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GC79: Respecting Dignity

25 Wednesday Jul 2018

Posted by jandrewsweckerly in Uncategorized

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dignity, Episcopal Church, gender, General Convention, immigration, Jesus, language, outcast, race, respect, sexual orientation

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Photo credit:  Jennifer Andrews-Weckerly (permission for reuse)

One of the many takeaways from General Convention was the need to tend to those outside of the straight, white, male, able-bodied community.  There was a task force assembled before Convention to address issues raised by the #metoo movement.  Out of that group came many resolutions about sexual harassment and abuse, equality in payment and hiring, parenting accommodations, and eliminating bias in bishop searches.  Our African-American brothers and sisters also called for work on pay equity and broader issues, such as voter suppression.  Our foreign language speakers rallied for more translated liturgies and legislation, as well as increased interpreters throughout Convention.  Our disabled and deaf members lobbied for better accommodations during Convention.  Our LGBTQ members called for broader inclusion and more intentional expansive and inclusive language.  Our immigrant members also called for thoughtfulness about our ordination processes, noting that many dioceses are unwilling to consider entering into a formal discernment process with someone if their immigration status is not settled.

There are probably more issues I am forgetting, but what struck me about each of these movements is that they are not just General Convention issues or wider church issues.  These are issues for every parish.  At our own parish, we are struggling to provide hearing assistance to our hearing-impaired members due to lack of volunteers to run our sound system.  Having served on a Commission on Ministry (COM) in another diocese, I realize now how our restrictions around immigration could have limited the movement of the Holy Spirit.  Even the conversation about breastfeeding on the Convention floor made me realize that we all have work to do about making our worship spaces as welcoming as possible.  Having watched these issues unfold at General Convention, I am convinced that there are issues we are overlooking as well.

Jesus always struck me as someone who saw everyone – especially people that society, religious leaders, and even his disciples overlooked or dismissed.  He had a knack for seeing the marginalized, the oppressed, and those cast out or looked down upon.  He asked their stories, engaged them in conversation and relationship, he often restored them to health and status in the community.  He showed us what it means to respect the dignity of every human being.  When we reaffirm our baptismal covenant, or when we say, “The Episcopal Church Welcomes You,” how might we do a better job of bringing what we say in line with what we do?  General Convention’s work was a way of pointing us back to the work of Jesus.  How might Hickory Neck engage in this same work?  How might you engage in this same work in your everyday life?

Sermon – Mark 6.30-34, 53-56, P11, YB, July 22, 2018

25 Wednesday Jul 2018

Posted by jandrewsweckerly in Sermons, Uncategorized

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church, desert, disciples, Jesus, ministry, rejuvination, renew, rest, self-care, Sermon, soul, summer, wilderness

When I first read this gospel lesson today, I was pretty excited.  This text is the perfect summer gospel lesson.  Summer is that time when we slow down a bit, we play a little more, we relax a bit more.  The rhythms of life change a bit during the summer, whether we are tied to someone on a school calendar or not.  In fact, one of my favorite collects for summer matches this text perfectly.  The collect “For Good Use of Leisure,” goes like this, “O God, in the course of this busy life, give us times of refreshment and peace; and grant that we may so use our leisure to rebuild our bodies and renew our minds, that our spirits may be opened to the goodness of your creation; through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.”[i]

So when Jesus says to the disciples, “Come away to a deserted place all by yourselves and rest a while,” I feel a sense of relief and permission – permission to rest from my labors, perhaps even to use summer as a time to rejuvenate, sleep a little more, not work quite so hard on all those committees and deadlines.  When Jesus tells the hard-working disciples to come away and rest, his words become a word of comfort to our weary souls, his words help us envision a Jesus who cares about self-care, and his words even have us dreamily imagining a great desert getaway, perhaps mentally noting to google vacations to Palm Desert after church.

But before we get too excited about the introduction of our story, the rest of the story starts to invade our imaginations.  We are told that on the way to that desert getaway, the people hear about the disciples’ getaway and beat them to the other side of the shore and immediately start asking for more healing.  After more work for weary souls, we are told Jesus and the disciples try to escape again.  But this time, the crowds get even more vigorous – rushing forward to grab their blessings.  So much for a weekend of staying in our PJs and binge watching TV.  And so much for the supportive boss who promotes self-care.  Jesus changes his tune as soon as the crowds show up.  No rest for the weary today!

For those of you who have been following along with my blog posts, you know I have been chronicling my experiences at General Convention.  Day after day, something dramatic happened.  But in the jam-packed nine-day schedule, we were given a sabbath – Sunday morning to go wherever we wanted to church.  Sitting in the pews as a priest on a Sunday is glorious and rare gift, and I was particularly excited because I had an old friend that I was going to get to see in their home parish.  But a few weeks before General Convention started we got word that a priest was going to organize a trip and prayer vigil at a detention center for women seeking asylum in the United States – and would use our free Sunday for the event.  Now since today is Sunday and we are about to confess our sins together, I have to confess something to you that I would not normally tell anyone:  my initial reaction to this invitation was resentment.  Instead of getting to sleep in, visit church leisurely with a friend, and get some much needed sabbath time before going back into legislation, I was going to need to get up early, miss time with my friend, and stand in 100-degree Texas heat and feel passionate about yet another social justice issue.  I knew I should probably be excited for the unique experience, and I should probably be preparing a protest sign, and invite other locals to the event; but all I could think on the inside was, “but you promised we could rest a while!”

What I forgot and what the disciples miss are the details of Jesus’ invitation today.  Jesus does not say, “Come away with me to a resort, and get a spa treatment package with the bonus strawberries and champagne.”  Jesus says “come to a deserted place.”  Palm Desert, with its palm trees, mist sprayers to keep you cool, and sparkling swimming pools, is not what Jesus is talking about here. The desert is where Mark’s gospel starts – with John the Baptist eating locust and wild honey, with hardly any clothing for protection.  The desert is where Jesus goes to be tempted by the devil.  The desert is not where you go to escape and catch up on lost sleep.  The desert is where you go to wrestle your demons and find deeper connection to God.[ii]  The desert is a place of self-care:  not the resting, rejuvenating kind, not the binge-watching, escapism kind, but the hard, deep, soul-examining kind of work that is about taking care of the self – just without all the amenities.

When Jesus invites the disciples into the wilderness, he is inviting them to renew themselves for ministry – to reconnect with the initial passion hidden within them, the joy that came from first volunteering to be fishers of people, the thrill of personal invitation to make a difference in the world and see a new age dawning.  So Jesus says, “Want to get renewed about that Outreach Committee Meeting next week?  Go out and have a conversation with a homeless person or swing a hammer on a Habitat house before you go.  Want to stop crunching numbers for that big project?  Go visit with the family who hasn’t been able to eat a hot meal all summer.  Want to put down the newspaper to relieve your compassion fatigue?  Go to the local jail and start hearing the stories of addiction, poverty, and prejudice that keep people in those cells.”

The good news about my compassion fatigue at General Convention is the same friend with whom I had hoped to go to church wanted to go with me to the Detention Center instead of church.  I was fresh out of excuses to not go.  In the blazing Texas sun, with sunblock and extra water bottles, we schlepped her one-year old to the wilderness of Texas.  As soon as we spotted the cold, harsh, former prison walls that were now being used as a “residential facility,” I suspected Jesus was smirking with his “I told you so,” face.  As songs rose up from the crowd of over 1000 Episcopalians, my heart started aching for the stories I could imagine inside those stone walls.  As my friend’s child cooed and chattered, I imagined the women inside who wanted to be with their own babies.  As we prayed, I realized my selfish desire for rest would not have been sated with a brunch and a long nap.  What my soul needed was right there, in that brown, withered field in the hot summer sun.

I do not know what kind of wilderness place you need today.  I do not know where Jesus needs to guide you to help you find the kind of rest your soul needs.  I do not know what kind of deserted place you might be dreading today.  But I invite you to say yes.  I invite you to risk feeling more tired than rejuvenated.  I invite you to open yourself to the deep transformation that can only happen in a place of vulnerability.  The next time Jesus says to you, “Come away to a deserted place all by yourselves and rest a while,” just go.  I promise you will get the kind of rest your soul needs.  Amen.

[i] BCP, 825.

[ii] Karoline Lewis, “Letting Go,” July 15, 2018, as found at http://www.workingpreacher.org/craft.aspx?post=5198 on July 18, 2018.

GC79: Everyday Evangelism…

12 Thursday Jul 2018

Posted by jandrewsweckerly in Uncategorized

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conversation, evangelism, General Convention, God, Jesus, relationship, story, stranger

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Photo credit:  Jennifer Andrews-Weckerly (reuse only with permission)

On my first day of General Convention, I had to start as a “visitor” until I could get my alternate name badge.  That meant I had some spare time to explore the exhibits in the Exhibit Hall.  I decided to grab lunch there, and after I made my purchase, I realized I didn’t know anyone in the eating area, and many of the tables were full of deputations or groups of friends.  There was a table with just one petite older woman of color.  I figured General Convention was partly about meeting the wider church, so I asked to join her.

We began the normal chitchat of the day – the weather, the food, etc.  I asked her where she was from and she said, “Arizona now, but I’m from Kenya.”  Well, you can imagine my excitement – one of my best friends from seminary is a female priest from Kenya.  We launched into a conversation about what brought her to the States, and before I knew it, we were deep in a conversation about the husband who left her for another woman, the kids he left her to manage, the impact of the divorce on her family, the hurtful things a priest said to her about the divorce, the way she has experienced racism – not just as a person of color, but as a woman from Africa.

After we grieved the hard stuff, and my apology about the sins of the church, she began to tell me about the good stuff:  the grandchildren she moved to Arizona to enjoy; the women she works with back in various countries in Africa to produce clothing that will feed their families; the school she is trying to help some of the women establish in their hometown.  She was at Convention to display and sell their wares.  She jokingly told me, “Yeah, I’m a little concerned.  The women gave me several items that are going to be way too small for anyone here to wear.”  I knew God had brought us together for a reason!  “Mary,” I exclaimed, “I guess that means I’m going to have to buy one of those smalls!”

Later that week, I dropped by new friend’s booth.  We embraced like old friends.  I could see the wrinkles of hurt and toil on her face more distinctly this time, but I could also see the twinkle of new relationship in her eyes.  I came away with a cute dress, but more importantly, I came away with a sense of kinship, of having connected with another human about the journey of life, and where God can work through us to do good.  When we talk about evangelism in the church, I always try to remind Hickory Neck that evangelism is about hearing people’s stories and naming God in them.  It is not easy work.  It will involve sitting down at tables with strangers and maybe even starting by talking about the weather.  But if you hang in there, you might just hear the story of how God is working through us all – and even find a new sister or brother in Christ along the way.

GC79: When People Start Getting Real…

07 Saturday Jul 2018

Posted by jandrewsweckerly in Uncategorized

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apathy, children of God, compromise, conversation, Episcopal, General Convention, Jesus, justice, prayer, relationship, truth, uncomfortable

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General Convention, July 6, 2018.  Photo credit: Jennifer Andrews-Weckerly (reuse with permission)

One of the things that I am finding powerful about General Convention is a willingness to enter into a time of truth-telling.  Before I arrived, the House of Bishops hosted a listening session of stories from women who have been sexually harassed or abused in the context of the church.  From what I hear it was a powerful experience of honesty and vulnerability, and I believe many of the bishops (most of whom are male) were moved by the experience.

Last night, I sat in on a hearing for people to offer their testimonies about a couple of resolutions involving marriage rights, particularly same-sex marriages.  Much of the conversation was about a resolution put forth involving a compromise (B012).  According to the resolution, bishops can still make decisions with their conscious for their priests and diocese, but would give permission for any priests who feel called to celebrate same-sex marriages to do so with the oversight of another bishop of the Church.  The testimonies lasted for almost two hours (not including the two hours earlier in the day), and many things became abundantly clear.  Our LGBTQ brothers and sisters are hurting and longing to be treated as equal children of God.  And our more conservative brothers and sisters are fearful about not being able to be faithful to their understanding of Scripture and tradition.  The tension was high.  But also present was a spirit of graciousness.  People of opposing views were sitting beside one another, able to make eye contact and stay in the room.  I came away realizing that what I was seeing was what compromise looks like – no one fully happy, but a path forward for now.  And in a county that seems incapable of compromise, it was a gift to see the Church moving in that direction.

And then today, we spent time together talking about Racial Reconciliation – a topic that my conversation partner said has been a topic for twenty years of General Conventions – which means we haven’t gotten there yet.  It was an inspiring, beautiful, hard time, but a time I was glad to see us have.  One of my favorite speakers, the Rev. Nancy Frausto, had this to say, “This society has been contaminated by the plague of apathy.”  In other words, in a political environment where injustice is rampant, we cannot afford to let apathy infect us.

I do not know where these conversations will lead.  I suspect we will not solve the world’s ills at this Convention.  But what we are starting to do is show the world what it means to be a diverse people who stay together, find a compromise, and love and lead together.  It is not easy.  In fact, it’s pretty uncomfortable. But following Jesus is pretty uncomfortable too.  If the Church can’t do it, I’m not sure we can ask anyone else to do that work.  I’m proud of the Episcopal Church tonight.  And I will continue to hold her in my prayers.

On Discipleship and Decisions…

04 Wednesday Jul 2018

Posted by jandrewsweckerly in Uncategorized

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decisions, disciple, discipleship, Episcopal, Episcopal Church, General Convention, identity, Jesus, prayer

Members sing during a church service during the General Convention of the Episcopal Church in Salt Lake City

Photo credit:  https://religionnews.com/2015/07/02/episcopal-church-expansive-inclusive-thanks-gay-marriage-votes-commentary/

Today, I am traveling to Austin for the General Convention of the Episcopal Church.  General Convention meets every three years and is a bicameral legislature that includes the House of Deputies and the House of Bishops, composed of deputies and bishops from each diocese. During General Convention, deputies and bishops consider a wide range of important matters facing the Church.  Some years the issues have a huge impact (examples include the ordination of women and members of the LGBTQ community, as well as same-sex marriage).  Other years, General Convention works on important issues that are less flashy.  Regardless of the news cycle, the work of General Convention is about continuing to define who and whose we are, and making sure our work reflects our identity.

I am attending this year as an alternate clergy deputy for the Diocese of Southern Virginia.  My work is to support the eight clergy and lay deputies and our bishops, helping them make important decisions, and filling in when breaks are needed.  The official meetings take place July 5-13, but there are already many committee meetings happening.

In talking to a clergy colleague about my participation in General Convention he asked me, “Why in the world did you volunteer?”  I have been thinking (and laughing) about that question, and after reflection, I realized why I was so interested in serving.  One of the things I preach about a lot is about identity – understanding it, naming it, living into it.  In the current climate of the United States, our identity as disciples of Jesus is an anchor.  But just saying we are disciples without critically examining our lives through that lens does little good.  For me, being a part of General Convention is a way of participating in the work of honing our identity as Episcopalians, and where applicable, helping us to better live into that identity.

I look forward to serving the broader church, our Diocese, and ultimately my parish through this work.  This kind of work creates the space for making us all better, and I am hopeful about what the week can bring.  I ask your prayers for the General Convention over the next many days.  Like any family, parish, Diocese, or church who tries to come to consensus across differences, we will need your prayers to listen deeply, speak intentionally, and make decisions thoughtfully and prayerfully.  I look forward to sharing this experience with you!

Sermon – Mark 5.21-43, P8, YB, July 1, 2018

04 Wednesday Jul 2018

Posted by jandrewsweckerly in Sermons, Uncategorized

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connection, intimacy, Jairus, Jesus, Mark, need, power, relationship, Sermon, story, storytelling, woman

I once had a parishioner who was both the best and the worst storyteller.  He was the best because his stories were always fascinating, funny, and fantastic.  Not only did he have an intriguing life, he also just had a real gift for telling stories in ways that brought them to life in your mind’s eye.  But he was also not the best storyteller because he was easily distracted.  He would be in the middle of a story and then veer off course, “Which reminds me of the time…” he would say, and off he would go.  Sometimes he would go back to the other story, but you had to really pay attention to remind him of where he had started.  Sometimes the dropped ending on a story would come back to me days later and I would wonder, “I wonder what happened after he dropped that note to his secret love…”

Mark’s storytelling today is a bit like that parishioner’s way of telling stories.  After the fantastic stories of the calming of the sea, and the healing of a demon-possessed man, Mark tells us of Jesus’ next dramatic moment.  Jairus approaches Jesus and falls at Jesus’ feet, begging him to heal his dying twelve-year old daughter.  This whole event is a big deal because if you remember, many of the other synagogue leaders were suspicious of Jesus, and even plotting against him.  For a synagogue leader to approach Jesus for help is a huge break in rank.  Jesus goes with Jairus without comment, but before we can find out what happens, Mark basically says, “Speaking of which, there was this woman who approached Jesus without Jesus knowing.  You won’t believe what happened…”  And off Mark goes telling another fantastic story.

This time, we learn of a woman who is a total outcast.  She has been hemorrhaging for twelve years, she is destitute because she has spent all her money on doctors – to no avail, and let’s not forget she is a woman.  We can almost imagine the clandestine approach of this triple outcast weaving her way into the crowd just to touch Jesus’ garment.  To her credit, the simple touch works!  Now, the story really could end there, but Mark tells us something even more fascinating – Jesus stops dead in his tracks, demanding to know who touched him.  In a crowd of thousands, he wants to know which person touched him?!?  The woman comes forward for what should be a great castigation and humiliation.  Instead, her honesty and vulnerability open Jesus up to giving even more blessing.  Not only has her faith in him made her well, he offers her the peace, health, and wholeness that will allow her full integration back into society – a double gift!

Now the good news is that Mark is not as bad of a storyteller as my former parishioner.  Mark jumps back to Jairus’ story – but the news is bad.  The daughter has died!  Everyone thinks the cause is lost, but Jesus encourages Jairus to believe.  So off they go, but this time with only Peter, James, and John.  The gathered crowd mocks Jesus’ assertion that the girl is just sleeping.  But when the six of them go in, Jesus quite simply takes her by the hand, calls the girl to get up, and then asks them to give her some food – dying can really take a toll after all!

You might be shaking your head at Mark at this point, wondering if we can’t just focus on one of these stories – truly either is powerful enough on its own.  But Mark is not really like my former parishioner – he does not simply tell stories because he is good at telling stories, or because he likes to entertain guests.  In fact, Mark does this more than once in his gospel.  The biblical critics call this practice “intercalation,” but many people just call this a Markan sandwich.[i]  As N.T. Wright explains, by sandwiching the stories together, “The flavour of the outer story adds zest to the inner one; the taste of the inner one is meant in turn to permeate the outer one.”[ii]

So what do we learn about Jesus through Mark’s sandwiching these stories together?  Well, let’s start with how they are different.  Jairus is an insider – as a male synagogue leader, he is well-known and respected in the community, presumably with some power and influence.[iii]  Meanwhile, the bleeding woman is an outsider – a female, impure, impoverished outcast.[iv]  Jairus publicly invites Jesus to touch his dying daughter; the woman secretly touches Jesus’ cloak herself.  Jairus’ daughter is just a girl, but the woman has lived a longer life.  More interesting though is how the two stories are alike.  Both Jairus and the woman kneel before Jesus.  “Both victims of illness are female and ritually unclean, one as a result of death and one as a result of hemorrhage; both represent the significance of the number twelve in Jewish tradition (the twelve years of hemorrhage and the twelve-year old girl); and both are regarded as ‘daughters’ (the little girl being Jairus’s daughter and the woman who is addressed by Jesus as ‘Daughter’).  An act of touch restores both women to new life even as those surrounding them lack understanding.”[v]

Mark uses these two stories together because we need their differences and similarities to teach us something about Jesus and about ourselves.  We learn from Mark’s sandwich that Jesus is present with both the powerful and the powerless alike.  Both requests, despite the baggage both a synagogue leader and an impure woman bring, are honored by Jesus.  What we note though is Jesus tends the woman first.  Now some scholars might argue the pause in the story, and the death of the girl before Jesus gets there, are meant to build suspense.[vi]  But equally important is that Jesus stops for the person without power first[vii] – even taking precious time to not just heal her but demand to be in conversation and relationship with her.  He could have kept walking, knowing that his power had flowed out but staying the course with the good deed he was about to perform.  But instead, he stops everything, everyone, and demands a connection – one that leads not just to healing but total restoration within the community – shalom.[viii]  Jesus also shows us about the wideness of family.  A few weeks ago, we read the gospel lesson where Jesus questioned the crowd about who his mother and brothers and sister were.  Today he keeps expanding the circle.  The powerful and persecuting are his family; the most ostracized outcasts are his family; even the vulnerable children are his family.  Finally, Jesus teaches us that healing or the good works we do are meant to be within the context of relationship.  That Jesus tends the bleeding woman and the young girl is much less important than how he tends the two females.  Jesus’ help is not about an impersonal exchange – a few coins dropped in a hat or a check written to a charity – though those are necessary too.  Equally important to dropping a coin in a hat might be stopping to talk to the person asking for a handout.  In addition to contributing to a favorite charity, knowing the stories of specific clients is equally important.

What is hidden in these two tales about Jesus is the “flash of precious intimacy between two human beings who are socially very distant from each other.”  As one scholar explains, what Jesus brings alive for us today is “Our relationships – in the church, in friendships, and in marriage – are not just something extra added on to life for distraction and entertainment, as if we would be complete human beings in individual isolation.  Relationship, ‘touch,’ if you will, makes us human and whole.  As the contemporary Scottish philosopher John Macmurray once phrased it, ‘I need “you” in order to be myself.’”[ix]  What Jesus’ actions and Mark’s adept way at combining stories do today is invite us to consider not what we do, but how we do what we do.  Jesus invites us to slow down – to take those moments when someone’s pain is presented to us, and not just offer help, but stop long enough to make a connection – to develop intimacy with others.  “A teacher once remarked, ‘You know…my whole life I have been complaining that my work was constantly interrupted, until I discovered that my interruptions were my work.’”[x]  Jesus also invites us to care for everyone – rich, poor, young, and old – but he especially wants us to start with those most in need.  Finally, Jesus invites us today to see, really see, where people are, and to be a people of compassion, healing, and love.  Before you know it, you may be the one at coffee hour, veering off one story to tell yet another story, all highlighting the wonderful, lifegiving, challenging ways that stepping into relationship with others has changed your walk with Jesus.  I can’t wait to try to track your stories!  Amen.

[i] Karoline Lewis, “A Lesson from Mark,” June 25, 2018, as found at http://www.workingpreacher.org/craft.aspx?post=5184 on June 28, 2018.

[ii] N.T. Wright, Mark for Everyone (Louisville:  Westminster John Knox Press, 2004), 58.

[iii] Efrain Agosto, “Exegetical Perspective,” Feasting on the Word, Yr. B, Vol. 3 (Louisville:  Westminster John Knox Press, 2009), 189.

[iv] John R. Donahue, S.J. and Daniel J. Harrington, S.J., The Gospel of Mark, Sacra Pagina Series, vol. 2 (Collegeville:  The Liturgical Press, 2002), 174.

[v] Beverly Zink-Sawyer, “Homiletical Perspective,” Feasting on the Word, Yr. B, Vol. 3 (Louisville:  Westminster John Knox Press, 2009), 191.

[vi] Lamar Williamson, Jr., Mark, Interpretation:  A Bible Commentary for Teaching and Preaching (Louisville:  Westminster John Knox Press, 1983), 108.

[vii] Mark D. W. Edington, “Theological Perspective,” Feasting on the Word, Yr. B, Vol. 3 (Louisville:  Westminster John Knox Press, 2009), 192.

[viii] Williamson, 109.

[ix] Michael L. Lindvall, “Pastoral Perspective,” Feasting on the Word, Yr. B, Vol. 3 (Louisville:  Westminster John Knox Press, 2009), 192.

[x] Williamson, 112 (quoting Henri J.M. Nouwen, Reaching Out, p. 36).

On Holiness and Heroes…

27 Wednesday Jun 2018

Posted by jandrewsweckerly in Uncategorized

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baptism, Christ, discern, disciple, Episcopalian, ethics, fantasy, foundational, God, identity, Jesus, morals, purpose, superheroes

Wonder Woman

Photo credit:  https://www.themarysue.com/no-boys-allowed/

This Sunday we begin our summer film series at Hickory Neck called “Faith and Film.”  When I announced to our parish that this year’s theme would be superheroes, I got some raised eyebrows.  My suspicion is that for those of our parish who have not already blocked out the next five Sunday evenings, their raised eyebrows are because superhero movies may seem frivolous, superficial, or even violent.  On the surface, I can understand the suspicions.  For a long time, I though superhero films dabbled a little too much in escapism and fantasy.  And there is certainly some of that component to the films – who doesn’t enjoy what filmmakers can do with computer graphics these days?!

But at the heart of these films is something much more significant.  Each film seems to asks deep, defining questions.  What kind of person are you going to be?  What morals or ethics will rule your life?   What things are of ultimate significance in your life?  What responsibility do you have for the world and people around you?  These questions are not frivolous questions.  When someone dons a Captain America hat or a Wonder Woman shirt, they are not just celebrating a fun, fictional hero – they are also celebrating a moral way of life.

I cannot imagine anything more relevant to a disciple of Jesus than discerning and making decisions about your life that reflect your morals and ethics.  As Episcopalians, we look to our baptismal covenant for that definition.  It defines five core elements:  1) continuing in the apostles’ teaching and fellowship, the breaking of the bread, and the prayers, 2) resisting evil, and, whenever we fall into sin, repenting and returning to the Lord, 3) proclaiming by word and example the Good News of God in Christ, 4) seeking and serving Christ in all persons, loving our neighbor as ourselves, and 5) striving for justice and peace among all people, and respecting the dignity of every human being.[i]

These days, as our current political climate challenges us on more and more specific issues, I cannot imagine a better topic than to talk about what defines us and our behavior, and then recommitting to that identity and purpose.  The good news is that if you are able to make it to all five movies, the following Sunday (August 5), we will be renewing our baptismal covenants as we baptize a child of God – an event where we all commit to being superheroes in the life of Christ.  I hope you will join us for this fun, sometimes frivolous, but mostly foundational journey.

[i] Book of Common Prayer, 304-304.

On Politics, Priests, and Prayer…

20 Wednesday Jun 2018

Posted by jandrewsweckerly in Uncategorized

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American, Bible, Christian, communion, dignity, disciple, diversity, Episcopal Church, Eucharist, Good News, gospel, Jesus, policy, politics, prayer, priest, scripture, table

lightstock_99088_medium_david_needham

Photo credit:  https://www.lebanonfbc.org/ministries/power-prayer-pop

One of the hardest parts of being a priest is creating a community in which we can talk about the Gospel of Jesus Christ, hold widely varying political opinions, and yet still gather at the Eucharistic Table – elbow to elbow, as the imperfect, but beloved body of Christ, determined to stay in community.  I say that the work is difficult because I have seen how fragile this work really can be.  During my priestly formation at seminary, congregations and Dioceses were walking away from that common table over the issue of human sexuality.  Although I was proud of what the Episcopal Church did at the time, I also deeply mourned the loss of diversity at the Table – the creation of a more homogenous Church than a Church who was devoted to staying in the tension while honoring the Gospel.

Because of my high value of the uniting force of the Eucharistic Table, my priesthood has taken a slightly different shape than I might have imagined in my early twenties.  If you had asked me then about the primary role of the priest, I might have argued the role of prophet – decrying injustice and leading the people of faith to a more just world.  But as I aged, and as I served diverse parishes, I began to see the role of prophet is one of many roles, one that needs to be used judiciously so as not to alienate parishioners and create an exclusive community of like-minded people.  And so, my priesthood has been marked with great caution around politics.  While many of my colleagues will beat the drum for justice, I find myself trying to carefully walk with my diverse congregations as we discern together how to interpret politics in light of the Gospel – not in light of Democrats or Republicans, but in light of the witness of Jesus Christ.  That doesn’t mean I don’t have strong political opinions; it just means that I try to take focus off the politician or political issue of the moment and try to create disciples who can see and follow Christ.

That being said, this past week, the issue of what is happening to families seeking asylum on our southern border, and the separation of children from parents as a punitive, purportedly deterring action has shifted my normal practice – not because I changed my mind about politics and the Church, but because two agents of our government utilized Holy Scripture to justify those actions.  Here’s the thing:  if this were just another issue where we are divided about policy, where we had a debate about the extents to which we value national security over other values, I would have happily encouraged our parishioners to be faithful Christians in dialogue.  But when Attorney General Jeff Sessions invoked Holy Scripture to justify separating children from parents, he stepped into my area of authority, leaving me no other option but to speak.

Now I could layout a Biblical defense against the small portion of Romans 13 that Attorney General Sessions quoted, giving you the context of the chapter, giving you the verses immediately following what he quoted as a counter to his argument.  I could quote to you chapter and verse for countless other scripture lessons that tell us to love one another, respect the dignity of other human beings, care for the outcast and alien, tend the poor, and honor children.  I could also tell you about how that same bit of scripture was used to justify slavery, Nazis, or apartheid in South Africa.  But the problem with a scripture quoting war is that no one wins.  What is more important is what we know of the canon of Scripture:  that our God is a God of love, that Jesus walked the earth showing us how to be agents of love, healing, and grace, and that the Holy Spirit works through us today to keep spreading that love.

Knowing what I know about the Good News of God in Christ, in my baptismal identity as one who seeks and serves Christ in all persons, respecting the dignity of every human being, I cannot stand idly by or be silent when the Holy Scriptures of Christians are being used to justify political actions that are antithetical to our Christian identity.  As a priest, I invite you this week, especially when a governmental leader is invoking our faith, to reflect on how the Gospel of Christ is informing your view on this issue.  Not as a Republican and not as a Democrat, but as a follower of Christ.  Fortunately, prominent politicians on both sides of the aisle seem to be coming to agreement on this issue – a rarity these days – but also an example to Episcopalians who hold a high view of coming to the Eucharistic Table across our differences.  I am not saying we need to agree on this – in fact, I suspect we will not.  What I am asking is that you live into your identity as a disciple of Christ, as an agent of love, and then respond in conversation, in political advocacy, and in worship as one holding in tension both our American and Christian identities.  I support you in this difficult, hard work.  I love you as you struggle.  I welcome you to the Eucharistic Table.

On God’s Mothering Wings…

13 Wednesday Jun 2018

Posted by jandrewsweckerly in Uncategorized

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Tags

barrier, brood, God, hen, Jesus, relax, strength, vulnerability, weakness, willfulness

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Photo credit:  https://themilitarywifeandmom.com/one-simple-trick-to-help-your-kids-fall-asleep-fast/

The other night I was rocking my younger to sleep.  The practice is slowly becoming a rarity.  She is getting a bit big for rocking, and now seems to prefer me to sing to her in her bed without rocking her.  The loss of that privilege is one more thing on the list of preferences that demonstrate she is becoming a big girl and is needing me less and less.  So, although she consented to the rocking, her body revealed her resistance.  She was tense and alert.  But once I was able to quiet her down, and the rocking continued, her body began to let go.  Fatigue overcame her, and I could feel her body gradually relaxing in my arms.  That willful, determined, independent little girl was able to let go for a moment, and give into sleep in my arms.

As the tension in her body melted away, I wondered if that is how God feels when I finally cede control to God – if I am similarly determined and defiant when it comes to my relationship with God.  The revelation reminded me of the lament of Jesus from Matthew 23, “Jerusalem, Jerusalem, the city that kills the prophets and stones those who are sent to it! How often have I desired to gather your children together as a hen gathers her brood under her wings, and you were not willing!”  I have always loved that image of the hen gathering her brood, but I never thought about how willful those chicks felt to the mother hen, how willful we are when it comes to God.

As I held my child that night, and I felt her breathing slow and her muscles untense, I was keenly aware of how our bodies were becoming more sympathetic.  Her relaxing into me allowed me to relax too – such that I was not fighting for intimacy with her but just experiencing it.  Barriers came down, just for a moment, and we were able to just lean into one another.

I wonder what barriers are up between you and God these days.  What might leaning into God, trusting God to handle your vulnerability and weakness, feel like?  I do not think God wants us to give up our strength, independence, or drive.  But I do suspect that we would do a better job with those if we were bold enough to admit when we need God too.  That may mean confessing that to God directly.  It may mean finding a trusted friend who can serve as Christ for you this week.  Or it may mean confessing that weakness to a friend who is also struggling so that they can see their weakness as beloved as yours.  Allowing ourselves to be gathered by God’s mothering wings – even if only every once in a while – might just be what we need to strengthen us for Christ’s work in the world.

On Politics at the Table…

30 Wednesday May 2018

Posted by jandrewsweckerly in Uncategorized

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Bishop Curry, church, Eucharistic Table, God, gospel, hope, Jesus, love, politics, Reclaiming Jesus, table, transformative, truth

Last week I talked about Presiding Bishop Michael Curry’s sermon at the Royal Wedding.  His sermon on the transformative power of love created shock waves – one, because most people weren’t expecting such a powerful sermon on a royal wedding day; but two, because his words resonated so deeply with people.  He created a spark of hope, a sense of clarity of purpose, and a renewed passion for justice and compassion.   The message was not new:  he simply preached the gospel of Jesus, a two-thousand-year old message.  And yet, the gospel, like it does for every generation, spoke a word of truth.

But after appearances on the Today Show, Good Morning America, The View, and countless other programs, it would be easy to soften Bishop Curry’s message, to say, “Yes!  Love is the answer!” and walk away with a warm fuzzy feeling.  The trouble is, Bishop Curry’s sermon was not just about the easy parts of love.  Bishop Curry preached about the action of love.  If we find the message of love compelling, then we have to start living lives of love.  And that is where his powerful message starts getting uncomfortable.

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Photo credit:  https://www.huffingtonpost.com/entry/bishop-michael-curry-joins-christian-march-to-white-house-to-reclaim-jesus_us_5b07261ae4b0fdb2aa51b060

Less than a week after his historic sermon, Bishop Curry joined prominent faith leaders from all over the country in a movement called, “Reclaiming Jesus.”  A video explaining the movement can be found here.  Now if you have spent any time with me, you know that I am very hesitant to talk politics in the pulpit or even publicly.  I have always served in churches that were a wonderfully complicated mixture of political opinions.  The Eucharistic Table is the thing that brings us together, kneeling before God, shoulder to shoulder with fellow church members whose bumper stickers promote the exact opposite opinion of our own.

But just because I do not believe Jesus was a Democrat or a Republican, does not mean that I do no think Jesus and the Gospel are not political.  In fact, Jesus’ very life was ended because he was too “political” – because his message of love made people uncomfortable.  That is what the Reclaiming Jesus movement is about – reminding us that the Church still has a message of love – and that message is not passive or polite but is quite active and alarming.

This week, I am taking the warm, encouraging feelings I had from Bishop Curry’s sermon and listening once again to his words about what love in the world means.  I invite you to join me.  Join me in hearing what in the Reclaiming Jesus message makes you uncomfortable.  Join me in pondering how both political parties get it a little bit wrong and a little bit right.  Join me in remembering that Jesus’ message of love is not the same as an invitation to “avoid politics.”  The question is how we can do politics better.  How can we be an example of what it means to don different bumper stickers and work together for justice, peace, and love?  What Bishop Curry preached at the Royal Wedding sounded beautiful – just like Jesus’ own words.  But what Bishop Curry and Jesus called for was not just beautiful.  It is hard, confusing, challenging work – and even harder to do when we disagree so deeply.  Thank God for the Eucharistic Table!  It is the only promise to me that we can do this – that we can be political agents of love together.  I hope you will join me!

chalice-emhc

Photo credit:  http://www.freerepublic.com/focus/religion/3163266/posts

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