Luke: We are Your Good Shepherd

Circle me, Lord:
Keep protection near
And danger afar.
Circle me, Lord:
Keep hope within.
Keep doubt without.
Circle me, Lord:
Keep light near
And darkness afar.
Circle me, Lord:
Keep peace within.
Keep evil out.
Amen.
I am the Good Shepherd. The Good Shepherd lays down his life for the sheep.
Luke: We are the Church of The Good Shepherd and we will lay down our lives for you. For we are the Body of Christ and it is our joy to bring you fully into this Body today.
Welcome, welcome to the household of God, welcome to our family. We will be there for you, and your parents, no matter what.  To use the vernacular—Ken, Jessica, Luke---we’ve your back.

In the 1st century , in the Holy Land…as a matter of fact, in the 21st century in the Holy Land… shepherds physically lie down to serve as the gate to a sheep fold,  to protect their herd.
Jesus tells us, in today’s Gospel, that he will do the same, that he will lay down his life for us, his sheep. And of course he did—Jesus is our  Good Shepherd. And throughout his life, his actions as that Good Shepherd give us an example, a template, a formula for how we are to live in community.
A model beautifully expressed  in today’s epistle from the first letter of John:
 “We know love by this, that he laid down his life for us—and we ought to lay down our lives for one another…Little children, let us love, not in word or speech, but in truth and action.” In this quotation John is describing Community—and it’s the community of the Good Shepherd, both literally and figuratively, we have here.
Yes Luke, we have your back. No matter where you go, no matter what life brings you, we’ll always be here, you can count on us. For by signing the baptismal certificate, by saying, as you all will in a few moments, “we will”—we’re doing more than being polite church members doing what your Rector asks you to do….we’re committing ourselves, individually and collectively, to Luke and Ken and Jessica. We are saying: We Will Help. We will be there. Whenever Luke stumbles, whenever he falls. Whenever Jessica or Ken stumble, whenever they fall: we will be there for them. Because that’s what communities of faith do, that’s what the members of Christ’s body do: they watch out for, care for, adore, cherish and protect one another. Just like the Good Shepherd.
So although this is a GREAT day—I mean who doesn’t love a baptism---it’s a sobering day as well. For we are making a solemn vow. A solemn vow to this precious little boy and reinforcing the one we have already made to each other—we are vowing to be faithful to him and to each other, come what may.
It is a vow we make and a vow we reinforce all the time…just as I said last week….we make and reinforce this vow each and every time we exchange the Peace, each and every time we share communion. The Peace and Communion reinforce this vow but a baptism?----Baptism is the vow itself.
Baptism is the root of our faith. Baptism is the bond which connects us all---across socio economic, racial and gender lines; across political, parish, diocesan and  denominational boundaries--we are joined through the fundamental statement of our faith: The Baptismal Covenant. There maybe a phrase here and there that we would re-word, there might even be moments of time when we don’t believe parts of it, but the Baptismal Covenant is our guidebook. The church can function without Bishops, without Priests, without Deacons. The church can function without provinces, dioceses and deaneries. The church can function without a building to call it’s own. The church can do without a lot. But the church absolutely positively must have two things: people and principles.
The Baptismal Covenant lays out our principles and then the action of baptism and all that comes after baptism is the work of the people. The work of being the Body of Christ in the world. The work of being there for one another, strengthening our resolve and our resources so when we go out into the world we are able to do so knowing that there is a cadre of people behind us, supporting us, encouraging us. Loving us.
There’s a wonderful Celtic Prayer, I used it at the beginning of this sermon:
Circle me, Lord:
Keep protection near
And danger afar.
Circle me, Lord:
Keep hope within.
Keep doubt without.
Circle me, Lord:
Keep light near
And darkness afar.
Circle me, Lord:
Keep peace within.
Keep evil out.
I used it because it’s a great description of just what a good and competent shepherd does for his or her sheep: a Good and Competent Shepherd keeps hope, light and peace within the sheepfold.  And it is a great description of Jesus, as The Good Shepherd. It’s also a good description of what the Body of Christ does for all of us, what we do for each other, what we are committing to do for Luke, all the days of his life.
Luke,  no matter where you go, no matter how far you stray, there is a community of people, gathering at the corner of Jewett and Summit each and every week keeping hope alive and doubt at bay, working to keep the darkness waning and the Light of Love turned on. Praying for you, praying that Peace will always and forever, be in your heart. For we are the Good Shepherd in this world and you, our precious Luke? You’re our newest sheep. +

One Bread, One Body, One Easter Message

When in training to become a psychotherapist, the instructors assured us not to worry about missing a client’s main issue, because no matter how often we missed the point, the client was sure to steer the conversation back to their main issue—to the point.
I think we can apply this theory to our Gospel writers as well—there is an Easter message, and the gospels are going to keep reminding us of this, throughout all of these Great 50 Days .
Christ Rose from The Dead. This resurrection serves as the ultimate proof of what is possible through God.
And each week we remember his death and resurrection through the Holy Meal—through the breaking of the bread. This is important because we need to be reminded and we need to be nourished. Reminded that all things are possible through God and strengthened, strengthened to do the work, of being Christ’s body in the world today. —
So this Easter point, this Easter message begins with the Resurrection. With Mary Magdalene, Peter and John on Easter morning, Thomas and the rest last week, Cleopas and his companion on the Road to Emmaus, the story which occurs just before this weeks Gospel reading about Jesus sharing some fish with his friends back in Jerusalem one point is clear: the fact of the Resurrection was and is UNBELIEVABLE. And absolutely true. Unbelievable and true: yes this resurrection thing is awfully difficult to wrap our heads around, but we must try. As I reminded you last week, there is NOTHING WRONG WITH DOUBT, there’s nothing wrong with questioning or wondering. But, at the end of the day, each and every Christian needs to make some type of uneasy peace with the fact of the Resurrection. In modern lexicon we call this living with the tension. Jesus did indeed rise from the dead….but he didn’t do this to be some kind of carnival side show. Jesus Christ rose from the dead to prove the unprovable. He appeared to his friends to prove that all things are possible through God .To prove that no human inflicted wound, no matter how lethal, can keep us from the love of God. That’s the message within resurrection.
But it doesn’t stop there—it’s clear from what we read in the Gospels that we need to do more with that message of God’s Love as witnessed through the Resurrection than just proclaim it. We can’t just say it. We need to continue to wrestle with it. Wrestle with what this means for us today, for us tomorrow, for us next week…..and beyond. We wrestle with it just like those 1st century disciples did, by coming together in community—right here, every week---gathering around this altar, this table of the Lord to share in the breaking of the bread. For when that bread is broken, when we share this meal, our eyes will open, our hearts will be set afire and our minds will race with possibility, with the desire  to spread this Ultimate Gift of Love to all whom we encounter. This Breaking of the Bread nourishes us to do the work Jesus has given us to do. The work that lies at the core of the Easter message.
This Holy Meal energizes and emboldens us to go out and be the church, to be Christ’s Body in the world. This is the work and it’s what we do Monday through Saturday in our daily lives. And just what is that work? Well it’s the same work as we the disciples did, the same work we hear about in the acts of the apostles: we preach, we heal and we just may do a little rabble rousing here and there.  Now, you may think, I’m no preacher or I can’t heal people. But you see you are and you can.
We preach, we heal and we rabble rouse when we give a smile to a downtrodden person, when we offer a shoulder to a hurting friend or co-worker. We do that when we take a young person under our wing, giving them something they can’t get at hone. We do that by taking stock of our political opinions and actions, our charitable giving and volunteer work and say: there are hurts in this world, that need to be healed, there are wrongs in this world which need to be righted and this is how I’m going to address these things.
This is tough work. And to do it, we must be strong.  Which takes us right back to this altar, to this table, to this meal and to this church. Bu showing up every week, by partaking in the breaking of the bread, by joining in fellowship , we are nourishing one another. Hear me: we don’t just GET nourished, we nourish, we strengthened each other.
There are two distinct points in the service when this nourishment of each other is most evident: The Peace and Communion.
At the Peace we don’t just say “Hi, nice tie,” or, “Hi how’s your sick aunt?” but we look at one another, we shake hands or offer a hug and say “Peace. Peace be With You,” just as our Lord did at each and everyone of His post-resurrection appearances: Peace be with You.” For what this offer of peace means is this: The peace of God, which surpasses all understanding , is yours for the taking. So look—REALLY LOOK at each other and offer this Peace.
The second instance is Communion. Many of you come to communion with your spouse, your partner, your parents, your children, your friend. But you are actually coming to communion—sharing this Holy Meal with everyone here—so as you come up to receive take a good look around: for we are one Bread, One Body. Our weekly celebration is eating together, praying together and then going out into the world sharing the Love that is Jesus Christ.
This is the Easter Miracle, this is the Easter Message: Jesus did indeed rise form the dead. Jesus does offer His peace to us. And Jesus expects us to be so nourished by this miracle, this peace that we are able to vibrantly and boldly carry that message to the world.
[Which brings us back to this work. I say it all the time: Go out and do this work.
But what I fail to make clear, I think, is that this work begins and ends RIGHT HERE. So I ask you to take stock of this community: ask what you can do to further spread the Good News of Christ through the Church of the Good Shepherd. I’ve sent a challenge to the vestry, a challenge they will soon present to you. This challenge is, simply put: to find a place for each and every person here in the nourishment of each other. Whether it’s pastoral care, helping set up and clean up for Sunday’s, reading a lesson, singing in the choir, pulling weeds, balancing check books, assisting in the food pantry, cooking a meal for the community, setting up coffee hour or something else none of us have even thought of, I want all of us here to be able to say to our friends: “You’ll never guess what I get to do at my church.”  What would you like to do? What can you do that we don’t know about? You see, there’s plenty to do here but I don’t want us to be task driven, I want us to be joy driven. In other words, if you’re a dancer, I don’t want you bean counting. And if you’re a bean counter, I don’t want you dancing. So stay tuned, there’s more to come.]
Easter continues, and the message stays the same: we are one bread, one body, one community of faith rejoicing in the Love of our Risen Savior.

Be Like Mary: Go and Tell Easter Sunday April 8, 2012

+Alleluia He Is Risen!
Alleluia He is Alive!
Alleluia the strife is o’er!
Alleluia, Easter has come again!
“So what? So What” is clearly the response of most people in the world…..the mystery of the incarnation, the miracles of Jesus’ ministry, the laments of Lent, the emotional journey through Holy Week holds little or no meaning for the world. Heck, relatively few of us attended our services this past week. Most of us prefer the new life of resurrection over the inevitable death that leads to this glorious day.
So, so what….what do these shouts of Alleluia REALLY mean? What does this account of events over 2000 years ago in a land half way across the globe mean for us, here, in 2012? In Buffalo NY?  At the Church of the Good Shepherd and the Church of the Ascension?
Alleluia. What DOES it all mean?
Well, to understand—I mean to really wrestle with this question, we need to look back. Back to that breaking dawn 2000 years ago, on a hill just outside of town, when Mary Magdalene—so long misunderstood and misrepresented---screwed up her courage and went to finish the anointing she began three days before..for the very least she could do for this man she loved, this God she revered, this leader she followed, was to give him a proper burial.
And so through the lightening sky of the First Easter morn, she walks out of town and up Calvary’s hill to The Tomb.
It was a foolish mission—after all, the tomb had been sealed—she’d watched Joseph of Arimathea roll the stone himself. But, Mary soldiered on, not because this made sense, but because she was compelled, driven, drawn to that tomb—against all common sense, against all reasonableness, against all propriety, Mary went. She saw. And She told.
Mary believed.
Mary wondered.
Mary went.
Mary saw.
Mary told.
Yes, Mary believed.
And it’s this… THIS is what it all means. This is what we’re called to do. It’s in this—the emulating of Mary of Magdala—where we find the meaning of these alleluias, the meaning of this Easter Sunday come again:
Mary believed. All the Mary’s did—you see in all of the Gospel accounts of the crucifixion and resurrection one thing is clear: the men—Peter, James, John and countless others fled.
They left. They ran. They denied. They hid.
They even betrayed.
But the women—Mary, the mother, Mary of Magdala, Mary Clopas, sister of Mother Mary, Salome and others unnamed stayed. From the foot of the cross to the mouth of the tomb, they stayed. They watched, they waited, they wondered.
They believed.
These women did what women have been doing for millennia: they did what needed to be done.
They did what needed to be done while the men argued, betrayed and denied.
The women? They took care of business.
Just as we should.
You see, that’s the meaning for us, here in 2012, in Bflo NY, in this church on this Easter morning:  we need to take care of business; the business of the empty tomb.
We need to follow the mandate Jesus gave us around the dinner table on that very first Holy Thursday—we are to do unto others as Jesus did unto us: we are to Love as we have been Loved.
You see, the empty tomb isn’t about a miraculous resurrection.
The empty tomb is about going and telling, going and doing, going and being.
Jesus tells Mary—“don’t hold onto me: go and tell my brothers”—
Go and Tell. Go and Show.
So, my friends, I have news for you: Easter isn’t the end, it’s the beginning.
By virtue of Jesus’ death and resurrection, by virtue of our Lord’s mandate to love others as we’ve been loved, we must follow Mary’s example.
We must go and see.
We must believe and tell.
We must do what needs to be done:
Clothe the naked, feed the hungry, comfort the afflicted.
We must challenge the status quo, we must ask the tough questions, we must pursue righteousness.
We must, above all else, demand dignity for every single human being , no exceptions.
Because when we do that, we’re loving as we’ve been—as we are---loved.
Because when we do that we’re going and seeing, we’re believing and telling—
 we are doing what must be done.
Alleluia.
The Lord is Risen , indeed.+

Crying with God this Lent (Lent 5 Yr B)

[This sermon is excerpted, at great length, from Two Bubbas and a Bible: http://lectionarylab.blogspot.com/2012/03/year-b-fifth-sunday-in-lent.html]

+When I was younger, I was sure that Jesus didn’t really suffer on the cross. I somehow rationalized that Jesus’ horrific death as outlined in our passion Gospels really wasn’t that bad. After all, Jesus is God’s son and God isn’t about to let God’s Son suffer such humiliation and agony, right? I ‘m sure I wasn’t alone in this rationalization—after all who wants to think about a parent letting their child endure such agony.
Jesus begged God to relive him from the horrors of Good Friday.
We don’t talk about this much, but it’s true.
On Maundy Thursday, in the garden, Jesus asks God to, if possible, remove this cup from him. On the cross he cries out, my God my God why have you forsaken me.
The author of today’s Epistle, the letter to the Hebrews writes: Jesus offered up prayers and supplication with loud cries and tears to the one who was able to save him from death, and he was heard.
He was heard, God heard Jesus’ pleas, yet Jesus died, a painful agonizing death.
Why? Why in the world didn’t God save Jesus from such a painful death?
The biblical commentator The Rev Dr Delmer Chilton relates the following story:
When I was about 12 or 13 I was in the Boy Scouts. One night at Scouts we were running a race and I tripped. I fell face down in gravel on the side of the road [and] lodged a piece of gravel [in] my forehead.
The rural medical clinic was a mile or so down the road from our meeting place. The Doctor and my father were both assistant Scoutmasters so they gathered me up and took me [there].
The doctor was good but his bedside manner was a bit on the brusque side. As I lie there on that cold, hard metal table he came at me with a huge needle to numb my forehead. I’m still not very fond of needles, but then I was deathly afraid of them.
I looked over at my Daddy and began to cry out, “Daddy, Daddy, daddy, please Daddy. Don’t let him hurt me, please Daddy. Daddy, Daddy, Daddy.
The doctor threw a leg over me to hold me down, put his left arm down on my chest and proceeded to inject the needle. All the while I continued to cry and beg and plead for my Daddy to make him stop. And just as the needle entered I saw my Daddy’s hands, knuckles white as he clutched my jacket. I looked up and saw a tear in the corner of his eye. It was the only time I ever, ever saw him cry.
Daddy, Daddy, Daddy. I was heard, oh yes, I was heard. And I was denied.
Chilton continues by remarking:
Just like Jesus. This is the great and wondrous mystery of our faith:
Wherever are, God in Christ has been; fully, completely, totally.

Think about the most scared, lonely, and troubled you’ve ever been.
And Jesus has been there.
Think about the moments when you’ve felt ignored and abandoned by God.
And Jesus has been there.
Think about all the times when you just didn’t know if you could make it.
And Jesus has been there.
The Promise of the Gospel is not that if you are a Christian life will be easy. The Gospel is not about ways to make your life, your marriage,  your career, your children or anything else work out in a way pleasing to yourself.
The Gospel is the call to follow Jesus to the cross and beyond:
To follow Jesus in serving the poor and needy.
To follow Jesus in reaching out to the despised and rejected.
To follow Jesus in standing up for those who are oppressed and ill-served by the world.
To follow Jesus in fighting against illness and evil wherever they may be found.
And sometimes—sometimes-- following Jesus to the cross means we will suffer for our commitments, that we too will be rejected and scorned as much as those with whom we take our stand.
Yes, Jesus calls us to follow him.
It’s not an easy way.
It’s not a painless path.
It’s not likely to be smooth sailing.
It’s the Way of the Cross.
The promise of the gospel is that where God calls us to go, Jesus has already been, and as we go, Jesus is going with us.
So my friends. I offer you a late Lent challenge. Spend this weak preparing yourself: prepare yourself to enter into the full anguish of Holy Week—not because you are masochistic and wish to experience pain and suffering, no….I invite you to enter into the anguish of God as parent. I invite you to spend the rest of Lent holding onto Jesus’ hand as he walks through his terror, as he walks through our betrayal, as we walks smack into death and comes out the other side. I invite you to shed a tear with our Divine Parent, a loving God who knows the only way to be with us is to walk with us, through everything, even the anguish and the pain. Yes Jesus had to suffer. Not because God is mean, and not because we should feel guilty for his death. Jesus had to suffer because we suffer, and God needs, God must, God LONGS to share that with us.
I invite you to remember that wherever life takes you, no matter how scary no matter how wondrous, God is there, shedding tears of sorrow and exclaiming shouts of joy.+

Grace and Love Beat Atonement and Ransom Lent 4 Yr B

+God so loved the world, God came to us in the flesh, in the person of Jesus Christ.
Who we then killed.
When phrased like that the action of God in today’s reading from Numbers makes sense. Why wouldn’t God condemn us, punish us? We aren’t the most reliable and loving bunch are we? But the God of venomous snakes isn’t the God we know through Jesus. The God we know through Jesus, the God we meet in our faith, didn’t come to condemn us. Or to shame us. Or to embarrass us.
Nope, nor did God come to us in the flesh to impress us. Although God in the flesh was and is pretty darn impressive
Nor did God come to us in the flesh to save us. Although God walking among us and all that the Good News of Christ has brought to the world has, indeed, saved many a person.
No God coming to us in the flesh, to live among us, to work among us, to walk among us and to die among us--  to die at our hand---was an act of Love …it was an act of unmitigated, inexplicable, unquantifiable Grace.
Atonement Theology states that Jesus died on the cross as a sacrifice for our sins.
Now while you’ll hear me say that Jesus died on the cross for our sins during the course of most Sunday services….. every time I say it I am uncomfortable because it doesn’t mean, to me, nor to many other people, what it sounds like it means.
Clear as mud, right?
Jesus died for our sins, this is true. But not as a ransom. It wasn’t like God decided: well the only way these people will learn is to send them someone—ME in the person of Jesus—  and then have him killed. That’ll teach ‘em. They’ll be too terrified to ever sin again, for they’ll know I mean business. This theology—this interpretation of Christ’s death upon the cross-- is embraced by people the world over. And has been for millennia. And when you hear  today’s first reading , or any number of readings from Hebrew scripture, it makes sense…for God in many instances appears vengeful, spiteful and down right mean. Mean enough to send Godself in the flesh to be tortured and killed….just to get a point across.
But we don’t worship a vengeful and spiteful God. We worship an evolving, dynamic God, a God who is always adjusting to, learning more about and living into the Creation which emanates from God’s very being.
God is still figuring us, all of us, all of this---God’s creation--- out. A significant part of this “figuring out” is outlined in today’s Gospel, verse 16:

For God so loved the world, God came to be among us, to try and figure us out. Or at least, to get a sense of what was so confounding about us.
But instead of figuring US out, God coming to us in the flesh helped—helps---us figure God out:
For God so loved the world, God came to be among us and God experienced us at our worst as we took God in the flesh and nailed him to a tree, turning our backs on God once again.
And God so loved the world—God so loved US that God didn’t destroy us, didn’t obliterate us, didn’t turn God’s back on us. NO God, after we killed God in the flesh, loved us so much that God defeated death---and all the forces of darkness which lead to death---once and for all.
God took the worst that humanity could offer and turned it around. It’s the ultimate re-frame, the ultimate “life gives you lemon you make lemonade” scenario. God took God’s own death and made it the singular most loving action of all time.
God took the cross, a symbol many of us have made into an icon for our wretchedness, worthlessness, and general worm-like existence and turned it on its head.  God took the cross, a symbol of Roman domination and intimidation and made it a symbol of love and grace. God, in the person of Jesus Christ, didn’t die on the cross as a ransom for our misbehavior-- Jesus’ death on the cross isn’t tit for tat, Jesus’ death on the cross isn’t the point. It’s what happened after Jesus died on the cross that’s the point….there’s the Resurrection—that’s important---but that’s not the point I mean.
No the thing that happened after Jesus’ death, after we succeeded in killing God in the flesh, the thing which is so amazing, incredible and unprecedented is:
NOTHING.
Or maybe everything.
God so loved the world that after the world killed God in the flesh, God continued to love us.
God’s grace just kept flowing and flowing and flowing.
The cross of Jesus, the cross of our faith, isn’t about paying a ransom or atoning for sins. The cross of Jesus, the cross of our faith is, instead, about Rivers of Grace, Mountains of Grace, Waves of Grace. The cross of Jesus and the cross of our faith is about God so loving us that we need to stop worrying about earning forgiveness and start living into this grace.
The message of the cross isn’t just forgiveness, though we are certainly forgiven by God for our misdeeds, small and large.
The message of the cross is LOVE.
The message of the cross is GRACE.
The message of the cross is that God so loves us, God can’t stop sending us grace upon grace, love upon love.
Our job, then, is to live into this grace, to live into this Love.
Our job is to stop worrying about everything we haven’t done and wish we had, to stop worrying about what we have done and wish we hadn’t. Our job is to allow ourselves to be washed through and through by God’s amazing, astounding and abundant grace and then, strengthened by this Grace to walk through our lives, as symbols of what Love, of what Grace can do when embodied in each and every one of us.
So be washed in this grace and go out into the world, spreading the light of love and grace on all you meet. Because, by doing that we take this symbol of torture and domination , this symbol of atonement and ransom and turn it into the symbol of hope and love the world so desperately needs.+

Outrage and the Ten Best Ways to Live

+I so get Jesus and his rage in the temple. Sacred space should remain sacred space. Many of you have heard my rants about the people who come to the rectory door, wanting a tour of the church, so “they can see the windows.” They walk in taking pictures, throwing their garbage out in our school supply or Dash’s receipt boxes, walking around, seemingly oblivious to the fact that this is a place of worship. First and foremost. Weddings are a great example of this cavalier attitude toward worship space. The idea that a sacrament is being offered pales in comparison to getting just the right lighting for the happy couple’s wedding portrait. When I was at the Cathedral, tourists would traipse in during the daily celebration of the Eucharist, oblivious of the fact that a service was going on. To them it was another stop on an architectural tour, the fact that it was a sacred place of worship seemed unimportant, even irrelevant. It made me nuts then and it makes me nuts now. I totally get Jesus’ rage.
It’s a special challenge here at GS. Mr. Jewett wanted this place to be a community gathering spot for the Parkside neighborhood and we certainly try to honor his vision. Usually the two functions, a sacred place of worship and a community gathering spot works, but when it doesn’t work, the sanctity of our worship is what suffers. Just yesterday we had a funeral at 11 am. Of course 11 am on a Saturday morning is prime ballet school time, so, as has been our custom since I arrived here, I left a message for the school and placed conspicuous signs at each entrance of the church that a funeral was being held and to please remain quiet on the first floor. But, because people don’t read, or people don’t respect the church as institution or because people are just way more focused on what they need to do, regardless of what may be going on around them, peals of laughter and loud conversations interrupted the service. It happens every time.  Yep, I get Jesus’ rage.
Of course, it isn’t the innocent laughter of little ballerinas that bothers me. It’s what feels like a disregard for the sanctity of worship, the disrespect for our way of life as church going folk. People just don’t seem to respect the church anymore, viewing our buildings as quaint stops on an historical tour of a bygone era.
Of course, the most common response to laments such as mine is: well people just don’t know, they aren’t taught respect for the church, they don’t know that their behavior is offensive.
And these folks are probably right—people don’t know. People aren’t taught. People don’t learn.
Not now, and not 3500 years ago when Moses was given the ten commandments on Mt Sinai.
In Godly Play the lesson about the Ten Commandments is called The Ten Best Ways to Live. I think this is a better title, for they really serve as guidelines for a better living. These guidelines--these best ways to live---will, when followed, keep us on the right track, keep us focused.
They help us keep our side of the street clean.
And that’s the real link between today’s reading from Hebrew Scripture and our New Testament reading. Jesus was cleansing the temple---ridding his Father’s, our Creator’s, house of trash. Clearing the way so the focus of the worshippers would be on God instead of on stuff. The ten best ways to live do just this, they cleanse us, freeing us from distraction and misdirection, allowing us to give God the attention and focus God deserves.
Listen to the Ten Best Ways to live again, hear them in a new way!
1. Love God and Love people. People are God’s creation, so loving people is loving God. And that is good.  
2.God Loves us beyond all reason, so don’t worship other gods and don’t confuse stuff with God. [This is a big one because we easily confuse stuff with God.] Seeking happiness and security, a sense of worth from the stuff we have (or the stuff we want) instead of seeking our joy, our contentment in the one who is always ready to give us that security: God.
3. And speaking of God:  Be serious when you say God’s name. Don’t toss it around as an expletive or in exasperation.
4. Keep the Sabbath holy…make one day solely for those whom you love, including God. These relationships need nurturing, our relationship with God, with all our loved ones: devote one day a week to this nurture.
5. Honor your parents and all who raise you. There is no more important job than raising children. We must always honor those who devoted themselves to our growth, our health, our well-being. And then we get into the don’ts. But these don’ts seem pretty reasonable:
6. Don’t kill. And don’t stand for the killing of others!
7. Don’t break your commitment to your spouse, your partner, your husband, your wife!
8. Don’t steal.
9.Don’t lie.
10. Don’t even want what others have.
These are GREAT guidelines. We really can’t go wrong if we follow them. Of course, we often confuse everything, complicating things. It really is as simple (not easy, but simple) as these best ways to live: keep our focus on God and on all those things in life which are God-given: love of family and friends, respect for creation, respect for each other. The Ten Commandments, if taken seriously, keep us from getting too self absorbed, keep us from getting too distracted, keep us from getting off track. The Ten Commandments keep us clean.
I don’t know if I’ll ever race out of a funeral and rage at ballerinas, I hope not. I don’t know if I’ll ever interrupt a tour group and scream, “this isn’t a museum, it is God’s house,” but I understand the desire to do so….but really, the frustration I can feel, and the frustration  Jesus felt isn’t for the merchants in the temple or the ballerinas in Mears’ Hall, the frustration is for a culture, a society, that is so distracted, so wrapped up in the here and now, in the gaining more and more, in the having this and that,  that the Love of God and respect for all that God has given us, gets lost in the shuffle.
So, as we settle into the middle of Lent, rage against those things that get in your way, rage against the distractions of your daily life, and free yourself to follow the good road, the one paved with the ten best ways to live. +

Disappointment, Despair and Doubt as Signs of Love Lent 2 Yr B March 4, 2012

+How often are you disappointed in God; do you question God’s motives; do you ask, “well where is God in that?” There are times, in all of our lives, when the presence of God is, at best, hard to notice and at worst, seemingly gone, vanished, nowhere to be found. , when God seems distant, when God seems absent, when we are disappointed, despairing and doubtful of God’s Love for us we are being honest. And God never minds honest. Today’s readings are full of examples of people working through these natural human responses to God.
God may always be with us, but sometimes God’s presence is so absurd, we have to laugh, as Sarah did when told of God’s plans for her and Abraham; sometimes God’s presence seems so disinterested we need to shout out NO as Peter did in today’s Gospel. Sometimes we have to express our doubt, our despair and our disappointment in the Creating and Loving God we so adore. And I think that’s just fine.
After all, isn’t that a big part of Love?
No one can disappoint us like those we truly and deeply love. We can feel let down by all sorts of people, but real, deep heart-wrenching disappointment….those feelings are saved for the ones we really truly deeply love--- our children, our parents, our partners, our siblings, our dear friends----these are the people who are able to really disappoint us.
If feelings of doubt, despair and disappointment are part and parcel of loving another human being, then how can we deny these feelings for God? After all, shouldn’t our love for God be as deep, passionate and unending as the love we have for those people I have just named?
Abraham is 99 years old. He and Sarah are childless and assume, as any reasonable person would, that they’d remain that way. Yet, in the second of the covenants we hear about this Lent, God promises Abraham innumerable descendants, the first to be born of Sarah. Stunned and no doubt as amused by this outrageous promise of God as Sarah was, Abraham works to honor God by being  faithful. Now, let’s be clear, being faithful doesn’t mean always being happy with the other, being faithful just means trusting that it will all work out, trusting, in this case, that Abraham’s love for God and God’s love for Abraham will carry them through.
Now, if we ended our reading of Abraham’s story here we would assume that Abraham did what God expected and that God did what Abraham expected, that there was no disappointment, despair or doubt in this relationship. Of course we’d be wrong, for the relationships between God and Abraham, God and Sarah, God and Hagar, are full of disappointment despair and doubt. But, through it all, everyone remained faithful, convinced that God’s will would be done and that the desire of God, was something to be trusted, even if it wasn’t always understood, even it wasn’t always easy, even if it wasn’t always pleasant.
Paul, in his letter to the Romans gives us another look into God’s promise to Abraham; addressed how, even through the rocky times with God, Abraham, to quote one commentator, “faithed it out.”  Abraham trusted in God’s promise, even though it didn’t always make sense, and it didn’t always seem fair and it often seemed annoying. “Faithing it out” means Abraham walked this journey with God deliberately, giving his faith room to grow, piece by piece and step by step. Paul admits that Abraham had mis-givings, but, in spite of these misgivings, maybe because of these misgivings , Abraham’s faith grew. You see, faith in God is not a stagnant thing. Faith in God grows and flourishes not because we follow some guidebook on How to be a Good Christian-----but because we keep plugging along at it.  We work ourselves into strong faith. We strengthen our faith muscles, by exercising them…by pushing them to their limit and then maybe even beyond. Just like lifting weights, strengthening our faith requires pushing and challenging, tearing at what we think is our limit and then moving beyond that point. For only then, only when we push our faith and our love to its limit do we open up more capacity for faith, more capacity for love, more capacity for God.
Living a life of faith isn’t all sweetness and light. It, at times can be  bitter and dark---look at the whole of Abraham’s life, look at Job, at Noah, at David. Living into our faith means, besides joy and hope,  that there will be pain, disappointment, despair and doubt.
What Paul outlines for us is an exercise program of faith. He’s asking us to “feel the burn”—to stretch our relationship with God, to push our faith and love muscles past the point of comfort, trusting, like Abraham, that just past the point of comfort, just past the point of despair, just past the point of doubt, and just past the point of disappointment, lies greater faith greater love and more God.
Peter, in today’s Gospel is smack dab in the midst of disappointment despair and doubt. Just moments after Peter has correctly identified Jesus as the Holy One, the Messiah—he tells his Messiah, his Lord that he is wrong and that the path Jesus has just outlined is unacceptable and clearly incorrect.  Who can blame Peter, for the message of Jesus—that he will be arrested tortured and killed, that, to follow him we must lose our life and take up our cross---isn’t really fathomable to us humans. It makes no sense.
How can God be killed? How can this be Good News? Peter is incredulous and who wouldn’t be? How are we, as Christians supposed to rejoice in crucifixion and death? Why do we seemingly embrace a horrific death such as Jesus’ and make it the focal point of our faith?
Because our faith isn’t in a neat package.
Our God isn’t a God just for the good times.
Our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ isn’t just some miracle worker and death deifier. Our Faith. Our God, our God as come to us as human, Jesus, is PART OF US.  Fully and completely. Our God is in the despair. In the disappointment, in the doubt. Our God is also in the rejoicing and in the celebration and in the happiness. Our God is everywhere and in everything. The only limit to God’s presence in our lives is us. And that’s why we practice our faith…because the more we work at faith, the more we strive to see God in all of our life, accepting that God is in it all-- the good, bad, and the ugly--the more room we make for God.
This is the joy available to us this Lent. Sure in the truth that God loves us, completely. All of us. Even the disappointment, despair, doubt…I’d venture to say especially the disappointment, despair and doubt. For God knows that we save our real sorrows, our real laments for those we truly and deeply and madly and honestly love. So when we give all this to God, God knows we are truly, really and deeply in love. With God. +