Proper 7 2014

Proper 7 2014

Jesus said, “Where two or more are gathered, there will be politics…” Okay, Jesus didn’t really say that—one of my professors in my undergrad used to say it often. But the point is well taken, even if Jesus didn’t say it. Because whether we’re talking about groups of people, communities, families, even societies—there are ‘politics’ about the way the individuals within the whole interact; and therefore, how the whole group interacts and functions.

So, for instance, in the First Century, you had the Pharisees. The Pharisees were religious men who were doing their best to keep the religious identity of the Jewish people together—they were constantly working to maintain the purity that the Law of Moses seemed to call for—and they had even developed a provocative theology around life after death, and even resurrection.

It’s no accident that they sound a bit like Jesus. After all, the things that the Pharisees believed, foundationally, were exactly the things that Jesus held dear—but the problem was that all of the surface ‘stuff,’ the minutia of living under Roman occupation; living within spitting distance of Gentiles and Samaritans; having sites of pagan worship near the sacred spaces of Israel…well, these things just made the Pharisees a little crazy. And inevitably, we see them turning on their own people—expecting rigorous religious adherence; isolating themselves and their culture so that it could remain (as they understood it) ‘pure’ and unchanged… In Family Systems Theory, this would be called homeostasis—and in this case, it was a negative thing.

So into this system stepped Jesus. He would probably agree with the core beliefs that the Pharisees held to—but because he’s coming from an outside perspective, he can see what isn’t working in this system. Obviously he’s the Incarnation of the Living God (so that has to help out a lot)—but, remember, we’re also told that Jesus never counted equality with God something to be exploited—so, even in his humanity, Jesus steps into the system bringing change.

Now, the interesting thing about how Jesus introduced change is that it wasn’t always miraculous, or provocative. Remember, even though he worked miracles, these he did only to help them realize that he speaks truth with authority. But, otherwise, Jesus began his work pretty quietly. He taught in the synagogues—obviously he didn’t teach things that were so far out there that he wasn’t welcomed in the synagogues—instead, he just spoke clearly to the nature of God’s truth.

Well, we all know the story, and we know that Jesus was constantly challenged by the Pharisees and scribes. All of these men wanted to know where he got his authority. All of them wanted to try to tie him up in arguments about interpretations of Torah and the Law.

But Jesus never got into it—he regularly reframed the conversation, and continued to teach truth, justice and love as he always had done… And this continued to make the religious authority all the more crazy.

In fact, there were times when the Pharisees would yell that Jesus was unsettling everything. And y’know, they were absolutely correct—he was upsetting their unhealthy system by only slightly altering their homoeostasis…which, as it turned out was enough to change the world.

In today’s Gospel Reading, we find Jesus commenting on this kind of change that he’s proposing. After all, he says that he’s not come to bring peace—he wasn’t interested in perpetuating a false sense of peace, this unjust, unhealthy system that they were in. Instead, he came to bring the sword—and the way that the Prince of Peace brings a sword is simply by being and preaching the truth.

See? He really was dangerous in his ministry.

The point is that whether we’re talking about a religious culture, a church or even a family; the systems that are created by people being together take on certain behaviors. Often because of unresolved issues between even just a few members of the group, it can cause stress and anxiety throughout the whole system.

This happens a lot in congregations, for instance. So, for example, you might have a congregation which seems to be working pretty well. By all outward appearances, the group seems happy and healthy—and, everyone gets along really well, except for the minister. Not only is she rude to people, but she’s also in the middle of a messy divorce, and maybe there have been some allegations that she might be embezzling money…

This is just an example (unfortunately, it’s not exaggerated. These things can be more common than you might think.).

Anyway, while it might be easy to say that the minister is the only problem with the congregation; family systems theory would say that there are probably some unresolved issues in the congregation. And, in this case, the minister is taking on the anxiety and stress of the congregation.

Now, (as I’m just making this situation up) if there were someone in the system—even this problematic minister—who were to “give” the congregation’s stress and anxiety back to the congregation…well, not only would the congregation have to finally deal with the unresolved issues, but the minister might be able to work through marital difficulties and financial stress—all of the negative stuff that she’d been dealing with. Hopefully the end result of all of this would be a much healthier community.

The way that all of this stuff begins to happen—the work of giving back the anxiety and stress, whatever the case, back to whom it really belongs—starts when those in the system (usually the leadership) works to remain healthy.

In the case of Jesus, he was able to avoid getting into pointless arguments with the religious authorities by not getting dragged into their traps. He never allowed himself to get bogged-down by their questions, and he never allowed their tantrums to faze him. Instead, he kept true to his purpose and his ministry.

This would also be called in Family Systems “self-differentiation” and “avoiding triangles.” This means that Jesus doesn’t let the Pharisees draw him into unproductive quarreling, because, in the end, their anxiety is really about the purity of their culture under Roman occupation—not a young reformer who believes much of the things they do…even if he is the Messiah.

One of the ways that we avoid triangles in our own communities, families and congregation is by understanding the truth of what Jesus says in our reading. He says “nothing is covered up that will not be uncovered, and nothing secret that will not become known.”

The reality is that those things that we don’t deal with—the stuff that we think is covered up; whether it be disagreement with someone else, a person acting out, or whatever—these things will come to the surface eventually. The only question is ‘how’ they surface. Most often in systems where these things are ignored, the issues surface in different ways. This can be anything from a dysfunctional minister, to the inability of the congregation to flourish—and, yes…it can all be due to one or two relationships.

The reason this happens isn’t really all that hard to understand—because all of us know that in a family or a congregation, a fight between two people isn’t just between those two people. Instead, what happens is one person goes to another person and talks about how terrible this person is…and suddenly, we have one more person involved in a situation that started out as a disagreement between two people.

The problem is, however, is that as these triangles grow—they mushroom, so does the anxiety—and before we know it, the whole system is working very hard to hold things together to keep them the way that makes everyone feel ‘stable.’ Unfortunately, what is ‘stable’ is also what is anxious, and the system gets stuck.

But the hopeful thing about all of this is that the system has built into it the tools it needs to be healthy. Not only in the Church do we have the guidance of the Holy Spirit, but we have guideposts like today’s reading to help us get better. We’re given any number of examples in Scripture about how to deal with this stuff. Don’t gossip. Don’t take part in silly arguments. Squash your arguments and leave your issues at the door before you come in for Holy Communion.

Start with faith, hope and love; and know that the rest will work itself out with patience. Because with faith we trust in what we can’t see beyond the present moment; in hope we believe that there is always potential for good; and in love we have to value and believe the best of everyone…

And in the end, we just need to take responsibility for ourselves, stay healthy; and hope to encourage the same things in others. (in other words, “Love your neighbor as yourself.”)

Talk about a culture change. But that’s what we’re supposed to be about.

What I’m getting at with all of this is simply that: God, through Jesus Christ, calls us to life, and life more abundantly.

Personally I believe this call to holiness is the call to be whole. It means learning to live with ourselves and with others in a way that is transformed by love. I believe that we’re called to respond to a Gospel that radically expects us to give ourselves fully to the work of loving God and loving one another so that the world can see through us the potential for peace and justice.

And if we were willing, even within our families and our faith communities to commit simply to being honest, and healthy to cultivate healthier communities—imagine how we can invite others to learn the same. Imagine families who could learn to break negative cycles. Imagine communities working for the common interest rather than selfish ends. Imagine this being the way we share the Gospel…or even better, incarnate it.

I don’t think for a second that any of this is idealistic—and it’s certainly not rocket science. In fact, more often than not, systems become a little chaotic just before they change for the better. But in most systems it has to happen; and it has to begin with our own willingness to want to be healthy—to take up our crosses and forsake the illusions of the world, and walk with Christ to fuller life.

This is where, I believe, our job of Kingdom work starts—health and wholeness; and I believe it is a powerful gift that we can share in Christ’s name.       

Proper 9 2014

Proper 9 2014

Not long ago, someone commented to me that my recent sermons have not been as light as usual, and this is true. I have been talking a lot about groups, systems and communities—how individuals interact, and how all of this works together in healthy or unhealthy ways. Family Systems stuff.

The reason I’ve been doing this, incidentally, is because—well, there have been a lot of changes happening even before I was here; and while I was called here to help continue to facilitate healthy change and growth—it can be difficult for a congregation to adjust to such changes.

In fact, as I’ve mentioned before, sometimes when change begins to happen, some of the unhealthy patterns begin to emerge—some of these we even discussed (I think it was) last year when we were talking about our CAT survey results. Effectively we all realized that during the interim period, before I was called here, people were actively engaging the needs of the church because there was no full time priest. And so, the model was forced to move from being more clergy centered, to a much more congregational model.

However, as we discussed, once a full time priest was in place, the church started to slip back into that old model—even though none of us really wants that kind of church. And while we try to work to move beyond that sort of model, I think we’ve found other places in which we need growth—and we’ve tried to do significant work to address those things as well.

However, as we begin to see that many of the old ways in which things were handled or managed no longer fit for us—we naturally begin to experience some anxiety. And as a result we see friction. We see people begin to question decisions, or how things are done. We start to see people act out and triangulate others through rumors and negativity—and all of it really has to do with the discomfort of trying to find a healthier identity. And while this is to be expected, what we need to be aware of is that this acting out comes at a cost. Because when people begin to generate skewed and negative perspectives, or perpetuate the rumor mill; well, not only does it suck all of the energy out of a community, but it instills distrust and division—it can even hurt people. Eventually, such things can begin to dissolve the community, and this is why so many of the Epistles take such a hard line against gossip and rumor-milling.

But the important thing about all of this is the inoculation against this sort of thing is honesty and transparency—more importantly just not perpetuating it; because, after all, negativity can’t survive where there aren’t people to buy into it. So, as some of this sort of  negative stuff emerges (again it’s to be expected when any group is trying to grow, move forward and adapt); it’s up to all of us to try to discourage that sabotage with a true picture of things (namely the positive things that are happening). This doesn’t necessarily mean that we’ll change a negative person’s mind—but, it does mean that we don’t give into the kind of behavior that can stall the work we’re trying to do—and more importantly, what God may be calling us to be.

  

Jesus sort of reacts against this sort of thing in our Gospel reading for today. Basically, he points out that John came preaching like a prophet and an ascetic—and people had a problem with him. He says, the Son of Man (Jesus, himself) comes drinking and eating and preaching truth—and people have a problem with him, too. No one can win, apparently.

Of course, the problem wasn’t John or Jesus—the problem was that the time had come for the status quo to be challenged. God, in Jesus Christ was calling the faithful to go deeper, to grow, to be more…and this was what agitated everyone.

Jesus was teaching a way of life that called the faithful, and the disenfranchised alike to move beyond the externals of their faith. He called them to seek a deeper appreciation of what the Law was always inviting people to—namely a deeper, more meaningful relationship with God. And as the Incarnation , Jesus does this in a way that no prophet ever could have done—he embodies what right and just and loving relationship with God and other people could look like. Amazingly enough, what those relationships looked like was a Kingdom that was being ushered in—the Kingdom of God.

Now, obviously the way that Jesus was challenging people to live their lives was pretty revolutionary: Love God, Love your neighbor as yourself. That’s easier said than done. And while we can also say that the reforms he was proposing would unseat the powerful who benefitted from the social and religious structure—we can likewise say that the people in the system were acting out of the anxiety that comes with systemic change.

We know from the Gospels that Jesus had any number of challengers. Most of these were people who believed that they had more to lose with what Jesus was proposing…

However, what we also know is that for most of these challengers—the way of life that Jesus was teaching would have more than fulfilled them. In fact, what Jesus offered would have freed not only the poor and oppressed, but even those who were bound-up in their understanding of the Law…

However, for as restrictive as the Law made life for these people—even the thought that what they were comfortable with would change made them fight against the very person who was offering them a way out.

But then, this is human nature. Sometimes we prefer the devils we know to those we might not know—yet, what we may be settling for in the long run is a way of being that becomes poisonous to ourselves and our community.

Yet, there is really good news, because we get to choose how we interact and what sort of community of faith we want to have. And what’s even better is that we don’t need to be experts in family systems theory to make positive changes. What we do need to do, however, is first not get caught up in all of the drama and negativity—just don’t allow that stuff to take root.

  

Finally, we need to take our refuge and rest in Christ. What this means is not only trusting in Jesus’ provision for the Church—trusting that everything we need to be who and what we’re called to be is already here for us. But this also means trusting that it’s Jesus who is really in charge, and that the Holy Spirit is very much at work in the people in Church leadership as they are in every single member of the community—and this is because this is God’s Church. And because God has chosen to entrust the continued work of redemption that was begun with Jesus Christ to the Church—I’m pretty sure that petty ambitions (whether real or perceived) are not going to derail God’s work in the world.

So, for all of the anxieties that may be creeping up; for the people here-and-there who might be setting their hair on fire (for whatever reason); y’know, the reality is that God has a vision for St. John’s. And rather than feel like we have to force the community to fit what we think that vision is, or hold on to some perceived ideal vision of the past; I think more importantly we need to relax—we need to rest in Christ. This doesn’t mean that we stop working and growing. But it does require that we let go of our ambitions and assumptions and perceptions about what we think the Church ought to be, and allow what it will be to emerge in God’s time. But it’s up to us to not allow negativity or anxiety to stall that potential.       

Proper 10 2014

Proper 10 2014

This year, if you’ve noticed our yard, was a pretty productive one for our vegetable gardens. Personally, I had very little to do with the process, as I apparently have the touch of death with plants.

All the same, Charity and the crew were able to plant and cultivate a number of great vegetables and herbs, which we’ve all enjoyed quite a lot. And while I know very little about caring for plants, one thing I do understand is that when planting, it’s important to carefully sow the seeds. Otherwise, the plants will choke themselves out—and while seeds are easier to come by today, I would imagine seeds were a precious resource in the First Century.

With that in mind, I think the parable in today’s Gospel reading gained a whole new dimension for me.

We’re told that Jesus sat down with a large crowd and began telling them that a sower was sowing seeds. Some of the seeds fell on the path and were eaten by birds. Other seeds landed among rocks where there wasn’t a lot of soil. And even though they sprang up quickly, they burned up in the sun because they didn’t have deep roots. Some other seeds fell among thorns, and were soon choked out when they started to grow.

  

However, there were some seeds which landed in good soil, and they, of course, flourished and produced ridiculous amounts of grain…which I suppose is only good news if you’re neither gluten free, nor using the Adkin’s diet… But I digress.

The point is, if you haven’t already deduced it, is that the gift of a spiritual life is offered in abundance. I suppose this is the reason that the sower is portrayed as just tossing seed all over the place.

But, as is to be expected in both sowing seeds and in receiving the gift of a spiritual life—we know that there are any number of environments and circumstances into which such things can fall. And, based on the parable, we would hope that seeds would land in soil which can support growth.

However, there’s more to it than simply having fertile soil, because we also know that the other necessary characteristic for successful growth are deep roots.

So what does all of this mean for us—all of this talk about seeds and growth? Well, I think for us, just as was the case for those who were hearing the parable originally; we should take serious what it means to have a spiritual life. In other words, it’s not enough simply to have a plant; but for it to have real worth, it needs to provide nourishment.

  

Likewise then, our spiritual lives should not be strictly understood as our own, but need to bear fruit in the form of service to God and service to others.

Now, of course (if we take this parable as our model), we know that we really have no control over where the seeds fall. In other words, we can’t completely control whether or not the gift of spiritual life will immediately take deep root and grow. I think the wisdom of this parable is well taken in this regard—that people, all of us, find ourselves in life circumstances that are either more or less conducive to cultivating a spiritual life. Some of us really have had lives that have made us a little too tough—something like the path where the seeds can’t penetrate, and are quickly stolen away by birds.

Others of us may be able to sympathize with the rocky ground. We have a place in our lives that could easily support a life of faith; but there are things in our lives: experiences, memories, whatever which keep us from being able to really allow our faith to grow. And, of course, when difficulties arise, faith might not be a place of solace for us.

Still some others may better resonate with the thorny ground. Maybe there are just too many external issues, things that have crept up around us, that make it impossible (no matter how hard we try) to grow our faith. So, even though faith may root and begin to grow, those externals begin to steal away the nourishment that our faith needs to thrive and grow.

  

Whatever the case, the reality is, not everyone is automatically equipped to receive a fruitful spiritual life… And rather than finding this reality to be discouraging, I think we should instead keep in mind that just like soil can be made arable and ready for planting—hearts can likewise be made more fertile for the cultivation of spiritual life.

In Paul’s letter to the Romans, he writes that Jesus has set them free from the law by embodying a faithful life lived to God, not by over-emphasizing the law, but rather by embodying the kind of life that the law was originally meant to teach. This was, of course, necessary, because the law outlined specific “things that ought not to be done.” And so, because humans are human, those who received the law began to live in a way that just tried not to do those “things that ought not to be done.” Subsequently, those who were supposed to be really good at not “doing those things which ought not to be done,” (namely the religious elite); They began to build in safe-guards to keep people from ever even getting close to doing “those things that ought not to be done.” 

What emerged from this mess, then, was not an overly safe society. Instead what emerged was a society which had become stifled—even oppressed—by all of the extraneous additions to the law.

In a manner of speaking, the religious authority tried to build high walls so that nothing could harm the spiritual growth of Israel. But, in doing this, they blocked out the air, the sun and the rain; all of the necessary elements that allow for growth.

This, I think is what Paul is referring to when he talks about the law leading us to death. Because in the end, all of the extra stuff stifles growth.

But, as we should expect, this isn’t the end—and there really is good news. Because, through Jesus we not only have seen the limits of the law—Jesus obviously demonstrated that living too rigidly in the law obscures God’s glorification, and the spread of God’s call to redemption. Not only this, but Jesus also pays the cost of humanity’s shortfall in living lives acceptable to God.

Where all of this comes together for me, is that we need to understand that while not everyone may have the inborn grace to be able to support and cultivate a vital, fruitful spiritual life—we can, however, be made able to.

See, if we take what Paul says about the Spirit of Christ being the life of those who have it—we could also say that it is the work of the same Spirit—even the Holy Spirit which is responsible for making our hearts more ready to receive the grace of a fruitful and rich spiritual life.

What is required of us, however, is that we begin by making ourselves open to the work of the Holy Spirit. However, the most difficult part of doing this is that it requires that we relinquish control. It means finally giving up whatever claims we think we have on our own lives, and do our best to offer ourselves to God. And the reality is, all of us (whether we have a fruitful spiritual life or not) will always need to keep up the practice of giving ourselves up to God: over and over again. It’s just that over time it seems to make more sense as to why we’re doing it.

Now, this doesn’t mean that many of those issues which have made spiritual life difficult in the past won’t still be there—however, it may well be that we find ourselves more ready and able to either allow ourselves not to be held captive to such things. Or, in other cases, we might even find that we’re finally granted the strength we’ve needed to seek the extra help that we need to live beyond the difficulties in our lives.

The point is, Jesus makes it clear in this parable of the sower, that the one who is sowing the seeds does so with generous abandon. Casting seed that will be relied upon for food would not have been spread around so recklessly. But then, because the seed that is being sown in the parable is also the word of the Kingdom of God; we can trust that it will never be lacking, even though it is precious; and that it will always be given in generous abundance, no matter where it might land. And if we’re willing to be open to the Holy Spirit to prepare our hearts to receive that seed; we make ourselves open to the potential of not only deep roots of faith and a fruitful spiritual life; but a more whole and fulfilling life besides.   

Proper 11 2014

Proper 11 2014

For those who were with us for the Lenten Season, you might remember that I talked a lot about clearing away all of the externals of our faith practice so that we might go deeper in our faith journey. And this wasn’t simply an intellectual exercise, because as many other Episcopal churches have done every year during Lent; we veiled many of the symbols of our faith (the crosses and statues). We refrained from using “Alleluia,” had no water in the Baptismal font, and began our worship services with a Penitential Rite.

The point of all of this, of course, is meant to help us refocus on what’s most important, by challenging us to put aside distractions; and it prepares us to celebrate the mystery of Easter. What it also does is gives us the new start we might need, and helps us to grow into healthier people…”hopefully.”

Because if you know yourself as well as I know myself; then we all know that sometimes the best intentions that we have at the beginning of Lent seem to get a little lost as the Easter season comes and the year progresses. So, whether you’ve given up caffeine and smoking, or had every intention of learning Coptic to read ancient Christian texts. Whatever the case, sometimes the positive things we want to cultivate never seem to stick, and those annoying things we want to be rid of somehow crop up again.

  

That’s just how life is… No matter how intentional, or preemptive we try to be about having a healthy and meaningful life and faith; there is still always the reality that perfection is a flawed ambition. If anyone tells you differently, they’re probably also trying to sell you the Golden Gate Bridge.

All the same, we shouldn’t allow ourselves to be discouraged, either. Because the work of being whole and spiritually healthy is meant to be a lifelong process, and we ought not to give up just because we have some places in our lives that will regularly need tending. And like the parable in today’s Gospel reading, we shouldn’t be overly hasty about what we think we need to fix.

As you recall, Jesus continues on his agricultural allegory kick, and brings us yet another story about sowing seeds. In this particular parable, however, we find that a man sowed good seed in his field. However, during the night, some jerk came along and planted weeds with the wheat.

When everything finally began to grow, then, the wheat came up, but so did the weeds—and the slaves came to the householder freaking out. They were all set to start tearing out the weeds. But the householder said, no—calm down. We have to be cool about this (we have to be like a bunch of little Fonzies), or we might uproot the wheat with the weeds, and then all of our work will be for nothing. But, once everything has had time to grow fully, then we’ll take care of the weeds.

  

The point of the parable, Jesus says, is that the Son of Man has planted the good seed (those who are children of the kingdom) in the world. The weeds, which were planted by the devil (lower case devil), are the evil people in the world. At the end of the age, the angels will be called to gather up the evil people and things that cause sin, and these will be thrown into “the furnace of fire, where there will be weeping and gnashing of teeth…” (I love when he says that.)

*I would like to say just a couple of things about this. First off, Jesus is telling a parable, so he’s using some very strong allegory to make his point. So, we can’t read this as a literal depiction of future events—but instead, a promise that everything will be made right in God’s time. Something that would be very important to hear for persecuted believers in the Early Church. Secondly, I don’t think we can take his statement about the devil sowing bad seeds too literally, either. It’s not that I don’t believe in the possibility of the devil, and dark forces—but I think we blame the devil for too many of our own negative actions as a way to avoid having to take responsibility.

Anyway, what can be interpreted from this parable about the condition of the world could likewise be applied to our own hearts. We can say with honesty that each of us has not only places in our hearts that need weeding, but others that should be cultivated, and cared for, as well.

  

And, of course, the process by which we grow and nurture our spiritual lives can be seen in the Church seasons. As I mentioned before, Lent is the time when we cultivate the soil of our hearts through meditation on Christ’s Passion, and doing good works—thus preparing ourselves for the mystery of Easter.

Likewise Easter is a time of hope and new growth. In the Easter season, all of the penitent work that we’ve done in Lent comes to fruition, and we’re given a clean slate. And just like the signs of spring all around us, we find in Christ’s resurrection that there is hope and promise with new growth.

With the Feast of Pentecost, then, we are enlivened and re-inspired by God’s Holy Spirit to be the Church, and share the fruits of our gifts with the world. We’re challenged to more fully live and grow into our identity as the Church, and thereby give ourselves more fully to Christ’s continued work of redemption in the world. No small task…

Finally, in the Season After Pentecost, we’re called to continue to grow and flourish, always tending the garden, until we once again begin the Church year with Advent; and begin preparing ourselves to celebrate Christ’s birth, as well as look forward to the Second Advent and his return…

  

We do this every year… And we do it not because we’re lacking the creativity to do something else—but, we commit to applying ourselves to these seasons because we know we need them. We know that no matter how penitent and pious we might be throughout Lent; we also know that we’ll still need more work. We’ll still have weeds.

But this is okay, because not only are we human, and continually finding new challenges; we’re also always in the formation process of being better people. Likewise, there may be things about us that we may try to treat as a weed, when it’s really wheat—and vice versa. So, it’s important that we take the time to allow things in us to fully mature before we start plucking things out…and that takes time. So, even if we don’t feel that we’ve figured it all out in the Season After Pentecost, or gotten our lives completely straightened out after Lent—just as Indians and Cubs fans say: “There’s always next year…”

But in all seriousness, we always have to begin again. We always have to be encouraged by the good that we’ve cultivated in our hearts. And, we can likewise never settle into a place where we believe that the work of growing into the person God has created us to be is completely finished.      

  

After all, the work of cultivating a healthy life and spiritual center is a lifelong process, and it’s a tough one besides. However, not only do we have the Church seasons to help us work through things again and again; we also have a community of faith that challenges us, and forms us. More importantly, we have the love of Jesus Christ to empower us to always be better; as well as the Holy Spirit to help us to grow into the people God has created us to be. But it takes time, and we can neither rush the process, nor force it—we can only wait and tend to things as we’re able, and allow God to bring that work to completion in God’s time. So be patient, but never stop the work.      

Proper 12 2014

Proper 12, 2014

How many of you would say that you pray regularly? I’m not asking for a show of hands. I think asking people if they pray regularly is like asking if you floss regularly—or trying to suggest gun control legislation in Texas… It’s just awkward, and I wouldn’t want to put that on anyone; especially because, prayer can be difficult.

I mean, assuming you can get past all of the preliminaries like where to pray, what to say when praying, deciding what to believe about our prayers; if we can even get beyond that stuff, and who knows what else…well, what does it even mean to pray?

Certainly, there are any number of prayer practices including using written prayers, prayer beads, Rosaries, praying the Psalms and other Scripture—and, probably the more familiar “laundry list” prayer. This practice is when we have a list of people and things that need prayer, and we continue to pray for the items on the list. I happen to know a number of people who do this sort of thing faithfully, and it’s been a good thing for them. However, I have to admit that I’m terrible at this sort of prayer practice. For whatever reason, I just do better with a more structured framework for my prayer life.

So, for me, I work better with things like the Daily Office which has written prayers and Scripture readings—and in that context, I feel like I’m better able to include what prayers I need to within that framework.

I also like the idea that by praying the Daily Offices that I’m part of a greater community of prayer throughout the world—and that many of us are using prayer forms (some of which were written centuries ago) that have been used for generations in the Church. I suppose it makes me feel a little more grounded in my faith as well as rooted in the historical Church.

Anyway, while I do have my hang-ups about structured prayer, I’m also a fan of contemplative practices of prayer. These are practices like Lectio Divina, which uses small portions of Scripture to allow us to focus, and to be silently present with the Presence of God.

Other practices like this would include meditation or theoria, Centering Prayer—all of which call us to a place of silent, wordless prayer that is really a kind of resting in the Presence of God. But, even these forms require work—because sitting quietly with a quieted mind, waiting to be more fully present with God is not always easy.

And, really, this is my whole point—even though there are a number of diverse ways of praying (and I’ve only named a small few), prayer is difficult. So, we should neither judge those who do not regularly pray; nor should we feel guilty if we believe that we have not prayed sufficiently.

However, this is also not to say that prayer isn’t important. Obviously, we’re encouraged to pray not only in our Baptismal Covenant, but throughout Scripture. St. Paul even recommends prayer without ceasing—something that I imagine could be a bit more difficult than walking and chewing gum simultaneously… All the same, we’re told that our prayers have effect, and that the practice of praying helps to form us as people of faith.

So, considering the multitude of ways in which one might pray, and how important it is for us and the world; I guess we should all just start doing it, right? …Meh…

I mean, by the same logic jogging ought to be the easiest sport for people to engage. But, as any runner will tell you, it takes more than an expensive pair of running shoes to become a runner—and that’s excluding all of the other things that might make it impossible for someone to run…

And prayer is like this, as well, because I think we need to know why we pray, and really what good it does—beyond just making us feel more Zen about life; I think we need to know we’re heard and that it matters… Of course, we may also just need to know even where to begin—simply ‘how’ to pray.

Suffice it to say, I do believe that prayer works. I’m not a person who only thinks my prayer helps me to deal better with the disappointment of not getting what I ask for—but, I also believe that God works to a multitude of good ends, and my prayer helps.

However, I also have no problem trusting that simply because I can’t always see the result of my prayer that nothing has happened. Likewise, I don’t believe that finding a parking spot after praying for a good one is answered prayer… If God went about rearranging the fabric of reality all the time just so I didn’t have to walk a few extra feet (especially when I’ve also been given the grace of strong legs); well, I suppose the created order would be a bit unbalanced from all of that monkeying around. It also would mean that prayer was more like a magical formula than asking for God’s help…

So, it’s my belief that God has Created and set into motion a complex, elegant Universe. Because of this, I think that our prayer makes a kind of space in the created order that allows God to work without an over-intrusion into this delicate order. With that in mind, not only do our prayers matter, but it doesn’t make God seem somehow far away, or capricious when it comes to answering our prayers.  The theologian Keith Ward explains this very well in his book Divine Action: Examining God's Role in an Open and Emergent Universe. If you ever find yourself with a load of time and a dictionary on hand, I recommend it. It’s also really good if you have trouble sleeping.

Now, as to the matter of ‘how’ to pray; I’ve named a few practices, and I’m always happy to provide resources for those and others, besides. However, the most important thing about prayer beyond practice, posture, attitude or outcome is really just showing up… Because in reality, the act of intention with prayer is really where prayer happens.

Richard Rohr, a Franciscan writer who writes a lot about this sort of stuff, talks about praying in terms of “showing up, and prayer happening…” In other words, it’s as if prayer practices are accidental to what God is doing with the Holy Spirit, and we (by intention and action) participate.

  

This, I think, is what Paul is talking about in our reading from Romans. Basically, he says that the Spirit intercedes for us in our weakness—in our shortcomings, in our inability to have the right words to say what we need to in prayer… He says that because God searches the heart and knows the mind of the Spirit, the Spirit intercedes for the saints. So, in this deeply mystical wordless ‘knowing,’ the Spirit prays more concisely the things in our hearts than we ever could with our words.

What’s amazing is, if you remember last week’s portion of Romans (which I do because I looked it up for this sermon), Paul talks about all of Creation groaning, and waiting with longing to be set free from the bondage of decay and death—to be redeemed and made closer to God.

In a similar way then, Paul seems to connect this idea of deep sighs and groaning—groaning which he says are due to the labor pains of waiting for redemption—to these sighs and groans which he says the Spirit offers as prayer on our behalf. This is deep prayer, he says, prayers of the heart—a soul cry which longs for redemption even when we’re barely aware of it. But sometimes…sometimes we get a glimpse of it when we are either overwhelmed by our own troubles, and too hard pressed to utter a prayer—or waiting patiently in silence for the heart of God to be revealed.

  

Either way, our own hearts are somehow in resonance, not only with all of Creation, but also the heart of God. If that isn’t a reason to pray, I don’t know any others… But to even be aware of such a thing, we have to be willing to show-up, even if it’s just with the intention to listen rather than speak in our prayer. If we can believe this, I also have to believe that our prayers are far more powerful and transformative than any of us could have ever imagined.

So, going back to my initial question: how many of you pray regularly? Or, how many of you feel like you might finally be able to pray with some regularity after this sermon? Well, again, there’s no need for a show of hands, because whatever the answer is for you; know that prayer is happening continually, whether we realize it or not. But know that if we’re willing to participate in prayer even if it’s simply by intentionally showing-up and sitting silently; we’ll have participated in the prayers of the saints, and all of Creation by the Spirit of God—however, we need to be willing to show-up.

Proper 14 2014

Proper 14, 2014

In our Old Testament reading today, we find the prophet Elijah in hiding for fear of his life. If we go back a little way in the First Book of Kings we read that he had upset Jezebel, the Phoenician wife of King Ahab, the king of Israel.

Apparently, Elijah had challenged the prophets of Jezebel’s gods, Baal and Asherah (something like 850 of them), in front of all of Israel, to offer bulls in sacrifice to their gods. They were told to prepare the sacrifice, and then call on their gods to consume the sacrifice, and in spite of a lot of raving and cutting themselves—nothing happened…

So, Elijah, prepared his own bull for sacrifice, and ordered 4 jars of water to be poured on the sacrifice and the wood—he told them to do it 3 times, in fact. And after praying that God would be revealed to the people, fire came down and consumed the sacrifice, the wood, and even the water.  Pretty cool, really—and it apparently impressed the people of Israel so much that they returned to their worship of God.

However, they also took all 850 prophets of Baal and Asherah to the valley Kishon and killed them according to Elijah’s orders… So, obviously this precipitated a strain in the relationship between Jezebel and Elijah; a relationship which was already pretty tenuous, to put it mildly.

  

In fact, once Jezebel had heard what happened with the prophets of Baal and Asherah, she swore an oath to do the same to Elijah. She had already put to death a number of other prophets of God, long before Elijah challenged the prophets of Baal and Asherah, so she could be taken at her word, hence Elijah going into hiding.

Elijah at one point even asked God to let him die, because he was so tired of being on the run; but God had other plans.

Where our reading picks up, then, is when Elijah believes himself to be alone. Obviously this isn’t a matter of piety or an over-active sense of religiosity. After all from what he’s just experienced, he had no proof that he wasn’t alone, that Jezebel hadn’t put to death all of the faithful people of God. So, in this case we can be certain that his feeling of being alone was not simply isolationism or self-imposed alienation—that’s Holden Caulfield, not Elijah.

Anyway, as Elijah remained in hiding, waiting for who knows what, God asked, “Elijah, what are you doing here?” Elijah responded by saying that Jezebel had killed everyone and that he’s the only one left remaining faithful to God, and he feared for his life… God then tells him to go out and stand on the mountain and wait.

  

Suddenly we read there is this tremendous show of power—something that would even impress J.J. Abrams. We’re told that “there was a great wind, so strong that it was splitting mountains and breaking rocks in pieces before the LORD, but the LORD was not in the wind; and after the wind an earthquake, but the LORD was not in the earthquake; and after the earthquake a fire, but the LORD was not in the fire; and after the fire a sound of sheer silence.”

It says that when Elijah “heard” this silence, he covered his head and face to the holy Presence of God. God explains to Elijah that there is still a remnant of faithful people, and eventually all things will be made right again.

I suppose, given our religious freedoms in this country, it might be a bit of a stretch to say that we can sometimes feel a bit lonely in our lives of faith. But in a life of faith that seeks to be active, faithful and integrated; we can begin to feel a bit on our own. This is especially true if we try to live our lives in a way that doesn’t play the games that the world tries to get us to play.

Now, I’m not talking about an outward kind of piety, or limiting ourselves to any of the garbage that’s marketed as “Christian alternatives.” That’s all superficial nonsense, and really only works if you believe that the sacred and the secular are irreconcilable…

  

But that doesn’t seem to be the way God sees things, otherwise the redemption that Jesus came to offer us would be pointless…

Anyway, back to my point; it can be difficult, and even a little lonely when we choose to live as people of integrity and faithfulness. We live in a culture that encourages us to always press the advantage; to prize power over compassion; to prefer intolerance to mercy.

 However, some would claim that we’re a nation under God—the same God who says that only three things are required of us: “to do justly, to love mercy and to walk humbly before our God…” things that I’m not sure I could identify as American values.

Yet, to be fair, it is tough to choose to show compassion to others—especially if they’re difficult people. It’s hard to hope, and pray, and stand for peace—especially in a world and a culture that seems drunk on violence. It’s also really difficult to pray for our enemies; to forgive those who’ve done us harm; to bless those who want to see our ruin…and yet, Jesus tells us to do it anyway. And he tells us this, not because he was dreaming of an impossible utopian world—but because he knows we’re capable of doing it. But, again, none of it is the popular way of doing things, and yet, we know intuitively that it’s the right way of doing things. Because, deep inside, we really do want to be people of integrity, it just isn’t easy or automatic.

  

For Elijah, of course, living a life of integrity to his call as a prophet of God meant death. For us, it may mean that we don’t achieve things as quickly in life. It may mean that we stand alone in some situations when we choose to identify with people or things that our conscious calls us to…and while it’s not the same as death, it is all the same not an easy thing. Yet, like Elijah, we’re not given a pass on a life of faith simply because it’s hard—in fact, more often we’re called to live our lives of faith more fiercely.

Likewise, following the example of Elijah, we have to discern the Presence of God in the silence. That’s not necessarily a reference to contemplative prayer practices—although those are certainly helpful in training us to better discern the Presence of God—what I mean is that we have to learn to understand that God is not necessarily present in the loud, clamorous things. In fact, we’re more often likely to recognize the Presence of God when those kinds of distractions are put aside, and our minds and hearts can be attentive to God.

So, when we make the difficult choices that reflect a life marked by faith, we can trust that we’re resonating with the Spirit of God and living lives that have had a brush with the divine. But again, we have to be willing to have our eyes and hearts opened to discern and respond to God’s Presence.

  

So, where does all of this leave us? Well, not alone—which is great news. Because, while it is much more than simply a remnant of faithful people with us; we do have the Body of Christ, the Church to join us in living lives faithful to God. What’s more, we join one another in the mystical bonds of Christ’s death and resurrection through our baptism. And in our baptism, we’re called not only to new life, but a way of life that reflects the core of the Gospel’s teachings.

And although our call to faithful lives in Christ may not have the imperative that Elijah’s prophetic call had; we do all the same have the call to be faithful witnesses to the work of salvation begun in Christ Jesus, and to take our share in its continued work. And that is a call that will never allow us to hide away and will never leave us alone.

  

Proper 15 2014

Proper 15, 2014

E-mail and text messaging can be helpful forms of communication. E-mail, for example, is great for sharing cat videos, and text messaging is wonderful for making silly comments to friends when you find yourself in boring seminars, or during a sermon…(I hesitate to mention this might be one of my longer sermons, too).

However, as many people who frequently use these modes of interaction know, there is a kind of etiquette that has developed around text messaging and e-mail. So, for instance, unless your response to a group e-mail is important to the entire group, it is not usually necessary to use the “reply all” option. In other words, you might want to comment on the cat video that was sent to you and a number of people—but not everyone in the recipient list needs to receive your “LOLZ” (that means: “laugh out loud” not  “licentious orange lemurs” as some might have assumed).

Anyway, continuing on…another important matter of etiquette which spans both text messaging and e-mail is the careful usage of caps. The issue in this case is not only that it makes a message difficult to read, but it regularly makes the recipient feel that you are yelling at them. So, while it may be your intent to give some background about a funny cat video, or share a witticism about the preacher by text message—know that if it is typed in all caps, the person receiving it may feel that you’re a bit over-zealous. In some cases it may be safer, to take a cue from e.e. cummings and just never use caps…  

Finally, among the many pitfalls that come with communicating via text message, or e-mail—or any written medium, for that matter; there is one which is consistently an issue. This, of course, is tone.

Tone, in the case of literature and written communication encompasses the attitudes toward the subject of the message and toward the recipient or audience. So in communicating; our tone can be formal, informal, somber, playful, serious, ironic, condescending, or a whole host of other attitudes, besides. And because both text messages and e-mails by nature are short; it’s important to clearly communicate our meaning and tone. Otherwise, a comment that was meant to be facetious or sarcastic could be completely taken the wrong way.

In the case of text messaging and e-mail, however, one saving grace is the “emoticon.” This is a little picture of a smiley face, or whatever, that more clearly communicates—or emotes—the sense in which a statement is to be received. It sort of works like “bless his heart” does in the South—it covers a multitude of sins.

Sadly, emoticons are not appropriate in all forms of written communication. So, in such cases, clear use of language, and clear context are essential for making one’s tone and meaning more easily accessible.

  

Anyway, I tell you all of this not simply because I think it’s interesting, but because I really wish that there were emoticons in Scripture. There are times when I read something that Jesus has said, and because it feels so brutal and contrary to everything he says and does; I have to wonder if he’s being sarcastic. And, of course, because I don’t want to misinterpret what is being communicated, I’m careful not to read what I want the text to mean into what it actually says. So, a little smiley would be really helpful now and again…

That being said, there are times in the Gospels when Jesus is clearly being sarcastic, and in those cases, it makes emphatic the lesson he’s conveying.

Yet, there are still these other places, where I’m not absolutely sure—and today’s Gospel reading is one of those places. This is that uncomfortable story of Jesus and a Canaanite woman. In Mark’s Gospel she is called Syrophoenician, however, Tyre and Sidon were territories belonging to the Phoenicians. So, it doesn’t make a difference. The point is that Jesus is in Gentile territory, and a Gentile woman (of all people) has the moxie to approach Jesus—an orthodox Jewish rabbi.

As the story goes, then, this woman approaches Jesus and tells him that her daughter is being tormented by a demon. And, as could probably be expected from an observant Jewish man of this time period, Jesus is completely rude, and all but dismisses her. Remember, she’s not only a woman, but she’s a Gentile, to boot. This means double infraction against religious purity. That’s a lot of Hail Marys…or whatever the First Century Jewish equivalent would have been.

Anyway, Jesus says, “It isn’t fair to throw the children’s food to the dogs…” Yet, this woman, who won’t be undone, says that even the dogs get the crumbs from the table.

Jesus commends her for her faith, and heals the daughter from where he stood, and the story ends.

I have to admit, I’ve always had a hard time with this story. At different stages in my faith development, obviously there were different concerns. So, at one time, I tried to accept the explanation that somehow Jesus was just testing this woman’s faith. But, even that seems cruel—after all, the woman was desperate to have her daughter healed. The fact that she bucked the odds in a male-dominated society to ask a Jewish holy man to heal her daughter should have been confession enough. Needless to say, this perspective didn’t feel right to me.

At some point in seminary, then, there were people who believed that Jesus (being as much a product of his culture as any of us) was confounded in his own prejudice, and in the end learned a lesson about compassion from this woman.

But, even this, while it is certainly empowering for women, and affirms Jesus’ true humanity; to me, it still felt out-of-character for Jesus--especially in light of his other behaviors in the Gospel narratives. Once again, I was at a loss.

However, outside of asking someone else to preach whenever the story came up in the lectionary; I decided I needed to try to figure out how this could possibly make sense—and how it could possibly be good news.

Well, it was after using a form of Bible study that my spiritual director recommended that something about the character of Jesus began to emerge for me. And, while it’s no surprise that Jesus is a complex person—what became apparent was that Jesus is also quite funny. In fact, there are times when his conversations with the Pharisees are so poignant that we can’t help but chuckle. Because, as we know, one of Jesus’ best tactics is his unblinking honesty. But if that is all that it was, if Jesus was continually just an intense person, it’s not likely that he would have drawn people the way that he did.

Anyway, when I came to this story again, I tried reading it as if Jesus was speaking a little sarcastically—not sarcastically to the woman, mind you. It’s my sense that they somehow knew they were an intellectual match. And so Jesus speaks with this kind of irony that embarrasses even the most religiously rigid people around them, but at the same time reveals to them their own deeply rooted prejudices.

  

Now, to lend some credibility to this perspective, we have to recall that Jesus has just had a heated conversation with the Pharisees about cleanliness and religious purity practices when eating. Jesus, as he normally does, takes this conversation a bit further, and points out that it isn’t what we put into our bodies that is the problem—it’s what comes out. It’s the stuff in our hearts; the negative, evil, dark stuff that is the real problem. So, once again, Jesus is making it clear that holiness is not an external practice, but a matter of the heart.

And then, just like a punk band from the 70’s, Jesus and his crew head straight into Gentile territory—exactly the kind of place that pure, religiously observant Jews avoided when at all possible.

The point is that Jesus put himself in this situation. He’s already healed other Gentiles, and in Mark’s Gospel he even healed people on the Sabbath. So, personally, I think there is some precedent for reading this story in such a way that not only does Jesus respect this woman, even to the point of intellectually sparring with her—but he’s continuing to teach in the same vein as he had previously. And the lesson? It isn’t the external stuff that makes us holy or pure. It isn’t the people we reach out to, or even the outward rules we follow. It’s always about our heart, and what comes from there that matters.

  

It’s one thing to hear Jesus tell the religious elite that truth—but the lesson hits home in a real way when the people who follow him experience this exchange between him and this Canaanite woman. Because, even though they might expect this kind of behavior from a religious elitist; coming from Jesus (a guy who regularly challenged the elitists)…well, the behavior is scandalous. It may have even been more offensive to the disciples and those following him than it is to our sensibilities, today. After all, if it wasn’t scandalous, then they had completely missed everything Jesus had been teaching them.

And this particular lesson that is being conveyed here is a powerful one that can’t be taught with words, because the lesson is one that challenges us to look within our own hearts. We, like those disciples, are pressed to do some deep soul searching. Are we offended because Jesus shouldn’t act that way; or are we offended because we see in this episode our own potential for indifference and apathy?

See, I really could be going out on a limb here with this idea that Jesus is being ironic in his conversation with this woman. Maybe, I’m even assuming too much in thinking that she’s in on the joke with him. But, then again, when I read it in that light, I find myself not so much being challenged to defend Jesus, or even defend the dignity of this woman. Instead, I find myself examining all of my own prejudices; all of my own insecurities; all of those shadowy places in my heart…and it honestly leaves me humbled, because I know that I have the potential to be just as petty, arrogant and short-sighted as Jesus appears to be in this reading.

Yet, I also know that this same Jesus says that he has come to bring the sword, and fulfil the Law, but does it the whole way by consorting with prostitutes and tax collectors. And, of course, in the end, his path led him to the cross for all of us… So, maybe my approach to this reading isn’t that far-fetched after all.

Well, I’ve certainly said a lot this morning. What do you think? How do you read and understand Scripture? Whatever the case, I suppose what’s equally important is how we allow Scripture and the Holy Spirit to speak to us; to our hearts. And then,,,I suppose it’s up to us to decide how we’ll allow what we’ve taken in to change us and be communicated through our lives. What will the tone of our lives be? Because as Jesus says, it’s what comes out of the heart, and how we live and communicate out of our heart that makes us; and he says it with no trace of irony.

Proper 16 2014

Proper 16, 2014

“Who do people say that I am?” Obviously, this is a loaded question, and definitely one with a number of answers… But, I think we can safely assume that Jesus doesn’t ask because he needs an ego boost, or because he’s somehow confused.

After all, a voice from heaven already affirmed who Jesus is at his baptism by John. And, in his interactions with the Pharisees and Scribes, we could say that (if nothing else) he has a healthy sense of self.

The point is that Jesus knows who he is, because God knows who he is… He is the Incarnation of the Living God; he and the Father are One; and this Oneness is his identity.

What’s interesting about this question, then, that Jesus asks, is that it almost has an echo of Moses asking God, at the burning bush, whom he should say sent him. God responds by saying, “the God of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob.” However, the proper Name that God gives is (at best) translated as “I Shall Be As I Shall Be” or the more familiar “I AM.” God tells Moses to say that “I AM” sent him.

The tricky thing is, that the Hebrew is very irregular in this Name, and so it’s not completely clear how it should be translated. What’s more, because Hebrew doesn’t have vowels, and Ancient Hebrew probably sounded different from Modern Hebrew—it’s possible that we don’t even know how to properly pronounce the Name of God.

  

What we do know, however, is that the Name of God infers Completeness, Oneness and Fullness of Being. So, in other words, God’s Name is Complete and Whole Being…”I AM.”

As I said, it’s my impression, then, that some of this is resonating in the background of today’s Gospel Reading. Jesus is completely aware of who he is—and who he is happens to be the Incarnation of the One who is Fullness of Being.

Yet, for all of that going for him, Jesus doesn’t self-apply this identity. For one, he doesn’t need to—but, more importantly, who he is had to be revealed and affirmed in the hearts of his disciples. So, then, and only then, having realized who Jesus is, they would be able to learn who they, themselves were.

Perhaps this was what Jesus was getting at when he gave Simon the new name Peter; and said he would build his Church upon this stone. But, this promise would require Peter learning to see who he truly was—the person God knew him to be. And if the Acts of the Apostles and Church Tradition are accurate; the process of uncovering who Peter really was proved to take a lifetime, and was perhaps not that terribly easy, besides…all the same, it happened. It happened, because in trying to fully grasp who Jesus is and who God is; Peter began to be transformed from the inside out.

  

And while, as I’ve said this isn’t an easy process, this is the very work we find ourselves challenged to do. We’re called in Baptism to be changed, and regenerated, so that we can approach our lives with a whole different set of lenses. We’re asked to resist evil, and repent when we make mistakes. We’re called to share the hope of the Gospel. We’re challenged to serve Christ in all people, work for justice and peace, and respect the dignity of every human being…

All of these are behaviors which are contrary in many ways to how our world tempts us to live—but, at the same time, these are absolutely essential to the work of living more fully into who we are. They challenge us to try to discern God’s Presence in all things, and to rely on the grace of Jesus when we miss it. And who we are, first and foremost, are children of God. In effect, at every Baptism, then, we are, in a way, asking God to remind us of this—we basically ask God to tell us who God says we are.

But, then, inevitably, we have to ask ourselves; is who God knows me to be (in other words who I really am) enough for me? It might seem like an easy answer when we’re not faced with all of the many things in life that try their hardest to muddy that identity. I’m of course, talking about ambition, selfishness, deceit, hatred, injustice—and all of those other things that have sought to mar the Imago Dei; the Image of God in each of us.

  

And for some, these kinds of things might be enough put them on the defensive—some may even begin to believe that those virtues that we hold sacred in our Baptismal Rite are somehow overly idealistic, and can’t possibly matter in such a big dark world.

Perhaps, when we take a good hard look at the world; when we watch the news, or even just take a good hard look at ourselves and our own hearts…maybe we would agree.

But, then there is Jesus. Jesus, of course, taught us to do and be these things. Love your neighbor; love your enemies—and foremost, love God; because it will be in loving that we will show ourselves to be his disciples, and it’s in loving that we fulfil all of the Law and the Prophets… And as I’ve said before, Jesus doesn’t require these things because he enjoys giving us impossible tasks, but because he truly believes that humanity is capable of all of it. Talk about having faith.

Now, this is not to diminish the hurts or suffering of people in the world—instead, it reaffirms my hope and belief that there are people who can make a difference for the suffering and the hurt in the world. There are people, myself included, who can affect the world around us (even in just the smallest ways), so that little by little, we create even greater change. And, if more people are willing to become part of that work; before long we begin to see even greater change on even greater levels.

  

Jesus says that the Kingdom of God is like the mustard seed, which is very tiny. Yet, when it takes root, it can grow so that it can even become a home for birds to make their nests. And in the same way, if the Kingdom of God takes root in our hearts—if we allow it to grow, and foster our faith, our hope and our compassion; we have the potential to become part of an ever greater work of transformation in our world.

But, even this starts with the question: who do we say that Jesus is? And in pondering that question in our hearts with honesty, I believe who we truly are—the self that God knows—can become ever more fully revealed. So that like Simon Peter, we can become part of the foundations of Christ’s holy Church, and, what’s more, take our part in helping others to know themselves as God knows them—as beloved Children of God.        

Proper 17 2014

Proper 17, 2014

Well friends, if ever you find yourself in a conversation with someone who wants to quibble with you about certain prohibitions in the Bible; I have a pretty good way to end it. Simply pick up a nearby rock, and ask the person what they did on Saturday. If they did anything other than walk the appropriate distance to synagogue, you get to stone them! At least, you get to according to the Old Testament rules regarding Sabbath…

Now, while this might seem absurd—even though it does work for ending certain conversations—there is something to be said about how important Sabbath is—especially in the religious context. We have to remember that for all of the many things that we make into big issues in the Church today—most of them don’t get a lot of attention in Scripture, if at all.

Yet, keeping Sabbath time holy is one of the Ten Commandments. Really…it’s number 4, and fits right between not taking the Lord’s Name in vain, and honoring parents.

So, why is it that we never seem to make a big deal out of the Sabbath? I suppose it’s just because we really have no idea how it fits into our lives, or why it’s all that important.

Just to be clear, though, I think it’s important to clarify a few things. First, when we read about Sabbath in Scripture, or even in the context of Judaism, we’re talking about Saturday—not Sunday.

  

In fact, one of the reasons Christians meet on Sunday (besides being the day of Christ’s resurrection, and it being the first day of the week) is that the Earliest Christians were Jewish. Christianity was understood to be a reform in Judaism. So, like all observant Jewish people, the first Christians went to synagogue or Temple on Saturday, and met as a Christian community on Sundays. So, again, the Sabbath day is Saturday, and it is supposed to be a day of rest.

Secondly, even though Saturday is technically the day for Sabbath, we also see that later on in the New Testament that there was less emphasis placed on which day was kept as Sabbath for individuals. However, this is to say, that even though the day itself became negotiable, whether one kept the Sabbath was not…

So, with all of this in mind, what does it mean for us—Christians, and most all of us Non-Jewish, besides? Well, to answer that, we should consider where the Sabbath Law originated. We’re told in Genesis, in the Creation narrative, that after God had created all things over 6 days, on the 7^th, God rested.

While I’m certain that creating all things seen and unseen is probably an undertaking which requires unimaginable effort—and is therefore quite tiring…it is my humble opinion that the writers of this narrative had no illusions that God might actually require rest.

  

However, what is apparent is that this understanding that rest could be taken as a holy action is important. So, whether God actually needs rest or not isn’t the point. The point is that rest is a necessary thing, and is a holy thing…

For many of us this idea that taking our rest—especially for an entire day—sounds incredible. In fact, dreaming about such a concept might even make us believe we could watch football with a unicorn, or even purchase magic beans from a street vendor.

What I’m getting at is, because the entirety of our lives, and even our whole human culture has this stigma about rest, and are literally addicted to being busy and over-scheduled; we believe that rest is either an impossible dream, or a waste of time. The result, then, is that we have people who are emotionally and physically stretched; families and relationships strained; and spiritual lives which can’t help but become anemic. This is because we believe that either rest is a non-essential, or we believe that we can’t possibly make room in our lives for it.

But, this is why keeping the Sabbath holy is a commandment—and that means rest is a holy imperative. So, whatever belief about taking our rest that we buy into—the reality is that humanity, and our insistence upon being “productive,” as well as all of our many excuses about why we cannot rest are all nothing new. People have always been busy, and we have always needed to be reminded to rest.

  

Depending on which era we choose to look at from the Bible, the daily lives of the average person could be quite different. However, what wouldn’t change a whole lot was the fact that most people earned very little money, and the many necessities that we take for granted would have been difficult to come by. What’s more, if a person worked for wages, they would have been paid on a day-to-day basis (this was because of the Jewish law that a worker’s wages couldn’t be kept overnight). Anyway, someone who would have been considered well-paid would have been a person who earned enough to buy a full day’s worth of food.

Anyway, because most work would have been physically labor intensive; we could probably assume that most jobs were pretty taxing, as well.

So, between working physically demanding jobs and working, literally, each day to pay for tomorrow’s food—I think it’s fair to say that most people in the ancient world were “busy” in a real sense. For them, to take a day of rest would mean that there might not be food for the next day…

All the same, like us, these people needed rest. They needed the assurance that they wouldn’t always be slaves to their economic system and livelihood needs. They needed to be rejuvenated so that they could not only be more effective when they returned to work, but they also needed the time to be able to refocus and reconnect with God, who is the center of all of our lives.

Of course, because this idea of Sabbath rest was a holy commandment, Israel built a society which could facilitate such a way of life. Unfortunately for us, we happen to live in a culture which doesn’t facilitate such a way of life. And while we’re not busy and working to support our livelihood in quite the same way as they did in the ancient world; we’re still dangerously busy people.

We’re dangerously busy people who need to make Sabbath rest a holy imperative…

For some of you, I’m sure that hearing you need to add just one more component (even if it is rest) to an already over-programmed, over-committed lifestyle just causes more anxiety. But before anyone breaks out into hives, I want to make clear that there is no set way to find rest. In other words, some people may swear by mindfulness practices, exercise, or some form of hobby to recharge. However, this doesn’t mean that these are the only acceptable options for finding rest.

I know therapists who tell their clients to go home and clean and reorganize a closet. Some people, are big into yard work and love planting flowers, and doing landscaping. The point is, that even though these could be considered a kind of work, they allow the people who love doing them to refocus, and reorder their thoughts and emotions so that they are able to come to some sense of rest. I suppose, technically, such people could still have stones thrown at them according to Sabbath Law—but, again, we have to consider how to best live into this idea of holy rest in the context of our own time and culture.

 Now, to be completely honest, I really don’t have any kind of particular practice that would fit for everyone. What I think is a way to find rest may not be for others—and besides, I think if we don’t try to organically find the things that recharge us; we’re just adding another task to try to juggle with everything else we need to do…

However, what I do think holy Sabbath might look like is time spent intentionally. This doesn’t mean that it will always be an entire day, or even a specific day. It is, however, time spent refocusing, and specifically allowing God—even asking God—to help us to be whole. When we do this, whatever it looks like on the surface, we allow ourselves to be more fully present—and we also allow all of the noise and distraction to settle out, so that somehow the voice and Presence of God can be more fully discerned.

What this cultivates, then, especially when we re-enter the busy-ness of our lives, is a sense that who we are is not wholly validated by what we do, or how much we do. Instead, who we are is who we are, and what we do is simply what we we’re doing. In other words, our identity is not enmeshed with all of the ‘stuff’ that we have going on…

Of course, parents who have kids around probably think that I’m insane. But, I’m also a parent—of three wonderful, unstoppable boys, in fact. Yet, even in this arrangement (although we’re not always great at it) Charity and I work to keep some holy Sabbath time.

Sometimes, it might mean hiding in a closet, and hoping the kids won’t find you for 15 whole minutes. It may even mean allowing the kitchen to remain messy for one night in favor of taking some quiet time after the kids have gone to bed. Better still, it sometimes means intentionally playing with the kids—being part of whatever it is they’re doing. Even if it’s messy, or feels a little silly—I think we adults learn a lot from the experience, and even find our spirits rejuvenated. The point is, it’s always experimental; but it’s always necessary. And I think it makes us better parents, spouses/partners and even better people in general; because we’re not trying to run on fumes constantly.

The point is that all of us need Sabbath—however it can take shape for each of us. We need it so badly, in fact, that many people are paying for therapists; and getting medicated—not because of any actual psychological or physical illness—but because they don’t rest.

In the Gospels we read that Jesus would often slip away from the crowds to be alone. He could have been praying, meditating or even crocheting—who knows?

We’re told that God rested on the 7^th day of Creation, and that when Moses was given the Law, one of the Laws was that the Sabbath Day (the day of rest) should be kept holy.

The point is, when I think about these things—especially as we get ready for Labor day, a national day of rest—I’m reminded that rest is something that we’re so terrible at, that we need the example of Jesus, a national day of rest—even God to teach us that we need rest…

Holy rest is more than just a chance for us to be better prepared for our return to work; it should be a chance for us to reclaim who we are apart from what we do. It should be a way for us to step back and get a handle on our priorities, as well as reconnect with the essentials of our lives. Most importantly, our Sabbath time should allow us to put away the distractions of life, so that we can better discern God’s Presence in our lives. And then, having claimed for ourselves holy time for holy rest; we’ll still need to return to our daily lives—however, by God’s grace, we’ll return with the strength and presence of mind to even reclaim the busy parts of our lives for ourselves, as well.   

Proper 18 2014

Proper 18, 2014

It may be an over-statement, or it might be an inescapable truth, but it seems to me that children have the unique ability to test our principles. I don’t know if it’s their persistence, their overly-honest questions, or their ability to test (rigorously) every boundary. But, no matter how intentional you try to be about parenting, there are those times when your best intentions fail miserably, and the old adage about pavement on the road to hell suddenly makes all the sense in the world. Yet, because you have a responsibility to your children, and you want to instill in them all of the good things and principles that will help them to be healthy, happy contributors to society, you keep going. Still, after a particularly tough day with the kids, I hear the words of Groucho Marx ringing in my head: “These are my principles, if you don’t like them, I have others.”

With all of that said, though, I do obviously adore my children—and I do want to help form them into decent people. And, if everything that I’m trying to teach them were a handful of spaghetti thrown at the wall, the stuff that I hope would stick would be: be kind; be compassionate; be a strong person of integrity, and do your best to sort out problems with other people with dignity and respect.

Now, when you’re all done chuckling under your breath, I’ll just tell you that the places where we’re able to teach these things most often is when conflict arises. And, because we have three spirited young boys with strong opinions, we get plenty of opportunities to teach… Not so impossible after all, huh?

The point is, it’s our job as their parents to walk them through the process of productive conflict resolution. Of course, while the work can get loud at times, we do our best to encourage a healthy resolution—whether that means making-up and moving on, or just playing separately for a while. And, always, throughout the process, we do our best to make sure that their at least trying to be kind and respectful.  So far, it seems to be working, but like everything it takes intentionality.

Anyway, as it turns out, our Gospel reading today deals with this whole idea of conflict resolution. And, while there are some similarities to how adults and children work to resolve conflict; Jesus offers some guidelines for doing it in a healthy way.

He says if someone in the community somehow wrongs you, go to them and talk it out. If that doesn’t work, take a couple of other people, and try and work it out together. If for some reason, that still doesn’t settle the matter, take it to the whole community. After this, if there is still no resolution, you need to walk away, and allow the person and the issue to fade away as well.

While, on the surface, the practice seems pretty cut-and-dry; a closer look at what Jesus is advocating actually has a number of implications besides simply how to handle conflict. This is because not only do we see the responsibility of the individuals involved directly in the conflict, but also their responsibility to the community—and vice versa—the community’s responsibility to the individuals. What’s more, Jesus infers some things about the nature of reconciliation and forgiveness, and how these things are vital to individuals, as well as communities.

So, let’s start with this idea of conflict, and how it affects people and their communities. We know from Family Systems theory, among other things, that when conflict develops between two people, it doesn’t just stay between those two people. No one really likes conflict, and so the discomfort that conflict causes people makes them go to other people to talk about the conflict. This is one way that humans try to alleviate the anxiety and stress that comes from conflict…Family Systems calls this triangulating.

Well, as the triangulation continues, and the root conflict remains unresolved, the anxiety and stress of the conflict begins to infect the community, and in time, this can do some serious damage to the whole community. The point is, when conflict arises between individuals, they have a responsibility to their community, as well as one another to try to resolve it.

Now, as Jesus says, if the conflict can’t be resolved individually—if this other person just won’t even try—then some trusted people should be brought into the conversation. In the context of the Ancient Near East, one or two other people would have been brought along for credible legal testimony later on if things went badly.

However, even in our own time and culture, I think we could still agree that it might be a good thing to bring trusted people into the conversation.

Sometimes we become so entrenched in our own understanding, that the obstinacy that we perceive in the other person, may, in fact, be our own stubbornness. So, it can be helpful to have others who can help us see the bigger picture of a particular conflict.

Likewise, even if resolution can’t be attained, these others might be able to help mitigate the damage that could be caused by the conflict, if it infected the community.

Finally, if all else fails, take the matter to the whole community. I know this sounds a little extreme. After all, I think we would consider individual conflicts kind of a private matter, and bringing the whole community into it would seem inappropriate. But, then again, when we’re trying not to resolve a matter—or better still whenever we’re trying to avoid resolving a matter, we naturally tend to tell others about it anyway. This is that triangulation thing again. So, while we might make the excuse that our conflict is a private thing—if we’re drawing others into the conflict, or if our behavior affects other people in our community…then the conflict we’re in with another individual is definitely NOT a private matter. It’s just that we want to make ourselves believe that it’s private. So, we owe it to ourselves and our community to be honest.

But, that aside, we don’t start by going to the whole community first. Again, we begin individually, and work up to this—and if we’re trying this hard to resolve a conflict, and there is still no resolution, we do need to bring the matter to the church community.

Now, how this is done, can be up for some interpretation. After all, the kind of community in the Early Church would have been small gatherings in houses—a much more intimate context for this type of conversation. However, today, we might be better suited to bring these situations to the governing body of a church—the vestry, or board.

The point is, if it’s human nature to tell people in the church about a conflict we’re having with another member of the church because we don’t want to deal with the conflict; then how much more responsibility do we have to that same community to utilize healthy ways of resolving a conflict… Also, if it has gone this far, the community should be ready for any potential fallout.

Now, all of this is simply rehashing what Jesus taught about resolving conflict in the faith community. And, while I obviously harped on our responsibility to the community, there’s a lot more to this passage, as well.

One thing that I think stands out is this idea that whatever we bind on earth, we bind in heaven. In other words, if we bind ourselves to division, conflict and un-forgiveness in this transitory life; we bind ourselves to it eternally. For me, this seems to mean a couple of things. If I choose to hold on to a grudge, I bind myself to the person whom I feel has wronged me until I can either forgive, or let go of it… So, the things that I might choose to hold over someone who has wronged me, holds me—binds me to the person as much as they are bound to me. And if they have really wronged me, the thought of being inextricably bound to them just feels icky.

What’s more, if I hold on to the pain of a particular wrong, it can take on all sorts of forms—bitterness, rage, hatred… Such strong emotions can even become somaticized into physical sickness or neurosis. Beyond that, the inability to forgive, or let go can even shape the way I live my life and how I think. It can affect how I relate to family and friends.

Basically, this means who I am gets changed by what I choose to do or not do. This, I think, is what it means to bind these things in heaven, or eternally.

Now, I don’t want to give the impression that forgiveness is easy, and I don’t want to sound as if all wrongs are equal, and we just need to get over ourselves and forgive people… The fact is that there are some wrongs that can wound us to such a degree that forgiveness might take a very long time—if it can ever happen. However, in these cases, perhaps this is where letting go can be helpful. What I mean by this is that while we may not be able to forgive, and relinquish our hurt—instead, we try to let go of our claim to justice, and admit that it is our own need to see our version of justice done. It’s my sense that if we can begin here, that we have a better chance of finally coming to some sense of peace and eventual forgiveness…

Anyway, to bring this all together, even in a community of faith, conflict arises—just as it does in families. However, if we’re intentional about how we work through these matters, we’ll not only foster a healthier community—but we may even begin to learn those deeper values of dignity, compassion, kindness and forgiveness.