Sermon for Year C Proper 21

Gates and Chasms

There was a rich man…
There was a poor man…

On this day when we are turning in our raffle ticket sales,
offering our pledge cards,
this is a difficult gospel.

Jesus is so clear in this story.
The rich man has had everything.
The rich man has taken it all for granted.
The rich man has lived as if he believed
he himself earned all these blessings.

Until he dies.
Until he dies and finds himself in Hades being tormented.
Until he dies and is face to face with Abraham.

The rich man is shocked.
Who is standing next to Abraham but Lazarus!
Yes, the very same poor, covered-with-sores Lazarus.
The very same man
the rich man used to treat like a dog—or worse.

The rich man winds up in Hades. Being tortured.
The poor man winds up in heaven. Surrounded by angels.

Abraham tells the rich man that, at last,
the great chasm has been fixed.
That great chasm that separates the rich from the poor
here in this earthly world—
yet in the kingdom of God, the poor are no longer the outcast.
The poor no longer reside outside the gate.
The poor no longer suffer and starve and have to beg.


Justice has come.
God has welcomed the poor and said,
Come! Stand here. Right beside me.

This is not how the rich man thought it would work out.
Or maybe the rich man hadn’t really given much thought
to how it would work out in the end.
When we live lives of comfort and abundance
we don’t really imagine not having
the same comfort and abundance—for ever.

Lazarus—and it is not a coincidence that the poor man is named by Jesus—
and the rich man is not.
This indicates to us that the rich man had so little contact with God,
that God did not even know his name.
Who needs God when you have wealth?
Who needs God when you have comfort and abundance?


The name Lazarus==translated from the Hebrew Eleazar—
means “God is my help”

God is all and everything Lazarus the poor man has.
The poor sometimes have a much deeper relationship with God
simply because they know what it is to be in need.

It is significant that Lazarus sits at the gate of the rich man.
He doesn’t sit on the other side of a high stone wall.
He sits at a gate.
Jesus is trying to tell us in this parable
that at any point
the rich man could have come and opened the gate
to Lazarus.
At any time, the rich man could have opened the gate
and welcomed Lazarus to eat at his table,
drink from his well,
have his sores bandaged and cared for.

But the rich man was too busy admiring himself in his purple and fine linen.
The rich man was too full from all his feasting.
Every day the rich man had a choice to go and fling wide that gate—
or even open it a tiny crack.
But he never did.

Lazarus sat there on the other side of the gate,
patiently waiting for any crumb that might be offered.
“Then he died” says the story.
Did he die from starvation?
Did he die because his wounds and sores would not heal, got infected?
Did he die from loneliness, depression?

Even when the rich man arrives in Hades
he still thinks he is the boss.
“Send Lazarus
to dip the tip of his finger in the water and cool my tongue.”

Even burning in hell,
the rich man looks at Lazarus and sees not a fellow human being
but a slave, a servant,
someone to order around, to use
for his own benefit.

Abraham has no words of comfort for the rich man.
Abraham takes a decidedly realistic point of view
And knows that no warning will do any good
For those who ignore God’s word.

This parable points to the future—
“neither will they be convinced even if someone rises from the dead.”

The rich, the comfortable think they have all the answers.

We too are separated by gates and chasms.
Who sits on the other side?

Undocumented workers.
People of different races, different religions.
Women who are paid significantly less than their male counterparts==
for exactly the same work.
People who are homeless.
Children.
The mentally ill. The disabled.
People we don’t agree with. People we think are wrong.

We each have to look at the gates we have that separate us from others.
God gives us choices, free will.
We can just keep going in and out of our gates,
never paying attention who is sitting on the outside,
or we can open our eyes
and see.
We can choose to open the gates,
Just as we can choose to keep them padlocked.
We choose.
We can prop the gate open
and welcome our brothers and sisters to join us at the feast.
It takes courage to leave a gate open.
Who knows who might come in?

If we are really brave we can even take the gate right off the hinges.
We can risk living in community.
We can talk to each other instead of ignoring each other.
We can talk WITH each other instead of ABOUT each other.

As we open the gates to others,
The gate between us and God swings open
wider and wider and wider.

As we open the gates to others,
Our hearts become more generous
and our lives become more vulnerable.

Is it terrifying
to risk letting go of the security of comfort and abundance
and always being “on top” in this earthly world
to open the gate and share what we have been given?
Indeed it is.

But Jesus tells this parable to show us the way.
Jesus tells this story so that we can let go of our “rich man” persona
and God can come to know us and call us by name.


Writer Anne Lamott says,
we only need two prayers.
Help me. Help me. Help me.
And
Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.

Lazarus understands.
Jesus wants us to understand, too.

Sermon for Year C Proper 19

The Lost and Found Box

Where my husband works, at the Valle Crucis Conference Center,
they host many groups.
Some come for one overnight,
others stay multiple nights.
Young people come, older people come, all ages, all genders,
many faith traditions and even some business groups.

As at many places,
they have a lost and found box at the Conference Center.
People leave things behind.
We lose things.

I sent Tom an email this week and asked if he would give me a list
of all the things in his lost and found box on this one particular day.

Here’s the report:

Assorted books and notebooks
Bible in a black leather carrying case
Assorted pillows
Child’s stuffed cat (I believe it is a toy stuffed cat—not a real one!!)
Child’s stuffed fairy horse
Black belt
Printed scarf
Pair of black leather sandals—size 15
Empty suitcase (not sure what they packed in to go home!)
CD’s
DVD’s
Camera chargers
Umbrellas
Reading glasses
A knit hat
A Woman’s blouse

And the number one left behind item—
there are about 20 of these in the lost and found box at this time--
—cell phone chargers!

Sometimes people call when they leave something behind.
Some people will even pay to have it shipped to them.
But most people—
either they don’t know they lost the item,
or they can’t think WHERE and WHEN hey lost the item
or they don’t care.
Sometimes things are lost and never found.

Many of you have probably heard of—
or even kept—
a gratitude journal.
A journal where at the end of the day,
you write down 3 or 4 things that you are grateful for,
trying to think back over the day,
remembering the little blessings that we often forget.

As I read our gospel lesson for this week—
parables of lost sheep, lost coins—
as I thought about the piercing significance of this September 11th date--
I thought about what it would be to keep a “lost” journal.
Things I have lost.

Physical losses--
Losing our keys,
Losing one earring of our favorite pair,
Losing the elusive matching sock that goes into the dryer
and never come out,
Losing the ability to do push ups
(not sure I ever really found that one!)

Emotional losses—
Losing a friend,
losing our job,
losing our memory.


Landmark losses—
Having our house burn down,
Losing someone who was the love of our life,
Losing our innocence…

That would not be a very uplifting journal—things we have lost.
Yet those lost things always ride with us,
Sometimes out of mind,
but never really out of heart.

It is an interesting juxtaposition--
this gospel coinciding with September 11.
A day of loss—
not just for Americans,
but truly for the whole world.

Sometimes when the world or our own life is in pieces,
the truth is
we don’t have the energy or the heart or the faith
to go and look, to search.

We feel overwhelmed by the harsh reality
of knowing that time can never be rewound.
Life will never go back to what it once was.
Loss often changes everything.

Jesus’ parables today call us to trust that God is looking for us
and God will find us.

The message of today’s gospel
is how much God cares about those who are lost.
The message of today’s gospel
is that God never stops looking for us.
The message of today’s gospel
is that God’s deepest longing
is that we will be found. Each one of us.

A sheep is about as common a creature as one could find in Jesus’ day.
Sheep were not exotic animals.
Jesus does not tell us a parable about someone in Palestine
in search of a kangaroo.
Just another sheep. Just another common creature. Lost.

And goodness!
If you have ever had anything to do with sheep,
you know they wander away in a heartbeat.
That blade of grass on the other side of the fence?
It does indeed look better to a sheep’s eye
and they wiggle their way
through the barbed wire or the brambles
and then that blade of grass
leads to another blade of grass
leads to another
to another, to…
and then they look up…
and realize
they have wandered away from both flock and shepherd.
They are lost.
Some of us know too well what it is to be a wandering, lost sheep.

What an amazing parable to teach us that all the sheep matter.
ALL the sheep matter.
No one is common or insignificant to God.
God keeps calling. God keeps searching.
God is not the kind of shepherd who gives up.
Not the kind of shepherd who gets fed up and says “This just isn’t worth it!”

Lost coins.
Coins are about as inanimate as we can imagine inanimacy!
We might care if we lost a twenty-dollar bill,
but a penny?!!
Though I remember my mother
always keeping an eye out for lost pennies along the sidewalk,
or in a parking lot.
She would shriek with joy
as she bent over to pick up what she always dubbed
her “ lucky penny”.

She didn’t need those pennies to pay bills
or for any practical reason—
she just felt drawn to always keep an eye out
for the wayward coin.

God’s eye is like that too. Always on the lookout for the wayward coin.
If we listen carefully we might hear God shout with joy
when one of his “lucky pennies” shows up.
Lost coins—
dropped without care or concern or acknowledgement.
There are people like that too.
God is anxious to pick us up,
dust us off, and delight that we are found.

Today’s gospel is not about you.
It is not about me.
It is all about God.

Jesus is teaching us about the nature of God, the way of God.

Yes, we get lost. We go lost.
We wander away—sometimes on purpose, sometimes accidentally.

We need to understand that God is always looking for us.
We need to understand that God is both patient and persistent.

Imagine God walking around with a gigantic, enormous lost and found box.
Inside?
The sweet lambs and the black sheep.
Inside?
The lucky pennies and the bounced checks.
Inside?
All sorts, all kinds, all conditions.
Here we are.
All tumbled together in God’s box of the beloved.



God loves us all. Every single one of us.
Lost and found.

No one is forgotten.
No one.

That may not be our way
But that is the way of God.

That is the good news.
That is the gospel of Jesus Christ.

Sermon for Year C Proper 18

Jesus Groupies

We lived in Memphis, Tennessee at the time.
Our son Jody was in high school
and when he heard the Grateful Dead were coming to Memphis,
he really, really, really
wanted tickets to that concert.
He and a friend went and stood in line for hours to get their tickets—
But by the time they got to the ticket window,
the concert was sold out.

My husband Tom’s youngest brother Henry
was already living in Los Angeles where he still lives today.
Henry had a high powered, fast-lane position with a big marketing firm
with lots of impressive clients.
Somehow he had a connection
with the rock and roll band The Grateful Dead.

Tom called his brother Henry with a long-shot hope
that maybe—MAYBE--
Henry could get Jody two tickets for the Memphis concert.
And Henry came through.
Our son was thrilled.

Except on the weekend of the concert,
Jody got sick.
The kind of virus that you know you are in no way leaving the house.
And the friend who was supposed to go with him—same virus.

So my husband Tom decided
that WE should go to The Grateful Dead concert.

Now I had listened to Grateful Dead’s music back when I was in college—
Everybody listened to their music in the 1970’s!
I liked their music
but I wasn’t too sure I wanted to go
to this sold out late night concert.
But since Tom really wanted to go, I said yes—
plus that way the tickets would not go to waste---
and we’d have an answer when Henry called and asked,
“So how was the concert?”

Then I realized the concert was on the same night
that theologian and writer Marcus Borg
was to speak at our church.

But, once again, Tom had the perfect solution.
Our church, Calvary Episcopal, was right downtown,
just a few blocks away from the Pyramid,
where the Grateful Dead concert would be held.

Marcus Borg was speaking at 7 pm.
The concert did not begin until 9 pm.
We could hear Marcus Borg and then just walk over to the concert.
What could I say?

Now if you are not familiar with Marcus Borg
he is one of the theologians in a group
known as “the Jesus Seminar.”
One of the activities undertaken by this group of Bible scholars
has been to consider and actively discuss
everything accredited to Jesus in the gospels.
Based on their academic knowledge,
they then vote in one of three ways—
YES, I believe Jesus really did say that –OR--
MAYBE Jesus could have said that –OR--
NO, I don’t think Jesus really said that.
This group of scholars has done a lot more than this
but that is what you always hear in the media.

Anyway, Marcus Borg’s lecture that night was excellent.
His lecture was about what life
was probably like in the time when Jesus lived
and what it was like to follow Jesus at that time.

He talked about the crowds following Jesus.
He pointed out that at a certain point,
there is little doubt that Jesus had become well-known enough--
(Trust me, word of mouth can travel faster than the internet
at times—even today!!)—
at a certain point
there were probably some people following Jesus
just because it had become the thing to do.

Undoubtedly not everyone who traveled with Jesus was a believer
or understood what Jesus was teaching.
We know that even Jesus’ own closest disciples
sometimes did not understand what he was saying.
Jesus comments on this more than once.

In fact, there were probably some people
who were traveling along with the Jesus crowd
who had not even heard Jesus speak. Not ever.
They just—as the saying goes—went along with the crowd.

So in today’s gospel,
it is important to note this first sentence—
“Now large crowds were traveling with Jesus….”
This is the group that Jesus is addressing in today’s gospel.

You have to wonder how large the crowd was—or how small it was—
AFTER he finished speaking.
Because essentially this is what he said:
“You want to be my disciple?
Really?
Let me tell you what that means.
You are going to have to learn to hate your family,
to give up all you own, all your possessions,
and to be ready for a brutally ugly death.”

Not exactly the Dale Carnegie how to win friends and influence people
sort of conversation, is it?

Jesus wants people to really think through
what it means to be his follower.
He wants people to be aware of what the consequences might be.

Jesus is not saying that our families do not matter
or that we should ignore our families in the name of God.
Jesus is not saying that possessions are evil—
In Luke’s gospel he says nothing
about selling all we have and giving it to the poor.
He simply points out that sometimes there comes a need
to travel lightly.

Jesus is just realistically saying
being a follower, being fully committed to God,
is a difficult journey and a dangerous journey.
.
I just finished reading the book BETWEEN TWO WORLDS
by Roxana Saberi.
Roxana Saberi is an Iranian-American journalist,
who was forced from her home by four men
and secretly detained in Iran’s notorious Evin prison in 2009.
To neighbors and family alike
she was there one day and gone the next.
Disappeared.

This 31 year old young woman was falsely accused of espionage.
She was accused of being a spy for the CIA.
She was eventually freed--
thanks to the intervention of our government and others
and also her very determined parents--
but those four months living in harsh prison conditions,
knowing that at any moment she could be executed,
changed everything about her life.

Interestingly enough, when she believes she has lost everything—
her family, her friends, her possessions, her vocation--
when she accepts that her fate may be
to spend the rest of her life in prison—or even to lose her life--
she surprisingly finds her faith deepened and strengthened.
She also finds that she is stronger than she ever imagined.

Jesus is headed to Jerusalem and he knows
that immense strength is needed for this journey he has undertaken.

This is why he tells the crowd
they need to be very mindful and very cautious
about being a follower of his.

Now back to Marcus Borg and the Grateful Dead.
After Tom and I left the church that night
we began walking towards the concert venue.
The size of the crowds, the number of people, was overwhelming.

I finally understood what it was to be a “groupie.”
These people crowding the sidewalks around the Pyramid
were not just fans of the group The Grateful Dead—
they seemed to be fans of being part of the group itself.
They were groupies of the group of groupies.

There were people camped out all around the Pyramid downtown.
Some were in brightly painted school buses.
A few seemed to be staying in tents.
Some seemed to be just wandering aimlessly about, rather lost.
Some were cooking their supper—yes, over open fires—
right there in downtown Memphis.

Some had laid out blankets on the ground
and were selling beads and tie dye t-shirts and…
well, let’s just say “herbs.”
.
There was Grateful Dead music booming from boom boxes.
There were people singing and dancing and laughing.

I felt like I was walking through a bustling first century marketplace
After all, we had just left Marcus Borg with his images
of the large crowds following Jesus.
Suddenly I felt like I really understood—
I saw it, I got it.

Some people were following because their hearts called them to follow--
they could do nothing else even if they had wanted to.
Some people were following
because anything was better than staying at home.
Some people were following because they were looking for something,
and maybe, maybe this was it.
Some people were following out of deep and abiding love.
And some people were just along for the ride, along for the song.

Now large crowds were traveling with Jesus.

I sometimes wonder who I am in this crowd following Jesus.
Some days I think I can really say I am a follower of Jesus.
Other days, it feels like I am just going along with the crowd.

Can we really be the disciples we are called to be?
Can we understand how much we are loved by God?
Can we let go of all the things that get in the way?

Being a true disciple of Jesus is costly--
it is not just a good-time ride with Uncle John’s band.

But even if we aren’t perfect disciples,
maybe there is still something to being a “groupie” for Jesus.
Maybe we are transformed in some ways
by just showing up over and over and over for worship.
Maybe we are changed by just letting the gospel
wash over us and into us like a well-loved song—
even when we don’t fully understand what is being taught,
even when we aren’t really sure we are a believer
much less a follower.

Maybe one day we wake up in our worldly prison
and surprisingly find that our faith has deepened,
our hearts have been transformed
and everything
about how we live our lives changes.

Every Grateful Dead concert closes with the same song.
It is this same song they sing after Compline at Camp Henry:

Lay down, dear children,
Lay down and take your rest.
Won’t you lay your head
upon your Savior’s breast?
I love you so
but Jesus loves you the best.
And I bid you
Good night,
Good night,
Good night.


The concert closes. The worship ends.
The crowds are sent out into the world.

Maybe being a Jesus groupie is just coming to know we are loved.
No matter what.
No matter where.
No matter when.

Sermon for Tom Warren's Burial Service

Life is Short

There is a blessing that we use sometimes
at the end of our Sunday worship service.
It goes like this:

Life is short.
And we do not have much time
to gladden the hearts
of those who travel with us.
So be quick to love
and make haste to be kind…

Over and over again
Jesus tells us there are really only two things we need to know,
Two things we need to do:
Love God. Love one another.

I only knew Tom Warren for three years.
I realize that is a much, much, much shorter time
than so many of you knew Tom.

But it did not take long
to discover that Tom Warren understood what Jesus was saying:
Love God. Love one another.
Everything I saw in Tom—
in both Tom and his beloved wife Ann —
spoke volumes that he—they—
understood and understand
what love is all about.

You see love is not frivolous.
Love is not a nice-to-do if you have the time.
Love is the heart of the gospel.
Love is the mandate—love is the very thing Jesus commands us to do.
Love needs to be at the heart of our lives---every day, every moment.

Imagine how the world might change
if every word spoken, if every action taken was infused with love.

What better place to start than in our own lives.

Be quick to love.
Make haste to be kind.


I believe that Tom Warren was indeed a man who was quick to love.
And I have absolutely no doubt
that he was a man who made haste to be kind.

Even in the midst of Alzheimer’s Disease,
a disease so cruel that it can rob you of your whole being,
Tom was never robbed of his love or his kindness.

I can still see him chuckling when Ann told a story about their lives.
I can still see him in the bright red blazer coming into church.
I can still see him struggling his hardest to move from wheelchair to car seat
with Ann as his loving coach.
Often when we are reduced
to some of the most difficult situations of our lives
the heart of whom we really are shines forth.

Now I am sure that his family, especially Ann, could tell us of a few times
when Tom needed to up his dose of love and kindness—
but don’t we all have those times?
Don’t we all depend on those who love us to remind us?

Tom was a true man of God—
and a true man of God is one who knows how to love
and does not hesitate to be kind.

We heard in our gospel reading,
Jesus saying, “Do not let your hearts be troubled.”
To Tom’s family I say,
hold on to those words.
I do not believe that Jesus was saying do not grieve, do not cry,
do not acknowledge the depth of your pain.
Jesus knew about losing people he loved.
Jesus knew about pain and suffering.
Do not let your hearts be troubled—
Because I am right here beside you.
Every step of the way.

Tom has joined those others
that we still love but see no longer.
I will miss him. You will miss him even more.
You will probably miss him every single day for the rest of your lives.

When Jesus says, “Do not let your hearts be troubled,”
He is letting us know that Tom is just fine.
Tom is great, in fact.
Tom has found his way to truth and life that has no end.

But here we are.
We are still here.
How do we survive such loss?
Love God. Love one another.
Look to God and to one another for comfort and care.
Live each day to its fullest because indeed,
no matter the length of our life,
regardless,
Life IS short.

Make haste to be kind.
To one another.
To family and friends but also to strangers.
Love and kindness open the door
so that we might see the face of Jesus in every one we meet.
And they in turn see likewise.

Love does conquer all things.
Faith, hope and love—
the greatest of these—indeed—the greatest of these is love.
Tom Warren’s life was a testament to that kind of great love.


Life is short.
And we do not have much time
to gladden the hearts of those who travel with us.
So be quick to love
And make haste to be kind…

And the blessing of God who loves you
be upon you this day
and ever more.
Amen.

Sermon for Year C Proper 14

Resting in the Peace of God

When despair for the world grows in me

and I wake in the night at the least sound

in fear of what my life and my children’s lives may be…

So begins a poem by Wendell Berry.
A poem titled The Peace of Wild Things.

Funny thing is,
when I was trying to remember this poem,
I remembered the title as being
The FEAR of Wild Things—
which probably tells you a lot about how I feel
about wild things.

Jesus says, “Do not be afraid.”
Do not be afraid, little flock.
It is a command
but a very, very tender command.

We hear it in our gospel reading today
but we have heard it before and we will hear it again and again and again in scripture.
Do not be afraid.
Fear not.


After the sermon and the Creed and the Prayers of the People
and the Confession and the Absolution,
we come to the time in our worship service
where I come to the center
in front of the altar,
and I say to you,
The peace of the Lord be with you.

And you say back to me,
And also with you.
And then I respond to you, saying,
Let us offer one another a sign of God’s peace.

This is not just a howdy-do and how’s the weather time and greeting.
It’s not a mini-coffee hour social time—
we greet one another in the name of God,
we reach out to one another with the heart of Jesus,
the mind of Christ.

When we greet each other,
with a handshake, with a hug,
with the words, “God’s peace”
or the “The peace of the Lord”
We are reminding one another,
Do not be afraid.

We do not keep God’s peace to ourselves.
We shake hands and hug and give God’s peace to others.
We give away
the peace of the Lord.
That is part of our work as the little flock, as Jesus calls us.

What more precious gift could we offer to one another
in a world that hangs thick
with despair and fear at times.
Do not be afraid.

There is a line from another poem,
one by Robert Frost,
that opens with its title line,
I have been acquainted with the night.

I have been acquainted with the night.
We have all known darkness in our life.
We have all shivered with fear at one time or another.
We have all felt overwhelmed by despair.
For some of us
it feels as if fear and despair and darkness own us.



What Jesus comes to tell us in the gospel reading today
is simply this:
Do not be afraid.
Fear is not God’s dream for us.

God’s dream
is to give us everything.
God’s dream is to give us the whole kit and kaboodle of the kingdom.
Imagine that!


Jesus wants us to be dressed for action,
to be ready to receive what is offered to us.
He tries to tell us
how to make space for the kingdom in our lives,
where to find the oil that will keep our lamps burning bright.

Some of his advice we do not particularly want to hear:
Sell your possessions.
Give alms.
Where your treasure it,
there your heart will be also.

All Jesus is trying to teach us
is how to live
without being overwhelmed by despair and fear.

All Jesus is trying to teach us
is that possessions—
those things, that stuff—
the big stuff
like money, cars, houses, pensions--
can crumble and disappear
before our very eyes.
And the little stuff-
our Smartphones, designer purses, cute shoes,
our grande no fat-no foam latte--
may delight momentarily
but sooner or later wear out and are empty.


God wants us to have the real thing.
(And I’m not talking Coca-Cola!)

Part of our foolishness and our self-deception
is believing that worldly stuff can conquer fear .

Sometimes we even invite and allow thieves
to come live in our house—
these thieves come in many shapes and sizes--
alcohol, food, drugs,
work, shopping, lying, hoarding,violence—
we believe these thieves will protect us, give us peace.
But at best, these thieves numb us to our real feelings.
At worst, they can kill us
And kill the relationships that matter most to us.
These thieves separate us from God and one another.

Jesus could have said,
Don’t be so stupid, little flock.
But instead—and it’s important to remember his gentleness here,
Instead, he said,
Do not be afraid, little flock.

Do not be afraid
to let go of things that do not bring you peace.
Do not be afraid
to travel lightly in this world.
Do not be afraid
to be part of a little flock
that will be there to bleat and baah and make a ruckus
when you wander away
and will leap with joy
when you find your way home again.
Do not be afraid to face your fears.
Do not be afraid
because God is with you.
God loves you.
God dreams for you the everything.

I do not think it is a coincidence
That so many people ask for Psalm 23
be read at their burial service.
I want to close with two versions of the 23rd Psalm.

The first is from the Bay Psalm Book.
This was the first book printed in North America,
printed in 1640 in Cambridge, Massachusetts.
The Psalms in the Bay Psalm book
are metrical translations into English.

The second is a version written by Bobby McFerrin.
Remember Bobby Mc Ferrin—Don’t worry, be happy?

Listen to the two versions of this psalm as you hold in your hearts
the line from today’s gospel:
Do not be afraid little flock.

Psalm 23
(from The Bay Psalm Book)

The Lord to me a shepherd is
want therefore shall not I:
He in the folds of tender grass,
doth cause me down to lie:
To waters calm me gently leads
restore my soul doth he:
He doth in paths of righteousness
for his name’s sake lead me.
Yea, though in valley of death’s shade
I walk, none ill I’ll fear:
Because thou art with me, thy rod,
and staff my comfort are.
For me a table thou hast spread,
in presence of my foes:
Thou dost anoint my head with oil,
my cup it overflows.
Goodness and mercy surely shall
all my days follow me:
And in the Lord’s house I shall dwell
so long as days shall be. Amen.


This next version of Psalm 23 is from Bobby McFerrin.
He offers us a feminine image of God.
As you listen, remember Jesus’ words: Do not be afraid, little flock.

The Lord is my Shepherd, I have all I need,

She makes me lie down in green meadows,

Beside the still waters, She will lead.


She restores my soul, She rights my wrongs, 

She leads me in a path of good things,

And fills my heart with songs.


Even though I walk, through a dark and dreary land,

There is nothing that can shake me,

She has said She won't forsake me,

I'm in her hand.


She sets a table before me, in the presence of my foes,

She anoints my head with oil, 

And my cup overflows.


Surely, surely goodness and kindness will follow me,

All the days of my life,

And I will live in her house,

Forever, forever and ever.


Glory be to our Mother, and Daughter,

And to the Holy of Holies,

As it was in the beginning, is now and ever shall be,

World, without end.
Amen.

Sermon for Year C Proper 15

Settling up

Think back.
Think back to Christmas Eve.
We were here in this church,
and the lights were turned way down.
We held our little candles in the dark
and we sang:
Silent night, holy night…
Sleep in heavenly peace,

Well.
Today’s gospel is certainly not one of heavenly peace!
It’s as if Jesus has turned the spotlight on us,
and all we hear ringing in our ears is “You hypocrits!”
Jesus is shouting,
I came to bring fire to the earth
And how I wish
it was already kindled.

Yikes!
What happened to sweet baby Jesus?
What did we do?
In today’s gospel, it sounds like Jesus wants to torch us all!!

But wait!
Jesus is not talking about hellfire and damnation.
Jesus is referring to what his friend and cousin John the Baptizer said,
predicting that one would come
who would baptize not with just water,
but with the Holy Spirit and fire.
Remember the day of Pentecost?
When the Holy Spirit arrives
and flames shoot out the top of the disciples’ heads?
Just take a look at the painting hanging over our retable!
Do you see the fire?


Jesus does not want to throw us in a burning fire pit.
He’s just wondering what happen to our flames?
Where’s the Spirit now?

Jesus came to kindle love, to set our hearts on fire
with the love of God and the love for one another.

This is the fire that Jesus sees lacking, missing, absent.
To be absolutely blunt
Jesus is disappointed in the disciples—and in us.

Why?
Because instead of love,
Jesus looks out over the world, over his disciples,
and what he sees is conflict.

Not love-- but hatred and division.
Even over issues of religion.
This was not God’s hope, not God’s dream.

We take the gift of unconditional love
and we feed it into the shredder
like it’s junk mail.

In today’s gospel Jesus is asking us,
What on earth do your think you are doing?
Conflict and division abound.

Listen to some of these headlines and stories
from The New York Times this week:

Hospitals are battlegrounds of discontent
…patients or their relatives attacked more than 5,500 medical workers [in one year]

…[NY Mets baseball player]Francisco Rodriguez was charged with third-degree assault early Thursday morning after assaulting his father-in-law at Citi Field..

…Her parents began having screaming arguments, complete with shattering glassware.

…Bloody protests in Kashmir have led India to one of its most serious internal crises and signal the failure of decades of Indian efforts to win peace in the region.

That’s just a taste of the conflict on the national and world scene.
Many of us also know too well
what conflict in a family looks like, sounds like, feels like.
Conflict at work, conflict at school.
Conflict with our neighbor.

Jesus knew that loving one another was not going to be easy.
Jesus knew that there would be divisions and there would be disagreements.

But Jesus also knows we received the power
to work these things out.
Remember Pentecost?
Remember the Holy Spirit?
It landed on us, too!

It is much more difficult to face and work through a conflict,
a disagreement,
than to just punch someone, or write a nasty letter,
or to just walk away and avoid someone.

We are often willing to talk ad infinitum with everyone around us--
EXCEPT the person that we are criticizing, judging, raging against.
We’re on fire alright—but not with love.

Jesus tells us in this gospel passage what to do:
what to do before things get so out of control:
Make an effort.

Make an effort—those are Jesus’ exact words—
Make an effort to settle the case.

We can’t settle things if we don’t talk to one another.
We can’t settle things if we don’t listen to one another.


I have recently discovered
that you can turn on the television
almost any time of day or night
and find a courtroom reality show on some channel—
Judge Judy or Joe Brown or People’s Court.

These shows are everywhere.
And if you watch them
you quickly see how ridiculous most conflicts are.

People don’t talk to one another.
People don’t listen to one another.
People certainly haven’t even crossed the threshold of loving one another.
People certainly made no effort to take Jesus’ advice and try
to settle things before they arrive in the courtroom.

They take someone’s clothes and throw them into the yard or out a window.
They key someone’s car or slash their tires.
They take someone to court over a frivolous incident.

It never seems to cross their minds that they could be wrong,
and the other person could be right.
It never seems to cross their minds
that there are ways to settle disagreements
without someone having to be the loser.

I think Jesus is trying to teach his disciples something
that we still need to learn.
It is absolutely impossible to be on fire with the love of God
if our daily practice is to throw a bucket of cold water—
or worse—
on our neighbor.

Conflict
in the world.
in the community.
in the church.
In the family
In our soul.

Conflict only breeds more conflict.

Not a pretty picture.
No wonder Jesus is so fed up at the moment.
Yet,
I think Jesus also knew that real love is a difficult journey.

The letter to the Hebrews says,
Let us run with perseverance
the race that is set before us.
It doesn’t take perseverance to run an easy race, a short race.

We have to want to love God so much
that we don’t give up on trying to love other people.

What does it mean to really love?

There is a children’s book called The Velveteen Rabbit
by Margery Williams.
Some of you may know it.
It is the story of a cloth—a velveteen—rabbit.
The rabbit asks another stuffed animal, “What is real?”

The other stuffed animal, the Skin Horse, replies,
“When you are loved,
really loved, for a long time,
then you are real..
it’s not how you are made…
it’s a thing that happens to you…
it takes a long time…”

God really loves us
and God will keep loving us for a long time.
We are called to that same long term love.
God deeply desires for us to grow in love with one another.

This type of “real love” requires us, as the psalmist wrote,
“to behold and tend this vine.”

Tom and I tried a new form of gardening this year.
We have not weeded our garden at all.
That’s right.
We have not pulled one single weed.

We decided to that if we don’t care how the garden looks,
then weeding doesn’t matter.
The vegetables will grow
just as the weeds grow.
Together.
And there will be plenty of produce,
Plenty of “good fruit.”

What we have learned this summer is this:
We were wrong!!
Very, very wrong!!

If we don’t care enough to tend our gardens,
the weeds will choke out the good plants.

Weeds will suck up all the energy
that could be producing all that is good to eat.

This is what Jesus was trying to warn his disciples about.
Don’t let the weeds choke out what really matters.
Don’t let your harsh words and conflicts and divisions
choke out the love and grace that has been given to you--
and is so eager to grow---
but only if you tend it.


Love takes much more perseverance,
much more creativity,
much more patient-kindling of the fire
than abandoning ourselves
to the fast-growing weeds
of conflict and division.

Dorothy Day said,
“I really only love God
as much as I love the person
I love the least."

We can walk away and slam the door
or we can offer our neighbor a key.
We can build walls
or we can build bridges.
We can join the criticizers and complainers
or we can join the joyful cloud of witnesses.
Conflict or communion?

You may have read the book
Or seen the movie that is recently out in theatres—
Eat. Pray. Love.

This is what Jesus is asking us to do.
Not to re-enact the story in that book or movie
but the title is a fine guide to how we can make the effort
to settle our divisions and our disagreements.
Eat. Pray. Love.

Eat.
Come to this table and share the feast.
At God’s table
we receive food for the journey,
sustenance for running the race with perseverance.

Pray.
Prayer opens us in ways that are hard to believe
and impossible to understand.
Prayer is not a means of controlling the world,
prayer changes and transforms us.


Love.
Love God. Love one another.
Be prepared for the long haul.
Leave this place and go out into the world and love.
Give love away abundantly.

We have been given the power, given the fire.
We can choose to torch the world and one another—
or we can choose to use that fire to spread the good news
and to share the light of Christ.

Sermon for Year C Proper 13

No Bigger Barns Needed

The first summer Tom and I ever planted a garden
we planted about three long—I mean really long---rows
of zucchini.
We thought you only got one zucchini from each plant.

Needless to say by the end of the summer
we had A LOT of zucchini—
some about the size of small submarines!
If you want to understand abundance,
plant zucchini!

Now even novice gardeners don’t think of building newer, bigger barns
to house all their zucchini--
but we also don’t live in a country
that knows famine—
at least not in our lifetime.

I think this is important to understand
lest we be too judgmental
of the man who thinks he needs to build bigger barns
to house his abundance of crops.

This man has no doubt seen crops fail and people starve.
He doesn’t want that to happen to him.

Yes, we know this story as the parable of the rich fool.
And indeed, he is rich
and Jesus is quick to point out his foolishness.
But he is not a bad man.
He no doubt worked hard to produce these crops.

What Jesus wants us to understand from this parable
is that what we really need,
what we really long for,
what will make us truly happy has nothing to do with bigger barns.
Jesus is reminding us that life is short and unpredictable.
Keeping the abundance all to ourselves
will not lengthen our lives or make us happy.

It is easy to hear the parable and think “Oh, that man is so greedy!
I can’t believe he isn’t going to share.
How foolish to even think about tearing down his barns
just to build bigger ones!”

It is much more difficult to see our own greed and foolishness.
Our own “looking for love in all the wrong places.”

But parables are never about other people—
parables are always about us.
When Jesus starts in on a parable,
the hair on our arms should stand up and prickle,
because the truth is,
Jesus is saying,
Let me hold up this mirror right in front of your face.
Oh, Look! It’s you in this story!

Most of us have at least flirted with
the enticing prospect of winning the lottery
or being named the new American Idol--
suddenly having more money
than we know what to do with!

Our 21st century barns are not the type to hold extra grain—
our barn expansions are bigger houses, newer cars,
the latest toys and technology,
a rock-solid pension plan--
everything that money can buy!

It makes us extremely nervous and fearful
when we think we might not have enough—
for now or for the future.

That same anxiety and fear about the future
is probably what prompted the man to approach Jesus
and ask him to settle a dispute over an inheritance.
He wanted more. He wanted to feel secure.

Jesus doesn’t step into that triangle of family dispute
but instead tells a story—a parable—to try to help the man
(and us)
see the danger of caring so much about material possessions.


I don’t think Jesus is saying that material things are all bad.
We do live in a material world
and in a sense we are all, as Madonna pointed out,
material girls—and boys!

Some of the best work we do,
as individuals and as the church,
is outreach done to improve the material lives
of people in need—
to build and repair houses,
to provide food and clothing.
to purchase medical supplies
for those hit by disaster.
There are very real material needs in our community and in the world.
Material needs that are not one bit frivolous.

But the way we worry and fret over material things—
especially our own material things--
often distracts us from what really matters.

Sit across from a doctor who tells you or someone you love
that you have stage IV cancer,
and I imagine the last thing on your mind
will be what kind of car you drive,
or whether you should upgrade your mobile smartphone
or even your 401(k).

I think as Christians this is a very familiar message:
we are called to live believing in God’s abundance
not scarcity.
And we are called to give and to share accordingly.

Yet it is a struggle.
A daily struggle.

We tend to think of people like Bill Gates and Donald Trump
and Lady Gaga as the “rich” ones.
Me?
I’m not rich.
And then Jesus holds up that mirror.
Oh.

The mirror asks hard questions.

Was having breakfast this morning a choice for you?
Were you able to get the needed loan to buy a car?
Do you have cable tv? Internet? TIVO?
Do you have clean and safe water to drink?
Do we have so much food that we let mold grow on the leftovers—
you know that bowl that got pushed to the back of the refrigerator—
and then hold our nose as we dump it out?

I remember my first week at seminary.
There was a garbage can just outside the door
where we put our lunch trays and dishes to be washed.
There was a student from Tanzania
who stood at that garbage can weeping that first week.
When asked what was wrong,
he replied,
“There is enough food being thrown away
to feed my entire village.”

Rich?
Indeed we are rich.

Tom and I recently saw the movie “Winter’s Bone.”
If you are a lover of movies,
I highly recommend it though I will warn you that it is hard to watch.
It was a powerful reminder to me
that there are families right now, in our own communities,
who are hungry,
who live daily with the reality of violence,
who do not have enough
and no one seems to really notice.

In one scene the little boy asks his older sister—
knowing that their neighbors have just killed a deer and have meat—
“Couldn’t we just ask them to give us some?”

The sister replies, “No. You don’t ask for what should be offered.”

I have thought a lot about that line.
When I first heard it I thought it was just the older sister’s pride speaking.
And probably that is part of it.

But I think there is a powerful spiritual truth to that statement.
Why should she have to ask?
When there is plenty—why are we—the neighbors—not offering?
Are we so completely blinded by our overflowing barns?

The Greek word is pleonexia—it translates literally as
“the yearning to have more.”

The yearning to have more.
Pleonexia sounds nicer than greed, doesn’t it?
But it is really the same beast.
It is a beast we know too well.
We are too often dissatisfied with the manna of enough;
we yearn for the more and the more and the more.

This may be the way of the world,
but it is clearly not the way of God.

Why must we be asked to be generous?
Why must we be prodded to share?
Shouldn’t we just do that automatically as people of God?

We fool ourselves in believing
that if we can just get enough money in the bank
and food on our shelves
and possessions in our houses
then we will be safe.
THEN we can be generous.
THEN we can give.

Jesus tells this parable to remind us that it is always later than we think.

The way to real life is to give our lives away,
to offer before we are asked,
to share all we have, all we are.
to put aside our rich and foolish ways.

Bigger barns are not needed..
Only bigger hearts.