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Sermon – Acts 16.16-34, E7, YC, May 8, 2016

11 Wednesday May 2016

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Thousands of years ago, our people were enslaved.  Once-friendly Egypt got a new pharaoh who saw the sheer number of us, and out of fear, enslaved us.  We lost our freedom, and labored under a brutal new regime.  We longed for better days.  We longed for a return to our homeland, even though our homeland could not have sustained us because of the famine years before.  Every night, our cries went out to God.  One day, God heard us.  God sent us a man by the name of Moses, who dramatically managed to convince Pharaoh to let us go back home.  So we quickly packed our things and ran.  Pharaoh changed his mind and sent his armies after us.  But when we crossed the Sea of Reeds, and Pharaoh’s army drowned, we celebrated.  We were free.

Not long after, the rejoicing stopped.  Freedom did not look like what we thought freedom would look like.  Freedom was hard.  When we were enslaved, we always knew from where our next meal would come.  We knew where we would lay our heads at night.  We knew the routine.  With Moses, we were constantly wandering in the wilderness, wondering where our next meal would come from, searching for water, unsure of what would happen.  Nothing in our journey unfolded as we imagined.  We thought freedom would mean being able to do whatever we wanted, being free of obligation, and not being constrained by anyone or thing other than ourselves.  Pharaoh was admittedly awful, but better the devil you know, right?

Being from a country whose primary value is freedom, sometimes I think we get as confused as our ancestors about what freedom means in the context of being people of faith.  Take our lesson from the Acts of the Apostles today.  There are both people who are free and people who are not.  Those who own the slave-girl are free to collect money for someone else’s performance, and they are free to get someone thrown in jail.  The judges who throw Paul and Silas into jail are also free – free to choose who is punished and who is not.  Finally, we might put the jailer into the free category as well.  He is a man with a steady, respectable job, who has power over those in prison.

Meanwhile, our story has those who are lacking freedom.  The first character we hear about is a slave-girl.  In some ways, this nameless slave is a double slave – a slave to her owners who use her for money and a slave to the spirit of divination inside her.  Paul and Silas also lose their freedom.  They are thrown into jail midway through our story, which clearly puts them in the not-free category.  Plus, the slave-girl calls them “slaves of the Most High God.”

Looking at the characters in Acts, we can see how confusing the definition of freedom can be.  If freedom is a value in and of itself, then the heroes of our story are the slave owners, magistrates, and the jailer.  The owners of the slave girl obviously have social capital and an income source.  They have influence and power, and up until Paul and Silas come along, they have the comforts of wealth.  The judges also have a great deal of respect and power in the community.  They are charged with keeping order in the community and protecting the community’s way of life.  Even the jailer has a clear sense of identity and purpose.  He may not have wealth and prestige, but he has a secure job and a sense of clear identity in the community.

Consciously, we know that we should not identify with these three entities.  But subconsciously, and in a country that does not distinguish between freedom and freedom in Christ, we find ourselves much more aligned with and, quite frankly, longing for the kind of freedom that these three parties have.  Meanwhile, the slave-girl is nothing like what we hope for ourselves.  Being possessed by a spirit and being owned by another individual do not usually make the top of our lists for happiness and fulfillment.  And in no way do we want to be like Paul and Silas, who not only seem to be homeless rebel-rousers, they also are physically brutalized and imprisoned.  We are faithful followers of Christ, but I doubt many of us would take that commitment all the way to jail.

Last week, a friend of mine had that very debate.  She is a priest in North Carolina, and she decided to join the weekly protests that has become known as Moral Mondays.  Moral Mondays have been happening since 2013, as religious leaders and followers across North Carolina have gathered in peaceful protest of the laws being passed that promote unfair treatment, discrimination, and oppression.  Bishop Michael Curry was a frequent protestor and speaker at Moral Mondays before being elected Presiding Bishop.  Last week, my friend decided that she needed to join fellow Christians in protest, but she was uncertain about the possibility of being arrested.  She knew what was happening in the legislature was unjust, but she also had a family and job to think about.  She was unsure about how she could best be of use – by staying long enough to be escorted to jail, or whether her presence at the protest would be enough.

What my friend was on the cusp of understanding is what Paul, Silas, and the slave-girl already know.  The slave-girl already knows the truth that no one else can see – that Jesus is the way to salvation.  And when she shouts that long and loudly enough, she is not only freed of her possession, she is free of the bondage of slavery – because her owners can no longer use her as they did before.  Even Paul and Silas, who are locked in jail, are more free than they seem at first glance.  What person, after being brutally whipped and thrown into a cold cell, can be found praying and singing praises to God in the middle of the night?  Only someone who is so free of the bondage of this world can be able to praise God in the midst of earthly suffering.

If Paul, Silas, and the slave-girl are free, guess who the real enslaved ones in our story are.  Those owners, who seem to have the earthly freedom of wealth, have actually become slaves to their wealth.  They are so enslaved to that wealth that when their source of income is freed, they lash out, bringing pain and suffering down upon others.  They cannot see the gift of freedom and health for the slave-girl; they only see the consequences for themselves.  The magistrates are no freer than the owners.  They are so enslaved to their rigid rules that they cannot see the inherent injustice that the slave-girl has faced for so many years.  Even the jailer is not truly free.  He is so caught up in his identity as a jailer that he is willing to take his life for his job.  He is ready to kill himself for what he thinks is a failure on his part than to see how this job has taken over his sense of identity.[i]

So how do we avoid living like the complaining Israelites, who were physically free, but not yet spiritually free to live as the Lord our God invited them to live?  How do we, in a nation that reveres freedom, avoid being enslaved by the wealth, power, and identity that comes from being free?  The jailer asks the same question to Paul and Silas when he asks, “What must I do to be saved?”  In the paraphrase of our text, Paul’s answer is simple:  Put your entire trust in the Master Jesus. Then you’ll live as you were meant to live.[ii]  Paul and Silas could have easily fled that jail when the earthquake happened.  They could have sped past the jailer, and been focused solely on their own self-preservation.  But we see that there is a peace in Paul and Silas that comes from true freedom – of living how we are meant to live.  Instead of weeping and plotting in that cell, they sing and pray to God.  Instead of running when the doors fling open, they ensure that the jailer is okay.  Instead of demonizing the jailer, they offer him baptism.  This is what true freedom looks like.[iii]

In our freedom, we have become enslaved – in varied and sundry ways, but we are all enslaved by something.[iv]  Paul, Silas, and the slave-girl invite us into another way.  They invite us to live as liberated people who trust in our Lord Jesus Christ.  That true freedom may mean we find ourselves shouting out truth in a peaceful rally.  That true freedom may mean that we find ourselves praising God when no one else is, sacrificing our own comfort so that someone might find theirs.  That true freedom might mean trusting God is acting when we feel like God left the building long ago.  When we claim that freedom, then finally, finally, we will begin living as we were meant to live.  Amen.

[i] David G. Forney, “Pastoral Perspective,” Feasting on the Word, Yr. C, Vol. 2 (Louisville: Westminster John Knox Press, 2009), 526.

[ii] Eugene Patterson, The Message, as found at https://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=Acts+16%3A16-34&version=MSG on May 6, 2016.

[iii] L. Gregory Jones, “Come, Lord Jesus,” Christian Century, vol. 109, no. 16, May 6, 1992, 485.

[iv] Ronald Cole-Turner, “Theological Perspective,” Feasting on the Word, Yr. C, Vol. 2 (Louisville: Westminster John Knox Press, 2009), 524.

On change…

20 Wednesday Apr 2016

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A baby crying it out.

Photo credit:  www.slate.com/articles/double_x/the_kids/2013/07/clinical_lactation_jumps_on_the_dr_sears_bandwagon_to_say_sleep_training.html

Once upon a time, I had a parishioner complain to me, “I knew you were going to change things.  I just didn’t know it was going to be all at once!”  At the time, her complaint seemed unwarranted to me.  I did not feel that the changes were all at once at all.  In fact, I was careful not to change things all at once, but made changes slowly and methodically.  Though we talked through her concerns, I remember thinking flippantly that no one really likes change and perhaps that was the real source of her complaint.

This week, I have a lot more sympathy for that parishioner.  My family’s life has been upended by change.  Most of the change has been good – new jobs, new schools, and a new home.  There has been a flurry of activity, and the excitement of a move has carried us through.  Of course, I had forgotten how hard and time-consuming unpacking can be.  I also totally forgot that our young children would be having their own reactions to the move.  But we hit a breaking point Sunday night.  Our two-year-old decided it would be a great time to finally figure out how to get out of her crib.  So for about two hours we went back and forth trying to figure out ways to cajole her into going to sleep.  Of course, the developmental milestone of getting out of one’s crib was to be expected.  But that change on top of everything else made me want to cry, “I knew things were going to change.  But does it have to be all at once?!?”

The truth is, I do not think that the pace of change really matters.  I think what really matters is who gets to make the decision about the change.  When we are making changes ourselves or when we have control over the decision among a group, change does not feel so unsettling.  By having decision-making authority, we feel some modicum of control over the situation.  But when someone else is making decisions that impact us and that change what we are used to, we feel powerless, even if the change is for the better.

Having had the experience with my two-year-old, I am reminded of my need to be sensitive to others’ feelings about change and control as I begin a new pastoral relationship at Hickory Neck Episcopal Church.  Knowing how it feels to have everything changing at once, I will try to be more intentional about communicating, educating, and getting buy-in.  Change is most certainly coming – for me and for the community.  My hope is that we can love one another through the change and trust God and one another in the process.  There will be times when change feels like it is happening all at once.  But there will also be moments when we look back and say, “I guess that wasn’t so bad!  In fact, it was really good.”  Here’s to an exciting, supportive, and encouraging journey!

The Power of Prayer…

10 Thursday Mar 2016

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praying-hands1

Photo credit:  internationalhouseofprayernorthwest.org/event/praying-for-our-police-december-31st-200-300pm/

One of the major components of my vocation is living a life of prayer.  I am constantly offering up prayers for my parishioners, my family, and my friends.  I am regularly praying for the oppressed, the hungry, and those suffering around the world.  I pray for those in leadership in our country and around the world.  And even if the average stranger or acquaintance feels a little uncomfortable talking about religion with me, they have no issues asking me to pray for them.  Prayer is part and parcel of my life and work.

But as much as I pray, for others and even myself, I rarely ask others to pray for me.  I am not sure why really.  Maybe I feel like people are busy or God knows what I need.  Regardless, I don’t tend to solicit prayers.  But this past month has involved a lot of upheaval.  I am transitioning between jobs, and the prayer concerns seem endless.  My current parish has been sorting through their own grief and anxiety about the change.  My future parish has been preparing to receive me and handling logistics on their end.  And my family is juggling everything:  from the emotional toll of the transition, to buying our first home, to finding a new job for my husband, and finding new schools and childcare for our children.

So this week, I finally asked for prayer.  I asked a colleague group of mine and some close friends to pray.  The response was immediate and overwhelming.  Sharing the burden seemed to lessen the burden.  Feeling connected to a community of support gave me comfort and strength.  And thinking about their prayers made me realize there are other people praying too.  My current parish has a prayer group that is praying for us.  My future parish has a weekly prayer they are offering for me, my family, and for them.  Even my mom’s Bible Study group is praying for us.  And that probably does not even count the myriad other people who are praying for me without me realizing it.

As I marveled in the community of saints lifting me up in prayer this week, I realized maybe that is part of the power of prayer:  prayer reminds us that we are not alone.  When we join in prayer with others, we remember that we are not on our own in this life.  The vast web of prayer gives us a tiny glimpse into the enormous love of our God for us.  This week I am grateful for the reminder of the power of a prayerful community.  I encourage you to reach out to your own communities if you are in need of prayer.  And if you are feeling less needy this week, then reach out to someone else who might need your prayers.  We are not alone and we need each other.

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

23 Wednesday Sep 2015

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

05 Wednesday Aug 2015

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

On humanity…

29 Wednesday Jul 2015

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

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

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

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

Sermon – Luke 24.36b-48, E3, YB, April 19, 2015

23 Thursday Apr 2015

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I have been thinking this week about the power of food.  In almost all my mission trips, there was a food story.  Whether I was uncertain about eating what looked like undercooked chicken in the Dominican Republic, or I was struggling with the proper way to eat the tiny bird I was given in Burma, or I was trying to swallow the freshly made tamale in Honduras when all I wanted to eat was a saltine because I was so sick – there was always a dramatic food story from each trip that led to endless jokes later.  Of course there are good food stories too.  There are those foods that you always eat when you visit a favorite restaurant, the foods you beg your mom to make when you visit home, or the foods whose recipes you try to master before your grandfather passes away and the magic taste is gone with him.  Food is a powerful thing.  There is the basic need for food for sustenance, there is the nostalgia and delight that the smell and taste of food can bring, there is the adventure of trying new and exotic foods, and there are ways in which food can be the enemy – from overeating to disordered eating.  Food is the common denominator among all peoples, and in many ways, our life is centered around food.  The common joke in the South is that you know a family is a good southern family if they are planning their next meal while eating the current one.

So today, when Jesus says, “Have you anything here to eat?” Jesus harnesses the power of food to do something equally powerful.  In Luke’s gospel, the women have found the empty tomb and reported the news to the disbelieving disciples.  Peter has confirmed the news, but the disciples remain huddled in fear.  Two of those gathered have an encounter with Jesus on their walk to Emmaus, and return to the disciples to share the news.  Finally, in our lesson today, Jesus appears among them.  Though he offers peace to them, and tries to calm their doubts and fears, the text tells us that they are joyful, but still in disbelief and wonder.  Despite the fact that the disciples have received multiple testimonies of the risen Lord and despite the fact that the same risen Lord is standing right in front of them, offering them peace and assurance and even showing his wounds as proof of his identity, the disciples just cannot get their heads around this strange new reality.  And so Jesus resorts to the one power left he has to reach the disciples – the power of food.  To this scared, confused, disbelieving gang of followers, Jesus says the most basic, normal question, “Have you anything here to eat?”

Who among us has not tried to use food as the great peace maker?  Almost every time we go to visit family, our family anxiously asks, “What do you guys eat?”  Whenever we host friends, we are careful to ask about food allergies or what kinds of foods they do not like.  Pretty much every birthday party we have been to with our five-year old has served pizza and cake – because apparently, every kid likes pizza and cake.  Nothing feels better than satisfied eaters around a dinner table.  Once people are happily eating, the conversation flows and the laughter soon follows.  Likewise, when we make the wrong food choices for a meal, the results can be disastrous.  I always have loved the scene from the film, My Big Fat Greek Wedding, when the Greek girl invites her very non-Greek boyfriend to meet the family.  The whole family has gathered, a pig is on the spit, food is flowing, music is playing, and the favorite Aunt comes up the boyfriend and asks him what she can serve him.  The Greek girl tries to calmly and quietly explain that her boyfriend is a vegetarian.  The Aunt seems confused, and so she explains that her boyfriend does not eat meat.  The Aunt loudly asks, “What do you mean he doesn’t eat meat?!?”  The room suddenly stops – a record scratches as the music halts, a glass drops from a stunned hand, and jaws drop as they stare at this strange boyfriend.  But the Aunt, ever the gracious host, quickly affirms the boyfriend and says, “That’s okay, that’s okay.  I’ll make lamb!”

Though the Aunt clearly does not comprehend the practice of being a vegetarian, she still leans on food as a way make peace.  Once she has made peace, the party continues, and the family gets back to knowing the foreigner and welcoming him as family.  That is because food has that power.  Food can break down walls between foreigners, food can soothe old hurts, and food can help make new friends.  Food has power.

Jesus seemed to know this truth.  When appearances, conversations, and physical evidence cannot not seem to calm the disciples enough for them to understand what God is doing in the risen Christ, Jesus resorts back to the one thing that can transform everything.  “Have you anything here to eat?” is not just a question about whether there is food in the house.  His question is a disarming one – a question that not only requires the mundane work of preparing food, but also gets the disciples into a place a familiarity, comfort, and ease.  In this place, gathered around the table with food, the disciples are finally put in a place where they can really hear Jesus.  In fact, the text says that Jesus opens their minds to understand the scriptures.  Finally, after confusion, fear, and disbelief, through the power of food comes clarity, wisdom, and direction.  Jesus is able to break through, create understanding, and most importantly, commission the disciples to spread the good news to all the nations.[i]

On those mission trips, those funny food stories always led to something more powerful.  That questionable chicken was procured for us because the village leaders knew how hard we had labored and they wanted to give us food to sustain us – even if it meant driving out of the way to obtain the chicken.  And once we ate, the hungry villagers ate too.  Those tiny birds that we panicked about in Burma were actually quite a delicacy.  They are a rare treat that were painstakingly prepared by the women of the church.  And though I am sure our faces betrayed our uncertainty, you could not have seen more proud looks on those women as we began to pick through those tiny bones for meat.  Those mounds of fresh tamales were like a death sentence to me in Honduras.  But I learned that the women of the village had pooled their money for the ingredients and had been working all day to prepare for the feast.  After we ate those delicious offerings, there was great dancing and celebration as our team honored a productive week with our village hosts.

Churches understand the power of food.  I still hear stories at St. Margaret’s about the progressive dinners held back in the day.  Parishioners who are often quite overbooked will clear their calendars for our annual parish picnic.  I have told many a friend that St. Margaret’s is the only parish I know whose Coffee Hour truly lasts an hour – sometimes more if the conversation is really hopping.  Even our most recent new endeavor of providing a family-friendly worship and fellowship opportunity is centered around food – Pasta, Pray, and Play.  Churches understand the power of food to bring people together, to enrich relationships, and to create new connections.

But probably most important for the Church is the power of food to heal, reconcile, and embolden.  The Eucharistic Meal is the primary way we use the power of food.  For those of us who have been receiving communion our whole lives, we sometimes forget the power of that simple meal.  I remember, at one of the services when one of our young people received his first communion, the look of consternation on his face when he first tasted the dry wafer.  I do not know what he was expecting, but I can tell you, that wafer shocked his senses.  That is what our Eucharistic Meal is supposed to do.  We spend an hour pondering and praying about what God is doing in our lives, we confess our failures to live as faithful servants of God, we reconcile with our brothers and sisters in the peace, and then we stand humbly before God and receive a meal that restores us and makes us whole.  That single meal gives us the peace and the power to get back out into the world and try again – try again to be the witnesses Jesus invites us to be today.  That is the power of this food – this meal can transform us and enable us to be faithful witnesses in the world.  When Jesus says today, “Have you anything here to eat?” we say emphatically, yes, we do.  Amen.

[i] Sarah S. Henrich, “Exegetical Perspective,” Feasting on the Word, Yr. B, vol. 2 (Louisville:  Westminster John Knox Press, 2008), 429.

Homily – Exodus 1.15-21, Matthew 5.13-16, Emily Malbone Morgan, February 26, 2015

11 Wednesday Mar 2015

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Today we honor Emily Malbone Morgan, founder of the Society of the Companions of the Holy Cross.  Born in 1862 in Hartford, Connecticut, Morgan came from a prominent family with deep Anglican roots.  Through a friendship with a homebound friend who looked to Morgan for spiritual companionship, Morgan began to gather a small group of women for prayer and companionship; this group evolved into the Society of the Companions of the Holy Cross.  Morgan worried about working women who were tired and restless but had little hope for a vacation.  She formed summer vacation homes for the working women and their daughters for physical and spirit renewal.  She also formed a permanent home in Massachusetts, which is still the headquarters and retreat center for the Society.  Today the SCHC has 31 chapters and over 700 Companions in six countries.  The Society lives a life of prayer and contemplation rooted in tradition and has led to commitments to social justice for women.

What I love about Morgan is that she comes from a long line of strong women.  We hear about some of these women in scripture today.  First we hear of Shiphrah and Puah, the midwives who clearly disobeyed the king and saved many children.  Then we hear of Martha and Mary, who both witness to the full and complete spectrum of the ways women participate in the life of faith.  What I love about all three sets of women is that they boldly lived into their faith, sometimes taking on risks, thinking outside the box, and ultimately shaking up expectations of what men and women can do.

These last couple of years, the issue of the way women are treated around the world has become a hot issue.  Wage discrepancies, and susceptibility to violence, oppression and societal limitations have all come under criticism.  As legislation around women’s bodies arises, many women have fought back.  What I love about our lessons today is that both God and Jesus praise the women who step out to seize power and equality.

For the midwives, Shiprah and Puah, God rewards them for their loyalty and bravery.  For Mary, Jesus praises her for taking what was usually only given to men – the privilege of sitting and listening.  Today our lessons and Morgan’s witness invite us to consider our own role in inequality and God’s invitation to be an agent of change.  Amen.

Homily – Philippians 4.4-9, Psalm 34.1-8, Luke 6.17-23, Thomas a Kempis, July 24, 2014

21 Thursday Aug 2014

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Today’s lessons are all filled with song.  The New Testament lesson instructs, “Rejoice in the LORD always.”  That simple phrase has been sung by huge gospel choirs who sing, “Rejoice in the LORD always, again I say, rejoice!”  Our psalmist says, “Taste and see that the LORD is good.” Most of us know that familiar communion hymn, “Taste and see, taste and see, the goodness of the LORD…”  Finally we hear the Beatitudes as told by Luke, “Blessed are you who are poor.”  The a cappela group Sweet Honey in the Rock put the Beatitudes to song as well.  Their rendition of the Beatitudes is so beautiful that the words sound different once you have heard the group sing them.  Many of the hymns and songs we know and love are steeped in the words of scripture and breathe new life into words that may have become stale to us.

Thomas a Kempis knew something about the power of words.  Born Thomas Hammerken in 1380, Thomas was a member of the order of the Brethren of the Common Life.  The group cultivated a biblical piety that stressed the inner life and the practice of virtues.  Their spirituality has influenced both Catholic and Protestant traditions of prayer and meditation. But Thomas is mostly known for his writing.  “The Imitation of Christ” has been translated into more languages than any other book except the Holy Scriptures. Millions of Christians have found his work to be a true treasure.  Thomas used the power of words to inspire the faith of others for hundreds of years.

What Thomas and our lessons remind us of is the power of words to motivate faith.  Sometimes, as in our lessons today, we need the sound of song to make those words come alive.  Sometimes, we need the inspiration of a profound writer to make the words breathe anew.  Today we celebrate the blessing of Thomas and of the many writers and songwriters who have inspired our faith.  We thank God for these witnesses and their gift of words to us.  Amen.

Homily – Deuteronomy 10.17–21, Matthew 5.43–48, Independence Day, July 3, 2014

09 Wednesday Jul 2014

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Anticipating the Fourth of July, today we celebrate our Independence Day.  What you may not know is that July 4th is actually a feast day in the Episcopal Church.  The psalms, lessons, and prayer were first appointed for this national observance in the Proposed Prayer Book of 1786.  But at the General Convention of 1789, they were deleted.  Bishop William White pushed for the deletion because he thought it was inappropriate, since the majority of the clergy had been loyal to the Crown.  Bishop White wanted the church to be honest about who the church was, had been, and could be.  Not until the 1928 Prayer Book did the liturgical observance return.

Now I am going to do something today I almost never do – talk politics.  I get very wary when motions of church and state blend.  The idea of honoring our Independence Day in the context of church makes me nervous.  I get nervous because I often find that instead of honoring the Fourth for the freedoms we have, our nationalism becomes about pushing agendas – liberal or conservative ones, and we seem to honor superior power over the blessing of freedom from opposition.

All we have to do is look at our texts today and see how we forget.  Our texts do not talk about superiority or dominance.  The texts talk about loving enemies (like the British over 240 years ago, or any modern “enemy” today).  The texts talk about caring for the orphan and widow, loving strangers, and providing food and clothing to the needy.  If we want to honor our founding fathers, we must strive to, as our collect says, “maintain our liberties in righteousness and peace.”

One of my favorite comedians, Stephen Colbert, once said this: “If this is going to be a Christian nation that doesn’t help the poor, either we have to pretend that Jesus was just as selfish as we are, or we’ve got to acknowledge that He commanded us to love the poor and serve the needy without condition and then admit that we just don’t want to do it.”  I know his words have some satirical sting, depending on your politics, but as we celebrate our independence and our faith fathers and national founders, perhaps the Fourth can become not about what we won, but what we owe – to the poor, the needy, the stranger … and to ourselves and our God.  Amen.