Pentecost 11 Proper 16 Yr A Aug 24 2014

Jesus asks: Who do you say I am?
I ask:
Who do we say Jesus is?
And for that matter who do we say we are?
When describing ourselves do we say—out loud-- that we’re Christian? It’s easier to describe ourselves as Episcopalians…or members of GS/ASC…but saying the C-word isn’t as easy, is it?
The moniker has been hijacked by those who proclaim to be devoted followers of Christ but use the words of the Gospel to condemn and exclude rather than lift up and welcome. “Christian” conjures up all sorts of images…many pretty unpleasant. How many atrocities have been done in the name of Christ? Large and small, horrible things have been done in the name of the rabbi from Nazareth.
So yes it can be very uncomfortable to claim ourselves as followers of Christ, as Christians; not only because of the residue of the intolerant right wing fundamentalists but also because...well....it's uncomfortable. Really uncomfortable.
It’s way easier to live as Christians out there yet only proclaim it in here.
Last year, a parishioner said to me, “I like your sermons a lot but I’m uncomfortable with how often you mention Jesus. I’m really more comfortable with God.”
Now at first blush this may seem insulting and offensive, but I get it. Many of us are much more comfortable with the idea, the concept of God rather than the person of Jesus. And therein lies the point---God can remain an ethereal, imaginative concept while Jesus is an actual guy. Who did things. And said things. And expects things. And who will, one day, come back. He’s tangible.
Lots of us avoid and ignore him…not because we aren't fans, not because we aren't faithful believers, but because….well that’s what “those “ people do—the fundamentalist intolerant crowd. We’re more stately, more reserved than that, aren’t we? Yes we’re pretty good at living our faith, but we stink at proclaiming it outside these doors. I mean, how many of us will stand up and be counted as Christian?
Early last week I read an opinion piece in the New York Times written by the President of the World Jewish Congress, Ronald S. Lauder entitled, “Who Will Stand up for the Christians?” In it Lauder outlines the atrocities being committed against Christians in the Middle East and Africa. He writes, “The Middle East and parts of central Africa are losing entire Christian communities that have lived in peace for centuries.” Just last week Boko Haram destroyed---I mean obliterated—the predominantly Christian town of Gwoza in northeastern Nigeria; half a million Christian Arabs have been driven out of Syria, in the past three years, the Christians of Palestine are shrinking before our eyes and we all know what’s been happening to the Christians of Iraq. Christianity is being systematically wiped out in the land of Christ….and yet….where’s our outrage? Here we have a Jewish man standing up for Christianity, which is wonderful, honorable and appreciated. But where are we? Why aren’t we standing up for Christianity?
When you describe yourself, is Christian one of the first things you say you are? Shouldn’t it be? After all isn’t your faith THE guiding principle of your life? Aren’t the values we espouse week in and week out right here the linchpin of who you are and what you do?
While the shrinking of Christianity in the Middle East and Africa is due to intolerance, in the western world, especially in Europe and the US, it’s because of indifference.
Who do we say we are?
Isn’t it time for us to say, loud and clear, who we are. Yes we are Episcopalians, yes we are members of GS/ASC. But we are these things because we are Christians.
Isn’t it time we reclaimed Christianity from those who played fast and loose with the integrity of our faith?
Isn’t it time we begin to talk about our faith?
Isn’t it about time we became proud to be and to live as a Christian?
Isn’t it about time that when we say we are Christian people understand that this means love and inclusion not hate and exclusion?
Isn’t it about time we came up with language to tell people just who we are, who Jesus is, and how Jesus is at the center of our life?
Isn’t it about time we felt compelled, driven and drawn to expressing our faith in a way that was honest and true?
Isn’t it about time?
Jesus says, who do you say I am?
I say, who do we say we are?
We have our creeds, our affirmations of faith. We have our catechism, the outline of faith.
But who DO YOU SAY Jesus is and who DO YOU say you are, in relation to Jesus Christ?
I have a suggestion—write it down. Write down who Jesus is to you. Write down what you’d like people to know about Jesus, about God and about the Holy Spirit. But don’t cheat Jesus…give him his due.
I’d love it if you shared those thoughts with me. I think this could make for the beginning of a great conversation.
Not sure where to begin? Not sure how to claim this faith as your own? [talk to Pete or to me. We'd gladly sit with you to discuss finding a language of faith understandable out in the world] Beginning September 14 from 9 am -9:40 am I will be meeting with people to discuss just what it is we believe. I urge you to attend…if you can’t attend because of choir rehearsal or teaching Sunday School,[you can also join us at GS ] attend the Tuesday evening Eucharist and Bible study it’s a great place to wrestle with these questions.
  Jesus is the cornerstone of our faith. God is the overarching presence and the Holy Spirit is what gets us moving, but it is the namesake of our faith, Jesus Christ, a full and complete human who is also fully and completely God, who makes us who we are. Shouldn’t we be comfortable mentioning him? Shouldn’t we be able to express who he is? And shouldn’t He be a major part of who we are and who we intend to be?
Who DO we say we are?
Amen.

Pentecost 10 Don't You Tell Me No

Poet and theologian Jan Richardson wrote this poem about today’s Gospel:
“Don’t tell me no.
I have seen you
feed the thousands,
seen miracles spill
from your hands
like water, like wine,
seen you with circles
and circles of crowds
pressed around you
and not one soul
turned away.
Don’t start with me.
I am saying
you can close the door
but I will keep knocking.
You can go silent
but I will keep shouting.
You can tighten the circle
but I will trace a bigger one
around you,
around the life of my child
who will tell you
no one surpasses a mother
for stubbornness.
I am saying
I know what you
can do with crumbs
and I am claiming mine,
every morsel and scrap
you have up your sleeve.
Unclench your hand,
your heart.
Let the scraps fall
like manna,
like mercy
for the life
of my child,
the life of
the world.
Don’t you tell me no.
(Jan Richardson, The Painted Prayer Book: The Stubborn Blessing)

The Canaanite woman (also known as the Syro-Phonecian woman) is not about to go away quietly. Nor is she about to take the insult tossed at her and shrink from view. No, she will be heard, she will be noticed and she will get her child the healing she needs. Why? Because, to paraphrase an old saying: “Hell hath no fury like a mother scorned.”
Clearly Jesus didn’t realize whom he was messing with that day. Or did he? Perhaps Jesus knew precisely what he was doing and chose to use this encounter as a teaching moment for his hearers. Or perhaps he was simply in a stubborn mood and found himself facing someone who could match him easily, stubborn for stubborn. Either way, the story shows us that when it comes to saving what needs saving, being merely nice and agreeable won’t win the day, or save the life. Sometimes we need to dig in our heels and do some nudging, some bothering and some hollering.
The Canaanite woman, the mother of a daughter in desperate need of healing, should not be approaching Jesus and the disciples. She is an unaccompanied woman and a foreigner. And not just any foreigner, but she’s from Canaan…you remember Canaan don’t you? Yep, the Canaanites were the residents of Canaan, otherwise known to Moses and his followers as The Promised Land. Yes, the Canaanites were Arab and the Israelites were Jewish. The Israelites displaced the Canaanites.

The more things change, the more they stay the same.
Now remember, Jesus has been trying to get a little rest and relaxation for awhile now. First he went up to the mountain to pray, only to be confronted with thousands of hungry followers, then he took off across the lake only to be harassed by a Peter who was so quick to doubt and to debate (and sink). So one can imagine that, travelling into foreign territory, he’s hoping for a little r and r---after all no non-Jew would dare pay him any heed, for he wasn’t “their messiah.” Of course, this attempt at anonymity quickly fails when this desperate mother comes after him, begging him to help her.
But, in one of the most uncomfortable and horrifying exchanges in the Gospels, Jesus harshly dismisses her, saying:
“It is not fair to take the children’s food and throw it to the dogs.”
What???? Has He lost his mind? Can this possibly be the same Jesus who teaches that we must love everyone, no exceptions?
Yes, it can be.
Yes it is.
Jesus is saying, in language not unusual for his culture, that he was the messiah for the Jews and that his work was for those lost sheep, not any other.
But Jesus is wrong. This woman—a desperate and determined mother--helps Jesus see the full scope of his mission, she teaches the Teacher, leaving the ego of the human Jesus tattered and the surety of the divine Jesus, shaken.
The mother teaches and the Messiah, learns.
Even after being horribly insulted by Jesus, this classic outcast, this mother who will not be denied, forges ahead. She accepts where Jesus is at—that he has come for the Jewish people and no one else—and challenges him with the very fact that dogs will eat the crumbs which fall from their master’s table and that all she wants—this unclean, unaccompanied, socially unacceptable person—are the crumbs of his grace. She has such faith in whom Jesus is, and such desperation to help her child, that she’s willing to accept the left-overs, the trash, if it will save her daughter.
Rage must have churned within her. Fury, fear and terror all pulsating through her veins…but she didn’t give in, she didn’t lash out, she didn’t retreat, she didn’t give up. Her daughter was extremely ill and, regardless of the risk, she had to do something, as any parent worth their salt would do.
Mothers, and mother figures across the ages, have tempered their fury, have bridled their rage, and, at times, swallowed their pride….not because they were unworthy, not because they were unclean, not because they were uneducated…but because they’ll put their own needs aside in order to provide for their family. They’ve set aside their own desires and their own dignity in order to provide for those whom they love without reason, those whom they love beyond all measure, those for whom they will lay down their very life…not because they’re super-human, not because they’re heroes, but because they are, plain and simple: mothers.
Sound familiar? God will do anything, God will do everything, to give us what we need.
How Often must God, like the woman portrayed in Jan Richardson’s poem say:
“Don’t tell me no.
Don’t start with me, do not push me aside…I will not go away, I will not be denied. Don’t say no!”

The lesson of The Triumphant Canaanite Women and the humbled Jesus is this: No matter how much we say no, no matter how far we go to reject, destroy and ignore it, God’s love will not be denied, because God’s love, like the love of every devoted parent we know, knows no limit, respects no prejudice and will never ever stop. The love God has for us is fierce. And for that we say, Amen. +

Pentecost 9, Yr A: If we're not Jack Nicklaus, who are we?

My dad was a terrible golfer, and he had his share of terrible golf jokes. My favorite was this:
Moses and Jesus are out for a round of golf. On the 12th tee Jesus grabs a 3 iron. Moses says, “are you out of your mind, no way you can clear that water hazard with a 3 iron.” Jesus replies: “if Nicklaus can do it, I can do it.” He then tees off and plop, the ball lands in the water. Sheepishly, Jesus asks Moses to retrieve the ball, so Moses goes down to the hazard, parts the water, walks in and grabs it. Two more times, Jesus insists on the 3 iron, with the same result: the ball splashes into the water, Moses fetches it. The fourth time, Moses refuses, saying, if you want it YOU GO GET IT. So down Jesus schleps to the hazard,  walking across the water, bending down and pulling the ball from the depths. As he heads back across the water, someone waiting to play through says to Moses, “who does that guy think he is, Jesus Christ? “Moses replies, no, Jack Nicklaus.
Who does Peter think he is, Jesus?
When Peter looked at the storm that surrounded him, he forgot that it was God who was holding him up. He got scared and he began to sink. He did what a lot of us do when we become overwhelmed. We forget that we aren’t in this alone. We forget to live our faith. Peter assumed that following Jesus, that following God was a matter of saying all the right words. He forgot that it’s also about believing those words. He forgot to live them.
 Living our faith isn’t about pretending to be what we’re not. Living our faith is opening ourselves to be instruments of God, directed and guided by the Holy Spirit to be the best “Me” we can be. We’re not Jack Nicklalus, we’re not Jesus, we’re not Peter..we ‘re (name people). It’s about following the nudging of the Spirit, it’s about trusting that the Spirit is leading us into places and situations that we would neer enter into on our own.
This is what sank Peter. He had all the words in the world to praise God and Jesus, but that all came from his head. Our faith, when it’s really taken hold, when it really is a part of us, comes from our heart. It comes from a place deep within. so deep that it drives us in ways that we can’t explain.
It drives us to risk ourselves for love.
It drives us to speak the truth, even when it isn’t popular, even when it’s not “acceptable.”
It drives us to do things that, if we really stopped to think about, we’d never try to do.
Faith, when it really takes hold, leads us to places unimaginable and seemingly unattainable. And usually completely surprising.
Three years ago, Ascension was a parish that was in a bit of turmoil. They had a core group of about 9 people who were, against all reason, committed to being a community of faith that reached out to the Allentown neighborhood. 3 years later we are the recipients of an incredible gift of the spirit: the Pet Food Pantry. This outreach program has grown our parish, strengthened our parish and shown our neighborhood the love of Christ one 5 lb bag of pet food at a time. Today, we know that we have to give up a good portion of our building.  The adaptive re-use of our beautiful space will be painful, scary and sad. But we, as a parish, have no concerns that we won’t survive and thrive because the Holy Spirit is clearly working in through and between us. If anyone had told us, three years ago, that the PFP would be serving hundreds of households and thousands of pets each month and that the pantry would be staffed and supported by our small parish we would have laughed. But we didn’t really think that much, we just listened to the urgings of the Holy Spirit and walked in faith. So, even though the endowment at Ascension is just about out, even though our building is old and expensive, even though we have no idea where we will be worshipping next year, we  emboldened by the power of the Holy Spirit, are moving, step by step, into the future. It’s terrifying, and if we thought we had to do this by ourselves, we, like Peter, would sink like a stone. But somehow, some way, we have learned to trust the Spirit, somehow some way we are stepping out in faith, holding on for dear life to our faith in God and our love for each other.
So, what does the story of Ascension have to do with Good Shepherd? Well, I think we are at a Peter moment.  Just what is the Spirit calling us, the Church of the Good Shepherd to be and to do?
We are a beautiful church on an amazing corner in one of the most vibrant neighborhoods in our city.  We have a hugely successful and vitally important outreach program through our Food Pantry. But the truth is, only a handful of us are involved in it.
We host the longest running (and one of the largest) AA groups in Western New York. Other than those of us who may be in recovery, we have no hands on experience with these folks.
In no way to I mean to diminish the importance of this work—it is vital and holy—but it doesn’t really involve us.
Yes we have a beautiful building with a wonderful community that gathers weekly for well done liturgy and heartfelt prayer…. but is this all the Spirit is calling us to be? If our building was taken from us tomorrow, would we still be us?
If we weren’t in Parkside would we still be us?
What are we being called to do? Who are we being called to be? We, like the Jesus in my dad’s bad joke must be true to what we are called to be. We aren’t Jack Nicklaus, we aren’t Jesus, we aren’t Peter. Who are we?
Your vestry has already begun grappling with these questions, and in the fall we all will have the opportunity to grapple with the fundamental questions of this, our community of faith: who is God calling us to be, whom is God calling us to serve?
I for one can’t wait to find out.
Amen.

Pentecost 8 Yr A Let Go for Dear Life and Let God for dear Life

Eventually everyone has to stop fighting, resisting and wrestling. Eventually we all get to the end of our own road and need to take God’s road.
This is the lesson Jacob learns in today’s reading from Genesis. This younger twin son of Isaac and Rebekah was born forcing his will upon the world. From his battle with his twin brother Esau all the way to that long night of wrestling with God, Jacob had been the ultimate my way or the highway type of guy. But then, with his hip and his selfishness dislocated, Jacob realizes and admits that he needs God,  he wants God and he will, finally, receive God.
He got tired enough, scared enough, defeated enough to stop holding on with all his might. He finally LET GO.
Doesn’t that sound familiar? I mean, I don’t know about you, but I know that when push comes to shove, when I am absolutely, positively driven to my knees I tend to be MUCH MORE receptive to God.
Let Go and Let God is a slogan used in 12 step groups. Although some might find it trite, I consider it profound in its simplicity: Let Go and Let God. Let Go of MY WAY and Let God have God’s way.
When we stop wrestling God, when we stop fighting, when we let go, we make room for God to do what God does best, care for and love us beyond all reason.
Yet, time and again we forget that we can’t and God can.
Time and again we forget that what we think is impossible, God knows is possible, that what we can’t see, God can.
We forget that at the end of the day we can only get ourselves so far, that we need God to get us the rest of the way.

This knowledge that we can only get ourselves so far is what fueled most of the healing stories in our Gospels. Many of these stories involve an unlikely character reaching a point of no return…they’ve tried everything, they’ve followed all the rules, they’ve gone to all the experts yet still they’re plagued by disease. Exhausted, out of options, utterly defeated, these people make one last attempt at healing by seeking out Christ, by crying out to him, by pushing past those much more powerful than they to implore Jesus to save their wife, their daughter, their son, their friend or themselves. At the end of all hope these people approach Jesus and are healed. I suppose it’s easy to just say that God, through Jesus, miraculously and magically cures them.
But, Jesus isn’t one for acts of magic is he? He isn’t one to offer impersonal and standard prayers for healing. No, Jesus takes each of these healing opportunities to heart. He looks at them, he engages them and says, “your faith has made you well.”
No miraculous incantations, no magic wand. Rather a relationship, a connection, a faith, that allows the healing light of God, through Christ, to take hold and work.
These people LET GO AND LET GOD. They let go of their fear, of their misery, of their stubbornness. They let go of it all and let God in, they gave God room to move.
They let go and they let God.
The feeding of the five thousand is , like the parables we’ve been hearing the past few weeks, a very familiar story.
Jesus has tried to get some quiet time but the crowd tracks him down—asking for prayers, asking for healing, asking for HIM.
The disciples are tired, too. They start to shoo the pople away, aware that it’s dinner-time and they don’t have enough food to feed themselves, let alone the multitudes.
There won’t be enough they cry….
Send them away, they ask….
We can’t do it…
Out of that position of utter defeat and helplessness and exhaustion, Jesus, as he is known to do, acts in the most outrageous and ridiculous way….he invites them all---5,000 people PLUS …to sit down….he instructs his disciples to gather up the meager food they had ---five loaves of bread and two fish---and proceeds to feed them all… and have left overs.
Yes this was a miracle. But it wasn’t a passive miracle. It wasn’t a divine spectacle, it wasn’t another installment of Jesus and his band of followers do an amazing stunt on the hills of Galilee.
 It was people, folks like you and me, letting go and letting God.
It was people, folks like you and me, letting go of a fear that there wouldn’t be enough.
It was people, folks like you and me, reaching into their knapsacks, into their pockets and into their bags and taking out the food and water they had carried with them for their journey and sharing it with others. The miracle wasn’t creating something out of nothing, the miracle was in 5000 people realizing that they could only get so far on their own, that to get where they really wanted to go, they needed more than their own desire, and the force of their own will. They needed to let go of what they were holding onto for dear life and let God.
The miracle is that people let go of their fear of “not enough” and discovered more than enough.
People let go of “what about me” and embraced “we’re all in this together,”
People let go of NOT GOD and held onto Let God.
This is the lesson of Jacob’s wrestling match and of the feeding of the multitudes:
 We can fight God or we can embrace God. We can hold on for dear life or let go for dear life.
The miracle of Jesus Christ, the miracle of God, the miracle of the faith we profess to live is that when we stop holding on so tight, we are overwhelmed  by the never ending abundance that is God.
The miracle is that when Let Go and Let God  we get to a place without worry, a place without fear, a place without scarcity, a place without worry. The miracle is that in letting go, we are filled to overflowing.
Amen.