Being seen---really seen—is powerful. This past week I was really struck by how seen I felt while staying with my mom in the hospital. The Critical Care Unit was FULL, yet anytime a nurse came into mom’s room it was as if she was the MOST important person in the world and that her case was the most important case. The staff did a great job of seeing my mom, and my sister and me. They never seemed rushed, distracted or bothered. It was incredibly comforting.
Being seen, really seen, is powerful.
They asked: “Lord, when was it that we saw you sick or in prison and visited you?
When was it that we saw you hungry and gave you food or thirsty and gave you something to drink? “
Jesus responds, “Truly I tell you just as you did it to one of the least of these, who are members of my family, you did it to me.”
Each time you saw them, you saw me.
Each time you noticed them, you noticed me.
Each time you helped them, you loved me.
Lord, when was it that we saw you hungry or thirsty or a stranger or naked or sick or in prison and did not take care of you?
Truly I tell you, just as you did not do it to one of the least of these, you did not do it to me.
Hey, I’m right here? Don’t you see me? Don’t you care?
What we do unto others, we do unto God.
In our Baptismal Covenant we promise to seek and serve Christ in all whom we encounter. Seeking and serving Christ requires looking, seeing and noticing.
Do you notice Jesus? He’s right there….right in front of us….He’s the mentally ill man who talks to himself….
He’s the very unpleasant woman on the other end of the customer service phone……
He’s the child you’ve raised who’s turned her back on you.
He’s the spouse who’s left you.
He’s the unreasonable boss, the angry, spiteful neighbor….
He’s the hungry, the naked the lonely and the rejected….
He’s in all of them, He’s in everyone, everywhere, always.
How we treat others is how we treat God.
These past few weeks we’ve heard readings about judgment at the end of time. Today we hear about sheep and goats, about righteous and unrighteous….these readings of harsh judgment seem so incongruous to the teachings of Jesus, and I think it’s easy to brush them off as “not the Jesus we know and love.”
But, on this last Sunday of our church year, on this Christ the King Sunday, we reflect on the life of Jesus on earth, we remember his death and resurrection as we await his coming again---we’re reminded that what we do on this earth does matter, that our job is to do the things that will bring the Kingdom of Heaven to reign here on earth. It’s the number one job we, as beloved children of God, have here an earth.
You see, each and every time we notice another person--really notice them… really look in their eyes, really listen to what they have to say…every time we do THAT we make more room for God, through Christ, in this world.
And each and every time we fail to see Christ in the other, we BLOCK God’s ongoing effort to break through and into our every thing.
The Apocalypse—the end of time---is when the barriers between this world and the next fall, when this world and the next unite through the only King that matters: Jesus Christ. And, each time we notice God in another, each time we really see Jesus, seeking and serving him in all whom we encounter, we bring that time ever closer. You see, this end of time thing, this “coming of the day of the Lord,” this apocalypse,
doesn’t happen in one fell swoop; it happens over time, with each and everyone of us doing our part.
We must make room for The Christ to dwell. We must break away from all that ensnares us. We must free ourselves from all that frightens us, we must loosen the grip of doubt while reaching out and up ready to receive our King, our Lord, our Beloved God.
As priest and author Barbara Brown Taylor puts it: “We are called to look at each other and see Christ. It’s as simple, and as hard, as that.”
This is not easy work, but it’s vital. To do this, to turn our lives over to care of God and to turn our focus onto the community of the world in which we live, requires grace.
The God-given ability to see beyond ourselves, to see beyond our own wants, needs and fears and look at the bigger picture—that ability is a gift from God, it is a gift of God…it is grace. And when we accept that grace and act through that grace, it spreads. From me to you and from you to another and on and on and on.
It’s that chain reaction of grace, that domino effect of noticing God in each other, of seeking and serving Christ in all whom we encounter, that makes room for God in this world.
It’s that chain reaction of grace, fueled by our noticing, really seeing Christ in everyone we encounter, that will bring the kingdom of heaven to reign here on earth. It’s that chain reaction of love for all, no exceptions, that unites the ideal of heaven with the reality of earth.
It’s that chain reaction of grace that brings about the fulfillment of all that Jesus came to accomplish.
It’s the chain reaction of grace which brings us a peace that surpasses all understanding.
By seeing each other as God through Christ sees us, by really seeing each other, we unleash that chain of grace and that, my friends is the whole point.
Jesus Christ as our King may seem like an a odd title for this itinerant preacher who spoke of the sanctity of the poor, the sick, the outcast and the rejected…..But Christ as the King of a world where the Divine is noticed in all, where the Holy is respected by all and where the Love of God is the rule and not the exception—that is a world where Christ, as King, makes sense.
Sunday, November 23, 2014
Tuesday, November 18, 2014
16 November 2014 Yr A--Deacon Pete
One night last week I put a dirty dish in the sink, meaning to put it in the dishwasher in a few minutes. I got distracted by the dryer buzzer or the dogs barking or a text message coming through on my phone, who knows? Anyway, I forgot to put the dish in the dishwasher and I ended up in my recliner in the family room. A few minutes later there was a sound of something falling in the kitchen and Scout was nowhere to be seen. I thought she was probably angry about something and, as is her wont when she is displeased, tipped over the trash can. As I entered the kitchen I could see that the trash can was upright, but the blue dish was cracked in half on the floor. Scout had grabbed it out of the sink and then dropped it on the floor. I muttered something I wouldn’t say in front of my mother, picked up the pieces and threw them away.
“People have said that this part of the modern culture is the reason for everything from our divorce rate to our piles of trash. When something breaks, we throw it away.
In ancient Japan, when a ceramic bowl broke, they fixed it. Legend has it that a Japanese shogun was unimpressed with the repair done on a Chinese bowl he had sent to be fixed, so he hired some Japanese craftsmen to find a more beautiful method of mending ceramics. They developed a technique called kintsugi, in which the broken pottery is literally mended with gold dust. Rather than trying to hide the flaws in the broken ceramics, they would highlight them in gold, baring the cracks and scars and adopting them as a part of the ceramic.
The technique became so popular that people may have even begun intentionally smashing bowls and plates in order to have them repaired. The ceramics mended with kintsugi actually became more valuable than they had been before they were broken. It was considered more beautiful because it was broken.”
“Sometimes there’s pain and suffering and brokenness before we get to joy. And sometimes everything has to fall apart to open up space for the new.
Chaos often precedes order. Things tend to get really messy before the new is established. While most of the time incremental change works best, other times bringing about change requires something sweeping, more all-encompassing . And such dramatic change can feel frightening and uncomfortable, it can seem thoughtless and jarring.
Jesus came to heal, and in order to do that he also came to break apart, to break into pieces the thoughts, attitudes and behaviors that were keeping people from reaching back to God, from developing a relationship with God that was whole and holy. But, no surprise here, the disciples don’t get it. Jesus is using these many weeks worth of parables that we have been reading to help us break apart and reform. He knows that is the only way that we will ever be able to take our part in creating heaven on earth.
Today’s Gospel, the Parable of the Talents, gives us a strategy for moving from the “I don’t get it” crowd into the “I got it” crowd. The story tells us a lot about money, how each slave manages his masters’ fortune. But, of course, the meaning of the parable has nothing to do with money and everything to do with talents. You see, the bottom line to Jesus’ message is: live life, take what talents you have been given and do good, don’t live in fear of what might happen, don’t live in fear of brokenness, live in hope of what might happen, in hope of being whole and lovely. For, life happens, stuff happens, some good and some bad, some thrilling and some terrifying, but, if we live our life embracing all of our unique, varied and oh so individual “talents”, if we use them to further the march of creation, then we’ll be ready for whatever comes next.
Think about it. Think about how bushes need to be pruned way back sometimes so that new shoots and leaves have room to sprout. How trees, in order to keep growing need to shed their old, tired, broken bark. Think about how the best way to get your hair to grow long and healthy is to trim it regularly.
Jesus came to earth to shake up the old order, to break it open and create something brand new. On the cross Jesus took all of our brokenness and then walked out of the tomb three days later to give us something altogether new. Jesus defeats brokenness, always, forever. The itinerant preacher from Nazareth takes all of our fear of brokenness, all of our doubt, all of our love of order and all of our hatred for uncertainty and breaks us wide open. Making space for something new and beautiful to be created.
Sometimes there is pain, suffering and brokenness before we get to joy and beauty. Sometimes everything has to fall apart before the new can be born. Sometimes you have to break the bowl so that the gold can shine forth. “
1
http://www.incourage.me/2014/03/broken-things.html
2
Heavily adapted from: Sometimes Everything Has to Fall Apart. Nov 13 2011 www.goodshepbuf.blogspot.com
“People have said that this part of the modern culture is the reason for everything from our divorce rate to our piles of trash. When something breaks, we throw it away.
In ancient Japan, when a ceramic bowl broke, they fixed it. Legend has it that a Japanese shogun was unimpressed with the repair done on a Chinese bowl he had sent to be fixed, so he hired some Japanese craftsmen to find a more beautiful method of mending ceramics. They developed a technique called kintsugi, in which the broken pottery is literally mended with gold dust. Rather than trying to hide the flaws in the broken ceramics, they would highlight them in gold, baring the cracks and scars and adopting them as a part of the ceramic.
The technique became so popular that people may have even begun intentionally smashing bowls and plates in order to have them repaired. The ceramics mended with kintsugi actually became more valuable than they had been before they were broken. It was considered more beautiful because it was broken.”
“Sometimes there’s pain and suffering and brokenness before we get to joy. And sometimes everything has to fall apart to open up space for the new.
Chaos often precedes order. Things tend to get really messy before the new is established. While most of the time incremental change works best, other times bringing about change requires something sweeping, more all-encompassing . And such dramatic change can feel frightening and uncomfortable, it can seem thoughtless and jarring.
Jesus came to heal, and in order to do that he also came to break apart, to break into pieces the thoughts, attitudes and behaviors that were keeping people from reaching back to God, from developing a relationship with God that was whole and holy. But, no surprise here, the disciples don’t get it. Jesus is using these many weeks worth of parables that we have been reading to help us break apart and reform. He knows that is the only way that we will ever be able to take our part in creating heaven on earth.
Today’s Gospel, the Parable of the Talents, gives us a strategy for moving from the “I don’t get it” crowd into the “I got it” crowd. The story tells us a lot about money, how each slave manages his masters’ fortune. But, of course, the meaning of the parable has nothing to do with money and everything to do with talents. You see, the bottom line to Jesus’ message is: live life, take what talents you have been given and do good, don’t live in fear of what might happen, don’t live in fear of brokenness, live in hope of what might happen, in hope of being whole and lovely. For, life happens, stuff happens, some good and some bad, some thrilling and some terrifying, but, if we live our life embracing all of our unique, varied and oh so individual “talents”, if we use them to further the march of creation, then we’ll be ready for whatever comes next.
Think about it. Think about how bushes need to be pruned way back sometimes so that new shoots and leaves have room to sprout. How trees, in order to keep growing need to shed their old, tired, broken bark. Think about how the best way to get your hair to grow long and healthy is to trim it regularly.
Jesus came to earth to shake up the old order, to break it open and create something brand new. On the cross Jesus took all of our brokenness and then walked out of the tomb three days later to give us something altogether new. Jesus defeats brokenness, always, forever. The itinerant preacher from Nazareth takes all of our fear of brokenness, all of our doubt, all of our love of order and all of our hatred for uncertainty and breaks us wide open. Making space for something new and beautiful to be created.
Sometimes there is pain, suffering and brokenness before we get to joy and beauty. Sometimes everything has to fall apart before the new can be born. Sometimes you have to break the bowl so that the gold can shine forth. “
1
http://www.incourage.me/2014/03/broken-things.html
2
Heavily adapted from: Sometimes Everything Has to Fall Apart. Nov 13 2011 www.goodshepbuf.blogspot.com
Monday, November 10, 2014
22 after Pentecost 9 Nov2014
Did you know that in dream interpretation theory we are every single person and thing in our dreams? That by considering how the scene of the dream plays out from the perspective of each person and each object in the dream (from the leading character to the lamp to the end table) we discover more and more about ourselves and the “stuff” we happen to be dealing with at that moment.
If we enter the study of our dreams with an open mind, we can really learn a lot.
It’s hard and fruitful work.
Parables are a lot like dreams—we must crack them open to enter them…and if we’re honest, we can discover bits of ourselves in each and every character…Of course after a couple of months of parables from Matthew’s Gospel I’d understand if you all were just a bit sick and tired of working so darn hard to make heads or tails out of these stories.
The Parable of the Ten Bridesmaids, formally known as the Parable of the Ten Virgins---you can elicit your own social commentary from THAT change----is a pretty harsh bit of prose; the bridesmaids are split into two distinct groups---wise and foolish.
I don’t know about you, but I rotate between wise and foolish hourly!
We are both wise and foolish, we are both sheep and goats, we are both wheat and chaff.
But, and here is the point----God doesn’t decide which group we’re in…
WE DO.
It’s easy to hear these readings in the march toward Advent as angry and violent challenges to our very faith. For generations, preachers have used this reading, and others like it, to scare to beejebbers out of people.
And that’s wrong. These readings aren’t about God rejecting us, these readings are about us, rejecting God.
This reading, and the many others like it we’ll hear for the next few weeks, aren’t telling us that we better straighten up and fly right or else we’ll be tossed out of the kingdom into the outer darkness where there is much wailing and gnashing of teeth.
Instead, these readings give us a glimpse into the heartbreak of Jesus at our inability to live life as true and real and full believers.
You see, Jesus’ time on earth was short and he worked hard to get his message that God loves us all, no exceptions, to fruition. He assumed that we would grab ahold of his message and never let go. That we would work tirelessly to bring God’s kingdom to reign here on earth by loving everyone, no exceptions….by fighting injustice, prejudice and hate…by feeding the hungry, by standing up for the very young, the very old, the very different and the very lost.
This is the work of Christ, work that we are to undertake at all times and in all circumstances…no exceptions.
Jesus the man walked the earth to model this behavior for us.
Jesus had been clear. Or so he thought.
Jesus had been fervent. Or so he thought.
Jesus had been compelling. Or so he thought.
But at this stage of Matthew’s Gospel, as Jesus is facing crucifixion, he’s not at all sure that his message has penetrated.
Has he been heard?
Will his message last?
Can his followers do it?
These questions must have haunted Jesus as he faced the final days of his earthly life.
So he got a little snarky.
Who can blame him?
He was waiting for his followers to step up and step in.
He’s still waiting.
My friends, the kingdom of God here on earth isn’t ushered in by chariots of fire.
It’s ushered in by us—by you and by me.
It’s up to us to claim the message of God given to us through Jesus Christ and make it our own.
God doesn’t force God’s kingdom upon the world. The world—you and me--- create God’s kingdom here on earth.
And the time is now.
This is what all this talk about not “knowing the day nor the hour is all about”---we don’t. We don’t know anything except right now. Tomorrow isn’t guaranteed. This afternoon not’s guaranteed, the next hour’s not guaranteed.
What would our world look like if we lived as if this was it; if we lived in a state of constant alertness—of perpetual open-ness to the Spirit’s movement?
What would our world look like if we turned all that we are and all that we have over to God, praying for God’s guidance every single moment of every single day?
Now hear me out, I’m not saying that we lay back and say, “God will take care of it all,” I mean joining God in creating heaven right here on earth. Creating a world where justice flows like a river and the dignity of every single human being is respected. I mean doing the work Jesus showed us, I mean doing the work Jesus left for us to do. I mean getting busy with THAT work, right now.
We can do it.
We really can.
But we need to do it NOW.
I challenge each and everyone of you to commit, right here and right now, to pray, each and every day, for the courage to do God’s will in all that you do and for the Wisdom to know what is God’s will and what, in fact is our will. How you do this is up to you, but what would our little corner of the world look like if, each and every day we began the day by saying: “God, help me to see you in all whom I encounter today, help me to be your instrument in this world.”
You see, bringing the Kingdom of God to fruition on earth isn’t a job for a select few, it’s a job for the select many…it’s a job for the select all…because, the fact of the matter is this:
God doesn’t decide whether we are in or out.
God doesn’t decide if we are wise or foolish.
We do.
Some days we’re foolish, some days we’re wise but every day, every single day of our lives, we are the beloved Children of God, guaranteed a seat at the heavenly banquet. The question isn’t whether we’re in or out, the question is whether we’re willing to stay.
Amen.
If we enter the study of our dreams with an open mind, we can really learn a lot.
It’s hard and fruitful work.
Parables are a lot like dreams—we must crack them open to enter them…and if we’re honest, we can discover bits of ourselves in each and every character…Of course after a couple of months of parables from Matthew’s Gospel I’d understand if you all were just a bit sick and tired of working so darn hard to make heads or tails out of these stories.
The Parable of the Ten Bridesmaids, formally known as the Parable of the Ten Virgins---you can elicit your own social commentary from THAT change----is a pretty harsh bit of prose; the bridesmaids are split into two distinct groups---wise and foolish.
I don’t know about you, but I rotate between wise and foolish hourly!
We are both wise and foolish, we are both sheep and goats, we are both wheat and chaff.
But, and here is the point----God doesn’t decide which group we’re in…
WE DO.
It’s easy to hear these readings in the march toward Advent as angry and violent challenges to our very faith. For generations, preachers have used this reading, and others like it, to scare to beejebbers out of people.
And that’s wrong. These readings aren’t about God rejecting us, these readings are about us, rejecting God.
This reading, and the many others like it we’ll hear for the next few weeks, aren’t telling us that we better straighten up and fly right or else we’ll be tossed out of the kingdom into the outer darkness where there is much wailing and gnashing of teeth.
Instead, these readings give us a glimpse into the heartbreak of Jesus at our inability to live life as true and real and full believers.
You see, Jesus’ time on earth was short and he worked hard to get his message that God loves us all, no exceptions, to fruition. He assumed that we would grab ahold of his message and never let go. That we would work tirelessly to bring God’s kingdom to reign here on earth by loving everyone, no exceptions….by fighting injustice, prejudice and hate…by feeding the hungry, by standing up for the very young, the very old, the very different and the very lost.
This is the work of Christ, work that we are to undertake at all times and in all circumstances…no exceptions.
Jesus the man walked the earth to model this behavior for us.
Jesus had been clear. Or so he thought.
Jesus had been fervent. Or so he thought.
Jesus had been compelling. Or so he thought.
But at this stage of Matthew’s Gospel, as Jesus is facing crucifixion, he’s not at all sure that his message has penetrated.
Has he been heard?
Will his message last?
Can his followers do it?
These questions must have haunted Jesus as he faced the final days of his earthly life.
So he got a little snarky.
Who can blame him?
He was waiting for his followers to step up and step in.
He’s still waiting.
My friends, the kingdom of God here on earth isn’t ushered in by chariots of fire.
It’s ushered in by us—by you and by me.
It’s up to us to claim the message of God given to us through Jesus Christ and make it our own.
God doesn’t force God’s kingdom upon the world. The world—you and me--- create God’s kingdom here on earth.
And the time is now.
This is what all this talk about not “knowing the day nor the hour is all about”---we don’t. We don’t know anything except right now. Tomorrow isn’t guaranteed. This afternoon not’s guaranteed, the next hour’s not guaranteed.
What would our world look like if we lived as if this was it; if we lived in a state of constant alertness—of perpetual open-ness to the Spirit’s movement?
What would our world look like if we turned all that we are and all that we have over to God, praying for God’s guidance every single moment of every single day?
Now hear me out, I’m not saying that we lay back and say, “God will take care of it all,” I mean joining God in creating heaven right here on earth. Creating a world where justice flows like a river and the dignity of every single human being is respected. I mean doing the work Jesus showed us, I mean doing the work Jesus left for us to do. I mean getting busy with THAT work, right now.
We can do it.
We really can.
But we need to do it NOW.
I challenge each and everyone of you to commit, right here and right now, to pray, each and every day, for the courage to do God’s will in all that you do and for the Wisdom to know what is God’s will and what, in fact is our will. How you do this is up to you, but what would our little corner of the world look like if, each and every day we began the day by saying: “God, help me to see you in all whom I encounter today, help me to be your instrument in this world.”
You see, bringing the Kingdom of God to fruition on earth isn’t a job for a select few, it’s a job for the select many…it’s a job for the select all…because, the fact of the matter is this:
God doesn’t decide whether we are in or out.
God doesn’t decide if we are wise or foolish.
We do.
Some days we’re foolish, some days we’re wise but every day, every single day of our lives, we are the beloved Children of God, guaranteed a seat at the heavenly banquet. The question isn’t whether we’re in or out, the question is whether we’re willing to stay.
Amen.
Sunday, November 2, 2014
All Saints' Sunday Nov 2 2014 And they wipe every tear from our eyes
Death is difficult. Having just gone through the sudden loss of one of our dogs I can honestly say that death—even of a pet-- is really difficult.
The slightest, seemingly inconsequential thing suddenly takes on new meaning and the grief and sadness that overcomes us can be very painful.
Sudden deaths are shocking and terribly sad.
And as we weep, God is there to wipe away every tear.
My dad was ravaged by cancer. He was a mere shadow of his former self, the primary lung cancer had metastasized to his brain and his bones. He was wracked with pain and was hallucinating. His death was a relief from all that horror. Yet still, as he took his final breath it was shocking and terribly sad.
And as we wept, God wiped away every tear.
When my young friend Ian fell into a deep darkness that I can’t even comprehend and decided to take his own life, so many of us were shocked and terribly sad.
And as we wept, God wiped away every tear.
When we were in the middle of diocesan convention last week and word came down about the school shooting outside of Seattle, most of us flashed back to all the mass shootings before, none as horrific as Sandy Hook. Our bodies absorbed the shock and we were, once again, terribly sad.
And as we wept, God wiped away every tear.
On September 11, 2001 we were collectively kicked in the gut, terrified and shocked as the twin towers fell.
And as we wept, God wiped away every tear.
When each of the 40+ people we will remember during the Eucharist died, those who loved them were shocked and terribly sad.
And each and every time:
God wiped away every tear
This is what makes today so wonderful in my eyes---it’s a day when the veil that separates the here and now with those who were and will be forever, lifts just a bit and we find ourselves in that Thin Place where the wonders of life eternal visit us here in our life temporal, reminding us that we are never ever alone, no matter how deep the grief, no matter how painful the loss, no matter how persistent the sadness we are surrounded by Love.
But All Saints’ Day isn’t just about the death of our loved ones. It’s about comfort in the midst of all loss. Take a good look at our reading from Revelation today and be encouraged by the words:
"These are they who have come out of the great ordeal; …
They will hunger no more, and thirst no more;
the sun will not strike them,
nor any scorching heat;
for the Lamb at the center of the throne will be their shepherd,
and he will guide them to springs of the water of life,
and God will wipe away every tear from their eyes."
All of us here today have lost things---jobs, relationships, health, hope, faith…and we grieve these losses and it is while in the midst of that grief when we can feel the most alone. Today is the day that we remember we’re never alone .
I’m lucky because I get to come into this sacred space late at night and early in the morning, when the world out there is quiet. As I walk around the nave---this area---I can feel them…all those people who loved this place. All those people who sat in these same pews, people who experienced losses unimaginable---those who lived through the Great Depression; those who lived through the loss of young men listed on our wall of war dead; those who lost their health; their livelihood; their relationships. Those who lost their hope and at times even their faith. Their presence lingers and on this great feast day may we all find comfort and strength in all that they did, all they accomplished, all they endured.
Comfort and strength.
I won’t lie to you. We need all the comfort and strength we can get.
Why?
Because the fact of the matter is this---the message we have for the world, the message so beautifully put in our reading from Matthew this morning is a message that was counter-cultural then and is, sadly, countercultural now.
The different and the outcast, the disabled and the ill, the young and the old, the immigrant and refugee are still reviled.
And our job is to push this world into more inclusion, more tolerance and more love.
That has always been our job and I fear it will continue to be our job for generations to come.
But, and this is where we really need courage and creativity, the way we do this job, the way we spread this message, needs updating. I’m not sure how that will look, but I know it won’t look like this---we owe it to our forebears, we owe it to our children, we owe it to our God to figure out how to be who we are in this 21st century world with limited resources, an aging building and a world that doesn’t want to hear us.
Sounds like a tall order, doesn’t it?
It is.
But, with this immense cloud of witnesses surrounding us we can do this—it will require breaking out of our comfort zone, it will require doing some things---perhaps many things---differently, it will take courage. It will take hope. It will take flexibility. It will take love. It will take All the Saints, wiping our tears and guiding us to wherever it is God calls us to go.
Amen
The slightest, seemingly inconsequential thing suddenly takes on new meaning and the grief and sadness that overcomes us can be very painful.
Sudden deaths are shocking and terribly sad.
And as we weep, God is there to wipe away every tear.
My dad was ravaged by cancer. He was a mere shadow of his former self, the primary lung cancer had metastasized to his brain and his bones. He was wracked with pain and was hallucinating. His death was a relief from all that horror. Yet still, as he took his final breath it was shocking and terribly sad.
And as we wept, God wiped away every tear.
When my young friend Ian fell into a deep darkness that I can’t even comprehend and decided to take his own life, so many of us were shocked and terribly sad.
And as we wept, God wiped away every tear.
When we were in the middle of diocesan convention last week and word came down about the school shooting outside of Seattle, most of us flashed back to all the mass shootings before, none as horrific as Sandy Hook. Our bodies absorbed the shock and we were, once again, terribly sad.
And as we wept, God wiped away every tear.
On September 11, 2001 we were collectively kicked in the gut, terrified and shocked as the twin towers fell.
And as we wept, God wiped away every tear.
When each of the 40+ people we will remember during the Eucharist died, those who loved them were shocked and terribly sad.
And each and every time:
God wiped away every tear
This is what makes today so wonderful in my eyes---it’s a day when the veil that separates the here and now with those who were and will be forever, lifts just a bit and we find ourselves in that Thin Place where the wonders of life eternal visit us here in our life temporal, reminding us that we are never ever alone, no matter how deep the grief, no matter how painful the loss, no matter how persistent the sadness we are surrounded by Love.
But All Saints’ Day isn’t just about the death of our loved ones. It’s about comfort in the midst of all loss. Take a good look at our reading from Revelation today and be encouraged by the words:
"These are they who have come out of the great ordeal; …
They will hunger no more, and thirst no more;
the sun will not strike them,
nor any scorching heat;
for the Lamb at the center of the throne will be their shepherd,
and he will guide them to springs of the water of life,
and God will wipe away every tear from their eyes."
All of us here today have lost things---jobs, relationships, health, hope, faith…and we grieve these losses and it is while in the midst of that grief when we can feel the most alone. Today is the day that we remember we’re never alone .
I’m lucky because I get to come into this sacred space late at night and early in the morning, when the world out there is quiet. As I walk around the nave---this area---I can feel them…all those people who loved this place. All those people who sat in these same pews, people who experienced losses unimaginable---those who lived through the Great Depression; those who lived through the loss of young men listed on our wall of war dead; those who lost their health; their livelihood; their relationships. Those who lost their hope and at times even their faith. Their presence lingers and on this great feast day may we all find comfort and strength in all that they did, all they accomplished, all they endured.
Comfort and strength.
I won’t lie to you. We need all the comfort and strength we can get.
Why?
Because the fact of the matter is this---the message we have for the world, the message so beautifully put in our reading from Matthew this morning is a message that was counter-cultural then and is, sadly, countercultural now.
The different and the outcast, the disabled and the ill, the young and the old, the immigrant and refugee are still reviled.
And our job is to push this world into more inclusion, more tolerance and more love.
That has always been our job and I fear it will continue to be our job for generations to come.
But, and this is where we really need courage and creativity, the way we do this job, the way we spread this message, needs updating. I’m not sure how that will look, but I know it won’t look like this---we owe it to our forebears, we owe it to our children, we owe it to our God to figure out how to be who we are in this 21st century world with limited resources, an aging building and a world that doesn’t want to hear us.
Sounds like a tall order, doesn’t it?
It is.
But, with this immense cloud of witnesses surrounding us we can do this—it will require breaking out of our comfort zone, it will require doing some things---perhaps many things---differently, it will take courage. It will take hope. It will take flexibility. It will take love. It will take All the Saints, wiping our tears and guiding us to wherever it is God calls us to go.
Amen
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)