Second Sunday after Christmas, January 3, 2015

            Happy New Year! Did you mark the day with any customs? Did you walk down stairs backwards? Did you begin the day by saying “Rabbit, Rabbit.”? Did you eat black-eyed peas for prosperity? Did you make any resolutions?

            It’s almost a truism that we will fail every resolution. The gym is full now, but it won’t be in a month. We make these resolutions because we want to be better or to have a better life. We often fail because we are afraid or unwilling to make the necessary changes to our values or our purpose. (We want to be more fit without changing our diet. We want to save money without changing our lifestyle.)

            God seeks much more for us than our good image. God seeks more for us than comfort and ease – than safety and confidence. God wants to bring us home – to our true home. The cost to us is that we have to leave this home behind. We have to risk what we know for what we hope.

            The Holy family is in danger. Jesus is experiencing all the danger and hardships of his day. He faces the threat of evil Herod, who is willing to spill innocent blood to hold onto his power. This causes Mary, Joseph, and Jesus to become refugees. Where have we seen this before?

            We see this in refugees displaced by danger and war all over the world. We see this in the wanderings of the poor and the struggles of the unemployed. We see this in families destroyed by addictions. It is a very common and contemporary story.

            We also see this in the stories of scripture. There is an ancient Joseph who is sold into slavery in Egypt by his brothers. After a time, God uses his dreams to save his people. They come to live in Egypt to escape famine. Later, they too become slaves and are powerfully delivered into freedom through the exodus.

            This great journey of freedom becomes a story of hope. When the people are again cast into exile and they live far from home, Jeremiah sings a song of return. The people will be restored and they will return to the home God has prepared for them. These stories of deliverance and return become stories of hope for the people of God whenever they find themselves trapped or lost.

            Psalm 84 is a song of praise, centered on the joy of worshipping in the temple. It is a song sung by any pilgrim who climbs up the road to Jerusalem and the temple mount. It becomes a song of praise for anyone entering into worship – long after the temple is gone. It is a song we can sing because we are also called. We are invited to come to God, as people of God, saved through love even though we are the wrong race and a distant people.

            Jesus enters the journey with us – no matter how we have ended up on this road. Jesus is in the exodus. He is in the return of the exiles. He is with the frightened refugees fleeing violence. He is with the lost, the frightened, and the poor.

            Jesus invites us on a journey. But be careful, this is much more than our timid attempts at self-improvement. We have to begin by admitting that wherever we find ourselves, it is not our true home. We have to admit our need to get moving.

            What is our displacement? In what wilderness do we find ourselves? What keeps us in bondage or fear? We are invited to leave it behind. (We may not wish to because we are more comfortable with the devil we know.) As we leave the past behind, we may lose certain markers that make the landscape familiar. We may have to learn our way as we go.

            Jesus isn’t calling us to what we already know. We already realize that the familiar doesn’t work (that’s why we make resolutions to try and change.) Jesus is calling us home. To get to our true home we have to travel though unfamiliar ground. It is the journey that changes us. It is the discovery that gives us joy. It is our trust in God along the way that gives us the peace we seek.

            Where will we go this year?

First Sunday after Christmas, December 27, 2015

            Christmas isn’t over. Have you heard about the twelve days of Christmas? We celebrate Christmas as a season, from December 25 to January 6, the feast of the Epiphany. In ancient times, and still in Orthodox and many other churches, Epiphany is the important holiday. On that day we celebrate the revelation or epiphany of Jesus to the whole world. Around here, many Spanish cultures celebrate three kings day.

            We might remember the Christmas carol about the twelve days of Christmas. There are an awful lot of presents! (I think it’s only one different present each day.) There are many speculative theories about the carol. Is it a mnemonic device to instruct hidden Roman Catholics? The several points sound acceptably Anglican to me. (two testaments – seven sacraments – twelve apostles) I like the theory that it’s a kind of party game song. Each person adds a verse and the next person has to repeat every verse. Even more fun with holiday punch!

            The world around us celebrates a great commercial holiday with visions of gift-giving and purchased togetherness. The joy and generosity is great fun. We might regret all the bills that come due in January, but by then, it’s too cold to do anything but sit inside and dream of spring.

            The stores are all counting up their profits while we still have some celebrating to do. We remember the greatest gift. God has given us his son, Jesus. Through Jesus we are forgiven and set free to live new lives. The story of the simple baby sleeping in the manger is also a story about the lengths that God will go to love us. God gives us the most generous gift. Jesus sets aside every power and privilege to save us and love us. How can we respond?

            There is nothing we can give back to God to make up for this unprecedented generosity. There is only one thing that God asks of us – that we accept the gift offered to us.

            One way to do that is to respond in faith and believe that God loves us. The other way (or the next way) is to respond in kind. Since we have received generously without conditions, we ought to live lives of generosity – giving to others freely as well. Maybe twelve days of gifts isn’t so crazy after all! If we seek to emulate the carol, perhaps we could update it with more meaningful gifts.

            Without trying to think of twelve forms of generosity, with alliteration, what could we do? We could show hospitality and welcome – especially to the stranger. We can look people in the eye and say, “hello” and “thank you.” We can think about those in need – this week and throughout the year. We can set aside our busy schedules and pay attention to the blessings of God in unexpected places.

            God breaks into our world and offers grace and peace. Before we can share in it, we have to notice it. We have to notice our near neighbor who may be in need of good news. We can be that good news – just be doing what we already know how to do. If there is any message in the birth of Jesus in Bethlehem it is this. God has come near – into our day-to-day lives. God isn’t embarrassed by our humanity. God wants to transform us.

            A list of pre-Victorian love gifts is a silly way to remember the season. We can be silly in our joy and lyrical in our acts of generosity. God transforms all of it.

           

Christmas 2015

            Jesus was wrapped in bands of cloth and laid in a manger, because there was no room for them in the inn. We have a little trouble with the word, “manger.” We get confused about the building and the scene. It is an old word for the “feeding trough.” The scene is odd, and Canon Frank Logue wrote about this in his Christmas sermon a few years ago.

            There was no place for them. Really? Even for a pregnant woman? Joseph is in Bethlehem to participate in a census. Where are the relatives? Presumably, they were required to be there too. Where are the aunts and uncles? No cousins? I wonder if the scandal of Mary’s pregnancy had already reached Bethlehem and caused a lot of doors to be shut.

            For whatever reason, they find themselves in a barn. Jesus is laid in a feeding trough. Maybe the hay makes it soft. Perhaps the animals have more hospitality than the people. (I hope they aren’t hungry!)

            In the middle of the night, God’s angel appears to shepherds. They are watching over their sheep. This is dangerous work and low status. Shepherds are not respected as they roam from place to place and live off the land (they are suspected to be thieves.) They don’t make credible witnesses, but perhaps they are the only ones awake at this hour.

            The glory of God shines around them and they are afraid. The angel begins as angels always do, “Don’t be afraid!” Really, the angel’s words are stronger, “Stop being afraid!” “Why? I have good news! Your savior, your messiah has been born! Here’s the sign. You will find a baby in a feeding trough in a barn!” (Of all places!)

            The angel chorus comes out and breaks into song. They proclaim God’s glory and God’s peace all over the earth. The shepherds don’t quite know what to make of this. They decide to go and see. So they do go and see. They find a baby in a feeding trough in a barn. They tell Mary all about it. Their singing is probably not as good as the angels, but they are having a great time. Mary thinks about these things – she treasures this memory.

            What are we to make of this? Not many of us have experience with barns and shepherds. No angels interrupt our work or our dreams. We have the message to the shepherds. Stop being afraid. We have good news.

            We live in a time of fear. We think that our lives are in constant danger. The news that surrounds us in the 24/7/365 news cycle is one bad thing after another. It is a lie. We are fed a constant stream of bad news to control and to manipulate us – to keep us riveted – to get us to buy soap, or insurance, or beer. We are tempted to withdraw into a world we think we control, where we surround ourselves with voices that agree with us. We are tempted to remain isolated and afraid – because it’s the devil we know. It is a lie.

            Stop being afraid. We have good news. Jesus is in the world. His life, death and resurrection, reconciles us to God. Nothing can change that. No matter how foolish or frightened we get; we know that we are loved and we have the capacity to love others.

            Stop being afraid. We have good news. Go and see. Where has God blessed us? When has God guided us? How has God loved us when we did not think it was possible? God has companioned with us through our successes and failures. God has been present with us when we were lonely and when we were sick and when we were lost. This is the good news that we know. This is the real truth.

            God loves us. God has given us Jesus, so that we can be in a relationship with God. God has forgiven us and God invites us to reconciled with one another. God also invites us into a full and rich eternal life that we can begin to live right now. We can dance like drunk shepherds. We can find glory in a barn.

            Life with God is the only truth worth knowing. Life with God is the only way to find true peace. God gives us this life today and always. This is the good news. Stop being afraid. Go and see. Rejoice!

December 20, 2015

The Fourth Sunday of Advent

                  What is it like to wait for the birth of a child? There are so many plans. There are so many changes on the way. Parents gather furniture and gear, clothes and diapers. Family and friends gather almost too many gifts and hand-me-downs. There is joy and excitement. There is a little fear around the unknown. There is danger. There is wonder.

                  First time parents have the steepest learning curve. Everything is new. Everything must be learned – all at once it seems. Advice comes like water from a fire hose. Who can remember it all (how much can be ignored)?

                  Before anyone is ready (except maybe the mother) the process of birth begins. After much rushing around and probably too little sleep, a new life comes into the world. There is joy. There is great happiness. There is still a little fear. How will this child turn out? Will we be good parents? Mostly, there is just dumb pride at the wonderful child right in the middle of everything.

                  I am at an age where most of my friends are becoming grandparents. We all have pictures. (Want to see some pictures?) Children are indeed a blessing when there is a time limit in responsibility. I can play with them and give them back. Good thing too – I don’t have the energy to chase them all day.

                  We put up with an awful lot for the sake of our children. Babies seem an even worse return on an investment of time and energy. We love them and coo and make ourselves silly. They mostly just burp and sleep (even if we think it’s a smile.) Why do we fuss over these little bundles of joy?

                  We don’t give to them because of what they give back. We love our children because of who they are and because of what we hope for them.

                  Today we remember two first-time mothers. Mary and Elizabeth are pondering their respective unplanned and unusual pregnancies. Elizabeth keeps company with a long line of women in scripture that find themselves with a child late in life. Mary has a more peculiar story that suggests God’s time and God’s ways. The prophets are often using the miracle of birth to stand for the surprising and joyful creation of something new by God. Just when we think we know the way the world works and we think we’ve seen it all, God laughs at our cynicism and gives us a baby.

                  We think we have hard times. Mary could point to no father (the Holy Spirit? That’s a hard story to sell.) Mary is a young girl in a patriarchal society, in an occupied country in the Roman Empire. She had no rights. She had no power. She was dependent on the generosity of Joseph and the patience of her neighbors, that they not reject her outright.

                  No wonder Mary goes to see Elizabeth. Who would want to hang around the old neighborhood? At least Elizabeth will have some experience of an unusual birth, and she would probably appreciate the help.

                  Elizabeth rejoices. There is no questioning. There is no judgment. She shares her joy and the child in her leaps for joy as well. Elizabeth believes Mary. Elizabeth believes in the promise given to Mary – just like we want to do with all children.

                  Mary responds with her own song. She proclaims the greatness of the Lord! She gives thanks for what God has promised her and for how she has been already blessed. She proclaims the way that God works in the world. God overturns our order of things. God lifts up the lowly and casts down the mighty. God feeds the hungry and sends away those who are already filled.

                  I wonder how different this might sound to us depending on where we find ourselves. We believe in the saving power of God. If God only saves those in need, why are we trying so hard to make ourselves comfortable? In Mary’s case, she remembers God’s power when she has no power. God will save her and her people no matter in what state they find themselves.

                  Mary shows great courage. Without much to go on, she trusts the promises of God. She takes on the disapproval of her culture. She takes a step on a long journey of faith. She invites us to do the same. Will we show courage in a time of uncertainty? Will we take on responsibility for caring for all of God’s children (even if we have enough problems of our own)? Are we ready to reject what we think we know and accept what God offers instead?

                  A child is coming? Do we have all the gear and clothes and food that are necessary? Are we ready? Probably not. We never really are. All we can do is try our best to be ready. Then we trust in God’s grace to show us what we need. Then we marvel. We wonder. We rejoice in God’s unbelievable gift.

December 13, 2015

The Third Sunday of Advent

        

            Rejoice in the Lord always; again I say, rejoice! The Lord is near. I wonder sometimes that scripture has to repeat truth because it so hard to believe. This week we remember joy. We light the pink candle. We hear the command of the collect to stir up our hearts – maybe we also know this as stir up Sunday when we all go home and give our Christmas pudding a good stir. (No pudding? It’s all the fun of the season!)

            There is a part of our season that is all about generosity and gifts. We look forward to what we will do and whom we will see. We also live in difficult times. We are afraid and uncertain. The news is filled with danger and ugly words. Our joy seems misplaced.

            This is why we are commanded to have joy. Of course there are times when we get good news or some great reward. At those times we can’t contain our joy. We delight in the newborn baby. We celebrate a graduation. If only our times had more of this good news and less of the bad. Yet we are commanded.

            I listen to the radio in my car when I’m driving around. On NPR this week, a family from Newtown was being interviewed, as it has been three years since that awful day in Sandy Hook. They shared their pain and their loss. They also shared how they were standing against the choice to hate or to give up. They were still determined to make the world a safer place. They wanted to remember the good gifts of their present life (especially their surviving son.) They held no hate, instead they kept on repeating their motto, “love always wins.”

            They spoke about the importance of connection. They reflected that if Adam Lanza and his mother had not been so disconnected, and without resources, perhaps there would have been a different story. The answer isn’t simply more laws or better security. We need a different society, where we look out for each other. We need to create a world where we see that everyone gets what they need.

            The motto, “love always wins,” is not always easy to see in fact. The world seems full of people who give in to hate and fear. It is not easy to see how our actions can effect how others choose to live their lives. In this advent season we are confronted with the need to choose faith over fear and love over hate. Paul reminds us to rejoice. This Sunday reminds us of joy.

            John the Baptist seems to be a little short on joy. Yet even with his harsh words, the gospel says that he proclaimed good news to the people. He calls them all vipers. This is an illusion to apocryphal writing that describes the evil men who will be judged at the end of time. This is a time of decision. This is a time of action. It’s time to choose a side. Who will you follow and how will you act?

            The people are asking John this very question. What should we do? He does not list a variety of acts of self-discipline or denial. He basically tells them to be fair. He tells them to act decently to one another. Whoever has two coats should share with someone who needs one. If you collect taxes, take no more than you should. A soldier should not take anything by force but be content with his wages.

            Then John introduces a dire warning about the one coming after him. This one will bring a winnowing fork and separate the wheat from the chaff. Which are you, wheat or chaff?

            The good news is: we are wheat. So we need to act like it. At the very least, we should act decently towards our neighbors. Beyond that, what do we believe? We know that Jesus saves us and gives us eternal life. We have nothing to fear. Jesus is reconciling the world to God and we have been invited into this same ministry of reconciliation.

            Even though we are surrounded by fear and violence, we can choose faith and we can choose love. We will not stop every violent event. We cannot convert any hateful person. We can create a culture around us of acceptance and love. We can choose to know our neighbors and look out for their welfare. We can love the stranger, the outcast, and the refugee. We can also proclaim that love always wins, because it does.

            This is God’s promise to us.

Dec. 6, 2015 - Advent 2

            This is a season of preparation. There is so much to anticipate. There are gatherings of family and friends. There are all the logistics involved in figuring out who will be where and when. What will we eat? What presents will we buy? How will we get there? It’s no wonder we think so little of the journey of Mary and Joseph to Jerusalem. All they had to do was find a place to sleep.

            How will we get there? Do you use online services like Kayak or Expedia? Airplane tickets become evermore mysterious in how they are priced. If you drive, GPS sometimes doesn’t work when it’s cloudy or you find yourself in a tunnel or under forests – and the cell phone cuts out when there are no cell towers.

            I hope you don’t have to drive through Waterbury – and they have just begun construction. We can see the hope in the words of the prophets to make the highway straight and level all that is uneven. It’s easy to write poetry. It’s a much more difficult things to carve through rock and build bridges over rivers. Sometimes that’s how it seems when we make our way to God. All we see are obstacles that are difficult to navigate.

            This is the promise of Advent. God doesn’t promise peace and quiet and an easy road. God finds us along the hard ways and offers a new way. Maybe that’s our trouble. We don’t take God’s short cut because we’re convinced we know the way. We plod through the obstacles because it’s the hard way we know.

            Baruch is the secretary of Jeremiah (who was probably a hard man to work for.) Baruch writes down a vision of a highway of return. One day all the children of God will find their way back to Jerusalem. They will be restored and renewed. Jerusalem will have joy instead of sorrow. The highway is for the return trip.

            It’s not that the people of God didn’t know how to have a relationship with God. They already knew about God and they had faith – and they also failed to live up to what they believed. They were living in exile because they couldn’t live with God. Baruch holds out hope that God would find a way to welcome them back.

            Zechariah was a priest in temple when an angel promised that he would have a son. Like many other older persons who were promised children, Zechariah couldn’t believe the news – so the angel made him speechless until it came true.

            When John is born, and he gets his voice back, Zechariah sings his own song of hope and promise. The first half of the canticle praises God for God’s faithfulness and the many ways that God has saved the people in the past. Then Zechariah sings about how John will prepare the people for salvation in a new way.

            John grows up and begins his work. He preaches in the wilderness – the desert really. He prepares the way of the Lord in the arid and God-forsaken wilderness of Judea. Perhaps John is showing people that there is no place that you can go that God isn’t already there. Perhaps John is showing that God meets us in our own wilderness places. Just when we think we are lost and too far gone, we hear the voice of one crying in the wilderness, “Prepare the way of the Lord!”

            In all of our preparations, we are offered a new way. We already think we know the way, even though we often get lost and confused following the path we think we know. John urges us to repent – to change our minds – to think differently. God offers a new way, where the rough is made smooth and the crooked straight.

            I know we have the route all planned out. We got our trip-ticks from AAA. We mapped it out on MapQuest. God wants us to set our itinerary aside and look for the salvation from our God.

            It’s a new way. To find it we have to forget what we think we know and listen and look for what God is showing us now. It doesn’t look like what we remember. God is making a new way, a new path. God is making a straight and wide highway in the wilderness for us to find our salvation.

            The hardest thing we have to give up is our certainty that we know the way (I hear some men are like that.) It will take us places we haven’t been. It will take us by different path – a shortcut to home.

Nov. 29, 2015 - Advent I

            I have a t-shirt that says, “Jesus is coming. Look busy!” The humor behind this is that we have a sense that there are a set of expectations and we know we can’t meet the. Maybe if we keep our heads down, no one will notice. Is this what we really believe? We know that God has exacting standards. We know all the ways we fail. Do we really believe that we can hide or evade? Or do we believe that God will choose to not notice? It seems to be a pretty thin hope.

            What is God’s promise? Jeremiah declares that someday an offspring of David will come and we will call that one “the Lord is our righteousness.” How can this save us?

            Since the exodus and the covenant on Sinai, righteousness has come from God. We acknowledge that God alone is just, or righteous, or correct in all things. We know we are invited to live according to God’s ways. We know we fail. We don’t like to think how that turns out – but what happens over and over? God continues to uphold the covenant even if we fail to do so. God does not forget us even when we forget God.

            Does this mean that God is foolish, or naïve, or easily manipulated? God’s righteousness is woven with God’s loving kindness and faithfulness. God is always seeking a loving relationship with us. God pursues us. God woos us. God finds us and seeks to convince us. God is always seeking to restore us to whom we were always meant to be.

            This is the promise of the coming of Jesus. He will judge the world. He will judge us. Nothing will be hidden – no matter how busy we look. Jesus will also find us as we are. We are beloved children of God. We are seeking to follow in the path of Jesus. We have died (to sin and death) and we are being made alive as we participate in Jesus’ resurrection.

            God does not require simple obedience to rules. There were lots of rules on Sinai. These were given to show a new way of life, not a strict measure of behavior. God only gives the rules to get what God really wants. God wants our love. God wants us to seek a true and just relationship with God.

            “Righteousness” is about more than rule-keeping. Righteousness is about being in right relationship. It is about being in right relationship with God, about being rightly ordered within, and about being in right relationships with everyone around us. Of course this is difficult. Perhaps the hardest thing is to live a life freely given. God desires that we freely give ourselves back to God, and that we freely give our whole selves (and hold nothing back.)

            We hear a lot of nonsense about the war on Christmas – as if there were a right way to celebrate the birth of Jesus. It seems to me that our culture is already at war with Christmas. Our culture seeks to make money off of God’s gift. If you want a rule, what about celebrating Christmas at Christmas – and not for three months before and never the twelve days after!

            When I was a child, we never decorated until Christmas Eve – and later perhaps the Sunday before. With all our decorating, baking, buying, and feasting – how are we preparing? By the time Jesus comes, we’re worn out and stressed.

            I won’t give us more to do this advent. I think we need less. I won’t stop you from listening to carols or buying a few presents. I will urge you to create some space in your busy day. For five minutes, light a candle. Be silent and wait to hear what God is promising. Listen for God’s hope and God’s yearning, for our commitment to God and to one another. Give yourself time to savor God’s love. Give yourself the gift of knowing God’s deep and constant love.

            We can’t change the business of the season. We can control our response. We can seek different gifts. We can listen. We can respond to the deep needs of those around us. We can allow ourselves to be changed. We can discover new ways to grow in love.

November 22, 2015 - The Feast of Christ the King

                  David gives us a little verse at the end of his life. He sounds as if he brags; with the list of all the things God did through him. This success is not because of David. He is successful because he follows God. David is a beloved king, not because he earns it. He is beloved because he seeks to be in right relationship with God. This is David’s legacy – he is a man after God’s own heart. This means he has endeared himself to God and that he seeks always to maintain and enlarge that relationship. The lasting image of David is not in his military or his leadership skills. It is in his dancing before God. It is in his songwriting. It is in his faith that grows out of a lifelong relationship with God.

                  The promise that gives David hope is that the kingdom will prosper as long as future kings also seek this divine, life giving relationship. The warning (and the sad result) comes about when the leaders sought their own riches and glory and wisdom. They did not know God the way that David knew God.

                  This is difficult for us to imagine in our modern era because we no longer have leaders with an anointed relationship with God. No president or world ruler is specifically chosen by God. Heads of state who claim divine inspiration frighten us. We seek a world where no religion claims authority over all. We cannot find a leader who lives out such a personal and direct connection with God – at least one that we can trust.

                  What do we make of this for our time? Are these merely quaint memories? Is this a vestige of some superstitious past? We are reminded only too well of the failure of our supposedly advanced way of living in this modern age. We speak of tolerance and we live in isolation. Our religion seems to have nothing to say to the violent extremists except that we are right and they are wrong. In our own country, our faith is held in suspicion that we will act in intolerant ways or we insist that others believe as we do.

                  Can we ever find a new David to walk with God and show us the way to live right?

                  I believe that Jesus has come for just this reason. He does not try to usurp the authority around him. He doesn’t even assert his basic human rights, let alone his right to divine respect. Jesus faces our cruel and fearful world by submitting to it. He does something we have neither the courage nor the strength to do. We know he saves us through death and resurrection. He also establishes his true relationship with us and with the whole world.

                  We know that Jesus is the Son of God. We know that God loves us. In our fear and powerlessness we have become estranged from God. Jesus completes a way that restores us into life again. We are able to walk with God again in freedom and in joy. Jesus does not replace our failed and human and sinful leaders with himself – as a perfect version of what our leaders might be. Jesus takes on an entirely different role. He gives up rule. He gives up power. He gives up control. Instead, he invites us into participation. He will accomplish his work with us.

                  We are invited to enter into our royal prerogatives. Jesus makes us children of God – then we are heirs and heiresses. We are part of the new royal family. We are welcomed into something quite larger than forgiveness and acceptance. We are called to live out our faith everywhere we are with everything we do. All of it carries the possibility of walking with God. All of it carries the possibility that we might accomplish God’s works to save the world.

                  We may be lucky to look back on our lives at the end of our lives and be able to recite a poem like David. Perhaps we will rejoice at how God guided us and how God fulfilled promises as we walked in faith and joy. We may also be called to enter dark and hard places where the light of God is dim and people are afraid. We may not be able to tell whom we have reached or who has gained courage to follow where God has led us. Not many of the faithful get to live in palaces on this side of the resurrection.

                  That is not our reward. Our reward is knowing the truth of God’s love. The reward is living by faith (and we know it is often difficult.) The reward is being a companion and a friend of God. The reward is walking along the path that leads to life and rejoicing on the way.

November 15, 2015

                  We live in a time of anxiety. We are so surrounded by it that we have to make a great effort to avoid it. Only a little more than a year ago, we went through the worst of our financial crisis. No one knew if we would have any money or any jobs. We continue to be at war. We are under threat from terrorism and mysterious viruses. My children are finishing college and not only do I have to figure out a way to pay for it, there seems to be no guarantee that they will find a career once they finish.

                  Given our situation, we don’t know whether to be comforted or alarmed by Jesus’ words this morning. His dark vision seems a little bit of a non-sequitor after the harmless opinions of the disciples. They are impressed by the majesty of the temple. Jesus answers that the world will end. Where did that come from?

                  The early church had its own share of anxiety and uncertainty. The gospel of Mark was written down very soon after the city of Jerusalem was destroyed by the Romans. Perhaps it is a little comforting to know that other Christians in other times have had to live with impending disaster. We are assured that our task is not to figure out the answer but to remain faithful when all our familiar supports seem to be failing.

                  The early church had the hindsight to look at the destruction of Jerusalem as a kind of judgment of the disbelieving Jews as well as an affirmation of their faith in Jesus. But I think Jesus was speaking about something else besides cosmic events. Jesus was judging the very life of the temple and all the things that were done there in the name of God.

                  This reflection about the temple from Jesus and the disciples comes as they are watching all the people stream in and leave their contributions for the temple. The rich and powerful leave their very public gifts and Jesus notes that a poor widow gives all that she has (even if it only a few pennies.) I think this is part of Jesus’ declaration that this whole system will have to fall down. The temple may look impressive, but it had lost its purpose. Instead of freeing people to worship God, the temple had become an impersonal bureaucracy that used people and kept them from God.

                  The gathering of people in God’s name should be an occasion of joy. As we gather we should support each other and have the ability to draw in others to the love of God that we are experiencing. Our fear today is the future of this institution. We may not fear the apocalyptic vision of Jesus, but we wonder if we will still be around in the near future. We share the more personal and emotional anxiety of Hannah we heard about in the first reading. Her husband loved her but she was childless. We might have some understanding of the grief of a person who wants children but cannot have them. Hannah lived in an age when women were judged by how many sons they gave their husbands. Hannah was shamed and taunted by her rival Peninnah.

                  The extended family gathered to offer sacrifices to God and celebrate in thanksgiving. How many people do we know who will gather on thanksgiving with their families to face the shame of their failures. We are not unfamiliar with how families keep their pettiness for years. Siblings keep score and keep old grudges alive. Hannah was tormented at a time when she should have been celebrating. After the feast she goes off by herself to pray in the holy place. The insensitive priest tells her to stop drinking and get out. Even when she begins to open her grief to Eli, he still dismisses her with a curt “God bless you.” But God hears her. Hannah has a son. She gives him back to God as a nazarite. He becomes the prophet to anoint Saul and David.

                  You could say that her theology is deficient. She sort of bargains with God – “If you give me a son, I’ll give him back to you.” Her song of praise is sort of vindictive, crowing at the suffering of her tormentors. However, she is honest. She pours out her heart to God. She expects to be heard. Once she asks, she leaves her burden with God. Finally, when her prayer is answered, she keeps her end of the bargain. What she lacks in theological subtlety, she makes up for in faith.

                  Perhaps we can learn this from Hannah. We find ourselves in difficult time. The church is no longer in a place of respect. Our losses and failures have left us in a place of shame. We fear that we will lose our place of relevance in the life of this community. We deeply desire to be in a better place. There seems no easy answer.

                  Some sort of nifty gimmick will not save us. We won’t succeed by praying harder or working faster. We have to begin with our honest desires. We need to be open and sincere with God. We need to speak our hearts desire and we need to voice our deepest fears. Then we need to stop and let God work in and through us. Instead of telling God what to do, we need to seek what God wants to do in us. Finally, we need to walk in faith. God has shown us the next smallest step. We need to take that one step until we know the next.

                  This is not a blueprint of certainty. We have no idea what God has in store for us. We only know that God loves us. That has to be enough for us now.

November 8, 2015 - Stewardship Ingathering

                  Today we hear stories of generosity. We are challenged by examples of people offering themselves far more completely than we are often able to ourselves. What should we do with these examples? Can we give everything? Can we pick up everything and move to a new land?

                  Consider the story of Ruth. We have only heard the end of the story this morning. Naomi has two sons who each marry a woman from the country of Moab. So they all go to live there. The two sons die before they have any children, so heartbroken, Naomi decides to return to her people in Israel and hopes to be taken in by relatives. She tells her two daughters-in-law to go and find new husbands. Ruth stays loyal to Naomi and will not leave her. She says those familiar words that are often read at wedding ceremonies, “Wherever you go I will go, your people will be my people and your God will be my God.” (We all know that mothers-in-law and daughters-in-law don’t usually get along this well!)

                  Ruth cares for her mother-in-law and Naomi helps her to marry Boaz. The story ends with Ruth giving birth to Obed, who is the grandfather of David. Ruth is remembered for being extraordinarily faithful. Why would she leave her people? Why would she work so hard in poverty among strange people in a strange land? She did everything because she loved Naomi.

                  Our motivation should begin with love. Instead, we often are often motivated by fear and worry. Jesus is preaching against false religion that controls people instead of empowering people. The religious authorities had all sorts of rules and regulations. They would run the estates of widows and take a healthy share of the wealth. They made sure that they looked good to everyone, requiring strict adherence while living quite comfortably themselves. So Jesus sits down and watches the spectacle of people parading into the temple and putting their money into the treasury. The rich come with lavish gifts and great fanfare. It’s quite a show. But Jesus only makes note when a widow puts in a couple pennies. He praises her because she has given everything, while the rich only gave whatever they wouldn’t miss.

                  What do we make of this? Is Jesus praising a poor woman for starving herself? Is Jesus rejecting the rich? I think we have to listen to what Jesus is saying instead of what we want to hear. Jesus isn’t preaching a stewardship sermon and trying to get all the stubborn disciples to increase their pledge. Jesus is talking about true worship, true devotion to God. The religious authorities had all the answers, but they had lost the spirit of what they were living.

                  We are quite capable of turning this teaching on its head. Jesus commends the widow for giving everything. Do we then insist that everyone hands over everything they can – even the truly poor – in order to show proper devotion? I think that Jesus was seeing the devotion of the crowd expressed in what they gave from what they had. The large gifts from the rich were really quite poor. To paraphrase the beatitudes, the praise they received from others was all the reward they would ever get. The smallest gift from the most insignificant person was really quite lavish. This is what Jesus wants us to learn.

                  It’s not just about tithes and percentages. I could give you standards and principles, but in the end what we give to God comes from our hearts. For some of us, a gift of thousands of dollars is no sacrifice and requires no act of faith. For others, a few dollars is huge sum and a large part of what little they can control. I live by the discipline of the tithe because it gives me joy and it helps me be free. Each of us here has to open ourselves to what God is calling us to do. We have to follow the desire that God has placed in us. How has God challenged us to offer ourselves?

                  Think about it. We make all sorts of sacrifices for the people we love. When I was a child, my parents used to give us some money so we could go out and buy Christmas presents for each other. I would buy my dad aftershave or something. It was a completely different experience once I was earning my own money. The small present I gave was really from me and it cost me something. But we don’t mind buying presents for people we love. We want the Christmas tree to be surrounded by piles of presents. We make other sacrifices as well. We take on another job to pay the bills. We take out another mortgage to finance our children’s education. We stay up all night in the emergency room when someone is sick. When someone calls we say we’ll be right over.

                  None of you need me to preach a sermon or give you a lecture to do any of these things. You want to do them. You need to do them. It’s time we stopped talking about money as if it were a dirty thing about which we must be ashamed. Our money is part of what we have. It’s part of who we are in the world. We should use it to do God’s will. How we use our gifts is how we show our love. And how we love is how we truly worship.

October 25, 2015

                  I spent a great deal of time with the healthcare system this week. I am happy that things went well, and I am grateful for the excellent care we received from the hospital staff. What was most healing was the many ways that people showed compassion. I know that it was the skilled hands of the surgeon and the wonderful use of modern medicine that brought healing to my wife. I also know that it was the kind words and attention of staff that made a great difference.

                  The modern hospital is a complicated system of service. There is a steady parade of people coming and going. There are the primary providers of care – the doctors and nurses. There are also whole hosts of support people: receptionists, security officers, cleaners, cooks, aids, and nursing assistants. Adding to this crowd are all the family and friends of those who seek healing. I counted at least thirty people who had direct contact with us during my wife’s surgery. I’m sure there were many I never saw.

                  The challenge of this complicated system is to keep it human. My wife is more than a number or a scanned barcode. In the rush to make medicine efficient and cost-effective, human feelings can get lost. We spent quite a lot of time waiting. The complicated system did not always work effortlessly. I know I helped move things along simply because I was there and I could pay attention and I could ask a question.

                  It is easy to lose sight of what is important. We get sidetracked from the important things because we are engaged in equally important other things. It is laudable to offer excellent health care. In the rush and complication of modern medicine, we can lose the humanity of the patient. Things are much better than when I was a chaplain twenty-five years ago. Doctors have better training in communicating and in understanding feelings. There is still a little reluctance to acknowledge our common human challenge. We are mortal, and no amount of excellent medicine will change the fact that we will all die.

                  We avoid uncomfortable reminders of our mortality. This is why we often shun the sick or push them away to the margins. We recognize the crowd’s response to the calls of Bartimaeus. “Be quiet! Keep your problem to yourself.” Even in scripture, we treat the sick as if they are only their symptom. He is the blind beggar. He is only known by his physical limitation. (He doesn’t even really have a name, since Bartimaeus means only “Son of Timeaus.”) Of course, we know he is much more. He is stubborn. He is determined to see Jesus. He is unafraid to speak his mind. He has great faith.

                  Jesus accepts the interruption of Bartimaeus, even as others would hurry Jesus along with much more important things to do. He accepts the title pronounced by Bartimaeus, “Jesus, Son of David, have mercy on me!” (If we change the title to Son of God, he is almost saying the Jesus prayer.) Jesus does not name him by his illness. Jesus doesn’t even assume that he knows what he wants. Jesus asks, “What do you want me to do for you?”

                  In this asking, Jesus is lifting up the man. Bartimaeus is no longer the beggar sitting by the roadside, easy to ignore and look down upon. Bartimaeus is standing before Jesus, speaking freely what is on his heart. Jesus gives him respect and a voice. In the asking, Bartimaeus is healed. There is no complicated incantation offered by Jesus. “Go; your faith has made you well.” Then Bartimaeus follows Jesus on the way – the way to Jerusalem and the work of death and resurrection and new life.

                  Bartimaeus shows us where faith resides. We are tempted to seek faith in the courageous and the accomplished. We want to hear perfect words and easy steps that lead us to some better place. Bartimaeus shows us that faith can begin when we are at our worst. He does not wait until he is healed. He does not care that he is looked down upon. He cries out what he believes and what he wants even as things are not going well for him.

                  Bartimaeus asks exactly what he wants. We are often timid in our asking. Maybe we are afraid we’ll get it wrong. Maybe we are afraid of looking foolish. We are invited to ask. Perhaps our first words will not be perfect. In the asking we continue the process of learning just where Jesus is calling us. Maybe in the asking we will change what we know and what we need. So we ask anyway and trust that God will use our intention.

                  Perhaps we don’t ask because we fear that we will not be heard. We often ask for things that do not turn out the way we wish. The sick get sicker. The job doesn’t work out. Our loved ones die. We don’t know what to do with prayer that seems to fail. Our prayers are only the beginning of a conversation. In asking we open our hearts and make ourselves ready to listen to the voice and will of God. We are invited to speak and listen – even when we don’t hear what we want to hear – even when we hear no answer at all. This, after all, is the work of faith: to ask and believe not what we know but what we hope.

                  The boldness of Bartimaeus humbles us. We don’t really know what someone else needs until we ask them to tell us. The crowd was content to hurry along and ignore the need right beside them. What do we miss in our hurry? It is a loss when we can’t help someone right at hand because we aren’t paying attention. The greater loss is losing whatever that person on the margins has to offer. Who knows what great gifts are lost because we think others are helpless or broken or sick – and that’s all we let them be to us.

                  Bartimaeus is a witness. He alone among the important crowd knew Jesus for who he is and believed what he could do. All this encourages us to look beyond what we think we know. This makes us look beyond what we think of as our health and power and agency. Who do we miss at the edge of the crowd who has wisdom and blessing for us?