First Sunday of Advent Yr C November 28 2021

First Sunday of Advent Yr C November 28 2021

Jeremiah 33:14-16, 1 Thessalonians 3:9-13, Luke 21:25-36, Psalm 25:1-9

 

Endings look a lot like beginnings, and beginnings look a lot like endings. Today, we begin at the end. Next week we move to the beginning. But as today we begin at the end, it will serve us well to remember some things we need to know. In this passage we read today, Luke, who is writing this in the later part of the 1^st century, has Jesus telling the people who are listening three very important things. First, Jesus tells them about the destruction of the Temple, the place where God is located. Secondly, Jesus tells them about the destruction of the whole of Jerusalem, the city that is home. That destruction happened around 70. Thirdly, And Jesus tells them about the coming of the Son of Man. Those first two things, the destruction of the temple and the destruction of the whole of the city of Jerusalem are historical, that happened. The third thing, the coming of the Son of Man, is how Luke tells the disciples and us, about who Jesus is. 

 

What we are reading today is called apocalyptic literature. Now, that may seem a big, scary word, but it’s not really. Apocalyptic means revealing. In Jewish and Christian Apocalyptic, it means, God is being revealed. And God is being revealed in an absolutely new way, it is big, but not so scary. 

 

If you were a Jew at the time, it would be big and scary. Your place of worship, and your home, are destroyed by the Roman Empire. Everything you know to be true is gone, there is no stone left upon stone. The question asked in those times was, where is God located if not in the Temple? As you and I listen to the entire story, we know that God is now located in the flesh and blood of Jesus, that is incarnation, God with us, God in our midst, Emmanuel, all names for Jesus. And in this passage, Luke also calls Jesus the Son of Man. 

 

But it must have been like the beginning of the end of the world to them. Those who surrounded Jesus wonder what would happen next, what would their lives be like, would they even live to see the next day? This looked like the end. And the end seems scary. This seemed like God is no longer present. It seemed like chaos was overtaking order. 

 

And it seems like all those post-apocalyptic stories I love to read. As humans we are always searching for God, and our stories are filled with the possibility of an absent God, or an abandoning God, that’s what the people in Jerusalem were wondering, did God abandon them? What we are reading today is a post-apocalyptic story, as wild and fearful as any post-apocalyptic story written today. 

 

I think the question that we ask today is how do we boldly go where no one has gone before? Where is our hope after this storm, this destruction, this apocalypse of pandemic? To whom does the future belong? And as we embark upon Advent, how do we prepare, how do we anticipate the inbreaking of Jesus in the midst of the chaos that we may be feeling in these days? And how do we wait in faithful anticipation?

 

Part of waiting is in anticipation of what life will be like when the waiting is over. As we wait, we may have the opportunity to reflect on life as it is and possibly to come to appreciate the glimpses of the wonder and beauty of life as it is. Maybe, we begin to see life differently, more clearly. Maybe, all the things we thought were important aren’t so important anymore. Maybe, the falseness is being stripped away, and what is left is a truer person, a person who wants to plunge into every moment of life, no matter what, instead of sleepwalk through it. Maybe there is actually transformation in the waiting. At its deepest, Advent waiting transforms us. We are shown a glimpse of “what if.” What if we approach our Advent waiting as a radical time of transformation? 

 

The Good News is that Advent transformation isn’t born out of fear, fear of the end of the world, fear of war and destruction, fear of those who are different than us. Advent transformation comes from joy because the promise has already been given. Advent transformation comes from the hope that Love wins. For those with the eyes of faith, “what if” has already happened. God is already with us. The reign of God is at hand. Heaven is already here. And nothing will break God’s promise.

 

Our Advent waiting may then be about making the world look more like the heaven that we already see by faith. We do this by focusing on the essentials—the basic things every human needs in order to reflect the divine. The poor have to be cared for, the hungry have to be fed, the homeless have to be sheltered, the refugee has to be welcomed, and the sick need to be healed. Forgiveness has to be offered, those at war must stop, and peace must be our legacy.

 

It’s almost as if Advent calls us to faith in the Real Absence of Christ—to believe in Emmanuel even in our darkness, in God-With-Us even when we hear no answer, and in the Incarnation even when we feel nothing at all. And so during Advent waiting, we may abstain from the flurry of Christmas not as a penitential punishment, but as a way to train our eyes to see God even without the angels and trees, crèches and stars. We focus instead on the basics of light in the darkness, silence in the chaos, and stillness in the turmoil. Advent waiting is waiting for Love to be born, again.

 

The promise in all of this in Luke, in the midst of the distress in our scripture reading today, in the midst of the terror and chaos that the Jews of the 1^st century were experiencing, is that the end of times reality is that the end is not the end, our end is a person. The alpha and the omega, the beginning and the end. You see, Jesus is our end, our end is in the living Christ and the end is filled with new possibilities. And because you and I are living in this in between time, after Jesus was born into our world, after Jesus lived, died, resurrected from the dead and ascended, and before the fulfillment of all things, you and I are living in new possibility, new hope, new life. 

5th Sunday after Pentecost, Proper 9, Yr A, July 9 2017

Carrying a heavy burden

5 Sunday after Pentecost, Proper 9, Yr A, July 9 2017 Audio

We have heard these words from the gospel of Matthew so many times, “Come to me, all you that are weary and are carrying heavy burdens, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me; for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light.” We’ve heard Jesus call the disciples, Andrew and Simon the fisher folk, and Matthew the tax collector. They dropped everything and immediately followed Jesus. But this passage extends that call, it is an expansive invitation from Jesus to all who can hear, including you and me, to follow. When they fall upon my ears, I listen, but I am not sure that following Jesus is easy, and the burden is light. Sometimes, like you, I think this is really hard. It’s hard to step to a different drummer, when conforming to the values and morals of our culture seems like it would be so much easier. It’s really hard to be the voice in the wilderness that says, resist, resist all that would demean and destroy God’s creation, resist all that would raise the rich and the powerful over and above those who are poor and outcast. Resist the easy fix and the easy answers. When you do, Jesus promises, I will give you rest.

You can do hard things.

Let’s step back just a bit and see what has happened to get us to this place in Matthew’s gospel. Matthew’s story begins with reporting the glorious works of God being done in Israel, and at this point shifts to focus on Israel’s failure to respond to those works. At the beginning of this chapter 11, Jesus was speaking to the crowds concerning John, the one we call Baptizer. Jesus was singing John’s praises, at the very moment John was in prison awaiting his fate. At the same time, Jesus is railing against those who hold power, and against the common people, all who he compares to stubborn children who would not play well with others. In a passage that was left out of our lectionary reading, Jesus castigates the people for being inhospitable and lacking repentance.

And then Jesus does something I think we’ve all done, he stops what’s he’s doing and saying, and he prays. Jesus prayer at this point reveals the intimacy Jesus has with God. I think Jesus shows us that prayer, being present with God, is necessary when we are called to do hard things. It is what equips us to do hard things.

And then this invitation, come to me, follow me, take my yoke upon you. Jesus knows this is hard, probably the hardest thing we ever do. Jesus is asking the people he encountered, and loved and cared about, to exchange the “yoke” they lived under, which is the control of the empire of Rome, for the “yoke” that Jesus offered, the yoke of love, the yoke of reconciliation, the yoke of forgiveness.

Again, I need to stop and consider these words. We don’t use the word yoke much anymore. In fact, some of you probably can’t picture a yoke in your heads. It’s a device for joining together a pair of animals to do the farm work of making rows to plant the seeds, in the days farming was done without big machines. The yoke was a piece that went across the shoulders of two large animals, usually oxen, each enclosing the heads of the animals. The yoke was heavy, it kept the animals doing the job the farmer wanted them to do.

When we imagine that yoke, the image becomes clear. Jesus says, leave the heavy burden that is keeping you hostage, and take on a new yoke, the yoke of love, the yoke of reconciliation, the yoke of forgiveness. Jesus was asking the people of his time to do something very hard. Jesus was asking them to risk everything, their lives and their livelihood, to be free of the empire of Rome. Jesus promises that when we exchange the yoke of the powerful for the yoke of the one who will be crucified, we will find rest.

I think we live in very similar times today. The burdens are huge and heavy. Can we even do that hard thing that Jesus asks? We are shown by our leaders that power over people is much more desirable than working with each other to come to the common good. We see and hear those who are in power that the goal is to make as much money as possible for oneself. There is fear that our way of life, both our secular way of life and our church way of life, is under attack by those who want us to be and do something that we are not. We live at a time and place where we are increasingly taught to believe that true joy, deep satisfaction, and the realization of what we were created for comes through watching out only for ourselves. We do not see very clearly the model that shows us that being in relationship with, and bearing the burdens of those around us is a good and right way to live.

Is the hard thing laying the burden down, laying the burden aside? Or believing Jesus, who says, come to me and I will give you rest, my burden is easy, and my burden is light. You see, Jesus doesn’t simply call our pictures and expectations into question, but also gives us another picture. God is the one who bears our burdens. God is the one who shows up in our need. God is the one who comes along side of us. Nothing demonstrates this more than the cross – God’s willingness to embrace all of our life, even to the point of death, in Jesus, to demonstrate God’s profound love and commitment, love and commitment that will not be deterred…by anything.

It’s not necessarily what we want. We often would prefer a God who takes away our problems rather than helps us cope with them, who eliminates challenges rather than equips us for them. It’s not usually what we want, but pretty much exactly what we need. That’s the rest Jesus is talking about. It’s not an easy rest, it’s not usually what we want, but it’s exactly what we need.

And we are reminded that God always shows up where we least expect God to be: in the need of our neighbor, in the person that doesn’t look anything like you, in the person who believes and thinks and acts differently than we do and, just as importantly, than we think they should. And that in all these circumstances, our call is the same: to care for them, to meet them where they are, to accept them as we are able.

In our estimation it’s not easy. But ease is not what Jesus asks of us. Jesus asks us to exchange the burden of the world, for the relationship Jesus offers. It is hard, and we can do hard things. But this is what following Jesus looks like. But as we undertake this new yoke, we discover God in Jesus is already there. Waiting for us, encouraging us, forgiving us, bearing us, loving us. Which is what makes the burden light, the yoke not just easy but joyful. Pick up the yoke that Jesus offers, the yoke of love, the yoke of reconciliation, the yoke of forgiveness.

It is hard, but we can do hard things. It is joyful, and love does win. Amen.

6 Easter Yr C May 1 2016

6 Easter Yr C May 1 2016 Audio

I love the long, warm days of summer. But those days are preceded by these days, rainy and chilly. And yet, we're always so very thankful for the moisture, that has turned the grass green and put the trees into a flowering frenzy. All of this rain gives life to our world, but as we know, all that moisture is life-taking as well. Flooding and storms are always difficult to watch especially when we are just so thankful for the moisture. 

The rains and and the water that brings forth new life, remind me of my baptism. I am reminded that I have been joined with Jesus in the life and death of the baptismal waters. I am reminded that we are in a constant process of life, death and resurrection. I am reminded that God is never finished with me, that there is always another layer to be shed, another washing, another opportunity. There is forgiveness and healing, and that always leads to new growth and new life. And, the baby ducks are always born in flocks and travel together. 

“Then the angel showed me the river of the water of life, bright as crystal, flowing from the throne of God and of the Lamb through the middle of the street of the city. On either side of the river is the tree of life with its twelve kinds of fruit, producing its fruit of each month; and the leaves of the tree are for the healing of the nations.”

The book of Revelation was born out of a time when people who followed Jesus had to live under cover. Worship of the gods was proscribed by the Roman Empire. Empire and worship were one and the same. The book of Revelation gave hope in that context, and describes the community that Jesus has set up on earth that is an alternative to empire. These were people who would gather and sing songs to God and to the lamb, to share stories and to break bread in remembrance of Jesus’ death and resurrection. They came together around a radical and transforming vision of the joyful reign of God. In this letter from John this community heard a call to faithfulness, a call to renew their love for one another. They heard the promise that they would be victorious, provided that they resist the seductions of the empire. I reminded you last week that the signs and portents of revelation worked to wake up the people to change, to wake them up so that they could resist the seductions of the empire. 

The vision of Revelation gathers the community together beside God’s riverside, to drink of its water of life, to find shelter beside God’s majestic tree of life with its healing leaves. As you read these verses in Revelation chapters 21-22, imagine yourself walking into this city through its open gates, exploring the landscape that the angel unfolds before you. You are safe at last. You are beloved.

I began today with my stories of being reminded of my baptism and being reminded of new life and resurrection because those experiences bring me to a place where I can imagine this reality that John describes for us. However, I know that the truth of our lives here and now is that the seductions are powerful. The seduction of greed, of exclusion, and of self-importance is powerful indeed. Chapter 21 in Revelation speaks specifically to the healing of all nations through the leaves of the tree of life. There is much in Revelation that some have used to dominate others and to create a culture of fear. The concept that some know as the rapture is clearly a misinterpretation of the message of Revelation. The call to transformation and to reconciliation and healing is clear in Revelation. The call to turn away from violence, to turn away from greed, to turn away from exclusion, to turn toward peace, to turn toward generosity, to turn toward inclusion is mighty powerful. God’s holy city provides enough food for all, in God’s holy city all hunger is satisfied. 

Given this interpretation of Revelation, that revelation offers hope and freedom, nourishment and sustenance in a culture of greed, violence, and narcissism, I ask you this question. How does this speak to your deepest hunger? How does this speak to the deepest hunger of our world? I think we spend our lives yearning and searching for nourishment, for something that resembles the holy city that is described in Revelation. Our search takes us by way of false nourishment. Like eating potato chips instead of sweet potatoes, or candy instead of fruits and vegetables. We look for satisfaction in places that can only offer us momentary delight. But when we look away from God to satisfy our hunger, we continue to go away hungry.

Gathered at the riverside, God’s people, you and I, have tasted life-giving water and manna from heaven. We have glimpsed God’s beloved city. Because of that, everything is different now. Everything and everyone is precious. The challenge is to live our lives according to the story of God’s beloved city, to live in terms of its blessing. We live in freedom, not enslaved by the need to please and perform, but fully and absolutely and abundantly loved by the God who created us, who came into our world to live, suffer, and die as one of us, who rose from the dead, and lives among us, 

and who will come again to reign here in the company of the creation. 

We live our lives connected to one another. Barbara Rossing reminds us near the end of her book, The Rapture Exposed, that Revelation’s story is about seeing the Lamb beside you in every moment of your life, in the car, at the shopping mall, at work and at school. We might call that Lamb, the Love that wins. Revelation is about looking more deeply into God’s picture and seeing how the Lamb, the Love that wins, is leading you even now into a world of joy and healing. 

And next time you are washed in the rain, next time you witness new birth, remember who you are, God's beloved. Equipped and sent to love others. 

Thanks be to God. Amen, Alleluia.