4 Advent Yr B December 20 2020

4 Advent Yr B December 20 2020

2 Samuel 7:1-11, 16, Romans 16:25-27, Luke 1:26-38, Canticle 15

 

It is the voices of women we hear today. A reprise of Mary’s song, and this story of Mary and Elizabeth. I love that the women get the last word before the glorious impossible, the incarnation, God bursting into humanity with new life, hope, peace, joy, and love. 

 

I have never quite believed that Mary sat quietly and meekly while her life changed completely and absolutely. When I close my eyes and try to imagine this scene, I see Mary. In my imagination, Mary is a very young girl, and yet very excited to be a woman, and ready to be married to Joseph. Mary is a Jewish girl; she knows well the stories of God’s activity in the life of her people. She has lived her whole life in this community of faith. Mary has lived her whole life in the community of people who believe there is a special relationship between God and them. They believe that their story, the story of this community, day in and day out, through slavery, wilderness, kingdoms, and exile, is the story of God’s working through them to accomplish the divine purposes on earth.

God is trusting God’s people to have raised Mary in the right way, to have taught her the story of faith, taught her to recognize God’s hand at work in her life. Gabriel has made the proposition. The great archangel has announced God’s purpose, the heavenly messenger has posed the question, and the girl is clearly troubled.

Mary is perplexed. Perplexed in Greek leans much more towards “to be in doubt” or “not to know how to decide or what to do.” In my imagination, this is much closer to how I see Mary responding. Actually, I think Mary must have been terrified. The sort of terrified you get when your stomach just seems to twist and fall out of you. She must have wondered what was happening to her, being visited by an angel was a new thing, there weren't stories of her people about an angel visit. 

I imagine Mary saying something like, “Not me, no way, I can’t do that. Don’t ask such a thing of me, I’m only a girl. You’ve got the wrong person. The God bearer should be royal, a person of honor, it can’t be me.” She must have doubted herself; she must have doubted her own capability to be the God bearer. Any young girl would. What must have gone through her mind?

And Gabriel responds, “Do not be afraid, Mary, for you have found favor with God.” Mary, you are the one. Mary is low born, without title, without power. And this is the very place of incarnation. God sees the suffering and comes low to meet people in their sorrow. Jesus always sought proximity to people who were hurting or alone or in need, and Jesus was always there grieving alongside them, tending to their wounds, making them feel seen. 

 

Gabriel does go on to remind Mary of the story she already knows, the story of her people, and who this son is to be. Mary wants to know how this can be. We want to know how this can be. This is incredible, inconceivable, incarnation is unreasonable. This doesn’t make sense. Gabriel explains that the Holy Spirit will take care of it, and then gives her evidence of the possibility, her old, barren cousin Elizabeth is also pregnant, nothing will be impossible with God.

How can this be? How can Mary get pregnant by God? Is all of Christianity founded on this inconceivable possibility? I ask this question, because this question has been asked of me, by adults and children alike, by your children, by my children. I turn to one of my favorite writers, Madeleine L’Engle when I ponder these things. She writes in a book called Bright Evening Star, “It is not that in believing the story of Jesus we skip reason, but that sometimes we have to go beyond it, take leaps with our imagination, push our brains further than the normally used parts of them are used to going.” She goes on to write “I had to let go all my prejudices and demands for proof and open myself to the wonder of love. Faith is not reasonable because it wasn’t for reason, but for love that Jesus came.”

It is for love that Jesus came. And so, for love, Mary says yes. And it is in love that we light the fourth candle on the advent wreath today.

This is the story of these women, and it speaks volumes to us today. What does Mary’s yes to the love of God, have to do with us? Mary’s active, engaged yes, empowers each of us to say yes to the possibility of God in our midst. Mary’s yes can be our yes. Indeed, it is because of Mary's yes and Elizabeth’s declaration that Love wins. The angel Gabriel announced to Mary, “Hail favored one, the Lord is with you.” The Lord is with you, these are not just words spoken to Mary, these are words spoken to each of us and to all of us. Mary said yes, God waits for each of us to say yes.

The terrifying part of Gabriel’s invitation is what will happen if we say yes? What does God-bearing look like? Mary didn’t know, she risked everything when she said yes; she risked everything on the promise that God was with her. All we know is that saying yes to God changes everything and risks everything we have. 

 

Mary’s yes was brave, and terrifying. Mary’s yes became fierce as her son grew into his fullness, his call, and she watched the powers turn against him. Can we be brave and fierce like Mary? Can we put ourselves aside and say yes to God in the flesh, incredible, inconceivable, incarnation?

The story is about God and God’s love for us. It’s about the promise God made to Mary and God makes to us to bring us out of a life of greed and why not me, into a life that bears hope and promise. The real world is the world in which Mary said yes to God, and the world in which each of us says yes to God. It is living fully and completely, it is feeling pain and joy, it is giving and receiving, it is life, and it is death. This world is messy and confusing and often scary. A world into which God is born in a dirty barn, so that love could burst forth. It is a world in which we enter into relationships with one another, where we see each other face to face, it is a world in which how God created us is wonderful, it is a world in which we understand the sacred in each of us and treat each other as if we were all God-bearers.

“Fear not, here comes God.” We should be terrified, and reassured at the very same time that our yes brings Christ into this world. We Christians have been taught to look for the Christ in everyone we meet, to practice a radical hospitality to serve the Christ in each other, for in serving them we are serving Christ himself. What do we -- each of us -- have to offer the Christ this year? Where do we see the signs that Christ has been born among us?

Mary’s yes didn’t just happen all those years ago, Mary’s yes happens everyday you and I bear love ourselves. God is still up to something. God continues to burst forth in our lives. Love wins. 

3 Advent Yr B December 13 2020

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3 Advent Yr B December 13 2020

Isaiah 61:1-4, 8-11, 1 Thessalonians 5:16-24, John 1:6-8,19-28, Psalm 126 or Canticle 15

 

Every time I hear these verses from John, I hear The Who singing “Who are you”. That ages me I suppose. Who are you, I really want to know, tell me, who are you, the verses in that song continue on in a search for identity, who are you? A long time before that recording, the priests and Levites ask Who are you, and John the baptizer confesses, or witnesses, or testifies, all the same word, exactly to who he is not, he is not the Messiah. Who he is, his identity, is the voice of one crying in the wilderness, make straight the way of the Lord. 

 

This third week of Advent, we, like John the Baptist, are called to know who we are, God’s beloveds, and to witness to the light, so that all may believe. Today I want you to consider three things that John the Baptist is doing to witness to the light. 

 

First, it is rare and refreshing, John has zero-interest in making this about himself. We are so used to this character John the Baptist, that I think we don’t feel the extent to which he puts himself aside for Jesus. John has his own posse, his own band of followers. And here comes this upstart Jesus, preaching a new way. From the constant self-expression and self-aggrandizement encouraged, promoted, and even demanded by social media to the posturing of too many political candidates as the only person who can do the job, we are living during a distinctly ego-centric, if not full-on narcissistic, time in our culture. We experience it everywhere. From not listening to the experts in science because you think you know better, to demanding the right to do whatever you darn well please in public, this is not about you at all. John shows us that. John sets himself aside and points to Jesus and witnesses to the light that is coming into the world. 

 

Second, in this way, John stands as a model and example of what life lived in response to God’s call looks like. And what does that look like? You are God’s beloved, you are enough, you are what God made you to be. So many could be disappointed and frustrated with John not taking power and opposing Jesus. John is very clear in himself that he is the voice in the wilderness, the one that points to Jesus, but is not the long expected Messiah.

 

As we consider John as a model and example of what life lived in response to God’s call looks like, we must also consider Mary, whose Magnificat we read together. The song of Mary that we sing each Sunday of Advent, is the oldest Advent hymn. It is also the most passionate, the wildest, and one might almost say the most revolutionary Advent hymn that has ever been sung. This is not the gentle, tender, dreamy Mary as we often see her portrayed in paintings. The Mary who is speaking here is passionate, carried away, proud, enthusiastic. There is none of the sweet, wistful, or even playful tone of many of our Christmas carols, but instead a hard, strong, relentless hymn about the toppling of the thrones and the humiliation of the lords of this world, about the power of God and the powerlessness of humankind. This is the sound of the prophetic women of the Old Testament—Deborah, Judith, Miriam—coming to life in the mouth of Mary. Mary, who was seized by the power of the Holy Spirit, and who speaks, by the power of this same Spirit, about God’s coming into the world, about the Advent of Jesus Christ. Like John, Mary puts aside her own self interest for this glorious impossible. 

 

She, of course, knows better than anyone else what it means to wait for Christ’s coming. Her waiting is different from that of any other human being. She expects Jesus as his mother. Jesus is closer to her than to anyone else. She knows the secret of his coming, knows about the Spirit, who has a part in it, about the Almighty God, who has performed this miracle. In her own body she is experiencing the wonderful ways of God with humankind: that God does not arrange matters to suit our opinions and views, does not follow the path that humans would like to prescribe. God’s path is free and original beyond all our ability to understand or to prove.

 

There, where our understanding is outraged, where our nature rebels, where our piety anxiously keeps its distance—that is exactly where God loves to be. There, though it confounds the understanding of sensible people, though it irritates our nature and our piety, God wills to be, and none of us can forbid it. Only the humble believe and rejoice that God is so gloriously free, performing miracles where humanity despairs and glorifying that which is lowly and of no account. For just this is the miracle of all miracles, that God loves the lowly. God “has looked with favor on the lowliness of his servant.” God in the midst of lowliness—that is the revolutionary, passionate word of Advent. *

*– Dietrich Bonhoeffer (1906-1945), ‘Collected Sermons of Dietrich Bonhoeffer’

 

And thirdly, John the gospel writer invites us to an acceptance of our identity as God’s beloveds. Rather than striving for the affirmation of others we are free to make the sacrifices required that deepen our sense of calling, purpose, and meaning. 

 

And in that light, because I am and we are God’s beloveds, and part of our call is to set ourselves aside and point to Jesus, I am choosing to receive this Advent during Covidtide as a gift, maybe you will too. Advent, and preparation for Christmas, has often been a time of stress, a time of expectation that cannot be met. But this time, we have the opportunity to name it all, and do it quite differently. Rather than hiding sadness and grief and loss from the world and from our friends, the gift is that we are all in it together. Rather than working ourselves into a frenetic ball of nerves about not getting it all done, we let go of our perceptions of control and affirm our call as god-bearers, and like Mary we receive the gift of new birth. And as those of you who have given birth know, it’s scary and joyful all at the same time. And with Mary and John at our side, we claim our voice to call out God is here, Love wins. 

2 Advent Yr B December 6 2020

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2 Advent Yr B December 6 2020

Isaiah 40:1-11, 2 Peter 3:8-15a, Mark 1:1-8, Psalm 85:1-2, 8-13

 

Jesus’ first words in Mark’s gospel are in chapter 1 verses 14 and 15. There Jesus says, “the time is fulfilled, and the kingdom of God is at hand; repent and believe in the gospel” after being in the wilderness for forty days. We must look at these very first verses in Mark’s gospel through that lens. The time is fulfilled, the kingdom of God is at hand, repent and believe in this Good News. We must, because Mark points us through the prophet Isaiah and John the baptizer to the God who is here in our midst. In Isaiah we read “your God is here!” and Mark announces that God is present. You see, this is what God does, God shows up and God shows a new way. 

 

This beginning of Mark’s gospel takes place in the wilderness. John the baptizer appears in the wilderness. This is important. I want you to hear how important this is. Jesus is found on the edge, and Jesus also belongs there. Not in the power center of the polis, the city. But in the wilderness, or at the river, or the seashore, or in the home of a poor family among the farm animals. This decentering of God is the Good News! God shows a new way, the old way just isn’t working any more. 

 

God shows up and God shows a new way. That way is not the way of power but the way of love. And when God moves, walls come a tumblin’ down. Boundaries are crossed. Margins are erased. The heavens are torn in two. Doves descend. All manner of being is upended. 

 

In Mark’s gospel, Jesus is a boundary breaker. Story after story shows us this. There’s the story of the paralytic, the one whose friends climbed up on a roof and lowered him into the house where Jesus was. First there was a wall of people preventing them from getting to Jesus, and secondly, once they climbed up on the roof, they had to dig their way through the roof to get to Jesus. Walls come a tumblin’ down. And then the man with the scaly skin disease, unclean according to the law. In touching that man, Jesus made himself unclean and shattered the boundary of purity that put those who had the disease outside the community, on the margins. That wall came a tumblin’ down. And then, Jesus calls a tax-collector to follow him, and then goes on to eat with him. Jesus shows a blatant disregard for the laws of purity and social propriety, the walls come a tumblin’ down. Just a few examples. These stories in Mark’s gospel are framed by a beginning boundary breaking story and an ending boundary breaking story. At the beginning, Jesus is baptized by John in the Jordan, and the heavens are torn apart and the Spirit shows up. And near the end, which is really not much of an end at all, Jesus is on the cross, and while the sun’s light failed, the curtain of the temple was torn in two and everyone knew something new was going on. 

 

Mark is working mighty hard to tell us that God breaks into our world, and nothing can be the same. God shows up in this new way, and through Jesus breaks down the barriers that hold God at a distance. God shows up and Jesus shows us the way of love, the way of forgiveness, the way of peace. This is what incarnation is all about; God breaking boundaries to be with us, lovable, fallible, joyful, broken, human beings; Jesus breaking boundaries that redefine who is included in God’s kingdom; the Spirit breaking boundaries to inspire us to love and care for our neighbor. Why is this important? The thing God changes in Jesus IS the boundary that separates human beings from God. God breaks that boundary and God offers love and forgiveness. This is good news indeed.

 

Not only is incarnation about breaking boundaries in scripture, but it is about breaking boundaries now. How do we witness Jesus breaking boundaries in our lives? Just as Jesus reached across the boundary of purity to touch the man with the scaly skin, we reach across boundaries when we stand up for full inclusion in the decision making in this country by people who have been historically excluded. We reach across boundaries when we insist on equal health care, education, or access to voting. We reach across boundaries and walls come a tumblin’ down when we offer love and forgiveness and peace to all God’ children. 

 

Christmas is THE boundary breaking event. God tumbling into this world as a baby, to parents of no means, in a humble house, only to be pursued by an evil emperor. In these Advent days, we participate in this wonderful and amazing good news that God is here! God is with us, God is in our midst. And God keeps at it. God keeps coming to us. That’s the now and not yet of Advent. 

 

It feels a little harder, this Advent, in this Covidtide, to identify God with us. We’ve been so used to seeing and experiencing God as our beautiful church is decorated for Christmas, and as we rehearse Christmas music. Even our secular expression of Christmas is subdued, a little less partying, shopping, carrying on. I wonder if this isn’t an opportunity to do some things differently. I know I have been more intentional about pausing each day to light my advent candle and I have Christmas lights inside and outside my house. I want to observe even more closely how the light overcomes the dark, I want to watch the boundary breaking reality of this glorious impossible, this incarnation. 

 

What remains, is that God is here, in flesh and blood. God is here in each of us as we reach out with love to those who are alone, those who are vulnerable, those who are losing hope. Each time we pray Morning Prayer we say In you, Lord, is our hope; And we shall never hope in vain. 

 

Peace be with you this day, and throughout this Advent season. 

1 Advent Yr B November 29 2020

 

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1 Advent Yr B November 29 2020

Isaiah 64:1-9, 1 Corinthians 1:3-9, Mark 13:24-37, Psalm 80:1-7, 16-18

 

The gospel writer Mark is here to tell us that God is in control, and when God is in control, hope and grace abound. Even when it seems like things are out of control, hope remains. And this is where we find ourselves this first Sunday of Advent. The world feels dark. This year, more than any year I can remember, I crave the light and the wonder of Christmas. I wonder how we can live in the anticipation and expectation that is Advent, and the hope of incarnation, the glorious impossible, while breathing in that Christmas air. One way is to turn to the readings that we have before us this Advent; they are stories that show us that nothing will be impossible with God.

 

In this thirteenth chapter of Mark’s gospel, Jesus exposes and reveals the powers and principalities that are destructive. When Mark writes, which is a few decades after Jesus has died, Israel is being consumed by a war with Rome. Mark uses Jesus’ earlier prediction to speak to his people’s current circumstance. This war brings suffering and death, and desolation and destruction. Previously, in chapter 11, Jesus has said that the Temple is to be a house of prayer for all the nations, and this abominable desecration of the Temple is caused by those whose goal was to kick all the nations out. You see, Jesus’ intention it seems, was that all people, all nations, all tribes, were a part of God’s dream, God’s vision for creation. But people who were afraid not only put up barriers to keep those who were not like them out, they went and destroyed the temple too. 

 

In the verses in front of us today, often called the little apocalypse, the focus shifts from an historical review of war and destruction to an apocalyptic vision. Let’s pause for a moment to remember what apocalyptic means. Apocalypse and revelation mean the same thing. Simply put, they mean that God shows forth. God shows up. So what we have here is a story about the God that shows up. In this story we see a picture of Jesus who returns to gather those who remain true to the course of resisting those who would divide, those who would exclude. The message is, despite fear or hostility, followers of Jesus are to continue to preach Jesus’ inclusive word, all are welcome. And doing that very thing, welcoming all as sons and daughters of God, is the very thing followers of Jesus need to be doing to be ready.

 

That’s why we hear, “watch out, be ready, don’t be caught off guard!”

 

These passages are not about fear, and they are not about hedging our bets for a future end time. This is about the now, and the not yet. This is why we read them in Advent, the season of now and not yet. The season of preparation. Being prepared is not just for boy scouts and girl scouts, being prepared is for all of us. Being watchful, being prepared, getting ready means that we proclaim Jesus’ inclusive word. It’s not so much about not knowing the hour of Jesus’ return, it’s about living awake and ready right here and right now. 

 

Sometimes I wonder if this pandemic is revealing our baser human inclinations. I’ve read that Pope Francis has said, “a crisis reveals what’s in our hearts.” And it seems that for many what may be in their hearts is hate, rather than love, meanness rather than compassion. 

 

We are in a time of revelation, apocalypse. And it’s time to pay attention to that man behind the curtain. Unfortunately, the curtain is being pulled aside and we are seeing a humanity acting on misguided, greedy, hateful values. Sometimes it even seems we are living in one those dystopian novels that I love so much, filled with images of destruction, violence, fear. We’ve heard about, or read, or watched, stories about being left behind. We steer clear of reading these hard stories in our bibles that seem to be about destruction because it seems hard to understand. But these stories point us to not to destruction, but to a new and better way. The way of Love, the way of hope. Friends, I want you to hear about hope. Because that is what revelation is all about. God reveals Godself to humanity and all of creation in so many ways, and in the flesh and blood of Jesus. This is the location of hope, and we can rest assured that we never hope in vain. 

 

This hope is the good news that we hear today. The good news specifically in this passage of Mark, is that all, everyone, is included in this boundary breaking ministry of Jesus. Listen to this word spoken into the world we live in today; a society that is contentious, acerbic, and fearful. No matter where you are or who you are, you are included. Jesus dealt with all sorts and kinds of people, often they are described as sinners, outcasts, tax collectors, women. People who were on the margins of community, and because they were they had no life, no hope. You and I are called to proclaim the good news in this world, by word and action, to those who are on the margins, to those who can find no love, no hope. This is what it means to be ready. 

 

And we hear this passage from Mark just as we begin the new year, just as we begin our preparations for Christmas, just as we begin Advent. Because Advent calls us to watchfulness, Advent calls us to being ready, not just getting ready, but being ready for this most amazing birth. The birth that is the glorious impossible. The coming of the one who loves us into life, loves us into ourselves, loves us into the image of God. 

 

You see, revelation is the Christmas story. At the heart of the story of Christmas is the promise that God comes in the small and vulnerable form of a baby born to poor and frightened parents, and that God keeps coming in small, vulnerable, unexpected, and unlooked for ways even now. In fact, each time we reach out to another in love, God is once again invading the kingdoms and structures of this world with God’s radical and transformative presence and grace. Being ready to receive this hope transforms how we approach and experience Christmas, and how we look at our lives in the world. 

 

What small things can we do in love through which God’s presence and redemption are revealed? Small gestures might we offer that signify our trust that God is with us and for us? What small sacrifices might we make – including, significantly, the sacrifice of not gathering with others when doing so risks spreading the coronavirus – that provide opportunities to see God still at work loving and blessing God’s people and world? Whatever our usual preparations for Christmas, fundamentally Christmas is about small things, a baby, this baby’s parents, bottom-of-the-economic ladder shepherds, wandering astrologers looking for someone to save the world, deep-held longings for presence and redemption given voice by Israel’s prophets. And this year, and particularly because our preparations and celebrations will be necessarily be a bit more muted, perhaps we’ll be able to hear that promise more clearly: that whenever and wherever we act in love, God is present. So indeed, watch, wait, look, and most especially listen, for in the Christ child who will grow up to embrace all of our longings and experience all aspects of our life, God is whispering, “Emmanuel, I am with you!”

Amen.

Christ the King November 22 2020

 

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Christ the King November 22 2020

Ezekiel 34:11-16, 20-24, Psalm 100, Ephesians 1:15-2, Matthew 25:31-46

Matthew’s gospel continues to be terribly troubling, but this week we get a glimmer of hope, grace actually. The picture Matthew paints is the Son of man sitting on the throne, and before him are all the nations. The one sitting on the throne places the sheep on one side and the goats on the other. Those that were placed on the right hand, the sheep, were those who had encountered people who were hungry and thirsty and fed them, those who had encountered strangers, aliens, outsiders, immigrants, and welcomed them, those who had encountered people who were naked and clothed them, those who had encountered people who were sick or in prison, and visited them. And they were surprised, they asked when did we do these things? And the King answered, you did it each time you relieved the pain or suffering of the lost, the lonely, the least. 

Friends, this is incarnational ministry, we need look no further. This is what it means to live out the hope and grace of our baptism. Each and every time we encounter the most vulnerable and overlooked, the least of these, we are actually interacting with our Lord. As with the surprising appearance of God in both manger and cross, God continues to show up where we least expect God to be. The command to care for the most vulnerable is clear throughout Scripture; the promise that God is revealed to us when we do is the surprise. God’s inbreaking, God’s revelation, God’s presence is not some mountain-top experience or the result of an arduous spiritual journey but instead connected to actual, physical bodies and circumstances. Want to see Jesus? Look to the needs of your neighbor and, especially, your most vulnerable neighbors. And yet, so many who claim to be Christian look right past their most vulnerable neighbors. Or can’t seem to understand the category of neighbor at all. 

And I want you to hear verse 32 again. Before the son of man will be gathered all the nations… Friends, this a political gospel; the Gospel is inherently political in that it challenges the total complex of relations between people living in society. That’s pretty risky to say, isn’t it? This is about how the least, the lost, and the lonely are treated not only by individuals, but by groups of people and by governments. And this is where the rubber meets the road. How do we live in a secular world and live by kingdom ethics? That is what we must always be asking and working toward. 

This is a parable focused on a life of mercy. The criterion of judgment is the mercy we have lived. It is concerned with how we; followers of Jesus live out our baptismal ministry, how we let our light shine and give glory to God. Good works has less to do with ethical actions than with living a life of mercy in which Jesus is encountered and revealed. Again, not about moral dessert. But about living a live of mercy now, each moment, each day, this is how the beloved community works, this is what the body of Christ looks like, this is what loving our neighbor is about.

And it compels us to work to create merciful systems in our communities. It compels us to widen our circles. We are not the holders or keepers of the mystery of God, we are light bearers bringing God’s mercy to the outer reaches. We are the boundary breakers, not the boundary keepers. We are the margin sitters, guiding those who are lost to the places they may be found. 

In our community, where and how do we break down barriers so that each child of God has access to what you and I have, health care, safe housing, meaningful work? In our community, where and how do we break down barriers so that each child of God has equal opportunity to education, especially in this COVID world, how do we make sure that each child has a stable and reliable internet connection? How do we be a part of creating merciful systems of justice?

We are sent out from the Lord’s Supper as body of Christ to discover that the body of Christ is already waiting for the community in those suffering in the world. Then, it would appear that the judgment we are all subject to is not one from on high but a judgment that is spoken through the need of our neighbor.

In these COVID times, how can we care for our neighbor? If we are out, we can wear a mask. What a simple and wonderful way we can care for our neighbors we don’t even know. We can stay home as much as possible. We can support our local establishments by getting take out or curbside as often as we would have gone out for a meal. We can figure out how to shop locally for our Christmas presents. And with our church neighbors and our physical neighbors we can make phone calls. Check on each other, please. 

This day is called Christ the King Sunday. It is a day to affirm the reign of Christ and God's Kingdom, a kingdom in which we are citizens now, and to which we aspire in the future. A Kingdom in which we are called to encounter each neighbor as if they were Christ among us, because they are. We come to the end of the lectionary year, next week, the first Sunday of Advent begins the new year. We are meant to look back, and ask the question, how did the church live out and work for God's reign?

As the last Sunday of the church year, it transitions us into Advent and the beginning of the church year, and functions as a bridge. It reminds us that this is what we are about - to further the Kingdom, how we will be active and engaged citizens in God's Kingdom and the wider realities of community, the real meaning of the polis, or politics. Advent anticipates Emmanuel, with active and engaged waiting. 

Live incarnationally this week. Expect to encounter Christ in any neighbor you meet. Care for your neighbor, and you care for Jesus. Amen.

Twenty-fourth Pentecost Yr A Proper 28 Nov 15 2020

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Twenty-fourth Pentecost Yr A Proper 28 Nov 15 2020

Judges 4:1-7, Psalm 123, 1 Thessalonians 5:1-11, Matthew 25:14-30

Here we have another terribly troubling parable from Matthew. This parable is the second of three in this section of Matthew, last week we heard the parable of the ten bridesmaids, and lastly is the parable of the sheep and goats. Usually, when placed like this, the stories have something to do with each other. The first parable taught us the importance of living ready and awake in the complexity of life. The parable before us today shows us what it looks like to live ready and awake. 

The kingdom of God is like a man who was leaving on a journey. Upon leaving, he handed everything over to his servants according to their ability. After the man left, the servants did as they pleased with what they were given. The first two took what was given them, immediately went to work with it, and when the man returned, gave an accounting. Each of them had increased the original capital. The third man was a different sort of man. In contrast to the other two, he hid the money that had been entrusted to him. Now, this was a common way of hiding things. With no bank, no secure place to leave valuable things when going away, burying it was an accepted way to keep it secure. So the important thing for this man was that the money was safe and secure and that he could produce it when the time came. Keeping it in this way meant that there was no possibility of loss, but is also meant there was no possibility of gain.

Matthew makes a point to let us know that this master was a very rich man, and these amounts are huge, each talent may be worth about twenty years wages. And Matthew points us to a master who encourages his servants to use whatever they have been given for good, and to use it faithfully. The third servant was afraid, and did not use what he had been given for any purpose at all. The result of this fear was being consigned to the outer darkness, where there will be weeping and gnashing of teeth.

So let's imagine today that in this parable the master is God who loves creation, who loves humanity. This is God in our midst, God who loves creation so very much that God is willing and wanting and yearning to be in relationship with God's people. God whose love is so deep and so wide and so broad. God who walks through this life with us, each one of us and all of us. In this kingdom God is like a man who was leaving on a trip. He handed everything over to his servants according to their ability, and then he left on his journey. It sounds to me like this is a relationship of trust and of grace. The man entrusts all he has to his servants. No instructions, no lists of what to do and what not to do, nothing. And yet this abundance doesn't belong to the servants. This abundance was not assigned to the servants based on who deserved what and how much, it was given over in trust. This abundance is not even dependent on anyone’s ability today, tomorrow, or any other day to do exactly the right thing with it.

It seems to me that the kingdom of God is this way. God leaves us with and trusts us with the entirety of creation. So much more than we can even see and experience. God entrusts us with the sea and the sky, with the animals and the vegetables. God entrusts us with all that is valuable, and God entrusts us with one another. And God lets go of the outcome, God does not control what we do with any of it. We can do with it what we want. That is what is at the very center of this relationship. God creates us and all of what is seen and unseen, God declares it good, and God loves us. God trusts us, what are we to do? 

This is the same God who loves us so very much and is willing to live and die as one of us to show us the very best way this life may be lived. Imagine a God who is the creator of all that is seen and unseen, and to whom each and every one of us matters. Imagine a God whose heart’s desire is to be in relationship with us. Imagine a God to whom justice matters, the kind of justice that includes everyone having enough to eat, everyone staying warm when it is cold, everyone being able to feed their families. 

We are to respond to this abundant and amazing grace with all of our heart and our soul and our strength. It's not about our trustworthiness, it's about God's trust and love and grace. It's not about our ability or inability to use the gift properly, it's about God's trust and love and grace. It's not about what we deserve or don't deserve, it's about God's trust and love and grace. It's not about our fearfulness, but it is about fearlessly being about God's business of love, and healing.

These stories about the kingdom are not about being safe and secure. This story, and the ones around it, are about being ready, awake and alive, not to be afraid.

You see, when it comes to serving Christ, when it comes to following Jesus, we can be bold and not be afraid of risks. Not so much concerned about securing our own lives but getting on with lives of self-abandon and witness, knowing that the grace of God in Jesus will more than compensate for any mistakes we may make. Instead, we behave more like the servant who hid his talent in the ground. It’s not a bad thing to do, but it isn’t living ready, awake, and alive, it is more like being afraid.

In these days it is so hard not be afraid. In A Wrinkle in Time, the main characters, Meg, Calvin, and Charles Wallace wrinkle travel, a little like time travel but not the same, to an in between planet before they get to their intended target, Camazotz. From the in between planet they can see the darkness covering Camazotz, the place where Meg’s father is being held captive. These days feel that, that there’s a darkness that hangs over us. A darkness that holds in its snare’s liars and bully’s. A darkness made up of quips and snipes. A darkness that covers rudeness. A darkness that feeds racism and misogyny. But you and I know the remedy to that. Hate and fear will not dispel the darkness, only love can do that. 

We can choose in small ways and in large ways how God's amazing gift is made available by our lives and by our love. Choose love. Choose to be a steward of all of God's gift. Choose not only to care for creation and all you have been given but do something great with it. Don't bury it out of fear, but share it knowing that is was never yours in the first place. Choose to be a part of relationships that do what Jesus asks us to do, feed those who are hungry, love your neighbor. Share your hearts and your lives and your treasure, not because of what you will get, but because of what you have been given. Love. 

Amen.  

Twenty-third Sunday after Pentecost Yr A Proper 27 Nov 8 2020

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Twenty-third Sunday after Pentecost Yr A Proper 27 Nov 8 2020

Joshua 24:1-3a, 14-25, Psalm 78:1-7,1 Thessalonians 4:13-18, Matthew 25:1-13

 

Last Sunday, the Feast of All Saints, we recommitted ourselves to following Jesus, we reaffirmed our baptismal promises. In these days it feels to me like not only do those promises call me into ministry, but they are also like armor donned not for battle, but for life, life that just keeps throwing down the crap.

 

And I think Matthew keeps throwing it down, one parable after another, one parable more difficult than the last one. This parable in front of us today is one of those watchful parables that we heard in the preceding chapter of Matthew's Gospel. And it challenges our quickly made assumptions about judgment, grace and the end times. The characters in this story are not simply good or simply bad. The definitions we give good and bad have always reflected our own prejudices more than they have faithfully represented Gospel truth. And another thing this story is not about is getting into heaven by what we do or don’t do.

 

In these Covid days, I’ve been watching The Good Place on Netflix. On first blush The Good Place is a story about getting into heaven or going to hell. The basic premise is that you need to earn enough points to get into the Good Place. However, as the story unfolds, we learn that something has gone wrong, and the Good Place might not actually be the Good Place. Discussion ensues about how you earn points, and what you do to earn points, and what you do to earn points and why you would even want to earn those points. Michael, the demon turned friend, calls those points moral dessert. Isn’t that great? Moral dessert. The result of earning your way into the Good Place is moral dessert. However, the story deepens to acknowledge that humans are much more complex than originally thought and that what humans do is not always easily categorized into right and wrong. And the question is raised about who does the judging and accounting of the points anyway.

 

That is partly what this parable in Matthew is about, it shows us the complexity of our moral decision making, but this parable leaves us uncertain. There is no right and wrong, there is no satisfying ending, and there is no moral dessert. Because this parable may very well be about how to live ready and awake even in the complexity of life.

 

Let’s take a look. What Matthew presents to us today, as he has throughout his gospel, is terribly troubling. These ten bridesmaids took their lamps and went to meet the bridegroom. Five of them were foolish, and five were wise. How were five foolish and five wise? Because five of them took their lamps, but no extra oil. So when the bridegroom was delayed and they all fell asleep, and they were running out of oil and the other five wouldn’t share with them, they were denied entry to the marriage feast. How could that possibly be? You’ve got five who won’t share with the other five, and five denied entry, it just doesn’t seem fair. So one explanation for this rejection is that the five foolish maidens had already somehow been determined to be evil. It brings me right back to the Good Place, in spite of a list of good deeds these maidens may have had, they are rejected at the door to what seems to be the good place.

 

What do we do with this? How are the maidens being judged? Why are they being judged? That’s what brings me to what I really think this parable is about. I think it is about living ready and awake in the midst of this complexity of life. And, this is a story about the end of all things, and the beginning of the new, and the coming of Christ. But I think it’s mostly about how we live in the world, the place God has given for human habitation.

 

First we look to being ready and awake in the midst of the complexity of life.

 

Secondly, it is not the maidens who are doing the judging of one another, it is the one who is called Lord.

 

In Matthew’s gospel we can go right to the Sermon on the Mount, and the beatitudes for direction. We can go right to the answer to the lawyer’s question, which is the most important commandment? We all know the answer, 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.’ We go to these passages in Matthew not because these are easy answers, but because they show forth the complexity in which we are asked to live our lives. The complexity in which we are to be ready, to be awake. What is the measure by which humanity is judged? That measure is our willingness to wrestling with the complexity of these blessings. Blessings that don’t show specifically what is right or wrong, good or bad, and don’t earn us moral dessert. If we are honest with ourselves, we wrestle with these beatitudes all the time, we ask what it means to be poor in spirit, or meek, or merciful, or pure in heart, or a peacemaker, or even what is persecution. Because the reality is that you and I rarely are poor in anything, or meek, or persecuted.

 

Even loving our neighbor seems hard and complex in these days. In these times of division, how do we love our neighbor when we know we cannot agree to disagree about really important things; like the evil nature of racism, or the devaluing of women’s bodies, or the wonder of how love chooses a partner in life?

 

You and I must grapple with the complexity of this life. This is what kingdom readiness is about. We must wrestle with blessing and beatitude. We must love our neighbor even when we don’t like our neighbor. Not because we hope to rack up points and get the moral dessert, but because this is our ministry, this is our call, this is what it means to follow Jesus. We must love, because we are loved first, and because if it’s not about love, it’s not about God.

 

And more good news in this terribly troubling story in Matthew is that you and I are not the judge. It is not up to us who gets into the Good Place, thank God, because I for one would really botch that one. No, it is not up to us. That work is not ours. That work has already been done on the cross. The cross disrupts all of our categories of good or bad, and lays them at the foot of that cross with Jesus’ words, forgive them, forgive them. It is finished. We are called to lay down our pride and arrogance and love every neighbor. This life may not be comfortable when we do that, and it is indeed complex. And we may be called to stand in places that are difficult or dangerous, but this is the readiness for God’s kingdom as it will be, there is no other. Loving one another, standing with one another, is what following Jesus looks like. Being ready is not about you and me deciding who is foolish or who is wise, that’s God’s job. Being ready is to watch, and wait, and in the midst of that complexity, to love one another with abandon. 

Thanks be to God.

All Saints November 1 2020

All Saints November 1 2020

Revelation 7:9-17, Psalm 34:1-10, 22, 1 John 3:1-3, Matthew 5:1-12

Struggling, striving, to be one too. I love this day, I feel so connected to the cloud of witnesses, the communion of saints. Why do I feel All Saints so deeply? I don’t think it’s because I want to be a saint, or I think I have any degree of perfection. It’s because I want to be among those who follow Jesus, I want to be among those who stand up for love, and compassion, and mercy, and I know I cannot do that alone. I listen to these names, names of the long dead and names of the recently dead, and I wonder, do I measure up? Do I act justly when the time comes, am I merciful in judgment, can I be compassionate when I with those with whom I passionately disagree?

This cloud of witnesses helps me along, holds me up, keeps me accountable, makes me want to do better. Each one of these in this cloud of witnesses changed their particular piece of the world, not necessarily by doing fabulous, extravagant things, but by stepping into the space in which they were needed, when called. By stepping up to love. By using their voice and being brave. Not heroic, but faithful.

Do you have saints in your life? Not perfect people, people perfectly loved. There’s a piece by Linda Hogan, an indigenous writer, who is currently the Chickasaw Nation's Writer in Residence. And at All Saints time it lands on me with all sorts of sense and wonder. She has written, “Suddenly all my ancestors are behind me. ‘Be still’ they say. ‘Watch and listen. You are the result of the love of thousands.’” 

That empowers me, emboldens me to put one foot in front of the other, each day, and speak love into dark and lonely spaces, and there have definitely been some dark and lonely spaces in these past months. It feels like my voice joins all the voices before me, and together we sing a song of the saints of God. Because being a saint is not about being superhuman. It may be about having a super power though. The super power of love, the super power of the love of all those who have gone before us to show us the way, and those who will come after us to carry on.

I wonder about the saints we named today, and so many others whom we did not name. I wonder if they knew they were a saint, or if all they knew was God’s love for them and for others. I think they didn’t know they were saints. I think they were just like you and me. I think they took seriously the call to love God, and to love one another. I think they woke up in the morning, just like you and me, and asked God to help them carry Jesus’ light into all the dark places of their lives.

Who are the saints you know, and have known? Not perfect people. But people putting one foot in front of the other and stepping into the space of love and bringing the light of Jesus with them. I think a lot about my mom who died nearly six years ago now. My mom wasn’t perfect, she was as ornery as an Irish woman comes. There was always room at my mother’s table. Even if she didn’t like you, you got fed. She prepared meals at church, and put on quite a spread for funeral luncheons. And for years she was in charge of the Loaves and Fishes meal once a month. Mom would never consider herself any more than a person that said yes to pitching in and helping. She never thought of herself as brave or courageous, or particularly compassionate. But she stepped up when she heard the call, often it was the call on the telephone… we need you to….bring a hotdish, we need you to… be in be president of the women’s club…we need you.

I think what’s really true is that the phone call, or these days the email, is much louder than God’s still, small voice. And stepping into the space of love and compassion, responding to God’s call, is much more like providing a meal, or wearing a mask, or sticking with your pod, than it is about saving the world.

If we are indeed the result of the love of thousands, which I believe we are, then what is the task we bear today? It’s not about heroics, but definitely the super powers of love and compassion. We are the saints of God; we are the ones who give rise to the thousands who come after us. Our task today is to follow Jesus. Our call is to Love God, love others, show it. Getting up every morning, giving thanks for the day, putting one foot in front of the other, and shining the Christ light into all of the dark places, makes a difference. We are joined together, we are joined with the cloud of witnesses, and our witness matters, our actions matter. They lived not only in ages past; there are hundreds of thousands still; the world is bright with the joyous saints who love to do Jesus’ will. You can meet them in school, or in lanes, or at sea, in church, or in trains, or in shops, or at tea; for the saints of God are just folk like me, and I mean to be one too. 

Twenty-First Sunday after Pentecost, Yr A, Proper 25 Oct 25 2020

 

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Twenty-First Sunday after Pentecost, Yr A, Proper 25 Oct 25 2020

Deuteronomy 34:1-12, Psalm 90:1-6, 13-17, 1 Thessalonians 2:1-8, Matthew 22:34-46

Which commandment in the law is the greatest? 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 the second, you shall love your neighbor as yourself.

The Pharisees, who had heard that Jesus had bested the Sadducees, continued to try to entrap him. Jesus’ answer to the Pharisees is straight out of the Hebrew scripture, not a book like we know it today, but stories told around tables and hearths and campfires. Jesus knows those scriptures well; he had them on his heart, and in his soul. Those scriptures are part of the very fiber of his being, so much so that they are his flesh and blood. Those scriptures were what each Hebrew boy and girl heard and recited every day of their lives. And they also knew the story of creation, they knew the story of Noah, of Moses, of Exodus and Exile, of David, the Prophets, they knew the story about the angel passing over their homes when they put the blood of the lamb on their doorposts; they knew the stories of their ancestors. They even knew who was related to whom, the genealogy that opens the gospel of Matthew.

Jesus’ answer to the Pharisees was not a recitation of the law, the law that he knew well. Jesus’ answer was love, Jesus’ answer was to show forth a pattern of love, the activity of love. Jesus’ answer to the Pharisees was relationship. Love the Lord your God, and love your neighbor. 

Remember last week when I said that maybe what Jesus might be doing is inviting us to declare our allegiance. I suggested that perhaps the key question isn’t whose image is on the coin, but rather whose image is on us. We indeed are made in God's image and marked as God's own forever. It’s hard for us to know that, it’s hard for us to believe that, it’s hard for us to follow Jesus if we don’t know the story of love.

Knowing our story, knowing our bible, is knowing where we came from, knowing to whom we belong. Knowing this story helps us to identify our value and worth. Our story teaches us, shows us, tells us that we are created in God's image. And this story is ultimately important because being created in God’s image is where love is located. We see God’s love for us in the pattern of action that is our sacred story.

And that story is about creation and blessing, it is of being separated from God, and it is of repentance, reconciliation, and resurrection. In this story, God who is the creator of the universe, comes to be one of us, Jesus, and lives, loves, suffers and dies, and is raised from the dead. It is the story that calls us to love God with all our heart, and all our soul, and all our mind, and to love our neighbor as ourselves. It is about God’s relationship with us, God’s beloveds.

But from our point of view it's hard to see the wholeness of the story. We see only pieces, we catch glimpses. When we are engulfed in darkness it's very hard to trust that there is light. It’s hard to see anything at all. And it’s hard to love ourselves, much less our neighbor. But it is when we come out of suffering and sadness with hope and joy that we really can experience the love and the light, and the new life that God has for us. And we remember, we remember God's love for us and for all of creation. Sometimes, when we listen carefully, we can actually hear God’s love for us in the voices of the people whom we encounter, especially at times of deepest sorrow or quiet joy.

And yet, love in the bible really has very little to do with how we feel. Love in the first-century Mediterranean world was not a vague warm feeling toward someone, but a pattern of action - attachment to a person backed up with behavior, attachment to this man Jesus, who is willing to stand up to the power brokers of his day. The two commandments Jesus gives demand nothing less than heart, soul, and mind -- in other words, every part of a person capable of valuing something – and that those capacities be devoted to God and to every neighbor.

And there is no one exempt from the category of neighbor; the Parable of the Good Samaritan shows us that. So what we read today is a continuation of what we read last week. Last week we heard that everything comes from and belongs to God. Everything. This continuation of that reading demands nothing less than everything, heart, soul and mind. Jesus' call will compel each one of his followers to take the fullest extent of God's love to the furthest reach of that love, to every person whom God makes. As God has first loved us, we will love others.

As God has first loved us, we will love others. So then, why is there so much hate in our world? Why do people rise up against those whose ancestry, or skin color is different from their own? Why do we hurt one another? Why? I wonder if it is because we are filled with the fear of loss. People are afraid of losing themselves, or their history, or their tradition. People are afraid of losing their power, or their possessions. We are afraid that our world will never return to normal. We are afraid the wrong people will get elected. We are afraid. And fear usually ends up as hate. 

We forget, they forget, in whose image we are made. It is God’s image on that coin, it is God’s image on our hearts. We are made for love; we are made for relationship. We are made to love our neighbor.

And this is Jesus’ call to us and claim on us. Everything comes from God and belongs to God, and that demands a pattern of action, love God with everything you are, and love your neighbor; remembering that love is not how we feel, but a decision we make, a pattern of action. Love is a pattern of action. This is how we are to love our neighbors, and our neighbors are everyone, the outcasts and the sinners, you and me. Following Jesus, begin a Christian, is about a pattern of love, and no one is excluded from that love. That love, that relationship with God through Jesus is transforming love. And that love sends us out into the world to serve God and serve one another.

The original question the Pharisees ask Jesus is, which commandment in the law is the greatest? Jesus answers not with law, but with the pattern of action that is love. You shall love the lord your God with all your heart, and with all you soul, and with all your mind, and you shall love your neighbor as yourself. Love does indeed win.

Twentieth Sunday after Pentecost Yr A Proper 24 Oct 18 2020

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Twentieth Sunday after Pentecost Yr A Proper 24 Oct 18 2020

Exodus 33:12-23, Psalm 99, 1 Thessalonians 1:1-10, Matthew 22:15-22

Money, politics, and religion, the only missing ingredient for impolite conversation is sex. So why is it we're not supposed to talk about these things? Maybe because these things are felt to be too personal to discuss in public, and too divisive. People feel very strongly about these things and don't want to be told what to think. Unless, of course, you are in some churches, that tell you exactly what to think about just about everything. Maybe, if we talked more freely about money, sex, power, and religion, we’d have a better grasp on what Jesus calls us to. I'm not going to tell you what to think about any of these things, but scripture and our commitment to follow Jesus definitely informs us on these things, and today's reading from Matthew is all about these things, so, let’s talk.

Money, give to the emperor what is the emperors’.

Politics, everyone has to pay taxes.

Religion, give to God the things that are God's.

But as we well know, it's never easy, or clear, or straightforward. So what's really going on here? What is the kingdom of God like? 

What we have is actually one of the oldest tricks in the book. Entrapment. That’s what the Pharisees are about in this story, pure and simple. They know very well the Jewish law against creating images. We read all about that last week in Exodus. The Israelites took all the gold from their ears, their sons’ ears, and their daughters’ ears, melted it down and made an idol out of it. Not making and worshiping idols is the commandment second only to loving God. 

The Pharisees know what they ask of Jesus creates what we today call cognitive dissonance, the state of having inconsistent thoughts, beliefs, or attitudes, especially as relating to behavioral decisions and attitude change. it’s the slippery slope. We do it all the time. It’s about rationalizing our behavior, for good or for ill. Simply put, should I eat that doughnut because it is good, or should I eat that apple because I know it is good for me? I want the doughnut because I believe it will make me feel good, because I like it, because I deserve it, because it’s fun… But I eat the apple because I believe it’s good for me, because it tastes good, because I need the vitamins, because it will help me in the long run. 

But of course, what we are dealing with is much more complex than that. How we act has to do with the priorities we choose for our lives. You and I are followers of Jesus, we follow the way of love, and that guides us all of the time. We are very clear with Jesus’ commandment to love God and to love our neighbor, it’s how that gets worked out in our day to day lives that gets complicated. And how we act has to do with our baptismal promises to follow Jesus, and to seek and serve Christ in everyone we encounter.

The Pharisees are trying to entrap Jesus, if Jesus says we don’t pay taxes to the emperor he’s guilty of sedition, but if Jesus says we use these coins with an image on them to pay taxes to the emperor, he’s guilty of breaking the commandment. Caesar or God? This is not just a slippery slope; it is a no-win situation. But Jesus’ answer to the Pharisees' question, as is his answer each time they ask him questions about wealth is really simple. Jesus’ answer is it’s all God’s. It’s all God’s. There is no hierarchy, there is no priority list, and there are no top ten things that belong to God. The question is pointless. It is all God’s. You see, there is nothing that belongs to the emperor. We live in this world as God's beloved, we are God's image, we do not live in the image that the world will make us.

So what Jesus is doing here is showing that wealth is not ours. All wealth comes from God. And wealth includes so much more than money. There are some ramifications of this for us today. All wealth comes from God, and we live in a land in which order is kept by a mutual agreement that everyone shares in the responsibility of government and infrastructure and protection. At least that is the social contract I believe we make as citizens of this country. Therefore, we pay our share and it’s called taxes. But all we have still comes from God. 

Jesus is inviting us to declare our allegiance. Perhaps the key question in this passage isn’t, after all, whose image is on the coin, but rather whose image is on us. We indeed are made in God's image and marked as God's own forever. And that’s what always seems to get lost in conversations about money and politics. For while we may feel strongly about our political loyalties, before we are Democrat, Republican, or Independent, we are God's beloveds, and we are called to love God and love our neighbor. Jesus calls us to feed hungry people, and to liberate captives. 

And while we may be confident that how we spend our money is our business and no one else’s, yet if we forget in whose image we have been made we may succumb to the temptation to believe that we are no more than the sum total of our possessions and that our bank accounts tell a true story about our worth and value.

So, there are no easy answers here. There are elements of our lives that are, indeed, part of the world order and should be “rendered to Caesar.” But our deepest self belongs to God, and if we remember that, all of life takes on greater focus and meaning. And our identity as God's beloveds, will, in turn, shape our behavior, and our decisions, urging and aiding us to be the persons we have been called to be.

And I hope this is not a burden, but rather an empowering reminder of your identity as a child of God, something no amount of spending or saving could change. Maybe it will help to actively reflect on how your faith shapes your daily life and particularly your economic life. God wants more from us, in the end, than polite conversation. God wants for us abundant life. God wants us to know that we are enough. Because while Benjamin Franklin may have once said that death and taxes are the only two certainties of this life, our lives declare that the one who was raised from death shows us that God’s love is more certain than anything else.

Nineteenth Sunday after Pentecost, Yr A, Proper 23, Oct 11 2020

Nineteenth Sunday after Pentecost, Yr A, Proper 23, Oct 11 2020

Exodus 32:1-14, Psalm 106:1-6, 19-23, Philippians 4:1-9, Matthew 22:1-14

In the gospel of Matthew we have been reading the stories of Jesus' journey to Jerusalem, Jesus' final entry into Jerusalem, and Jesus working incredibly hard to teach the disciples everything that he thinks is essential for them to know when he is gone. Jesus seems to be tired and impatient as he finishes this task of imparting knowledge in the form of parables. And, the parables we have been hearing from Matthew have been terribly troublesome. 

In this parable, as with the one we preached last week, we are catching a glimpse of the low point in an intense family feud. I want to emphasize the word “family” here because Matthew and his community are caught up in a struggle with their Israelite kin about how to be faithful to the God of Abraham and Sarah and, in particular, whether Jesus of Nazareth was the Messiah Israel’s prophets had promised. This is not a Jewish-Christian dispute – though in the centuries that follow Christians will use this passage to further their anti-Semitism (which is one of the things that makes this passage dangerous) – but rather it represents the pain of a community sundered from its family and trying to figure itself out.

So, maybe this parable really asks the question, what happens when people we love, our brothers and sisters, our friends and family, believe differently than we do, or disagree with us, or do not believe at all? We all come from families or friendship groups just like this, and especially right now, in these days, we have much disagreement.

What does the kingdom of God look like in this case? Matthew answers this intra-family dispute by telling a story about a king who resolves this difficult matter in a very dark and violent way. We have seen in our own culture, and in the diverse cultures and religions of the 21st century, we have seen the same kind of violence in disagreement. If you believe differently than we do, we have every right to capture you and kill you, which is the extreme, a bit less extreme but as violent, is that we have the right to condemn you and hate you.

For those who follow Jesus, that is not the answer. The answer is that in the kingdom of God there is love enough for all of the characters in this story.

Weddings these days are fascinating. In the last few years I have attended weddings as a family member, as mother of the groom, and I have been the presider at a few. Weddings are varied, they can be in the church, at the lake or in the park. And, we've witnessed amazingly varied wedding wear on the diverse people that have been gathered for these weddings. The most interesting wedding wear was at the wedding of my nephew the actor who lived in New York, there were many New Yorkers there, young like him, 30ish, very well tattooed and pierced. The wedding attire ran the gamut from amazingly dressy to jeans and t-shirts, there didn’t seem to be any expectation of any particular appropriate dress.

And in my life, an invitation to a party is an exciting thing. Part of the fun of a party is the expectation, the anticipation. Part of the fun of a party is being included, belonging.

Unlike the response of the people in our story from Matthew today, who made light of the invitation, and even killed the messengers who delivered the invitation. 

The king may have shrugged and said, well then, if the chosen are not interested in the wedding celebration, then go and invite any one you want, they went to the outer reaches of the kingdom, they went to the margins, and those who eventually came to the celebration were honored to be there. The God of abundance has made a great offer, come to the feast. The God of abundance has set the table and has prepared a wonderful banquet.

The thing about an invitation is that we can choose to come, or not. The thing about this relationship with God is that we can choose to be in it or not, we are never compelled. As all these people arrived, people from all over the kingdom, people who were honored to be there; the ones who were tattooed and pierced, the ones who were curious and doubtful, the ones who were questionable and the ones who were upstanding, the ones who loved and hated, but all people who respected the king and the occasion for which they gathered, these people received a wedding garment, a robe. The people gathered for this wedding banquet mostly were the people gathered from the margins, they were the people who responded yes to the great offer made to them. The wedding garment was provided for them, and they put on the wedding garment with honor and respect to the King.  

Except the one in our story. He won’t put on the wedding garment. Not putting on the wedding garment is the very same thing as saying no to this relationship into which he was being invited. So in this case, the outer darkness, where there will be weeping and gnashing of teeth, is of his own choosing. Putting on the wedding garment, putting on the robe, reveals a willingness to respond to the abundant banquet that is available to us now, and available to us at the fulfillment of time. When I reread this story, I was reminded of the garment each of us puts on at baptism, figuratively and literally. The baptismal garment re-presents to us that new creation we become when Jesus calls us over the tumult of our life’s wild restless sea, day by day his clear voice sounds, saying “Christian, follow me.” We are dressed as one ready, ready to follow, ready to be a voice in the cacophony, ready to dive into the relationship that is offered to us by the one who prepares the banquet of abundance, the one whose heart's desire is to be in relationship with us. 

When we put on the wedding garment, or the baptismal garment, it does not signify that we are finished, that we have arrived, or that we are perfected or done, because we are only beginning. We are saying yes to the abundant and amazing love that waits for us. We are saying yes to the journey of life and yes to the knowledge that the journey is not by ourselves, but with the one who creates us, the one who reconciles us, the one who revives us. Life is not a journey that should be taken by oneself; it is a hard and treacherous journey, as well as a joyful and exciting journey. It is a journey of love and forgiveness; it is a journey of grace and mercy. And it is a journey that our creator God desperately wants to accompany us on.

So much so, that God came into this time and space, to be just like you, just like me, with all the joys and hopes, all the pain and the suffering, that human life has to offer. And so much love, that Jesus was willing to put himself in our place, to offer himself to suffering and death, so that you and I are not condemned to pain and sadness and tragedy for ever. This abundant banquet is there for the taking. Nothing is held over our heads, no strings attached. The love that provides the banquet flows in and through and among us, and we have the opportunity to respond. We have the opportunity to pay that love forward. We have the opportunity to show forth the love that has been offered to us, and to be people of love and forgiveness ourselves. The response to this abundance that God offers to us through God’s son Jesus, is to offer that same love and forgiveness to others. It is not to hoard; it is not to keep to ourselves. It is to offer ourselves, as Jesus offers his life to us, we offer this love to others.

The hard part is that Jesus offers this love to everyone, sinners included. Thank God for that, because that means you and I have a place in this amazing kingdom too. But that was the sticking point for the gospel writer Matthew when Matthew first heard this story and then interpreted it in his own way. And equally exciting is the abundant banquet that is in store for us at the fulfillment of time. We get a foretaste of that banquet in the bread and the wine that we share together. We get glimpses of grace, and those glimpses are powerful.

So one of those glimpses of grace is that everyone is included. You and I are included, the liar and the cheat are included, the tax collector and the sinner are included. I think what is hard for us is that we come to believe that abundance is the reward for right behavior, so that those whose behavior is not up to a particular standard can’t be part of the banquet. But that’s not the way it works. It’s the invitation that changes us. It’s the abundance that transforms us. It’s the anticipation and the expectation of seeing our friends and our loved ones that causes us great joy.

Once we put on that wedding garment, or that baptismal garment, we are not the same. We are made new, God’s love, God’s power, God’s abundance changes us. We can love others; we can forgive others. We no longer live for ourselves, or for greed, or for power. We move toward compassion, mercy, justice, kindness, and the kingdom of God comes near.

Thanks be to God.

Eighteenth Sunday after Pentecost Yr A Proper 22 October 4 2020

 

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Eighteenth Sunday after Pentecost Yr A Proper 22 October 4 2020

Exodus 20:1-4, 7-9, 12-20, Psalm 19, Philippians 3:4b-14, Matthew 21:33-46

This is not a pretty parable. Matthew is talking mighty tough. A landlord purchases land, makes some improvements, and then leaves. After an undetermined amount of time, he sends his representatives to collect what is owed him. Instead of the tenants handing over what is owed, they beat and kill the landlord’s representative, not just one, but two, and then they kill his son. How can this parable even begin to reveal the kingdom of God?

This absent landlord, who knows how long he’s been away, finally sends in some of his people to check on the place. Maybe the tenants thought he’d permanently gone away, maybe they thought he’d just never return; maybe they thought he was dead. You’d think that after the first murder, the landlord would quit. Well, that landlord is just crazy. And, what’s even crazier is this landlord sending his own son, after all this violence, as if something about that is going to change. As if people who have been beating and killing are just going to stop being violent because they just decided they don’t want to do that anymore.

Crazy indeed, crazy love. It’s not just crazy; it’s crazy love. The kind of love that brooks no reason, that will listen to no counter argument, and that will never, ever give up, risking even violence, rejection, and death in order to testify to God’s commitment to these tenants…and to us.

It sounds to me a lot like us, as tenants I mean. Such violence, such injustice, such foolishness. And yet God’s crazy love for us never, ever, ends. Makes me want to cry really, and I believe God weeps every time we, God’s children, turn to violence to solve our problems or to exert power. How can we go on being so violent, when we have a God whose love for us, for all creation is so amazing, so abundant. How can God continue to love us, when we keep on falling down, when we keep on blaming, mistreating, and hurting one another?

Because we really are just like these tenants. The tenants carry on the work of the vineyard in the landowner’s absence. It’s not fair is it? To do all the work and the landowner gets all the profits. The tenants are entitled to a piece of the pie, the tenants are entitled to some of the profit, so in some twisted way the tenants decide justice would be served by killing the messengers, even the landowner’s son to get the inheritance. This parable highlights our own human sense of justice and righteousness and even entitlement. We are the tenants. But in this parable, that is not the landowner’s, God’s, sense of justice and righteousness.

We hear this story all the time. About how unfair this life is. It’s that transaction with God again. If you work hard, and do everything right, your reward should be wealth and happiness and blessings from God, we think that’s what’s fair. But that’s not the truth. The truth is that many of us work hard, and still, pain, and suffering, and tragedy is present in our lives. But we are not entitled to success, or happiness, or even blessedness. We sometimes even talk about what we deserve or don’t deserve. We work hard, we deserve a good life, we deserve recognition. We deserve a life free from pain, free from heartache. But that’s not the way God works, it’s not the way scripture shows us and it’s not the way our lives show us. We experience pain and heartache, and we experience happiness and fullness of life.

Maybe Matthew tells this kind of a violent story because we cannot hear, truly hear, the stories that show us God’s compassion, God’s mercy and justice. Maybe Matthew tells this kind of a violent story because Matthew knows we are a violent people. But you know what? I don’t want to be that way. I don’t want us to be a people who don’t pay attention to God, to Spirit, to Love. I don’t want us to be an entitled people, an exceptional people. I don’t want us to be a violent people. I don’t want us to go on and on watching people getting killed, and to accept that as normal. I don’t want to see it anymore.

I want us to be a compassionate people. A merciful people. A just people. I want us to be people who love one another and care for each other, whether or not someone deserves love and care. I want us to follow Jesus, the one who shows us how love, the one who shows us how forgiveness and healing work. The one who gave everything, so that we may have life. So that we may have life, not wealth, not happiness, but life.

So how do we do that? How do we be a community of compassion, and of mercy, and of justice? Do not be afraid. Indeed, it is fear that gives rise to violence. Fear of the ones who are different from us, fear of losing what we have, fear of losing our loved ones and fear of losing our very lives.

You see, we are all broken, and it is that very brokenness that makes us compassionate, or hateful. 

There’s a story in Bryan Stevenson’s book, Just Mercy, that I want to tell you about. In the book are many stories of incarceration, and many times I cried as I listened to the stories of people whose lives have turned for the worst, and yet who continue to have faith, hope, and compassion. This story in particular though illustrates our brokenness, and the compassion or hatefulness that results.

Bryan Stevenson tells the reader about a guard at the prison where he is visiting a client. The client, Avery, is there because after a life of foster care filled with emotional and sexual abuse, he hears the demons in his head and that results in stabbing a man and killing him. Mr. Stevenson regularly visits the prison as the legal counsel, he reports to the warden and then is signed in, all according to the proper procedure. The first time Mr. Stevenson encounters this particular prison guard, he is questioned extensively, bullied, and then subjected to a strip search, all against the law. Mr. Stevenson had seen a truck in the parking lot, a truck with confederate flag stickers plastered all over it. The prison guard makes sure Mr. Stevenson knows that is his truck. Mr. Stevenson listens to Avery, but the only thing Avery wants is a chocolate milk shake. Each time Mr. Stevenson sees Avery in prison, Avery asks for a chocolate milk shake, and Mr. Stevenson replies that he cannot get a milk shake into the prison. After many visits and much work, a court date is set for an appeal of Avery’s conviction, with the evidence of Avery’s upbringing in the foster care system. That same prison guard is the one who brings Avery to court each time, and he listened to the proceedings. When Mr. Stevenson encounters that guard again at the prison, he approaches with trepidation, but the guard is a changed man. He tells Mr. Stevenson of his own abuse in the foster care system. He says he thought he was the only one who had been treated that way, and realized Avery was treated even more poorly and violently than he. The guard learned compassion as he looked into the eyes of the one he had judged a loser. He learned to respect the Bryan Stevenson, the lawyer who was helping so many on death row. He even stopped at a Wendy’s on the way back to the prison after court one day, to buy Avery a chocolate milk shake.

We are all broken by something. We have all hurt someone and have been hurt. And we are witnessing over and over again in these days the reality of our brokenness. But it is in that place of our brokenness, that makes us compassionate or hateful. Our brokenness is the source of our common humanity. We have a choice, to be compassionate or to be hateful. Embracing our brokenness leads to mercy. Jesus comes into that place of brokenness and says, let go of the hate, let go of the bitterness. Do not take revenge or retribution. Instead, know that we are all in this together, you have been dealt a life that is yours, filled with good fortune or bad, filled with love or abuse. You are capable of extreme compassion, you are capable of forgiveness.

Jesus’ love is the love that is unreasonable, it is the love that will never, ever give up, risking the violence showered upon him, the rejection of his friends, and death on a cross. And on that cross, Jesus loved, saying, forgive them, they don’t know what they are doing.

We know that love takes a decision. We know that compassion means doing something. Look into the eyes of the ones you are afraid of and be transformed. And then, get to work. Work to relieve the suffering and pain of another, and your problems will begin to feel small. Work to change laws that are unjust, systems that continue to oppress, work so that our community is compassionate. And bring a chocolate milk shake to someone this week. Amen.