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.
Monday, September 6, 2010
Wednesday, August 25, 2010
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.
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.
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.
Wednesday, August 4, 2010
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.
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.
Monday, July 26, 2010
Sermon Year C Proper 12
Sermon for Year C Proper 12
July 25, 2010
Trinity Episcopal Church, Chocowinity, NC
The Rev. Jeanne Finan
Ask, Search, Knock
Many months ago, Sonny Browne,
your beloved rector and my beloved friend,
called and asked me if I might want to supply for him
while he was on sabbatical.
Sonny, I replied,
I would love to help you in any way I can,
but I have my own parish—St. John’s in Asheville.
Sonny said, I know that --
but I just thought I would call.
I just thought I would ask.
I thought perhaps you and Tom (my husband)
might like to come and enjoy a week in beautiful Chocowinity.
Most of you know Sonny well enough
that you know it is difficult to say no to him.
He has such a nice way of asking.
And who could refuse an invitation like that?
Who would not want to leave the high cool mountains of North Carolina
in late July,
come east across the state--
to where the heat index is predicted to be 110 degrees today!
The truth is--it’s been hot in Asheville too!
The truth is Chocowinity is a lovely place
and you, the people of Trinity, are as lovely as Sonny told me.
Thank you for the invitation to join you today.
Unfortunately, my husband was unable to join me.
He is the director of the Valle Crucis Conference Center—
just as you have Trinity Center in this diocese
we have Valle Crucis (which is Latin for “Vale of the Cross”)
as our Episcopal Conference Center in Western NC.
Tom sends you his greetings and an invitation
that for your next parish retreat you should come to the mountains!
Our gospel reading for this Sunday has the disciples asking Jesus:
Lord, teach us to pray.
Teach us to pray.
Prayer is so important, so vital to our lives as people of God.
Theologian and scholar C. S. Lewis wrote:
I pray because I can’t help myself.
I pray because I’m helpless.
I pray because the need flows out of me all the time—
waking and sleeping.
It doesn’t change God—it changes me.
When the disciples plead, “Teach us to pray,”
Jesus responds by teaching them what we now call
“The Lord’s Prayer”:
“Okay,” says Jesus,
“try this…
when you pray, say..
Father, hallowed be your name,
Your kingdom come…
Jesus is giving them the words to get them started--
much as we might say,
..turn to page 364
in the Book of Common Prayer.
When we are without words, for whatever reason,
words are given.
But Jesus also knows the disciples are not just asking for words.
Jesus knows their real longing is for a deeper relationship with God,
a connectedness that seems missing.
In a way they are saying,
You know Jesus, we must not be doing this prayer thing right
because it seems like God isn’t hearing us.
So many of our prayers just don’t get answered.
Ask and it will be given you.
Search and you will find.
Knock and the door will be opened for you.
This does not always seem to play out in our lives.
Ask?
What about that pony I prayed for when I was 7 years old?
What about my friend who died
when everyone I know was praying for her to live?
God, didn’t you hear us asking?
Search?
What about that job that just doesn’t seem to be appearing?
What about true love? What about a bigger bank account?
Where are they?
God, haven’t you seen us looking?
Knock?
Oh, we knock. We knock and knock and knock.
But we are not going to hang around on your front porch all day, God-
waiting for you to come and answer the door.
We’re busy too you know!
God, maybe you can just get on Facebook--
and we can be friends that way.
God?
Where are you?
Why do you not hear my prayers?
I think God might say
Why do you think I do not hear?
Why do you think I do not care?
Why do you think I do not love you?
Somewhere along the way
we got sidetracked into believing that we could boss God around,
set the agenda, get our way, put God on our time schedule,
and do it through prayer.
Our little token offering to God so we can get what we want.
But prayer is not a means, as one writer put it,
of ringing up God like some cosmic bellboy.
Jesus is trying to teach his disciples
that prayer is connecting with God
from the deepest part of our being—
from the center of our souls—
and learning not only to speak from that center
but to listen from that center place.
Writer Anne Lamott says we only really need two prayers:
The first prayer is Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!
The second prayer is Help me! Help me! Help me!
I like those two prayers. They are honest and direct.
Prayer is about being brutally honest and open.
Prayer is sharing with One
who cares more about us than we can ask or imagine.
Prayer is not about getting our way or our wishes.
Prayer is about speaking from our heart—
our deepest desires, our darkest fears and our most illuminated hopes.
The truth is
God already knows all these things.
Prayer is offering it all to God.
Prayer is about the asking, the searching, the knocking.
It’s in the process, the practice of prayer
that is when we come to feel God’s presence,
to know God’s love.
Sonny and I have a mutual friend
also from our days together at Virginia Theological Seminary.
Her name is Glenda McQueen and she is from Panama.
After we graduated, Glenda returned to Panama,
was ordained to the priesthood
and was assigned by her Bishop
to serve 4 parishes
in the somewhat remote but very beautiful province
of Boca del Toro.
One of these parishes is on an island
and the only way to get there was is take a taxi—
a taxi that comes in the form of a canoe.
Her first Sunday morning serving
Glenda did the early morning service at one of her churches
and then raced down to catch the canoe taxi
out to the island for her next service of the day.
But the canoe
had already left.
She was very distressed.
She knew she was going to be very late
by the time the taxi traveled across the water,
dropped his passengers on the island,
came back across the water,
picked her up,
and then went back over to the island.
She sat there worrying and fretting and feeling terrible.
Her fear was that people would give up on her
and leave and go home.
Finally—finally-- the canoe appeared.
She climbed in.
She was so anxious by this point
that she had to truly resist
grabbing the paddle right out of the boatman’s hands.
No need to tell the boatman to “step on it”—
because a canoe can go only so fast.
Plus she had a strong sense
that the church would already be empty
by the time she arrived—
almost 2 hours late.
Not a very good beginning for her first Sunday.
But when she arrived,
the church was full.
No one had left.
Everyone had waited.
They had gone ahead and had their refreshments
and social time--—their “coffee hour”---
before the service.
When she arrived,
no one tapped their watch,
not one person said, “You’re late!”
No one was angry or disappointed with her.
Quite the opposite.
They were happy to see her.
They embraced her.
brought her something cool to drink.
When she began to apologize they stopped her.
It’s fine, they said.
We knew you would come.
We knew you would come.
Imagine.
Imagine if we approached our prayers with that spirit of grace.
Lord, teach us to pray…
Teach us
to say our prayers.
to pray from our hearts.
to ask and search and knock—
and to not always be watching the clock or the calendar.
Teach us to empty ourselves of anger and disappointment and skepticism
and let our hearts be filled only
with love.
Help us to resist
trying to grab the paddles
or hurry the boatman.
Teach us to pray with hearts that say
I know you will come.
I know you will come, God.
I know you will come.
Amen.
July 25, 2010
Trinity Episcopal Church, Chocowinity, NC
The Rev. Jeanne Finan
Ask, Search, Knock
Many months ago, Sonny Browne,
your beloved rector and my beloved friend,
called and asked me if I might want to supply for him
while he was on sabbatical.
Sonny, I replied,
I would love to help you in any way I can,
but I have my own parish—St. John’s in Asheville.
Sonny said, I know that --
but I just thought I would call.
I just thought I would ask.
I thought perhaps you and Tom (my husband)
might like to come and enjoy a week in beautiful Chocowinity.
Most of you know Sonny well enough
that you know it is difficult to say no to him.
He has such a nice way of asking.
And who could refuse an invitation like that?
Who would not want to leave the high cool mountains of North Carolina
in late July,
come east across the state--
to where the heat index is predicted to be 110 degrees today!
The truth is--it’s been hot in Asheville too!
The truth is Chocowinity is a lovely place
and you, the people of Trinity, are as lovely as Sonny told me.
Thank you for the invitation to join you today.
Unfortunately, my husband was unable to join me.
He is the director of the Valle Crucis Conference Center—
just as you have Trinity Center in this diocese
we have Valle Crucis (which is Latin for “Vale of the Cross”)
as our Episcopal Conference Center in Western NC.
Tom sends you his greetings and an invitation
that for your next parish retreat you should come to the mountains!
Our gospel reading for this Sunday has the disciples asking Jesus:
Lord, teach us to pray.
Teach us to pray.
Prayer is so important, so vital to our lives as people of God.
Theologian and scholar C. S. Lewis wrote:
I pray because I can’t help myself.
I pray because I’m helpless.
I pray because the need flows out of me all the time—
waking and sleeping.
It doesn’t change God—it changes me.
When the disciples plead, “Teach us to pray,”
Jesus responds by teaching them what we now call
“The Lord’s Prayer”:
“Okay,” says Jesus,
“try this…
when you pray, say..
Father, hallowed be your name,
Your kingdom come…
Jesus is giving them the words to get them started--
much as we might say,
..turn to page 364
in the Book of Common Prayer.
When we are without words, for whatever reason,
words are given.
But Jesus also knows the disciples are not just asking for words.
Jesus knows their real longing is for a deeper relationship with God,
a connectedness that seems missing.
In a way they are saying,
You know Jesus, we must not be doing this prayer thing right
because it seems like God isn’t hearing us.
So many of our prayers just don’t get answered.
Ask and it will be given you.
Search and you will find.
Knock and the door will be opened for you.
This does not always seem to play out in our lives.
Ask?
What about that pony I prayed for when I was 7 years old?
What about my friend who died
when everyone I know was praying for her to live?
God, didn’t you hear us asking?
Search?
What about that job that just doesn’t seem to be appearing?
What about true love? What about a bigger bank account?
Where are they?
God, haven’t you seen us looking?
Knock?
Oh, we knock. We knock and knock and knock.
But we are not going to hang around on your front porch all day, God-
waiting for you to come and answer the door.
We’re busy too you know!
God, maybe you can just get on Facebook--
and we can be friends that way.
God?
Where are you?
Why do you not hear my prayers?
I think God might say
Why do you think I do not hear?
Why do you think I do not care?
Why do you think I do not love you?
Somewhere along the way
we got sidetracked into believing that we could boss God around,
set the agenda, get our way, put God on our time schedule,
and do it through prayer.
Our little token offering to God so we can get what we want.
But prayer is not a means, as one writer put it,
of ringing up God like some cosmic bellboy.
Jesus is trying to teach his disciples
that prayer is connecting with God
from the deepest part of our being—
from the center of our souls—
and learning not only to speak from that center
but to listen from that center place.
Writer Anne Lamott says we only really need two prayers:
The first prayer is Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!
The second prayer is Help me! Help me! Help me!
I like those two prayers. They are honest and direct.
Prayer is about being brutally honest and open.
Prayer is sharing with One
who cares more about us than we can ask or imagine.
Prayer is not about getting our way or our wishes.
Prayer is about speaking from our heart—
our deepest desires, our darkest fears and our most illuminated hopes.
The truth is
God already knows all these things.
Prayer is offering it all to God.
Prayer is about the asking, the searching, the knocking.
It’s in the process, the practice of prayer
that is when we come to feel God’s presence,
to know God’s love.
Sonny and I have a mutual friend
also from our days together at Virginia Theological Seminary.
Her name is Glenda McQueen and she is from Panama.
After we graduated, Glenda returned to Panama,
was ordained to the priesthood
and was assigned by her Bishop
to serve 4 parishes
in the somewhat remote but very beautiful province
of Boca del Toro.
One of these parishes is on an island
and the only way to get there was is take a taxi—
a taxi that comes in the form of a canoe.
Her first Sunday morning serving
Glenda did the early morning service at one of her churches
and then raced down to catch the canoe taxi
out to the island for her next service of the day.
But the canoe
had already left.
She was very distressed.
She knew she was going to be very late
by the time the taxi traveled across the water,
dropped his passengers on the island,
came back across the water,
picked her up,
and then went back over to the island.
She sat there worrying and fretting and feeling terrible.
Her fear was that people would give up on her
and leave and go home.
Finally—finally-- the canoe appeared.
She climbed in.
She was so anxious by this point
that she had to truly resist
grabbing the paddle right out of the boatman’s hands.
No need to tell the boatman to “step on it”—
because a canoe can go only so fast.
Plus she had a strong sense
that the church would already be empty
by the time she arrived—
almost 2 hours late.
Not a very good beginning for her first Sunday.
But when she arrived,
the church was full.
No one had left.
Everyone had waited.
They had gone ahead and had their refreshments
and social time--—their “coffee hour”---
before the service.
When she arrived,
no one tapped their watch,
not one person said, “You’re late!”
No one was angry or disappointed with her.
Quite the opposite.
They were happy to see her.
They embraced her.
brought her something cool to drink.
When she began to apologize they stopped her.
It’s fine, they said.
We knew you would come.
We knew you would come.
Imagine.
Imagine if we approached our prayers with that spirit of grace.
Lord, teach us to pray…
Teach us
to say our prayers.
to pray from our hearts.
to ask and search and knock—
and to not always be watching the clock or the calendar.
Teach us to empty ourselves of anger and disappointment and skepticism
and let our hearts be filled only
with love.
Help us to resist
trying to grab the paddles
or hurry the boatman.
Teach us to pray with hearts that say
I know you will come.
I know you will come, God.
I know you will come.
Amen.
Tuesday, July 20, 2010
Sermon for Year C Proper 10
In the Ditch
Today’s gospel is probably the best known of all of Jesus’ parables.
We call it the parable of the Good Samaritan.
Even for those who are not Christians or a churchgoers,
this story is a familiar one.
Interestingly, the reading we hear today is not just the parable.
The reading starts with a lawyer asking Jesus a question.
It’s a question that we all might want to ask Jesus if we were to meet him
ace-to-face.
So Jesus, what is life really about?
What do I need to do
to be saved,
to go to heaven,
to live a good and holy life?
What is really important?
What should my priorities be?
Jesus doesn’t answer immediately.
He turns the table
and asks the lawyer a question.
One midrash story says that someone once asked Jesus,
“Why do you always answer a question with another question?”
And Jesus responded, “Why not?”
So in good rabbinical tradition,
Jesus asks the lawyer,
“What do you think?
You know the law.
What do you read there?”
And the lawyer responds,
“Well, the law says,
‘You shall love the Lord your God
with all your heart, and with all your soul,
and with all your mind;
and your neighbor as yourself.’
“Bingo!” says Jesus.
“You got it right.
Now just do it. Go and do likewise.”
“Wait, wait, wait, wait, wait!” says the lawyer.
“WHO is my neighbor?”
Who is my neighbor?
That is really the question in this gospel reading today.
It is a question we struggle with still.
Who qualifies to be loved?
How far do my responsibilities go to my neighbor?
But once again,
Jesus does not give an answer.
This time Jesus tells a story.
A parable.
“A man was going down from Jerusalem to Jericho…”
Jerusalem sits on the highest elevation in Palestine.
Jericho is down by the Dead Sea at the lowest place on this planet.
The road between the two was quite dangerous,
Narrow, winding, with desert on both sides.
It was an easy place for robbers to hide and then attack someone,
rob them, and slip back off into the desert.
None of Jesus’ listeners would have been surprised
to hear that someone got robbed
on the road from Jerusalem to Jericho.
Then along comes a priest.
This was not an Episcopal priest.
This was a Priest from the Temple.
This was someone who held a very high and powerful position.
The priest sees the man—stripped, half-dead, lying by the side of the road.
The priest does not stop.
He passes by.
He does not even cross the road to see about the man.
He just keeps going.
Then along comes a Levite.
Levites also served in the Temple.
They weren’t as high up as the Priest
But they had important responsibilities.
The Levite sees the man
And he too passes by.
The Priest—symbol of all that was religious—passes by.
The Levite—symbol of a high position in society—passes by.
Then along comes a Samaritan.
To understand Samaritans in first century Palestine
is to know that they were considered “half-breeds.”
It was not so much about place or geography,
as about race and culture and religion.
When a Jewish person married a non-Jewish person,
their children were labeled Samaritans.
Samaritans were ostracized.
They were shunned.
Samaritans were not the kind of people
you wanted to associate with in that day and time.
Yet who is it that stops to help?
Who is it that bandages the wounds?
Who is it that puts the injured man on his own animal,
Takes him to an inn, and pays for it all out of his own pocket?
The Priest? Nope.
The Levite? No.
The Samaritan? Yes.
The fact that it was a Samaritan who stopped to help,
The fact that it was the Samaritan who saw the man in the ditch
As his neighbor—
These were, indeed, shocking facts—
not just to the lawyer
but to anyone listening that day to this parable.
Even today it is a shocking story.
Who is our neighbor?
Who are we to love as much as we love ourselves?
Are we really called to love people we see in the ditch?
This gospel was the gospel reading of the first sermon I ever preached.
I was doing my chaplaincy at Wake Forest University Medical Center
In the summer of 2001,
And we had a chapel service twice a week.
I was on the schedule to preach.
So as I begin to work on my sermon
I asked my husband Tom,
“Who are you in this story?”
And he immediately responded—I’m the man in the ditch.
I was stunned.
What? I asked.
I’m the guy in the ditch.
Now you see, I had always seen myself as the Good Samaritan.
The person who would stop and help.
The person who would go out of the way
To offer compassion, mercy.
But my husband made a powerful point.
Until we can see ourselves as the person in the ditch,
the person who is shunned, and ostracized
and essentially shut out from society,
we are probably not going to be able to truly offer compassion, mercy,
to others.
Years ago our son Jody and his wife Natalie decided—
this was long before they had children—
that they wanted to live in Hawaii.
Not just visit Hawaii, but live there.
So they moved.
They did not really have enough financial resources
for a major move like that,
but they had hope and confidence and they were young.
That was a good thing because they also did not have jobs
When they moved.
They both have extensive work experience in outdoor leadership programs,
working in camps and leading backpacks, teaching horseback riding, and such.
They assumed that getting a job of that sort would be easy in Hawaii.
Wrong.
So after many dead ends and money running out,
they both got jobs in a restaurant--
our son cooking and our daughter-in-law waitressing.
It was an eye-opening experience for both of them,
living and working in Hawaii.
In one phone conversation with our son,
he was very distressed
at the way some of the native Hawaiians
treated him and Natalie.
“I’ve never done anything to them, Mom.
They throw rocks at us when we ride by on our bikes.
They call us ‘haole’.
(which is really just a Hawaiian word that means “white person”—
though it can certainly be said in a tone of voice
that makes it an insult).
Our son continued,
“The Hawaiians I work with at the restaurant
do not want to be our friends—they make it very clear.
They hardly speak to us.
They think I have taken a job away from someone
who deserves it more.
We’re hard workers. We’re nice people.
But they don’t care.”
It was painful to listen to my adult son experiencing prejudice first hand,
experiencing racism.
That is a very uncommon experience for any of us with white skin.
But I also felt that in the long run,
it could be a good experience.
Until we are the ones in the ditch,
it is really hard to understand why loving our neighbor really matters.
If we really open our eyes,
we will see that much of the world lies half-dead on the road.
We have our many comforts, our good life—
And this parable today calls us to look at all our abundance
And blessings and to ask ourselves,
Who is my neighbor?
What am I called to do?
What am I called to give?
How am I called to love?
Love God. I think that is the easy part.
Love our neighbor.
That is much more challenging.
But it is the challenge we are called to face.
It is the road we are called to cross.
Jesus is giving a heavy message to us this morning—
If a Samaritan can cross the road and have pity,
have mercy, have compassion,
Why can’t you?
Why can’t we?
Today’s gospel is probably the best known of all of Jesus’ parables.
We call it the parable of the Good Samaritan.
Even for those who are not Christians or a churchgoers,
this story is a familiar one.
Interestingly, the reading we hear today is not just the parable.
The reading starts with a lawyer asking Jesus a question.
It’s a question that we all might want to ask Jesus if we were to meet him
ace-to-face.
So Jesus, what is life really about?
What do I need to do
to be saved,
to go to heaven,
to live a good and holy life?
What is really important?
What should my priorities be?
Jesus doesn’t answer immediately.
He turns the table
and asks the lawyer a question.
One midrash story says that someone once asked Jesus,
“Why do you always answer a question with another question?”
And Jesus responded, “Why not?”
So in good rabbinical tradition,
Jesus asks the lawyer,
“What do you think?
You know the law.
What do you read there?”
And the lawyer responds,
“Well, the law says,
‘You shall love the Lord your God
with all your heart, and with all your soul,
and with all your mind;
and your neighbor as yourself.’
“Bingo!” says Jesus.
“You got it right.
Now just do it. Go and do likewise.”
“Wait, wait, wait, wait, wait!” says the lawyer.
“WHO is my neighbor?”
Who is my neighbor?
That is really the question in this gospel reading today.
It is a question we struggle with still.
Who qualifies to be loved?
How far do my responsibilities go to my neighbor?
But once again,
Jesus does not give an answer.
This time Jesus tells a story.
A parable.
“A man was going down from Jerusalem to Jericho…”
Jerusalem sits on the highest elevation in Palestine.
Jericho is down by the Dead Sea at the lowest place on this planet.
The road between the two was quite dangerous,
Narrow, winding, with desert on both sides.
It was an easy place for robbers to hide and then attack someone,
rob them, and slip back off into the desert.
None of Jesus’ listeners would have been surprised
to hear that someone got robbed
on the road from Jerusalem to Jericho.
Then along comes a priest.
This was not an Episcopal priest.
This was a Priest from the Temple.
This was someone who held a very high and powerful position.
The priest sees the man—stripped, half-dead, lying by the side of the road.
The priest does not stop.
He passes by.
He does not even cross the road to see about the man.
He just keeps going.
Then along comes a Levite.
Levites also served in the Temple.
They weren’t as high up as the Priest
But they had important responsibilities.
The Levite sees the man
And he too passes by.
The Priest—symbol of all that was religious—passes by.
The Levite—symbol of a high position in society—passes by.
Then along comes a Samaritan.
To understand Samaritans in first century Palestine
is to know that they were considered “half-breeds.”
It was not so much about place or geography,
as about race and culture and religion.
When a Jewish person married a non-Jewish person,
their children were labeled Samaritans.
Samaritans were ostracized.
They were shunned.
Samaritans were not the kind of people
you wanted to associate with in that day and time.
Yet who is it that stops to help?
Who is it that bandages the wounds?
Who is it that puts the injured man on his own animal,
Takes him to an inn, and pays for it all out of his own pocket?
The Priest? Nope.
The Levite? No.
The Samaritan? Yes.
The fact that it was a Samaritan who stopped to help,
The fact that it was the Samaritan who saw the man in the ditch
As his neighbor—
These were, indeed, shocking facts—
not just to the lawyer
but to anyone listening that day to this parable.
Even today it is a shocking story.
Who is our neighbor?
Who are we to love as much as we love ourselves?
Are we really called to love people we see in the ditch?
This gospel was the gospel reading of the first sermon I ever preached.
I was doing my chaplaincy at Wake Forest University Medical Center
In the summer of 2001,
And we had a chapel service twice a week.
I was on the schedule to preach.
So as I begin to work on my sermon
I asked my husband Tom,
“Who are you in this story?”
And he immediately responded—I’m the man in the ditch.
I was stunned.
What? I asked.
I’m the guy in the ditch.
Now you see, I had always seen myself as the Good Samaritan.
The person who would stop and help.
The person who would go out of the way
To offer compassion, mercy.
But my husband made a powerful point.
Until we can see ourselves as the person in the ditch,
the person who is shunned, and ostracized
and essentially shut out from society,
we are probably not going to be able to truly offer compassion, mercy,
to others.
Years ago our son Jody and his wife Natalie decided—
this was long before they had children—
that they wanted to live in Hawaii.
Not just visit Hawaii, but live there.
So they moved.
They did not really have enough financial resources
for a major move like that,
but they had hope and confidence and they were young.
That was a good thing because they also did not have jobs
When they moved.
They both have extensive work experience in outdoor leadership programs,
working in camps and leading backpacks, teaching horseback riding, and such.
They assumed that getting a job of that sort would be easy in Hawaii.
Wrong.
So after many dead ends and money running out,
they both got jobs in a restaurant--
our son cooking and our daughter-in-law waitressing.
It was an eye-opening experience for both of them,
living and working in Hawaii.
In one phone conversation with our son,
he was very distressed
at the way some of the native Hawaiians
treated him and Natalie.
“I’ve never done anything to them, Mom.
They throw rocks at us when we ride by on our bikes.
They call us ‘haole’.
(which is really just a Hawaiian word that means “white person”—
though it can certainly be said in a tone of voice
that makes it an insult).
Our son continued,
“The Hawaiians I work with at the restaurant
do not want to be our friends—they make it very clear.
They hardly speak to us.
They think I have taken a job away from someone
who deserves it more.
We’re hard workers. We’re nice people.
But they don’t care.”
It was painful to listen to my adult son experiencing prejudice first hand,
experiencing racism.
That is a very uncommon experience for any of us with white skin.
But I also felt that in the long run,
it could be a good experience.
Until we are the ones in the ditch,
it is really hard to understand why loving our neighbor really matters.
If we really open our eyes,
we will see that much of the world lies half-dead on the road.
We have our many comforts, our good life—
And this parable today calls us to look at all our abundance
And blessings and to ask ourselves,
Who is my neighbor?
What am I called to do?
What am I called to give?
How am I called to love?
Love God. I think that is the easy part.
Love our neighbor.
That is much more challenging.
But it is the challenge we are called to face.
It is the road we are called to cross.
Jesus is giving a heavy message to us this morning—
If a Samaritan can cross the road and have pity,
have mercy, have compassion,
Why can’t you?
Why can’t we?
Sunday, July 4, 2010
Sermon for Year C Proper 9 July 4, 2010
Scotland the Brave
Some of you may be wondering why we have a piper here today—
Why have Scotland represented on the 4th of July?
Isn’t this day all about us? All about America?
The answer to those questions is yes and no.
There is a deep connection
between the Episcopal Church of the United States
and the Scottish Episcopal Church.
And it has to do primarily with what happened after the American colonies
declared their independence from Great Britain.
But first a look at the events that led to this eventual connection.
During the American Revolution,
on July 2, 1776, the Continental Congress voted and approved
a resolution of independence from Great Britain.
After this resolution was approved,
the Congress then turned its attention to
the Declaration of Independence,
a statement explaining this decision.
Most of you know that Thomas Jefferson headed the Committee of Five
that wrote the Declaration.
Just as they do today, Congress debated and revised the Declaration
And finally approved it—on July 4th.
Interestingly, a day earlier John Adams had written to his wife Abigail:
The second day of July, 1776, will be the most memorable epoch in the history of America. I am apt to believe that it will be celebrated by succeeding generations as the great anniversary festival. It ought to be commemorated as the day of deliverance, by solemn acts of devotion to God Almighty. It ought to be solemnized with pomp and parade, with shows, games, sports, guns, bells, bonfires, and illuminations, from one end of this continent to the other, from this time forward forever more.
Now John Adams’ prediction was off by two days.
From the very beginning,
Americans celebrated their independence on July 4th,
the date shown on the Declaration of Independence.
John Adams predicted the celebration would be July 2
because that was the date the resolution was approved
in a closed session of the Congress.
It is interesting that Adams said this day of Independence
should be celebrated first by acts of devotion “to God Almighty.”
Then he goes on about parades and bonfires and games and illuminations.
And if you are wondering, as I did,
if fireworks had been invented in 1776
and was John Adams referring to fireworks
when he wrote illuminations,
then I can tell you I looked it up
and found out that fireworks
have been around since the 12th century==
when they were invented in China.
I don’t know if they had fireworks on that first 4th of July celebration—
but we have certainly made up for that in the years that have followed.
I am not sure we score very highly when it comes to first
celebrating our independence by acts of devotion to God.
It is unusual that July 4th comes on a Sunday.
If the date falls in midweek,
it tends to go by without much fanfare at all in the church.
And in truth,
because no secular event can trump a Sunday,
our liturgical calendar this year
tells us to transfer July 4th to Monday, July 5th.
But when I read John Adams letter about celebrating the 4th
(well, he said the 2nd)
with acts of devotion to God Almighty,
it seemed highly appropriate
that we acknowledge this day—this celebration—
in our worship.
The readings for today
are the readings assigned for this 6th Sunday after Pentecost.
Our gospel reading today
focuses on Jesus sending others out into the world,
out to continue God’s mission.
It is undeniable that part of God’s mission is
that all people should live as free people.
We hear that message
over and over and over in scripture—
both in the Old Testatment and the New Testament.
The writers of our Declaration of Independence based this right for freedom
on rights they believed came directly from God:
We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable rights, that among these are life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness.
Those writers of the Declaration of Independence proclaimed
that our freedom was a gift from God.
Given to everyone.
If we ourselves claim to be people of God,
and Americans,
then we can’t just rush out to the fireworks celebrations
and the picnics.
It is important to take at least a little time
to ponder how we are living into this gift, this blessing
of living as free people.
It is important to take at least a little time
to consider what we are doing in our lives, in our church, in our nation
what we are doing to bring about and assure the freedom of others.
According to those who gathered at that 2nd Continental Congress,
according to those who have lived fully into that Declaration
with respect to those who give their lives for freedom--
everyone—everyone—
regardless of national origin, gender,
economic, social or political status—
has rights that are given by the grace of God—
and no one has the right
to threaten or take away
life, liberty or the pursuit of happiness.
It is something for us to seriously ponder and pray about
when we consider others who desperately desire freedom.
There is no doubt that God calls us to stand up and speak up
so that all God’s people might be free.
It is not easy and often it is not popular
to speak and fight for those who do not share the freedom
we often take for granted.
Fighting for these rights,
for ourselves and for others throughout the world,
is indeed often
like being sent out as lambs into the midst of wolves.
Fighting does not always mean bearing arms.
Fighting is not just about weapons and wars.
We fight with our votes,
We fight with our voices,
We fight with our wallets.
We fight with our prayers.
But there is no doubt—
either Biblically or in how we were shaped as a nation—
that we are called to value life,
to value freedom.
and to value happiness.
For ourselves and for others.
But what is the connection between Scotland and the Episcopal Church?
The connection is
that if it were not for Scotland, the Scottish Episcopal Church,
who stood up for our American Episcopal Church,
we likely would not exist as a denomination
in the United States today.
If a few Scottish people
had not cared about their brothers and sisters in Christ
in a land far away,
in a place where many of them had never been
and would never go—
a land—the new country the United States of America—
and her people-- which were at that time
were viewed as revolutionaries,
ingrates, terrorists even.
Yet Scotland looked beyond all of that
and reached out to help—in the name of God.
Before the revolutionary war,
the church here was the Church of England.
Because remember, we were part of England.
We were a colony.
During the colonial period, the entire continent of America
was part of the Diocese of London.
Although the truth is,
the Bishop of London never once visited the congregations
here in America.
There were no confirmations.
Remember? Your priest can baptize, marry and bury,
but it takes a Bishop to confirm,
to make you a full member of the Episcopal Church.
There were no ordinations.
A bishop must lay hands upon one’s head
to be ordained a priest or a deacon.
There were no bishop consecrations,
because it takes a minimum of three bishops
to consecrate a new bishop.
So needless to say,
the church in America, even before the Revolutionary War,
was none to happy that the Bishop of London
never set foot or eye upon our spacious skies,
or purple mountains majesty.
We had long been separated by the shining sea.
After the revolutionary war,
ten clergymen (and they were all men in those days)
met in Connecticut in 1783
and elected Samuel Seabury as Bishop.
Now Samuel Seabury traveled to England—
as he was elected but still needed to be consecrated Bishop—
and that takes other Bishops (at least 3).
But no bishops in the Church of England would consecrate him--
UNLESS he would take the required oath of loyalty
to the British Monarchy.
And he would not.
So Samuel Seabury went on to Scotland.
And on November 14,1784, at St. Andrew’s Cathedral in Aberdeen,
Samuel Seabury was consecrated Bishop for America.
And it was this act that officially began
the worldwide Anglican communion.
Thank you, Scotland!
I know it is not the origin of the pipe tune Scotland the Brave,
but I always think of the Scottish Episcopal Church
defying the Church of England by consecrating
Samuel Seabury as our first American Bishop.
Scotland was brave indeed to do this.
The Church of Scotland felt that being bound together by God
overruled any political boundaries or national allegiances.
Over 200 years ago the people of the Scottish Episcopal Church
looked upon us as their neighbors
and reached out to us
so that our church might continue.
So that we would have the freedom
to worship as we desired.
Life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness.
God only wants the best for us.
For all of us,
for all God’s people.
Those of us who have life, liberty and happiness in abundance
are called by God
to fight the good fight for those who do not.
To reach out to those who are on the fringes.
To reach beyond borders and boundaries.
This is how we continue God's mission to the world.
Some of you may be wondering why we have a piper here today—
Why have Scotland represented on the 4th of July?
Isn’t this day all about us? All about America?
The answer to those questions is yes and no.
There is a deep connection
between the Episcopal Church of the United States
and the Scottish Episcopal Church.
And it has to do primarily with what happened after the American colonies
declared their independence from Great Britain.
But first a look at the events that led to this eventual connection.
During the American Revolution,
on July 2, 1776, the Continental Congress voted and approved
a resolution of independence from Great Britain.
After this resolution was approved,
the Congress then turned its attention to
the Declaration of Independence,
a statement explaining this decision.
Most of you know that Thomas Jefferson headed the Committee of Five
that wrote the Declaration.
Just as they do today, Congress debated and revised the Declaration
And finally approved it—on July 4th.
Interestingly, a day earlier John Adams had written to his wife Abigail:
The second day of July, 1776, will be the most memorable epoch in the history of America. I am apt to believe that it will be celebrated by succeeding generations as the great anniversary festival. It ought to be commemorated as the day of deliverance, by solemn acts of devotion to God Almighty. It ought to be solemnized with pomp and parade, with shows, games, sports, guns, bells, bonfires, and illuminations, from one end of this continent to the other, from this time forward forever more.
Now John Adams’ prediction was off by two days.
From the very beginning,
Americans celebrated their independence on July 4th,
the date shown on the Declaration of Independence.
John Adams predicted the celebration would be July 2
because that was the date the resolution was approved
in a closed session of the Congress.
It is interesting that Adams said this day of Independence
should be celebrated first by acts of devotion “to God Almighty.”
Then he goes on about parades and bonfires and games and illuminations.
And if you are wondering, as I did,
if fireworks had been invented in 1776
and was John Adams referring to fireworks
when he wrote illuminations,
then I can tell you I looked it up
and found out that fireworks
have been around since the 12th century==
when they were invented in China.
I don’t know if they had fireworks on that first 4th of July celebration—
but we have certainly made up for that in the years that have followed.
I am not sure we score very highly when it comes to first
celebrating our independence by acts of devotion to God.
It is unusual that July 4th comes on a Sunday.
If the date falls in midweek,
it tends to go by without much fanfare at all in the church.
And in truth,
because no secular event can trump a Sunday,
our liturgical calendar this year
tells us to transfer July 4th to Monday, July 5th.
But when I read John Adams letter about celebrating the 4th
(well, he said the 2nd)
with acts of devotion to God Almighty,
it seemed highly appropriate
that we acknowledge this day—this celebration—
in our worship.
The readings for today
are the readings assigned for this 6th Sunday after Pentecost.
Our gospel reading today
focuses on Jesus sending others out into the world,
out to continue God’s mission.
It is undeniable that part of God’s mission is
that all people should live as free people.
We hear that message
over and over and over in scripture—
both in the Old Testatment and the New Testament.
The writers of our Declaration of Independence based this right for freedom
on rights they believed came directly from God:
We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable rights, that among these are life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness.
Those writers of the Declaration of Independence proclaimed
that our freedom was a gift from God.
Given to everyone.
If we ourselves claim to be people of God,
and Americans,
then we can’t just rush out to the fireworks celebrations
and the picnics.
It is important to take at least a little time
to ponder how we are living into this gift, this blessing
of living as free people.
It is important to take at least a little time
to consider what we are doing in our lives, in our church, in our nation
what we are doing to bring about and assure the freedom of others.
According to those who gathered at that 2nd Continental Congress,
according to those who have lived fully into that Declaration
with respect to those who give their lives for freedom--
everyone—everyone—
regardless of national origin, gender,
economic, social or political status—
has rights that are given by the grace of God—
and no one has the right
to threaten or take away
life, liberty or the pursuit of happiness.
It is something for us to seriously ponder and pray about
when we consider others who desperately desire freedom.
There is no doubt that God calls us to stand up and speak up
so that all God’s people might be free.
It is not easy and often it is not popular
to speak and fight for those who do not share the freedom
we often take for granted.
Fighting for these rights,
for ourselves and for others throughout the world,
is indeed often
like being sent out as lambs into the midst of wolves.
Fighting does not always mean bearing arms.
Fighting is not just about weapons and wars.
We fight with our votes,
We fight with our voices,
We fight with our wallets.
We fight with our prayers.
But there is no doubt—
either Biblically or in how we were shaped as a nation—
that we are called to value life,
to value freedom.
and to value happiness.
For ourselves and for others.
But what is the connection between Scotland and the Episcopal Church?
The connection is
that if it were not for Scotland, the Scottish Episcopal Church,
who stood up for our American Episcopal Church,
we likely would not exist as a denomination
in the United States today.
If a few Scottish people
had not cared about their brothers and sisters in Christ
in a land far away,
in a place where many of them had never been
and would never go—
a land—the new country the United States of America—
and her people-- which were at that time
were viewed as revolutionaries,
ingrates, terrorists even.
Yet Scotland looked beyond all of that
and reached out to help—in the name of God.
Before the revolutionary war,
the church here was the Church of England.
Because remember, we were part of England.
We were a colony.
During the colonial period, the entire continent of America
was part of the Diocese of London.
Although the truth is,
the Bishop of London never once visited the congregations
here in America.
There were no confirmations.
Remember? Your priest can baptize, marry and bury,
but it takes a Bishop to confirm,
to make you a full member of the Episcopal Church.
There were no ordinations.
A bishop must lay hands upon one’s head
to be ordained a priest or a deacon.
There were no bishop consecrations,
because it takes a minimum of three bishops
to consecrate a new bishop.
So needless to say,
the church in America, even before the Revolutionary War,
was none to happy that the Bishop of London
never set foot or eye upon our spacious skies,
or purple mountains majesty.
We had long been separated by the shining sea.
After the revolutionary war,
ten clergymen (and they were all men in those days)
met in Connecticut in 1783
and elected Samuel Seabury as Bishop.
Now Samuel Seabury traveled to England—
as he was elected but still needed to be consecrated Bishop—
and that takes other Bishops (at least 3).
But no bishops in the Church of England would consecrate him--
UNLESS he would take the required oath of loyalty
to the British Monarchy.
And he would not.
So Samuel Seabury went on to Scotland.
And on November 14,1784, at St. Andrew’s Cathedral in Aberdeen,
Samuel Seabury was consecrated Bishop for America.
And it was this act that officially began
the worldwide Anglican communion.
Thank you, Scotland!
I know it is not the origin of the pipe tune Scotland the Brave,
but I always think of the Scottish Episcopal Church
defying the Church of England by consecrating
Samuel Seabury as our first American Bishop.
Scotland was brave indeed to do this.
The Church of Scotland felt that being bound together by God
overruled any political boundaries or national allegiances.
Over 200 years ago the people of the Scottish Episcopal Church
looked upon us as their neighbors
and reached out to us
so that our church might continue.
So that we would have the freedom
to worship as we desired.
Life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness.
God only wants the best for us.
For all of us,
for all God’s people.
Those of us who have life, liberty and happiness in abundance
are called by God
to fight the good fight for those who do not.
To reach out to those who are on the fringes.
To reach beyond borders and boundaries.
This is how we continue God's mission to the world.
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