14 Pentecost Yr C Proper 16 Aug 21 2016

14 Pentecost Yr C Proper 16 Aug 21 2016 Audio

Rick and I have been watching the Olympics on TV. Swimming and synchronized swimming, of course, and Rick loves track and field. But, we've gotten quite friendly with the mute button on the remote. Commercials. They drive me crazy, and yet I think we can learn a lot about ourselves by the commercials. If I were one to believe anything I see and hear on television, these are the things that I think are important to Americans, in no particular order: I have to take some sort of drugs to sleep better, to feel better, or to have better sex; I have to have a sexy car; I have to have financial security; I have to drink but do so responsibly; I have to wear the right clothes; I have to buy the right toys, etc. etc. etc. Even the feel good ads want me to buy something. On some level, consumerism, the transactional relationship, has become the dominant world religion, and we freely hand ourselves over to it. And, when we believe in the religion of consumerism, the religion of transaction, it is quite easy to believe that you, or me, or any one of us is the most important person in our particular universe, and fulfilling our needs is the most important endeavor we can be about.

So how is it we find ourselves in this place today? Why is it that you get up on Sunday morning and come to church? You've got other places to be, the lake place, or just drinking coffee in your own kitchen, soon and very soon it will be football. Why is it that so many of you put in hours planning our Trinity country fair, so many of you attend vestry meetings as leaders in this church, you cut the grass, you clean the yard and the kitchen, you make sure this space is ready for us to gather, you read scripture, you serve at this altar. You spend your overnights in the GIFTS shelter, you make meals, you give rides. Here we are, honoring the Sabbath; here we are, worshipping God. Here we are, listening to stories of faith in Jesus, we are not at home, watching TV drinking our coffee. Here we are, eating and drinking the bread and the wine, being made into the body of Christ, why do we do it? Why do we come here?

I think it is because we are the same as the woman in our gospel today. This woman whom Jesus set free. This woman who was bound up, enslaved, for all of her adult life. This woman whom Jesus released. This good news we hear today is true. You and I know it is true because it describes our lives, each one of us is set free, each one of us is released from the bonds that hold us at a distance from each other, we are released from the bonds that keep us believing that ultimately our needs, real or perceived, are the most important needs in the world. Ultimately, God's relationship with us is not transactional, God's relationship with us is loving, giving, emptying.

We find ourselves here today not because we have to be here, or we are obligated to be here, but because we are free. We are free from the bonds of selfishness, from the bonds of self-absorption, and egotism. We are free from the religion of our culture that preaches you must buy, you must have, you must consume. The religion of our culture that preaches you can rest when you’re dead, where people work more and more and wonder why they are so exhausted and why they feel more behind.

Keeping Sabbath is important, your being here is important, because we bring all our brokenness, we bring all our hurt, and are healed. And in the healing and being made whole again, being put back together, we are freed to show compassion. And in reaching out, showing compassion, we participate in bringing God’s healing, freedom, joy and peace to those in need, and that is a rejuvenating path to experiencing those things more fully in our own lives. We are free to be transformed into the persons we are created to be. So what’s really important here? God's dream is healing and reconciliation, God's dream is love and compassion. Keeping the Sabbath is about keeping God’s dream the main thing. It is about the nearness of the kingdom.

The woman in our story today was released from the bondage of her ailment. We too are released from bondage, but you and I both know that we tend to choose to stay in bondage. We tend to believe the religion of our culture that says to us either “you are like God” and deserve to have anything and anyone you want, or “you are worthless” and deserve only what happens to you, both of which are lies.

The truth is so very different from any of that. The truth is that we are God’s beloved creation, and that God loves us whether or not we love God, and that God came to be part of creation, to live, love, suffer and die, so that we may be reconciled, or joined together with God, and with one another so that we may be free. The truth is that the story is not about any one of us, but the story is about God’s relationship with us, and our relationship with God and our neighbor.

That’s the main thing, and what flows from that main thing, what flows from God’s amazing and abundant love for us is the freedom to love others, regardless of approval or disapproval, regardless of whether or not they deserve our love, regardless of whether or not they brought life’s circumstances upon themselves or if they are a victim of circumstances. What flows from God’s amazing and abundant love for us is mercy and compassion.

Mercy and compassion cause us to look at length and with open hearts into the eye of those who are ignored, those who are very old, those who have no one to care for them, those who cannot speak for themselves, those who cannot move on their own, those who are homeless or ill or in pain, those who are lonely, angry, grieving. Mercy and compassion cause us to care about people even when their vulnerability reminds us of our own.

Watching TV shows us not only the values of our American cultural religion, it also lets us into the living room, and the back yards of people all over our world. And we have seen floods and fires, we have seen violence and idiocy. Sometimes we suffer from “compassion fatigue,” we can no longer feel because it seems overwhelming, and we know how close we are. Sometimes we hear ourselves say, “that could have been me,” and we can no longer listen or watch, we can no longer be compassionate. We will not feel at peace or be at rest when we are frantically running away from something.

So this week as we reflect on the gospel, it might do us some good to linger where Jesus lingers, to begin in a moment of Sabbath, to start from a quiet place within, and remember the main thing. The main thing, that it isn’t about me today, it isn’t about any one of us, it is about what happens outside the walls of this church. It is about meeting others with God’s compassion, God’s mercy, and reminding ourselves of the dignity, the freedom, the blessing that is God’s desire for each of us as God’s child.

This is a story I came across this week that I think illustrates what this kind of compassion looks like.

"I work in a decent sized, local, indie bookstore. It’s a great job 99% of the time and a lot of our customers are pretty neat people. Any who, middle of the day this little old lady comes up. She’s lovably kooky. She effuses how much she loves the store and how she wishes she could spend more time in it but her husband is waiting in the car (OH! I BETTER BUY HIM SOME CHOCOLATE!), she piles a bunch of art supplies on the counter and then stops and tells me how my bangs are beautiful and remind her of the ocean (“Wooooosh” she says, making a wave gesture with her hand)

Ok. I think to myself. Awesomely happy, weird little old ladies are my favorite kind of customer. They’re thrilled about everything and they’re comfortably bananas. I can have a good time with this one. So we chat and it’s nice.

Then this kid, who’s been up my counter a few times to gather his school textbooks, comes up in line behind her (we’re connected to a major university in the city so we have a lot of harried students pass through). She turns around to him and, out of nowhere, demands that he put his textbooks on the counter. He’s confused but she explains that she’s going to buy his textbooks.

He goes sheetrock white. He refuses and adamantly insists that she can’t do that. It’s like, $400 worth of textbooks. She, this tiny old woman, bodily takes them out of his hands, throws them on the counter and turns to me with a intense stare and tells me to put them on her bill. The kid at this point is practically in tears. He’s confused and shocked and grateful. Then she turns to him and says “you need chocolate.” She starts grabbing handfuls of chocolates and putting them in her pile.

He keeps asking her “why are you doing this?” She responds “Do you like Harry Potter?“ and throws a copy of the new Cursed Child on the pile too.

Finally she’s done and I ring her up for a crazy amount of money. She pays and asks me to please give the kid a few bags for his stuff. While I’m bagging up her merchandise the kid hugs her. We’re both telling her how amazing she is and what an awesome thing she’s done. She turns to both of us and says probably one of the most profound, unscripted things I’ve ever had someone say:

“It’s important to be kind. You can’t know all the times that you’ve hurt people in tiny, significant ways. It’s easy to be cruel without meaning to be. There’s nothing you can do about that. But you can choose to be kind. Be kind.”

The kid thanks her again and leaves. I tell her again how awesome she is. She’s staring out the door after him and says to me: “My son is a homeless meth addict. I don’t know what I did. I see that boy and I see the man my son could have been if someone had chosen to be kind to him at just the right time.”

I’ve bagged up all her stuff and at this point am super awkward and feel like I should say something but I don’t know what. Then she turns to me and says: I wish I could have bangs like that but my darn hair is just too curly.“ And leaves.

And that is the story of the best customer I’ve ever had. Be kind to somebody today."



The kingdom of God is near.