Greetings Favored One

Frank Capra's It's A Wonderful Life (1946)

I love Christmas movies. I know we aren’t in Christmas yet, but I can’t help but watch them at this time of year. I’m sure the Liturgical police will issue me a citation, but I have a hard time not getting ready for Christmas by viewing some of my favorites. My friends in college would laugh at me because I could never make it through Love Actually without crying. When my family first saw Elf we laughed so hard that I thought we would be kicked out of the theater. That movie along with Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer and It’s A Wonderful Life all seem to be on a similar theme of the protagonist figuring out who he is and what is his place in the world.

My family tends to watch another movie along this same line over the Holidays, although this year we watched it around Thanksgiving. Perhaps you’ve heard of it, Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban? Harry Potter is a wizard. Maybe you already knew that. Now some of the film adaptations of J.K. Rowling’s books are pure garbage, but this one, at least in my humble opinion, does the fantasy writing justice. Without fail though whenever I watch this movie I cannot help but weep uncontrollably, even worse than watching Love Actually. Yes, I’ll admit it. I cry big alligator tears watching a movie about a teen wizard. Let me explain.

Harry Potter attempts to save Sirius Black and himself from dementors

Throughout this film Harry Potter, a teenage, orphaned magic maker finds himself chased by dementors. Dementors make one feel as though one will never be cheerful at all every again. These death-like creatures suck the happiness right out their prey. Typically they are used to keep prisoners held within Azkaban, the maximum security containment facility for the most heinous criminal witches and wizards. Yet, they have been summoned to protect Hogwarts, Harry Potter’s school.

All happiness and life itself begins to leave Sirius Black

The scene that makes me cry the most happens two times. A criminal named Sirius Black has escaped from Azkaban supposedly to find and kill Harry. The dementors have been called to keep Harry safe, but the truth emerges that Sirius never committed a crime and he escaped to protect Harry, his godson. Dementors suck so much joy from Harry and Sirius, as they chase them through the Forbidden Forest that for a moment life appears to leave Sirius. All of a sudden, Harry sees the shape of a stag made out of pure light and joy and life charge through the crowd of dementors sending them in a hundred different directions. Now why on earth would I cry about this scene?

Harry passes out from all that has happened. When he awakes he believes that his father, who had been dead for over a decade, came back to save Sirius and him. Harry had discovered earlier in the movie that his father could cast this stag-producing spell, so he thinkis his father must have produced it in the forest.

A twist occurs in the story that causes Harry and his friend Hermione to go back in time to rectify some things. Wouldn’t that be nice this time of year? So we see the exact same scene from a different vantage point. Harry waits and waits and waits for his father to come, but he does not appear. Finally Harry realizes that it wasn’t his father, but he himself who must cast the spell. He must send a beam of happiness to cast out the life sucking dementors. Now you might think I’m strange for crying at this point in the movie, but it’s probably not for the reason you think. I cry when I see this scene not because Harry saves the day, but for some other reason.

Harry Potter's Stag Patronus

We are here at St. John’s Church a mere four days from Christmas Day. Perhaps you have checked off everything on your to-do list. Maybe everything this year turned out exactly as planned. Possibly all relationships in your life are as bright as they seem to be on the Christmas cards we send to friends and family. However; things might not be exactly the way you had hoped they would be at this time of year. Things are left undone. The list has not been completed. The budget has been abandoned. Family members are angry. At a time when everything is supposed to be “merry and briii-i-i-ight,” you may feel sad, stressed, or like you will never be cheerful at all ever again.

At the Rite I service just before we receive Communion we pray what sounds like a dreadful prayer, the Prayer of Humble Access. It begins, “We do not presume to come to this thy Table, O merciful Lord,” we begin and often take an untimely breath here, which makes it sound like we are miserable scum. Some theologians might even tell you as much. “We do not presume to come to this thy Table, O merciful Lord, trusting in our own righteousness, but in thy great mercy.” We cannot trust in our own righteousness, our own right relationship with God, but we can trust in God’s mercy. The prayer continues, “We are not worthy so much as to gather up the crumbs under thy table, but Thou art the same Lord whose property is always to have mercy.” In a season of the year when I myself can feel so gloomy and overwhelmed and over budget despite all the advertisements that I should feel differently this prayer helps me to gain my bearings. It’s not about me, it’s about mercy.

Harry Potter did not feel worthy. He kept waiting on someone else to come and save the day. He was unsure of trusting in who he was and the abilities that he was given. We can believe just as much today, and a poor young woman so long ago might have felt the exact same way.

The virgin’s name was Mary. According to someone much smarter than I am, “She is young in a world that values age; female in a world ruled by men; poor in a stratified economy. Furthermore, she has neither husband nor child to validate her existence” (Luke Timothy Johnson; Luke, 39). I grew up in a church that had Mary everywhere: in front of votive prayer candles, on church hangings, and even in a chapel dedicated to her. So it is hard for me to remember that Mary came from NOTHING! She was worthless according to society.

She is unworthy, just like we might feel unworthy. And yet, God chose her not just to prove a point, but to bring salvation into the world. She did not know what to say when Gabriel came to her. We may not know what to say or what to do when God comes to us. We may believe that sinking feeling within us that we are unworthy; however, the story of Mary bearing God into this world proves to each and every one of us that we are not worthless.

Mary responds to God after her confusion wears off saying, “Here am I, the servant of the Lord, let it be according to your word.” You, like Mary are chosen. You are chosen to bring God into this world. God’s Spirit dwells with you just like it overshadowed Mary. In this season when so loudly you hear that you are not worthy until you get everything accomplished on our list, everything wrapped under the tree, and every relationship just like on a Christmas card God is trying to tell you something else. “Greetings favored one! God has found favor with you, do not be afraid, for the Holy Spirit is with you and you are called to bring Christ into this world.” You are chosen. God has made you worthy. Now bear Christ into the world!

In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit. Amen.

Mercy and Thanksgiving

What will you be doing in twenty four hours? Will you be frantically running around addressing the dressing, tending to the turkey and popping the pies into the oven? Will you have your feet propped up watching a full slate of football games? Will you be cutting out coupons and searching out deals in preparation for Black Friday?

You may not know, but tomorrow is Thanksgiving. It is a day when we remember the fellowship shared between the European settlers and the Native Americans way back in 1621. They may have had a meal together to celebrate the first successful harvest, but it was primarily a day of prayer giving thanks for continued life and all the blessings of new life for the Pilgrims in America. To answer my own questions from earlier I will gather with my family to overeat, watch too much football, but also hopefully to remember that primarily it is a day of giving thanks to God.

Sometimes things get in the way of giving thanks, not just football and cooking and couponing, but other more significant roadblocks on the path to appreciation. A few years ago while gathered around the Thanksgiving dinner table I found myself upset about how ungrateful one of my family members was. He grumbled about not liking turkey. He complained about politics (who wants to talk politics with their family?). He moaned about everything. Exasperated by the wave of whining I thought, and nearly said under my breath, God thank you for not making me like this bitter man, I’m thankful, I do my part in my community, and I go to church unlike him.

As I look back on the moment I am quite embarrassed by my “prayer.” While negative family members do not stand out on my Black Friday shopping list, my own reaction to this person caught me off guard. It also sounds eerily similar to a story from Luke’s Gospel account.

Two men went up to the Temple to pray. One was a Pharisee (well respected, law abiding, and a righteous man). The other was a tax collector (despised, disregarding the law, and a no good thief). While in the Temple, the Pharisee prayed, “’God, I thank you that I am not like other people: thieves, rogues, adulterers, or even like this tax-collector. I fast twice a week; I give a tenth of all my income.’ But the tax-collector, standing far off, would not even look up to heaven, but was beating his breast and saying, ‘God, be merciful to me, a sinner!’”

It’s not hard to see with whom I identify in light of my Thanksgiving day breakdown a few years ago. I feel so often like a Pharisee, but never more so than on that day. It’s wonderful to be righteous and to follow the religious laws we have, and yet what God desires is for us to come back to him when we stray, not religious correctness, and not competitive righteousness. So what do we do with grumpy relatives and what can we hope for in mean old tax collectors? I’m glad you asked.

In today’s gospel lesson we hear of the lovable little character named Zacchaeus. Zacchaeus though was not so adored by the people in Jericho. He was a conniving toll collector who would take much more than required. This was a man of great wealth, but he was not of great stature. When Jesus came to Jericho something compelled Zacchaeus to run ahead of the crowd, so that he could get a good seat in the balcony of his day. Then unexpectedly Jesus moves the crowd towards the tree where Zacchaeus was perching.

Then Jesus did something so stunning that it made the crowd grumble. Jesus told Zacchaeus that he was coming to eat at the tax collectors home. Zacchaeus’ response stands out to this day as a glimpse of what repentance looks like in action. He said, “Look, half of my possessions, Lord, I will give to the poor; and if I have defrauded anyone of anything, I will pay back four times as much.” He admitted that what he was doing wrong and he set out to make amends even if that made him a poor man.

Jesus ended this scene saying that salvation had come to Zacchaeus’ home, “For the Son of Man came to seek out and to save the lost.” A merciful tax collector climbed a tree so that he could spot the Savior coming. He gave away not a tenth of his income like the Pharisee but half of his possessions, and used his money to pay back those he had wronged. Yet all of this was more than worth it for Zacchaeus, for salvation and forgiveness had come to him in the person of Jesus.

Tomorrow is Thanksgiving, a day when many of us will overeat, watch too much football, and maybe remember our Pilgrim predecessors. However, true thankfulness begins at the intersection of our contrite hearts and God’s mercy-giving grace. The Pharisee’s mistake stemmed not from his gratefulness, but from his belief that he was better than the “sinners.” Jesus came to seek out and save the lost, which includes us. He desires to bring salvation from our broken ways. May Zacchaeus the tax collector serve as our model for our Thanksgiving Day. Let us pray:

Almighty God have mercy upon us, mold our penitent hearts, as you shaped the life and witness of the contrite tax collector, and may your Spirit enliven us always to give humble thanks for the loving redemption of Jesus Christ, Our Lord. Amen.

Thank You Notes

My favorite Church Season is Advent primarily because I love preparing and anticipating the coming of Christ. I don’t know why this is because I am not a patient person. It probably has something to do with the building of energy that leads all the way up to Christmas Eve. Everyone gathered together with so much warmth, love, and all those presents still to be opened! If there was a holiday that I could not stand growing up it was the aftermath of Christmas partially because everything had already been opened, and also due to another nagging annoyance.

From the time I was old enough to write my mother urged me (read: made me) sit down with a list of all of the presents I had received and from whom I had received them. Then, she not so gently persuaded me (read: made me) write thank you notes to all the gift givers. I loathed this task to the point that I didn’t want as many presents, so that I did not have to write as many thank you notes.

For years and years I dragged my feet on this chore, which expanded from Christmas presents to any gift received from a friend, family member, or neighbor. I did not understand why I was supposed to sit down and write a thank you note. I had told them thanks already. Wasn’t that enough? Did the people receiving the messages of gratitude even notice them? The never said anything about the notes!

Recently a medical group published an essay entitled, “Boost Your Health with a Dose of Gratitude”  which found links between mille
nnia of philosophical/religious wisdom on gratitude and healthy living. In other words, grateful people live healthier, longer, and happier lives. Perhaps my mother knew this little secret and she was trying to teach me that being thankful leads to a better bill of health. Yet, more exists to this story and in our lives than heartlessly writing words down on a meaningless thank you card.

Jesus was heading to Jerusalem by way of Samaria, a place of ill repute according to his people. As he passed through the Samaritan land 10 lepers came to him. Leprosy as a disease of those days should not be understated in terms of its impact. Those who had it or were suspected of having it would have been sent away from their spouses, children, parents, and even the entire community in which they lived. For Jesus to happen upon 10 lepers would have meant that these lonely, exiled, deserted souls bound themselves together in a sort of “misery loves company” commune.

They beg Jesus to heal them. Immediately the request is granted by Jesus. The incarnate Christ asks them to head to the priest who would have been the person to verify that they had indeed been healed (remember this was before modern medicine, so the rabbi would have been the medical and spiritual consultant of the day). All of them scurry off overjoyed by the new life that lay ahead of them. They can return to their lives! Yet, one of them a Samaritan, a despised one, thinks to turn back toward Jesus. The one-time leper bows before the Christ and offers his most sincere appreciation.

Jesus wonders why the others did not return, but never revokes his gift of healing. Rather, he says something peculiar to the Samaritan. “Get up and go on your way; your faith has made you well.” In this moment the one who turns back to Jesus receives something beyond what the others obtained. This one no longer a leper accepts a further blessing, another healing, and a fuller life moving forward than those who asked and received what Jesus offered.

Faith, according to Jesus, intricately connects to giving thanks. To have faith is to give thanks to the one who gives us everything including our healing. If we never learn to have a grateful heart or we refuse to give thanks we may still be healed, but we will never truly find the depth of our faith in Christ. What my mother was attempting to do when I was a child was not enacting torturous task of politeness, but rather to teach me that giving thanks is a part of my life within a community with other children of God and when we begin with gratitude we find a depth to our faith not otherwise obtainable.

Today I wonder for what are you grateful? Who might you thank for it? And, how will you turn to God to thank God for your renewed life?

Keep Me Burning

You can find the audio for this sermon here, or by copying the following into your web browser: http://s3.amazonaws.com/dfc_attachments/public/documents/3199407/VN810273.MP3.

Close your eyes for a moment and imagine with me the most beautiful wedding you have ever witnessed. The church adorned with fragrant flowers, candles enlightening the space with such warmth, the groomsmen dressed to the nines, the groom anxiously waiting at the front of the church, the bridesmaids reflecting the bright radiance of young love, and if you listen closely you can almost hear the music of this special moment. [Foster plays a few notes of bridal entry music]

I truly appreciate Foster for helping me out with that one. You can obviously open your eyes now. In that time of thinking about the most beautiful wedding you’ve ever attended did the thought at all cross your mind of some mishap, misstep, or mistake in the ceremony? Probably not! Yet, every wedding I’ve ever attended had a moment in which something went wrong. These moments though seem to add some tenderness to the nuptials: The groomsmen almost forgetting their tuxedos. The bride’s hair falling down from the humidity. A rain shower forcing the reception into a cramped space. Or even the bridesmaids forgetting the oil for their lamps. Wait, what?

Jesus uses the tender moment of a wedding ceremony in today’s gospel to help us understand something about the Kingdom of Heaven. Yet, from our vantage point his message of what heaven is like comes off as harsh, scary, and hellacious. To better understand what Jesus means we need to know more about wedding customs of Jewish people two thousand years ago.

Just like today, marriages back then were fraught with emotion. Two families coming together to form a new family tends to expose the underlying tensions, strengths, and weaknesses of both the bride’s and the groom’s upbringings. Yet, unlike today, the ceremony would have begun at the home of the bride. As the bridegroom approached, the guests including the bridesmaids, would have lit torches, which we are reminded of in today’s ceremony when the bride and groom leave their reception accompanied by guests lighting sparklers. The festive occasion back then would continue with all the guests processing to the groom’s home where his parents would have been preparing a feast for the ages!

In today’s gospel lesson though something goes horribly wrong. The groom does not show up. Often the ceremony would have begun at sunset, but in this story dusk quickly fades to dark and the groom is nowhere to be found. Ha, you thought the best man forgetting the ring was bad, think about the groom being delayed for six hours. So instead of the festive occasion of heading towards the groom’s estate, the guests and the bridesmaids wait and wait and wait. Finally though they all feel drowsy and every one of them falls asleep.

“Look, here is the bridegroom,” someone shouts, “Come out to meet him!” To make it from the bride’s house to the groom’s house one would need a lantern at midnight, as there were no street lights or cell phones with flashlights built into them. To be prepared for such a situation would be wise certainly, but I am unsure if it would have been normal. It seems that these wise women would have been the girl scouts of their day, always being prepared.

So we know what happens next the foolish ones ask their wiser companions if they might borrow some oil, but the journey being long and requiring an abundance of fuel the wise ones say no. Desperately the foolish maids go seeking oil from a merchant. The likelihood of someone coming to the door at midnight for such a request seems more foolish than forgetting oil. In their hurrying around these women miss the procession and arrive once the doors to the party have long been shut. Even after knocking and crying out, “Lord, lord, open to us,” the opportunity has been lost. The master does not recognize them, saying, “Truly I tell you, I do not know you.” Keep awake therefore, for you know neither the hour nor the day.

We might have heard someone on the street corner yelling this last statement out, so that we might repent and turn away from our sinful ways. Many people believe the end of days, the rapture, will be scary. So they take keep awake to mean become paranoid, but interpreting Jesus’ parable in this way seems to miss the point and overlook the truth of Christ’s return.

The groom who represents the returning Christ comes late. Actually later than even any polite person could have been expected to wait, except those five wise women who packed the extra oil. We’ll come back to the oil in a minute. The foolish five ran off when they realized their sisters would not give them any oil. I wonder though why these fools did not just stay put. Even if they could not borrow oil, they could have borrowed the light of those who had the oil to keep on burning. Certainly the groom would have allowed them to enter if they were walking together arm in arm!

Still that is not how the story goes. The five fools go off in pursuit of oil to rekindle their lamps from some other source. Yet, I wonder if these women could have asked the groom for some oil to keep their fires lit. Again, this is not how the story goes.

We might hear keep awake and believe that we are to live a paranoid life looking for Jesus to pop out from behind every corner we walk around like a sort of holy jack-in-the-box. Yet, that is not what this parable indicates to us. The maids, all of them the foolish and the wise, fall asleep. The difference between them is preparing for the coming of the bridegroom, that and oil.

We need oil in our lamps to keep them burning. Give me oil in my lamp keep me burning, as the old song goes. We cannot get that oil, it seems, at the last minute from our fellow banquet-goers. However, I look around this church and I see oil everywhere I look. Not kerosene, nor something else flammable, not even olive or palm oil, but rather the oil of hope, the oil of peace, and the oil of love.

If you need oil for your lamp I believe that God has drenched us in it here at St. John’s. Whether it’s in practices of piety, prayer, study, outreach, spirituality, or some other Christian action this is a great place to fill up your lantern. Yet, no one can do it for you. Each of us must spend time daily replenishing our stores of oil.

So keep awake, or rather be aware of the light of Christ that shines within you. And take care so that you have enough oil to make it through the dark nights ahead, for we all have been invited to a heavenly banquet, but we know neither the hour, nor the day. Amen.

Canoes and Cursing and Christianity Outside the Box

Sermon audio from yesterday: here or (http://s3.amazonaws.com/dfc_attachments/public/documents/3199298/VN810271.MP3)

While I will never advise to break many rules, I also do not like those people who follow rules so precisely that they can’t help but open their big mouths when others make the slightest error. There is of course a saying that if you do not like a trait in someone else it is because you possess that same characteristic. We can’t stand it when someone loses their temper with us thinking how she or he needs to control emotions, then we turn around and blow up at someone else. Or there is the classic, “I don’t ever want to be like my mother,” which turns into “I cannot believe how I am just like her now.”

I don’t like those people who follow all the rules because I tend to be someone who follows all the rules. When I was a kid growing up at camp during the summer I knew every tradition, every rule, and every guideline. Sometimes my counselors would even turn to me to get a particularly misbehaving child to follow the rules once more. Even though I was only seven or eight years old I couldn’t stand it when someone broke a rule, like the time I went canoeing with a truly juvenile leader-in-training.

For some reason as the rule abiding child I was I decided on this day to ride in the “dry” canoe. Other boats might engage in some splashing and even “tumping” the canoe, but not me. I did not want to walk around all afternoon wearing a wet bathing suit. Thus, I rode in the dry boat.

Well, one childish older camper who was supposedly learning to be a leader decided that it would be funny to break the no splash rule and he began to soak me and my counselor with nasty creek water. Something in me snapped. I began cursing like a sailor telling this so and so that if he didn’t stop I was going to do something with the canoe paddle that would not be pleasant.

To this day I do not actually remember this happening. I don’t recall what I said. I have pieced this much together from others though that I was so very angry and I let him know it. I could not stand that someone had broken the rules and in the process gotten me soaking wet. Nevermind that my response was to break all sorts of camp rules with the language I used. This is a Christian camp I’m talking about, and I was not using charitable words toward my neighbor.

I was and still can be so much like the leader of the synagogue. Unable to see that there is life beyond the rules. By no means am I advocating for an anarchist, lawless society; however, I do believe that Jesus calls us to see beyond what is mainstream, normal, or within the box. Jesus brings healing into the world in ways that we may never understand. That healing may even make us uncomfortable or change how we see God.

God wants us to receive His healing power regardless of the day of the week. Yet, when we cling too closely to following all the rules we can miss the joy of splashing around in a canoe. Jesus’ grace abounds in this world transforming our lives. We can chide others and ourselves for being open to that healing or we can take part in a little holy rebellion.

Names Written In Heaven

Jesus has just turned his face towards Jerusalem in Luke’s Gospel account. He does not have much time left in his earthly ministry. Knowing this, he sends forth seventy followers, saying, “The harvest is plentiful, but the laborers are few.” Jesus’ suggested packing list consists of nothing but his blessing of peace and his instructions to ignore those whom they meet on the road. Instead he prompts his followers to focus on meeting people where they are, where they live. They are to extend peace and to heal the sick in their homes.

The instructions for following Jesus are radical. Go forth without a coat, extra clothes, or spare sandals. Take no supplies for the journey and instead rely upon Jesus. I am not good at this. When I travel I want supplies for every potential scenario I might encounter. Yet, Jesus requires that in lieu of a material crutch we rely instead on the kindness of others and upon his peaceful presence.
Today’s gospel reading reveals that the seventy have safety returned. Not only this, but they have succeeded. They have relied solely on the power of their Savior. As they return they excitedly proclaim what they have done, “Lord, in your name even the demons submit to us!” These followers have put their trust in God.

We too are travelers on a different journey, but still sent by Christ into the world to provide his healing and his peaceful presence to those whom we meet. Yet, in this context, this public service of healing and Eucharist, we come to Christ for refreshment, healing, and the spiritual food of Christ’s Body and Blood. As I hurry around preparing for this service I sometimes forget that this is a time not just for you to be refreshed, healed, and fed, but also for me to experience Christ’s peaceful presence in this place.

Over the weekend a seminary classmate and one of my best friends Clay Towles committed suicide. As I continue to experience the pain of this loss I swing from denial to guilt to rage and I land in heartbrokenness. I long for God’s healing to wash over me. I yearn for Christ’s compassion. I ache for the soul of my friend.

While I am certain that Christ comforts all of us who come to him, Jesus urges us to look beyond earthly healing to see the ultimate aim of our lives. “Nevertheless do not rejoice at this, that the spirits submit to you, rejoice that your names are written in heaven.” Christ writes our names in heaven as he remembers us who follow him.

Whenever we gather together we remember Christ, putting together the body of Christ. Yet when we gather as the Body of Christ we not only recall Jesus, but we also draw together all His followers across time and space: our loved ones who have died, the saints of ages past, the saints living on the farthest shores and the saints who have yet to come. My friend Clay loved the Eucharist. He was almost always in chapel. And I believe that he now is even closer to God’s banquet table. We may struggle to feel God’s healing in this moment or even in this lifetime, but Christ remembers us in heaven and asks that we too might remember him as we gather together around his table together with all past, present, and yet to come.

God's Multiplication

From left to right: Dean Cynthia Kittredge, Clay Towles, Seth Olson (me), James Franklin, Jared Houze, Michael Carriccino, CJ Meaders, and Jeremiah Griffin

Yesterday I had the distinct pleasure of substituting for one of the regulars at our Banks-Caddell Homework Helpers program. If you have not had an opportunity to volunteer in that ministry, I highly recommend it. For most of the hour and a half I worked with four boys who were doing their math homework.

I quickly remembered some aspects of elementary mathematics. My multiplication table easily popped back into my mind (thank you Mrs. Albritton), but I struggled to distinguish between the distributive property and the communicative property. Do not even ask me what chunking is, for I still do not understand that demonic art! Yet what struck me more than my inability to remember mathematics was the spirit of the boys with whom I worked.

They were chipper and happy with just a pinch of rebelliousness. As I worked through their math worksheets with them I could see through some of their mischief, as one child in particular attempted to trick me into doing all of his work for him. After I convinced him that he should do his own work we worked together on a question asking another way of writing 8x5. The answer was clearly 5+5+5+5+5+5+5+5, but when I asked how he would write out 8x5 the boy answered, “50,000! NO! 50 thousand, hundred!” Maybe he was happy to get his homework completed, or perhaps it was working with friends, or even it might have been an adult sitting with him, but this child’s shear positivity overcame both his horrendous math skills and his inability to choose one of the four choices on the page. While I corrected him, I could not help but feel that his positive energy was hinting at a larger truth about God.

Sometimes in our world we can believe that the answer to our problems is one of four multiple choice answers. We might believe that we only have a few possible solutions to our challenges:

A. Make more money
B. Buy more things
C. Go it alone
D. Ignore the problem altogether

Yet, what this child of God reminded me is that God’s ability to multiply our time, talent, and treasure, our gifts, our prayers, and our lives themselves cannot easily be understood. 5x8 might as well be 50 thousand, hundred when God is at work! However, life soon challenged my new understanding of God’s greatness.

When I arrived home last night I discovered that Clay Towles, one of my best friends from seminary, had tragically died. The good feelings from Banks-Caddell melted away and I began struggling with all of the questions swirling around in my mind: Why did this happen? What could I have done to prevent his death? How could the church let one of its leaders suffer all alone? Why did Clay not reach out to others?

I fought hard all night with these questions desperately and irrationally hoping that by answering them Clay would return. He sadly will not. Instead I am left in a numb, heartbroken, and enraged mess. Somewhere buried in the tomb alongside our Savior Jesus Christ rests every bit of my grief, guilt, pain, fear, doubt, shame, anger, and confusion in the face of Clay’s death. Clay too is buried within that tomb.I do not know when or how or where it will happen, but Christ will raise all that is buried with him. One day the tomb, Clay’s tomb, will be empty. One day all those who believe will be resurrected to new life. One day all that we give over to God will be transformed in the mystery of God’s love. This is how God multiplies our lives: the pain of the Cross and death is transformed into the joy of the Resurrection.

A Shift In Perspective

This sermon is based on Luke 7:18-35 from today's the Daily Office Lectionary.

I sometimes think about the absurdity of a Martian looking down from outer space observing our day-to-day lives here on earth. Among other things I think about how that Martian, let’s go ahead and call him Marvin, would think that dogs, and certain cats, are the most sophisticated and most advanced species on earth. Dogs lounge around all day long taking naps wherever they please. They are massaged and groomed. They are loved and cared for by their “owner,” maybe we should change that to “servant”? From the perspective of Marvin life for a dog is ideal. Yet, we who are down here on earth have a different perspective.

We know that dogs are often cooped up all day long. We know that they often do not have as much freedom as they would like. We understand that, at least from our point of view, we have more ability and privilege.

One’s perspective can make all the difference in the world. To the tax collector who was seen as an outcast, John the Baptist’s ministry offered the opportunity for rebirth. Evan talked about this last week at this service that tax collectors were the most despised persons who were hated everywhere they went. He likened them to child molesters of our day who cannot go anywhere without shame and ridicule. To the most rejected person any form of redemption can start to transform life itself. Imagine being completely rejected everywhere you go for years and years. No one loves you. No one will marry you. No children to comfort you. This was life for tax collectors and is life for many still today.

After torturous existence, finally someone offers not just a glimpse of hope but a promise of an opportunity to turn back to God to be counted as one of his own children. This was the perspective of the wretched tax collector and all those sinners who journeyed out into the wilderness to experience the cool, transforming waters of the Jordan River! What did they go out to see? A reed blown by the wind? OF COURSE NOT! They went to see a prophet who would call their lives back into order. Yet, this was not the perspective of those wearing the soft robes (Hey, this robe is pretty soft).

I consider myself somewhat of a Pharisee. It comes with the territory of being a priest. Soft robes were not seen in the wilderness, rather they were what the Pharisees would have worn within the Temple and what the Roman leaders would have worn while occupying Israel. The Pharisee’s perspective was different than that of the tax collector, as different as a Martian and our own perspective. They were so accustomed to being in the places of honor that they ignored anyone outside their well-dressed circle.

We can make a related mistake if we are not careful. Our worship, the liturgy that we so love, and the beautiful vessels and vestments that help us to remember God’s worthiness and ultimate place within our lives is to help us to remember. We use our religious practices to help us to come back together as the Body of Christ. The Pharisees mistakenly put religion in the place of God. They cared more about the soft robes than the call from the wilderness. If we are not careful we too can miss John’s call for us to prepare a way for Jesus. Jesus in turn puts at the center of our perspective our constant need to turn back to God.

We cannot rely upon our religion alone to save us. It will help us to shape our lives and it gives us a framework to remind us that we need God in our lives. Yet, what John the Baptist called everyone to do and what Jesus continues to whisper in our hearts tells us to turn around and come back to Our Father in Heaven. No matter what our perspective, tax collector or Pharisee, sinner or Saint, Earthling or Martian, we are all in need of repenting and receiving the healing power that awaits when we return to the embrace of God!

Is God a Dog person?

I am a dog person. It’s not that I don’t like cats, but having been highly allergic to them as a child I did not get to know them all that well. This was not for their lack of trying, of course. Cats somehow knew that I was not so fond of them, so they would instinctively come up to me just to make me sneeze.

Talking about the differences between cats and dogs makes me think of a song by a musician named Fran McKendree. Perhaps some of you have heard his music. He writes mostly very deep, theologically significant, yet stunningly simple lyrics. Although the song I’m thinking of has less to do with how we talk about God and more to do with cats and dogs.

Fran penned a song called “Excerpts from a Dog/Cat Diary.” During the dog portion he plays upbeat music and gives the thoughts of a dog, “8 o’clock breakfast… my favorite, 8:20 go outside… my favorite, saw a squirrel my favorite… 3 o’clock kids home… my favorite, rub my belly… my favorite…” Then when describing the same day in the life of the cat, “This morning I awoke from a dream of freely roaming the woods to realize that my captors still have me locked within this minimum security fortress. After seeing the dried disgust that they call ‘food’ I snuck outside to find real meat. To show my disapproval I brought the head of a chipmunk and laid it upon my captors’ bed.”

The difference between cats and dogs sometimes gets overplayed like in this song, but quite often we identify ourselves as a cat person or a dog person. Today though we celebrate the life of a man named Francis who showed compassion to all creatures that he met, and in turn allows us to see a deeper reality about God.

Francis was a man who lived in the 12th and 13th centuries. While he was born into the family of a wealthy merchant in Italy after an experience of sickness and service in the military he heard God’s voice calling him to “repair my house.” He sold his possessions, which made his family very angry, to pay for repairs to the dilapidated church.

Soon he was living with the local priest and serving the poorest of the poor by treating their diseases, providing them with food, and showing them love when others would not. As Francis grew in popularity followers began to come and immolate his ways. Soon stories began spreading about the miraculous ways he cared not just for other humans, but also for other animals.

Francis gave sermons to birds who sat and listened to him until he sent them away with a blessing. He had animals like fish and rabbits follow him until he made another brother send them away. The saint even changed the heart of a ravenous wolf, such that the creature no longer terrorized a village that had lost not only sheep but also people to the animal’s teeth. To this day when you go into many gardens, including our own McKimmon Garden here at St. John’s you will see St. Francis bidding the creatures to come and receive his blessing.

St. Francis was not a dog or a cat person. He welcomed all creatures to come and receive a blessing from him. In this way he emulated our Creator who made all things good and Jesus Christ who beckoned for all of creation to turn to him for restoration and unloading of burdens. Today we gather to celebrate the blessing that all of these creatures are to us and to remember our Creator, Redeemer, and Sustainer who continues to bless us and these pets through our relationship together. As we take part in this blessing of the animals let us remember that God is not a dog or cat person, but rather God is a lover of all creatures… God is a critter God who blesses these creatures and us through his sustaining love. Amen.

IF... Is A Dangerous Word, But An Important One

But if it dies, it bears much fruit.

IF is a dangerous word. It’s the type of word that can drive me crazy. If I get all my work finished then I will be happy. If I clean my apartment, then I can rest. If I get my sermon completed, then I do not have anything to worry about. The “ifs” of the world even keep me up at night. What if a storm crashes through Decatur? What if something happens to my niece or nephews? What if my beloved Kim stops loving me?

IF is a dangerous word. I find myself gripping tightly the false sense of safety all around me, so that I do not hear the “ifs” getting louder and louder. Pray more, believe harder, go on a run, or watch something on TV, so to take my mind off the chances of this world. The grain of my life seems so fragile and with all the “ifs” I wonder, what “if” my grain dies?

IF is not just a dangerous word though. If a single grain of wheat remains gripped tightly in my hand, like all the desires, hopes, and dreams that have no room to breathe or even be, then that single grain of wheat remains just that, a single grain of wheat. But if it dies, it bears much fruit. My knuckles jut out from my hand, they turn a pale shade of white, and what is held within my hand has no chance to survive if I keep holding on.

IF I release my grip and turn my hand over the seeds that I have been given fall out of my control and into the ground. I might be able to drop the seed on some good soil, surround it with good earth, and provide it with life-sustaining water, but only God can help it to grow. So much of life feels like gripping onto what we have earned, achieved, or been given. Prosperity, savings, and whatever state of health we have; children, friends, and the relationships we have formed; the Church, our Faith, and the spirituality that makes us whole; everything that we hold dear to us, everything that we hold onto as more precious than life itself has no chance of living if it remains hidden within the grip of our clutches.

But what happens if we let light shine upon our inmost desires? What will occur if I let my true self shine? I love my life, but am I not simply living safely behind the façade of tightly clinched fist?

Jesus invites us to throw down the seeds of our lives, not so that they will immediately be prosperous, nor so that we can reap the benefits of a quick return on investment, but instead so that our deepest desires may die. Death freaks me out. Failing scares me even more. To expose my dreams that typically remain tightly gripped makes my stomach churn just thinking about it.

Yet, to live our life in Christ is to give up on perfectly enacting our desires. To live in Christ is to die to what we think is best. To dwell with Christ means that we risk failure, humiliation, pain, suffering, misunderstanding, and death. For a single grain of wheat will remain just a grain of wheat, but if it dies it bears much fruit. Our deepest desires do not die just because, they die so that we might live life in Christ.

Loosen your grip, let go of your seeds that are your dreams, your hopes, your vision for your life. Those seeds will die in some way or another. Yet, when they die Jesus will resurrect them in ways that are too profound, too magnificent, too lovely for us to imagine. Let go and let God.

Forgiveness

Recently I heard a comedian talking about his relationship with his girlfriend. Like many romantic relationships some of the things that this young woman did got on the comedian’s nerves and vice versa. Those things that were sweet and cute and unique in the beginning somehow become neurotic, narcissistic, or nerve wracking down the road. Yet, this comedian would not immediately say something to his girlfriend about the annoying behavior. Instead he would wait. Then, when she came back from the bathroom saying, “Honey, you left the toilet seat up again,” he would launch into his savings of offenses… “Well, what about last week when you made me stop watching the game? Or the other day when you made me get off the phone with my bestfriend so that we could call your parents? Or on and on…”

Of course, I have never purposefully saved up a wrong done to me, so that I could hold it over someone else’s head (wink, wink). And, I am sure that you have never once withheld forgiveness to someone else. Living and forgiving in community have been the focal points of the last two Sunday’s gospel readings. Last week it was about pointing out the fault by yourself, with one or two others, and with the whole church if you have to do that to ensure that the one doing the harm knows their hurtful actions. Today, we heard Peter asking Jesus how many times do we have to forgive someone who sins against us? Seven times?

Now, at first Peter’s estimate might seem either a little high or a little low depending upon where you are sitting. There are some people I just get along with from the moment I meet them. It would take a pretty dramatic turn of events for them to need to seek my forgiveness seven times. We all also probably know someone that gets underneath our skin, and often that is the person that we also love the most. A recent post on the Episcopal Café’s website asked, “Want to take a crash course in forgiveness? Get married. Want to take a graduate degree in forgiveness? Have kids.”

Forgiveness is not just something that we do sometimes when we kneel down at church, this is a way of life that becomes more challenging the closer we come to other people within a community. When Peter throws out his question he is asking more though, than just should we forgive people seven times? The original language comes across in a more complicated fashion, as it says something like, “Should I forgive fully? Should I forgive others perfectly?” The way I might ask Jesus this question is “Should I forgive others always?” Jesus is not satisfied with the fullness of Peter’s forgiveness, instead he says, not seven times but seventy-seven times (or seven times seven times). For Jesus perfect forgiveness does not cut it, we must practice forgiveness beyond perfect forgiveness. But how? How can we possibly forgive fully?

Jesus tells a parable that seems very straight forward. We have a King who holds a servant’s debt that makes Bill Gate’s net worth look small. We have a servant, who is in way over his head. The servant begs for forgiveness, and the King actually listens. Instead of going to jail and being required to work off the debt, the King acts graciously forgiving the entire balance. Not good financial work, but the most generous offer. The servant turns around and tries to get money back from those who owe him, and when some other servants catch wind of it they report it to the King. The King who was abundantly gracious is now abundantly vengeful. Now, we are to take away from this that 1. The King is clearly God, 2. The Servant is clearly us, 3. God cancels away all our debts, 4. We are to forgive others, but what are we to do with the ending?

“Forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us.” We pray this as part of the Lord’ Prayer, from earlier in Matthew, every week during Holy Eucharist. In fact, this is the only thing I know of that is present in every single liturgy that we have as a church. The Lord’s Prayer is so important that we pray it every time we gather together. So we are to expect that God’s does not forgive those who practice forgiveness to others? Hold onto that question, while I tell you one more story.

“Two monks on their way to the monastery found an exceedingly beautiful woman at the riverbank. Like them, she wished to cross the river, but the water was too high. So one of the monks lifted her onto his back and carried her across.

“His fellow monk was thoroughly scandalized. For two hours he berated him on his negligence in keeping the rule: Had he forgotten he was a monk? How did he dare touch a woman? And worse, carry her across the river? What would people say? Had he not brought their holy religion into disrepute? And so on.

“The offending monk patiently listened to the never-ending sermon. Finally he broke in with ‘Brother, I dropped that woman at the river. Are you still carrying her?’”

We can scream at God and believe that God is the one that tortures us, but it is by not forgiving other’s debts that we torture ourselves. Our task as Christians is to follow Jesus in the practice of loving one another and the best way that we can do this is to forgive one another, not perfectly, but beyond perfectly. We will not always get forgiving others right, and when we do that we have to forgive ourselves. So forgive your brother and your sister, your father and your mother, your son and your daughter, your friend and your enemy, for it is in forgiving others that we ourselves participate in the forgiveness of our Savior Jesus Christ. Amen.

Don Henley, the Dentist's Office, and Forgiveness

The Perfect Don Henley Meme 

"The Boys of Summer" has a distinct place in my memory. Of course, at my age it is the Ataris' cover of Don Henley's classic song that resonates with building fires during my first summer as a staff member at Camp Winnataska and not the original. Still I can say without reservation that this anthem about love lasting more than a season stands atop my list of favorite Don Henley songs. Another song by the former Eagle though has an equally distinct memory attached to it.

For some strange reason when I hear "The Heart of the Matter" I feel like I am strapped into a dentist's chair with a hygienists' work keeping me from answering the endless questions that the cleaner of my teeth asks. The refrain of this 1989 soft rock song that only made it to number 23 on the Billboard Top 100 crashes its way into my head whenever I think of the word "forgiveness." Although we all probably have reason to practice forgiveness towards our dentist (who hasn't left with bleeding gums?) that is not why Henley's song comes to mind.

The refrain goes like this:
"I've been tryin' to get down to the Heart of the Matter
But my will gets weak
And my thoughts seem to scatter
But I think it's about forgiveness
Forgiveness
Even if, even if you don't love me anymore."

I think it's the repetitious "FORGIVENESS" sung by back up singers that has lodged its way into my memory. It's almost haunting. While this might seem funny, it's a bit distracting when I begin to prepare a sermon that focuses on forgiveness. I can only take so much dentist office rock! So as I begin preparing for this coming Sunday's message on Matthew 18:21-35 in which Peter asks how many times he should forgive his fellow church member I wonder how many times can I put up with "The Heart of the Matter" playing in my own head and I get frustrated with myself.

In the gospel text Peter ends his question about forgiving his neighbor wondering is seven times enough? If someone does something to harm me enough that I feel I must confront and forgive them seven times that seems like a superfluous amount of forgiving. This is an overabundance of forgiving right Jesus? NOPE! Jesus said to him, "Not seven times, but, I tell you, seventy-seven times." Then Jesus launches into a story about an unruly servant who is forgiven, but does not forgive.

I think this is where Don Henley might actually make a little sense when he is not reminding me of the dentist's drill. If Jesus urges us not to forgive seven times, but seventy-seven times then getting down to the heart of the matter is truly about forgiveness just as Henley suggests. Our entire life as followers of Christ comes down to this act of forgiving and reconciling with others. Whether we are the one that is harming another or the one being harmed we practice forgiveness because God forgives us, as the parable suggests. Communal life as Christians focuses upon being ready, willing, and eager to practice forgiveness with one another (even if, even if you don't love me anymore).

A Hidden Universe

Hidden Universe IMAX poster

A few weeks back my niece turned five years old. IT WAS AWESOME! To celebrate this amazing day I went with her and her dad (my brother-in-law) to the Space and Rocket Center over in Huntsville. We had a blast (haha) learning about rockets, going on rides, eating space ice cream, and exploring the wonders of space. At the end of our day there we watched an IMAX movie called Hidden Universe. I love IMAX movies. They are so huge, yet gazing up at the curved screen with the speakers booming and the stadium seating it feels like I am right in the middle of the action.

This particular documentary revealed some new technological breakthroughs in telescopes. At first, I thought this would be a tedious hour, but soon the images that these new telescopes captured ended up capturing my interest. Our eyes are amazing and help us to see stars when light pollution does not get in the way, but even with a high definition ocular telescopes we cannot see many parts of the universe. With the advent of new telescopes (primarily microwave) we are learning so much about what has been right in front of us our entire lives. There is a hidden universe made up of invisible matter, which shows how stars collapse, how the universe still expands, and even what our galaxy may one day look like. A hidden universe exists not just out in space though, but all around us too.

When I was younger I had a priest who was a great mentor. One day we sat down to talk about discernment and whether ordained ministry might be right for me. I told him that I loved being in community with other people and that was part of why I felt the call to the priesthood. He asked if I knew where community originated. Wanting to give a good answer I made up something about the early church. While he appreciated my attempt, his response was that God’s nature is communal. That from before time, before creation, before anything God was in relationship with God. As a 20 year old kid, my head was spinning and I could barely keep up with the rest of our conversation.

I still have a hard time understanding what my priest said about ultimate reality. My mind cannot make sense of this imperceptible data. Yet, I believe that like the hidden universe that we are now finding, God’s reality penetrates this created world in ways that we cannot always fully comprehend or understand.

In today’s Gospel Jesus says that Abraham rejoiced at Jesus’ coming, and he says, “Very truly, I tell you, before Abraham was, I am.” These kind of statements make my head spin. If someone told you that they had spoken with a long dead religious figure how would you respond? And yet, I believe that God’s reality does not always compute with our senses. Jesus’ presence permeates throughout the present moment, yet sometimes we can be so obtuse missing that he walks right beside us. Jesus was before time, he was the one through whom all things were made, he is part of that original community that is within I AM.

Later on in other meetings with my priest he asked me if I had ever felt the power of the saints during a moving service or a powerful moment. I thought he was a little bit off of his rocker at this point, but the more I thought about it the more I thought he was on to something. When my grandfather died I could feel his presence leaving before I knew medically he was dead. From time to time since his death I felt that same presence of my grandfather. Sometimes on Sunday mornings the collective beauty of St. John’s congregation singing makes me feel that we are not making a joyful noise alone. As I sit in silence early each morning when I am still I can hear a whisper of a voice calling me closer, deeper.

Just because we cannot see it does not mean that it is not real. The saints dwell all around us. God’s spark burns within us. I AM is the ultimate reality that we might not be able to perceive with our eyes, ears, nose, mouth, or skin. There is a hidden universe around and within each of us, will we stop to observe with our hearts and souls its wondrous existence or will we rely solely on our physical senses?

What Dwight Schrute Taught Me About God's Spirit

Rainn Wilson as Dwight Schrute

One of my favorite TV shows is The Office, which follows the happenings of a paper company in Scranton, Pennsylvania. While this is the premise of the program, the intrigue builds because of personality conflicts arising between ridiculous characters. Whether it is the complete ineptitude of the boss, the absurd love interests of several office employees, or the anger management issues of working in a dying industry, this show is not really about paper, but about the characters.

The most ridiculous of the ridiculous characters is a particularly quirky paper seller named Dwight Schrute, who runs a beet farm on the side. In one episode Dwight who often falls over himself trying to do good deeds actually acts heroically. He protects his long time office rival Jim Halpert from being beat up by another employee. Dwight springs into action unleashing pepper spray in the eyes of the would-be attacker. Jim proceeds to spend the rest of the episode trying to repay Dwight for his noble deed. Dwight though will not accept any payment for his action. For all his quirkiness Dwight believes that doing the right thing is done because it is the right thing, and not because he will receive a reward for it. Sometimes I can be like Jim in my relationship with God. Once I receive God’s graciousness, I attempt to pay God back by “being good,” “praying harder,” or giving more to charity.

In today’s lesson from the Acts of the Apostles, Peter and John went to Samaria once they heard that the people there received the word of God. The disciples journeyed to this land to pray for the Holy Spirit to come among the Samaritans to fully mark their baptism. During this mission a man named Simon observed the disciples’ work, and he offered them money in exchange for power. Simon essentially wanted to barter with God to receive the ability to pass on the Holy Spirit.

Peter responds quickly and firmly, “May your silver perish with you, because you thought you could obtain God's gift with money!” Peter tells Simon that he is missing the point. One cannot buy God’s gift with money. God’s love is not about an exchange of money, or praise, nor is it about power. God’s Spirit is a gift to us.

Peter and John did not go to Samaria so that they might make a few extra pieces of silver. We are not expected to do good things so that we will get paid for them, nor are we able to buy more spiritual gifts through some monetary system. We are freely given God’s gifts of the Spirit because our God is a God of Abundance not scarcity. We have no strings attached to God's gifts. We are not required to pay God back. We don’t have to give God a certain amount of praise. Instead, God invites us to turn our hearts over to God to allow for God’s Spirit to free us, to shape us into who God intends us to be, and to give us the gifts that God shares with us. God calls us to freely give to others, to do God's will because that is what we are called to do, and not to exchange money for spiritual gifts. For God is a God of overabundance!

Competing For Holiness

It’s that time of the year again. Can you smell the competitiveness in the air? Teams are gathering, game plans are being made, and leaders are coming up with motivational speeches. I imagine at this point you believe that I am talking about the SEC preparing for the start of another exciting college football season, but that’s not the competition to which I am referring. While August still stands as the start of the South’s favorite sport, this is also the time when churches begin battling for new members who are just getting back into the swing of things at the start of the school year.

Christians in the South love to get into it a little bit with our one another. We might be brothers and sisters in Christ, but we don’t have to withhold our snide comments about one another. Everyone loves a good joke about our Methodist friends or our Baptist neighbors. I am certainly not above this, as my favorite one is the following:
Me: Do you know why you have to take two Baptists fishing?
You: No, why?
Me: Because if you take just one he will drink all your beer!

Haha! We love joking the differences between the different mainline denominations. We enjoy saying that Presbyterians cannot possibly believe in Predestination. Or that Church of Christ folks are so strict with their beliefs. In general we just love drawing lines in the proverbial sand. Yet, when we start hear that some other church is growing fast, or that some other megachurch is “cherry picking” members from other churches, or that some pastor is claiming that only his denomination is getting into Heaven we tend not just to joke, but to outright criticize other denominations. We have a hard time letting go of competition.

We might believe that today’s gospel begins with a statement that supposedly supports spiritual competitiveness: the Pharisees heard that Jesus was baptizing more than Jesus. Jesus was outperforming John; the Messiah was beating the prophet; the Word of God was leading the Voice Crying in the Wilderness on the baptismal scoreboard. Yet, the gospel writer recorded this not so that we might boast about how Jesus was better than John, but rather this moment marked a transitional time for Jesus and his disciples. No longer were they avoiding the Pharisees’ attention, instead now the religious elite shifted their persecution upon Jesus and his followers.

As Jesus circumnavigates the Pharisees’ wrath, he finds himself tired and thirsty in Samaria. Here he converses with a woman at the well exemplifying that God wants to cross human-imposed boundaries, rather than continue to compete and struggle against one another. Jesus and the Samaritan woman exchange some witty remarks, and eventually end up wondering, “Where does God’s holiness reside?” The Samaritans claimed their holy place was on top of a mountain, the Jews believed their site of holiness was in Jerusalem. The two could have argued vehemently for who was right and where God was truly present in this world. Yet, Jesus comes not to settle arguments, but to show that He is the source of holiness.

We have a hard time in our polarized, black-or-white culture to even acknowledge that grey area exists. We want to cheer for our kids, our school, our team, our political party, our country, our church, our denomination, and our religion. We cannot easily see the spark of Christ that exists even within our supposed enemies. Yet, Jesus modeled having conversations, like this one with the Samaritan woman, across our made up divisions. Jesus urges us to understand that it is not about where holiness does or does not reside, but it is about having a relationship with him who comes to reconcile all of us to God. We can continue to compete over who is walking through our doors, whose worship is the best, who is winning church wars, or we can say together, Jesus, give us some of that living water, we all need a drink of that!

Are You Afraid of the Dark?

As a child I had a hard time watching Are You Afraid of the Dark? by myself

Almost every week as a pre-teen, I would beg my mom to watch SNICK, which was a set of TV shows that came on Nickelodeon on Saturday evenings. Almost every week without fail I would attempt to muster up the courage to watch the final show in the programming block, a scary series based on telling ghost stories around the campfire. Almost every week I would not even make it through the introductory credits of Are You Afraid of the Dark? without having to run get my sister or my mom to watch it with me. I do not completely blame this TV show, but growing up when I did made it hard to be a fan of darkness.

Maybe you are a little different, but most often darkness gets lumped into the same category as coercion, sin, and evil. If you are going to do dirty deeds they are best done in the dark. When you live a life of sin you live in the darkness. Those who are evil align themselves with the dark one. Apart from a few movies that portray a dark knight character who stands as the just, good, and valiant protagonist I have a hard time finding positive examples of darkness. Especially in Holy Scripture we tend to equate darkness with evil.

Take for example today's Gospel lesson from Morning Prayer. In John's "Transfiguration" story, Jesus tells the crowds that he will be with them only a little longer before he is lifted up. Wondering how Jesus' description fits in with their understanding of the Messiah they ask a question, "Who is this Son of Man?" The Son of Man's response sounds very anti-darkness, "The light is with you for a little longer. Walk while you have the light, so that the darkness may not overtake you. If you walk in the darkness, you do not know where you are going. While you have the light, believe in the light, so that you may become children of light." Reading this passage with our light colored goggles makes it appear as though Jesus would have nothing to do with the dark.

I recently finished reading Barbara Brown Taylor's Learning to Walk in the Dark (Go buy it or check it out, as it is well worth the read!). In it Taylor describes her journey of "endarkenment" or learning to walk in the dark. She describes her strained relationship with the solar-focused version of Christianity with which the Church so often blinds newcomers and current members. After reading her journey into the dark, I found myself wondering about Scripture like this passage from John a little differently.

Christ Jesus is the light of the world, of that I am convinced. So that light is good and necessary for us to see and live our lives as followers of Christ. Yet, walking in the dark and not knowing where we are going only sounds like a bad thing. If you have ever had the pleasure of going on a night hike, or preferably a night run, you may know that it is not as bad or scary as Are You Afraid of the Dark? had me convinced the dark was as a child. 

In the dark, whether the actual night kind of darkness, or another type of darkness (spiritual, emotional, psychological, etc.) we use different types of senses. I tend to rely more on my senses of touch, smell, and hearing much more than during day time runs. In the darkness I am not so concerned with how I look or how I appear to others. Instead, I am allowed time to focus on my interior journey with God. What I sometimes notice in those dark moments is that the light I do have within me and within those that I have the privilege with which to walk is bright enough. 

We may not always have the full solar power of Christ blinding a path that appears washed out in the noontime sun, and this is just fine by me. Walking in the dark does not come naturally to us human beings. We do not have all the right sensors in our eyes. Yet, walking in the dark allows other senses to awaken, and this allows us to see the light burning within other children of the light. Do not worry about being afraid of the dark, but instead come see how beautiful God shines in the darkness. 

The Menu in the Kingdom of God

Leonardo DaVinci's "Last Supper"

What do you think the menu will be like in the Kingdom of God? Filet mignon, creamy garlic mashed potatoes, and a side salad full of fresh heirloom tomatoes? Homemade apple pie and vanilla ice cream for dessert? Perhaps in the Kingdom the meals are catered by Albany Bistro or Ruth Chris’ Steak House or preferably my favorite taco place in Austin, TX, Torchy’s Tacos!

We love talking about food in our culture. I, in particular, love talking about and learning about food. Where does it come from? How does it grow? Is it local? What nutrients are in it? How do I complement the flavor of squash? And so on and so on… My colleagues and friends know this about me and often will tease me when I start a new diet or swear off some product or another.

Our culture urges us to go too far with obsessing over how and what we eat. In the face of our obesity epidemic we swing on the pendulum in the other way. Think about all the different types of diets that have come into fashion recently: low-carb, low-fat, gluten-free, dairy-free, sugar-free, Atkins’, Paleo, weight-watchers, juice, local, organic, just to name a few. So hearing Paul’s words to the Romans today can poke a hole in the dieting balloon that I so often blow up in my own life.

Paul tells us, “Do not, for the sake of food, destroy the work of God.” Now we can take these words and run right into our complex societal issues around dieting shouting “See, I told you we don’t need to diet.” We can believe that Paul is telling us that we ought not to put food in the way of God’s work, and we would be right in doing this. And yet, there is more to what Paul is telling us about the good news of Christ Jesus and the building up of His Kingdom.

In Paul’s day issues around food were not about how food made one look, but it was instead about what food was clean and what food was unclean. Food that was unclean probably had historically caused some sort of problem within the Jewish community. Certain foods, most notably pig, might have been seen as a dirty food that would cause someone to get sick and potentially die. So that food was not seen as Kosher. Today Jewish perspectives on food are a bit different. Heck, there is even a Jewish-Scottish fusion restaurant in Los Angeles that offers bacon wrapped matzo balls.

In Paul’s day however, there was more than just unclean food. There was the communal perspective that certain food was not only dirty, but would also cause others to stumble. The Romans who heard Paul’s words were struggling in a multi-cultural city. They were Jewish-Christians who were living amongst pagans. Many of whom would have practiced strange rituals dedicated to local gods eating particular foods that were associated with those acts.

Paul knew this, and was warning those in this community to be careful about what you eat. Sure all things that God makes are clean, but you don’t have to rub it in around your neighbor who is struggling to avoid certain “gateway foods.” We might laugh at this, but think about a contemporary example. If you have a friend who struggles with alcoholism or to whom alcohol is gateway drug, then you probably, if you are building up the Kingdom of God, are not going to serve alcohol around your friend.

We can struggle with what we eat and drink, we can wonder if this certain food will make us look or feel better, and our society will always push onto us new fads, new superfoods, and new diets, but Paul urges us to think about how the meals we eat build up our communities. How our table time might enhance, continue, or destroy the good work that God is doing with and among us. It is not about what food is clean, it is not about what food is gluten-free or Paleo, it is about building the Kingdom of God.

“For the kingdom of God is not food and drink but righteousness and peace and joy in the Holy Spirit.” What is on the menu in the Kingdom of God? Righteousness, peace, joy, and the love that we share when feasting with one another. Amen.

Wrestling with Parables

(This week's sermon is based on Genesis 28:10-19 and Matthew 13:24-30,36-43.)

In 11th grade math class, Algebra II, we received a new text book a few weeks into the school year. Mrs. Stevens, a young, energetic, and engaged Algebra teacher quickly learned that these text books made a big impact on her students’ homework grades. Overnight almost everyone was making near perfect scores. There was however a slight problem.

All of these paragon problem sets had no work out beside the answers. The sheets were clean except for the correct responses. Pretty quickly Mrs. Stevens asked us in class to give her one of our text books. She thumbed to the back of the hardcover, as the class sat breathlessly and anxiously watching.

“Of course,” she said almost under her breath, “the answers are in the back of your book.” Then turning to us, “Why didn’t any of you point that out?” Before anyone could respond to her question, she knew the answer. Her class wanted to get the right answer in whatever way we could. We did not care about doing the work, we were not interested in learning to solve algebraic equations, we just wanted to skip ahead and get the right answer.

This is the challenge that we face when we begin to read parables like the one from today’s gospel reading. We have the difficult word problem right in front of us, but all we want to do is skip ahead to the end. We want the correct answer without having to do the work. We want to know who is the sower, who are the servants, who are the weeds, and who is the wheat.

We can quickly thumb ahead in Matthew’s gospel account to read the answer key: the sower is the Son of Man, the field is the world, the good seed/the wheat are the children of the kingdom, the weeds are the children of the evil one, and the enemy is in fact the devil, the harvest is the end of the age, and the reapers are the angels. Yet, in jumping ahead to hear what Jesus says to his disciples about this parable we miss the all-important middle step…doing the work.

Parables, like challenging math problems, require us to do work. I am not suggesting that we have to do work to get into heaven, this is after all the Protestant Episcopal Church of America, and we certainly believe that Christ Jesus’ redeeming work on the cross and his all-encompassing grace is the only thing that brings us into right relationship with God and into the Kingdom. No, the work I am referring to is interior work, work that opens us up to God’s calling, work that reveals our true selves in light of Christ. If we skip the middle step in these parables we miss this work.

Put another way, the moment we believe we know the meaning of a parable is the moment when it slips between our fingers, like squeezing Jell-O. Jesus’ answers at the end of today’s gospel give us a false confidence that we know what Jesus means in this parable. Now, it’s one thing to think I know what a parable is challenging me to do, but the trouble comes when I think that I know exactly what the parable is telling you to do also. It’s one thing to think we know what the parable means to us, but when we begin telling others what to do in light of this one text we wade into dangerous waters. We no longer listen to how God challenges us individually, and instead we have hijacked the gospel for our own ends.

So what do we do? Ignore the parables? Avoid them at all costs? Not engage these stories from Jesus? We might do better to be like the main character from today’s reading from Genesis.

Not too long after Jacob had his vision of the ladder, he spent an entire night wrestling with God or a messenger from God. At the end of this fight Jacob is left with a limp, a mark that reminds him of his struggle. He’s even given a new name, Israel, which means “He struggles with God.” This is how we can approach the parables, as wrestlers ready to engage, not as math students seeking easy solutions. So what happens when we wrestle with this parable?

What we hear when we listen is not practical farming advice. Like Evan said last week, Jesus would have been a terrible farmer. The weed in this parable, probably the bearded darnel weed, may look like wheat to the untrained eye, but to an experienced farmer the differences are easily seen. So if the weed could be detected by the servants, why not pluck it up? Jesus tells us about life in the Kingdom of Heaven, the Kingdom of God, not about how to keep a good garden.

In the Kingdom there are both weeds and wheat. They grow together. They aren’t separated. Good exists. Evil exists. We can look around and see someone who has all the right answers to the questions of life. Somehow this person got the right solutions in the back of the book of life. We can be so certain that they are wheat. We can see another who seems set on doing ill. We can, like the servants, be so sure that we know which the weed is, and which the wheat is. Yet, the Master urges us to wait.

The parable of the evil sower pushes us to think beyond practical farming practices into wondering not only how we define evil and good, but also how we live together as wheat and weed. We want so often to pluck out the evil ones, separate them from us, lock them away, so that they do not effect the good wheat. Yet, God lets the evil grow among the good. Why?
To test us? To make us angry? Because the devil put them there? I do not know why. What I do know is that our work is not to judge, not to fully comprehend the complexity of this parable, but to wrestle all the same with the Master.

We may want a simple answer to this parable. We might even think that we can skip ahead and find the key to unlocking this story, but that’s the thing about parables, right when we think we understand them they slip through our grasp. So do not skip ahead. Don’t rush to the back of the book. Don’t seek the easy answer. Instead wrestle with God and you like Jacob will be changed forever.

Pulling Weeds

As a teenager, I never liked pulling weeds in my mother's vegetable garden. I would mow the lawn, edge the spots that the mower missed, and haul limbs or branches to the trash collection area, but kneeling down to pluck up pesky plants... NO, THANKS! Certainly now I feel a bit differently, I enjoy the task of watering, WEEDING, and picking the community garden at St. John's. However, even as I have grown to enjoy this menial work; this coming Sunday's gospel lesson would have been so helpful as an adolescent.

Jesus' parable of the evil sower and its explanation (Matthew 13:24-30, 36-43) describes the Kingdom of Heaven as a place where the evil one plants nutrient sucking weeds right next to the good wheat, and instead of getting rid of the weeds immediately the master tells his servants to let the weeds grow. Why did I not use this great story to get out of weeding as a teenager? It is right here in the text, "Let both of them grow until the harvest." That was my ticket out of all the hard work.

Yet, this parable truthfully does not primarily function as a way to shirk responsibility in our backyards, rather like most (if not all of his) parables Jesus challenges us to see a glimpse of the Kingdom of Heaven within a simple story. I often find myself looking for my place in the Kingdom. Maybe you do this as well. How can we not put ourselves in there? Yet, as we insert ourselves as is into this story or last week's Parable of the Sower we believe that we understand the parable, or worse we make the parable about ourselves (and not having to pick weeds).

As Steve Pankey recently stated in his blog "As soon as one thinks they’ve grasped the meaning of a parable, they’ve lost it." We can believe that the meaning of a parable is all about us and how great we are, what good soil we are, or what great wheat we have become. Jesus though uses these many images (shepherds, farmers, a woman searching for her coin, two brothers and a father, a mustard seed, and on and on) to describe as many different vantage points within the Kingdom of Heaven, the Kingdom of God, for us, so that we might just catch a glimpse of how life can be with God.

So often, I want to find my place in the parable so that I do not have to change my life. Just about every time I read a story about Jesus I try to make it about me and my life. While this is human nature to a certain extent, Jesus tells these simple stories not to build up our egos, not to make us feel good about who we are, not to hand us a worthless participation trophy, but to plant a good seed within us. Only Christ's goodness places this within us, but we are not incapable of messing with the seed's growth. We can ignore the hard work of looking inside and seeing how Christ would grow us through these stories, we can place ourselves in the story as is and cheapen the power of the parables, or God's Word can convict us to be transformed by the healing love of Christ. I say, let it grow.

Escaping From Hell With A Chicken Wing!

“How can you escape being sentenced to hell?” Jesus asks in Matthew 23.

Trigonometry and advanced math in high school or college always eluded me. I could feel the breeze as this kind of higher mathematical thinking zoomed over my head. Now I can safely say that it has been 10 years since I last took this type of math course. Geometry, I am afraid, also created an irrational fear in me that I believe stems from being made fun of by all the 9th graders when I tried to take advanced Geometry as a 10th grader. Math was not my favorite subject in school, or at least these genres of math.

Now algebra that is fun! Give me a variable within an equation and I will happily solve for it. Balancing an equation on both sides and figuring out what the variable equals is so satisfying that even though it was not required when I took my GRE to get into seminary I still did these math problems for the fun of it. I might be alone in this type of mathematical bliss, but I certainly enjoy balancing things out. It just feels fulfilling. I like the feeling of getting things the same on both sides of the equal sign. Algebra is not the only area of life where I do this either.

When I make a mistake, I often will search out ways to rectify what I did wrong. If I lose my temper, I will go out of my way being nice for a while. If I eat too much, I will fast for a time. If I feel I am being lazy, I will work extra hard for a spell. In this way, I attempt to counteract all my sinful ways by doing good deeds. I try to balance out the “good” and the “bad” on the opposing sides of the scale of life. I work as hard as I can to avoid my sentencing to hell.

Yet, there is no way for me to completely balance things out. Sure, I am made good. I am made in God’s image, but try as I might I will never be able to fully avoid falling into sin. What is worse, I being a religious man, much like the Pharisees, can appear to be just as hypocritical as this brood of vipers. “Here walk this Christian path,” I might say, but all the while I am slipping off of the way. How can I escape being sentenced to hell? I can’t!

I can’t escape being sentenced to hell. There is absolutely nothing I can do to redeem myself from the ways of sin and death that mark the way I live and we live our lives. So what do we do? How can we escape being sentenced to hell? Where do we turn if all our works get us nowhere but a dead end?

Jesus says, "Jerusalem, Jerusalem, the city that kills the prophets and stones those who are sent to it! How often have I desired to gather your children together as a hen gathers her brood under her wings, and you were not willing!” He might as well be saying, “Decatur, Decatur, the city that ignores the Good News given to you, following your own will, ignoring my prophets, forgetting the poor among you! How often have I desired to gather you together as a hen gathers her brood under her wings, but you aren’t willing!”

This is one of the few times that Scripture refers to God in a feminine form. Jesus is our loving mother hen. That might seem a bit strange, but what is stranger is that we often completely overlook Jesus' invitation to come under the wing, instead trying to correct our wrongs through our own effort. This invitation does not mean that we go out and do all sorts of sins because we know that God will forgive us (even though God will). This invitation is to come underneath the shield that is Jesus’ wing where we are free from the sin that clings to us, where we are free from the balancing act of life, where we escape hell, and where we are transformed.

Chicks cannot make it on their own. I can still remember in elementary school seeing a chick in an incubator struggling to survive. We cannot make it on our own. Christ invites us under his wing, so that we can grow up in his stature. Jesus bids us not to try to balance out our lives through our own salvation algebra, but to come underneath the shadow of his wing. For it is truly under Christ's wing that we receive redemption from hell, safety from this life's storms, and transformation into Jesus' likeness. Who knew that God would get us out of hell with a chicken wing?!!

Changing the Rules

Sermon on Matthew 11:16-19, 25-30 delivered on July 6, 2014 for audio click here.

Defensiveness and the Cornerstone

“When the chief priests and the Pharisees heard his parables, they realized that he was speaking about them.”  Matthew 21:45 (read Matthew 21:33-46)

I do not have a problem when I hear someone speaking some critical message. Just so long as it is kept as an academic exercise or something I am meant to conceptualize, I am fine to hear some good ol’ fashioned tongue-lashing. Yet, as soon as I recognize that someone is speaking directly about me, that is when I bristle up like a porcupine.

The Pharisees in today’s lesson from Matthew are just like me (and most religious folks today). We love to hear a good story, but when it begins to point the finger at us we get defensive. We may very well know that we have a problem. You may know that we have a problem. Jesus certainly knows when we have a problem. Still as long as we can pretend that we are the only ones that recognize it we are fine. It is like an ostrich putting its head in the ground. To personalize this practice: "If I keep my head down here maybe my problems will disappear."

Jesus though urges the religious people of his day, and us now, to recognize that we play a part in blocking the work that God wants to do with us in the world. Sure we in the church can point to those who do not believe in God, those who only come around every once in a while, the spiritual/not religious crowd, or even to those in other traditions. We can say that it is their fault that the God's servants are mistreated and the Son is beaten and killed, but Jesus is talking to us, even if it is hard for us to hear. We all can struggle with denying that we have a problem.

When I was on a three week geology trip out West I had to spend virtually every minute with other people. My fellow students got to see all sides of me: good, bad, and ugly. Towards the end of the trip, I heard one woman whom I had been around the entire time say to another man (even as she was looking at and speaking towards me), “I am so happy that you are such a mature gentleman, unlike some others on our van.” I knew the implication. She didn’t want to speak directly to me, but she wanted me to know that I was not acting in the right way.

I had a hard time hearing those words, just like we have a hard time hearing Jesus’ words. We might not kill or harm God's people in physical ways, but how are we respecting the dignity of others? How are we caring for the least among us? How are we treating the lowly messengers of God? We cannot and do not get it all right! Yet, there is good news in this. There is good news in us being wrong. There is good news in us being broken. It is okay to be broken. For when we are broken on the cornerstone that is Christ we can be rebuilt.

Jesus urges us to be smashed, so that we can with God rebuild our lives. Christ wants to construct our lives with the brick, mortar, and elbow grease that are love, peace, and joy. Jesus wants to be our firm foundation, not just a part of our lives. With his presence we can restructure our brokenness. When we hear criticism we can choose to be defensive like the Pharisees, we can pretend it does not exist, or we can allow others to speak Truth into where we must be broken and rebuilt on the sure foundation that is Christ.