Joy Brightens Despair, Gratitude Defeats Resentment and Faith Elbows out Fear. 18 Sept 2011 Yr A

Jonah was a bit of a whiner, wasn’t he? He was sent to Ninevah to turn them away from their “evil” ways. Then, when the people do change their tune, leading God to “spare” them, Jonah is furious. In our section of scripture this morning it’s difficult to fully understand just what Jonah is ticked off about, but suffice it to say that Jonah begrudges God giving God’s grace to the people, without, in Jonah’s mind, giving HIM an equal measure of that grace. He’s envious. He’s ungrateful. He’s a bit of a brat.
God responds, “well Jonah, it’s my grace to give and I choose to give it extravagantly. You can be angry about Ninevah, you can be angry about the withered bush…but neither of those things are your concern….it’s my creation, my choice.”
That’s the thing about God’s Grace. It’s given according to Divine Rationale, Divine Choice, Divine Decision. And the fact that God’s Rationale, Choice and Decision doesn’t make a lot of sense to us from our limited human perspective---is why Jesus gave us the Parable of the Laborers in the Vineyard.
  It’s tough to be a day laborer . With no regular employment –the workers stand in the town square hoping that some landowner would hire them for the day (This still happens today with the migrant workers up in Niagara County.) Trouble is, there were more laborers than labor. So while some folks—the healthy looking and lucky-- were chosen to work all day. The unlucky or unhealthy were passed over. But in today’s Gospel, everyone’s lucky. Over the course of the day they’re all hired, some for a 12 hour shift, some for just an hour---yet EVERYONE is promised and receives a fair wage -- nothing more, nothing less -- just as they were promised. Those who worked more hours than the others were angry. It just doesn't seem fair. But as the landowner reminds them it is fair – they’re being paid just what was promised... It’s not their concern –It’s his choice to pay the later workers a full day’s wage, after all it’s his money, it’s his treasure. The landowner’s generosity isn’t based on time worked. His generosity is based on his abundance and his willingness to give extravagantly out of that abundance----sound familiar? But, still, even though it’s the Landowner’s prerogative, just like it’s God’s, the laborers who worked the longest—get cranky. It isn’t fair!!!! Perhaps the laborers have been talking with Jonah!
So why all the crankiness at the generosity of the landowner, the generosity of God? At the good fortune of others? Because deep within in our human nature lies a fear of scarcity---a fear that there won’t be enough. That if our neighbor has more, then we’re destined to have less… there isn’t enough for everyone. When we lack trust in God, when we fail to believe what Jesus has told us—time and time again!—we become insecure, a little whiny and definitely cranky-- assessing our lives not through the abundance we’ve been given by God but instead by what we feel we still lack. Cain and Abel, the freed yet still sojourning Israelites, the disciples arguing over who is the greatest--- we tend to look at life from a sense of what we could have, should have and don’t have instead of what we do have, through the grace of God. It’s joy vs. despair, faith vs. fear. Gratitude vs. resentment.
The gloom of despair overshadows the brightness of joy. Gratitude cannot co-exist with resentment. Faith has a difficult time elbowing out fear.
Gratitude begets joy and abundance, while fear begets resentment and scarcity.
Soon we’ll begin our Stewardship campaign—a time when we ask for all of us to consider what this parish means to us and how much we’re willing to give to keep our mission going.
Is our economy in tough shape? You bet. Is it easy, is it fair to ask people to increase their pledge during these tough times? Well, if we ask from a stance of fear, probably not. But, if we ask, if we answer from a stance of gratitude--when we answer out of our joy, and our faith then it is Absolutely fair. For what is fair is realizing that all that we have, no matter how sparse it may seem in comparison to others, is God’s bounty, graciously and abundantly GIVEN to us out of our Creator’s love for us. Our job, both as the people doing the asking and as the people doing the responding, is to focus on the gratitude of what is, not on the despair of what has been, what might be or what could be.
Last week the Bishop preached about new life emerging from the dust of death.  About joy coming out of sorrow, about the abundance of hope promised by God through the gift which is Jesus of Nazareth. He mentioned that the imagery of Psalm 30 was a great comfort to him during those dark days post 9/11. When I reflected on the psalm I realized how much it speaks to me when I consider the choices presented during a stewardship drive—I wonder if it spoke to Jonah as he considered the events in Ninevah or to the laborers w hen they considered the landowner’s generosity in the vineyard:
“O Lord be my helper, turn my wailing into dancing….my heart sings to you without ceasing, O Lord My God I will give you thanks forever.”

We can wail or we can dance. We can be miserable or we can be joyful.  Our choice is whether we want to fan the flames of hope or douse that fire of hope with fear. As Bishop Bill said, we can look down into the pit of despair or up into the heavens with praise.***yesterday I walked in the Bosom Buddies Fundraising Walk for Roswell Park’s Breast Cancer Resource Center. As I was given my Pink Survivor’s T-Shirt, I burst into tears: tears of gratitude, tears of faith, tears of joy. For I know that my choice, when I was diagnosed with breast cancer was to wail or to dance. Because of my faith community, because of our faith community, I was able to dance. Because of the love and support I received from the parishioners at Good Shepherd and the trust I have placed in God [I hardly ever, snatch it back. ;-)] my gaze is turned toward the heavens, shouting praise….***
Our stewardship campaigns at both Good Shepherd and Ascension will be about the hope that rises out of the dust, the faith which defeats fear and the gratitude that beats back resentment.
Our hearts can sing to God without ceasing, I think they should sing to God without ceasing, I think they will sing to God without ceasing, because God’s love showers us without ceasing.
Joy, faith and gratitude will beget more joy, more faith and more gratitude. We have made a huge leap of faith and it is paying off…our attendance is higher than it’s been in a long time, there’s a spirit of togetherness and love which is palpable to all those around us. Our Bishop has challenged us to live out our faith in new and bold ways, trusting us to joyously journey into this new covenant--  singing our hearts out and stepping ahead in faith,  trusting that God’s unequaled and divinely fair abundance leads the way. So let the journey continue- my heart is singing, my faith is dancing and my joy knows no bounds.
 Amen.

Sermon from 9.11.2011

Our lectionary, the readings assigned for each Sunday are on a three year cycle. What this means is that there’s no way the Lectionary designers chose today’s readings specifically for the 10th anniversary of 9/11. However, they are perfect for today, instructing us in the ways of tolerance, forgiveness, compassion and mercy---attributes which were and are easily lost when struck to the core as we were on Sept 11, 2001. So, instead of a sermon this morning, I give you those words from  Scripture and the words of San Diego psychotherapist A. B. Curtiss, who’s poem The Little Chapel That Stood pays homage to the Episcopal Chapel of St. Paul’s which stood in the shadow of the Twin Towers, and unscathed thanks to the towering branches of a Sycamore Tree, offered the rescue workers solace and hope during those heartbreaking days. And, hope is just what faith—be it Christian, Jewish, Muslim, Buddhist, Hindu etc. promises. Thanks be to God.

The Little Chapel that Stood, by A. B. Curtiss
Around the Chapel of Old St. Paul
Blow the dancing leaves of the coming Fall.
In the morning breeze they leap and fly
Beneath the towers that scrape the sky.
George Washington’s family worshiped here;
Alexander Hamilton’s grave lies near.
Since Seventeen Hundred and Sixty Six
Has stood this house of God and bricks.
Solid and steadfast as time whirled around it,
Unchanged since horse and carriage found it.
A solace to presidents help to the poor. No one was ever turned from its door.
An immigrant’s refuge, a sojourner’s peace
Where hope is born and sorrows cease.
As the centuries passed, and the city grew dense, Its buildings grew higher and wider, immense.
And tallest and grandest, the city’s great pride. The New York Twin Towers rose up by its side.
The stress of power, the rush of people
Found comfort and rest beneath its steeple.
But doom, doom was coming all the time;
Doom, doom to a city fair and fine;
Doom doom was in the planes that climbed;
Doom doom, and then the sirens whined.
Two planes hi-jacked by a terrorist crew
Struck the twin towers: no warning no clue!
Who thought it could happen, or knew what to do?
Firemen came and New York’s Men in Blue.
Through the flying glass and smoke and din,
Thousands rushed out, as these brave men rushed in!
On the stairwell to safety there was no stranger. Each helped the other flee from the danger.
And some who climbed down remember, clear-cut, the faces of firemen climbing up!
And then, oh unthinkable thought!
They fell.
One tower, the other, they fell, fell, fell.
They fell with a rush and they fell with a roar.
The sky was blank where they’d been before.
And more was lost than who can say;
It was our hearts came down that day.
Through the clouds of black no one could see
How far [had] spread this calamity? The giants around it had come to a fall, but not the Chapel of Old St. Paul.
It was something of wonder, a symbol of grace, the steeple still there, not a brick out of place.
Some say [that] giant sycamore tree[’s] wood had saved the Little Chapel that Stood.
The old chandeliers that they’d packed away, through two world wars, they did not sway.
Then the crystals reflected a busy scene when the doors opened up to the [rescuing teams]
There were firemen’s shoes on the old iron fence, where they’d earlier hung them in haste, quick and tense
As they pulled on their boots and raced to the Towers,
Climbing melting steel [in]to flaming showers.
Oh what gallant men did we lose
Who never came back to get their shoes.
Ground Zero smoldered, dark and grim. Our hearts stood still, then we pitched in.
Helpers brought shovels, and pails and pans.
If they had nothing else they dug with their hands
To clear the mountain of crumpled steel
From a nightmare that was all too real…
Rescuers worked through the night and the day.
In the chapel they’d pause, then go on their way.
A hot cup of coffee, something to eat
Here the firemen, welders, policemen would meet.
All would come to rest from their labor
Volunteer, doctor, brother, neighbor.
We raised up the flag from the dust and the pain.
Freedom that’s lost must be won once again.
Each one of us is a link in that chain, to do something grand, or do something plain.
First we take heart, then we take aim, our littlest good deed is never in vain.
Working together is how we got through it.
Little by little we learned how to do it.
It’s nice to be big and its nice to be tall.
But sometimes being little doesn’t mean being small.
Just like the Chapel of Old St. Paul.
Hear the bells of freedom and what they say. Terror may come but it will not stay.
It will shake our world but we will not sway.
It will block the path but we’ll find our way…


Amen.

 The Little Chapel That Stood, A.B. Curtiss, Old Castle Publishing, Escondido, CA, 2003.