Tom’s got a tee shirt that says “what doesn’t kill you will make you stronger.” It’s a tee shirt from Philmont Boy Scout Ranch, a high adventure base in northern New Mexico. I’ve heard it said that Philmont is the adventure a boy scout loves to hate. At the very least, a boy who goes to Philmont doesn’t return the same way he left. Besides being dirty and hungry, with plenty of scrapes and bruises, there’s a change in the way a boy sees the world. Jacob could’ve been wearing that tee shirt in this story today. The story of Jacob wrestling with God, and the story of the feeding of five thousand and then some in Matthew are both stories of transformation.
Jacob’s story is not unlike ours, except for the two wives, two maids, and eleven children, I hope. Jacob wrestled through the night with God and lived through it. But we’ve learned elsewhere that no one survives a face-to-face meeting with God without dying and rising to the new life that God promises. Jacob wrestled with God and was made a new man, he received a new name, and he received a new wound. Transformation is not an easy journey, it is a journey on which we die to ourselves, our obsessions, our materialism, and we rise to the new life that God offers to us.
There’s an old friend of ours, Jenny, who at age 18 was skiing in Colorado, and her life was suddenly changed. She fell, and never got up again. That fall resulted in Jenny being quadriplegic. She was an athlete in high school, a diver. Jenny wrestled with God; her wound is deep and permanent. But Jenny has worked hard at her independent life, and has been executive director of an organization called Helping Paws. Helping Paws trains dogs and their people to manage life together. Jenny would tell you that she is thankful for the new person she became after her injury. Her injury has made her completely different, and in her opinion, better. The people who know Jenny would attest to the gift she is just the way she is, she has shown that ministry happens out of being wounded.
All of us don’t have that outward wound that Jenny has. Most of our wounds cannot be seen. But just the same, the new life we receive can be a gift. It is not the same as our old life, and it is marked by our wounds. Jesus’ journey to the cross, Jesus’ wounds, and death on that cross is what makes it possible for you and me to survive the wounds that this world deals out, the wounds that sometimes we inflict ourselves. That wound is the place from which we minister. That wound is the place from which our compassion grows. That wound is the place from which our love for our enemies have meaning. That wound is what gives us hope.
Hope. Woundedness gives us hope. Seems like an odd sort of thought, doesn’t it. It seems counter to what everything in our culture would tell us about hope. Hope is about a secure future. Hope is about the American dream, including a house, a yard, healthy children, a pension and good retirement.
The hope of the gospel is nothing like that. Hope is about dying; hope is about being wounded, hope is about having everything you think is important being stripped away, and surviving it. Not just surviving it, but being given a new name. Beloved, delight of God’s life.
The disciples in the story we heard from Matthew today, were forgetting about the hope that Jesus offered. After Jesus retreats for some peace and quiet, and the crowds won’t leave him alone, Jesus teaches and cures the sick. As the afternoon wore on, the disciples thought they would send the 5000 or so people into the towns to find something to eat. Can you imagine, out there on the hillside, sending the crowd into town to find something to eat. Someone wasn’t planning ahead. Instead, Jesus tells the disciples to give them something to eat. Their response, “we have nothing to offer, except these five loaves of bread and two fish.”
The disciples responded to Jesus with an exasperation that tells of their lack of hope. And their lack of understanding of what Jesus was capable of doing. The disciples responded to Jesus from a position of scarcity. “We have nothing here.” They did not see the five thousand and some people in front of them, with all their woundedness, with all their suffering, with all their joy and excitement to just be in the presence of this rabbi.
And Jesus shows them the abundance that surrounds them. Look what we have, five loaves of bread, and two fish, and all these people with everything they bring with them. “We have enough,” Jesus says, “we have enough.” Jesus blesses what they have, and everyone was fed that day. Not only were they fed, they had leftovers. Twelve baskets of leftovers, enough for everyone in the whole world to be fed.
Too often we approach the world like Jacob, and like the disciples. We approach the world from a position of scarcity. Scarcity that is about the wall we put up around us so that no one can see our fear, our lack of hope, our belief that we are not good enough. God wrestles with us to break down that wall, and in the encounter we are wounded. Scarcity is about letting our woundedness be a source of despair, rather than a fountain of strength and hope. It is in that place that we begin to see the blessing that God has given. We begin to see the abundance that God has for us.
Abundance and blessing. We are transformed. We are fed with the bread and the fish. We are nourished and healed. But the abundance doesn’t end with us. That’s the wonder of the twelve baskets of leftovers. Our blessing is to get those leftovers out to those who need them. We meet God in the encounter, and we cannot be the same because of the encounter, we meet one another face to face as we break bread together, and we have enough to bring out into the world to those who need to be fed, healed, and transformed.
It is our woundedness, our broken hips and our broken hearts, that make us compassionate ministers. We are nourished by the abundance of God’s blessings, in one another and in the bread. We have enough, we have all that is needed, to feed the 5000, and then some.
Alleluia. The Spirit of the Lord renews the face of the earth:
Come let us adore him. Alleluia.
Saturday, August 2, 2008
Saturday, July 26, 2008
11 Pentecost Yr A
In a culture where bigger seems always to be better, this little collection of parables just don’t fit. When the life of the spirit is ignored, and people are fed with the only nourishment available, the consumptive acquisition of material goods, these stories just seem silly. But these stories show us the Kingdom of God, and the Kingdom of God is surprising, even shocking, amazing and wonderful. Each of these stories is about the ordinary, the mundane. They are not about anything really valuable, except the pearl, possibly. A mustard seed, leaven and dough, a treasure hidden in an ordinary field, shopping, and fish. The smallness of the mustard seed is inappropriate for the greatness of the Kingdom of God. The amount of leavening dough will expand far beyond its original container. These kingdom of God parables serve to show us that the kingdom of God is nothing like the ordinary, nothing like the known, nothing like the empire, nothing like social relationships, nothing like family relationships.
And each of these little stories shows us transformation. The Kingdom of God is like a mustard seed turning into a plant, yeast turning into more dough than anyone can bake, an ordinary field becomes a treasure chest; an empty net becomes full of fish.
The Kingdom of God was and is breaking in to the present world, to earth. That is what Jesus taught us to pray for. This is what the resurrection and ascension of Jesus and the gift of the Spirit are about. We are not to be taken away from this earth but the resurrection makes us agents of the transformation of this earth, today and in the future, this is the now and not yet, Christ has died, Christ is risen, Christ will come again.
The Kingdom of God is so big, so amazing, so wonderful there is nothing in our experience to which it can be related, therefore metaphor and parable are all we have. Our language can only point to the possibility, the picture can only begin to tickle the imagination. The Kingdom of God is like this little mustard seed taking hold and growing, eventually it becomes a bush in which the birds can find shelter and rest. The Kingdom of God is like the yeast in the dough, enough to make that dough so huge it cannot be contained.
The Kingdom of God transforms your life, right here, right now. What was dead is alive. Wake up people, to the promise of new life, to the promise of transformation, to the promise that you will encounter God in your midst in the mundane and ordinary.
Where do we see God at work in our midst? Where do we see a mustard seed-like bush, that really doesn’t exist for it’s own sake, but for the sake of those who benefit from its life?
These encounters are all around us. Each time we say yes to the possibility that like the mustard bush, we don’t exist for our own sake, but for the sake of those who may benefit from our protection, or encouragement or kindness. Each time we say yes to the possibility that life can be deeper and meaningful because God came into our midst and lived and loved, suffered and died we become more like the human God has called us to be.
The thing about transformation, this kind of transformation, where God takes hold and does something surprising, even shocking is that it usually feels like chaos, it usually feels like a loss of control. In fact, I do believe when we feel most in control, we are farthest from being molded and shaped in God’s image. But most of our energy is spent on staying in control, preserving the comfortable. The parables show us however that after the encounter, nothing is the same. Everything changes when you find, or are found by, the gospel.
Do we live our lives in this reality? Do we really live our lives so that the gospel which startles us, shocks us, challenges us, is at the center of our lives? Because when we do, stuff happens, a new thing arrives. We can never plan these new things, or new people, or new challenges, but we can say yes to them, we can make room for the possibility that God is interested in reaching out to us with the gift of new life, resurrection. And when we do, all of a sudden we begin to hear God’s call. People enter our lives that make us think, or make us uncomfortable, or demand our attention, our energy, our resources. When we live our lives with the gospel at the center, we realize that pain and forgiveness are part of the reality, and we see our sinfulness, our shortcomings, a little more clearly, at least clearly enough that we are brought to our knees to be forgiven.
When we continue to ignore the gospel surprise, and when we divert our attention to removing whatever it is that is causing disruption to minimize the pain and confusion, we only forestall or anesthetize it. And the irony is the forestalled pain must be felt, and when it is, whatever confronted us in the first place seems worse in scope and degree than what it might have been to begin.
What is God calling us to? What does this gospel call us to do? We must ask ourselves these questions. We must look head on at these stories and let them startle us out of our complacency. We must let them call us to be who God has created us to be, even in the chaos of the response.
Alleluia. The Spirit of the Lord renews the face of the earth:
Come let us adore him. Alleluia.
And each of these little stories shows us transformation. The Kingdom of God is like a mustard seed turning into a plant, yeast turning into more dough than anyone can bake, an ordinary field becomes a treasure chest; an empty net becomes full of fish.
The Kingdom of God was and is breaking in to the present world, to earth. That is what Jesus taught us to pray for. This is what the resurrection and ascension of Jesus and the gift of the Spirit are about. We are not to be taken away from this earth but the resurrection makes us agents of the transformation of this earth, today and in the future, this is the now and not yet, Christ has died, Christ is risen, Christ will come again.
The Kingdom of God is so big, so amazing, so wonderful there is nothing in our experience to which it can be related, therefore metaphor and parable are all we have. Our language can only point to the possibility, the picture can only begin to tickle the imagination. The Kingdom of God is like this little mustard seed taking hold and growing, eventually it becomes a bush in which the birds can find shelter and rest. The Kingdom of God is like the yeast in the dough, enough to make that dough so huge it cannot be contained.
The Kingdom of God transforms your life, right here, right now. What was dead is alive. Wake up people, to the promise of new life, to the promise of transformation, to the promise that you will encounter God in your midst in the mundane and ordinary.
Where do we see God at work in our midst? Where do we see a mustard seed-like bush, that really doesn’t exist for it’s own sake, but for the sake of those who benefit from its life?
These encounters are all around us. Each time we say yes to the possibility that like the mustard bush, we don’t exist for our own sake, but for the sake of those who may benefit from our protection, or encouragement or kindness. Each time we say yes to the possibility that life can be deeper and meaningful because God came into our midst and lived and loved, suffered and died we become more like the human God has called us to be.
The thing about transformation, this kind of transformation, where God takes hold and does something surprising, even shocking is that it usually feels like chaos, it usually feels like a loss of control. In fact, I do believe when we feel most in control, we are farthest from being molded and shaped in God’s image. But most of our energy is spent on staying in control, preserving the comfortable. The parables show us however that after the encounter, nothing is the same. Everything changes when you find, or are found by, the gospel.
Do we live our lives in this reality? Do we really live our lives so that the gospel which startles us, shocks us, challenges us, is at the center of our lives? Because when we do, stuff happens, a new thing arrives. We can never plan these new things, or new people, or new challenges, but we can say yes to them, we can make room for the possibility that God is interested in reaching out to us with the gift of new life, resurrection. And when we do, all of a sudden we begin to hear God’s call. People enter our lives that make us think, or make us uncomfortable, or demand our attention, our energy, our resources. When we live our lives with the gospel at the center, we realize that pain and forgiveness are part of the reality, and we see our sinfulness, our shortcomings, a little more clearly, at least clearly enough that we are brought to our knees to be forgiven.
When we continue to ignore the gospel surprise, and when we divert our attention to removing whatever it is that is causing disruption to minimize the pain and confusion, we only forestall or anesthetize it. And the irony is the forestalled pain must be felt, and when it is, whatever confronted us in the first place seems worse in scope and degree than what it might have been to begin.
What is God calling us to? What does this gospel call us to do? We must ask ourselves these questions. We must look head on at these stories and let them startle us out of our complacency. We must let them call us to be who God has created us to be, even in the chaos of the response.
Alleluia. The Spirit of the Lord renews the face of the earth:
Come let us adore him. Alleluia.
Monday, July 21, 2008
10 Pentecost Yr A
The two biggest Minnesota Viking fans of all time, Sven and Ole were up to no good again. They went to Wisconsin to try to sabotage the Packer’s locker room, so the Packer’s would get trapped in there and wouldn’t be able to make it to the big game on Sunday. Well, as it turned out, Sven and Ole’s plan failed, and they were both suffocated to death themselves, while trying to crawl through the ductwork.
Sven and Ole went up to the pearly gates where St. Peter was waiting for them. St. Peter just looked at them and said, “Don’t even think about it. I’ve been hearing about your shenanigans for years now, and quite frankly, I’ve been waiting for this moment.” Sven and Ole were puzzled by St. Peter’s outburst, but they soon found themselves in a very unpleasant place called hell. The devil approached them and told them to shovel 15 tons of coal into the blast furnace in 8 hours, or they would be in big trouble. They did it, 8 hours later Sven and Ole were relaxing on the pile of coal, and the devil came back. The devil asked, “How do you two like hell?” And Sven said, “Vell, it wasn’t too tougha job. The temperature isa bout right. It feels like Minnesota in June, don’t ya know.”
This made the devil very angry, so he turned up the furnace and gave them another 8 hours to shovel 20 tons of coal. The devil came back and there were Sven and Ole relaxing on the coal pile again. The devil asked, “How do you like hell now, does the heat bother you yet?” Ole answered, “Vell, it feels like Minnesota in July, or maybe even August fer sure.”
The devil became so outraged that he turned off the furnaces completely, and opened a cavern that led straight to the North Pole. The devil told them they had 8 hours to shovel the 40 tons of snow that came blowing in. The temperature soon fell to 60 below zero. Time passed and the devil came back. Sven and Ole were reclining in their homemade igloo. The devil could not believe this at all. He asked Sven and Ole how they like hell now. Sven and Ole said that it felt yust like January in Minnesota.
Then they asked the devil what the score of the game was. The devil was bewildered and said, “Why do you ask?” “Vell,” said Sven, “Da Vikings must’ve surely won dat dare Super Bowl, seein’ as how dis here place is frozen over.”
I tell you this Sven and Ole joke, partly because it’s one of my favorites, and partly because it illustrates something important about common speech. Much of our conversation and our written words are in a kind of form. I just told you a joke; most of us recognize the form of a joke. And, I just told you a particular kind of joke, as soon as I said “Sven and Ole” you knew what to expect. It would be stupid it may make fun of Minnesotans, or Packer fans, the details may change from joke to joke, but the form and the characters stay the same. We are familiar with other forms of speech and story telling. When I say, “Once upon a time….” You know I will follow with a fairy tale. If I start with, “A priest, a minister, and a rabbi walked into a bar” you know that another kind of joke is to follow. If I began with something like, “My grandfather always told me…” you may recognize that as an object lesson or a teaching story. If I begin with, “Be it resolved that on this day, the twentieth of July, two thousand eight…” we may be hearing some sort of legal document. Well, you get the picture.
Scripture is full of literature forms, the lists of who begot who is a form, the beginning of the gospel of Luke, we often call the prologue is a form, its purpose is to set up the status of the one the story is about. The Beatitudes are a form; they set up a list of virtues, and then a list of vices.
The parables are a form. Any Jew of Jesus’ time, as soon as they heard “The Kingdom of God is like….” or in Matthew, “The Kingdom of heaven is like…” would know that a parable would follow, and would know that the parable is left up to the interpretation of the hearer.
The use of irony, idiom, metaphor, is all dependent on context and even delivery. No wonder we have such a difficult time with parables.
Another thing about parables is that Jesus told them to effect a response in his disciples, and in you and me, who are also disciples. That response may be surprise, it may even be shock. If you aren’t shocked by a parable, you need to take a closer look.
Let’s take a closer look at this morning’s parable. The farm hands of the householder have discovered that someone has sowed weeds in the wheat, and they are beginning to grow alongside the wheat. The farm hands want to pull the weeds, but the householder tells them not to because pulling the weeds would destroy the wheat as well. The householder tells them to let the weeds and the wheat grow together until the harvest; and at harvest time collect the weeds first and burn them, and then gather the wheat. Not too much shocking there, but that’s because we are not insiders, we don’t get the irony, we don’t know the idiom, we have to learn some things and then take a closer look.
The wheat and the weeds grow up together. To remove the weeds is to kill the wheat. These are a particular kind of weed. The weed, or tare, in our gospel parable is a specific plant—darnel—a grass that grows in the same zones where wheat is produced. Darnel looks very much like wheat when it is immature; its roots intertwine with those of the wheat and its toxic grains are loosely attached to the stem. The problem of what to do with an infested field does not have a simple solution—pull up the shoots and you pull up the wheat; wait until the harvest and you poison the grain and contaminate next year’s crop with failing seeds.
Parables elicit many interpretations, today I would propose two. The first one has to do with judgment and mercy, the second with death and resurrection.
It is reported that the one who is responsible for the weeds is an enemy. But instead of attacking the enemy who put the weeds there, The householder let the weeds and the wheat live together until harvest, If the householder is like God, the field hands are disciples like you and me, the weeds are those who we may consider bad, or evildoers, or even merely those with whom we disagree, and the wheat is those who we may consider good, right thinking, or merely those with whom we agree; the point is that Jesus’ disciples, you and me are to let the wheat and the weeds grow side by side and leave judgment to God.
Now, that is shocking. Judgment is up to God, Not up to you or me. God’s judgment, God’s righteousness, God’s perfection is perfect love and mercy. Blessings of sun and rain fall upon the righteous and unrighteous alike.
What has happened here is that Jesus has removed the burden of judgment from our shoulders. Jesus went to the cross and absorbed and contained the evil of the world, the evil of his tormenters. Jesus has freed us to give in to love. Don’t be afraid of those weeds, don’t give in to fear. We are not called to serve as judge, judging will only make us more anxious as we try to maintain constant vigilance, always eyeing our neighbor to try to pick out the enemy.
Our vocation is to love, as God first loved us. Jesus is the merciful judge; we don’t have to worry about how to do his job. Jesus is the merciful judge, and so we have access to an unshakable hope, the blessed assurance that we will be judged with the same infinite mercy, as will our enemies.
The wheat and the tare are intertwined; to pull the weeds is to kill the plant. It’s a desperate situation. But we know from this side of the story that Jesus is in a desperate situation. We know that his life leads him to suffering and death on the cross, and we also know that ultimately God inaugurates the new creation in Jesus’ resurrection, but not without the suffering that precedes it. Another way to experience this parable of the wheat and the tare is to let it teach us about death and resurrection. Maybe the householder is wise in letting the wheat and the tare grow up together because the householder knows something about suffering and death. The wheat will die because the tare kills it off. Maybe this parable is about dying to that which is killing us so that we may rise again to the new life that God has in store for us. What is it that is killing us? What is it that we need to die to so that we may have the new life that God promises? What is it that we need to die to so that the clutter is cleared and we may hear God’s call to us?
What is it that our church needs to die to, so that we may hear God’s call to us? Maybe this parable is about dying to that which is killing us so that we may rise again to the new life that God has in store for us.
Maybe this parable is about justice and mercy, maybe this parable is about dying and rising again, maybe this time, this parable is about you.
Alleluia. The Spirit of the Lord renews the face of the earth:
Come let us adore him. Alleluia.
Sven and Ole went up to the pearly gates where St. Peter was waiting for them. St. Peter just looked at them and said, “Don’t even think about it. I’ve been hearing about your shenanigans for years now, and quite frankly, I’ve been waiting for this moment.” Sven and Ole were puzzled by St. Peter’s outburst, but they soon found themselves in a very unpleasant place called hell. The devil approached them and told them to shovel 15 tons of coal into the blast furnace in 8 hours, or they would be in big trouble. They did it, 8 hours later Sven and Ole were relaxing on the pile of coal, and the devil came back. The devil asked, “How do you two like hell?” And Sven said, “Vell, it wasn’t too tougha job. The temperature isa bout right. It feels like Minnesota in June, don’t ya know.”
This made the devil very angry, so he turned up the furnace and gave them another 8 hours to shovel 20 tons of coal. The devil came back and there were Sven and Ole relaxing on the coal pile again. The devil asked, “How do you like hell now, does the heat bother you yet?” Ole answered, “Vell, it feels like Minnesota in July, or maybe even August fer sure.”
The devil became so outraged that he turned off the furnaces completely, and opened a cavern that led straight to the North Pole. The devil told them they had 8 hours to shovel the 40 tons of snow that came blowing in. The temperature soon fell to 60 below zero. Time passed and the devil came back. Sven and Ole were reclining in their homemade igloo. The devil could not believe this at all. He asked Sven and Ole how they like hell now. Sven and Ole said that it felt yust like January in Minnesota.
Then they asked the devil what the score of the game was. The devil was bewildered and said, “Why do you ask?” “Vell,” said Sven, “Da Vikings must’ve surely won dat dare Super Bowl, seein’ as how dis here place is frozen over.”
I tell you this Sven and Ole joke, partly because it’s one of my favorites, and partly because it illustrates something important about common speech. Much of our conversation and our written words are in a kind of form. I just told you a joke; most of us recognize the form of a joke. And, I just told you a particular kind of joke, as soon as I said “Sven and Ole” you knew what to expect. It would be stupid it may make fun of Minnesotans, or Packer fans, the details may change from joke to joke, but the form and the characters stay the same. We are familiar with other forms of speech and story telling. When I say, “Once upon a time….” You know I will follow with a fairy tale. If I start with, “A priest, a minister, and a rabbi walked into a bar” you know that another kind of joke is to follow. If I began with something like, “My grandfather always told me…” you may recognize that as an object lesson or a teaching story. If I begin with, “Be it resolved that on this day, the twentieth of July, two thousand eight…” we may be hearing some sort of legal document. Well, you get the picture.
Scripture is full of literature forms, the lists of who begot who is a form, the beginning of the gospel of Luke, we often call the prologue is a form, its purpose is to set up the status of the one the story is about. The Beatitudes are a form; they set up a list of virtues, and then a list of vices.
The parables are a form. Any Jew of Jesus’ time, as soon as they heard “The Kingdom of God is like….” or in Matthew, “The Kingdom of heaven is like…” would know that a parable would follow, and would know that the parable is left up to the interpretation of the hearer.
The use of irony, idiom, metaphor, is all dependent on context and even delivery. No wonder we have such a difficult time with parables.
Another thing about parables is that Jesus told them to effect a response in his disciples, and in you and me, who are also disciples. That response may be surprise, it may even be shock. If you aren’t shocked by a parable, you need to take a closer look.
Let’s take a closer look at this morning’s parable. The farm hands of the householder have discovered that someone has sowed weeds in the wheat, and they are beginning to grow alongside the wheat. The farm hands want to pull the weeds, but the householder tells them not to because pulling the weeds would destroy the wheat as well. The householder tells them to let the weeds and the wheat grow together until the harvest; and at harvest time collect the weeds first and burn them, and then gather the wheat. Not too much shocking there, but that’s because we are not insiders, we don’t get the irony, we don’t know the idiom, we have to learn some things and then take a closer look.
The wheat and the weeds grow up together. To remove the weeds is to kill the wheat. These are a particular kind of weed. The weed, or tare, in our gospel parable is a specific plant—darnel—a grass that grows in the same zones where wheat is produced. Darnel looks very much like wheat when it is immature; its roots intertwine with those of the wheat and its toxic grains are loosely attached to the stem. The problem of what to do with an infested field does not have a simple solution—pull up the shoots and you pull up the wheat; wait until the harvest and you poison the grain and contaminate next year’s crop with failing seeds.
Parables elicit many interpretations, today I would propose two. The first one has to do with judgment and mercy, the second with death and resurrection.
It is reported that the one who is responsible for the weeds is an enemy. But instead of attacking the enemy who put the weeds there, The householder let the weeds and the wheat live together until harvest, If the householder is like God, the field hands are disciples like you and me, the weeds are those who we may consider bad, or evildoers, or even merely those with whom we disagree, and the wheat is those who we may consider good, right thinking, or merely those with whom we agree; the point is that Jesus’ disciples, you and me are to let the wheat and the weeds grow side by side and leave judgment to God.
Now, that is shocking. Judgment is up to God, Not up to you or me. God’s judgment, God’s righteousness, God’s perfection is perfect love and mercy. Blessings of sun and rain fall upon the righteous and unrighteous alike.
What has happened here is that Jesus has removed the burden of judgment from our shoulders. Jesus went to the cross and absorbed and contained the evil of the world, the evil of his tormenters. Jesus has freed us to give in to love. Don’t be afraid of those weeds, don’t give in to fear. We are not called to serve as judge, judging will only make us more anxious as we try to maintain constant vigilance, always eyeing our neighbor to try to pick out the enemy.
Our vocation is to love, as God first loved us. Jesus is the merciful judge; we don’t have to worry about how to do his job. Jesus is the merciful judge, and so we have access to an unshakable hope, the blessed assurance that we will be judged with the same infinite mercy, as will our enemies.
The wheat and the tare are intertwined; to pull the weeds is to kill the plant. It’s a desperate situation. But we know from this side of the story that Jesus is in a desperate situation. We know that his life leads him to suffering and death on the cross, and we also know that ultimately God inaugurates the new creation in Jesus’ resurrection, but not without the suffering that precedes it. Another way to experience this parable of the wheat and the tare is to let it teach us about death and resurrection. Maybe the householder is wise in letting the wheat and the tare grow up together because the householder knows something about suffering and death. The wheat will die because the tare kills it off. Maybe this parable is about dying to that which is killing us so that we may rise again to the new life that God has in store for us. What is it that is killing us? What is it that we need to die to so that we may have the new life that God promises? What is it that we need to die to so that the clutter is cleared and we may hear God’s call to us?
What is it that our church needs to die to, so that we may hear God’s call to us? Maybe this parable is about dying to that which is killing us so that we may rise again to the new life that God has in store for us.
Maybe this parable is about justice and mercy, maybe this parable is about dying and rising again, maybe this time, this parable is about you.
Alleluia. The Spirit of the Lord renews the face of the earth:
Come let us adore him. Alleluia.
Saturday, July 12, 2008
9 Pentecost Yr A
The Kingdom of God is like a farmer who sows seeds, some fall on the path and the birds eat them up, some fall on the rocky soil and they spring up and wither quickly, some fall among thorns and are choked, others fall on fertile ground and bring forth grain. The Kingdom of God is like… always precedes a story like this one, whether or not the words are actually there. Jesus teaches his hearers about the Kingdom of God when he tells these stories that at times seem so difficult to enter into. But remember, you are always a character in these stories; you can find yourself there somewhere.
These Kingdom of God stories, these parables, are all about you and me and our role in God’s kingdom. We are agents of new creation; the new creation is the Kingdom of God. God began something absolutely new with Jesus. Just as God created the heavens and the earth and all the creatures in the beginning, God recreates the heavens and the earth with this new thing he does in Jesus. In the incarnation, in the word made flesh, in the midst of you and me. This new thing is the Kingdom, it is the new creation, it is where you and I belong, it is where you and I live.
In this particular Kingdom of God story, it is clear that the Kingdom is diverse. There is the path, the rocky soil, the thorns, and the fertile ground. In God’s Kingdom, we are at one time or another like any one of these soils. I’m not going to say to you today be like the fertile soil or else. I don’t think that’s the way of the Kingdom. The way of the Kingdom is that as human beings we are at one time or another like the thorns, or the stony path, or the rocky soil, or the fertile ground. But it is also very clear that when we are like the fertile soil, we will bear fruit. And bearing fruit is what the gospel writer Matthew is all about. The marker of one who participates fully as an agent of new creation, as a co-creator with God of this absolutely new thing that God is doing, is the fruit.
There is not a single story that tells us exactly what kind of fruit we should bear. There are stories about figs, olives, dates, pomegranates, which would all make an interesting salad. And there are no stories about tomatoes or mangos that are themselves delicious. The stories of the Kingdom are about fruit that is good and healthy.
Being an agent of new creation, participating in the story of the life, death and resurrection of Jesus, is a fruit bearing activity. It is to encounter Jesus in our midst, it is to live a life transformed by the resurrection so that resurrection is abundantly evident in all you do. Living as an agent of new creation is to take incarnation seriously. God in the flesh, God in our midst, is a reality that is embodied by people we may encounter every day.
I was up at the office of the Pennington county treasurer just the other day. Now anyone whose last name begins with L was informed quite some time ago that it would be a good idea to take care of license tabs before the 30th of June, because a whole new computer system would be coming online and there surely would be some bugs to work out. Well, I took care of our cars, Rick actually did, before the end of June, so we figured that was that. But Willie, on his way to EYE, said that he thought the tabs on the Honda were expired. Now, I thought to myself, I took care of that when I transferred that title after we bought that car from Fr. Bill’s estate, but at the same time I thought, why would he be telling me that now, those tabs would have expired in May. Well, I took a look and low and behold, the tabs were expired, I had completely overlooked transferring that title. So now, knowing there were long lines at the treasurer’s office, I had to go and take care of transferring a title that I really thought I had already done.
So, I went, brought the book I’ve been reading, and prepared to wait in line. I purposely did not look at the time; it only makes me nervous, although my hunch is I waited in line for an hour and a half. I was behind a family with three little ones, and they were delightful. When I was finally the one at the front of the line, I went as soon as called, “next person in line!”
I briefly told my story to Jerri, the Pennington County Treasurers Office clerk, and plunked the 2-inch thick file folder that Bill kept on the Honda on the counter top. I pulled out the title and the bill of sale, and Jerri looked at them quickly and then asked, do you have a release of lien? I must have looked dumbfounded. I began to look through the 2-inch file, and said to her that it must be here, Fr. Bill kept every piece of paper including cancelled checks. Well, it wasn’t there. I think I could have cried.
But this is where fruit bearing comes into this story. Jerri got on the phone to Wells Fargo bank, it was Norwest Bank when Bill took out that loan, and stayed on the phone until she got someone to fax her a “release of lien.” I imagine that I stood in front of Jerri’s counter spot for at least another 45 minutes, while she worked some sort of magic to make this happen.
Jerri could as easily have told me to go away and figure this thing out myself, as making it happen herself. After a couple weeks of long lines and a computer system that had bugs yet to be worked out, Jerri could have been cross with me, she could have told me there was nothing she could do until I had the piece of paper I needed. Whether or not Jerri intended, she was an agent of new creation. She called out of me my best; she turned a difficult situation into a blessing. Not only did I leave the Pennington County Courthouse that day with new license plates, I had spent a solid two hours reading a great book, I had enjoyed the company, I had witnessed incarnation and resurrection, and I went away knowing that Jesus is alive and well in our lives.
Fertile ground receives the seed, and the seed is transformed into something that is absolutely different than it was when it went into the ground. All transformation presupposes death. The fruit that is born from the fertile ground and the seed is fruit that is born from suffering and death. There is no other way. When we walk with Jesus, we open our lives to the suffering and death that is inherent on the way. But when we walk with Jesus, we also become agents of new creation, bearers of the love that God has for all of us. We proclaim God’s love and delight by the fruit that we bear.
I’d like to finish today with the words to a song written and recorded by a woman out of Sioux Falls, Sara Thomsen. The song itself is a parable, and helps me to hear the Kingdom of God is like…..
Darkness cover me
like a blanket of night
oh, cover me lightly
Shadows gather around me
Deepening darkness
Whispering softly
Holy Maker of Moonlight
Singing through the starlight
Keeper of all life
Hidden seed deep in the dark soil of the earth
Fertile ground, womb of the night, bring us new birth
Alleluia. The Spirit of the Lord renews the face of the earth:
Come let us adore him. Alleluia.
These Kingdom of God stories, these parables, are all about you and me and our role in God’s kingdom. We are agents of new creation; the new creation is the Kingdom of God. God began something absolutely new with Jesus. Just as God created the heavens and the earth and all the creatures in the beginning, God recreates the heavens and the earth with this new thing he does in Jesus. In the incarnation, in the word made flesh, in the midst of you and me. This new thing is the Kingdom, it is the new creation, it is where you and I belong, it is where you and I live.
In this particular Kingdom of God story, it is clear that the Kingdom is diverse. There is the path, the rocky soil, the thorns, and the fertile ground. In God’s Kingdom, we are at one time or another like any one of these soils. I’m not going to say to you today be like the fertile soil or else. I don’t think that’s the way of the Kingdom. The way of the Kingdom is that as human beings we are at one time or another like the thorns, or the stony path, or the rocky soil, or the fertile ground. But it is also very clear that when we are like the fertile soil, we will bear fruit. And bearing fruit is what the gospel writer Matthew is all about. The marker of one who participates fully as an agent of new creation, as a co-creator with God of this absolutely new thing that God is doing, is the fruit.
There is not a single story that tells us exactly what kind of fruit we should bear. There are stories about figs, olives, dates, pomegranates, which would all make an interesting salad. And there are no stories about tomatoes or mangos that are themselves delicious. The stories of the Kingdom are about fruit that is good and healthy.
Being an agent of new creation, participating in the story of the life, death and resurrection of Jesus, is a fruit bearing activity. It is to encounter Jesus in our midst, it is to live a life transformed by the resurrection so that resurrection is abundantly evident in all you do. Living as an agent of new creation is to take incarnation seriously. God in the flesh, God in our midst, is a reality that is embodied by people we may encounter every day.
I was up at the office of the Pennington county treasurer just the other day. Now anyone whose last name begins with L was informed quite some time ago that it would be a good idea to take care of license tabs before the 30th of June, because a whole new computer system would be coming online and there surely would be some bugs to work out. Well, I took care of our cars, Rick actually did, before the end of June, so we figured that was that. But Willie, on his way to EYE, said that he thought the tabs on the Honda were expired. Now, I thought to myself, I took care of that when I transferred that title after we bought that car from Fr. Bill’s estate, but at the same time I thought, why would he be telling me that now, those tabs would have expired in May. Well, I took a look and low and behold, the tabs were expired, I had completely overlooked transferring that title. So now, knowing there were long lines at the treasurer’s office, I had to go and take care of transferring a title that I really thought I had already done.
So, I went, brought the book I’ve been reading, and prepared to wait in line. I purposely did not look at the time; it only makes me nervous, although my hunch is I waited in line for an hour and a half. I was behind a family with three little ones, and they were delightful. When I was finally the one at the front of the line, I went as soon as called, “next person in line!”
I briefly told my story to Jerri, the Pennington County Treasurers Office clerk, and plunked the 2-inch thick file folder that Bill kept on the Honda on the counter top. I pulled out the title and the bill of sale, and Jerri looked at them quickly and then asked, do you have a release of lien? I must have looked dumbfounded. I began to look through the 2-inch file, and said to her that it must be here, Fr. Bill kept every piece of paper including cancelled checks. Well, it wasn’t there. I think I could have cried.
But this is where fruit bearing comes into this story. Jerri got on the phone to Wells Fargo bank, it was Norwest Bank when Bill took out that loan, and stayed on the phone until she got someone to fax her a “release of lien.” I imagine that I stood in front of Jerri’s counter spot for at least another 45 minutes, while she worked some sort of magic to make this happen.
Jerri could as easily have told me to go away and figure this thing out myself, as making it happen herself. After a couple weeks of long lines and a computer system that had bugs yet to be worked out, Jerri could have been cross with me, she could have told me there was nothing she could do until I had the piece of paper I needed. Whether or not Jerri intended, she was an agent of new creation. She called out of me my best; she turned a difficult situation into a blessing. Not only did I leave the Pennington County Courthouse that day with new license plates, I had spent a solid two hours reading a great book, I had enjoyed the company, I had witnessed incarnation and resurrection, and I went away knowing that Jesus is alive and well in our lives.
Fertile ground receives the seed, and the seed is transformed into something that is absolutely different than it was when it went into the ground. All transformation presupposes death. The fruit that is born from the fertile ground and the seed is fruit that is born from suffering and death. There is no other way. When we walk with Jesus, we open our lives to the suffering and death that is inherent on the way. But when we walk with Jesus, we also become agents of new creation, bearers of the love that God has for all of us. We proclaim God’s love and delight by the fruit that we bear.
I’d like to finish today with the words to a song written and recorded by a woman out of Sioux Falls, Sara Thomsen. The song itself is a parable, and helps me to hear the Kingdom of God is like…..
Darkness cover me
like a blanket of night
oh, cover me lightly
Shadows gather around me
Deepening darkness
Whispering softly
Holy Maker of Moonlight
Singing through the starlight
Keeper of all life
Hidden seed deep in the dark soil of the earth
Fertile ground, womb of the night, bring us new birth
Alleluia. The Spirit of the Lord renews the face of the earth:
Come let us adore him. Alleluia.
Saturday, July 5, 2008
8 Pentecost Yr A
Hear what comfortable words our Saviour Christ saith unto all who truly turn to him. Come unto me, all ye that travail and are heavy laden, and I will refresh you. Some may recognize these as the “comfortable words” from the 1928 prayer book. These words connect us in a timeless way to all those before us who held in their hands their beloved prayer books, and they connect us in some mystical way to all those who will come after us, probably reading the prayers projected on a flat screen. These “comfortable” words are from the gospel of Matthew as we have just heard. In the 1928 prayer book, they are accompanied by the words from the gospel of John, for God so loved the world that he gave his only begotten son that all who believe in him will have eternal life. In the 1928 prayer book, these comfortable words follow the words of absolution, they remind us just as they have reminded all those faithful people that came before us, that in the midst of our humanity, in the midst of our failings and sinfulness, Christ is with us.
For me, these are much more uncomfortable words than comfortable words. These are not words that are meant to conjure up visions of your favorite easy chair, or your well-worn and favorite sweatshirt or tee shirt. They are not comfortable in a way that assures us that we have some sort of corner on the market for the right way to do Christianity. Their comfort is derived from the presence of the Holy Spirit in our lives, the “comforter” that Jesus Christ left with us. These are words meant to strengthen us, and to give us hope, not to make us complacent.
"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."
This is indeed good news. God wants to make things easier for us, not harder. It’s as simple as that. Why do we complicate it so? Jesus offers to us something amazing. The offer is that we no longer have to be held hostage to the pressure of perfection that our culture feeds us, and instead, we can live as freed people. The burden of perfection is intolerable; the freedom that Jesus offers is life giving.
The pressure of perfection that our culture feeds us leads us to build bigger houses, spend more of what we don’t have. Somehow we are convinced that what we have becomes important. This is not unlike the people Jesus encountered. The Jews of his time were quite concerned with acquiring wealth and status; they were quite concerned to hob nob with the important people, the people who could confer honor and status on them. Jesus was accused of gluttony and drunkenness because he spent time with those who had no honor and status, the tax collectors and sinners.
The pursuit of perfection, the pursuit of status, is rewarded by stressed out people and stressed out families. Of course I’m preaching to the proverbial choir, but that’s exactly why families seem to have so much trouble getting to church. I don’t think it’s because we’re not cool enough, I think it’s because at the top of a family’s list of things to do is achieving, and that takes so much energy and time, that worship looses out. It’s because if worth is measured by what we have, who we know, how big and expensive our toys are, then worship, rest, slowing down, giving thanks, being forgiven, all loose out.
And yet, just like those who are so busy earning status and respect they don’t have time to get here, there are some of you here today, for whom Jesus’ message of freedom is yet to be realized. You must always remember, you are chosen and marked by God’s love, and the delight of God’s life. You do not need to earn God’s love; you need only to be loved by God. This is exactly the burden that is to be laid down; the burden is the need to work at earning honor and status, the need to earn love by achieving perfection.
It is God’s amazing and abundant love that resulted in the resurrection of Jesus Christ, and the new life that is achieved with each and every one of us that results in the freedom Matthew speaks of in this passage. The good news is this freedom. We are new creations, no longer enslaved by the snares of greed, power, status, but instead we are free to be loved absolutely and unconditionally by our creator God.
And, we are free to respond to God’s love. Without that burden, we are free to love one another as God first loves us; we are free to serve one another without expectation of payment or reciprocity. We are free to pay it forward.
Last week we were at the Niobrara Convocation. It was on the Cheyenne River Reservation, at Eagle Butte. It was a beautiful place, the weather cooperated. Our Presiding Bishop was in attendance. She was brilliant and so very graceful. But the story I want to tell is about a group Rick and Willie and I accompanied from our home parish in Minneapolis, St. Luke’s. I’d suggested to the youth minister at St. Luke’s since we came here to St. Andrew’s, that they come to South Dakota, to Rapid, City, to the Black Hills, to Convocation, for their mission trip. Well, this year the youth minister took me up on the idea.
I told Marion Rectinwald, the priest on the Cheyenne River Mission, that this group wanted to come to convocation, and serve in whatever capacity was needed. Marion was somewhat concerned, she has had some difficultly with mission trips from churches just showing up unannounced, and expecting attention and being totally uninterested in actually being engaged with people. I assured her that I would prepare them, and be the go between.
The Thursday morning we left Minneapolis the group was sent off with a nice service of Holy Communion. It was so much fun for us because this was a group of many we had know since they were very young, and two of the chaperones were friends of ours, one of the chaperones we had never met. The adults of the group spoke about paying it forward, about serving others because God had first loved them.
When we arrived at Eagle Butte on Thursday night, nothing was as they had expected it. I had come prepared with the tent and sleeping bags, because I didn’t really know what to expect, so I probably over prepared. With all the rain, the dormitories that had been available to stay in had been damaged,
so some of the group would have to stay in the common building that would also be used for eating and some gathering, not private, and hard floors. Some of the group would stay in the tent.
The wall was immediately put up, the environment was foreign for them to begin with, and with the added snafu, they got scared. These people were unlike them, and they were obviously in the minority. They had been prepared to serve as they were instructed, but not knowing exactly what they were to do added to their discomfort. Both the kids and the adults were experiencing culture shock. They were experiencing loss of control. This service was definitely not going to be on their terms, terms that allowed them to remain aloof and disengaged. Jason, their youth minister gathered them together, listened to their fears, and let them know how important it was for them to listen to the people around them, their work there and their place there would become evident as they encountered one another.
With their initial fears addressed, they began to see the possibilities of how they could serve. They began to be free to serve others, they were free to let go of the outcome and really be engaged in what they were called to do. They were free to respond to God’s love. Without the burden of needing to control, of needing to have status, we are free to love one another as God first loves us; we are free to serve one another without expectation of payment or reciprocity. We are free to pay it forward.
The group spent most of their time in two ways. They engaged the kids who had come with family and parents; they played games, worked on making banners, and generally had a good time. They also helped prepare meals, serve, and clean up, and ended up having a lot of fun doing it.
After all the fears on both sides of this project, the mission group from St. Luke’s was honored for their service and their presence with a star quilt. They were deeply affected by the giving of star quilts, and when one was given to them, they were deeply moved.
"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."
Alleluia. The Spirit of the Lord renews the face of the earth:
Come let us adore him. Alleluia.
For me, these are much more uncomfortable words than comfortable words. These are not words that are meant to conjure up visions of your favorite easy chair, or your well-worn and favorite sweatshirt or tee shirt. They are not comfortable in a way that assures us that we have some sort of corner on the market for the right way to do Christianity. Their comfort is derived from the presence of the Holy Spirit in our lives, the “comforter” that Jesus Christ left with us. These are words meant to strengthen us, and to give us hope, not to make us complacent.
"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."
This is indeed good news. God wants to make things easier for us, not harder. It’s as simple as that. Why do we complicate it so? Jesus offers to us something amazing. The offer is that we no longer have to be held hostage to the pressure of perfection that our culture feeds us, and instead, we can live as freed people. The burden of perfection is intolerable; the freedom that Jesus offers is life giving.
The pressure of perfection that our culture feeds us leads us to build bigger houses, spend more of what we don’t have. Somehow we are convinced that what we have becomes important. This is not unlike the people Jesus encountered. The Jews of his time were quite concerned with acquiring wealth and status; they were quite concerned to hob nob with the important people, the people who could confer honor and status on them. Jesus was accused of gluttony and drunkenness because he spent time with those who had no honor and status, the tax collectors and sinners.
The pursuit of perfection, the pursuit of status, is rewarded by stressed out people and stressed out families. Of course I’m preaching to the proverbial choir, but that’s exactly why families seem to have so much trouble getting to church. I don’t think it’s because we’re not cool enough, I think it’s because at the top of a family’s list of things to do is achieving, and that takes so much energy and time, that worship looses out. It’s because if worth is measured by what we have, who we know, how big and expensive our toys are, then worship, rest, slowing down, giving thanks, being forgiven, all loose out.
And yet, just like those who are so busy earning status and respect they don’t have time to get here, there are some of you here today, for whom Jesus’ message of freedom is yet to be realized. You must always remember, you are chosen and marked by God’s love, and the delight of God’s life. You do not need to earn God’s love; you need only to be loved by God. This is exactly the burden that is to be laid down; the burden is the need to work at earning honor and status, the need to earn love by achieving perfection.
It is God’s amazing and abundant love that resulted in the resurrection of Jesus Christ, and the new life that is achieved with each and every one of us that results in the freedom Matthew speaks of in this passage. The good news is this freedom. We are new creations, no longer enslaved by the snares of greed, power, status, but instead we are free to be loved absolutely and unconditionally by our creator God.
And, we are free to respond to God’s love. Without that burden, we are free to love one another as God first loves us; we are free to serve one another without expectation of payment or reciprocity. We are free to pay it forward.
Last week we were at the Niobrara Convocation. It was on the Cheyenne River Reservation, at Eagle Butte. It was a beautiful place, the weather cooperated. Our Presiding Bishop was in attendance. She was brilliant and so very graceful. But the story I want to tell is about a group Rick and Willie and I accompanied from our home parish in Minneapolis, St. Luke’s. I’d suggested to the youth minister at St. Luke’s since we came here to St. Andrew’s, that they come to South Dakota, to Rapid, City, to the Black Hills, to Convocation, for their mission trip. Well, this year the youth minister took me up on the idea.
I told Marion Rectinwald, the priest on the Cheyenne River Mission, that this group wanted to come to convocation, and serve in whatever capacity was needed. Marion was somewhat concerned, she has had some difficultly with mission trips from churches just showing up unannounced, and expecting attention and being totally uninterested in actually being engaged with people. I assured her that I would prepare them, and be the go between.
The Thursday morning we left Minneapolis the group was sent off with a nice service of Holy Communion. It was so much fun for us because this was a group of many we had know since they were very young, and two of the chaperones were friends of ours, one of the chaperones we had never met. The adults of the group spoke about paying it forward, about serving others because God had first loved them.
When we arrived at Eagle Butte on Thursday night, nothing was as they had expected it. I had come prepared with the tent and sleeping bags, because I didn’t really know what to expect, so I probably over prepared. With all the rain, the dormitories that had been available to stay in had been damaged,
so some of the group would have to stay in the common building that would also be used for eating and some gathering, not private, and hard floors. Some of the group would stay in the tent.
The wall was immediately put up, the environment was foreign for them to begin with, and with the added snafu, they got scared. These people were unlike them, and they were obviously in the minority. They had been prepared to serve as they were instructed, but not knowing exactly what they were to do added to their discomfort. Both the kids and the adults were experiencing culture shock. They were experiencing loss of control. This service was definitely not going to be on their terms, terms that allowed them to remain aloof and disengaged. Jason, their youth minister gathered them together, listened to their fears, and let them know how important it was for them to listen to the people around them, their work there and their place there would become evident as they encountered one another.
With their initial fears addressed, they began to see the possibilities of how they could serve. They began to be free to serve others, they were free to let go of the outcome and really be engaged in what they were called to do. They were free to respond to God’s love. Without the burden of needing to control, of needing to have status, we are free to love one another as God first loves us; we are free to serve one another without expectation of payment or reciprocity. We are free to pay it forward.
The group spent most of their time in two ways. They engaged the kids who had come with family and parents; they played games, worked on making banners, and generally had a good time. They also helped prepare meals, serve, and clean up, and ended up having a lot of fun doing it.
After all the fears on both sides of this project, the mission group from St. Luke’s was honored for their service and their presence with a star quilt. They were deeply affected by the giving of star quilts, and when one was given to them, they were deeply moved.
"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."
Alleluia. The Spirit of the Lord renews the face of the earth:
Come let us adore him. Alleluia.
Saturday, June 28, 2008
7 Pentecost Yr A
I often wonder how the story about God and Jesus would be different if women had the opportunity to tell it. The story of Abraham and Isaac might go something like this had Sarah told the story.
In the privacy of their bedroom, Sarah and her husband were exchanging words. Sarah said, "God told you what! God told you to take Isaac up on the mountain and make him the sacrifice! No way, God would never say that. It's God who gave Isaac to us when we were already too old to have children. And even if God did say it, you'll do it over my dead body!"
Abraham, because he was so pigheaded and stubborn, took Isaac against his wife's better judgment, loaded him up with wood for the fire, and led him up the mountain. Sarah followed secretly. While Abraham built the altar and laid the wood on it, Sarah hid in the bushes. She was so angry with God and with her pigheaded husband for listening to whoever told him to do this. She waited for the moment she would jump out of the bushes to prevent this from happening. But then she saw a ram not far from her, caught in the thicket by its horns. She got near enough to it so she could wave a stick in it's face and it thrashed and made enough noise that Abraham turned and looked, and realized he could use the ram for his sacrifice. Silently and separately, Abraham and Sarah heaved a sigh of relief, and whispered to themselves, "The Lord does provide."
Either way, the story is about God, not about Abraham or Sarah or Isaac. The story is about God providing for the people God loves so very much, and that Abraham and Sarah were faithful to that love.
And remember, when the tellers of the stories about Jesus tell the stories, they assume that the hearers, the original hearers as well as us, know the Hebrew Scriptures very very well. They assume that we know about the God of creation, who blesses the creation, who loves the creation, and who provides for the creation. So, it stands to reason, that when we hear the stories about Jesus, we already know that the nature of God is to love and provide for the creation.
So in Matthew’s gospel today we hear Jesus say to the disciples as part of their sending out instructions, “Anyone who accepts what you do, accepts me, the One who sent you. Anyone who accepts what I do accepts my Father, who sent me. Accepting a messenger of God is as good as being God's messenger. Accepting someone's help is as good as giving someone help. This is a large work I've called you into, but don't be overwhelmed by it. It's best to start small. Give a cool cup of water to someone who is thirsty, for instance. The smallest act of giving or receiving makes you a true apprentice. You won't lose out on a thing."
Matthew’s gospel and the story of Abraham and Sarah remind me of one of those email stories that gets forwarded. I’m going to tell you this one today, because it makes me think, well that could never happen, at the same time as I think well of course it could never happen if I never think about the smallest act of giving or receiving.
A young man had been to Tuesday night Bible Study. They had talked about how God loves and provides. The young man couldn't help but wonder, "Does God still provide, like God provided for Abraham and Sarah and Isaac?"
It was about ten o'clock when the young man started driving home. Sitting in his car, he just began to pray, "God. I will do my best to serve your wishes." As he drove down the main street of his town, he had the strangest thought, to stop and buy a gallon of milk. He shook his head and said out loud, "God is that you?" He didn't get a reply and started on toward home.
But again, the thought was there, "Buy a gallon of milk." The young man thought about how he'd heard that not all those spoken to recognized God's quiet voice inside of one's mind. Then he said, "Okay, God, in case that is you, I will buy the milk." It didn't seem like too hard a request to fulfill. He could always use the milk himself if nothing else. So he stopped and purchased the gallon of milk and started off toward home.
As he passed Seventh Street, he again felt the urge, "Turn down that street." "This is crazy," he thought and drove on pass the intersection. Again, he felt that he should turn down Seventh Street. At the next intersection, he turned back and headed down Seventh. Half jokingly, he said out loud, "Okay, God, I will."
He drove several blocks, when suddenly, he felt like he should stop. He pulled over to the curb and looked around. He was in a semi-commercial area of town. It wasn't the best but it wasn't the worst of neighborhoods either. The businesses were closed and most of the houses looked dark like the people were already in bed. Again, he sensed something, "Go and give the milk to the people in the house across the street." The young man looked at the house. It was dark and it looked like the people were either gone or they were already asleep.
He started to open the door and then sat back in the car seat. "God, this is insane. Those people are asleep and if I wake them up, they are going to be mad and I will look stupid." Again, he felt like he should go and give the milk. Finally, he opened the car door, "Okay God, if this is you, I will go to the door and I will give them the milk. If you want me to look like a crazy person, okay. I want to do as I wish. I guess that will count for something, but if they don't answer right away, I am out of here."
He walked across the street and rang the bell. He could hear some noise inside. A man's voice yelled out, "Who is it? What do you want?" Then the door opened before the young man could get away. The man was standing there in his jeans and t-shirt. He looked like he'd just gotten out of bed. He had a strange look on his face and he didn't seem too happy to have some stranger standing on his doorstep.
"What is it?"
The young man thrust out the gallon of milk. "Here, I brought this to you," he said nervously. The man took the milk and rushed down a hallway. Then from down the hall came a woman carrying the milk toward the kitchen. The man was following her holding a baby. The baby was crying. The man had tears streaming down his face.
The man began speaking and half crying, "We were just praying. We had some big bills this month and we ran out of money. We didn't have any milk for our baby. I was just praying and asking God to show me how to get some milk." His wife in the kitchen yelled out, "I asked Him to send an Angel with some milk. Are you an Angel?"
In response to hearing this, the young man reached into his wallet and pulled out all the money he had on him and put in the man's hand. He turned and walked back toward his car. He knew that God still answers prayers and that God loves and provides.
Now there are all sorts of theological holes in this story, and all sorts of reasons why this could never happen. The biggest reason it could never happen is because we don’t often let ourselves give a cool cup of water when it is needed, or even harder, to receive the help that we need. But the point is that God loves us, God gives us all we need to be disciples, and we find ourselves in places all the time where we can be God’s hands and God’s heart.
We need to act on God’s love for us; we need to not be afraid of the dark, or of the stranger. Instead we need to act boldly as agents of God’s new creation. We need to bring to all we meet the hope of new life, the hope that life always springs out of death. We need to receive that hope from others, as they remind us that we are God’s beloved, the delight of God’s life.
Matthew’s gospel today tells us that whether we give or receive, and even whether we believe or not, God loves and God provides, and we will be transformed by the work of service that we do. We will be changed by the people whose paths we cross, and we will show forth God’s love alive and well in the world.
Alleluia. The Spirit of the Lord renews the face of the earth:
Come let us adore him. Alleluia.
In the privacy of their bedroom, Sarah and her husband were exchanging words. Sarah said, "God told you what! God told you to take Isaac up on the mountain and make him the sacrifice! No way, God would never say that. It's God who gave Isaac to us when we were already too old to have children. And even if God did say it, you'll do it over my dead body!"
Abraham, because he was so pigheaded and stubborn, took Isaac against his wife's better judgment, loaded him up with wood for the fire, and led him up the mountain. Sarah followed secretly. While Abraham built the altar and laid the wood on it, Sarah hid in the bushes. She was so angry with God and with her pigheaded husband for listening to whoever told him to do this. She waited for the moment she would jump out of the bushes to prevent this from happening. But then she saw a ram not far from her, caught in the thicket by its horns. She got near enough to it so she could wave a stick in it's face and it thrashed and made enough noise that Abraham turned and looked, and realized he could use the ram for his sacrifice. Silently and separately, Abraham and Sarah heaved a sigh of relief, and whispered to themselves, "The Lord does provide."
Either way, the story is about God, not about Abraham or Sarah or Isaac. The story is about God providing for the people God loves so very much, and that Abraham and Sarah were faithful to that love.
And remember, when the tellers of the stories about Jesus tell the stories, they assume that the hearers, the original hearers as well as us, know the Hebrew Scriptures very very well. They assume that we know about the God of creation, who blesses the creation, who loves the creation, and who provides for the creation. So, it stands to reason, that when we hear the stories about Jesus, we already know that the nature of God is to love and provide for the creation.
So in Matthew’s gospel today we hear Jesus say to the disciples as part of their sending out instructions, “Anyone who accepts what you do, accepts me, the One who sent you. Anyone who accepts what I do accepts my Father, who sent me. Accepting a messenger of God is as good as being God's messenger. Accepting someone's help is as good as giving someone help. This is a large work I've called you into, but don't be overwhelmed by it. It's best to start small. Give a cool cup of water to someone who is thirsty, for instance. The smallest act of giving or receiving makes you a true apprentice. You won't lose out on a thing."
Matthew’s gospel and the story of Abraham and Sarah remind me of one of those email stories that gets forwarded. I’m going to tell you this one today, because it makes me think, well that could never happen, at the same time as I think well of course it could never happen if I never think about the smallest act of giving or receiving.
A young man had been to Tuesday night Bible Study. They had talked about how God loves and provides. The young man couldn't help but wonder, "Does God still provide, like God provided for Abraham and Sarah and Isaac?"
It was about ten o'clock when the young man started driving home. Sitting in his car, he just began to pray, "God. I will do my best to serve your wishes." As he drove down the main street of his town, he had the strangest thought, to stop and buy a gallon of milk. He shook his head and said out loud, "God is that you?" He didn't get a reply and started on toward home.
But again, the thought was there, "Buy a gallon of milk." The young man thought about how he'd heard that not all those spoken to recognized God's quiet voice inside of one's mind. Then he said, "Okay, God, in case that is you, I will buy the milk." It didn't seem like too hard a request to fulfill. He could always use the milk himself if nothing else. So he stopped and purchased the gallon of milk and started off toward home.
As he passed Seventh Street, he again felt the urge, "Turn down that street." "This is crazy," he thought and drove on pass the intersection. Again, he felt that he should turn down Seventh Street. At the next intersection, he turned back and headed down Seventh. Half jokingly, he said out loud, "Okay, God, I will."
He drove several blocks, when suddenly, he felt like he should stop. He pulled over to the curb and looked around. He was in a semi-commercial area of town. It wasn't the best but it wasn't the worst of neighborhoods either. The businesses were closed and most of the houses looked dark like the people were already in bed. Again, he sensed something, "Go and give the milk to the people in the house across the street." The young man looked at the house. It was dark and it looked like the people were either gone or they were already asleep.
He started to open the door and then sat back in the car seat. "God, this is insane. Those people are asleep and if I wake them up, they are going to be mad and I will look stupid." Again, he felt like he should go and give the milk. Finally, he opened the car door, "Okay God, if this is you, I will go to the door and I will give them the milk. If you want me to look like a crazy person, okay. I want to do as I wish. I guess that will count for something, but if they don't answer right away, I am out of here."
He walked across the street and rang the bell. He could hear some noise inside. A man's voice yelled out, "Who is it? What do you want?" Then the door opened before the young man could get away. The man was standing there in his jeans and t-shirt. He looked like he'd just gotten out of bed. He had a strange look on his face and he didn't seem too happy to have some stranger standing on his doorstep.
"What is it?"
The young man thrust out the gallon of milk. "Here, I brought this to you," he said nervously. The man took the milk and rushed down a hallway. Then from down the hall came a woman carrying the milk toward the kitchen. The man was following her holding a baby. The baby was crying. The man had tears streaming down his face.
The man began speaking and half crying, "We were just praying. We had some big bills this month and we ran out of money. We didn't have any milk for our baby. I was just praying and asking God to show me how to get some milk." His wife in the kitchen yelled out, "I asked Him to send an Angel with some milk. Are you an Angel?"
In response to hearing this, the young man reached into his wallet and pulled out all the money he had on him and put in the man's hand. He turned and walked back toward his car. He knew that God still answers prayers and that God loves and provides.
Now there are all sorts of theological holes in this story, and all sorts of reasons why this could never happen. The biggest reason it could never happen is because we don’t often let ourselves give a cool cup of water when it is needed, or even harder, to receive the help that we need. But the point is that God loves us, God gives us all we need to be disciples, and we find ourselves in places all the time where we can be God’s hands and God’s heart.
We need to act on God’s love for us; we need to not be afraid of the dark, or of the stranger. Instead we need to act boldly as agents of God’s new creation. We need to bring to all we meet the hope of new life, the hope that life always springs out of death. We need to receive that hope from others, as they remind us that we are God’s beloved, the delight of God’s life.
Matthew’s gospel today tells us that whether we give or receive, and even whether we believe or not, God loves and God provides, and we will be transformed by the work of service that we do. We will be changed by the people whose paths we cross, and we will show forth God’s love alive and well in the world.
Alleluia. The Spirit of the Lord renews the face of the earth:
Come let us adore him. Alleluia.
Saturday, June 7, 2008
4 Pentecost Yr A
About a year after we were settled in Rapid City, I got a phone call from a woman I graduated from high school with. She married a man who calls Rapid City home and they are missionaries near Hong Kong, home on furlough. I hadn’t seen her or spoken with her since the day we graduated, but we share a common friend. She and this friend had been talking and she learned that I was here in Rapid City, so she called. We had lunch, and she wanted to know how I got to this place doing this work. Thirty years was a lot to catch up on, but I found it fascinating that our conversation was about call, her call to missionary work, and my call to the priesthood.
Her story and my story are very different. She had a conversion experience, a coming to Christ moment, and shortly thereafter she knew she wanted to be a missionary. I, on the other hand, spent many years saying no to a call that was quite clear to others in my life. The call we hear about in the gospel of Matthew is a call much like my friend’s. Quick and decisive. Jesus said, “follow me” and Matthew got up and went. Jesus said, “follow me” to my friend, and she got up and went, all the way to Hong Kong no less.
So today I thought I’d talk a little about call. I have already said that it took quite some time for me say yes to this call in this way. I finally said yes to a particular call, this call to ordained ministry. But I do think that all that led up to finally saying yes to ordained ministry, was a calling as well.
I was baptized into and I have always been a part of a community of faith. Baptism is the foundation of call. As a child, I attended the Catholic Church with my mother and with my siblings. When we all went together, which was most of the time, we took up a couple of pews, but that wasn’t out of the ordinary in those days in the Catholic Church. Because I attended public school, not catholic school, I went to religious instruction classes on Saturday mornings when I was really young, and on Wednesday afternoons as I got older. When I was in high school, we were in small groups that met in the homes of our adult mentors. These were very healthy, formational experiences for me. I suppose I was rather odd, I really enjoyed the learning, and when I was in high school I looked forward to our Sunday night gatherings. During college I continued to attend my home church, and when I lived at the University of Minnesota, I attended the Newman Center there, it was specifically for college kids.
Shortly after that time I joined the volunteer staff at the Minneapolis Catholic Youth Center. I was part of the youth ministry staff there for about six years. My time at the Minneapolis Catholic Youth Center was also very formational. I learned and experienced intentional Christian Community.
All of this is important to call, because during these years I was able to talk with others about ministry, about how you live in the world as a Christian. As I look back on these years, I realize that I was always discerning this call, at the time I would not have used those words, but in fact that is what was happening.
Rick will tell you that when he met me, and when we decided to marry, that he knew I would eventually be an ordained minister, it was a matter of when, not if. We got busy with our lives together. I attended the College of St. Catherine and earned a Masters Degree in Theology, we had Tom and Willie, and I was busy being a wife, mother, and working at various jobs, teaching some, it was clear I was not meant for the classroom, and I sewed for an interior designer for a time.
In the midst of all this Rick and I were called, in a way, to the Episcopal Church. I was in my friend’s wedding at St. Luke’s Episcopal Church, and the priest at St. Luke’s ministered to us in a way that we found inviting and nurturing. I’m not sure that I’ve heard anyone describe being in a friend’s wedding like that. So when we decided that it was time for us to find a church home for ourselves, we went right back to St. Luke’s. When we got there, George Martin, the priest, said to us, “I’ve been waiting for you to come back here.” We never went anywhere else. Shortly after returning to St. Luke’s, George approached me about considering the priesthood. I knew it was inevitable, but I was too busy doing other stuff to pay much attention then. George left St. Luke’s and another rector came and went.
We were happily participating in everything at St. Luke’s, and the Christian Education director left to take a job at the Cathedral. I was hired then to be the Christian Education director. And with the rector’s support, encouragement, nourishment, the ministry I undertook grew and flourished. I was in a place where all my skills, experience, and leadership really grew up. The priest at St. Luke’s, Frank, said to me one day, it’s time for you to seriously consider ordained ministry, you can’t say no any more.” And I finally said yes, it was time.
We spent a year in formal discernment, I had a committee that met with me, and with Rick, and over time with Tom and Willie and even my mom. In the midst of that we decided that we would move to Austin Texas and I would attend seminary full time, and then return to Minnesota to be ordained a priest.
After returning to Minnesota, ordination, and working on the staff for a time at a couple churches, we got a mailing from St. Andrew’s Episcopal Church in Rapid City South Dakota. We were not at all sure when we first heard from St. Andrew’s that we were interested in moving to Rapid City, but we responded, just to see where it would go. And you know the rest of the story.
As you all know, responding to God’s call is not easy, and at the same time doing the work God calls each of us to do is the path that reveals the meaning and the purpose to each of our lives. And I think that is what each of us is looking for today, that is what brings each of us here, meaning and purpose.
I tell you this story because it illustrates one way that call works, one way to live out a baptismal promise, but also to tell you that is only one way that call works.
When we ask questions of meaning, when we ask questions about our purpose in this life, these in fact are questions about call, and to what do we get called. The answers are many and varied. I think we all have a calling, and it is important for each of us to consider how we live that out. I lived out my call before I was ordained, as daughter, sister, wife, mother, teacher, friend, in the church and in the secular world. All that has changed is that I live out all of that as a priest, I continue to be all the rest as well.
Each of us has a calling. Each of us has a ministry. The foundation of our call is our baptism. We are called at our baptism to be a follower of Christ in the world and in the church. Ministry is what we all do. Sometimes I think we think that only special people can be ministers, but that is not true. The case in point is Matthew, tax collector, sinner, saint.
Matthew, not one of the chief tax collectors, but a lowly employee of someone else. Matthew, someone who took a really lousy job in which he handled everybody’s stuff looking for what ought to be taxed, someone who took a position that shut him out of respectability because he knew that nobody would ever let him in anyway. Matthew is so much like so many of us, working in a job in which we do yearn for, hope for, meaning and purpose.
And then Jesus invited him to his table, to his companionship, to his friendship, to his vocation, to come with him as a disciple. God’s perfection is shown most fully not in perfect people or perfect disciples, but in his extravagant embrace of flawed people, in his extravagant embrace of people just like you and me. Jesus invites us today to this table, to companionship, to friendship. Jesus calls us today into discipleship, into ministry. Jesus who is Lord, calls us into a life of meaning and purpose, a life that reveals the God who creates, the God who has called us, and marked us as God’s own forever, delight of God’s life.
Alleluia. The Spirit of the Lord renews the face of the earth:
Come let us adore him. Alleluia.
Her story and my story are very different. She had a conversion experience, a coming to Christ moment, and shortly thereafter she knew she wanted to be a missionary. I, on the other hand, spent many years saying no to a call that was quite clear to others in my life. The call we hear about in the gospel of Matthew is a call much like my friend’s. Quick and decisive. Jesus said, “follow me” and Matthew got up and went. Jesus said, “follow me” to my friend, and she got up and went, all the way to Hong Kong no less.
So today I thought I’d talk a little about call. I have already said that it took quite some time for me say yes to this call in this way. I finally said yes to a particular call, this call to ordained ministry. But I do think that all that led up to finally saying yes to ordained ministry, was a calling as well.
I was baptized into and I have always been a part of a community of faith. Baptism is the foundation of call. As a child, I attended the Catholic Church with my mother and with my siblings. When we all went together, which was most of the time, we took up a couple of pews, but that wasn’t out of the ordinary in those days in the Catholic Church. Because I attended public school, not catholic school, I went to religious instruction classes on Saturday mornings when I was really young, and on Wednesday afternoons as I got older. When I was in high school, we were in small groups that met in the homes of our adult mentors. These were very healthy, formational experiences for me. I suppose I was rather odd, I really enjoyed the learning, and when I was in high school I looked forward to our Sunday night gatherings. During college I continued to attend my home church, and when I lived at the University of Minnesota, I attended the Newman Center there, it was specifically for college kids.
Shortly after that time I joined the volunteer staff at the Minneapolis Catholic Youth Center. I was part of the youth ministry staff there for about six years. My time at the Minneapolis Catholic Youth Center was also very formational. I learned and experienced intentional Christian Community.
All of this is important to call, because during these years I was able to talk with others about ministry, about how you live in the world as a Christian. As I look back on these years, I realize that I was always discerning this call, at the time I would not have used those words, but in fact that is what was happening.
Rick will tell you that when he met me, and when we decided to marry, that he knew I would eventually be an ordained minister, it was a matter of when, not if. We got busy with our lives together. I attended the College of St. Catherine and earned a Masters Degree in Theology, we had Tom and Willie, and I was busy being a wife, mother, and working at various jobs, teaching some, it was clear I was not meant for the classroom, and I sewed for an interior designer for a time.
In the midst of all this Rick and I were called, in a way, to the Episcopal Church. I was in my friend’s wedding at St. Luke’s Episcopal Church, and the priest at St. Luke’s ministered to us in a way that we found inviting and nurturing. I’m not sure that I’ve heard anyone describe being in a friend’s wedding like that. So when we decided that it was time for us to find a church home for ourselves, we went right back to St. Luke’s. When we got there, George Martin, the priest, said to us, “I’ve been waiting for you to come back here.” We never went anywhere else. Shortly after returning to St. Luke’s, George approached me about considering the priesthood. I knew it was inevitable, but I was too busy doing other stuff to pay much attention then. George left St. Luke’s and another rector came and went.
We were happily participating in everything at St. Luke’s, and the Christian Education director left to take a job at the Cathedral. I was hired then to be the Christian Education director. And with the rector’s support, encouragement, nourishment, the ministry I undertook grew and flourished. I was in a place where all my skills, experience, and leadership really grew up. The priest at St. Luke’s, Frank, said to me one day, it’s time for you to seriously consider ordained ministry, you can’t say no any more.” And I finally said yes, it was time.
We spent a year in formal discernment, I had a committee that met with me, and with Rick, and over time with Tom and Willie and even my mom. In the midst of that we decided that we would move to Austin Texas and I would attend seminary full time, and then return to Minnesota to be ordained a priest.
After returning to Minnesota, ordination, and working on the staff for a time at a couple churches, we got a mailing from St. Andrew’s Episcopal Church in Rapid City South Dakota. We were not at all sure when we first heard from St. Andrew’s that we were interested in moving to Rapid City, but we responded, just to see where it would go. And you know the rest of the story.
As you all know, responding to God’s call is not easy, and at the same time doing the work God calls each of us to do is the path that reveals the meaning and the purpose to each of our lives. And I think that is what each of us is looking for today, that is what brings each of us here, meaning and purpose.
I tell you this story because it illustrates one way that call works, one way to live out a baptismal promise, but also to tell you that is only one way that call works.
When we ask questions of meaning, when we ask questions about our purpose in this life, these in fact are questions about call, and to what do we get called. The answers are many and varied. I think we all have a calling, and it is important for each of us to consider how we live that out. I lived out my call before I was ordained, as daughter, sister, wife, mother, teacher, friend, in the church and in the secular world. All that has changed is that I live out all of that as a priest, I continue to be all the rest as well.
Each of us has a calling. Each of us has a ministry. The foundation of our call is our baptism. We are called at our baptism to be a follower of Christ in the world and in the church. Ministry is what we all do. Sometimes I think we think that only special people can be ministers, but that is not true. The case in point is Matthew, tax collector, sinner, saint.
Matthew, not one of the chief tax collectors, but a lowly employee of someone else. Matthew, someone who took a really lousy job in which he handled everybody’s stuff looking for what ought to be taxed, someone who took a position that shut him out of respectability because he knew that nobody would ever let him in anyway. Matthew is so much like so many of us, working in a job in which we do yearn for, hope for, meaning and purpose.
And then Jesus invited him to his table, to his companionship, to his friendship, to his vocation, to come with him as a disciple. God’s perfection is shown most fully not in perfect people or perfect disciples, but in his extravagant embrace of flawed people, in his extravagant embrace of people just like you and me. Jesus invites us today to this table, to companionship, to friendship. Jesus calls us today into discipleship, into ministry. Jesus who is Lord, calls us into a life of meaning and purpose, a life that reveals the God who creates, the God who has called us, and marked us as God’s own forever, delight of God’s life.
Alleluia. The Spirit of the Lord renews the face of the earth:
Come let us adore him. Alleluia.
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