Epiphany, Adoration, and Baptism

         Some friends of mine went to visit their daughter, son-in-law, and two year old granddaughter.  Pictures of this chubby-cheeked, smiling child with tousled blond curls appeared on Facebook with this title:  “The Adoration of the Child.”   This tongue-in-cheek title brought to mind the multiple depictions  of the adoration of the baby Jesus by these traveling magi.  

         These paintings, usually entitled “The Adoration of the Magi,” found great popularity in the Renaissance period when the complexity of the scene led to bravura performances on the part of the artists.  What could be more colorful and delight the eye than a crowded manger scene with the baby, Mary and Joseph, domesticated animals of all sorts, sometimes sheep and shepherds, and, of course, wealthy men (three by tradition), bearing expensive gifts, dressed clothing made of gorgeous fabrics, and kneeling in homage.

         These amazing paintings teach us more about our human ideas of kingdoms and kings, wisdom and wise men than they do about God's reign made manifest by the incarnation of God's self as a newborn baby.  Those magi, scholar-scientists of their day, wanted to see and adore a special child because, by Matthew's account, they had studied the stars and believed they saw something special in them.  The Jewish scholars and religious authorities, beckoned by King Herod, knew the prophecy from their holy scriptures and the traditions concerning the Messiah's birth.  They adored the words they had studied and knew so well.  But who was adoring the miracle of the real birth of Mary's baby?

         Today we will be bringing a very special baby, A--, into the body of Christ through baptism.  As  every human birth is, her birth was a miracle.  As she breathed oxygen into her tiny lungs during those first moments, all the components of every system in her body said, “Yes!” to the miracle of her new life.  Much adoration happened in that moment, I'm sure!

         The sacrament of baptism looks a bit different from the miracle of birth.  We call it a holy “mystery,” for God acts to reveal God's self in our new life in Christ.  Whether we are an adult or an infant, in baptism we are re-born by God's action.  What I do when I pour water over A--'s head and declare I am baptizing her in the name of the Trinity, Father, Son and Holy Spirit, not only makes her one of Christ’s own forever, but also helps to make all of us aware that God loves us and desires that we live in response to God's love.

         Infant baptism places responsibility on the godparents, the parents, the extended family and the whole Christian community to teach that child what it means to live in response to God's love. The five promises, made this morning on A--'s behalf and re-affirmed by all of us, tell all of us what living in response to God's love looks like.

         God also reveals God's self in the other sacrament we will celebrate this morning, the Eucharist.  When I consecrate the bread and the wine to become the Body and Blood of Christ, I am bringing all of us into the mystery of God's presence in our world.  No one has seen God, our scriptures say, but we believe we come to know God in many ways.  A very important way we come to know God is through the sacraments.  So by coming to know God through the sacraments and by sharing the sacraments in community with other Christians, we can begin to glimpse how we must live in response to God's love.

         I want to share a story with you about how this happened for one child and one congregation.  It comes from a book called Godparenting: Nurturing the Next Generation by Nancy Ann McLaughlin and Tracey Herzer.  The story was told by an Episcopal priest named Debra Kissinger:  “When I was the vicar of a small church in Connecticut, there was a three-year-old boy, Jeffrey, who came to the altar rail week after week with his mother . . . Jeffrey’s mother was reluctant to allow him to receive the sacrament ‘until he was old enough to understand.’  Week after week, the little boy would extend his hands to receive, and week after week his mother would pull his hands back to his chest with a thump.  But one Sunday Jeffrey was not to be denied.  He extended his hands.  His mother pulled them back. Not once but three times . . . And then it happened:  Jeffrey yelled at the top of his lungs, ‘Jesus, Jesus! I want Jesus, too!  Give me Jesus!’ and thrust his hands forward again to receive the host.

         You could have heard a pin drop.  The [Holy] Spirit silently danced through the church.  I looked at Jeffrey’s mom, both our eyes brimming with tears.  She nodded her consent.  I barely choked out the words: ‘The Body of Christ’ as Jeffrey took Jesus into his hands and pronounced a loud ‘Amen!’ for all to hear . . . Jeffrey knelt in awe before Jesus that day, and we were each filled with awe as we searched our own hearts and shared his experience.”

         What had happened?  Jeffrey had been received into the Body of Christ through baptism.  He had listened and observed what had been going on around him in a particular incarnation of Christ’s Body, that parish in Connecticut.  He had learned to want Jesus—and he was not to be denied the sacrament all the others were receiving at that parish every Sunday. God had revealed God's self to Jeffrey, and Jeffrey responded with his own form of adoration.

         So, today, come let us adore.  Yes, we should join A--'s family in adoring her!  But even more we should adore, as gospel writers Matthew and Luke did, both the miracle of Jesus' birth and the mystery of God's revelation. God in Jesus became one of us, fully human while still being fully divine, in order to love us back into relationship and to redeem us, so we can be re-born and live fully in response to God's love .

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).