Something New? Get Outta Here Epiphany 3c

 Last week we were introduced to the beginning of Jesus’s ministry according to John…the wedding at Cana. Today, Luke introduces us to Jesus’s ministry in Nazareth, Jesus’s hometown.
Because the chronology of these beginning stories is confusing, let me set the scene from Luke:  Following Jesus’s baptism, which we heard two Sundays ago, Jesus is thrust into a time of discernment in the wilderness, 40 days and nights of hunger, thirst, temptation and fear. After that ordeal Jesus goes home.
Makes sense, right? He’s been through a lot so he goes home to hang with Mom and Dad. They must have been overjoyed at his return and thrilled that he voluntarily goes to the synagogue. No doubt all the folks at synagogue were excited to see him as well. Until.
    Until he offers an outlandish midrash (interpretation) of the prophet Isaiah by proclaiming that the scripture pre-figuring the arrival of the Messiah has been fulfilled right then and there, in the person of Joseph and Mary’s son.
Outraged by what they consider blasphemy they (we don’t hear this part this year)—the people Jesus grew up with and around—drive him out of town. They want no part of his preaching.
    Now, in Paul’s letter to the churches in Corinth, written some 20 years after the scene in Nazareth, Paul’s urging the churches to embrace one another. Corinth was one of the places where early Christianity, due to the preaching of Paul and Timothy, really took off. There are home churches throughout this great Roman metropolis. [Now, we can liken the home churches to individual congregations and the moniker  “the Church in Corinth” as the diocese]  After just a short time these home churches are at odds with each other—  bickering over the different ways each congregation chose to follow The Way of Christ.  They were intolerant of difference and Paul, in his long-winded and winding prose tries to get through to the Corinthians that difference within the community was good, healthy.
Last week we heard Paul say—there are a variety of gifts, a variety of charisms that everyone has—What xxx is good at, xxx may not be good at, what xxx good at, xxx might not be good at but xxx is good at this and so on and so on. Then in today’s part of Paul’s letter Paul waxes metaphorically about how all parts of a community—the Body—- function in complementary fashion. The eye does the eye’s job, the ears the ear’s job etc. An eye can’t be an ear, an ear can’t be an eye… Paul is saying, difference/variety is what makes us strong, a myriad of gifts allows for the message of God’s saving love for us, given to us in Jesus, to be expressed in as many different ways as there are different types of people and gifts.
         Here’s where the rubber meets the road on this Annual Meeting Sunday:
We may listen to Paul’s reasonings and shake our heads in agreement thinking, “oh yes, difference is good.”
And then someone shows up here with a whole other way of looking at things, a whole different set of gifts—-like Jesus when he returns home to the synagogue—and it shakes us up, irritates us, maybe even threatens us, it just doesn’t sit well with us. So what do we do? Often, maybe even usually, we figuratively run them out of town.
We hear of the townsfolk in Nazareth rejecting Jesus and think—those fools! But the truth, as Paul tells us, is that we do the same thing. When something or someone different comes along our human nature leads us to buckle down on what we’re familiar with, comfortable with—whether it’s serving us well or not.
Paul’s telling us that  Difference isn’t bad, it’s just different. Challenge isn’t bad, it’s just challenging. Now, different and challenging are a little unnerving—it’s ok to be shaken up a bit —this is where our trust and strength in the love of God comes into play. For when we’re feeling unsettled we’re to bring all that to this altar —-for Jesus doesn’t expect us to not be unsettled or nervous or unsure Jesus just expects us to feel those things give them to him and then, emboldened through our trust in him, move into the different and challenging.
There are a variety of ways to be Jesus in this world, in this place, at this time, and it takes all our gifts, strengths, and passions to fully serve him.
Amen.

This first miracle of Jesus is not just a little something. It’s a whole lot of something big. Epiphany 2 2022

     Maybe Jesus doesn’t think he’s ready. Perhaps on some level he doesn’t want to have his first miracle (or “sign” as John refers to them) be some type of party game. But Mary is wise…somehow she intuits, she just knows that the time’s right for Jesus to shine his light….so over his harsh rebukes Mary calmly tells the servants to do whatever Jesus says. She’s’s not deterred by her son’s protests, rather Mary’s encouraged by what she knows, what she senses, God’s urging her to do. She ignores the human side of Jesus and encourages his divine side to get to work. It’s time.
    Mary, in the quiet way she moves through the stories of Jesus’s life, gives Jesus—and us—-an important lesson: what God needs us to do is not always what we want to do. As a matter of fact it is often exactly what we don’t want to do.
Jesus was at the wedding as a guest—he had no intention of being anything other than a regular wedding guest. He was sure: it wasn’t his time.
But Mary, she wasn’t concerned with anything except what she sensed, what she heard deep within her.and what she heard, what she felt was…it was time.
Throughout the stories of Mary, we hear that she pondered.  
Whether it was the announcement from the angel Gabriel, the wisdom offered by the Magi, or at the presentation of  Jesus at the temple; each time Mary experienced another step in the amazing journey of being Jesus’s mother we’re told that she took what happened, and pondered it in her heart. She quieted herself enough, was comfortable enough with the discomfort of not knowing what it all meant that she let things linger in her heart, soul and mind, listening for when more would be revealed.
Mary listened, waited, and listened some more. This devotion to waiting, wondering, looking and listening led Mary to be a wise counsel to Jesus (and to us) through this  journey of increasing awareness, the season of Epiphany.
    One of the overlooked parts of Epiphany is understanding that the Messiah coming in the form of a human being, born of a human woman was not the way it was supposed to happen. The Messiah coming and taking so many of the beloved traditional beliefs of Judaism and turning them upside down and inside out was not what anyone thought would happen. They thought that all the traditions of the faith—-those handed down for generations —-would continue to serve the faith forever. The messiah was to fit the model worshipped and longed for for centuries. The Messiah wasn’t supposed to be unexpected, unusual and challenging.
It’s why, in my opinion, the Wedding at Cana was the first miracle, the first sign pointing to the arrival of this long-awaited Messiah:
The wine is running out and the wedding host is in danger of being shamed. Although unhappy about it, Jesus obeys his mother and saves the day.
But, the miracle at Cana isn’t done simply to save the day….it’s done to show us that this Son of God is here to save us every day and in a completely new way.
You see, the water used in the miracle is poured into the jars used—for centuries—in the Jewish rite of purification, a cornerstone of the old covenant… but Jesus uses them for a new thing—creating wine. The old way is adapted and a new way emerges.
From the restrictions of the old emerges the hope and joy of the new.
Much how new wine bursts old wineskins, God, through Jesus, bursts out of the old in a big, abundant and extravagant way.
This first miracle of Jesus is not just a little something. It’s a whole lot of something big.
The new came to the Jews of ancient Israel in Jesus’s time and it comes now, too.
May we all quiet the voices in our head that begrudge the new long enough to, like Mary,  ponder and then notice how Jesus is leading us into something new, something  unexpected, the next step of what it means to be his followers.
Right here and right now.
Amen.

Baptism of Christ Yr C 2022: Disruption is the backbone of our faith.

 The Baptism of Christ is a day when God anoints Jesus, John the Baptist steps aside and we all have a little bit of whiplash as it was just a couple of weeks ago that we were proclaiming Jesus’s birth and today he’s  a 30 year old adult. For those who like chronological order, this day is going to mess with your zen.
All that said, there’s something glorious and terrifying about this day because there’s something glorious and terrifying about Baptism.
The BCP states: “The bond which God establishes in Baptism is indissoluble.”
There isn’t any grey area here folks. The bond we make with God and the bond God makes with us at baptism is forever. NOTHING can diminish, dissolve or destroy it. Nothing we think, do, fail to do. It’s indissoluble. Forever. And it comes with great responsibility.
    Jesus wasn’t baptized to be washed of sin, He wasn’t baptized so he could wear a handsome white suit and folks could eat cake afterwards.
He was baptized because Jesus was fulfilling the act of the incarnation…he was being submerged in the muddy waters of the Jordan River to emerge reborn, renewed and ready for his ministry. A ministry that would threaten the status quo, tick off the authorities and turn the world on its ear. .He was dying to his life as a regular young man and being born into his life as our Savior, our Teacher, our Lord. A life as a Holy Disruptor. A life of never stopping until all people—ALL people—were treated with respect and dignity. No matter what.
Jesus’ baptism strengthened him, readied him, oriented him to his life of Faith, his life of Holy Disruption.
Baptism—Jesus’s and our own-- provides the blueprint for living a life of faithful and holy heck raising for disruption.
It equips us to do what others know they should do, but don’t. It equips us to be unpopular, counter cultural and a pain in the patoot of those who long for power and prestige over equity and love.
    Why do we commemorate Jesus’ baptism so soon after the celebration of his birth? Because Jesus’s birth served as the inaugural act of forming the Body of Christ here on earth. God took on a human body in order to establish an impenetrable indissoluble Body of Love and Light, of Hope and Joy right here, right now.
And that Body grows, its reach lengthens, its impact increases, each and every-time a person is baptized.
The goal of our faith is to spread the Body of Christ, by being the Body of Christ…but remember, being the Body of Christ isn’t always sweetness and light. As a matter of fact it’s often challenging, messy and upsetting. But we’re equipped through the promises we make to God and God makes to us in baptism to stand up, speak out and be unpopular.
    Why do we have this disrupted chronology of celebrating the birth of the baby Jesus one week and commemorating Jesus’s adult profession of faith 2 weeks later?  Because Disruption is the backbone of our faith. The status quo isn’t following God, risking, trying, and changing is.  This is what we’ve been baptized into—-a life of holy disruption.
Let me close by sharing this new take on the familiar Prayer of St Francis, author unknown:
Lord, make me a channel of disturbance.
Where there is apathy, let me provoke;
Where there is compliance, let me bring questioning;
Where there is silence, may I be a voice.
Where there is too much comfort and too little
action, grant disruption;
Where there are doors closed and hearts locked.
Grant the willingness to listen.
When laws dictate and pain is overlooked..
When tradition speaks louder than need..
Grant that I may seek rather to do justice than to
talk about it:
Disturb us, O Lord.
To be with, as well as for, the alienated;
To love the unlovable as well as the lovely;
Lord, make me a channel of disturbance.
(~ Author unknown)
Thanks be to God , Amen and Alleluia.

Christmas 2 Year C Where Is the Star Leading Us?

 

 

King Herod noticed as the Magi made their way to Bethlehem. He wasn’t pleased. Herod knew something about these star-gazers from the East. He knew it had to be something big to bring them all that way. And it was something big…and from the perspective of Herod… something very bad…for they were  recognizing the birth of a messiah—THE messiah who promised to change…EVERYTHING. Herod was incensed; you see, there's no one more sensitive to a threat--- real/or imagined-- than a puppet king with an inferiority complex. Out of this anger, this fear, the King tried mightily to get at that baby, that king, that messiah, that threat…but he was outwitted by the Magi who took a different route home while the Holy family escaped to Egypt. They needed to avoid Herod at all costs—for this baby was something to be adored, AND something to protect.

On this second Sunday of Christmas, we look forward to the coming Epiphany and to what the ongoing manifestation of Christ in the world around us and the world within us means, and we ask—-just who is Jesus?

 A King, a God, a man, a Son, a prophet, a preacher, a revolutionary, a Messiah?

Yes.

And then some.

Who is he? What is he? Why is he? It's the question of the season of Epiphany: of noticing, realizing, manifesting.

         Or are you already past it? Has the tree come down, the lights lost their charm, have the presents been tossed aside?

Are we still awash in the wonder of Christmas?

Or have we moved on, back to the same ol’ same ol’?

      Our Epiphany task is to open our eyes to what, how, where Emmanuel “God among us” is taking shape.

It’s time to ponder, adjust, understand, comprehend. To adapt.

A time to notice how the miracle that just happened manifests itself in our lives.

     It’s a tall order, I know. The stores are replacing Christmas and New Year’s displays with Valentine’s Day, all those mundane things that demand much of our attention are nagging at us.

But let’s not forget: something astounding has happened.

God in the flesh has come to live among us.

Remember, at the moment of the birth, the cosmos cried out in exultation by flashing that star…

…The heavenly hosts burst into song across the Bethlehem hills.

…The shepherds noticed.

…The star gazers in the east noticed.

…Herod noticed.

But have we?

     Epiphany is all about the reality of “God among us” showing and shining in the world.

Does this reality excite us, or terrify us?

Who are we in this story? The fascinated Magi, the cowering, plotting Herod or the terrified and thrilled, scared and amazed shepherds? Or maybe Mary and Joseph, quietly pondering, silently trusting…

Are we filled with expectation about just who this Jesus will be and what he’ll do with us and through us?

Or are we Herod, threatened by anything that challenges the status quo, leery of anything new, anything different?

 The birth of our Savior caused the stars, planets, and galaxies to erupt in shiny celebration, intriguing the Magi, terrifying the  shepherds, baffling the Holy Family, infuriating Herod.

what about us?

Are we bursting with this Good News?

Are we ready to arise and let the light of Christ shine upon us?

I hope so.

Because we have work to do— in the world around us and here at St James.

Are we ready to let the light of Christ’s manifestation—-his undying love, his never ending guidance, his longing to bring all of God’s creatures together in peace—-are we ready to let that light shine from us and all that we do in the name of Jesus? Will the people who drive by this place feel the warmth of that light? Do we feel the warmth of that light?

St James is at a crossroads. Where we are now is not where we’ll be at the end of 2022–thanks be to God. So let’s saddle up and like the Magi before us, search for where this Christmas star will lead us.

Amen.

 

 

 

 

God erupts out of heaven and pours out onto the earth.

 +For years I dismissed the hymn “In the Bleak Midwinter.” But then I heard Annie Lennox’s version on her album Christmas Cornucopia.Her rendition is haunting,  and the words hit me as being so very honest, that I now listen to “In the Bleak Mid-Winter” year ‘round and have even used it as part of a Holy Week meditation. I’m grateful to Christina Rosetti, the English poet who penned the words to the hymn in the 19th century and to Annie Lennox who got me to listen to it anew in the 21st.
My favorite line, and the one that summarizes my theology of Christmas well is this:  
“Our God, Heaven cannot hold “Him” nor earth sustain.”
God is so huge, so massive, so untamed that the very essence of God—-the pure Divinity of that being, cannot be held in check.
The Love and Light of all that is good in heaven and on earth cannot be contained, secured or held back. On this most Holy of Nights, God erupts out of heaven and pours out onto the earth.
In a barn.
In Bethlehem.
To a human mother.
Born. In the regular way---with the pain and the muck and the terror and the unspeakable, incomprehensible joy,
 GOD has come to dwell among us.
God has arrived as a squawking, hungry baby.
This evening in Batavia New York and beyond God has, once again arrived…as a vulnerable little being, neediing nurture, care and Love.
On this Holy night, God has descended from the heavenly throne to meet us right where we are.
In the Bleak Midwinter.
In Western New York.
In our hearts and throughout our souls,
God has arrived.
Here and Now, JUST AS WE ARE, God has come to us.
You who may only be here because your grandmother, grandfather, parent, sibling, spouse expects that you will—at least once or twice a year—attend church. God has come because of you.
You who may be a faithful attendee of church but who, if you’re honest, doesn’t even know what you believe anymore, God has come. For you, because of you, with you.
You who have so much fear, so much loss, so much doubt, God has come. Here and Now.
To be with you.
To be for you,
To be in you
To Be.
Here and Now
In the reality of our lives right now God, as God does time and again, God has come to be with us.
In the bleak midwinter our God, the God for you, the God for me, the God for everyone everywhere, always and forever, has come because neither Heaven can hold this God, nor can Earth sustain.
So on this holy night our God bridges the here and now with the always and forever.
On this Holy Night, during our regular lives, full of hope and joy, full of doubt and despair, full of wonder and wander, God has come.
Not to judge.
Or to destroy
No, on this Holy Night, in this mid winter and in this place, God has broken into the world because God cannot stay away from us.
For God so loved the world that God came to be among us as Jesus the Christ.
God has broken free of heaven to roam this earth because God wants us.
May we want God as well.
Merry Christmas and Amen.

Mary is My Hero. Advent 4C St. James Batavia

 

Today is typically called “Mary Sunday,” the Sunday in Advent when we hear a part of her story. Today we hear about her visit to Elizabeth, but for me, to really know Mary is to remember what happened right before today’s gospel, what is commonly referred to as The Annunciation—the visit of Gabriel.
I love Mary: she was his first disciple, and the only person present at the birth, death, resurrection and ascension of Jesus…Mary’s little boy.
But what I love about her isn’t the Mary of adoration, mysticism and almost God-like status, but the young woman who was, by all accounts, a faithful servant, a good daughter and well…regular…
living an ordinary life when, suddenly, her life was turned inside out and upside down after a visit from Gabriel.
Gabriel was an angel…and you need to know that I have a thing about angels. And not always good thing. I’m just not sure what to make of them.
Something about the wings and the harps turn me off. I prefer my angels to be more like Clarence from It’s a Wonderful Life. I’m more comfortable with angels who look more like you and me and less like, well…angels….
So that’s why I’m pretty sure I’d like Gabriel. I  have a sense that he was regular enough that his initial appearance to Mary didn’t freak her out. I think Gabriel fit right into the landscape of Mary’s world.
So when he appeared at Mary’s door, or when he encountered her at the market or down by the river while she washed clothes or out back as she gathered pomegranates from the bushes, wherever it was that the encounter happened, Mary was receptive to him.
She received the message— outrageous and fantastic as it sounds —Mary said yes. [although my guess it was more , ‘errrr….ok……” than “Absolutely!”]  Mary received the message. She accepted it. And then she waited.. wondered…pondered.
    Mary’s also my hero because not only did she accept the Word of God through Gabriel she literally BORE the Word of God. Mary, the God-Bearer, carried the incarnated God in her womb for nine months. The word of God grew within her until it could no longer be contained and it burst forth, changing the world. Forever.
And Mary’s my hero because after that birth she led the Lord of Lords and King of Kings, the Prince of Peace, the Messiah, her baby boy…through all the trials and tribulations of childhood.
Nursing him.
Weaning him.
Soothing him when he fell.
Encouraging him as he grew into his role, as he learned the fullness of what it meant to be the Prince of Peace, the Messiah.
And she was there when that role reached its necessary conclusion on that hilltop called Calvary.
Mary bore the Word of God and together with Him she bore the slings and arrows, jubilation and joy of being God in the Flesh, Emmanuel.
Most of all, Mary’s my hero because she said yes.

Would we? Do we?
How does God ask us to bear the Word of God? And when asked, do we say yes?
That’s our task during these days of a miracle birth in Bethlehem---to ask ourselves, how has God come to us? Like Clarence?
Like Gabriel?
Or has God come to us in the neighborhood child who could use a smile?
Or the elderly woman in the grocery store who cannot reach the top shelf?
Or the homeless and the hungry?
The destitute and the depressed?
The lost and the lonely?
Perhaps God has asked us to bear the Word of God while we stood in the voting booth, or while we decide where to spend our money, or when we know a friend or family member is in an abusive relationship.

You see, God asks us to bear God’s Word at all times. And in all places.

And maybe that’s the point of God coming to be among us in the first place…to show us that bearing the Word of God is not a once in a lifetime thing, it’s a lifetime thing.
Mary’s my hero because in all that she was and in all that she did she was the God-bearer.
May we, in all that we do, be that as well.
Amen.

From viper to disciple with one deliberate turn Advent 3c 2021

 

The prophet Zephaniah tells us: God will rejoice over us with gladness, God will renew us in God’s love.

The prophet John (as in Baptist) tells us that we are a brood of vipers who must bear fruits worthy of repentance.

         So which is it—-vipers in God’s sight or objects of God’s Love? Are we worthless or worthy? Have we messed up big time or are we ok? Which is it?

Well it’s both or maybe, better put, it is whatever it is and no matter, at the end of the day, God rejoices when we turn toward God and live in God’s love and light.

         So are we a brood of vipers? Sure we are. Do we mean to be? Nope. But that doesn’t stop us from our missteps, our wrong turns, our sinfulness. We mess up. All the time.

God loves us. All the time.

Both things can be—and are—true. We’re vipers who God longs for. We’re disciples, whom God adores.

The tricky thing is, even when we’re vipers, God adores us….and because of that love, God is saddened by our viper-ness. [ok, so that’s not a word, but I hope you get what I mean]—assuming we don’t want to make God sad, we want to be less viper-like and more disciple-like

         But, just how do we make the switch? How do we transform from vipers to disciples?

Through the change of direction known as repentance.

The German theologian , Karl Rahner, maintained that all people, in every action of their lives, are either moving more toward God or away from God. That we are either serving the greater good: God; or the lesser  (but more immediate) good: us.

         So to force an image: Viper-ing is moving away from God discipling/loving God in all that we do, is moving toward God. The turning from one toward the other is repentance.

And it is what John calls us to do.

God’s love doesn’t waver, our turning toward it and embracing it? That does.

John’s asked, what do we do? How do we stop being a a brood of vipers? John answers by proceeding to outline the basics of our Christian faith:

Give to others. Care for others. Think of others.

Intellectually we all know this, and we proudly tell ourselves that we do it. But when we get down to it, in the daily living of our lives, do we do all that we can to move ourselves closer to God? Probably not;  as.one commentator noted, to repent is to tell the truth to ourselves. It means taking a daily inventory of our actions and asking, did I do unto others as I would have done unto me? Did I today, treat my neighbor well? Did I share? Did I step aside in order to let someone else shine? Did I think about how the decisions I made that day, the actions I took affected the world around me.

Repentance, turning toward God, is what all the prophets—the matriarchs and patriarchs of our faith—call us to do.  

         As we head into the final two weeks of Advent we’re asked to repent—to turn away from our viper-ness and turn toward our God-ness—we do that by taking a daily, rigorous inventory of ourselves: what did I do today that brought me closer to God, and what did I do today that took me farther from God? For the next two weeks I encourage you to ask yourself that question every evening—I guarantee that by engaging in that honesty you’ll find yourself choosing more and more to move toward God. To turn away from viper-ness and turn toward discipleship. Rejoice, my friends, I say rejoice, repent and return to the Lord, for the Lord is waiting,the Lord is nigh…all we need to do is keep turning toward him.

Amen .

 

 

Receiving God as a Child Advent 1c December 2021

 

 

On this First Sunday of the church year, on a Sunday when we welcome two new members into the household of God, beginnings are on my mind.

Much like a secular New Year, today we have the opportunity to begin again, to face this New Year with a fresh and earnest resolve. “This year I will read the Bible more, pray more regularly, seek to be the light of Christ to all those whom I encounter, live into the unconditional of love of God etc etc.” On this First Sunday we resolve to be better practitioners of our faith.

But how do we keep our church year resolutions? How do we become more faithful? Read more, study more, pray more, give more, hope more? Sure, all of those are good ideas. But before we embark on any of these resolutions perhaps we should consider the little children…those who have been here, those who are here, those who will be here. Perhaps we should consider the children.

People are fond of saying that “the children are the future of the church.” And while that is true, they are also the present and the past. As Jesus states in the gospel reading for today—-“whoever does not receive the kingdom of God as a little child will not enter it.” Jesus doesn’t say—if you don’t have children in your church the church is dying. He doesn’t say, your prayers are more likely to be heard if you have a bunch of kids running around coffee hour. He doesn’t say that young people will make your stewardship campaign more successful. Jesus says:

“whoever does not receive the kingdom of God as a little child will not enter it.”

We aren’t to try and populate our churches with children—although that would be awesome—-we are to approach our relationship with God as a child does. The kids clamoring to touch Jesus weren’t doing it because they agreed with his theology or even cared what he preached, what he said, who he socialized with. No they clamored for Jesus because they felt his love and wanted to reciprocate.

They clamored to be with Jesus because being with Jesus felt good. Safe. Nourishing. Fun. They sought out Jesus because they knew Jesus was longing for them.

And that’s what Jesus is telling us to do—-to enter the wonder of God with the wide eyed excitement, joy and trust of a child.

On this baptism day, as we promise to support Damian and Johannas in their life in Christ, may we make one more promise—-to engage in our relationship with God, through Jesus Christ, with the unbridled hope, unabashed love and utter trust of a child. Let us love God, ourselves and one another with the same love we all feel as we witness these two babies enter the kingdom of God free of doubt and full of hope.

Let the children come to me, says Jesus, not to save the church but to save you and me. The future of the church isn’t children, it’s the child-like love of God expressed through us, in all that we do and with all those whom we encounter.

Now, let’s baptize us some babies!

Amen.