Author Archives: jandrewsweckerly

Sermon – Proverbs 31.10-31, Mark 9.30-37, P20, YB, September 20, 2015

23 Wednesday Sep 2015

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There are some Sundays when the scripture lessons appointed for the day are just right.  They speak truth to power or relate to a spiritual crisis in the community.  They shed light on a current event or they give pastoral words to aching hearts.  On those days, I am so grateful for the ways in which I see the Holy Spirit moving through the Church through the vehicle of scripture.  Today is not one of those days.  I read both our Old Testament and Gospel lessons this week, and my first reaction was, “Really?!?  THIS is what we needed to hear this week, God??”

The Old Testament lesson from Proverbs is actually one of my favorites – even though the lesson takes some deconstructing.  This passage is often referred to as the passage about the capable wife.  Now anytime the church starts talking about how women need to be wives and how those wives need to be “capable” I start getting defensive.  The good news is that the title is more the problem than the lesson itself.  The Hebrew word often translated as “capable” is better translated as powerful, strong, or even warrior-like.  This woman is a superhero.  She rises before dawn; manages a staff, ensuring her family has food and security; she purchases property and plants a vineyard with her own hands; she runs a thriving business, providing fine clothing for her family and the community; she is known for her wisdom and is happy and satisfied; and in her spare time, she is a shining example of philanthropy.  When you think about the traditional role of women in the patriarchal society of the time,[i] this woman is on fire.  She is an empowered woman, an equal partner to her husband, and is the master of both her home and her work outside of the home.[ii]  She is like Martha Stewart on steroids.

In the Gospel lesson, we find the disciples struggling yet again.  Jesus meets with the disciples and explains to them his fate.  And instead of asking Jesus what he means, they remain silent because they are too afraid to ask.  Actually, they do not remain silent.  Instead, they start bickering among themselves about who will be first in the kingdom.  I suppose that if the world is going to end, we might be similarly distracted.  But Jesus catches them arguing and shames them into true silence.  Not only does Jesus tell the disciples that they must strive to be last – servants of all; but also, Jesus tells them that in order to be a part of Jesus’ kingdom, they need to welcome children like they would welcome Jesus (which really could be interpreted as welcoming the poor, widowed, or disenfranchised).  So basically, Jesus tells the disciples they are a mess.  Not only are they not listening, they are distracted by their egos, and they are not attending to the one ministry he has called them to do.

So here is the challenge with these two lessons.  Basically, we take from the lessons that we are all too full of ourselves, we are distracted by the wrong things, we are not doing the work Jesus has called us to do.  And if we want to correct all of that behavior, we need to become warrior women and men – Martha Stewarts on steroids, showing everybody how it’s done.  Now I am not arguing that any of those points are not inherently truthful and are not lovely goals toward which we should strive.  What I am arguing is that I just did not want to hear them this week.  Here we are busting our buns to do the massive amount of work needed to pull off the Fall Fair.  Here we are busy kicking off the program year, with teachers preparing lesson plans, the choir readying music, and all our ministries being back on deck.  Here we are putting together last minute receptions for the bereaved, trying to complete a major construction project, and trying to ensure that we have enough funds to run our operations and enough energy to evangelize in our community.  And that is on top of all the work we are doing to get kids back to school, to reconnect with our community commitments after a summer hiatus, to make sure we are still performing well at work, to get our homes tidy and prepared for fall, and to squeeze in some football games.  In the midst of that chaos, the last thing I need to hear from church today is that my priorities are all wrong and that I need to work harder – a lot harder.  Thanks, but no thanks, Holy Scripture!

The good news is that there is good news.  For all the overwhelming work of the warrior-like woman in Proverbs and for all the scolding the disciples receive, the message from both lessons is clear and surprisingly manageable.  In Proverbs, the lesson concludes, “a woman who fears the Lord is to be praised.”  Now this is not the kind of fear we get when we talk about horror films, phobias, or abject worry.  The fear the passage is talking about is “awe, wonder, gratitude, and reverent humility before the Creator.”[iii]  Now fear of the Lord may sound like one more thing to add to the to-do list, but actually, fear is where the lessons are calling us to start.  You see, the disciples lacked a genuine fear of the Lord.  They were afraid in the more traditional sense – of what Jesus was talking about, of what would happen to them, of how they would ensure their own security.  They got wrapped up in themselves.  But if they had been wrapped up in awe, wonder, gratitude, and humility, all of the things Jesus had to instruct them to do would have come more naturally.  If they were in awe of Jesus, they would have easily been able to see how grateful they should be to have a Messiah who would sacrifice himself for them.  If they had been in wonder of Jesus, they would have simply been happy to be called a disciple, without worrying about their place or status.  If they had been full of gratitude, they would have already been welcoming children – and the poor, and the outcast, and the stranger.  The same sort of reversal is true for the warrior-like woman in Proverbs.  All of those amazing things she seems to accomplish in 24 hours happen only because of her reverence for God.  She is not favored because of all that she does.  She is able to do all that she does because she starts in a place of gratitude.  The rest flows easily out of that vantage point.

Today’s lessons are not about scolding us for how we get everything wrong, or about setting some impossible standard of perfection for us.  Instead, today’s lessons are about checking our baseline.  When our baseline is about awe, wonder, gratitude, and humility, we find living into Jesus’ instructions much easier.  When our baseline is about awe, wonder, gratitude, and humility, those astounding to-do lists and projects do not seem like burdens but gifts.  When our baseline is about awe, wonder, gratitude, and humility, church is not only a place we want to be, church is a place to which we are lovingly drawn.  That’s when that piece you were writing about stewardship doesn’t seem scary or even hard.  That’s when those sacred moments happen in Sunday School when a child or teen says something profound that stays with you all week.  That’s when you are up to your ears in stress about the Fair, and something funny – really funny – happens, and you and the other volunteers laugh so hard that you cry.  Holy Scripture today is not directing us down a path of guilt and shame.  Holy Scripture today is inviting us onto that path less travelled – the one that starts with awe, wonder, gratitude, and humility, and ends with grace, joy, companionship, and satisfaction.  I may not have wanted to hear our scripture lessons today.  But I needed to hear them.  My hope is that you can hear them in the spirit in which they were intended too.  Amen.

[i] Brent A. Strawn, “Commentary on Proverbs 31.10-31,” September 20, 2009, as found at http://www.workingpreacher.org/preaching.aspx?commentary_id=390 on September 18, 2015.

[ii] Telford Work, “Theological Perspective,” Feasting on the Word, Yr. B, vol. 4 (Louisville:  Westminster John Knox Press, 2009), 78.

[iii] Kathleen M. O’Connor, “Exegetical Perspective,” Feasting on the Word, Yr. B, vol. 4 (Louisville:  Westminster John Knox Press, 2009), 79.

O death…

16 Wednesday Sep 2015

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This past week I have been thinking a lot about death.  It’s probably a function of being a priest, but death is ever a part of my journey.  Many days I can avoid thinking about it.  But I imagine that is not really what God wants.  Just to prove the point, I find that deaths usually come in threes.  No one can avoid thinking about death when they come in threes.

That was the case last week.  Within 24 hours, a parishioner, a family member, and an acquaintance all died.  The parishioner was retired but was living a full life.  She went in to check on some pain and within four months she was gone.  The family member was much older.  She had lived a full life and the journey toward death took a long time.  We were sad, but ready.  The acquaintance was around my age and had three kids at the same nursery school one of my daughters attends.  She got sick and within a week died.  Three children.  My age.

That’s the funny thing about death.  We can pretend it happens only to old people (which we never are – even when we are).  We can pretend it is far away and will come when we are fully prepared and ready to join our God.  We can pretend that death is non-existent.  But we know that is all pretend.  We know that pretending is just our way of masking how scary death is.  For those of us who believe in eternal life, we like to say that life is changed, not ended.  But that is what we say about others.  I wonder how much we can proclaim it for ourselves.

One of my favorite songs from the film “O Brother, Where Art Thou,” soundtrack is called “O Death.”  In the song, the artist sings, “O, death, won’t you spare me over til another year.”  The singer’s voice is haunting.  And while there is a part of us that knows we should not fear death, there is something in that song’s words that resonates with us.  We want one more year.  One more decade.  One more lifetime.

And yet death comes.  Sometimes death comes within a week – within a day.  I wonder what you would do differently with your life if you were willing to let that reality slip over you.  What has God been calling you to do that you have been avoiding?  What have you been meaning to say to someone that you don’t say because you are afraid?  Does the reality of death make you want to move?  Though the questions are heavy, as is the topic, I think there is freedom in the questions too.  We can let go of all that is weighing us down and start living.  The promise of earthly death is a blessing – one that frees us to live this life with abundance, grace, and joy.  How will you start living into that joy today?

On being wonderfully made…

09 Wednesday Sep 2015

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This is a big week for our family.  Both of my girls are moving up in school.  The youngest is moving from the infant room to the toddler room.  The oldest is starting first grade.  It has been a big week, and I am certainly having some feelings.  Mostly, as I look at both of them, boldly tromping into their new rooms and onto the bus, I am in awe.  I marvel at how big they have gotten.  I marvel at how beautiful they each are in their own unique ways.  I marvel at their awesome personalities and the joy that they bring to others.  I know I am biased as a parent, and I also recognize all the days when my children are not awesome, but today I am profoundly moved by how awesomely and wonderfully made they are.

As I thought about each of them today, I was reminded of that verse from Psalm 139, “I praise You, for I am awesomely, wondrously made; Your work is wonderful; I know it very well.” (Ps. 139.14, Tanakh translation)  Today, I felt like I received a small glimpse into the ways that God must look at each of us.  So often, we look at our flaws and failures.  Even our prayer time can be filled with regrets and apologies to God.  We know that we fall short of the goodness God wants for us.  But that is not how God sees us.  God sees the wonderful and awesome creature that God has made and God is greatly pleased with us.  Perhaps there are days when we greive God through sin and violence to ourselves, to one another, and to God.  But God has a tremendous way of cutting through all that sinfulness and seeing goodness in us.  God sees how we are awesomely and wondrously made.

This week, I invite you to connect with God’s version of you.  I invite you in your prayer time to let go of the flaws and failures and to instead celebrate the goodness of each day.  Maybe you will have to reach really far into your reflection to find something positive.  But my guess is that you do something each day that pleases God – however big or small.  Meditate on that goodness and give glory to God!

Sermon – 1 Kings 2.10-12; 3.3-14, P15, YB, August 16, 2015

09 Wednesday Sep 2015

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Let me tell you a story that a friend of mine once told me.  Once upon a time, there was a wise prince.  Following his father’s death, the prince became king, married a beautiful princess from a neighboring kingdom, and began to rule his people in a way that honored God.  One night, God came to the king in a dream, and told him he could have anything he wanted.  Being a humble man, the king did not ask for money, power, or a long life.  Instead, the king asked God to make him wise so that he could care for the people.  God was very pleased by this request, and God decided to grant the king wisdom.  And, as a reward for being so humble, God said the king could have wealth, honor, and long life too!  The king became known all over the land as a wise king.  People traveled far and wide to hear the king’s wisdom.  The king’s kingdom flourished, his rule becoming a Golden Age for the kingdom.  After forty years of peaceful success, the king handed over his throne to his son.[i]

The king in that story is a real king:  King Solomon from our Old Testament reading today.  As we baptize Kayla today, we wish the same things for her that King Solomon has.  We pray that she might be wise in her decisions, that she might have a close relationship with God, and that she might honor others.  And to help her become those things, we as a community pledge to support her, and we promise to try to do those things too.  On this special day, we look to the future with hope and optimism, praying that God will make Kayla as wise as Solomon.

But, we have to be careful.  You see, once upon a time there was also a shrewd prince.  When the prince’s father died, the prince ordered that his older brother be killed so that he could become king instead.  As he began his rule as king, he killed many more people out of revenge for the way they treated his father.  Then he set out to build a kingdom of riches, power, and honor.  But this king was greedy.  He wanted so many things that he made the people suffer.  He made the people pay taxes, and forced them to build lavish homes and temples.  He collected 700 wives and 300 concubines.  Many of the women worshiped foreign gods, and so the king started to worship those gods too.  He was not loyal to the God we know.  By the time he died, the people were very angry, and they revolted when the king’s son tried to take over.  A big war broke out, the kingdom divided in two, and the world fell into chaos.[ii]

Here’s the funny thing about the bad king.  That bad king is Solomon too.  Isn’t that weird?  We often remember all the good stuff about Solomon – and there is a lot of good stuff.  But there is a lot of bad stuff about Solomon too.[iii]  In fact, we skipped that part in our reading in church today.[iv]   The same king who humbly asks for wisdom is the same king who gets greedy when good things happen to him.  The same king who wisely rules the land also forgets about loving the people he is ruling.

When we think about Kayla’s journey with God in the years to come, we want her to be like wise Solomon.  But the truth is Kayla, and the all the rest of us, are probably a mix of wise Solomon and naughty Solomon.  We are a mix of both because we all learn that we can never be perfect.  But the good news is that God loves us anyway.  When we baptize Kayla today, and we renew our baptismal covenant, we recognize that truth.  We pray that we all will be wise, and kind, and blessed.  And we recognize that we will have to work really hard to not be greedy, unkind, and separated from God.  But we also promise that we will take care of each other on the journey, helping each one of us find our way back to being good servants of God.

So how about we find another way to tell Solomon’s story?  “Once upon a time there was a king.  He had big dreams, as most of us do.  He had great faults, as most of us do.  He lived a life marked by success and failure, nobility and disgrace.  He loved God and he didn’t.  He pleased God and he didn’t.  He left a legacy that was neither perfect nor wretched, as most of us will.  But he was loved by God throughout, even when his foolish wisdom shattered God’s heart.  As we are.”[v]  Amen.

[i] Debie Thomas, “A King’s Tale,” Journey with Jesus, August 9, 2015, as found at http://www.journeywithjesus.net/essays/324-a-king-s-tale on August 12, 2015.

[ii] Thomas.

[iii] Cameron B.R. Howard, “Commentary on 1 Kings 2:10-12; 3:3-14,” August 19, 2012, as found at https://www.workingpreacher.org/preaching.aspx?commentary_id=1358 on August 12, 2015.

[iv] Andrew Nagy-Benson, “Exegetical Perspective,” Feasting on the Word, Supplemental Essays Yr. B, Batch 2 (Louisville:  Westminster John Knox Press, 2012), 2.

[v] Thomas

On dignity and solidarity…

14 Friday Aug 2015

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This past year, St. Margaret’s read the book Take This Bread, by Sara Miles.  In it, Miles describes a food ministry that she began at her Episcopal Church in San Francisco.  At St. Gregory’s, their worship is open – roles are more open, the Eucharistic Table is open, and idea flow in the open.  Like Miles was welcomed to the Eucharistic Table without barrier, she wanted to create a food ministry that was without barriers.  She didn’t want to have people register or keep records of how often they had received food.  She just wanted people to come, get what they need and let them go about their lives.  She wanted them to find a sense of dignity and welcome when so few of them experience that in other parts of their lives.

I was reminded of her ministry today when I heard an NPR story about a program in Spain called the Solidarity Fridge.  The idea was to create a communal fridge where people who are hungry can come and get what they need.  Local restaurants pack up their leftovers in plastic containers and put them in the Fridge each night.  Even local grandmas make food for those in need.  There are standards in place, including the fact that food cannot stay more than four days.  But the organizers insist that it has never been a problem.  Tapas come in at night and they are gone by the next morning.  There is no monitoring process for the Fridge.  Whomever needs food can just come and get it.  And the food is really good.  Those who are in need find dignity in not being dehumanized by red tape and by being fed superior quality food.

Their program is not unlike a ministry we support at St. Margaret’s called Food Not Bombs.  An empty parking lot is suddenly transformed when volunteers arrive with carloads of food from restaurants, grocery stores, churches, and neighbors.  People fill grocery bags with what they need and leave to feed their families.  When everything is gone, the parking lot empties, without a soul around.  The idea from Food Not Bombs is that there is enough food for everyone – and the only reason people go hungry is because of waste and greed.  So they work to remedy the situation.

As I was thinking about the confluence of these three ministries, I was thinking of how they are living into the baptismal covenant we make – to respect the dignity of every human being.  There are passive ways we can do that – trying not to be judgmental or racist.  There are active ways that we can do that – giving money to charities that feed the hungry.  But there are intentional ways we can do that too – investing ourselves in ministries that specifically want to honor the dignity in others and that will encourage us to do the same.  That is why we make those baptismal promises in the context of community – because we need the community to hold us accountable to the covenant.  This Sunday, we will baptize a child of God and renew our own baptismal covenant.  I encourage you this week to prayerfully consider what ways you might be more intentional about fulfilling those vows.  And if you are struggling, find a member of the community and ask them to work with you.  Together, we can transform this world into the kingdom of God here on earth.

Sermon – 2 Samuel 18.5-9, 15, 31-33, P14, YB, August 9, 2015

14 Friday Aug 2015

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I recently watched the film We Are Marshall.  The film details the true story of a tragedy in 1970 that happened to Marshall University.  After an away football game, most of the team and coaches, as well as several boosters, took a private plane back to the university.  The plane crashed just minutes from landing, killing everyone onboard.  The town was bereft as they mourned their sons, friends, boyfriends, wives, husbands, and teammates.  The University’s Board was set to cancel the 1971 football season, when the few surviving players petitioned to play anyway.  The president was then tasked to find a coach who would be willing to step into this tragic situation – coaching a season that many thought was inappropriate given the deaths, to find enough players when Freshmen were not yet allowed to play per NCAA rules, and to find a supporting coaching staff, including trying to recruit the only assistant coach who had not been on the plane.  The season moves forward and after the first game, which Marshall loses, the head coach and the surviving assistant coach have a heart-to-heart.  The assistant coach explains that the deceased former head coach had always said that the most important thing in football was winning.  And if the current team was not going to win, the assistant didn’t want to coach, because they would be dishonoring the former coach’s memory.  After a long pause, the current head coach confesses that before he came to Marshall, he would have said the same thing:  that winning is the most important thing.  But now that he was there, in the midst of the Marshall community, the most important thing to him was simply playing.

We are a society that glorifies winning.  Not just in sports, but in all of life, we want to be winners.  No one likes to lose because losing, when we are really honest, is not fun.  Of course, we try to teach our children that we cannot always win.  Many a play date argument is settled by the conversation that sometimes we win and sometimes we lose.  We even have a word for being comfortable with losing.  We say we are being “good sports.”  But being a good sport takes work.  We do not like losing.  Losing itches as something deep inside of us – both internally and externally reinforced.  We want to be winners.

Of course no one knows more about losing than King David.  History labels him as a winner, but as we reread his story, we know that David was an intimate friend of losing.  We hear the deep pain of his losing in his final words today, “O my son Absalom, my son, my son Absalom!  Would I had died instead of you, O Absalom, my son, my son!”  We know the pain of losing a child – the sorrow and the grief of that kind of losing.  But David is not just mourning the loss of his child in these words.  He is morning the loss even more deeply because he knows he is indirectly guilty of his son’s death.[i]  If you remember, in the reading we heard last week, Nathan told David that because of his sinfulness with Bathsheba and Uriah that his household will be plagued by a sword.  Through Nathan, the Lord proclaims, “I will raise up trouble against you from within your own house; and I will take your wives before your eyes, and give them to your neighbor, and he shall lie with your wives in the sight of this very sun.  For you did it secretly; but I will do this thing before all Israel, and before the sun.”[ii]

God stays true to God’s judgment.  Between last week’s reading and this week’s reading, David’s family starts to fall apart.  His first child with Bathsheba dies.  One of David’s sons rapes his half-sister.  When David does not punish that son, another son, Absalom, takes action, killing his half-brother.  Absalom then flees, and spends years amassing a revolution against David.  Absalom manages to take Jerusalem, and further humiliates David by sleeping with ten of David’s concubines in front of everyone.  David is forced to battle against Absalom to restore the kingdom, but he does so begrudgingly.  Today we hear David trying to make victory as painless as possible, asking his men to deal gently with Absalom.  But Absalom had made too many enemies in the family and kingdom, and when the time came, he was killed in battle.  Though many saw Absalom’s death as a victory, David knew the truth.  Victory in this case was not winning for David.  Victory was just another reminder of the ways in which David’s life had become about losing – about the painful reminder of his sin hanging over his head.

David reminds us of what we have all learned about losing.  Though none of us like losing, we know losing is a necessary and probably valuable part of life.  You see, losing helps us in many ways.  First, losing reminds us of our finitude.  Though we might like to think we are without limits or we can control everything, losing reminds us of the “futility of our personal striving and the frailty of our existence.”  Second, losing gives us the opportunity to reexamine our goals and outlook on life.  Losing can help us see when perhaps we have become overly self-serving, have developed unrealistic expectations, or we have just become distracted by the wrong things in life.  Finally, losing reminds us that our lives are in need of redemption.  Losing can give us a much-needed opportunity to renew our relationship with God.  As one scholar explains, “In this moment of realization, we are liberated to renew our trust in God’s power and in [God’s] purpose for our lives.”  That does not mean we should give up, stop trying, or be overcome by the fear of losing.  Instead, maintaining our trust in God gives assurance that “ultimately, there is no losing without the possibility of redemption.”[iii]

Think for a moment about the ultimate symbol of our faith – the cross.  The cross is both a symbol of loss and victory.  We always remember the victory of resurrection and redemption, but first, the cross was a symbol of death and defeat.  The cross was a humiliating reminder of the brutal death of the one we insist is the Messiah.  Our main symbol was the symbol of ultimate loss – the place where losers go to lose:  lose their life, their dignity, and their power.  That symbol of being a loser is only redeemed because the Redeemer redeems it.  Of course, we should not be surprised.  Every week, we as a community gather and remind ourselves at how we are losers when we confess our sins.  We kneel down and young, old, male, female, single, partnered, good, and bad confess that we lost.  Every single week we confess how, once again, we have lost.

I sometimes wonder how David coped with the sword in his house.  Sure, he had moments of redemption.  Solomon taking the helm at David’s death was one of the best redemptive moves in his family.  But I wonder, on that deathbed, how all the losing in David’s life weighed on him.  In last week’s lesson, David did what all of us do.  He confessed.  He confessed, “I have sinned against the Lord.”  His confession did not make Absalom’s death any less painful.  But his confession, like ours, is redemptive.  Like David, when we acknowledge and confess our senses of incompleteness, “we are able to be freed from the entrapments of a win/lose culture.  God accepts us despite our failings.  This relationship is not earned; [this relationship] is a divine gift.  Accepted and forgiven, we are liberated to celebrate life.  Affirmed and fulfilled by God, we are released to care for others.  These affirmations point to the redemptive side of failure, to the God who accepts losers.”[iv]

When we wear a cross, or we reverence the cross in church, we reverence both the winning and the losing of the cross.  We honor the ways in which the cross represents not just the loss of Christ, but also the brokenness in each of us – the ways in which we have failed.  Only when we honor that loss can we then hold that cross as a symbol of victory.  That cross becomes a symbol of the ways in which Christ redeems us, but also the ways in which we too made new through our losing.  When we embrace the cross in its fullness of expression, we also recognize the fullness of our lives – the good, the bad, and the ugly.  We know that without the embracing of our losing we can never fully claim the victory of our winning through the cross.  Amen.

[i] Ted A. Smith, “Commentary on 2 Samuel 18:5-9, 15, 31-33” 2009, as found at http://www.workingpreacher.org/preaching.aspx?commentary_id=365 on August 6, 2015.

[ii] 2 Samuel 12.11-12.

[iii] The ideas in this paragraph and the quotes within come from Carnegie Samuel Calian, “Theologizing in a Win/Lose Culture, Christian Century, vol. 96, no. 32, October 10, 1979, 978.

[iv] Calian, 979.

Saintly Shout Out

05 Wednesday Aug 2015

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Yesterday I lost something very dear to me.  Normally, I am not that passionate about material possessions.  I try to stay detached so that I don’t get fixed on the “stuff” of life.  But there are a few things that mean a great deal to me, and this was one of them.  There was a lot of weeping and gnashing of teeth yesterday (literally!), and ultimately, I remembered one of my favorite saints – St. Anthony.

I know a lot of you are not familiar with or even in favor of praying with saints.  It was a practice I discovered in college.  Not having grown up in a tradition that prays with saints, it seemed mildly like praying to idols.  But once someone explained to me that the saints are more like companions in our prayer life – much like a dear friend who you ask to pray for you – I was able to ease my way into praying with saints.  I still think there is a bit of superstition to some of the saints.  St. Anthony is a classic example – he’s the patron saint of lost things.  I mean, it seems a little fishy to expect a saint to magically make your stuff appear.  But when you are desperate, you will try anything.  Hence, the prayers to St. Anthony last night and this morning.

The truth is, I am not sure praying with St. Anthony really helps you find things.  What I do know is that St. Anthony reminds you to pray – which is always a good thing.  If nothing else, when we slow down enough to pray, we find a sense of peace, and are reminded that God is with us, even when we are devastated and may never find the lost things that belong to us.  That prayer time also brings perspective about what is important in life, makes us question why we had not tended to prayer life in so long, and reconnects us with a real sense of gratitude – even in the midst of loss.  And my prayer time with St. Anthony also reminded me of how he might be helpful the next time I lose more important things – “things of the spirit,” as you will see in the prayer below.

The good news is that the item reappeared today and all the angst I felt is gone.  Now, I don’t know if St. Anthony helped.  All I know is that my gratitude is deeper and more humble today, and that I am grateful for a God who sits with me in the ashes.  Whether you pray with saints, with friends, or you just pray the old fashioned way, know that God longs to be in conversation with you.  Slow down, pull up a chair, and draw nearer to your God.

O blessed St. Anthony, the grace of God has made you a powerful advocate in all our needs and the patron for the restoring of things lost or stolen.  I turn to you today with childlike love and deep confidence.  You have helped countless children of God to find the things they have lost, material things, and, more importantly, the things of the spirit: faith, hope, and love.  I come to you with confidence; help me in my present need.  I recommend what I have lost to your care, in the hope that God will restore it to me, if it is His holy Will.  Amen.[i]

[i] http://www.catholicdoors.com/prayers/english/p00557.htm

Sermon – Ephesians 4.1-16, 2 Samuel 11.26-12.13a, P13, YB, August 2, 2015

05 Wednesday Aug 2015

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A short film circulated about a year ago[i] about the role of all religions to protect women.  The film starts out with a young woman, walking along a dirt road with books in her arms.  We presume she is walking to school to further her education.  She walks past two young men who covetously watch her pass by.  The viewer can surmise what is going to happen next.  The two men get up from the wall and start to follow her.  The young woman glances over her shoulder and sees the men following.  She speeds up, but they start running, managing to pass her, and block her way.  She comes up short and starts to back up, calculating how she is going to get away from these two men to safety.

The anxiety and dread of the young woman in that film has reminded me of Bathsheba these past two weeks.  Most of us are familiar with the David and Bathsheba story.  When we started hearing David’s story this summer, we knew this part was coming.  The story starts out in a totally different place.  When we first meet David, he is an unsuspecting, seemingly innocent, wholesome boy.  We watch David bravely take on the giant Goliath with just a bag of stones.  He is the loving friend of Jonathan and Michal, despite the fact that their father Saul tries repeatedly to kill him out of jealousy.  And when David finally becomes king, he joyously dances before God.  David has been towing the “blessed” line for most of the summer.

But these last two weeks, the story changes.  You see, David has gotten complacent and a bit self-important.  When all the other kings are going out to battle, David stays behind, letting others do his fighting.  When the rest of the kingdom is busy working or tending to life, David is lounging around the palace.  That’s where he first spies Bathsheba.  David should not have been there, and he certainly should not have let his eyes linger on a bathing married woman.  And then something awful takes over David.  He sends his men to take Bathsheba, and he sleeps with her.  Though the text never says so, we know the act must be against Bathsheba’s will, given the “enormous power differential between the violator and the violated, the intuitional background in which the crime [is] committed, and the cunning with which it [is] executed.”[ii]  Later, when Bathsheba becomes pregnant, David deepens his shame by trying to trick Bathsheba’s husband to sleep with her so that he will think the baby is his.  When that doesn’t work, David sends him to battle, having him killed in the line of fire.

I know most of us know this story.  Many of us think of this story as David’s little indiscretion.  But for some reason, reading this story this year has enraged me.  I don’t know if I am angered because I have been hearing too many stories lately about the way we treat women.  Or maybe I am angered because I expect more from David – this king who is the ancestor of our Messiah.  Or maybe I am just outraged by one more example of the powerful overpowering the powerless – taking whatever they want, ruining lives along the way.  This story is about more than an indiscretion.  This story is about a violation of the created order – a violation of the body of God.

Today, as Paul is teaching the Ephesians, he holds them to a higher standard.  Paul says, “I…beg you to lead a life worthy of the calling to which you have been called, with all humility and gentleness, with patience, bearing with one another in love, making every effort to maintain the unity of the Spirit in the bond of peace.  There is one body and one Spirit, just as you were called to the one hope of your calling, one Lord, one faith, one baptism, one God and Father of all, who is above all and through all and in all.”  Paul says we are one body.  This calling that we are to live worthily is not the vocation we have.[iii]  The calling Paul is talking about is the calling we have as Christians to be one body in Christ – of being a loving, caring, humble body in the Lord.  Nothing David does today reflects the dignity of every human being or the one body in the Lord.  In fact, David does not even seem to see the humanity in Bathsheba or her husband, Uriah.

I think why I am so angry at David is because I am angry with myself.  As much as I want to chastise and critique David, I know that my judgment of him comes out of deep sense of my own brokenness.  David makes me acutely aware of my own failings to see the dignity of every person, to honor the ways in which we are all a part of the body of Christ.  I have become aware of my own complicity with sin as the campaign “Black Lives Matter,” has arisen over the past few years.  As more and more cases of the oppression black men and women have arisen in our country, and as more and more stories have been told about the separate reality these men and women experience from white men and women, I have been feeling more and more convicted.  If we are all one body, when black lives are denigrated, all of our lives are denigrated.  When parts of our body are shamed, abused, or live in the shadow of fear, the rest of our body is not whole.  When I participate in that abuse, whether consciously or unconsciously, I am a part of that sinful denigration of our collective body.

The same was true for Bathsheba.  When Bathsheba is taken by David, the whole body of God is denigrated.  When David sins, everyone loses favor.  And the only way to correct for sin is repentance.  The initiator of repentance today is not David, but Nathan.  Now Nathan is a smart prophet.[iv]  He does not storm into the palace, wagging his finger at David.  No, he tells a story.  Nathan tells a story of a poor man and his beloved sheep.  Of course, David is drawn in by the story.  As a former shepherd himself, he knows the beloved relationships that can happen with animals for which you care.  And so when David hears of a rich man taking that sole, beloved animal, David is outraged, and proclaims that justice must prevail.  Without hesitation, Nathan now is able to quietly, but pointedly say to David, “You are the man!”  You see, Nathan remembers his calling.  He remembers the way that God taught us to live as a community of faith – that when one of our members sins, we are all denigrated by that sin.  What David would hide, and cover, Nathan exposes and corrects.

In that short film of the two men pursuing the young woman, a turn happens.  As the woman starts to slowly back up, another man is passing by.  He sees what is happening and he quickly runs over to stand between the young woman and the two men.  The two men threaten him, but he stands firm.  A Sikh man in a turban also sees what is happening and joins the protesting man, grabbing his hand and joining him in front of the woman.  A Muslim man comes along and joins hands with the men too.  Then a Christian man joins the other men.  Slowly, eight men join hands together, forming a circle of protection around the woman.  The two pursuing men back away and retreat.  A smile crosses the young woman’s face, and she lifts her head a little higher.

What this short film captures is the power of the body acting as the body.  When Nathan pronounces judgment on David, Nathan is participating in holding up the health of the whole body.  The story at this point could have gone a different way.  Nathan could have been tossed aside, and David could have kept up his deception.  But David’s last words are simple and profound.  “I have sinned against the Lord.”  Truthfully, David sinned against Bathsheba and Uriah.  But what David understands even more profoundly is that when David sins against members of the body, David sins indirectly against the Lord.[v]  We hear his fuller confession in the words of the Psalm we read today.[vi]  But what David’s words teach us is that healing and wholeness are possible.  David does not just say “I am sorry,” but David repents – or as the Hebrew word connotes, David changes his way, and returns to the Lord.  David moves back toward health and wholeness.

The redemption in David’s story for me comes not through David, but through Nathan.  Like those men in that video, Nathan stands up for those without power.  When that action happens, the body is able to move toward wholeness.  When Paul tells us to remember our calling today, Paul is talking about all the parts of us.  For those times when we are Davids, those times when we are pushed to be Nathans, and for those times when we are the Bathshebas and Uriahs, Paul’s words are simple.  “I…beg you to lead a life worthy of the calling to which you have been called….  There is one body and one Spirit, just as you were called to the one hope of your calling, one Lord, one faith, one baptism, one God and Father of all, who is above all and through all and in all.”  There is one body.  I beg you:  lead a life worthy of the calling to which you have been called.  Amen.

[i] “Every Religion Protects Women, Protecting Women Is Religion,” https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=D51_GQqVfSk, July 21, 2014, as found on July 30, 2015.

[ii] Eleazar S. Fernandez, “Theological Perspective,” Feasting on the Word, Supplemental Essays, Yr. B (Louisville:  Westminster John Knox Press, 2012), 9.

[iii] N. T. Wright, Paul for Everyone:  The Prison Letters (Louisville:  Westminster John Knox Press, 2004), 43.

[iv] Lloyd H. Steffan, “On Honesty and Self-Deception:  ‘You Are the Man’,” Christian Century, vol. 104, no. 14, April 29, 1987, 405.

[v] Carol J. Dempsey, OP, “Exegetical Perspective,” Feasting on the Word, Supplemental Essays, Yr. B (Louisville:  Westminster John Knox Press, 2012), 10.

[vi] Kathleen A. Robertson Farmer, “Exegetical Perspective,” Feasting on the Word, Supplemental Essays, Yr. B (Louisville:  Westminster John Knox Press, 2012), 6.

On humanity…

29 Wednesday Jul 2015

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This summer I have loved the unfolding of the David story in our lectionary.  I have preached on his story several times because I love how very complicated his story is.  When most of us think of David, we think of the revered king.  He was favored and anointed by God, is celebrated by the people of faith as an exemplary king, and for Christians, he is honored in the lineage that produces Jesus, the Messiah.  Our selective memory of David is not unfounded.  He has very humble beginnings.  As the youngest son of his family, relegated to working in the fields as a shepherd, he is anointed as the favored one.  As a boy, when whole armies feared Goliath, David is considered brave, fighting off the giant Goliath with only a bag of stones.  As a young man he is the beloved friend of Jonathan and Michal.  He survives multiple murder attempts by Saul – even being presented with the opportunity to kill Saul himself, David refrains.  He dances boldly before God when he becomes king, showing proper adoration of the Lord.  He and his son, Solomon, will be the last of the noble kings, before a strain of evil kings runs the people of Israel to the ground.

At least that is what our selective memory holds.  When we proudly proclaim Jesus is descended from the house of David, we sometimes gloss over the other “stuff” about David.  We gloss over the way he cuts off Michal in her grief.  We gloss over the way he rapes Bathsheba, and then has her husband killed when he cannot hide his indiscretion.  Of course, the text does not say David raped her – just that he “lay with her.”  But when a king (who has infinitely more power than a common woman) sends men to your home when your husband is away, and they take you (not asking if you are interested in going) to the king, and the king has sex with you, I am guessing the sex was not consensual.  Later, we gloss over the fact that despite this horrid beginning of a relationship with Bathsheba, Bathsheba is the one who later bares him the son, Solomon.  The list of things we gloss over about David is indeed long.

I think that is why I love the unfolding story of David.  He is beloved and horribly flawed.  He is a revered leader with deep sinfulness.  He is noble king and he is human.  I have great affection for David and I am deeply disappointed by him.  But isn’t that the way with all great people?  I remember when I first learned of how The Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. was complicit with the sexism of his time, I finally began to see him as human too.  And of course, David’s humanity forces me to reconcile with my own humanity.

But all of that reflection on David overshadows the humanity of Bathsheba.  Like so many characters in the Bible, especially women, we are left with little of her perspective.  And because we have so little information, many of us are hesitant to preach about her story.  And yet, we are a community that has Bathshebas too – women stripped of power and dignity.  I do not know what that means for Sunday’s preaching (when we will get Nathan’s judgment of David for his actions with Bathsheba), especially since I try to be careful about sensitive subjects in the pulpit.  But this week, as we continue to journey with David, I am lingering with Bathsheba.  I am lingering on what it means to be a community of Davids, Bathshebas, and Nathans – and how we do that in a healthy, honest, and humble way.  Stay tuned!

Sermon – John 6.1-12, P12, YB, July 26, 2015

29 Wednesday Jul 2015

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On one of the first days on a mission trip to Burma, our team went to Church.  Like any good Anglican Church, the Burmese have their own version of Coffee Hour.  Lots of people wanted to be around us, but mostly all we could do was smile and nod because of the language barrier.  One of the mothers of the parish came up to us and asked our translator if we were hungry.  She said she would bring us some Mohingar.  When she returned, we discovered Mohingar was a soup.  My teammate and I graciously thanked our host, but suspiciously eyed the soup.  I mean, it’s soup, so how bad can it be, right?  But it’s soup – there’s not telling what is in that thick broth.  But when you are a guest, you eat.  And, so, with many eyes on us, we tentatively ate our Mohingar.  As we ate, flavors filled our mouths.  The soup was good – really good.  In fact, this “Mohingar” was probably the best soup I have ever eaten.  This was no ordinary soup – Mohingar is like a meal in soup form.  Mohingar has eggs, noodles, fish, banana stems.  It sounds strange, but I promise you it was delicious.  I had no problem needing to pretend to graciously like the soup.  It was amazing!  At the end of my very satisfying, filling bowl of Mohingar, I raved to our host.  Unfortunately, that meant she insisted I have more.  I later realized on that trip in Burma, that this was always the practice with food.  If you even came close to finishing your food, you were always offered more – more rice, more fish, more fruit, more Mohingar.  We finally broke down and learned how to say, “I’m full” in Burmese.  What I learned about food in Burma was that showing love and hospitality meant showing abundance through food.  That is not to say that our hosts were well-off.  In fact, many of them were struggling.  But even in the midst of poverty, abundance found a way.

The disciples in our gospel lesson today were not accustomed to this practice of abundance.  Instead, they were quite adept at the practice of scarcity.  When Philip is asked where they can buy bread for everyone, he calculates the number of wages that would be needed to feed such a crowd, basically concluding that there is no way they can afford to feed so many.  When Andrew is presented with just a little food from boy – five loaves and two fish, he scoffs.  His scarcity mentality is too limited to imagine how greatness can come from so little.  I am sure that when Jesus told the disciples to sit the people down, the disciples were vacillating between skepticism, disbelief, and maybe even fear of what would happen when all five thousand people realized how hungry they were and how little this Jesus and his disciples had.

We are all familiar with this theology of scarcity.  Karen Yust imagines the same scene in a contemporary congregation.  She says, “One might expect the [Vestry] to echo Philip’s money-management concern, pointing out that the congregation does not take in enough revenue to support such a project.  The outreach committee might reinforce Andrew’s position, stating that the congregation has earmarked only a small percentage of its income for mission giving and the proposed project’s needs far exceed the allocated amount.  The groups responsible for discipleship and worship may not even offer an opinion, as they are busy preparing for a fast-approaching religious festival.  The buildings and grounds committee may assist with seating everyone on the lawn, although some [committee] members might worry about the effects of this event on the property’s landscaping.  It is likely that none of the congregations’ boards or committees would expect to participate in a miracle, as that is not what they signed on for.”[i]  On the surface, those behaviors are all smart behaviors.  Vestries have fiduciary responsibility for parishes.  Outreach committees must be wise in managing their aid.  The Altar Guild, Buildings and Grounds Committee, and Sunday School teachers all have areas of responsibility that need tending.  Even I have parameters around my discretionary fund and how often one person or family can receive aid.  The challenge is when a group of people have gathered to serve and glorify God, but only have a limited financial ability to do so (and trust me, big parishes sweat paying the bills as much as small parishes do), a seemingly necessary but nasty habit evolves – a theology of scarcity.  We all have faced that temptation.  Think about the last time you were planning your pledge to the church.  I am sure each of us looked at our income and other financial obligations before deciding what we had left to spare for the church.  We want to be sure that if we give generously to the church, we still have enough to pay the bills!

But Jesus does not seem to know anything about this theology of scarcity.  In fact, Jesus seems to have developed the opposite theology – a theology of abundance.  Of course, this feeding of five thousand should be no surprise.  This is the same Jesus who turned water into wine in Cana – and not just a little wine, but gallons upon gallons of wine; and not just any wine, but the best wine they had had all night long.  This is the same Jesus who will later explain to his disciples that in God’s house, there are many dwelling places – not just room for each of them, but many dwelling places.  In John’s gospel, “we are confronted with this profuse and full-measured flood of God’s grace mediated through the Christ.”[ii]  Nowhere does Jesus invite us to be careful or reserved.  Instead, Jesus keeps reminding us of the abundance of God.  Not only can he feed five thousand people, there will be leftovers.  And my guess is that those leftovers were there even after Jesus kept asking if they wanted more – until the people found the right words for “I’m full.”

Today, Jesus leaves us with baskets – twelve to be exact.  Twelve full baskets that are left over after feeding five thousand.  Those baskets sit there, challenging our every tendency to live on our own scarcity or fears of insufficiency.  Those baskets sit there, challenging our tendency to hoard, save, worry, and live a very small, safe life.  Those baskets sit there, challenging all the times we would rather pull back than push forward.  Instead, the baskets sit here today, right here at St. Margaret’s, inviting us to exercise faith in God’s abundance.  The baskets sit here today, calling us as a community to go places we have never been, to do things we have never tried, and to be things we have never envisioned.[iii]  The baskets sit here today, reminding us of all the times St. Margaret’s has had enough and emboldening us to live our lives as though we will always have not just enough, but an abundance.  The baskets sit here today, inviting us not be a people of anxiety and competition, but a people of generosity and hope.[iv]  Those baskets – that message of abundance is our good news today.  Amen.

[i] Karen Marie Yust, “Pastoral Perspective,” Feasting on the Word, Yr. B, vol. 3 (Louisville:  Westminster John Knox Press, 2009), 284.

[ii] Charles Hoffman, “More than Enough,” Christian Century, vol. 123, no. 15, July 25, 2006, 18.

[iii] Hoffman, 18

[iv] H. Stephen Shoemaker, “Bread and Miracles,” Christian Century, vol. 117, no. 20, July 5-12, 2000, 715.