Christ the King Year A

Recall your math classes in school. I for one, was not much for the math option. I did get through Algebra 1 and Geometry successfully, but the rest, Calculus, Trigonometry, Statistics, not my cup of tea. I was a good student, I listened in class, did my homework, and relied heavily on the answers in the back of the book. I am ever thankful for those answers in the back of the book.

The book we read together, our bibles, the story of God's activity in the life of God's people, unfortunately or fortunately, depending on our need for answers, has no answers in the back. And that is especially frustrating in the midst of this book of Matthew, it would be so much easier if we could just turn to the back and have it all worked out for us. We find ourselves in this place where it just keeps getting harder. Story after story shows the demands for discipleship, and Jesus' impending death, and there are no answers.

What these stories show us is that Jesus did not come to make bad people good, but to make dead people alive. New life is not about right answers, it is about responding to God's amazing and abundant love. New life, transformation, conversion, whatever you want to call it, demands a response, and that response is about being a disciple, and disciples feed the hungry, clothe the naked, take care of the sick and visit the imprisoned.

In the story before us today, we see the Lord of all creation, the King on the throne of glory, with everyone gathered together. For some this is a scary story, we may ask ourselves, am I a sheep, or am I a goat? Do I sit on Jesus' right? Do I enjoy eternal life or am I to be banished forever? I think these questions are all beside the point. The truth is that we are not totally one or the other, ever. And I don't think it's about a percentage of goodness or badness. Did I do the right thing 51 percent of the time, and is that enough? That's not the way Jesus acts here.

Our reality is that we don't always respond to every opportunity of Jesus in our midst with total generosity, we don't always give away our coat, we don't always provide a meal, we don't always visit those who are sick or imprisoned. I think what is really going on here is a story about discipleship, and what really gets us into trouble is doing nothing. Jesus is Lord over all the earth and has something so say about what we do, and what we do is to love God with all our heart and mind and soul, and love our neighbor as ourselves. We aren't asked to do it perfectly, but we are expected to do it. That is what followers of Jesus do. This story is about that expectation.

This new life that Jesus gives us, this transformed life, is all about relationship, relationship with God and with others. It is not about following a particular set of rules, it is not about being perfect, or being perfectly bad, it's about relationship. It's about relationship with God who is creator of the universe. It is about a relationship with Jesus who walked this earth to show us that Love wins. It is about a relationship with others in whom we believe Jesus lives and moves and has his being.

It is in this relationship and these relationships, that we are fully alive. We don't feed hungry people, clothe naked people, visit sick and imprisoned people because of the reward, or because we work at earning God's love. We do these things in response to the amazing and abundant love that God lavishes upon us, and that we experience in the life, the suffering and death, and the resurrection of Jesus. Jesus came to make dead people alive. Living fully alive is the fruit of resurrection.

Author Anne Lamott said in her graduation commencement address to the students at Berkeley, “Your problem is how you are going to spend this one and precious life you have been issued. Whether you're going to spend it trying to look good and creating the illusion that you have power over circumstances, or whether you are going to taste it, enjoy it and find out the truth about who you are." And by one much, much, much earlier than Anne Lamott, St. Irenaus of Lyons, "Man fully alive is the glory of God."

Our lives have already been given by God, and we have already been sealed by the Holy Spirit and marked as Christ's own forever in baptism. God is already in relationship with us, we have already been born again, we have already received new life, the dead have been made alive, Love wins. We are to embrace that reality and live it fully and completely, we are to live fully alive, we are to live as disciples, and the way we do that is to feed the hungry, clothe the naked, visit the sick and imprisoned. As we do these things which are the right things to do, God is blessed.

So what does it mean when we don't do these things. Does God love us any less? Are we ultimately in peril? Once again, no answers at the back of the book. But it seems to me that not doing these things lessens our lives. Not doing these things means we are not living the new life that Jesus has given, not doing these things is not living fully alive and not blessing God.

I also want to point out that what is absent in these discipleship instructions has quite a loud voice. What is absent is "live for yourself, be narcissistic, make as much money as you can and don't share it with anyone." What is absent is "use other people and creatures and things and when you're finished throw them out." What is absent is a list of the kind of people you can fall in love with.

Come, you that are blessed, all of you, when I was hungry, you fed me, when I was thirsty you gave me something to drink, when I was a stranger you welcomed me, when I was naked you gave me clothes, when I was sick you took care of me, when I was imprisoned you visited me. It's not complicated, it's not easy, we aren't perfect. We are loved, we are blessed, we are broken, we are sent. The Lord who is of all things seen and unseen, asks us to love each other, to treat each other with mercy and compassion, to show the world that Love wins.

Amen

22 Pentecost Yr A

I see the television show, Fear Factor is back on, all new, and even more fear. Fear sells, we see that with the proliferation of vampire and zombie stories on television and in the movies. Fear sells, we see that as simply as teasers for the news, "see how the air in your house is killing you, tonight at 10." You show up to watch and they'll sell you the next wonder product. Fear sells, we hear ads for various and sundry medications, "afraid of loosing your hair, take this red pill." But what the gospel tells us is that the highest good is God's kingdom, not our security or our longevity, or immortality. In a culture of fear, it is hard to believe that God is enough.

Some would say we live in dark and fearful times. Granted, there is much uncertainty about leadership, about economics, some may even say national security. A culture of fear promotes the idea that the accumulation of wealth is a reasonable response to uncertain times. But I say our actions in dark and fearful times say who we are. And it is high time we say who we are, and who we want to be. I think we must examine our consumerism and our consumption and we must learn to use less. I think we must examine our impact upon our Mother Earth, and we must learn to live with less of an impact. I think we must examine our relationships with our neighbors and learn to respond with mercy and compassion. Our actions in dark and fearful times say who we are.
 
Our actions in dark and fearful times say who we are. So, who are we? We are people of hope. We are people of joy. We are people of mercy. We are people of compassion. We are people who believe that there is always new life after suffering and death. We are stewards of God's abundance. We are God’s children, and God has poured out God’s abundance upon us. We are people who do not give in to fear. We are people who take risks for the kingdom, not for ourselves, but for the Kingdom.

That is what the parable in Matthew shows us today. This story shows us that fear limits our capacity to be the children that God has created us to be. This story shows us that fear limits our capacity to participate in the mission and ministry that God has called us to. This story shows us that fear limits our capacity to be the new creations that God has made us to be. This story shows us that we are people of hope, and that we must move from fear to hope.
 
Many things have been said about the third servant in Matthew’s story. I say that servant was living out of fear, and that fear limited his ability to be the disciple God had created him to be. He focused all his energy on preserving things as they are, and missed God’s abundance. Fear caused him to be unable to experience God’s abundance. Fear caused him to be unable to risk living fully as a new creation. Fear caused him to be unable to see that he was created in God’s image. When we live out of fear, when we risk experiencing God’s abundance because we are afraid, we are much like that servant. Not only do we lose sight of God’s abundance, but we begin to lose the gifts that God has given us as well. Fear keeps us from claiming God’s abundance, and separates us from a relationship with God and with others, we indeed choose the outer darkness where there is weeping and gnashing of teeth.

What are you afraid of? Not having enough? Something happening to your children? Dying before you're ready? Failure? Being abandoned?
 
Moving from fear to hope seems like folly to many in our culture. But the rules of God’s economy are quite different than the rules of the marketplace. In God’s economy, as Matthew shows us, everyone is abundantly gifted, everyone has value and worth. In God’s economy, to risk is to claim God’s abundance. In God’s economy, being a steward is a given, the choice is between being a good steward or not. In God’s economy, to risk losing what our culture counts as valuable is to gain everything. Well-done, good and trustworthy servant. In God's economy, there is always life after suffering and death.

If these are indeed dark and fearful times, our actions say who we are. We are God’s creation, and we are stewards of that creation. The question remains, as we move from fear to hope, what kind of a steward do you want to be?
 
Find a way to be generous; there is so much need in our community. We are well fed, people are hungry. The shelves at the food bank are empty, our cash can fill them. I ask you today to be a bold steward. I ask you today to put your trust in God’s economy. I ask you today to move to action. I remind you today of our hope in Jesus Christ. If indeed these are dark and fearful times, I ask you to be generous, not only to our St. Andrew’s budget, not only to the mission and ministry we can do together, but to just be generous for the sake of the Kingdom and the sake of God’s economy. Our actions in dark and fearful times say who we are. We must respond in hope, what we do matters to the kingdom, what we do matters to those we share this earth with.

Act out of hope. Act with mercy and compassion. Act generously. Act as the beloved child of God that you are. Act boldly. Risk everything. Love wins.

All Saints Day Yr A

Twenty-three years ago on this day, our son Tom was baptized, and twenty-one years ago on this day our son Willie was baptized. All Saints Day is my most favorite church day, next to the Easter Vigil. I love it because in word and sacrament on this day, we are so clearly part of something beyond ourselves, we are part of a communion and a community that shows forth God's amazing and abundant love. We tell a story in which we are active participants and that connects us to all those who came before us, and to all those who will come after us.


It is important to be active participants in this story, it is important to tell the story, and it is important to shape the story as it moves into this young 21st century. That's what we, as saints, as part of the communion of saints, do. In the New Testament, the word “saints” is used to describe the entire membership of the Christian community, and in the collect we read for All Saints Day the word “elect” is used in a similar sense. Our problem with the word "saints", is that from very early times, “saint” came to be applied primarily to persons of heroic sanctity, whose deeds were recalled with gratitude by later generations.


But we use “saints” today in the former sense, to describe the entire membership of the Christian community. This day we are intentionally connected to all those who have come before us, all those who are here today, and all those who will come after us. Today we stand side by side, shoulder to shoulder as we remember the stories of our people, and we look toward those stories to show us the way of this life of discipleship. We are shaped by these stories, and who we are and what we do in these days, shapes the world around us. Who we are and what we do makes a difference here today, and each day makes a difference. Those we baptized here today enter into this story with us, and make a difference to the communion of saints.


These people we have called upon today lived or live lives that attest to the Beatitudes, the passage we heard from Matthew. Their stories attest to the struggle to live lives that have been formed and informed by Scripture. Their stories are part of the bigger story. Our stories attest to the struggle to live lives that are formed and informed by Scripture.


These are stories of creation, of blessing, of sin and our need for forgiveness, of being reconciled, of dying and rising to something absolutely new and different. As we tell our stories we reflect on our own suffering and joy, we realize that we are participants in the story of God with us. Our stories tell of our relationships with one another, our relationships with God, our relationships to those who came before us, and our relationships with those who will follow us.


The importance of telling our stories is two fold. First, so that we can find our place in the story of God in our midst, and second, so that we can find our place in history, we can see how we are related to one another and to the world; so we can see how all of us have been given a gift of relationship, and how with that gift is a responsibility to care for one another and to care for the created order, and to care for ourselves.


It is responding to that gift that makes us participants in creation, and as participants, we are not perfect. That's why it's unfortunate that word "saint" has taken on a meaning that connotes perfection, or heroism. There is nowhere I can find in the bible that God has required any one of us to be perfect, but time and time again I find where God has required us to respond to what life throws at us with mercy and compassion, born out of our suffering and sadness.


And it is on this most appropriate of days that we baptize Hannah, Alivia, and Kaitlin. There are four days of the church year on which Holy Baptism is especially appropriate: the Easter Vigil, the Day of Pentecost, this day All Saint’s, and on the Feast of the Baptism of our Lord.


On these days, and at each baptism, we renew our own baptismal vows. We renew our resolve to respond to the gift of Jesus Christ in our midst in ways that form us as disciples.
We renew our commitment to live as saints, as participants in the coming of Christ, as participants in the story of new creation, as participants in the story that Love wins.


On this most festive of days, let us give thanks for the communion of saints, for the saints that have gone on before us, for all who gather here this day and who gather around the world, and for those who will follow us.
Amen

20 Pentecost Yr A

Many years ago, my husband Rick managed the Episcopal Ad Project, which produced some amazing ads for the Episcopal Church. It was at that time that we became Mac people. Rick worked on one of the very first Macintosh computers, it was a box that sat on his desk and it was a wonder to behold. He got to do all of his work on, and I even got to use it too. We’ve only bought Apples since then, although sometimes we have to use the other ones. In those days who would have thought that each of us would have a computer on our desk, and each of us would carry one in our pockets and in our purses. Who would have thought that I'd be standing here today with what I want to say on my ipad? Who would have thought? Steve Jobs thought, and all those who worked closely with him. As I have spent some time reflecting on Steve Jobs life and death, I think his example of innovative thinking, I would call it imaginative thinking, serves us well. What, besides Steve Jobs death, would cause me to begin this sermon with this story? I think what we have in our readings from Matthew lately is Jesus’ critique of peoples’ failure of imagination. Jesus kept at the Pharisees, whether they were in the gathered crowds, or lurking at the edges like in our reading today, encouraging them to think and act from their center, from their hearts, to listen to their intuition, and not to limit their imaginations, indeed, to follow their imaginations. What I think we can learn from Steve Jobs is about imagination. Not only did he think outside the box, he made a whole new box, and the cloud has a whole new meaning. Steve Jobs did not suffer from a failure of imagination. In the passage we have before us today, as in all the recent passages from Matthew, there were many, including the Pharisees, who were very happy and comfortable with the status quo, with the way things are. There is no judgement in that, but what Jesus was doing was calling them, and us as well, to a whole new way of being. Jesus calls us to act from our centers, from our hearts and from our guts, and to live lives of mercy and compassion, to create something new, something almost unimaginable, especially for those who lack imagination, and that is a compassionate reality. Jesus called the Pharisees and all who gathered to hear him, and Jesus calls us to an absolutely new paradigm, an unbelievable paradigm, maybe even unimaginable, all who exalt themselves will be humbled, and all who humble themselves will be exalted. Remember that the culture of the first-century world was built on the foundational social values of honor and dishonor. Honor was seen as the first and foremost value. The system was not based on values of good and bad, but on behavior that is viewed as disgraceful, or behavior that is viewed as noble, and the honor or disgrace a particular behavior will bring to the group. As modern day Americans we have some trouble with this, because these values are held as group norms, and we live in an individualistic culture. But it is important for us to know these things as we read this New Testament text, so that we may grasp even a little of the paradigm shift, the great imagination that it takes to understand what Jesus is saying and doing in these texts. The Pharisees' desire for prestige and honor comes under fire with the accusation that they act solely in order to win praise from others. They wear showy prayer shawls with long fringes that will draw attention to themselves, and they always want to be in the most conspicuous places so that folks will see them, treat them with deference, and reward them with titles of honor. "Rabbi," "father," and "instructor" are specific titles to be shunned by Matthew's community. These are all titles that carry both status and authority in the value system of the Empire in which all of these people live. "Father" in particular was the term for the head of a household, whose total life-or-death authority mirrored the role of the emperor. To seek such roles and titles would be seen as desirable and in conformity to the hierarchical values of the Roman Empire, but those values should not prevail for Jesus' followers. For them the vision and practice of an egalitarian community, with God and the Messiah as the only authorities to be accorded honor and obedience, are hallmarks they share with the divine reign whose coming Jesus proclaimed. So it is into all this that Jesus says, "All who exalt themselves will be humbled, and all who humble themselves will be exalted." This is unimaginable for all but those who can think outside the box. Jesus is asking his followers to imagine a new world, a new kingdom, in which there is no honor garnered by what you do or to whom you belong, a new kingdom in which every person, tax collector, woman, child, jew or greek, has equal access to love and worth. Every person has access to a community that affords new life in a world that would trample them underfoot. This new world that Jesus is making possible and Jesus' followers were invited to imagine is a world in which those who have two coats give one to the one who has none, those who have much to eat give to those who have little to eat. It is a world in which worth is assigned by being a child of God, the delight of God's life. God inaugurates this new world in Jesus, that is how we understand the resurrection, God recreates reality as they knew it in their time. You and I are living in the same new creation, our lives are transformed by God so that we may also live as new creations, alive to the absolute and abundant love that is available to us. And we, members of this community of imagination, of new birth and new life, are called to be partners in living this compassionate reality. We are called to live generously and abundantly with all that we are and all that we have. We are called to speak for those who cannot speak, we are called to give for those who cannot give, we are called to love so those who cannot may learn to love themselves. We are called to imagine the world Jesus lived and died and rose from the dead for. We are called to live each and every day, each and every moment, in the truth that Love does indeed win.

18 Pentecost Yr A

The Pharisees ask Jesus two questions of great importance, or so they think. One of those questions we will hear next week in Matthew's gospel, which is the greatest commandment, and Jesus’ answer to that question is: Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind, and love your neighbor as yourself. The other question of great importance is really a group of questions all around the acquisition and use of wealth. The rich young man asks Jesus who can be saved, Jesus answers, it is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than for someone who is rich to enter the kingdom of God. There is the story of the widow who gives all that she has, the story of the talents, and on it goes. And of course the question the Pharisees ask of Jesus in Matthew's gospel today. Is it lawful to pay taxes to the emperor, or not?   But 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. You can’t act one way without compromising your morals; it’s the slippery slope. We go about rationalizing these things all the time. I do it on a smaller practical scale all the time, should I eat that doughnut, or should I eat that apple? 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. What we do has to do with the priorities we choose for our lives. If you’re a list maker, you’d list the pros in one column, the cons in another, and make your choice.   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. 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 is the emperor’s. 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, 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. Therefore we pay your share. But all we have still comes from God. The story that informs us and transforms us is that we are created by God in God’s image, and we are related to all of creation. God’s abundance in creation is already bestowed upon us. Our job is to hold it in trust, and to care for it. This then becomes what we call stewardship. God’s abundance, give to God the things that are God’s, and everything is God’s.   But here in America many continue to live by the narrative of frontier individualism. Every man is more or less for himself, a good neighbor is one who needs no help. But this narrative runs counter to the primary virtues of Jesus Christ, which are compassion and community.     The understanding of wealth in the bible has nothing to do with frontier individualism or individual portfolios. It is not about acquisition, and it is anathema to greed. No wonder we have so much trouble talking about money, we hardly know the words to use. The understanding of wealth in the bible has everything to do with God’s abundance, with compassion, community, and relationship.   So if wealth has everything to do with God’s abundance, with compassion, community and relationship and with all of creation, what does that mean for us?   Events in the world around us have been making many nervous lately. The stock market, the housing market, the price of gas. I don’t know what it all means, but I’m sure many of you are feeling much anxiety. So a passage like this, telling us in no uncertain terms, that none of our wealth belongs to us anyway, that we are to be compassionate, and that God’s abundance is clear, may make you more nervous, or it may give you the freedom you need. You see, the real measure of our wealth is how much we'd be worth if we lost all our money.   Consider Richard Semmler:   Semmler, a 59-year-old mathematician, teaches calculus and algebra at Northern Virginia Community College. He can explain how to find the derivative of a polynomial and all sorts of complicated equations. But in his private life, Semmler has reduced his existence to the simplest equation. In the last 35 years, by working part-time jobs and forgoing such everyday comforts as a home telephone and vacations, by living in an efficiency apartment and driving an old car, Semmler has donated as much as half of his annual income or more to charity. His goal: $1 million before he retires.   Semmler said ‘If I didn't do all of the things I was doing, I would probably have a new car every two years and I would have a huge house with a huge pool,’ Semmler donated $100,000 to build a Habitat for Humanity house, which he also worked on himself to build.   Percentage-wise, Semmler's generosity is exceedingly rare among the middle-class -- or the rich, for that matter, say those who study philanthropy. Each year, U.S. households give away an average of 2 percent of their income to nonprofit and religious organizations, according to Giving USA, which tracks donation trends. A household with Semmler's annual income, $100,000, donates an average of $2,000 annually to charity. Last year, Semmler gave away $60,000. Semmler believes life isn't always about multiplying what you get, sometimes it's about subtraction.*   What could we accomplish if we decided not to give just 2%, or even 10%, but if we would live with the attitude that it's all God's anyway, and by keeping any of it we're stealing from God. Give therefore to the emperor the things that are the emperor’s, and to God the things that are God’s. It’s all God’s.

17 Pentecost Yr A

The Rev. Kathy Monson Lutes​17 Pentecost Proper 23 Yr A Oct 9 2011 Exodus 32:1-14​Psalm 106 Philippians 4:1-9​Matthew 22:1-14 ​Page of 1 We are at a time in the live of our family where there are many weddings to attend. It started three years ago with my nephew’s wedding. That wedding was north of Duluth MN, north of Two Harbors for those of you who may be familiar with Lake Superior’s north shore, just before you get to Gooseberry Falls. Two more nephews have been married since then, and two nieces. The weddings have varied, three of them were outside on the shore of lakes and two of them were very traditional church weddings. 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 lives 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 appropriate dress.   That wedding was also the first time I’d received a postcard, about 9 months previously, advising me to save the date, that seems to be the norm now as well. I appreciated that little notice, because it really helped me to make plans to be there, about 4 weeks before the wedding we received the actual wedding invitation. People came from far and wide to be at this wedding celebration.   In my life, the 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. The “save the date” postcard I received for my nephew’s wedding went on my refrigerator door; the date went on my calendar. As soon as I received the actual invitation, I replaced the postcard, I looked at it often, imagining the fun, imagining the family gathered, imagining the celebration we would have at the very first wedding of any of my mother’s grandchildren.   It’s a bit unlike the response of the people in our story from Matthew today, they 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 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, 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. 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 not saying yes to this relationship into which he was being invited. 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.   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 each Sunday we gather. We get glimpses of grace, and those glimpses are powerful. 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 the 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 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 no longer live for ourselves, but we live in relationship, and in relationship we find joy and peace.   Thanks be to God.

14 Pentecost Yr A

So your teenager walks into the house after school, or after football practice, or band rehearsal, or just takes a break from homework, or even about an hour after dinner, and looks through the cupboards, opens the refrigerator door, and says, "Mom! There's nothin to eat." Just like the Israelites in this part of the Exodus. Whining, whining, whining, "God, we have nothing to eat, and what’s more, we don't like what you’ve given us to eat." But I do think that if I were wandering in the wilderness with Moses and Aaron for 40 years, I might be a little whinny too. “God, we’re tired, we’re hungry, we may as well have stayed in Egypt for all this gets us.” And they are reminded that in Egypt they were slaves, at least in the desert they are free. This is a great story. In the verses that follow these we just heard God instructs them to gather up what they need for themselves and their families. Each family got just what they needed, no more, no less. Then Moses instructed them not to save any of it, don’t leave any until morning he told them. Well, some didn’t listen to Moses, and hoarded the food that God had provided for them, and it got wormy and smelled bad. So not only do they not seem to want what God has provided for them, they go ahead and eat it anyway, and then save some up for later, only for it to go bad on them. Lord, lord, lord, give us something to eat, give us something better to eat, we don’t like what you’ve given us, but even though we don’t like it we’ll save it for later and risk losing what is right here in front of us. God provides, God provides enough. Even when it doesn’t look good. It’s all God’s anyway. Matthew’s gospel is paired with this story from Exodus and it carries the theme even farther. Matthew’s story always seems so topsy-turvy. The day laborers that show up at the end of the day get paid the same as those who showed up early to work, and work or no work, everyone gets paid the same. The kingdom is not business as usual. Remember, kingdom parables serve to show us that God is doing this absolutely new thing, there is no business as usual. In this kingdom everything is re-ordered. It’s not even as simple as the last will be first, and the first shall be last. God coming into our midst, living, loving, suffering, dying, and being raised from the dead makes this absolutely new. So this kingdom parable didn’t sit well with those who heard it centuries ago, and it doesn’t sit well with people who hear it today, because we are trained to believe there is a reward. The simplest statement of that is if we live a good life, we’ll get our reward in heaven. This parable refutes that conventional wisdom. Our wages are paid at the baptismal font, not at the grave. The new life that God has affected is available from the beginning. We live our whole lives loved by God, the delight of God’s life. The Christian life is not about earning our wage or our reward in heaven. The Christian life is about responding to God’s amazing and abundant love, about receiving God’s grace, right here, right now. The Christian life is about the fruit of our baptism; the Christian life is about responding to the joys and challenges of our lives in ways that show forth the grace that God has given us. The Christian life is not easy nor is it clear, it is not about finding Jesus, it’s about being found by God’s love. The Christian life is about grace and forgiveness, the grace and forgiveness that God offers us, and the grace and forgiveness that we offer one another as we love our neighbors as ourselves. So when did we get so greedy? When did we begin to hoard what we have? These stories we hear today remind or maybe even teach us that we’ve got all we need, and there’s enough for everyone. One of the seminal stories about who we are and to whom we are related is the story of Moses and the Israelites wandering in the wilderness. Moses relayed the ten commandments to the Hebrews as they wandered. Moses said to the people, “God spoke all these words: I am God, your God, who brought you out of the land of Egypt, out of a life of slavery. No other gods, only me.” No other gods, only me, the Hebrew people, like us, had so much trouble accepting God’s gift of enough. God asks us for our undivided attention, and God gives us all we need. The Hebrew people couldn’t accept God’s gift of enough, and instead made their own god out of the gold they had and found. They got greedy. We get greedy, and we are encouraged in our greediness by a culture that constantly encourages us to buy more, and bigger, regardless of our ability to do so, regardless of need. Now, as much as the Hebrew people needed to hear “no other gods, only me,” and as much as the Jews of the first century needed to hear the inbreaking of God’s kingdom re-orders all that they knew to be true, we, in the 21st century need to hear this message that we are sought and we are found, that God loves us abundantly and claims us. Our wages are paid at the baptismal font, we are new creations. This is good news indeed. Good news in a world that needs good news. Good news that this life isn’t just about you, but it is about how you, and me, and every one of us is loved, and how you in turn love one another. It is about how you are the delight of God’s life, and about how you pay that forward. It is about how God transformed the world with the life, death and resurrection of Jesus, and how God continues to transform us and the world as each of us goes out into the world to do the work we are called to do, to love and serve God as faithful witnesses of Christ our Lord. Today we identify and celebrate the ministry that God has given us. We don't hoard the abundance God showers upon us, and we are not greedy about it either. We show forth so much love by being the church in the world, by being the body of Christ. Our baptismal ministry is lived out in so many ways. We celebrate God's abundance by loving and serving our neighbors, by volunteering in schools and hospitals, by knitting hats and prayer shawls. We celebrate God's abundance in our work as we create a culture of mercy and compassion wherever we find ourselves. We are ministers, every one of us, by virtue of our baptism. God's abundance enfolds us, empowers us, saves us, sends us.

13 Pentecost Yr A

In a small apartment building in North Minneapolis - a 59-year-old teacher's aid sings praise to God for no seemingly apparent reason. Indeed, if anyone was to have issues with the Lord, it would be Mary Johnson. In February 1993, Mary's son, Laramiun Byrd, was shot to death during an argument at a party. He was 20, and Mary's only child. "My son was gone," she says. The killer was a 16-year-old kid named Oshea Israel. Mary wanted justice. "He was an animal. He deserved to be caged." And he was. Tried as an adult and sentenced to 25 and a half years -- Oshea served 17 before being recently released. He now lives back in the old neighborhood - next door to Mary. How a convicted murderer ended-up living a door jamb away from his victim's mother is a story, not of horrible misfortune, as you might expect - but of remarkable mercy. A few years ago Mary asked if she could meet Oshea at Minnesota's Stillwater state prison. She felt compelled to see if there was some way, if somehow, she could forgive her son's killer. "I believe the first thing she said to me was, 'Look, you don't know me. I don't know you. Let's just start with right now,'" Oshea says. "And I was befuddled myself." Oshea says they met regularly after that. When he got out, she introduced him to her landlord - who with Mary's blessing, invited Oshea to move into the building. Today they don't just live close - they are close. Mary was able to forgive. She credits God, of course - but also concedes a more selfish motive. "Unforgiveness is like a disease," Mary says. "It will eat you from the inside out. It's not about that other person, me forgiving him does not diminish what he's done. Yes, he murdered my son - but the forgiveness is for me. It's for me." For Oshea, it hasn't been that easy. "I haven't totally forgiven myself yet, I'm learning to forgive myself. And I'm still growing toward trying to forgive myself." To that end, Oshea is now busy proving himself to himself. He works at a recycling plant by day and goes to college by night. He says he's determined to pay back Mary's clemency by contributing to society. In fact, he's already working on it - singing the praises of God and forgiveness at prisons, churches - to large audiences everywhere. "A conversation can take you a long way," Oshea says to one group. Which explains why Mary is able to sing her praise of thanks. "How many times should I forgive?" Peter asks. "As many as seven times?" Jesus said to him, "Not seven times, but, I tell you, seventy-seven times." The number seventy-seven represents unlimited, infinite. What Jesus says to Peter is that you forgive, and forgive, and forgive again, there is no end to forgiving. Unforgiveness is like a disease says Mary, it will eat you from the inside out. Jesus knows this. We are not asked to forgive, we are not asked to love our neighbor, we are not asked to love our enemy for the others sake, but for our own. Jesus knows this. If you don't forgive, you will be eaten up, from the inside out. This passage isn't about asking for forgiveness, it is about forgiving. There is a huge difference. Forgiving is about freedom, it is about liberation, it is about the journey from death to life, and it is not about forgetting. Forgiving doesn't mean that we arise unscathed or unscared. Indeed, we carry the scars of being wounded with us always. But we carry scars, not open, festering wounds that eat us from the inside out. Forgiving is what causes us to heal. There is nothing in scripture about forgiving and forgetting, there is everything in scripture about forgiving, forgiving, and forgiving. It is in that forgiveness that mercy and compassion grow. I was at Trinity church in Pierre for clergy conference on Friday, and I noticed that out of the cracks in the sidewalk were growing some wonderful flowers, any way I think they were flowers, but they could very well have been weeds, I've been known to mistake one for the other. Forgiveness is like that, out of the cracks, out of our wounds, healing gives rise to the beauty of mercy and compassion from which reconciliation and peace arise. On this day we observe the anniversary of what we have come to know as 9/11, although it continues to be our son Willie's birthday. And today I wonder how we grow a post 9/11 anniversary community committed to the mercy and compassion from which reconciliation and peace may arise. In our community, in our church, in our families, how does forgiving create reconciliation and peace? How does forgiving create sacred conversation? How does forgiving create the possibility of new life and new creation? We are capable of sacred conversation. We are called to mercy and compassion, to reconciliation and peace, because we take seriously the work that God has done and continues to do through Jesus on the cross and in the resurrection. Those are the wounds from which we minister, those are the cracks from which the flowers, or the weeds, arise. Forgiveness brings healing, nothing else does, nothing else. Forgiveness creates a compassionate reality. This post 9/11 anniversary community committed to mercy and compassion from which reconciliation can grow, a community that forgives and therefore will be healed, is what we are called to, indeed, it is what is demanded of us by our baptism. The forgiveness that is made possible by the work that Jesus did on the cross and in the resurrection, and that we enter into at our baptism can and will transform our families and our communities. We must live our lives differently, differently than the revenge seeking, self-centered, model that is splayed all over our social media today. We must offer forgiveness, seven times, seventy-seven times, every time, all the time. Mercy and compassion will change the world and love will win.

12 Pentecost Yr A

Some of you have heard this story before. That's the way of very important stories. Just about every other year since I was in junior high, the Monson family has gathered together to renew our bonds and tell our stories. I heard over and over the story of my ancestors coming to America. I know the story well. My family lived in a valley on the inland point of the Nordfjord, in a place called Stryn. Once upon a time in the Nesdahl valley there was a great avalanche that collapsed the sod hut in which the family lived. Marta died in that avalanche, and later, Jacob, my great great grandfather, decided to come to America. He came and settled in Adams, North Dakota. He married Anna, and they had 11 children, Nelbert, my grandfather was the oldest. Nelbert married Inga, and eventually they settled near Glenwood, Minnesota. Nelbert and Inga had five children, including my father, Juel. One of those children died in an accident as a teenager, and Inga died when my father was a small child. Nelbert married again, and he and Lucille had three daughters together, and Nelbert was killed in a farm accident. Lucille married Guy, and together they had one daughter. This all resulted in many children that I call cousins. When I was 23 years old, I went on an European adventure, part of that adventure was to visit my Norwegian relatives. I arrived in Stryn, Norway, after having taken a ship across the North Sea from England, a steamer up the shoreline of Norway, and a bus inland along the Nordfjord, to Stryn. I arrived on a very rainy day, without exact directions or even contact phone numbers. Unsure of what to do next, after getting off the bus, I went into the business that was right there, it was like a AAA, some sort of travel store. I must have looked like something the cat dragged in, and I asked the young woman across the counter for help, in English of course, as far as I had gotten with my Norwegian was “tussen tak.” She answered me, in beautiful English of course, and I told her my story. She just happened to be neighbors to the relatives I was looking for, so we got in her car and went straight to the family farm. She ended up being my interpreter for the time I spent with my uncle and aunt. My uncle took me on an excursion through the countryside, and in the best English he could muster, he told me the very same story I had heard over and over at each of our family reunions for all those years. The point of all this is that this story, of course there are many more details I’ve skipped over in this telling, contitutues us as a family, it tells us who we are. Over the years it has been added to as we have learned more about our grandfather Nelbert, and as all these cousins have had families of our own. It is a story of heartache, of survival, and of tragedy, and it is our story. And yet it is not unlike many stories of Scandinavian immigrants. The story of the Exodus that we have been hearing, and that we will continue to hear is like my story. It is a story that contitutes Israel as a people, and it is a story that remembers who they are. Today’s portion of the story almost reads like a recipe, and yet it is a call to remembrance and to reconciliation. It says this is who we are and what we do together, and who we worship. It calls Israel to remember. It too is a story of survival, of tragedy, of heartache, and of hope. It says, if we can hang together, we can make it. In the gospel of Matthew today our family story tells us about how we are to be Christians together. The writer of this gospel couldn’t have known that a church would be founded around his rabbi, Jesus, so we can’t say that these are instructions for the church. But what we do have is some very practical advice on forgiveness and reconciliation. You see, as Christians we believe Christ is reconciling the whole world and each of us in it to God and to one another. In the teachings in our prayer book, on page 855, it says that the mission of the church is to restore all people to unity with God and each other in Christ. Reconciliation is all about making whole what is broken. Reconciliation is about being transformed by God’s amazing and abundant love. When Christians take conflict as an opportunity to practice reconciliation, what they do can stand as a visible sign for the whole world of what we believe Christ is doing in the world. An outward and visible sign of a grace that we believe is happening in a broader and more mysterious way in the world. And that is the definition of sacrament, handling conflict well can be sacramental, the way we handle conflict can be a sign to the world that Christ is in fact working in our world. Conflict is a reality in our lives and in our church and in our families. In fact, when we meet someone who is really difficult, inside and outside our families, we can rejoice and be glad in that day, because we get to love them, and in the process we get a sense of how much God loves each and every one of us. When folks look at you and see that you handle conflict in this sacramental way, they’ll see that you mean what you say. But we are witnesses to the rhetoric of revenge and division often on our nightly news and in our newspapers. The news reports about folks whose loved one has been terribly hurt or died at the hands of a monster. The family member calls for revenge, for more blood. Reconciliation, unity with Christ, and forgiveness are not at all what any one of them wants to hear. But maybe it is what is called for. We are at a place in our politics that calls for reconciliation. The divisiveness of our political parties, the hatefulness in our language when we address one another, the lack of civility in our public conversation result only in a breakdown of public discourse. If we were to approach one another like Matthew exhorts us to listen to one another, if we can point to ways in which our own behavior has contributed negatively to the situation, if we listen to each other with the goal of reconciliation, real conversation can take place. And we are at a place in the greater church that calls for reconciliation, a place where the family story must be remembered and told again, to remind us who we are and who we are related to. What we really have to do is stand as a visible sign for the whole world of what we believe Christ is doing in the world. We need to be that outward and visible sign of grace that we believe is happening in a broader and more mysterious way in the world. As we enact forgiveness and reconciliation we are the agents of new life and resurrection that God calls us to be. We become the carriers of grace and God’s abundant and amazing love. We remember who and whose we are, we tell the story of God’s activity in the life’s of God’s people, we tell the story of God who loves us so much that God came and continues to come into this world, we tell the story of how that love suffered and died, and rose again. Hope is made real and Love wins.

Last Epiphany Yr A, The Transfiguration

This story of the transfiguration is always the last story we read as we approach Lent. We are presented with the mighty characters of the past, in the present of the story, and in the present of our own time. Moses and Elijah. Moses, Elijah, and Jesus. Moses, who led the people out of Israel, and walked with them through the wilderness constantly encouraging them, constantly pointing them toward God, especially when they got whiny and impatient. Forty years they spent in that wilderness, a whole new generation of Israelites was born before they got close to the land that was promised. Moses guided them the whole way, Moses saw God, but Moses didn’t live to see the fulfillment of that journey, Moses saw the promised land, but died before they got there.

Elijah was a prophet in the Kingdom of Israel during the reign of Ahab, the 9th century before Jesus lived, according to the Book of Kings. Elijah defended the worship of Yahweh over that of the more popular Baal, he raised the dead, brought fire down from the sky, and ascended into heaven in a whirlwind, either accompanied by a chariot and horses of flame or riding in it, depending on what you’re reading. In the Book of Malachi, Elijah's return is prophesied "before the coming of the great and terrible day of the Lord," making him a harbinger of the Messiah.

The appearance of Moses and Elijah with Jesus in this story shows us something about God. We creatures, we humans, count time chronologically. Many of you went to the musical Rent over the last couple days. That is a story that questions the measure of time, and even the quality of time with the lyrics of Seasons of Love. “Five hundred twenty-five thousand six hundred minutes, how do you measure a year? In daylights, in sunsets, in midnights, in cups of coffee. In inches, in miles, in laughter, in strife. In five hundred twenty-five thousand six hundred minutes, how do you measure a year in the life?” These lyrics, while suggesting the continuum of life, carry some angst for something more than tick-tock time. What we have in the story of the Transfiguration, is a story of God breaking into our time, it is a story that shows us time out of time. It is a story that calls us to bear witness to God’s inbreaking Kingdom. The song asks how do you measure a year in the life, the transfiguration story asks us what difference does it make?

This transfiguration story takes place in God’s time, not our time; it is a story of kairos, not chronos. Madeleine L’engle suggests that kairos, God’s time, can sometimes enter, penetrate, and break through chronos: the child at play, the painter at an easel, the person at prayer, friends around the dinner table, the mother reaching out for the newborn; like the story we have before us today, with Moses, Elijah, and Jesus all in one time.

God breaks into our time, we have captured here a moment of Gods time, to show us something amazing. In Star Wars, we see Obi-wan, Anakin Skywalker and Yoda; past characters all showing up in the present, to say something important to Luke Skywalker. In the story before us today, Moses, Elijah and Jesus all show up to say something important. What is it? What difference does it make? And how do we bear witness to it?

This is my son, the beloved; with him I am well pleased! The very same words heard at Jesus’ baptism in the river Jordan, the very same words spoken just before Jesus is led up by the Spirit into the wilderness to be tempted by the devil, the story we will hear next week, the first Sunday of Lent. God is trying to get our attention here, and God is doing it by breaking into time. Peter and James and John see something extraordinary, something that is not bound by time, and they hear something extraordinary, Listen to him! Listen to him!

Something extraordinary is happening here, God is breaking into time, and it changes us, it transfigures and transforms us. It may even change the world. It is that extraordinary experience that we must bear witness to. There is no staying on that mountain, Peter and James and John went back down the mountain, utterly changed. We too, accompany them down the mountain, and bear witness to God’s extraordinary shining.

God shows forth God’s glory, God shows that life with God is without limits. It is like the Eucharistic moment, it may be comfortable and calm, it may be nourishing and refreshing, it may be inspiring and illuminating. We really want to stay, but we can’t stay in it, and we can’t repeat it. But it changes us. It gives us the ability to persevere, and from it we are sent out into the world to do the work we are given to do, we bear witness to God’s presence. We are sent out into the world to bring peace and to show forth God’s reconciliation and healing to a broken and fragmented world.

The glory that is shone forth in this story of transfiguration is a touchstone. We may return to it, but we can’t control it, it is out of our time. We come to worship and sing God’s praises; we come to find stability in an unstable world. We come to hear the story of our faith that has not changed over time. And yet God’s word and our worship are not comfortable, they are not static. God’s word and our worship are growing and changing, becoming the creation that God has intended for it.

When we bear witness to the transfiguration it may cause us fear, as it caused Peter and James and John to fear. Because we are called to go down the mountain and confront the comfortable and disrupt the status quo. We are to bear witness to the love of neighbor that Jesus demands. We are to bear witness to the arrest and torture of the one who is the Good News, and we are to bear witness to the inauguration of God’s kingdom on earth with Jesus Christ God’s son.

As God breaks into our time, transfiguration promises to accompany us into our ordinary lives. We carry the extraordinary into the ordinariness of our work and our school and our play. It becomes the spirit that inspires and creates us; it becomes the life that gives us life. It is that which is in the eyes and souls of those whose paths we cross, it is in the respect and dignity with which we treat everyone we meet.

We bear witness to the transfiguration when we are about God’s mission. God’s mission of healing and reconciliation. God’s mission of putting fractured souls back together in this broken and fragmented world. God’s mission of loving and serving your neighbor.

The Lord has shone forth his glory: Come let us adore him.

8 Epiphany Yr A

We have been hearing the Sermon on the Mount now for a few weeks. Jesus has been teaching about the Kingdom of God. Jesus has been telling his listeners what that kingdom looks like. Blessed are you, for you are a child of God. You are the salt of the earth; you are the light of the world. Your relationships shall have dignity, your words have power, you need to live with each other with honesty and integrity. You shall love your neighbor. This is kingdom life. Today Jesus tells his listeners, and us, not to be anxious about earthly things. God takes care of the birds and the flowers of the field, and so God will take care of us too.

However, telling people in this day and age not to be anxious about anything is like telling people not to breathe anymore. It's almost ridiculous. What would we do with ourselves if we didn't have to worry? As a culture, we're anxious about everything. And, if we aren't, we have 24-hour news and color coded threat levels to help us along. We have instant reports of unrest in the world, and of earthquakes and devastation. We live in fear; fear of not having enough, fear of those who are different from us; fear of the other.

But, Jesus, in the Sermon on the Mount tells us that one of the prime values of the Kingdom of God is that we not be anxious, because God takes care of us all and, if we are in God's hands, what do we really have to worry about? So how do we live as Kingdom people, how do we follow Jesus in a culture of fear, in a culture where anxiety is sold on the evening news?

The whole Sermon on the Mount is a text that we need to seriously absorb into our lives. And, at times that absorption will be incredibly difficult, because it's values are so contrary to the values our world typically lives day-to-day. Blessed are you, for you are a child of God. God takes care of the birds and the flowers of the field, and so God will take care of us too. As my friend Larry posted on his facebook, if God had a refrigerator, your picture would be on it.

The difficulty for us is living in this assurance; the difficulty for us is living as citizens of the Kingdom in the midst of the conflicting messages, in the midst of the anxiety that is perpetuated everywhere we look. We are people who seem to be mightily afraid. However, anxiety is not unique to us in this particular age. Anxiety and fear have been recorded in history since history has been recorded. Anxiety is part of the sacred story of our people; anxiety is part of the story of each one of us. In Isaiah today, we are assured that God will not forget us, people may forget, but God does not forget, don’t worry about that.

Fear motivates us in strange ways. It is fear that helps us to protect our children from danger; it is fear that causes some of us to step into danger. We often fear that which we cannot change, and then ironically, we fear change. And fear causes us to hold on tight to what we have, whatever it is we have. Wealth, luxury, housing, one another. We are afraid of what tomorrow might bring. We hold on so tight to those we love; we can’t let them go to live their own lives.

This is what Jesus addresses in this part of the teaching. We hold on so tight to our money and possessions, what we consider our wealth, we can’t see beyond any of it to the abundance that God has for us, to the love that God pours upon us.

But fear only holds us hostage; it keeps us in bondage. What are you afraid of? What causes you to be anxious? The dark or the light? Having enough or having too much? Death or life? Growth and change, or the status quo? What is it that holds you hostage; that keeps you in bondage? What is it that gets in the way of your relationship with God? That’s what this passage is about. It’s about slavery to that which is not God. It is about the freedom that God offers.

It is about the priority of God’s gift of love, God’s gift of new life, God’s gift of mercy and compassion. Because Jesus was born into this world, because God came to be one of us, we are free to live fully and completely as a beloved child of God. We must remember, especially when we read a passage like this, which seems rather glib, that in the struggle, in the muck and the dirt, in the pain and suffering that is life, this God we trust in walks with us, by our side. That’s what incarnation is about. Only a God who is willing to be in this life with us, is a God in whom I can place my trust.

What does that mean to you and to me? It means we are free to be the people that God loves. It means that we live in the midst of God’s abundant love for us, even when we don’t feel that love all the time. It means that we live in the midst of abundance, not of scarcity. It means that we no longer have to spend our lives searching for whatever it is that will fulfill us, because God has already given us all that we need, God has given us new life. No longer do we need to look for love in all the wrong places, in money, in work, in power, in our 15 minutes of fame, because God’s love for us is enough.

It is so hard to trust in God’s abundant, extreme love for us, to not be anxious. But that is exactly what we are asked to do. In trusting in that abundant, extreme love, we are free. Not trusting in that abundant, extreme love, we remain in bondage; we remain afraid to really live.

The freedom of God’s love is freedom from being attached to status and honor and power. It is being freed from the slavery of making money just because we can, and spending money, just because we can. It is being free to make and spend and give our hard earned money as a steward of the gift of life and the gift of hard work.

The freedom of God’s love is freedom from being consumed by the worry about the value others assign to each of us. Value is not based on what we can produce, or on what we look like, or on what we consume, or on what we eat, or what we wear, or on how we sing, or dance, or our athletic ability. Value is based on being God’s creation, God’s beloved.

Strive first for the kingdom of God, and God’s righteousness, and all these things will be given to you as well. Be free to be a steward of that abundance.

The Lord has shown forth his glory: Come let us adore him.

7 Epiphany Yr A

We continue reading in Matthew the Sermon on the Mount. The setting is really much more like a hillside, with people gathered to hear the rabbi teach. Jesus is teaching about God’s inbreaking Kingdom, Jesus is teaching about what life as a citizen of God’s kingdom looks like.

There is a story that is part of NPR’s Story Corps, and it’s been floating around a bit lately. It’s about Julio Diaz, who stepped off the New York City subway platform after work one night; he was simply planning to walk over to his favorite local diner for a meal. But when a teenage boy approached him with a knife blade gleaming in his fist, Diaz, a 31-year-old social worker, knew the evening was about to take a more dramatic turn. The young man demanded Diaz’s wallet, and Diaz passed it over without objection. But just as his mugger turned to walk away, Diaz called after him: “Hey, wait a minute. You forgot something.” The mugger turned around, surprised. “If you’re going to be robbing people for the rest of the night, you might as well take my coat to keep you warm.”

The teenager looked at Diaz in disbelief, and asked why he would do such a thing. Diaz replied, “If you’re willing to risk your freedom for a few dollars, then I guess you must really need the money.” He told the young man that he’d just been heading out for dinner, and that he would be happy for some company. The young mugger decided to take Diaz up on his offer, and they headed into Diaz’s favorite local haunt together. As they were sitting at the table, the manager, the dishwashers, and the waiters all stopped over to say hello to Diaz, and the young man was amazed at his popularity. “You’re even nice to the dishwasher,” he exclaimed.

“Haven’t you been taught that you should be nice to everybody?” Diaz asked him. “Yea, but I didn’t think people actually behaved that way,” the teenager replied. Thanks to Diaz, he was beginning to see that kindness wasn’t such a strange phenomenon, after all. When the bill came, Diaz told the teen that he’d have to get the check. After all, he still had Diaz’s wallet.

But the teenager slid the wallet back across the table without a moment’s thought, and Diaz treated him to dinner. Diaz also gave the would-be mugger a $20 bill to take with him –in exchange for the young man’s knife. “I figure, you know, if you treat people right, you can only hope that they treat you right,” Diaz said. “It’s as simple as it gets in this complicated world.”

The collection of scripture we have before us begs the question, what does the kingdom of God breaking into human existence look like? I think this story wonderfully illustrates what the kingdom of God looks like. Love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you. In the kingdom of God Jesus says, there is not a set of laws, there is not a rulebook. Children of God, citizens of the kingdom are called to love and to serve. Citizens of the kingdom are called to respond with mercy and compassion, healing and reconciliation in all times and all places. Matthew interprets the verses from Leviticus as kingdom life as well. You shall leave some grapes in your vineyard for the poor and the sojourner, the immigrant. You shall love your neighbor as yourself.

Kingdom life is different than worldly life, and kingdom life is not easy or even clear. There is not a time when we are relieved of kingdom life, and that is the very hard part. Kingdom life starts now, not some later date, and not after death. Jesus says, you have heard it said, “An eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth.” But I say to you, do not resist an evildoer. And then Jesus goes on to say, “for God makes the sun rise on the evil and on the good, and sends rain on the righteous and on the unrighteous.” You see, we are all in the same boat here. We are all accountable to these standards. Not one of us gets off easy, just because we have money, power, popularity, or fame.

But the reality in which we live is that God’s inbreaking kingdom is happening right now, but we do live in this in between time, this time before the fulfillment of all time. So we are called to live in this now and not yet reality, we are called to life a kingdom life in this world as God affects healing and reconciliation.

So how does this picture of kingdom life form and inform us in this day? Most assuredly kingdom life calls us to walk to a different drummer. Kingdom life calls us to love, not to hate. Kingdom life calls us to treat everyone with mercy and compassion, not disdain and derision. Kingdom life calls us to respond to those who speak and act badly with concern and kindness.

In this world where those who speak the loudest get listened to, how do you use your voice for peaceful change? In this world where spending is about special interest and personal programs, how do we stand for moral budget making? In this world where justice is confused with revenge, how do we turn the other cheek, how do we speak about healing and reconciliation? In a world where forgiveness is unacceptable because punishment is the only acceptable outcome, how do we drop to our knees and approach our creator with humility?

You see, this sermon on the hillside is about us. We are the blessed, and we are those who mourn. We are the salt of the earth, the light of the world, and we are the ones who loose our saltiness, and we are the ones who put our lights under a basket. We are the ones who come to the altar to bring our gifts, and the ones who need to leave our gifts at the altar to reconcile with our brothers and our sisters. We are the ones who turn the other cheek, and the ones who deliver the first blow. We live at one and the same time as citizens of the kingdom and as those who miss the mark. This is the reality of our lives, we are not perfect, perfection only comes as we live our lives enveloped in the love, the mercy, the compassion, of our God. We may not be perfect in ourselves, but we are not off the hook either.

The truth is that Jesus walks this road with us, to show us the way. The truth is that on our own, we tend to mistreat, to miss the mark. But we are children of God, and we are citizens of the kingdom, we are the peacemakers. We are called to avoid the violence and hatred that has crept into our social and political discourse these days. We are called to offer others a chance to escape the cycle of violence and hate that is so prevalent in our society. Our mission is God’s mission, healing and reconciliation, mercy and compassion because we are citizens of God’s kingdom.

The Lord has shown forth his glory: Come let us adore him.

5 Epiphany Yr A

What we hear today in the gospel of Matthew is truly exciting. And it is a continuation of the blessings that we heard last week. Matthew shows us and tells us what it means to be the blessed child of God. Blessed are you, you are called and named salt of the earth and light of the world. Being salt of the earth and light of the world is part of the blessing. You are the salt of the earth; you are the light of the world. Your value is already stated. As a disciple of Christ, you can’t help but be salt and light. You have no choice in the matter, Jesus says, this is who you are. You can’t help but make things livelier and shed light on the matter. So what do we do with that? How do we respond to that? What does it mean to be the salt and the light for the sake of God’s mission of healing and reconciliation in the world?

You are blessed, you are salt, you are light. This is who and how God has created. It is the truth, nothing can change that. Being salt and light means that something happens when we, Jesus’ disciples, go into the world for the sake of God’s mission. And yet, so much of the time we spend believing something else. What does the world say we are? Irrelevant, ignorant, hypocritical. Too old, too young, worthless, useless. But God says we are blessed, God says we are salt and we are light. No matter what we do, and we do try hard, we can’t shake our saltiness or lose our light. It’s what God has made us to be. We need to listen to what God names us, not what the world names us. We need to know what is already true, and in knowing that, we can put it to the best possible use, being salt and light for the purpose of God’s mission of healing and reconciliation in the world.

Recently we wanted peanuts, in the shell. So we bought a huge bag of them, and got them home and opened them up and realized that they were unsalted. How disappointing. Salt enhances and adds flavor to so many foods. We are the salt of the earth, how do we flavor the world? How may we be the salt of society, preserving, reconciling, adding taste, giving meaning where there is no meaning, giving hope where there is no hope?

Nelson Mandela said in his 1994 inaugural speech. “Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness, that frightens us most. We ask ourselves, 'Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, and famous?' Actually, who are you not to be? You are a child of God. Your playing small does not serve the world. There is nothing enlightened about shrinking so that people won't feel insecure around you. We were born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us. It's not just in some of us; it's in all of us. And when we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same. As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others.” We are the light of the world, how do you enlighten the places and people you encounter?

There are two really important things we need to hear from Matthew this morning. First is that we are salt and light, we are children of God, we are named blessed, we don’t do anything to get that designation, it just is. Secondly, as we fully inhabit that truth about ourselves, when we bring our saltiness, our light, and our blessedness into all of the parts of our life, into our work and our school and our play, we are the agents of God’s mission that we are called to be, agents of God’s healing and reconciliation, agents of mercy and compassion. Now, as much as and maybe even more than ever, we need to be salt and light.

That said, I want to tell you a little about the meeting I was at in Charlotte North Carolina this past week. I am on the Council for Life-long Christian Formation, formerly known as the Episcopal Council on Christian Education. We changed our name to more closely say that we believe that discipleship is a lifelong endeavor, there is never a time when we are done. The Council for Life-long Christian Formation is a council of advice, support, and implementation connected to the person who holds the job for Life-long Christian formation at our Church Center, and the team of four people who make up Life-long Christian formation, Youth Ministry, Young Adult Ministry, and Camping Ministries. I tell you all this because it is always important for us to remember that we at St. Andrew’s are connected to the greater church, nationally, provincially, in our diocese, in our deanery, and locally as well. Very briefly, our diocese is a geographical grouping of Episcopal churches that happens to be all of South Dakota. Our province is a geographical grouping of Episcopal dioceses that happen to be all states as well, MN, IA, ND, SD, NE, MT, WY, and CO. I say happen to be, because that is not the case for all dioceses or provinces. Our deanery is a geographical grouping of Episcopal churches here in the Black Hills, and we meet as such once or twice a year, which is to say that we are all connected, and related in various ways.

Part of my job, as the Provincial representative to the Council on Life-long Christian formation, is to tell our particular story about the joys and the challenges of teaching discipleship and forming 21st century Episcopal Christians, and to listen to the stories that others have in their own contexts. One of the challenges we face in all areas is refigured budgets. Rather than looking at our budgets as bad news, I think we are presented with opportunity. The opportunity is that we can wiggle out of our cocoon and be more nimble. One opportunity is to use and share technology. For example, there are people working on an application for your phone that would not only locate an Episcopal church for you, but also provide the means to download the entire service so you have it right in the palm of your hand. Another example is meeting by webcam instead of in person, as you know it is much less expensive that way. But it’s not all about technology; I want to assure those of us who feel maybe technology is leaving them in the dust. We definitely have a mind toward older adult ministry, as we experience more and more baby boomers in our congregations.

This is all to show you the vital and exciting movement of our church as institution, and as body’s of people on the local level. We, as individuals in the Episcopal Church, and as one part of the universal and catholic church, are salt and light in the world. Another example is that our Presiding Bishop was just named to the President's Advisory Council on Faith-Based and Neighborhood Partnerships.

So today, and as we re-gather later for our Annual meeting, I leave you with the question again, how are you salt in the world? How are you light in the world? How do you participate in God’s mission of healing and reconciliation in the world?

The Lord has shown forth his glory: Come let us adore him.

3 Advent Yr A

Do you see what I see? Do you see what Jesus sees? Do you see what God sees? John seems to be expecting something that Jesus isn’t expecting. Last week we heard the first of the John the Baptist stories, in which John proclaims that Jesus is the one for whom we all prepare. This week we hear from John the Baptist again, not from the Jordan River, but from prison. John has been thrown into prison for sedition, for proclaiming a King who is not the Roman emperor. Even in prison John is interested in Jesus’ mission, so he sends one of the people who visit him to find out about how Jesus is carrying out his mission, and John is not pleased. You see, John spoke about a mighty one coming to baptize the righteous with the Holy Spirit and the wicked with fire to destroy them. Jesus talks about and does plenty of Holy Spirit things—that is what we read about in today’s gospel, the blind receive their sight, the lame walk, the lepers are cleansed, the deaf hear, the dead are raised, and the poor have good news brought to them—but Jesus doesn’t talk much about fire and destruction, like John thought he should.

John and the Jewish community are expecting the Messiah, the anointed one, the one who will come in power and glory to overthrow the Roman government and put Israel into power. This is not what happens. Even John questions Jesus identity, he asks, are you the one who is to come, or are we to wait for another?

And Mary sings my soul magnifies the Lord, for he has looked with favor on his lowly servant. He has filled the hungry with good things, and the rich he has sent away empty. He has come to the help of his servant Israel, for he has remembered his promise of mercy. But God has not come as expected. God comes as a baby in a barn, God comes as child in a culture where children have no voice, God comes as a man who is lifted onto a cross to die.

It is not in power that God comes, but instead it is in healing and compassion. It is healing and compassion that point us toward the coming of the Christ. It is not in power that God comes, but instead it is in deeds of love and mercy.

John’s displeasure may be a result of finding out that he was wrong about the Messiah. The people’s expectation of the Messiah may be wrong as well. Jesus says to them, What did you expect? A King? Someone dressed in soft robes in royal palaces? Because that is in fact what the people expected, a King that would come in power to give them all a place at the head of the table. Jesus says and demonstrates that he is not the King they expected.

What we have is a huge chasm of unmet expectation in this story, and that unmet expectation in fact plays out throughout the gospels. God does not come to the people as King, as a powerful ruler. Instead, God comes into the midst of the people as a child, born in a barn, born to a lowly woman who is not even married yet to Joseph. God, who has all power, gave up all power to come into the midst of the people as one with no power. God, who would be King, instead is a child, who we tend to make into a King.

A world of unmet expectation. I think we know that world well. What you hope and dream about usually is nothing like what it is that actually happens to you. So much stress at holiday time is caused by perceived expectations, by the chasm between a sort of nostalgic view of what should happen and what you think should be accomplished, and what is real. What is real is usually unrecognizable compared to what is imagined.

I don’t think this is necessarily a bad thing. I think it is the very thing that helps us to remember that we were and are never in control anyway. We do this to people all the time. We expect them to behave in a particular way based on our own expectations of them. But we have no control over other people, and what they think, believe, or how they act. We, just like John, have no control over Jesus, who he was, who he is, and who he will be. The real Jesus that we read about in the bible, and whom we encounter in the bread and the wine, and who we experience in the other, is nothing like the Jesus some wish Jesus was.

The Jesus some wish Jesus was is the Jesus of power, the Jesus who seems more like a magician than a man. Jesus who judges who can be in relationship with him and who cannot. Jesus who said every word that is printed in red in their bibles. And who is the real Jesus, who is God in the flesh? The Jesus I read about in the bible heals the blind, and the lame, and the lepers. The deaf hear, the dead are raised. He eats with tax collectors and women; he spends his time with children. He says that the last shall be first, he says those in bondage will be freed; he says love God with everything you’ve got, and love your neighbor. Jesus who got so angry that he turned the tables in the temple, and broke everything in sight.

And what happened to this Jesus? He was rejected; he was rejected because the way he lived and taught was threatening to many, especially those in power. And he was murdered in the most brutal and lingering of ways. He took it all, and yet forgave those who dealt it out. When he came back afterward, he still didn’t come back as a King. He still didn’t come back like a magician, or a superhero, rising from each blow to deal out better than what he got to the one who gave it to him; he came back pretty much with the same attitude and behavior he exhibited before his crucifixion.

So what kind of Jesus are we expecting will be coming back at the climax of all things? Are we hoping that this next time, Jesus will finally come back as The Terminator, getting rid of all the people we don’t like? Maybe we look for Jesus to come back as the one who will finally bring prosperity to everyone, or peace to the world. Some may look for Jesus as the one who will destroy all those who don’t agree, or who believe wrongly. Or maybe the next time he’ll protect himself by shooting first.

If so, we’ll be just as disappointed, if not more so, than John the Baptizer was. The Jesus our hearts long for, the Jesus our lives as well as our lips confess is coming again to judge the living and the dead, the Jesus whom John’s followers were told about, is not the Jesus of superheroes.

The Jesus we wait for, the Jesus we long for is the one who humbly serves the poor, the outcast, and the sinner. He is the one who is willing to eat with Pharisees as well as tax collectors and women. And most of all, he is willing to die on a Roman cross rather than retaliate against those who treated him and his people brutally. That’s the only Christ there is. Jesus who accepts you and I exactly as we are, who loves us exactly as we are. Who gives us not what we deserve; but instead gives us love that has no conditions, love that is selfless, love that gives up all power for the good of the other.

There is no other Jesus. The Jesus we read about in the bible accepts, he does not condemn. Jesus forgives. Jesus frees people from a lifetime of bondage so that they, and we may live a life that is marked by love and generosity.

There is no evidence that Jesus, who will come again in glory at the end of time, will come as a ruler to hold power over creation. The story that we read in these gospels suggests that Jesus, who we wait for and prepare for, will come again to judge us against the standard he set: humble service to the poor, the outcast, the sinner; willingness to eat with those with whom we disagree and with those who are unlike us; and whether or not we spread the good news of God’s love in him. These are the markers of the people who follow Christ, and who wait for his return.

As the anticipation of Jesus comes to a climax, do as Jesus does, go out and serve the poor, the outcast, the sinner. Or maybe eat a meal with someone you can’t agree with. And we can say with all our heart, Come, Lord Jesus, Come!

Our King and Savior now draws near: Come let us adore him. Amen.

2 Advent Yr A

We just prayed this morning when we lit the second candle on the Advent wreath, Gracious God, Grant that we may find peace as we prepare for our Lord’s birth. May divisions in ourselves and in our families be peacefully resolved. May there be peace in our cities and in the countries of our world. Help us to see the paths of peace in our lives, and then give to us courage to follow them. Lord, let us remember that you only are the giver of lasting peace and that you are always with us. We relit the first candle, the candle of hope, and lit the second candle, the candle of peace. On this the second Sunday of Advent, may we find peace and hope.

Isaiah shows us that the political situation of the people of Israel is in total disarray. Into this setting, however, just when things appear hopeless and the future looks very bleak, the prophet promises that God will send a leader who will rule with justice toward all, and with mercy toward the most vulnerable in society. The little ones, the defenseless ones, the innocent ones will be protected and cared for. Isaiah urges the people to remember who they are as the people of God, reminding them that their power, their life, comes from goodness, not from greed. In Matthew, the people that John the baptizer was with had stopped believing the Messiah would be coming. We live in a similar time of cynicism, we have stopped believing that there can be an end to war, that there can be an end to homelessness, that there can be an end to inequity and injustice. Mostly because we look to the wrong place for justice and peace. Only God will bring justice and righteousness, the world cannot do it. God’s mission in the world is healing and reconciliation, it is not justice as the world understands it. It is in God’s healing and reconciliation where real hope and real peace lay.

What is your greatest hope? What makes you get up in the morning, and move through your day, and, at times, struggle against discouragement, injustice, and despair? What are you moving toward, and what carries you toward it? We always need to remember that hope is not the same thing as a wish. We often make the mistake of using hope when we really mean wish. We wish for presents at Christmas, but hope is in the promise of new life. Wishes sometimes come true, hope is already true. God has already broken into our lives and our world to bring peace and reconciliation, to bring hope, and to show us what that looks like. Advent reminds us of this truth, Advent gives us an opportunity to listen, to stay awake, and to prepare ourselves and our community for the day that God will fulfill our hope.

The story in Isaiah shows us what hope looks like. A shoot shall come out from the stump of Jesse, and a branch shall grow out of his roots. Even when something looks dead, in God’s economy, new life is possible. That is hope. The wolf shall live with the lamb, the leopard shall lie down with the kid, the calf and the lion and the fatling together, and a little child shall lead them. That is hope.

And that is what John proclaims in Matthew; this one who is coming is the one who begins the new peaceable kingdom. But the peace and the hope that Jesus brings is not a nostalgic romantic peace, it is not a wish. It is about turning away from the powers of the world and to live in hope. We have heard Eugene Peterson’s translation in The Message; repentance is about turning in your old life for a kingdom life. Peterson writes, Jesus will ignite the kingdom life within you, a fire within you, the Holy Spirit within you, changing you from the inside out. Jesus places everything true in its proper place before God, everything false he’ll put out with the trash to be burned.

And Paul in Romans shows us what that kingdom life looks like. Welcome one another, therefore, just as Christ has welcomed you, for the glory of God. Peace and hope are about welcoming everyone into this kingdom life. You are welcomed into this new life that God has for you, you don’t have to be perfect to be welcome, surely the Pharisees and the Sadducees were only perfect in their own minds and they were welcome in God’s kingdom. Welcome one another just as Christ has welcomed you. There are so many that aren’t hearing this from us Christians. So many people continue to live in hopelessness and despair because they are hearing and seeing that some Christians believe a certain way, behave in a certain way. But that is not what Paul says here. This welcome, this radical greeting, is the welcome offered to the one who does not look like myself, who is not a member of my "immediate" family. Perhaps this one dresses differently, celebrates different traditions, looks different, perhaps this one is even sick or without a home or in serious difficulty. Perhaps this one is the one with whom I vehemently disagree, Paul says all are welcome in Christ.

Paul is here pushing the boundaries of the community. Yes, Christ came to one particular place, was born into one particular race and a unique religious tradition, but it is precisely this particularity on God's part that allows God to be paradoxically present in all people, in all cultures, in all flesh. The incarnation is about the infinite becoming fully embodied in the finite and yet never restricted by that finite. Christ's coming into the world, into the house of David, is God's coming into all of humanity, for all humanity. This coming, the advent of Christ, can never be claimed as a privilege by one group. Rather, everyone is invited, those who are inside and those who are not. Hope abounds when we welcome everyone as Christ has welcomed you.

Last week I mentioned that here at St. Andrew’s we have shifted from using the liturgical color purple, which signifies penitence, to using blue instead. This passage from Romans illustrates that shift. The shift is from penitence to hope. When I am out walking just as day is dawning, the sky is an amazing blue. Blue is the hope of a new day, blue anticipates coming of new creation. And the vision of the coming kingdom is broad, wide, deep, and generous. The vision of the kingdom is peace and hope.

May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace in believing so that you may abound in hope by the power of the Holy Spirit.

Our King and Savior now draws near: Come let us adore him.
Amen.

1 Advent Yr A

Life is short, stay awake, although this is the Caribou coffee tag line, it applies to our readings this morning as well. From Romans we read, you know what time it is, how it is now the moment for you to wake from sleep. And from Matthew, keep awake, for you do not know on what day your Lord is coming. Advent is derived from a Latin word for “coming.” Advent is a time of preparation, expectation, anticipation, and waiting. It is not Christmas. Just want to make that clear. Christmas begins on December 25th. It seems waiting and anticipation are foreign concepts to many today. We wait in a line at the store and we get irritated. We wait at the stoplight and we wish there was not so much traffic. We wait for life to be born, and we wait for death. We, for the most part, are very bad at waiting. No wonder we jump right over Advent to Christmas, why wait when we can have it all today.

And yet, there is an urgency in our waiting. On this first day of the new year, this first Sunday of Advent, are some readings that ask us to stay awake and to wait in urgency for something that is new. We wait for the birth of the baby, we wait for the coming of the end, we wait for the coming of the cosmic Christ, we wait in expectation and anticipation of all that we believe fulfills humanity. Our waiting is urgent waiting, it is not wasted waiting. It is waiting for the reality that we know today, and the reality of the Kingdom that comes. It is waiting that does not negate the joy and happiness in which we live, it does not negate the sorrow and pain that we feel, but it is waiting that calls us to something new. And it is waiting that calls us to stay awake.

The cultural Christmas season has already begun, as we well know. There is this seduction to be busy, not that being busy is bad, but busyness tends to divert our attention from waiting for the gift that is being prepared for us. There are wonderful things to do at this time of year, but we cannot be seduced into believing that is all there is. That seduction pulls us away from staying awake, staying alert to the amazing gift of God’s love that we receive at Christmas.

What would we do differently if we knew exactly when Jesus would come? This is the way we need to live in Advent, because the truth is that Jesus comes and is coming, for all times and all places, into our lives and into our hearts, and we must be prepared. The only way to prepare is to stay awake and see the signs around us. Romans actually gives us some instructions about how to do that. We are to lay aside the works of darkness and put on the armor of light.

I think putting on the armor of light is about paying attention to the love that God gives us, and paying attention to the relationships in our lives. I think laying aside the works of darkness is to let go of all that draws us away from God’s love at this time of the year. There is so much that draws us away from God’s love, sale after sale after sale, these things are not bad, but we can’t let them be all there is. The real event is taking place in a hidden, yet powerful way. Lives are changed every day because of Jesus, people are healed from sin and death, eyes are opened to new realities, and we seldom hear about them because often we’re too distracted by the other stuff.

What meaning can Advent waiting have for us today? The best illustration I can think of is pregnancy. Nine months of waiting, or in my case 91/2 months of waiting, nothing can make it go faster, there is no way you want it to be over early, and nothing can change the absolute change that pregnancy brings to lives. A new life, being knit together in the darkness of the womb, a new life being created, absolutely and completely out of your control. But this kind of waiting is a profoundly creative act. It is in no way passive; indeed it is quite active as this new life grows. This is the waiting of Advent. It is to be joyfully and fully present to new growth. Advent becomes a way of being.

Advent is a time to put away the distractions. So maybe this is the time to put away our Blackberry’s and our iPhone’s for an hour or a day. Maybe it’s time to turn off for a while. This is a time to find some solitude. In fact, insist on it. This is a season to draw apart for a little while, to read scripture, to take ten minutes and breath slowly, letting the promise of God fill your lungs with fresh air. This is a time for staying awake to what really matters and letting go of some things that don’t. Advent offers some alternatives to all that doesn’t matter: an Advent wreath on the table, and its increasing shine as a new candle is lit each week; an Advent calendar to mark the days of waiting; a brief passage from scripture with the evening meal. These are anti-stress times when people’s souls get restored among those they love. Those who live alone can sit in front of a lighted candle and remember loved ones and friends who have surrounded them in the candlelight. Most of all, we can recall a God who loves us so much that we are offered a time to prepare, a time to wait, a time to remember that underneath all that seems to be crumbling is a firm foundation, and the One who is to come.

During Advent we will be singing a very unusual song, Jesus Christ the Apple Tree. It is a poem from the 18th century, based actually on the Song of Songs. In this new year that Advent begins, this hymn offers to us a new way to hear Jesus, a new way to see Jesus, a new way to experience Jesus. We are called to rest awhile, to rest from all that seduces us away from Jesus Christ, the giver of life, Jesus Christ the apple tree.

Stay awake to the love that brings light into the dark. Stay awake to the love that forgives and heals. Stay awake to the love that brings us together, the love that feeds us. Stay awake to the love that brings us peace. Stay awake to the love that prepares us for new birth. Stay awake to the love that anticipates our homecoming.

Our King and Savior now draws near: Come let us adore him.
Amen.