1 Lent Yr B Feb 21 2021

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1 Lent Yr B Feb 21 2021

Genesis 9:8-17, 1 Peter 3:18-22, Mark 1:9-15, Psalm 25:1-9

 

And the walls come a tumblin down. That’s what’s happening here, God’s tumblin the walls. God’s removing any barriers between God and creation, God and humanity, God and us. This is Good News isn’t it? It also means that God is loose in our world. That may be a bit stickier. Because if God is loose in our world, it means that something is afoot, and that something may very well call us into something new, something wild, something not quite as orderly as we are used to.

 

How do we know God is loose in the world? Let’s take a look at what Mark has to say. When Jesus, who is God in our midst, was coming up out of the water after being baptized by John, the heavens were torn apart – that is something to pay attention to, and the Spirit descended into him, and a voice from the heavens said, “You are my son, the Beloved; with you I am well pleased.”

 

There’s a lot going on here, but in this short piece we get the point. God is on the move. Once the heavens are torn apart, you can’t undo that. God is loose. There’s another place that we hear the heavens are torn apart. Can you remember when? I’ll help you. At the crucifixion, in Mark that is chapter 15 verse 38 “and the curtain of the temple was torn in two.” This is not just dramatic staging or an opportunity for wondrous computer generated imagery. This means that God is loose. And this is a huge change for those who always understood that God was contained in the ark of the covenant and later in the holy of holies. When history gets to the story of Jesus, it had been a long, long time that anyone had heard from God.  The Jewish people believed that prophecy had ceased with the last prophets but that it would be restored at the end-times (Malachi 4:5-6). The heavens had “closed,” as it were, and there was no direct communication from God to humankind anymore. That Mark says that the heavens were torn apart is a daring affirmation. That the Spirit descended and entered into Jesus is even more so. Here we have an absolutely revolutionary claim: the God of Israel is speaking again and has chosen to do it through a humble peasant from Galilee! So God showing up changes everything. God descending into Jesus changes everything. God is on the loose. You and I may not be hearing God’s voice, but rest assured, something is afoot, God is moving about, and there is no putting God back in the box.

 

For whom is God on the move? For whom is God loosed? That question can be answered with location, location, location. This is the beginning of Mark’s gospel, John is not in the power center, in the city or even in the village, John is out in the countryside, in the wilderness, on the margins, baptizing people. And after a long time of no God sightings, God is present. This is remarkable. It is remarkable that God shows up, and that God shows up outside of the city center, outside of the seat of power. You see, the messiah for whom the Hebrew people wait was a messiah who would sit on the throne and make everything right. But that’s not the messiah this story shows us. Jesus is out in the wilderness with John. John who eats locusts and wild honey, John who is an oddly likable character. Jesus doesn’t show up to solidify power, Jesus shows up to enfranchise those who have been tossed out, to restore those, women particularly, who have been tossed to the side because they are unattached to a man, and to heal those who have been tossed out like trash. 

 

Jesus goes from being baptized in the river to being tempted in the wilderness. 

 

Why is all this curtain tearing, Spirit entering, wilderness living, so important for us? God is tearing down walls, boundaries are being breached, borders are being crossed. That is who God is. It challenges our want and desire to define God, to determine what God can and cannot do, who God can and cannot love. God is the God of outrageous, uncontainable love. 

 

But this God who bursts into our lives, this God who is on the loose, this God who breaks boundaries and borders, calls us to see the rupture and hear the voice that is in our midst, maybe even calls us to wonder about the rupture we have experienced in our own lives. And God invites us to see the world from the margins of society. God invites us to see the world through and around the barriers we have built and that must come a tumblin down. 

 

Dear friends, God is still at work, still proclaiming the good news. God is still calling us to follow Jesus. Are we willing to drop so much of what passes for normal and expected in order to follow in the way of Jesus? God sees us as God saw Jesus on his baptismal day, beloved. 

 

Lent is a season of intention. This Lenten season is not the same ol lent. This Lenten season comes to us as we continue to persevere in this time of pandemic. This Lenten season comes to us as the racial and socio-economic disparities in our country have been so clearly revealed. God sees us as worthy of God’s attention, as capable of great things, as called and equipped to be Jesus’ followers in this new and challenging year of our Lord, 2021.

 

We cannot go back, we cannot put God back in the box. We must follow Jesus to outrageous faith and possibility. We cannot put back together that which cannot be mended. We must meet Jesus on the margins, in the wilderness, and turn in a new direction, believing and trusting that, indeed, God is with us and for us. 

 

And let us be blessed by the angels, the angels that cared for Jesus in the wilderness, the angels that care for the lonely of our church and our community, the angels that tirelessly care for the sick, the angels that deliver food and water to those whose homes are torn apart in the cold, the angels that care nothing for boundaries and barriers but who carry the love that wins to the margins.

 

Amen. 

Last Sunday after the Epiphany Yr B Feb 14 2021

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Last Sunday after the Epiphany Yr B Feb 14 2021

2 Kings 2:1-12, 2 Corinthians 4:3-6, Mark 9:2-9, Psalm 50:1-6

 

What happened on that mountaintop was amazing. Imagine being Peter up on that mountaintop with Jesus; excitable, headstrong Peter, sometimes foolish, swearing his love for Jesus, and then denying he even knew who Jesus was. Or James, or John, all of them fishermen. Elijah and Moses show up, and Jesus is dazzling, the holy trinity. Peter is awestruck and wants to erect three tents to contain this amazing mountaintop experience, keep it forever. I would love to be there, wouldn’t you? The wisdom of Elijah, and Moses, and Jesus, all there for the taking. Peter, James and John have heard the stories of Moses and of Elijah their entire lives. We just heard part of the story of Elijah from the book of Kings. Moses and Elijah are the prophets, the heroes, the rock stars. Their stories live in the realm of legend, it’d be like coming face to face with Martin Luther King Jr, Gandhi, and Madeleine L’engle. Or Yoda, ObiWan, and Anakin Skywalker. Who wouldn’t wish for them to stay, to bask in the glory of their greatness, their wisdom?

 

I think this is a story that shows forth the presence of God, it shows us God's inbreaking kingdom. It gives us a glimpse of incarnation, a glimpse of glory. And this story shows us an interruption in life as we know it. Peter, James and John are witnesses to inbreaking, incarnation, interruption. And we, as we overhear get a glimpse into the story, we too are witnesses to inbreaking, to incarnation, to interruption.

 

This story shows us that God has everything to do with us. God's glory, and God's kingdom, and God's love breaks into our lives, in surprising times and places, we get glimpses, and sometimes we recognize those times as God's presence, like Peter did. And like Peter, when that happens, we want to make it permanent, we want to build a building to contain it, and we want to keep God in that place. But it doesn't seem like that is the way God would have it.

 

This is truly a glimpse of glory. A mountaintop experience. Peter, James and John are witnesses and participants in this amazing time out of time. You may have had an experience that you may describe similarly, a particularly meaningful experience of worship, with music and people who helped you to transcend time. But this story also says, Jesus came down the mountain.

 

We get glimpses of glory, but we also come down off the mountaintop and deal with life in our world of ordinariness. You may say as Peter says, let us make three dwellings, one for you, one for Moses, and one for Elijah. You may want as Peter wants to hold on to that experience, to be able to revisit it whenever you want, to come back to it whenever you need a shot in the arm, or even to escape to it when the world just seems too hard to handle. But the experience won’t be put into a box. And yet that doesn’t stop you from striving to replicate it and measuring every subsequent religious experience by it. But that can’t be done, not only can’t it be done, but it also prevents us from experiencing God in the moment, God in the mundane, God in the ordinary, which is where each of us live most of the time.

 

The glory that is shone forth in this story of transfiguration is ultimate glory. It is wonderful, it is exquisite, and it is not where we live or where we are to stay. In the transfiguration we see that what we think about time and how God acts in time are different. Peter, James and John, and you and I as we look in, see time all at once, like God sees it. If we were to construct a timeline, the story of Moses takes place somewhere around 1500 years before Christ, Elijah about 850 years before Christ. And yet, at this event they are all there together. God shows forth God’s glory, God shows that life with God is without limits. It is like the Eucharistic moment, it may be comfortable and calm, it may be nourishing and refreshing, it may be inspiring and illuminating. It is filled with the people we love and who love us. We really want to stay, but we can’t stay in it, and we can’t repeat the exact moment. But it will give us the ability to persevere, from it we are sent out into the world to do the work we are given to do. We are sent out into the world to live our lives and to bring peace and reconciliation and healing to a broken and fragmented world.

 

The glory that is shone forth in this story of transfiguration is a touchstone. We may return to it, but we can’t control it, and that can be rather disquieting, actually terrifying as reported in this story. We come to worship and sing God’s praises; we come to find stability in an unstable world. We come to hear the story of our faith that has not changed over time. And yet God’s word and our worship are not comfortable, they are not static. God’s word and our worship are growing and changing, becoming the creation that God has intended for it. The glory that is shone forth should cause us to be terrified, to go down the mountain and confront the comfortable and disrupt the status quo. The glory that is shone forth results in the casting out of demons, the reordering of social status and kinship, the arrest and torture of the one who bears the Good News, the inauguration of God’s kingdom on earth with Jesus Christ God’s son.

 

The glory that is shone forth in this story of transfiguration promises to accompany us into our mundane and ordinary lives. We carry that glory into our work and our school and our play. It becomes the spirit that inspires and creates us; it becomes the life that gives us life. It is that which is in the eyes and souls of those whose paths we cross, it is in the respect and dignity with which we treat everyone we meet. It is why we stand with those who have been discriminated against.

 

The glory that is shone forth in this story of transfiguration pushes us out into the world so that we may get going with God’s mission in this world. God’s mission is of healing and reconciliation. God’s mission is about putting fractured souls back together in this broken and fragmented world. God’s mission is about loving and serving your neighbor, especially when we don’t feel like it, especially when it is uncomfortable, even when it seems impossible and downright scary.

 

Following Jesus is not about being on the mountaintop, but being in the mundane and ordinary, and looking and listening for God’s presence in all of the ordinary parts of our lives. This week, after we eat our pancakes, and consider all of the ingredients for a Holy Lent, we begin our journey of Lent in this most mundane way, back in the parking lot. I encourage you to take the time out of your routine, to take the time out of your work and your play, to be present to God's movement in your life, to experience God's amazing love for you. Amen.  

Fifth Sunday after the Epiphany Yr B Feb 7 2021

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Fifth Sunday after the Epiphany Yr B Feb 7 2021

Isaiah 40:21-31, 1 Corinthians 9:16-23, Mark 1:29-39, Psalm 147:1-12, 21c

 

My mother-in-law, Rick’s mom, is an amazing woman. She has enough love in her heart for the whole world. She’s worked hard her entire adult life, often working overnights in restaurants as a waitress or a manager. She has been a caterer, and has been known to bake Christmas cookies and cakes for the people in her building. Food has not only been her bread and butter, but food is also the means by which she shows her love and finds her worth. And we love her dearly. We never expect her to prepare a meal for us, but, well you know, she does anyway. She’s made garlic toast and roast beef hash, and a dish only a son could like, Cedric’s casserole. Butterfinger bars, pink squirrels, Russian teacakes…. And finally she has compiled all her recipes and gave them to each of us for Christmas. You try to say, no, you know you really don’t have to, and it rings hollow, because really, she has to, it’s who she is. She is whole and complete; she is whom she truly was created to be when she is in her kitchen. 

 

Jesus heals Simon’s mother-in-law. And the first thing she does is to get up and serve them. This is a story that has always made me mad. No rest, no recovery, no getting back at things slowly, the fever left her, and she began to serve them. On the surface it seems like this is just perpetuating a stereotype, the woman’s role. And then I am reminded of my mother-in-law, and I remember that what they share is that their wholeness, their health, their being fully who they are, is tied directly to their love of serving. When my mother in law is sick and cannot putz around her kitchen baking this and that, she is not herself. She is aging, and she cannot move about in her home and her kitchen as she would wish. She is losing herself. 

 

What Jesus did here was more than just heal Simon’s mother in law, as if that isn’t enough, he put things right, he restores the order of things, he makes whole what is broken, he brings her to herself, he gives her a new life. The radical nature of this story is not necessarily that Simon’s mother-in-law was healed, and not necessarily that she served, the radical nature of this story is Jesus’ capacity to restore her wholeness, to restore her value and worth, to actually give her new life. And in so doing, purpose and meaning.

 

That’s what casting out demons and healing is about with Jesus. Jesus heals a leper, Jesus heals a paralytic, Jesus heals a man with a withered hand. Jesus heals a woman who has been bleeding for twelve years, and a child who has died. It is not just removing disease, as if that isn’t enough, but these are stories about Jesus’ power to bring people into a new relationship, to bring people into right relationship with himself and with others. These are stories about making whole what is broken, these are stories about bringing healing into a fragmented world, these are stories about this absolutely new thing that God is up to. These are stories about making the dead alive.

 

The Good News is that in a broken and fragmented world, you can live a life that is whole. That is not to say that the life you live will be perfect, whole and perfect are nothing alike. Perfect is what we see set before us as a standard by those who can sell us something to make us seem perfect. Perfect is what we will be if we buy the right skin lotion, perfect is what we will be if we buy the right house, perfect is what we will be if we marry the right person, or play the right game or have the right bank account or life insurance or whatever. The harder we work for perfect, the more frustrated, depressed, angry, and resentful we become.

 

The Good News is that in a broken and fragmented world, you can live a life that is whole. When Rick and I were married, we were given the chalice that was used for Holy Communion that day. On our 10th anniversary, we brought the chalice to church with us to use at communion in celebration of our anniversary. As I was getting out of the car that day, I dropped the chalice. We picked up the pieces, and I set about putting the cup back together. It is whole, but surely not perfect. It is now filled with 36 years of growth, of such pain, happiness, heartache, joy and of sorrow. We lived together through pain and suffering, death and resurrection. We were never a perfect couple, perfect parents, perfects siblings, not perfect, but in Jesus’ love he is whole, I am whole, we are whole. 

 

It is this Good News that we must proclaim to the world. Perfect people have no time for church, broken and hurting people, you and I, come to be made whole, come to be restored to fullness of life, come to be made new in the waters of baptism, we have been born again. God already knows us; we are wonderfully and fearfully made. In baptism we are perfection and beauty and potential and existence. When we are dropped into the water there is a new creation. The water takes the calluses, the armor, the prison around our lives, and sets us free. Very shortly this is also the journey of Lent, from baptism to new life

 

Jesus is a good Jew, he goes to synagogue on the Sabbath, but then he goes and breaks the law by healing on the Sabbath. What Mark is trying to show us is that the Word of God, God in the flesh, is active and healing. Jesus knows that there is a danger in people knowing that he is the Word of God, God in the flesh. Jesus knows that it is also dangerous for him to neglect his own relationship with the one who gives him life, so he goes to pray. Wholeness and healing involve prayer, into our brokenness comes the Word, alive and active, quiet and contemplative. 

 

Jesus was fully who he was created to be as he went about healing, casting out demons, turning over tables in the temple, eating with sinners, welcoming the children. It was all in a day’s work for him, albeit hard work. And he too needed to regain his balance, find his center, kneel before his creator, and pray. 

 

I don’t think the 1st century world in which Jesus lived is much different than the world in which we live. People are broken, disheartened, there is greed and there is idolatry. Through Jesus, God offers us healing and wholeness, through Jesus, God offers us the opportunity to be ourselves. Putting ourselves, like Jesus did, in the posture of prayer brings us to a place where we can hear the call to be ourselves, to be whole, to be healed. Prayer is a place in which we find our relationship with God, prayer is a place in which we find ourselves. 

 

Come and be healed, come and be who you are called to be, come, and find yourself.  Amen

 

Fourth Sunday after Epiphany Yr B Jan 31 2021

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Fourth Sunday after Epiphany Yr B Jan 31 2021

Deuteronomy 18:15-20, 1 Corinthians 8:1-13, Mark 1:21-28, Psalm 111

 

Mark’s gospel begins with the expectation that you already know what this story is about, so there is no preliminaries, not like in Luke, not like Matthew, and definitely not like in John. When we enter Mark’s gospel we are off and running. No time to process any of this. After Jesus’ first words in Mark’s gospel, that we heard last week, Jesus is healing and casting out unclean spirits. Even though Mark doesn’t mince words, we know what is really important. The first thing Jesus does is free this man from the hold of his unclean spirit and restore him to himself, his loved ones, and his community. The very first thing.

 

Mark doesn't mince words. We’re very comfortable with words, the other gospels are full of words. They try to explain the parables, the healings, the miracles. But not Mark. Mark shows us who Jesus is through healings, through presence, through action. In Mark, Jesus teaches by what he does.

 

We know that Mark's gospel begins with “the beginning of the good news of Jesus Christ, the Son of God.” Mark immediately goes on to show us what this Son of God looks like. The Son of God is baptized in the Jordan, and a voice comes from heaven and says, “You are my son, the Beloved, with you I am well pleased.” The Son of God is cast out into the wilderness and battles Satan. The Son of God calls Simon and Andrew, James and John, who left everything to follow him. The Son of God was in the habit of going to the synagogue on the Sabbath. He was also in the habit of breaking many of the rules of the Sabbath. The Son of God teaches with authority, and heals with authority. According to Mark, this is what we need to know about the Son of God. 

 

Can you remember the best teachers you ever had? Everett Anderson was one of the best teachers ever. We affectionately called him Ev, probably never in his hearing. Mr. Anderson was of diminutive stature, and powerful presence. He taught, you may guess, English and American Literature. As great teachers do, he invited us into the story, he didn’t tell us what the story was about, but brought it to life in the classroom. We had Elizabethan feasts and we learned history, and story, and truth. And no matter Ev’s physical presence in the classroom, his authority was immense, not because we were frightened of him, or that he held power over us, but because he told the truth, he listened to us lowly students, and he cared. Mr. Anderson was not authoritarian, but authoritative. He exuded knowledge, and care, and compassion. 

 

In this gospel story, Jesus’ authority creates something that no one had ever experienced before Jesus. Jesus’ authority creates healing. It’s hard for us to imagine, because today I think we experience authority as power. Power to tell others what to do, what to believe. Power to buy and consume and have. The scribes, who were the educated and literate people, had never before experienced the kind of authority that is shown to us in Jesus; we only encounter this kind of authority when we encounter Jesus.

 

What does this authority look like? Authority is who Jesus is, it is not something that Jesus possesses, or something that Jesus owns, not even what Jesus says. True authority, authentic authority, is not derived from power but from trust and respect and relationship. True authority does not control, it authors. Authority comes from the same word as author. It is a word that indicates something or someone that creates, something or someone that causes an increase, something or someone that causes growth.

 

This authority is quite different from power. Power, in the Mediterranean world, as well as in our own world, is understood as a limited quantity. If one person has more power, then the other has less. In the Mediterranean world, honor was also a limited quantity. The honoring of one resulted in the shaming of another. Power and honor are linked in the Mediterranean world of Jesus’ time, and whether or not we are fully aware of it, that’s how power and honor operate in our culture as well, or at least that’s the perception.

 

What the scribes noticed immediately in this story is that Jesus speaks with an as-yet-unheard-of level of authority. Suddenly the years of compounded knowledge, confined logic and entrenched tradition offered by the scribes begins to pale in comparison to the message that Jesus brings, Love. When Jesus was around, something was created, something was increased, growth was happening, the story was being rewritten. Scribes were “because it has always been that way” theologians, that is to say the kind of theology that is built on its past and nothing new really comes about. But things were definitely not the same any more.

 

It is in this new reality that people began to see that this must be God’s work, because it is only God who can author this new story. There is only one God, one Lord, and neither you nor I are it, or anyone who has earthly power. What this passage says to us is that this new thing that Jesus does, as God in our midst, is to signal that Jesus has come to oppose all the forces that keep the children of God, and that is all of us, from the abundant life God desires for all of us. And that message matters. God wants the most for us from this life and stands in opposition to anything that robs us of the joy and community and purpose for which we were created.

 

And what is the purpose for which we are created? To love God with all our heart and mind and soul, and to love our neighbor. This is the abundant life that God promises. The release of this unclean spirit by Jesus’ authority shows us that. And as the very first thing Jesus does in Mark’s telling of this story, it shows us that God’s love for us, through Jesus’ authority, releases us , and creates in us love for neighbor, love for the unlovable, love for the least of these. 

 

This is good news indeed. God’s love releases us from all that holds us captive. What is that for you? What holds you captive? In these rocky days there’s a list of stuff that holds us captive. Fear maybe at the top of the list. Fear of being unlovable. Fear of not being enough. Or even fear that you can’t measure up to the claim that Jesus makes on us, the claim to our very hearts. Let Jesus open wide the doors of your heart and your brokenness will be made whole. And from that newness and softness of heart flows the love that creates a new reality, a reality of love and compassion, kindness, mercy, justice. 

 

And that, my friends, is when love really does win. 

Third Sunday after the Epiphany Yr B Jan 24 2021

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Third Sunday after the Epiphany Yr B Jan 24 2021

Jonah 3:1-5, 10, 1 Corinthians 7:29-31, Mark 1:14-20, Psalm 62:6-14

 

We have been hearing stories in Mark’s gospel for the last couple of weeks that remind us that God loves us and that we are the delight of God's life. Stories of baptism, God claims us, and we are marked as God's own forever. God calls us, God shows up with us and for us. God calls us wonderfully and fearfully made. 

 

And today we go back near the beginning of Mark’s gospel. Mark gets right down to business. There is no nativity story as there is in Luke, there are no begats like in Matthew, and no soaring language like in John. No, Mark gets right to the point. In the first sentences the writer says, this is about the Good News, who is Jesus the Messiah. John the baptizer announced Jesus, Jesus is baptized, and utters the first words he says in Mark, that we hear today, repent and believe in the Good News. Mark gets down to business and there’s no looking back.

 

It's not much different for these fisher people. Just imagine this scene. Just imagine being in that fishing boat with Simon and Andrew, with James and John, having fished all night. You're exhausted, and you’ve got to fix the holes in your nets before you can call it a day. You just want to get the work finished, take your haul home, and go to bed. And Jesus passes by. He stops and yells from the shore, "Follow me and I will make you fish for people." Who is this guy? How can you make a living fishing for people? How's that going to pay the bills? How's that going to put food on the table? How's that going to bring any honor to the family? This is just crazy. And yet you go. And yet you step out of the boat and follow. What is so compelling about this man that causes these fisherpeople to leave their family, leave their livelihood, and follow. 

 

What must be so compelling about this man Jesus is that Jesus is the truth, Jesus speaks the truth, Jesus knows your truth. Simon and Andrew, James and John, responded to Jesus who speaks truth, they said yes to Jesus’ call. They had no idea what was in store for them. Jesus calls us over the tumult of our life's wild restless sea, day by day his clear voice soundeth, christian, follow me. And when you say yes to the call, you don't really know what to expect, except that your life will be changed forever. When you say yes to the call, Love wins, mercy prevails, compassion lives. 

 

Because that is the way it is with Jesus, it isn't easy, comfortable, or clear. So what does saying yes to the call look like? We see some of what it looks like in the people we meet in these stories. It looks like a guy who walks to the other side of the road to help someone who had been attacked by strangers. It looks like a woman who gives a man a cool drink of water at the well. It looks like the soil that is rocky, that is thorny, and that is fertile. It looks like the tiniest of seeds. 

 

And being perfect, or even having our act together, is not a prerequisite to saying yes to Jesus' call. Jonah is the example of that. What we hear today is the conclusion of God calling Jonah. The beginning of that story goes like this. The word of the Lord came to Jonah, "Go to the great city of Nineveh and preach against it, because its wickedness has come up before me." But Jonah ran away from the Lord and headed for Tarshish. He went down to Joppa, where he found a ship bound for that port. After paying the fare, he went aboard and sailed for Tarshish to flee from the Lord. Jonah's response to God's call was to turn tail and run. Not unlike most of us when we hear God's call. 

Jonah ran from God until he could run no further, Jonah said no to God for as long as he could. The result of Jonah's eventual yes, was that everyone turned away from their evil ways; maybe in other words, they turned toward mercy and compassion. That is what it looks like to repent.

 

Saying yes to Jesus' call is actually what frees us to be who we are, and to live the truth of who we are, beloved and forgiven. I think the reason people say no to God, and say no to church, is because of the mistaken belief that you have to be perfect to stand before God and others. That’s just not true. What is perfect is God’s love, the love that puts us back to together after we have been broken.

 

Saying yes to Jesus is to say yes to the truth; the truth of who we are. We are people who are broken; we are people who make mistakes, some huge mistakes, some not so much. We are people who betray. We are people who love and who fall short of love. We are people who get ourselves into trouble with wanting too much and expecting too little. We are people who believe we can make it on our own and forget we are not the center of the universe. We are people who erect and worship idols. We are people who build walls around us so thick to guard our brokenness and to look perfect. 

 

Saying yes to Jesus, saying yes to the truth, is really about being willing to live your own truth. It looks like the guy who spent some time in jail, and who can listen to others trying to find their way. It looks like the mom who struggled to live through addiction, and who can listen to other moms who are so afraid to face up to their own lies. It looks like couples that work through the depths of sadness, recommit to each other, and listen to those who can't see the possibility. It is each and every one of us knowing we are just inches away from losing our job, or losing our home, or losing our spouse, and living in the midst of hope and joy anyway, because Jesus lived it all too.

 

Saying yes to Jesus is to say yes to the truth. And the truth will set you free. Saying yes to Jesus is to let love win, it is to let the mercy and the compassion seep into our scars and heal us. It is to let love win and let the mercy and the compassion transform us. When you say yes, your life begins to change, you are in the presence of God, and your truth begins to invite others into healing. Jesus' truth, your truth, your life in God's presence invites others to live a live fully alive, a live filled with truth, with love, with mercy and compassion. Your life begins to show forth the moral decision making that is apparent in the baptismal covenant. You do what is right, instead of what is selfish or greedy. You bear Jesus' light in the world, and those you encounter, those who encounter you, witness the truth of your life and are invited to be healed by Jesus. Come and see, Jesus says, Follow me, show your love to the world. Amen.

 

Second Sunday after the Epiphany Yr B Jan 1 2021

 

Second Sunday after the Epiphany Yr B Jan 1 2021

1 Samuel 3:1-10(11-20), 1 Corinthians 6:12-20, John 1:43-51, Psalm 139:1-5, 12-17

 

May the words of my mouth, and the meditations of our hearts, be acceptable in your sight, 

O Lord our strength and our redeemer.

 

Second Sunday after the Epiphany Yr B Jan 17 2021

1 Samuel 3:1-10(11-20), 1 Corinthians 6:12-20, John 1:43-51, Psalm 139:1-5, 12-17

 

What does it mean to follow Jesus? It begins with the invitation to come and see for yourself who Jesus is. It continues with the experience of abiding with Jesus. The disciples come and see and abide. Following Jesus has everything to do with having a relationship with Jesus.

 

This week in these readings about Eli and Samuel, in the psalm, and in John's story of calling the disciples, we are reminded that God already knows us, God already knows you, God claims us, God loves us first, and that IS the abiding relationship.

 

Have you found Jesus? ... Is a question that is asked in certain circles. But I believe we are mistaken when we think we need to find Jesus. Like Jesus is playing a game of hide and seek with us, and he's been behind the couch all along. "Lord, you have searched me out and known me, you know my sitting down and my rising up, you discern my thoughts from afar," psalm 139 reminds us. We don't need to find Jesus; we are already found by Jesus. Sometimes, however, we need to be of a heart and a mind and a posture to listen. That’s where the relationship is. We spend so much time and energy building our own walls, surrounding ourselves with such noise, that we cannot hear God’s call to relationship and we are blinded to Jesus who shows up anyway. We build walls that alienate and isolate ourselves and others from the love that claims our hearts.

 

We build those walls with litanies of excuses. You've heard them, you've said them, you've experienced them. There's the I'm not going to church litany. I've got better things to do, I don't have time, It's the only time we have together as a family, I'd rather drink coffee, read the paper, look at facebook, I don't like the music they sing there, I don't like the prayers they say there, I don't like the people there, they're hypocrites, I don't like the style of worship there, I don't like the priest there. There's nobody like me there, everybody is like me there. And to top it off, worship in a parking lot!

 

There's the I'm spiritual but not religious litany. I don't need organized religion, I can worship God on my own, at home, in nature, on the golf course.

 

There's the I don't believe in God litany. I can't believe in a God who doesn't take all of this pain and suffering away. I can’t believe in a God who can’t change all this madness.

 

And then there's the I'm not good enough litany. I've done something so horrible God would not want me, I'm guilty of something, I'm not worthy, I'm no good. And a related litany, the I'm too good for them litany. They don't believe what I believe, that doesn't fulfill my needs, I don't like that music. We beseech you good lord...

 

But then there is the fear. Because if I really listen, I might have to do something about it. And that, my friends is where the rubber meets the road. Listening and responding to God's call, God's claim on our hearts, is scary. It means that we go outside of what is comfortable, it means that we take risks with our hearts, and maybe even our lives. But, in a world torn apart by anger, hatred and conflict, we have the privilege of being living signs of a love that can bridge all divisions and heal all wounds. In a society where racism and misogyny and white supremacy 

are becoming normalized, we have the privilege of being witnesses to the dignity and respect for all God’s people in all parts of God’s creation. In families torn apart by the drive for more, and bigger, and better, we have the privilege of being living signs of a love that can lift up the lowly and bring down the mighty.  

 

The truth is that it is God's heart’s desire for us to be in relationship with God, and any relationship takes work, it takes listening, it takes learning, it takes responding. Around here we believe that God loves, we believe that love shows up in Jesus, and in you and in all of us. But, love is just a word until someone gives it meaning, Jesus is the meaning, you are the meaning, you are the hands and feet of this love.

 

So we listen to God's call, and we discern God's call to us. We put aside all the excuses, all the reasons why not. We put aside our fear, and we respond. We do as the disciples did, we do as Eli and Samuel did, we listen together, in community, with each other, not alone. We listen together, and we respond. Our response to God’s amazing, abundant, and unconditional love, is the way we live our lives, it is the love and compassion and mercy that we offer to others. 

 

How do you live your response to God's claim on your life? How do you live your response to God's call to you? How do we, here at Trinity live our common life together, in response to God's call? How do you, how do we, show up and show forth the light, and the love, the suffering and the death, the hope, that is the truth of this life? 

 

This week we remember Martin Luther King Jr. a man who responded with courage to God's claim on his life. Martin Luther King Jr. showed us that dreams are made of treating every bit of God's creation, every color of God’s creation, with mercy, compassion, and justice. 

 

Sometimes the violence and the tragedy in our world, and in our community seems overwhelming. Sometimes the rhetoric is so crazy we cannot even believe it came out of someone’s mouth. Sometimes we even just stop paying attention. In these turbulent days, respecting the dignity of every human being seems to be in question, seeking and serving Christ in all persons, loving your neighbor as yourself seem foolish. But we've also seen how love can change a situation, we've seen how a kind word, a compassionate act, can change the reality in which we live. 

 

I heard a story, about a boy who responded to some teasing that was inflicted on him, not by being mean. Instead, he got to school early, and stood at the front door, holding it open as the students entered, greeting each one with a good morning. Soon, the students were greeting each other with smiles and hellos. Soon, the students were opening doors for each other all over the building. Soon the culture of the student body was changing. 

 

Respond to God's claim on your heart and your life by opening doors for those around you, and you too, will change the world. 

Respond to God’s claim on your heart and your life by standing up with compassion. 

Have courage, do not be afraid, listen, show up and show forth God's love. Amen.  

Epiphany (transferred) January 10 2021

(Photo credit, Paula DeRubeis)

YouTube recording

Epiphany (transferred) January 10 2021

Isaiah 60:1-6, Ephesians 3:1-12, Matthew 2:1-12, Psalm 72:1-7,10-14

 

A New Year dawns, and with it hope and promise, light and love. Even in the midst of this present darkness, more light has already begun to shine, I can see it and I can feel it. "Lift up your eyes and look around...you shall see and be radiant; your heart shall thrill and rejoice, because the abundance of the sea shall be brought to you, the wealth of the nations shall come to you." 

 

And yet life feels so hard, even scary. The events we are living through seem unbelievable, even unimaginable. We have come to new lows of selfishness and irresponsibility, at the best, at the worst insurrection and terrorism. And it is actually not unlike the reality brought to us in Matthew's story, a story in which King Herod looms large as a despot, for whom power, instead of love, wins. 

 

And that is how we come to these readings today in which we find hope. There is so much hope, so much promise, so much light, so much love. God has broken into our world, and continues to break into our world, and walks with us in the flesh. 

 

A word about the story that inspires our lives, that gives us hope, and teaches us about love. The biblical story is our story. The biblical story is the story of God's creation and blessing and abundance. It is the story about how the creation turns away from God, it is about how we begin to believe that everything is about us and not God, it is about how we build idols of wealth, and happiness, and power. We even make God an idol when we believe in a God of magic instead of mystery, a God of resuscitation instead of resurrection. But this same God calls us back, this same God in the flesh shows us in the flesh, the way, the truth, and the life. God shows us, that no matter what we do, no matter how bad the circumstances seem to be, no matter how much life hurts, Love wins. The Light will not be put out.

 

The story we have before us today, this story of the wise ones from the east who follow the Light to the child born in a barn, helps us to see the cosmic importance of this birth. This birth happened in a particular place at a particular time in the context of a particular tribe, but the arrival of these wise ones from the east shows us that it wasn't just for a particular people at a particular time in a particular tribe. Matthew's intent in telling this story is to show us that this birth changes the world, the wise ones from the east know that, and they know the importance of keeping the birth from Herod, so they go home by another way. 

 

God seems to do whatever it takes to reach out to and embrace all people. God announces the birth of the Messiah to shepherds through angels on Christmas, to Magi via a star on Epiphany, and to the political and religious authorities of God’s own people through visitors from the East. From a manger, where a child lies wrapped in bands of cloth, God’s reach, God’s embrace in Jesus, gets bigger and bigger and bigger. Jesus eats with outcasts and sinners. Jesus touches people who are sick and people who live with pain and suffering. Jesus even calls the dead back to life. Ultimately, Jesus draws all people to himself as he is lifted up on the cross. In Jesus, no one is beyond God’s embrace.

 

God’s radical grace is wondrously frightening. The Light that shines in the darkness, the Love that wins is wondrously frightening. That is what this story is about. God comes to us in wondrously surprising ways. Ways we do not expect. Ways which we would never choose for ourselves. This is what the pandemic has taught me, and I hope, us. We are changed, we are transformed, the world is turned, and we must go home by another way, a different way, the way of Love. 

 

Or not, the alternative, of course, is to join Herod in not seeing God’s ever-expanding embrace, or feel threatened by it, and instead giving way to just plain fear: “When King Herod heard this, he was frightened, and all Jerusalem with him”. Herod jealously reached out himself, far enough to violently protect his place and preserve his power.

 

But I would suggest not being like Herod, and instead of living in fear of what is next, what is new, what could happen, we live in God's embrace, we live in God's light, we live in confidence that Love wins. Instead of living in fear of what the future may bring to us, we live in God's abundant and amazing grace. Instead of holding fast to that which someday we will lose, we get on board with God's mission in the world of healing and reconciliation.

 

Taking the way of the wise ones from the east, going home by another way, going home by Jesus' way, surely provides a life of adventure, of risk, of surprise. Jesus leads us in a radical route. It takes us through green pastures, and more dangerous waters, it is a route that is filled with wolves and sheep. This is a route that calls us through transformation to wholeness; it is a route on which the adventure is not about you, but about whom we are together, the people on the adventure with us, and it is about how we are related to God. On this route home we are called to be Light bearers. We are called to be Love bearers. We are called to bring God’s Love to dark corners, to mountaintops, to raging waters.

 

We are called to bring God’s Love to a fragmented society, to a culture that is pulled apart by greed and fear. We are called to bring God’s Love to a world that seems to be moving toward injustice than away. We have been reading and discussing our Presiding Bishop’s book, “Love is the way”, I encourage you to join the conversation whether or not you’ve read the book, and I encourage you to read the book. Bishop Curry says, “Love is God's way, the moral way, but it's also the only thing that works. It's the rare moment where idealism overlaps with pragmatism. People don't think of Jesus as a strategist, but he was a leader who successfully built what was essentially a radical equal rights movement within a brutal empire.”

 

You see, God’s Love, God’s Power, is the most powerful integrating force in creation. God’s Love moves us from brokenness, from fragmentation, to wholeness, to healing and it is the only way.

 

How do you bring God’s Love and God’s Light into the world, how do you bring God’s wholeness into your work or your school? It is our call, to bring God’s transforming love to those who have not yet seen or felt or known that love. It is our call to bear the Love that wins into the world.

 

And, it is God's dream that we do this together. After all, it was three kings, not just one, who came to see Jesus. We don't go this life on our own, we journey together, we go home by another way, together.

 

Today I leave you with an Epiphany poem, by Madeleine L'Engle.

 

Unclench your fists

Hold out you hands.

Take mine.

Let us hold each other.

Thus is God’s Glory Manifest.

 

Amen