4 Lent Yr C March 6 2016

4 Lent Yr C March 6 2016 Audio

A man had two sons.... was a common way to begin a parable. There are other parables in the Hebrew tradition that begin this way, not just the one we have in front of us today. When the gospel writers began in this way, you and I who are hearers of the story are clued in right away to the type of prose we will hear. A parable is a particular form of prose. Although it is like narrative, it is not exactly narrative, it doesn’t tell a story in a straightforward sort of way. The purpose of a parable is to surprise you, even to shock you. Jesus often says something outrageous, or tells about something that doesn’t seem on the surface to make much sense. We also know a parable when we hear one because it tells us something about Kingdom living.

This particular parable is quite familiar. Often we jump straight to the place of deciding that this is about the younger son who has squandered all of his inheritance and has been bad, or maybe we even identify with the younger son. And we are quick to label people in our lives as prodigal son. But if we make that jump too quickly, we will miss so much that is surprising in this parable. First of all, we miss what prodigal means. Prodigal means exuberant and lavish, excessive and extravagant. Prodigal describes the son because he has been extravagant in spending his inheritance. Prodigal also describes the father because he is extravagant in his love toward both his sons. The younger son was extravagant in his spending and ended up in the worst possible position of shame and brought shame on his family as well. 

Or, we jump too quickly to identifying with the older son. The one who followed all the rules, the one who understood duty to family and responsibility. The one who worked hard all his life only to have the little brother get the big party after having squandered everything and living hard and fast. He was the one who really wished that rewards should go to only those who earn them. The one who at his very worst moments envies his younger brother for all the fun and excitement he had and that the older brother missed out on. The one who is mad at his father for even acknowledging the younger son was still alive, after all that he had done. The one who fails to recognize that the father is always on his side and he need not earn his father’s approval. 

Maybe we even jump too quickly to identifying with the father. The father who raised his kids as best he could and who now has to put up with an older one who doesn’t know how good he’s got it, and a younger one who takes advantage of everyone and everything. This father’s behavior is shocking. First, he runs out to meet the son who left and squandered everything, giving up all semblance of honor that he may have had left by this time. Then, when the elder son chews out his father in the totally immediate and full view of all gathered to celebrate, the father once more responds graciously, saying even in front of the whole village that the kind of father he is must celebrate and rejoice when the lost are found. The father of the parable celebrates every measure of resurrection, of life from death, without pausing to judge whether the one given life deserved it, or what the consequences are for village or cosmic justice, or even how the loyal will respond. He just hopes that those who profess loyalty to him will follow his example.

So today I want to focus on this father who had two sons and read this parable as an answer to the questions that the Corinthians may have asked Paul. The question you may remember as we heard it read: What does it mean to be an ambassador for Christ? What does it mean to be Christ’s representative, Christ’s promoter, a champion for Christ, a co-conspirator in Kingdom building? And a second question, how does God make an appeal to someone, through us, to be reconciled to God? What it boils down to is: will we follow the father’s gracious example of reconciliation? Read this way, the parable models grace-filled responses in a world of excess, a world of it's all about me, a world of one way or the highway, a world of bullying, a world of exclusion. Read this way, this is a parable about who are we, and how are we to be in the world. Read this way, this is a parable about the church’s mission in the world, to reconcile all people to God.

This parable is about responding to whatever comes our way with grace, and that response, that grace is what brings about reconciliation. And being reconcilers is being a champion of Christ, being reconcilers is being Christ’s representative in this world, being reconcilers is being who we are meant to be. The father models grace and reconciliation. The father models being a champion for Christ. The father rejoices that his younger son was dead and is alive again; he was lost and now is found. The result of this grace is a celebration and a banquet. Grace breaks in; grace is surprising and sometimes even shocking. The relationship between father and son is reconciled, it is healed. 

The father also runs out of the celebration to find the child who cannot yet accept the intimacy of reconciliation, or the abundant love that exists in constancy and faithfulness. The sadness in this relationship is that it is not reconciled, the older son doesn’t give it a chance, and he misses out on the banquet. 

We have so much trouble with this grace. Whether we identify with the older or the younger son, we have trouble accepting the grace freely given. Grace is not earned, but freely given. Grace is forgiving and nourishing.

We often have trouble accepting the intimacy of love no matter what, from this God who is willing to run out into the field to welcome us home, or to leave the celebration to come and find us because we do not yet believe that we are worthy of that sort of grace, and therefore we are not yet ready to be reconciled to our brothers, our sisters, our neighbors. 

But we forget that this is a God who freely chooses us. God continually chooses God’s people even when they have apparently wandered far away.

I began today with one of the markers of a parable, they tell us about the Kingdom of God. Many parables begin with these words; the Kingdom of God is like... You see, the surprise and the shock of this parable is that the Kingdom of God is like abundant grace for all God’s creation, freely given, and the Kingdom of God is also like you and me being champions of Christ, and therefore reconcilers for God.

The surprise and shock of this parable is that at the very same time we are recipients of the grace the father lavishes upon us, we are also agents of reconciliation, we are the ones who show the world that this abundant grace is available to each and every person whose paths we cross each and every day. 

This parable invites us, as does all that Jesus says and does, to consider being champions of giving, of giving honor, forgiveness, and giving joy, sacrificially and without regard of our own worthiness or the worthiness of our sisters and brothers. It challenges us to consider what kind of party we throw and who is really welcome at the banquet. This parable challenges us to live every moment in the Kingdom that is here and now, the Kingdom that Paul preaches with urgency. It challenges us to bring reconciliation into every relationship, now. It challenges us to live as Kingdom people, as agents of God’s transformation, and as ambassadors of the Kingdom.

8th Sunday after Pentecost Yr B Proper 11 July 19 2015

8th Sunday after Pentecost July 19 2015 Audio

When they got out of the boat many recognized Jesus and his disciples. They began to bring the sick to wherever they heard Jesus was. They begged him that they might touch even the fringe of his cloak; and all who touched it were healed. Jesus brought healing wherever he went. Jesus brings healing wherever he goes. Jesus brings healing whenever you and I invite him into our present reality. This healing that Jesus offers is physical healing, as well as reconciliation of relationships, wholeness of mind, body, and spirit. Jesus makes whole what is fragmented, In a broken and fragmented world, Jesus is the most powerful integrating force.

Jesus brings wholeness out of fragmentation, Jesus brings reconciliation to relationships, what happens is transformation, and transformation means change. If you are to be healed, you are to be transformed. Healing and transformation are part of an ongoing relationship with Jesus. Jesus' power to heal, Jesus' power to make whole, is like a refiner's fire. It's like what a blacksmith does. They take a blob of metal, heat it so hot that it becomes pliable, maybe even liquid, and pound it into something new, something you could not imagine that lump of metal could ever have been. Sometimes that is what Jesus' healing is like. It's a powerful creative force that makes us into something we could never have imagined before, or even done on our own. Sometimes it is more like the peeling back of of an onion skin, one slow and painful layer at a time. It's really different for each of us. But being healed, being made whole, being reconciled is risky business. The risk is in letting go of what is a sure thing, to be made into something new.

The sure thing, the thing we know so well, the thing we are so comfortable with, needs to be refined into something else, something new. Often the sure thing is unhealthy habits we've acquired that lead to a death spiral, not eating well, smoking, drinking, using drugs. Sometimes the sure thing is work habits that lead to financial and social prosperity, but not right relationship with God, self, and others. Often we hang onto that sure thing at our own peril, but who wants to have their sure thing made into something that may be better, but is guaranteed to be much more painful during the refining. Sometimes we enter the healing process, the spiritual journey, willingly, like those in our gospel today, often we go kicking and screaming.

But the reality is that healing always requires a kind of death before the healing resurrection can happen. There's no getting around that. That's what Jesus' life and death and work on the cross make real for us. That's why Jesus' work on the cross matters to us, to those who came before us, and to those who will come after us. Our lives give testimony to that reality, our stories of healing and new life always include the journey with Jesus through the difficult and painful times.

It's no different for us as a church. You all know that Rick and I were in Salt Lake City for our General Convention. We came together with about 3000 of our close Episcopal friends we enjoyed an amazing evening at the Mormon Tabernacle. We were treated to the choir, it was really the junior varsity choir, but it was still amazing. We heard fabulous gospel music, saw Hispanic dancing and Native America dancing.  Our church is a democratic church. So what we do and decisions that are made are discussed, debated, and then voted on. Any prayer book changes or additions take two general conventions, the change is read at the first convention, we live with it and see how it feels, and then we vote on it at the second convention. We don't take change lightly, but general convention is where change happens. In these last couple of general conventions, we have talked about the foundation of Baptism to all our ministry and the priority of Life-long christian formation. We talked particularly about Confirmation as a mature witness to the transformation that Jesus calls us to. We talked about Holy Communion and it's place in our faith journey's. What became clear is something I've known for a long time, that a faith journey is not linear. We don't achieve baptism and then communion and then confirmation and then marriage or ordination and then children... It's much more like a deepening, it's much more like a spiral. The events of our lives, those that are painful and joyful, may cause us to ask questions that cause us to reconsider and recommit and deepen our relationship with God and with others, that may cause us to spend a season of our lives in service or in silence. Anyway, that's a lot of stuff to consider.

Considering these things as an entire church elicit both excitement and fear in people, some get excited about doing things in a whole new way, some get fearful about doing away with time-honored tradition. It's very scary to give up the sure thing for something that is only just being imagined. THis time we voted on the enabling resolution to begin prayer book revision. Being able to have these conversations is very important.

We continually ask the question, what is God calling us to do? Who is God calling us to be? Nobody really knows the answer, we are Episcopalians, but we are willing to go into the very frightening unknown, we are willing to take the risk of being refined, made into something we couldn't even imagine before, so that we can respond to God's call in this world of technology and immediacy, and in this world that is so desperately in need of healing. The reality of Jesus in our lives and in our world bring us to a place where we are willing to be transformed, it is scary and risky business.

We are Episcopalian, and we don't all agree. But I believe as a church we are in a very graceful place, a place where we can be transformed by God's love, we do believe that Love wins, and Jesus' healing puts us back together and makes us new.

And we have this new and amazingly wonderful Presiding Bishop elect, the Rt. Rev. Michael Curry, who reminds us that we are part of the Jesus movement, and that healing and wholeness and compassion are part of God's dream for us and for the world. He also reminds us to follow Jesus into the neighborhood bringing God's love and healing, and to travel light.

Amen. 

3 Easter Yr B

We hear in today's gospel as we heard last week from John, Jesus stood among them and said to them, "Peace be with you." They were startled, and terrified and thought they were seeing a ghost. I read that there were ghost stories told in the 1st century, the great Roman author and statesman Pliny the Younger recorded one of the first notable ghost stories in his letters, Pliny reported that the specter of an old man with a long beard, rattling chains, was haunting his house in Athens. I imagine, like there were many stories about messiahs and prophets floating around, there were ghost stories as well. In this story, the author wants us to know that this was really Jesus, "Look, I'm real, I eat, give me something to eat and I'll show you." Is it just a ghost story, or something terribly more important about who we are and what we are to do? In this story, Jesus says "Peace be with you," and then Jesus goes on to tell them that they are to proclaim repentance and forgiveness and are witnesses of these things. An important detail in this story, a detail that we could easily overlook, is that Jerusalem is where Jesus' crucifixion took place, and it is where the disciples are when this story takes place. Forgiveness, repentance, and the offering of peace begins right where the disciples are, even though it is a rather hostile place for all of them at that time. What it means for us is that forgiveness begins right where we are. Not with someone else or someplace else, but right in our own homes, in our own cities and villages, and right in our own hearts. I think so often we think forgiveness is up to someone else, it's up to someone else to forgive us, but it's not, it's up to each of us, it's up to you and to me. Forgiveness and reconciliation only begin when our own hearts are softened. What's more, Jesus' friends in this story are startled and terrified. They don't have some sort of zen peacefulness, they don't have some sort of courageous exterior, they don't have the latest self help bestseller that tells them exactly what forgiveness and reconciliation look like, or the 7 habits of the successful forgiver, or the top 10 ways to reconcile with your neighbor. What Jesus is showing them is that the work he did on the cross and in the resurrection already made possible the new life that they are living. That work doesn't take away their fear, it doesn't take away our fear, but it does make it possible for us to live life's of forgiveness and reconciliation. Jesus did Jesus' job, now our job is to practice forgiveness and reconciliation in every aspect of our lives. So, there's a story I was so struck by a while back that I need to tell you about it again. 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. The killer was a 16-year-old kid named Oshea Israel. Mary wanted justice. She said, "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 murder 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. As a devout Christian, 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 cancer," 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 payback 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. Unforgiveness is like a cancer, forgiveness and reconciliation are like a healing balm. Forgiveness is not about being perfect, forgiveness doesn't mean a crime goes unpunished. But forgiveness is about living fully alive, forgiveness is death and resurrection. Forgiveness is what Jesus' activity is all about. The Greek word for being ‘saved’ is also translated “made well,” “healed,” or “made whole.” It refers not to some private transaction between God and the soul, but to the healing and transformation of the whole person! But the story is about something else too. It is about the peace that Jesus offers us, and the peace we offer one another because Jesus is present with us. We say to one another, Peace be with you, and the other responds, and also with you. You see, this reconciliation, this peace making is part of what it is to be whole, and it is what we do before we come to the table together. This forgiveness, and reconciliation, and peacemaking is amazingly important, because it bears witness to something that is incredibly important. Our gospel story today tells us to bear witness to this important thing. We bear witness to things that are important to us all the time, things that maybe are not quite so important. We bear witness to the great movies or television programs we've seen and want others to enjoy. We bear witness to the accomplishments, or failures, of our sports teams. We bear witness to the important events in our family or work lives. We bear witness -- that is, tell someone about -- the things that matter to us all the time. It's not really all that different when it comes to faith. Witnessing does not mean shoving our faith down someone's throat or threatening them with eternal hellfire if they don't believe like we do. It's simply telling others where we sensed God at work -- at home or work, at church or school, through a stranger or a friend, a doctor or teacher or neighbor, even through ourselves. Bearing witness is nothing more than saying where you think God is at work in your life and the world. We bear witness all the time; we're just not used to thinking about doing it in terms of our faith. We must bear witness to God's love in our lives, we must bear witness to forgiveness, and to peacemaking. Our lives bear witness to Jesus' love. We must bear witness that Love wins. Alleluia, Christ is risen. The Lord is risen indeed. Alleluia!

2 Easter Yr B

After a long day of waiting with his friends, after his friend Jesus had died, Thomas was nowhere to be found. Maybe he figured this thing was over and done with, they couldn't even find Jesus' body, who knows what the soldiers had done with it? Who knew he would miss Jesus? Who knew that Jesus would show up, that was absolutely unimaginable, unreasonable, too much to hope for. But his friends told him afterwards that Jesus was with them. That Jesus had said to them "Peace be with you" and had showed them his hands and side where the holes were.

Thomas scoffed at his friends and said, "You're kidding, right? That can't be true. Besides, in order for me to believe you, I'd have to put my hands in those holes myself." His friends shook their heads and walked away, remembering that Thomas was always the one who wanted proof, he wanted evidence, and in this case, he wanted the gory details.

They met together the next week as usual, and this time Thomas was there. They gathered together in the same room that they had always gathered in, and shut the doors behind them. They were still afraid that the soldiers might come after them.

And then, Jesus was there standing among them. How did he get there?How did he get in? All the doors were locked. Again Jesus said, "Peace be with you," and then he walked right over to Thomas and looked him in the eyes and said, "Thomas, I know you've always been the one who needs not just to know the facts, but you need to feel too. Go ahead, put your fingers on my hands, feel the holes. Go ahead, feel the holes in my side. Feel Thomas, feel the reality of what God has done."

As I listen to this story over and over again, what begins to make sense is that this story is not about belief, or doubt, or even proof and evidence. When I read this story, I realize this is about recognizing Jesus in our midst
in an absolutely new way. I imagine Jesus didn't look the same as his old self. The story says that Jesus said to them, "Peace be with you," he showed them his hands and his side, and then they recognized him, "this is Jesus." This resurrected Jesus was recognized in an absolutely different way.
He didn’t walk through the door like the ordinary Jesus, the doors were locked. They recognized Jesus in his words, Peace be with you, and receive the Holy Spirit. They recognized Jesus in his wounds. They recognized Jesus in transformation.

Maybe Thomas wasn’t there the first time not because he doubted, maybe Thomas wasn’t there the first time because he already knew. Maybe Thomas was already out doing the work of recognizing Christ in others, maybe Thomas was already out bringing the good news of God in our midst to the lonely, the outcasts, the thrown away. Maybe Thomas already knew that if you want to know that God is real, that Christ is alive and at work in the world, the best place for you to be is out there, in the world. Maybe Thomas was the brave one.

Resurrection is not about magic. Resurrection is about the reality of the Kingdom of God. Resurrection is about the God who created all that is seen and unseen, the God who created you and me, doing this absolutely new thing in human history. Resurrection is about this new creation that was begun with Easter, and continues as we encourage one another to be active in projects of new creation, projects of healing and of hope. When we are active in projects of healing and hope, we are standing on the ground that Jesus has won in his resurrection.

According to NT Wright, the Bishop of Durham, in England, writing on resurrection, we are not only the beneficiaries of new creation, we are the agents of it. You and I, when we are active healers, when we are active hopers, we are living in the new creation, and bringing about the Kingdom of God. Thomas, I think, was already about Kingdom business.

Together and with Jesus, we have journeyed through the dark times, we experienced betrayal and lies, we experienced the suffering and death, and we come to this place today, with Thomas and Jesus’ other friends and know that we are made new creations because of the journey. We are made new creations by what Jesus did, and we are agents of new creation by what we do.

Do you need to know what is meaningful? Do you need to know what is real? Do you need to know that God is real? Do you need to know that Christ is alive, that sin and death itself are not the last word? Do you need to experience Christ’s presence? Do you want to touch Jesus, and know that Jesus is really right here with you?

Then hear Jesus’ commission to those upon whom he breathes his spirit; you are being sent out, into the world, and specifically into the world’s brokenness. You are being sent to touch those places, to proclaim and participate in the reconciliation and the healing that is Christ’s work in the world, to be the agents of new creation and transformation in the world. You are being sent because you, each one of us about to gather at Jesus’ table right here, and at every other table at which bread is being broken in remembrance of him, are now the Body of Christ, Jesus’ presence at work in the world, called and empowered to do what Jesus did.

If we want to know what is real, if we want to experience the transformation in Jesus, if we want to recognize Jesus, not only do we do that in this place and at this table, we’ll also have to leave the rooms we lock ourselves in because of fear. We need to do what Thomas did, get out into the world, and insist on touching Christ’s wounds. We can’t sequester ourselves from the world’s pain, we can’t isolate ourselves from our own pain. We can’t numb our pain, or over stimulate ourselves in order to feel something. We can’t keep our mouths shut because we don’t know the words to speak.

Fortunately, Jesus keeps after us, breathing peace and power to go out there and touch the places where the Body of Christ suffers. Jesus keeps after us breathing peace and power to go out there and show people what is real, where there is meaning. Jesus keeps after us, showing us that pain and sorrow, suffering and isolation, do not need to keep us enslaved to fear.

How do we recognize Jesus? How do we experience Jesus? How do we know? By getting out there, by going into the world and doing the work of reconciliation, the work of healing, the work of hope, the work of building relationships, by doing the work that Christ does.

Alleluia! Christ is risen. The Lord is risen indeed. Alleluia!

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.

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.

25 Pentecost Yr C

I think the message from Isaiah and from Luke that we hear today is so exciting. From Isaiah we hear for I am about to create new heavens and a new earth, for I am about to create Jerusalem as a joy, and its people as a delight. And in Luke we hear the promise of new life, the promise that whatever happens, whatever has happened, God is creating something new.

We must always remember that these stories are written in hindsight, the writers are looking back at events that have already happened, as is the case with all stories, true or not true. Even science fiction and fantasy, the kind of stories that I like so much, at the very least comment on events that have already happened, for the purpose of proposing what may be, especially if we don’t change our ways.

The writer of Luke is looking back at the destruction of the temple that has already happened, and seeing it through the lens of the promise of fulfillment by God through Jesus in those days and to come. The event that is being described is the destruction of the temple, the temple was the center of the community’s life. Imagine the story you would tell if this church was destroyed. You would remember where you were when you heard the news, you may remember what you were thinking, what you were doing, who you were with. The destruction of anything, especially a building that is central to your faith and your family is a watershed event. It completely redefines all that came before and all that will come after. Nothing is the same, the people are changed, the landscape is changed. This is the report of destruction in the gospel of Luke that we read this morning. The destruction that is reported is an event that was shared by all Jews. It was an event that would have led them to think the world as they knew it was ending. That event happened about 70 years after Christ, and it is being interpreted in Luke in light of the promise of new life. We make a mistake when we think that these are events that are yet to happen.

The gospel writer Luke, writing after these significant events have happened, is telling a story in which Jesus is the main character. And I think what Luke is trying to do is to reassure people of the hope Jesus brings,
he tells people not to panic, not to be afraid. He writes, “you will be hated by all because of my name. But not a hair of your head will perish.” He is saying, yes, it looks and feels like the end must be coming, but don’t panic. Don’t panic in the face of human destruction. Don’t panic about wars and rumors of wars. Don’t panic when the sky itself shows troublesome portents. Don’t panic when Jesus demands that God and our brothers and sisters in Christ take priority over our biological family.

It is tempting to panic. It is tempting to be ruled by our fears. Especially when we hear so much fear. But we are not to be ruled by fears. Jesus is still with us, giving us words to bear witness to his healing and reconciling of the world to himself. We believe that work will be consummated, and God’s will accomplished on earth as it is in heaven. Endure the troubles that will pass; hold on to Jesus’ vision for us and for the world, and we’ll hold on to our souls, our integrity and our destiny. The rulers of this world put on a convincing show of power, but we who know Jesus know what real power is and what it is doing and can accomplish among us.

It is Jesus’ power and Jesus’ power alone, in a world of darkness and violence, in a world of fear that brings light and hope. The world of injustice and hatred has ended, is ending, and will end. Jesus has seen, is seeing, and will see to that. Don’t panic, be not afraid, for the Light has come into the world, and will not be defeated by darkness.

The Light claims our heart and our soul and our mind. At our baptism, we were united with Christ and marked as Christ’s own forever. Every time we come to this table for nourishment we leave fortified, strengthened, we leave with renewed energy. You and I are bearers of the Light. You and I are co-conspirators in God’s plan of bringing Light into a dark world. The challenge of today’s gospel is about not giving into fear and panic, it is about being a Light bearer.

How are you a Light bearer in this world? How do you bring the good news of God in Jesus Christ into the world in which you live?

At work, and at school, in your neighborhood, and even here, your church home, are you a reconciler? Do you bring peace? Are you an advocate for those who are most vulnerable? Do you treat others with dignity and justice, and do you challenge your coworkers and your classmates to treat one another and others with dignity and justice? Are you a good steward of the abundance of God’s creation? Do you welcome the stranger? Do you by your actions point people to hope? Do you treat children as Jesus treats children?

Light bearing in a dark world is a big job, and we all share that responsibility. God’s plan of reconciliation is a big job, and we all have a part to play in it. Fear has no hold on us, for the Light has come into the world.

May we echo with the angels and archangels, Holy, holy, holy is the God who is Love, who is now, who is then, who is forever. Amen.

21 Pentecost Yr C

Many around the world spent intense hours this past week waiting with one another for the amazing rescue of the trapped workers in the bowels of a Chilean mine. We cheered and wept as one by one the miners and their rescuers were brought to safety. And yet, we can only wonder at the toll those hours, days, weeks, and months have taken on their bodies, their hearts, and their souls. We can’t imagine what life was like in the darkness of the mine; we can’t imagine the ebb and flow of hope and despair. We just can’t imagine.

And yet before us today is a similar story, a story of a people in exile. A story filled with the ebb and flow of hope and despair, a story of crying out to God for rescue, a story that speaks our truth into this so very real world. The power in the scriptures we hear today is that they reveal to us the truth. The truth of our lives, the truth of your life and my life, the truth of the lives of our parents and grandparents, the truth of the lives of our children and grandchildren. All of that truth is contained in what we have before us.

This is a story that not only speaks the truth of a people who came before us; it also speaks the truth of each and every one of us today. It speaks truth collectively and individually. That story may go something like this. Once upon a time there was a young woman, or a young man. This young man worked hard to go to school and get good grades. This young woman graduated from college and got busy working at her job. She was a business major; he caught on with a successful law firm. She worked her way into the management of her company. She fell in love and got married, they had two children. The bottom fell out of the market, they lost their house, they lost their income, they almost lost each other.

Nothing in their lives had prepared them for the difficulty of feeding and clothing their children, caring for each other, rising each morning in a world of lost dreams and despair. Nothing in our lives prepares us for the reality of suffering and loss. Nothing prepares us for the reality of the cruelty of others, whether that is epic like war, or personal, like violence and bullying. Nothing prepares us for the reality of the cruelty of nature, whether that is catastrophic like earthquakes and hurricanes, or the wind bringing a tree down on our house or car.

What gets us through pain and suffering, catastrophe and heartache? What gets me through is that I am formed by this story. I remember this story. I can find myself in this story. A story of a people who had a claim on God. Who believed that God chose them. These people, Israelites they were called, had pursued wealth and power. They were divided into two kingdoms under two different Kings, until they were finally exiled to a foreign place. The chosen people lived in the foreign place, Babylonia, for hundreds of years, until there began to be no memory of live as it had been, life in the promised land. And yet there was a glimmer of the story, a glimmer of hope. Those people didn’t think life could get any worse, the suffering and the shame was immense.

But the wise ones among them kept reminding them of the God who promised to always be with them. They cried out to God, where are you? And they turned to the God who had given them life, who had created them, and who had blessed them.

The story of Israel and Judah that reaches a hopeful place in Jeremiah today is our story. Each one of us asks the question in the midst of our suffering, sadness, grief, where are you God? Why did you leave me, right when I need you? There is so much darkness around me, I can’t feel you, you don’t answer my prayer, you don’t do what I want you to do. What am I supposed to do? Who am I supposed to be?

The people for whom the letter of Timothy was written, the people who originally heard the story of Jesus in Luke, all knew the story of their people, the story of exodus and exile. The story of pain and suffering, of heartache and chaos. They internalized the word of God as we too internalize the word of God. All scripture is inspired by God and is useful for teaching, for reproof, for correction, and for training in righteousness, it says in Timothy today, so that everyone who belongs to God may be proficient, equipped for every good work. Internalizing scripture, knowing these stories, is what gives us hope and joy in troubled times. It is what carries us and accompanies us always, in the good times and the hard times. We must know who we are so that we may act accordingly, and scripture helps us know that.

And lastly in Luke we hear, pray always, do not loose heart. I trust these words because of the truth of the story. Do not loose heart, pray always. Do not loose heart, those are words that surely are hard to hear in the midst of our darkness, under ground in a mine, or underground in my soul. They speak of persistence in prayer. Pray always, how do we do that? My favorite author, Madeleine L’engle is the one from whom I learned that there is no excuse for not praying, and there is no excuse for not praying morning prayer. She says you can pray morning prayer anywhere, even in the bathroom while you’re getting ready for your day. Unceasing prayer is like that. And when you begin to pray at all times and in all places, your prayer begins to change you. When we persistently pray, what happens is that our prayer turns us outward, it may begin with our own wants and needs, but unceasing prayer by its very nature turns outward, it turns us toward justice.

Let’s just see. Let’s say I’m praying while I’m going for my morning walk. It’s a very good time for me to pray. Another good time for me to pray is while I’m doing the dishes, or driving the car, or waiting in line at Walmart, you get the idea. So I’m going for my morning walk, and often I begin with the Anglican rosary prayers that I like, and then I begin praying for people who have asked for my prayers, and then for people whom I need to pray for whether they’ve asked me to or not, and interspersed in all of that is prayers for me and what is going on in my own life are the many blessings and thanksgivings. By the time I’ve finished walking, I’ve come across a new idea, or someone who I need to contact has popped into my mind, or a problem has been solved, and my problems and needs, the perceived inconveniences and hardships of my life creep into the background as I become aware of the work of justice and reconciliation that God calls me to.

And that is what I think Luke is saying with this widow’s story today. Justice and reconciliation arise out of persistent, unceasing prayer that is grounded in scripture. Prayer changes us. Maybe that’s why it’s so hard for folks to pray. Prayer changes us. We begin to hear and see more clearly the injustice and suffering of our world. But we believe in a God who loves us, a God who came to be on this earth as one of us, who lived, loved, suffered and died just like we do, and so we are not disheartened by our prayer, instead we build this supportive community where people can sustain the crying day and night and not lose heart, where we do not tune out, but live in hope and with a sense of trust that does not make us feel like we have to carry the whole world on our shoulders. For facing the pain of the world, facing the pain of our own heartache is, indeed, a crushing experience which most of us cannot bear and which, without support and acceptance we will inevitably either deny or ourselves become part of the hopelessness.

Unceasing prayer helps us also to know that we are not God and do not have to be God, and that we are not alone. Unceasing prayer helps us to know that faith and hope are possible. The widow shows us that justice arises from unceasing prayer, and that together we have all we need to change ourselves and to change the world.

Amen.