removing our blinders

St. George’s Chapel

Proper 21, Year C, September 29, 2013

 

May the words I speak and the words you hear be God’s alone. Amen.

 

On the surface of today’s reading from the Gospel according to Luke, it appears that Jesus is delivering one of his most scathing criticisms of wealth. Lazarus, a poor man whose oozing sores are licked by dogs, sits at the gate of a rich man. The rich man, dressed in robes the color of royalty, enjoys bountiful meals every day. Lazarus looks longingly through the bars of the gate, dreaming of feasting on the crumbs that “f[a]ll from the rich man’s table” (Luke 16:21). Time passes and the two men die. Lazarus ends up in heaven with Abraham, while the rich man is “tormented” in Hades (v. 23). The rich man cries out to Abraham but it is of no use; there is a chasm between them so deep and wide that none can cross it (v. 26). 

 

Having grown up in a privileged household, this passage makes me squirm. I have never had to worry where my next meal was coming from. Is Jesus really saying that just because my family has money, we are not going to heaven? The rich man isn’t an evil person, so he doesn’t deserve to go to hell, right? Where is the “wideness of God’s mercy” that we sing about (Hymn 499)? Is there no hope for those with means?

 

If we dig below the surface, what seems like a knock against wealth is actually more of a knock against blindness. The rich man is blind. I don’t mean that he needs glasses; the rich man’s self-centeredness has made him blind to his surroundings. Lazarus lives at the foot of a gate that the rich man has built to keep people out. We have no idea how long he’s been lying there, but I imagine it has been quite some time because the rich man knows Lazarus by name. He knows his name, but he never--not once!--offers the beggar some food. Lazarus dies, perhaps from hunger, and the angels carry him away because there is no one to bury him (v. 22). The rich man dies too, but is properly and probably lavishly buried. 

 

In the afterlife, the contradictions continue, but the tables are turned. Lazarus is enjoying the benefits of heavenly life in the presence of Abraham, while the rich man suffers in Hades. Now it is the rich man’s turn to gaze longingly toward something out of his grasp. Even though he realizes where he is, he still carries on as if he were back on earth. He commands Abraham (commands Abraham, the first patriarch of the faith!!) to make Lazarus come down to him to quench his thirst. Even in death the rich man does not see Lazarus as a human being, but as less than, as a person existing merely to serve him. The rich man has learned nothing; the chasm that separates him from heaven is this blindness to others. 

 

I imagine the second half of the story of the rich man and Lazarus is where Charles Dickens got his inspiration for A Christmas Carol. The rich man begs Abraham to send Lazarus to warn his five brothers, who are presumably following in his footsteps. But there will be no Marley for the rich man’s Scrooge-like brothers. Abraham replies that there have been enough signs throughout scripture and in the witness of prophets. If they aren’t convinced by that, then there’s no reason to expect that they would change their minds if they saw some dead beggar’s ghost. 

 

Now, it is important for us to remember who makes up Jesus’ audience. Just a few verses before today’s story, the Pharisees, described as “lovers of money,” have given Jesus a hard time because they are not too fond of his teachings, which largely point out their failings and misreadings of scripture (v. 14). The last part of the story of Lazarus is actually a jab at the Pharisees: “If they do not listen to Moses and the prophets, neither will they be convinced even if someone rises from the dead" (v. 31).  Because they will not believe in Jesus and his teachings when he is alive, they will not believe in him even after he rises from the dead. 

 

Also in the audience are Jesus’ disciples and most likely a crowd of followers. Jesus speaks with Pharisees and other religious leaders, but he mostly hangs out with sinners and people on the margins of society. Imagine how they must feel to hear this message of hope for the hopeless and a warning against those who put up gates to shut people out! Even if they are persecuted in this life, something better awaits them, because God is on the side of the poor. 

 

The practice of seeing the Bible through the eyes of the poor, the oppressed, and the marginalized is called liberation theology. One of the leading theologians is Jon Sobrino, a Jesuit priest and university professor in El Salvador. In the 1970s to 90s there was a brutal civil war in El Salvador. People suspected of aiding the rebels were “disappeared” regardless of profession or gender. In this country, the smallest in Central America, 75,000 people were killed. Most of them were civilians, and many of them were killed and then mutilated by death squads. At the university where Jon Sobrino taught, 6 of his fellow priests were murdered by a death squad. They also killed their housekeeper and her teenage daughter. Jon Sobrino survived, but only because he happened to be out of the country when it happened. Sometime after the 6 priests were killed, some artists drew pictures from photos of people who had been killed in the war. These gruesome images were hung for all to see--in the back of the university chapel. Their mangled and exposed bodies are disturbing, and several people over the years have asked for them to be removed. They want to forget, they want to put the events behind them and not dwell on them any longer. Sobrino refuses; he says that every time he celebrates the Eucharist he sees the drawings and is reminded of his friends and of his purpose. 

 

What the story of the rich man and Lazarus is telling us, what the experience of Sobrino and the people of El Salvador is compelling us to do, is to take off our blinders, to tear down the gates we have put up. I know that I walk around with blinders on. I am ashamed to say that I have ignored homeless people on the street many times. I have locked my car door and pretended not to see the person begging on the street corner. Maybe you have done it, too. “It’s too sad,” we say. “It’s overwhelming; there’s too much that needs to be done, and I can’t solve the problems on my own.” You’re right. We can’t solve them alone. But each and every one of us can change the way we act toward others.   

 

Jesus actually teaches us, in Matthew’s version of the gospel, just how we are supposed to act toward others:

“…for I was hungry and you gave me food, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you welcomed me, I was naked and you gave me clothing, I was sick and you took care of me, I was in prison and you visited me.” “Truly I tell you, just as you did it to one of the least of these who are members of my family, you did it to me.” (Matthew 25:35-36, 40).

 

In the gospel for today Jesus is offering us a chance at redemption. Through the story of Lazarus he is urging us to remove the blinders, to truly look at everyone we meet as if they matter. To acknowledge people’s existence; their humanity. Rich or poor, we are all made in the image and likeness of God (Gen. 1:27). Instead of ignoring people that make us sad, when we look at them we should be reminded of our purpose: “…what does the Lord require of you”? “…to do justice, and to love kindness, and to walk humbly with your God” (Micah 6:8). 

 

Photos* I took of the paintings in the back of the chapel 

at the University of Central America (UCA) in San Salvador (Spring 2010)

*warning: these images are disturbing!!

 

 

Sources for Jon Sobrino and the Civil War in El Salvador: 

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Salvadoran_Civil_War 

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jon_Sobrino

mountains o' things

All Saints’ Rehoboth Beach

Proper 20, Year C, September 22, 2013

Here is the complete lectionary (here's the Gospel, for those short on time).

May the words I speak and the words you hear be God’s alone. Amen.

In reading today’s Gospel passage from Luke I find myself scratching my head. This isn’t the first time I’ve read some of Jesus’ words and thought to myself, “What in the world is he trying to say here?” For me, the passage has simply led to a lot of questions.

Today’s parable isn’t a typical one. Instead of a story with a recognizable hero and definitive lines between good and bad, the lines are more blurred. Rather than a story of a lost coin or a lost sheep, we seem to have found yet another person with a lost moral compass. But the thing that is really surprising in this tale is that Jesus seems to be praising a manager for acting shrewdly in the face of being fired for his dishonesty. Wait, what? Where’s the remorse? Where’s the passionate change of heart? Or at the very least where’s the punishment if he does not amend his ways? Could this be an ancient form of sarcasm? Perhaps a dig at the doltish tendencies of his disciples? Probably not, but maybe Jesus is saying that we can learn from people even when we don’t like them very much. 

Maybe he is telling his disciples that in addition to all of the other qualities they need in order to follow him, they must also be perceptive, aware of what’s going on, and able to think quickly on their feet. The world is not always a friendly place, and the disciples have a long, hard road to tread. They are going to need to acquire some survival skills for the journey ahead. 

The second part of today’s Gospel reading takes the story a little further. Here is the epic come-back we’ve been waiting for: “Whoever is faithful in a very little is faithful also in much; and whoever is dishonest in a very little is dishonest also in much” (Luke 16:10). “If you have not been faithful with what belongs to another, who will give you what is your own?” (v. 12). Jesus is saying that our lives will be defined by our actions and by our inaction. If we act in a selfish and greedy manner, like the dishonest manager, then we will lead empty lives, no matter how clever or shrewd we are. Because he is dishonest, the manager presumably has no friends, or at least no one close enough to him that he feels comfortable asking them to house him when he loses his job. What a lonely existence, thinking only of ourselves. 

However, if we conduct our lives with even a little bit of faith, no matter how imperfect, we will be entrusted with “true riches” (v. 11): friendship, community, fulfillment. If the manager had been honest and a good steward of the master’s possessions, then if he had been fired from his job he probably wouldn’t have had to worry about where to stay or what to do next.

In this country we live our lives under the banner of individualism. This has led to many important things: unprecedented freedoms, innovation, and creativity. But in the same vein this individualism has masked some pretty ugly qualities as well: entitlement, self-absorption, and the thought of wanting our fair share, no matter how it affects others. Naturally, we all desire what is best for us and our families, but at what cost? At what point do we draw the line between survival and selfishness? 

This is why it is so important for us to come together to worship on a regular basis, instead of just doing it on our own. When we worship together we learn from one another’s experiences. Old and young, we have things to teach each other. Hearing someone else’s perspective can affect the way we view the world. Listening to someone else’s passions can ignite a passion in ourselves. Having a conversation with someone in the pew next to us can alert us to the needs of the community. 

In the Gospel accounts, Jesus surrounds himself with people. He takes time off to pray and relax, but he also makes time to eat and drink with friends and foes alike. They might not always get along, but they learn from each other and bring balance to the conversation. Occasionally, a conversation with someone even changes Jesus’ mind (Matthew 15:21-28). 

It is important to note in today’s passage that Jesus is speaking to his disciples, but there are also Pharisees listening in, and in the next few verses we find that they don’t take too kindly to Jesus’ teachings. They are used to being the ones in charge, of leading others in matters of faith. But this rabbi from Nazareth points out that their desire to follow the Law so strictly has made them blind to the suffering of their people. The biggest problem the Pharisees have is that they place rules above people. They see only how far their people have strayed from the Law, and don’t take into account how hard they are trying. In their quest for religious purity the Pharisees have alienated themselves from the very people they are trying to teach. 

Another problem the Pharisees have is that they are “lovers of money” (Luke 16:14). In the answer to today’s strange parable, Jesus says that we “cannot serve God and wealth” (v. 13). Wealth, in this instance, can also mean money or possessions (http://biblehub.com/text/luke/16-13.htm). Possessions are inanimate objects. If you love them, they cannot love you back. But if you devote your time to pursuing them, your possessions will begin to slowly possess you. Retail therapy may feel good in the short run, but over time we will look around at all that stuff and realize that it has never filled the void, only put blinders on for awhile.  

“You cannot serve God and [possessions]” (v. 13). In this day and age, with all the new gadgets and technology, when information--and therefore advertising--is instantaneous, we are constantly being reminded of all of the things we lack, all we need to accomplish,  all that we “can’t live without.” We want the car, the gadgets, the career. And the more we focus on what we want, the less we think about others (I’m saying we because I am not immune from this either). We end up putting God in a box on a shelf that we can only reach with a step ladder. It’s safer that way, because then God is out of sight, not constantly reminding us of where our priorities should lie. 

But God will not be contained in a box. When we come together to worship, we help hold each other accountable. We collectively remember our sins and ask for God’s forgiveness. We pray for those we love and for those we find it difficult to love. We share a message of peace with those around us. We come to realize how fortunate we really are as we thank God for our many blessings. We come to the table and eat together, sharing in the broken body in all of our own brokenness. Finally we leave, restored, refreshed, and renewed for service out in the world. 

So today we are called to put aside our selfish desires and focus on loving others, within this community and without. Have a conversation with someone you don’t know as well during breakfast/coffee hour, really listen to that person who you don’t agree with at work or school, reach out to someone who looks like they’re going through a rough time at the grocery store. It will cost us some time and effort, yes, but we will find our experience to be that much richer.

Here's a song about possessions I think fits the theme for today's Gospel reading:

Mountains of Things performed by The Duhks 

and Jonathan Scales on steel drums

(I went to college with Jonathan!!)

The life I've always wanted 
I guess I'll never have
I'll be working for somebody else 
Until I'm in my grave 
I'll be dreaming of a live of ease 
And mountains Oh mountains o' things 

To have a big expensive car
Drag my furs on the ground 
And have a maid that I can tell
To bring me anything 
Everyone will look at me with envy and with greed 
I'll revel in their attention 
And mountains Oh mountains o' things 

Sweet lazy life 
Champagne and caviar 
I hope you'll come and find me 
Cause you know who we are 
Those who deserve the best in life 
And know what money's worth 
And those whose sole misfortune 
Was having mountains o' nothing at birth 

Oh they tell me 
There's still time to save my soul 
They tell me 
Renounce all 
Renounce all those material things you gained by 
Exploiting other human beings 

Consume more than you need 
This is the dream
Make you pauper 
Or make you queen 
I won't die lonely 
I'll have it all prearranged 
A grave that's deep and wide enough 
For me and all my mountains o' things

Mostly I feel lonely 
Good good people are
Good people are only 
My stepping stones 
It's gonna take all my mountains o' things 
To surround me 
Keep all my enemies away
Keep my sadness and loneliness at bay 

I'll be dreaming, dreaming... Dreaming...

taking a stand against evil

All Saints’, Rehoboth Beach

Proper 19, Year C, September 15, 2013

Here are today's readings.

May the words I speak and the words you hear be God’s alone. Amen.

Fifty years ago, more than a thousand students aged 6 and up marched peacefully to Birmingham City Hall to urge the mayor to end segregation. Many were arrested and put in jail, but others came back to protest again the next day. This time they were greeted by policemen who attacked them with batons, hoses, and dogs. The pictures from the Birmingham Children’s Crusade shook the world and motivated people in the country to action. 

Four months later, fifty years ago today, in the same city, folks were making their way to church, just like we did today. They chatted with their friends, they prayed, and the children headed down to Sunday School. The lesson that day was “The Love that Forgives.” But they never got to hear it. While the secretary of the class was taking attendance, a bomb exploded, injuring 22 people and killing four girls ages 11 and 14. The 16th St. Baptist Church was the largest African-American church in Birmingham, AL, and because they had the space, many civil rights meetings were being conducted there. Four members of the local KKK decided to take matters into their own hands and planted a time-delayed bomb in the early hours of the morning. In the midst of the rubble one stained glass window remained: an image of Jesus leading children.

I spent the first 12 years of my life in Birmingham. By then the city had changed in many ways; in my neighborhood black and white children were not only neighbors but we ran around and rode our bikes together without a second thought. When I was in the third or fourth grade my class took a field trip to the Birmingham Civil Rights Institute. I don’t remember much about it, except for one thing. Near the end of the museum they have an exhibit of a bus. The bus was mangled and had huge chunks missing from where it had been bombed while people were inside. I sat down on the floor and stared at the bus, tears streaming down my face as my 8 or 9 year old sheltered self imagined and tried to process the evil that caused such a thing to happen. 

The scriptures for today speak of evil, sin, and times of darkness as well. Jeremiah recounts a vision of destruction. God is upset with the Israelites for turning away from God and worshiping other gods. After all that God has done to save the Israelites from the land of Egypt and bring them to the promised land, they repay God with unfaithfulness. God has put up with their infidelity long enough. The Babylonians are on their way, and God will not stop them. Likewise, in the psalm, the people are all sinners: “every one has proved faithless” (Psalm 14:3). The people have lost sight of morals, and are on the path to self-destruction. In 1 Timothy, the author speaks in the voice of Paul, recounting his violent past, calling himself the “foremost” of all sinners (1 Tim 1:15). And finally, in the reading from Luke, Jesus gets in trouble with the Pharisees because he hangs out with the wrong crowd: “tax collectors and sinners” (Luke 15:1).

If you’re like me, it may have been difficult this beautiful morning to say, “Thanks be to God” after the readings. Like me, you may be a bit overwhelmed by all this focus on sin and evil and destruction. Society is already fixated on all that is wrong with the world; we can’t listen to the news anymore without coming away feeling disheartened. We need some Good News. Where is the hope in today’s message? Well, I’m glad that you asked. 

While every passage today speaks of sin and evil, every passage also contains glimmers of hope and Good News. While the Babylonian army fast approaches the people of Israel, bringing with them yet another period of trial and oppression, Jeremiah foresees that God “will not make a full end” of them (Jer 4:27). They will go through difficult times, but God will not let them be utterly destroyed. In Psalm 14, although the people have turned away from God, “the Lord will be their refuge” (Psalm 14:6). The Psalm promises that the people will rejoice “when the LORD restores the fortunes of his people” (vs. 7). Not if but “when” (ibid.). They will not be left alone despite their propensity for sin and corruption. God will turn things around. The author of 1 Timothy reminds us that formerly, Paul has been an enemy of Christ and a persecutor of Christians. But then he experiences the grace and love of Christ, and comes away transformed. If God can show mercy to this man who worked so tirelessly to destroy Christianity, then no one is beyond God’s reach. As the author says, “Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners” (1 Tim 1:15). We see proof of this in the Gospel reading for today. Jesus not only speaks with, he dines with--participates in something as intimate as sharing a meal with--tax collectors and sinners. He illustrates his mission of redemption with some beautiful images, first of a shepherd and his lost sheep, and then of a widow and her lost coin. These images describe a God who loves us so much that God will drop everything else to find us when we get lost. Jesus proclaims that “there will be more joy in heaven over one sinner who repents than over ninety-nine righteous persons who need no repentance” (Luke 15:7). Don’t you get it? he is telling the Pharisees. My mission is to restore the relationship between God and God’s people. You see these people as nothing more than the sins they have committed. But I tell you that no one, not even these people whom you deem unworthy--not even you in your self-importance--no one is beyond the reach of God’s saving embrace. Now that is Good News. 

Evil is still very much present today. Poverty, famine, war, and preventable diseases are found in many parts of the earth. We do not have to look far to find it: even in our own beautiful beach community the residents of West Rehoboth live in inadequate housing and others have no homes at all. We are called to go out and take a stand against the evil in this world. We head out into the world equipped with the knowledge of God’s love and mercy. We head out into the world fueled by Communion--Jesus’ body and blood, shed for us all. And we head out into the world strengthened by worshiping in the company of this amazing community. The world is broken, as are we all, but we know that evil does not have the last word. God has overcome it, God is overcoming it, and God will continue to overcome it until the kingdom has been fully realized and the last vestiges of evil are but a distant memory. 

And so we head out into the world, praying for the Lord’s guidance. In the words of today’s collect, we ask God to “mercifully grant that your Holy Spirit may in all things direct and rule our hearts; through Jesus Christ our Lord, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, now and for ever. Amen.”

May 2, 1963 Birmingham Children's Crusade

Image found here.

Image found here.

Image found here.

Image found here.

September 15, 1963: 16th Street Baptist Church Bombing

Image found here.

Image found here.

Image found here.

Image found here.

Information on events Birmingham:

http://episcopalchildren.org/2013/09/10/its-about-the-children-civil-rights-sunday-september-15/

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/16th_Street_Baptist_Church_bombing

http://www.npr.org/templates/story/story.php?storyId=1431932

http://www.newyorker.com/online/blogs/newsdesk/2013/05/fifty-years-after-the-birmingham-childrens-crusade.html

the hard work of discipleship

St. George's Chapel, Harbeson, DE

Proper 18, Year C

September 8, 2013

May the words I speak and the words you hear be God's alone. Amen. 

The Gospel according to Luke is probably my favorite version of the Gospel. The author is a great storyteller, so much so that he even changes his dialect based on the region he is telling a story about! Luke contains some of the most recognized and beloved stories found in the Bible: the Good Samaritan and the Prodigal Son are only found in this gospel. Not only is Luke a good storyteller, he is also an advocate for the poor, the oppressed, and the marginalized; women have a greater role in this Gospel than in any of the others. I love Luke. But every so often I come across a passage that really challenges me. Today’s reading is one of those passages. 

"Whoever comes to me and does not hate father and mother, wife and children, brothers and sisters, yes, and even life itself, cannot be my disciple” (14:26). 

If you’re like me, on hearing this your thought process went something like this: 

“Now wait just a minute, Jesus. You want me to do what? You want me to hate everyone, including myself, otherwise I can’t follow you? Have you lost your mind?! What happened to all the “love your neighbor and your enemy” stuff? And doesn’t one of the ten commandments tell us to “honor your father and mother”? What is going on?

Did any of you feel that way? (Please tell me I’m not alone in this). 

At first glance, Jesus’ words in this passage make it seem like he has spent one too many days on the road being followed by a large crowd. Here’s where going back to the original Greek comes in handy. You see, the Greek word miséō can mean “hate”, but it can also mean “lov[ing] someone or something less than someone or something else” (Strong’s concordance). The second meaning makes much more sense in this context. Jesus is not telling us that we have to hate our loved ones; he is using exaggeration to make a point. Jesus wants to make sure that we don’t love our parents, our spouses, our siblings, our kids, and ourselves, as much as we love God. God has to come first. After all, the greatest commandment is "You shall love the LORD your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your might” (Deut 6:5). God has to be your priority; everything else is secondary. 

Making God a priority is difficult; it takes effort and discipline. Believe me; I know--I’m in the midst of moving to a new state and starting a new job and planning a wedding and I am finding it extremely difficult to make anything a priority outside of those three things. This past month I admit that I have not made enough time for God, and I have found myself a bit--shall we say frazzled? In worrying about a million little things like what kind of wedding cake to get and where to hang my pictures and where to print my sermon, I have missed opportunities to sit still for awhile and thank God for the beauty of creation and the many blessings that have come my way. Without the grounding of a strong relationship with God, it’s really easy to get so caught up in work or school or friends or family or success or failure that we can lose sight of what is important. We can get so overwhelmed that we think that we’re going through everything on our own. We might even begin to start living from one big hurdle to the next, forgetting what a blessing it is to be alive. This is why Jesus says that we cannot be his disciples (v. 26). It’s not that he won’t allow us to be his disciples, it just means that if we don’t make God a priority, we will be physically, mentally, and spiritually unable to be his disciples. We can reorient ourselves and our lives by making time to pray, serve, read Scripture, and worship with fellow Christians who understand the cost of discipleship. 

And there is a cost. “Whoever does not carry the cross and follow me cannot be my disciple” (v. 26). God doesn’t want us for fair-weather friends; we are to live out our lives constantly reorienting ourselves back to Christ. In 1878 the city of Memphis, Tennessee, was struck by a plague of yellow fever. The town, right on the Mississippi River, was a hotbed for mosquitos, which, unbeknownst to the people back then, carry the disease. When the disease began spreading, those who could afford it, roughly 30,000 people, fled the city. But another 20,000 did not have the means to escape. The Cathedral of St. Mary was right in the most infected part of the city. Knowing that their lives were in danger, a group of Episcopal and Roman Catholic nuns and priests, as well as some devoted lay people, remained in the city to help nurse the sick and dying and take care of orphans. 

90% of people who remained behind contracted the disease, and 5,150 people perished. The city of Memphis became so depopulated that they lost their charter, not getting it back for another 14 years. Would you stay behind and help if you knew that there was a 25% chance that you would die? Thirty-eight of the religious people who stayed behind ended up dying of the disease. One of the first of these brave men and women to die was Constance, the Superior of the Sisters of St. Mary that lived in the Cathedral. Each year on September 9th, we remember the Christian love and dedication shown by her and the other disciples, known as the Martyrs of Memphis. Although most of us will never have to face a choice like theirs, their witness is meant to help us in our day-to-day struggles with discipleship.  

Being a disciple is hard work, and Jesus wants to make sure that we know what we’re in for when we sign up. If we come into it thinking that life is all roses, we’re going to be disappointed and hurt. In the journey of discipleship, just as in life, there are ups and downs. Christianity is not a fad diet. We don’t just try it out to see if it works and move on to the next when we don’t get the outcome we wanted. If we want to see results, we have to do the hard work; we have to make a complete lifestyle change. And we’re going to need God’s grace to get through it. 

As the theologian, pastor, and martyr, Dietrich Bonhoeffer, wrote in his aptly titled book, The Cost of Discipleship, “Costly grace is the gospel which must be sought again and again and again, the gift which must be asked for, the door at which a man must knock. Such grace is costly because it calls us to follow, and it is grace because it calls us to follow Jesus Christ. It is costly because it costs a man his life, and it is grace because it gives a man the only true life. It is costly because it condemns sin, and grace because it justifies the sinner. Above all, it is costly because it cost God the life of his Son: 'Ye were bought at a price', and what has cost God much cannot be cheap for us. Above all, it is grace because God did not reckon his Son too dear a price to pay for our life, but delivered him up for us. Costly grace is the Incarnation of God” (Dietrich Bonhoeffer, The Cost of Discipleship). 

Jesus, God living among us, freely offered up his earthly life so that we could follow him on the path to life everlasting. A life with a heavenly feast (Luke 13:29-33) and a house with many rooms prepared for us (John 14:2-4). A life where “God will wipe away every tear” from our eyes (Revelation 7:17) and where “Death will be no more; mourning and crying and pain will be no more” (ibid.). A life in the presence of God Almighty. 

We don’t become disciples of Jesus because of the rewards in this life. Being a disciple does not guarantee that our time on earth will be easy or successful; there will be times when we will have to make sacrifices for what we believe. But, like the martyrs of Memphis, we believe that the cost of discipleship is outweighed by the reward of the life to come. In thanksgiving, we come together to worship, praise, and serve our amazing God. When the going gets rough, we are here for each other; we pick each other up when we fall down, we help reorient each other to God when we stray, we give each other hope when we become weary. I am honored and blessed to be journeying on this road of discipleship with you.

Image found here.

Information on Constance and her companions found at these sites:

http://www.estlukes.org/deacons-blog/deacons-blog_subpage-69424/

http://satucket.com/lectionary/Constance.htm

http://www.stmarysmemphis.org/about-us/history/constance-her-companions/

http://liturgyandmusic.wordpress.com/2010/09/09/september-9-constance-nun-and-her-companions-commonly-called-%E2%80%9Cthe-martyrs-of-memphis%E2%80%9D-1878/

of mary and martha

All Saints Episcopal Church

Proper 11, Year C

July 20-21, 2013

Scripture: Luke 10:38-42

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May the words I speak and the words you hear be God’s alone. Amen.

I’m just going to come right out and say it. This passage in Luke’s Gospel drives me CRAZY! Every time I read it I can feel my temper (and therefore my blood pressure) rising. Jesus has just come over to his friends Mary and Martha’s house. Martha’s in the kitchen, slaving away to prepare a meal for Jesus and his disciples, while Mary is hanging out with the boys. At some point, maybe when the pot has boiled over for the third time and one of the dishes has burned, Martha can’t take it anymore. She storms into the room and chides Jesus for not making Mary help her in the kitchen, “Lord, do you not care that my sister has left me to do all the work by myself? Tell her then to help me” (Luke 10:40). In my opinion, it’s a completely justified request. But if she is expecting sympathy, she does not get it. In fact, Jesus tells her (in what I’m sure is meant to be an understanding tone), “Martha, Martha, you are worried and distracted by many things; there is need of only one thing. Mary has chosen the better part, which will not be taken away from her” (vv. 40-41). If I were Martha, my jaw would have dropped in amazement, and then, shaking from rage, I would have thrown up my arms, yelled, “Well then you can make your own dinner!” and stormed out of the house. But I’m not Martha. We don’t know how Martha reacted; that’s where the story ends for us. 

There’s probably no doubt in your minds whose side I’m on. As the oldest of four, I was often in charge of babysitting when my parents went out. Wanting to be a helpful daughter, I would suggest to my siblings that we clean up a little in the living room and kitchen, just straighten up, not scrub the floors or anything too extensive. My thought was that if the four of us worked together, we could get everything picked up in 10-15 minutes and then relax by watching a movie together. That way, we would get to have fun and our parents would come home to a nice, clean, house (and--bonus!--I would look really good in both my siblings’ and my parents’ eyes). But much to my surprise, my siblings didn’t listen to me. No, instead we would get into a yelling match, they would march angrily to their rooms, and I would end up spending an hour or more cleaning the living room and kitchen by myself, grumbling and muttering about how selfish and lazy my brother and sisters were. 

Maybe why the passage bothers me so much is that it feels like Jesus is speaking directly to me. In the process of trying to get my siblings to help me clean, I lost sight of why I wanted to clean in the first place. It started out as something nice for my parents, but it ended up being all about me and what I wanted and how I wanted people to think of me. I can just hear Jesus saying, “Lara, Lara, you are worried and distracted by many things; there is need of only one thing.”

The story of Martha and Mary is sandwiched between Jesus’ story about the Good Samaritan and Jesus teaching his disciples how to pray. Through the story of the Good Samaritan Jesus has helped an interpreter of the law expand his definition of neighbor. Jesus then instructs the man to “go and do” like the Samaritan.

Go and do. Now that’s a statement I can get behind. I like doing. It makes me feel productive, helpful, needed. Just give me instructions and set me loose! Doing is important. Welcoming friends and especially the stranger by being hospitable is a major theme in the Bible. In addition, Jesus commands us to feed the hungry, clothe the naked, visit the sick and those in prison--in short, to take care of people in need, our neighbors. If we didn’t go and do, then nothing would ever get done! But if, in the midst of going and doing, we get distracted by praise or discouraged by the hard work it involves, then we lose sight of why we are doing it in the first place. 

We’ve got much in our lives that distracts us. Material things, like cars, phones, clothes, gadgets. Worries: will I get ahead? Will I fit in? Will I get by? The word distracted in Greek means “to draw away” (Strong’s Concordance). All of these distractions draw us away from God, from the source of life and joy. When Martha is preparing dinner, she is more focused on the task than the people she is serving--she is distracted. Mary, on the other hand, while not necessarily being a good sister, is drawn toward Jesus. She chooses to engage with Jesus, to learn all that she can about God. This is why Jesus says, “Mary has chosen the better part, which will not be taken away from her” (v. 42). Whether or not his friends understand this, he is only on earth for a limited time. Rather than spend hours fixing the perfect meal, he just wants to spend some quality time with his friends, teaching them about God.  

After this passage Jesus goes off to a “certain” place to pray (11:1). Responding to their request, he then teaches his disciples how to pray, a prayer that we continue to pray to this day. Prayer helps us to reorient ourselves, to align ourselves with God. Just as good communication (listening as well as talking) is vital for any earthly relationship, good communication (listening as well as talking) is vital for our relationship with God. When we pray, we thank the Creator for the gift of this life. When we pray, we ask for healing and restoration. When we pray, we remember who and why we are serving others. 

Passages in the Bible are organized very intentionally. The fact that the story of Martha and Mary is nestled between a passage on doing and a passage on praying suggests that doing and praying are equally important. Martha is right in wanting to serve others, but she forgets whom and why she is serving. Mary recognizes that serving is not only about action but also about recognizing why you are serving. This “is the better part, which will not be taken away from her” (10:42).

In my six years with All Saints, I have had many wonderful experiences. I have played with you and prayed with you. I have shared laughter and tears and food with you. I have studied and spoken and sung and served with you. I am a better Christian--a better person--for it. Thank you for the many opportunities you’ve given me to learn about and serve God. 

In this world of many distractions, may we be drawn toward God both in prayer and action, remembering that it ultimately God whom we serve. This, my friends, is the better part, which will never be taken away from us.

This perfectly captures what I imagine Martha's expression might have been (image found here) 

"Martha and Mary" by He Qi (found here)

growing into faith

All Saints Episcopal Church

Proper 10, Year C, Track 2 (readings here)

July 14, 2013

May the words I speak and the words you hear be God’s alone. Amen. 

At first glance, it appears that the community of the Colossians is too good to be true. The Colossians, “once estranged and hostile in mind” (Col 1:21), have done a 180 and have been completely transformed, all because they have heard the gospel. We don’t know to what degree they were bad before, but we do know that they were “doing evil deeds” (v. 21). And now, all of a sudden, they are a model faith community. When faced with an idyllic example like this, it can be intimidating and it can even turn us off: “There’s no way we could ever be like that community. We’re not perfect. We might as well stop while we’re behind.” 

But while the Colossians are good Christians, it doesn’t mean that they are perfect. A closer look reveals that the transition is not necessarily as smooth or quick as we might presume. The gospel has been “bearing fruit among” the community (v. 6). Their transformation has not happened overnight! They have been steadily growing in their “knowledge of God” (v. 10), and to assist them, Paul and his companions ceaselessly pray for this growth to continue. The Colossians don’t master being Christian after hearing the Gospel once; they are constantly discovering what being a Christian means, constantly discovering how to apply the words to their lives. 

The passage tells us that, among other things, a life of faith takes strength, reminds us to be thankful, and urges us to “endure everything with patience” (v. 11). I don’t know about you, but more often than not I find it difficult to be strong, I regularly forget to be thankful, and many times I have little to no patience. I think that last one is probably the most difficult for me. In an age when so many things are instantly accessible, when questions can be answered within minutes, if not seconds, I have become increasingly more impatient. I want to know now. I do so many things in the name of saving time, but then I often end up wasting time on the internet. And then there’s driving. I may be a small, soft-spoken person, but when I get behind the wheel I get angry--irrationally so. Let’s just say I’m not very forgiving and don’t always have the most charitable thoughts toward other drivers. 

Being a Christian is hard work! Our baptismal covenant acknowledges this. One of the questions reads, “Will you persevere in resisting evil, and, whenever you fall into sin, repent and return to the Lord?” (BCP 304). It doesn’t say, “if you happen to accidentally sin”, it says “whenever you...sin” (ibid; emphasis my own). Face it: we are going to sin. We’re human; it’s inevitable. Now, that doesn’t mean we have free rein to do whatever we want. We should be continuously striving to resist evil and the things that separate us from God. But just because we are sinners, it doesn’t mean that God can’t use us. After all, some of the most important leaders in the Bible did some pretty awful things (Moses was a murderer, David was an adulterer who had his mistress’ husband killed, and Paul was on a mission to kill all the Christians before being converted to Christianity himself). But these leaders acknowledged their sins and experienced the grace of God’s forgiveness. 

Throughout the Bible there is a cycle of faith, sin, redemption, and restoration, and this is reflected in our liturgy, in our rituals of faith. In our service we listen to the words of Scripture, we reaffirm our faith in the creed, we remember our sins and receive forgiveness, and receive nourishment for the spiritual journey ahead. When we are baptized, it does not mean that we will be magically transformed into perfect Christians. It does not guarantee that our life will be easier or that all our problems will disappear. But it does mean that we will become members of a larger family, the Body of Christ, a family that is broken like we are, but that works together to support each other in faith and to help each other follow the way of Christ. 

I experienced the power of the Body of Christ first-hand. When I was a sophomore in high school, my family went through a particularly difficult experience. Our church was right there, supporting us, calling us, and loving us. There was no judgment, no pointing fingers; just lots of cards and hugs. In that period of darkness we were surrounded by love and prayer so strong it was almost palpable. Time eventually brought healing, but it was the love of Christ demonstrated by our Christian community that really made the difference.  

The Gospel reading for today reiterates how to be the Body of Christ. In the story of the Good Samaritan, we learn that when you truly love “your neighbor as yourself” you are promising to “seek and serve Christ in all persons”, even those outside your circle of friends, outside your ethnicity, or even outside your faith (Luke 10:27; BCP 305). We are to “strive for justice and peace among all people and respect the dignity of every human being” (BCP 305). This is what we promise when we are baptized. 

But being part of the Body of Christ doesn’t just mean that we are a social club that gets together weekly to talk about our problems and make each other feel good. Being the Body of Christ also means that we “proclaim by word and example the Good News of God in Christ” (BCP 305). When we are baptized, we enter into a relationship with Jesus Christ, and living this experience of God’s grace, forgiveness, and promise of everlasting life should give us so much hope that we can’t keep it contained! I’m not saying that we should necessarily go door to door trying to convert everyone, but we should not be ashamed of our faith, either. We don’t need to bring it up in every conversation we have, but we also shouldn’t shy away from it (I’m saying this to myself as much as to all of you). 

Last night we welcomed Max and Sadie into the Christian life. We promised to “do all in [our] power to support these persons in their life in Christ” (BCP 303). We will teach them the stories of Jesus and the rituals of our faith. We will listen as they discover and try to articulate what they believe. We will do our best to answer their questions. And above all, we will pray for them. This is what we promise to do for every one of our brothers and sisters in Christ, whether or not we are present at their baptism.   

If all of this seems like an overwhelming burden, know that we are not alone. When we renew our baptismal covenant, don’t forget that we (or our Godparents, on our behalf), promise to do all of these things “with God’s help” (BCP 304-305). God will be with us as we attempt to live out a life of faith. God will be with us as we struggle with difficult questions (and difficult people). God will be with us when we mourn and when we celebrate. 

We live in the hope that God has “rescued us from the power of darkness”, granted us “redemption, the forgiveness of sins”, and “enabled [us] to share in the inheritance of the saints in the light” (vv. 13, 14, 12). With Good News such as this, we, like the Colossians, can be transformed. It doesn’t mean that we will be perfect Christians; we will mess up, time and time again. But as we “grow in the knowledge of God”, we will “bear fruit” (v. 10). We already are--in our service to the hungry and the children of Miller Park, in our offerings of Christian education and Vacation Bible School, and in our time of worship together. We welcome the baptized into a community where the love of Christ shines through. May we help strengthen them, teach them patient endurance, and give them many reasons to be thankful. Thanks be to God!

called to compassion

Year C, Proper 5 (Track 2)

June 9, 2013

“When the Lord saw her, he had compassion for her and said to her, ‘Do not weep.’ ” (Luke 7:13). May the words I speak and the words you hear be God’s alone. Amen.

In the readings for today, we are presented with two stories of widows. In both of these occasions, women who have already experienced the loss of their husbands are faced with a new loss: that of their sons. While their grief is certainly justified, I think it is important to realize that their grief goes beyond simply losing people they loved. As you can imagine, life is difficult for women in those times. They have very little rights--did you notice that neither of them even have a name?--and are completely reliant upon the men in their lives to provide for them. When their husbands and then their sons pass away, it is essentially a death sentence for the women as well. They will no longer be able to move about in society as they once did. Instead of relying on their family, they will have to rely upon the generosity of strangers. Fortunately for these two particular widows, they run into Elijah and Jesus.

The prophet Elijah is on the run from Israelite King Ahab and his Canaanite wife, Jezebel. Jezebel has convinced King Ahab to allow worship of the Canaanite god, Baal. In response to Ahab’s religious infidelity, Elijah informs him that the Lord will bring a drought upon the land to prove God’s dominance over Baal. The two-year drought has just begun, and Elijah is hiding in the wilderness. Just prior to the reading for today, God sends ravens to bring Elijah food. Then God sends him to the home of a widow who is not just a stranger, but a woman who lives in a town at the center of Baal worship. Imagine what this encounter might have looked like: Elijah has been in the wilderness for quite some time. There’s a drought going on, so there are not too many opportunities to bathe and nowhere to get a haircut or beard trim. Think wild man. Think wild like John the Baptist wild. The woman he meets is not in such great shape, either. As Elijah approaches her, she is collecting firewood to make a loaf of bread--her final meal with her son before they die of starvation. The prophet from the wilderness asks the starving widow for a portion of her last meal, and in response to her protest, he assures her that the Lord will provide her with more food if she complies. She obeys and is rewarded with a way to feed her family during the drought. 

What happens next catches everyone off guard. Following the widow’s act of faith and hospitality, her son becomes ill, so ill that “there [i]s no breath left in him” (I Kings 17:17). The widow, holding her son, confronts Elijah, accusing him of causing her son’s death as punishment for her past sins. Rather than agree with her or pat her hand and say, “I guess he’s in a better place” or “God needed him in heaven,” he gently takes the boy in his arms, lays him on his bed, and “crie[s] out to God” (1 Kings 19-20). He protests the injustice of the situation and prays for God to restore the boy back to life. God listens to his voice and the child wakes up (v. 22). He then brings the child downstairs and “g[ives] him to his mother” (1 Kings 23). The story of Elijah and the widow doesn’t name it, but Elijah is reacting with compassion to the widow’s plight. 

Jesus also demonstrates compassion. As we heard last week, he has just healed the slave of a centurion--a leader of Roman soldiers who is uncharacteristically kind and generous to the Jewish people. After the healing, Jesus walks about 23 miles to the city of Nain. As he approaches the city gate, he sees a large procession. Cemeteries in this time are located outside of the city; the crowd is going to bury the only son of a local widow. Jesus sees the mother weeping for her son and “ha[s] compassion for her” (Luke 13). He touches the bier they are carrying the young man on and tells him to rise. He wakes up and begins talking, and, like Elijah, Jesus “g[ives] him to his mother” (vv. 15). At this demonstration of power, the crowd is stunned and becomes fearful. They are familiar with the story of the prophet Elijah and the widow of Zarephath. There has not been a prophet this great since his time, and so they glorify God for the miraculous healing. Faith is revived in the people because of Jesus’ act of compassion. 

Compassion is more than just a feeling of empathy. The translation of the root word is a movement of the inward parts (Merriam-Webster online dictionary). Historically, people believed their affections were located in their bellies, so if your inward parts were moving, it meant it wasn’t a simple tummy rumble going on--it meant that whatever was happening was completely gut-wrenching. If something affected you this deeply, you were compelled to respond. Compassion implies action. 

The word compassion is found 12 times in the New Testament, and it only occurs in the Gospels of Matthew, Mark, and Luke. Every time compassion is mentioned, it is either felt by Jesus, told in a story by Jesus, or asked of Jesus. Compassion is found three times in the Gospel of Luke: in today’s encounter with the widow, and in the well-known and beloved stories of the Good Samaritan and the Prodigal Son. The Samaritan has compassion on the injured man by the side of the road and is moved to take care of him. The father has compassion on his prodigal son and is moved to run toward him and welcome him home. And Jesus has compassion on the widow and is moved to resurrect her only son. Faced with a gut-wrenching situation, all three are compelled to act.

A more recent example of a person who modeled compassion is one of my heroes, Archbishop and martyr Oscar Romero. At the beginning of a brutal civil war in El Salvador in the 70s, the humble Roman Catholic priest was appointed archbishop, primarily because the leaders in Rome believed he would follow orders and stay out of politics. But Romero was no pushover. He began to see how much his people were suffering. And they were suffering--during his visits to churches in the archdiocese, he made a point of visiting the slums, where he saw his people living in squalor. On one of these visits, Romero was proudly presented with an apple...that was partially eaten. He thanked the person and then turned to the priest beside him in confusion, asking why he had been given a half-eaten apple. The priest replied that it was all the man had to give. If that doesn’t cause a visceral reaction--if that doesn’t make your insides squirm--I don’t know what will. 

The people were suffering in other ways as well: the government was assassinating or disappearing dissenters, including several priests who had been vocal in their opposition. When his close friend and priest Father Grande was assassinated, Romero “suspended masses” in the churches in the capital the next Sunday, “demand[ing] the punishment of the responsible parties” (United Nations’ report on Romero). His friend’s death was a punch in the gut and compelled him to action. Moved with compassion, the soft-spoken man began to use his authority and position of power to speak out against the violence of the government. He broadcast his sermons and speeches challenging the government on the radio. He halted the reconstruction of the cathedral and gave the money to the poor. Because of his activism, Romero made enemies within the Church and especially in the government. One Sunday, 3 years after his appointment, he was murdered by members of a Salvadoran death squad as he celebrated the mass. The “Voice of the Voiceless” had been silenced, but he lives on in the memory of the people who evoked his compassion, the people he loved. 

So where does this leave us today? We do not have the ability to raise people from the dead, like Elijah and Jesus. We do not have the influence or position of authority that Romero had. But we do have eyes that see what’s going on. We have ears to hear when there is discord. And we have the ability to speak out, to educate, to challenge, and to question. We are not voiceless, but there are so many people out there who are. This next week, pay attention to when things provoke a visceral reaction in you. It may be that God is calling you to compassion. As the collect for today says, may we not only think things that are right, but be inspired and guided to actually do them.