The Kingdom of Heaven is a place where equality is and always will be. There are no barriers due to class, color or gender. All are loved and respected. Friends, do you believe that such a kingdom is within our reach, or is here and now?
I believe that it is within our grasp, and we have the means to make it tangible and real. We don’t have the extreme class divisions like those in the first century – oh, we have divisions aplenty, and they are visible, but today we have hope and opportunities to change our conditions. Unlike the poor today, Lazarus would not have been allowed to rise above his class even if he had been given purple cloth to wear instead of sores, or have a medical plan that offered antibiotics instead of a dog to wash his wounds. Nor would he have had a chance at a lottery for a bed in a local shelter rather than sleeping outside the Rich Man’s gate, or counselors to help teach new job skills..
The message we have this morning is a continuation of the themes we’ve heard over the past few weeks – coveting and hoarding wealth is not the way to earn points with God. God loves you, but don’t think for a minute God likes how you’re living large. Extreme wealth and extreme poverty are evident in society, but the wealth and richness of Christ’s good news are the treasures we should hold on to, as well as sharing what we have. As we have heard, “what is prized by human beings is an abomination in the sight of God.”
Now we all need money – it gives us the necessities of food, shelter, clothing, livelihood. Poverty can destroy one’s soul. But if we have the Gospel to live by, and we have the love of God through Christ, we have the foundation for the life that is true life, don’t you think? A bit simplistic, but Jesus asks us, and we are reminded every time we come to his table, that love is paramount, that we love one another as he loves us. Nothing simple in that message.
Two of the baptismal charges are that we seek and serve Christ in all persons, loving our neighbors as ourselves and to strive for justice and peace among all people and respect the dignity of every human being. The Rich Man didn’t have these, but he did have the words of Moses and the prophets to live by. Had he used his resources wisely for the benefit of the community, had he honored an obligation expected of him to the poor and oppressed, his end would have been different. The Rich Man did not grasp that his lack of compassion toward Lazarus was against the will of God. The tables turned on him. Lazarus did not earn his place in the hereafter, but received compensation for the misfortune and misery that was his earthly life and were beyond his control. We know what his life was, and we can guess what his needs were: clothing, shelter, food, medicine, companionship, what we know as basic necessities, and yet, they were denied him.
The Rich Man had needs too – he needed to serve his brother Lazarus, to experience a life that was a true, real life and one that he might have shared with people like Lazarus. But, in failing to recognize that money is a root of all kinds of evil, and, in failing to recognize Lazarus as an equal, the Rich Man builds a chasm between them – and so he finds himself staring up at Lazarus with Abraham. And even then he wants to use Lazarus for a servant, to give him a drop of water on his tongue.
Jesus’ parable illustrates that there is something better for us and more real than those materialistic things we long for – the reality that we were not created in isolation, but to love and be loved; not to use one another, but to be partners in a world that has endless possibilities for equality and justice. We were created not to face one another across chasms that we make, but to build bridges.
This parable has immediacy. It is for all who have ears to listen. And as we listen, perhaps we wonder which character in the story fits us best.
Lazarus? We all have needs and longings.
The Rich Man? There is that acquisitive, materialistic tendency in our society that is almost hypnotic…
If we are anyone, I think, it would be the brothers. Still living, we have the benefit of hearing this parable and knowing history, and as its current audience, we can learn what is required of us.
There is hope in our lessons today.
For all the wealthy in the world who are like the Rich Man, there are people who take their wealth and invest it in projects that may turn out to be the earthen jars containing deeds to life for millions of people. Not too long ago, I rallied parishiones to combine our wealth and gave over seven thousand dollars to Episcopal Relief and Development’s “Gifts for Life” to benefit emerging communities throughout the world. We’ve also given generously in time, talent and currency to help our own community in Berkeley.
We have the hope that is the Word, the prophets, we have God in Christ.
All of us have a Lazarus outside our gates; someone who presents an opportunity for us to live up to our baptismal promises. How we respond will decide our lives here and in the hereafter. The choice is up to us; we can build bridges across class divisions or create chasms to keep us apart. We can choose to offer our love now and not wait for the after life.
The Kingdom of Heaven is here and now; look around you. It is a place where we all have a part helping people at the gates, in the shelters, in hospitals and homes, in the workplace: some ‘do’ the work and some ‘lead,’ and there are some who go back and forth, leading over bridges, repairing them if they must – I like to call those people deacons. But let me tell you, deacons are not lone rangers or God’s commandos solving the world’s ills alone and standing up to injustice and inequality like a super hero – we cannot be a faith community of one – it is a community of many, a community where the poor in their common cloth may sit down at the table with the rich in their purple, where we all drink from the same cup and share a loaf of bread, where all are truly welcome.
My friends, the Kingdom of Heaven is like that, and like this.
11 October, 2010
10 August, 2010
A Servant, But Not Servile...
Years ago, colleague at my secular job made a comment about my vocation that stuck, and comes back every now and then to remind me of who and what I am.
I was asked very innocently, but respectfully, when I explained that diakonos translated to 'servant' in Greek, someone who waited at tables. I went on to explain that the stole the deacon in the church wore, the Byzantine stole that is worn across the body and throw over the left shoulder and down the back could very well signify the towel Jesus wore when he washed the feet of his disciples on that last Thursday night, or it could be the draping of the cloak. Take a look at ancient illustrations of Jesus and paintings of him and you'll see what I mean - the drape of the cloak is similiar to our stoles. I could be wrong, but the comment always invites an interesting conversation.
The comment my friend made was, "Why do you want to be a servant? People walk all over servants, take advantage of them, they get lousy wages."
I replied that waiters made good tips, and that one could serve others and not be servile.
I've lived and grown into that model over the years.
I've had excellent role models - the deacons Stephen and Laurence are excellent examples. Stephen was the one of the first seven to be ordained by the early church and the ministry Christ gave to him is illustrated in the Book of Acts at Chapter 6, verse 1 and continuing into all of Chapter 7. Stephens preaches a powerful sermon, an apology of the infant church, and is stoned to death - the first post-resurrection 'martyr' recorded. Martyr in greek translates to 'witness,' and Stephen's powerful, eloquent, preaching, is a witness to his faith and the power of Jesus working in him. Over a hundred years later, another deacon, Laurence, one of the seven deacons of Rome who served the Pope, would also use his words as witness and received death in response. Laurence was asked by the prefect to Valerian to bring to him the treasures of the church in three days' time. Three days passed, and Laurence brought the poor, homeless and the sick before the prefect stating that they were the treasures of the church. His comment got him grilled, literally, and he reportedly said before he died, "Turn me over, for I am done on this side." Wit and compassion, conviction. Faith, power and fearless before one's detractors.
Not very servile traits.
One can serve and still hold one's convictions and be powerful, using the strength of Christ as one lives out the Gospel.
I try to every day.
Go in peace, dear one!
E+
I was asked very innocently, but respectfully, when I explained that diakonos translated to 'servant' in Greek, someone who waited at tables. I went on to explain that the stole the deacon in the church wore, the Byzantine stole that is worn across the body and throw over the left shoulder and down the back could very well signify the towel Jesus wore when he washed the feet of his disciples on that last Thursday night, or it could be the draping of the cloak. Take a look at ancient illustrations of Jesus and paintings of him and you'll see what I mean - the drape of the cloak is similiar to our stoles. I could be wrong, but the comment always invites an interesting conversation.
The comment my friend made was, "Why do you want to be a servant? People walk all over servants, take advantage of them, they get lousy wages."
I replied that waiters made good tips, and that one could serve others and not be servile.
I've lived and grown into that model over the years.
I've had excellent role models - the deacons Stephen and Laurence are excellent examples. Stephen was the one of the first seven to be ordained by the early church and the ministry Christ gave to him is illustrated in the Book of Acts at Chapter 6, verse 1 and continuing into all of Chapter 7. Stephens preaches a powerful sermon, an apology of the infant church, and is stoned to death - the first post-resurrection 'martyr' recorded. Martyr in greek translates to 'witness,' and Stephen's powerful, eloquent, preaching, is a witness to his faith and the power of Jesus working in him. Over a hundred years later, another deacon, Laurence, one of the seven deacons of Rome who served the Pope, would also use his words as witness and received death in response. Laurence was asked by the prefect to Valerian to bring to him the treasures of the church in three days' time. Three days passed, and Laurence brought the poor, homeless and the sick before the prefect stating that they were the treasures of the church. His comment got him grilled, literally, and he reportedly said before he died, "Turn me over, for I am done on this side." Wit and compassion, conviction. Faith, power and fearless before one's detractors.
Not very servile traits.
One can serve and still hold one's convictions and be powerful, using the strength of Christ as one lives out the Gospel.
I try to every day.
Go in peace, dear one!
E+
13 April, 2010
Previously, in the Good News....
It’s low Sunday, but spirits are high – Jesus is risen and we are glad indeed. And here we are again to hear more of this marvelous story. Here’s a recap:
“. . . and returning from the tomb, they told all this to the eleven and the all the rest. Now it was Mary Magdalene, Joanna, Mary, the mother of James, and the other women with them who told all this to the Apostles. But these words seemed to them an idle tale, and they did not believe them. . .”
No idle tale, is it? And now the story continues from last week’s Easter gospel; it doesn’t end with a shadow on the beach, or a close up of a shroud in a grave as Hollywood gives us; the news spreads, the imperial government and its Temple collaborators get nervous, the excitement and joy builds. The story continues in the Book of Acts, Paul’s letters, the anonymous writings of first century Christians and not-so-anonymous persons, and in the lives of everyone who has heard the Good News and proclaimed it. The story has an epilogue, and we are it.
We are those who have not seen and yet, have come to believe. Jesus’ blessing on those who come to faith without the necessity of sight or touch is not a chiding of Thomas for his lack of faith at that moment, but an affirmation of the generations who have relied on the Word and Thomas’ actions for their faith.
Thomas is called the Doubter. He was bold to have stood before his friends and fellow disciples to say, “Unless I see the mark of the nails in his hands, and put my finger in the mark of the nails and my hand in his side, I will not believe.” Where did this come from? Was it that Thomas still didn’t get it, or was it grief, fear or shame taking up space in his heart and mind? His teacher and leader had been executed as a criminal, after all; perhaps he didn’t want to believe for fear of what it meant – crucifixion. Or, it was grief at the loss of someone he loved taking hold and putting him into denial. Perhaps all of the above. We don’t know why Thomas wasn’t with the others when Jesus first appeared to them – there’s no clue – but it begs the imagination, doesn’t it? He might have been going out for food for the rest, but what if he engaged in the work Jesus called him to, in full sight of Jesus' persecutors. Imagine Thomas saying, "Yes, you killed him! But it doesn't kill the message or the meaning! Here I am, doing exactly what he was doing! What are you going to do about it?"
But he is called Doubting Thomas and that nickname has become an appellation for those of us who steadfastly refuse to believe or take at face value what we cannot see.
Haven’t we all at one time, questioned what we’ve been taught or told, or seen, especially when the hour and the day are dark and feel without promise? When those moments come, God puts into play or reveals something that turns one from being faithless to faithful, something like the Resurrection. Remember Paul’s words to the Hebrews: “now faith is a well-grounded assurance of that for which we hope, and a conviction of the reality of things which we do not see.”
Faith requires that we who have not seen, believe. Belief that the Kingdom is here and now, belief that God is always with us.
God came to us in the form and blessing of Jesus. So many prophets came before Jesus claiming to be the Christ but they slipped away into obscurity, suffered ignominious deaths like Jesus. What made him so different?
He was who he said he was. He did what he said he was going to do. The resurrection of Christ gave new life to humanity, to those who believed. What was promised by Jesus in his teaching was and is being lived out. The apostles, the first followers of Jesus, proclaimed the good news of the Kingdom - what Jesus promised in his teachings and ministry was made true. The followers of Jesus live out the new commandment - that they love one another as Jesus loved them, and in attending to the needs of one another, what Jesus commanded was made tangible and real.
The apostles became the leaders of the movement and strived to live as they were taught, showing that “The Kingdom of Heaven is like a great family of different people, living together, loving one another and all living in equality.” What Jesus demonstrated in his ministry was kept alive by the faith, belief and right action.
And this is where we come in.
We are now the disciples, called to keep the Good News in play, to keep the Word in our hearts and minds, and to keep it alive. How you and I do this depends on the gifts God has given each one of us, and how the Spirit moves within us.
We’re always looking for new ways to proclaim the Gospel, to tell the story, to keep it fresh and alive. Jesus walks with us every step of the way - sometimes we have to open our hearts and minds a bit wider to see him, get past our own wounds so that we can see his. No, we haven’t seen the five wounds except in artwork and in scripture, but we know they are real. Every time we say ‘peace be with you,’ Christ says it to us. And when I send people out at the end of the service to go in peace to love and serve the Lord, I mean it. Again, how you follow through is dependent on what you called to do.
It’s time for us to pick up our pens and continue the story. What will you write on the page? Perhaps it will be to say that you and I can see Jesus working in our lives and we are continually blessed by that grace - sight unseen.
Let’s show the world in thought, word and deed, that Christ is our Lord and our God – show the world that we believe.
“. . . and returning from the tomb, they told all this to the eleven and the all the rest. Now it was Mary Magdalene, Joanna, Mary, the mother of James, and the other women with them who told all this to the Apostles. But these words seemed to them an idle tale, and they did not believe them. . .”
No idle tale, is it? And now the story continues from last week’s Easter gospel; it doesn’t end with a shadow on the beach, or a close up of a shroud in a grave as Hollywood gives us; the news spreads, the imperial government and its Temple collaborators get nervous, the excitement and joy builds. The story continues in the Book of Acts, Paul’s letters, the anonymous writings of first century Christians and not-so-anonymous persons, and in the lives of everyone who has heard the Good News and proclaimed it. The story has an epilogue, and we are it.
We are those who have not seen and yet, have come to believe. Jesus’ blessing on those who come to faith without the necessity of sight or touch is not a chiding of Thomas for his lack of faith at that moment, but an affirmation of the generations who have relied on the Word and Thomas’ actions for their faith.
Thomas is called the Doubter. He was bold to have stood before his friends and fellow disciples to say, “Unless I see the mark of the nails in his hands, and put my finger in the mark of the nails and my hand in his side, I will not believe.” Where did this come from? Was it that Thomas still didn’t get it, or was it grief, fear or shame taking up space in his heart and mind? His teacher and leader had been executed as a criminal, after all; perhaps he didn’t want to believe for fear of what it meant – crucifixion. Or, it was grief at the loss of someone he loved taking hold and putting him into denial. Perhaps all of the above. We don’t know why Thomas wasn’t with the others when Jesus first appeared to them – there’s no clue – but it begs the imagination, doesn’t it? He might have been going out for food for the rest, but what if he engaged in the work Jesus called him to, in full sight of Jesus' persecutors. Imagine Thomas saying, "Yes, you killed him! But it doesn't kill the message or the meaning! Here I am, doing exactly what he was doing! What are you going to do about it?"
But he is called Doubting Thomas and that nickname has become an appellation for those of us who steadfastly refuse to believe or take at face value what we cannot see.
Haven’t we all at one time, questioned what we’ve been taught or told, or seen, especially when the hour and the day are dark and feel without promise? When those moments come, God puts into play or reveals something that turns one from being faithless to faithful, something like the Resurrection. Remember Paul’s words to the Hebrews: “now faith is a well-grounded assurance of that for which we hope, and a conviction of the reality of things which we do not see.”
Faith requires that we who have not seen, believe. Belief that the Kingdom is here and now, belief that God is always with us.
God came to us in the form and blessing of Jesus. So many prophets came before Jesus claiming to be the Christ but they slipped away into obscurity, suffered ignominious deaths like Jesus. What made him so different?
He was who he said he was. He did what he said he was going to do. The resurrection of Christ gave new life to humanity, to those who believed. What was promised by Jesus in his teaching was and is being lived out. The apostles, the first followers of Jesus, proclaimed the good news of the Kingdom - what Jesus promised in his teachings and ministry was made true. The followers of Jesus live out the new commandment - that they love one another as Jesus loved them, and in attending to the needs of one another, what Jesus commanded was made tangible and real.
The apostles became the leaders of the movement and strived to live as they were taught, showing that “The Kingdom of Heaven is like a great family of different people, living together, loving one another and all living in equality.” What Jesus demonstrated in his ministry was kept alive by the faith, belief and right action.
And this is where we come in.
We are now the disciples, called to keep the Good News in play, to keep the Word in our hearts and minds, and to keep it alive. How you and I do this depends on the gifts God has given each one of us, and how the Spirit moves within us.
We’re always looking for new ways to proclaim the Gospel, to tell the story, to keep it fresh and alive. Jesus walks with us every step of the way - sometimes we have to open our hearts and minds a bit wider to see him, get past our own wounds so that we can see his. No, we haven’t seen the five wounds except in artwork and in scripture, but we know they are real. Every time we say ‘peace be with you,’ Christ says it to us. And when I send people out at the end of the service to go in peace to love and serve the Lord, I mean it. Again, how you follow through is dependent on what you called to do.
It’s time for us to pick up our pens and continue the story. What will you write on the page? Perhaps it will be to say that you and I can see Jesus working in our lives and we are continually blessed by that grace - sight unseen.
Let’s show the world in thought, word and deed, that Christ is our Lord and our God – show the world that we believe.
14 March, 2010
Found!
Here we are at Joyful Sunday, Mothering Sunday, Refreshment Sunday, Rose Sunday – many names for a day whose readings give us much to rejoice about, especially our Gospel lesson: love, forgiveness and joy. The focus of the Gospel, however, is not a mother, but a father whose actions are contrary to his society’s traditions, as are the actions of his sons, and his response. Even the parable is revolutionary and disturbing for its time. Nor do I think the shock and awe of this story has worn off after so many centuries.
What would you do if you were sitting down to dinner with a few friends others thought unsavory or unsuitable - tax collectors, sinners, outcasts, to name a few - and the local authorities started to complain about your behavior, the people you associate with?
We know what Jesus would do – he would teach them, illustrate his actions, his message, and what the Kingdom of Heaven was all about, with a parable.
This story about the loving father taught the Pharisees and scribes that there was no either/or with God, nor with Jesus or the Good News he brought to us. Yet it was, and is still, difficult not to think in terms of black and white: good son or bad son, Pharisee or tax collector, saint or sinner. Fortunately, God doesn’t roll that way. In all of the lessons this morning, we hear how God works with, in and through us towards reconciliation and forgiveness, with love, and offers us new lives.
See what happens at the end of our story this morning.
A father responds with patience and love to both of his sons. He puts aside propriety and runs to greet his boy – patriarchs didn’t run in first century Judea; CEOs don’t run in the 21st century – Rather than wait at the house surrounded by family and servants, or with the Board of Directors in a conference room, and demand an explanation, and it darn well better be a pretty good explanation from the boy, the father welcomes his son home with an embrace. When his eldest son reacts negatively and with jealousy to the honor his brother receives, especially the party, and that fact that his brother is being treated as if he’s only been on a trip for the family business, the father goes out to him – again, patriarchs didn’t do that in first century Judea; do you think a CEO would go out to explain an interoffice memo to a line worker? – The father invites him to come in saying, “. . . you are always with me, and all that is mine is yours. But we had to celebrate and rejoice, because this brother of yours was dead and has come to life; he was lost and has been found.” He also gives freely – to the youngest, he first gives an inheritance, then a robe, a ring and a party. To the eldest, he gives all that he has. No questions asked. No hesitation, no conditions.
This is how God responds to us. This demonstrates love and a willingness to forgive behavior that was unacceptable, and that God is willing to do the same. God is the father in this parable.
What I like about the story and you may agree with me here – or not – is that we have no ending. There’s no “and they all sat down to a fine meal and made merry and lived happily ever after.” It is left to us to decide what happens next, to think about what we’ve just heard and apply it to our own situations and lives – and isn’t that a way of God’s working in us? I would like to think that after the eldest brother got over the resentment and anger, he took a moment to reflect on the blessings in his life, on his family, and that he came around and welcomed his brother back and the relationship between them, and their father, was restored. Doesn’t this remind you of Joseph and his brothers, or Jacob and Esau? Or that fight you had with a parent, sibling, your lover? Your friend? After you came around, the initial moments of nervous conversation and confession were rough to the point of pain, but when you said, “I’m sorry, forgive me,” or you both said it at once, didn’t you just want to go out and celebrate?
Although the emphasis here is on love and reconciliation, there’s no denying that each of the players in this story is lost in some way. Both sons are lost - the youngest son for his bad choices and behavior, the elder son for his self-righteousness and anger, his jealousy. The father is lost by his society’s standards: he’s weak, a bit of a pushover, and he takes action out of love for his sons, rather than his standing in the community and as a patriarch. God is at work here and moves him towards forgiveness.
With this parable, Jesus takes us beyond a commentary on sin and righteousness to give us a sense of what it truly means to be in relationship to others and to the Lord. Yes, he socializes with tax collectors and sinners, but how glad will God be when those same people amend their lives because they have heard Jesus’ words and believed, they who were once lost, are now found? The dutiful son and the disobedient son, the Pharisee and the Savior, all are worthy of God’s love. The Kingdom of Heaven is like that!
We are all lost in some way - give us a garden to live in and we will disobey the simple rules on the gate and be evicted, offer us a covenant we’ll manage to break it, find a way to get out of it. Provide us with a Messiah – you know the rest.
But we are found, and that is more than enough reason to be joyful on this Sunday and every day. We are found, and it is through the prodigious, boundless, grace of God and love and the Good News of Jesus. And the parable we have just heard is not simply one of the best and well-crafted of stories, it is an illustration of what it means to be redeemed.
What would you do if you were sitting down to dinner with a few friends others thought unsavory or unsuitable - tax collectors, sinners, outcasts, to name a few - and the local authorities started to complain about your behavior, the people you associate with?
We know what Jesus would do – he would teach them, illustrate his actions, his message, and what the Kingdom of Heaven was all about, with a parable.
This story about the loving father taught the Pharisees and scribes that there was no either/or with God, nor with Jesus or the Good News he brought to us. Yet it was, and is still, difficult not to think in terms of black and white: good son or bad son, Pharisee or tax collector, saint or sinner. Fortunately, God doesn’t roll that way. In all of the lessons this morning, we hear how God works with, in and through us towards reconciliation and forgiveness, with love, and offers us new lives.
See what happens at the end of our story this morning.
A father responds with patience and love to both of his sons. He puts aside propriety and runs to greet his boy – patriarchs didn’t run in first century Judea; CEOs don’t run in the 21st century – Rather than wait at the house surrounded by family and servants, or with the Board of Directors in a conference room, and demand an explanation, and it darn well better be a pretty good explanation from the boy, the father welcomes his son home with an embrace. When his eldest son reacts negatively and with jealousy to the honor his brother receives, especially the party, and that fact that his brother is being treated as if he’s only been on a trip for the family business, the father goes out to him – again, patriarchs didn’t do that in first century Judea; do you think a CEO would go out to explain an interoffice memo to a line worker? – The father invites him to come in saying, “. . . you are always with me, and all that is mine is yours. But we had to celebrate and rejoice, because this brother of yours was dead and has come to life; he was lost and has been found.” He also gives freely – to the youngest, he first gives an inheritance, then a robe, a ring and a party. To the eldest, he gives all that he has. No questions asked. No hesitation, no conditions.
This is how God responds to us. This demonstrates love and a willingness to forgive behavior that was unacceptable, and that God is willing to do the same. God is the father in this parable.
What I like about the story and you may agree with me here – or not – is that we have no ending. There’s no “and they all sat down to a fine meal and made merry and lived happily ever after.” It is left to us to decide what happens next, to think about what we’ve just heard and apply it to our own situations and lives – and isn’t that a way of God’s working in us? I would like to think that after the eldest brother got over the resentment and anger, he took a moment to reflect on the blessings in his life, on his family, and that he came around and welcomed his brother back and the relationship between them, and their father, was restored. Doesn’t this remind you of Joseph and his brothers, or Jacob and Esau? Or that fight you had with a parent, sibling, your lover? Your friend? After you came around, the initial moments of nervous conversation and confession were rough to the point of pain, but when you said, “I’m sorry, forgive me,” or you both said it at once, didn’t you just want to go out and celebrate?
Although the emphasis here is on love and reconciliation, there’s no denying that each of the players in this story is lost in some way. Both sons are lost - the youngest son for his bad choices and behavior, the elder son for his self-righteousness and anger, his jealousy. The father is lost by his society’s standards: he’s weak, a bit of a pushover, and he takes action out of love for his sons, rather than his standing in the community and as a patriarch. God is at work here and moves him towards forgiveness.
With this parable, Jesus takes us beyond a commentary on sin and righteousness to give us a sense of what it truly means to be in relationship to others and to the Lord. Yes, he socializes with tax collectors and sinners, but how glad will God be when those same people amend their lives because they have heard Jesus’ words and believed, they who were once lost, are now found? The dutiful son and the disobedient son, the Pharisee and the Savior, all are worthy of God’s love. The Kingdom of Heaven is like that!
We are all lost in some way - give us a garden to live in and we will disobey the simple rules on the gate and be evicted, offer us a covenant we’ll manage to break it, find a way to get out of it. Provide us with a Messiah – you know the rest.
But we are found, and that is more than enough reason to be joyful on this Sunday and every day. We are found, and it is through the prodigious, boundless, grace of God and love and the Good News of Jesus. And the parable we have just heard is not simply one of the best and well-crafted of stories, it is an illustration of what it means to be redeemed.
07 February, 2010
Here I am, Lord - now throw me one of those nets!
One of the few memories I have of my father is the morning he took me fishing. We sat on the end of the pier in Rodeo and he showed me how to bait the hook, cast the line – and wait. And wait. Oh, and wait some more. It was frustrating, just sitting there, though it was nice to watch the morning sun on the water, the barges coming in and out of the refinery wharf, the goats in the field across the road from the pier – I desperately wanted to keep those goats at a distance. So much preparation went into the adventure before we even left the apartment, that I thought surely we would come home with something to eat.
We did.
My father stopped by the market and brought home a can of tuna.
Fishing is hard work, an art form, and one needs a lot of patience and perseverance to succeed, and for the people of living around Lake Gennesaret, the location of this morning’s Gospel, it was their whole economy. A day coming up empty was discouraging to say the very least. We’ve just heard that it was here Jesus asks Simon to take him out in the boat so that he could teach the crowds gathering at the shore. After preaching, he asks Simon to go further out, into deeper water and drop the nets again. Simon knows Jesus – he came to Simon’s house and healed his Simon’s mother-in-law – Jesus can heal, can teach, preach, but can he fish? And yet Simon says, “Master, we have worked all night long but have caught nothing; yet, if you say so, I will let down the nets.”
Simon does what is asked of him, perhaps in the midst of doubt, for his experience is that the lake is empty. As always, when it is least expected, the Lord provides with abundance, and the catch pulled in begins to break the nets and a second boat is called for. Simon cries out, “Go away from me, Lord, for I am a sinful man!” This response is not so much a confession of guilt, or moral failing, but an expression of awe to be in God’s presence, and to witness the working of such power and to receive the grace offered without condition. Jesus reassures Simon, James and John not to fear, for they will be bringing in a different catch soon – men and women to new life, using as bait the good news of the Gospel in Christ.
The lessons we hear during Epiphany call us to focus on a new direction to ministry – they focus on the actions of those who hear and respond to God’s call, and this is illustrated in the Gospel and in the Hebrew scripture this morning. The lessons speak to the unwilling, ever-cautious, if not fearful, evangelist in all of us. Standing at the shore and listening to Jesus’ message is one thing, but climbing into that boat and throwing the nets overboard and expecting a catch is another. Doubt of our abilities, lack of self-assurance, stint our efforts. Maybe it’s the need to keep the faith to ourselves, or the fear that no one will hear us, or think we’re something we’re not, or just think we’re crazy. Sometimes, when we tell people we’re Christian, they take two steps backward and nod slowly. Or, it could be one simple thing - maybe we think we’re not up for the task or the challenge. We're flawed, intemperant at times, selfish, just not what what we think God wants in a servant, someone to proclaim the Good News.
Here’s where Isaiah and Simon are our instructors.
Isaiah assumed he would perish gazing on the Lord, and voiced a profound sense of his own unworthiness in the presence of the Lord, and as a sinner, he expected to die. Once he has the assurance of God’s grace, he jumps at the chance offered, answers the Lord’s call. “Here am I! Send me!” He is prepared to deliver a disturbing, dark message to the people of Israel - anything but Good News.
And then, there’s Simon.
Simon is a flawed hero – he is a failure more times than not. He tries, he swings and misses, he fails and tries again, and again. He doesn’t get it at first, and he bolts at the worst of times – but he comes back. He’s pretty brave. He doesn’t let his shortcomings block God’s work, or muddy the Good News with his own interpretation. Despite all these flaws, Jesus loves him so much that he entrusts the church to his care, changes his name from Simon to Cephas – the rock. The foundation.
Do you and I have that courage? Are we brave enough to try and fail repeatedly until we get it right? Remember how it felt to say, “Here I am, Lord!” when you heard the call? Remember the elation, and then the dread? Wondering if you could follow through?
Let’s think about the invitation Jesus extends.
For Peter, it was walking away from everything he knew and loved, and the certainty of death. For we Christians today, I believe it is laid out in the New Commandment, to love one another as Christ loves us, in his instruction to the disciples that whenever we act in compassion towards another, we do the same for Christ, and in the baptismal covenant, five questions after the affirmation of God and Christ: Will you continue in the apostles’ teaching and fellowship, in the breaking of bread, and in the prayers? Will you persevere in resisting evil, and, whenever you fall into sin, repent and return to the Lord? Will you proclaim by word and example the Good News of God in Christ? Will you seek and serve Christ in all persons, loving your neighbor as yourself? Will you strive for justice and peace among all people, and respect the dignity of every human being?
To each of these questions we are compelled to respond, “Yes, with your help, Lord! Here I am! Send me!” Easy enough to say, but sometimes a bit difficult to live into – no? Yes? But we are up for the challenge and equal to the task. We are asked to do something revolutionary for today’s society. We are asked to put God before all else, we are asked to love, we are asked to reach outside our comfort zones and what is safe, to make a lifelong commitment to love and service. Christians of all denominations are truly blessed with a wealth of gifts that address each of the five questions in the Baptismal covenant. It is a living and continuing proof that each of us, with our unique gifts, and by the grace of God, continue to say “Send me!” when the call comes, and go willingly when Christ says, “Come, put down the nets.”
We did.
My father stopped by the market and brought home a can of tuna.
Fishing is hard work, an art form, and one needs a lot of patience and perseverance to succeed, and for the people of living around Lake Gennesaret, the location of this morning’s Gospel, it was their whole economy. A day coming up empty was discouraging to say the very least. We’ve just heard that it was here Jesus asks Simon to take him out in the boat so that he could teach the crowds gathering at the shore. After preaching, he asks Simon to go further out, into deeper water and drop the nets again. Simon knows Jesus – he came to Simon’s house and healed his Simon’s mother-in-law – Jesus can heal, can teach, preach, but can he fish? And yet Simon says, “Master, we have worked all night long but have caught nothing; yet, if you say so, I will let down the nets.”
Simon does what is asked of him, perhaps in the midst of doubt, for his experience is that the lake is empty. As always, when it is least expected, the Lord provides with abundance, and the catch pulled in begins to break the nets and a second boat is called for. Simon cries out, “Go away from me, Lord, for I am a sinful man!” This response is not so much a confession of guilt, or moral failing, but an expression of awe to be in God’s presence, and to witness the working of such power and to receive the grace offered without condition. Jesus reassures Simon, James and John not to fear, for they will be bringing in a different catch soon – men and women to new life, using as bait the good news of the Gospel in Christ.
The lessons we hear during Epiphany call us to focus on a new direction to ministry – they focus on the actions of those who hear and respond to God’s call, and this is illustrated in the Gospel and in the Hebrew scripture this morning. The lessons speak to the unwilling, ever-cautious, if not fearful, evangelist in all of us. Standing at the shore and listening to Jesus’ message is one thing, but climbing into that boat and throwing the nets overboard and expecting a catch is another. Doubt of our abilities, lack of self-assurance, stint our efforts. Maybe it’s the need to keep the faith to ourselves, or the fear that no one will hear us, or think we’re something we’re not, or just think we’re crazy. Sometimes, when we tell people we’re Christian, they take two steps backward and nod slowly. Or, it could be one simple thing - maybe we think we’re not up for the task or the challenge. We're flawed, intemperant at times, selfish, just not what what we think God wants in a servant, someone to proclaim the Good News.
Here’s where Isaiah and Simon are our instructors.
Isaiah assumed he would perish gazing on the Lord, and voiced a profound sense of his own unworthiness in the presence of the Lord, and as a sinner, he expected to die. Once he has the assurance of God’s grace, he jumps at the chance offered, answers the Lord’s call. “Here am I! Send me!” He is prepared to deliver a disturbing, dark message to the people of Israel - anything but Good News.
And then, there’s Simon.
Simon is a flawed hero – he is a failure more times than not. He tries, he swings and misses, he fails and tries again, and again. He doesn’t get it at first, and he bolts at the worst of times – but he comes back. He’s pretty brave. He doesn’t let his shortcomings block God’s work, or muddy the Good News with his own interpretation. Despite all these flaws, Jesus loves him so much that he entrusts the church to his care, changes his name from Simon to Cephas – the rock. The foundation.
Do you and I have that courage? Are we brave enough to try and fail repeatedly until we get it right? Remember how it felt to say, “Here I am, Lord!” when you heard the call? Remember the elation, and then the dread? Wondering if you could follow through?
Let’s think about the invitation Jesus extends.
For Peter, it was walking away from everything he knew and loved, and the certainty of death. For we Christians today, I believe it is laid out in the New Commandment, to love one another as Christ loves us, in his instruction to the disciples that whenever we act in compassion towards another, we do the same for Christ, and in the baptismal covenant, five questions after the affirmation of God and Christ: Will you continue in the apostles’ teaching and fellowship, in the breaking of bread, and in the prayers? Will you persevere in resisting evil, and, whenever you fall into sin, repent and return to the Lord? Will you proclaim by word and example the Good News of God in Christ? Will you seek and serve Christ in all persons, loving your neighbor as yourself? Will you strive for justice and peace among all people, and respect the dignity of every human being?
To each of these questions we are compelled to respond, “Yes, with your help, Lord! Here I am! Send me!” Easy enough to say, but sometimes a bit difficult to live into – no? Yes? But we are up for the challenge and equal to the task. We are asked to do something revolutionary for today’s society. We are asked to put God before all else, we are asked to love, we are asked to reach outside our comfort zones and what is safe, to make a lifelong commitment to love and service. Christians of all denominations are truly blessed with a wealth of gifts that address each of the five questions in the Baptismal covenant. It is a living and continuing proof that each of us, with our unique gifts, and by the grace of God, continue to say “Send me!” when the call comes, and go willingly when Christ says, “Come, put down the nets.”
28 November, 2009
Giving Thanks for Mom - Don't Worry!
“Therefore I tell you, do not worry about your life, what you will eat or what you will drink, or about your body, what you will wear. Is not life more than food, and the body more than clothing?”
If my mother had heard me proclaim these words of Christ, she wouldn’t have said anything, but her actions would have spoken volumes. She would have been quiet on the ride home and once back in the kitchen, she’d still not say a word – but bang the spoon on the pot, shut the oven door a bit too forcefully, and just stare me down – I’d get what my high school sweetheart called, “la musa dura;” the hard look, and eventually she’d say in her deep, low voice, “Yeah right, already. What do you mean, ‘Don’t worry?’”
This is a woman who worried all of her thirty-nine years for good reason. She worried about where the money was going to come from for clothes and food for six children, worried about paying the rent on time, worried about the utilities being paid up in full, worried where the next job was going to come from when she lost a job, worried about what would happen to us when she was gone.
Forty years after her death, and in this, the year, and on this, the day on which she would have turned eighty, I’m proud to stand before you, my sisters and my brothers, and tell you that Jeannette Ekstrom’s kids managed just fine using what she taught all of us, and we turned out okay.
But the worrying hasn’t gone away. We worry about the same things. Raise your hand if you haven’t lain awake nights worrying about the necessities of life.
It’s very hard in these tough economic times to hear these beautiful words of Jesus, “Therefore do not worry, saying, ‘What will we eat?’ or ‘What will we drink?’ or ‘What will we wear?’” Is he saying to us that we should just pull the covers over our heads at dawn’s first light and snuggle down for a few more hours of sleep, not bother to get up and go to work if we have jobs, not look for work if we don’t, and not worry about the past due notices piling up?
Here’s what I think – no.
Jesus asks us in this incredibly beautiful passage from the Sermon on the Mount that we should turn to God and to strive to enter the Kingdom first before we turn to the difficult task of daily life. Note the word, strive – work towards it, make it a goal. Make it a priority. What I am suggesting is make it the very first item on your to-do list, even before you turn on the coffee maker, or take up your place in the queue at the coffee shop. He knows that the task is daunting and road is rough. But once we surrender our hearts to God’s unconditional love, set our minds on what we are called to do in Christ’s name, then we have the means to provide for and help those who cannot provide for themselves, and to provide for ourselves. God comes before mammon.
This passage is very difficult, isn’t it? When one ponders and puts to prayer what we should do in light of these charges, it’s easy to come up feeling very insecure, very unsure. And yet, the good news is right before us. Our father in heaven will reward us if we turn to him. Our burdens are at sometimes extremely heavy, and we have moments where we can’t keep going, but who is behind us, beside us, above us, beneath us, all around us, to take those burdens from us?
Christ.
Mom, don’t worry. My friends, don’t worry!
Easy to say, but it’s true.
Christ, working in us makes all things possible, and even when we’ve hit rock bottom, he is there and consoles us when we come up short, encouraging us to dust ourselves off and get back on the road. Christ is our thanksgiving.
This afternoon, or evening, when we join our families and friends at our Thanksgiving tables, when you and I gather in Hodgkin Hall, we will literally break bread, and we will feast on love and give thanks. And not just on this holiday, but every day, when we gather together. The fellowship of this table brings Christ into those circles of friends and loved ones and the redemptive love He brings feeds us, loves us and supports us and we are thankful for it.
As has been my custom, on this day of feasting, I’ll offer a prayer called “Brigid’s Feast”:
I should like a great lake of finest ale for the King of Kings;
I should like a table of the choicest food for the family of heaven.
Let the ale be made from the fruits of faith,
And the food be forgiving love.
I should welcome the poor to my feast, for they are God’s Children.
I should welcome the sick to my feast, for they are God’s joy.
Let the poor sit with Jesus at the highest place,
And the sick dance with the angels.
God bless the poor, God bless the sick,
And bless our human race.
God bless our food, God bless our drink,
All homes, O God, embrace.
Amen.
If my mother had heard me proclaim these words of Christ, she wouldn’t have said anything, but her actions would have spoken volumes. She would have been quiet on the ride home and once back in the kitchen, she’d still not say a word – but bang the spoon on the pot, shut the oven door a bit too forcefully, and just stare me down – I’d get what my high school sweetheart called, “la musa dura;” the hard look, and eventually she’d say in her deep, low voice, “Yeah right, already. What do you mean, ‘Don’t worry?’”
This is a woman who worried all of her thirty-nine years for good reason. She worried about where the money was going to come from for clothes and food for six children, worried about paying the rent on time, worried about the utilities being paid up in full, worried where the next job was going to come from when she lost a job, worried about what would happen to us when she was gone.
Forty years after her death, and in this, the year, and on this, the day on which she would have turned eighty, I’m proud to stand before you, my sisters and my brothers, and tell you that Jeannette Ekstrom’s kids managed just fine using what she taught all of us, and we turned out okay.
But the worrying hasn’t gone away. We worry about the same things. Raise your hand if you haven’t lain awake nights worrying about the necessities of life.
It’s very hard in these tough economic times to hear these beautiful words of Jesus, “Therefore do not worry, saying, ‘What will we eat?’ or ‘What will we drink?’ or ‘What will we wear?’” Is he saying to us that we should just pull the covers over our heads at dawn’s first light and snuggle down for a few more hours of sleep, not bother to get up and go to work if we have jobs, not look for work if we don’t, and not worry about the past due notices piling up?
Here’s what I think – no.
Jesus asks us in this incredibly beautiful passage from the Sermon on the Mount that we should turn to God and to strive to enter the Kingdom first before we turn to the difficult task of daily life. Note the word, strive – work towards it, make it a goal. Make it a priority. What I am suggesting is make it the very first item on your to-do list, even before you turn on the coffee maker, or take up your place in the queue at the coffee shop. He knows that the task is daunting and road is rough. But once we surrender our hearts to God’s unconditional love, set our minds on what we are called to do in Christ’s name, then we have the means to provide for and help those who cannot provide for themselves, and to provide for ourselves. God comes before mammon.
This passage is very difficult, isn’t it? When one ponders and puts to prayer what we should do in light of these charges, it’s easy to come up feeling very insecure, very unsure. And yet, the good news is right before us. Our father in heaven will reward us if we turn to him. Our burdens are at sometimes extremely heavy, and we have moments where we can’t keep going, but who is behind us, beside us, above us, beneath us, all around us, to take those burdens from us?
Christ.
Mom, don’t worry. My friends, don’t worry!
Easy to say, but it’s true.
Christ, working in us makes all things possible, and even when we’ve hit rock bottom, he is there and consoles us when we come up short, encouraging us to dust ourselves off and get back on the road. Christ is our thanksgiving.
This afternoon, or evening, when we join our families and friends at our Thanksgiving tables, when you and I gather in Hodgkin Hall, we will literally break bread, and we will feast on love and give thanks. And not just on this holiday, but every day, when we gather together. The fellowship of this table brings Christ into those circles of friends and loved ones and the redemptive love He brings feeds us, loves us and supports us and we are thankful for it.
As has been my custom, on this day of feasting, I’ll offer a prayer called “Brigid’s Feast”:
I should like a great lake of finest ale for the King of Kings;
I should like a table of the choicest food for the family of heaven.
Let the ale be made from the fruits of faith,
And the food be forgiving love.
I should welcome the poor to my feast, for they are God’s Children.
I should welcome the sick to my feast, for they are God’s joy.
Let the poor sit with Jesus at the highest place,
And the sick dance with the angels.
God bless the poor, God bless the sick,
And bless our human race.
God bless our food, God bless our drink,
All homes, O God, embrace.
Amen.
11 October, 2009
Wonder, Love and Praise
Once again, we are shown how the Lord chooses the most unlikely of candidates to demonstrate the power of God’s love working in life and praise to the Lord. We have the examples of Ruth and a Samaritan Leper.
Both are on the edge of societal norms. Ruth is a widow and a foreigners in a foreign land. The Leper is considered unclean, under judgment by God and a Samaritan. Despite these societal restrictions, they show us faithful living. They are models of faith and love. Ruth’s words to Naomi proclaim her love and loyalty, not only to her mother-in-law, but to God: “Your people shall be my people, and your God, my God.”
In the Gospel lesson, that love and faith is demonstrated through the actions of an outcast. He is one of ten lepers who call out to Jesus as he travels between Samaria and Galilee. As we’ve heard, Jesus sees them.
Jesus sees them.
Lepers were those with skin diseases, usually, and they were thought to be contagious, they were shunned and for all intents and purposes, invisible.
But Jesus sees them.
Imagine that those with him are averting their eyes, walking a little faster to get away, pretending not to notice, or fearful of contagion. Jesus’ recognition of the lepers shows us his compassion for the suffering and marginalized people in the world. Here is God’s love in action.
Then, something unexpected happens. One of them saw that he was healed and, rather than go and show himself to the priests as Jesus directed, he turns around and praises God – again, imagine the scene. The praises to God are probably shouts and cries of joy and amazement. He goes back to Jesus and throws himself at his feet, giving thanks. As Ruth’s words proclaim love of God, so too, are the Leper’s. Ruth and the Leper are doing what the Lord requires of all God’s children – worshipping and loving God.
We know that Ruth’s life improved and she went on to marry Boaz and bore Obed, who was the father of Jesse, the father of David, and we trace that family line to Jesus. We don’t know what the Tenth Leper might have done. Perhaps he was reunited with his family, or started one, and continued to praise God and give thanks for all the blessings of his life, as I am sure Ruth and Naomi did. Perhaps he grew to old age and could tell his grandchildren about the teacher named Jesus who cured him, who was crucified as a criminal and yet rose on the third day.
What we can take from these two wonderful stories of love, faith and renewal is that God gives each one of us new lives and opportunities for praise. Each morning when we wake and thank God for yet another day to do His will, each time we receive the bread and wine, we receive a new life. How we praise God depends on our circumstances, and where we are in our lives. We may do as Jesus requires and keep his commandments – to love the Lord our God with all our hearts, souls and minds and that we love another as Christ loves us.
That is praise indeed.
Go in peace, dear ones,
Ellen+
Both are on the edge of societal norms. Ruth is a widow and a foreigners in a foreign land. The Leper is considered unclean, under judgment by God and a Samaritan. Despite these societal restrictions, they show us faithful living. They are models of faith and love. Ruth’s words to Naomi proclaim her love and loyalty, not only to her mother-in-law, but to God: “Your people shall be my people, and your God, my God.”
In the Gospel lesson, that love and faith is demonstrated through the actions of an outcast. He is one of ten lepers who call out to Jesus as he travels between Samaria and Galilee. As we’ve heard, Jesus sees them.
Jesus sees them.
Lepers were those with skin diseases, usually, and they were thought to be contagious, they were shunned and for all intents and purposes, invisible.
But Jesus sees them.
Imagine that those with him are averting their eyes, walking a little faster to get away, pretending not to notice, or fearful of contagion. Jesus’ recognition of the lepers shows us his compassion for the suffering and marginalized people in the world. Here is God’s love in action.
Then, something unexpected happens. One of them saw that he was healed and, rather than go and show himself to the priests as Jesus directed, he turns around and praises God – again, imagine the scene. The praises to God are probably shouts and cries of joy and amazement. He goes back to Jesus and throws himself at his feet, giving thanks. As Ruth’s words proclaim love of God, so too, are the Leper’s. Ruth and the Leper are doing what the Lord requires of all God’s children – worshipping and loving God.
We know that Ruth’s life improved and she went on to marry Boaz and bore Obed, who was the father of Jesse, the father of David, and we trace that family line to Jesus. We don’t know what the Tenth Leper might have done. Perhaps he was reunited with his family, or started one, and continued to praise God and give thanks for all the blessings of his life, as I am sure Ruth and Naomi did. Perhaps he grew to old age and could tell his grandchildren about the teacher named Jesus who cured him, who was crucified as a criminal and yet rose on the third day.
What we can take from these two wonderful stories of love, faith and renewal is that God gives each one of us new lives and opportunities for praise. Each morning when we wake and thank God for yet another day to do His will, each time we receive the bread and wine, we receive a new life. How we praise God depends on our circumstances, and where we are in our lives. We may do as Jesus requires and keep his commandments – to love the Lord our God with all our hearts, souls and minds and that we love another as Christ loves us.
That is praise indeed.
Go in peace, dear ones,
Ellen+
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