+I had an idea for a sermon this week. I was going to talk about marriage, about companionship, about how we, as human beings, are designed to live in community; that it’s, as God says in Genesis, not good for the human to be alone.
I had an idea that I would connect our need for being in community with another to St Francis Day and how our need for connection extends to other species, that our animal companions bring us such joy in their unconditional love of us that a day to celebrate them is a right and good thing to do.
I was going to preach on this truth: God’s creation was, at the outset, perfect and our job, as God’s foot soldiers in this world, is to do everything in our power to return this world to the perfection that was the Garden of Eden.
But then there was another mass shooting. There was another incident where innocent people, gathered in community—this time it was another school---were struck down by a maniac wielding, in this instance, six guns.
We received alerts on our phones, we heard special reports on TV and radio and once again our hearts were broken.
We saw our President reach the end of his rope.
We heard the gun lobby respond.
We heard other politicians say how saddened they were and how their prayers were with the victims and their families.
We prayed.
We cried.
And then we went on with our lives.
We went to work, to school, shopping, out to dinner, we did the laundry, cleaned the house, ran errands.
Our lives were briefly interrupted by the 24- hour news cycle trying to connect the dots of how this could happen again.
And then life went on.
For us.
For Roseburg, Oregon life is also going on, but it will never be the same.
And for the families of the 9 dead, for the families of the injured, for the family of the perpetrator, life is also going on, but will never be the same.
Neither should ours.
For the 40th time this year, and the 141st time since the Sandy Hook massacre, on December 14, 2012, a gunman has opened fire in a school….Heidi Stevens, in a column published in the Chicago Tribune describes how routine “active shooter drills” have become in the lives of her children:
At 6 and 9, my kids haven't known a school year without lockdowns, and they likely never will.
They know gunmen routinely open fire on classrooms, and they know students routinely die.
And they know all we're doing about it is teaching them where to hide.
That fills me with more shame and sorrow than I know what to do with.
The world has gone mad and yet,
Life Goes On
But today, I, like Heidi Stevens, like the President, like so many of you here today, cannot go on, life as usual.
I can’t preach the sermon I’d written. We’re killing each other. And we all have blood on our hands. It must stop.
Two of our readings today speak to this issue pretty clearly. In Genesis, God saw that God’s newly created human was lonely and that it was not right that the Human One should be alone. And so, God created a companion, a partner, a helper, a friend. God made a community for the Human One. And God saw the community God had created and God exclaimed that it was Very Good.
We were created to be in community. We are to love one another, cherish one another and protect one another. God made us to be together.
In today’s Gospel, Jesus proclaims that those whom God has put together? We—humans-- must not pull apart.
My friends, God has put us together-- to love, to learn, to worship, to work, to relax. God has not put us together for us to take apart.
The children at Sandy Hook elementary school were together to learn and to grow with their classmates, their teachers and the school staff.
Until someone decided to pull them apart.
The people going to the movies in Aurora Colorado were together to be entertained, to relax and to enjoy.
Until someone decided to pull them apart.
The members of Mother Emmanuel AME church were together to study and pray on God’s Word.
Until someone decided to pull them apart.
The students, the faculty and the staff of Umpqua Community College were together to learn and to teach and to be a community.
Until someone decided to pull them apart.
God wants us together.
This latest maniac who decided he would judge the worth of someone’s life based on the religion they professed, dared to pull us apart.
We are outraged.
We are heartbroken and we are fed up.
Where has the perfection of God’s creation gone?
My friends, we can’t just learn where to hide, we must remember how to live—in love, in peace and in community.
The perfection of this world, as God created it, isn’t lost forever.
We can return to the perfection of this, God’s world, if we have the courage of Chris Mintz who ran toward this latest murderer, risking his own life, to save others.
We can return to the perfection of this, God’s world, if we have the faith of the Sandy Hook parents who won’t let the evil they endured as they tirelessly battle the gun lobby in this country.
We can return to the perfection of this, God’s world,if we have the forgiveness in our hearts that the families of the Mother Emmanuel AME church murder victims exhibited for all the world to see.
Do not rest. Do not waver. Do not forget: it is not good for the human ones to be alone. We need each other. When one decides to tear us apart, many will stand up and say NO.
For the perfection of God’s creation is not lost, it’s simply misplaced and it’s our job, our sacred duty, to not stop until the light, life and love of that perfection is, once again, found.
Let us pray:
Gracious God, pour out your blessing upon all people devastated by the shootings in Roseburg, Oregon. We commend to your loving care the souls of those who lost their lives, and those wounded and traumatized. We hold in our hearts the families and friends now forever changed by grief and loss: bring them, we pray, the strength, consolation, courage and comfort to face the days ahead.
Finally, O God, help us respond with generosity in prayer, assistance, and comfort for all who suffer. And may all people of good will strive to find wise and effective ways to grapple with the increasing number and frequency of mass shootings in our country. For this the world that you brought together, let no one break apart.
We ask this in Jesus’ name. Amen.
(Adapted from a prayer written by The Rev. Charlie Brumbaugh, Christ Church, Cincinnati)
Sunday, October 4, 2015
Sunday, September 27, 2015
Pray for others and be healed! Proper 21 year B Baptism at Calvary Episcopal Sept 27, 2015
+I am happy to be with you this morning and I bring you greetings from my two parishes in the City of Buffalo, Good Shepherd and Ascension.
I was so happy to take the services at Calvary today—especially so because we have a baptism! Who doesn’t love a baptism—we get to make a new Christian!
But then I read the gospel for today. Oh boy, where’s the good news for a baptism in that? It’s not what I would call, uplifting…
At this point of Mark’s Gospel, Jesus is a bundle of nerves ….he’s trying to get his disciples to know the reality of what’s going to happen once they arrive in Jerusalem. He’s trying to get his followers to accept that the only way Jesus’ mission on earth can be fulfilled is for him to be crucified, die, buried and then rise again after three days.
It’s a convoluted message he’s teaching and the disciples want
NO PART OF IT.
They expected a King in the usual sense of the word, not a King in the God sense of the word….so they’re resisting Jesus’ message, rejecting the truth and trying to distract Jesus from harping on his prediction of death. So Jesus gets blunt and reels off a litany of what should be done to those who don’t truly believe. It’s an interesting Gospel to remember when the Biblical Literalists of our world start proselytizing---they seem to ignore these lines about cutting off hands and feet if we stumble in the work of the Lord. Keep these verses in your pocket and engage in debate with one of those holier than thou people….it could be fun!
But seriously, what Jesus is doing is drawing a line in the sand---he’s saying, “being a follower of mine isn’t glamorous, nor is it easy, or safe.” Following the way of Jesus Christ makes us counter-cultural and annoying to those who’d rather keep the status quo of economic, racial and gender inequality in our world. Jesus is saying, “you can’t just talk the talk, folks, you must walk the walk…” and if you’re discovered to be doing a lot of talking without the walking? Well, then you’re a hypocrite and will have any number of horrid things befall you. Jesus’ words are harsh, but his message is clear. Don’t say you believe unless you do believe and are willing to do whatever it takes to bring my message of light and love and justice to all forever, no exceptions.
That’s what the Gospel is telling us this morning.
And really it isn’t a bad gospel to have on a day when we welcome a new Christian into the fold of this storied parish church. It’s good for Madelyn [who will be baptized at 10 am], her parents and godparents to know this thing about being a Christian ---it isn’t easy! It can even be dangerous. It’s good to know just what we will be promising Madelyn: a life rich with blessing, a life brimming with love and a life that, if lived into the full stature of Christ, will be one that will also include heartache, loneliness and at times risk. [now don’t think your off the hook at the 8---because as the congregation makes the promise to do all in their power to support Madelyn in her life in Christ, they are making those promises for you, too, in abstentia.] Yes, the entire parish family of Calvary—the 4 pm’ers, the 8 am’ers and the 10 am’ers---welcomes Madelyn today
and with her baptism you assume the great privilege of doing all in your to support Madelyn in her life in Christ.
Because you see, none of us can live this Christian life in a vacuum---since the days of Jesus, the Christian way has been a journey done in community. We need the support, the love and most of all, the PRAYERS of one another to do the work we are sent forth to do every week: to go in peace to love and serve the Lord.
This is why the reading from James, especially the second half of verse 16: pray for one another so that you may be healed is so poignant on this a day of baptism:
When we pray for others it’s not only good for them, it’s good for US. I urge you to pray for Madelyn, today and always. I urge you to pray for one another, today and always because not only do we all need prayers but the very act of praying for others strengthens our own faith, praying for others produces a peace in our soul unmatched by anything else, praying for others heals us.
How awesome is that?
Prayer is powerful, it is humbling and it is, frankly, astounding. I learned a great lesson about prayer a few years ago.
About a week before my ordination to the priesthood, I received a note from my godfather, The Rev. John Owens. Fr. Owens was an Episcopal priest who lived in Maryland, so he was a bit of a long distance Godfather for me growing up in Chicago. But in spite of the distance I always considered him to attentive, remembering birthdays, Christmas and the regular milestones of growing up. I only saw him a handful of times in my life, but heard from him regularly. In the note I received before my ordination, Fr Owens wrote this:
“My dear, I regret that poor health will keep me from being in physical attendance at the ordination but know that on that day, just as I have done every single day since June 15, 1961 (my birthday) I will pray for you.”
For 47 years my Godfather had prayed for me.
Every single day.
I have no doubt that his daily prayers for me continued until he died and continue now from heaven. I was astounded and humbled by his devotion.
Folks, pray for Madelyn, pray for one another. Pray for me and my parishes just as I and my parishes have prayed for you during this extended time of transition. Take your parish directory and each and every day as you say your prayers, take a page out of the directory and pray for those listed, by name. And then, prepared to be amazed, for not only will Madelyn and the other members of Calvary be strengthened through and by your prayers, so will you.
Prayer is an amazing thing. Do it, and be healed.
Amen.
I was so happy to take the services at Calvary today—especially so because we have a baptism! Who doesn’t love a baptism—we get to make a new Christian!
But then I read the gospel for today. Oh boy, where’s the good news for a baptism in that? It’s not what I would call, uplifting…
At this point of Mark’s Gospel, Jesus is a bundle of nerves ….he’s trying to get his disciples to know the reality of what’s going to happen once they arrive in Jerusalem. He’s trying to get his followers to accept that the only way Jesus’ mission on earth can be fulfilled is for him to be crucified, die, buried and then rise again after three days.
It’s a convoluted message he’s teaching and the disciples want
NO PART OF IT.
They expected a King in the usual sense of the word, not a King in the God sense of the word….so they’re resisting Jesus’ message, rejecting the truth and trying to distract Jesus from harping on his prediction of death. So Jesus gets blunt and reels off a litany of what should be done to those who don’t truly believe. It’s an interesting Gospel to remember when the Biblical Literalists of our world start proselytizing---they seem to ignore these lines about cutting off hands and feet if we stumble in the work of the Lord. Keep these verses in your pocket and engage in debate with one of those holier than thou people….it could be fun!
But seriously, what Jesus is doing is drawing a line in the sand---he’s saying, “being a follower of mine isn’t glamorous, nor is it easy, or safe.” Following the way of Jesus Christ makes us counter-cultural and annoying to those who’d rather keep the status quo of economic, racial and gender inequality in our world. Jesus is saying, “you can’t just talk the talk, folks, you must walk the walk…” and if you’re discovered to be doing a lot of talking without the walking? Well, then you’re a hypocrite and will have any number of horrid things befall you. Jesus’ words are harsh, but his message is clear. Don’t say you believe unless you do believe and are willing to do whatever it takes to bring my message of light and love and justice to all forever, no exceptions.
That’s what the Gospel is telling us this morning.
And really it isn’t a bad gospel to have on a day when we welcome a new Christian into the fold of this storied parish church. It’s good for Madelyn [who will be baptized at 10 am], her parents and godparents to know this thing about being a Christian ---it isn’t easy! It can even be dangerous. It’s good to know just what we will be promising Madelyn: a life rich with blessing, a life brimming with love and a life that, if lived into the full stature of Christ, will be one that will also include heartache, loneliness and at times risk. [now don’t think your off the hook at the 8---because as the congregation makes the promise to do all in their power to support Madelyn in her life in Christ, they are making those promises for you, too, in abstentia.] Yes, the entire parish family of Calvary—the 4 pm’ers, the 8 am’ers and the 10 am’ers---welcomes Madelyn today
and with her baptism you assume the great privilege of doing all in your to support Madelyn in her life in Christ.
Because you see, none of us can live this Christian life in a vacuum---since the days of Jesus, the Christian way has been a journey done in community. We need the support, the love and most of all, the PRAYERS of one another to do the work we are sent forth to do every week: to go in peace to love and serve the Lord.
This is why the reading from James, especially the second half of verse 16: pray for one another so that you may be healed is so poignant on this a day of baptism:
When we pray for others it’s not only good for them, it’s good for US. I urge you to pray for Madelyn, today and always. I urge you to pray for one another, today and always because not only do we all need prayers but the very act of praying for others strengthens our own faith, praying for others produces a peace in our soul unmatched by anything else, praying for others heals us.
How awesome is that?
Prayer is powerful, it is humbling and it is, frankly, astounding. I learned a great lesson about prayer a few years ago.
About a week before my ordination to the priesthood, I received a note from my godfather, The Rev. John Owens. Fr. Owens was an Episcopal priest who lived in Maryland, so he was a bit of a long distance Godfather for me growing up in Chicago. But in spite of the distance I always considered him to attentive, remembering birthdays, Christmas and the regular milestones of growing up. I only saw him a handful of times in my life, but heard from him regularly. In the note I received before my ordination, Fr Owens wrote this:
“My dear, I regret that poor health will keep me from being in physical attendance at the ordination but know that on that day, just as I have done every single day since June 15, 1961 (my birthday) I will pray for you.”
For 47 years my Godfather had prayed for me.
Every single day.
I have no doubt that his daily prayers for me continued until he died and continue now from heaven. I was astounded and humbled by his devotion.
Folks, pray for Madelyn, pray for one another. Pray for me and my parishes just as I and my parishes have prayed for you during this extended time of transition. Take your parish directory and each and every day as you say your prayers, take a page out of the directory and pray for those listed, by name. And then, prepared to be amazed, for not only will Madelyn and the other members of Calvary be strengthened through and by your prayers, so will you.
Prayer is an amazing thing. Do it, and be healed.
Amen.
Thursday, September 24, 2015
God Loves Our Vulnerability Proper 20 Yr B Sept 20 2015
+I’m terrible at asking questions. A few years ago I shared with you the story of a class I had in graduate school—I was studying a form of psychotherapy that challenges our irrational fears. The assignment was to put ourselves in a public situation that we found anxiety provoking, the idea being that by “surviving” that situation we would realize how irrational our fear had been. I did very well in the class, but I must admit to not really learning the lesson very well. I can still tie myself into all kinds of knots before entering an unfamiliar situation, not because I have to be the best or the first, but because if I think people view me as incompetent I lose my mind. I feel vulnerable. And that triggers my anxiety big time.
Asking questions makes us vulnerable because to ask a question is to admit we don’t know something. And, if knowledge is, in our world, power then it follows that not knowing must indicate weakness, right? Any animal, including human beings, avoid being vulnerable because of te risk of being seen as weak. In this, the temporal world, weakness is used against us. It’s the basis of the survival of the fittest, so we rail against vulnerability at every turn.
We live in a “knowing” culture. Knowledge is The Thing. We know A LOT and we’re learning more and more all the time. So, “Knowing” is power, not knowing is weakness and admitting we don’t know is risky, counter-cultural and to many folks, unthinkable.
The disciples didn’t know and after last week’s outburst by Jesus, they’re not about to ask…
“Jesus was teaching his disciples, saying “The Human One will be delivered into human hands. They will kill him. Three days after he is killed he will rise up.’ But they didn’t understand this kind of talk, and they were afraid to ask him.”
They did not understand and they were afraid to ask him. They were confused, they were afraid and they were anxious.
You see, Christianity is pretty anxiety provoking. Think about it, this faith of ours encourages weakness. It promotes vulnerability. It’s confusing, its tenets irrational.
Christianity makes no logical sense:
a young boy from a rather unremarkable family grows up and is discovered to be the Messiah—the Son of God, the author of our salvation. A regular guy, from a regular town: The Son of God. And not only is he the Son of God he goes around TELLING people this. He’s also feeding thousands out of nothing, curing the sick, raising the dead and generally blowing everyone’s mind. Freaking them out. Scaring them.
Scaring them because who he was, what he was doing and what he was predicting would happen
didn’t make any sense…
It’s as difficult to understand now as it was then.
Jesus is spending this part of Mark’s gospel preparing his disciples for what’s to come. He’s readying them for the final trip to Jerusalem, his arrest, trial, crucifixion and resurrection. He’s preparing them for what we often proclaim without really thinking about: he ‘s going to die and then through his rising to life again, destroy death forever, giving each and every one of us the same promise: our bodily death doesn’t end life, it changes it. We are, by virtue of our baptism, assured of everlasting life.
We can forgive the disciples their confusion, their misunderstanding and disbelief.
What Jesus is saying still sounds ridiculous, irrational and impossible.
Yet here we are, believers in this very thing.
Do we understand it? No.
Do we have to understand it to believe it? No.
As a matter of fact understanding has nothing to do with it.
I stand before you today to admit that I don’t understand it and I can’t explain it.
Yet, each and every day I awake in sure and certain trust that what God has given us through Jesus the Christ is The Way The Truth and The Life.
Each and everyday as I live out my life I proudly, loudly and clearly proclaim,
“I believe.”
I believe in the unbelievable. I believe in the incomprehensible. I believe in the irrational. I believe in God. I believe God came to live among us as Jesus Christ. I believe Jesus was nailed to a cross and died. I believe he lay among the dead for two days and on the third day I believe he rose from that grave, exited that tomb and walked among us again.
I believe he ascended to heaven where, as part of the Holy and Undivided Trinity he walks among us still.
I believe all of this without knowing how. But unlike my irrational belief that appearing vulnerable in an unfamiliar situation would be more than I can bear, our faith encourages our questions and our faith allows for our confusion.
Our faith expects our disbelief.
What our faith doesn’t tolerate so well, though, is failing to admit our questions, our confusion, our doubt.
This is why Jesus asks us to have faith like a child.
A child freely and openly asks the tough questions---why do people die? Why do we get sad? Why is the sky blue? Why why why why?
The author of our faith always wants us to ask why….. why is there pain and suffering in the world, why is my heart broken, why is my child ill, why is my bank account empty, why is my soul aching…
We may not get a clear and definitive answer, but we are always heard, our heartache is always His heartache and we never ever walk alone.
My prayer for us today is that we’ll approach our faith with the same innocence as the children in our midst. For it is only through the absolute open and honest vulnerability of a child that we can fully live our faith. Because when we start considering our faith from a rational adult 21st century Culture of Knowing stance, we lose the ability to simply and plainly Believe.
Our faith isn’t a faith of no questions, it’s a faith of one answer. And that one answer is God. Through God all things are possible. With God all things are doable. And from God all blessings flow. Amen.
Asking questions makes us vulnerable because to ask a question is to admit we don’t know something. And, if knowledge is, in our world, power then it follows that not knowing must indicate weakness, right? Any animal, including human beings, avoid being vulnerable because of te risk of being seen as weak. In this, the temporal world, weakness is used against us. It’s the basis of the survival of the fittest, so we rail against vulnerability at every turn.
We live in a “knowing” culture. Knowledge is The Thing. We know A LOT and we’re learning more and more all the time. So, “Knowing” is power, not knowing is weakness and admitting we don’t know is risky, counter-cultural and to many folks, unthinkable.
The disciples didn’t know and after last week’s outburst by Jesus, they’re not about to ask…
“Jesus was teaching his disciples, saying “The Human One will be delivered into human hands. They will kill him. Three days after he is killed he will rise up.’ But they didn’t understand this kind of talk, and they were afraid to ask him.”
They did not understand and they were afraid to ask him. They were confused, they were afraid and they were anxious.
You see, Christianity is pretty anxiety provoking. Think about it, this faith of ours encourages weakness. It promotes vulnerability. It’s confusing, its tenets irrational.
Christianity makes no logical sense:
a young boy from a rather unremarkable family grows up and is discovered to be the Messiah—the Son of God, the author of our salvation. A regular guy, from a regular town: The Son of God. And not only is he the Son of God he goes around TELLING people this. He’s also feeding thousands out of nothing, curing the sick, raising the dead and generally blowing everyone’s mind. Freaking them out. Scaring them.
Scaring them because who he was, what he was doing and what he was predicting would happen
didn’t make any sense…
It’s as difficult to understand now as it was then.
Jesus is spending this part of Mark’s gospel preparing his disciples for what’s to come. He’s readying them for the final trip to Jerusalem, his arrest, trial, crucifixion and resurrection. He’s preparing them for what we often proclaim without really thinking about: he ‘s going to die and then through his rising to life again, destroy death forever, giving each and every one of us the same promise: our bodily death doesn’t end life, it changes it. We are, by virtue of our baptism, assured of everlasting life.
We can forgive the disciples their confusion, their misunderstanding and disbelief.
What Jesus is saying still sounds ridiculous, irrational and impossible.
Yet here we are, believers in this very thing.
Do we understand it? No.
Do we have to understand it to believe it? No.
As a matter of fact understanding has nothing to do with it.
I stand before you today to admit that I don’t understand it and I can’t explain it.
Yet, each and every day I awake in sure and certain trust that what God has given us through Jesus the Christ is The Way The Truth and The Life.
Each and everyday as I live out my life I proudly, loudly and clearly proclaim,
“I believe.”
I believe in the unbelievable. I believe in the incomprehensible. I believe in the irrational. I believe in God. I believe God came to live among us as Jesus Christ. I believe Jesus was nailed to a cross and died. I believe he lay among the dead for two days and on the third day I believe he rose from that grave, exited that tomb and walked among us again.
I believe he ascended to heaven where, as part of the Holy and Undivided Trinity he walks among us still.
I believe all of this without knowing how. But unlike my irrational belief that appearing vulnerable in an unfamiliar situation would be more than I can bear, our faith encourages our questions and our faith allows for our confusion.
Our faith expects our disbelief.
What our faith doesn’t tolerate so well, though, is failing to admit our questions, our confusion, our doubt.
This is why Jesus asks us to have faith like a child.
A child freely and openly asks the tough questions---why do people die? Why do we get sad? Why is the sky blue? Why why why why?
The author of our faith always wants us to ask why….. why is there pain and suffering in the world, why is my heart broken, why is my child ill, why is my bank account empty, why is my soul aching…
We may not get a clear and definitive answer, but we are always heard, our heartache is always His heartache and we never ever walk alone.
My prayer for us today is that we’ll approach our faith with the same innocence as the children in our midst. For it is only through the absolute open and honest vulnerability of a child that we can fully live our faith. Because when we start considering our faith from a rational adult 21st century Culture of Knowing stance, we lose the ability to simply and plainly Believe.
Our faith isn’t a faith of no questions, it’s a faith of one answer. And that one answer is God. Through God all things are possible. With God all things are doable. And from God all blessings flow. Amen.
Monday, September 14, 2015
Dying, Living. Breaking into Wholeness. The Way of the Cross Proper 19 Sept 13, 2015
+ In so many ways this past week has been one of heartache.
• We’ve seen the body of a young Syrian refugee wash up on shore; a vivid example of the lengths people will go, the pain people will endure to move out of darkness and into light. The strength of the refugees is inspirational, and the price they pay is excruciatingly high.
• 14 years ago this very, we were all still in shock—the heartache and horror of 9/11 was raw. Life, as we knew it was changed. Forever. Any semblance of innocence and invincibility was removed by the events in Manhattan, Washington DC and Shanksville, PA. Each year, as the anniversary comes and the anniversary goes, our hearts are, once aain, pierced as we remember those who ran in while others ran out, those who knew they were going to die, but still made sure that the terrorists, at least those on Flight 93, wouldn’t take anymore than their lives…
These memories cut deep, the heartache is raw and the darkness and evil of this world is exposed for all to see.
Yet somehow, someway, 14 years after that awful Tuesday morning here we are; relatively safe, able to feel joy again. New life has emerged from that dark September day in 2001. Somehow, someway, our country has taken the depth of darkness, the height of evil, the fullness of what human beings can do to one another and have carried on.
We’re definitely different, many lives have been unnecessarily lost in our misguided revengeful reaction, but yet, here we are, worshipping and praising a good and gracious God. As a people we walked through the valley of the shadow of death and emerged on the other side.
To live fully as Christians, we must die. We must pick up our crosses---whatever ours happen to be-- and enter the darkness, the abyss, the loss and the pain. To get to Easter morning we must enter Holy Week, we must walk the hill known as Calvary, we must stretch out our arms on the cross, we must cry out in fear, we must breathe our last, we must lay ourselves in the tomb. We must descend into death and then, AND ONLY then can we rise into the glories of resurrected life.
We must, as Jesus says, lose our lives in order to live them.
And we must do this repeatedly.
For it is only in dying that we can truly live.
It’s called The Way of the Cross.
The Dean of Christ Church Cathedral in St Louis, Mike Kinman, and I have very similar theologies about what happens at this altar each and every time we have a celebration of the Holy Eucharist. Mike describes it like this:
At the Eucharist we lay our lives on the table, the same table Jesus is on. It all gets mixed up and God does what God does and makes something altogether new. And then we all take a piece of this new creation---a little bit of you…and you…and you….a little bit of me, a little bit of Jesus , we all take a piece of one another, infused by and through God and go out into the world, as something new and ready to create, all around us, something altogether new.
And we do it, again and again and again.
This is exactly what Jesus was trying to get across to Peter in today’s Gospel.
There’s a lot in this Gospel and it’s easy, at least for me, to get lost.
But the bottom line is found in two sentences: Who do YOU say I am and Get behind me Satan!
When Jesus asks, but who do you say I am? Peter, just like the kid in school who quickly and loudly raises his hand like Horseshack on Welcome Back Kotter every time the teacher posed a question, Peter says, decisively and simply “You are the Christ.” No doubt Jesus is surprised that any of them had figured out that He was indeed, The Christ, that is the Messiah, the one promised, the one waited for. He is the One. God come to earth. Peter is right.
And he’s also really wrong.
He’s wrong because although Jesus is, indeed the Messiah, the Son of God and the King of Kings, he’s not above or beyond humanity. He is in humanity.
He’s God and He’s Human and he’ll never, not ever, use his divinity, his God-ness, to bypass any single part of the Human condition. Including humiliation, suffering, execution and the deepest darkest piece of the human condition, death itself.
Peter can’t wrap his brain around Jesus as God and Jesus as Human. Peter can’t believe that Jesus would accept the fullness of the human experience. Peter cannot and will not believe that the only way to gain a God-filled life, that the only way bring God’s reign of Love, Justice and Righteousness for all on earth, forever; is to die.
Peter cannot accept that the Way of Jesus is, indeed, the Way of the Cross.
And so Jesus exclaims:
“Get Behind me Satan!”
Get Behind me, all you who are so afraid of the darkness that you go to extensive lengths to keep it at bay…which just gives it control over everything that you do.
Get Behind me, Satan all of you who so fear death that you absolutely forget to, refuse to, live.
Get Behind me Satan… you who want easy answers, who want the quick fix, who want the gain bypassing the pain.
Get Behind me Satan for the life you seek, the life you live, isn’t life at all:
It’s Good Friday without Easter
It’s the dark of night without the light of dawn.
Jesus kind of unloads on Peter, doesn’t he?
But I get it…there is so much more joy in life when we stop fighting the pain.
There’s so much more light in life when we stop railing against the darkness
Jesus doesn’t want Peter to miss one minute of this thing called life.
And he doesn’t want us too, either.
Come, my friends, all you who are weary and heavy laden. Bring your brokenness to this Holy Table and let God make you and me and all of us into something new; for the Way of the Cross takes the broken and makes it Holy. Amen.
• We’ve seen the body of a young Syrian refugee wash up on shore; a vivid example of the lengths people will go, the pain people will endure to move out of darkness and into light. The strength of the refugees is inspirational, and the price they pay is excruciatingly high.
• 14 years ago this very, we were all still in shock—the heartache and horror of 9/11 was raw. Life, as we knew it was changed. Forever. Any semblance of innocence and invincibility was removed by the events in Manhattan, Washington DC and Shanksville, PA. Each year, as the anniversary comes and the anniversary goes, our hearts are, once aain, pierced as we remember those who ran in while others ran out, those who knew they were going to die, but still made sure that the terrorists, at least those on Flight 93, wouldn’t take anymore than their lives…
These memories cut deep, the heartache is raw and the darkness and evil of this world is exposed for all to see.
Yet somehow, someway, 14 years after that awful Tuesday morning here we are; relatively safe, able to feel joy again. New life has emerged from that dark September day in 2001. Somehow, someway, our country has taken the depth of darkness, the height of evil, the fullness of what human beings can do to one another and have carried on.
We’re definitely different, many lives have been unnecessarily lost in our misguided revengeful reaction, but yet, here we are, worshipping and praising a good and gracious God. As a people we walked through the valley of the shadow of death and emerged on the other side.
To live fully as Christians, we must die. We must pick up our crosses---whatever ours happen to be-- and enter the darkness, the abyss, the loss and the pain. To get to Easter morning we must enter Holy Week, we must walk the hill known as Calvary, we must stretch out our arms on the cross, we must cry out in fear, we must breathe our last, we must lay ourselves in the tomb. We must descend into death and then, AND ONLY then can we rise into the glories of resurrected life.
We must, as Jesus says, lose our lives in order to live them.
And we must do this repeatedly.
For it is only in dying that we can truly live.
It’s called The Way of the Cross.
The Dean of Christ Church Cathedral in St Louis, Mike Kinman, and I have very similar theologies about what happens at this altar each and every time we have a celebration of the Holy Eucharist. Mike describes it like this:
At the Eucharist we lay our lives on the table, the same table Jesus is on. It all gets mixed up and God does what God does and makes something altogether new. And then we all take a piece of this new creation---a little bit of you…and you…and you….a little bit of me, a little bit of Jesus , we all take a piece of one another, infused by and through God and go out into the world, as something new and ready to create, all around us, something altogether new.
And we do it, again and again and again.
This is exactly what Jesus was trying to get across to Peter in today’s Gospel.
There’s a lot in this Gospel and it’s easy, at least for me, to get lost.
But the bottom line is found in two sentences: Who do YOU say I am and Get behind me Satan!
When Jesus asks, but who do you say I am? Peter, just like the kid in school who quickly and loudly raises his hand like Horseshack on Welcome Back Kotter every time the teacher posed a question, Peter says, decisively and simply “You are the Christ.” No doubt Jesus is surprised that any of them had figured out that He was indeed, The Christ, that is the Messiah, the one promised, the one waited for. He is the One. God come to earth. Peter is right.
And he’s also really wrong.
He’s wrong because although Jesus is, indeed the Messiah, the Son of God and the King of Kings, he’s not above or beyond humanity. He is in humanity.
He’s God and He’s Human and he’ll never, not ever, use his divinity, his God-ness, to bypass any single part of the Human condition. Including humiliation, suffering, execution and the deepest darkest piece of the human condition, death itself.
Peter can’t wrap his brain around Jesus as God and Jesus as Human. Peter can’t believe that Jesus would accept the fullness of the human experience. Peter cannot and will not believe that the only way to gain a God-filled life, that the only way bring God’s reign of Love, Justice and Righteousness for all on earth, forever; is to die.
Peter cannot accept that the Way of Jesus is, indeed, the Way of the Cross.
And so Jesus exclaims:
“Get Behind me Satan!”
Get Behind me, all you who are so afraid of the darkness that you go to extensive lengths to keep it at bay…which just gives it control over everything that you do.
Get Behind me, Satan all of you who so fear death that you absolutely forget to, refuse to, live.
Get Behind me Satan… you who want easy answers, who want the quick fix, who want the gain bypassing the pain.
Get Behind me Satan for the life you seek, the life you live, isn’t life at all:
It’s Good Friday without Easter
It’s the dark of night without the light of dawn.
Jesus kind of unloads on Peter, doesn’t he?
But I get it…there is so much more joy in life when we stop fighting the pain.
There’s so much more light in life when we stop railing against the darkness
Jesus doesn’t want Peter to miss one minute of this thing called life.
And he doesn’t want us too, either.
Come, my friends, all you who are weary and heavy laden. Bring your brokenness to this Holy Table and let God make you and me and all of us into something new; for the Way of the Cross takes the broken and makes it Holy. Amen.
Monday, September 7, 2015
Proper 18 Yr B Sept 6, 2013
I preached two versions of the sermon yesterday. The one I preached at 8:30 and 10:30 went over like a dud, so I changed some things up for the 4:30. Therefore, this is the 4:30 version.
+Nobody wants to consider what Jesus is ACTUALLY saying to the foreign woman in today’s Gospel.
Nobody wants to hear me say that Jesus was racist, that calling the woman a dog was akin to the worst racial slur anyone could utter.
That Jesus was elitist, presuming that his message of Love for All really did have exceptions….that Jesus was sure he was the Savior for the Chosen People---the Children of God---the Jews, but never even considered that what was meant by Loving Everyone Everywhere really meant EVERYONE and EVERYWHERE.
Jesus didn’t know that.
Jesus was exclusionary, bigoted and racist when he called the woman a dog. He was ignorant and so darn sure of himself.
This is not a stellar moment in his life. It’s shocking and really uncomfortable. But, you know what, it’s not the most stunning thing about this Gospel.
No the most stunning thing is the protagonist---the foreign born, non-Jewish woman. This mother has been demeaned, insulted, hated and all but spat upon by Jesus, but does she turn in shame and slink away, does she lash out in anger, does she beg?
Nope.
She pulls her self up and does the most astonishing thing of all---she teaches the teacher, she lectures him, she debates him, and then, in a glorious example of Jesus’ humanity, He listens. He learns. And then, he changes.
Many scholars now agree, this event was a significant turning point in Jesus’ life and ministry. Jesus was racist in his actions, the Syrophonecian woman wouldn’t back down, the little girl was healed, and Jesus? Well, He learned a thing or two. And he changed and he evolved. He who was lost was found.
The good news of this harsh, difficult to hear Gospel is this:
Even our Savior, even the messiah, even Jesus Christ, himself can learn. Even Jesus Christ can be wrong and through listening, change.
Can we?
The Presiding Bishop has asked us to, in conjunction with the African Methodist Episcopal Church, make today “Confession, Repentance and Commitment to End Racism Sunday.” This dictum from the national church came down on Tuesday, so none of us had much time to adjust our liturgies, but I know why they chose today….this reading is perfect for a Sunday devoted to ending Racism…
But not just because of Jesus’ behavior toward the Syro-Phonecian woman…no this reading is perfect for today ALSO because of the second story in the Gospel—that of the deaf and mute man whom Jesus heals with a little spit and a lot of prayer---
Now at first, this coupling of readings---the bigotry of the first and the straight out healing of the second---may seem a bit odd, but upon further reflection, I find it perfect. You see, no one ever told Jesus that he was only the savior for one particular group of people—the Jews---he just assumed it. When he said he was Love and he came to spread Love he I REALLY think He thought that meant all of the Jews not all of everyone, everywhere, always. It wasn’t that he was deliberately exclusionary, it’s that it never occurred to him that it could be any other way. That’s why this add-on reading about the deaf man is sooo cleaver. In this little “add on” story, Jesus opens the ears and loosens the tongue of the deaf man who could “barely talk.” With some spit on the man’s tongue His fingers in the man’s ears, Jesus says, “Ephphatha,” which quite literally means, “Open up,” and the man? He’s healed.
These two stories, one with Jesus being closed and the other with Jesus “opening” the man’s ears are connected through the actions of the Syrophonecian woman teaching Jesus the truth about his mission on earth. …that loving everyone always, everywhere, no exceptions really means EVERYONE. EVERYWHERE. ALWAYS. NO EXCEPTIONS.
We go from hateful speaking to hearing the truth.
Jesus was blind, but now he sees, Jesus was deaf but now he hears, Jesus was closed, but now he’s open.
Guess what? We’re all closed….we all have those situations where we lag behind in tolerance, where we jump to damning conclusions before really understanding, really hearing the truth of a situation. We all have fear of those different than us, we hesitate, we hold back, we resist. In some cases we out and out hate, in some cases we judge harshly, quickly and without all the data.
In some cases we assume to know the truth, we presume to know a truth only to be, like Jesus when it came to just who he was supposed to save, proven utterly and thoroughly wrong.
So what are we to do about our intolerance?
What are we to do about our racism, be it overt and more insidious?
What are we to do about the certainty that we are right?
What are we to do about the racism that infects our world, our nation, our churches, our cities, our towns, our neighborhoods, our homes and our hearts?
Well, I think the answer is right here, in these Gospel stories of today---I think we, like the desperate mother, need to avoid getting caught up in name calling and hate and, with dignity and integrity respect the dignity of all people, regardless of how they treat us.
---I think we, like the deaf and mute man, need Ephphatha, that is we need to be opened up to hear what those around us are saying. We need to loose our tongues and unstop our ears so that the truth of our mission---caring for everyone we encounter with justice and respect and dignity—can lead the way, and we can create a new love-filled kingdom right here on earth.
Because, for the third and I promise the last (at least for awhile) week in row, if not us, WHO? +
+Nobody wants to consider what Jesus is ACTUALLY saying to the foreign woman in today’s Gospel.
Nobody wants to hear me say that Jesus was racist, that calling the woman a dog was akin to the worst racial slur anyone could utter.
That Jesus was elitist, presuming that his message of Love for All really did have exceptions….that Jesus was sure he was the Savior for the Chosen People---the Children of God---the Jews, but never even considered that what was meant by Loving Everyone Everywhere really meant EVERYONE and EVERYWHERE.
Jesus didn’t know that.
Jesus was exclusionary, bigoted and racist when he called the woman a dog. He was ignorant and so darn sure of himself.
This is not a stellar moment in his life. It’s shocking and really uncomfortable. But, you know what, it’s not the most stunning thing about this Gospel.
No the most stunning thing is the protagonist---the foreign born, non-Jewish woman. This mother has been demeaned, insulted, hated and all but spat upon by Jesus, but does she turn in shame and slink away, does she lash out in anger, does she beg?
Nope.
She pulls her self up and does the most astonishing thing of all---she teaches the teacher, she lectures him, she debates him, and then, in a glorious example of Jesus’ humanity, He listens. He learns. And then, he changes.
Many scholars now agree, this event was a significant turning point in Jesus’ life and ministry. Jesus was racist in his actions, the Syrophonecian woman wouldn’t back down, the little girl was healed, and Jesus? Well, He learned a thing or two. And he changed and he evolved. He who was lost was found.
The good news of this harsh, difficult to hear Gospel is this:
Even our Savior, even the messiah, even Jesus Christ, himself can learn. Even Jesus Christ can be wrong and through listening, change.
Can we?
The Presiding Bishop has asked us to, in conjunction with the African Methodist Episcopal Church, make today “Confession, Repentance and Commitment to End Racism Sunday.” This dictum from the national church came down on Tuesday, so none of us had much time to adjust our liturgies, but I know why they chose today….this reading is perfect for a Sunday devoted to ending Racism…
But not just because of Jesus’ behavior toward the Syro-Phonecian woman…no this reading is perfect for today ALSO because of the second story in the Gospel—that of the deaf and mute man whom Jesus heals with a little spit and a lot of prayer---
Now at first, this coupling of readings---the bigotry of the first and the straight out healing of the second---may seem a bit odd, but upon further reflection, I find it perfect. You see, no one ever told Jesus that he was only the savior for one particular group of people—the Jews---he just assumed it. When he said he was Love and he came to spread Love he I REALLY think He thought that meant all of the Jews not all of everyone, everywhere, always. It wasn’t that he was deliberately exclusionary, it’s that it never occurred to him that it could be any other way. That’s why this add-on reading about the deaf man is sooo cleaver. In this little “add on” story, Jesus opens the ears and loosens the tongue of the deaf man who could “barely talk.” With some spit on the man’s tongue His fingers in the man’s ears, Jesus says, “Ephphatha,” which quite literally means, “Open up,” and the man? He’s healed.
These two stories, one with Jesus being closed and the other with Jesus “opening” the man’s ears are connected through the actions of the Syrophonecian woman teaching Jesus the truth about his mission on earth. …that loving everyone always, everywhere, no exceptions really means EVERYONE. EVERYWHERE. ALWAYS. NO EXCEPTIONS.
We go from hateful speaking to hearing the truth.
Jesus was blind, but now he sees, Jesus was deaf but now he hears, Jesus was closed, but now he’s open.
Guess what? We’re all closed….we all have those situations where we lag behind in tolerance, where we jump to damning conclusions before really understanding, really hearing the truth of a situation. We all have fear of those different than us, we hesitate, we hold back, we resist. In some cases we out and out hate, in some cases we judge harshly, quickly and without all the data.
In some cases we assume to know the truth, we presume to know a truth only to be, like Jesus when it came to just who he was supposed to save, proven utterly and thoroughly wrong.
So what are we to do about our intolerance?
What are we to do about our racism, be it overt and more insidious?
What are we to do about the certainty that we are right?
What are we to do about the racism that infects our world, our nation, our churches, our cities, our towns, our neighborhoods, our homes and our hearts?
Well, I think the answer is right here, in these Gospel stories of today---I think we, like the desperate mother, need to avoid getting caught up in name calling and hate and, with dignity and integrity respect the dignity of all people, regardless of how they treat us.
---I think we, like the deaf and mute man, need Ephphatha, that is we need to be opened up to hear what those around us are saying. We need to loose our tongues and unstop our ears so that the truth of our mission---caring for everyone we encounter with justice and respect and dignity—can lead the way, and we can create a new love-filled kingdom right here on earth.
Because, for the third and I promise the last (at least for awhile) week in row, if not us, WHO? +
Sunday, August 30, 2015
Jubilee Sunday: Making people Uncomfortable, Infuriated and Annoyed, since 2011! Proper 17, Yr B 4:30 pm August 30 2015
+This Gospel cracks me up. I mean really, sexual sins, thefts, murders, adultery, greed, evil actions, deceit, unrestrained immorality, envy, insults, arrogance, and foolishness…how can you NOT LOVE that? Of course what Jesus is saying is pretty clear---it doesn’t matter how you worship. It matters that you worship.
It doesn’t matter how you love, it matters that you love.
The only thing that matters is that whatever you do and however you do it must honor God, creation, your neighbor and yourself. That’s what matters. How you get there? Jesus isn’t that concerned.
But how we get there, how we do this worshipping God thing does matter to us, just as it mattered to the temple authorities of Jesus’ day.
Traditions, rules and regulations are good things…they provide a certain comfort that allows us to get lost within the worship experience. Yes, traditions, rules and regulations are good things….until they’re not….when we begin to worship the rules and the traditions instead of the thing these rules and traditions were designed to protect, we get into trouble.
Most radical fundamentalism stems from the worshipping of how things are done instead of the why and the who.
You know, when we first began this Ascension style Eucharist at 4:30 pm on Sundays we upset a lot of temple authorities.
There were members of Ascension who just couldn’t stand the idea of a late afternoon Sunday service .
There were (and still are) people across the diocese who thought our efforts to make our prayers and readings radically inclusive by, with the exception of Jesus’ words ,refer to God with gender neutral language, were tacky at best and heretical at worst.
There were others, within the congregation and outside who thought a liturgy with primarily uplifting and unique piano music, without EVER using the 1982 Hymnal was simply WRONG.
Then there was one famous case where a former member screamed at me because he couldn’t believe I thought that having a liturgy that maintained a deliberate and passionate focus on the sacrament of Holy Communion could possibly attract people. (That one really ticked me off…)
There were others who thought inviting dogs into our service, hosting a pet food pantry and pet memorial services was beyond wrong. Truly, I think some thought/think it evil.
And there were those, maybe even some people sitting here who thought two parishes sharing one priest and deacon wouldn’t work.
And, finally, those who couldn’t even fathom how two independent parishes could share not only one priest and one deacon but one building.
And yet. Here we are.
The Church of the Ascension at Good Shepherd and the Church of the Good Shepherd: making people uncomfortable, infuriated and annoyed, since 2011!
Jesus must be proud!
Actually, I’m serious. Jesus liked nothing more than upsetting the status quo, challenging the expectations of his time and pushing people right out of their comfort zones. He accomplishes all of that in this afternoon’s Gospel.
Oh yeah, the temple authorities are annoyed and infuriated. And you know why they are so annoyed and infuriated? Because what Jesus was teaching, what Jesus was proclaiming and most offensive of all what Jesus was LIVING, made them mighty uncomfortable.
We’re all uncomfortable when the familiar appears to be usurped by the unfamiliar, when the usual is overturned for the unusual, when the way things have always been done, doesn’t get done that way anymore. It’s difficult to adjust to the different, but that’s no reason not to try.
Jesus knew something that so many people in his day, and so many people TODAY, forget:
Some times our rules, our regulations, our laws, our traditions get in the way of the very thing they were designed to protect.
When the second amendment was written by our forebears, it’s fair to say none of them could envision how the NRA has manipulated a constitutional right into the arming of lunatics leading to such horrors as Sandy Hook and Mother Emmanuel AME Church.
When the founders of Good Shepherd and Ascension built their buildings without providing wheel chair access, they didn’t do this because they hated people who use wheelchairs, they did it because any idea of universal access was foreign to them.
When our Holy Scripture talks about men raping boys (which is where the verses from Leviticus so often used to say that God condemns same-sex attraction comes from) they had no idea their words would be used to disenfranchise an entire group of God loving people.
What I, and hope many of you, have learned since embarking on this covenant journey between the two parishes is this---offering three distinct ways of praising God, three distinct ways of being nourished to do Christ’s work in the world, is life giving (and sometimes frustrating, annoying and difficult)….and it all makes Jesus smile…because the one thing Jesus clearly detested was failing to see the forest for the trees, for getting so caught up in the letter of the law that people forgot the spirit.
Pushing the limits----testing the boundaries, trying to access the holy in new, hopefully interesting and inspiring ways is telling the temple authorities of our day that doing something in a different way isn’t bad, that changing, evolving and growing isn’t demeaning where we’ve been, it’s honoring it, learning from it, and moving on to the next thing God has in store for us.
What the temple authorities couldn’t (wouldn’t do) is clear: they wouldn’t lift their heads and look around and see that the world about them had changed and that maybe, just maybe, their traditions needed to as well.
I guess what I’m trying to say to you, this collection of newcomers and old-timers, of 8:30 am’ers, 10:30 am’ers and 4:30 pm’ers is this: The only way we’re going to succeed in being the instruments of God’s love in this world, the only way we’re going to truly be disciples of Jesus is to remember that God’s not finished with us yet. We have new boundaries to push, old traditions to challenge and honor, new ways to make ourselves and all those whom we encounter uncomfortable. Why? Because if not us…who?
It doesn’t matter how you love, it matters that you love.
The only thing that matters is that whatever you do and however you do it must honor God, creation, your neighbor and yourself. That’s what matters. How you get there? Jesus isn’t that concerned.
But how we get there, how we do this worshipping God thing does matter to us, just as it mattered to the temple authorities of Jesus’ day.
Traditions, rules and regulations are good things…they provide a certain comfort that allows us to get lost within the worship experience. Yes, traditions, rules and regulations are good things….until they’re not….when we begin to worship the rules and the traditions instead of the thing these rules and traditions were designed to protect, we get into trouble.
Most radical fundamentalism stems from the worshipping of how things are done instead of the why and the who.
You know, when we first began this Ascension style Eucharist at 4:30 pm on Sundays we upset a lot of temple authorities.
There were members of Ascension who just couldn’t stand the idea of a late afternoon Sunday service .
There were (and still are) people across the diocese who thought our efforts to make our prayers and readings radically inclusive by, with the exception of Jesus’ words ,refer to God with gender neutral language, were tacky at best and heretical at worst.
There were others, within the congregation and outside who thought a liturgy with primarily uplifting and unique piano music, without EVER using the 1982 Hymnal was simply WRONG.
Then there was one famous case where a former member screamed at me because he couldn’t believe I thought that having a liturgy that maintained a deliberate and passionate focus on the sacrament of Holy Communion could possibly attract people. (That one really ticked me off…)
There were others who thought inviting dogs into our service, hosting a pet food pantry and pet memorial services was beyond wrong. Truly, I think some thought/think it evil.
And there were those, maybe even some people sitting here who thought two parishes sharing one priest and deacon wouldn’t work.
And, finally, those who couldn’t even fathom how two independent parishes could share not only one priest and one deacon but one building.
And yet. Here we are.
The Church of the Ascension at Good Shepherd and the Church of the Good Shepherd: making people uncomfortable, infuriated and annoyed, since 2011!
Jesus must be proud!
Actually, I’m serious. Jesus liked nothing more than upsetting the status quo, challenging the expectations of his time and pushing people right out of their comfort zones. He accomplishes all of that in this afternoon’s Gospel.
Oh yeah, the temple authorities are annoyed and infuriated. And you know why they are so annoyed and infuriated? Because what Jesus was teaching, what Jesus was proclaiming and most offensive of all what Jesus was LIVING, made them mighty uncomfortable.
We’re all uncomfortable when the familiar appears to be usurped by the unfamiliar, when the usual is overturned for the unusual, when the way things have always been done, doesn’t get done that way anymore. It’s difficult to adjust to the different, but that’s no reason not to try.
Jesus knew something that so many people in his day, and so many people TODAY, forget:
Some times our rules, our regulations, our laws, our traditions get in the way of the very thing they were designed to protect.
When the second amendment was written by our forebears, it’s fair to say none of them could envision how the NRA has manipulated a constitutional right into the arming of lunatics leading to such horrors as Sandy Hook and Mother Emmanuel AME Church.
When the founders of Good Shepherd and Ascension built their buildings without providing wheel chair access, they didn’t do this because they hated people who use wheelchairs, they did it because any idea of universal access was foreign to them.
When our Holy Scripture talks about men raping boys (which is where the verses from Leviticus so often used to say that God condemns same-sex attraction comes from) they had no idea their words would be used to disenfranchise an entire group of God loving people.
What I, and hope many of you, have learned since embarking on this covenant journey between the two parishes is this---offering three distinct ways of praising God, three distinct ways of being nourished to do Christ’s work in the world, is life giving (and sometimes frustrating, annoying and difficult)….and it all makes Jesus smile…because the one thing Jesus clearly detested was failing to see the forest for the trees, for getting so caught up in the letter of the law that people forgot the spirit.
Pushing the limits----testing the boundaries, trying to access the holy in new, hopefully interesting and inspiring ways is telling the temple authorities of our day that doing something in a different way isn’t bad, that changing, evolving and growing isn’t demeaning where we’ve been, it’s honoring it, learning from it, and moving on to the next thing God has in store for us.
What the temple authorities couldn’t (wouldn’t do) is clear: they wouldn’t lift their heads and look around and see that the world about them had changed and that maybe, just maybe, their traditions needed to as well.
I guess what I’m trying to say to you, this collection of newcomers and old-timers, of 8:30 am’ers, 10:30 am’ers and 4:30 pm’ers is this: The only way we’re going to succeed in being the instruments of God’s love in this world, the only way we’re going to truly be disciples of Jesus is to remember that God’s not finished with us yet. We have new boundaries to push, old traditions to challenge and honor, new ways to make ourselves and all those whom we encounter uncomfortable. Why? Because if not us…who?
Sunday, August 23, 2015
It's Going to be Ok, Just Keep Going Proper 16 Aug 23, 2015
+Do you remember John’s sermon from last Sunday? It was fabulous. I heard it three times, and I got a lump in my throat every time John wound up the story about when he was hit by a car and his father, Don Harris, said, “John, it’s gonna to be ok. Your mama and I are here.”
That’s a father who, no matter what, was going to protect his son. It was a wonderful thing to say.
And it was also, in some respects, a lie. Because at that point, John’s father didn’t know that “everything was going to be ok.” John had severe head trauma. He wasn’t necessarily going to be ok.
But, if John will forgive me for climbing into his father’s head for a moment, that’s not what Don meant. He meant that no matter what happened— brain damage, years of therapy, or even death--- regardless of what happened, ---JOHN---was going to be ok, because he was loved. LOVED. Beyond all measure.
And that kind of love? That kind of commitment? That kind of unfailing support?
It brings me to tears, and lights a fire in my belly and a yearning in my soul.
Presiding Bishop Elect Michael Curry knows a little something about bringing people to tears and lighting fires in their belly. He did just that in a sermon he gave last week. In it, he referenced that great abolitionist and “conductor” on the underground railroad, Harriet Tubman. Tubman had one, non-negotiable, requirement for people embarking on the dangerous, arduous and long journey to freedom--—she would insist that, no matter what, they’d keep going.
That when the dogs took off after them, they’d keep going.
That when the mobs came after them, they’d keep going.
That when the hate, horror and terror came they’d Keep GOING.
She was adamant---“if you aren’t willing to keep going—NO MATTER WHAT—don’t even begin.
Don’t start the journey if you’re not willing to do what it takes to finish it because although it will, eventually, indeed, be ok, getting there may not be...
Harriet didn’t say this out of some misguided litmus test for the true believer, she said it out of the knowledge that the journey to freedom wasn’t something done alone.
John Harris didn’t recover on his own, but with the love of family, the skill of doctors and the perseverance to keep going, no matter what.
Not every slave made it to freedom, and not every abolitionist lived to see the steady dismantling of the Jim Crow south, but every step they took was part of the ongoing journey toward a just and equal world.
The journey’s too long and the arc of history too wide for one person, or one group of people to do it alone.
Jonathan Daniels knew this.
For those of you who don’t know, Jonathan Daniels was a seminarian from New England, studying at Harvard who’d heard and heeded MLK’s call that freedom for all would only be achieved when the privileged of our country-- and you couldn’t get more privileged than a straight white seminarian from Harvard-- got involved. So Jonathan Daniels went to Alabama and, following the example of Jesus, laid down his life for a friend. On that hot August night in 1965, Jonathan took a shot gun blast intended for 17 year old, African American Ruby Sales. This young white man laid down his life for his friend. His young, female, black friend.
There’s a powerful lesson in Don Harris’ words to his son, in Harriet Tubman’s admonition to her “passengers,” and in Jonathan Daniels’ actions in the Jim Crow south of 1965.
It’s the same lesson we hear, week after week in the Gospel: Loving God, following the Christian way isn’t an easy, pleasant, or comfortable journey, BUT by virtue of our baptism we’re on this journey. And, if we’re doing it right, it’s not safe, comfortable or easy.
Jesus asks, “does my message offend you? If so, go ahead and leave.” Folks, Jesus has been telling us for weeks now, you must eat of my flesh and drink of my blood, for through that act you will have eternal life. I know that there are more than a few of us who would like his words to be a little less graphic. Because, in truth, that imagery does feel a little offensive and a lot uncomfortable.
And you know what?
Good.
You see, being a Christian means that if we’re doing it right, if we’re doing it like Jonathan Daniels, Harriet Tubman, MLK, Jr., Jimmy Carter, Michael Curry, Gene Robinson, The Philadelphia 11 and scores and scores of others, people aren’t going to like us. But by doing what our forebears have done, by risking our own comfort, our own security, sometimes even our own safety and our very life, we make the road straighter, the way smoother, the promised land more attainable for those who come after us.
The Bread of Life, Jesus Christ, offers us the nourishment and the strength to do this work but we, we must do it.
Not just talk about the work. Not just pray about the work. Not just nod when we hear about the work.
We must do the work
If you come to church and leave without feeling uneasy, uncomfortable and maybe even a little mad, then, frankly, I’m not doing my job too well.
If you come to church and commit to all that we believe and then go out into the world and don’t do some things that are difficult and worrisome and scary and risky then you aren’t doing your job very well.
The lesson of Don Harris, of Harriet Tubman, of Jonathan Daniels and of Jesus Christ himself is this--
Christianity is offensive.
It upsets the status quo.
It refuses to back down.
We have our marching orders, but frankly I don’t know that we take these orders as ours. Christianity is no spectator sport. It’s fine to admire the heroes of our faith like Jonathan Daniels, Harriet Tubman and John’s dad Don, but admiration never defeated darkness.
Admiration never defeated hate; admiration never fed the hungry or clothed the naked.
We’re on a journey, folks. Are you willing to keep going? Are you willing to make this work, the work of justice, a priority?
Are you willing to be unpopular, uncomfortable and despised?
If so, climb aboard, for everything is going to be ok, as long as we just keep going. Amen.
That’s a father who, no matter what, was going to protect his son. It was a wonderful thing to say.
And it was also, in some respects, a lie. Because at that point, John’s father didn’t know that “everything was going to be ok.” John had severe head trauma. He wasn’t necessarily going to be ok.
But, if John will forgive me for climbing into his father’s head for a moment, that’s not what Don meant. He meant that no matter what happened— brain damage, years of therapy, or even death--- regardless of what happened, ---JOHN---was going to be ok, because he was loved. LOVED. Beyond all measure.
And that kind of love? That kind of commitment? That kind of unfailing support?
It brings me to tears, and lights a fire in my belly and a yearning in my soul.
Presiding Bishop Elect Michael Curry knows a little something about bringing people to tears and lighting fires in their belly. He did just that in a sermon he gave last week. In it, he referenced that great abolitionist and “conductor” on the underground railroad, Harriet Tubman. Tubman had one, non-negotiable, requirement for people embarking on the dangerous, arduous and long journey to freedom--—she would insist that, no matter what, they’d keep going.
That when the dogs took off after them, they’d keep going.
That when the mobs came after them, they’d keep going.
That when the hate, horror and terror came they’d Keep GOING.
She was adamant---“if you aren’t willing to keep going—NO MATTER WHAT—don’t even begin.
Don’t start the journey if you’re not willing to do what it takes to finish it because although it will, eventually, indeed, be ok, getting there may not be...
Harriet didn’t say this out of some misguided litmus test for the true believer, she said it out of the knowledge that the journey to freedom wasn’t something done alone.
John Harris didn’t recover on his own, but with the love of family, the skill of doctors and the perseverance to keep going, no matter what.
Not every slave made it to freedom, and not every abolitionist lived to see the steady dismantling of the Jim Crow south, but every step they took was part of the ongoing journey toward a just and equal world.
The journey’s too long and the arc of history too wide for one person, or one group of people to do it alone.
Jonathan Daniels knew this.
For those of you who don’t know, Jonathan Daniels was a seminarian from New England, studying at Harvard who’d heard and heeded MLK’s call that freedom for all would only be achieved when the privileged of our country-- and you couldn’t get more privileged than a straight white seminarian from Harvard-- got involved. So Jonathan Daniels went to Alabama and, following the example of Jesus, laid down his life for a friend. On that hot August night in 1965, Jonathan took a shot gun blast intended for 17 year old, African American Ruby Sales. This young white man laid down his life for his friend. His young, female, black friend.
There’s a powerful lesson in Don Harris’ words to his son, in Harriet Tubman’s admonition to her “passengers,” and in Jonathan Daniels’ actions in the Jim Crow south of 1965.
It’s the same lesson we hear, week after week in the Gospel: Loving God, following the Christian way isn’t an easy, pleasant, or comfortable journey, BUT by virtue of our baptism we’re on this journey. And, if we’re doing it right, it’s not safe, comfortable or easy.
Jesus asks, “does my message offend you? If so, go ahead and leave.” Folks, Jesus has been telling us for weeks now, you must eat of my flesh and drink of my blood, for through that act you will have eternal life. I know that there are more than a few of us who would like his words to be a little less graphic. Because, in truth, that imagery does feel a little offensive and a lot uncomfortable.
And you know what?
Good.
You see, being a Christian means that if we’re doing it right, if we’re doing it like Jonathan Daniels, Harriet Tubman, MLK, Jr., Jimmy Carter, Michael Curry, Gene Robinson, The Philadelphia 11 and scores and scores of others, people aren’t going to like us. But by doing what our forebears have done, by risking our own comfort, our own security, sometimes even our own safety and our very life, we make the road straighter, the way smoother, the promised land more attainable for those who come after us.
The Bread of Life, Jesus Christ, offers us the nourishment and the strength to do this work but we, we must do it.
Not just talk about the work. Not just pray about the work. Not just nod when we hear about the work.
We must do the work
If you come to church and leave without feeling uneasy, uncomfortable and maybe even a little mad, then, frankly, I’m not doing my job too well.
If you come to church and commit to all that we believe and then go out into the world and don’t do some things that are difficult and worrisome and scary and risky then you aren’t doing your job very well.
The lesson of Don Harris, of Harriet Tubman, of Jonathan Daniels and of Jesus Christ himself is this--
Christianity is offensive.
It upsets the status quo.
It refuses to back down.
We have our marching orders, but frankly I don’t know that we take these orders as ours. Christianity is no spectator sport. It’s fine to admire the heroes of our faith like Jonathan Daniels, Harriet Tubman and John’s dad Don, but admiration never defeated darkness.
Admiration never defeated hate; admiration never fed the hungry or clothed the naked.
We’re on a journey, folks. Are you willing to keep going? Are you willing to make this work, the work of justice, a priority?
Are you willing to be unpopular, uncomfortable and despised?
If so, climb aboard, for everything is going to be ok, as long as we just keep going. Amen.
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