Palm Sunday Year B
April 1, 2012
Why do we do this, year after year after year? Why do we gather outside on Palm Sunday and wave our branches in procession? Why do we read the heart-breaking story of Jesus’s betrayal, desertion, agony, and crucifixion? Why do we walk this sad and solemn way through the events and stories of Holy Week?
Why do we do this, year after year after year?
We do this so that we may remember. The church has a fancy word for this remembering that we do. It is called anamnesis. And it is a sort of holy remembering. Anamnesis means so much more than just a cognitive exercise or an exercise in recall. This holy remembering means telling the story, remembering, and in some mysterious way participating in the story of God’s salvation of all people, past, present, and future. Holy remembering means recalling the power of the stories of the past, and through our engagement, participation, and giving our lives over to them, God makes present the power and the reality of that past event in our current life together.
Through this holy remembering, this anamnesis, we are, in some mysterious way, participating in the story and receiving God’s blessings.
Why do we do this, year after year after year? Why do we walk this sad, lonesome, heartbreaking way?
We do it to remember and to participate in the fullness of this story that is the love story of God for all God’s people. We do it to remember and participate in the Paschal Mystery that is the heart of our faith and which gives meaning to our own individual and corporate heartbreaks, failures, and disappointments.
Not too long ago, I was visiting with one who was dying of cancer. She had been suffering greatly in those last weeks, and she told me that on the worst days, she would pray, “Lord Jesus, I know that you suffered so much more than I….” There is comfort to be found in the corporate remembering, even in the midst of our individual sorrows and sufferings and search for meaning.
And so we gather today and in the coming days to remember and to participate in the truth: that Christ has died, Christ is risen, Christ will come again.
May we walk closely together this week, following the way of Jesus's suffering so that we may share in his resurrection. And may we remember.
Sunday, April 1, 2012
Sunday, March 18, 2012
4th Sunday in Lent Year B
4th Sunday in Lent
March 18, 2012
When I was working at Stewpot Soup Kitchen in Jackson a number of years ago, one of my favorite times of the day was 11:30 to noon. We would have a daily chapel service during that time that anyone could attend just prior to the noon meal. And that service was always an eclectic mix of volunteers who had come to serve the noon meal, staff members, and community members or clients, the homeless, the elderly, the mentally ill, the poor, and the downtrodden. We would sing several songs to start the service, and then Don London, who was the staff musician would often say some words of encouragement to everyone gathered before we got into the day’s reading and the homily.
One of Don’s favorite verses that he liked to quote often is John 3:16, and he would always quote the King James Version: “For God so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in him should not perish, but have everlasting life.” And then Don would ask the same question, and the first time I heard it, I had no idea what he was asking. He would ask, “How many ‘whosoevers’ do I have in here today? Raise your hand if you are a ‘whosoever’? He was asking us to raise our hands if we were someone who believes in Jesus.
And that’s great. And I would raise my hand with everyone else, every time. But I’ve learned a lot more since then, and I’m not sure any of us really knew what we were signing onto when we were raising our hands.
Because for so long now, churches have taught that belief or faith is all that matters, that what we are doing when we say we believe in Jesus is signing onto a set of beliefs or dogma about who he was and what that means for how we are going to spend eternity after we die.
The early church taught that faith isn’t about signing onto a set or system of beliefs. It is choosing a path and following it, choosing a path that you would be willing to stake your life on.
But did you know that in the gospel of John, the noun “faith” is completely absent? But the verb “believe” appears more frequently in John’s gospel than in any other New Testament writing?i
So what is being talked about in today’s gospel isn’t a noun. It’s a verb; it’s an action; it’s a response on our part to the action and the Word of God.
Here’s another way of saying this: For God so loved the world that everyone who acts, responds to him may have eternal life.
For the gospel of John, the opposite of belief is not unbelief. The opposite of belief is disobedience. For John, to believe is to obey. And obedience implies listening.
It’s important also, as we hear these words anew this day, to hear the cosmic scope in these words: For God so loved THE WORLD….not individuals. So that everyone (or whosoever) believes, responds, acts, obeys participates in eternal life. God isn’t just concerned with the salvation of individuals. God desires the salvation of the whole world, and God offers no limits in that salvation and restoration.
It is in our obedient response that we participate in God’s saving act for the world.
I read a meditation this week by the Episcopal priest Michael Battle, and he was talking about the church. He writes that the definition of the church is “the community of all persons whose spirituality reflects their experience of God’s reign which, in turn, they make present in the world. In other words, the church reflects God’s experience in the world.”
And what is God’s experience in the world? It is our passage from today: “God so loved the world that he gave his only Son, so that everyone who believes in him may not perish but may have eternal life.”
Battle continues, “Becoming God’s experience in the world will continually entail a process of becoming more and more like God. [That is the obedience part I was talking about earlier.] How do we know how God behaves? God has made it easier on us to answer this question because God gave us Jesus. We practice better behavior [obedience again] as the church [and as individuals] when we follow Jesus’s way, truth, and life.”ii
What does it mean to follow Jesus’s way, truth, and life? It is when we give our lives to the way of love, the way of obedience, the way of self-giving, the way of forgiveness, the way of compassion and justice for all God’s people; we follow the way of Jesus when we give our lives to the way of gratitude, the way of generosity, the way of sacrifice, the way of healing, the way of reconciliation; we follow the way of Jesus when we give our lives to the way of death (especially death to the self), and we follow the way of Jesus when we give our lives to the way of resurrection.
When we follow this way of Jesus, we don’t have to wait for eternal life to begin after we die. We are choosing and participating in eternal life in the here and now.
And that, my friends, will not only change our lives—make them richer and fuller, but it will change this world that God so loves.
“For God so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in him should not perish, but have everlasting life.”
How many ‘whosoevers’ do I have in here today? Raise your hand if you are a ‘whosoever’?
i.These ideas are from the Exegetical perspective from Feasting on the Word Year B Vol 2 for Lent 4 by Joutte M. Bassler. P 121.
ii.CREDO meditation for March 16, 2012 by the Rev. Michael Battle. Found at http://www.episcopalcredo.org/wellness/the-season-of-lent/
March 18, 2012
When I was working at Stewpot Soup Kitchen in Jackson a number of years ago, one of my favorite times of the day was 11:30 to noon. We would have a daily chapel service during that time that anyone could attend just prior to the noon meal. And that service was always an eclectic mix of volunteers who had come to serve the noon meal, staff members, and community members or clients, the homeless, the elderly, the mentally ill, the poor, and the downtrodden. We would sing several songs to start the service, and then Don London, who was the staff musician would often say some words of encouragement to everyone gathered before we got into the day’s reading and the homily.
One of Don’s favorite verses that he liked to quote often is John 3:16, and he would always quote the King James Version: “For God so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in him should not perish, but have everlasting life.” And then Don would ask the same question, and the first time I heard it, I had no idea what he was asking. He would ask, “How many ‘whosoevers’ do I have in here today? Raise your hand if you are a ‘whosoever’? He was asking us to raise our hands if we were someone who believes in Jesus.
And that’s great. And I would raise my hand with everyone else, every time. But I’ve learned a lot more since then, and I’m not sure any of us really knew what we were signing onto when we were raising our hands.
Because for so long now, churches have taught that belief or faith is all that matters, that what we are doing when we say we believe in Jesus is signing onto a set of beliefs or dogma about who he was and what that means for how we are going to spend eternity after we die.
The early church taught that faith isn’t about signing onto a set or system of beliefs. It is choosing a path and following it, choosing a path that you would be willing to stake your life on.
But did you know that in the gospel of John, the noun “faith” is completely absent? But the verb “believe” appears more frequently in John’s gospel than in any other New Testament writing?i
So what is being talked about in today’s gospel isn’t a noun. It’s a verb; it’s an action; it’s a response on our part to the action and the Word of God.
Here’s another way of saying this: For God so loved the world that everyone who acts, responds to him may have eternal life.
For the gospel of John, the opposite of belief is not unbelief. The opposite of belief is disobedience. For John, to believe is to obey. And obedience implies listening.
It’s important also, as we hear these words anew this day, to hear the cosmic scope in these words: For God so loved THE WORLD….not individuals. So that everyone (or whosoever) believes, responds, acts, obeys participates in eternal life. God isn’t just concerned with the salvation of individuals. God desires the salvation of the whole world, and God offers no limits in that salvation and restoration.
It is in our obedient response that we participate in God’s saving act for the world.
I read a meditation this week by the Episcopal priest Michael Battle, and he was talking about the church. He writes that the definition of the church is “the community of all persons whose spirituality reflects their experience of God’s reign which, in turn, they make present in the world. In other words, the church reflects God’s experience in the world.”
And what is God’s experience in the world? It is our passage from today: “God so loved the world that he gave his only Son, so that everyone who believes in him may not perish but may have eternal life.”
Battle continues, “Becoming God’s experience in the world will continually entail a process of becoming more and more like God. [That is the obedience part I was talking about earlier.] How do we know how God behaves? God has made it easier on us to answer this question because God gave us Jesus. We practice better behavior [obedience again] as the church [and as individuals] when we follow Jesus’s way, truth, and life.”ii
What does it mean to follow Jesus’s way, truth, and life? It is when we give our lives to the way of love, the way of obedience, the way of self-giving, the way of forgiveness, the way of compassion and justice for all God’s people; we follow the way of Jesus when we give our lives to the way of gratitude, the way of generosity, the way of sacrifice, the way of healing, the way of reconciliation; we follow the way of Jesus when we give our lives to the way of death (especially death to the self), and we follow the way of Jesus when we give our lives to the way of resurrection.
When we follow this way of Jesus, we don’t have to wait for eternal life to begin after we die. We are choosing and participating in eternal life in the here and now.
And that, my friends, will not only change our lives—make them richer and fuller, but it will change this world that God so loves.
“For God so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in him should not perish, but have everlasting life.”
How many ‘whosoevers’ do I have in here today? Raise your hand if you are a ‘whosoever’?
i.These ideas are from the Exegetical perspective from Feasting on the Word Year B Vol 2 for Lent 4 by Joutte M. Bassler. P 121.
ii.CREDO meditation for March 16, 2012 by the Rev. Michael Battle. Found at http://www.episcopalcredo.org/wellness/the-season-of-lent/
Funeral homily for Betty Lou Watkins Daniels
Today we gather together to celebrate the life and witness of Betty Lou Watkins Daniels. I’ve known Betty Lou since I came to St. Peter’s by-the-Sea almost 3 years ago. I don’t really remember the first time that we met, but I do remember the day that our relationship changed and shifted. She had come in and talked to me before about different things that were bothering her, and she had shared with me when she was diagnosed with cancer. But our relationship was very much how she lived her life: ON HER OWN TERMS! She would let me check on her occasionally via email or phone, but she did not want me to come visit her, so months went by when I couldn’t seen her. But then she got really sick from the chemo, and she went into the hospital, and I showed up and caught her at a particularly low moment, and we talked about life and death and faith and hope. And I said to her, “Betty Lou, this not seeing you is just not working for me. I feel like I cannot adequately care for you via phone and email, and I really need to be able to come see you every once and a while, so I’m just going to come see you—show up at your house, whether you allow it or not.” (Can you imagine! It must have been the Holy Spirit giving me the courage to say such bold words to her!). But then she said to me with all the grace and dignity of a queen, “I will allow it.”
After that, I visited with her once a week, and we laughed alot, and we cried a little. I tried to get her to tell me stories about her life, especially her work for the FBI, but she never would. We talked about our struggles, and we shared our joys and our triumphs. And on the days she felt too sick to talk, Susie and I prayed with her, and we sang to her. She let me in, and we became friends. She was such an interesting mix of compassion, tenderness, strength and stubbornness whose like I have never seen.
Today, I want to share with you a brief reading from the Gospel of John. (John 11:21-27)
“Martha said to Jesus, ‘Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died. But even now I know that God will give you whatever you ask of him.’ Jesus said to her, ‘Your brother will rise again.’ Martha said to him, ‘I know that he will rise again in the resurrection on the last day.’ Jesus said to her, ‘I am the resurrection and the life. Those who believe in me, even though they die, will live, and everyone who lives and believes in me will never die. Do you believe this?’ She said to him, ‘Yes, Lord, I believe that you are the Messiah, the Son of God, the one coming into the world.’ (pause)
Betty Lou believed. But you see, believing isn’t just about giving intellectual assent (although that is certainly a part of it.) Believing is about what you give your life to, whether or not you give you life to the way of Christ. So when Jesus asks Martha, “Do you believe?”, he is also asking her “do you give your life to things that are of God? Do you give your life to the priorities of God?” Do you give your life to the way of Christ? That is what John’s gospel means when he talks about believing and living in belief. Belief is whether or not a person obediently gives his or her life to the way of Christ and to the priorities of God.
And what Betty Lou gave her life to was justice and reconciliation—working with the FBI during the volatile civil rights era, making so many different and diverse friends during that time and beyond, and working for so many years as a respected member of the legal community here. Betty Lou gave her life to the arts, to music and theater and to helping make the world a more beautiful place. Betty Lou gave her life to helping and ministering to other people. I was visiting another member of our church a couple of weeks ago, and he said, “You’ll never guess who I got a card from the other day…Betty Lou. That woman is sick and dying of cancer. I can’t believe she would take the time and the energy to send me a card!” She gave her life to ministering to others. Betty Lou gave her life to family, both her natural family and those whom she adopted as family, especially to Tom, whom she called her adopted son. Betty Lou gave her life to the way of Jesus Christ our Lord.
Back in October, I went to visit Betty Lou one day at home, and she said to me, ‘Susie and I want to give you something. We found these bracelets, and they have meant so much to me during this time, I want to share them with special people.’ I opened the bag, and the card said it is a Christian character bracelet. Here is what the card says: “Life may bring us joy one moment and sorrow the next, but in Christ we are more than able to handle whatever may come… And then there are several different scripture references. And the bracelet says: “Faith” “Love” “Wisdom” “Grace” “Courage”. These are the virtues that Betty Lou gave her life to, and it was in that giving that she became the exceptional person that we all know and love. And what a gift she has been to all of us. We will miss her terribly.
But we do not sorrow as those without hope, for we know that in the giving of her life to the things that are of God, in her belief, Betty Lou is even know feasting at the heavenly banquet with Bob and her parents and those she has loved who have gone before her. Because we know that death is not the last word. In the death and resurrection of our Lord Jesus Christ, God has proven once and for all that God’s love is stronger than anything. It is stronger than sickness and cancer; it is stronger than grief and sadness and loss; it is stronger than anything and everything. That is what Jesus’s resurrection proves to us, once and for all: that God’s love is stronger than anything, even death. And so even though we are sad she is no longer with us, we rejoice that Betty Lou is no longer suffering, and she is now living into the fullness of Christ’s resurrection in eternal life.
I had been at St. Peter’s for a few months, when I called Betty Lou up and asked her if we could use some of Bob Daniel’s memorial money to buy a keyboard for the church. She agreed graciously and then she came up to me on the day of the event at which we were using it, and she asked me to sing the hymn that I had written about in that month’s newsletter. She told me that she had really been missing Bob, but when she read the words to that hymn, she had felt better because it had reminded her of him. So I did what everybody I know did whenever Betty Lou Watkins Daniels requested something of you, and I said, “Yes Mam!” and hopped to it!
The hymn is number 482 in our hymnal and it is called “Lord of all hopefulness” It’s one of my favorite hymns because it is asking God to be present with us in all the different times of our days and in all the different times of our lives, and it asks that God might grant us the virtues of joy or bliss, strength, love, and peace—many of the virtues in that bracelet, virtues that Betty Lou gave her life to. The words are
Lord of all hopefulness, Lord of all joy, whose trust, every childlike no cares could destroy, be there at our waking and give us, we pray, your bliss in our hearts, Lord, at the break of the day. Lord of all eagerness, Lord of all faith, whose strong hands were skilled at the plane and the lathe, be there at our labors, and give us, we pray, your strength in our hearts, Lord, at the noon of the day. Lord of all kindliness, Lord of all grace, your hands swift to welcome, your arms to embrace, be there at our homing, and give us we pray, your love in our hearts, Lord, at the eve of the day.
And then there’s the last verse, which is especially appropriate for our dear Betty Lou on this day.
(Sing last verse): “Lord of all gentleness, Lord of all calm, whose voice is contentment, whose presence is balm, be there at our sleeping, and give us we pray, your peace in hearts, Lord, at the end of the day.”
After that, I visited with her once a week, and we laughed alot, and we cried a little. I tried to get her to tell me stories about her life, especially her work for the FBI, but she never would. We talked about our struggles, and we shared our joys and our triumphs. And on the days she felt too sick to talk, Susie and I prayed with her, and we sang to her. She let me in, and we became friends. She was such an interesting mix of compassion, tenderness, strength and stubbornness whose like I have never seen.
Today, I want to share with you a brief reading from the Gospel of John. (John 11:21-27)
“Martha said to Jesus, ‘Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died. But even now I know that God will give you whatever you ask of him.’ Jesus said to her, ‘Your brother will rise again.’ Martha said to him, ‘I know that he will rise again in the resurrection on the last day.’ Jesus said to her, ‘I am the resurrection and the life. Those who believe in me, even though they die, will live, and everyone who lives and believes in me will never die. Do you believe this?’ She said to him, ‘Yes, Lord, I believe that you are the Messiah, the Son of God, the one coming into the world.’ (pause)
Betty Lou believed. But you see, believing isn’t just about giving intellectual assent (although that is certainly a part of it.) Believing is about what you give your life to, whether or not you give you life to the way of Christ. So when Jesus asks Martha, “Do you believe?”, he is also asking her “do you give your life to things that are of God? Do you give your life to the priorities of God?” Do you give your life to the way of Christ? That is what John’s gospel means when he talks about believing and living in belief. Belief is whether or not a person obediently gives his or her life to the way of Christ and to the priorities of God.
And what Betty Lou gave her life to was justice and reconciliation—working with the FBI during the volatile civil rights era, making so many different and diverse friends during that time and beyond, and working for so many years as a respected member of the legal community here. Betty Lou gave her life to the arts, to music and theater and to helping make the world a more beautiful place. Betty Lou gave her life to helping and ministering to other people. I was visiting another member of our church a couple of weeks ago, and he said, “You’ll never guess who I got a card from the other day…Betty Lou. That woman is sick and dying of cancer. I can’t believe she would take the time and the energy to send me a card!” She gave her life to ministering to others. Betty Lou gave her life to family, both her natural family and those whom she adopted as family, especially to Tom, whom she called her adopted son. Betty Lou gave her life to the way of Jesus Christ our Lord.
Back in October, I went to visit Betty Lou one day at home, and she said to me, ‘Susie and I want to give you something. We found these bracelets, and they have meant so much to me during this time, I want to share them with special people.’ I opened the bag, and the card said it is a Christian character bracelet. Here is what the card says: “Life may bring us joy one moment and sorrow the next, but in Christ we are more than able to handle whatever may come… And then there are several different scripture references. And the bracelet says: “Faith” “Love” “Wisdom” “Grace” “Courage”. These are the virtues that Betty Lou gave her life to, and it was in that giving that she became the exceptional person that we all know and love. And what a gift she has been to all of us. We will miss her terribly.
But we do not sorrow as those without hope, for we know that in the giving of her life to the things that are of God, in her belief, Betty Lou is even know feasting at the heavenly banquet with Bob and her parents and those she has loved who have gone before her. Because we know that death is not the last word. In the death and resurrection of our Lord Jesus Christ, God has proven once and for all that God’s love is stronger than anything. It is stronger than sickness and cancer; it is stronger than grief and sadness and loss; it is stronger than anything and everything. That is what Jesus’s resurrection proves to us, once and for all: that God’s love is stronger than anything, even death. And so even though we are sad she is no longer with us, we rejoice that Betty Lou is no longer suffering, and she is now living into the fullness of Christ’s resurrection in eternal life.
I had been at St. Peter’s for a few months, when I called Betty Lou up and asked her if we could use some of Bob Daniel’s memorial money to buy a keyboard for the church. She agreed graciously and then she came up to me on the day of the event at which we were using it, and she asked me to sing the hymn that I had written about in that month’s newsletter. She told me that she had really been missing Bob, but when she read the words to that hymn, she had felt better because it had reminded her of him. So I did what everybody I know did whenever Betty Lou Watkins Daniels requested something of you, and I said, “Yes Mam!” and hopped to it!
The hymn is number 482 in our hymnal and it is called “Lord of all hopefulness” It’s one of my favorite hymns because it is asking God to be present with us in all the different times of our days and in all the different times of our lives, and it asks that God might grant us the virtues of joy or bliss, strength, love, and peace—many of the virtues in that bracelet, virtues that Betty Lou gave her life to. The words are
Lord of all hopefulness, Lord of all joy, whose trust, every childlike no cares could destroy, be there at our waking and give us, we pray, your bliss in our hearts, Lord, at the break of the day. Lord of all eagerness, Lord of all faith, whose strong hands were skilled at the plane and the lathe, be there at our labors, and give us, we pray, your strength in our hearts, Lord, at the noon of the day. Lord of all kindliness, Lord of all grace, your hands swift to welcome, your arms to embrace, be there at our homing, and give us we pray, your love in our hearts, Lord, at the eve of the day.
And then there’s the last verse, which is especially appropriate for our dear Betty Lou on this day.
(Sing last verse): “Lord of all gentleness, Lord of all calm, whose voice is contentment, whose presence is balm, be there at our sleeping, and give us we pray, your peace in hearts, Lord, at the end of the day.”
Sunday, March 11, 2012
3rd Sunday in Lent Year B
Lent 3B
March 11, 2012
The Christian writer Anne Lamott once wrote, “You can safely assume you’ve created God in your own image when it turns out that God hates all the same people you do.” And that is truly the temptation with the gospel reading for this the 3rd Sunday in Lent, isn’t it? Today, we have John’s account of Jesus’s purging of the temple. And it is tempting to imagine what it would be like if Jesus were to purge and scourge all the institutions (and people) that we each think need a little spring cleaning, fine tuning, or even major overhauls. (After a weekend full of phone-calls from Mitt Romney, I personally would be in favor of Jesus going after the current political process, with special attention to the robo-call system.) But that is not what happens in this story.
There are some key points in the telling of this story that are unique to the way that the author of John tells it, which are important for us to note.
First, John differs from the synoptic gospels (that is Mark, Matthew, and Luke) in where he places this story in the chronology of Jesus’s life and ministry. The synoptics place this story of the purging of the temple at the end of Jesus’s ministry, after he has come to Jerusalem and is about to die. This act of Jesus is “the final straw that breaks the camel’s back”, and it is what motivates the powers that be to eliminate him.
For John, this story takes place at the very beginning of Jesus’s ministry. Jesus goes to Jerusalem as a pilgrim to participate in Passover. And his cleansing of the temple is Jesus’s first public act in the gospel of John. (He’s turned the water into wine at the wedding at Cana, he’s called the disciples, and then he cleanses the temple).
Another key point that is unique to the telling of this story in John’s gospel is that Jesus doesn’t refer to the temple as being a “den of robbers” as he does in the synoptic gospels, (referencing how the money changers are defrauding the poor); instead, Jesus’s critique in John’s story is that the temple has become “a marketplace.”
When Jesus enters the temple in Jerusalem, he finds livestock for sale in the court of the Gentiles. The sellers of the livestock were fulfilling an important purpose in the function of the Jewish religion. The people who came to the temple were in need of unblemished animals which they could use to make a sacrifice to God, and they were not able to bring their own animals on the long journey and keep them unblemished. But the animal sellers had set up in the court of the Gentiles, which was the only place in the temple into which Gentiles could enter. So, in fulfilling an important purpose for the spiritual life of the Jews, the animal sellers had created a zoo in the one place which was holy for the Gentiles.
One commentator writes of this passage: “Last Sunday’s text focused on the Lenten question, ‘What does it mean to be a disciple of Jesus?’ Today’s text focuses on the question, ‘What does it mean to be the church of Jesus?’…Entering the temple, Jesus discovered how deceiving appearances can be. While the place appeared to fulfill its function, closer inspection revealed that it had forgotten its purpose. …The ways of the world invade the church gradually, subtly, never intentionally, always in service of the church and its mission.”i
Last fall, I got to hear a man named Brian McLaren speak at our clergy conference. McLaren is known for being one of the leaders in the Emergent Church movement, whose focus is on making the church relevant in the lives of people in this post-modern world that we live in. Several things that McLaren said came to mind, as I was spending time with this story of Jesus scourging the temple. McLaren talked to us about how people don’t come to church to find religion. They come to church to find spirituality. People come to church to find and encounter God. It is the role of the church to provide a place for that encounter. And it is also the role of the church to give people the tools, the exercises, the support so that they may encounter God in their lives, in their work, in their families, and during the rest of the week, beyond Sunday morning. ii
What does it mean to be the church of Jesus? For us, it means being a resurrection community; a beacon of hope and healing in a world full of deep pain and suffering. It means offering people hope and healing in their own lives and equipping them to encounter God in their everyday lives, in the most mundane of tasks, in the joys, and in the great upheavals. It means nurturing in people the gifts of joy and gratitude so that they may live the good news of the resurrection in their daily lives.
What would Jesus clean out, overturn, etc, in the life of our own church? And let me just clarify. By church, I don’t mean the building; I don’t mean the vestry or the priest or the choir or the Sunday school or even the Sunday services. By church, I mean all of us together. By church I mean all of us who have decided that walking this way of faith is much more meaningful when we do it together.
So what would Jesus clean out, overturn in the life of all of us who walk this way of faith together? Anything that impedes and distracts us from our purpose of being a resurrection community, a community of mutual support and nurture that is even richer for our diversity and our differences.
What would Jesus clean out, overturn, in our own hearts and souls and faith? What aspects of our own being need to be purged so that we may deepen our relationship with God and with other people?
“John’s Gospel continually warns us against the danger of misunderstanding—thinking we understand Jesus, when the Jesus we think we understand is a Jesus of our own design, a Jesus with whom we are quite comfortable. But what if there is more to his words than we are hearing, more to his will than we are doing?” iii
Readings for today are found at:
http://www.lectionarypage.net/YearB_RCL/Lent/BLent3_RCL.html
i.Gloer, W. Hulitt. Homiletical Perspective. Feasting on the Word. Year B Vol 2. Ed. Bartlett and Brown Taylor. Westminster John Knox: Lousiville, 2008, pp 93, 95, 97.
ii.From my notes on Brian McLaren’s presentation to the Clergy Conference of the Diocese of Mississippi in October 2011.
iii.Gloer, W. Hulitt. Homiletical Perspective. Feasting on the Word. Year B Vol 2. Ed. Bartlett and Brown Taylor. Westminster John Knox: Lousiville, 2008, pp 93, 95, 97.
March 11, 2012
The Christian writer Anne Lamott once wrote, “You can safely assume you’ve created God in your own image when it turns out that God hates all the same people you do.” And that is truly the temptation with the gospel reading for this the 3rd Sunday in Lent, isn’t it? Today, we have John’s account of Jesus’s purging of the temple. And it is tempting to imagine what it would be like if Jesus were to purge and scourge all the institutions (and people) that we each think need a little spring cleaning, fine tuning, or even major overhauls. (After a weekend full of phone-calls from Mitt Romney, I personally would be in favor of Jesus going after the current political process, with special attention to the robo-call system.) But that is not what happens in this story.
There are some key points in the telling of this story that are unique to the way that the author of John tells it, which are important for us to note.
First, John differs from the synoptic gospels (that is Mark, Matthew, and Luke) in where he places this story in the chronology of Jesus’s life and ministry. The synoptics place this story of the purging of the temple at the end of Jesus’s ministry, after he has come to Jerusalem and is about to die. This act of Jesus is “the final straw that breaks the camel’s back”, and it is what motivates the powers that be to eliminate him.
For John, this story takes place at the very beginning of Jesus’s ministry. Jesus goes to Jerusalem as a pilgrim to participate in Passover. And his cleansing of the temple is Jesus’s first public act in the gospel of John. (He’s turned the water into wine at the wedding at Cana, he’s called the disciples, and then he cleanses the temple).
Another key point that is unique to the telling of this story in John’s gospel is that Jesus doesn’t refer to the temple as being a “den of robbers” as he does in the synoptic gospels, (referencing how the money changers are defrauding the poor); instead, Jesus’s critique in John’s story is that the temple has become “a marketplace.”
When Jesus enters the temple in Jerusalem, he finds livestock for sale in the court of the Gentiles. The sellers of the livestock were fulfilling an important purpose in the function of the Jewish religion. The people who came to the temple were in need of unblemished animals which they could use to make a sacrifice to God, and they were not able to bring their own animals on the long journey and keep them unblemished. But the animal sellers had set up in the court of the Gentiles, which was the only place in the temple into which Gentiles could enter. So, in fulfilling an important purpose for the spiritual life of the Jews, the animal sellers had created a zoo in the one place which was holy for the Gentiles.
One commentator writes of this passage: “Last Sunday’s text focused on the Lenten question, ‘What does it mean to be a disciple of Jesus?’ Today’s text focuses on the question, ‘What does it mean to be the church of Jesus?’…Entering the temple, Jesus discovered how deceiving appearances can be. While the place appeared to fulfill its function, closer inspection revealed that it had forgotten its purpose. …The ways of the world invade the church gradually, subtly, never intentionally, always in service of the church and its mission.”i
Last fall, I got to hear a man named Brian McLaren speak at our clergy conference. McLaren is known for being one of the leaders in the Emergent Church movement, whose focus is on making the church relevant in the lives of people in this post-modern world that we live in. Several things that McLaren said came to mind, as I was spending time with this story of Jesus scourging the temple. McLaren talked to us about how people don’t come to church to find religion. They come to church to find spirituality. People come to church to find and encounter God. It is the role of the church to provide a place for that encounter. And it is also the role of the church to give people the tools, the exercises, the support so that they may encounter God in their lives, in their work, in their families, and during the rest of the week, beyond Sunday morning. ii
What does it mean to be the church of Jesus? For us, it means being a resurrection community; a beacon of hope and healing in a world full of deep pain and suffering. It means offering people hope and healing in their own lives and equipping them to encounter God in their everyday lives, in the most mundane of tasks, in the joys, and in the great upheavals. It means nurturing in people the gifts of joy and gratitude so that they may live the good news of the resurrection in their daily lives.
What would Jesus clean out, overturn, etc, in the life of our own church? And let me just clarify. By church, I don’t mean the building; I don’t mean the vestry or the priest or the choir or the Sunday school or even the Sunday services. By church, I mean all of us together. By church I mean all of us who have decided that walking this way of faith is much more meaningful when we do it together.
So what would Jesus clean out, overturn in the life of all of us who walk this way of faith together? Anything that impedes and distracts us from our purpose of being a resurrection community, a community of mutual support and nurture that is even richer for our diversity and our differences.
What would Jesus clean out, overturn, in our own hearts and souls and faith? What aspects of our own being need to be purged so that we may deepen our relationship with God and with other people?
“John’s Gospel continually warns us against the danger of misunderstanding—thinking we understand Jesus, when the Jesus we think we understand is a Jesus of our own design, a Jesus with whom we are quite comfortable. But what if there is more to his words than we are hearing, more to his will than we are doing?” iii
Readings for today are found at:
http://www.lectionarypage.net/YearB_RCL/Lent/BLent3_RCL.html
i.Gloer, W. Hulitt. Homiletical Perspective. Feasting on the Word. Year B Vol 2. Ed. Bartlett and Brown Taylor. Westminster John Knox: Lousiville, 2008, pp 93, 95, 97.
ii.From my notes on Brian McLaren’s presentation to the Clergy Conference of the Diocese of Mississippi in October 2011.
iii.Gloer, W. Hulitt. Homiletical Perspective. Feasting on the Word. Year B Vol 2. Ed. Bartlett and Brown Taylor. Westminster John Knox: Lousiville, 2008, pp 93, 95, 97.
Wednesday, February 22, 2012
Ash Wednesday 2012
Ash Wednesday 2012
February 22, 2012
In preparing to write today’s sermon, I read two different “opening lines” that are so great for today’s sermon that I wish that I had written them myself.
The first one is this: “Jesus did not intend [for us] to use Ash Wednesday to give up chocolate.”i
The second one is this: “Ash Wednesday is the day Christians attend their own funerals.”ii
Perhaps you are wondering, “Other than being two great opening lines, what might the first one (giving up chocolate), have to do with the other (attending your own funeral)”?
And in reply, I say to you, “Remember that you are dust, and to dust you shall return.”
A couple of weeks ago I happened upon a blessing written by the late poet and theologian John O’Donohue and the blessing is titled, “For Death.” In this blessing, O’Donohue writes about how, from the moment you are born, your death walks beside you and about how when destiny draws you into spaces of poverty, you are quietly befriending your death… The end of this blessing is
“…That the silent presence of your death
Would call your life to attention
Wake you up to how scarce your time is
And to the urgency to become free
And equal to the call of your destiny.
That you would gather yourself
And decide carefully
How you now can live
The life you would love
To look back on
From your death bed.”iii
That’s what this day is really about. It’s not about what you are going to give up to make yourself thinner, more virtuous, or even more holy. This day is about imagining that you are lying on your deathbed, as you feel those ashes scraped in the sign of the cross upon your forehead, about imagining what you hope that life stretched behind you looks like. And today is about asking yourself, “How does this life that I am currently living look differently from the life that I hope to have lived when I am facing my death?”
This day is about accepting Jesus’s invitation to consider what practices you might keep (or give up) during this holy season that can help you draw closer to God and can help you live more fully the life that you long to have lived as you prepare to die.
Remember that you are dust, and to dust you shall return. As we spend the next few moments in silence, I invite you to consider: “How, then, can you live the life you would love to look back on from your deathbed?”
i.Michael Battle CREDO meditation 2/22/12
ii.Barbara Brown Taylor Feasting on the Word Year B Vol. 2 p21
iii.O’Donohue, John. To Bless the Space Between Us: A Book of Blessings. Doubleday: New York, 72.
February 22, 2012
In preparing to write today’s sermon, I read two different “opening lines” that are so great for today’s sermon that I wish that I had written them myself.
The first one is this: “Jesus did not intend [for us] to use Ash Wednesday to give up chocolate.”i
The second one is this: “Ash Wednesday is the day Christians attend their own funerals.”ii
Perhaps you are wondering, “Other than being two great opening lines, what might the first one (giving up chocolate), have to do with the other (attending your own funeral)”?
And in reply, I say to you, “Remember that you are dust, and to dust you shall return.”
A couple of weeks ago I happened upon a blessing written by the late poet and theologian John O’Donohue and the blessing is titled, “For Death.” In this blessing, O’Donohue writes about how, from the moment you are born, your death walks beside you and about how when destiny draws you into spaces of poverty, you are quietly befriending your death… The end of this blessing is
“…That the silent presence of your death
Would call your life to attention
Wake you up to how scarce your time is
And to the urgency to become free
And equal to the call of your destiny.
That you would gather yourself
And decide carefully
How you now can live
The life you would love
To look back on
From your death bed.”iii
That’s what this day is really about. It’s not about what you are going to give up to make yourself thinner, more virtuous, or even more holy. This day is about imagining that you are lying on your deathbed, as you feel those ashes scraped in the sign of the cross upon your forehead, about imagining what you hope that life stretched behind you looks like. And today is about asking yourself, “How does this life that I am currently living look differently from the life that I hope to have lived when I am facing my death?”
This day is about accepting Jesus’s invitation to consider what practices you might keep (or give up) during this holy season that can help you draw closer to God and can help you live more fully the life that you long to have lived as you prepare to die.
Remember that you are dust, and to dust you shall return. As we spend the next few moments in silence, I invite you to consider: “How, then, can you live the life you would love to look back on from your deathbed?”
i.Michael Battle CREDO meditation 2/22/12
ii.Barbara Brown Taylor Feasting on the Word Year B Vol. 2 p21
iii.O’Donohue, John. To Bless the Space Between Us: A Book of Blessings. Doubleday: New York, 72.
Sunday, February 19, 2012
The Last Sunday after the Epiphany-Year B
Last Sunday after the Epiphany—Year B
February 19, 2012
“People leave.” It’s what an older, wiser priest, a friend and mentor, said to me recently. People leave. It’s the nature of life; it’s the nature of the church. People leave, and it’s hard and heartbreaking, and so very, very sad. People leave.
“Stay here” Elijah tells his friend and apprentice Elisha, when it is almost time for him to depart, “for God is calling me onward.” “I will not leave you.” Elisha says to him, so they journey a little farther together. When the group of prophets at the next town approaches Elisha, they say to him, “You know it’s almost time for Elijah to leave you, don’t you?” And Elisha says sadly, “yes, I know. Please, do not speak of it.”
Then Elijah says to Elisha, “Stay here, for God is calling me onward.” And Elijah says, a little more doggedly, “No. I will not leave you.” So they journey on together a bit farther, and another group of prophets in the next town says to Elisha, “Today’s the big day for Elijah! He’s leaving and going home to the Lord!” Elisha says, “Yes, I know. Please, can we not talk about it right now? Don’t you see how my heart is breaking? I just want to savor these last final hours…”
Then Elijah says to him, “Stay here. God is calling me onward.” And Elisha says to him, “Truly, I will not leave you!!!” So the two journey a little farther onward together, and 50 prophets follow them to bear witness.
When they get to the Jordan River, Elijah takes off his mantle, rolls it up, strikes the water, and the water parts so that the two stand on dry ground.
“It is time to say goodbye,” Elijah tells him. “Is there any last thing I may do for you before I leave you?” “Don’t leave me” is what Elisha has planned to say. But instead, he finds himself asking, “Give me some part of you, some extra resources that I may not feel so lost, and so that I may carry on without you and do the work that God is calling me to do.”
Elijah sighs and says, “Only God can give you that. But, if you see me when I leave, then know that God will give you what you need.” And as they walk and talk a little bit longer, suddenly they are separated by a chariot and horses of fire, and Elijah is taken in a whirlwind to heaven. Elisha watches and calls out for him, but then he is just gone.
And Elisha tears his clothes and he mourns; and he allows his heart to be broken for a little while.
People leave.
Peter, James, and John go up a high mountain with Jesus, and there they encounter a glimpse of who Jesus really is. They witness his transfiguration, see the two greatest heroes of Israel’s history speaking with him.
Peter is so excited, he says, “Let’s never leave! We can build us shelter so that we can stay here forever!” But the voice of God interrupts those plans, and reminds the disciples who Jesus really is—God’s son, the beloved. And God tells them to listen to him.
And then it is time to leave. They head down the mountain together, and Jesus sets his face toward Jerusalem and prepares to leave.
People leave. Parents and children. Spouses and companions. Siblings and friends. People leave. Sometimes they have to; sometimes they choose to; it is heartbreaking. Sometimes they are able to come back, and there is much rejoicing. And sometimes they aren’t.
We can learn a lot from this story of Elisha and Elijah. We can learn what it means to leave well, when it is our time to leave. We can learn what it means to walk with someone all the way to the end. As the one who is being left, Elisha is steadfast and faithful. He asks the one who is leaving for what he thinks he needs to carry on. His faithfulness results in his glimpsing the glory of God. He mourns his loss, and then he picks himself up and gets back to the work of being the prophet—trusting in God’s mercy, in the resources and gifts and the legacy that he has been given. And he listens to God’s direction and follows it.
He tells Elijah, again and again, “I will not leave you!” I will see you through to the end, even if it is the most difficult thing I’ve ever done.” It takes great courage to be the one who stays; it takes great courage to be the one who accepts the inevitable heartbreak.
But then, God gives Elisha what he needs to put the pieces of his broken heart back together, and he picks himself up, takes up Elijah’s mantle, strikes the river and the water parts for him; and he goes back into the world to be a prophet and to do the work God is calling him to do. And God says to Elisha, “I will not leave you.” And we see the proof of this in Elisha’s power and through his good works.
And so it is with us. God says to you, “I will not leave you. No matter what. You may be heartbroken and weary; you may wonder how you will find the strength to go on; but I will not leave you”, says the Lord, “and I will give you what you need.”
Today is the Last Sunday after the Epiphany, when we prepare to leave behind this season of Light and enter into the wilderness of Lent—where we will be invited by God to open our hearts once again to the Paschal mystery of sacrifice and grace, of death and resurrection. We will be invited to walk with Jesus to the bitter end, to allow our hearts to be broken and to taste the joy and to see a glimpse of God’s glory on Easter day.
Today, let us enjoy this moment, when we are all here together; may our hearts be nourished at God’s table to be faithful and steadfast, and let us bask in the Light of the One who will never leave us.
Here is the link to today's readings:
http://www.lectionarypage.net/YearB_RCL/Epiphany/BEpiLast_RCL.html
February 19, 2012
“People leave.” It’s what an older, wiser priest, a friend and mentor, said to me recently. People leave. It’s the nature of life; it’s the nature of the church. People leave, and it’s hard and heartbreaking, and so very, very sad. People leave.
“Stay here” Elijah tells his friend and apprentice Elisha, when it is almost time for him to depart, “for God is calling me onward.” “I will not leave you.” Elisha says to him, so they journey a little farther together. When the group of prophets at the next town approaches Elisha, they say to him, “You know it’s almost time for Elijah to leave you, don’t you?” And Elisha says sadly, “yes, I know. Please, do not speak of it.”
Then Elijah says to Elisha, “Stay here, for God is calling me onward.” And Elijah says, a little more doggedly, “No. I will not leave you.” So they journey on together a bit farther, and another group of prophets in the next town says to Elisha, “Today’s the big day for Elijah! He’s leaving and going home to the Lord!” Elisha says, “Yes, I know. Please, can we not talk about it right now? Don’t you see how my heart is breaking? I just want to savor these last final hours…”
Then Elijah says to him, “Stay here. God is calling me onward.” And Elisha says to him, “Truly, I will not leave you!!!” So the two journey a little farther onward together, and 50 prophets follow them to bear witness.
When they get to the Jordan River, Elijah takes off his mantle, rolls it up, strikes the water, and the water parts so that the two stand on dry ground.
“It is time to say goodbye,” Elijah tells him. “Is there any last thing I may do for you before I leave you?” “Don’t leave me” is what Elisha has planned to say. But instead, he finds himself asking, “Give me some part of you, some extra resources that I may not feel so lost, and so that I may carry on without you and do the work that God is calling me to do.”
Elijah sighs and says, “Only God can give you that. But, if you see me when I leave, then know that God will give you what you need.” And as they walk and talk a little bit longer, suddenly they are separated by a chariot and horses of fire, and Elijah is taken in a whirlwind to heaven. Elisha watches and calls out for him, but then he is just gone.
And Elisha tears his clothes and he mourns; and he allows his heart to be broken for a little while.
People leave.
Peter, James, and John go up a high mountain with Jesus, and there they encounter a glimpse of who Jesus really is. They witness his transfiguration, see the two greatest heroes of Israel’s history speaking with him.
Peter is so excited, he says, “Let’s never leave! We can build us shelter so that we can stay here forever!” But the voice of God interrupts those plans, and reminds the disciples who Jesus really is—God’s son, the beloved. And God tells them to listen to him.
And then it is time to leave. They head down the mountain together, and Jesus sets his face toward Jerusalem and prepares to leave.
People leave. Parents and children. Spouses and companions. Siblings and friends. People leave. Sometimes they have to; sometimes they choose to; it is heartbreaking. Sometimes they are able to come back, and there is much rejoicing. And sometimes they aren’t.
We can learn a lot from this story of Elisha and Elijah. We can learn what it means to leave well, when it is our time to leave. We can learn what it means to walk with someone all the way to the end. As the one who is being left, Elisha is steadfast and faithful. He asks the one who is leaving for what he thinks he needs to carry on. His faithfulness results in his glimpsing the glory of God. He mourns his loss, and then he picks himself up and gets back to the work of being the prophet—trusting in God’s mercy, in the resources and gifts and the legacy that he has been given. And he listens to God’s direction and follows it.
He tells Elijah, again and again, “I will not leave you!” I will see you through to the end, even if it is the most difficult thing I’ve ever done.” It takes great courage to be the one who stays; it takes great courage to be the one who accepts the inevitable heartbreak.
But then, God gives Elisha what he needs to put the pieces of his broken heart back together, and he picks himself up, takes up Elijah’s mantle, strikes the river and the water parts for him; and he goes back into the world to be a prophet and to do the work God is calling him to do. And God says to Elisha, “I will not leave you.” And we see the proof of this in Elisha’s power and through his good works.
And so it is with us. God says to you, “I will not leave you. No matter what. You may be heartbroken and weary; you may wonder how you will find the strength to go on; but I will not leave you”, says the Lord, “and I will give you what you need.”
Today is the Last Sunday after the Epiphany, when we prepare to leave behind this season of Light and enter into the wilderness of Lent—where we will be invited by God to open our hearts once again to the Paschal mystery of sacrifice and grace, of death and resurrection. We will be invited to walk with Jesus to the bitter end, to allow our hearts to be broken and to taste the joy and to see a glimpse of God’s glory on Easter day.
Today, let us enjoy this moment, when we are all here together; may our hearts be nourished at God’s table to be faithful and steadfast, and let us bask in the Light of the One who will never leave us.
Here is the link to today's readings:
http://www.lectionarypage.net/YearB_RCL/Epiphany/BEpiLast_RCL.html
Sunday, February 12, 2012
6th Sunday after the Epiphany--Year B
6th Sunday after the Epiphany Year B
February 12, 2012
I’ve been thinking a great deal this week about a couple of questions. What is it that motivates people of faith? What is it that motivates us as a church?
In two of our readings for today, we see two different stories about lepers who are healed. But they are two very different stories.
In 2nd Kings, we meet Naaman, the commander of the army of the king of Aram. He is a successful war leader, who has led his people in victory against the children of Israel. And yet, he suffers from leprosy. One day, his slave suggests that he seek healing from the prophet in Samaria. So a bureaucratic chain of events is set in motion. Naaman petitions his king, who sends word, with lots of pomp and circumstance to honor his great general, to the King of Israel, who becomes distraught until confronted by the prophet Elisha. Elisha sends word to tell Naaman to come, but when Naaman arrives at Elisha’s house, Elisha doesn’t even come out to see this important man. Instead he sends a messenger with Naaman’s prescription: “Go, wash in the Jordan seven times, and your flesh shall be restored and you shall be clean.” Naaman is outraged. Sure, he’s been given his prescription, but it is not at all what he expected. And he is starting to think that these Israelites are having a laugh at his expense. Why on earth should he have to go wash in the Jordan other than to have these foreigners whom he had defeated laugh at him. Forget it. I’m going home. But then some brave servants approach Naaman and say, “Why not? So it’s not what you expected, but if it will heal you, why not try it?” And Naaman does. And he is healed, confessing that the God of Israel is the one and only God because of this miracle God has performed for Naaman.
Naaman is motivated first by a deep desire for healing, but his pride and his expectation of how he would be healed almost get in the way of his actual healing. He is given the prescription for healing and he almost walks away without even trying it, because it is too mundane, too beneath his notice, not spectacular enough to even merit trying. It is only through his encounters with different slaves, the lowliest of people, that he is inspired to lay aside his pride and his expectation and take a chance and be healed.
In Mark’s gospel, we see a snapshot of Jesus healing one particular individual in a long string of healings. Jesus has just been in Capernaum where Mark tells us he healed a man with demons in the synagogue; then he healed Simon Peter’s mother-in-law, and then he healed countless others who had been brought to him strictly for the purpose of being healed. Jesus has drawn away from the crowds to regroup and he makes the costly decision to leave Capernaum, a place of safety where he has done very well, to go out into the great unknown so that he can continue to “proclaim the message” of good news—that the time is fulfilled and the kingdom of God has come near. Repent, and believe in the good news.” And so he begins to make his way through Galilee, proclaiming the message and casting out demons.
Then we have our isolated incident for today. A leper approaches Jesus. This in itself is huge. Lepers were required by law to stay a certain distance away from other people, and when they did come near, they had to shout out the words “Unclean, unclean” as a warning for people. But this leper, perhaps upon hearing of Jesus and the things he was doing, defies convention, and comes right up to Jesus, falling on his knees and begging Jesus, “If you choose, you can make me clean.” And Jesus, moved with pity, stretches out his hand, touching this “unclean” person and makes him whole.
Ancient manuscripts vary on Jesus’s motivation in this healing story. Our reading for today says he was “moved with pity.” It’s easy to understand why Jesus would be moved by pity or compassion for this man. Once a person was discovered to have leprosy, they were cast out of both civil and religious society. They couldn’t pray in the temple or go to synagogue; they couldn’t share the tables or the beds of their healthy relatives. They became solitary persons, completely isolated from their communities, their friends and their families. But other sources say that Jesus was “moved by anger—a much more disturbing image. Was Jesus angry at the man for interrupting his prayers? Was he angry at the social constructs and religious laws that had made this man a complete outcast?
Either way, Jesus is motivated by some strong emotion, and he chooses to heal the man, dramatically impacting his own life and ministry and legally making himself unclean by his physical contact with the leper.
What is it that motivates people of faith?
Last weekend, I was most impressed by Bishop Gray’s opening address to diocesan council. The Bishop talked about how we now live in a time when the culture no longer supports the life of the church. It is a brave new world in which we find ourselves, as the culture around us asks again and again what relevance the church and our faith have for them. Bishop Gray challenged us to evaluate what our motivation is, in this brave new world. Are we making decisions about our lives and about our church and its ministries out of fear? Are we motivated by concern for our survival? Or are we motivated by something else—excitement about what we have to offer this hungry world, creativity, hope, gratitude? It’s a question that is worth considering in the life of our own individual faithfulness and in the life of our church. What is it that motivates us? And if we discover that the answer is, in fact, fear, then how do we change that?
In the gospel reading for today, Jesus heals the leper, and the man is so grateful, so bursting to share the good news of what is happened that he ignores Jesus’s command to tell no one, and he tells everyone what has happened. Once he is healed, the former-leper is motivated by gratitude, and it’s not a bad place for us to begin, either.
I was reading a book this week which includes some exercises that have to do with cultivating discipleship (which is basically what the gospel of Mark is all about). And it asked two questions: 1. How has your life or the lives of the people you love been transformed because of participation in the church? And 2. What do you see happening in the lives of others that makes you excited about giving to your church? As I started writing my answers to these questions, I was overwhelmed with gratitude. I remembered the people in the church throughout the years who helped shape me and mold me—adults who treated me with respect and named me friend, even though there were sometimes 60 or 70 years between us. I thought about how I knew, from an early age, that the church was someplace where I truly belonged, and I thought about how you are doing that for my own children. I thought about all the holy moments that I have gotten to witness just since my ordination 7 years ago—births, weddings, deaths… hard times and good times… healings and heartbreaks… and how each and every one has shaped me.
I thought about all the friendships I see at work in this place—those that have stood the test of time and those that are just being formed. I thought about how people rally around one another for support in times of need; I thought about the overwhelming generosity of people who have contributed so that over 5,000 lives were helped last year by our offering people basic necessities such as food, clothing, shelter, and care. I see people breaking bread together regularly and the intimacy and companionship that are shared there. When I took some time to list the things for which I am grateful in this church and in the Church at large, I was almost overwhelmed by the weight and the depth of my gratitude.
It’s one thing to say that we are grateful. It is another thing to cultivate our gratitude and then allow that to be our chief motivation.
As we approach the season of Lent, it is customary for people to give up things which separate them from God or to take on things which would help them draw closer to God. I’m going to invite you to prayerfully consider joining with me to take on two spiritual disciplines during Lent. The first spiritual discipline is reading the gospels with the bishop, which I’ll talk more about later.
The second spiritual discipline is cultivating gratitude—that is every day, making a list (either in writing or in your head) of the people, things etc for which you are most truly grateful. Let’s see what we can do together when we cultivate our gratitude and allow it to motivate us.
And may the words of the Psalmist be true also for us: “You have turned my mourning into dancing;/ you have taken off my sackcloth/ and clothed me with joy,/ so that my soul may praise you and not be silent./ O Lord my God, I will give thanks to you forever.”
February 12, 2012
I’ve been thinking a great deal this week about a couple of questions. What is it that motivates people of faith? What is it that motivates us as a church?
In two of our readings for today, we see two different stories about lepers who are healed. But they are two very different stories.
In 2nd Kings, we meet Naaman, the commander of the army of the king of Aram. He is a successful war leader, who has led his people in victory against the children of Israel. And yet, he suffers from leprosy. One day, his slave suggests that he seek healing from the prophet in Samaria. So a bureaucratic chain of events is set in motion. Naaman petitions his king, who sends word, with lots of pomp and circumstance to honor his great general, to the King of Israel, who becomes distraught until confronted by the prophet Elisha. Elisha sends word to tell Naaman to come, but when Naaman arrives at Elisha’s house, Elisha doesn’t even come out to see this important man. Instead he sends a messenger with Naaman’s prescription: “Go, wash in the Jordan seven times, and your flesh shall be restored and you shall be clean.” Naaman is outraged. Sure, he’s been given his prescription, but it is not at all what he expected. And he is starting to think that these Israelites are having a laugh at his expense. Why on earth should he have to go wash in the Jordan other than to have these foreigners whom he had defeated laugh at him. Forget it. I’m going home. But then some brave servants approach Naaman and say, “Why not? So it’s not what you expected, but if it will heal you, why not try it?” And Naaman does. And he is healed, confessing that the God of Israel is the one and only God because of this miracle God has performed for Naaman.
Naaman is motivated first by a deep desire for healing, but his pride and his expectation of how he would be healed almost get in the way of his actual healing. He is given the prescription for healing and he almost walks away without even trying it, because it is too mundane, too beneath his notice, not spectacular enough to even merit trying. It is only through his encounters with different slaves, the lowliest of people, that he is inspired to lay aside his pride and his expectation and take a chance and be healed.
In Mark’s gospel, we see a snapshot of Jesus healing one particular individual in a long string of healings. Jesus has just been in Capernaum where Mark tells us he healed a man with demons in the synagogue; then he healed Simon Peter’s mother-in-law, and then he healed countless others who had been brought to him strictly for the purpose of being healed. Jesus has drawn away from the crowds to regroup and he makes the costly decision to leave Capernaum, a place of safety where he has done very well, to go out into the great unknown so that he can continue to “proclaim the message” of good news—that the time is fulfilled and the kingdom of God has come near. Repent, and believe in the good news.” And so he begins to make his way through Galilee, proclaiming the message and casting out demons.
Then we have our isolated incident for today. A leper approaches Jesus. This in itself is huge. Lepers were required by law to stay a certain distance away from other people, and when they did come near, they had to shout out the words “Unclean, unclean” as a warning for people. But this leper, perhaps upon hearing of Jesus and the things he was doing, defies convention, and comes right up to Jesus, falling on his knees and begging Jesus, “If you choose, you can make me clean.” And Jesus, moved with pity, stretches out his hand, touching this “unclean” person and makes him whole.
Ancient manuscripts vary on Jesus’s motivation in this healing story. Our reading for today says he was “moved with pity.” It’s easy to understand why Jesus would be moved by pity or compassion for this man. Once a person was discovered to have leprosy, they were cast out of both civil and religious society. They couldn’t pray in the temple or go to synagogue; they couldn’t share the tables or the beds of their healthy relatives. They became solitary persons, completely isolated from their communities, their friends and their families. But other sources say that Jesus was “moved by anger—a much more disturbing image. Was Jesus angry at the man for interrupting his prayers? Was he angry at the social constructs and religious laws that had made this man a complete outcast?
Either way, Jesus is motivated by some strong emotion, and he chooses to heal the man, dramatically impacting his own life and ministry and legally making himself unclean by his physical contact with the leper.
What is it that motivates people of faith?
Last weekend, I was most impressed by Bishop Gray’s opening address to diocesan council. The Bishop talked about how we now live in a time when the culture no longer supports the life of the church. It is a brave new world in which we find ourselves, as the culture around us asks again and again what relevance the church and our faith have for them. Bishop Gray challenged us to evaluate what our motivation is, in this brave new world. Are we making decisions about our lives and about our church and its ministries out of fear? Are we motivated by concern for our survival? Or are we motivated by something else—excitement about what we have to offer this hungry world, creativity, hope, gratitude? It’s a question that is worth considering in the life of our own individual faithfulness and in the life of our church. What is it that motivates us? And if we discover that the answer is, in fact, fear, then how do we change that?
In the gospel reading for today, Jesus heals the leper, and the man is so grateful, so bursting to share the good news of what is happened that he ignores Jesus’s command to tell no one, and he tells everyone what has happened. Once he is healed, the former-leper is motivated by gratitude, and it’s not a bad place for us to begin, either.
I was reading a book this week which includes some exercises that have to do with cultivating discipleship (which is basically what the gospel of Mark is all about). And it asked two questions: 1. How has your life or the lives of the people you love been transformed because of participation in the church? And 2. What do you see happening in the lives of others that makes you excited about giving to your church? As I started writing my answers to these questions, I was overwhelmed with gratitude. I remembered the people in the church throughout the years who helped shape me and mold me—adults who treated me with respect and named me friend, even though there were sometimes 60 or 70 years between us. I thought about how I knew, from an early age, that the church was someplace where I truly belonged, and I thought about how you are doing that for my own children. I thought about all the holy moments that I have gotten to witness just since my ordination 7 years ago—births, weddings, deaths… hard times and good times… healings and heartbreaks… and how each and every one has shaped me.
I thought about all the friendships I see at work in this place—those that have stood the test of time and those that are just being formed. I thought about how people rally around one another for support in times of need; I thought about the overwhelming generosity of people who have contributed so that over 5,000 lives were helped last year by our offering people basic necessities such as food, clothing, shelter, and care. I see people breaking bread together regularly and the intimacy and companionship that are shared there. When I took some time to list the things for which I am grateful in this church and in the Church at large, I was almost overwhelmed by the weight and the depth of my gratitude.
It’s one thing to say that we are grateful. It is another thing to cultivate our gratitude and then allow that to be our chief motivation.
As we approach the season of Lent, it is customary for people to give up things which separate them from God or to take on things which would help them draw closer to God. I’m going to invite you to prayerfully consider joining with me to take on two spiritual disciplines during Lent. The first spiritual discipline is reading the gospels with the bishop, which I’ll talk more about later.
The second spiritual discipline is cultivating gratitude—that is every day, making a list (either in writing or in your head) of the people, things etc for which you are most truly grateful. Let’s see what we can do together when we cultivate our gratitude and allow it to motivate us.
And may the words of the Psalmist be true also for us: “You have turned my mourning into dancing;/ you have taken off my sackcloth/ and clothed me with joy,/ so that my soul may praise you and not be silent./ O Lord my God, I will give thanks to you forever.”
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