Sermon – Luke 4.14-21, EP3, YC, January 27, 2013

30 Wednesday Jan 2013

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The word is spreading.  The new rabbi in town is incredible!  He is clearly filled with the Spirit.  He has become quite the sensation in Galilee and everyone expects his appearance in Nazareth to be impressive – what home town would not love to see their son come home and preach a good word?!  Nazareth, expecting to be proud and wowed, sits in the synagogue.  And then it happens – Jesus does not preach a scintillating sermon.  Instead, he finds a bold text – a text from Isaiah that we all know contains the words that the Messiah will use – reads the text, and then he just sits down.  The room is silent.  We all just stare.  The shock is heavy in the room and words fail us all.  Our minds are running amok with questions.  Did he just read that text from Isaiah?  Is he saying he is the Messiah?  Is he the Messiah?  What does this mean?  What does he mean the scripture is fulfilled?  Of course, no one says those words aloud.  We just stare.  We stare in silence.

Words have mighty power in our lives.  As we celebrated the Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King this past week, I have read countless quotes from his life and ministry.  He was a man who knew how to use words powerfully.  In an age where we are barraged by words – in media, in politics, in books – we sometimes forget the power of words.  We tend to skim words, to gloss over them, looking to quickly glean information because we are inundated with words.  In our haste, we forget the power of words.

The catch with words is that words have the power to make both positive change and to get us into trouble.  My grandfather always used to say, never put anything in print that you do not want the world to see.  We have watched these last months how words can cause trouble.  This fall’s political campaign led to many people saying words they regret.  Just in the past two weeks, two big athletes, Lance Armstrong and Manti Te’o, realized the chaos that their words could produce.  Teens every week are terrorized by the words of cyberbullying – with reputations ruined worldwide when seemingly private photos or acts are posted on Facebook for all to see.[i]

This is why that silent synagogue is so powerful today.  Jesus takes words that everyone knows, and he changes them.  The Messiah, the anointed one, has been long awaited:  so long awaited, that I doubt many people still believed the Messiah would come in their time.  So Joe’s boy rolling up into the synagogue and declaring that he is the anointed Messiah is a big deal.  These are words of power and weight – so heavy that the room is completely silent.

Part of the weight of Jesus’ words comes from whom he is claiming to be.  The other part of the weight of Jesus words is interpreting what they mean for the world now.  For Jesus, and for his followers, these words from Isaiah through Jesus become a mission statement of sorts.[ii]  If you remember, in Luke’s gospel Jesus is baptized, goes into the wilderness to be tempted, and this is the first that we really hear from Jesus.  These words are not just bold words – these words will define the entire remainder of Luke’s gospel.  If you were writing one of those fifth-grade book reports, you can almost hear the introduction, “The theme of Luke’s gospel is that Jesus brings good news to the poor, release to the captives, recovery of sight to the blind, freedom to the oppressed, and the year of the Lord’s favor.”  For the rest of this lectionary year we will be hearing stories of Jesus fulfilling these words – good news, release, sight, freedom, favor.  This is what Jesus’ ministry is about.  Jesus takes the words from Isaiah and he changes them.  And through changing them, he changes the world.

A video has been circulating this week called, “The Power of Words.”  In it, a blind man is sitting on a sidewalk, with a cardboard sign that reads, “I’m blind.  Please help.”  As he sits there, two or three of the tens of people who pass by actually drop a coin or two in front of him.  He silently feels for the coin and then puts the coin in his tin can.  Finally a woman sees him and stops.  She silently picks up his sign, turns the piece of cardboard over and writes something else on the sign.  Without a word, she walks away.  In the next several scenes everyone stops and gives the blind man handfuls of coins.  The woman eventually returns, and dumbfounded, the man asks her, “What did you do to my sign?”  She simply replies, “I wrote the same, but different words.”  As she walks away, we see that what she wrote is, “It’s a beautiful day and I can’t see it.”  She took a sign that said, “I’m blind.  Please help,” and she changed the words to, “It’s a beautiful day and I can’t see it.”  The video ends with these words, “Change your words.  Change the world.”[iii]  What the woman in this video does is she takes something we see everyday – a man asking for help, and makes him not so “everyday.”  By changing the words on his sign, she helps all see with fresh eyes.  Suffering and pain no longer seems acceptable simply because of her words.  She changes people with her words

This is what Jesus does in that temple.  He takes words with a certain set of values and meaning, and he changes them.  No longer will good news, release, sight, freedom, and favor be a future dream.  They will change now with Jesus Christ.  So perhaps part of the silence in that synagogue comes from the joyful realization that this liberation might actually happen in their time.  But another part of that silence comes from the implications.  If the Messiah is here, offering liberation from poverty, imprisonment, blindness, and oppression, then that means that the people of God will have to start living like the Messiah is here.  They too will have to work to bring good news to the poor.  They too will have to work to release the captives.  They too will have to care for the blind and the oppressed.  They too will have to honor the year of the Lord’s favor, the Jubilee Year when debts are forgiven, slaves are freed, and lands are left to rest.  Jesus’ words not only change the people of God’s reality, Jesus’ words will change the world, and the people of God’s behavior in that word.  This is big, silence-making news.

Jesus’ words change us too.  We too are left in silence as the weight of Jesus’ words hit us.  If we are to follow Jesus, we too are to be working for the poor, the imprisoned, the blind, and the oppressed.  As that reality waves over us, we too are silenced by the questions.  What does that mean for us?  How will this change my walk with God?  How uncomfortable is this work going to be?  How joyful will this work be?  Pondering these and probably many more questions is a good thing, even more so with Lent on the horizon and the looming of our own Jubilee year here at St. Margaret’s.  With the text ending as the text does today, we are invited to tarry in that silent pondering today.  But know that the pondering is not indefinite.  Jesus’ words hint at the immediacy of the work that is needed.  “Today this scripture has been fulfilled in your hearing.”  So do the pondering you need to do.  But know that Jesus is waiting at the back door, ready for you to join him in the messianic work of good news, release, sight, freedom, and favor.  Amen.

[ii] Ernest Hess, “Homiletical Perspective,” Feasting on the Word, Yr. C, Vol. 1 (Louisville:  Westminster John Knox Press, 2009), 287.

Sermon – 1 Corinthians 12.1-11, EP2, YC, January 20, 2013

23 Wednesday Jan 2013

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About two thousand years ago, the Christian community that had formed in Corinth was a diverse group.  There were Greeks and Jews, slaves and free people, men and women, rich and poor.  Their only unifying tie was that they all confessed Jesus as Lord.  And like any good church, they were of a divided mind.  We learn from their correspondence with Paul, that they are particularly divided about what spiritual gifts are to be the most highly valued.  The running argument is that the gift of ecstatic speech is the most important, and those displaying that gift should be given higher importance in the community.[i]  Unable to settle this argument among themselves, they turn to Paul.

Unfortunately for those arguing for singling out the gifted, Paul proclaims a different reality – everyone is gifted.  Simply by proclaiming Jesus as Lord, each person is given a gift.  The gifts may be different, and there will be a diversity of gifts.  This diversity of gifts is necessary for the community, making the community richer and helping the community to see the fullness of God.

Paul’s explanation sounds lovely.  Everyone is special and everyone has gifts.  But truthfully, in the depths of our hearts, we do not really agree with Paul.  We have lived in a cutthroat, competitive world too long to know that not all gifts are really valued equally – not even in the Church.  Sure, some people are gifted teachers, or seem especially spiritual – but what we really need are people skilled in finances.  Or maybe we really value people who are wise or people who are good with technology.  Whatever the thing is that we value, the point is that we rank gifts.  And although we might not want to admit the fact, as modern Americans, we tend to roll our eyes at Paul, seeing his explanation on gifts as cute, but not really helpful if a church is going to succeed.

When I was in college I went to a multicultural church in a small city.  The church was primarily African-American and African, but several Anglos from the community and from the local college joined the dynamic parish.  As the parish grew, we often had conversations about what our diversity meant and how we would negotiate each others’ differences.  But one day, the pastor had an idea that he charged ahead with before really getting buy-in from the church.  He invited two local group homes to bring their residents to church on Sundays.  The residents had mental and physical disabilities, and many of them were in wheelchairs.  Some were more verbal than others, but many of those who were verbal could not form clear words.  You could tell right away that the church members were uncomfortable.  We did not know how to handle the outbursts or the behavior of the group home members.  Luckily, the pastor was much more generous than we were.  He noticed that the outbursts were not random.  In fact, sometimes a yell sounded a lot like an “Amen!”  And so in the church’s customary call-and-response format, the pastor engaged the group home members just like he did the rest of the church members.

That church learned relatively quickly what Paul was trying to teach the members of the church in Corinth.  Whereas the church in Corinth sees its own diversity and wants to begin ranking gifts, Paul is trying to explain that their diversity is their gift.  Every person in that community is needed to make the community whole.  The full range of gifts means that the community is richer and can live out the community’s call more fully.  Without the interpreter of tongues, the speaker of tongues is useless.  The healers heal the community.  The miracle workers help the community see God.  The prophets help send the people out beyond the community.  Only together can they live into the fullness of faith.  Each person is indeed gifted – but not for the sake of personal pride.  The gift’s purpose is to edify the entire community.[ii]

Furthermore, what Paul is also trying to explain is the gifts are not just for the person, or for the community.  The diversity of gifts tells them something about God.  The diversity of gifts gives the community a glimpse into the diversity of God.[iii]  Only when all those diverse gifts are being enfleshed does the community in Corinth begin to get a glimpse into the fullness of God.  Paul knows that understanding God fully is impossible – we are made in God’s image, but we are not God.  Only through the diversity of their diverse Corinth church, and through the diversity of their gifts, do they begin to see a glimpse of the diversity of God.

At that church in college, we had been pretty proud of ourselves.  We were a diverse parish in a community with a rough history of racial discrimination.  But those group home members made us realize we were still not living into the fullness of the body of Christ.  Without those group home members pushing us out of our comfort zone, we were keeping our identity within our own parameters, not God’s parameters.  Truthfully, the presence of the group home members made us wonder who else we were excluding.  We did not need long to look around our community and figure out who we had been excluding.  The apartment complex next to the church was clearly inhabited by many Hispanics, a group not present in our community.  Only once the group home members opened our eyes were we able to see how much we had been limiting God and how much richer we could be if we opened our doors to our neighbors.  One could argue that our group home members had the spiritual gift of prophesy.

So why is Paul’s letter so important to St. Margaret’s?  This past Wednesday, about eight St. Margaret’s parishioners went over to Plainview Reformed Church to make sandwiches for the INN.  Most of us had been there before, and we fell into a quick rhythm.  Some of us were good at scooping – which is a delicate skill because if you use too much, we cannot make enough sandwiches.  Some of us were good at spreading – an important skill if you do not want to tear the bread.  Others were good baggers.  Now bagging a sandwich may sound simple to you, but as the activity leaders kept reminding us, a sandwich bag that is messy on the inside or out sends the message that the sandwiches were made without much thought – or even without much love.  Even the youngest children who put stickers on the sandwich bags had an important role.  Without the sticker, the sandwich is just another sandwich.  With the sticker, the bag says that someone made this sandwich, and personalized the sandwich just for you – because you are special and worthy.  As that interfaith community gathered, with people of all ages, shapes, sizes, and abilities, we were a lot like that community in Corinth.

What Paul’s letter and our sandwich-making this week show us is that only when we all engage in ministry are we fully living into the life of faith.  Only when all our skills are being used are we even able to see a glimpse of the fullness of God.  Our invitations this week are several.  First, Paul invites us to discern our spiritual gifts.  Now, because you work in construction, you might have been roped into serving on the Buildings and Grounds Committee.  Or because you have young children, you might have been recruited to teach Sunday School.  But sometimes, what we do professionally does not translate to a spiritual gift.  Our best teachers, our wisest decision-makers, our most spiritual people of prayer might not do those things professionally or obviously.  Today Paul invites each of us to ponder whether we are using our spiritual gifts for the betterment of this community.  Second, Paul invites us to consider how each person here might help us to better see a glimpse of God.  That means that after church or during coffee hour, we might need to sit with someone we do not normally sit with and have a meaningful conversation.  And yes, you can have a meaningful conversation with a three-year old or a sixteen-year old.  Finally, Paul invites us to consider who is not here, helping us know God more deeply.  I have heard time and again how much we want to grow as a community.  For many of us, that desire is more out of a sense of preservation – we need to grow to continue to be a church here in Plainview.  But I wonder if we might instead begin to think of our growth as necessary for us to more fully see God.  We may know all sorts of people in our everyday lives who do not fit the St. Margaret’s mold.  Those are the people we need to invite to Church.  That neighbor you got to know when we all lost electricity during the Hurricane.  That woman with the purple hair who cuts your hair at the salon.  The waiter at your favorite restaurant who you have come to know.  Until we invite those people, we will not experience the fullness of God’s gifts for us.  The invitations from Paul today abound.  I look forward to hearing how your homework goes!  Amen.

[i] Karen Stokes, “Pastoral Perspective,” Feasting on the Word, Yr. C, Vol. 1 (Louisville: Westminster John Knox Press, 2009), 254.

[ii] Lee C. Barrett, “Theological Perspective,” Feasting on the Word, Yr. C, Vol. 1 (Louisville: Westminster John Knox Press, 2009), 256.

[iii] Troy Miller, “Exegetical Perspective,” Feasting on the Word, Yr. C, Vol. 1 (Louisville: Westminster John Knox Press, 2009), 257.

Making plans…

16 Wednesday Jan 2013

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Holy SpiritDuring this program year, we have created a partnership between our formation and mission efforts.  Focused on the issue of hunger, our adults and children not only have been learning about the causes and experience of hunger, we also have been working to serve the hungry in our community.  The idea is that both our learning and our service would be richer if we had both in mind simultaneously.  In other words, as we are learning about hunger, or considering Christ’s call to feed the hungry, we might remember a specific person we had met, or the stories we had heard while at the local feeding ministry.  Or, while making peanut butter and jelly sandwiches for our low-income earning neighbors, we might remember the book we read about how hard making ends meet on minimum wage is.

What I have loved about this partnership is the way that God is working in spite of us.  For example, this Epiphany, we are reading a book called Nickel and Dimed by Barbara Ehrenreich.  I had the sessions planned out before Christmas – five reading sessions followed by a work or learning day at our local food pantry where we regularly make donations.  Then, at the beginning of January, we received word that another of our regular ministries, making sandwiches for a local feeding program, had been scheduled in the middle of one of our classes, unbeknownst to us.  We all panicked for a moment – I did not want to lose students, and the Outreach coordinators did not want to lose sandwich-makers.  But then it occurred to us – why couldn’t we do both?  If we were supposed to be integrating our service and learning, what better way than to make sandwiches for an hour, and then sit to discuss the challenges facing the kinds of people who would be eating our sandwiches?

What often feels like a conflict or inconvenience is instead the movement of the Holy Spirit.  The Holy Spirit is gracing us with an abundance of opportunities to affect change – change in others, change in the world, and change in ourselves.  We just need to listen.

This spring we are working on forming a new ministry, and I am ever aware of the need for guidance from the Holy Spirit.  I have ideas.  Many of our parishioners have ideas.  But what might be critical is for us to also hear what the Holy Spirit is doing among us – which might be different (and ultimately better) than anything we could have imagined on our own.  Lord, keep us open to the movement of your Spirit.

Sermon – Luke 3.15-17, 21-22; Isaiah 43.1-7, E1, YC, January 13, 2013

16 Wednesday Jan 2013

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A few months ago, the Vestry and I did a spiritual exercise.  We drew a straight line on a piece of paper, dividing the line into either five- or ten-year increments.  Then we drew dots above and below our line, marking major life moments.  The happy ones went above – births, marriages, graduations.  The sad ones went below – deaths, divorces, bouts of depression.  We connected the dots and saw what looked like a hilly landscape – with peaks and valleys.  Then, we took a different colored pen, and we mapped the highs and lows in our relationship with God – times when we felt close to God and times when we felt far from God.  That line too was filled with peaks and valleys.  Some of us found that two the lines moved together – when happy things were happening in our lives, we felt very close to God; when difficult things were happening, we felt distant from God.  Others had the opposite experience.  In the difficult times, they felt God’s presence the most, and while in happy times their connection to God lessened.  Each of us began to see that our spiritual life and our everyday life are connected, perhaps in unexpected ways.

What was interesting about all of our graphs was that all of us had times in the middle – where nothing dramatic was happening, and our relationship with God was pretty neutral – not particularly strong, but also not particularly distant.  Those were the times when life was simply ordinary – where life just chugged along.  Nothing remarkable stood out in that time, and that was okay.

Sometimes when we look at Jesus life – this God incarnate who took on flesh like ours – we begin to wonder if Jesus’ life is anything like ours.  If you step back and recall the lectionary texts we have heard since Christmas Eve, you might begin to wonder if Jesus’ life is not some action-adventure movie.  First he is born dramatically in manger; then we hear of fantastic angels and visiting shepherds; then John’s majestic words proclaim, “In the beginning was the Word…”; and then we hear the vivid story of the magi seeking and finding Jesus.  Today, some years later, we hear of Jesus’ baptism – yet another extraordinary event in which the Holy Spirit descends upon Jesus proclaiming him to be the Son of God.  To be honest, for a man who is supposed to be God incarnate, who is supposed to experience this world as we do and through that experience redeem us, Jesus’ life feels very little like ours.  We cannot imagine someone telling our life story and finding nearly as many dramatic tales and mountain-top experiences.  And yet, this is the way we hear about Jesus – drama, drama, drama!

What we miss in our gospel’s retelling of Jesus’ life is the ordinary.  There are all sorts of gaps in the story that we never really get to see.  Though we imagine the magi coming to the manger, in fact, Jesus was probably no longer an infant when they finally arrived.  And yet, we hear no details of the time between shepherds and wise men.  Then, after these magi do arrive, we find ourselves suddenly with an adult-version of Jesus today.  Luke’s gospel does give us an account of the pre-teen Jesus in the temple, scaring his parents with his disappearing act; but otherwise, we know very little about the ordinary time of Jesus’ life.  The omission of the ordinary can make us feel distant from Jesus.  Unlike our spiritual maps, Jesus’ map would be one long plateau of highs where the everyday and the spiritual are constantly in sync, without many low valleys.

Luckily, there is much more incarnation today in our texts than there seems to be at first glance.  The way that Luke tells Jesus’ story today makes Jesus’ baptism quite ordinary.  He is baptized along with many other people.  He is not first in line, and the world does not stop at the moment of his baptism.  In fact, when the Holy Spirit does descend upon Jesus, Jesus’ baptism is over, and he is found praying – another ordinary spiritual practice we do almost everyday.  Then, Jesus hears those wonderful words, “You are my Son, the Beloved; with you I am well pleased,” By simply having those words spoken, we see that the incarnation is a fleshy, human experience.  Jesus needs to hear those words just like any of us need to hear those words from God.[i]  Jesus needs to know God’s approval, God’s love, and God’s claim on him – needs that we all experience.

Of course, Jesus is not the first person who needed to hear that loving approval.  We also hear today of God’s love and care for the people of Israel in our passage from Isaiah.  As a people in exile, who have suffered a great deal and who may wonder if they will ever find favor with God again, we hear this lovely passage for them.  God’s words for Israel are a healing salve, “When you pass through the waters, I will be with you; and through the rivers, they shall not overwhelm you; when you walk through fire you shall not be burned, and the flame shall not consume you…  You are precious in my sight, and honored, and I love you…”  These are words we long to hear throughout life:  certainly in those valleys of our spiritual timeline, but honestly, even in the highs and in the normal time.  We are all riddled with insecurities and doubts, and we long for the kind of love that can love us no matter what.  We need to know that we are fully accepted – something that other humans can rarely express.  As one pastor says, “Our sense of belonging comes not from the acceptance of our peers or the status of our communities but from the One who claims us and will never let us go.  What makes us worthy is…God’s gracious love.”[ii]

I love you.  You are my beloved.  With you I am well pleased.  These are words that we need to hear no matter where we are on that up and down journey of our spiritual life.  And these are words that even Jesus needs to hear.  That this affirming love comes at Jesus’ baptism is no surprise.  In the waters of baptism, “God seals God’s love for us, no matter what we might have done and what might happen.  In the waters of our baptism, God gives evidence of what God says to Jesus…  ‘You are my [child], the Beloved; with you I am well pleased.’”[iii]

But like the fact that we need to hear over and over again that we are loved, we also need to remember again and again our baptism:  that time when we, as beloved children, covenant together to fully love all God’s children.  Throughout the Church year, we reaffirm our baptismal covenant because we need the reminder that not only are we beloved children of God, but also we are beloved children who behave a certain way:  proclaiming the Good News, seeking and serving Christ, and striving for justice and peace.

After Jesus’ baptism and the proclamation that he is beloved, Jesus goes out into the wilderness to be tempted.  This will be the first of many trials for Jesus.  But Jesus holds on tightly to his beloved status – the rock that helps him seek, serve, and share during his lifetime.  We too hear those words from God afresh today:  I love you.  You are my beloved.  With you, I am well pleased.  Now go out there and love as I love you.  Amen.

[i] P. C. Enniss, Jr., “The Power of Approval,” Journal for Preachers, vol. 32, no. 3, Easter 2009, 15.

[ii] W. Carter Lester, “Pastoral Perspective,” Feasting on the Word, Yr. C, Vol. 1 (Louisville: Westminster John Knox Press, 2009),222.

[iii] Lester, 222.

As a child…

09 Wednesday Jan 2013

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Diverse kidsI never really spent time around young children growing up.  I was never a babysitter.  As I became older, my friends often speculated lightheartedly that I would never survive as a mother, since when kids were around I was either like a deer in headlights or was a bit disdainful with the mess, noise, and general chaos.  Even when my own child was born, I had never changed a diaper.  So when Jesus says, “Whoever does not receive the kingdom of God as a little child will never enter it,” I have often worried how serious he really was about that.

But this Christmas and Epiphany, I slowly began to see the wisdom in Jesus words.  My own daughter really opened up the incarnation for me this year in a fresh way.  Over the holidays, we made our way to St. Mary the Virgin Episcopal Church in Times Square.  After Eucharist, while looking at the many side altars, my daughter found a crèche.  She immediately ran up to the small crèche, and knelt on her knees to look at the figures.  I was shocked at the peaceful calm that came over her as she knelt at Jesus’ manger, and was immediately reminded of the way the magi too were brought to their knees in the presence of Jesus.  Her small body kneeling at the feet of Jesus gave me a small window into Jesus’ words about how children guide us into the kingdom.

But my daughter was not the only child who opened up the incarnation for me this year.  Our confirmation class of six teens got word from a parishioner of families in a local hospital who would not be able to afford Christmas gifts this year.  So, the class agreed to take up their December class time (adding in another class sometime this spring as a make-up) to go together and shop for gifts, using their own money.  The pile of gifts the next day blew me away.  Without even thinking, our confirmands demonstrated Christ’s love incarnate in a season that can typically be very self-centered.

Finally, this past Sunday, our young people offered an Epiphany Pageant in the context of worship.  Because they were helping lead worship that day, I asked the children and youth to pray with me the same prayer that I pray with our choir and acolytes before we lead worship.  And although we had the typical smiles and photo ops, the children seemed to really get it – they were leading worship.  And as the pageant closed, with all the kings, shepherds, angels, Mary and Joseph kneeling at the feet of the Christ Child, the incarnation came alive once again.  I could feel the reverence of our children, and they drew me out of my smiles about their “cuteness” and reminded me of my own need for a posture of reverence at our Lord’s feet.

So today I am grateful for the tremendous life and witness of our children.  They are teaching me everyday new and deeply meaningful ways to enter the kingdom of God.  Thank you for your witness to me and to the people of faith.

Sermon – Matthew 2.1-12, EP, YC, January 6, 2012

09 Wednesday Jan 2013

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Today we celebrate the last event in our Christmas narrative – the arrival of the wise men.  There is something about these three men that vividly draw us in to the story.  The years of seeing pageants, singing the hymn “We Three Kings,” or seeing varied artistic renderings of the kings have filled our minds with myriad images.  You may imagine the men as varied ethnically.  You may imagine their fine clothing and expensive trappings.  You may imagine them as learned men on a life quest.  What I like about these wise men is that their intriguing story not only invites us all into the posture of a spiritual seeker, but also their story gives us a picture of what being a seeker entails.

From the very beginning of the Christmas stories, we learn that all are welcome to a spiritual encounter with our Lord.  With Mary we learned that the young, the faithful, and the unexpected can have intimate encounters with God.  With the shepherds, we found that those who are on the margins of society can be recipients of divine revelation.  And with the wise men, we learn that outsiders – people from the East – or in biblical terms, Gentiles, can be led to a spiritual connection with God.[i]  What we learn from these three distinct groups is that relationship with the Christ Child is open to all.  No matter who you are, where you are from, or what your social standing is, you are welcome with Jesus.  The Episcopal Church, whose famous signs read “The Episcopal Church Welcomes You,” learned this very basic way of being from Jesus – who welcomed all to his birth.  The magi this week teach us this core value once again – all are welcome to an encounter with Christ.

The wise men also teach us that seeking is active.  Nowhere in the text does the text say that the magi stumbled upon Jesus by chance.  The magi were looking for Jesus.  In fact, they were so bold in their seeking that they came into King Herod’s empire asking where the King of the Jews was – clearly implying that King Herod was not the king they were seeking.  They seek this king of the Jews in full view of all – not afraid or embarrassed, but boldly owning their search before others.  They continue their search, following that star for who knows how long, without the promise that they will find the Christ Child, but with a hopeful, active searching.

The behavior of the magi teaches us that we too are to be active seekers.  But being active seekers can be tricky for us, because we are easily distracted – so busy with family, work, and life that we forget the foundation of that entire life.  Seeing Christ in our lives requires active seeking.  A relationship with Christ is mutual – the richer our contributions to that relationship, the richer our relationship becomes.  We too are to be active seekers of Christ in this life.

Third, the magi teach us the posture of humility while in the presence of the sacred.  The gifts that the men give are those kinds of gifts that are humbly given only on the most special of occasions.[ii]  The magi recognize the amazing thing that God has done in Jesus Christ, and they offer the most special of gifts.  But even more than the gifts is the nature of the wise men’s response.  When they see the Christ Child and Mary, they do not congratulate themselves for a search well done.  Instead, the magi fall to their knees, on the dirty, filthy ground, sullying fine garments, in order to pay homage to Jesus.  That these three powerful men could be brought to their knees by a mere child shows us the power of Christ, and the humility we all can show before God.

The Episcopal Church has often been teased as being an aerobic church – with so much switching between standing, sitting, and kneeling that you actually get a workout.  What I love about our piety is that the physicality of our worship invites us into the kind of humility that we find in the magi.  Kneeling especially requires humility and sacrifice – our bodies rarely enjoy kneeling.  Through the discomfort and distinctiveness of kneeling, we discover new things about ourselves and about what we are doing – whether we are praying, confessing, or receiving the body and blood of Christ.  The magi remind us of how this simple posture can reorient ourselves toward God.

Finally, the magi teach us about obedient listening.  Now unless you are a dog owner, or the parent of a little one, obedience is not a word we particularly enjoy.  As individuals we like to think of ourselves as not needing to “obey” anyone.  Even when we think of God, we prefer words like cooperation, sharing, or advising rather than the word “obedience.”  But the magi remind us that obedience toward God is essential.  Social mores, and even the fear of punishment, could have led the wise men to disregard their dream warning them about returning to Herod.  But instead, the magi obediently listen to their dream – to the word of God that comes to them in the night – and they leave from the country by another road.  Just verses later we discover that their dream was a most helpful warning; Herod had nothing but ill-intended wishes on his mind when he asked the wise men to return.  That is the way with God though.  We are not given the future, only the current word of God for us.  We are encouraged to trust and obey God when God speaks.

The magi did not just bring gifts for Jesus today.  The magi give us gifts too.  Through them we learn that the kingdom of heaven is a welcoming place for us.  We learn through them that the faith journey is one of active seeking after God.  Through them we learn the posture of humble reverence before God.  And finally, we learn through them that obedient listening is the most direct way to cooperate with God.  We are grateful today for the witness of the magi, who teach us the best ways to seek and find God.  Their instruction today gives us permission to be the seekers that Jesus invites us to be.  Welcome to the journey, seekers!  Amen.

[i] William J. Danaher, Jr. “Theological Perspective,” Feasting on the Word, Yr. C, Vol. 1 (Louisville: Westminster John Knox Press, 2009), 214.

[ii] Paul J. Achtemeier, “Exegetical Perspective,” Feasting on the Word, Yr. C, Vol. 1 (Louisville: Westminster John Knox Press, 2009), 215.

Homily – Luke 2.15-21, Holy Name, January 1, 2012

06 Sunday Jan 2013

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Names are very important to us.  I know when we were choosing Simone’s name, we argued for months about her name.  We knew how important a name could be:  a name could bring back memories of someone who was mean to us, of someone who was beautiful, or of someone who was relentlessly teased.  Our daughter was already going to be saddled with another fate about names – our family’s hyphenated last name.  And so back and forth we went, worrying about what kind of person our child would grow to become, and whether the name we chose would fit.  Names mean a lot to us – they are ways of honoring the past and anticipating the future.  We see that evidenced in the ways that certain nicknames stick with us in certain points of our lives.

Today we celebrate the Holy Name of Our Lord.  Eight days after the birth of Jesus, like any good Jewish family, Jesus is circumcised and given the name “Jesus.”  The importance of this momentous event is given just one verse in Holy Scripture  But the EC gives this one verse the attention of entire feast day.  Why is Jesus’ name so important?  Jesus name is important because his name tells us something about him.  His name, derived from the Hebrew, means Savior.  His name is given to Joseph by the Angel Gabriel.  Not only does Jesus’ name signal obedience by his parents, his name proclaims him to be the Savior.  Or as we heard from Isaiah this Christmas:  Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace.  Jesus’ name is important to us because Jesus’ name says something about whom we understand Jesus to be to us.

Naming is important throughout Holy Scripture.  Abram is renamed Abraham – the Father of a multitude of nations.  Isaac, the son of old, barren Sarah was named to remind her of the laughter that slipped from her mouth when God told her she would bear a son.  Simon was renamed Peter – for he would be the rock that the Church would be built upon.  Names have a power in Holy Scripture that mean something, that change something, that mark significance.

Fifty years ago, our parish was given a name too:  The Episcopal Church of St. Margaret.  Of course, for some reason we chose the oddest of the Margaret’s – St. Margaret of Antioch, who is famous for being swallowed by a dragon, and then slaying the dragon through the use of the cross in her hand.  But, like any child, this is the name we are given, whether we like our name or not.  The truth is, like any child, the name both defines us and is redefined by us.  At one point in our history, our name signified new life and growth – a place of excitement in a community without an Episcopal presence.  At another point, our name was associated with strife and struggle.  To some our name has been associated with “that cute little church with the red doors.”

And 50 years later, our name is being redefined once again.  We are that church who expresses radical hospitality, welcoming all seekers on the faith journey.  We are that church who expresses radical love, serving our neighbors here in Plainview.  We are that church expresses radical witness, sharing the good news of Christ.  In this 50th year, we have much to look forward to as we live into our name, and as we continue to redefine our identity in this time and in this place.  Amen.

Sermon – John 1.1-18, C1, YC, December 30, 2012

31 Monday Dec 2012

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Our Christmas text today from John sounds more like the introduction to a dramatic movie – you can almost hear James Earl Jones’ deep voice saying the words, “In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God.”  Of course, John’s version of the story is not as action packed as Luke’s version of the story.  Luke’s story of an evil empire, of a scandalous marriage and birth, of magnificent angels, and of rebellious shepherds is much more like the Christmas blockbuster we would all flock to the theaters to see.  John’s version of the story is a little more like the movie at the independent film theater that you might be dragged to with your artsy friend – or maybe you would just wait until the film came out on DVD, to watch if you had time.  John’s story is less engaging because he takes us away from the dramatic and relatable details of that holy night, and takes us to the cosmic understanding of that night.  The language is beautiful, but we have a difficult time finding a way to connect to the story.

The good news is that John gives us more than we realize at first glance.  “In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God.”  The beginning of John reminds us of the beginning of another great story of our faith – the beginning of Genesis.[i]  We hear the similarities from Genesis:  “In the beginning when God created the heavens and the earth, the earth was a formless void and darkness covered the face of the deep…”  We can hear James Earl Jones’ introduction here too.  In Genesis the world was in darkness and chaos – “tohu wavohu” are the Hebrew words for this dark chaos, this formless void.  By referencing this time of darkness from Genesis, John hints that when Jesus is made flesh among us, the world has fallen once again into a time of darkness.  In fact, even though God forms the world and gives the world light, the light seems to battle with darkness from the earliest days.  Though God gives the world covenants, laws, judges, kings, and prophets, the darkness still fights with the light.[ii]

And so, in the midst of this struggle between darkness and light, we pick up the story with John.  God, unwilling to cede the world to darkness, takes on flesh.  Jesus Christ becomes the incredible gift to us – God incarnate to show us the way to lightness.  Of course, Moses and Job saw glimpses of God’s glory and light.  But when the Word becomes flesh, God puts flesh on light, glory, grace, and truth, “so that followers who want to know how [light, glory, grace, and truth] sound and act have someone to show them.”[iii]  John does not start his gospel telling us the story of Jesus’ incarnation; Instead, John tells us of the significance of Jesus’ incarnation.  John cuts right to the importance of this event instead of letting us linger in the blockbuster version of the story.

What is challenging about John’s version of the story is that John immediately invites us into a choice when we hear the significance of Jesus becoming incarnate.  John explains, “[Jesus] came to what was his own, and his own people did not accept him.  But to all who received him, who believed in his name, he gave power to become children of God…”  When we hear these words we often think of those people who did not accept Jesus.  We hear John’s words in the past tense, thinking ourselves as separate from a time when Jesus had to be accepted or not.  Unfortunately, we do not get off so easily.  We too can be people who do not accept Jesus, and who do not live in the light.  We turn our eyes from those in prison, from those barely keeping out of poverty, and from those victims of discrimination and intimidation.  We allow the darkness to spread, not claiming the light of Jesus in our lives, and not shining the light of Christ into the darkness.

I stumbled on a commercial recently about parenting.  The commercial shows three quick vignettes – a father drinking milk from the carton, a dad shoving some dropped trashed under a bench, and a mother yelling angrily at the car in front of her.  At the end of each scene, a child is shown to be watching, taking in every last bit of behavior from the parents.  The commercial warns parents that children are constantly watching, listening, and learning from all of us.  We are our children’s teachers and children learn by imitating us.  The commercial is eye-catching in its honesty and simplicity.

What John is arguing for today is somewhat like this commercial.  Like children and parents, the world is watching us.  The world, knowing us to be persons of faith can see when we are agents of the darkness or of the light.  A few weeks ago, when a police officer gave shoes to a homeless man, the world saw his light.  When young dancers agreed to perform during their Christmas Break to raise funds for the victims of Hurricane Sandy, the world saw their light.  When we empty our pockets and purchase gifts for those suffering right here in Plainview, our community sees our light.  Whether we want to admit the reality or not, the world is watching us for some hint of light in this world that can be so dark.

Being an agent of light can feel like an overwhelming responsibility.  But John’s gospel gives us two words of encouragement.  John first tells us that to those who claim the light, who claim Jesus in their lives, God gives power to become children of God.  In other words, God will give us the power to become the light in the world.  Second, John tells us that we have all received, grace upon grace.  God’s grace can lift us up out of the darkness, and allow us to shine Christ’s light in the world.  Through God’s grace and power, we can be agents of light.  We can be agents of light in a world that still struggles with darkness.  We can be agents of light because “The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness did not overcome it.”  Amen.

[i] Paul J. Achtemeier, “Exegetical Perspective,” Feasting on the Word, Yr. C, Vol. 1 (Louisville: Westminster John Knox Press, 2009),189.

[iii] Barbara Brown Taylor, “Homiletical Perspective,” Feasting on the Word, Yr. C, Vol. 1 (Louisville: Westminster John Knox Press, 2009),191.

Sermon – Luke 2.8-20, CD, YC, December 25, 2012

27 Thursday Dec 2012

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In the wake of the tragedy in Newtown, fear has been a rampant part of our lives.  Parents have been afraid for the safety of their children.  I talked to many parents who really did not want to send their kids back to school in those first days, even though they knew logically that this was not an option.  We have also turned into a country fearful about guns – either fearful that they will be taken away from us or fearful that they will be used as a crutch to solve society’s ills instead of more peaceful means.  And at a time when we focus on the Christ Child today, many of us fear the loss of innocence.  We long for a more simple time – a moment of pure clarity when everything is made plain.

Over two thousand years ago on this day, things were made plain for a rag-tag team of shepherds.  “Do not be afraid,” the angel says.  “I am bringing you good news of great joy for all the people.”  Good news.  Great joy.  All the people.  These are words that do not strike fear in the hearts of the shepherds.  They are words that instead set them free from fear.  They are words that open up a window into hope.  They are words that fill them with joy.  For if this is good news of great joy for all people, then even people like unsavory, undesired, unloved shepherds are included in this news.  And with this outpouring of good news, the shepherds are blown away by the most awesome chorus of voices praising God’s name.  Fear is a fleeting feeling for these shepherds.

This fearless joy can be our gift too.  We can let go of our angst about safety, about politics, about control, and take hold of the Good News of the Christ Child.  We can gather around the host of angels and let the Good News rain down on us, and liberate us from fear.

Of course, that certainly sounds easy, and maybe even feels easy on this holiest of days.  But can we really expect us to be able to live free from fear?  The shepherds help us answer that question.  The response of the shepherds is full of immediate action.  The shepherds go with haste to find Mary, Joseph, and the child lying in a manger.  The shepherds gather with the Holy Family, and share their story.  Finally, the shepherds go out glorifying and praising God.  The shepherds go, gather, and glorify.

This is the invitation of the gospel for us today.  We too are to go, gather, and glorify.  First, we are invited to go.  When God speaks to us, we are to respond.  The shepherds go with haste.  And so, instead of pondering things in their hearts, or worrying about whether they might run into trouble along the way (which would have been a valid concern given the registration taking place in Bethlehem by Augustus and Quirinius)[i], the shepherds go with haste.  So our first invitation is to let go of our fears and simply act.  Act with immediacy when God calls us.

Next, the gospel invites us to gather.  This incredible God experience does not happen for the sole benefit of the shepherds.  The shepherds gather, creating a community of faith who share the Good News.  We too are invited to gather with a community of faith.  We do that today, as we gather on this holy day.  But we are invited to gather regularly, so that we can share in the faith journey together, making sense of God’s call as a community.  This work of discernment is not done alone.  We need a community of faith to shape us and form us.

Finally, the gospel invites us to glorify.  The Shepherds leave that manger scene with nothing in their hearts but praise of God.  Glorifying God seems so simple, but sometimes glorifying God is what is the most difficult for us.  We become so accustomed to coming to God, asking for things – for healing, for direction, for peace.  We struggle with God, and long for God.  But we sometimes forget to simply glorify God.  Just two weeks ago, we heard in the letter to the Philippians the call to “Rejoice in the Lord always; again I will say, Rejoice.”  This is one of those days when we really need a large gospel choir who can lead us into glorifying God with those words, “Rejoice in the Lord always, again I say, again I say, Rejoice!”  Sometimes we simply need to let go of everything and glorify God.

This Christmas, the Church does not let us go home with a message of comfort without action.  Instead, the Gospel is full of action:  go, gather, and glorify.  Now, I know you want to go home, eat a feast with friends or family, watch some basketball, and enjoy a day free of the obligations of work, school, and to-do lists.  But remember that even those meals, those times with others can be a place to go, gather, and glorify.  Go to your next stop with joy overflowing from the news of angels.  Gather with a community, not letting the opening of presents override your telling of the miracle of the Christ Child.  And glorify God – in your prayers over your meal, in your conversations with others.  Perhaps focusing on glorifying God will get you out of the normal kvetching that often happens at Christmas meals.  So, go, gather, and glorify.  May this be our work this Christmastide.  Amen.

[i] Michael S. Bennett, “Pastoral Perspective,” Feasting on the Word, Yr. C, Vol. 1 (Louisville: Westminster John Knox Press, 2009),118.

Sermon – Luke 2.1-20, CE, YC, December 24, 2012

27 Thursday Dec 2012

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When my daughter was first able to express her desire for a particular bedtime book, I found that she wanted to read the same book over and over again.  After a while, I knew the words and images of Goodnight Moon by heart.  Knowing them by heart meant that I always knew how many more pages we had to go, and what the next rhyme would be.  I knew which pages would be in color and which ones would be in black and white.  I remember several times trying to convince my daughter to try one of the other lovely books on her shelf, but she wanted the familiar.  Just the other day, I stumbled across Goodnight Moon at the bottom of a stack of books, and a broad smile spread across my face.  I sat down and turned the pages on my own.  Memories of rocking my much smaller daughter to sleep, of turning on her music mobile, and of tiptoeing out of the room flooded my mind.  Rereading those words and seeing the pictures again brought to mind a very happy time.

Sometimes I think the Christmas story from Luke is like that for all of us.  We have heard the words hundreds of times – from priests, in pageants, and even in “A Charlie Brown Christmas.”  We long for the familiarity of the words.  We close our eyes as the words wash over us, the familiarity giving us a sense of peace and calm.  This is why we came here tonight – to have the familiar story retold to us, to center and ground us in the story of our ancestors.

In truth, we all could use a familiar comforting story lately.  We have had a rough couple of months.  Between the mess of Superstorm Sandy and the tragedy in Newtown, Connecticut, we are emotionally exhausted.  Add on to that the normal stress of Christmas – traveling to be with family or hosting people, running around trying to get the perfect Christmas presents, making sure the kitchen is stocked with the ingredients for everyone’s favorite recipes, and getting out those Christmas cards.  The roads are crazy with traffic and our minds are in a hundred different places.  Although we come to Church nicely dressed on Christmas Eve, our appearance only masks the chaos within ourselves.  In the midst of all of this, we long for a familiar, soothing story.  We need a “once upon a time,” story where we can turn off our minds and settle into the goodness of God’s incarnate son.

The problem with this desire for comforting familiarity is that Jesus’ birth story is not exactly a comforting story.  We prefer to hear the story this way:  “Once upon a time, there were two people in love who were given the gift of birthing God incarnate.  And when this sweet baby was born, angels appeared to shepherds who came to celebrate the Christ Child.  And they all lived happily ever after.”  We do the same thing with our own family stories:  “Once upon a time, grandma and grandpa had mommy and daddy who had me.  Every Christmas we gathered together and celebrated with our whole family in great joy, peace, and harmony.”  We leave out the part where our drunk uncle always marred the celebration, our grandma always managed to insult our mother, and we always just wanted the day to be over so we could go home and sleep off weeks of Christmas anticipation finally fulfilled.

When we treat Christ’s story as a “once upon a time” story, we forget the real details too.  A very pregnant Mary and a troubled Joseph have just taken a long journey, bowing to the demands of the empire.  The city is so crowded, they are forced to sleep and birth their first child among hay and animals.  Later, angels in their astounding and shocking glory appear to shepherds – the lowest on the social strata – to share the news of Jesus’ birth.  These grubby men with their loud animals barge in on what is already a messy temporary home to share the angels’ story with Mary and Joseph.  In the framework of an oppressive empire, we find our savior being born not in the majesty due a king, but in a very normal, vulnerable, if not impoverished setting.  When the news is announced, the news does not come to the Temple priests or religious leaders of the time.  Instead, the news is given to nobodies, with little influence or power.  This amazing, incredible thing – God taking on human flesh, becoming incarnate to save us, happens in the form of a vulnerable baby in a nondescript setting.[i]  This version of the story does not have quite the same ring as the “once upon a time” version we most prefer.

The good news is that the messy, uncomfortable, tense version of this story has much more meaning than our glossy version of the story.  As strange as this may sound, Jesus’ birth happening in this un-peaceful setting is what makes this story so full of peace.  From the very birth of Jesus, we discover what this new life will be about – the poor, the marginalized, and the outcast.[ii]  Why would this kind of news be good news for us?  This is good news because not only does Jesus give us our mission from the very beginning of his life – to serve the poor, marginalized, and outcast – but also Jesus reminds us that we too are impoverished without God.  As Bede reminds us, “Though he was rich, yet for our sake he became poor, so that by his poverty we might become rich.”[iii]

You may not know this about me, but I am a big fan of religious art, especially art portraying Mary and child.  Certainly fine art depictions and iconography of Mary and Jesus are fascinating, but what I most like are renderings that catch me off guard.  One of my favorites is an icon from Cameroon, depicting a very African Mary and Jesus.  A more recent addition to my collection is of a dimly lit room, with a sweaty, exhausted Mary, messily splayed out on a make-shift bed, surrounded by women helping her recover from childbirth.  In the dim background, a baby is being held, without much detail, but a light halo around his head.  Something about the raw, gritty nature of the scene opened up for me something fresh about that night.

What I like about this painting is that it offers the raw, real version of the Christmas story.  The painting takes us out of the idealized “Silent Night,” version of Christmas, and throws us into a night that is much messier.  Besides, there was little about that night that was silent.  Surely Mary cried out in childbirth, Jesus screamed as a newborn, and there was a commotion with all those animals around.  Surely the heavenly host singing did not make for a silent night.  Surely that noisy night was as loud, noisy, and messy as our lives.

And that is where I find comfort in the birth story tonight.  Imagine your favorite aunt leaning over to whisper in your ear a story like this:  “Once upon a time, two scared young people said yes to God, and in the most socially unacceptable way, brought a young baby into this world.  They did not have a nice place to stay, but they made due.  Later, a crew of crusty sheep keepers came and told them a fantastic story of angels affirming what Mary and Joseph knew all along – their precious little son who had already caused so much trouble for them was actually going to save the world.  And as all those gathered around looked at one another – disrespected shepherds, a socially outcast couple, and a vulnerable little baby – they laughed.  The laughed because they knew the truth – God has a funny way of breaking into the world and bringing salvation to those of us who need saving!”

Now maybe this version is not the version you needed to bring you that sense of longed for familiarity.  Maybe you just want to hear, “And lo, the angel of the Lord came upon them, and the glory of the Lord shone round about them: and they were sore afraid.”  But this rougher version offers us the interpretation we need to understand why tonight’s familiar story is so full of hope.  For if God can redeem the messiness of the world, maybe God can redeem the messiness of our lives too.  Amen.

[i] Charles L. Campbell, “Homiletical Perspective,” Feasting on the Word, Yr. C, Vol. 1 (Louisville: Westminster John Knox Press, 2009),121.

[ii] Robert Redman, “Theological Perspective,” Feasting on the Word, Yr. C, Vol. 1 (Louisville: Westminster John Knox Press, 2009),120.

[iii] Redman, 120.