Monthly Archives: January 2015

Comfort food…

30 Friday Jan 2015

Posted by in Uncategorized

≈ 3 Comments

Tags

, , , , , , ,

Whenever my family and I travel to familiar places, there are required food-related stops.  When we go to San Diego, it is El Indio, Rubios, and In-N-Out.  When we go to Delaware, it is Capriotti’s and Rita’s.  When we go anywhere South, it is Krispy Kreme, Chick-fil-A, and Waffle House.  Somehow our trips do not feel complete until we have made it to our special food establishments.  In fact, in San Diego, the very first stop after the airport is not home – it is straight to El Indio.  We look forward to the food for weeks before our trips, and we make sure that whatever agenda is planned, those food stops are figured into the master plan.

Not only do we make the stops because the food is amazing (because it is!), we also make the stops out of a sense of nostalgia.  Because many of those establishments have not expanded to where we currently live, there is a way in which the food brings us back to other times in our lives.  The sense of taste overwhelms the mind with memories, and we find ourselves savoring not just the food but the treasured experiences as well.  Food has a tremendous power to create a sense of home – sometimes even more so than a particular house.

I have often felt that same way about the Eucharistic meal.  Though I celebrate Eucharist multiple times per week now, every once in a while, powerful sensory experiences overwhelm what could be the mundane.  The flavor of the host (yes, those bland wafers actually do have a taste), whether or not the host is stale or crunchy in your mouth, the sharp taste of communion wine at a time that would not normally be acceptable for consumption of wine – all of these sensory experiences can make communion powerful over and over again.  And sometimes, the familiarity of the taste and texture is also comforting.  When all else in my world seems out of control, that moment of receiving the body and blood of Christ is centering like nothing else can be.

I wonder what you have done lately to connect on a sensory level with God.  Maybe you have missed church these last couple of weeks (or months, or years).  Maybe you come to church, but you disconnect during the familiar Eucharistic prayer because it is just too familiar.  This past Sunday at St. Margaret’s, we sang “Taste and See,” one of my favorite communion hymns.  The words are based on Psalm 34.  Like a familiar dining establishment, whenever I read the psalm, I think of the song.  And whenever I think of the song, I am reminded of the many powerful times that holy meal has shaken up my senses in fresh ways.  I invite you reconnect with God this week on a sensory level.  Perhaps you will remember another place you call home.

Sermon – Jonah 3.1-5, 10, E3, YB, January 25, 2015

28 Wednesday Jan 2015

Posted by in Uncategorized

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

, , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

Whenever a family has two children, often the children fall into two stereotypes – the goody two-shoes and the rebel.  The goody two-shoes generally follows the rules, rarely gets in trouble, and usually does what they are asked to do.  The rebel on the other hand makes their own rules, is regularly in trouble, and rarely does what they are asked to do.  The goody two-shoes conforms to expectations and the rebel blazes their own trail.  Many a harried parent has said to their rebel child, “Why can’t you just be more like goody two-shoes?!?”

Today, our scripture gives us not just one set, but two sets of such siblings.  First we have Jonah in our Old Testament lesson and the disciples in our gospel lesson.  When Jesus calls out to the disciples who are fishing and tells them to follow him, all four disciples drop their nets, abandon their family and livelihoods, and follow Jesus.  They do not ask questions.  They do not take a moment to consider the invitation and carefully discern whether to go.  They do not even complain.  They immediately drop what they are doing and follow Jesus.  The disciples are our goody two-shoes today.  The rebel, then, is Jonah.  If you remember, God came to Jonah early on and told Jonah to go to Nineveh.  And while Jonah did respond immediately, his response was to run in the complete opposite direction.  He runs the opposite direction, hops on a boat, and makes his escape.  Of course we know how that turns out.  Jonah is tossed overboard when the seas get out of control, and he is swallowed by a large fish.  Even in our lesson today, when God tells Jonah a second time to go to Nineveh, we can tell Jonah’s heart is not in the work.  Later we find out that when God forgives Nineveh, Jonah rebels again, throwing a temper tantrum of epic proportions, proclaiming that he wish he could die he is so upset.  Jonah is our rebel today.[i]

Our second set of siblings is found in the Jonah story itself.  We know that Jonah has already rebelled and taken to the seas to escape the job he is supposed to do.  But look at how he does execute his work.  When he finally does proclaim the judgment on Nineveh, he only says five words in Hebrew, translated, “Forty days more, and Nineveh shall be overthrown!”  Jonah is a grumbling, half-hearted rebel of the Lord.  Meanwhile, Nineveh proves to be our goody two-shoes this time.  This is the most surprising turn of events too.  Nineveh is a brutal power in Jonah’s day.[ii]  They are known for their vicious treatment of the people of Israel.  They are the enemy.  But when the residents of Nineveh hear the judgment of the LORD – Jonah’s brief, half-hearted one – they immediately respond.[iii]  All the people put on sackcloth, even the king and the animals; they take up a fast, sit in ashes, and turn from their violent ways.  Talk about a 180!  And what makes the situation all the more ironic is that Nineveh, the city we might normally label as the rebel in this story, actually comes out as the goody two-shoes; and Jonah, the prophet of God, who should be the goody two-shoes turns out to be our rebel.

In our world, we know what happens to these two archetypes.  The goody two-shoes are ones who get straight A’s, have successful careers, have happy relationships, and lead stable, content lives.  They are held up as the shining examples for all of us.  The rebels, on the other hand, are the ones who get sent to the principal’s office, have spotty employment, are in and out of relationships, and are known for their instability.  Though the rebels may be fun to be around, they are not as dependable as the goody two-shoes.  And for those of us who are rebels, we are told time and time again to get our act together.  In our world, society is quite clear about which role we should choose.

The good news is that God is not like the rest of the world.  God has enough room for everyone.  God invites everyone: rebels like violent Nineveh and Jonah, and goody two-shoes like the disciples and the reformed Nineveh.  God encourages both and God gives second (and third and fourth) chances to both.  God’s mercy is so abundant that God is willing to totally change God’s mind.  Like the old hymn goes, “There’s a wideness in God’s mercy like the wideness of the sea; there’s a kindness in his justice, which is more than liberty.”  The grace in our stories today gives us hope that those uptight goody two-shoes and those restless rebels among us both have a chance in God’s eye.

But the good news today is not just easy news.  The good news comes with work too.  God has mercy for both Nineveh and Jonah, but God does not let either off the hook.  God saves Jonah from the perilous sea and the big fish.  But then God puts Jonah back to work.  God does not destroy Nineveh, but only when Nineveh turns from its evil ways.  God is much like the parent who loves their children equally – both the goody two-shoes and the rebels.  But part of that equal love is also an equal expectation that we all respond to God’s invitation.  We may all respond differently, but God will not rest until we respond.  The question today is what invitation from God have we been avoiding, and how might we take up God’s invitation anew?  God is waiting for our response.  Amen.

[i] Kathryn Schifferdecker, “Commentary on Jonah 3.1-5, 10” found on January 22, 2015 at http://www.workingpreacher.org/preaching.aspx?commentary_id=2347.

[ii] Callie Plunket-Brewton, “Commentary on Jonah 3.1-5, 10” January 21, 2012, found at http://www.workingpreacher.org/preaching.aspx?commentary_id=1214 on January 22, 2015.

[iii] Joseph L. Price, “Theological Perspective,” Feasting on the Word, Yr. B, Vol. 1 (Louisville: Westminster John Knox Press, 2008), 270.

The art of listening…

21 Wednesday Jan 2015

Posted by in Uncategorized

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

, , , , , , ,

Someone recently asked me how my spiritual direction was going.  The question stopped me in my tracks because, in fact, I had not been to see my Spiritual Director since my maternity leave started nine months ago.  The excuses were always good.  First it was the need to tend to my newborn in those first three months.  Then it was the need to figure out how to get my footing being a mother of two and a full-time priest.  Then it was the craziness of the program year starting and the holidays.  But now it is Epiphany and I have run out of excuses.

For those of you unfamiliar with spiritual direction, a spiritual director is one who is trained in listening for the movement of the Spirit with their directee, helping them to discern what God is doing in their lives.  Anyone can use a spiritual director, but clergy are especially encouraged to use them because the temptation for many clergy is to get so busy in the doing of ministry that we forget to stop and listen to how the Holy Spirit is moving in and through our communities and ourselves.

In some ways, our Old Testament lesson last week was a bit like the work of spiritual direction.  In 1 Samuel 3.1-20, we hear the story of Samuel’s call narrative.  Samuel’s story initially comes off as a bit humorous:  Samuel constantly waking up Eli in the middle of the night, thinking Eli had called him and Eli shooing him back to bed.  But Eli, like any good spiritual director, finally gets it the third time – he discerns that the Lord is trying to speak to Samuel.  And so Eli gives Samuel the tools to respond to God.  The rest is up to Samuel.

Whether we use a spiritual director or not, we all struggle to hear God.  We get busy living life and forget the ways in which the Holy Spirit is constantly whispering to us, beckoning us into conversation and relationship.  In living this way we miss out on the sacred moments of life, too busy to stop and listen.  If you find yourself in this pattern, I wonder who might help you to connect with the holy voice of God.  Perhaps it is through a formal spiritual director or perhaps it is through a mentor or friend like Eli.  Perhaps it is through regular times of prayer, or perhaps you catch that quiet in your car by turning off the radio and using the moment to hear something else.  If you have strayed away from listening lately, I invite you to rediscover the art of listening again.  My guess is that God has been waiting for you and may have a lot to say.

Sermon – John 1.43-51, E2, YB, January 18, 2015

21 Wednesday Jan 2015

Posted by in Uncategorized

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

, , , , , , , , , , , , ,

I have lots of friends who swear that Wicked is their favorite musical.  They know all the songs, they have seen the show multiple times, and they reference lines from the characters.  The cult around the musical feels just like that – a cult.  When I confessed that I had not ever seen the show, my friends were aghast.  “You HAVE to see the show!” they would exclaim.  To be honest, they were so passionate about Wicked that I had almost decided that there was no way the show could be that good – surely I would be underwhelmed.  But finally, after much cajoling, I went to see the show with some friends.  And all of a sudden, I got it:  the witty humor, the creative back story, the emotional narrative, and the moving music.  I could not stop thinking and talking about the show for weeks.

Though we have all had encounters with people who are passionate about something – the latest show, a newly released movie, or a favorite restaurant – I imagine that few of us are as passionate about church.  We just do not have the same fervor about church as we do about other passions in our life.  Somehow, being publicly passionate about those other things seems more socially acceptable than being publicly passionate about church.  Our initial concerns are usually about social stigma.  We do not want to become that person that people avoid because we are always babbling on about church.  Our fear may also be about what to say.  How do we explain to others what draws us to this place and makes us spend a good portion of our time here?  Or maybe we have lost some of our passion about church.  Perhaps we come to church out of habit or some longing, but we are not so jazzed about church that we are rushing around, telling friends and strangers alike, “You have to come and see my church.  It is awesome!”

Though we may not be running around like excited new Christians, the disciples of Jesus did in the early days.  In our gospel lesson today, we are told that when Philip meets Jesus and begins following him, he finds Nathanael and says, “We have found him about whom Moses in the law and also the prophets wrote, Jesus son of Joseph from Nazareth.”  And when Nathanael scoffs, “Can anything good come out of Nazareth?” Philip is undeterred.  Philip excitedly insists, “Come and see.”  You can almost imagine Philip’s big grin and irresistible enthusiasm.  “Come and see,” he says.  This is his simple invitation.  Come and see.  The words are warm and inviting.  The words are gentle and hospitable.  The words, “Come and see,” are not some forceful demand or even a judgmental threat.[i]  There is no, “or else,” at the end of Philip’s invitation.  His invitation is light and easy:  Come and see.

That is our greatest fear when we talk about evangelism.  Because we have such a meaningful relationship with God and the church, we do not want to be associated with Christians who judge and condemn.  We would never be that Christian on a street corner telling people that they are going to hell unless they repent.  In fact, those are the very people who sometimes make us paranoid to even admit our faith in public.  Or maybe we have friends or family who were hurt by the church, and although we still feel drawn to the church, we want to respect their pain.  I have lost count of the number of my own friends and family who have had those negative experiences:  divorcees who felt judged or downright excluded when they wished to be remarried, women who wanted to be priests but felt that sense of call when the church did not affirm the ordination of women, or lesbian and gay friends who just did not feel welcome or treated as equals in the church.  The list is extensive and even if our church experience is not like that, we fear being associated with “those Christians.”

The challenge for us is that we get so caught up in the “what ifs” of sharing our faith that we forget the really wonderful things about our faith.  Philip reminds us today of the simple joy of our faith and our relationship with Christ.  Take a moment to think about your favorite thing about the life we share in this faith community.[ii]  I do not want you to worry about some elaborate theological explanation of your faith.  I just want you to think about your favorite thing about your experience here at St. Margaret’s.  Maybe your favorite thing is the community, and the warm welcome and inclusion you have felt here.  Maybe your favorite thing is the way that the worship experience connects you to God or opens up new truth for you.  Maybe your favorite thing is the way church is like an oasis, a place where you can breathe in the midst of the chaos of life, and find some sense of peace.  Or maybe your favorite thing is something else altogether.  But think about that favorite thing that keeps you coming back here week after week.

Now, imagine sharing that favorite thing with someone else, and inviting them to come and see for themselves.  Before you panic, I want to reassure you.  I am not asking you to go to someone and persuade them to become a Christian.  I am not even asking you to “prove” the truth of the Christian faith.[iii]  I am simply inviting you to invite someone you know to come and see that aspect of our congregational life that you enjoy.  When we have talked about evangelism before, many of you have told me about how you do not really have any friends you can invite to church.  Actually our excuses are numerous (and yes, I say “our” because I have the same excuses too).  We may worry that our friends live too far away, or maybe they already have a church community, or maybe you just do not like to mix your friends community with your church community.  Many of you have turned to me and either said, “Well, isn’t it the priest’s job to grow the church,” or “That is what our website is for.”  And the answer to those things is yes.  Yes, the rector plays some role in people’s attraction to a church and certainly many seekers find us through our website.  But the number one way that people come to a church is by personal invitation.  Every study I have read says that the number one way to attract people to your parish is through personal invitation.

The good news is that the personal invitation is not as scary as the invitation sounds.  Just look at Philip.  When Nathanael scoffs and says, “Can anything good come out of Nazareth?” Philip could have had any number of responses.  As one person argues, “Philip could have given Nathanael some of his own opinions.  He could have said, ‘This Jesus knows a lot about the Bible.’  Or he might have said, ‘There is something about this man Jesus that draws me to him.’  Even when Nathanael expressed skepticism about ‘anything good coming out of Nazareth,’ Philip might have listed some successful people from Nazareth.”[iv]  But Philip does none of that.  His offer is warm, simple, and gracious.  Come and see.

The beauty of our gospel lesson is that Philip’s testimony to Nathaniel is not that impressive.  His testimony would not win any academic awards or even impress most people.  But his invitation does get Nathanael to in fact, come and see.[v]  And that is what our gospel is inviting us to do today too.  Not to come up with some master plan or some convincing argument.  But to think about the one thing that draws you to this place, and then simply share that one thing with someone else.  Your closing argument will then be easy.  Come and see.  I cannot imagine a better gift that you can give to those you know than to let them see the one thing that gives you life, gives you joy, and gives you passion; and then to invite them to come and see.  Amen.

[i] David Lose, “Epiphany 2B:  Come and See,” January 12, 2015 found at http://www.davidlose.net/2015/01/epiphany-2-b/.

[ii] Lose.

[iii] Michael Rogness, “Commentary on John 1.43-51,” as found at http://www.workingpreacher.org/preaching.aspx?commentary_id=2314 on January 14, 2015.

[iv] Rogness.

[v] Ted A. Smith, “Homiletical Perspective,” Feasting on the Word, Yr. B, Vol. 1 (Louisville: Westminster John Knox Press, 2008), 263.

Homily – Luke 6.27-36, Martin Luther King, Jr., January 15, 2015

21 Wednesday Jan 2015

Posted by in Uncategorized

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

, , , , , , , , , ,

Today we honor the life and work of The Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.  Born on Jan. 15, 1929, Dr. King was the son and grandson of Baptist preachers.  After earning his Ph.D. in Systematic Theology from Boston University, he became pastor of a church in Montgomery, Alabama.  A year later, Dr. King was catapulted into national prominence as the leader of the Montgomery Bus Boycott initiated by Rosa Parks.  He was able to rally both whites and blacks with his nonviolent demonstrations and his ability to be an articulate prophet.  Dr. King’s work was instrumental to the passage of three Civil Rights acts in the 1960s.  He was constantly threatened, attacked, and jailed, but Dr. King refused to back down.  He was assassinated in Memphis in 1968 while advocating for local sanitation workers.

Dr. King was a man of tremendous faith, and I imagine he read the passage we heard today from Luke many times.  Jesus teaches those gathered to love:  love their enemies; love through non-violence; love by giving freely without expecting anything in return.  In a time when he had plenty of reasons to hate and be bitter, Dr. King chose love, over and over again.  When he was arrested, he loved; when he was stabbed, he loved; when he was threatened and his home bombed, he loved.

Malcolm X, a contemporary of Dr. King, disagreed with him on this point.  He did not believe in nonviolence.  He had seen too much pain, suffering, and degradation.  As his people were beaten, abused, and murdered, Malcolm X wanted to fight back.  Many people judge Malcolm X, saying he should have embraced nonviolence like Dr. King.  I think we judge because we have a hard time admitting that there is a part of us that is a fighter, too.  Nonviolence sounds fine until you are slapped in the face; nonviolence sounds romantic until your children are threatened; nonviolence sounds noble until you watch your brothers and sisters beaten and murdered.

What Dr. King does is inspire us – inspire us to live a Christ-like life in modern times.  We may be past segregation and legal oppression of people of color, but there is still racism and oppression, as seen by many recent cases in the news.  Jesus and Dr. King today invite us and remind us to be agents of love.  In a world that needs less violence, we can be agents of love, mercy and grace.  Amen.

Sermon – John 1.1-18, C1, YB, December 28, 2014

15 Thursday Jan 2015

Posted by in Uncategorized

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

, , , , , , , , ,

If you have ever spent much time with a young child, you know that one of their favorite questions is, “Why?”  You can have a ten minute conversation in which every statement you complete is answered with a, “Why?”  Now this could mean that you, as an adult, are stimulated to really ponder the meaning behind the things we say or do.  And in fact, many children, after hearing several answers to their questions, will simply answer, “Oh,” or “Okay.”  But more often, this kind of conversation often results in frustrated exasperation where you either conceded, “I don’t know,” or you resort to your conversation ender, “because I said so.”

When I hear John’s gospel today, I like to imagine a curious child has heard Luke’s gospel of Mary, Joseph, shepherds, and angels, and has simply asked, “Why?”  Why did Jesus have to be born?  Why was Jesus born in a manger?  Why did angels go visit those shepherds?  Why didn’t Mary seem to understand any of this?  To all of those questions, John’s gospel answers, “In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God…the Word became flesh and lived among us.”  Now if we understood that circular explanation, we still might ask, “Why?  Why did the Word become flesh and live among us?”  John’s answer continue:  “He was in the world, and the world came into being through him; yet the world did not know him.  He came to what was his own, and his own people did not accept him.  But to all who received him, who believed in his name, he gave power to become children of God, who were born, not of blood or of the will of the flesh or of the will of man, but of God.”  Now most of us might be too confused to ask “Why?” at this point. We might, like a child, simply answer, “Oh.”  And those of us who are bold enough might even profess our confusion.  To this, John’s answer would likely be a simple repetition, “So that we might become children of God, who were born, not of blood or of the will of the flesh or of the will of man, but of God.”

This is John’s answer to the “Why?” of Luke’s Christmas story.  Why did God take on human flesh in the persons of Mary and Joseph, and have that birth witnessed by angels and shepherds?  God took on human flesh because, as one scholar explains, “God has called us God’s own children, individuals who hold infinite worth in God’s eyes, deserve love and respect, and will be used by God to care for God’s beloved world.”[i]  I do not know about you, but that is the kind of answer that should make most of our whys end with an “Oh!”  God came to the earth in the person of Jesus, took on human flesh so that we could become God’s children, because we hold infinite worth in God’s eyes, deserve love and respect, and will be used by God to care for God’s beloved world.  That is some of the best, most affirming news I have heard in quite some time.

The trick though, is not to let our “Oh!” be the end of the story.  If you can truly hear God’s words for you today – that we continue to celebrate Christmas because Christmas has a profound affect on our lives – then we have more work to do.  Now I do not know if you have already selected your New Year’s Resolution yet, but if not, perhaps you can take on a new resolution this year.  In light of John’s gospel, I invite you to consider taking on a daily mantra for the next month.  Maybe you say the words as the introduction to your prayer time.  Maybe you say them in the mirror after you get out of the shower.  Or maybe you say them in the car on the way to work, school, or on your daily errands.  The mantra goes like this:  I am God’s child, deserving of love and respect, and God will use me to change the world.[ii]  Let’s try the words together now, repeating after me:  I am God’s child, deserving of love and respect, and God will use me to change the world.  One more time so that you have the words in your mind:  I am God’s child, deserving of love and respect, and God will use me to change the world.  I invite you to try the words once a day, everyday, for at least one month.  Then perhaps at the end of January, you can look back at Christmas, and your response will no longer by, “Why?” or “Oh!” but instead can be, “Okay!”  Amen.

[i] David Lose, “An Unsentimental Christmas Sermon,” December 30, 2013, found at http://www.workingpreacher.org/craft.aspx?post=2980 on December 26, 2014.

[ii] Lose.

On hope…

15 Thursday Jan 2015

Posted by in Uncategorized

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

, , , , , , ,

One of the things I had forgotten about having babies is how incredibly transformative they can be.  People totally change around babies.  They ooh and ahh around babies.  Their faces light up and they seem uncontrollably drawn toward infants.  Their whole demeanor shifts at the sight of a baby.  I have even brought my infant to meetings before, and I am amazed about how the whole mood of the room changes.  Work still gets done, but not without laughter, smiles, and joy.  Even a crying child makes people sympathetic and tender.

For a long time, I wondered what it was about babies that could turn even the sternest person to mush.  Then I realized what it was:  hope.  Because babies have little control or ability to assert their own (often contradictory) will, there is hope for all that the baby can be.  Their innocence and simplicity are a refreshing break from the complicated nature of life.  They truly are a gift to families, communities, and even strangers who sometimes have truly lost what it means to be a people of hope.

When our little one played baby Jesus in the Epiphany Pageant this year, I was not surprised at all then that the adult playing Mary teared up during the pageant.  I have not spoken to her about what was going on that made her teary, but watching the emotion bubble up in her was something that I knew only an infant could do.  Her emotional response made me see and hear the entire pageant differently – seeing the children in a different way, hearing the words of scripture in a different way, and singing the familiar Christmas songs in a different way.

In that moment of emotion, something else also became clear to me in a totally different way.  The human reality of Jesus as a baby became much more tangible in that moment.  It suddenly made sense to me how angels, shepherd, and wise men could reverence a child.  It made sense to me how Mary and Joseph were completely perplexed, but also completely hopeful about this new thing that was happening through their child.  It made sense to me the tremendous gift and miracle of God taking on flesh for us truly was.

Those moments of utter clarity are a bit rare in my life.  I know the biblical stories and our liturgies so well that sometimes they become rote.  I believe them all; I just do not always feel them.  That morning, I felt it.  I felt the wonder.  I felt the overwhelming gratitude.  I felt the hope.  My guess is that opportunities for those feelings are more present than we ever recognize.  Our challenge is honing the skill of perceiving when God is breaking into our routines and giving us hope.

Sermon – Mark 1.4-11, E1, YB, January 11, 2015

15 Thursday Jan 2015

Posted by in Uncategorized

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

, , , , , ,

I have always had an affinity for water.  I am not sure why, but something about water connects to something deep in my soul.  Whether listening to water bubble over rocks in a river, hearing the roar of a waterfall, listening to a lake lap on the shore, or hearing the crashing of waves on the beach, something about the sound of water quiets my mind and connects with some deeper part of me.  Some of my most intimate conversations with God have taken place near water – times when I was facing a big transition, times when I was worried about a major life event, or times when I had run out of things to say and just needed a place to just listen.  Whether a quiet drip or trickle or a roaring rush, somehow the noise of water connects me to the mysterious and transcendent voice of God.

To be honest, I have always thought my connection to the water was a little strange.  But this week, as I studied our lessons, my connection suddenly made sense.  Water has always been a part of our faith narrative.  When we celebrate a baptism, we always retell the biblical story of water.  One denomination retells the biblical story this way, “Eternal Father, when nothing existed but chaos, you swept across the dark waters and brought forth light.  In the days of Noah you saved those on the ark through water.  After the flood, you set in the clouds a rainbow.  When you saw your people as slaves in Egypt you led them to freedom through the sea.  Their children you brought through the Jordan to the land which you promised.  In the fullness of time you sent Jesus, nurtured in the water of a womb.”[i]  Of course we know there are countless other water stories in scripture: Jonah who is thrown into the sea and swallowed by a great fish, Jesus who calms the seas and walks on water, women encountering God as they draw water in wells, and eunuchs running to rivers to be baptized.  Water is everywhere in our biblical narrative, and is where many people see, hear, taste, and feel God in their lives.

Today, we hear one of those ultimate stories of water – in fact, today is a feast day in the Episcopal Church:  Jesus’ baptism in the waters of the river Jordan.  When Jesus comes to be baptized, baptism in the river Jordan has already been transformative for many.  People from all over the Judean countryside have been coming to John to confess their sins, repent, and be baptized into forgiveness.  As if those experiences of conversion were not enough, something even more extraordinary happens in that water.  Jesus comes from Nazareth to be baptized by John, and when he comes up out of the water, the heavens are torn apart and the Spirit descends upon him like a dove.  Then a voice comes from heaven, saying, “You are my Son, the Beloved; with you I am well pleased.”  Just like all those other stories of water in the biblical story, something sacred and transformative happens in water – something so powerful that the heavens are torn apart, the Spirit descends, and the Lord proclaims favor, love, and affection.

Many of us do not remember our own baptism in water.  Though adults and young people are certainly welcome to be baptized later in life, most of us are baptized as infants.  Unless our parents or godparents told us the story of our baptism, we have no idea if we cried or cooed that day.  We have no idea what emotions or thoughts the priest or our sponsors had that day.  We have no idea whether we were inherently changed by the water that was poured over our heads.  For most of us, the holy experience of water at our own baptism is a lost memory.  But the Church does not let us forget the power of baptismal waters.  Every year we celebrate the feast of Jesus’ baptism.  Every year, we reaffirm our baptismal covenant – often multiple times per year.  And depending on the membership of the church, every year we baptize new members into the life of the church.  So even if we do not remember our own baptism, the repetition of the story of baptism, and the experience of reaffirming our vows, creates new memories for us.  That formation is so powerful that many of us will dip our fingers in Holy Water, looking for a blessing and a reminder of another water that was once poured over our heads.

But today is not a day just to celebrate sacred experiences with water.  Today is not just a day when we think back to our own encounters at the font and how holy they were.  Today is not just a day we think back to those biblical stories of water in our faith and marvel at the miracles that have happened through water.  Today is not just a day that we remember those moments by a river, lake, or beach where God seemed to be whispering comfort, truth, or blessing to us.  The danger with the text we hear from Mark today is that we could be tempted to do just that.  Our lesson ends with those words from the voice of heaven that says, “You are my Son, the Beloved; with you I am well pleased.”  We could sit here today and savor those words for Jesus.  In fact, I could tell you today that those words are words for you – that you are God’s beloved and with you God is well pleased.  I could do those things because they are true.  You are God’s beloved and God is well pleased with you.  The baptismal waters should always remind you of that – and others waters, like rivers, waterfalls, and oceans, may do the same.

But today we do not simply celebrate the gift of blessing, beloved-ness, and bounty.  Today is the day when we celebrate the “so what?” of Jesus’ baptism.  As one scholar explains, “Jesus did not receive the Spirit in order to enjoy privately its spiritual benefits, but rather in order to pass it on.”[ii]  In Mark’s gospel, in the immediate next verse, Jesus is driven out into the wilderness to be tempted.  His baptism opens a road that will lead to the cross.  For Jesus, his entire ministry is informed by this moment – this tremendous in-breaking of the Spirit and a declaration of Jesus as being the beloved of God.  But Jesus does not tarry in this moment.  Jesus keeps on moving, holding fast to the moment, but using the moment to change his future.

That is our invitation today too:  to think about the “so what?” of our own baptisms.  When I think about all of those sacred moments I have had near water, a distinct part of that memory is what walking away from those moments felt like.  Sometimes I walked away from that bubbling brook with a sense of peace that God would be with me in the trials that were ahead.  Sometimes I turned from that lapping lake with a sense of empowerment and energy about what new thing God was calling me to do.  And sometimes I walked away from that roaring ocean having no idea what was to come, but knowing that God would help me face whatever came.

Our invitation today is to consider the “so what?” of our own sacred watery moments.  You can come to Jesus’ story today like you would come to a body of water for renewal and refreshment.  You can soak in the blessing and affirmation that come to Jesus and to you.  But you will also need to walk out of those doors today.  In fact, our liturgy does not let you leave this place without a dismissal that sends you out in the world to do the work that God has given you to do.  The question this week is what that work is.  What is God renewing you for?  What is God empowering you to do?  The answers will be different for each of us.  But the answer is there, if you are willing to listen to the sacred sound of water.  Amen.

[i] Barbara Sholis, “A watery solution,” Christian Century, vol. 119, no. 26, December 18-31, 2002, 19.

[ii] Lee Barrett, “Theological Perspective,” Feasting on the Word, Yr. B, Vol. 1 (Louisville: Westminster John Knox Press, 2008), 240.

Sermon – Matthew 2.1-12, Epiphany (transferred), YB, January 4, 2015

15 Thursday Jan 2015

Posted by in Uncategorized

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

, , , , , , , , , ,

At St. Margaret’s, one of the things we talk about a lot is being a seeker.  In fact, our motto is that we are a community of faith seeking, serving, and sharing Christ in Plainview.  Though we talk about being seekers or being a people who are seeking Christ, sometimes I am not sure we are all on board about what that actually means.  That is why I love this story of the magi today in our gospel lesson.  Though we may not feel like we have much in common with wise men from the East who have expensive gifts, the gift of the wise men for us today is that they show us what the experience of being a seeker is really like.

First, the magi show us that being a seeker means being observant.[i]  The text from Matthew today says that the wise men observe the king’s star at its rising.  Now, in order to observe a star, one must be paying attention.  One must be on the lookout for the movement of God in order to have an encounter with God.

We have a group within our parish who has taken to looking at the stars too.  Our Praying with the Stars offering is a way for us to connect with God through the observation of the stars.  That offering is one more way that St. Margaret’s helps us seek Christ in creation.  But the truth is that Praying with the Stars is about more than astrology.  Praying with the Stars is about creating space to observe the movement of the Holy Spirit.  If stars are not your thing, that is fine.  Perhaps movies or books or music is more your thing.  The point is that one can never really be a seeker unless one is attuned to the movement of God – or at least creates opportunities to open oneself to the movement of God.  The magi offer us that gentle push to create space in our own spiritual lives for observing, watching, and listening for the movement of the Spirit.

Next, the magi show us that being a seeker means that our journey will be eventful.  In this story alone, the wise men have two very different encounters.  First, they encounter those who are resistant to their journey.  King Herod on the surface seems quite inquisitive and eager to hear about the magi’s journey.  But we learn from the text that Herod acts more out of fear for his own power and control.  What was good news to the wise men was not seen as good news by all.  Second, the wise men experience being overwhelmed by joy.  When they encounter the Christ Child, the wise me are so overwhelmed that they are brought to their knees, pay homage, and pour out abundant gifts.  Experiencing Christ is so overwhelming that these men find themselves doing things they may not have expected.

Many of us know exactly what this experience is like.  We get roped into volunteering for a workday at Habitat for Humanity, and in the middle of the workday, as we are hanging drywall with a prospective homeowner, the homeowner says something that stops us in our tracks.  We are so overwhelmed by the encounter that all we can do is marvel at God working in our midst.  Or we are sitting in worship for the millionth time, hearing the same Eucharistic prayer again, when a word or a phrase catches us up short.  Suddenly, what we are doing at the Eucharistic table takes on a fresh, jarring perspective.  Or maybe we are having a simple conversation with a fellow parishioner about the way that their sacrificial giving has changed their walk with Christ.  The next time we write our pledge check, something is changed in us forever – even the sensation of the pen on the paper of our check feels different.

Finally, the magi show us that being a seeker means that our lives will be changed.  When the wise men are done with their visit with the holy family, they do not simply return home the same way that they came.  They do not even return to Herod as Herod had asked them to return.  No, in the midst of their visit, the wise men have a dream that warns them to go another way.  And so, they return home, but by a way that is not familiar.  The magi teach us that when you meet Christ, “Nothing is ever the same.  You don’t take the old road any longer.  You unfold a new map, and discover an alternate path.”[ii]

For those of us who have assumed the life of the seeker, we know this truth all too well.  If we commit our lives to truly seeking God, not idly going through the motions, we experience things that are just too transformative to leave us the same.  We can no longer be the old selves that we once were.  My friends who are vegetarians all have a story.  Whether they read The Jungle in high school, or they saw Fast Food Nation after college, some experience led them to disavow the eating of meat.  Whatever they learned or experienced, they could not unlearn.  And so they were transformed and their eating life was transformed.  The same is true for us.  When we seek and experience Christ – whether in our experiences with the poor, in our experiences with fellow parishioners, or even as we taste Christ in the holy meal – we too are transformed into something that cannot be undone.

That is the gift of the magi for us today.  They show us how to be seekers:  seekers who are observant, seekers who expect eventfulness, and seekers who realize they will be forever changed.  As the drama of their journey unfolds, they invite us to allow our own spiritual journey of seeking to unfold.  The promise is that the Holy Spirit will transform us, over and over again.  We only need to take the first step.  Amen.

[i] Steve Pankey, “Are You Paying Attention?” December 29, 2014 at https://draughtingtheology.wordpress.com/2014/12/29/are-you-paying-attention/.

[ii] James C. Howell, “Theological Perspective,” Feasting on the Word, Yr. B, Vol. 1 (Louisville: Westminster John Knox Press, 2008), 216.

Sermon – Luke 1.26-38, A4, YB, December 21, 2014

15 Thursday Jan 2015

Posted by in Uncategorized

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

, , , , , , , , , , ,

This week, the song The Angel Gabriel has been running through my mind over and over.  Our choir sang the song at Advent Lessons and Carols a few weeks ago.  The lyrics go, “The angel Gabriel from heaven came, With wings as drifted snow, with eyes as flame:  ‘All hail to thee, O lowly maiden Mary, Most highly favored lady.’  Gloria!”  When sung the song has a soft, gentle feel to it.  You can almost sense the intimacy of the encounter between the Angel Gabriel and Mary.  The lyrics go on to say, “Then gentle Mary meekly bowed her head; ‘To me be as it pleaseth God,’ she said.  ‘My soul shall laud and magnify God’s holy name.’  Most highly favored lady.  Gloria!”  The description of Mary as a “most highly favored lady,” and her humble, bowed acceptance of God’s call all depict a meek and mild version of Mary, someone who obediently follows God’s will at the sacrifice of her own will.

Of course, that path is one that her son will take later in his life.  We remember the scene of Jesus praying in the Garden of Gethsemane.  As Jesus wrestles with God in prayer, he prays, “My Father, if it is possible, let this cup pass from me; yet not what I want but what you want.”  Like his mother who faced the impossibility of a virgin birth at a young age, Jesus faced a violent death.  And both responded with humble submission.  They gave over their lives to God, not knowing what was ahead, but trusting fully in the Lord.

My problem with our scripture this week is that the scripture just does not jive with what is happening in our world.  These last couple of weeks I have been overwhelmed with the sheer volume of stories about violence and degradation:  from the excessive use of force toward persons of color by the police force, to stories of sexual assault on college campuses, to the execution of children by terrorists in Pakistan.  As wave after wave of bad news comes, I keep hearing echoes of Eric Garner’s last words, “I can’t breathe.”  That is how these stories have made me feel – like I cannot breathe.  I ponder how our country has gotten to the point where black people feel like their lives do not matter.  I wrestle with how some of our young men have come to believe that they can exercise power over and violate women.  I am perplexed at how a group of faithful people can use that faith to justify killing others.  With these visceral stories bombarding me from every direction, the last kind of lesson I want to hear about is a lesson about how one should mildly and meekly submit to God.  I do not want to submit to God – I want to act!

What I really wanted to hear from scripture today was not the Angel Gabriel calling Mary a lowly maiden, but instead the Magnificat, Mary’s song that we sang today, which is found just a few verses after the gospel lesson today in Luke.  Right after Gabriel leaves, Mary reunites with Elizabeth.  When they connect over their miracle pregnancies, Mary sings a song of praise called the Magnificat.  In that song she proclaims, “…the Mighty One has done great things for me, and holy is his name.  His mercy is for those who fear him from generation to generation.  He has shown strength with his arm; he has scattered the proud in the thoughts of their hearts.  He has brought down the powerful from their thrones, and lifted up the lowly; he has filled the hungry with good things, and sent the rich away empty.”[i]  This is the kind of song I wanted to hear this week when current events are so dire.  I want the promise of a God who favors the oppressed, the hungry, and the violated.  I want a God who lifts up the poor and scatters the proud.  The Magnificat has all sorts of musical settings because Mary’s song is sung at the service of Evensong throughout the year.  Some of the settings are meek and mild, like our gospel reading today.  But some are actually quite powerful, connoting the strong victory you hear in Mary’s song.  I realized that is what I want to hear from scripture today – not a story of mild submission, but of victorious uprising and justice.

But the more I struggled this week with Luke’s words, the more I realized a deeper truth.  I have been looking to God for answers – some sort of response about how God could let these things happen, and why I feel like our world is falling apart.  But what I realized the more I heard these two competing songs in my mind is that victory for God does not always feel like victory for God’s agent.  So, yes, Jesus is ultimately victorious when he rises from the dead.  But at that moment of Gethsemane, he humbly submits to God, not knowing what evil awaits.  Likewise with Mary:  she will become the venerated mother, the one whom people will pray through for centuries.  God is victorious through her.  And yet, she is still a mother whose son is murdered by the officials.  In fact, being highly favored, as Gabriel claims Mary is, may not feel like being highly favored.  Months later, when Jesus is presented as a baby at the Temple, Simeon confirms this hard truth.  Simeon says to Mary, “This child is destined for the falling and the rising of many in Israel, and to be a sign that will be opposed so that the inner thoughts of many will be revealed – and a sword will pierce your own soul too.”[ii]

Of course, that is the way that being called to serve God usually is.  Though Moses was called by God in a dazzling display of a burning bush, he was also almost murdered by pharaoh and the very people he had saved.  Though David was the blessed and anointed king of Israel, David also had to flee for his life when Saul became jealous of God’s favor for David.  Though Thomas Cranmer was the Archbishop who basically founded and shaped the liturgy of the Church of England, and by association the Episcopal Church, he was also martyred for his commitment to the reformation of the Church.  Though eventually Nelson Mandela became the leader of South Africa and the facilitator for ending apartheid, he was first imprisoned for twenty-seven years.  That is the sad truth of Mary this week.  Favor in God’s eyes does not mean a smooth, satisfied, simple life.  When we accept God’s call, when we humbly submit to God’s invitation to serve in our own lives, we can only expect to journey through trials on the way to glory.  That is the sobering truth Mary offers us today.

But that is not the end of the story.  I think that the reason the songs about Mary have been battling in my head this week is because there will never be one victor.  Being highly favored in God’s sight is neither an invitation to a life of mild obedience and suffering, nor a life of victorious dominance.  Being favored in God’s sight is a bit of both.  So though Mandela suffered, he also came to know and love his prison guards.  He found hope and grace in the midst of darkness and oppression.  I think the same is happening in our current events today.  Despite the destruction caused by riots in Ferguson and the arrests from protests in Staten Island, people across racial lines are encountering one another.  A white police chief in Richmond, CA was photographed standing with other protestors holding a sign that read, “#Black Lives Matter.”  And when two officers were murdered in retaliation for Eric Garner yesterday, the black community immediately spoke out against such violent retaliation.  Despite the flurry of stories about sexual assault on college campuses, college campuses are now taking seriously their handling of the violence.  Despite the horror of students being murdered in Pakistan, advocates for change are beginning to see how desperate the need for change and collaboration is.  In the darkness of our world, God is using God’s favored ones to be light.

That is our invitation today.  Through Mary, we are reminded that answering God’s call on our lives will not be easy or even pleasant at times.  There will be times when serving the Lord will feel like more of a burden than a joy.  But when we submit to our God, God can use us in powerful ways.  God can make us agents of light, in a world that is striving to find a way out of the darkness.  Mary responds to that invitation with the words, “Here am I, the servant of the Lord; let it be with me according to your word.”  You can say those words today too, accepting God’s desire to use you as an agent of light.[iii]  The promise of being highly favored holds many blessings waiting to unfold.  Amen.

[i] Luke 1.49-53

[ii] Luke 2.34-35

[iii] David Lose, “Favored Ones,” December 11, 2011 found at https://www.workingpreacher.org/craft.aspx?post=1611 on December 16, 2014.