, today is my last day as your curate. Tomorrow morning the movers arrive and Sue and I begin a journey into our exciting and humid future in Florida.
So, I admit I was hoping for something a little easier, a little lighter, a little more comfortable today. In our Rite I service we continue the very old Anglican practice of saying scripture verses known as the “Comfortable Words.” Now, one of those would have been great today. “Come unto me, all ye that travail and are heavy laden, and I will refresh you.” “God so loved the world that he gave his only begotten Son, to the end that all that believe in him should not perish, but have everlasting life.” Much better, right?
But, instead we get uncomfortable words. We began with a rich passage from the Prophet Isaiah, what’s called “The Song of the Vineyard.” The prophet compares Israel to a vineyard. God did everything God could to nurture Israel and expected it to produce good fruit.
We’re told that instead Israel produced “wild grapes.” And so the prophet tells us that God will withdraw God’s protection from the land and it will be destroyed. Uncomfortable words.
Of course, this song isn’t about growing grapes – it’s about human behavior, or misbehavior. It’s about how we respond to the great gifts God has given us – the gift of life itself, this beautiful planet, our families and friends, the Church, the ability to love and to create. It’s a song about how so often we take these beautiful gifts and warps them into something horrible.
The prophet writes that God “expected justice, but saw bloodshed; righteousness, but heard a cry!”
And that sums up much of the human story then and now, doesn’t it? From the senseless murder of a hard-working restaurant worker and family man just a few miles away in Summit to the senseless massacre of ten medical workers in Afghanistan, still today God expects justice, yet sees bloodshed. Right now, at least 80% of the world is living on less than $10 a day. Still today God expects righteousness, yet hears cries.
Bloodshed and tears are still the status quo for much of humanity.
The life and mission of Jesus was about challenging that bloody and tearful status quo. In his parables, Jesus reveals what God is really like. God is like the father who can’t wait, who runs out to welcome the prodigal son who has returned. God is like the shepherd who is willing to go out and search for the one sheep that got away.
In his teaching, Jesus reveals what God is really like. Jesus went around teaching people to love their enemies, to forgive seven times seventy times. Jesus went around telling people to give away their possessions. Jesus went around telling people that we are to show mercy to the outcast, the outsider, the bloody near-dead man lying by the side of the road, even if that means risking our status or even our lives.
In his vision, Jesus reveals what God is really like. Jesus went around telling people that the kingdom of God was coming near and in God’s kingdom blessed are the poor, blessed are the hungry, the weeping and the hated. Jesus went around telling people that the kingdom of God was coming near and in God’s kingdom woe to the rich, woe to those who are full, woe to those who are laughing and spoken well of.
In his actions, Jesus reveals what God is really like. God is not impressed or intimidated by the powers of the world. God is not satisfied with the ways of the world. God is always calling us something better, to the transformed world Jesus called the kingdom of God.
In his death and resurrection, Jesus reveals what God is really like. God still loves us even when we reject and rebel against that love – and despite what the world thinks, love is stronger than death itself.
Jesus knew very well that challenging the status quo would rock the world. And so it’s not the meek and mild Jesus we heard today. It’s the totally honest and realistic Jesus. “I came to bring fire to the earth, and how I wish it were already kindled!” “Do you think that I have come to bring peace to the earth? No, I tell you, but rather division!”
Uncomfortable words.
As some of you remember, for a long time in our country, going to church, being a Christian in the most superficial sense, was simply what people did. It was part of the culture. Being a Christian was mainstream, normal. There was very little cost – beyond paying one’s pledge – to being that kind of Christian.
In the past few decades the culture has changed, and at least in our part of the country churchgoing is not so normal anymore. (We’ll see about Florida!) But, there are now many young adults who have no experience of church, have only the haziest understanding of who Jesus is, of what Christianity is all about.
Back in the 1970s the people who created our prayer book had the insight to recognize how the culture was changing. The Church realized it had to be a lot more explicit about what it means to be a Christian. The Church had to be a lot clearer about the cost of being a disciple of Jesus Christ. The Church had to underline that Jesus upset the status quo and so we are called to upset the status quo, too. The people who crafted the prayer book realized they needed to include some uncomfortable words.
And they put those uncomfortable words in what may seem an unlikely place – the baptism service. But, if you think about it, it makes sense. In baptism we are transformed by the Holy Spirit and given the grace, the strength, the power to continue the work of Jesus right here and now. And that work will make us anything but comfortable. So, here are the uncomfortable words, the uncomfortable questions, the uncomfortable challenges of the Baptismal Covenant:
“Will you continue in the apostles’ teaching and fellowship, in the breaking of bread, and in the prayers?” Even when it’s inconvenient, even when we don’t feel like it, even when people think we’re weird?
“Will you persevere in resisting evil, and, whenever you fall into sin, repent and return to the Lord?” Do we resist that status quo of the world? Do we resist when the culture tells us profit above all, cut corners, nobody will ever know, look out for number one? Do we resist peer pressure in the office, or in school, or even in the emails and text messages we receive and send? And if we mess up are we courageous enough to confess, dust ourselves off, and try better?
“Will you proclaim by word and example the Good News of God in Christ?” Do we live our lives in such a way so that when people see us they say hey, maybe there really is something to this Christianity stuff?
“Will you seek and serve Christ in all persons, loving your neighbor as yourself?” and “Will you strive for justice and peace among all people, and respect the dignity of every human being?” Is there anything more counter-cultural, more upsetting to the status quo than loving your neighbor as yourself and respecting the dignity of every human being?
Uncomfortable questions. We can’t do any of this alone, of course. And that’s why in the Baptismal Covenant, we respond to each uncomfortable question with, “I will, with God’s help.” Or as I heard someone once say, maybe “With God’s help, I will” would be a better response.
But, if we’re open and willing, with God’s help so much is possible. I know that’s true because over the past three years here at Grace I’ve seen so many people take these uncomfortable words so seriously, not counting the cost. I’ve seen in countless, often small and nearly invisible ways people living profoundly Christian lives – loving wholeheartedly, giving generously, setting aside prejudices, joining together in prayer and work and fellowship. I’ve seen people live out the uncomfortable words of Jesus.
So, in baptism this is what we sign up for – or more often – get signed up for. If we take seriously continuing the work of Jesus, then, with God’s help, we will offer uncomfortable words, we will live uncomfortable lives, and we will challenge the status quo. If we take seriously the uncomfortable words of Jesus, with God’s help, together we will transform the world into the vineyard God always intended it to be, the vineyard God dreams of still.
Amen.
Sunday, August 08, 2010
More Mindfulness, Less Anxiety
Grace Episcopal Church, Madison NJ
August 8, 2010
Year C, Proper 14: The Eleventh Sunday after Pentecost
Isaiah 1:1, 10-20
Psalm 50:1-8, 23-24
(Hebrews 11:1-3, 8-16)
Luke 12:32-40
More Mindfulness, Less Anxiety
I’ve been here just under three years, so now that we’ve gotten to know each other, I’ll admit that by nature I’m a pretty anxious person. I tend to worry about all sorts of things. Some of you know that last year Sue and I went through the ordeal of selling our house in Jersey City. In reality we hit some stumbling blocks, but as these things go, it was a fairly quick sale. In my mind, though, anxiety was in control. I had convinced myself that we would never be free of this house – that this house would haunt us for the rest of our lives. I imagined a newspaper article with the headline, “Couple Tries to Sell House for 30 Years.” For months I had trouble focusing on anything else and I know at least one person was praying for me.
Anxiety. The house was just a thing. Even if we didn’t sell it as quickly as we’d like, Sue and I were able to pay our bills. We had great people helping us. And eventually all houses, including ours, get sold. But still for a while I was nearly consumed by anxiety.
I was very much aware of my anxious nature when I began the ordination process nearly ten years ago. Ironically, one of the things that made me anxious was the idea that priests are supposed to provide a non-anxious presence. Yes, I was anxious about being non-anxious!
This was an especially big issue the summer I did what’s called Clinical Pastoral Education at Christ Hospital in Jersey City. In our training we were reminded that as chaplains we had the awesome responsibility and privilege of being signs of God’s presence with people who were frightened by their own illness or injury – or worried about someone they loved. Just thinking about that made me more anxious.
So, when I went into hospital rooms I worked very hard at projecting a non-anxious presence, all while my anxiety was causing my stomach to churn. But, with experience, I became pretty good at projecting – OK, faking - a non-anxious presence. In fact, I became too good at it.
After describing several hospital room visits, in which I said very little and maintained what I hoped was a pleasant, non-anxious expression on my face, my supervisor became concerned. She realized that I had been so focused on me, on being a non-anxious presence that I wasn’t expressing to these suffering people that I understood at least in part the pain, fear, anger, confusion and, yes, anxiety, they were feeling. These suffering people weren’t sure that I really got it.
I was so busy paying attention to what was going on inside me and what I was projecting to others, that I wasn’t being mindful of what was happening in those hospital rooms. My efforts to hide anxiety prevented me from offering compassion.
My supervisor told me that sometimes the best pastoral care we can give is saying to a suffering person, “This is really terrible.” Sometimes, depending on the person, more colorful language is called for. And after many experiences I’ve come to know that it’s true – suffering people want to know that the people around them understand that they’re going through something horrible. Suffering people want to know that we’re paying attention to them – not to how their suffering is making us feel. We have to recognize and acknowledge the anxiety we feel. Once that’s out of the way, it’s possible to offer real compassion and comfort.
The truth is, though, often we just get stuck at anxiety – which never produces anything positive. Our house didn’t sell any faster or for a higher price because of all my worrying. My anxiety just made me miserable, made the lives of those around me not so much fun, and distracted me from all the ways that God was at work in the world.
So, it should be no surprise that many, if not all, religious traditions call us to mindfulness. When we’re mindful we focus on what’s most important. When we’re mindful we remember God’s love and all the many gifts we receive every day. We remember what a gift it is to just be alive, to breathe, to love and to be loved. And sure enough, when we’re mindful anxiety seems to fade at least a bit, and we become more loving and peaceful people.
More mindfulness, less anxiety.
There’s no doubt we live in a time of great anxiety. It’s easy to be anxious. It’s hard to be mindful. We all know the economy continues to sputter. The war in Iraq has cost us precious blood and many billions of dollars and yet yielded less than satisfactory results. Meanwhile in Afghanistan we’re faced with the dreaded and familiar problem of not knowing who’s an ally and who’s an enemy. Here at home there’s great concern about the influx of undocumented immigrants, while at the same time we depend on them to harvest our food, clean our homes, mow our lawns, and much more. And this hot summer may just be a taste of what’s to come if the earth continues to heat up, in part because of the massive amounts of carbon we spew into the atmosphere.
These are all real issues. And many of us face our own personal challenges and worries. The question for us is, do we get stuck at anxiety? Do we expend vast amounts of energy worrying or getting angry or casting blame? If we get stuck at anxiety we never get anywhere – we just make ourselves miserable, make the people around us miserable, and get distracted from all the ways that God is at work in the world.
In the gospel, Jesus warns us about anxiety. In the section of the Gospel of Luke just before what we heard today, we have Jesus’ famous words about anxiety, or worry:
“And can any of you by worrying add a single hour to your span of life? If then you are not able to do so small a thing as that, why do you worry about the rest? Consider the lilies how they grow: they neither toil nor spin; yet, I tell you, even Solomon in all his glory was not clothed like one of these.”
Jesus knows that anxiety gets us nowhere. As he says in today’s lesson, “Do not be afraid, little flock, for it is your Father’s good pleasure to give you the kingdom.”
Jesus says don’t be anxious. Instead, Jesus calls us to be mindful.
More mindfulness, less anxiety.
After reassuring us of God’s love and generosity, Jesus says, “sell your possessions, and give alms.” This is always difficult to talk about, because, of course, there are some things we need to live our lives and to take care of our families. But, speaking as someone who is moving next week, and as someone who has tried over these past three years not to accumulate possessions, man, we have a lot of stuff. All that stuff can be a big source of anxiety. We could live quite well on so much less. We could use that money for the good of those who have far, far less than we do. Today’s gospel is a call to mindfulness. We live better than just about anyone else on the planet.
Then there’s one of Jesus’ famous lines, “For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.” Again, Jesus calls us to mindfulness. From time to time we should stop and pray and think. What do we really treasure? What’s most important to us? Is it our stuff? Is it the size of our bank accounts? Is it our address? Is it our level of education? Is it our appearance? Is it our status at work or in the community?
What do we really treasure? What’s most important to us? Is it our families and friends? Is it our church? Is it the opportunity to offer service to others?
Does how we live our lives, the choices we make, reflect what we treasure? Does how we live our lives reflect what’s most important to us?
Finally Luke quotes Jesus looking ahead to the end and calling us to be mindful, “You also must be ready, for the Son of Man is coming at an unexpected hour.”
Jesus gives us a sense of urgency. There’s no time to waste. And, the truth is, if we live mindfully, then we we’re less likely to put off what’s most important. We’re less likely to say I’ll love later when I have more time. If we live mindfully, we’re less likely to say, maybe next year I’ll volunteer, maybe next year I’ll give a little more. If we live mindfully, we’re less likely to say, next time I move I’ll simplify my life.
Part of being mindful is recognizing that we don’t know how much time we have. So, now’s the time to acknowledge our anxiety. Yes, there are big problems in the world and many of us face big personal challenges. Yet, when we’re mindful, when we pay attention, we remember the many gifts we’ve been given, we can be more compassionate to the suffering of others, and we find that at least some of our anxiety fades.
More mindfulness, less anxiety.
Amen.
August 8, 2010
Year C, Proper 14: The Eleventh Sunday after Pentecost
Isaiah 1:1, 10-20
Psalm 50:1-8, 23-24
(Hebrews 11:1-3, 8-16)
Luke 12:32-40
More Mindfulness, Less Anxiety
I’ve been here just under three years, so now that we’ve gotten to know each other, I’ll admit that by nature I’m a pretty anxious person. I tend to worry about all sorts of things. Some of you know that last year Sue and I went through the ordeal of selling our house in Jersey City. In reality we hit some stumbling blocks, but as these things go, it was a fairly quick sale. In my mind, though, anxiety was in control. I had convinced myself that we would never be free of this house – that this house would haunt us for the rest of our lives. I imagined a newspaper article with the headline, “Couple Tries to Sell House for 30 Years.” For months I had trouble focusing on anything else and I know at least one person was praying for me.
Anxiety. The house was just a thing. Even if we didn’t sell it as quickly as we’d like, Sue and I were able to pay our bills. We had great people helping us. And eventually all houses, including ours, get sold. But still for a while I was nearly consumed by anxiety.
I was very much aware of my anxious nature when I began the ordination process nearly ten years ago. Ironically, one of the things that made me anxious was the idea that priests are supposed to provide a non-anxious presence. Yes, I was anxious about being non-anxious!
This was an especially big issue the summer I did what’s called Clinical Pastoral Education at Christ Hospital in Jersey City. In our training we were reminded that as chaplains we had the awesome responsibility and privilege of being signs of God’s presence with people who were frightened by their own illness or injury – or worried about someone they loved. Just thinking about that made me more anxious.
So, when I went into hospital rooms I worked very hard at projecting a non-anxious presence, all while my anxiety was causing my stomach to churn. But, with experience, I became pretty good at projecting – OK, faking - a non-anxious presence. In fact, I became too good at it.
After describing several hospital room visits, in which I said very little and maintained what I hoped was a pleasant, non-anxious expression on my face, my supervisor became concerned. She realized that I had been so focused on me, on being a non-anxious presence that I wasn’t expressing to these suffering people that I understood at least in part the pain, fear, anger, confusion and, yes, anxiety, they were feeling. These suffering people weren’t sure that I really got it.
I was so busy paying attention to what was going on inside me and what I was projecting to others, that I wasn’t being mindful of what was happening in those hospital rooms. My efforts to hide anxiety prevented me from offering compassion.
My supervisor told me that sometimes the best pastoral care we can give is saying to a suffering person, “This is really terrible.” Sometimes, depending on the person, more colorful language is called for. And after many experiences I’ve come to know that it’s true – suffering people want to know that the people around them understand that they’re going through something horrible. Suffering people want to know that we’re paying attention to them – not to how their suffering is making us feel. We have to recognize and acknowledge the anxiety we feel. Once that’s out of the way, it’s possible to offer real compassion and comfort.
The truth is, though, often we just get stuck at anxiety – which never produces anything positive. Our house didn’t sell any faster or for a higher price because of all my worrying. My anxiety just made me miserable, made the lives of those around me not so much fun, and distracted me from all the ways that God was at work in the world.
So, it should be no surprise that many, if not all, religious traditions call us to mindfulness. When we’re mindful we focus on what’s most important. When we’re mindful we remember God’s love and all the many gifts we receive every day. We remember what a gift it is to just be alive, to breathe, to love and to be loved. And sure enough, when we’re mindful anxiety seems to fade at least a bit, and we become more loving and peaceful people.
More mindfulness, less anxiety.
There’s no doubt we live in a time of great anxiety. It’s easy to be anxious. It’s hard to be mindful. We all know the economy continues to sputter. The war in Iraq has cost us precious blood and many billions of dollars and yet yielded less than satisfactory results. Meanwhile in Afghanistan we’re faced with the dreaded and familiar problem of not knowing who’s an ally and who’s an enemy. Here at home there’s great concern about the influx of undocumented immigrants, while at the same time we depend on them to harvest our food, clean our homes, mow our lawns, and much more. And this hot summer may just be a taste of what’s to come if the earth continues to heat up, in part because of the massive amounts of carbon we spew into the atmosphere.
These are all real issues. And many of us face our own personal challenges and worries. The question for us is, do we get stuck at anxiety? Do we expend vast amounts of energy worrying or getting angry or casting blame? If we get stuck at anxiety we never get anywhere – we just make ourselves miserable, make the people around us miserable, and get distracted from all the ways that God is at work in the world.
In the gospel, Jesus warns us about anxiety. In the section of the Gospel of Luke just before what we heard today, we have Jesus’ famous words about anxiety, or worry:
“And can any of you by worrying add a single hour to your span of life? If then you are not able to do so small a thing as that, why do you worry about the rest? Consider the lilies how they grow: they neither toil nor spin; yet, I tell you, even Solomon in all his glory was not clothed like one of these.”
Jesus knows that anxiety gets us nowhere. As he says in today’s lesson, “Do not be afraid, little flock, for it is your Father’s good pleasure to give you the kingdom.”
Jesus says don’t be anxious. Instead, Jesus calls us to be mindful.
More mindfulness, less anxiety.
After reassuring us of God’s love and generosity, Jesus says, “sell your possessions, and give alms.” This is always difficult to talk about, because, of course, there are some things we need to live our lives and to take care of our families. But, speaking as someone who is moving next week, and as someone who has tried over these past three years not to accumulate possessions, man, we have a lot of stuff. All that stuff can be a big source of anxiety. We could live quite well on so much less. We could use that money for the good of those who have far, far less than we do. Today’s gospel is a call to mindfulness. We live better than just about anyone else on the planet.
Then there’s one of Jesus’ famous lines, “For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.” Again, Jesus calls us to mindfulness. From time to time we should stop and pray and think. What do we really treasure? What’s most important to us? Is it our stuff? Is it the size of our bank accounts? Is it our address? Is it our level of education? Is it our appearance? Is it our status at work or in the community?
What do we really treasure? What’s most important to us? Is it our families and friends? Is it our church? Is it the opportunity to offer service to others?
Does how we live our lives, the choices we make, reflect what we treasure? Does how we live our lives reflect what’s most important to us?
Finally Luke quotes Jesus looking ahead to the end and calling us to be mindful, “You also must be ready, for the Son of Man is coming at an unexpected hour.”
Jesus gives us a sense of urgency. There’s no time to waste. And, the truth is, if we live mindfully, then we we’re less likely to put off what’s most important. We’re less likely to say I’ll love later when I have more time. If we live mindfully, we’re less likely to say, maybe next year I’ll volunteer, maybe next year I’ll give a little more. If we live mindfully, we’re less likely to say, next time I move I’ll simplify my life.
Part of being mindful is recognizing that we don’t know how much time we have. So, now’s the time to acknowledge our anxiety. Yes, there are big problems in the world and many of us face big personal challenges. Yet, when we’re mindful, when we pay attention, we remember the many gifts we’ve been given, we can be more compassionate to the suffering of others, and we find that at least some of our anxiety fades.
More mindfulness, less anxiety.
Amen.
Sunday, August 01, 2010
One Big Thing
Grace Episcopal Church, Madison NJ
August 1, 2010
Year C, Proper 13: The Tenth Sunday after Pentecost
Hosea 11:1-11
Psalm 107:1-9, 43
(Colossians 3:1-11)
Luke 12:13-21
The One Big Thing
The story of Mary and Martha is still on my mind. This past Thursday was their feast day and you may remember that a couple of Sundays ago we heard the story of Jesus and his disciples visiting the home of these two sisters who react to his presence in very different ways. Martha is busy with her many tasks while Mary sits at Jesus’ feet, hanging on every word. Martha expresses understandable frustration at her sister, but Jesus says, “Martha, Martha, you are worried and distracted by many things; there is need of only one thing. Mary has chosen the better part, which will not be taken away from her.”
“There is need of only one thing.”
An ancient Greek poet famously said, “The fox knows many things, but the hedgehog knows one big thing.” And when it comes to how we live our lives we’re really supposed to be spiritual hedgehogs – knowing and focused on that one big thing.
But, what is that one thing Mary has chosen? What is the one big thing we’re supposed to know and focus on? Well, when Jesus summarizes the Law, he tells us that the one big thing – the one big thing we are to know and focus on, is love of God and love of neighbor. We are meant to be spiritual hedgehogs living our lives focused on that – loving God and loving our neighbors as ourselves.
Over the centuries, many Christians have offered their own takes on the one big thing – on how to live as spiritual hedgehogs. One of the best definitions of “the one big thing” comes from Ignatius of Loyola, whose feast day, it so happens, was yesterday. (It was a good week for the church calendar!)
Ignatius, who lived during the first half of the 16th Century, is best known as the founder of the Jesuits and also as a master of discernment. He wrote an entire manual to help people figure out how they could choose “the better part”, to help people recognize the one big thing, to help people be spiritual hedgehogs – living lives focused on the one big thing.
At the start of his manual, called The Spiritual Exercises, Ignatius defines the purpose of human life. He writes, “Human beings are created to praise, reverence, and serve God our Lord, and by means of this to save their souls.”
For Ignatius, that’s what it’s all about – that’s the one big thing – to praise, reverence and serve God. His next sentence is interesting. He writes, “The other things on the face of the earth are created for the human beings, to help them in working toward the end for which they were created.”
So, for Ignatius, the material world exists to help us live as spiritual hedgehogs knowing and focused on the one big thing - praising, reverencing and serving God, loving God, loving our neighbor.
And then Ignatius continues, “From this it follows that I should use these things to the extent that they help me toward my end, and rid myself of them to the extent that they hinder me.”
So any material goods that help us live as spiritual hedgehogs, praising, reverencing and serving God are perfectly fine. But, Ignatius insists, if material things get in the way of knowing and focusing on the one big thing, then we need to get rid of them. Material things are means, not ends.
Finally, Ignatius throws us a tough one: “To do this, I must make myself indifferent to all created things…”
Indifferent is kind of a funny word. At best, it sounds neutral, right? “Where do you want to go to dinner tonight – Houlihan’s or TGI Fridays’s?” “Eh, I don’t care, it doesn’t matter, I’m indifferent.”
Or, sometimes there’s a negative meaning to indifference, like when all too often we are indifferent to the suffering of others.
But, Ignatius actually puts a positive spin on indifference. Of course, Ignatius believed that we should be caring people – that’s really the whole point - but he believed we should be caring people who care only about the one big thing. Ignatius insisted that we should be indifferent about everything except praising, reverencing and serving God. We should be indifferent to everything except loving God and loving our neighbor as ourselves.
Ignatius believed we should be indifferent to material things because he understood the dangers of idolatry. Loving material things more than we love God and our neighbor - idolatry - never really satisfies us. Loving material things more than we love God and our neighbor – idolatry – is a distortion of who we are meant to be and who we really are. Loving material things more than we love God and our neighbor - idolatry – means forgetting the one big thing and instead focusing on and trusting in the fragile and the temporary. And, in the end, loving material things more than we love God and our neighbor – idolatry – leads to disaster.
Which brings us to today’s gospel lesson – the parable of the rich fool. Just as an aside – I don’t know whether it’s on purpose or by accident, but the setting of this parable in Luke’s gospel is a nice, subtle example of putting our needs first, of forgetting or missing the one big thing. Here’s the scene: Jesus is teaching a large group of people. Jesus is speaking very seriously about the costs of following him, but also offers reassurance. According to Luke, Jesus says,
“When they bring you before the synagogues, the rulers, and the authorities, do not worry about how you are to defend yourselves or what you are to say; for the Holy Spirit will teach you at that very hour what you ought to say.” Serious business, right? A reminder of the one big thing of how we are meant to live our lives – despite the cost. Probably the best response to Jesus’ words would be to be quiet, think and pray. Instead, the very next verse is the start of today’s lesson:
“Someone in the crowd said to him, ‘Teacher, tell my brother to divide the family inheritance with me.’” It reminds me of my teaching days, when we’d be in class talking about something important, like, say, the First Amendment, and some knucklehead would raise his hand and ask something like, “Mr. Murphy, why do you still call it a blackboard, when it’s actually green?”
Anyway, here’s Jesus, here’s the messiah, right there in front of you, talking about the one big thing, talking about the cost of following him, promising the gift of the Holy Spirit, and this guy is concerned only about his inheritance- a nice little example of idolatry – loving material things more than loving God and neighbor.
In the parable of the rich fool, Jesus gives us an almost cartoonish example of idolatry. The rich man has an abundance of crops and instead of offering his surplus to his family or to his neighbors – he builds larger barns, thinking he’s now guaranteed himself security. His kind of idolatry is concern only for himself – he thinks that taking care of “number one” is the one big thing. Big mistake. Sure enough his idolatry leads to disaster.
God says, “You fool! This very night your life is being demanded of you. And the things you have prepared, whose will they be?” Jesus concludes the parable, “So it is with those who store up treasures for themselves but are not rich toward God.”
It’s one of Jesus’ clearest parables – to be honest, it pretty much preaches itself.
And after getting to know you over these past three years, I can say with confidence that this parable doesn’t really have much to do with us. I’ve never met a single person here who is concerned only with himself or herself. I can’t think of a single person who only looks out for “number one” and then sits back, relaxes and says, “Now I can eat, drink and be merry.”
That’s not our kind of idolatry. Our kind of idolatry is Martha’s kind of idolatry. For some of us, idolatry is when all the many tasks and concerns of life – all good things as far as it goes – prevent us from the one big thing – praising, reverencing and serving God, loving God and loving neighbor. For some of us idolatry is getting so attached to certain places and things, that they become little gods to us. For some of us idolatry is focusing on our work so that our career becomes a god to us. Our idolatry is thinking there will always be time later on for love of God, and for love of neighbor; there will always be time later on for our families and friends. Big mistake.
Our kind of idolatry isn’t as blatant as the rich fool of the parable, but it is idolatry all the same. We get distracted and forget the one big thing. In our idolatry the means becomes the end.
If it’s any consolation, all the different kinds of idolatry have been around for a long time. The prophet Hosea was a near-contemporary of the prophet Amos, from whom we heard a couple of weeks ago. Hosea lived in the 8th Century BC when the Jewish people were divided into two kingdoms, Judah in the South and Israel in the North. Hosea is actually the only purely northern prophet in the Bible. This was a time of great prosperity – at least for some – in Israel. But, it was also a time when many people forgot the one big thing – love of God and love of neighbor. In some cases, their idolatry may have been more obvious than ours – at the time a lot of people’s names included “Baal,” the name of a major Canaanite god. But, I’m sure in most cases they were people trying to get through the day, earn a living, get ahead in the world, and do right by their families. I’m sure most of them were people like us, who because of our many distractions and pressures forget the one big thing, people who grew too attached to places and things.
A couple of weeks ago we heard Amos warn Israel that the Day of the Lord – the day of God’s anger and punishment – was coming.
But, in the passage we heard today, Hosea offers a different message, a profound and very comforting insight into the nature of God. Hosea takes us into the mind of God. Hosea depicts God as sad and disappointed.
God seems to be talking to God’s Self, saying, “The more I called them, the more they went from me; they kept sacrificing to the Baals, and offering incense to idols.” But despite God’s disappointment, God can’t seem to turn away from God’s people. God says, “How can I hand you over, O Israel?”
In a sense, God is a spiritual hedgehog. God is love, knowing and focusing on one big thing, love for us and for all of creation.
God is love, and we are made to praise, reverence and serve God. We are made to love God and love our neighbor as ourselves. That’s who we really are. That’s what life is all about. That’s the one big thing.
So, my fellow spiritual hedgehogs, we’re not like the rich fool, caring only for ourselves – storing up our material goods so we can eat, drink and be merry. That’s not our kind of idolatry. But, we are like Martha – distracted by our many tasks and problems. We get so attached to places and things; we get so focused on our careers and our work, that we forget the one big thing. We put off for some other day what’s most important. We can become foxes who know many things, who focus on many things, but forget the one big thing.
But, here’s the good news: Hosea shows us that despite our idolatry, God is always, no matter what, focused on loving us.
So, maybe this is a good time to take Ignatius’ advice and ask God’s help to refocus our lives on the one big thing – praising, reverencing and serving God; loving God and loving our neighbor. Maybe this is a good time to be like Mary, to be a spiritual hedgehog, knowing and focusing on the one big thing.
Amen.
August 1, 2010
Year C, Proper 13: The Tenth Sunday after Pentecost
Hosea 11:1-11
Psalm 107:1-9, 43
(Colossians 3:1-11)
Luke 12:13-21
The One Big Thing
The story of Mary and Martha is still on my mind. This past Thursday was their feast day and you may remember that a couple of Sundays ago we heard the story of Jesus and his disciples visiting the home of these two sisters who react to his presence in very different ways. Martha is busy with her many tasks while Mary sits at Jesus’ feet, hanging on every word. Martha expresses understandable frustration at her sister, but Jesus says, “Martha, Martha, you are worried and distracted by many things; there is need of only one thing. Mary has chosen the better part, which will not be taken away from her.”
“There is need of only one thing.”
An ancient Greek poet famously said, “The fox knows many things, but the hedgehog knows one big thing.” And when it comes to how we live our lives we’re really supposed to be spiritual hedgehogs – knowing and focused on that one big thing.
But, what is that one thing Mary has chosen? What is the one big thing we’re supposed to know and focus on? Well, when Jesus summarizes the Law, he tells us that the one big thing – the one big thing we are to know and focus on, is love of God and love of neighbor. We are meant to be spiritual hedgehogs living our lives focused on that – loving God and loving our neighbors as ourselves.
Over the centuries, many Christians have offered their own takes on the one big thing – on how to live as spiritual hedgehogs. One of the best definitions of “the one big thing” comes from Ignatius of Loyola, whose feast day, it so happens, was yesterday. (It was a good week for the church calendar!)
Ignatius, who lived during the first half of the 16th Century, is best known as the founder of the Jesuits and also as a master of discernment. He wrote an entire manual to help people figure out how they could choose “the better part”, to help people recognize the one big thing, to help people be spiritual hedgehogs – living lives focused on the one big thing.
At the start of his manual, called The Spiritual Exercises, Ignatius defines the purpose of human life. He writes, “Human beings are created to praise, reverence, and serve God our Lord, and by means of this to save their souls.”
For Ignatius, that’s what it’s all about – that’s the one big thing – to praise, reverence and serve God. His next sentence is interesting. He writes, “The other things on the face of the earth are created for the human beings, to help them in working toward the end for which they were created.”
So, for Ignatius, the material world exists to help us live as spiritual hedgehogs knowing and focused on the one big thing - praising, reverencing and serving God, loving God, loving our neighbor.
And then Ignatius continues, “From this it follows that I should use these things to the extent that they help me toward my end, and rid myself of them to the extent that they hinder me.”
So any material goods that help us live as spiritual hedgehogs, praising, reverencing and serving God are perfectly fine. But, Ignatius insists, if material things get in the way of knowing and focusing on the one big thing, then we need to get rid of them. Material things are means, not ends.
Finally, Ignatius throws us a tough one: “To do this, I must make myself indifferent to all created things…”
Indifferent is kind of a funny word. At best, it sounds neutral, right? “Where do you want to go to dinner tonight – Houlihan’s or TGI Fridays’s?” “Eh, I don’t care, it doesn’t matter, I’m indifferent.”
Or, sometimes there’s a negative meaning to indifference, like when all too often we are indifferent to the suffering of others.
But, Ignatius actually puts a positive spin on indifference. Of course, Ignatius believed that we should be caring people – that’s really the whole point - but he believed we should be caring people who care only about the one big thing. Ignatius insisted that we should be indifferent about everything except praising, reverencing and serving God. We should be indifferent to everything except loving God and loving our neighbor as ourselves.
Ignatius believed we should be indifferent to material things because he understood the dangers of idolatry. Loving material things more than we love God and our neighbor - idolatry - never really satisfies us. Loving material things more than we love God and our neighbor – idolatry – is a distortion of who we are meant to be and who we really are. Loving material things more than we love God and our neighbor - idolatry – means forgetting the one big thing and instead focusing on and trusting in the fragile and the temporary. And, in the end, loving material things more than we love God and our neighbor – idolatry – leads to disaster.
Which brings us to today’s gospel lesson – the parable of the rich fool. Just as an aside – I don’t know whether it’s on purpose or by accident, but the setting of this parable in Luke’s gospel is a nice, subtle example of putting our needs first, of forgetting or missing the one big thing. Here’s the scene: Jesus is teaching a large group of people. Jesus is speaking very seriously about the costs of following him, but also offers reassurance. According to Luke, Jesus says,
“When they bring you before the synagogues, the rulers, and the authorities, do not worry about how you are to defend yourselves or what you are to say; for the Holy Spirit will teach you at that very hour what you ought to say.” Serious business, right? A reminder of the one big thing of how we are meant to live our lives – despite the cost. Probably the best response to Jesus’ words would be to be quiet, think and pray. Instead, the very next verse is the start of today’s lesson:
“Someone in the crowd said to him, ‘Teacher, tell my brother to divide the family inheritance with me.’” It reminds me of my teaching days, when we’d be in class talking about something important, like, say, the First Amendment, and some knucklehead would raise his hand and ask something like, “Mr. Murphy, why do you still call it a blackboard, when it’s actually green?”
Anyway, here’s Jesus, here’s the messiah, right there in front of you, talking about the one big thing, talking about the cost of following him, promising the gift of the Holy Spirit, and this guy is concerned only about his inheritance- a nice little example of idolatry – loving material things more than loving God and neighbor.
In the parable of the rich fool, Jesus gives us an almost cartoonish example of idolatry. The rich man has an abundance of crops and instead of offering his surplus to his family or to his neighbors – he builds larger barns, thinking he’s now guaranteed himself security. His kind of idolatry is concern only for himself – he thinks that taking care of “number one” is the one big thing. Big mistake. Sure enough his idolatry leads to disaster.
God says, “You fool! This very night your life is being demanded of you. And the things you have prepared, whose will they be?” Jesus concludes the parable, “So it is with those who store up treasures for themselves but are not rich toward God.”
It’s one of Jesus’ clearest parables – to be honest, it pretty much preaches itself.
And after getting to know you over these past three years, I can say with confidence that this parable doesn’t really have much to do with us. I’ve never met a single person here who is concerned only with himself or herself. I can’t think of a single person who only looks out for “number one” and then sits back, relaxes and says, “Now I can eat, drink and be merry.”
That’s not our kind of idolatry. Our kind of idolatry is Martha’s kind of idolatry. For some of us, idolatry is when all the many tasks and concerns of life – all good things as far as it goes – prevent us from the one big thing – praising, reverencing and serving God, loving God and loving neighbor. For some of us idolatry is getting so attached to certain places and things, that they become little gods to us. For some of us idolatry is focusing on our work so that our career becomes a god to us. Our idolatry is thinking there will always be time later on for love of God, and for love of neighbor; there will always be time later on for our families and friends. Big mistake.
Our kind of idolatry isn’t as blatant as the rich fool of the parable, but it is idolatry all the same. We get distracted and forget the one big thing. In our idolatry the means becomes the end.
If it’s any consolation, all the different kinds of idolatry have been around for a long time. The prophet Hosea was a near-contemporary of the prophet Amos, from whom we heard a couple of weeks ago. Hosea lived in the 8th Century BC when the Jewish people were divided into two kingdoms, Judah in the South and Israel in the North. Hosea is actually the only purely northern prophet in the Bible. This was a time of great prosperity – at least for some – in Israel. But, it was also a time when many people forgot the one big thing – love of God and love of neighbor. In some cases, their idolatry may have been more obvious than ours – at the time a lot of people’s names included “Baal,” the name of a major Canaanite god. But, I’m sure in most cases they were people trying to get through the day, earn a living, get ahead in the world, and do right by their families. I’m sure most of them were people like us, who because of our many distractions and pressures forget the one big thing, people who grew too attached to places and things.
A couple of weeks ago we heard Amos warn Israel that the Day of the Lord – the day of God’s anger and punishment – was coming.
But, in the passage we heard today, Hosea offers a different message, a profound and very comforting insight into the nature of God. Hosea takes us into the mind of God. Hosea depicts God as sad and disappointed.
God seems to be talking to God’s Self, saying, “The more I called them, the more they went from me; they kept sacrificing to the Baals, and offering incense to idols.” But despite God’s disappointment, God can’t seem to turn away from God’s people. God says, “How can I hand you over, O Israel?”
In a sense, God is a spiritual hedgehog. God is love, knowing and focusing on one big thing, love for us and for all of creation.
God is love, and we are made to praise, reverence and serve God. We are made to love God and love our neighbor as ourselves. That’s who we really are. That’s what life is all about. That’s the one big thing.
So, my fellow spiritual hedgehogs, we’re not like the rich fool, caring only for ourselves – storing up our material goods so we can eat, drink and be merry. That’s not our kind of idolatry. But, we are like Martha – distracted by our many tasks and problems. We get so attached to places and things; we get so focused on our careers and our work, that we forget the one big thing. We put off for some other day what’s most important. We can become foxes who know many things, who focus on many things, but forget the one big thing.
But, here’s the good news: Hosea shows us that despite our idolatry, God is always, no matter what, focused on loving us.
So, maybe this is a good time to take Ignatius’ advice and ask God’s help to refocus our lives on the one big thing – praising, reverencing and serving God; loving God and loving our neighbor. Maybe this is a good time to be like Mary, to be a spiritual hedgehog, knowing and focusing on the one big thing.
Amen.
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