Look at Proper 21 Year C

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.

Innovation isn't about "novelty."

I subscribe to a newsletter from the Alban Institute, which is part of the Duke Divinity School. Every week or so, they send a group of short articles which follow a particular theme. In the most recent issue there was an article that caught my attention about encouraging innovation in congregations.

Now, I should tell you that I get a little irritated by some of these articles. I think it bothers me that there are these people who get paid to write these articles that seem to introduce a concept, but never really offer any real ways to implement, or even experiment with what they’re talking about. I also have to admit that I’m a little jealous that these people are getting paid to write about ideas that my colleagues and I have had for years. But, I digress…

Anyway, this idea of innovation is an interesting one. And while I think this particular article “Nurturing Creative Church Cultures” by Carol Howard Merritt brings up some really good points, again, I feel like it’s a bit irresponsible to open the can of worms, and not offer any practical wisdom about how to deal with it.

Effectively, the article briefly talks about the challenge that mainline denominations, like our own, have in adapting and remaining vital within the changing milieu of our culture. Merritt rightly talks about the disparity between the need to continue to reinvent ourselves as the Church to continue to be vital, as well as remaining faithful to the rich heritage that we’ve received in mainline denominations. On the other hand, she not only doesn’t explore what such an approach would look like, she even quotes Diana Butler Bass (a person I’m not fond of) about the difference between ‘tradition’ and ‘custom.’

Traditions, as Bass describes them, are grounded in the historical, and have some “ancient and universal source of authority and meaning (see Merritt’s Article).” Customs, however, are then how traditions are lived out in a community. Merritt uses the analogy that tradition asserts that we use bread for communion, whereas custom is how the bread is cut…

Anyway, given all of my aforementioned caveats, I still feel that the article brings up some very good questions. Are we short-changing ourselves in our efforts to evangelize and grow our congregations because we’ve just accepted that the decline in mainline denominations are a by-product of culture, and therefore beyond our control? Do we believe that we either have to give-up all that we love in our tradition in an effort to accommodate innovation and growth in the Church?

Well, as far as I’m concerned, I still believe the Episcopal Church has a whole lot to offer the world on behalf of the Church of God. What’s more, I think other mainline denominations do as well—and it may not require giving everything up in an effort to become vital.

Here’s what I think. It seems to me that the lure of sensationalism, the kind that was popular in Evangelical denominations in the 1980’s and 1990’s, is not sustainable. Not only do emerging statistics support this view, but we have only to look at the way in which the demographic for many of these types of congregations shift constantly. There is very little identity, or stability in the congregation to root an individual to both the community and the Church’s mission, because (after all) the ethos is all about being “seeker sensitive.” In other words, these places are tee-ball, they can encourage you to learn how to hold a bat, hit a stationary ball, and run the bases—but it isn’t the same as learning to play baseball. Eventually anyone who wants to learn baseball has to join a team that has a pitcher, counts strikes, and doesn’t have everyone’s parents cheering for both teams. Simply put, we all have to grow and learn, and we can only go so far with very basic Christianity. This is where mainline denominations come into the picture.

See, we’ve had a lot of history in mainline denominations or clarifying who we are, what we’re about. We’ve all been around long enough that we’ve grown out of the “adolescence” of Christian faith, and are okay with ambiguities, paradox, and even some uncertainty. Our base is broad enough so as to include arch-conservatives, and preeminent liberals which allow our politics to be as diverse and complex as everything else in life. We even have disparagingly different understandings in our theology—and that can be the case in a single denomination!

The point is, what we have to offer is space not only to grow in faith, but space and resource through our heritage of history and tradition to explore our faith in a serious, even mature way.

However, what I think still holds us back from being the kinds of churches that do draw seekers of faith is our inability to discern the difference between ‘tradition’ and ‘custom.’ I won’t even broach the topic of evangelism at this point—that is a whole different can of worms. But this understanding of custom and tradition is an important matter to consider.

Here’s my point. I’ve seen, even experienced, places where chant, the Daily Offices, even contemplative worship liturgies were enough to draw both young people, and older adults to the same worship service. I’ve experienced the “brightest and best” minds of the Emergent Church Movement (when it was going strong) talk about the incongruity between the Church as it is, and the needs of the average person… And imagine my surprise when everything that was being postulated as a solution to this were all things that have been part of the Episcopal Church’s heritage for generations! The trouble is that most of us aren’t aware of that fact, and are really not that interested in learning about, either. Perhaps because we believe the illusion that innovation can’t possibly have anything to do with our history or heritage. What a short-sighted and dangerous mistake to make, I think.

It seems to me that if we learn about our history—not only the Episcopal Church, but all of Church History—we stand to learn about times in history just like what we’re experiencing today. What’s more, I would even imagine that we would begin to see the ways in which the people of God stepped-up to the challenges that were presented to them, and met them in creative ways. I would even imagine that some of their creativity was rooted in what they had received from the generations which preceded them. This is how the Church has survived for almost 2,000 years.

Look, the Church isn’t in danger of dying because we’re not playing into the idea that we need to become a service industry. We’re not losing membership because we’re not willing to be creative, or novel as the case may be… We’re declining because we aren’t willing to learn and reflect on who we are, who we have been, and who we will always be: First, Christ’s own forever, and after that a Body of people who want to learn what that means, and how to be “Christ’s own” more faithfully. We’ve done it for ages, and will continue to do it—but we have to get it straight that our local customs, or even our “tastes” about worship, liturgy, or music are not what define us as Episcopalians, and certainly not Christians. Our time is short, and our need to discern what it means to be vital is crucial. Now is the time to be innovative—yes. But, we don’t have the luxury of trying to duplicate the things that Evangelicals did decades ago, and are now no longer working. So, what are the traditions that we can draw from that will help us to faithfully invite people to know the love of God in Jesus Christ, and what are the customs that are impediments to exploring all of the generations-worth of creative resources available to us?

Carol Howard Merritt’s Article “Nurturing Creative Church Cultures” can be found here.

Burning Babylon

I’m steadily growing in the opinion that the Church would be better off if we stopped trying to be Empire, and reclaimed our identity as the Body of Christ.

Elevator Pitch

Elevator pitch for a church: “We are firmly rooted in the resurrected life of Jesus Christ, and our worship calls us beyond ourselves and out into the world to love and serve.” 

The "Akeda" of Our Idolatry

This is probably no new idea… It seems that in the maturation of faith, one comes eventually to an “Akeda.” This is a time in spiritual life when our understanding of God and faith are bound and sacrificed (to God). This is a precious thing that is being killed—if it isn’t precious, it is a true sacrifice. For some, “Isaac” gets killed—for others, the True God, the God beyond the idolatry of our imaginings, comes in and redeems the moment. We come away either confused and bitter, or confused and divested of the limiting illusions of our prior faith understanding. Either way, a truer knowledge of God emerges, and it’s a matter of whether or not we can still perceive God after this “Akeda.”

The Gospel

If you preach a Gospel of open hearts and open doors, you don’t get to be scandalized by who shows up to receive it.

Mimetic

There is a part of our DNA that remembers being a star.

Tea Cups

The chipped tea cup has a story. No one ever asks how other cups have come to not be chipped.