Tag Archives: God

Homily – Acts 20.28-32, Robert Grosseteste, October 9, 2014

23 Thursday Oct 2014

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Today we honor Robert Grosseteste.  Robert was one of the outstanding English bishops from the 13th century.  Though he had humble beginnings in Suffolk, he rose to preeminence in the Church, distinguishing himself as a scholar in all branches of study:  law, medicine, languages, sciences, and theology.  He was appointed master of the Oxford School.  He was a theology professor and translated Aristotle’s works from the Greek, wrote commentaries on them, and sought to refute the philosopher’s views by developing a scientific method based on Augustine’s theories.  Because of Robert, Oxford began to emphasize the study of sciences – and many of his pupils became leaders.  In 1235, Robert was consecrated Bishop of Lincoln.  He was a very hands-on bishop, making a point to tend to the pastoral needs of his clergy and laity.  Those under his care really saw him as the shepherd of the Diocese.

In many ways, I think Bishop Grosseteste took to heart the instructions from Acts today.  “Keep watch over yourselves and over all the flock, of which the Holy Spirit has made you overseers, to shepherd the church of God …” says the lesson.  Robert was the consummate shepherd tending to his flock.  His regular visits to rural deaneries were not only to tend to pastoral needs, but also to questions of doctrine.  He knew, as Acts says, that “savage wolves” would come among his flock, and he tended and protected them as much as he could.

In some ways, we hear about bishops or those called to tend flocks, and we start to tune out.  The work from Acts sounds like the work of the clergy.  What we forget is that through our baptism, we are all given work to do.  We are all tenders of this community.  We take care of each other, we pray for one another, we visit the hurting in our community.  That is the work of the baptized. But Acts also says, “Keep watch over yourselves.”  What we sometimes forget is that we also need to confess when we need pastoral care ourselves; we need to remember that our own formation is ongoing – meaning we need to make sure we are consistently finding ways to grow in our faith.  If we do not care for our own spiritual well-being, we will find it much more difficult to tend to others’ spiritual well-being.

Luckily, as Robert knew and Acts affirms, God and the message of God’s grace is able to build us up.  This is the final reminder from Acts – that God will strengthen us through grace.  We can all be the pastors, the ministers that we become through our baptism – because God and God’ grace enables and continually invites us in to watch over ourselves and all the flock.  Amen.

Walking the Way…

15 Wednesday Oct 2014

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This past Sunday, St. Margaret’s kicked off its Stewardship Campaign, “Walking the Way.”  As part of the campaign, we have distributed information packets that include a pledge card.  You will be seeing guest blog posts from our parishioners here on this blog.  There will be articles written in our newsletter.  This promises to be a fun and engaging campaign.

But one of the things I am most excited about is an idea that one of our Stewardship Committee Members had.  The Walking the Way logo has both a cross and a stone path.  When we first looked at the logo, the path symbolized for us the “way” that we walk with God – our own spiritual journey with God.  But as we continued to look at the logo, the image became richer for us.  We began to imagine the stones as representative of each parishioner at St. Margaret’s, as we journey together on this walk with God.  Finally, as we played with the image of a walk and stones, we began to wonder whether actual stones might be a wonderful tool for us this year as we pray about our own stewardship this year.

And so an idea was born.  This year, in addition to our letter, narrative budgets, and pledge cards, we each received a stone.  The stone is meant to be a gift during this time for us to use during our prayer time – a tangible invitation into times of prayer in the coming weeks.  For those of you who have used prayer beads before, you know how useful tangible tools for prayers can be.  The tactile nature of something like a stone helps us focus our prayers, work through our anxieties, and ultimately cling to something that reminds us of our gracious Lord and Savior – as well as the community of faith who prays with us.

If you did not get your prayer stone on Sunday, don’t worry: there are more.  If you did get your prayer stone, I hope you will start using it, and discover what gift awaits you in your prayer time.  Each rock has a word painted on it to help encourage your prayers.  Mine happens to say, “Love.”  I look forward to meditating on how God’s love is a blessing to me, and how I hope to bless others through that same love.  Happy prayers!

With these hands…

08 Wednesday Oct 2014

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When I was ordained as a priest, the bishop anointed my hands.  The bishop explained to me that my hands would be used by God for the work of ministry.  At the time, I thought about various ways my hands might be used – for consecrating the Eucharist, for blessing the people, for baptizing the faithful, and for writing sermons and blog posts.  What I had not fully understood was that my hands would become a lifeline of support, care, and love – an extension of Christ’s loving embrace.  Though as an extrovert, I tend to rely on my words for ministry, there would be times when my words could not do the work – only my hands were needed.

The lesson was one that my chaplaincy supervisor had tried to teach me many years before.  I had expressed to my supervisor how I was struggling with some of the non-verbal patients because I felt like I was paralyzed.  By not being able to have a conversation, I felt like I was doing nothing.  In fact, my visits with non-verbal patients tended to be the shortest.  But one particular patient that summer helped me start to break through that fear.  I had been visiting the patient off and on for a couple of weeks, when the nurses asked me to come for another visit.  They were worried that the patient was not far from death.  When I went to the patient’s room, the patient was groggy, but was able to speak a little.  Sooner than I would have liked, the patient’s words were no longer available.  Uncertain what to do next, I offered my hand to the patient.  I was surprised at the force with which the patient grabbed my hand – squeezing so hard that had it been any other situation, I would have pulled away.  But instead, I let the patient cling to my hand with a fierceness of emotion, and we sat there in silence for quite some time.  Somehow, the strength of the grasp filled the room like a shout, and all the words that would have normally bubbled out of my mouth were finally silenced.  Later, after leaving the room, I remember the strange sensation of my hands – as if I were seeing them for the first time.

I was reminded of that powerful lesson earlier this week.  I was pumping while my six-month old was swinging in her swing.  She was fussy, fighting off sleep with wails and writhing.  I had tried soothing her with toys, a pacifier, and coos, but nothing was working.  Finally she reached out her hand toward me, and I grasped it.  I could not pick her up, but I could certainly hold her hand.  As I rubbed the back of her tiny hand, smiling and looking lovingly into her eyes, my daughter slowly calmed down, and managed to give in to sleep.  Though the feel of her hand in mine was totally different from the grasp of an adult, I became keenly aware of my hands once again.  As she drifted off, my thoughts marveled at the many different ways Christ has used my hands over the years.  Both in my vocation as priest and in my vocation as mother, God is constantly using me, literally using my hands, to be a blessing;  and in return, filling me up with joy, renewed vigor, and peace.

When my chaplaincy supervisor warned me that I would not always be able to talk my way through situations, I resisted at first.  I suppose words are my way of trying to exert some sense of control – in essence, my resistance in acknowledging Who is really in control.  Several years later, I am so grateful for the encouragement to embrace that lesson.  As God reminds me over and over Who is in charge within my vocations, I feel relief more than frustration.  The burden of being in control is lifted.  The failings of my words no longer feel like failings.  And I am profoundly grateful for the gift of hands that have been anointed to do God’s work.

The gift of role models…

25 Thursday Sep 2014

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This Saturday our parish has its Annual Fall Fair – a festive gathering with vendors, food, children’s activities, raffles, and other fall merriment.  We are blessed with an 11-acre property, so the event is a wonderful way for us to welcome people to our grounds and remind the community that they are welcome here.  Having done this event for so many years, most of our parishioners know what needs to be done – signs, publicity, donors, coordinating vendors, setting up the property, making baskets, bringing in donations.  The list goes on.  But even though we all know what needs to be done, there is usually a bit of anxiety and stress to make sure the event is a success, especially in the week leading up to the event.  As someone who can become easily stressed, I totally understand the reaction.  Though I am not involved in the execution of the event, I always empathize with our parishioners as the tension builds in this final week.

But this year, something has shifted.  I do not know if it is due to their personalities or if they are being intentional in their behavior, but our co-chairs for this event are being the epitome of a non-anxious presence in the community.  Don’t get me wrong, they have had plenty of reasons to become anxious: several key volunteers are unavailable this year, leading to some out-sourcing; the vendors are coming in a little more slowly; and we are trying some very different, new things this year.  But the co-chairs seem to be rolling with the punches, creating solutions, and keeping their cool.  And although the church is abuzz with activity, I sense that the non-anxious presence of the co-chairs is rubbing off on others.  People are doing their assigned tasks, and there seems to be much less tension going into the event.

It is in moments like these when I am grateful to be in a community with a wide variety of gifts.  Being a non-anxious presence is one of my primary goals in my role as pastor and priest in this community.  I feel like that action alone reduces challenges significantly and enables the body to live out its ministry in a healthy and God glorifying way.  But being non-anxious takes work and intentionality, and some days I exude that calm better than others.  This week, I am grateful for parishioners who are serving as healthy role models, and who invite me to live into my call in a more healthy way.

Sermon – Matthew 20.1-16, P20, YA, September 21, 2014

25 Thursday Sep 2014

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Having worked in the non-profit sector for almost seven years before going off to seminary, I learned that even when people are trying to be at their best, sometimes ugliness slips in and makes the waters murky.  At Habitat for Humanity, as part of the homeowner application process, each applicant received a home visit before being selected to be in the program.  The home visit enabled us to get to know the homeowners better, to ask clarifying questions, and to get a real sense of how desperate their current housing situation was.  Since volunteers usually did these visits, we had to do a great deal of training – not just on the logistics of a visit, but really on how to be thoughtful visitors.  For example, many of our volunteers would come back to our staff and complain about the applicants.  “They would be a lot better off if they hadn’t bought that big TV and weren’t paying for cable,” some would argue.  Or another complaint often was, “If they weren’t giving so much of their income to church, they might be able to make ends meet.”

Both arguments were true – but they did not capture the full truth.  Yes, that big TV purchase and that cable bill might seem like an extravagance to one of our volunteers.  But if you can never afford going to the movies, eating dinner out, or going to a play or concert, the TV is the only thing that makes you feel connected to the world, offers release from stress, and gives some modicum of entertainment to your children.  Likewise, yes, that weekly donation to their church probably would be better used to pay down credit card debt.  But their relationship with God is probably the only thing that has helped them survive this long.  That contribution gives them a sense of grounding, of priorities, and a feeling like they too are contributing something to the world.  Even though the Habitat volunteers were generously giving of their time, and were generally kind-hearted people, sometimes their judgments got in the way of their good works.

The same can be true about our relationship with God.  We often give lip service to how much we appreciate that our God is a generous, gracious God who is full of love and compassion.  We have experienced that abundance many times in our lives and we strive to incorporate a sense of gratitude in our lives.  But our sense of gratitude often battles with our sense of justice – in a way that brings out the ugliest versions of ourselves.  Jesus knew this reality all too well.  Jesus captures that tension in the parable he tells today.  The parable is familiar.  A landowner goes out to the market five times in one day, hiring additional laborers each time.  The first group, hired at 6:00 a.m. is promised the usual daily wage.  Each subsequent group is promised “whatever is right” as a wage.  But when the time comes to pay the laborers, the landowner pays the group who only worked one hour a full day’s wage.  The group who started twelve hours earlier sees the landowner’s generosity and assumes they may be getting more than the landowner promised.  But when their turn comes, they only get the usual daily wage.  The workers do not like this, and immediately hoist up the “that’s not fair” flag.

The truth is that the twelve-hour workers are right.  The landowner is not fair.  I imagine any of us who saw a glimpse of the pay distribution at our jobs would be pretty miffed if the newest employees were making as much as the employees who had been there many years longer.  Many people have been advocating lately for legislation that helps to equalize pay for women.  And many activists have challenged the ways in which our justice system has a bias towards the wealthy.  We are a people who are passionate about fairness and justice.  Even when someone pushes back with the classic line, “well, life’s not fair,” we still will fight for fairness as much as we can.

The problem in our gospel lesson is that the kingdom of God does not value fairness over all other ethics.  The kingdom of God holds other values before fairness:  the value of love, the value of graciousness, the value of care.  Most of us can admit that when we hear of the landowner’s generous giving to the last round of workers, our immediate thought is how lovely the landowner’s generosity is.  We all love generosity until we see that some are getting more generosity than we are.  Then something awful happens.  The “evil eye” creeps in and starts to distort our view.  This is the very accusation the landowner makes.  The landowner’s response is simple, “Are you envious because I am generous?”  Other translations translate the phrase for “being envious” as “having an evil eye.”  In other words, insidious jealousy, envy, and greed immediately prevent any sense of celebration and goodwill among the workers.  Instead of a pat on the shoulder, or an acknowledgment of the incredible blessing the late workers receive, the early workers start grumbling about fairness and equality.  They forget that they got what they agreed to:  a day’s wage for a day’s work.

What the parable is trying to communicate, albeit a bit harshly, is that the fact that God is so generous is a benefit to all of us at some point in our lives.  For those of us who have ever been at the bottom, we know how blessed we can feel when God reaches out a generous hand to us.  But I think what makes today’s lesson so difficult for many of us is that although we know that God’s preference for generosity can help us when we are down, we do not ever want to actually be down.  We want to be earning our keep, striving for success, and achieving our way to the top.  We do not like the feeling of not being able to achieve our way through life.

I read an article this past summer about a woman who had been firmly ensconced in her middle-class life, making a reasonable amount of money.  She and her husband were pregnant with twins when two things happened in rapid succession.  First, they bought a house at the top of the housing bubble, right before the bubble popped, making their home depreciate in value by about $90,000.  Then, her husband lost his job.  The twins were born premature, necessitating very expensive formula.  The article goes on to explain how this middle-class, successful couple went from comfortable living to trying to make ends meet with assistance from Medicaid, food stamps, and the WIC program.  She describes the judgmental comments and gestures people made, from blaming her for her problems, to criticizing the food she was buying for her family.  She writes, “What I learned…will never leave me.  We didn’t deserve to be poor, any more than we deserved to be rich.  Poverty is a circumstance, not a value judgment.  I still have to remind myself sometimes that I was my harshest critic.  That the judgment of the disadvantaged comes not just from conservative politicians and Internet trolls.  It came from me, even as I was living it.”[i]

The invitation for the laborers in the field, and the invitation for with each of us is to remember the words from that offertory prayer, “All things come of thee, O Lord…”[ii]  When our hearts are set on gratitude for all that we have, instead of wrapped up in our manmade notions of entitlement, then celebrating with the one-hour workers is a lot easier.  Because we know, like that middle-class woman, that we could at any moment be one of those waiting all day for an hour’s worth of work.  As one scholar says, “This parable reminds us that God is a lousy bookkeeper and invites us to transform our pride, envy, and hardness into joy by admiring and celebrating God’s astounding generosity.  The parable calls us to look at ourselves honestly and lovingly, as God looks at us.  [The parable] invites us to turn from holding grudges because things did not go our way, to let go of the stuff of our lives that keeps us from being joy-filled and grateful people.”[iii]  When we accept that invitation, and turn ourselves toward gratitude, we catch a glimpse of the joyous party that is waiting with the landowner in the kingdom of heaven.  Amen.

[i] Darlena Cunha, “This is what happened when I drove my Mercedes to pick up food stamps,” Washington Post, July 8, 2014 found at http://www.washingtonpost.com/posteverything/wp/2014/07/08/this-is-what-happened-when-i-drove-my-mercedes-to-pick-up-food-stamps/.

[ii] 1 Chronicles 29.14.

[iii] Charlotte Dudley Cleghorn, “Pastoral Perspective,” Feasting on the Word, Year A, Vol. 4 (Louisville: Westminster John Knox Press, 2011), 96.

Homily – 1 Peter 2.19-23, Edward Bouverie Pusey, September 18, 2014

19 Friday Sep 2014

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Today we honor Edward Bouverie Pusey.  Pusey was the leader of the Oxford Movement – a movement that sought to revive High Church teachings and practices in the Anglican Communion.  Born in 1800, Pusey spent his scholarly life in Oxford, England.  In 1833 he teamed up with others to produce tracts for the Oxford Movement.  But his most influential work was his preaching – which was both catholic in content and evangelical in his zeal for souls, but many of his contemporaries felt that he was dangerously innovative.  In fact, Pusey was once suspended from preaching for two years for preaching about the doctrine of the Real Presence of Christ in the Eucharist.  He was also responsible for helping revive private confession in the Anglican Communion.  He established churches for the poor and helped establish sisterhoods, including the first Anglican sisterhood since the Reformation.

A lot of Pusey’s work seems non-controversial to us now.  We are used to talking of Christ’s “Real Presence” in communion.  We are familiar with private confession and Anglican sisterhoods.  But Pusey was controversial in his day and faced much persecution.  I imagine he may have read our Epistle lesson several times in those days: “ … if you endure when you do right and suffer for it, you have God’s approval. For to this you have been called, because Christ also suffered for you, leaving you an example, so that you should follow in his steps.”  Our lesson reminds us that what is earthly suffering now can lead to powerful change later.  Pusey’s work and witness changed the entire Anglican experience and identity.  But he saw little of that fruition.

What Pusey and First Peter tell us today is that the work God has given us to do will not always be easy, but when we authentically live into our call, the reward goes beyond just us.  We bless people all the time through our call.  Living into our call takes courage and conviction.  But when we do, we can be encouraged that we are walking the path that many saints before us have walked, and one in which many saints will follow.  Amen

Homily – Isaiah 42.10–12, Harry Thacker Burleigh, September 11, 2014

19 Friday Sep 2014

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Today is a unique day.  Since 2001, we are unable to hear the words “September 11th” without associating the date with the events of that fateful day 13 years ago.  We remember where we were, what we saw, and how we felt.  We remember those who died – family members, friends, co-workers, and acquaintances.  September 11th is a day associated with pain – on both personal and national levels.  For many of us, we had never experienced a sense of such vulnerability to terror and devastation in our home country.  And though we do not live in an active war zone, the events of that day changed life here forever.  In fact, there is a whole generation now that has grown up in a post-9/11 world.

Harry Thacker Burleigh knew a little about what growing up in the shadow of darkness meant.  Born in 1866 in Erie, Pennsylvania, right after the Civil War, Harry’s grandfather, a former slave who had been blinded by a savage beating, passed along old spirituals to Harry.  That music was a gateway for Harry.  With some difficulty, Harry won admission to the National Conservatory of Music.  Meanwhile, he became a soloist at St. George’s Episcopal Church in New York City.  He faced resistance at St. George’s as a black man in the choir, but over time he became a beloved part of the congregation.  In time, Harry became a respected composer, arranger, and music editor.  He also played a key part in making old spirituals widely accessible.

Despite living in the shadow of slavery, Harry seemed to have embraced the words from Isaiah: “Sing to the LORD a new song.”  Harry could have easily kept his head down and simply survived in a post-slavery world.  Instead, he pushed for a new life – for the freedom to express himself.  He literally and figuratively sang a new song to the LORD, making music that reinterpreted the old spirituals, but also making a new life through music.  His making a new song made light shine into the darkness all around him – and he transformed the world around him.

God invites us to sing a new song in a post-9/11 world.  The invitation for us is to figure out what our new song will be.  We cannot erase what happened to us and to our country on that fateful day.  But we can change how we shine light into the shadows left over from that day.  So sing to the LORD a new song – in only the ways that you can.  Amen.

Homily – John 8.31-32, Paul Jones, September 4, 2014

19 Friday Sep 2014

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I have struggled with the issue of war and peace.  In my heart, I am anti-war and pro-peace.  I cannot condone killing others because others have killed.  War does terrible things to everyone involved.  And arguments for “just wars” just seem like cop-outs – ways of avoiding the call to be a peaceful people.  That is the argument of my heart.  But when faced with issues of genocide and oppression, my head tends to get in the way.  The recent movement by ISIS in Iraq has me in angst over why we are not doing something to stop the genocide.  And yet that “something” is often assumed to involve more violence or war – certainly not peace.

I wonder what Bishop Jones would have to say about this ethical debate.  Born in 1880, Paul Jones, who we honor today, was born and raised in the Episcopal Church.  He became a priest, serving in Utah as a missionary.  In 1914 he became archdeacon and later Bishop of the Missionary District of Utah.  Bishop Jones did much to expand the church’s mission stations.  But as WWI began, Bishop Jones openly opposed the war.  When he declared war to be “unchristian,” the press went wild.  The House of Bishops investigated and declared that Bishop Jones should resign because of his antiwar sentiments.  Though Bishop Jones finally caved in and resigned, he spent the next 23 years advocating for peace until he died in 1941.

I think Bishop Jones must have embraced Jesus Christ’s words from John’s gospel lesson today.  Jesus Christ says, “If you continue in my word, you are truly my disciples; and you will know the truth, and the truth will make you free.”  For Bishop Jones, he knew Jesus to be a man of peace and love.  For Bishop Jones, his pursuit of peace felt like the “truth” – and in some way resigning as bishop freed him to truly follow the gospel.

For us, I think discerning an ethic of peace verses war is not simple.  Issues of peace are complicated and unsettling – who can really define “truth”?  The good news is – no matter what we believe about war, we know our God is a God of love.  Love is a truth we can comfortably claim.  Once we meditate on love, we can often find a bit more clarity.  We can even come to some clarity about this contested issue of peace.  Today we thank Bishop Jones, Jesus, and all those who encourage us to struggle with injustice in the world – for in the struggle, we find truth – and the truth will set us free.  Amen.

Male and female, God created them…

11 Thursday Sep 2014

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I have been thinking a lot these last couple of weeks about violence against women.  As college students have been moving onto campuses across the country, stories have been emerging about how campuses are handling sexual assault prevention.  One story has been catching attention about a woman protesting the handling of her rape case by carrying around a mattress on campus.  I also listened to a story on NPR as students debated about effective prevention methods.  Those stories made me realize how far we have to go on understanding culpability and protection.

Then, over the course of this week, the conversation about Ray Rice has been in the forefront.  Though the footage of his attack on his then fiancée is horrendous, what the footage has highlighted for me is how desensitized we have become when we talk about domestic violence.  Domestic violence has become an issue we talk about, but for many, not an issue for which we have a real, visceral understanding and sympathy.  The conversation and hashtag campaign, #whyIstayed, about why women stay in abusive relationships has enabled us to see how murky this issue really is.

Then today, my friend also shared a video from a non-profit in Atlanta that supports victims of domestic violence.  What caught my attention in the video was a statement from a volunteer from the agency.  He says, “It’s important for men to be involved in this work because we are both the cause of, and I believe the solution to, ending violence against women.”  His statement is one of the boldest statements I have heard about the responsibility to end violence against women, especially from a man.  But I would modify his statement.  I think we all have a stake in ending violence against women.

In Genesis, the text says, “God created humankind in God’s image, in the image of God, God created them; male and female God created them.”  Though we cannot erase the systems of power and patriarchy in our world, we can work toward reclaiming the fact that we are all created in the image of God – male and female.  God created us and blessed us, and I believe God longs for us to love and protect one another equally.  I know this is loaded blog entry, on a very complex issue that I could talk about and we could argue about for a very long time.  But I find myself this week mourning the ways in which we degrade God’s creation – in particular women.  I believe the confluence of events lately is not an accident, but an invitation to remember how God created us in God’s image – male and female; and perhaps an invitation to be better stewards of God’s creation, in whatever ways feel most compelling to you.

Sermon – Matthew 18.15-20, P18, YA, September 7, 2014

11 Thursday Sep 2014

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I have heard the argument many times before.  When people see conflict, poor behavior, and ugliness in the Church, the complaint is always the same.  People feel like they see enough ugliness in the world, at work, at school, or even at home.  When they come to Church they just want to be around people who love each other, who never fight, and who are always on their best, most loving, supportive behavior.  Many imagine that the Church should be a conflict-free zone of love and joy; full of those who love the Lord, love one another, and love every person who walks through those doors.  We want an escape from the world when we come to Church – not more of the same.

And so, in order to create this magical conflict-free Church, we start engaging in behaviors that avoid immediate conflict, but probably make things a lot worse.  Instead of dealing with conflict directly, when we feel wronged by someone, we just talk about them behind their back.  Or, when someone sins against us, instead of approaching the problem with the person, we just call a bunch of people in the church to complain about them.  Or if we are feeling wronged by someone, instead of talking to them one-on-one, we just send them a nasty email, copy the clergy, and, while we are at it, we CC the bishop.  Or if all else fails, when someone does us wrong, we don’t say anything:  we just avoid them; un-friend them on Facebook; and, if we cannot avoid them on Sundays, then we just leave the church altogether.[i]

Part of the reason we engage in these behaviors that usually make the conflict worse is because the alternative is downright scary.  We hear Jesus’ instruction manual for dealing with conflict in the church in Matthew’s gospel and we panic.  First of all, Jesus’ instructions force us to admit that we will have to deal with conflict within the Church.  This premise totally dismantles our dream of the loving, conflict-free Church.  And we are not sure we are ready to let go of that dream.  But secondly, if we can let go of our tight grasp on our conflict-free Church dream, we sure as heck do not want to follow Jesus’ instructions.  Going to someone directly to talk about how someone has sinned against us scares most of us to death.  We are not sure what to say and we are not sure how what we say will be received.  And if we somehow manage to get over our fears and the person rejects us, we cannot imagine taking one or two others with us to approach the offender again.  That sounds way too much like an intervention, and we worry that the number of people in the room will only escalate things.  And since we can barely imagine taking one or two other parishioners along with us, we find the idea of bringing the offence before the entire parish unfathomable.  Jesus must be out of his mind if he thinks we are going to parade our personal business in front of the whole church.

I served in a parish once that went through a major conflict.  A parishioner who had been working with the youth group had developed some serious boundary issues which came to a crisis point.  After receiving complaints from several parishioners, the rector called the person-in-question into his office.  That one-on-one meeting did not go so well.  Rumors started to fly, and the offender’s version of the conversation was quite different from the rector’s version.  Eventually, others had to be brought into the conversation.  The whole issue took about a year to resolve, and the offender was so angry that he eventually left the church and many other parishioners were hurt and frustrated along the way.

Part of the challenge is that using Jesus’ model for conflict resolution is not as simple as the model sounds.  Meeting one-on-one can go horribly wrong, as the meeting with my old rector went wrong.  And having a meeting with three or four people can also go horribly wrong – the offender can feel attacked, confidentiality can be difficult to keep, and rumors can start to spread.  And sharing an individual offense with the entire parish is difficult in our litigious society.  Charges of slander and libel are much too easy to file.

The good news is that I do not think the specifics of Jesus’ conflict resolution plan really matter – at least not in the strictest sense.[ii]  What is more important is that this passage from Matthew does several critical things.  First, this passage debunks the notion that the Church will ever be conflict-free.  That this passage exists at all is evidence that conflict is a natural, unavoidable part of life, even life in the church.[iii]  I know that may sound like bad news to some of us, but actually the reality that conflict is unavoidable opens the door to the second good part of this passage.  In addition to helping us see the inevitability of conflict, this passage also reminds us that there are healthy ways to deal with conflict.  Though we may not choose Jesus’ exact method, there are ways to encourage reconciliation over back-stabbing and gossip.  And those reconciling methods are healthy for the offender, the victim, and the community as a whole.  Jesus is not worried about “whether or not we fight, disagree, or wound one another, but how we go about addressing and resolving those issues.”[iv]

Finally, Jesus reminds us that God is with us even in our ugly moments of conflict.  Jesus says, “For where two or three are gathered in my name, I am there among them.”  We often jokingly quote this passage when we are having low church attendance.  But what Jesus means when he says these words is that when two or three are gathered in resolving conflict, Jesus is there in their midst.  I cannot imagine a more assuring word from Jesus today.

I once knew a couple who were married for 55 years.  One day I asked the wife what their secret was.  She told me several things, but one of them stuck.  She said that if either of them was disciplining the children and the other parent disagreed with their decision, they never questioned the decision in front of the children.  Later that night, they might talk about their disagreement, but they always supported one another in the heat of the moment.  I remember thinking that their practice necessitated respect, biting one’s tongue, and a humble love that was free from pride.  All of that was not visible through the good stuff of their marriage, but instead through the hard stuff of their marriage.

Now I know some of you are going to go home disappointed today.  Your dream of Church being a conflict-free love fest is getting shattered today.  You may have been hoping after hearing Paul talk about love today that we could all just sing, “They Will Know We Are Christians by Our Love,” and walk out of here on a cloud.  Truthfully, having people see how we love each other and being able to recognize our Christian identity through our love is wonderful.  But equally wonderful today would be if we could sing, “They Will Know We Are Christians by How We Fight.”

In a few moments, we will do a few things that mark our Christian identity.  We will confess our sins, ask for healing, and pass the peace.  These are all steps toward reconciliation with God, with ourselves, and with one another.  Perhaps you have been experiencing conflict here in our church community, at home, or at work.  Now is your chance to reconcile that conflict, and live into what being a person of faith means.  There is no way to avoid the fact that Christians fight, disagree, and argue.  But how we fight means much more than that we fight.  The church invites us to be a people committed to reconciliation, knowing that where two or three are gathered in conflict together, Christ is in the midst of us.  Amen.

[i] Rick Morley, “Before You Unfriend – Matthew 18:15-20,” August 23, 2011, as found at http://www.rickmorley. com/ archives/803?utm_source=rss&utm_medium=rss&utm_campaign=proper18agospel on September 4, 2014.

[ii] Eric Barreto, “Commentary on Matthew 18:15-20,” as found at http://www.workingpreacher.org/preaching.aspx? commentary_id=2164 on September 5, 2014.

[iii] Jin S. Kim, “Pastoral Perspective,” Feasting on the Word, Year A, Vol. 4 (Louisville: Westminster John Knox Press, 2011), 46.

[iv] Kim, 46.