8th Sunday after Pentecost-Proper 10B

8th Sunday after Pentecost--Proper 10B July 15, 2018 Here’s something you might not yet know about me. I love the show Game of Thrones. My husband and I watch it (and we, like many others, are anxiously awaiting the conclusion of the series-probably still a year away). I’ve read all the books that George R.R. Martin has managed to write. I think it’s really a great story, and I enjoy following the trials and tribulations of all the characters. (Although if you haven’t watched it before, I feel I should warn you that the show has lots of violence and also lots of nudity, so consider yourselves warned!) The thing that David and I have talked about most in Game of Thrones is the fact that in that world of the kingdom of Westeros, power is the chief motivator. And any character that acts out of other motivations such as mercy or kindness or just basic humanity often ends up having bad things happen to them. It’s become a bit of a joke for us now, as we watch it. If a character does something that is notably merciful, then we say to each other, “well, that one’s going to die!” and often, it happens. Early on in the series, maybe the first book and season, one of the main characters says to another, “When you play the game of thrones, you win or you die. There is no middle ground.” That sums up that kingdom and that story well, I think. Our gospel reading for today is the story of another kingdom. It is the kingdom of Herod. And our story from Mark’s gospel today is a strange little interlude, a flashback from Herod about the story of John the Baptist’s beheading that is stuck right smack dab in the middle this chapter of Mark. Our story for today is strange because, a) we don’t see Jesus at all and b) when you look at the whole chapter 6 of Mark, this story is stuck in a weird place. Mark has stuck this story of the beheading of John the Baptist in between Jesus’s sending out of the 12 (that we heard last week—where they are sent out vulnerably with nothing except the companionship of one other disciple) and when they all come back together and are reunited, going away to a deserted place for rest and renewal where the crowds find them, and then Jesus feeds them (which is actually left out of our lectionary reading for next week). So it’s a really weird placement of an especially gruesome and grisly story that even gives Game of Thrones a run for their money. In it we see that King Herod has thrown himself a birthday party. His stepdaughter Herodias is dancing at this party and her dancing has so pleased Herod and his guests that he offers to give her anything she asks for. Step-daughter Herodias goes off to ask her mother (who is also named Herodias) what she should ask for, and her mother, who has an ax to grind against John the Baptist who has chastised Herod for marrying her (his brother’s wife), tells daughter to ask for the head of John the Baptist on a platter. When daughter Herodias goes to Herod in front of all his guests and makes her request, the story tells us that “the king was deeply grieved” because he had liked and respected John, but he does what she asks “out of regard for his oaths and his guests”. When we look at how this story is situated in the middle of the sending out and returning of the disciples, it begins to make a little more sense why Mark puts it there. Because when we look at it in context, we can see that Mark is telling the tale of two different kingdoms. One is the kingdom of Herod, where people manipulate others for power and position (and maybe even fun), where Herod throws his own birthday banquet that ends with the beheading of a man of God, where Herod refuses to do what his heart tells him is right because of how it would make him look weak. The other is the Kingdom of God, where God’s followers are sent out in weakness so that they may rely on the power of God, where people are healed and demons are cast out, where Jesus throws a banquet of mercy when the crowd has followed him and the disciples to a deserted place. And the contrast between these two kingdoms in Mark’s gospel leaves us with some questions. Which kingdom do you want to live in? Which kingdom will you help create? Which kingdom do you give your allegiance to? Of course we all know the “right answer” the “Sunday School” answer. We should want to live in and help create and give our allegiance to God’s kingdom. But think for a minute about the world that we live in, where competition and productivity are valued above most things, where power and success are held up as the highest good and vulnerability and weakness are frowned upon. In some ways, our world is more like Herod’s kingdom or even the kingdom of Westeros (although with a lot less nudity). Those who show mercy or kindness or compassion or who speak up against injustice often come out the worse for wear, even dead. Just look at what we did to Jesus! I want you to take a moment and imagine the kingdom of God, a kingdom in which there are no winners or losers—all are beloved children of God. And go back and think about those three questions I asked you again: Which kingdom do you want to live in? Which kingdom will you help create? Which kingdom do you give your allegiance to? This week, I invite you to look for ways in your life and your world that the kingdom of God which is made up of compassion and mercy and vulnerability and speaking love and truth to injustice is cropping up in our world of power and competition and success. And pay attention to that. Nurture it where you can. And share those stories with me and others in this place. (Thanks to David Lose for the idea of tying in Game of Thrones with this week’s gospel reading!)

7th Sunday after Pentecost-Proper 9B

7th Sunday after Pentecost-Proper 9B July 8, 2018 I like to listen to a podcast regularly that is titled Pray as You Go. Pray as you Go is produced by monastics, Jesuits to be exact, and it is a way to engage with scripture and music to provide a framework for your prayer when you are on the go. They usually read the chosen reading through a couple of times and ask questions for the listener to reflect upon. These questions are designed to help you: “become more aware of God's presence in your life; listen to and reflect on God's word; and grow in your relationship with God.”i (I highly recommend it as a part of your spiritual practice. The meditations are between 10 and 13 minutes and are very accessible. You can access them from the website www.pray-as-you-go.org; you can download them where you download other podcasts, or they even have an app.) This week, I listened to the episode for this weekend which includes a portion of today’s gospel reading. I’ll give you an abbreviated taste of it and then share with you the questions they offered. “Jesus came to his hometown, and his disciples followed him. On the sabbath he began to teach in the synagogue, and many who heard him were astounded. They said, “Where did this man get all this? What is this wisdom that has been given to him? What deeds of power are being done by his hands! Is not this the carpenter, the son of Mary and brother of James and Joses and Judas and Simon, and are not his sisters here with us?” And they took offense at him. Then Jesus said to them, “Prophets are not without honor, except in their hometown, and among their own kin, and in their own house.” And he could do no deed of power there, except that he laid his hands on a few sick people and cured them. And he was amazed at their unbelief.” “Jesus returns to his hometown. He comes as a teacher, yet his teaching is greeted not with wonder but with contempt. Can you recall a time when you felt too quickly disregarded or dismissed by those closest to you, those who know you too well? What did that feel like? Now, turn the tables for a moment. Can you identify those around you, people you know well who all too often get disregarded or shouted down? ‘Oh, it’s only so and so; he would say that!’ How important would the message have to be before you took them seriously?”ii There’s a second reading of the scripture and more questions, and the podcast concludes with the following: “I ask God now for whatever I feel I may need. An increase in faith, perhaps? Or maybe the ability to see God’s power and love in all the ordinary things as well as the amazing things around me. I talk to God and listen to what [God] has to say to me.”iii These questions struck me this week, because I, like the people of Jesus’s hometown, often miss when God’s power is revealed to me in the ordinary things. I think that our epistle reading is showing us that this was true for the apostle Paul as well. He talks about an amazing vision that he had of the kingdom of God, where he received a revelation about the nature of heaven. He also received what he called “a thorn in the flesh.” No one really knows what this thorn in the flesh was. Some have speculated that it was some sort of eye disease that Paul suffered from or possibly a wound that would not heal. But as a result of whatever this thorn in the flesh was, God spoke to Paul about it when Paul asked God to remove it from him. And God told Paul, “My grace is sufficient for you, for power is made perfect in weakness.” God reminds Paul that God is revealed not only in astounding events, amazing things, or visions. God’s power is even revealed and made perfect in Paul’s weakness. How is God’s power revealed in weakness? In your life? In our church and community? In the world? How do we miss seeing God’s power and love in all the ordinary things as well as the amazing things around us? How might you pay better attention to the ordinary things of your life this week and the ways that God’s power and love are revealed in and through them? A few years ago, I came across a prayer. I think it had been written by Garrison Keillor. It gets to the heart of our quest of being more open, more aware, more willing to see God’s power and love in the ordinary things of our life this week. It’s amazingly simple, and quite ordinary: “Thank you, dear God, for this good life, and forgive us if we do not love it enough. Amen.”iv i.https://pray-as-you-go.org/about/ ii.https://pray-as-you-go.org/home/ from the episode for July 7/8, 2018 iii.ibid iv. I don’t remember where I first encountered this. The internet attributes it to Garrison Keillor in Leaving Home.

6th Sunday after Pentecost-Proper 8B

6th Sunday after Pentecost-Proper 8B July 1, 2018 Last week, our dog Casper died. It was hard and horrible, and it broke my heart. I cried for two straight days and wasn’t fit to go out in public. I wasn’t planning to talk about it, but then I couldn’t shake the theme of lament that is woven through a number of our readings for today. In our passage from the Old Testament, we see David, now king after the death of Saul, lamenting the deaths of both Saul and his beloved friend Jonathan; we get to eaves-drop on his grief and his lamentation, and we, along with all of Israel, are invited to participate in his lamenting: “O daughters of Israel, weep over Saul, who clothed you with crimson, in luxury, who put ornaments of gold on your apparel… …Jonathan lies slain upon your high places. I am distressed for you, my brother Jonathan; greatly beloved were you to me; your love to me was wonderful, passing the love of women.” Then our Psalm for today, Psalm 130, is one of the psalms of lamentation: “Out of the depths have I called to you, O Lord; Lord, hear my voice; * let your ears consider well the voice of my supplication.” It is a cry to the Lord, out of the depths, for help. And then in our gospel reading for today, we see two people, in extreme situations, where they are clearly distraught and come to Jesus to ask for help. We have the father, Jairus, who seeks out Jesus to save his young daughter from death. Mark tells us that when Jairus saw Jesus, he “fell at his feet and begged him repeatedly.” And as Jesus is headed to Jairus’s house with him, he is secretly confronted by the woman who had been hemorrhaging for 12 years. She is at the point of desperation and thinks that if she can just touch Jesus, she will be made well. And it happens, but then Jesus calls her out in front of everyone. She confesses, and he blesses her and continues on his way. When Jesus and Jairus and the disciples arrive at Jairus’s home, they see “a commotion, people weeping and wailing loudly” because the child has died. But Jesus goes inside, and he heals the little girl. It strikes me that both of these people, the woman and Jairus, come to Jesus completely vulnerable and exposed in their suffering, and he responds to them with compassion. (And he will do that for us, too.) All of these lamentations this week, coupled with a little distance from my own grief, have reminded me of the total lack of lamentation in our own culture. I can only think of a couple of different times in my adult life when I have participated in any kind of public lament (after 9/11 and after hurricane Katrina hit the MS gulf coast). And these laments were both in church settings. So many times, we don’t know what to do with other people’s grief or we worry that people won’t know what to do with ours if we share it. In fact, we live in a culture that is obsessed with making pain disappear. And don’t get me wrong, sometimes we do need relief from our pain. But sometimes, the only way to get relief and move beyond our pain isn’t to block it, deny it or ignore it, but to face it head on. And our culture does not encourage us to do that, nor does our church really. Thankfully, we have our lectionary, that makes us deal with more of the scriptures (like the Psalms of lament) than we would if left to our own devices. The Psalms can be helpful tools to us in the times when we need to lament, when we need to remind God that we are still here and suffering; in the times when we need to call God to some accountability; and in the times when we need to name before God our heartbreak. They are the lamentations of those who have gone before us, and there is power and healing in sharing those songs of lament with them. So, my question for you today is “What breaks your heart?” What pain have you been trying to ignore or deny or squash down? I invite you to spend some time considered what breaks your heart this week. And then offer it to God, maybe while using the words of Psalm 130. Also, let’s begin thinking and praying about how we as a community of faith and followers of Jesus might make more space for lamentation, for other peoples’ grief, and for folks to be vulnerable and authentic in ways we haven’t before.