Christmas - 2012

         To hear the nativity story from the Gospel of Luke is to hear something so familiar your mind skips along comprehending, but not comprehending.  To enter this story as more than one who listens to a familiar tale—that is our task.  Luke is a wonderful story teller and entering the story allows us to draw closer to the mystery of God's coming to live as a human being.  Let's look at the characters in this story, what might it be like to experience this amazing birth—to be both puzzled and in awe, to glorify and to ponder.  What did it mean for them?  What does it mean for us?

         First let's consider the shepherds. The shepherds were living in the fields with their sheep keeping watch—for predators most likely.  But despite the fact that King David tended his father’s flocks and that we have the image of Jesus in our minds—and in stained glass windows—as “the Good Shepherd” of his parable, shepherds in the first century practiced a despised occupation.   Shepherds received the label “shiftless and dishonest,” because people felt they allowed the sheep to wander and graze on other’s lands.   Then, living outside made shepherding a dirty job. (Those of you who have camped out “under the stars” where there was no water pump know how dirty one can get.)  Homeless people who live on the streets look “disreputable,” because they can never stay clean.  But not only were the shepherds physically dirty, they could also never be ritually clean.  They were outcasts from the religious life of the community.  And yet to these shepherds, social outcasts, physically dirty, and ritually unclean, Christ became present.

         How do we think about those who are homeless?   The story in  the newspaper today about a family who became homeless when the husband lost his job shows a family like most of us.  Christ can become present in all sorts of difficult circumstances—even our own.

         Let's consider the angels next.  Luke said, “Then an angel of the Lord stood before them, and the glory of the Lord shone around them, and they were terrified. But the angel said to them, ‘Do not be afraid; for see—I am bringing you good news of great joy for all the people.’”   The darkness of the shepherds suddenly became illumined by the light of God’s glory.  Their status as only “despised and unclean ones” became altered forever by their experience of God’s presence with them.  After they had come to Bethlehem to see Mary, Joseph and the baby Jesus, “they made known what had been told them about this child; and all who heard it were amazed at what the shepherds told them.”   They became evangelists, spreading the Good News of the Messiah’s birth.

         To be the bearer of God's illumination—even in the worst of circumstances, perhaps we can be like those angels.  Yes, we can pray for those who suffer from natural disasters or from human violence.  But we can also take action.  Can we through both prayer and action be God's light for someone in need? 

         Finally, there was Mary. Luke’s sparse two-verse account of Jesus’ birth goes by quickly:  “While they were there, the time came for her to deliver her child. And she gave birth to her firstborn son and wrapped him in bands of cloth, and laid him in a manger, because there was no place for them in the inn.”

         But we wonder about how things were for Mary—and in our imagination we fill in all details Luke didn’t find important.  Look at our crèche and wonder.  During the pain of childbirth who was with Mary?   Was her faithful husband, Joseph, by her side or had he walked away to take a break from Mary’s crying out?  Were the animals we all love to see in our crèches respectfully attentive—not one of them sniffing or chomping or making noises?  Was it really “Silent night, holy night” in the stable?  No matter who was with her, however, could her memories of the angel Gabriel’s message have sustained her?  “Greetings, favored one!  The Lord is with you . . . You will be with child and give birth to a son. . . He will be great and will be called the Son of the Most High.”

         Mary participated in God’s work of salvation, giving birth to Jesus, the one whom we call “Emmanuel, God with us.”  And in this holy birth, Christ became present no only to Mary, but to all of us. His life and his teachings can lead us into holy living.  His death on the cross and his resurrection point to God’s power over evil, God’s never failing grace, and God’s saving love for us.  After hearing the “Christmas Story” once again and singing our beloved Christmas carols and hymns, can we, like Mary, ponder in our hearts what it means for God, made human flesh in Jesus, to be among us.  Can we be a God-bearer for others?

         “Emmanuel, God with us”—God’s grace can be seen in Christ’s presence with us no matter what happens.  Christ’s presence, sustaining us, loving us, making us whole and complete—no matter what our circumstances are—this is the true gift of Christmas.  We give thanks tonight/today for God’s gift of Jesus Christ.  For through Jesus we become daughters and sons of God, heirs through Jesus of everlasting life. 

         So as we continue our worship and our Christmas celebrations, let us remember the shepherds, the angels and Mary—each with a role to play, each an example for us as we open ourselves to God's love so freely given to us in Jesus.  When we are puzzled, may we be awed and drawn closer to God.  When we have come to know God, may we give God glory. Then may we ponder the wonder and mystery revealed in the incarnate God, Jesus Christ.

The 3rd Sunday of Advent - A Homily in a Time of Tragedy - Sandy Hook School

How are you feeling this morning?  Grief shows itself in many ways.  Honor what you are feeling—even if you want to avoid feeling anything.

I had written a sermon on Friday morning.  Even as late as Friday evening, I thought I still might have a chance of delivering it with some modification of the introductory section.  But I cannot.

Diana Butler Bass (writer who has explored the nature of Christianity in the 21^st century) blogged after the shooting of Rep. Gabrielle Giffords that preachers must speak about a violent tragedy, not ignore it or pass if off with an extra prayer.  She said, “American pulpits should be places to reflect on theology and life, on the Word [of God] and our words.”

So here is my best effort today:

Yesterday I wrote this on my Facebook page:  “Our Book of Common Prayer has eloquent prayers that can be adapted to pray for all who died in Newtown, CT--but since I heard about the killing yesterday, I don't want words. I simply want to hold up to God's healing light those who perished, those who grieve, those whose hearts are broken, and the darkness in one human heart who caused this tragedy. O God, hear the cry of our hearts.”

But today I need some words, please God, the right words.

I believe in the presence of evil in the world that opposes God’s love for all people.  I do not confuse evil with mental illness—but both may operate in an event and may have done so at Sandy Hook.  Evil exists in the choices a person makes to harm others and by making these choices causes God to grieve.

Here is a passage from the second chapter of Matthew:

When Herod saw that he had been tricked by the wise men, he was infuriated, and he sent and killed all the children in and around Bethlehem who were two years old or under, according to the time that he had learned from the wise men. Then was fulfilled what had been spoken through the prophet Jeremiah: “A voice was heard in Ramah, wailing and loud lamentation, Rachel weeping for her children; she refused to be consoled, because they are no more.”

I also believe in God’s love and protection in all the circumstances. 

Here is Psalm 121:

I lift up my eyes to the hills— from where will my help come?

My help comes from the Lord, who made heaven and earth.

He will not let your foot be moved; he who keeps you will not slumber.

He who keeps Israel will neither slumber nor sleep.

The Lord is your keeper; the Lord is your shade at your right hand.

The sun shall not strike you by day, nor the moon by night.

The Lord will keep you from all evil; he will keep your life.

The Lord will keep your going out and your coming in from this time on and forevermore.

  

What can the psalmist mean with these words: “The Lord will keep you from all evil; he will keep your life?”  Where was God when those shots rang out at Sandy Hook?

·      God was with the teachers who tried to protect their students—and many succeeded.

·      God was with the first responders who rushed into the building, despite the danger, because they have been trained not to wait for the SWAT team in order to save the most people possible.

·      God was with the students who obeyed their teachers to hide and keep quiet.

·      God is with those who grieve—those who are angry, those who find themselves depressed—through the care and love of those who share their lives—perhaps even through other grieving parents.

·      God will be with courageous people who work to diminish the violence in our society.  Indeed, in the 5^th chapter of Matthew, Jesus said, “Blessed are the peacemakers for they shall be called the children of God.”

When I worked in Cecil County Public Schools, I was a certified non-violent intervention trainer. One of the scenarios we discussed was what to do if a weapon appeared in your classroom.  Each middle and high school I worked with developed a plan that all staff was trained in.  Eventually, after Columbine and 9-11, this work was taken over by public safety professionals.  But I have thought about what I would do; I have imagined myself facing a gun or a knife with people in my care that I must do all I can to protect. And then I back away from that image—it is just too hard to imagine—and I pray that would show the courage the staff at Sandy Hook did.

I want to end this homily with three sections of the Great Litany – the earliest English liturgy written in a very dangerous time, the 16^th century:  Your response is “Good Lord, deliver us.”

From all evil and wickedness; from sin; from the crafts and assaults of the devil; and from everlasting damnation,

Good Lord, deliver us.

From all oppression, conspiracy, and rebellion; from violence, battle and murder; and from dying suddenly and unprepared,

Good Lord, deliver us.

In all time of our tribulation; in all time of our prosperity; in the hour of our death, and in the day of judgment,

Good Lord, deliver us.

Now please join me in the Agnus Dei:

O Lamb of God you take away the sins of the world.  Have mercy on us.

O Lamb of God you take away the sins of the world.  Have mercy on us.

O Lamb of God you take away the sins of the world.  Grant us your peace.

The 2nd Sunday of Advent - To Repent of What Binds Us

         Zechariah wasn't a bad fellow.  He and his wife, Elizabeth, obeyed God's laws and lived the sort of life God wanted to see God's people live—just and compassionate lives.  But their lives were not perfect.  Elizabeth could not have children—a condition which caused them great sadness.  Even after much prayer, no baby came.

         Then one day when Zechariah was performing his priestly duties in the Temple of the Lord, he was chosen by lot to burn incense on the altar.  Even a priest doesn't expect an angel to appear when you're busy with your work—and Zechariah was no exception!   Raddling Zechariah's composure, that angel, Gabriel, brought a divine message concerning Elizabeth's gift of a special child.

         When you see an angel, it's best to listen carefully and not talk back or question.  But Zechariah—despite his religious training—blew it.  Gabriel told Zechariah that he and Elizabeth would conceive a son whom they were to name the child, John.  John would become a mighty prophet like Elijah.

         “How can this be, because my wife and I are old,” Zechariah challenged Gabriel.  So Gabriel silenced him until the child was born.  Zechariah returned home after his Temple duties ended, and, indeed, Elizabeth became pregnant.  But all this time Zechariah still could not speak.

         Finally, their son was born.  On the day the baby was to be named and circumcised, the neighbors asked Zechariah what the baby should be named.  Elizabeth had said to call him John, but no one thought that name was appropriate, because he should be named after his father.  Then Zechariah asked for writing materials.  At last he acted on what Gabriel had told him he must do.  As Zechariah wrote, “His name is John,” his power to speak returned.

         His first act was to praise God and proclaim God's prophecy for Israel and for John—who John was to become and what this meant for Israel.  When we read Canticle 16 together this morning we were reading Zechariah's prophecy that began, “Blessed be the Lord, the God of Israel, he has come to his people and set them free . . .”

         In order to be set free we must be bound or hemmed in by something that we cannot overcome by ourselves.  This past week I went to see a musical adaptation of Charles Dickens story, “A Christmas Carol.”  You remember Ebenezer Scrooge, don't you?  Bound by his need for security that turned to greed, he was set free by “spirits” who visited him one night and showed him his life's past, present and future. The visions into which the “spirits” led him created a change inside his spirit.  He began to change when he encountered the ghost of his dead business partner Jacob Marley in chains. He continued to repent when he realized the harm his greediness had caused.  As he repented his greed, he found that his spirit now embraced generosity. And with this change came a freedom to love, an emotion he had driven out of himself in order to never be vulnerable.

         But now we need to get back to Zechariah: he had over nine months to contemplate how his distrust of God's messenger kept him from acknowledging God's love and God's power to redeem a most distressing situation.  We see him act to repent and repair his sin of mistrust when he followed Gabriel's directive and named his son, John.

         How appropriate that inviting people to repent becomes the theme of John's ministry.  The Gospel of Luke tells us that John “went into all the region around the Jordan proclaiming a baptism of repentance for the forgiveness of sins.”  John's preaching aimed to set people free from the bondage of their sins.  What was binding these folks?  Was it greed?  Was it failing to honor one's responsibility in relationships?  Was it stealing or lying or worse?  Was it worshiping someone or something other than God?

         The interesting thing about John's preaching, however, was its pointing beyond itself.  The repentance John called for had a purpose—to prepare for something that would happen next.  Zechariah's prophetic song put it this way, “You, my child, shall be called the prophet of the Most High, for you will go before the Lord to prepare his way.”

         To prepare for the Lord—that is also a theme of our season of Advent.  Consider this: to prepare for Jesus' coming we must repent of what is binding us and keeping us from building “a level highway” for God right into our hearts and lives.

         What binds us and keeps us from being free and fully prepared to welcome God into our hearts and lives?  We wouldn't ever think of ourselves as Ebenezer Scrooge—we are not miserly misanthropes!  No, of course not!  But perhaps like Scrooge we put up strong defenses against loving God and loving our neighbor too deeply, because such love makes us vulnerable.  Do we fear being fully known by God?  Do we fear being too transparent to our neighbor? 

         If repentance means turning away from such defensive fears and turning toward an attitude of gratefulness to God and compassion toward our neighbor, then our repentance will not be based on shame or guilt, but on a desire to prepare ourselves to see and welcome Christ—as Celtic Christians would say, to welcome Christ in friend and stranger.

         May this Advent be such a time for us—a time repent of the fears which bind us.  And through this repentance free ourselves—free to be ready to receive Christ and then free to manifest Christ in all we say and do.

The Reign of Christ - How Will It Come?

         This Sunday ends our church year.  Next Sunday the season of Advent begins. We will move into the third year of our three year cycle of readings—Year C.  But for now we linger at the end of this year, celebrating that ending, but hoping for what may come.  We celebrate, because we trust that a triumphant Christ will come again to renew the earth and establish justice and righteousness.

         Each Sunday and perhaps each day we pray, “Your kingdom come, your will be done. . . ” and “the kingdom, the power and the glory are yours.”  But each of us may hold a different image of what that may look like.

         The disciples James and John saw the reign of Jesus as an opportunity for honor and power.  In the 10^th chapter of Mark they ask: “Grant us to sit, one at your right hand and one at your left, in your glory.”  And in the 20^th chapter of Matthew, their mother asks for them!

         Then sometimes it was not about power, but about redemption.  In the 23^rd chapter Luke reported this: one of the criminals crucified next to Jesus, humbly admitting his crimes, said: “Jesus remember me when you come into your kingdom.”

         Our readings today reflect these two points of view.  Both Daniel and Revelation are biblical texts which depict visions of a magnificent revealing of God's power and majesty.  Whatever is evil will be vanquished.  Whatever is just and righteous will prevail!  Daniel wrote:  “To him [the one like a human being] was given [by the Ancient One] dominion and power and kingship, that all peoples, nations and languages should serve him . . . His dominion is an everlasting dominion that shall not pass away.”

         The mystic John of Patmos wrote about the revelation he received in which he described Jesus Christ as “the ruler of the kings of the earth . . .[and] on whose account all the tribes of the earth will wail.”  As the “Alpha and the Omega,” Jesus Christ is the one “who is, and was and is to come, the Almighty.”

         Yet our gospel reading reports a much humbler, but perhaps more startling, image.  Jesus first deflected Pilate's interrogation, “Are you the King of the Jews?” but then he answered more directly. “My kingdom is not of this world . . . my kingdom is not from here.”  This puzzled Pilate, as it continues to puzzle us today.  When Pilate asked Jesus to clarify, Jesus said: “For this I was born and for this I came into the world to testify to the truth.”

         What is the truth to which Jesus testified?  What was the repentant criminal responding to when he asked to be remembered?

         One thing we can say about Jesus' truth is this: it can draw people closer to God.  Jesus responded to the thief, “Today you will be with me in Paradise.  To Pilate, Jesus explained further, “Everyone who belongs to the truth listens to my voice.”

         I think we can also say, Jesus' truth points to a spirit of humility.  If we are listening to Jesus, like Mary of Bethany, we are placing Jesus at the center, focusing on his teaching, and seeking to obey him.

         So this view of Jesus' reign is clearly not about power, but about the truth that God through Jesus is reaching out to us in love, hoping we respond with humbleness.  We are listening.  We are asking to be held in God's loving and redeeming memory.

         I've presented these two ways to viewing our prayer for God's reign to come and God's will be done on earth as in heaven. Are we more comfortable with an everlasting dominion being established when all people—all—will serve the God we worship?  Or are we more comfortable with a kingdom which is “not from here”—in other words, not like the Roman Empire, nor the British Empire nor the empire of a superpower?  Do we have confidence, as Martin Luther King, Jr., explained it, that although the arc of history is long, it bends toward justice?  Do we believe we can experience security simply under the shadow of the Almighty's wing?

         I want to place Jesus at the center of my life, to trust that, despite my sins, he will remember and redeem me. But then I begin to wonder if the security that power appears to offer isn't the better way. To be right that Jesus will dominate the world and all its people with the divine power, to long for Christ's second coming in great glory and great power: often these seem to be the true route to security.

         And yet . . . again I ask, what sort of kingdom do we long for?  And what part do we hope to play in that kingdom?  Is it possible that the truth that we must listen to Jesus and follow him means his reign will unfold—not on some spectacular global scale—but rather in each of us—that we will find the reign of the risen Christ as we care for those in need in Christ's name—and that we simply must trust God to deal with the rest?  Is what we mean when we pray, “Thy kingdom come, thy will be done,” that the reign of Christ will begin within each of us?  For me, on this day, that is what I hope.

The 24th Sunday after Pentecost - Making a Decision, Venturing Much

         Since today is Veterans' Day and tomorrow will be the federal holiday, I would like us to pray together for those who have served and those who are serving our country.  Please turn to page 839 of the prayerbook:

         O Judge of the nations, we remember before you with grateful hearts the men and women of our country who in the day of decision ventured much for the liberties we now enjoy.  Grant that we may not rest until all the people of this land share the benefits of true freedom and gladly accept its disciplines.  This we ask in the Name of Jesus Christ our Lord.  Amen.

         In this prayer there is a short phrase that not only applies to those who have served our country, but also to those people in our scripture readings today.  That phrase, “in the day of decision ventured much,” may well apply at times in our own lives as well.

         The heroic tone, of course, comes from the idea that at a certain moment a choice is made that will change that follows, and this choice involves risk—possibly great risk.  The biblical stories we heard today tell us—and such times in our own lives also tell us—of an additional factor we must consider:  the content of the choice and the nature of the consequences.  When we speak of heroism or a heroic choice, we imply that the content of the choice and the effect of the action that follows support a virtuous cause.  

         There can be controversy over what virtuous heroic action is and what it is not.  When I think of this question, the image that comes to mind is Bishop George Packard, clad in his magenta cassock, climbing over a chain link fence to support the Occupy Wall Street movement.  That chain link fence closed off some property owned by Trinity Church - Wall Street, and the bishop was arrested for trespassing.  Trinity had allowed the protestors to use their facilities—bathrooms, in particular—but this particular piece of property the Wardens and Vestry had declared off-limits for some apparently valid legal reason.  Needless to say, some viewed the bishop's action as heroic; others saw it as outrageous.  And Bishop Packard chose to take this very public stance, when he might have been as effective, or more effective, working behind the scenes to pressure on Trinity’s Vestry to change its decision.  On the day of his decision he did venture much, but was he right to act as he did?

         That same question could be asked of the choice made in the story of Elijah and the widow of Zarephath from I Kings and story of the widow in the temple from Mark's gospel.  To look below the surface meaning of each story will lead us into a better understanding of what a “day of decision” might mean for us.

         Elijah decided to follow what he understood to be God's directive to approach a widow of Zarephath, a commercial capital of Phoenecia, to feed him.  The widow bravely decided, after some reluctance, to feed Elijah.  Their decisions were based on trust—Elijah trusting God and the widow trusting Elijah prophetic assurance that by feeding him she would not lack food for herself and her son.  But the most unexpected decision preceding both their decisions was God's decision to choose a “destitute, foreign, Baal-worshiping widow” to provide food for God's prophet, Elijah.

God's “day of decision” became a day of overturning expectations. Elijah had been on the run from King Ahab after predicting famine and drought due to the people's worshiping the fertility god, Baal. As he sought sustenance under these adverse conditions, he must have thought it odd that God should send him to such an outsider.

And as an “outsider,” the widow must have found Elijah’s request odd, too.  Why would such a prophet come to her?   “As the Lord your God lives . . .,” said the widow—indicating that Elijah's God wasn't hers.  So, as unlikely as it appears, these two decided to risk—to venture much— and found a sustaining alliance based on trust—a trust in a God who provided in a very unlikely way—a trust that overcame the differences between them.

         The widow in the gospel today made a decision to give away all she had to live on. She appears to venture much in making this gift.  How odd that a poor widow would give anything to support Temple worship!  Jesus made the point that the important religious officials were hypocrites who talked about following the Law, but who seemed to forget how the Law expected those who had plenty to care for the vulnerable who lacked what they need. Why would the widow part with all she had to live on—indeed venturing much—in hope that an unjust system led by hypocrites might aid her?

         We can only make sense of her sacrifice if we see it in the context of Jesus' choosing to sacrifice his life.  Jesus allowed the evil of an unjust system led by hypocrites to arrest and execute him.  In the Garden of Gethsemane he experienced a time of decision and chose to venture much, trusting that his sacrifice would be redeemed by God, the Father.  Jesus' showed his love for us—human beings who often act in unjust and hypocritical ways, who sin and are unworthy of his love.  He trusted—without knowing the outcome for certain—that he should venture much out of his steadfast love for us.

         That brave, though foolish, poor widow provides an even more radical model for sacrifice of the widow of Zarapheth.  She provides the same sort of model for us as Jesus did. To give without reserve in a way that we believe God is calling us to give.

         What circumstances in your own life have you been called to give—to decide to venture much—to give fully of yourself?  Perhaps caring for your children or grandchildren, perhaps caring for an ill relative, perhaps loving someone close to you who struggles to recover from an addiction— and you can name other situations.  Sometimes these situations just seem to descend into your life and threaten to overwhelm you.  But when you choose not to retreat from them, but to give whatever strength and trust you can muster, you are making a decision to venture much—and God, perhaps in very unexpected ways, will bless your choice. 

Quote about the widow of Zarepheth came from “New Proclamation, Year B 2012, Easter through Christ the King," p. 224.

The 23rd Sunday After Pentecost - To Be Reconciled Across a Chasm of Difference

At first glance you might not notice, but the account of Jesus and the scribe we heard from the Gospel of Mark this morning bears a striking resemblance to a political ad.  Really?  Oh, come on, you might say: it's about religious faith and practice, not politics.

We need to remember that the Roman Empire held all the real power, but within Judaism there were factions or “political parties” among the religious authorities. They challenged Jesus, and he answered them with cleverness and solid scriptural references, challenging them right back.  He taught with parables that put the religious authorities in  an unfavorable light.  And the gospel writers, including Mark, frequently gave the religious authorities very bad press.

But the authorities who challenged Jesus were not of one mind about religious matters.  For example, the Pharisees and the Sadducees had agendas they pushed and sought to influence others to support them.

 Mark, as a gospel writer, had an agenda as well.  Mark began his gospel this way:  “The beginning of the good news of Jesus Christ, the Son of God.”  A few verses later he wrote about John the Baptizer ‘s point of view about who Jesus is: “The one who is more powerful than I is coming after me, I am not worthy to stoop down and untie the thong of his sandals.”

To recognize Jesus as the long awaited Messiah—despite the excitement his ministry generated—was a step too far for most of the Jewish religious authorities.  And here are some reasons why:  Prior to the reading we heard today from the 12^th chapter of Mark, the gospel writer relayed an account of Jesus telling the parable of the wicked tenants to “the chief priest, scribes and elders.”  In this parable Jesus suggested that his listeners were like the vineyard tenants who first killed messengers from the landowner and finally killed his son.  Jesus told them the landowner would come back, destroy the tenants and give the vineyard to others. Mark reported that the religious authorities knew he was talking about them.

Then in the next two stories of the 12^th chapter Mark recounted how Jesus bested first the Pharisees and then the Sadducees in a verbal sparring matches.  He cleverly answered the Pharisees when they asked him whether one should pay taxes to the Romans.  Then he put down the Sadducees for not understanding scripture or the power of God when they asked him about whose wife a seven-time widow would be at the time of the general resurrection.

 So you see Mark has engaged in some very negative advertising, showing the religious authorities as just not “getting” Jesus.  In their prideful self-assurance the traps they set for Jesus did not spring shut, and Jesus easily put them in their place. But in the midst of this negativity and the negative accounts that followed, Mark depicted another sort of response to Jesus.

 I believe Mark did this to show that people's hearts and opinions can be changed.  People who did not acknowledge Jesus as the Messiah could come to believe in Jesus.  Mark does this by showing that a member of the very group whose authority Jesus challenged could come to recognize Jesus' possessed God's wisdom and God’s truth. For a moment Mark's negative campaign against the religious authorities stopped and a positive vignette pushed his agenda of showing Jesus as the Son of God.

What caused this scribe to open his mind and embrace different point of view?  Mark pointed out that the scribe had heard the disputes between Jesus and the religious authorities and thought Jesus answered them well.  So he decided to check out Jesus more closely.  Mark's report of their conversation showed a level of respect between the Jesus and the scribe developing.  One commentary on the passage states that their exchange “transcend[ed] party strife and cross[ed] the dividing line of hostility to confess a common faith.  Because they join[ed] together in the conviction that there is no commandment greater than love of God and love of neighbor, they [were] able to treat each other as neighbors. Both the scribe and Jesus . . . stepped away from the “us” versus “them” categories.  Their mutual affirmation is an island of reconciliation in a sea of hostility.”

On this coming Tuesday, if we do our duty as Christian citizens of our country, we will vote for the candidates we believe will make our best leaders.  Perhaps the candidates we vote for will win; perhaps not.  Nevertheless on Wednesday, we should consider well Mark's “ad” showing positive behavior across a chasm of political difference (in the case of Mark's gospel, religious politics).  Here the postive behavior Mark shows us:  Listen thoughtfully.  Step away from using “us” versus “them” categories.  And finally affirm what you and your opponent hold in common—in our case this week—thankfulness for the blessings we enjoy as citizens of this country.

 Like most of stories about Jesus in the gospels we do not know the final outcome; we do not know what happened to this scribe. He may have continued serving in his scribal duties; he may have become an Christian after Christ's resurrection.  But whatever happened later, in this one moment he and Jesus taught us positive, righteous behavior across a chasm of difference:  First, listen thoughtfully; then, step away from seeing the difference as an “us” versus “them” situation; and finally, affirm what you and your opponent hold in common.  Then—and only then can you—together—began to work out the details of the path forward.

May God's mercy and grace surround us as we vote and in the following days as we work on solving the problems all of us face together.

The quote was taken from the Interpreter's Bible commentary on the 12th chapter of Mark (p. 679).

The 21st Sunday after Pentecost - Being a Slave??

    James and John—whatever were they thinking?  “Grant us to sit, one at your right hand and one at your left, in your glory.”  Did they believe Jesus when he predicted that the Son of Man would suffer and die?  Didn't appear to.  Did they figure his statement, “and after three days he will rise again,” was the only important point Jesus was making?  Perhaps.

    The writer of Mark's gospel reported three instances of Jesus' saying the Son of Man—a  Messianic title—would suffer, die and rise again.  Mark also reported that Jesus' disciples misunderstood what he was saying or rejected it all three times.  And all three times Jesus corrected their misunderstanding and taught them what a true disciple is.  The passage we heard today from 10th chapter of Mark contains the final dialog about this issue.  In the next chapter, the 11th chapter, Jesus enters Jerusalem to begin the last week of his life.

    Why was it so hard for them to simply believe what he was telling them?  The simplest explanation might be that they had bought into the cultural expectation of a militant Messiah who would throw off the oppression of the Roman empire and re-establish the throne of David.

    But I think we have to go deeper—because Jesus was explaining something  that we still have trouble articulating today.  The disciples of Jesus—and even we today—have trouble understanding the meaning of what happened that week we call “holy.”

    The theological term for what went on is “atonement.” But we have difficulty clarifying what “atonement” means.  John Burgess, a professor of systematic theology, describes atonement as being “at the heart of Christian faith” and “so deep in meaning and mystery” that our explanations cannot capture the fullness of its meaning.  But that has not stopped folks from trying!

    The writer of the letter to the Hebrews talked about Christ being a high priest appointed by “the one” who claimed him as a son.  And Jesus' behavior during the time of his suffering allowed him to become “the source of eternal salvation of all who obey him.”  He became the source, because he modeled obedience to the path he had explained to his disciples as being his destiny.

    Theologians in the early church decided that the paradox of Jesus' suffering and death defeating the power of death over humanity defined “atonement.”  Death defeating death brings life to humankind!
    In medieval times, “atonement” theology focused on Jesus, as fully God and fully human. Only a God-man could satisfy God's anger at human beings' sinfulness.  There was nothing we could do to make ourselves right with God, but Jesus, as both being divine and human and without sin, could die in our place and satisfy God's anger. This point of view creates difficulty, because it neglects putting God's love for humanity into the “atonement” equation.

    More recently theologians have tried to correct that omission. Prof. Burgess notes that “Christ's sacrifice on the cross demonstrates a complete, self-giving love that inspires us to likewise.”  God's love for us seen in the Incarnation--God's self coming to live as one of us--becomes our exemplar.  We learn how to minimize our tendency to sin, by becoming as much like Jesus as we are able, emptying ourselves of self-centeredness and practicing self-giving love. God acted through Jesus Christ to save us, and we respond to God's love with love.

    But what should our loving response really look like?  I think Jesus described what self-giving love looks like as he taught the disciples to reject the system of domination by tyrants—think Roman empire, here. Jesus said, “. . . but whoever wishes to become great among you must be your servant, and whoever wishes to be first among you must be slave of all.”

    The Greek words used by Mark for servant [diakonos, from which we get our word “deacon”] and for slave [doulos] show how significant a social reversal Jesus advocated.  Doulos was the lowest status possible in the Greco-Roman world. And Jesus expected—and still expects—no less from  his disciples: “For the Son of Man came not be served, but to serve, and to give his life a ransom for many.”  This is the cup that Jesus drank; this is the baptism with which he was baptized.

    Jesus faced physical death in expressing self-giving love; we probably won't. But we must die to self-centeredness and become Jesus' followers who find ways—and I paraphrase Matthew, chapter 25—to feed the hungry, to give clothing to those who have little, to visit those whom society has rejected or ignored, and to give a cup of cool [and clean] water to the thirsty.  And we must find ways to lead others to care for those who live in need. [I described the lives of St. Marianne Cope and Sr. Constance and her companions of Memphis, Tennessee.]

    So now we come back to James and John—whatever were they thinking?  They experienced Jesus and heard his words, but they missed his meaning.  Please God, help us, who have come to know Jesus through scripture, to understand—to really get what Jesus means—and to be his obedient servants.

Quotes from John P. Burgess can be found in Feasting on the Word, Year B, Vol. 4, Louisville: Westminster John Knox Press, 2009. p. 182-186.

Sermon Preached on September 16 at St. Nicholas' by Barbara Scira - "Losers, Keepers"

Fr. Kolbe's Cell

Are we the living dead?

Are we just going through the motions of our life in Christ, flipping the channel in our mind, tuning out just a little, running the to-do list over in our head during the sermon? After all…if we’ve been going to church for a while…we’ve heard it all before. Has our passion for God cooled down, gotten quiet or even gone underground?

Let’s face it, I don’t see too many people jumping for joy over Jesus’ teaching to ‘’deny ourselves, take up our cross and follow him.’’

Frankly, that sounds like a lot of work.

Eric Scott, pastor of the San Pedro UMC in San Pedro, California writes, ‘’Your cross, as one of my colleagues likes to say, isn’t your annoying brother-in-law.  Your cross isn’t even a chronic health condition.  The cross is something we choose.  We have the option of picking it up or not.  The irony is that the cross is not something anyone would want to pick up.  It is, on the surface, distasteful.  Yet at the same time, it is a way of life that puts the self’s primary desires and motivations aside.  Somehow, by doing that , we actually experience more true life than if that had been our goal to begin with.’’

We are reminded of this truth when we explore the life of Maximilian Kolbe Kolbe, a Polish priest, didn’t know where his life would take him when he entered the priesthood. At first he traveled extensively for some years, establishing friaries in Asia and India before returning to Warsaw to establish one there. After Germany invaded Poland in 1939, Kolbe and his fellow friars organized it as a shelter for 3,000 Polish refugees, 2,000 of them Jews. The friars shared all they had with the refugees. Eventually this work ended with the friars’ arrest in 1941.

Kolbe was sent in May of that year to Auschwitz. There he was known for his acts of kindness and generosity. Since there was often not enough food to go around, he stood aside to let others in the bunker get the weak cup of coffee, weak soup and piece of bread that was food for a day. He seldom rested at night but went from bunk to bunk to offer what comfort he could. He waited for others to be treated by the doctor before he stepped forward. He led prayers and offered confessions and turned the other cheek when abused by the guards. Both his fellow prisoners and some of his captors later attested to his selflessness.

Kolbe hadn’t been there many months when someone from his bunker escaped. The rule at Auschwitz was that for every escapee, 10 would be killed. This group of men, already disheartened and starving; were called into the yard where 10 of them were chosen to be placed in Block 13 and starved to death. One of the ten, Fracizek Gajowncek cried out that he was a father, a husband, that he would now never see his family again.

Father Kolbe stepped forward and offered his life for Gajowncek. He simply said, ‘’Let me die in his place.’’ It is the first and last time in the history of Auschwitz that anyone volunteered to die for someone else.

During 3 weeks of starvation and dehydration, Kolbe led the others in prayers and hymns. He kept them focused on the eternal, helped them set their minds on things above. He never cursed his oppressors, but prayed for them and urged the others to do so. In the end, it took an injection of carbolic acid to end his life. It was discovered later that the ‘’escapee’’ had drowned in the camp’s latrine.

Author, blogger and speaker Ann Voscamp, recently posted a two part essay on her web page called ‘’How to Really Live.’’ She talked about telling her children the story of Maximilian Kolbe, and how she had memorized part of a letter he wrote to his mother a week before these events began to unfold. Dear Mama, begins the letter. ‘’ I am in the camp of Auschwitz. Everything is well in my regard. Be tranquil about me and about my health, because the good God is everywhere and provides for everything with love.’  Voscamp says, ‘’ I had memorized that line of the letter. Because if a man in the midst of one the most hideous scenarios known in the history of the world could write a line like that — not from a bad day at the office or a hard day with the kids, but from the death stench of Auschwitz — how can anyone deny this ultimate, iron-clad testimony: A Good God is everywhere — and provides for everything with love.

She goes on to say: How can I believe anything different when the house is loud and mothering wears and obligations pile and I’m buried and a friend tells me the doctors have given her 60-90 days to live and even breathing can cause this pain in your chest?

If Maximilian Kolbe could stand in Auschwitz and write “Be tranquil — because the good God is everywhere and provides for everything with love” — is there ever really anything that should make one lose tranquility? It could be like a song for all the doubters and anxious: The good God is everywhere and provides for everything with love.’’

Jesus said: ‘’If you’re seeking to keep your life, you’ll lose it. If you lose your life for my sake, you’ll find it.’’

The Messiah was born human, born to the same pain and heartache, disappointment and frustration that we have. Yet in the midst of that human condition, Jesus shows us how to really live, points to what’s really important, God’s Kingdom come… on Earth as it is in Heaven. Maximilian Kolbe brought God’s Kingdom to Earth, to the horror of Auschwitz by stepping in to save the life of a man he didn’t know. And he didn’t stop there. The camp and guards could hear the singing, the prayers. What did such courage and sacrifice leave behind in the hearts of those others.

We pray the Lord’s Prayer every week, and if you’re like me, you may imagine God’s Kingdom coming in some future, gold-tinted time…maybe the way that Peter and the rest of his countrymen dreamed up a Messiah that would crush their enemies and set them free. Shawn Claiborne explains it this way in his Esquire essay ‘’What if Jesus Meant all that Stuff’’: ‘’ Don't get me wrong, I still believe in the afterlife, but too often all the church has done is promise the world that there is life after death and use it as a ticket to ignore the hells around us. I am convinced that the Christian Gospel has as much to do with this life as the next, and that the message of that Gospel is not just about going up when we die but about bringing God's Kingdom down. It was Jesus who taught us to pray that God's will be done "on earth as it is in heaven." On earth.’’

Maximilian Kolbe did not ignore the hell around him. He shattered the darkness with his act of love.

The Messiah who God had in mind was not the one the Jewish people had dreamed up when they were a disenfranchised, scattered people, enslaved. Jesus wasn’t there to lead the kind of revolution the oppressed always dream of…full of justice and not mercy… He was coming to fulfill the Torah…to show people how to really live as a citizen of the Kingdom of God, and more, how to bring God’s Kingdom to Earth.

Right here. Right now.

Jesus isn’t about what’s popular, doesn’t care if he’s leading in the polls or any ‘’we are the champions’’ kind of thinking. In fact he tells people NOT to talk about his miraculous works. He’s about serving…about giving his life as a ransom for many. He often does the exact opposite of what’s expected. When Peter urged him avoid Jerusalem to save his life, Jesus tells him he’s missed the point.

In God’s Kingdom, it’s not finders keepers…it’s losers keepers

Saving yourself doesn’t bring the Kingdom of God right here, right now. And that’s what this damaged, angry world needs; people willing to love, to sacrifice, to work for the good of all people, because we are ALL God’s children. God wants people who are all in.

Jesus was all in.

Peter was all in too, but Peter was going by the old yardstick. Peter, worried about his friend, worried about his own place (have I made the right choice?), handing out the conventional wisdom, ‘’God forbid this should EVER happen to you, Lord.’’ Peter, showcase of humanity…bold and wrong-headed.

Jesus’ rebuke of Peter is not a rebuke of the person, but of his mindset. Like Peter you and I can lose sight of what is really important for what seems to be. Instead of passionate love for God that is plain to all who meet us, we offer lip service…instead of actual service.

Jesus doesn’t call us to say we love him; he calls us to live out his love in us.

Every day.

Pastor Scott, writes, ‘’ I think what Jesus [thinks] is that our base instincts about what makes a good life are not to be trusted.  There is a higher kind of living—a higher calling—based upon living for others after the manner of Jesus.  Jesus’ manner of living meant taking up a cross of self-sacrifice for the sake of others.  We follow Jesus by imitating his type of life.’’

Shawn Claiborne sees it the same way; ‘the entire story of Jesus is about a God who did not just want to stay "out there" but who moves into the neighborhood, a neighborhood where folks said, "Nothing good could come." It is this Jesus who was accused of being a glutton and drunkard and rabble-rouser for hanging out with all of society's rejects, and who died on the imperial cross of Rome reserved for bandits and failed messiahs. This is why the triumph over the cross was a triumph over everything ugly we do to ourselves and to others. It is the final promise that love wins.’’

I’m sure you’re wondering what happened to Gajowncek - the man Father Kolbe saved? According to Louis Bulow’s article on Kolbe, ‘’He died on March 13, 1995, at Brzeg in Poland at 95 years old - 53 years after Kolbe had saved him. But he was never to forget the ragged monk. After his release from Auschwitz, Gajowniczek made his way back to his hometown, with the dream of seeing his family again. He found his wife but his two sons had been killed during the war. Every year on August 14 he went back to Auschwitz. He spent the next five decades paying homage to Father Kolbe, honoring the man who died on his behalf.’’

It is said that Fracizek Gajowncek kept a stone in his garden, with the name of Maximilian Kolbe on it. He said ‘’Because of Maximilian Kolbe, every breath that I take, everything that I do, every single moment, is to me — -like a gift.’”

Someone died for us. Someone stepped in and saved our lives. Too often we take that for granted. Remember the disciples who met, but did not recognize Christ on the road to Emmaus? After he left them, they say ‘’we should have known it was Jesus. Didn’t his words burn in our hearts?’’ When we have been rescued from certain death, how can we respond with the same old tired, responses, like teenagers who know you’re right, but have to argue with you anyway? How can we miss the gift?
Ann Voscamp says ‘’How can our bones not burn with thanks, with love, with the message of Who saved us? How can anything after His rescuing — be anything but appalling gift? It’s time to be tired of being the living dead.’’

‘’A single act of love makes the soul return to life,’’ said Maximilian Kolbe

God says in the book of Ezekiel, ‘’ I will give you a new heart and put a new spirit in you; I will remove from you your heart of stone and give you a heart of flesh.’’

Today, may God write his name on your heart, and may every breath be a gift. May you be tranquil — because you know the good God is everywhere and provides for everything with love. May you see life as a good gift from God and may God’s Kingdom come, right here, right now, in us.

Amen.