The Nineteenth Sunday after Pentecost-Proper 21B

The Very Rev Melanie Dickson Lemburg 19th Sunday after Pentecost-Proper 21B September 29, 2024 Once upon a time there were two neighbors who had adjoining farms. They were good neighbors. Members of their families had married over the years, and they’d all had a good relationship. They tended to lean the same way politically and they had shared the border between their farms peacefully for over half a century. One day Randolf visited his neighbor Floyd’s farm and thought he recognized one of his pigs among Floyd’s. Randolf convinced himself that Floyd must have stolen his pig, and no one could convince him differently. So Randolf complained to the authorities, and they organized a trial. In order to be fair, the judge appointed the jury to be equal parts from each family-six from Randolf’s and six from Floyd’s. The great surprise came when one of Randolf’s family members decided against him, tipping the jury in favor of Floyd’s claim that the pig had always been his. Randolf seemed to accept the results, although it must have been a humiliating experience, and life went on. A year and a half later two of Randolf’s nephews got into a fight with one of the trial witnesses who had testified against Randolf, and they beat the man to death. “Over the course of the next decade the two families were at war; there was vicious stabbing, a string of vigilante shootings, posse raids, and a Supreme Court case. A house was burned to the ground. A man was hanged. Women were beaten. All told about 80 different people got drawn into the feud across the region.” This is the story of the infamous dispute between the Hatfields and the McCoys on the border between Kentucky and West Virginia. And it is a quintessential example of how regular people can get drawn into the forces of high conflict that are very difficult to escape. One of the key aspects of high conflict is the invisible force that encourages us as humans to sort ourselves into groups or categories. This is actually a biological imperative that has been necessary for our survival as a species, this impulse to sort into groups can be both helpful and harmful. It is helpful in its encouraging us to protect the other members of our group. It is harmful in that it nudges us into an us versus them mindset, collapsing complexity. We see these forces at work in three of our readings for today—the Old Testament reading of Esther, the Psalm, and the gospel. The book of Esther reads like a soap-opera. “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 Hebrew people 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.” It’s a classic us-versus-them, good-versus-evil conflict in which the underdogs are saved, and the bad guy with all the power gets his comeuppance. And then there’s the psalm. Do I need to even say anything about the pslam? It’s all about how God has protected God’s people from their enemies, siding against the enemies in their us-versus-them conflict. Our gospel reading for today is a continuation of Mark’s gospel that we’ve been reading over the past few weeks. This week picks up right after last week, when the disciples have been arguing about who is the greatest among them, and Jesus takes a little child into his arms and tells them they must all be like the little child. When today’s reading begins, we can assume that the little child is still sitting there in Jesus’s arms, as the disciples begin to complain that they have seen someone doing deeds of power in Jesus’ name who was not one of his followers. The disciples are leaning into their group as Jesus’s in-crowd, falling into the trap that we all fall into, but Jesus’ flips it all upside down by responding that “whoever is not against us is for us.” Ok, that’s not what they were expecting. Isn’t the line supposed to be “whoever’s not for us is against us?” That helps with the clearly defined lines between us and them; it makes things so much simpler to be able to identify who’s in our group and who isn’t. Whoever isn’t against us is for us? Well, how on earth are we supposed to draw lines with that? But Jesus pushes his disciples and us even beyond that, emphasizing that a key aspect of discipleship is how we keep or make peace. It can be overwhelming to think about keeping or making peace once we find ourselves in a high conflict situation. It doesn’t even have to be a Hatfield/McCoy type feud. It can be overwhelming to think about how to make peace even in the midst of ordinary life, in the midst of our current election year with all of its dramatic polarization. Can you think of a time when you found yourself in a polarized or intractable situation? How was it resolved? Was it peaceful? What could a peaceful resolution have looked like? So many times, in the midst of disagreements, when we find someone we care about on the “other side,” it’s easier to say, well, let’s just agree to disagree. And while that may preserve the relationship, it does not really promote true peace. It (maybe) allows us to stay on our own sides and be friends across the fence, but it does nothing to shift the forces that work to drive us apart. So what, then, can we do? Well, one of the first things that we can do is to pay attention to a lesson from this trying weekend, as we have watched and (to some degree) experienced how Hurricane Helene has devastated whole communities across the southeast. We can remember our common humanity. There’s nothing like a disaster that can bring people together. Is there a way that we can put aside our differences right now and find a way to work together as humans? Other things that we can do is to work to bring complexity back into the equation. Embrace curiosity. Resist caricatures. Look below the surface of what is being presented to what may be going on. Ask questions and really listen to the answers. Assume nothing. This week, I invite you to think about those places in your life where you have drawn lines between “us” and “them.” Ask God to help you to begin to be curious about those divisions and to help you to begin to discern a way forward that leads to peace for you and others.

17th Sunday after Pentecost-Proper 19B

The Very Rev Melanie Dickson Lemburg 17th Sunday after Pentecost-Proper 19B September 15, 2024 I’m currently reading the book High Conflict: Why We Get Trapped and How We Get Out by Amanda Ripley. In the book, Ripley distinguishes between healthy conflict, which we all need-like the warmth of fire—to grow and change, and high conflict which is a system in which participants become entrapped, fully ensnared in a self-perpetuating mentality of good versus evil/right versus wrong. Ripley uses the image of the LaBreya tar pits to talk about high conflict. Scientists have discovered more than three million bones, the remains of thousands of animals (including two thousand saber-toothed tigers) who became trapped in the La Brea Tar pits, which is only one, small, dark lake. Researches believe that thousands of years ago, a large creature like an ancient bison stumbled into the Tar Pits. It quickly became stuck and began making sounds of distress, flailing around and getting more and more stuck. The bison’s distress attracted the attention of predators, like dire wolves a pack of whom came to investigate this easy meal, and then they got stuck. They howled out in their distress, drawing more and more animals to their eventual doom. i Sound like anything you’ve experienced recently? One of the hallmarks of high conflict systems or situations is that people lose the ability to listen to the other side, to employ the necessary practice of curiosity to help get underneath the highly simplified surface issues to below the surface where complexity and story dwell. Our gospel story for today from Mark is a fascinating example of this phenomenon. Jesus and his disciples are on the road-traveling around the Judean countryside. Jesus has been teaching and healing; the Pharisees and the Herodians have pushed back on some of his teachings, arguing with him and then beginning planning how to destroy him. Sides have been chosen; the conflict is high and entrenched. Jesus asks his disciples two questions: who do people say that I am, and who do you say that I am? Peter proclaims Jesus as the Messiah, and Jesus continues on to teach about what being the Messiah entails, predicting his suffering, rejection, death and resurrection. Peter takes Jesus aside and rebukes him. Is it because Peter can’t fathom that such would be the fate of the long promised, long-awaited Messiah? Is it because tensions are rising and Peter can’t fathom this sort of loss of their side/victory by their enemies? Is it because Peter doesn’t want to believe this is the future for his beloved friend and teacher? Whatever the case, Jesus rebukes Peter publicly, and Jesus goes on to teach more to the disciples and all who have gathered about what following him, what true discipleship, entails. It involves a sort of unfurling, of looking outward, an opening up to life beyond our own expectations and desires. Peter is so caught up in his own expectations for Jesus as Messiah that he is unable to listen deeper, to be curious about how Jesus could so willingly embrace his own suffering and death and about the implications for that to which Jesus hints. Our Old Testament reading from Proverbs personifies Wisdom as a woman calling people to listen. She (Wisdom) proclaims that those who listen can often avert disaster, while those who don’t listen often face destructive consequences of not heeding her. And the passage from James for today is all about speaking and about the damage that occurs when we don’t speak wisely and carefully. The book of James is written as a letter, but it’s unclear who the audience or intended community is. It also belongs to the category of Wisdom literature that was wide-spread in the Middle East in that time (the mid-1st century). The book of James emphasizes the main point that faith must be exercised and expressed through good actions. Both the wise, curious listening of Proverbs and the wise, careful speaking of James are aspects of how Jesus calls us to practice discipleship. They are both, in fact, spiritual disciplines or spiritual practices we are called to develop or deepen as people of faith. We talked about listening at our Wednesday healing service this week. One of the members of that congregation shared a saying that she used to teach to nursing students: “Some people listen. Other people wait to talk.” Another, who is a retired librarian, reflected on how the first question people would ask at the library reference desk was never the question that they really wanted an answer to. She learned she had to ask more questions, to be curious, to burrow deeper, peeling back layers and listening beyond what is said to the essence of the exchange. One of the parts of the book High Conflict that I’ve been intrigued by is the data that most of us think we are better listeners than we actually are. We are quick to make assumptions and to apply meanings which are often inaccurate. And the data shows that when people don’t feel like they are being listened to, they stop sharing and what speaking they do share becomes more simplistic and less nuanced. In High Conflict, Amanda Ripley follows the story of attorney and conflict mediator Gary Friedman. Gary worked in a groundbreaking way to bring inter-personal mediation into the practice of law in the 1970’s starting when his friends asked him to mediate their divorce. Gary developed a technique of questioning which he teaches to mediators about how to go deeper into conflict, beyond the surface; he calls this going down the “Why trail.” If he is mediating between a divorcing couple who are fighting over a crockpot, he investigates why the crock pot matters so much. “…Gary might ask the wife, with genuine curiosity, what [the crock pot] means to her. It was from the couple’s wedding registry…it was a shiny version of the one her own parents had used in her childhood home, where as a little girl she could smell a pot roast cooking all Sunday afternoon. She and her husband had not created that home in real life. They didn’t even like to cook, let’s be honest. But she wants the crock pot anyway. Her husband, hearing this, feels a sadness, one he shares with his wife. He admits that he only wanted the crock pot because, well, she seemed to want it so much. This is hard to confess but it comes as a relief. She is the one who wanted the whole divorce, he says, and since he can’t stop the divorce, he supposes he’s trying to make her at least feel some of the pain he’s feeling. They start to see the understory of the crock pot. And that means they can loosen their grip on it. And on other things. They get unstuck, little by little.”ii This way of discipleship, of listening, requires courage and curiosity, a willingness to hold our own perspectives and expectations a little more lightly, being more open to the ways that the Holy Spirit shows up in our lives and invites us to listen. This week, I invite you to think about a time when wisdom was revealed to you by listening? What was that like? What did you learn from it? Pay attention, this week, to the ways you listen and the ways that you speak, and be mindful of how you live out your discipleship of Jesus through wise, curious listening and wise, careful speaking. i. Ripley Amanda. High Conflict. Pp26-27 ii. Ripley, Amanda. High Conflict. Pp35-36

The Fifteenth Sunday after Pentecost-Proper 17B

The Very Rev Melanie Dickson Lemburg 15th Sunday after Pentecost-Proper 17B September 1, 2024 The other day I was cooking supper and listening to Pandora as I do. (For those of you who are younger than me: yes, I know Spotify is way cooler and so much better. My children have been trying to convert me for years, but I like what I like, and I’m stubborn. So now that we’ve gotten that out of the way. I was listening to Pandora and) They played a song that I hadn’t heard in years and I was captivated: I’ve Just Seen a Face by the Beatles. Y’all know this song? It’s such a happy little song about falling in love. It’s fizzy and optimistic with a little sprinkle of longing. And it made me start thinking about love songs. What makes a good love song? Why do they hold such an appeal for us? Take a minute and think about your favorite love song. I’m sure we could come up with quite a list: My Girl by the Temptations; I say a little prayer by Aretha Franklin or Elvis’ Can’t help falling in love; Al Green’s Let’s Stay Together; Whitney Houston’s I will always love you. Faithfully by Journey and Rick Astley’s Never gonna give you up. For our 90’s babies: My heart will go on by Celine Dion and Crazy in Love by Beyonce’. You get the picture. So what is it that makes a good love song? Love songs help transform the every day into something special, bathed in the glow of love. They are whole-hearted, tender and filled with sweet poignancy. There’s usually a healthy dose of earnest longing and sometimes a quality of playfulness linked with falling in love that is appealing. You might be surprised to realize that one of our scripture readings for today is actually a love song—Song of Solomon. We don’t often get to read from this book on Sunday mornings, so it’s an interesting choice for today’s readings. Song of Solomon (also known as Song of Songs) is a love poem that is written with two voices —a male and female voice-speaking to each other along with a chorus. It is sensual and written in the style of Mid-Eastern love poetry of the time, and it’s an interesting choice to be included in the Old Testament. It’s attributed to Solomon but scholars think it was written long after Solomon in the time after Israel’s exile in Babylon. Over time, scholars have also looked at this book through the lens of allegory, connecting it with the love between God and God’s people and also God and individuals. God loves us like the beloved. I love the lush, garden imagery in this passage and also the aspect of playfulness that is captured—of the beloved leaping like a gazelle, and peeping through the lattice to catch a look at his beloved. Part of this passage is often read at weddings, along with a part from the end of Song of Solomon (chapter 8 verses 6-7): Set me as a seal upon your heart, as a seal upon your arm; for love is strong as death, passion fierce as the grave. Its flashes are flashes of fire, a raging flame. Many waters cannot quench love, neither can floods drown it. If one offered for love all the wealth of one’s house, it would be utterly scorned. So that’s a traditional love song. But what about untraditional loves songs? My husband David and I just celebrated our 21st wedding anniversary last week, and since we were apart on our actual anniversary, he sent me several reels that he’d been cultivating. (Y’all know what reels are, right? Short videos that people make of ordinary things often set to music.) 21 years ago, I would have never thought that short videos could be a love song, and yet they are. Which made me start wondering what are other ways that people show that they love us—these untraditional love songs? (It’s what the writer of James means when he talks about being doers of the word and not just hearers.) Our Wednesday congregation talked about ways they have showed or received love through untraditional ways or love songs like preparing a favorite meal for someone; small acts of kindness; hooking and unhooking a necklace; neighbors who show up and mow your lawn just to be nice; and even travel planning can be an untraditional love song. Can you think of untraditional ways that someone has shown you love or you have offered love recently? And what about God’s love songs for us? An Episcopal priest once wrote that the bible is the love song between God and humanity and I agree with that, and I also believe that God sings traditional and untraditional loves songs to us all the time- because we are God’s beloved who God longs to be in deeper relationship with. In fact, loving relationship is at the very heart of God. As our presiding bishop often says, “if it’s not about love, it’s not about God.” It’s part of the critique of Jesus for the Pharisees in today’s gospel reading for today that holds equally true for us as well—that the call of belovedness is for our hearts to be close to God and our actions reflect that; and when our hearts are far from God, then our actions reflect that too—in the evil intentions that he lists. And because it is always easier to act in love when we are secure in love, it’s important for us to pay attention to the ways that God loves us, the love songs that God sings to us in expected and unexpected ways. Expected love songs could come in the form of worship, singing, receiving (or giving) communion. Being in nature can also be how we receive an expected or traditional love song from God. And there are also times when God sneaks up on us or taps us on the shoulder in invitation to pay attention: times when God offers healing, or in other peoples’ kindness, in friendship or in unexpected warm welcome. When in doubt for what to look for, look for the places that playfulness peeps into your life. Your invitation this week is to look for love songs in your life. What is your favorite love song? What is it about it that makes it a good love song? What are some untraditional love songs (that don’t even have to be songs) that speak to you of love or ways you have received love from others in an unexpected way? What are some ways that you have received a love song from God lately? Pay attention to the ways that God sings to you in and through your life and the world around you.