18th Sunday after Pentecost-Proper 21B

18th Sunday after Pentecost-Proper 21B September 26, 2021 The book of Esther is an interesting book. It tells the story of Esther who becomes Queen in Persia after she wins a beauty pageant that the king puts on (after having set aside his previous wife who refused to show off her beauty at his request). Esther, who is a Hebrew, follows the counsel of her uncle and guardian Mordechi, and keeps her faith a secret from her new husband. Meanwhile, political machinations unfold between Haman, the king’s right-hand man and Esther’s uncle. When Mordechi refuses to pay homage to Haman because of his faith, Haman hatches a plot to kill all the Jews in Persia. In an epic plot twist, which we see today, Esther orchestrates the salvation of her uncle and her people and ensures the assassination of the dastardly Haman. The book is interesting, not just for its soap-opera-like drama and plot twists. Scholars say that “no other book of the Bible has received such mixed reviews from….both Jews and Christians. Some have criticized the book for what it contains; others, for what it lacks.” “The Persian king, for instance, is mentioned 190 times, but the God of Israel, not once-nor are such basic Jewish practices and institutions as the Law, covenant, prayer, dietary regulations, or Jerusalem…The book has [also] frequently been faulted for its moral tone. Not only are such basic Judaic values as kindness, mercy, and forgiveness lacking; but as many Jews and Christians have lamented, the story evidences a vengeful, bloodthirsty, and chauvinistic spirit. Intrigue, deceit, and hatred abound regardless of whether the spotlight is on Haman, Esther, Mordecai, or on their enemies.” i I had a picture book that told the story of Esther that I often would request for reading time at bed time from my parents, and I loved it: the way that good Queen Esther was able to turn the tables on the evil Haman ending in his execution! It fit perfectly in my child’s understanding of justice. It’s even more interesting to find this story from the Old Testament paired with our gospel reading for today. These past few weeks, Mark has been showing us Jesus and his disciples on the road to Jerusalem, and Jesus has been trying to teach them all he can about discipleship and what it means. In our gospel for last week, Jesus overhears the disciples arguing on the road over who is the greatest. When they get to the house, Jesus takes a little child into his arms and teaches his disciples, “Whoever wants to be first must be last of all and servant of all… Whoever welcomes one such child in my name welcomes me, and whoever welcomes me welcomes not me but the one who sent me.” Our reading today picks up immediately from that point, with Jesus (ostensibly) still holding the little child in his arms. The disciples launch into complaints about how they saw someone casting out demons in Jesus’ name and how they tried to stop him because “he was not following us.” Jesus tells them not to stop him, saying, “Whoever is not against us is for us.” He then refers back to the child and cautions the disciples to not put stumbling blocks before “these little ones.” We’ve heard these teachings of Jesus so often that it’s easy to disregard just how revolutionary they are to how we normally live our lives. We live our lives to be the greatest; but Jesus calls us to be the servants. We believe that lines between friends and enemies are clearly drawn, that whoever is not for us is against us; Jesus reminds us that there are no lines, that those who do not actively work against him are technically for him. We want to be Queen Esther or wiley Mordechi who outsmart the clearly evil Haman, but life is not that simple, and all of us are a strange mix of darkness and light, of kindness and selfishness, or hope and scarcity. This past week I listened to Brene’ Browns podcast Unlocking Us where she interviewed Jason Sudeikis and Brendan Hunt, two of the stars, co-creators, and writers of the hit show Ted Lasso. They’re talking about what the appeal is to the character of Ted Lasso, how they have created him to be just a normal, really nice guy and that these days, a normal nice guy seems “more interesting than Batman.” Brene’ says, “There is a scene where someone who is dealing with a ton of shame and pain has done what we all do with shame and pain, for the most part, has discharged it on someone else and then you’ve got Ted Lasso who’s like a freight train who just stops the shame and blame thing and leans into forgiveness and have we forgotten, do you think, that that’s not superhuman? That that possibility exists in all of us?” And Jason Sudeikis responds: “I think we have forgotten that. I think that’s a big part of why it was thrilling for us to conceive and then execute, because it did feel like a modern-day aberration and yet, it’s rooted in DNA, sociologically. It can seem so trite, but [we often see people in power acting in both] ignorance and arrogance and Ted is ignorant and curious and I think curiosity comes from a power of being able to ask questions and truly empathize, see what someone else is dealing with and there’s people much more clever than myself that came up with all those great kinds of quotes “You never know what battle someone else is dealing with, everybody’s life is a comedy and a tragedy and a drama.” I think it was Mark Twain, and I just think Ted and our intention was for him to embody those things but to do it in a sincere and genuine way but yeah, I think we have forgotten it a little bit and it breaks down a discourse and an opportunity for dialogue and loving someone for who they are versus hating them for what they’re not.”ii And that’s when I almost fell off my treadmill. Because Jason Sudeikis just encapsulated much of Jesus’s life, ministry, and teachings in that one line: that we are called to love someone for who they are versus hating them for what they’re not. How might this change they way that we think about our enemies or our rivals, those we need to forgive? What might that teach us about how we serve and how we not become impediments in the path to Jesus of the little ones? Your invitation this week is to join me and find one person in your life, and spend the week prayerfully working to love them for who they are as opposed to hating them for who they are not. i. Intro to Esther from the New Oxford Annotated Bible. Oxford: NYC, 1991, p 612 OT. ii. https://brenebrown.com/transcript/brene-with-jason-sudeikis-and-brendan-hunt/ Unlocking Us. October 7, 2020

The 17th Sunday after Pentecost--Proper 20B

17th Sunday after Pentecost-Proper 20B September 19, 2021 This past week, Rev Aimee and I began a series on pilgrimage with our high school aged parishioners for Christian formation. Our class will focus on both spiritual journeys and will culminate in physical journey of pilgrimage on a route still to be determined by the young people. Along the way, we will learn about ourselves, about spirituality and the spiritual life, and about society—the world around us. As a part of this beginning, I shared this with the group: “Pilgrimage entails a search for the sacred. It is all about exploration—of both exterior and interior places. There are three basic types of pilgrimage: ‘First, outward bound journeys go ‘to the frontier in a kind of metaphorical sense. Second, homeward-bound journeys are ‘somehow back to where we started, where our major stories are acted out.’ These are journeys of return. Finally in wandering or …pilgrimage [of moving from place to place], ‘the point is not so much one’s destination at all, but the journey itself, the discipline of being on the road.’i Each of us is already on a journey as a part of just being alive. Take a moment and think about which of these types of pilgrimages resonates most with where you are in your journey right now? Are you more outward bound, homeward bound, or wandering?” ii Interestingly enough, our gospel reading for today lands us squarely in the center of a “pilgrimage section” of Mark’s gospel. In previous and subsequent chapters of Mark, Jesus and his disciples are traveling on the road to Jerusalem. They start off in the Northern part of the country and make their way, in a sort of wandering way, down to Jerusalem. Jesus uses this time on the road with his disciples to try to teach them about discipleship and what that means and also to try to prepare them for his coming death. It is a difficult journey both physically and spiritually for the disciples (and probably for Jesus, too, as the disciples repeatedly miss the point of what Jesus is trying to teach). One week, in almost the same breath, Peter proclaims Jesus as the Messiah and rebukes him when he learns Jesus must die. The next week, Jesus tries to teach about faith versus fear, and how our fear can cripple us in our discipleship, and immediately after, the disciples begin arguing about which among them is the greatest. They are confused, and they are tired, and they find themselves following a difficult way through uncharted territory. And we can certainly resonate with them, these days, but these gospels are important reminders to us that discipleship isn’t necessarily learned while we are sitting in the pews of church; rather, discipleship is learned on the way as we follow Jesus through the meanderings and challenges of the journey through our everyday lives. This week, I read one of the daily meditations of Franciscan priest Richard Rohr where he was quoting Ilia Delio who is a Franciscan nun who specializes in writing about the intersection of science and religion. (She’s absolutely brilliant.) Here is what Rohr quoted of Delio. (Hint, it’s all about pilgrimage and the spiritual journey that makes up each of our lives): “Everything that exists speaks of God, reflects that love energy of God. But God is more than anything that exists. God is always the more of our lives. We can’t contain God. If we try to control God, that’s not God; God always spills over our lives. So, God is our future. If we’re longing for something we desire, it’s that spilled-over love of our lives that’s pulling us onward, that’s luring us into something new. But we don’t trust this God [of implanted desire] often. We were pretty sure that God’s there, [and] we're here, and we just need to keep [on] the straight and narrow path. . . .” She continues, “What Francis [of Assisi] recognized is God is in every direction. That you might arrive, you might not arrive. You might arrive late; you might arrive early. It’s not the arrival that counts. It’s God! It's not the direction that counts. It's just being there, trusting that you will be going where God wants you. In other words, God is with us. Every step of the way is God-empowered love energy. But we tend to break down and start controlling things: ‘If I go this way, I'm going to get lost. Well, what if it's wrong? What will happen to me?’ Well, what will happen to you? Something will happen. But guess what? Something’s going to happen whether or not you go; that’s the whole point of life. So, it’s all about love.” She concludes, “So, it’s not like we’ve got this, ‘Here’s God; here’s us. God’s just waiting till we get our act together and then we’ll all be well.’ That’s a boring God; that's not even God. God is alive. God is love. Love is pulling us on to do new things and we need to trust the power of God in our lives to do new things. . . . We need to unwire ourselves to recognize that the God of Jesus Christ is, you might say, the power beneath our feet, the depth of the beauty of everything that exists, and the future into which we are moving. . . ” iii Your invitation this week is to think about what sort of pilgrimage you are being called to right now: an outward bound adventure where you will explore new places and encounter new people, a home-coming to revisit aspects of your life or your past, or a wandering where the journey matters more than the destination. What new understanding of discipleship is Jesus inviting you into on this journey? How and where are you being called to trust the power of God to do new things in your life or in your world? ii. i. Thurston, Bonnie B. The Spiritual Landscape of Mark. Liturgical Press: Collegeville, 2008, p 34. Lemburg, Melanie. Pilgrimage Formation Session 1. St. Thomas IOH, September 14, 2021 iii. From Center for Action and Contemplation’s daily email for September 16, 2021: https://cac.org/love-is-all-there-is-2021-09-16/ (The quote is from Ilia Delio, CONSPIRE 2014: A Benevolent Universe, session 9. Center for Action and Contemplation: 2014.)

16th Sunday after Pentecost-Proper 19B

16th Sunday after Pentecost-Proper 19B September 12, 2021 This week, I stopped in a local drive-through to pick up supper. The line was long, and it had been a long day. When I finally approached the order board and began to place my order, the worker rudely interrupted me to inform me that they could not make any quesadillas because the grill had been turned off. “It’s an hour before we close,” she told me angrily. I was extremely irritated and fumbled around to try to find something else to order, and finally just made do with something. And then I waited. And while I waited, I seethed. What kind of restaurant turns off its grill an hour before closing, thus eliminating at least a third of its menu items? And how dare she be so rude to me? By the time, I reached the window, I was ready to let her have it. When she opened the window and I opened my mouth to just blast her (completely regardless of the fact that I am sitting in my car in the clergy collar), the Holy Spirit did something really strange. In that one moment before I spoke, I had a spark of curiosity that was not my own, and I said, completely surprising myself, “Would you sell me the ingredients for the quesadilla, so I can just make it at home?” She looked at me for at least 15 seconds straight, and then she started laughing and closed the window. I waited, assuming she would need to go ask a manager if she could do this, and I just felt so weary. But then, she surprised me. She came back to the window with a bag of ingredients, handed it to me with a smile and said, “It’s on me.” In all the years that I have been preaching through the lectionary, I don’t think I’ve ever been brave (or foolish enough) to preach on this lesson from James. We don’t really know anything about this book of the Bible; we don’t know who wrote it, who they were writing to, where they were writing…It is the lone book of wisdom literature in the New Testament, which means it is more like Proverbs than a true epistle like Paul’s first letter to the Corinthians. And our passage for today is especially intense, as the writer takes up arms against the tongue, calling it “a restless evil, full of deadly poison.” He writes, “The tongue is placed among our members as a world of iniquity; it stains the whole body, sets on fire the cycle of nature, and is itself set on fire by hell. For every species of beast and bird, of reptile and sea creature, can be tamed and has been tamed by the human species, but no one can tame the tongue.” “With it” he continues, “we bless the Lord and Father, and with it we curse those who are made in the likeness of God. From the same mouth come blessing and cursing. My brothers and sisters, this ought not to be so.” Perhaps this is why I’ve never preached on this lesson: I doubt there is any person here who has not felt the ill effects of someone else’s tongue, or felt shame over the damage caused by their own words. And yet, James doesn’t tell us what we are supposed to do about it. Where’s the good news in this? I read an essay this week that speaks to this. The woman writing was sharing how her husband, who is a Christian pastor, had run for United States Congress on one of two of our major political party tickets. She writes, “By the end of what surely was the most divisive and tumultuous U.S. election season my generation has ever experienced, we had moved out of our house twice because of concerns of violence and harassment at our home; on a regular basis people drove by our house slowly with the windows down shouting obscenities before peeling off with a roar. Several families in our Christian school community made it clear through emails, anonymous snail mail, Facebook messages, and icy stares that our family was unwelcome and unwanted at “their” school. Our kids endured more than I care to write about here. We were slandered in unmentionable and dehumanizing ways, even some local pastors told us straight up that we were not Christians if we voted for X.” She continues, “Strangers on Facebook — people who had never met us or engaged in meaningful dialogue with us — wrote monstrous heart-stopping words about our family and took giddy pleasure in publicly boasting about all the ugly things they would like to do to us… Why? Because there was a [particular letter] beside my husband’s name [on the ballot], and that was enough to justify vilification. There was no end to the violent, poisonous, and dehumanizing rhetoric — including by self- professed Christians. Throughout history, dehumanizing labels and rhetoric have always been a precursor to justifying violence. Always. And so it was so very difficult to realize that this kind of cruelty was lurking underneath so many of the polite and well-manicured faces that moved among us.” She writes about how she has fled to her garden as her refuge in this time, about how one of her friends “hammered out the barrel of a gun and transformed it into a beautiful garden trowel for [her]. He is literally turning weapons into garden tools.” She continues, “Gripping the carved wooden handle and plunging it into the hot summer soil became a repetitive symbolic reminder that we are called to be people of life and hope — not death and destruction. We are called to throw light at the darkness, to dish out love to those who slam us with hatred. We are called to embody God’s way of shalom in the midst of a cruel and chaotic world. We are called to self-sacrifice in the service of others — not to sacrifice others in service of ourselves and our selfish power gains.” She concludes, “Gardening has become a meditative, contemplative practice where I’ve learned to intentionally examine the workings inside myself and begin the work of easing out the hatred that hides in the corners of my own heart — a hatred that tempts me to draw a sword and swing back. Here I am learning to appreciate and name the good in even those who seek to hurt my family. Here in the silence of the garden, God seems always present and always whispering to me the reminder that violence nearly always begets violence whether we are talking about global warfare or a war of words intended to wound and kill, and that God calls us to step away from it.” i Rev Aimee has been on a crusade for several months to get me to watch the tv show Ted Lasso. (She’s talked about it here at church, too, and even preached about it.) About a month ago, I finally succumbed, and I told her (as I do many times), “You were right!” In one of the episodes, Ted experiences a victory over one of the nastier characters of the show, and he tells him, “You know, Rupert, guys have underestimated me my entire life, and for years I never understood why. It used to really bother me. But then one day, I was driving my little boy to school, and I saw this quote by Walt Whitman painted on the side of the wall, and it said, ‘Be curious, not judgmental.’ I like that. …And all of a sudden it hits me. All of them fellas that used to belittle me, not a single one of them were curious. They thought they had everything all figured out, so they judged everything and they judged everyone.” ii Be curious, not judgmental. It’s the good news that is buried in the James reading. We are not destined to be victims and perpetrators of our untamed tongues. The Holy Spirit has given and continues to give us the gift of curiosity, and when we choose to be curious over being judgmental, then we help bring about God’s kingdom here on earth and help make this world a kinder, more curious place. i. By Christy Berghoef in her blog Reformed Journal on September 6, 2021 https://blog.reformedjournal.com/2021/09/06/weapons-into-tools/?fbclid=IwAR35E5EGlD9G4euRifaNauPn2VtD_-V6WN8T-nSq7qvcBbUc-jdvTIJSTBE ii. Watch the clip here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7V6x-qmhzm0

15th Sunday after Pentecost-Proper 18B

15th Sunday after Pentecost-Proper 18B September 5, 2021 This past week, Mary Margaret was telling me that they were having some trouble at school among the freshmen class. She said that some members of the class were bullying another freshman based on what she chose to wear to dress down day. They allegedly wrote nasty things on the girl’s locker, and there was lots of drama churning through the school about this. Mary Margaret told me how upset some members of the senior class were about all this. They planned to go talk to the freshmen homerooms about it. When I inquired why the seniors were upset and getting involved, MM told me, “Because there’s just no need for it. People shouldn’t treat other people that way, and it is causing upset throughout the whole school.” I ran across a quote years ago that is especially pertinent. It is a quote attributed to Richard Hooker, who was one of the most influential theologians in the development of the Church of England, our parent church. This quote says, “I pray that none will be offended if I seek to make the Christian religion an inn where all are received joyously, rather than a cottage where some few friends of the family are to be received.”i (read it again). This quote is quite striking in the contrast between what Hooker is saying, and what is happening in today’s gospel reading between Jesus and the Syrophonecian woman. Our gospel story is a somewhat confusing and even somewhat embarrassing snapshot of Jesus. It is a story in which we see his fully human side, and we see that, even in his divinity, he is capable of change, especially when it comes to how he understands his own ministry on earth. Let’s look at the story. Jesus is trying to catch a break. He’s gone inside a house out in the middle of nowhere to try to recover from the demands of his ministry, and even there, he is pursued. He’s tired, perhaps a little irritable, and then he has to deal with this impertinent woman who is demanding healing for her daughter and yet who does not even belong to his people, the people to whom he is sent to proclaim the gospel. And so he calls her a dog and refuses to heal her daughter. But then something fascinating happens. The woman doesn’t retaliate with other name-calling or fancy rhetoric or statistics. She absorbs the insult, and then she reflects the good news of Jesus’s own ministry right back to him. With a deeply rooted humility, she claims her place of belonging in the heart of God and in the good news of God’s kingdom. There is such deep good news in today’s gospel, despite the uncomfortable parts! Each of us, I believe, longs for belonging. We were all created to be lonely for God, longing for God, longing to make our home in God. Often times we run around and try to fill that longing with other things—money, achievements, things, good works. But ultimately, only God can fulfill our longing for God. When we spend time with God (in prayer, in worship, in silence), we discover our true belonging in God. (I believe that this is what Jesus was searching for in the beginning of our gospel story.) When we spend time with God, then God whispers back in our hearts, “You are enough; you belong because I have created you; nothing you can do or not do, be or not be, buy or not buy can change that you belong; but you must put your trust in me and not in yourself—in what you can do or not do, be or not be, buy or not buy. You are enough and you belong.” When we regularly spend time with God and we dwell within that awareness of (and gratitude for) our belonging, then we are free to invite others into that belonging as well. It becomes our great delight to share that belonging with others. We recognize that belonging in God is not limited to who we think should belong; we all dwell within the good news of God’s kingdom where all may find belonging and home. But when we are out of touch with God, we are also out of touch with our own belonging, and then we are more inclined to try to keep others (especially OTHERS—those who are different than us) from belonging as well. If you look around in your world at any point and think in your secret heart that there is someone who does not belong to God, then that is a first sign that God is calling you back, to spend more time with God and to get reconnected with your own belonging within God. My favorite poet, Mary Oliver, has written a poem that articulates all this beautifully. It is called Wild Geese You do not have to be good. You do not have to walk on your knees for a hundred miles through the desert, repenting. You only have to let the soft animal of your body love what it loves. Tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you mine. Meanwhile the world goes on. [Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the rain are moving across the landscapes, over the prairies and the deep trees, the mountains and the rivers.] Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air, are heading home again. Whoever you are, no matter how lonely, the world offers itself to your imagination, calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting – over and over announcing your place in the family of things.ii God loves you just as you are. You are enough. You belong to God, and we all belong together. This week, I invite you to live more fully into your belonging in God, and to look for ways to invite others around you into that belonging. May we all give our hearts fully to that this morning, this week, and be grateful. And as the body of Christ in this particular place, let us be mindful of Richard Hooker’s words that continue to call us to mission and ministry: “I pray that none will be offended if I seek to make the Christian religion an inn where all are received joyously, rather than a cottage where some few friends of the family are to be received.” i. I found this quote in a picture posted on the Facebook page for Calvary Episcopal Church in Memphis, TN. ii.from Dream Work by Mary Oliver published by Atlantic Monthly Press © Mary Oliver. This sermon has been reworked from a sermon I orginally delivered at St. Peter's by-the Sea on September 9, 2012.