The Third Sunday of Easter Year C

Third Sunday of Easter Year C April 10, 2016 Do we really still believe in transformation, in conversion? Our stories from Acts and John for today are stories of transformation and conversion, but they almost seem like fairy tales in the light of current events—an acrimonious national political landscape, Christians arguing in this state over religious discrimination versus the rights of business owners, all sorts of negative national media attention and boycotts for our beloved state. I will confess that this week, it has been hard for me to believe in transformation, in conversion. In the reading from Acts, we see a pivotal moment in the life of the Christian church. Saul of Tarsus, who is responsible for leading the stoning of Stephen, the first Christian martyr, is “still breathing threats and murder” against the followers of the Way, and he sets out to go find more Christians in Damascus that he can bring to justice. But on the way to Damascus, something happens. Saul is knocked to the ground by a flash of blinding light and he hears the voice of the Resurrected Jesus asking Saul why he is persecuting Jesus. Saul never really answers the question, but he does what the Lord instructs and heads to Damascus where he blindly waits for three days. Now, I don’t know anybody who reads this lesson and identifies with Saul of Tarsus. He’s the bad guy of the story at this point, the one breathing threats and murder against our forefathers and mothers. We all would much rather identify with the persecuted followers of Jesus who are faithfully following the Way and doing what they are supposed to be doing. But, my dear friends, what we must remember today is that each of us, at one time or another in our lives, we have each been Saul. In fact, deep down in our hearts even now, each and every one of us is Saul! Each of us has been so convinced of our own righteous behavior that we have been unable to see what is right in front of us. Each of us has been so intent on “breathing threats and murder” against our opponents that we forget that they too are God’s children, our brothers and sisters. Each of us have zealously followed wrong paths blindly in a way that was injurious to those around us—driven by our ambition, our self-destructive habits, our selfish ways, our self-righteousness. Every one of us is Saul. But there is another conversion in this story. The Resurrected Jesus also appears to Annaias, a faithful disciple who is living in Damascus, and he tells Annaias to go seek out Saul and lay hands on him so he would regain his sight. But Annaias says to the Lord, “Look Lord, I know you may not know this, but I’ve heard about this Saul guy, and he’s a real jerk! I don’t really think that I should get tangled up with him—he’s really messed up a lot of our people already.” But Jesus tells him to go, that Saul will become an instrument for the Lord’s purposes. So Annaias is converted, and he goes and does what the Lord tells him, even though Saul is the enemy, even though he puts himself at great personal risk by going. So too, each one of us is Annaias, being converted to the way of the Lord despite our own judgements and pre-conceived notions, reaching out to our neighbors who are dangerous and threatening on the basis of sheer faith. Each and every one of us is Annaias. And then there’s Peter. Peter who in the midst of hope and confusion and shame (from his previous denial) at Jesus’s resurrection decides that he is going to go fishing to try to clear his head, and the other disciples go with him. But when Peter sees that the Lord is present, he jumps into the water and makes a mad dash toward him. And then he sits across the fire from Jesus, in a scene that is poignantly reminiscent of the story of the feeding of the five thousand with nothing but a few loaves and some fish, and Jesus offers him forgiveness, and purpose and belonging by a three-fold wiping of the slate from Peter’s previous denial by his invitation to a three-fold annunciation. Yes, Lord, I do love you, even though I forsake you before! Each one of us has been like Peter—longing for belonging and affirmation in a community, longing for forgiveness for our wrongs, and then receiving it all at the hands of Jesus while breaking bread and eating with him. Each and every one of us is Peter. What these almost fairy-tale like stories give us this week is a reminder that we are all in need of transformation, of conversion. They remind us that when we are open to the dream of God, then amazing things happen in lives and in our world. They remind us that with God all things are possible, and that God does not give up on any one of us—not Peter, not Annaias, not even Saul. This past week I read a poem and a true story posted by my mentor Parker Palmer on his Onbeing blog. The poem is Loaves and Fishes by David Whyte and it reads: Loaves and Fishes by David Whyte, from The House of Belonging This is not the age of information. This is NOT the age of information. Forget the news and the radio and the blurred screen. This is the time of loaves and fishes. People are hungry and one good word is bread for a thousand. After sharing this poem, Palmer writes about a recent experience he had in air travel. He boarded a 6 am flight that was delayed because the coffee service was also delayed. Eventually, the flight crew decided to go ahead and make the flight without the coffee, newspapers, or other food and beverages. As Parker sat at the front of the plane with the other “road warriors”—he notices that this already somewhat surly tribe began to get more and more disgruntled at the prospect of the early morning flight without their accustomed amenities. When the flight attendant came on the intercom, she gave her prepared spiel which was accompanied by much griping, eye rolling, and scorn from the road warriors, but then she did something unexpected. She said, “ ‘Now that I have your attention... I know you're upset about the coffee. Well, get over it! Start sharing stuff with your seatmates. That bag of five peanuts you got on your last flight and put in your pocket? Tear it open and pass them around! Got gum or mints? Share them! You can't read all the sections of your paper at once. Offer them to each other! Show off the pictures of kids and grandkids you have in your wallets!’" As she went on in that vein, people began laughing and doing what she had told them to do. A surly scene turned into summer camp!” An hour later, when Parker thanked her for her words, she “leaned down and whispered, ‘The loaves and fishes are not dead.’" Do we really still believe in transformation, in conversion? My dear ones, do not lose heart. "People are hungry / and one good word is bread / for a thousand." http://www.onbeing.org/blog/parker-palmer-loaves-and-fishes-are-not-dead/8574

The Day of Resurrection 2016

Easter Day 2016 I suspect that many of you have come here today with the secret hope of understanding or getting proof of the resurrection. Well, are you in luck! Because I am prepared to tell you the singular truth of this day, the most true thing about Jesus’s resurrection from the dead, why we celebrate today and every Sunday the Feast of the Lord’s resurrection. Are you ready to hear it? “Vocatus atque non vocatus, Deus aderit.” And that’s all I really need to say today. Vocatus atque non vocatus, Deus aderit. I guess I can go sit down now and we can continue on with our service. What’s that you say? You don’t know Latin? Oh, well in that case… “Vocatus atque non vocatus, Deus aderit” was a statement that was first coined by the philosopher Erasmus, but it was claimed and made popular by psychologist Carl Jung. He had it inscribed over the door of his home, and he had it inscribed on his tombstone. It means: Bidden or not bidden, God is present. (Or for those of you who were here for Good Friday, we might even say “Bidden or not bidden, God abides.) It is the deep truth of this day that shines in our gospel. In the darkness of a new day, In the shadows of the empty tomb, In the sad bewilderment of Mary, In the frantic running of his disciples, In the mysterious recognition when Jesus calls her by name, In the fulfillment of what could never even be hoped for: Bidden or not bidden, God is present. It is the deep truth that shines throughout God’s creation. In the gentleness of spring. In the rain and in the weeds. In the blossoms and in the pollen. Bidden or not bidden, God is present. It is the deep truth that shines in our world. In extraordinary acts of human kindness. In horrible acts of terror. In the loudness of politics. In the beauty of love which doesn’t count the cost. Bidden or not bidden, God is present. It is the deep truth that shines in our relationships. In our waking and in our sleeping. In our watching and our working. In our play and in our study. In our rejoicing and our mourning. Bidden or not bidden, God is present. It is the deep truth of all our meals. At the celebratory banquet. At the church potluck. At the intimate dinner. At the family dinner table. In the microwave meal for one. At the funeral meal and the last supper. At this table when we make thanksgiving. In that first bite of Easter’s first deviled egg. Bidden or not bidden, God is present. It is the deep truth that shines in our lives. In the scars from our failures. And in the joy of our triumphs. In our many loves and in our heartbreaks. In our gratitudes and in our sorrows. In our abiding and in our abandonment. In our life and in our death. Bidden or not bidden, God is present. So, when the echoing of the bells has ceased. When the Easter lilies have wilted and died. When our Alleluias become a little tired, a little less convicted. When you get frustrated with all the crazy political posts from your friends on Facebook or your elderly parent is failing or your kid has gotten into trouble at school again or you just can’t seem to catch up on that never-ending laundry, or your loneliness just seems to overwhelm you: May you remember the truth of this day. The truth of Jesus’ resurrection from the dead. “Vocatus atque non vocatus, Deus aderit” Bidden or not bidden, God is present.

Good Friday 2016

Good Friday 2016 I recently read a theological book that stated that God truly abandoned Jesus on the cross on Good Friday. But because of that abandonment, God never truly abandons us. While this is a valid theological perspective, I respectfully disagree. Now, there are plenty others who abandon Jesus. Judas is the first, leaving the Last Supper to betray Jesus to the authorities who want him dead. Peter abandons him by deny him thrice. Pretty much all his disciples besides John and the women abandon him as he is being crucified. Certainly each and every one of us has abandoned Jesus at one time or another and for most of us, it is not even a life-or-death kind of situation. It is usually through apathy, laziness, self-conceit. But abandonment is not the only story that is being told this day. There is also the story of abiding. Abiding is the exact opposite of abandoning. It is accepting or bearing, dwelling with, remaining and continuing. The gospel of John, out of all the gospels, lifts up this notion of abiding. We see it in the well-known verses of John 15:4-7: “Abide in me as I abide in you. Just as the branch cannot bear fruit by itself unless it abides in the vine, neither can you unless you abide in me. 5 I am the vine, you are the branches. Those who abide in me and I in them bear much fruit, because apart from me you can do nothing. 6 Whoever does not abide in me is thrown away like a branch and withers; such branches are gathered, thrown into the fire, and burned. 7 If you abide in me, and my words abide in you, ask for whatever you wish, and it will be done for you.” Jesus shows us, today and always, that abiding is the very nature of God. And we are most fully God’s children, when we abide too. Perhaps this is part of why we gather here today. Because today, we choose not to abandon; we choose to abide—watching and remaining, bearing with and dwelling in pain, abiding even when it is “breathless and it’s empty”. In closing, I’ll share with you a Good Friday blessing by artist and United Methodist elder Jan Richardson. It is titled What Abides For Good Friday You will know this blessing by how it does not stay still, by the way it refuses to rest in one place. You will recognize it by how it takes first one form, then another: now running down the face of the mother who watches the breaking of the child she had borne, now in the stance of the woman who followed him here and will not leave him bereft. Now it twists in anguish on the mouth of the friend whom he loved; now it bares itself in the wound, the cry, the finishing and final breath. This blessing is not in any one of these alone. It is what binds them together. It is what dwells in the space between them, though it be torn and gaping. It is what abides in the tear the rending makes.

Lent 5C

Lent 5C March 13, 2016 This past week, I watched the series finale of the PBS show Downton Abbey. Like many people, one of my favorite characters in the show has been Maggie Smith’s character, the Dowager Countess of Downton; she is well known for her sharp tongue and her impressive one-liners! So it is no surprise that one of my favorite moments in the finale featured the Dowager Countess. The Dowager’s two servants, Spratt the butler and Denker her ladies maid, have had a long standing rivalry. In the final episode we learn that Spratt has taken a moonlighting job as an advice columnist for a ladies magazine. When Denker maliciously spills the beans to her ladyship in an attempt to get Spratt fired, the Dowager reacts with laughter and the suggestion that they consult Spratt in all areas of fashion and entertaining. When Spratt confronts Denker about this encounter he says to her, “You made a mistake, Ms. Denker, in your haste to be rid of me….Her ladyship never likes to be predictable.” In our readings for today, we see that God, much like the Dowager of Downtown, also never likes to be predictable. First we have the prophet’s words in Isaiah that are attributed to God even as the prophet is reminiscing about God’s saving acts in the parting of the Red Sea at Israel’s exodus from Egypt: “Do not remember the former things,/or consider the things of old./I am about to do a new thing;/now it springs forth, do you not perceive it?” Then we have the gospel reading from John today, which is a scene full of the unepredictable. First, you need to know a bit of the context. Just one chapter before this in John’s gospel is the episode when Jesus raises Lazarus from the dead. As a result of this, gossip is flying all around the countryside about who Jesus is and what he has done. As a result of that, the Jewish leaders decide that they are going to kill Jesus (and Lazarus too, for good measure!) because they are afraid that all the attention he is garnering is going to bring the Romans down upon all of them to wipe them all out. When Jesus gets wind of this plot, he takes his disciples and they go out to the middle of nowhere for a bit, but then, unexpectedly, they return to Bethany, the scene of Lazarus’s raising, where Lazarus, Martha, and Mary throw a party for Jesus just before the Passover. And this party takes an unpredictable turn, as Jesus is gathered with Lazarus, the source of all the hullaballoo, Martha, the consummate hostess who has also recently proclaimed her faith in Jesus as the Messiah, Mary, the quintessential disciple, and Judas, who John reminds us, will betray Jesus and is a thief, and ostensibly John, the beloved disciple who is narrating. It is a party that becomes a sort of funeral rite; Jesus, still very much alive, with his closest friends gathered around him is anointed for burial by Mary, who breaks open an expensive bottle of perfume over his feet and then wipes it with her hair. Well, that’s certainly one way to kill a party! Another unpredictable aspect of this scene is that it is Mary who does the anointing. All throughout history, women are not the ones who anoint. Men anoint other men—Samuel anoints Saul; male popes anoint emperors. The women anoint for burial. And then, Jesus, who is all about giving money to the poor, gets into an argument with Judas about the extravagance of Mary’s gift—most unexpected. And after this scene is concluded, Jesus and his disciples head directly to Jerusalem, where Jesus makes his triumphal entry (that we will celebrate next week on Palm Sunday). All throughout scripture, God acts unpredictably, using the people we would least expect to bring about God’s purposes and doing the things we would least expect to accomplish it. Moses—a murderer, leads the Israelites out of slavery. Jacob—a liar and a cheat becomes the founder of a nation. Abraham and Sarah—too old to have children—whose descendants number the stars. Mary—an average peasant girl who is brave enough to say yes. Paul—one of the highest, most pedigreed Jews who gives it all up to follow Jesus and proclaim the gospel. Which will culminate in two weeks when we see the expectation of death overturned by God’s unpredictable action of the resurrection—breaking into history, our stories and our lives. So today, as we live into this final week in Lent and prepare to follow the way of the cross through Holy Week, we might consider, what are the unexpected, unpredictable ways that God continues to act in our lives and in our world, even now? Let us look this week, beginning in the ordinary meal that we share today, for the predictably unpredictable God--who shows up where we least expect and who uses those we would least imagine. This week, may you be open to the unpredictable God, who continually surprises us with where God shows up, who God uses, and what God accomplishes!

Lent 3C

The Third Sunday in Lent Year C February 28, 2016 I’ve been thinking a great deal about idolatry lately. It started last week, with several things coinciding. The first was our session #2 of the Crazy Christian series by Presiding Bishop Michael Curry that we are discussing on Sunday mornings in adult formation. In the session two video titled “It’s easy and It’s hard,” Curry continues his talk on following Jesus by telling the story of when the children of Israel create the Golden Calf in the wilderness, making an idol for themselves to worship when Moses has been away for too long communing with God and they become anxious in his absence. Curry says that “an idol is a god created in my image to serve my self-centered purpose—a quick fix, an easy solution instead of the hard, important work of following the way of God into the life of a new humanity. An idol is anything that substitutes for God and idolatry is what leads to social injustice because it’s the world built around me, not built and ordered the way God would dream and intend for it to be.” Then I went to hear a lecture at Millsaps about a group of 28 Methodist ministers who published a statement right after the riots at Ole Miss in the early 60’s that challenged the status quo of segregation in the United Methodist church. Of the 28 pastors, only 8 remained in Mississippi in ministry. My grandfather, N.A. Dickson, was one of those 8. The speaker, Joe Reiff, who has written a book on this Born of Conviction statement and the events that preceded and followed it in the white Methodist church in that time, said in his lecture that in that time and place, maintaining the white life-style (through separate but equal) became an idol for most people in that church. So I’ve been pondering how and what I make an idol in my own life. What sorts of ways and things do I use to create god in my own self-interested image to serve my own purpose? And I’ve been thinking about the ways that different groups—families, churches, the people of a state or a nation—also create and work to preserve their own idols. In our epistle reading for today, Paul is writing to the Corinthians about the challenges of engaging in the life of the culture around us and how that often can lead to idolatry. In chapters 8 Paul writes to address the Corinthian position that attendance at the local idol cults are not incompatible with being in Christ. Paul expresses concern for the whole community, and he writes about how this practice has created confusion and division in the life of the community. And he culminates in today’s passage where he harkens back to the story of the Israelites in the wilderness, how they are saved by God and brought through the Red Sea but they fall into the practice of idolatry. He reminds the Corinthians of the heart of the good news: “God is faithful” and concludes with a line that is left out of our reading for today: “Therefore, my dear friends, flee from the worship of idols.” In my own ponderings and examinations this week, I have discovered that it is much easier for me to identify idols in culture or systems (such as church, state, or nation) than it is for me to identify idols in my own life. But what is important for us to remember is that we make idols when we are insecure, afraid, restless and searching for answers. Just like the children of Israel in the wilderness, who create their idol because Moses is gone and they become anxious, we make our idols to preserve a sense of control. We make our idols when we forget to remember the most important aspect of good news that Jesus came and revealed (and continues to reveal): that God is faithful. Part of the call to repentance this Lent could very well be examining all areas of our lives, looking in the dark corners where we have set up the idols that we worship in place of God, idols that we create and control, that do our own will and give us a false sense of security. What do those look like in your own life? Is it money or success? Is it academic achievement? Is it a solid 401k for retirement? Is it how your house compares to your neighbor’s or what kind of vacation you will take? Is it your children’s sporting events? Is it your college football team? Is it your family or circle of friends? Is it “the way we’ve always done things?” Do you make an idol of the past? Or how about future possibilities? Take some time this week and look into those dark corners of your lives where your idols dwell. Shine the light on them, and then lay them before the True and Living God who is revealed in Jesus Christ as a part of your Lenten repentance. “Therefore, my friends, flee from the worship of idols.” And rest in the assurance of the good news—that God is faithful.

Last Sunday after the Epiphany Year C

The Last Sunday after the Epiphany—Year C February 7, 2016 Once upon a time there was a pastor of a church. This pastor was meeting with a young couple who were newish members of the church, and the pastor was astonished as the couple told him about how important attending worship was to them. The talked to him about how, when one of their children was sick, they would get together on Sunday morning to do a quick spiritual assessment—each discussing the week that they had been through and the week to come, and then together they would decide “who needed church more.” “Church is what helps us make sense of our lives,” they explained, “it’s that pick-me-up that connects us with God and our calling and sends us back into the week.” The pastor went on to wonder what our churches would be like if everyone looked at attending weekly worship in the same spirit. What would our churches look like if at least half of our people had the same outlook? How about even one quarter? It’s an interesting story to think about this week in light of the gospel story of the Transfiguration as well as something to think about as we head into the season of Lent. How might our lives be transformed if we commit ourselves to weekly worship? The story of the Transfiguration is actually a story about worship. In it we see that Jesus’s prayer is what brings about his transfiguration, and we see how the disciples are absorbed into Jesus’s prayer to behold the glory of God in and through Jesus. This is why we worship. It is in the hope of beholding just a glimpse of the glory of God, to be fed and transformed and sent back into our dusty, tired lives just a little bit brighter and shinier. But most of us, the disciples included, become afraid when we see these glimpses of God’s glory, and we try to build structures to explain and contain it rather than giving ourselves over to it. If we are open to allowing ourselves to being transformed, then “worship can be the place where we hear God’s voice, focus on the nature of grace as we experience it in the cross, meet each other in prayer and song, and leave renewed for lives of meaning and purpose that come through service to neighbor.” So today, I want to offer you a challenge. Would you consider to take on as your Lenten discipline this year weekly attendance at worship if you aren’t already doing that? Are you willing to take that risk of showing up every week, of opening yourself to the possibility of being seeing a glimpse of God’s glory in this place and therefore being a little bit transfigured, transformed? And if you are aren’t willing, then ask yourself and answer truthfully, “Why not?” There are five spiritual practices that are the basic practices of Christian discipleship. 1. Pray daily. 2. Worship weekly. 3. Serve joyfully. 4. Learn constantly. And 5. Give generously. Each of these practices helps us to grow and to stretch in our following of Jesus and through practicing each of them, gradually over time we become transformed “like water over a rock.” If weekly worship is something that you are already doing, then perhaps you would consider focusing intentionally on another one of these practices as your Lenten discipline. (Repeat them). Because the point of discipleship, the point of worship, is actually transformation. In our vestry planning retreat this weekend, our vestry watched a video by Mary Parmer from the Diocese of Texas on her program Invite-Welcome-Connect for churches to live more fully into their mission of engaging in the transformative hospitality of the gospel of Jesus Christ. At the end of this video, Mary speaks specifically of transformation saying, “Transformation happens in our lives when we are able to see old things in new ways full of new possibilities. Jesus calls us to live transformed lives, and to see others in a new way, in the way of love. And we are transformed when we can adopt new behaviors, new attitudes. Imagine what our churches would be like if they were filled with people who had the ability to see others, who stop looking at others through the narrow lens of their own world. People who have been transformed by the grace of God….” On this Last Sunday after the Epiphany, as we head into the wilderness of Lent, may God shine God’s light upon you and upon this church, that we may be transformed in and through the glory of God’s love.

Ash Wednesday 2016

Ash Wednesday 2016 Not too long ago, I was driving out to Gray Center for a meeting, and I decided to listen to a podcast. It was a bright, cold day, and the drive was easy, so I listened to Krista Tippet’s program On Being, when she made a live interview of singer, songwriter, poet and “Quaker celebrity” Carrie Newcomer. The two women spoke, and interspersed throughout the interview, Newcomer would sing some of her songs that Tippett requested. As I turned onto Way Road, Carrie Newcomer began to sing one of her newer songs called “Every Little Bit” and to my surprise, I found myself weeping as I listened to it. I finished the song, and I turned off the podcast, so I could pull myself together as I prepared to arrive at Gray Center, but since then, I’ve finished the podcast and revisited the song a number of times to try to discover what was going on in my soul in that particular moment. It’s still a beautiful song to me—the chorus goes something like: “There it is just below the surface of things,/ In a flash of blue, and the turning of wings./ I drain the glass, drink it down, every moment of this,/ Every little bit of it, every little bit.” Newcomer sings in a beautiful, mellow voice about the beauty that is present all throughout life, but most especially when we are aware of the finitude of life-- as she sings: “in the curious promise of limited time.” Today is the day that we dwell with this notion of the “curious promise of limited time.” We look at our lives; we ask God to give us a clean heart that we might begin again. But the purpose of this beginning again is not to be better people who are more virtuous, who eat less chocolate and carbs and drink less Diet Coke. The purpose of this beginning again is to once again steep ourselves in the never-ending and never-failing love of God as we did in our baptism and to come out of it awake and alive and transformed to go out into the world and spread the good news of God’s love. I’m going to borrow a line from my husband here and tell you that God is not going to love you any more than God already does if you stop drinking Diet Coke. God’s love for you is already more than you can ask or imagine. Rather than focusing on what you are going to “give up this Lent”, maybe find a way to develop a practice that helps you examine what you choose to do with the “curious promise of limited time?” At the root of the concept of “giving up” or “taking on” something for Lent is the notion of spiritual discipline (which is actually the same root word as “disciple”.) On Sunday I spoke about 5 spiritual disciplines that help us be transformed more and more into the image and likeness of Christ, and I encourage y’all to consider taking one of these up for Lent. 1. Pray Daily. 2. Worship weekly. 3. Learn constantly. 4. Serve joyfully. 5. Give generously. Pray daily is the one that I am taking on for Lent. Now don’t get me wrong. The act of giving up different foods or drinks can be a helpful spiritual practice. It is the spiritual discipline of self-denial, and it is something that our culture is deeply in need of. But it you do choose that practice, then I would urge you to consider balancing that practice with something that helps you to be more steeped in the love of God this season and to help you consider what you do with the “curious promise of limited time.” “There it is just below the surface of things,/ In a flash of blue, and the turning of wings./ I drain the glass, drink it down, every moment of this,/ Every little bit of it, every little bit.”