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)

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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

4 Advent Yr B December 20 2020

4 Advent Yr B December 20 2020

2 Samuel 7:1-11, 16, Romans 16:25-27, Luke 1:26-38, Canticle 15

 

It is the voices of women we hear today. A reprise of Mary’s song, and this story of Mary and Elizabeth. I love that the women get the last word before the glorious impossible, the incarnation, God bursting into humanity with new life, hope, peace, joy, and love. 

 

I have never quite believed that Mary sat quietly and meekly while her life changed completely and absolutely. When I close my eyes and try to imagine this scene, I see Mary. In my imagination, Mary is a very young girl, and yet very excited to be a woman, and ready to be married to Joseph. Mary is a Jewish girl; she knows well the stories of God’s activity in the life of her people. She has lived her whole life in this community of faith. Mary has lived her whole life in the community of people who believe there is a special relationship between God and them. They believe that their story, the story of this community, day in and day out, through slavery, wilderness, kingdoms, and exile, is the story of God’s working through them to accomplish the divine purposes on earth.

God is trusting God’s people to have raised Mary in the right way, to have taught her the story of faith, taught her to recognize God’s hand at work in her life. Gabriel has made the proposition. The great archangel has announced God’s purpose, the heavenly messenger has posed the question, and the girl is clearly troubled.

Mary is perplexed. Perplexed in Greek leans much more towards “to be in doubt” or “not to know how to decide or what to do.” In my imagination, this is much closer to how I see Mary responding. Actually, I think Mary must have been terrified. The sort of terrified you get when your stomach just seems to twist and fall out of you. She must have wondered what was happening to her, being visited by an angel was a new thing, there weren't stories of her people about an angel visit. 

I imagine Mary saying something like, “Not me, no way, I can’t do that. Don’t ask such a thing of me, I’m only a girl. You’ve got the wrong person. The God bearer should be royal, a person of honor, it can’t be me.” She must have doubted herself; she must have doubted her own capability to be the God bearer. Any young girl would. What must have gone through her mind?

And Gabriel responds, “Do not be afraid, Mary, for you have found favor with God.” Mary, you are the one. Mary is low born, without title, without power. And this is the very place of incarnation. God sees the suffering and comes low to meet people in their sorrow. Jesus always sought proximity to people who were hurting or alone or in need, and Jesus was always there grieving alongside them, tending to their wounds, making them feel seen. 

 

Gabriel does go on to remind Mary of the story she already knows, the story of her people, and who this son is to be. Mary wants to know how this can be. We want to know how this can be. This is incredible, inconceivable, incarnation is unreasonable. This doesn’t make sense. Gabriel explains that the Holy Spirit will take care of it, and then gives her evidence of the possibility, her old, barren cousin Elizabeth is also pregnant, nothing will be impossible with God.

How can this be? How can Mary get pregnant by God? Is all of Christianity founded on this inconceivable possibility? I ask this question, because this question has been asked of me, by adults and children alike, by your children, by my children. I turn to one of my favorite writers, Madeleine L’Engle when I ponder these things. She writes in a book called Bright Evening Star, “It is not that in believing the story of Jesus we skip reason, but that sometimes we have to go beyond it, take leaps with our imagination, push our brains further than the normally used parts of them are used to going.” She goes on to write “I had to let go all my prejudices and demands for proof and open myself to the wonder of love. Faith is not reasonable because it wasn’t for reason, but for love that Jesus came.”

It is for love that Jesus came. And so, for love, Mary says yes. And it is in love that we light the fourth candle on the advent wreath today.

This is the story of these women, and it speaks volumes to us today. What does Mary’s yes to the love of God, have to do with us? Mary’s active, engaged yes, empowers each of us to say yes to the possibility of God in our midst. Mary’s yes can be our yes. Indeed, it is because of Mary's yes and Elizabeth’s declaration that Love wins. The angel Gabriel announced to Mary, “Hail favored one, the Lord is with you.” The Lord is with you, these are not just words spoken to Mary, these are words spoken to each of us and to all of us. Mary said yes, God waits for each of us to say yes.

The terrifying part of Gabriel’s invitation is what will happen if we say yes? What does God-bearing look like? Mary didn’t know, she risked everything when she said yes; she risked everything on the promise that God was with her. All we know is that saying yes to God changes everything and risks everything we have. 

 

Mary’s yes was brave, and terrifying. Mary’s yes became fierce as her son grew into his fullness, his call, and she watched the powers turn against him. Can we be brave and fierce like Mary? Can we put ourselves aside and say yes to God in the flesh, incredible, inconceivable, incarnation?

The story is about God and God’s love for us. It’s about the promise God made to Mary and God makes to us to bring us out of a life of greed and why not me, into a life that bears hope and promise. The real world is the world in which Mary said yes to God, and the world in which each of us says yes to God. It is living fully and completely, it is feeling pain and joy, it is giving and receiving, it is life, and it is death. This world is messy and confusing and often scary. A world into which God is born in a dirty barn, so that love could burst forth. It is a world in which we enter into relationships with one another, where we see each other face to face, it is a world in which how God created us is wonderful, it is a world in which we understand the sacred in each of us and treat each other as if we were all God-bearers.

“Fear not, here comes God.” We should be terrified, and reassured at the very same time that our yes brings Christ into this world. We Christians have been taught to look for the Christ in everyone we meet, to practice a radical hospitality to serve the Christ in each other, for in serving them we are serving Christ himself. What do we -- each of us -- have to offer the Christ this year? Where do we see the signs that Christ has been born among us?

Mary’s yes didn’t just happen all those years ago, Mary’s yes happens everyday you and I bear love ourselves. God is still up to something. God continues to burst forth in our lives. Love wins. 

3 Advent Yr B December 13 2020

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3 Advent Yr B December 13 2020

Isaiah 61:1-4, 8-11, 1 Thessalonians 5:16-24, John 1:6-8,19-28, Psalm 126 or Canticle 15

 

Every time I hear these verses from John, I hear The Who singing “Who are you”. That ages me I suppose. Who are you, I really want to know, tell me, who are you, the verses in that song continue on in a search for identity, who are you? A long time before that recording, the priests and Levites ask Who are you, and John the baptizer confesses, or witnesses, or testifies, all the same word, exactly to who he is not, he is not the Messiah. Who he is, his identity, is the voice of one crying in the wilderness, make straight the way of the Lord. 

 

This third week of Advent, we, like John the Baptist, are called to know who we are, God’s beloveds, and to witness to the light, so that all may believe. Today I want you to consider three things that John the Baptist is doing to witness to the light. 

 

First, it is rare and refreshing, John has zero-interest in making this about himself. We are so used to this character John the Baptist, that I think we don’t feel the extent to which he puts himself aside for Jesus. John has his own posse, his own band of followers. And here comes this upstart Jesus, preaching a new way. From the constant self-expression and self-aggrandizement encouraged, promoted, and even demanded by social media to the posturing of too many political candidates as the only person who can do the job, we are living during a distinctly ego-centric, if not full-on narcissistic, time in our culture. We experience it everywhere. From not listening to the experts in science because you think you know better, to demanding the right to do whatever you darn well please in public, this is not about you at all. John shows us that. John sets himself aside and points to Jesus and witnesses to the light that is coming into the world. 

 

Second, in this way, John stands as a model and example of what life lived in response to God’s call looks like. And what does that look like? You are God’s beloved, you are enough, you are what God made you to be. So many could be disappointed and frustrated with John not taking power and opposing Jesus. John is very clear in himself that he is the voice in the wilderness, the one that points to Jesus, but is not the long expected Messiah.

 

As we consider John as a model and example of what life lived in response to God’s call looks like, we must also consider Mary, whose Magnificat we read together. The song of Mary that we sing each Sunday of Advent, is the oldest Advent hymn. It is also the most passionate, the wildest, and one might almost say the most revolutionary Advent hymn that has ever been sung. This is not the gentle, tender, dreamy Mary as we often see her portrayed in paintings. The Mary who is speaking here is passionate, carried away, proud, enthusiastic. There is none of the sweet, wistful, or even playful tone of many of our Christmas carols, but instead a hard, strong, relentless hymn about the toppling of the thrones and the humiliation of the lords of this world, about the power of God and the powerlessness of humankind. This is the sound of the prophetic women of the Old Testament—Deborah, Judith, Miriam—coming to life in the mouth of Mary. Mary, who was seized by the power of the Holy Spirit, and who speaks, by the power of this same Spirit, about God’s coming into the world, about the Advent of Jesus Christ. Like John, Mary puts aside her own self interest for this glorious impossible. 

 

She, of course, knows better than anyone else what it means to wait for Christ’s coming. Her waiting is different from that of any other human being. She expects Jesus as his mother. Jesus is closer to her than to anyone else. She knows the secret of his coming, knows about the Spirit, who has a part in it, about the Almighty God, who has performed this miracle. In her own body she is experiencing the wonderful ways of God with humankind: that God does not arrange matters to suit our opinions and views, does not follow the path that humans would like to prescribe. God’s path is free and original beyond all our ability to understand or to prove.

 

There, where our understanding is outraged, where our nature rebels, where our piety anxiously keeps its distance—that is exactly where God loves to be. There, though it confounds the understanding of sensible people, though it irritates our nature and our piety, God wills to be, and none of us can forbid it. Only the humble believe and rejoice that God is so gloriously free, performing miracles where humanity despairs and glorifying that which is lowly and of no account. For just this is the miracle of all miracles, that God loves the lowly. God “has looked with favor on the lowliness of his servant.” God in the midst of lowliness—that is the revolutionary, passionate word of Advent. *

*– Dietrich Bonhoeffer (1906-1945), ‘Collected Sermons of Dietrich Bonhoeffer’

 

And thirdly, John the gospel writer invites us to an acceptance of our identity as God’s beloveds. Rather than striving for the affirmation of others we are free to make the sacrifices required that deepen our sense of calling, purpose, and meaning. 

 

And in that light, because I am and we are God’s beloveds, and part of our call is to set ourselves aside and point to Jesus, I am choosing to receive this Advent during Covidtide as a gift, maybe you will too. Advent, and preparation for Christmas, has often been a time of stress, a time of expectation that cannot be met. But this time, we have the opportunity to name it all, and do it quite differently. Rather than hiding sadness and grief and loss from the world and from our friends, the gift is that we are all in it together. Rather than working ourselves into a frenetic ball of nerves about not getting it all done, we let go of our perceptions of control and affirm our call as god-bearers, and like Mary we receive the gift of new birth. And as those of you who have given birth know, it’s scary and joyful all at the same time. And with Mary and John at our side, we claim our voice to call out God is here, Love wins. 

2 Advent Yr B December 6 2020

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2 Advent Yr B December 6 2020

Isaiah 40:1-11, 2 Peter 3:8-15a, Mark 1:1-8, Psalm 85:1-2, 8-13

 

Jesus’ first words in Mark’s gospel are in chapter 1 verses 14 and 15. There Jesus says, “the time is fulfilled, and the kingdom of God is at hand; repent and believe in the gospel” after being in the wilderness for forty days. We must look at these very first verses in Mark’s gospel through that lens. The time is fulfilled, the kingdom of God is at hand, repent and believe in this Good News. We must, because Mark points us through the prophet Isaiah and John the baptizer to the God who is here in our midst. In Isaiah we read “your God is here!” and Mark announces that God is present. You see, this is what God does, God shows up and God shows a new way. 

 

This beginning of Mark’s gospel takes place in the wilderness. John the baptizer appears in the wilderness. This is important. I want you to hear how important this is. Jesus is found on the edge, and Jesus also belongs there. Not in the power center of the polis, the city. But in the wilderness, or at the river, or the seashore, or in the home of a poor family among the farm animals. This decentering of God is the Good News! God shows a new way, the old way just isn’t working any more. 

 

God shows up and God shows a new way. That way is not the way of power but the way of love. And when God moves, walls come a tumblin’ down. Boundaries are crossed. Margins are erased. The heavens are torn in two. Doves descend. All manner of being is upended. 

 

In Mark’s gospel, Jesus is a boundary breaker. Story after story shows us this. There’s the story of the paralytic, the one whose friends climbed up on a roof and lowered him into the house where Jesus was. First there was a wall of people preventing them from getting to Jesus, and secondly, once they climbed up on the roof, they had to dig their way through the roof to get to Jesus. Walls come a tumblin’ down. And then the man with the scaly skin disease, unclean according to the law. In touching that man, Jesus made himself unclean and shattered the boundary of purity that put those who had the disease outside the community, on the margins. That wall came a tumblin’ down. And then, Jesus calls a tax-collector to follow him, and then goes on to eat with him. Jesus shows a blatant disregard for the laws of purity and social propriety, the walls come a tumblin’ down. Just a few examples. These stories in Mark’s gospel are framed by a beginning boundary breaking story and an ending boundary breaking story. At the beginning, Jesus is baptized by John in the Jordan, and the heavens are torn apart and the Spirit shows up. And near the end, which is really not much of an end at all, Jesus is on the cross, and while the sun’s light failed, the curtain of the temple was torn in two and everyone knew something new was going on. 

 

Mark is working mighty hard to tell us that God breaks into our world, and nothing can be the same. God shows up in this new way, and through Jesus breaks down the barriers that hold God at a distance. God shows up and Jesus shows us the way of love, the way of forgiveness, the way of peace. This is what incarnation is all about; God breaking boundaries to be with us, lovable, fallible, joyful, broken, human beings; Jesus breaking boundaries that redefine who is included in God’s kingdom; the Spirit breaking boundaries to inspire us to love and care for our neighbor. Why is this important? The thing God changes in Jesus IS the boundary that separates human beings from God. God breaks that boundary and God offers love and forgiveness. This is good news indeed.

 

Not only is incarnation about breaking boundaries in scripture, but it is about breaking boundaries now. How do we witness Jesus breaking boundaries in our lives? Just as Jesus reached across the boundary of purity to touch the man with the scaly skin, we reach across boundaries when we stand up for full inclusion in the decision making in this country by people who have been historically excluded. We reach across boundaries when we insist on equal health care, education, or access to voting. We reach across boundaries and walls come a tumblin’ down when we offer love and forgiveness and peace to all God’ children. 

 

Christmas is THE boundary breaking event. God tumbling into this world as a baby, to parents of no means, in a humble house, only to be pursued by an evil emperor. In these Advent days, we participate in this wonderful and amazing good news that God is here! God is with us, God is in our midst. And God keeps at it. God keeps coming to us. That’s the now and not yet of Advent. 

 

It feels a little harder, this Advent, in this Covidtide, to identify God with us. We’ve been so used to seeing and experiencing God as our beautiful church is decorated for Christmas, and as we rehearse Christmas music. Even our secular expression of Christmas is subdued, a little less partying, shopping, carrying on. I wonder if this isn’t an opportunity to do some things differently. I know I have been more intentional about pausing each day to light my advent candle and I have Christmas lights inside and outside my house. I want to observe even more closely how the light overcomes the dark, I want to watch the boundary breaking reality of this glorious impossible, this incarnation. 

 

What remains, is that God is here, in flesh and blood. God is here in each of us as we reach out with love to those who are alone, those who are vulnerable, those who are losing hope. Each time we pray Morning Prayer we say In you, Lord, is our hope; And we shall never hope in vain. 

 

Peace be with you this day, and throughout this Advent season. 

1 Advent Yr B November 29 2020

 

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1 Advent Yr B November 29 2020

Isaiah 64:1-9, 1 Corinthians 1:3-9, Mark 13:24-37, Psalm 80:1-7, 16-18

 

The gospel writer Mark is here to tell us that God is in control, and when God is in control, hope and grace abound. Even when it seems like things are out of control, hope remains. And this is where we find ourselves this first Sunday of Advent. The world feels dark. This year, more than any year I can remember, I crave the light and the wonder of Christmas. I wonder how we can live in the anticipation and expectation that is Advent, and the hope of incarnation, the glorious impossible, while breathing in that Christmas air. One way is to turn to the readings that we have before us this Advent; they are stories that show us that nothing will be impossible with God.

 

In this thirteenth chapter of Mark’s gospel, Jesus exposes and reveals the powers and principalities that are destructive. When Mark writes, which is a few decades after Jesus has died, Israel is being consumed by a war with Rome. Mark uses Jesus’ earlier prediction to speak to his people’s current circumstance. This war brings suffering and death, and desolation and destruction. Previously, in chapter 11, Jesus has said that the Temple is to be a house of prayer for all the nations, and this abominable desecration of the Temple is caused by those whose goal was to kick all the nations out. You see, Jesus’ intention it seems, was that all people, all nations, all tribes, were a part of God’s dream, God’s vision for creation. But people who were afraid not only put up barriers to keep those who were not like them out, they went and destroyed the temple too. 

 

In the verses in front of us today, often called the little apocalypse, the focus shifts from an historical review of war and destruction to an apocalyptic vision. Let’s pause for a moment to remember what apocalyptic means. Apocalypse and revelation mean the same thing. Simply put, they mean that God shows forth. God shows up. So what we have here is a story about the God that shows up. In this story we see a picture of Jesus who returns to gather those who remain true to the course of resisting those who would divide, those who would exclude. The message is, despite fear or hostility, followers of Jesus are to continue to preach Jesus’ inclusive word, all are welcome. And doing that very thing, welcoming all as sons and daughters of God, is the very thing followers of Jesus need to be doing to be ready.

 

That’s why we hear, “watch out, be ready, don’t be caught off guard!”

 

These passages are not about fear, and they are not about hedging our bets for a future end time. This is about the now, and the not yet. This is why we read them in Advent, the season of now and not yet. The season of preparation. Being prepared is not just for boy scouts and girl scouts, being prepared is for all of us. Being watchful, being prepared, getting ready means that we proclaim Jesus’ inclusive word. It’s not so much about not knowing the hour of Jesus’ return, it’s about living awake and ready right here and right now. 

 

Sometimes I wonder if this pandemic is revealing our baser human inclinations. I’ve read that Pope Francis has said, “a crisis reveals what’s in our hearts.” And it seems that for many what may be in their hearts is hate, rather than love, meanness rather than compassion. 

 

We are in a time of revelation, apocalypse. And it’s time to pay attention to that man behind the curtain. Unfortunately, the curtain is being pulled aside and we are seeing a humanity acting on misguided, greedy, hateful values. Sometimes it even seems we are living in one those dystopian novels that I love so much, filled with images of destruction, violence, fear. We’ve heard about, or read, or watched, stories about being left behind. We steer clear of reading these hard stories in our bibles that seem to be about destruction because it seems hard to understand. But these stories point us to not to destruction, but to a new and better way. The way of Love, the way of hope. Friends, I want you to hear about hope. Because that is what revelation is all about. God reveals Godself to humanity and all of creation in so many ways, and in the flesh and blood of Jesus. This is the location of hope, and we can rest assured that we never hope in vain. 

 

This hope is the good news that we hear today. The good news specifically in this passage of Mark, is that all, everyone, is included in this boundary breaking ministry of Jesus. Listen to this word spoken into the world we live in today; a society that is contentious, acerbic, and fearful. No matter where you are or who you are, you are included. Jesus dealt with all sorts and kinds of people, often they are described as sinners, outcasts, tax collectors, women. People who were on the margins of community, and because they were they had no life, no hope. You and I are called to proclaim the good news in this world, by word and action, to those who are on the margins, to those who can find no love, no hope. This is what it means to be ready. 

 

And we hear this passage from Mark just as we begin the new year, just as we begin our preparations for Christmas, just as we begin Advent. Because Advent calls us to watchfulness, Advent calls us to being ready, not just getting ready, but being ready for this most amazing birth. The birth that is the glorious impossible. The coming of the one who loves us into life, loves us into ourselves, loves us into the image of God. 

 

You see, revelation is the Christmas story. At the heart of the story of Christmas is the promise that God comes in the small and vulnerable form of a baby born to poor and frightened parents, and that God keeps coming in small, vulnerable, unexpected, and unlooked for ways even now. In fact, each time we reach out to another in love, God is once again invading the kingdoms and structures of this world with God’s radical and transformative presence and grace. Being ready to receive this hope transforms how we approach and experience Christmas, and how we look at our lives in the world. 

 

What small things can we do in love through which God’s presence and redemption are revealed? Small gestures might we offer that signify our trust that God is with us and for us? What small sacrifices might we make – including, significantly, the sacrifice of not gathering with others when doing so risks spreading the coronavirus – that provide opportunities to see God still at work loving and blessing God’s people and world? Whatever our usual preparations for Christmas, fundamentally Christmas is about small things, a baby, this baby’s parents, bottom-of-the-economic ladder shepherds, wandering astrologers looking for someone to save the world, deep-held longings for presence and redemption given voice by Israel’s prophets. And this year, and particularly because our preparations and celebrations will be necessarily be a bit more muted, perhaps we’ll be able to hear that promise more clearly: that whenever and wherever we act in love, God is present. So indeed, watch, wait, look, and most especially listen, for in the Christ child who will grow up to embrace all of our longings and experience all aspects of our life, God is whispering, “Emmanuel, I am with you!”

Amen.