I was able to dodge the bullet of talking about the "Shrewd Steward" last week, but I have to say that looking at the parable of "Poor Lazarus" feels overly safe. I'm left a bit uninspired is my meaning.
Where I have the most trouble is that this parable feels like one that we are too familiar with, and I worry that anything new or insightful could be offered at this point. My fear is that I'll wind myself up with discussing the perspectives of life after death that Jesus would have been working with in the First Century CE and never really get at any real "take home" lesson for people.
Truth to tell, I'm not all that thrilled about the other readings either. There isn't the kind of spark I like to get that leads me to getting my 'bite' and building a reasonable sermon. And that, I suppose, is why I'm here now. I'm hoping that this process will be something of a free-writing exercise to get me primed for developing a sermon that isn't wretched. However, I probably need to get all of the dross out of the system before really committing to developing a decent sermon. So, here I go...
As I intuited earlier, the parable seems to indicate what some of the popular beliefs of afterlife might have been in the First Century. However, I think it infers such belief rather than proscribes any particular belief. I would equate this to how today we tell jokes about post mortem experiences which lead to either eccentricities about the rules of the afterlife, or how profoundly ridiculous one's understanding of the afterlife could be...
I'm reminded of a number of jokes when reading this passage, but one in particular seems to fit best.
Three men die in an accident and stand at the pearly gates. St. Peter, looking at his book, realizes that these men weren't particularly bad, and given the tragic circumstances, Peter decided to give each of them a chance.
Setting the bar relatively low, St. Peter asked each man in turn if they knew the story of Easter. If they could simply tell him the story of Jesus' resurrection, Peter felt that he could get them into Heaven.
The first man said something about the Easter bunny bringing baskets to children, and Peter stopped him short. Shaking his head, Peter moved to the second man.
This man said that he was familiar with the Easter bunny and baskets, but he was pretty sure that there was also something to do with the beginning of summer and fertility. Peter, scratching his head sighed, and moved to the final man.
Crestfallen, Peter didn't allow himself to get to hopeful. However, the man started uncertainly after a pregnant moment. He said, "Oh yeah! I remember this! This is the story of the man Jesus who had been crucified, and died. They didn't have any money to bury him, and so a rich guy gave a tomb for Jesus to be buried..." Peter became animated, and urged that man to continue, but the man seemed to be stuck, but the man finally continued. "And after three days...let me think...Jesus came back to life!" At this point Peter was elated and jumped up and down, but the man had not finished. The man continued, "so, after Jesus came back to life, he came out of the tomb, saw his shadow and ran back in, and it meant six more weeks of winter."
It's a pretty terrible joke. However, like Jesus' parable about Poor Lazarus, the theology is not meant to be sophisticated as much as a vehicle to make his point. That being said, the parable does refer to what would be a familiar or popular understanding about the afterlife. So, like the above joke, which makes reference to "pearly gates." "St. Peter," a book of names, et cetera; the parable of Jesus is tapping into pop theology rather than a strict form of belief.
But before I follow too many other rabbit trails, it's helpful to put this passage into some context. There is a section omitted in the chapter which connects this parable to the previous lesson about the "Shrewd Steward" (or however you might title that parable). Jesus is calling out the hypocrisy of the pharisees and other religious authorities. Not only does he encourage shrewdness in his disciples, but he says that the religious authorities are only concerned with money and power. He says that there are some (pharisees, Jesus is looking your way) who want to take the Kingdom of God by force. Jesus even goes so far as to say that these very things that the elitists favor, God abhors. He tells them that it's easier for Heaven and earth to pass away than it is for a stroke of a letter in the law to be dropped. This point he concludes by referencing that anyone who divorces his wife and marries another commits adultery--this, given the context appears to be inferring that the religious authorities have all but abandoned God, and are committing adultery with the promises of worldliness...
I happen to really enjoy reggae. The culture which shaped reggae is steeped in Rastafarianism, and an even deeper kind of liberation theology. The temptations of ambition, power, wealth, and fleshly desires are all considered part of the spirit of Babylon. This is a motif that is regularly used in Hebrew Scripture, and comes through reggae as a reminder that our home, for the time being, is far away, and we dwell presently in Exile--an exile like that of Israel in Babylon. In fact, this idea has informed the title of this blog. That and The Fugees.
Anyway, this belief that the way of God's Kingdom is under siege is an old one. In the reformation Jesus was bringing about there was a focus on how dangerous complacency was for religious people. Further, Jesus railed against the idea that legalism gave a pass to religious people to behave unjustly, unfairly, or to live as if they were a higher class of people. This sense of self-importance that the religious elite held gave them the impression that they ought to be judge of other people, and used their influence and prestige to control and rule over people as arbiters of God's Law and God's people. Jesus gainsaid this by pointing out that what happened in the hearts of these people, and many of their behaviors denied their claim of authority by purity.
This brings me finally to the parable of Poor Lazarus. Lazarus is a guy who is poor, and he sits outside the house of a rich man. The rich man, as culture understands, has 'got his own' and owes no one anything. He must be blessed by God. Lazarus on the other hand is poor and diseased. No one pities him except the dogs who come by and do what little they can to try to comfort Lazarus. The rich man, who has the means to help simply doesn't.
It's in the afterlife that we get the clearest view of these two men. Lazarus who is justified rests with Abraham, whereas the rich man is left in eternal torment. In this situation the religious pietism of the rich man comes through. He begs Abraham to command Lazarus to bring him a drop of water... Once again, Lazarus is not someone to be noticed, he is an entity without worth or agency of his own. Abraham denies the request, and after the rich man begs for Lazarus to be sent back (again Lazarus is never addressed) to warn his brothers, Abraham settles the issue. He states, they have Moses and the Prophets, if their words are not enough to convince them, even the resurrected dead couldn't have a chance.
It's a pretty tough lesson to learn for the rich man. What's more, when I read the parable, I'm almost inclined to want mercy for the rich man and his brothers. There is even part of me that feels like if Lazarus did show up, resurrected, the rich man's brothers would respond and change their ways. I mean, how could they ignore an undead guy? And yet...I wouldn't doubt they would ignore it. More than likely, they would rationalize it away like Scrooge tried to do in "A Christmas Carol". Sure, we're told that all of Nineveh (capitol city of Israel's oppressors) repented when Jonah finally told them to... Absolutely, Israel made a covenant with God which promised terrible recompense if they mistreated people, or were unjust in their dealings. And yet, it would seem the story of Israel's dysfunctional marriage to God is rife with exactly this type of unjust behavior. In fact, the sad reality is that we have had a messenger who has returned from the dead, and he has reiterated the imperative of doing justly, loving mercy and walking humbly before our God...and still. Still, within the Church we find this same kind of dangerous, poisonous, destructive complacency in people of faith. Truthfully, it's the secret we all know, but do we see it, and allow for it because we can't find our way to speak the truth? Do we feel the freedom--or even conviction--to speak out against the complacency, and the self-allowances that we know are rampant within the Church? Well...I don't know. But, I hope that for the sake of the Church we can find the courage to do it.
"I'm a lazy sod..."
I'm quoting the Sex Pistols on this post to make the empty commitment that I will try to get my archived sermons up. The truth is I think I've become a better preacher since I wrote many of these. The trouble is that I no longer write my sermons down. There is part of me that feels that it's more appropriate to send out the words into the Universe, and allow them to permeate where they will, and then cease to plug up the world with more words.
Yeah...I'm trying to sound Zen.
Anyway, if I have my way and suddenly become more disciplined, I will even start writing some proper musings and thoughts.
Here's to hoping.
Yeah...I'm trying to sound Zen.
Anyway, if I have my way and suddenly become more disciplined, I will even start writing some proper musings and thoughts.
Here's to hoping.
Proper 6 2015
Proper 6 2015
At my house we get a kick out of
documentaries about animals, space, science—and a bunch of others. That’s
probably no surprise to you, being that I’m such a big nerd…
Anyway, we watched a series from
the BBC called “How to Grow a Planet,” and it explored how plants and plant
life were not only responsible for directing the evolution of many animals
(including humans), but were also essential for the development of an oxygen
rich atmosphere—allowing for the diversity of life we experience now.
As Iain Stewart (the host of the
series) explains; it’s because of their ability to produce multiple generations
over a short time, in a number of environments, which allows them to adapt so
quickly. But, it is this very same need for generation (and reproduction) that
directs their adaptability.
So, while many plants developed
ways of reproduction that make use of things like wind and water to carry the
elements of reproduction (even a variety of types of seeds)—there are still
other plants which developed ways to make use of other means: effectively
animals.
Now, of course, we’re familiar with
bees, and other insects carrying pollen from flower to flower—but, what we may
not realize is that plants developed things like flowers and nectar and pollen
to attract such insects to aid in their reproduction. Some plants have even
developed specific flower shapes, colors, and aromas to either draw or
discourage certain insects.
Still others, however, even
developed fruits or vegetables which could be eaten by different animal
species—and, in turn, the plant seeds (which are housed in these fruits and
vegetables) are then “deposited (shall we say)” to start a new generation of
the parent plant.
But, of course, it’s not only the
plants that make adjustments—but the animal life around them change as well.
Birds develop special beaks and tongues to extract nectar. Bees develop fur on
their bodies which can hold both nectar and pollen. Some animals develop strong
jaws to break the shells of tree nuts…and, of course everything from bananas
and monkeys; trees and giraffes; plants and animals have developed to complement
one another for their mutual survival. In other words, life develops a
symbiotic relationship, and many plant species have affected a variety of
changes in animal life through this on-going relationship.
However, this is to say that while
these plant species need “workers” or “helpers” to aid in their
reproduction—obviously, this isn’t a completely thankless relationship. After
all, animals get food (or the raw ingredients to make food, like bees for
honey). And, what’s more, we find that some animal species even develop culture
and societies around plants and food, partly because these fruits and
vegetables have even become essential to a healthy diet. We see it with
bees—but we also know that farming and agriculture marked a complete shift in
human society.
Plants need us to continue life,
and we need plants to sustain ours.
Now, I’m not sure that all of this
was what Jesus had in mind with his parable in our Gospel reading today. But, I
do think such considerations can add a number of dimensions to this parable.
He says that the Kingdom of God is
like someone scattering seed, and over time the seed sprouts and grows—and it’s
a mystery, we don’t know how it happens. First the stalk grows, then the head,
and then the full grain in the head. When this is ripe, the grain is harvested.
Jesus continues by saying that the
Kingdom of God can be compared to a mustard seed, which he says is the smallest
of the seeds on the earth. When it is planted, it grows into a shrub with large
branches, which become the home of birds.
When we consider the first parable
about the grain, we can assume that the ground is cultivated, because we know
that the seeds are planted by someone. And, day after day, the miracle and
mystery of growth occurs—whether we understand how that happens or not, it’s
still impressive. What is also impressive is that in this process we see the
miracle of regeneration through seeds; and how humanity cultivates and grows
such things for a purpose beyond simply continuing the life cycle of this
particular species of plant. It’s literally a matter of life and livelihood for
both the plan and humanity.
The produce then is not only the
grain and the seed, but it is also sustenance for us, and a way of continuing
the life cycle of the plant.
In the same way, the parable of the
mustard seed is also interesting. Jesus explains that it is a very small
seed—almost insignificant; and yet, it grows into a shrub that can become home
to birds. This particular seed, then, not only grows into an important herb—but,
as Jesus says, it becomes a home for birds. So, here again, we can see the
relationship to the plants and animals—people cultivate mustard seeds, but I’d
imagine that birds are also responsible for carrying and depositing these
seeds, as well. And while sustenance is certainly a factor with regard to the
mustard seed—it would seem that Jesus sees more importance in its ability to
offer shelter.
So, if we were to pull all of this
stuff together to get a picture of the connection and comparison between grain
and mustard seeds to the Kingdom of God; I suppose we could say that the
Kingdom of God is a place where we find shelter and sustenance…
But, I don’t think we have to stop
there, either; because, we really don’t fully understand how the Kingdom of God
can be both already at hand—and, at the same time, ‘not yet here.’ It’s a
little difficult to understand how this Kingdom grows… Growth, in this case, is
not necessarily about numbers in churches. It’s not about popularity, exposure,
image, or even programs that attract a certain demographic. If anything, the
Kingdom of God seems to resist such things.
However, what the Kingdom does
offer is sustenance. We’re given the promises of new and eternal
life…resurrection. We’re offered forgiveness of sins, reconciliation, and an
alternative to the destructive rat race of the world. We’re even given hope
that things won’t always be as difficult as they seem right now—that life for
us, or others in the world doesn’t have to be about pain or suffering or fear.
Instead, we’re offered a vision of what humanity, and the rest of the world
will be in God’s redemptive time.
The Kingdom of God, likewise
promises shelter. In this life we’re offered community; purpose for our lives;
even a vision for a fuller, more healthy and integrated life. More importantly,
we’re offered love—the love of a faith community, and the opportunity to
realize and experience the love of God.
Beyond this, we’re offered a home
in the next life. In this we’re given the promise that life doesn’t end by our
death, but is instead our transition to a place of rest and truer life.
And yet, while all of that stuff
about plants and their effect on the evolution of animal species wasn’t likely
part of what Jesus was getting at in his parables…I still believe that all of
it brings an important dimension to light about the Kingdom of God. Because, it
seems to me that while the Kingdom of God grows and produces mysteriously…
While we may even say that the Kingdom of God offers both sustenance and
shelter… What we also have to consider is that the Kingdom of God also relies
upon all of us to continue its growth and cultivation.
In other words, our lives of faith
are not simply about how we are fed,
or how we are sheltered. In fact, we
know from another parable that the shepherd will leave the 99 sheep to recover
the one which is lost… So, I think it’s vitally important that we understand
that all of the benefits of our faith, and our citizenship in the Kingdom of
God is not something to be miserly about. Instead, we’re called to be
extravagant in sharing the fruits of this Kingdom through our lives, through
our interactions with others. And we’re not to behave as if we want our faith
to be some well-kept secret, either…this shelter that we’ve been given (this
promise of home) is not something exclusive. We’re supposed to be about
inviting others to experience it, and find a home for their hearts, right along
with us, in the Kingdom.
The point is, the miracle of all of
this is not so much the growth from a seed; the produce that sustains us; or
even the immensity of the shelter that can be birthed from such a humble seed…
The miracle is that God entrusts us
with the responsibility to cultivate the Kingdom—to continue to receive and be
sustained by the life-giving food from the Kingdom of God, but then to go out,
and plant the seeds that will allow the Kingdom of God to flourish, and continue
to be the sustenance and shelter for generations to come…
Proper 5 2015
Proper 5 2015
It may be just me, but I don’t feel
like I hear nearly enough sermons based on the Old Testament. Maybe that’s a
relief to some of you, I don’t know. But my guess is that because it requires a
lot of contextualizing, and explanation—sermons based on the Old Testament have
the potential to be dreadfully boring. There are, after all things like
culture, historical context and things to be considered…but, also the Old
Testament can just be a little weird sometimes.
Our reading from Genesis might fall
into this category if it weren’t such a familiar story. However, this isn’t the
lovely litany of Creation from previous chapters—instead, this is the story of
how these humans that God has created are eventually exiled for their
disobedience. Which is really a bit of a downer, when you think of it…
But before we all put on our
self-effacing, Sunday School hats—it might be helpful to explore the story a
bit before we make any assumptions. Besides, as Walter Brueggemann, the
incredibly popular, cool and devilishly handsome Old Testament scholar has
pointed out: this narrative cannot be oversimplified as simply being about
origins of evil/ the fall/sin/death or sex; and to make it only about that
stuff oversimplifies the meaning, and overstates the importance of such things
that are really very minor points in the story... It also distracts us from the
fact that the story is rich in graciousness, mercy, and love. Instead, as Brueggemann
says, it is a story about “God’s powerful resolve to overcome [humanity’s]
alienation [from God] (pg 44),” It’s also about the purposes of God, and the
trust of humankind (pg 43).
So, if you still haven’t lost
interest, here we go…
Oh! I would like to first point out
that this story was not written as historical fact. For one, the writers of
Scripture were less interested in historical reporting (as we understand it
today), and were instead very
concerned with communicating “Truth.”
That’s to say whether you take the
creation account in Genesis as literal, or don’t believe it at all—the point is
that the writers were trying to communicate deeper truth. So, arguments about
infallibility, literal interpretation, or even discounting this work as pure,
primitive nonsense is pretty much irrelevant to the point of it.
Right, so, on to the story…
Well, we’re told about this Garden
that is planted by God—and this planting, like everything else that God has
done in Creation is purely graciousness. Previously we’ve heard about God
calling into existence light, and out of chaos the variety of elements—earth,
the stars and other heavenly bodies. The boundaries of the sea are marked, and
plants and animals spring forth to inhabit this newly birthed world.
But into this Garden, which God
planted, there is a surprise creature—this one which is not simply called into
being by the existence-giving word of
God. Instead, this creature is formed, from the earth, and life is breathed
into it. And, because this creature is made from the soil, it is called Adamah
(“Adam”).
What’s more, this creature is
somehow made in the Image of God, and therefore can find no equal in all of
creation. This was the first time in the whole liturgy of Creation that God
says that something is “not good.” Adam is alone…
But, God is not supposed to be
Adam’s helper. It’s one thing for God
to be the help of the Creation—but,
not a helper. So, to solve this matter, it would require another new and
surprising and creative action. And God creates the woman from the side of the
man—and they are equal, and they are
one in their community in this Garden that God has planted for them.
Now, Walter Brueggemann says that
from this development of the plot so far that humanity and this Garden tell us
something about the purpose of God in humanity. Humans are given certain
characteristics which both define their identity as this special type of
creature, but also identify the purpose for humanity’s relationship to this
Garden, and to God.
First of all, the human is given
into this Garden to work. It is Adam’s created vocation to work in this Garden,
and from its bounty to be sustained, like the rest of the Creation. However,
because humanity is made in this likeness of the Creator—the nature to be
creative is part of that image. And so, Adam is placed into this Garden not
only to work, care for, and cultivate it—but, by this creative nature, to enhance it!
What’s more, Adam is placed into
this world and is told that he ought to go and enjoy the Creation. God gives
Adam permission to be utterly free—this is a freedom that we often forget
because, of course, there is the one
prohibition that God gives to Adam and Eve. God explains that they are free to
explore and enjoy the creation—but for this one tree.
“You’re forbidden this one thing”,
God says. “Do not eat of this tree…it’s the tree of the knowledge of good and
evil, and eating of this tree will bring you death…”
This is the part that we normally
focus on… We may wonder, what’s the point in allowing the man and the woman
unlimited access to everything else—but then to place a tree in the Garden that
could easily be the cause of death for these creatures?
But, here again, the point is not
why God would prohibit this one
thing—the point is that not only is this one tree not relevant to the purposes
of God, the more important point is that humanity misses the immensity of
freedom that has been bestowed upon them.
The truth is, we’re not given a lot
of information about this tree—it doesn’t play any particular role in Scripture
until a few conversations by St. Paul in the New Testament. However, it
wouldn’t be much of a story if the tree wasn’t so interesting…
Enter: the serpent. Inevitably,
it’s the serpent who will become the catalyst for what we can easily guess will
happen.
Apparently, the serpent is the only
creature who has considered philosophically this prohibition about the tree.
That’s not to say that this serpent is the embodiment of evil or of Satan—in
fact, we don’t see the serpent as any particular symbol of evil anywhere else
in the Old Testament, really. If anything, in a couple of places, we see that
serpents were symbols of healing. And as to this prefiguring Satan; well, this
serpent is more like a philosopher, or theologian than a prosecuting attorney
(as the name Satan implies).
This serpent, then, offers this
theological question to the woman. Did God really say that you weren’t allowed
to eat from the tree? Do you really think that death really means death? So,
like a theologian, the serpent begins having a conversation about God—without involving God. God is
instead objectified.
The serpent encourages the woman to
make a value judgment about God. Suddenly, this clear prohibition of God’s gets
somehow rationally reframed, and in no time both the woman and the man have
eaten from the one tree that was
forbidden to them.
What happens then, and where our
reading begins today, is incredibly nuanced—and it’s because of this nuance
that I think this story is so beautiful…
God shows up, as we would expect.
The man and the woman, we’re told, have hidden themselves away—not that this
would matter, or would somehow keep God from finding them. But in spite of
God’s apparent omniscience, and even omnipotence—God asks the first recorded
question to any of his creatures. God cries out, “Ayeka?!” “Where are you?”
This isn’t a question of physical
location—it’s not as if God is fooled by the man and woman hiding. This is a
question of the heart. It’s a question of spiritual presence. “Where is your
heart?”
Vicki Garvey (from our diocesan
staff, and formerly Old Testament professor at Seabury) has pointed out, there
is fear and abandonment in this question. God is utterly broken-hearted, and
it’s somehow God who is lost.
All of a sudden these beautiful,
amazing creatures that had so much potential were now unrecognizable. Where
were these cleverly creative children who were supposed to enhance the beauty
of an already beautiful Creation? Where were these wide-eyed, and curious
people who were compelled to learn about their world, learn about themselves,
and learn about God?
Now, who were these pitiful,
frightened shadows who not only couldn’t hide, but couldn’t even dress
themselves?
When the man emerges, he’s quick to
explain that when he heard God in the Garden, he was afraid. He hid because he
was naked. Nakedness was never a condition before—not until the man made it
one. Suddenly something that was simply part of being human had become a reason
for fear and shame.
Who told you that you were naked,
God asks him… Have you eaten from the tree?
The man then explains that it was
this woman that God gave him. She was responsible for giving him the fruit. The
woman, in her turn, likewise explains that it was the serpent who tricked her,
and then she ate the fruit… And so, we see that the man and the woman—for all
of the guilt we know they feel—can’t admit any fault of their own. It wasn’t
apparently their own choices, but was instead God’s fault, and the woman’s
fault and the serpent’s fault…not to mention everything is “I, I, I; me, me, me…”
Well, we know how the story
ends—the man and woman are exiled from the Garden, and they are cursed to toil
and pain on the earth… But here is what we probably don’t consider in this
story: God’s grace is still very much evident, and is even given in their
sentencing to exile.
God made it perfectly clear that
while everything was permissible to them, there was this one thing—this one
tree that, if they ate of its fruit would lead to death. But, the man and the
woman did eat the fruit of this tree—but, they didn’t die. And so, while we
would expect some punishment for their actions from God—there is still a clear
injustice in the very judgment that God gives…
What’s more, this shame and guilt
that the man and woman cannot bear, Brueggemann adds, God can bear it, and even
goes so far as to do what they cannot—God clothes them. And as we know from the
New Testament, to be clothed is to have life.
Again, as I quoted earlier, this
isn’t a hopeless story—“it’s a story about God’s powerful resolve to overcome
alienation…” And the deep truth that this narrative speaks to us is quite an
important one. Because, as we see this beautiful, hope-filled vision of
humanity in the creation—we hold to the faith that in Jesus we are made a new
creation. The Church, then is to strive to reflect a renewed vision of that
original, beautiful state of humanity that we see in the Creation story.
As the Imago Dei, then, it is our
very nature to be about the vocation of enhancing and making our world. This
means through our talents, and our creativity, we have the responsibility to
work for the benefit of all of this Creation of which we are a part. More
importantly, because we are also called Christ’s own forever by our
baptism—we’re called to continue the work of salvation that was set in motion
by Jesus—but, has also been in motion from the very beginning. This is our
vocation.
We also live in a time and culture
where communication, technology and scientific discovery have made it easier to
experience, explore and understand our Universe. With every connection we make
with other cultures, we come to understand our own a little more. With each
scientific discovery, we find a multitude of questions to spark our curiosity
to understand even more…and this is also part of who we are as humans.
We are given incredible freedom to
learn about this life, about one another, ourselves—and, certainly about God.
The limits for us in this regard, then, are really pretty insignificant
compared to the freedom we’re permitted.
But with regard to limits, we do
have prohibitions… not a mysterious tree that we’re not allowed to go near. But
this is to say, that the prohibition for us is simply not to do those things
which lead to death.
This may sound overly simple, but
with regard to the other two—our vocation and our freedom—our abuse or neglect
of such gifts would certainly be dangerous. For instance we already see in the
world where technology which could help to provide necessary resources for the
life of others, is instead used to monopolize and exploit resources. We’ve seen
how our freedom to seek and to know have been turned to fear and control of
others…
There were some articles a couple
years back with studies that surprised advertising agencies, and churches right
along with them. They found that the Millennial generation—those born between
the 1980s through the 2000s—apparently didn’t really care a whole lot about
such things as social consciousness; the environment; or a number of other
things that had been major issues in previous generations. Some researchers
have gone so far as to say that Millennials are identified as having a sense of
entitlement and narcissism. Of course this is the generation that both
advertisers and the Church has been trying to court for the past few years.
The irony, I suppose, is that we’ve
also spent decades asking not only children in this particular generation what
“they value,” “what is important to them,” “what do they see as necessary or
valuable to them and their lives.” In other words, we’ve trained our culture to
make value judgments on just about everything. And so, we’re surprised when we
can’t get people to be engaged in working toward a common sense of good; or
committing to transformative work in the world; or even to being vital members
of our churches, when we’ve already restructured our society to give people
whatever they want—encouraged people to only take whatever they feel they need,
and leave the rest… In other words, we’ve encouraged self-entitlement and
narcissism in a generation—but we’ve also made it the new normal for the rest
of us.
So here’s the punchline… When our
response to the world’s need no longer evokes our creativity, and our vocation
to work and respond; we’ve lost part of what it is to be human. When we’re no
longer awestruck, or gob-smacked by the utter grandeur, mystery and largesse of
the Creation, because we just can’t see much value in it for us right now…well,
we’ve squandered our God-given gift of freedom for what appears convenient for
us in the moment. And when the pain of the world due to human greed or
negligence—even our own—challenges us to take a hard look at ourselves—who’s
fault will it be? God’s? other people? the serpent?
More importantly, who will God see?
Will it be the creative, free, life-affirming person created by God, or will it
be the frightened shadow, hiding in fear? As the Church, we’re supposed to
renew this Imago Dei that we’re given. We called to join God, in Christ, as
co-creators, and we’re also to work to overcome alienation among all of
humanity, and between ourselves and God. If we ignore this (or make excuses),
we diminish our nature. So, the question God continues to ask humanity is,
“Ayeka? Where are you?” And I would imagine it is asked with just as much fear
and anxiety as when God asked the man and the woman…
Trinity Sunday 2014
Trinity Sunday 2014
All of us know how important it is
to have a solid, foundational understanding of the doctrine of the Holy
Trinity, right?
I mean, who of us hasn’t found
ourselves harassed upon all sides by Gnostics, Arians, Valentinians and the
like, only to be saved through a clear and thorough articulation of Trinitarian
Doctrine… If only you had a nickel for every time that’s happened, am I right?
Well, in case you aren’t from the 4th
Century, and you only find your understanding of the Trinity challenged by
precocious seminarians and Jehovah’s Witnesses—then it’s likely that you don’t
have a ‘pet’ explanation of Trinitarian Doctrine, and it’s also likely that
you’ve gotten on with your faith just fine so far…
Now, so as not to make light of all
of this; I will say that in earlier ages in the Church, the articulation of the
Nature of God and why Three Persons in a Trinity of Being still made sense for
a monotheistic faith system was a bit more important—there really was a bit
more at stake.
After all, rival theological
statements—some of them more popular than others—posed an understanding of God
(Father, Son and Holy Spirit) sometimes in ways that disconnected our
historical roots to the same God of Israel.
Beyond this, and other matters,
these rival theologies were also a bid for power—but in the end, Trinitarian
theology prevailed, and the Nicene Faith affirmed, after hundreds of years of
trying to figure out what to make of Jesus and the Holy Spirit—both of Whom the
Church venerates and worships. But how to do that without creating two more
separate gods was the question.
So, for people like Gregory of
Nazianzus, his brother Basil the Great, Athanasius, and a host of others;
articulating a faith statement that made sense of this was more than a matter
of street cred—it was an attempt at explaining what Christianity meant for the
world in a time of immense upheaval and transition.
The
statement that they adopted then, in 325 at the Council of Nicaea, was what we
now know as the Nicene Creed (a clever name). And is the Creed that we recite
every Sunday (unless we don’t). Yet, even though in its original Greek it is a
loaded, complex and elegant statement of the faith, it’s about as clear as mud.
What this leaves us with today,
especially regarding the Doctrine of the Trinity, is a belief that (while it is
considered foundational) is all the same difficult to understand, hard to
articulate, and really only important to persnickety catechism teachers. At
least that’s how it seems.
But rather than throwing the whole
Doctrine of the Trinity out, or trying to over-simplify it with bad
analogies—perhaps we need to start by trying to understand what the Nature of
the Trinity speaks to our own time and culture—which, like the 4th
Century, is also very much in transition…
First off, let’s just get some
basic handle on what it is that is articulated in the Nicene Creed.
Effectively, the Creed affirms that God is One, and that the Son and the Holy
Spirit are of one and the same substance with the Father. God is before all
things, through the Son (Jesus), all things were created; and the Holy Spirit
proceeds from the Father.
Somehow, because the Three Persons
of the Trinity are so perfectly in communion, they are of One Substance, yet
because God is Love—and we understand that Love by nature has to have some kind
of economy, and is therefore shared—in this way, the Father, the Son and the
Holy Spirit share perfectly in one substance because they are perfectly in
love, and therefore God is Love.
Now, we’ve been through this
already a couple of times before, and I even had a few people dancing here in
the front to better demonstrate that the Co-existent Nature of the Trinity is
often described as a kind of dance—each Person of the Trinity is in perfect
inter-procession with and among one another. Again, like the Nicene Creed,
clear as mud. But, once again we find our language less than equal to the task
of speaking of such things.
Anyway, what all of this seems to
speak to, for us, and perhaps generations before us, is that God (the Holy
Trinity, and the perfect image of loving and whole community) calls us not only
to be in community (with God and others), but calls us to healthy and whole
community.
This, I think is particularly
important—healthy, whole community—because, of course whole and holy have the
same root, and as we know, God calls us to holiness, which in turn is
wholeness. And, I would imagine if a community of faith were about creating and
cultivating such a community—we would be less worried about programs and
advertising, because we would honestly have no trouble drawing people to be
part of such a community.
But what would this kind of community
look like? How do we even work toward living into such a vision?
Well, first, I think we need to
work at the integration of our faith and our lives. So, this means taking our
faith seriously. This doesn’t mean living into some rigorous, or complex holiness
code. But it does mean beginning with the very basics: Love God, love our
neighbors—and live and love as if it really mattered.
We need to believe that people are
worth something because God says so, and by God’s grace, we do our best to see
it. What this means is keeping in mind how we treat one another; how we talk
about one another; and how we value one another. Because as long as we continue
to give ourselves passes on these whenever it suits us, we’ll never really be
changed, and neither will our world.
Along with taking our faith
seriously, we also need to get past childish faith. Notice I didn’t say
“Childlike faith,” I said childish faith. Childish faith is the idea that
everything you learned about God and faith when you were six is still enough to
get you by as an adult. The fact is that I’m not really comfortable teaching
anyone, of any age easy answers to faith questions—but, I am interested in age
appropriate conversations about faith. However, the sad truth is that for many
of us, our faith has been formed by naïve, easy answers when we all know full
well that the world is asking tough questions. And easy answers are just
insufficient, and irresponsible. So, I think we do a disservice to ourselves,
and others when we don’t try to grow more mature in our faith.
Finally, we need to learn to not
judge—whether that be people, or even situations. We need to be able to step
back, take a breath, and check to see that we’re seeing the bigger picture.
Because, more often than not, communities of faith have the exact same patterns
as family systems. So, like families, there is a kind of homeostasis that is
kept—and this can be healthy or unhealthy, constructive or destructive—but,
unless the people in the family system, or even the community system try to
step back and see matters more clearly, often the system remains in negative
cycles. What’s more, because some of these systems are so used to being
unhealthy, and that feels more normal to them—the system will resist change,
even healthy change…
So as people of faith, it’s up to us to check
out our notions, or even our understanding of situations—otherwise we might
find that we’re perpetuating negativity, and most likely resisting possible healthy
change.
So, getting back to the Nature of
the Trinity; remember that I said that God, as Three Persons existing as One
God, in Perfect Community, invites each of us into Divine Union with God’s
Self—to be in community, even communion with God. However, as is the nature of
being in community, we don’t do it alone—God doesn’t call us to a one-to-one
relationship (personal, yes, but not isolated). What this means then is that
there will be other people who are called together with us, to be in communion
with God. But if we’re not willing to strive to be healthy and whole as a
community, we can never pretend to be holy, either. We likewise can’t hope to
be agents of healing, if we’re not, ourselves, trying our best to be healthy.
And we’re if not a holy community of faith, or workers for healing in the
world, then what is the purpose of the Church? Because there are plenty of
country clubs, and organizations who can make individuals feel like they
belong—but it’s the Church’s work to be an agent for positive change in the
world. But that positive change has to begin with each one of us in this
community, so that we can carry that same work out into the world in the name
of Christ. “And we will with God’s help.”
Proper 28 2014
Proper 28 2014
Our Gospel reading today is a
pretty standard issue reading for stewardship season. It talks about money,
investing, slaves and being cast into the outer darkness—everything anyone
could want in a stewardship sermon, I’m sure… Certainly threats of being ‘cast
out’ are great to secure the “fire insurance” pledges.
But for me, and perhaps most of
rational Christendom—I’m a little concerned about the parable in this regard.
So rather than using it to leverage financial contributions to the Church; I
think we might be better served if we try to work through some of it. If
nothing else, we might try to have some idea of how any of this has anything to
do with us…
Well, in context of the Gospel of
Matthew, Jesus has obviously been talking a lot about the final judgment that’s
to come. And so, he’s been telling a number of parables about being prepared,
having proper priorities—all of that. Of course, we should also keep in mind
that the Gospel of Matthew was written to reflect a Jewish perspective—so,
that’s even why some of what Jesus is saying sounds a lot like Old Testament
prophets. And in preparation for Advent, all of our lessons today feel a little
judgmental—because, well, they are…
See, this is the other context in
which we need to read the Gospel lesson—in the context of the other two
readings from Scripture. In the letter to the Thessalonians, Paul is warning
the Early believers to be prepared—be ready at all times for the return of
Christ. His point was that when we become too comfortable, we become complacent.
And this can lead to all sorts of concessions and compromises…
The reading from the prophet Zephaniah, then,
warns against the same thing—this idea that bad things happen when we’re too
comfortable or complacent.
Anyway, by the time we get to Jesus’
parable, we already have this sense that as things in the world get worse and
less hospitable; it will be more difficult to discern the right ways and best
actions for our lives. In the case of this particular parable; we’re to
understand that in a world where bridesmaids are being locked out of wedding
parties because they didn’t have enough oil for their lamps—this is also a
world where people will be too nervous to invest what is given to them.
Now, just to be clear, the amount
of money that each of these slaves is given is quite a lot. As I’ve said
before, Jesus is really pushing the bounds of reality with these parables. All
the same, he’s also trying to really express the absurdity of not being
prepared, and squandering what we’ve been given.
Well, we know how things shake out
in this parable. The master has given the slaves each a certain amount of
money, leaves, and comes back. When he returns, he asks for an accounting of
the money he had entrusted. Two of the slaves, as we know, invested the talents
given them—while the third had buried what he was given, and is subsequently
punished.
As a side note, I’m not sure if
things might have gone better if this guy had just shut up and let his master
be angry with him…I don’t know. But if failing to invest the talent was enough
to make the master angry, probably pointing out that the master isn’t a very
nice guy, or a very honest businessman is probably not a wise choice in the way
of an excuse, either…
Whatever the case, the point is clearly
made—we ought to be good stewards of what we’re given. On the other hand, a
less clearly made point is that there is disparity in the world. It’s not fair,
but it will only become more so… I think I prefer the first lesson.
However, in consideration of the
lesson about things being unfair—Jesus isn’t condoning this, so much as
pointing out that in the End Times (a period of time which has been going since
Jesus ascended, by the way) it will simply be expected behavior to take from
those who have nothing, and to give more to those who already have an
abundance… But, once again, Jesus is being absurd. Besides, we don’t live in a
world anything like that.
Then again, if we did live in a
world that behaved that way, I suppose it would be important for the people of
God to do things differently—and do them without becoming complacent, besides.
Not only should we be concerned with doing justly, loving mercy and walking
humbly before our God… Not only are we to be shaped by the precepts of loving
God and our neighbors as ourselves…But, we’re to be conformed by love—after
all, God is Love, and we should therefore be concerned with the things that God
is concerned with…
If we have any questions about what
things God is concerned with, we need only apply all of those things I’ve
listed already.
And if we still aren’t too sure, we can read
throughout Scripture to find that God is concerned with the poor, the
oppressed, the widow, the orphan, the foreigner…the sick, the imprisoned…you,
me, and everyone else besides.
So, when we consider this parable,
and sharing—or better still, investing what we are given; I think we need to
begin by recognizing that, like the slaves in the parable, we’re given abundant
and generous gifts. Whether it’s the ability to have friendly conversation and
make people feel welcome, or the ability to form and run a committee—whatever
the case, the things we have to offer may not seem like a big deal in
ourselves—but to someone they reach out to, or welcome in; our gifts can be
life changing… But we don’t know until we’ve stepped out, and tried to use
them.
Okay, so, I already told you that
this Gospel reading is a stock reading for stewardship campaigns. And while I
think it’s a terrible choice, I still have a pitch—and here it is: Our
stewardship appeal letters went out pretty recently. Enclosed with the letter
was a short questionnaire that asked things like “what do you think the Church
and St. John’s ought to be doing or about.” It also asked what you would be
willing to do to help make that vision a reality.
As we look to the pledge
ingathering on November 23rd, along with what you’ll hope to be able
to contribute financially to the life of St. John’s; I also hope you’ll
fill-out the questionnaire. Then, in early December; we’ll invite everyone to a
parish retreat where we’ll begin to discuss these questionnaires, and begin to
strategize how to live more fully into the ministry and mission that God is
calling us to…
Now, because I’m Episcopalian, I
can’t threaten everyone with being “cast out into the outer darkness where
there will be weeping and gnashing of teeth” if you don’t fill out the
questionnaire. I can’t even threaten you with ex-communication… But what I will
say is that if we don’t start to try to engage these questions and find a way
for all of us to take part in the greater ministry of St. John’s, I think we
deny the wider Church the opportunity to have a fuller, more complete witness
to the Gospel of Jesus Christ—simply because each of us is not doing what might
come very simply to us. And while it’s not “being cast into the outer darkness
where there will be”…et cetera, et cetera…it is, at least a little unfair.
Because we are, all of us, incredibly gifted people in different ways—and we’ve
all equally been called to this church for a reason… So, the question left to
us is: “how can we wisely invest that reason?”
Proper 27 2014
Proper 27 2014
Our Gospel Reading for today is
comprised pretty much of this parable about ten bridesmaids who are waiting
through the night for the bridegroom to arrive. It’s probably an image with
which we’re all familiar—young women hanging around, keeping their lamps
lighted so that they can greet the bridegroom when he finally arrives…or maybe
not.
This really is a parable which has
some cultural overtones to which we can’t really relate. After all, the image
in this parable is quite different from what we understand of bridesmaids
today—and the idea that a wedding feast would begin after midnight would
probably throw the most stalwart of wedding planners into fits. (Something that
might be really funny to see).
But all of this aside, I think the
point of the story is pretty easily understood—especially because in context it
follows a series of other parables and teachings about the End Times, and being
prepared. This is, of course, money in the bank for television preachers; and
the clincher for hardline, Evangelical crusades… However, judgment is only one
dimension of this parable.
Now, just to be clear, it’s not
that I don’t like to preach about judgment—in fact, I really like the idea,
especially right after campaigns and a vote… The issue, for me, is that when it
comes to judgment (especially Divine Judgment),I know exactly who I’d like to
see on the receiving end—and I can imagine if all of you were as debased as
myself, you would also have some opinions about this.
Of course, in this case, we’d be
talking about retribution and revenge, not Justice…which for all of the scary
images in Scripture, is really what Divine Judgment is supposed to be about.
Anyway, besides the parable being
something about the End Times, it is also appropriately understood as a lesson
about waiting—and waiting well.
As I mentioned, this is one parable
in a string of teachings about the end of time, and being prepared for that
end. So, to help us understand this lesson, we have one set of bridesmaids who
have come to wait for the bridegroom with lamps, and extra oil, as well. On the
other hand, some of the bridesmaids came to wait, but did not come with extra
oil.
When night wore on, then, these
ladies fell asleep—having taken off the uncomfortable, yet stylish shoes that
went with their dresses. Finally, sometime after midnight, the bridegroom’s
taxi arrived from the airport. Upon hearing the car horn honking, and the
slamming of car doors, the bridesmaids scramble to greet the bridegroom—but
alas, only some of them have extra oil…
Luckily for these other
bridesmaids, the nearest oil dealer was a 7-11, so they could go get more oil,
and a Slushee, besides. But when they returned with their oil, lighted lamps,
and beef jerky for everyone—the doors to the banquet hall were already shut,
and no one willing to let them in. In fact, whoever answered the door, even
denied knowing them…talk about cold blooded . Obviously this person didn’t know
how much their dresses cost, or how much time they had spent at the hairdresser
that morning.
Now, again, we have to keep in mind
that this is a parable—it’s exaggerated to make a point, and even though it’s
not funny, necessarily, parables by nature are more like jokes than a concise
exposition of culture and religious life. Jesus is pushing the limits of this
story. But, how else could he express the importance of waiting and being
prepared, than to tap into all of the cultural fears about failing at
hospitality—especially at a wedding. After all, we might remember what happened
to Jesus when he and his buddies went to a wedding in Cana. The host of the
party ran out of wine, and Jesus’ Mom outted him as Messiah before he’d made it
official.
So, if hospitality at a wedding is
important enough to force the Savior’s agenda—especially when it’s about having
enough wine—we can guess that this parable taps into some real fears for his
audience.
I don’t know if there are any
things today, in our culture, which would be quite the equivalent to this
sensibility. However, I could imagine thoughts of a children’s birthday party,
where there aren’t enough party favor bags, might be enough to send some of you
into cold sweats.
Maybe for others, anxiety is the
prospect of doing a team presentation, and you happen to show up without your
thumb drive that has all of the necessary slides.
Or, for the rest of us, it might
just be the fear that, the dream where you show up for some important event
only in your underwear, isn’t a dream…
Whatever the case, Jesus is trying
to underline the importance of being prepared—and he uses urgency and fear as a
tactic to get us to understand how necessary it is to be ready, and wait well.
Now, when I say that we need to be
prepared—especially in the context of the end times—I’m not talking about
buying stock in non-perishables, and building a compound. However, there are
any number of websites which have helpful checklists to prepare you…one even
lists what size generator you’ll need to power a television, DVD player and
computer (you know, only the essentials for the end of the world).
No; what I’m talking about is the
need to live in such a way that this world—this life—isn’t our only sense of
reality. In other words, our hearts can’t be consumed by getting ahead. Our
minds can’t be occupied with selfishness and negativity. Because, as we know,
this life is fleeting—and all of the status symbols, and “stuff” that our
culture holds onto will inevitably pass away. Our lives are worth too much—the
lives of others are worth too much to squander ourselves caught up in the
world’s illusions.
Then again, it’s not like we need a
spiritual awareness to understand this—the disparity in the world between rich
and poor; cultures; religions; and even gender—are just a ‘click’ away. And if
we allow our hearts to be moved by this—to be moved by the things that move the
heart of God; I think we realize that this can’t be all that there is…there has
to be more to what God dreams for this world than what we’re seeing and
experiencing.
So, when I talk about being
prepared, I think it begins with a state of mind; a condition of heart; and a perspective about this life that
understands that not only is this world not our home, but when begin to live
compassionate lives, we find we most certainly don’t belong here. When our
hearts are set upon being conformed to the loving heart of God, and our minds
are transformed by the Holy Spirit; we find that we want to live more like
Jesus. And, while it’s a difficult task, we know that it’s much needed in this
world…
The point is, we’re called to live
our lives anticipating Jesus’ return, and his Kingdom come—and in spite of what
television preachers would like you to believe, this is a very good thing, and
hopeful. But we have to take the long view in this, always preparing our hearts
and doing those things which make the world ready for the truer life ahead. Within
our waiting is the work of holding fast to the hope that, with Christ’s return,
true justice will be done, and a Kingdom ruled by love is at hand. And far from
buying generators, and stocking-up on canned goods—our preparation will be
compassionate works, which give others a vision of that Kingdom, and invites
them to join us in our waiting; and our longing for Christ, our friend and
Beloved to return.
Proper 25 2014
Proper 25, 2014
Jesus said, "`You shall love
the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all
your mind.' This is the greatest and first commandment. And a second is like
it: `You shall love your neighbor as yourself.' On these two commandments hang
all the law and the prophets."
Well, I think that’s probably
enough for today—don’t you? I’ll just go have a seat again, shall I? After all,
there’s really not much more that can be said, because this is the essence of
Christian faith. The trouble is that it’s easier to remember than it is to live.
In fact, the one line from the
Leviticus reading about being holy because God is holy, seems somehow a bit
more attainable. We can pray, we can stare at our navels, and be all kinds of
holy if we want to—it’s just people
what make it difficult. Seriously.
Jesus probably could have had a
much easier time of things without the Scribes and Pharisees always muckin’
about.
The Apostles might have even built
their own cathedrals, if not for the
people persecuting them.
And, I’d imagine if I didn’t have
to drive anywhere, vote for anyone in government, or eat certain vegetables; I
could even be an amazingly faithful Christian. But, again…people.
Of course, if not for the Scribes
and Pharisees, Jesus wouldn’t have had the opportunities he did to teach about
the core matters of faith.
If the religious authorities hadn’t
persecuted the Apostles, it’s likely that the faith wouldn’t have spread beyond
Judea.
And, it’s probably because of
things like driving, politics (not so much vegetables, though) that make me
have to see what my material really is…
Because for all the trouble that
“people” cause for us, it’s other people who challenge us to live our faith
like it makes a difference. Other people have the distinct ability to hold a mirror
up to our attitudes, our biases, behaviors, insecurities, and most importantly
our hearts. People remind us that we are also people (darn).
But, I suppose it’s because
interacting with other people does all of this to us that we find ourselves
talking about “people” in less than complimentary ways. And this is actually
more reflective of our own hearts—because we’re them and they’re us.
Yet, I can’t help but get the
impression that this was the whole point of God telling Israel to love their
neighbors as themselves in Leviticus—and Jesus repeating the whole thing again
when asked which commandment was the greatest. The point is that we can’t know
how to love God with all of our heart, soul and mind, if we can’t figure out
how to love our neighbors as ourselves…
Now, this isn’t to say that we’ll
ever perfect that in this life—but even the act of trying to do it is essential
to the work of trying to love God more fully. Besides, we cover all of this
stuff in the confession, so (you know) if we sort don’t do it well, it’ll still
be cool. We can still try again. (Week, after week, after week, after week…)
You get my point.
Anyway, the reason that we need to
learn to love others so that we can love God isn’t just about having our
compassion stamina tested. But, it’s also because we learn love by people.
Which is to say, all of our metaphors for God’s relationship with us are
understood in terms of the love of a Mother; a doting Father—even a Lover in
some places… And so, it seems to me that even if our experiences with parents
weren’t healthy, or loving for some of us; or if the idea of God as a Lover
reminds some people of bad relationships—whatever the case may be… I think that
God invites us to learn to love and be loved—and even have our experiences of
relationship healed through that love, so that we can better begin to
understand how God loves us. Then…it seems to me, we begin to learn also to
love better—both God and our neighbors.
A couple of weeks ago, I talked
about this question that the Presiding Bishop asked us at our clergy
conference. She asked us when the last time we understood God to be telling us that we were beloved children of God,
in whom God took much delight… Like I said then, none of us could do much else
than get fidgety, and try to perform impressive theological cartwheels around
the question.
But this is to say that it’s hard
to answer for any of us, because it’s really the only question for us, isn’t it? We really need to be able to tackle
this understanding that we are in fact beloved children of God, and God is
pretty delighted in us. Of course, we don’t always know why, because we know
ourselves, and we have a hard enough time getting along with ourselves… So, if
I don’t always love me...it’s hard to trust that God does. And if that’s the
case—we shouldn’t be surprised when we can’t love our neighbors as ourselves…
One of my favorite Christian
authors is a guy named Brennan Manning. This guy wrote a ton of books, and has
been quoted by a number of different writers and preachers. I don’t know that
he ever got wealthy from his work, but I know that there were a lot of people
who thought he was dangerous and overly liberal in his theology. But for all of
his lectures, books, quotes and all the rest; the only thing he ever wrote
about was experiencing the love of God, and what that does to us when it
happens.
Ironically, it isn’t all puppies,
kittens and rainbows. The reality is that that heart of God is at the same time
both a place of immense acceptance and peace; and yet a kind of crucible where
we’re shown just what it is that that is being purified out of us… So maybe it
isn’t Brennan Manning who is dangerous—but the love of God that is dangerous.
Because the experience of God’s love is tremendously humbling and we find we
can’t believe how all-consuming God’s love is, and how anemic our own…
But this isn’t to say that our love
is futile, either. Because, as it turns out, in God’s economy; we are called to
love God with our whole selves; which is the most important thing. But just as important is that we love others
and love ourselves, right? We can’t love others as ourselves if we can’t love
ourselves… So, in God’s economy, the only thing that we can sufficiently give
back to God in the way of reciprocating so great a love, is by giving love to
others as well as to God.
Now, just so we don’t start
thinking all of this is just some exercise in self-realization; we need to talk
about what it means to love others as ourselves. It’s no secret that it’s more
than committing to not pulling your sister’s pigtails on the playground; or
doing your best not to flip people off when they cut you off on the interstate
(even though these are both good things).
However, what loving others does
ask of us is to first consider that our love and our lives have value. And,
like anything of value, we ought to really think about the best way to make
good use of it.
Quite literally, I’m saying that we
need to be good stewards of our love, and find the places in which we can best
invest ourselves so that the compassion that compels us to be better lovers of
God; lovers of self and lovers of others can flourish and grow.
But, I’m not so sure that we think
of it in these terms—our love as an asset. I also don’t think we ever really
have the opportunity to discern the best ways in which we can be used in God’s
greater economy…and I think this is why we’re sometimes a little flummoxed about
using our gifts. This may be the reason we find ourselves trying to do things
that really are good things, but find ourselves being burnt-out by them, all
the same… I think it’s perhaps because we’re not finding the best places to
invest.
So, here’s where all of this
becomes a little more concrete—in a week or so, you’ll be receiving your annual
stewardship appeal letter. Enclosed with this letter is a short questionnaire
that asks you, first, what you believe the Church, and St. John’s should be about.
What do you believe we should be doing? And then, just so the vestry isn’t
inundated with suggestions; we’re asking you to consider what little or big
part you could play in making the vision you see for this church a reality…
What I think this does for us is
not only ask us to consider an important question about who and what the Church
ought to be—it also asks us to consider whether or not such a vision is
important enough, even imperative enough, for us to do whatever it is that we
can to make it realized.
Jesus bids us to love God and love
our neighbors as ourselves. I’m glad that our neighbors happen to be people,
just as we are, so that we can learn from one another how to love better. It’s
also my hope that we’ll even learn to trust that we’re loved by God—loved even
better than we know how to love God back. Somewhere, then, in this strange, but
lovely economy of love; I hope we’ll learn to invest our love and our lives, so
that others may also know and experience the full, and healing love of God. Because
no matter what else we do as the Church or as individuals, loving God and
loving our neighbors as ourselves—these two things are the most important
commands.
Proper 24 2014
Proper 24, 2014
“Whose image is it on the coin, and
whose title?”
It’s no secret that Jesus, by this
time, was pretty sick of the Pharisees and their shenanigans. When they asked
him about paying taxes (to a foreign superpower, who was occupying Israel no
less); they’re hoping to either hear Jesus denounce Rome (which would have gotten
him arrested); or, if he said nothing against it, they could have him stoned to
death for blasphemy… A win-win, of sorts.
But, not missing a beat, Jesus
called them out—“You hypocrites, show me the money used to pay the tax.” Of
course, even though these were God-fearing, religiously observant men; all of
them were able to produce coins; all of them marked with a graven image… You
might recall, God mentioning graven images in the 10 Commandments…
Anyway, the big punchline comes
when Jesus says to them give to the emperor what is the emperor’s, and give to
God what is God’s. (Blam. Drops the mic, and walks off stage). As usual, the
people are amazed—some of them probably even a little hacked-off, as well.
The funny thing about this reading
(besides the fact that it’s a funny story) is that it happens to be scheduled
in the Lectionary right around stewardship time for churches. Seriously.
So, I’m not sure what the drafters
of the Lectionary had in mind here. I mean, was this reading chosen because it
just happens to mention money? Or, is the strategy to get everyone to start
thinking that money is somehow so icky that the best option any of us has is to
give it all to the Church? If only that would work… The trouble is that we’ve
already heard that Jesus recommends giving the stuff that belongs to the
emperor to the emperor, and to God what is God’s. I suppose we might next go
outside, and like the old joke says, throw all of our money into the air, and
whatever God wants, God can keep… Probably not.
The point is, this already isn’t
that great of a stewardship reading—and besides, when we begin looking too
narrowly at Scripture, we end up in all sorts of ridiculous places.
On the other hand; Tertullian, the
Early Church Father—you all remember Tertullian…North African guy, late First
to early Second century, prolific defender of Trinitarian theology before he
became a heretic? Right, that
Tertullian (cool guy, nice beard).
Anyway, Tertullian, when commenting
on this passage (I’m pretty sure it was him), wrote that just as the coins are
understood to belong to the emperor because it bore the image of the emperor
(give to the emperor what belongs to the emperor); we may presume that the same
is true for us. If humanity bears the Image of God, then there should be no
question to Whom we belong… So, we ought to give to God what belongs to
God—ourselves.
Obviously this is a little more
costly than simply pledging some amount of money for the year—but, I think it
gives a much fuller understanding of stewardship. We probably remember the old
saying that stewardship is about “Time, Talent, and Treasure…” It’s effective
enough, I suppose—but I think it’s more about the alliteration.
The truth is that for many people Time is harder to give than Treasure, because our lives are
completely mad. And as for Talent…well,
I suppose a lot of people have either never had a chance to discern what their
talents were—or, they’ve never thought that their particular talent could be
used for the good of the Church. Whatever the case, it becomes an easier
commitment to give of our Treasure
than our Time and Talent.
However, I think, in this case, we
find that it becomes harder to think of the Church as a priority—especially
when it kind of becomes one more place where we send money…
But it’s a funny thing about
currency—it doesn’t have any real value unless it is being shared, and distributed.
In fact, we even know that currency can lose and gain value. So, unless money
is moving throughout an economic system; it’s not really worth anything in and
of itself.
Now, I’m not about to say that
people don’t have any worth or value unless they’re being shared and
distributed. However, I would say that humanity is enriched when we share
ourselves. Our stories, our experiences, and even our very personhood are
appreciated when they’re shared in community.
And so, just as Tertullian says
(I’m almost certain it was Tertullian--anyway)—just as some really impressive
Early Church Father has explained, we should give to God what belongs to
God—and, all things considered, the only thing that we could reasonably give to
God would be our selves.
The reality is, this isn’t a new
concept—Tertullian aside. Giving ourselves to God; to God’s work and mission in
the world—it’s what we’re called to regularly. In the Rite I Eucharistic
prayers we say that we’re presenting ourselves, our souls and bodies to be a
reasonable and living sacrifice. We’re reminded of St. Paul’s admonition to
present ourselves as a living sacrifice. And in Baptism; we give ourselves to
Christ’s death to somehow receive the promise of resurrection.
I don’t know if it’s because we
think we’ve tamed God; cleaned-up Jesus; or made the Holy Spirit more
respectable…but, I think we’ve forgotten how dangerous our faith is supposed to
be. But, it is the danger—or more likely the full emersion into this faith
journey that changes us; that kills that false self; that calls us to a truly
renewed life. But that’s why it requires us to give ourselves wholly to it.
That’s also what makes it so provocative.
So, the elevator pitch is simply
this: Whatever the amount we pledge, or whatever the amount we hope to give
will always be received, blessed, and sent back into the world through the life
of the Church (in one way or another).
But let’s just say that we were willing to put
ourselves in the offering plate… (It’s kind of a funny mental image really)
Imagine, though, what it would mean to be gathered together—received; then
blessed; and sent back into the world through the life of the Church in one way
or another.
Now, I know we more-or-less do this
sort of thing in the liturgy. We come together, we receive the sacraments, and
we’re sent back into the world. But, there would be a difference… If we did
commit to giving ourselves—our time, talent and treasure, sure—but if we really
gave our lives, our selves, our families, our hopes, our dreams—everything to
God; I believe everything would be different.
Of course, I’m talking about a
state of mind, a state of heart; but, when we resolve to make all that we do
and all that we are belong to God—everything is set in a different kind of
economy. It may not mean that we have any more time than we did before—but, it
may just mean that we’re less anxious, and have a bit more clarity of mind to carry
on. It may not mean we know what we could offer to the work of the Church—but we
may find people who can help us discern our gifts and call to service. And, it
may not mean that we have an abundance of treasure (sigh that’s the teaching from a completely different church than
ours—and a different Gospel and Jesus, besides…). Anyway, we may not have more
treasure—but we may find a wealth of other kinds of blessing.
But, then again, any one of these
things could be changed by giving ourselves to God; because we don’t know how
being in a faith community that knows us, cares for us, and wants to support us
might help us…
Admittedly, though, I will say that
this concept of giving our selves—and not just from ourselves seems easier than
it really is. Because, as you might imagine, when we give ourselves, we also no
longer belong to ourselves. So, this means we have to constantly be reminded
that we don’t get to live our lives to selfish ends. However, it also means
living as if our lives are a gift to us, and to others, as well.
Finally, I know that telling people
that money isn’t important is a miserable way to preach a stewardship
sermon…especially with a deficit budget. However, I will say that I know that
money follows mission; and I believe even more, that when the people of God
choose to give themselves to whatever mission it is that God is calling them
to—it changes everything. Hearts are changed, lives are changed, and people are
changed when we commit ourselves to belonging to God, and to God’s work in the
world… And that kind of commitment inevitably draws other people, who also find
themselves giving to God what has always belonged to God.
So, if we all give ourselves to
God, and God sends us to do God’s work…money doesn’t seem quite as valuable
compared to committed souls.
Besides, whose image is on the
coin, and whose Image is on us?
Proper 23 2014
Proper 23, 2014
Who’s gonna show up? Who’s in and
who’s out when it comes to the Kingdom of God? Who will even inherit the
Kingdom of God?
All of these are themes that we’ve
seen over the past few weeks with Jesus’ parables. He’s offered some heavy
stuff, but has been able to root his lessons in some pretty understandable
contexts. His audience is grounded in families who work vineyards, probably—they
get how tenets are supposed to work for landlords—all of that makes sense.
But today, Jesus is really working
the parable pretty hard. This is what is known as an eschatological teaching—in
other words, it talks about the end of time… So, he’s kind of taking us to
where the sidewalk ends in this one—and tells this bonkers story of a king who
is planning a wedding feast for his son. The important people he’s invited,
when they’re called, all turn their noses up—and some even beat-up and kill the
servants.
So, the king sends out some other
servants (after burning down the cities of the original guests) and tells the
servants to invite anyone they meet—and we’re told that all kinds of people
come to the feast; good and bad alike.
This is nice…we like this kind of
parable, right? Everybody gets in, everyone’s invited and included—this is the
kind of vision we like for the Kingdom of God.
But then, we have this
whack-a-doodle ending to the story where the king finds some cat at the party
who isn’t wearing the right clothes. And when the guy has no answer for why
he’s not dressed properly, the king has him bound hand and foot to be cast into
the outer darkness where there will be weeping and gnashing of teeth…
Well doesn’t that just suck… I
mean, here’s this guy who’s been invited just like every other joker in town to
this wedding feast for the king’s son—all of a sudden he’s getting singled-out
by the king because he didn’t wear a wedding robe? And then…he gets bound hand
and foot and thrown into the outer darkness where there will be weeping and
gnashing of teeth? Talk about some rain falling on your day…
But before we get our ‘undies of
indignation’ all in a bunch—we should probably clarify the situation. First,
this is a parable; so , Jesus is taking everything to the ‘nth degree.
Secondly, if the king invited
everyone around, and expected them to be properly dressed—we could assume that
he was providing the proper robes. So, basically, this guy who’s getting the
boot really was a jerk. I mean, instead of accepting the king’s gracious
hospitality and receiving all that was freely offered at the feast—he’s instead
acting more like a thief who’s snuck in and wants to steal...(not very nice.)
But even if we don’t like this
explanation, it still adds something interesting to this question: “Who’s gonna
show up?” I mean, as I’ve said before; “If you preach a Gospel of open doors
and open hearts—you don’t get to be scandalized by who shows up to receive it…”
All the same, what could happen when anyone (the ‘good and
bad’) showed up?
I recently saw one possible answer
to this, at clergy conference, last week. We had a speaker from Nashville,
named Becca Stevens. She happens to be an Episcopal priest who works with
Magdalene House and Thistlefarms.
Magdalene House is a sort of
half-way house program that helps women who are coming out of prison, and are
trying to recover from addiction—many of whom were also trafficked as
prostitutes… This is who shows up at Magdalene House—women who need the open
hearts and open doors, but also have the kind of record that keeps them from
doing much more than falling back into old patterns.
But, this is where Thistlefarms
comes in… Named for the thistle purposely because it can survive and grow
anywhere; Thistlefarms works with these women and trains them to make bath
soaps; lotions; and a whole line of items that use healing essential oils. And
many of these oils they make are from plants grown by women in Rwanda who
survived the genocide. Apparently, after digging-up and properly burying the remains
of their loved ones, these Rwandan women sowed plants in the killing fields
that would produce oils for healing.
So, there is this international
cooperation, which works to help and heal women, as well as the world through
love. Magdalene House clothes these women as honored guests, and Thistlefarms
helps them to live into that identity.
Now, the Presiding Bishop also
happened to be there, and what’s funny is that she later led us in a
conversation where she talked about the baptism of Jesus. And she talked about
how the heavens opened, and Jesus heard the voice of God say: “You are my
beloved son (my beloved child) in whom I am well pleased…” Then she asked a
room full of clergy when the last time we knew God was speaking that to us, as
well…
Just take a second, and ask
yourself that question… When was the last time you knew yourself to be the
beloved child of God?
Well, if the question makes you
feel a little squeamish, or self-deprecating; I assure you, there was a meeting
room full of clergy who felt the same way—myself included. And, I’ll just say
(for the record), a room full of clergy who are made to feel uncomfortable is
pretty funny. We start trying to be very theological, and sort of behave like a
one winged bird and fly in tiny circles…
Anyway, like my colleagues, I
really wrestled with this question, and inevitably, I had to come to the
conclusion that it isn’t up to me whether or not I’m considered beloved of God,
or if God is well pleased with me. Because, in the end, it’s God who says it to
us—and not what we say God says of us… So, whether we feel our beloved-ness; or
whether we can accept our beloved-ness is NOT the point.
As the late Brennan Manning used to
say, “We’re all ragamuffins begging at the door of God’s mercy.” So, if God
decides to be pleased with me, or calls me beloved—well, that’s a gift. I know
how raggedy I am—and God knows me even better; so, where do I get the moxie to
tell God what’s what? And yet, if we have any question of whether God really thinks
so much of us, we have to look to another story in Scripture—the story of
Creation.
While I’m not a literalist about
the Creation account, there’s no question for me that it has a deep meaning for
all of us. So, we should take it seriously, even if not literally.
Anyway, there are two accounts of
Creation in Genesis. One is the short version that briefly mentions each day of
creation, and the other goes into some detail about the creation of humanity,
and their relationship with God.
We’re told that Creation was called
‘good,’ by God, and humanity was called very
good. Humanity, in the form of woman and man, had the privilege of walking with
God—and everything was cool, until they wanted to have knowledge like God, and
ate from the tree of the knowledge of good and evil.
Well, once they judged between good
and evil—everything changed…
When God showed up, Adam and Eve,
(God’s kids) were nowhere to be found. In the Hebrew text, God calls out
“Ayeka,” “Where are you?” And the tone is one of abandonment—God feels as lost
as he supposes his children were…
As any parent can attest, when your
child is right beside you in a crowded place, and then they’re suddenly not
there—it’s really scary.
I would imagine there was something
like that for God in that moment.
Now, we might say that God is
all-knowing, so how could he not know where Adam and Eve were hiding…but, since
Adam and Eve knew what they knew—realized they were naked (whatever)—they felt
shame and hid because they couldn’t ‘get over it.’ So, it’s as if God had
trouble recognizing them as Children of God, because they couldn’t see it in
themselves anymore. The Image of God had been diminished. “Where are you,” God
says.
Well, when God does find them, it
becomes clear what they had done, and these two humans—these two children, try to blame everyone else
rather than trying to face their mistakes. And, because they’ve broken the one
law God had set for them, they are exiled from the Garden.
But, what’s interesting, is that
before they’re sent away, God clothes them. And as we know from the 66 books of
the Bible, and every day that we happen to brush up against grace, mercy and
love (all of which comes from God); we see that God has spent every day since
that break-up trying to remind us that we are beloved, and that we are God’s
children…
So, here is one possibility of what
could happen when King Alpha, God, opens the door to God’s open heart… We could
show-up. We could show up, along with every other ragamuffin who wasn’t
originally invited to the party.
And if we still have a hard time
feeling and accepting that we are God’s beloved
children (even after showing up); we should at least do our best to realize
that it is God who clothes us in acceptance and beloved-ness (even demonstrates
this through Jesus Christ). But it’s up to us then to do our best to try to
live into that gift. This doesn’t mean that we’ll become arrogant about that
gift—because when we really wrestle with our being beloved and accepted, I
think it makes us recognize how raggedy we really are… And somehow, in that
strange dance of trying to live up to our beloved-ness, we will show up; we
will do the work which bears fruit for the Kingdom; and we may even get a
glimpse of that Kingdom, which through the grace of God has been given to us as
an inheritance.
So, today, if you haven’t asked
yourself the question, you need to do now; “When was the last time I felt God
saying I was a beloved child in whom God was well pleased?” And if it makes you
feel squeamish—that’s a really good start (raggedy is okay). But as soon as you
begin getting caught up in how terrible, or awful you think you are—if you
start playing the old tapes of past mistakes—well, I would ask you to hear God
ask “Ayeka?,” “Where are you?” Because the one that God has clothed; the one
whom Christ has redeemed, bears the indelible Image of God. And that really is something.
What’s more, when we can do
this—wrestle with this identity of beloved-ness; it allows us to better love
others, and invite others to do the same soul searching. So, beloved of God,
where are you? Will you show up?
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