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Sermon – Mark 7.1-8, 14-15, 21-23, P17, YB, August 29, 2021

08 Wednesday Sep 2021

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My mom and stepdad have been longtime members of what many of us would call a megachurch – a very large United Methodist Church in Alabama. Having worshiped with them many times, the church truly is “mega”:  multiple services of varying styles, a professional band, a TV production company, a large youth center, an indoor playground, a coffee shop, a gym with fitness classes, and a big campus.  But the thing that impresses me most about their church is their clear sense of identity.  When my family started attending regularly, two people came to visit them in their home, and they had a very frank conversation about expectations for membership.  At that meeting my mom and her husband were asked to commit to at least one ministry each, were asked about what kind of education they wanted to join, and they were asked to tithe – to make a commitment to give 10% of their earnings to the church, as is the Biblical tradition. 

I remember when my mom told me this story having a visceral reaction:  that would have felt WAY to “pressure-y” for most Episcopalians.  But as time has passed, I have come to admire their church’s clarity.  The Episcopal Church does a poor job of defining membership.  Our commitment to professing “All are welcome!” seems to translate into no defining characteristics of membership.  In fact, as a priest, one of the questions I dread the most is “How do I join your church?”  That should be a very easy question, and yet when I talk to new members, the answer has to be two-fold:  the technical answer (as long as you attend three services a year and are a financial contributor, you’re considered a member – the answer from the wider Episcopal Church which I loathe!), and the more practical answer we have crafted here at Hickory Neck:  you fill out a form, you commit to supporting the church financially, you commit to feeding yourself (through study, prayer, regular worship), and you commit to feeding others (through giving your time to the church and to the wider community on behalf of the church). 

Our gospel lesson today seems to be wading through a similar debate.  The Pharisees and scribes are totally perplexed by how some of Jesus’ disciples are not washing their hands before eating – a totally valid concern in these days of COVID!  But handwashing was not just about hygiene.  The ritual washing of hands was about identity, or “membership” as we understand it today.  The Jews of this time are in an “oppressed minority, living in an occupied land.”  Their question is asked with the backdrop of colonialism, cultural and religious diversity, and competing claims on identity.[i]    Their question is both simple and complex:  why aren’t the disciples living like members of our community? 

For many a reader of this text, all sorts of erroneous conclusions have been drawn – primarily the antisemitic understanding that the laws of the Jews are superseded by laws of Jesus.[ii]  But that is not what is happening in this text.  Jesus does not have any issue with ritual cleansing:  he of all people understands the consequences of following God.  But Jesus is saying something more nuanced about identity and membership.  Jesus is saying that no matter how we traditionally mark ourselves as “other,” even if something is “the way we’ve always done it,” what is more important is how we live our faith.  So, if we are doing all the right things:  washing our hands the right way, bowing at all the right times, crossing ourselves when we’re supposed to, saying “Amen” during the sermon – or avoiding saying “Amen” during the sermon – none of that matters if our insides are defiled.  As Jesus quotes from Isaiah, “This people honors me with their lips, but their hearts are far from me…”[iii] 

Today’s invitation is to ponder what membership in this body of faith means.  Are we honoring Jesus with our lips, but our hearts are far from Jesus?  Are we following the external “rules” but fostering evil intentions in our heart?  Our work this week is making sure that when we go out into the world to love and serve the Lord, we love and serve the Lord in ways that show people Christ through our words and actions; that when we wash our hands, we do not wash them simply to keep ourselves safe, but to keep our neighbors safe; and that when we talk about how much we love this church on the hill, we do so in a way that does not show mask our individual struggles with avarice, deceit, slander, pride, and folly.  Telling the world you are a proud member of Hickory Neck Episcopal Church is just fine; but our invitation is to be clear with others that, as that old tune says, “He’s still working on me,” is also a part of membership in the body of Christ.  Amen. 

[i] Debie Thomas, “True Religion,” August 22, 2021, as found at https://www.journeywithjesus.net/lectionary-essays/current-essay?id=2944 on August 27, 2201.

[ii] Idea suggested by Matt Skinner on the Sermon Brainwave podcast, “#799: 14th Sunday after Pentecost (Ord. 22B) – Aug. 29, 2021,” August 22, 2021, as found at https://www.workingpreacher.org/podcasts/799-14th-sunday-after-pentecost-ord-22b-aug-29-2021 on August 25, 2021.

[iii] Mark 7.6b.

Sermon – Mark 7.24-27, P18, YB, September 9, 2018

12 Wednesday Sep 2018

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This week I came back to work excited for a new program year and rejoining you in worship together.  I felt well rested, and ready to preach today.  I caught up with the staff and lay leaders, dug into the onslaught of emails, had some pastoral visits, and then finally sat down to read the lessons for today.  After reading the gospel, I momentarily considered calling Charlie to say, “Are you sure you don’t want to preach this week too?”

If you were listening as we proclaimed the “Good News” of God in Christ today, you might not have felt like this was very good news.  Within Mark’s gospel lesson is one of the very few stories in Holy Scripture about Jesus where we get very uncomfortable.  We are told Jesus has set out to get away.  He wants some rest and to be alone after weeks of healing, miracles, and debates with Pharisees.  In the midst of trying to get some peace and quiet, a woman comes to him, asking for another healing.  The story at this point could go in a couple of directions:  Jesus could agree to heal her daughter out of compassion; Jesus could engage the mother in conversation; or the disciples might intervene to help Jesus get some rest – and maybe Jesus would protest and heal the girl anyway.  We know Jesus is likely tired and needs some serious alone time.  But even in the midst of fatigue and a need to escape the constant pressure of the crowds, we find Jesus’ words to the Syrophoenician woman unpalatable. Jesus says, “Let the children be fed first, for it is not fair to take the children’s food and throw it to the dogs.”

We know a few things.  We know this is a woman and women in Jesus’ day have less power and would not customarily approach a man without a husband or male family member intervening.  But this woman is no ordinary woman – the original Greek text tells us she is a woman of means, a “lady.”[i] We also know that she is Syrophoenician and Greek – a comment on her culture and ethnicity – as well as the fact that she is a Gentile, and not a Jew.  We know her daughter has a demon, so in Jewish minds this woman and her child are impure.  We even know from scholars that this particular area of geography has a history of tensions between Gentiles and Jews, with many Jews being mistreated by Gentiles.[ii]  Finally, we know Jesus understands his ministry is about redeeming the people of Israel first.[iii]  Eventually the Gentiles will be included, in fact, he even says so in his insulting comment; but the Gentiles are not Jesus’ primary mission.  But even with all of that:  the cultural norms, the racial and ethnic tensions, the purity laws, and the God-given mission, Jesus’ words have a tone of disdain and degradation that we simply do not associate with Jesus.  Jesus’ words are uniquely harsh:  no other supplicant in the gospel is treated in this manner.[iv]  This is not the Jesus we know.  To look at this suffering woman and to call her and her child dogs makes our stomachs turn.  We are embarrassed by Jesus, and would rather sweep this particular story under the proverbial rug.

I have been wondering all week why this story about Jesus bothers us so much.  Countless scholars have tried to justify Jesus’ action or mitigate the brutality of his statements or soften Jesus’ words. But after pondering Jesus’ words this week, I realized what bothers us so much about Jesus’ words.  What bothers us is we see ourselves in his brutal behavior.  We do not like Jesus’ harsh treatment of this woman because we do not like to ponder the times when we have acted similarly.  We do not want to examine too closely those times when we have treated persons of color like dogs – through segregation, lynching, fire hoses, criminalization, or exclusion from opportunities.  We do not want to examine too closely those times when we have treated persons of other ethnicities like dogs – migrant workers who take jobs, extremists who commit violence, illegal immigrants who want free healthcare or education.  We do not want to examine too closely those times when we have treated women like dogs – refusing safe, affordable birth control and childcare, ignoring sexual assault, leaving unresolved wage gaps.  Because even if we have never called one of those groups, “dogs,” we have either thought the word, “dog,” or our actions have indicated we think of those groups as dogs.  And when someone shines a light on our incongruous behavior, we feel exposed as being uniquely harsh as Jesus is harsh.  We do not like Jesus’ behavior because we do not like our own behavior.  And Jesus is supposed to be the good one.  Jesus is that one about whom we proclaim “and yet He did not sin.”

Here is the good news though:  what is brilliant about this story is the very fact that we see ourselves in Jesus today. As much as we see the bad in Jesus, we also find redemption in Jesus today.  The good news about Jesus’ awful behavior is that he finds a formidable opponent today.  This Syrophoenician woman does not cower, or feel defeated, or walk away.  Quite the contrary, she takes Jesus’ words – his exclusion, his justification, his arrogance, and she turns them back on Jesus.  Jesus thinks she is a dog unworthy of the children’s food.  Fine.  She reminds him that even dogs get crumbs from under the table.  The woman does not contradict the system, or take a deserved stand for dignity, or try to fight Jesus’ presumptions.  She simply reminds Jesus that there is enough for everyone – even in the scraps.  She does not defend herself – she holds a mirror up to Jesus.  And this – this is the best part – this is where something tremendous happens.  Jesus says, “You’re right.”  Jesus acknowledges he is wrong.  Jesus heals and restores her daughter to health.  And, most importantly, Jesus redefines his entire ministry – no longer maintaining redemption of the Jews first and, maybe if there is time, the Gentiles.  Jesus expands his abundance and wideness of mercy for all.

What I love about this story is two-fold.  First, I love that the Syrophoenician woman is a woman who sees abundance in the face of humiliation.  The woman is unwilling to believe she is unworthy of God’s grace and abundance.  She boldly, humbly demands that abundance from the person of Jesus.  Second, I love that we actually get to see Jesus’ humanity in this story.  We could spend hours debating scripture and tradition and the creeds about whether Jesus can be sinful and what that means for our faith.  But one of the things we say about Jesus is that he is fully divine and fully human.  And we all know in this room being fully human means messing up, saying awful things, and sometimes being a failure.  But being human also means righting our wrongs, making amends, and taking our learnings from failures and turning them into future goodness.

What Jesus says today is awful, and we should feel his words as embarrassing, shameful words.  What we sometimes say and do is awful, and we should regard those actions as embarrassing and shameful too.  But what Jesus does today is also beautiful.  Jesus not only changes his mind, he expands the wideness of the kingdom of God.[v]  What the Syrophoenician woman does is make a claim on abundance and hold up a mirror to Jesus to see where he limiting abundance.  Her invitation to Jesus is her invitation to us today too.  Where are we limiting abundance and shutting down possibilities for blessing?  The Syrophoenician woman today asks us to look at the mirror and let go of a sense that there are limited resources and particular protocols about those resources.  She invites us to look at our lives, at the ministry of Hickory Neck, and the community around us and see the opportunities to choose abundance over limitations, to see grace over judgment, to see divinity over humanity.  With her mirror, and Jesus’ example, the possibilities for new life and ministry are endless.  And that’s a Jesus, and a you and me, and a Hickory Neck of which we can all be proud.  That’s a ministry that is expansive and explosive with grace, and dignity, and love.  That’s a church who is doing exciting things and I want to be a part!  Come and join us!

[i] Daniel J. Harrington, ed., Sacra Pagina:  The Gospel of Mark (Collegeville:  The Liturgical Press, 2002), 233.

[ii] Harrington, 232.

[iii] Douglas R. A. Hare, “Exegetical Perspective,” Feasting on the Word, Yr. B, vol. 4 (Louisville:  Westminster John Knox Press, 2009), 47.

[iv] Harrington, 233-234.

[v] Dawn Ottoni Wilhelm, “Homiletical Perspective,” Feasting on the Word, Yr. B, vol. 4 (Louisville:  Westminster John Knox Press, 2009), 49.

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.

Sermon – Matthew 5.21-37, E6, YA, February 16, 2014

21 Friday Feb 2014

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Today is one of those Sundays when you hear the gospel and your response is, “Whoa there, Jesus!”  If there is not something in the gospel lesson that makes you uncomfortable, I would be shocked.  All the hard stuff is here today: conflict between family members and neighbors, lustful thoughts, divorce, and even oaths.  That last one may not sound all that upsetting, but wait until we talk about oaths, and you will start to get uncomfortable about that one too.  As modern-day Christians, there are parts of the Bible that we would just prefer to skim over – those tough lessons that we either do not abide by or totally disagree with – but that we try to ignore so that we can still claim to believe in Holy Scripture.  In fact, just last week in Adult Forum we were talking about how preachers in the Episcopal Church never get to choose the scripture for a given Sunday.  That is both the beauty and the challenge of being an Episcopalian.  By following the assigned lectionary, we hear the beautiful breadth of scripture, and are also forced to deal with the tough stuff of scripture.

Let’s review the tough stuff first.  First Jesus says that before the people of God offer gifts at the altar, they should make sure they are reconciled with their sister or brother.  Now if each of us had to make sure that all of our relationships were reconciled before we came to the Eucharistic table, I would imagine most of us would rarely receive Eucharist.  Think about that family member, that fellow parishioner, or that friend from school or work with whom you just had an argument.  Did you reconcile with them before coming to church today?

Next Jesus tells the people that avoiding adultery is not enough – they must even avoid lustful thoughts because that is as sinful as committing adultery.  You would have to be pretty immune to our entire culture not to face lust today – in advertising, in entertainment, and throughout media.  That does not even account for the lust we experience in spontaneous encounters with strangers, let alone with acquaintances and friends.

Then Jesus adds that anyone who divorces or who marries a divorcee is committing adultery.  With over half of marriages ending in divorce today, each one of us here is impacted by a divorce: if not our own, then the divorce of a family member or a friend.   I have a distinct memory of studying a Bible passage like this in Sunday School was I was in high school.  My teacher at the time had been divorced, but was thriving in a second marriage.  I asked her if we really believe Jesus’ words nowadays, and she insisted that we do.  I demanded to know how that could be since she and her husband were so happy and faithful.  She stated matter-of-factly that she and her husband would be judged for their lives.  To be honest, knowing how faithful she was, and how judged she felt by scripture, I began to question my faith altogether.

Finally Jesus instructs the people of God not to take oaths.  This one may sound a little strange, but basically Jesus is saying that you should never have to swear an oath because people should always be able to trust your word.  Your “yes” should mean yes, and your “no” should mean no.  So when your teacher asks you if you did all the reading or your boss asks you if you have completed a particular task, your “yes” better mean yes.  When you insist that you have not done something, you had better be sure that that “no” can be trusted.  In essence, there should be no need for you to swear at any point in life because your word can always be trusted.  You should not have to promise to not tell anyone else a secret because you have never told another person’s secret.  I do not know about you, but that makes me think a lot harder about what words come out of my mouth, sometimes even out of habit.

So are you uncomfortable yet?  Is your mind spinning from all the ways in which your behavior is contrary to what Jesus instructs today?  The good news is that there is actually good news.  Jesus does not offer these four rules as a way of making faithful living harder than faithful living already is.  As Jesus says in the verses preceding what we hear today, Jesus does not come to abolish the law, but to fulfill the law.  In other words, Jesus is still preaching the law of God, but Jesus is trying to get the people to see the intention behind the law.  So Jesus says, “Yes, do not murder, but really beware of anger altogether.”  Anger erodes not just our relationships with others but anger erodes our relationship with God.  Instead, by being a person who seeks reconciliation, we can be people bringing about the reign of God in our midst.[i]  Jesus longs for us to have the peace that comes in living a life that strives for reconciliation as opposed to the life that is willing to tolerate brokenness.  Of course, God knows relationships are complicated, and that some relationships are downright harmful.  But what Jesus is trying to get at is that longing for peace and reconciliation is the first step in healing not only specific relationships, but in healing the community of faith.

Jesus also affirms the original law about not committing adultery and not coveting; but he adds lust as being equally offensive.  Now I know this one is tricky because we are sexual beings and our sexuality is a gift from God.  But what Jesus wants us to acknowledge is that lingering on lust takes our attention away from healthy, loving relationships.  Furthermore, Jesus also affirms the dignity of every human being by affirming that no one should be treated as a sexual object.  Jesus is not saying deny your sexuality; Jesus is simply reminding us to celebrate healthy expressions of that sexuality.  I am reminded of a couple of music videos put out by pop-star Beyonce recently.  My first response to the videos was that they were pretty sexually explicit.  But when you listen to the words and see that her husband is the male counterpart in the video, you can see that Beyonce is simply celebrating the gift of healthy sexual experiences within the covenant of marriage.  Though the idea might be a stretch, perhaps what Beyonce is trying to communicate is not that she should be an object of sexual desire, but that we all should celebrate the gift of sexuality experienced within covenanted relationships.

Next, what Jesus says about divorce is not much different than what was already understood about divorce.  But what Jesus adds is a sense of accountability, particularly for men, to tend to the well-being of their wives, who are made the most vulnerable in divorce in Jesus’ time.  We all know the devastating effects of divorce; and fortunately, many of us have come through the other side to see the health and wholeness that come from ending unhealthy relationships and even in finding new thriving ones.  But what Jesus is really talking about here is being more attentive to the way that our actions impact the most vulnerable in society.  Our life decisions and actions are not made in a vacuum.  Jesus is encouraging us to be thoughtful and intentional about how we make those decisions and then how we handle their implications.  In the end, that sees to the welfare of a much broader range than simply ourselves.

Finally, what Jesus says about oaths is not as legalistic as it sounds, even though there are faith traditions that refuse to swear oaths.  Ultimately, what Jesus is trying to get us to see is that our words and our integrity matter.  If we are truthful people, then we have no need for oaths.  Jesus’ invitation is for us to be thoughtful about our words, not only being a people who actively tell the truth, but also being people who do not flippantly use words or make promises without considering their implications.

So ultimately, Jesus tells us today that our actions, our words, our relationships matter.  As followers of Christ, we do not get to be independent agents who care only for ourselves – a concept that is pretty counter-cultural in the United States.  Jesus’ words and their implications do put a burden on us and sometimes make us feel uncomfortable.  But in the end, Jesus words and their implications also make for healthier relationships, a healthier community, healthier relationships with God, and ultimately, a healthier version of yourself.  So embrace the uncomfortable, and know that Jesus has your back!  Amen.

[i] Marcia Y. Riggs, “Theological Perspective,” Feasting on the Word, Yr. A., Vol. 1 (Louisville: Westminster John Knox Press, 2010), 358.

Sermon – Luke 21.5-19, P28, YC, November 17, 2013

27 Wednesday Nov 2013

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“Blessed Lord, who caused all holy Scriptures to be written for our learning:  Grant us so to hear them, read, mark, learn, and inwardly digest them, that we may embrace and ever hold fast the blessed hope of everlasting life, which you have given us in our Savior Jesus Christ; who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, for ever and ever.  Amen.”[i]  So on this day, when we celebrate Holy Scripture, praying one of my favorite collects, a day that we hear, read, mark, learn, and inwardly digest, imagine my intense dissatisfaction when I opened up the gospel lesson for this week.  I have been reading, marking, learning, and inwardly digesting all week, and this text still makes me uncomfortable.  On this day of celebrating Scripture, who wants to hear of collapsing houses of worship; false prophets that can lead us astray; wars, natural disasters, famines, and plagues; great persecution, including being betrayed by our very own family members?  And what is our reward for all this suffering?  All of this calamity will give us an opportunity to testify.  I do not know about you, but after having my church destroyed, navigating false prophets, fighting disasters, and dealing with persecution, testifying would be about the last thing on my mind.  In fact, I know a few Episcopalians who might even add testifying as one of the major types of tortuous, painful experiences. 

At Diocesan Convention this weekend, we watched a video about the Diocese of Long Island’s response to Hurricane Sandy one year ago.  The video began with news coverage leading up to the storm, during the storm, and immediately after the storm.  I have no idea why, but I found myself tearing up during the coverage.  I had forgotten all of the anxiety and stress that came from that storm.  I forgot about the utter despair and the feelings of helplessness – having friends try to contact me about how they could help, and yet, not even having power to be able to watch the news and see what was going on all around us.  I remember wanting to know what had happened to churches in the areas most impacted by the storm, but the Diocesan offices being crippled by their own lack of power and employees’ inability to get to work.  I remember wanting to help, but not being sure how to do that without electricity ourselves.  I remember being so cold at night without heat, and yet knowing that I was lucky to have an undamaged roof over my head.  I remember anxiously watching my car’s gas gauge approach empty – knowing the panic of gas lines, and how quickly stations ran out of gas.  The video brought all of those emotions bubbling up to the surface. 

But the video also offered a testimony.  After the storm, churches began opening doors for collections, housing, and powering stations.  Teams from churches headed to devastated areas to help demo and begin repairing homes.  Those too far from the action, offered up their space to electrical workers who had volunteered to help, but had been given no place to stay at night.  Our hospital in the Rockaways treated patients for three weeks solely on generator power.  A year later, people are still being helped as they repair homes, find new places to stay, and deal with the emotional ordeal.  In a time of great darkness, the Episcopal Church on Long Island began to find a way out of the darkness and into the light. 

One of the coordinators of the effort from the Diocese said that one of the things the Church had to learn to do was not to go into areas telling them how they were going to help – but instead had to simply show up and ask what people needed.  The representative said that this model made the work and efforts much more chaotic, but in the end, brought about the change that people really needed.  I could hear echoes of today’s gospel lesson in his words.  Jesus says, “Make up your minds not to prepare your defense in advance, for I will give you words and a wisdom that none of your opponents will be able to withstand or contradict.”  This strange gift of being able to testify is made even stranger by Jesus’ words – not only is our gift to testify in the midst of suffering, we are to force ourselves to not even prepare the testimony on the way – no thinking of anecdotes, no making outlines, no trying to even think about what we might say.  We must simply show up and trust that God will give us the words.

One of my favorite hymns is “Precious Lord.”  “Precious Lord,” is one of those songs that I can close my eyes to and just overflow with love and gratitude toward God.  Of course, my favorite version is not the version sung out of the hymnal, but by the great Al Green.  He breathes a life and joy into the song that we can rarely muster in church.  But this week, my appreciation for this favorite song grew infinitely when I heard the story behind the song.  The song was written by Thomas Dorsey.  Born in 1889 in rural Georgia, Dorsey was a prolific songwriter and excellent gospel and blues musician.  As a young man, he moved to Chicago where he worked as a piano player in churches as well as in clubs and theaters.  After some time, Dorsey finally devoted his talent exclusively to the church.  In August of 1932, Dorsey left his pregnant wife in Chicago and traveled to be the featured soloist at a large revival meeting in St. Louis.  After the first night of the revival, Dorsey received a telegram that simply said, “Your wife just died.”  Dorsey raced home and learned that his wife had given birth to a son before dying in childbirth.  The next day his son died as well.  Dorsey buried his wife and son in the same casket and withdrew in sorrow and agony from his family and friends.  He refused to compose or play music for quite some time. 

While still in the midst of despair, Dorsey said that as he sat in front of a piano, a feeling of peace washed through him.  That night, Dorsey recorded this testimony while in the midst of suffering:

Precious Lord, take my hand,

Lead me on, let me stand;

I am tired, I am weak, I am worn;

Through the storm, through the night,

Lead me on to the light;

Take my hand, precious Lord,

Lead me home.[ii]

In the midst of that darkest of times, Dorsey did not sit at that piano with a song all planned out.  In fact, if you had asked him to testify at that moment, he might have railed at the way that God and the world were treating him.  And yet, empty and vulnerable, God filled Dorsey with words that would touch people eighty years later, and would be sung by countless famous people over the years.

In the midst of darkness – of destruction, pain, suffering, persecution, even betrayal by those we love most – God gives us a testimony too.  And even more than a testimony, Jesus promises that we do not even have to prepare this testimony.  God will provide the words and the wisdom when we need them.  Our only mandate today is to hold fast to God in the midst of trials, to remain open to the movement of the Spirit, and to speak those words of truth and wisdom when we feel them spilling out of our mouths.  That time of testimony may not be before some king or governor demanding to hear about our faith.  But our testimony might spill out with a grieving widow or mother, a traumatized victim of natural disaster, or a friend who has felt disenfranchised by the Church.  We cannot prepare the testimony.  We cannot even try to craft a basic testimony story to be ready whenever we need the story.  Jesus tells us to “make up our minds not to prepare.”  This is perhaps one of the hardest challenges Jesus will give us, and yet, as we see in Dorsey’s testimony and the many other testimonies we have heard, when we yield that power to Christ, the real, vulnerable beauty of our story gives life to others and to us.  Amen.

[i] BCP, 236.

[ii] Story of Dorsey take from Nancy Lynne Westfield, “Pastoral Perspective,” Feasting on the Word, Yr. C, vol. 4 (Louisville: Westminster John Knox Press, 2010), 312.

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

30 Wednesday Jan 2013

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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