The Same Old Lesson to Learn.

Read the Bishop’s pastoral letter, then:

+“For I am convinced that neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord.”

This glorious soliloquy from Paul’s letter to the church in Rome has offered hope to the outcast for generations. As the Church, and the world, has battled to decide who is in and who is out, who is acceptable and who is not, this passage from today’s Epistle leads us to realize that, whatever the barrier, we have no right to erect it when it comes to church membership, or the offering of the sacraments. Today, as stated by Bishop Franklin, yet another human barrier has fallen. Once again, the love of God trumps bigotry, fear and hate.

Whenever a barrier is knocked down, people become anxious. Anxious because new is scary and different can be uncomfortable. For some of us, the law for marriage equality, and our Bishop’s pastoral response to it, is a source of great jubilation; for others, it’s a source of worry and concern.

But in reflecting on this development the past few weeks, and in considering how our work in this place can reach out to those so long injured by the church as institution I realized something:

“the more things change, the more the stay the same.”

I had a history professor in college, Dr. Schutte, who said, “History repeats itself because people change. We keep having the same battles over and over again because each generation needs to learn these lessons for themselves.”

And so, every couple of decades, a new barrier is identified, and change occurs. As the Bishop said, first it was race, then gender, now, sexual orientation. Presiding Bishop Edmund Browning, in 1981 (coincidentally the same year my History professor made her statement) pronounced “there shall be no outcasts in this Episcopal church.”

For 30 years we’ve been trying to live into that promise, learning the same lessons along the way. And for 2000 years we’ve been trying to live into Paul’s statement to the church in Rome, learning the same lessons, along the way. And Paul was trying, as we continue to try, to live into Jesus’ commandment that we love one another as he loves us…learning the same lessons along the way. Since the beginning of time, we’ve been trying to live into God’s deepest desire for us: that we work together, in spite of our differences, in spite of our fears regarding those differences, that we work together to love one another, just as God loves us….learning the same lessons along the way. But to learn these lessons we have to stretch, we have to get uncomfortable, we need to change.

In the church (and in the state of New York) today it’s Gay and Lesbian people, 30 years ago it was women, before that it was deaf people, before that it was people of color…. back in the days of Paul it was this new sect of Christian Jews, breaking the barriers of the Temple Jews. It’s the same lesson: God loves everyone and everyone is welcome at God’s table. We’re still stretching, we’re still learning, we’re still uncomfortable….

And at the forefront of this stretching, this learning, this increasing discomfort stand people taking the lead… Men and women who break through and, at great personal risk, pave the way for others. Our church calendar honors many of these trailblazers, Absalom Jones, the first African American Priest, Henry Winter Style, the first deaf priest, Barbara Harris the first woman bishop, Gene Robinson the first openly gay bishop.

The Bible, too, is full of such barrier breaking people. From Abraham to Noah, from Moses to Elijah, from John the Baptist to Jesus. And then there are the women: Sarah and Hagar, Miriam and Deborah, Ruth and Naomi, Mary and Martha of Bethany, Mary Magdalene, the Apostle to the Apostles and, of course, the young woman who said yes, the woman who was by Jesus side from his birth to his death, from his Resurrection to his Ascension ,Mary the Mother of Jesus, the God-bearer. These women stretched boundaries, made others uncomfortable and brought about change….they stepped out of the familiar and the expected…what they did was new and this unfamiliarity, this “out of the box” behavior, left the main stream culture feeling insecure, unsure, afraid.

And when insecure, unsure and afraid those in control, those settled into the familiar, often lash out….in anger and in fear. It happened to Hagar, it happened Ruth and Naomi, it happened to the Mary’s. It happened to Absalom Jones, to Henry Winter Style, to Barbara Harris and to Gene Robinson.

New and unfamiliar is threatening. We, as human beings, categorize things…we process things according to what we know. And when something isn’t familiar, when it (or she or they) doesn’t/don’t fit into a pre-set category, we’re thrown off balance, and being off balance is threatening, and uncomfortable and scary.

Our anxiety when it comes to change, our discomfort when it comes to different, is nothing new.

It happened with the Jews and the early Christians two millennia ago.

It happens with refugees.

It happens with different races, it happens with different cultures.

It happens with men and women, with straight and with gay.

It happens with liturgies, it happens with the time of church services, it happens with new priests, new parishioners.

And it happens with the advent of marriage equality in our state and in our church.

I share with our Bishop the hope that as we delve into this unfamiliar territory of marriage equality…and then when we delve into whatever barrier is next identified and then broken down…that we remember Paul’s loving reminder, that we learn this fundamental lesson of humanity: that nothing, no one, no thing, will ever keep us—all of us---from the love of God as given to us through Jesus Christ. Because that love the love which fits us like a glove trumps all fear, all discomfort and all anxiety. Every single time. +

Some days we're wheat, some days we're weeds. July 17, 2011

+Today our Gospel is the Parable of the Wheat and the Weeds. Or, as it was called in the old days: The Wheat and the Chaff.

Parables are confusing because they don’t just mean what they say. As a matter of fact they may not mean what they say at all. There’s more to them…a hidden truth. You see these stories, while not actually factual, are often VERY TRUE.

Although none of us is actually a crop, a plant or a flower….sometimes we are wheat, and sometimes we are weeds.

Parables, as Jerome Berryman, the creator of the Godly Play church school curriculum says, are difficult, so we need to be ready to dig into them. You see parables, when we’re ready to hear and explore them usually tell us just what it is we need to hear….not necessarily what we want to hear, but what we need to hear. They’re designed for us to visit again and again, taking a little something else out of them, something different, something more, each time. But this requires work, for if we don’t work at it, if we don’t dig into it, we’ll just stay on the top of it, hearing the story, but missing the meaning.

I don’t know about you, but I don’t want to stay on the top of this parable. On the surface, it suggests there’s an “in group” and an “out group,” that God would take God’s own beloved children and banish them to eternal damnation and hellfire. I just can’t believe that. I just won’t believe that. It doesn’t gibe with who I experience God to be. And, it makes me nuts to think that someone who has been injured by the church would choose today to finally walk back through these doors and hear this parable, without any explanation, without any digging. For only in digging can we reach the richness of the dark and fertile soil which makes up this story.

On the surface, the world seems divided into two camps—the good and the evil. The in and the out. The wheat and the chaff/weed. But it just isn’t that cut and dry: as anyone who has tried to weed a garden can attest, weeds can look like flowers and flowers can look like weeds. At first glance, it’s really difficult to know what you’re looking at: a weed? A flower? Is it wheat? Or is it chaff? Do you know that hostas, those ubiquitous plants of hearty character and wide variety was originally considered a weed? Which is wheat and which is weed? It’s hard to tell. Today’s weed just may be tomorrow’s wheat. (or hosta!)

We all have weeds. We all have wheat. We all have both, we all are both. Some days we’re more weedy than others. And, thankfully, other days we’re more wheaty. Some days we’re who we want to be, other days we aren’t.

The Evil One, the sower of weeds, lurks within each of us-- there’s no outside creature doing this-it’s an inside job. As St. Paul phrases it in today’s Epistle: “if by the spirit you put to death the deeds of the body, you will live.” We are all “groaning in labor pains” as we strive to be the creation God intended, losing the old ways of decay and death, embracing the new ways of growth and life. We can hold on to the old ways or we can let them go. It’s up to us. We can stay as a weed or we can grow into wheat. Weeds are easy—they grow fast, need virtually no tilling, no fertilizing, no encouragement to grow. Crops like wheat, flowers, plants, are trickier, they need attention, they need nurture, they need care.

You’ve heard me preach about whether we’re doing things that move us toward God or whether we’re doing things that move us away from God. When we’re moving toward God, we’re letting the light of Christ nurture us and care for us, when we move toward God we are tilling our very souls with faith, belief and hope. When we’re moving away from God we’re letting the darkness of doubt, the uneasiness of disbelief and the decay of despair rule. These doubts, this disbelief and this despair is the stuff of weeds, the stuff of evil, the stuff of the devil, blocking us from the richness of God.

And this so –called Evil One, this devil? It isn’t an outside force, it’s totally is within our control, because it is within us. Each of us. You see, the battle between Good and Evil isn’t waged between God and some cartoonish being with horns, a tail and a pitchfork, the battle God wages is within us, convincing us to shun fear, shatter doubt and thresh disbelief from our very souls. We need to listen and to look, we need to hear and to notice, we need to continually move toward God…doing what we know is right, standing up for what we know is just, believing that what we’ve been promised by God, through Jesus Christ, is always available to us.

So when we find the weeds infiltrating our life, when our choices have led us astray, our decisions become mistakes, and our faith withers, don’t give up on the harvest; till your life with loving care, focusing on the wheat, the flowers, the good: The stuff of God in your life. For, when we focus on the Good, the bad and the evil, the “not of God” stuff will be overcome, overwrought and overthrown by a power greater than any weed, a force stronger than any evil, a Love bigger than any Doubt. To repeat the words of Jesus: “Let anyone with ears listen:” God doesn’t toss any of us into an unquenchable fire. We do it to ourselves. We may be weeds a lot more often that we wish. We may move away from God more frequently than we care to admit. We may blame our choices on some fictional caricature of a pitch fork toting red tailed being with evil coursing through their veins, but once we settle into the promise of our faith, once we till the soil of our souls, once we dig deep enough into our desire, we’ll discover that God has always and will always be there, deep within us, ready to toss the chaff of fear, the weeds of doubt away, freeing the garden which is us to bloom into the bouquet of Love which is God. +

The Ministry of the Baptized July 10, 2011

What a great day. In this era of fewer and fewer people making regular church attendance part of their life, having three baptisms on one day is really terrific.

So, just why do we make such a big deal out of baptisms? Well, first there’s the whole thing about the babies…babies are cute…[and these two boys have been such a joyous addition to our 8 am family] [and since the 8 am service has been the service with so many babies, it is great to have a baby here at the 10:30]…babies are innocent…babies are full of potential, of hope, of endless possibilities. Babies are our future and when holding a baby, it’s pretty difficult to be glum about the state of the world.

But baptism is far from child’s play.

As a matter of fact, throughout history, baptism has symbolized some fairly non-kid friendly things:

First, there’s this dying to sin stuff…. “Dying to sin” wasn’t intended to be a metaphor. The full immersion baptism was to be an actual near death experience. The “baptizee” was to be held under water for an uncomfortably long period of time---think water boarding-----so that when they emerged from the water they were literally returning from the brink of death.

And, this was done three times.

Then there’s the whole, “what happens if you haven’t been baptized before you die belief.” The Roman Catholic tradition was that if a baby died without being baptized, their souls were stuck in limbo---not hell, not heaven, but some type of spiritual “way station” where the babies lingered. For eternity. That horrific belief was, only recently, condemned by the Vatican.

And then we have some of our Protestant brothers and sisters who think we’re nuts for continuing the tradition of infant baptism, considering adult baptism to be the only valid method of “making new Christians.”

Baptism has seen its share of disagreements and controversy. But today, Christians do agree on thing: As a “community of the baptized,” we are called to practice the “ministry of the baptized.”

So how, exactly, do we as individuals and we, as community, “do the ministry of the baptized?”

Each of us, as Episcopalians, as Christians, as people trying to live a good life, are called to live, as best we can, the type of life Christ lived: loving our neighbors as we wish to be loved, respecting the dignity of everyone, and, whenever we see injustice, unfairness and wrong-doing, do our best to make things right.

Of course, in spite of our best intentions, we can “miss the mark” (the actual definition of sin) acting in ways we regret. But, as Jesus taught us, once we acknowledge our mistake, our regrettable decision or behavior, and take corrective action, i.e. repenting, we get back on course and move on, not dwelling on our mistakes (or those of others) but getting on with the work we’re called to do. Our baptism compels us to always try to do our best and when we fail, to stand up and try again, knowing that with God, there are always second chances. As individuals our baptism doesn’t allow us to quit.

We can’t quit on ourselves, and we can’t quit on each other.

Being a [baptized] member of a community of faith means sharing our burdens and joys, looking out for one another and, together, reaching out, being the light of Christ in the world.

It’s hard work, work best done with support, so to be strengthened and to strengthen one another we return here, every week (or so…) to be fed, refreshed and sustained by and through this—our-- community of faith. This is how we live into our ministry of the baptized. As a baptismal people we promise that whoever you are—whether you are a member of 80 plus years or whether you are a sojourner, a seeker, a searcher, or a casual visitor, what we are promising to do for TJ Will and Travis, is what we promise all of you. It’s what we mean when we shake your hand or give you a hug and say, “the peace of the Lord be with you.” The ministry of the baptized demands that we care for each and every person who walks through our doors. Whether they are adorable babies, colorful street people, tourists, new neighbors or fallen away friends from years ago, we, as a community of the baptized say to them, welcome, we’re glad you’re here. These are promises made at baptism and they are promises we’re all called to keep.

The promises we’ll make in a moment to (TJ and Will) (Travis) (or—the promises we make when we affirm our faith) compel us to shine the light of hope and joy and peace on the hurt places of our world: the burdened, the lonely, the angry, the lost, the war-torn, the famine ridden, the earthquake, flood and tornado ravaged… As a minister of the baptized, each and every one of us here today, from our longest tenured member, to our newest, has a role to play in spreading the Good News to the world.

In a few moments Will and TJ [Travis] and then all of us, will be sprinkled with holy water, washing them with hope and promises, washing us clean, setting us free. Their baptism and our reminder of baptism frees them and us from hopelessness, loneliness, hate, fear, despair, and death.

You see, the waters of baptism--whether you’re feeling them for the first or the umpteenth time today--the waters of baptism remind us that we are and always will be, God’s children. That we are all loved beyond belief.

So, when the waters of baptism sprinkle over us today, be thankful. Thankful that baptism isn’t about saving us from limbo, or about giving us a taste of death, it’s about promising that when our daily lives become a burden instead of a joy, when we miss the mark and lose our way, we can return to this table which serves as altar, to this bowl which serves as a font of new life, to this community of people who serve as our family, and be refreshed, renewed and recharged; because we are a Community of the Baptized, ministering to one another and to the world in, through and by the Grace of a God, who lovingly created, patiently redeems and always sustains us. Yep, this is indeed, a GREAT day.

Amen.

LJuly 3, 2011

“Come to me, all who labor and are heavy-laden, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me; for I am gentle and lowly in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light.”

With these words, words that make up one of the most beautiful prayers in our prayer book (pg131 of the BCP), Jesus is inviting everyone who is tired and weighed down by the worries of life to let Him carry them for awhile. For he can handle it.

It’s a beautiful night-time prayer and one which gives me, personally, great solace. I can say this prayer, lay my head down and know that whatever is burdening me is in good hands, for I have handed it over to the One whose burden is light and whose yoke is easy.

To be frank, prayer has always held a certain mystery for me. I’ve never been one to barter through prayer—you know, “God if you give me this, I’ll do that……” I’d offer prayers of thanksgiving, but was hesitant to offer prayers of unloading, prayers of lament, prayers of need. When I was younger, I didn’t feel I deserved to ask God for anything. God was much too busy, my needs were much too trite, to ask for divine intervention.

That, my friends was a shame…and insulting to our Lord. For, as Jesus tells us in the Gospel, he wants our burdens. (and he isn’t just being polite….trust me) Our burdens. Not burdens that have been ok’d by a prayer committee. Not burdens which pass the international test for worthiness or importance. Jesus wants that which weighs us down. That which worries us. Jesus doesn’t care if our burdens pass a litmus test, because Jesus has no litmus test. Jesus wants to hear our prayers, Jesus wants to receive our prayers, Jesus wants us to unload our heaviness, our burdens, our lamentations on Him.

Jesus can take it.

Prayer between us and Jesus, prayer between us and God is one form of prayer. But prayer isn’t just something between us and God. Between us and Jesus. Prayer is also between us.

Unloading on God, through Jesus, is one thing, but what about unloading on others, what about asking others to pray for us? What about praying for others? This type of prayer—intercessory prayer---is a vital part of a community, a vital part of relationships.

About 4 years ago, a seminary classmate of mine, Leslie, was diagnosed with stage four colon cancer. Although we weren’t particularly close friends, our class was small so I knew her fairly well. But we didn’t “hang out.” She told me that as the doctor was giving her this news she saw my face. Now she was as surprised by this as I was, for we weren’t exactly close friends. But she figured it meant something, so she called me. What began with that phone call…or maybe what began with that image she saw….was an 18 month journey for both of us, a journey which unfortunately, included her death from the disease, but which also included one of the most powerful experiences of prayer I’ve ever had.

AT 9:30 pm each night, several people from seminary(school was not in session, it was summer) would stop whatever we were doing and pray prayers for the sick (found on page 458-459 of the BCP). The fellowship we formed by praying the same prayers, at the same time every night, from wherever we were---Pennsylvania, New York, Illinois, Ohio was powerful.

As Leslie grew weaker and it was clear the disease had won, our prayers continued, not for miracles, but for peace, not for healing but for release. As the prayers continued I realized the power prayer has among us. When we join with others to pray for someone or something the benefit reaches far beyond the person or the situation for which we’re praying, the benefit is significant among those praying. The total effect of this praying done miles apart had a power which was exponentially greater than the sum of its parts—it took on a life of it’s own.

The power of other people praying for you is just that, it’s organic, it’s palpable, it’s of the Spirit.

Frankly, God knows what we need, God knows what we long for, God knows what burdens us. Prayer doesn’t tell God anything God doesn’t already know—so informing God cannot be the only purpose of prayer. No, I think another purpose of prayer is the power, the energy created when many people join to offer prayers for a specific person, a specific situation, a certain need. The power of community, fellowship and camaraderie which happens when we join forces in prayer, whether gathered here on a Sunday or whether across the globe, is a force of God, a force of the spirit. A force so mysterious it clearly surpasses our human understanding.

So to add to Jesus’ request that we lay our burdens upon him, I encourage all of you to lay your burdens on one another. Pray for each other. Maybe you can take the parish list (call the office if you want one mailed to you) and divide it up, praying for people in the parish throughout the week. Maybe you’d like a copy of our list of sick and needy people…maybe you’d like to take the bulletin home and pray for those who participate in the service each week.

Maybe some of you are feeling especially burdened and would like others to pray for you. If so, you’ll find pencils and paper in your pews. If you wish to be prayed for, jot your prayer request on a piece of paper and put it in the offering plate. After the service we’ll have these slips of paper in a bowl, pick one up and pray for that person or that situation this week. See what happens. See if your own sense of burden, your own sense of worry isn’t lifted. When we pray for others we expel energy. An energy that, remarkably and mysteriously, lightens our own load, soothes our souls and creates its own easy yoke. So let’s add our own voices to Jesus and say to one another, “Come to me, all who labor and are heavy-laden, and I will give you rest. For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light”

Amen