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Seeking and Serving

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Homily – Matthew 20:20-28, St. James the Apostle, July 25, 2013

31 Wednesday Jul 2013

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Camino, homily, humility, Jesus, journey, St. James, the way

Today we honor St. James the Apostle.  James, his brother John, and Peter formed that inner circle of disciples who saw Jesus’ Transfiguration, the raising of Jairus’ daughter, and the agony in the garden.  Like anyone given preferential treatment, we find that James sometimes let his status go to his head.  As we hear in the gospel lesson today, James’ mother comes to Jesus Christ, asking whether her sons might sit at Jesus Christ’s right and left hand in the kingdom.  I have always imagined the boys put their mother up to this.  Alternatively, I can also imagine the boys endlessly arguing about preference and the mother just wanting to shut them up.

We have all had James moments.  We have imagined ourselves with a bit more esteem than we should.  Whether in our schooling, our work, our parenting, or even our church leadership, we have had those moments when we have thought of ourselves as more important than we should.  Even the most humble among us have fallen into the trap – we figure out how to master something and we prefer others to do it our way too.

To us and to James, Jesus says: Whoever wishes to be great among you must be your servant and whoever wishes to be first among you must be your slave.  James learned this lesson the hard way.  James, who proclaimed he was able to drink the cup Jesus was about to drink, found out hat he really would have to by laying his life aside for others.  He found out that being great meant dying for the Good News.

St. James is especially revered in Spain.  Pilgrims for centuries have walked the Camino to honor James in his final resting place.  The Camino, the walk, is much like the spiritual journal of James too.  He went from being a puffed-up disciple to a martyr in Jesus’ name.  He journeyed into the kind of humility Jesus demanded from the beginning.

The good news for James and for us is that we continue to journey toward embodying this humility.  We too are invited along the “way.”  We may not be able to make it there immediately.  But if we journey with James on this way, we might find the way a little easier.  Amen.

Homily – Luke 11.5-10, Elizabeth Cady Stanton, Amelia Bloomer, Sojourner Truth, and Harriet Ross Tubman, July 18, 2013

31 Wednesday Jul 2013

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ask, Bloomer, boldness, fear, God, homily, Jesus, knock, search, Stanton, truth, Tubman

I have always loved this passage from Luke:  I love the image of the tired friend shouting out the door to leave him alone because he is already in bed.  And I love that the man will not back down.  Only through this annoying, persistent pleading does the man get the friend to finally get up and help him.  From the friend’s perspective, the man is annoying and troublesome, but for the man, he just keeps pushing until his friend does the right thing.

Too often we are unlike the man knocking at the door.  We worry about asking for help or bothering someone, and so we go without or we suffer.  We become paralyzed by the fear of rejection, so we cannot even knock on the door.  Or, at the first sign of adversity, we back off.  We do not want to be rejected twice, and so we scurry away.  We are unwilling to do what our gospel lesson encourages – to ask, to search, or to knock – even though Jesus promises that when we ask, it will be given to us; and when we seek, we will find, and when we knock, the door will be opened for us.  Despite those promises, we find ourselves lost in fear.

That is why today we celebrate Elizabeth Cady Stanton, Amelia Bloomer, Sojourner Truth, and Harriet Ross Tubman.  Truthfully, each woman deserves her own feast day.  Elizabeth helped organize the first Women’s Rights Convention in 1848, and she challenged the church for using Scripture to oppress women.  Amelia, known for wearing pants – a scandal at the time – also challenged the church for its manipulation of Scripture to oppress women.  Sojourner, born as a slave, became a voice for the oppression of not just women, but black women especially.  She fought for women’s rights and for abolition, even speaking at Elizabeth’s Women’s Rights Convention, where she gave her famous speech, “Ain’t I a Woman?”  Harriet, also born a slave, not only escaped slavery, but also returned to free more than 300 people.  She too navigated the fight both for women and for African-Americans.  I suppose the reason our lectionary combines these extraordinary witnesses is because these women had no fear of asking, no opposition to searching, and no hesitation about knocking.  They were just like the man in our gospel lesson today who just kept at it until his friend did the right thing.

Today we are invited into that boldness.  We are invited to let go of whatever holds us back and to ask, to search, and to knock.  Jesus promises all will be given to us, all will be found, and all will be answered.  Amen.

Homily – Proverbs 2:1-9, St. Benedict of Nursia, July 11, 2013

31 Wednesday Jul 2013

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Benedict of Nursia, God, homily, insight, rule

When I was at Mepkin Abbey last month, I took a tour of the monastery grounds led by a volunteer.  At some point, she started talking about the monks and wondered out loud how they do it – cut off from the world, without even TV shows.  At first, I totally sympathized with her thought – I wasn’t sure how long I could go without texting, Facebook, checking NPR, etc.  My tour guide concluded that for her, the answer was that she could never do it.  But the question got me thinking about the monk’s motivation:  Though connection with others is hugely important to my life, what do I miss out on when my life is so full?

Benedict of Nursia had a sense of what was missing.  In the early 500s, Rome was being taken over by various barbarian tribes.  Benedict’s response was retreat – to be closer to God he had to retreat.  In the years to come, he wrote the rule that has influenced all of Western monasticism.  He structured the day around liturgical prayer, spiritual reading, work, eating, and sleeping.  That was it.  Simple and focused.  His rule became the rule that countless others would continue to follow.

Though I love monasteries, clearly I never chose to stay in one permanently.  I love the clarity and wisdom I have found in keeping the hours, but for those of us who do not live the monastic life, is that clarity and wisdom and insight unavailable to us?  Proverbs sheds some light on the matter.  The author gives us three “ifs”:  1) If you accept my words , 2) if you cry out for insight, and 3) if you seek understanding like silver.  If these things, then, 1) you will understand, 2) you will find the knowledge of God, and 3) you will be given wisdom from the Lord.  

Our invitation today is to figure out how to do these things in a setting that bombards us with distraction.  One gift Benedict gives to all people is the concept of a rule.  You may not follow his rule in his way, but we probably all need a rule to help us accept God’s words, cry out for insight, and seek understanding.  The abundance of this world is truly a gift – but if we allow ourselves to get lost in that abundance, we can find ourselves no longer longing for a connection to God.  Benedict and Proverbs assure us we can still find a way to God and insight, even in the midst this life.  Amen.

Taking a seat…

24 Wednesday Jul 2013

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conversation, encounter, God, Holy Spirit, stranger

On the last day of my spiritual retreat last month, I headed down to the river toward my favorite bench so that I could watch the water and be silent with God one more time.  As I approached the bench, I noticed a woman sitting in a camping chair beside the bench.  I thought about going somewhere else, but I figured since we were still on the monastery grounds, maybe she would not mind just continuing to be in silence next to me.  When I quietly asked her if I could sit at the other end of the bench, she politely agreed.

The silence only lasted about five minutes.  She asked me what I was doing there, and slowly, despite my best efforts at being quiet, she drew me into a conversation.  The conversation that unfolded was surprisingly deep.  We talked about commonalties of geography, faith, and family.  A lapsed Roman Catholic, she had never met a female priest before.  There were many questions about the Episcopal Church – including what she called our “recent controversies.”  I cautiously proceeded, wondering what exactly she thought about our Church, assuming the “recent controversies” she mentioned were about our struggles around our relationship with our LGBT brothers and sisters.  I realized we were both being cautious with one another when, an hour later, she finally began talking about her gay son and how their relationship has evolved over the years.  Toward the end of our conversation, she showed me a devotional book she had been reading.  I asked her if I could write down the title, and before I knew it, she was insisting that I take the book.  She even gave me a bookmark with her name on it so that I would have something by which to remember our conversation.

courtesy of http://imthelittlemissfit.wordpress.com/2013/07/06/a-random-ball-pit-and-two-complete-strangers/

courtesy of http://imthelittlemissfit.wordpress.com/2013/07/06/a-random-ball-pit-and-two-complete-strangers/

I left that conversation, feeling more buoyant than I had for much of my retreat.  In fact, that conversation reminded me of a video from the website, Soul Pancake.  Take five minutes to watch the video by clicking here – trust me:  it is worth your time.

I realized if the people from that video and I could have such a random, meaningful, spiritual conversations with a total stranger, surely I could do the same at home.  So that has been the encouragement for getting myself and our parishioners out into the community to do just that.  Of course, the work is harder than it seems.  I have done the first step – getting myself into non-church public places where I can at least encounter strangers.  The next step – figuring out how to start the random conversations – is a bit trickier.  My hope is that if I keep placing myself in situations where encounter can happen, perhaps I will listen a little more intently to the nudging of the Holy Spirit to join someone on a bench or in a ball pit.  Who knows what can happen?

Sermon – Ecclesiasticus 51.9-12, Feast of St. Margaret of Antioch (Transferred), July 21, 2013

24 Wednesday Jul 2013

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Ecclesiasticus, feast, God, martyr, prayer, saint, Sermon, St. Margaret of Antioch

Today we celebrate the feast of St. Margaret of Antioch, our patron saint.  The legends vary widely about Margaret, but in general, her story goes a bit like this.  Margaret was born to a pagan father, but Margaret was raised by a nurse.  The nurse introduced Margaret to Christianity, and the father disowned her.  As a young teen, she devoted herself to Jesus Christ, vowing to remain his bride for the rest of her life.  A few years later, a wealthy man passed her way and requested to take her as his mistress.  She refused, and he had her imprisoned and beaten.  Her captors felt sorry for her and begged her to submit to the man, but she assured them that though they saw suffering, she saw her pain as “sweeter than cream.”[i]  In her weakened state, she is believed to have faced a dragon, though some refer to the dragon as a demon or Satan himself.  The dragon tried to swallow her, and with a cross she held in her hand, she defeated the dragon.  Of course, this victory did not seal her fate.  Still refusing to submit to the rich man, she was eventually beheaded.

When I explain to outsiders about which Margaret is our patron saint, I often explain how we picked the weird one.  First of all, relating to martyrs is always difficult for modern Christians.  Few of us will ever face torture or persecution for our faith.  Though we may admire their commitment, imagining how we would show similar dedication is challenging.  Furthermore, relating to someone who commits their virginity to Jesus Christ might be difficult for many of us.  Though we may admire nuns and monks today, whose lives also involve a commitment to chastity, very few of us can imagine such a rule for ourselves.  Besides, we get entirely uncomfortable just talking about sex in church.  Add in the bizarre story about the dragon, and most of us start to mentally check out or at least assign Margaret to the category of fiction.  This distance creates a barrier for finding meaningful connection to Margaret.

Of course, some of our resistance is aided by our conflicted feelings about the value of saints.  What I appreciate about saints in the Episcopal Church is that we have a broader definition of saints than the Roman Catholic Church.  We have a wider variety of saints that are commemorated throughout the year, and in fact, our weekly Thursday Eucharist here at St. Margaret’s always focuses on a saint of the church.  What I find most appealing about saints is that they can often be aids for us in prayer.  Either we can pray to be more like a certain saint, or we can use saints as a vehicle through whom we pray to God.  St. Margaret of Antioch was known as the patron saint of women in childbirth.  “Because of the promises made just before Margaret’s death to assist anyone – especially women in childbirth – who has [St. Margaret’s] life written down, reads it, or has it read to them…[some of the copies of her story were] written on long strips of parchment which were fastened around the abdomens of women in labor.”[ii]  Though that practice may sound silly to us now, who has not prayed to St. Anthony when they lost something, or purchased a St. Joseph when trying to sell a home?

Perhaps where we find the most help today in understanding St. Margaret is from our reading from Ecclesiasticus.  The author begins the final chapter with these words, “And I sent up my prayer from the earth, and begged for rescue from death.  I cried out, ‘Lord, you are my Father; do not forsake me in the days of trouble, when there is no help against the proud.’”  I imagine Margaret cried out to God in a similar way in that prison cell.  I imagine there was nothing but prayer on her lips.  But even more than crying out to God in her pain and suffering, I imagine that Margaret more so prayed the words that the author of Ecclesiasticus also prayed, “I will praise your name continually, and will sing hymns of thanksgiving.”  Despite her many trials – being disowned, being captured and tortured, and being threatened with death – she somehow saw the sweetness of Christ in all of her trials.  She could still come to God in praise and thanksgiving, despite facing circumstance that called for nothing of the sort.

St. Margaret has a lot to teach us about today about prayer.  I was just in conversation with someone this week about their prayer life, and they confessed how good they are with their “thank yous and pleases” to God, but how rarely their prayer life is filled with adoration of God.  We all struggle with this kind of prayer relationship with God.  We are quite good at coming to God when we need something, and we occasionally remember to thank God for our blessings.  But rarely do we stand before God, arms and hands open and just stand in awe of our God.  We get caught up in a relationship with God as an exchange, and we forget how huge our God is and how tremendous God’s presence in our lives is.

Today, Margaret invites us to remember the awesomeness of our God.  She reminds us of the incredible work began here in Plainview fifty years ago in her name.  And she invites us into a prayer of adoration for the bountiful grace that awaits us in our next fifty years.  For the First Communion we celebrate today, for the bountiful produce that our Garden of Eatin’ is producing, for the blessing of Holy Matrimony that a couple plans for this afternoon, for the blessed fellowship we enjoyed yesterday at the Gibsons’, for the gift of life and ministry in this place, and for the saint who reminds us of the awesomeness of our God, we will praise the Lord’s name continually, and we will sing hymns of thanksgiving this day.  Amen.


[i] Sherry L. Reams, ed., Middle English Legends of Women Saints (Kalamazoo: Medieval Institute Publications, 2003), 119.

[ii] Reams, 111.

While you were sleeping…

17 Wednesday Jul 2013

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frustration, God, love, patience, peace, sleeping, toddler

I am in the stage of parenting where many parents with older kids look at me sympathetically and promise me that things will get better.  They lament about how it was the threes, not the twos, that were “terrible.”  They promise me that by age five, a certain shift happens.  And some days, those words are enough to help me take a deep breath as my child is screaming angrily for no apparent reason, or hitting, or kicking, or you name it.  I love my daughter dearly, but the last several months of her development have been challenging, to say the least.  And certainly, it feels like she brings out the worst in me too.  So what seems like the glorious bliss of parenthood is quite often a complicated, guilt-provoking mess.

-courtesy of http://howmanyarethere.net/how-many-hours-a-child-must-sleep-in-a-day/

courtesy of http://howmanyarethere.net/how-many-hours-a-child-must-sleep-in-a-day/

But just the other night, as my daughter “attempted,” to fall asleep, she finally asked if I would come in and rock her to sleep.  Not getting the chance to cuddle her often, I agreed.  As we were rocking, she started lightly snoring, and as I looked at her relaxed face, my perception of her totally changed.  She seemed not like a temperamental, trying toddler, but just a sweet little kid.  The lull of sleep had smoothed out the anger and frustration from her face, and made her look peaceful and lovely.  And in that moment, my love for her exploded, my forgiveness of her craziness overflowed, and my own frustration faded quickly away.

It occurred to me that my perspective in that moment must be God’s perspective of all of us.  The God who loves us all so profoundly must only be able to do that if that God can see us for who we really are – that version of ourselves when we sleep:  utterly human, vulnerable, and lovable.  The anxiety is gone from our face and all that remains are the everyday functions of being human – breathing in and out, while our body is restored to refreshment and wholeness.

Having watched the news recently, especially the Zimmerman/Martin case, I have had some pretty hostile feelings about the people involved in the case, the people reporting on the case, and even toward people whom I know who seem unconvinced of the problems in our justice system.  And everyday, I deal with family, friends, and, yes, even parishioners who frustrate me to no end.  But I have been wondering about how I might begin to think of those objects of my frustration in their sleep.  If I could see them vulnerably, peacefully sleeping, might I begin to see them with the eyes of God?  I am not suggesting that forgiveness will come easily or even soon.  But what I am wondering is whether seeing others through God’s love might at least give me the patience to try one more day of walking in God’s love too.

Sermon – Luke 10.25-37, P10, YC, July 14, 2013

17 Wednesday Jul 2013

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ESPN, God, Good Samaritan, Jesus, love, messy, relationship, Sermon, the other

Lisa had produced lots of stories like this over the last ten years.  They were human-interest stories for ESPN – the stories that drew people into the private pain and sacred celebrations behind their beloved sports.  Lisa loved her work, but she had never gotten as involved as she did four years ago.  In 2009 she met Leroy and Dartanyon – two high school wrestlers from a poor Cleveland school who were fighting against all odds.  Dartanyon was homeless and legally blind and Leroy had lost parts of both legs in a train accident.  Dartanyon often carried Leroy to classes up stairs, while Leroy helped Dartanyon with his homework.  Their story was so potent for Lisa that she could not walk away.  Over the course of four years, she would find herself doing everything from helping Dartanyon obtain his birth certificate, to ensuring they had food everyday; from helping them fill out financial aid forms for college, to connecting Dartanyon to a Paralympic coach.

When I saw Lisa’s story this week, I could not help but to think about the Good Samaritan from the gospel lesson today.  Most of us know this story well, and pretty much all of us want to strive to be a Good Samaritan; so much so that we spend time volunteering, we give money to aid important causes, and we even occasionally give a dollar to that guy on the corner.  But what struck me this week about the story of the Good Samaritan is that we often simplify the example of the Samaritan. We read this story and we know that we should not be like the lawyer or the priest or the Levite.  We should help others like the Samaritan.  The problem though with this simplified response to Jesus’ command to “Go and do likewise,” is that we skim over all the work the Samaritan did.  The text says the Samaritan, “went to [the victim] and bandaged his wounds, having poured oil and wine on them.  Then he put him on his own animal, brought him to an inn, and took care of him.  The next day he took out two denarii, gave them to the innkeeper, and said, ‘Take care of him; and when I come back, I will repay you whatever more you spend.’”

Several things strike me about this account.  First of all, there is a longevity to the care of the Samaritan.  The Samaritan does not simply give the man some bandages, or a cloak, or even some money, and then leave.  The Samaritan does not simply help the man to a local hospital or inn and then carry on with his life.  The Samaritan does not even care for the man overnight, and then depart, having certainly done his duty.  No, the Samaritan even pays for the man to stay and promises to return and pay for whatever else is due.  This is not a one-time exchange, or even a short-term exchange.  This exchange is a commitment to the long haul – a dedication not just to help but to be in relationship.  This is what Jesus means when he says we are to “go and do likewise.”

What is tricky about this kind of relationship is that this kind of relationship is messy.  Though there is some debate among scholars, many seem to think that the victim on the side of the road was a Jew.[i]  So not only was this victim beaten, robbed, and abandoned by those who should have cared for the victim, he was helped and tended to by a Samaritan – a man who was his enemy.  The Jews and Samaritans had a long-standing conflict.  The Jews had a very low opinion of the Samaritans.  Samaritans were seen as second-class citizens to be avoided at all costs.  So imagine when the victim woke up at that inn to find a Samaritan nursing him back to health.

Not to mention how complicated this is for the Samaritan.  He knows how most Jews feel about him.  He may have even felt the same way about the Jewish people.  But somehow, his sense of pity gets the best of him, and he finds himself not just asking if the guy is okay, but spending his time and resources on this complete stranger who is his enemy as well.  This encounter between these two men is not simply a one-way, clean exchange of helper and helped.  This is a messy encounter that leaves the two in a strange relationship that can only be possible through God’s grace.  Whatever biases the Jew had against Samaritans had to have been called into question that next morning.  Hatred of another cannot remain when one is the recipient of love as deep as the Samaritan shows.  And whatever biases the Samaritan had against Jews had to have weakened that day too.  You cannot dress a man’s wounds, care for him overnight, and return to check in on him without some of your defenses coming down.  The kind of neighborliness that Jesus is inviting people into is messy, complicated, and a bit scary.

Lisa, Leroy, and Dartanyon knew a little about this kind of messiness.  Dartanyon and Leroy not only faced the challenges of their own physical limitations, they also lived in a world of struggle.  Their school was a school marked by violence and active police presence.  Books were handed out and locked back up after each class.  Less than forty percent would ever graduate and untold numbers were left pregnant.  And white people were not necessarily seen as allies.  Meanwhile, Lisa had grown up on the other side of Cleveland.  Her parents scraped together money just so that she would not have to go to school with those her parents would call, “those people.”  Lisa and Leroy and Dartanyon grew up knowing each other as “the other,” and any attempt at a relationship brought these biases, baggage, and burdens to the foreground.

The funny thing is that when we read our gospel lesson day, we can feel that Jesus is scolding the lawyer in some way.  But I think what is actually happening here is a bit of healthy challenge.  Jesus fully admits that if the lawyer simply does what the law calls for:  to love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your strength, and with all your mind; and your neighbor as yourself – then the lawyer will be fine.  Jesus is saying that even the slightest effort of loving God and loving neighbor is good and to be commended.  But in the story of the Good Samaritan, Jesus is hinting to the lawyer that there is a potential for more – a potential to know God more fully and to love more deeply than he could even imagine is possible.  And that kind of amped up grace and blessing can only come from messy, complicated, scary relationships with the other.

Recently, while Lisa, Leroy, and Dartanyon prepared for a follow-up story with ESPN, Dartanyon quietly asked Lisa the question that probably many others had wondered about but never asked.  “Why did you stay?”  Lisa’s response was automatic.  “I love you,” she answered.  “That’s what I thought you’d say,” he replied.  “But … why … why did you stick around and do everything you did?”  Lisa’s response was long and complicated because their relationship was messy, complicated, and at times maybe even scary.  But after much reflection, Lisa concludes, “I stayed because we can change the world only when we enter into another’s world.”[ii]  Though I have no idea whether Lisa is a person of faith, Lisa is preaching Jesus’ words today with her life.  She understands that being neighbors means not just helping people, but entering into their lives, and taking on whatever messiness that involves – because only then can we know the kind of love Jesus has for us.  In that sacred, vulnerable, tenuous reality that is relationship with the other is where we experience Jesus and the love Jesus has for all of us – even those we might label as the other.  Jesus knows how hard this will be.  But Jesus tells us to “Go and do likewise,” anyway because Jesus knows that we can.  Amen.


[i] Matthew L. Skinner, “Exegetical Perspective,” Feasting on the Word, Yr. C, Vol. 3 (Louisville: Westminster John Knox Press, 2010), 241.

[ii] Lisa M. Fenn, “‘Carry On’: Why I Stayed,” as found on http://espn.go.com/espn/otl/story/_/id/9454322/why-stayed on July 9, 2013.

Harboring hope…

10 Wednesday Jul 2013

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church, God, hope, summer

-Photo courtesy of http://cbfportal.wordpress.com/2012/06/20/hope-beckons-lessons-from-worship-with-bwim/

-Photo courtesy of http://cbfportal.wordpress.com/2012/06/20/hope-beckons-lessons-from-worship-with-bwim/

I have begun to think about summer as a time of hope.  Summer brings a sense of unrestrained possibility.  The days are longer, encouraging us to get out of bed and get busy with life, and then leaving us more time for evening enjoyment.  We tend to take our vacations in the summer, creating a hopeful anticipation of what adventures could await.  We slow down a bit, giving us time to rekindle the hope that we bury in the wintertime.  We reconnect with God’s creation, feeling the freedom that the outdoors brings and feeling a renewed hopefulness about life.

Though summers are often busy in the church, with days full of planning, there is a sense of hopefulness about our faith life that comes this time of the year too.  This is the time that we take to dream and imagine how our life together might be better.  We slow down to read curricula, imagining what transformation might happen among our children and adults.  We look at our calendars, feeling a sense that anything is possible for the program year.  We take time to talk to one another to imagine what opportunities beckon – a process that can only take place once we have slowed down and made space for deep listening.  Once we are in the midst of the program year, much of that hopeful anticipation fades because we are too busy executing our plans to dream up new ideas.  But now, now is a time of simmering hope.

Our invitation is to let this hopefulness fill our beings.  Our invitation is to drink in this hopefulness like a thirst that longs for quenching.  Our invitation is to stoke this hope so that it might burn ever brighter, creating a slow burn that lasts us through the long winter months.  This hopefulness is our summer gift from God, prodding us on to live our faith bigger, brighter, and bolder than ever.

Sermon – Lk. 10.1-11, 16-20, P9, YC, July 7, 2013

10 Wednesday Jul 2013

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evangelism, fear, God, grace, gratitude, Jesus, joy, Sermon, seventy

One of the challenges of our faith is connecting our modern world to the world of Holy Scripture.  Most of us have experienced the Living Word still speaking to us today, but some texts are a little more relatable than others.  Today’s gospel lesson is one of those un-relatable texts.  The more we think about those seventy who were sent out the more we conclude that their experience is totally foreign to us.  Jesus brings us up short right away when he starts talking about going out into the mission field to “harvest” people.  We get nervous just talking about the word evangelism, let alone trying to figure out what harvesting people means.  Our minds wander to thoughts about judgment and saving souls and a shudder moves down our spine.  Then we get into the gritty details of the text.  Jesus tells the disciples that they are to preach about the kingdom coming near.  Most of us hear the word “preach” and we immediately tune out.  “Oh, that’s what the priest does.  I guess this is not a passage about what I am called to do.”  And that thought does not even cover our aversion to the idea of preaching, “The kingdom of God has come near to you.”  All we can envision is that guy in Times Square with the sandwich board yelling about how we are all going to hell for us to decide conclusively that this passage does not relate to us.  Add to these reservations the instruction from Jesus to cure the sick and we are pretty much done.  Most of us are not doctors and many of us are still uncertain about what role our faith plays in our health.

The truth is I am not sure the seventy others who Jesus sent out felt too confident either.  First Jesus tells them that the “harvest is plentiful, but the laborers are few.”  So basically, there is so much work to be done that the seventy are going to be overworked and overstressed.  Next Jesus tells them, “I am sending you out like lambs into the midst of wolves.”  Quite frankly, I would think most of the seventy would have been terrified by this statement.  I am sure they were panicked with questions about who these wolves were and whether their own lives were at stake.  Then Jesus tells them, “Carry no purse, no bag, no sandals; and greet no one on the road.”  He goes on to explain that they are to be dependent upon the hospitality of others.  If they were not worried about working conditions already, this last bit of information might have set them on edge.  Basically Jesus sends them out with nothing – no safety net, no creature comforts, and no guarantees.  So the seventy are terrified and starkly vulnerable; and we, thousands of years later, are either equally wary or totally dismissive.

Back in April, the Vestry had a retreat about evangelism.  One of the stories the consultant told us was about her own harried experience with evangelism.  She was studying with a professor whose specialty was church growth, and her assignment for her thesis was to go to a local coffee shop and start talking to people about their faith.  The first week she went to the coffee shop, but was too terrified to talk to anyone.  When her professor asked her how it went, she totally lied.  She made up some story about talking to some people and how the conversations were good.  This charade continued for weeks.  Each week she would go to the shop, but be unable to take that first step.  And each week, she would lie to her professor about trying.  Finally, guilt won over, and she took a small step forward.  She made a little sign out of a folded piece of paper that read, “Talk to me about church, and I’ll buy you a cup of coffee.”  She sat nervously, petrified of what would happen.  Eventually a woman came up to her and said, “I’d like to talk to you about church, but I’ll buy the cup of coffee for you.”  The following conversation was transformative for both of them, and the professor, who knew all along she was lying, was proud to see the consultant finally make progress.

Like there was good news for this consultant, so there is good news for the seventy.  Although Jesus does send the seventy out in a very vulnerable way, he does not send them alone.  Jesus sends them in pairs.  Having a partner offers all sorts of security in the midst of their vulnerability.  “When one of them falters, the other can help.  When one is lost, the other can seek the way.  When one is discouraged, the other can hold faith for both for a while.  That is what the company of believers does – we hold on to each other, console each other, encourage and embolden each other, and even believe for each other.”[i]

Second, Jesus promises the seventy that the harvest is plentiful.  Jesus does not tell the seventy that they are responsible for preparing the harvest – that is God’s work.  Their work is simply to gather the harvest.[ii]  This distinction is pretty tremendous because Jesus is saying that people are ready for his message.  Jesus does not tell the seventy that they will need to go out and convince people of the message.  Instead, he tells them that there are people who will already be receptive and are simply waiting for the seventy to gather them.

Finally, we hear that after this scary commission – as lambs among wolves, of walking over snakes and scorpions, and of being utterly reliant on the hospitality of strangers – the seventy return with joy.  This thing Jesus asks them to do does not leave them bereft or exhausted or even discouraged.  The seventy return delighted in what has happened to them; not because they did something, but because of the work that God did through them.[iii]

This gospel lesson has good news for us today as well.  Despite all of our hang-ups about the language – about harvesting people, the kingdom of God coming near, and about curing people – at the end of the day, this story is about our own call to share our experience of God’s grace with others.  When we think about this text in those terms, the language starts to shift.  When Jesus says we are to go out for the harvest, and that the harvest is plentiful, mostly Jesus is telling us that in our world today, people are eager for a word of Good News.  Even if they say they are not religious, or they do not normally talk about God, Jesus assures us today that there are many people who want to hear your story of gratitude about all that God has done in your life.  And when Jesus says the kingdom of God is coming near, he is not asking us to put on a sandwich board and grab a megaphone.  Mostly he is telling us to stop delaying and get out there.  The kingdom being near is his way of saying the time for sharing is now.  Finally, when Jesus tells us to cure people, we might consider the ways that our faith has been a salve for us.  Surely in your faith journey, at some point your relationship with God has gotten you through something tough and has returned you to wholeness.  Hearing some Good News might just be the same salve that others need.

And just in case you are not sure about all of this, I want to give you a little encouragement.  In our Vestry evangelism work, our first bit of homework was to go to a local gas station or shop and ask for directions to St. Margaret’s.  One of our Vestry members was shocked to find that the grocery clerk was able to give her perfect directions to our church.  The Vestry member found out that she lives in the neighborhood across the street, though she had never actually been inside our doors.  Just over a week ago, another Vestry member was chatting with a different grocery clerk about the amount of blueberries she was purchasing.  The Vestry member explained that they were for Church.  The clerk proceeded to ask her which Church and even said she might come by one Sunday.  And then yesterday, as I was stretching at the Y, a gentleman approached me who I had seen several times over the last year.  He said that he had seen me in a St. Margaret’s t-shirt the last time I was at the Y and he wondered what my affiliation was with St. Margaret’s.  In the conversation that followed, I learned that he had once attended St. Margaret’s and that he might consider coming back for a visit.

Though the language of this gospel might make us evangelism-wary Episcopalians nervous, the truth is that Jesus is simply inviting us to share the Good News of God’s grace in our lives.  He promises that we do not have to do the work alone – we always have good partners here at St. Margaret’s.  He promises that people are ready to hear our words – we all have a story of goodness about our faith journey here.  And he promises that there will be joy – we will all find surprising delights in this journey of sharing.  Our invitation is to be a laborer in the plentiful harvest.  Amen.


[i] David Lose, “The Greater Gift,” as found on http://www.workingpreacher.org/craft.aspx?post=2617, on July 5, 2013.

[ii] David J. Lose, “Homiletical Perspective,” Feasting on the Word, Yr. C, Vol. 3 (Louisville: Westminster John Knox Press, 2010), 217.

[iii] Richard J. Shaffer, Jr., “Pastoral Perspective,” Feasting on the Word, Yr. C, Vol. 3 (Louisville: Westminster John Knox Press, 2010), 218.

Do over…

03 Wednesday Jul 2013

Posted by jandrewsweckerly in Uncategorized

≈ 2 Comments

Tags

do over, God, grace, restart, spiritual

This week I was commiserating with another mother of a young child, and we were both noting how hard parenting can be at times.  She confided that sometimes, when things are particularly crazy, she just sings about it.  That morning, she found herself singing, “This morning is insane!”  Although she was complaining, somehow singing about it made her loosen up and feel better about the whole thing.

Her tip reminded me of one of the collects from Mepkin Abbey.  At midday prayer one day, one of the collects was a petition asking God to renew our sense of purpose and use the rest of the day for good.  I remember thinking how full of grace that collect was – like a spiritual “do over.”  I remember thinking that whatever I had accomplished (or not accomplished) in the morning did not have to affect how the rest of the day took shape.  At that moment, in that prayer, I found a new sense of freedom – as if I was given permission to not have to wait until tomorrow to start over, but to start over right then and there.

Courtesy of www.carbonthree.com.

Picture courtesy of http://www.carbonthree.com.

Sometimes I think we could all stand to give ourselves a spiritual “do over.”  Instead of beating ourselves up for our failures, or wallowing in a bad mood because of something someone else said or did to us, we can turn it all over to God and simply start again.  Truthfully, I imagine God is a bit amused by our inability to give ourselves “do overs.”  Our God is a God marked by abundant love, forgiveness, and grace.  Our God is all about the “do over.”  When we forget that, our image of God then becomes a cold, calculating, scorekeeping God.  That is not the God we know.  Instead, our God is a God who is continually welcoming us into God’s arms.  I am reminded of Jesus’ words, as he lamented over Jerusalem, “How often have I desired to gather your children together as a hen gathers her brood under her wings, and you were not willing!” Mt. 23.37

Perhaps this week, we might consider how we might allow Jesus to gather us under his wing, to start again living into God’s graciousness instead of wallowing in our own sense of failure or frustration.  Whether at the end of the day, in the middle of the day, or even after breakfast, the “do over” is available at all times from the God who longs to gather us.

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