13th November, 2016,
“That we lose not the eternal” In 1971, I was a senior at Virginia Theological Seminary. Alexandria, Virginia, was and is adjacent to Washington, D.C., which in those days was blessing and curse. There was great unrest in our country. There was tragedy from Viet Nam. Veterans had been scorned and mistreated for years. There were demonstrations and violent anti-war protests in the news every day. It seemed that our beloved country was tearing itself apart. Seminary life was not immune from the turmoil in the country. Students and faculty were divided, with passions defending America at all costs, and passions threatening to tear down the country. A professor had been arrested for celebrating a Peace Eucharist on the steps of the Pentagon, and there were student groups crying foul and demanding his resignation. The flash point came when a group of students demanded removal of the American flag which flew on the tower at the Seminary. The tower was at the center of the campus, and the flagpole was posted about two thirds up the tower, and at the top, was the cross. The charge was that the war was evil and the country was derelict in its participation in it. The matter came to a head when the seminary community, about two hundred faculty, staff and students, gathered, some to resolve issues, some to force them. It was scary, and felt a little dangerous, to be in the middle of so much rage, accusation and belligerence. Perhaps you remember those days. Nevertheless, there we were. Arguments were made, people interrupted, mean names were used, tempers flared and one or two students stormed out. I was not the only one worried about our community being dismembered. The stress and pain of the meeting went on for more than an hour, and then, when the speakers began to repeat themselves and start their arguments over again, the Dean stood and went to the front. He was a very gracious man, soft spoken and elegant. Dean Woods said words to the effect that, while he understood the feelings on both sides about the flag, we must remember that the symbol which first claims our allegiance is at the top of the tower. There has been much pain, argument and division in our beloved country throughout a most contentious presidential campaign. When I awoke Wednesday morning, when the results were in, I felt like a stranger in my own land. I had no idea that more than 60 million of my fellow Americans voted with values so different than mine, and that opposing passions were so widespread and deeply held. I felt like a stranger in my own land, but I came to see that was the way Trump supporters had been feeling for some time, like strangers in their own land. Our country is divided. Republicans are asking their Democrat neighbors, “Can we still be friends?” Some see foreboding days ahead, while others sing, “Hallelujah.” Some citizens are feeling vulnerable in their own country, while mean words and hateful acts crop up in supermarket parking lots, on school grounds and on line. There are protests in our cities, and heartfelt prayer vigils all over. And as with any large conflict, there are people in the middle who just want the stability of their country back, and little ones who see fear on adult faces and feel overtaken by fear themselves. This much you know. But this is not the end of the story. It is the present reality, but not forever. The sky is not falling; these are not the end days Jesus spoke about in the Gospel today. True, there are places where the earth is shaking, but just as true, there are places where the earth is not shaking. People of hope and good will from both parties are coming together across the land for prayer, for understanding, for healing of their hearts and the healing of this country. There is fear in places, especially among the vulnerable, but there are many, many standing together. I saw it last night in the eyes and songs of children in Hood River, in confident words from the Sheriff and other presenters, particularly teenagers, and in the overcrowded church gathered to call out and honor our common humanity. If there is any lesson I learned as a Hospice chaplain, it is that there is always, always hope. Last night, hope was visible in Riverside Church. And there is more to bind us together if we think about it. My son-in-law is a Trump supporter. He and I have been unable to talk much about the reasons for our different views, nor our feelings about the other’s view nor the problems of the nation. However, he is a man I love and respect. He is husband to my daughter and father of my Grandsons. There is so much that binds us together as family that we will not let our politics drive a wedge. For you and me, loved by Jesus and called to love in the name of Jesus, let us embrace his love and not let politics drive a wedge. It is that cross above the altar, the empty cross of the risen Jesus, above the flags of church and state, which holds our hope and claims our future. In the name of God, then, as people of God, our job is to model a new reality, to speak truth and bridge gaps. Let us discover our own classism, racism, sexism, and elitism. And instead of preparing for combat, from fear and doubt and suspicion where we find it, let us make grace. At the risk of quoting words you may remember about the kingdom of God: “In every act of generosity… the kingdom is present. In every hope and prayer, and every time prejudice and violence is sidestepped, the kingdom is present. In every moment when you and I are aware of our blessings, when we laugh with a child or weep with one who is grieving, the kingdom is present. When broken hearts are healed, in moments of reconciliation… whenever fear is cast out and love takes its place, the kingdom is present. No matter the darkness, when one candle is lit, one more light shines, and the darkness will not overcome.” Friends, our times are not easy times, and our days must be lived with care, respect and a vision of hope. But we are Easter people, and ‘Alleluia’ is our song. We can do this. Let us pray: O God, the protector of all who trust in you, without you nothing is strong, nothing is holy. Embrace us with your mercy, that with you as our ruler and guide, we may live through what is temporary without losing what is eternal; through Jesus Christ our Savior, Mentor and Friend. Amen
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Sermon for St Mark’s, All Saints Sunday
6th November, 2016, Luke 6.20-31 “Blessed are you who are poor, for yours is the kingdom of God… but woe to you who are rich, for you have received your consolation.” Unsettling words, and they ought to be. These are not your popular beatitudes. What you and I recognize as The Beatitudes are from the Sermon on the Mount. This set, though, is not from a mountain or even a hill, but from an open place, from a teaching nicknamed the Sermon on the Plain. Unlike the familiar list, which has nine things to remember, this set has basically four, but also unlike the familiar these four blessings have parallel warnings attached. For example, “Blessed are you poor” is answered by “woe to you who are rich”. These are not just wise sayings, but wisdom with teeth in it. This morning’s beatitudes are also more personal. The familiar version is a teaching about others: “Blest are those who know their need of God… blest are the sorrowful… blest are those of a gentle spirit”. These, however, are written “Blessed are you who are poor… blessed are you who are hungry… blessed are you who weep now…” These sayings get to the point. They are not spiritualized. “Blessed are you who are poor, for yours is the kingdom of God” is a different message than “Blessed are the poor in spirit, for the kingdom of heaven is theirs.” So which is it? These are both from the voice and heart of Jesus, but they are different. And why would we prefer Jesus saying “Blessed are the poor in spirit” instead of the more direct and personal, “Blessed are you who are poor”? Maybe it is easier to say “poor in spirit” than “Blessed are you who are poor.” Can you imagine the reception if you said to someone in the Warming Shelter, that they are blessed in their poverty? The dilemma is better understood if we note that while these are the words of Jesus, they are from two different sources. Jesus wrote no books. The familiar Beatitudes are from Matthew’s memory of a teaching encounter with Jesus, a record which goes on for five chapters. This morning’s list is from Luke’s memory. Scholars believe Luke’s is the original and more accurate version, because the form follows the tradition from the Hebrew Scriptures in which every set of blessings is followed by a set of warnings. Further, Luke’s version is one quarter the size of Matthew’s, and less complicated, perhaps more easily learned by heart until they were written down. Different memories, different forms, but the same voice of Jesus, and the same object - both Matthew’s and Luke’s beatitudes teach the same kingdom of God. Jesus believed the kingdom is here, now, rather than a reward in the distance after we are dead. Certainly, the kingdom here is incomplete, but it is present, now and here. In every act of generosity, in every experience of breathtaking beauty, the kingdom is present. In every hope and prayer, and every time prejudice and violence is sidestepped, the kingdom is present. In every moment when you and I are suddenly aware of our blessings, when we laugh with a child or weep with one who is grieving, the kingdom is present. When broken hearts are healed, in moments of reconciliation, when you feel God is as close as your breath, the kingdom is present. Whenever fear is cast out and love takes its place, the kingdom is present. No matter the darkness, when one candle is lit, one more light shines, and the darkness will not overcome. Marcus Borg, commenting on Luke’s beatitudes, wrote A primary quality of a life deeply centered in God is growth in compassion. This meaning is expressed in perhaps the most concise summary of Jesus’ teaching in the gospels. The verse, Luke 6.36, combines theology (what God is like) and ethics (how we are to live) in a few words: be compassionate as God is compassionate… But compassion is not just a feeling. It is about acting in accord with that feeling. Jesus did not say, “Feel compassion as God feels compassion,” but “Be compassionate as God is compassionate”. (Convictions, p224-5) In every act of compassion, the kingdom is present, and in every act of compassion, one more candle is lit. Perhaps it is not thoughtful to say to someone in the Warming Shelter, “Blessed are you who are poor…”, but for us to be present in the Warming Shelter in the first place, compassionate and ready to receive from another there – that matters, and the kingdom is present in us. Today is All Saints Sunday, and we rightly remember those blessed ones who have been the lights of the world in their generations. As has been said, we stand on the shoulders of giants. True enough. Yet no matter how grand our predecessors in faith, if Christian grace is to continue to flow, if there is any passing on of a vision of a compassionate world, if there is to be forgiveness practiced or mercy given, it is up to us. We are the kingdom here. We are the medicine. You and I are the current “translators” of the message of Jesus now. We are the kingdom here. We are the medicine. It is a good thing to be descended from saints, but the light of the world rests now with us. One other observation about this encounter with Jesus: the popular beatitudes say that Jesus went up on the side of a hill to teach. These, though, have him on a plain. Further, Luke is clear that Jesus “looked up” to see the disciples. Picture this: perhaps he was stooping, or kneeling beside a sick person, someone broken, and he was caring for them. At any rate, he looked up. Perhaps, if you can imagine that scene, he is saying to us, “Come here, and help me.” I am learning that St Mark’s is a profoundly spiritual place. It may be more than what one expects in a church these days, or it may be exactly what a one should expect a Christian Church to be. St Paul refers to all the worshipping community as “saints”. The Church later canonized special folk, but for Paul, the faithful Christians were saints. That is us, you and me. We are the kingdom here. We are the medicine. Others are looking to us to be the light bearers. Perhaps All Saints Sunday is our day as well. Amen. ************************************************************************ PREPARING FOR ALL SAINTS' SUNDAY Sermon Notes for St Mark’s 30th October, 2016 All Saints Day is Tuesday (11/1), and next Sunday (11/6) is All Saints Sunday. All Saints Day is a time to celebrate all Christian saints, known and unknown, since the second century of the Christian era. This is a marvelous day, a major day, as we remember those who have gone before us in this Christian way. They are extraordinary folk, like St. Mark and St, Francis, Martin Luther, Mother Theresa and Martin Luther King, Jr. I have just finished reading The Heart of a Pastor, a biography of Edmond Browning, and I believe he belongs in this extraordinary company, though he would deny it. I remember in 1997, when the General Convention celebrated his term as Presiding Bishop, a dance group came from South Africa to offer tribute to Bishop Browning. I remember their chant honoring three extraordinary people — Desmond Tutu, Nelson Mandela, and Edmond Browning. I thought then, what a tribute to be sung with the likes of Tutu and Mandela. Browning belonged there, just as he belongs here at St. Mark’s. There are others, perhaps known only to you and me, who are also part of that great cloud of Christian witnesses. When we say, “Therefore… with Angels and Archangels and all the company of heaven, “, they are all there, all the saints, and next Sunday we will begin in our prayers to remember them. This Sunday is important, too, for it is a day to prepare for next Sunday, to consider seriously our financial commitment to the life of St. Mark’s, and to remember those who have gone before us — great saints and local saints. It has been said, “The best things in life aren’t things.” To help us remember the deep gifts which are ours, tapping into what may be called a “theology of abundance,” here are three questions to reflect on: 1. Who are your saints and angels? These are the people, living and dead, who touched your life in a special way. Perhaps they were teachers who ignited your passion for a particular book, author, or subject. Perhaps they were friends or strangers who supported you when you most needed help. Perhaps they were colleagues or mentors who’s presence changed your life in a positive way. Perhaps they were musicians or actors or artists or others whom you never met but who inspired you to see life in a new way. Perhaps they were parents, siblings, or other family members. Sometimes angels show up as “dark” angels. These are people who’s initial impact may have been negative but your experience with them led you to move in a positive direction. 2. Who do you deeply love? How do they know you love them? Sometimes we fall into ruts with the people closest to us. We forget to tell them we love them, or maybe we never did; We forget how much they mean to us. Make a list of your loved ones. Remember you cherish about each one. Tell them — if not in words, in some small action that comes from your heart. 3. What are your expectations of God? Sometimes even if our faith is strong we may fear God —- that He will ask things of us that we are unable or unwilling to do; that He will judge us harshly, on earth and/or after death. These fears may be rooted in negative images of God that carry over from painful childhood experiences, misunderstandings about who God is, or misinterpretations of scripture. Healing our images of God may be some of the most important work we can do. Can you learn to see God as He sees you, through the eyes of Love? Think on these things. Remember Jesus and the holy ones in your life. The opposite of remember is not only to forget, but to “dis-member”, to separate, to take apart. All Saints Sunday, also Pledge Sunday — let it be a day to re-member, to bring ourselves back together, and to discover the whole-ness, the holiness that is already there. All Saints Sunday, Pledge Sunday — a day to Re-member. —————————————————-- * These notes were edited with permission by Amy Russell On my way home from visiting my in-laws this weekend, I started to wonder...did I need more time to say goodbye? A friend of mine announced her departure 2 months in advance of leaving, while another gave 3 weeks notice...how are we to know what’s too long, just right, or not enough? I guess there isn’t a magic formula, although I wish there was.
Now, before the liturgy police come to haul me away for not preaching the lectionary, I'm going to do it just this once. Because on the drive home, I started thinking about all the times during Lent I’ve preached on Jesus’ farewell departure. Every year I feel like saying, “ok, wrap it up, we know that you’re leaving...we just want to get to Easter”. In the Gospel of John, the discourse goes from chapters 14-17 and it covers a lot of important material that Jesus wanted to make sure the disciples understood before his crucifixion. If you were to read it all at once, you’d notice that there are four parts to his farewell…
So while I may feel a bit snarky about how long Jesus goes on in his farewell discourse, when read in its entirety, I understand it as a beautiful love letter to his friends...and while I am definitely NOT Jesus, I am inspired to give you my own prayer. My prayer for the Gorge community is that you continue to work to preserve this beautiful place; that you care for the rich and the poor alike and that you continue to be strong in your commitment to justice and peace. My prayer for the Diocese of Eastern Oregon is that you continue to be courageous in the building up of the Kingdom of God; don’t allow scarcity to be the motivating factor, but see yourself as a learning lab for new clergy, for new ideas, for new partnerships, and new leadership. My prayer for St. Mark’s is that you continue to be the hands and feet of Christ at work in the world. Be a source of solace for those in our community who feel broken. Be a source of joy for those in our community who need to celebrate. Be welcoming and hospitable, courageous and bold, and love one another. And more specifically, for all of you here today, I pray that you know that you are loved. Know that you are loved. You are a beloved child of God. You are stronger than you think you are. You matter more than you think you do. You are standing on the precipice of transformation. In his farewell discourse, Jesus told his disciples, “You did not choose me, but I chose you.” They followed him to sea shores, into towns where there were lepers, on to hillsides where people were hungry...both physically and spiritually. Like those early disciples who followed this itinerant preacher to the very end, you too have been called to go into unknown territory together. I truly believe, with all my heart, that you are going to do great things together as long as you remember to be guided by love. Back in June, I told you about my six word stories...one liners composed of six words that explained who we are...elevator speeches if you will. Now, I’m going to give them to you...with a few more and a few less words. You can’t say no to God. You can only say yes to God. You are standing on the precipice of transformation. You are a beloved child of God. You are loved. I love you. Luke 12:49-56
Proper 15 On Tuesday I sat with my good friend, David, in the sanctuary at Riverside. We had just finished a meeting and I was feeling overwhelmed...we were taking a moment just to breathe and enjoy some quiet. For some time now, David has been pondering a tattoo and we’ve been talking about it off and on. So on Tuesday, we started talking about tattoos again, and I told him that I wanted another one...this time on my right forearm. This time I want it to be the words of Jesus from the Gospel of John “You didn’t choose me, but I chose you.” David pulled out his computer and typed up the phrase in Greek...beautiful and simple, and it speaks to my heart in this moment. So now I have another appointment with my guy Omar before I leave for California. Now, maybe you’re asking what this has to do with Jesus’ words in the Gospel of Luke: Do you think that I have come to bring peace to the earth? I have resisted this passage from Luke every time it comes up in the lectionary...in other words, every 3 years. But guess what? Everything in life happens in circles. Six years ago today, on August 14, 2010, this was our gospel passage. Six years ago today, on August 14, 2010, you and Bp Nedi installed me as your Rector. And the cover of the installation bulletin had the Gospel of John’s passage “You didn’t choose me, but I chose you.” So I’m going to look again at the Gospel lesson for today, but I’m going to use the Message translation to help me out: Jesus said, “I’ve come to start a fire on this earth—how I wish it were blazing right now! I’ve come to change everything, turn everything rightside up—how I long for it to be finished! Do you think I came to smooth things over and make everything nice? Not so. I’ve come to disrupt and confront!” Then he turned to the crowd: “When you see clouds coming in from the west, you say, ‘Storm’s coming’—and you’re right. And when the wind comes out of the south, you say, ‘This’ll be a hot one’—and you’re right. Frauds! You know how to tell a change in the weather, so don’t tell me you can’t tell a change in the season, the God-season we’re in right now.” Well, there you go. Jesus comes to change everything, to turn everything right-side up, to disrupt and confront, to bring about the God-season we’re in. And he doesn’t do it alone...he chooses us to help him. On Friday night, I was driving back to Hood River from Portland. I had gone to see my friend Alexis and her baby. Alexis is the closest thing I have to a best friend. We’ve been in school together for several years and I was so excited when she and her husband moved here in 2015. So Friday’s drive home was sad for me. Suddenly, out of the blue, my friend Earl who used to be the pastor at White Salmon United Methodist called...he wanted to see how I was doing with the transition. And so I told Earl that this is the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do. Leaving my previous church was easy...I was ready to go and I think the Rector was ready for me to go. But leaving St. Mark’s and Hood River...it’s harder than I could have imagined, and I’m excited, but terrified. And do you know what Earl said to me? He said, “Anna, I know you know this, but I’m going to tell you anyway. When you follow Jesus, you have to be prepared to have your world turned upside down. You have to be prepared to be uncomfortable because Jesus is working on something bigger. You have to go where you are called.” Well, dang it, Earl. Don’t you hate it when people do that to you? They tell you the truth, even when you don’t want to hear it because throwing your own little pity party and eating ice cream for dinner is such a better plan! But this is what Jesus does. This is what being part of the Jesus Movement is all about...experiencing growing pains, being called when you feel unsure, having the whole world turned upside down. And we signed on for it in our baptism folks! We signed up for being a part of this crazy Jesus Movement! But can you imagine if Jesus had come to “smoothing things over and make everything nice?” I can! If Jesus hadn’t called those folks who make up our great cloud of witnesses--the martyrs and the saints, Martin Luther King Jr, David Duncombe, Ed Browning--if Jesus hadn’t called those folks to be partners with him in the turning of the world rightside up--in disrupting the “norm”--yes, things may SEEM easier, but they really wouldn’t be. There would be outcasts, we’d build walls, there would be divisions deep in our core being. But Jesus calls us to something better. Jesus calls us to shake things up, to help him turn the world right-side up, to go to places that are uncomfortable, to experience moments of great joy and deep grief, knowing that we are running the race that is set before us. When I was at St. Margaret’s, I was given my first copy of Malcolm Boyd’s book “Are you running with me Jesus?”. I think we have a copy of it here in the office. For those of you who are unfamiliar with Malcolm Boyd, he was an Episcopal priest in Los Angeles, and in 1965 published his book of prayers and ruminations titled, “Are you Running with Me Jesus?” He was active in the civil rights and anti-war movements, and his book is an expression of how he as a Christian, attempted to reconcile his faith with the politics of the time. Malcolm died in 2015, and the world became a smaller place. But in this book, he writes: It’s morning, Jesus. It's morning, and here's that light and sound all over again. Where am I running? You know these things I can't understand. It's not that I need to have you tell me. What counts most is just that somebody knows, and it's you. That helps a lot. So I'll follow along, okay? But lead, Lord. Now I've got to run. Are you running with me, Jesus? So let’s continue the work our foremothers and forefathers started, let’s help Jesus turn the world right-side up and remember that he chose us and is running with us in this and every life transition we experience. Amen. On Wednesday at pastor’s bible study, we welcomed a new pastor to our group, a woman from the Methodist church down in The Dalles and at the same time, I announced my upcoming departure. This group has been my lifeline in so many ways--they have helped me prepare my sermons for the last six years, they have helped me to better understand the Methodist, Lutheran, UCC and Unitarian church systems, they have been my friends and confidants, my prayer partners, and, on occasion, they have lit the necessary fire under my tuckus when needed. It will be very hard for me to leave this group. But it was also joyous to bring a new pastor into the fold! She quickly learned that this group is one that offers laughter, love, thoughtfulness, critique, and lots of care. She will be helped and held in a way that is unique for pastors and priests; this group is unlike any other of its kind...and I know that from talking to colleagues all across the Episcopal Church. To say an “Episcopalian, a Unitarian, and a Methodist walked into a bar” isn’t the start of a joke for us, it is a lived reality--ok, maybe not the bar part, but you get the point.
So what does this have to do with today’s gospel lesson, which is so often used in stewardship sermons--for where your treasure is, there your heart will be also? Well, there are other important parts to this lesson from Luke that we need to hear, but especially verses 32-35. And this time, I want you to hear it from the Message translation. Jesus said, “What I’m trying to do here is get you to relax, not be so preoccupied with getting so you can respond to God’s giving. People who don’t know God and the way he works fuss over these things, but you know both God and how he works. Steep yourself in God-reality, God-initiative, God-provisions. You’ll find all your everyday human concerns will be met. Don’t be afraid of missing out. You’re my dearest friends! The Father wants to give you the very kingdom itself. Be generous. Give to the poor. Get yourselves a bank that can’t go bankrupt, a bank in heaven far from bankrobbers, safe from embezzlers, a bank you can bank on. It’s obvious, isn’t it? The place where your treasure is, is the place you will most want to be, and end up being. Keep your shirts on; keep the lights on! Be like house servants waiting for their master to come back from his honeymoon, awake and ready to open the door when he arrives and knocks.” I love it when Jesus tells us to relax. I can just hear it in his voice...settle down, it’s going to be ok, you don’t have to have it all figured out right this minute, breathe. Honestly, I need to hear that ALL. THE. TIME. And I’m guessing some of you do as well. And then this…”Steep yourself in God-reality, God-initiative, God-provisions.” In other words, TRUST GOD. Be rooted in God. Be grounded in God. Have your feet firmly planted, knees bent, and breathe God in. Everything else...the need to keep up with the Jones’, the need to have everything JUST SO, the need to be perfect and meet unrealistic expectations out of fear of disappointing someone...not important. God wants to give us the kingdom when we are steeped in God. And what does it mean to be steeped in God? It means giving abundantly. It means living in a way that sees that everyone is a beloved child of God. It means loving your neighbor as yourself. It means worrying less about what YOU have, and wanting to make sure that EVERYONE has a portion. It means praying and trusting that God is with you every step of the way. And finally...and I think this is true for everyone, not just me…”Keep your shirts on; keep the lights on! Be...awake and ready to open the door when he arrives and knocks.” In other words, be ready to roll. Be ready to respond when God calls you. Be ready to be a part of the Jesus Movement, the Kingdom of God, a beloved Child of God. Be ready. The other set of readings that we had to choose from this morning included God’s call to Abraham in Genesis. Abraham had no idea how radically his life was going to change by being ready to say Yes to God. He had no idea that he was embarking on a life-changing mission...one where he would become not just the father of a couple of sons, but the father of the three major world religions--Judaism, Islam, and Christianity. He could have never imagined all the ways that God would bless him, encourage him, prod him along when he felt discouraged. And this is what Jesus was talking about when he said to “Keep your shirts on; keep the lights on! Be...awake and ready...when God arrives and knocks.” These next few weeks, I’m trying really hard to be awake, ready and steeped in God. I know in theory what I’m moving into in San Joaquin, I’ve read the book written by Jane Lamb about the outcome of the schism, I’ve had conversations with the bishop and the chancellor about bringing buildings back on-line, I’ve heard from clergy down there about how wonderful things are going to be now that the litigation is over...but like Abraham, I really have no idea what I’m getting myself into. So I have to trust God...I have to relax, but be ready. This will be my prayer, and I hope you’ll pray it with me. And this congregation is also being asked to be awake and ready. God is knocking, and waiting to help you even more as you bring to life the Kingdom on earth. As your vestry and the search committee prepare for the transition of calling a new priest, I hope that you will relax and steep yourself in God. Try to be patient as the leadership prays and listens for the calling of the Holy Spirit. Step up and sign up when you are asked for help, knowing that you are participating in something greater than what’s best for you personally. Pray with and for this congregation, the community, and the diocese. I know that great things are ahead for you. As the poet Wendell Berry wrote: Everything we need is here. It’s become my mantra since May, and I hope it will become yours as well. So I invite you into a moment of quiet reflection. And after that I will be happy to take your questions, concerns, and wonderings as we prepare to be awake and ready for God’s knock. Amen. Well, friends, it is good to be back with you. A month is a long time to be away from home. And it has been an abundant month in many ways...several of us have been travelling, we celebrated the life and ministry of our dear brother Ed and our talented sister Betty, we have spent time in reflecting on our life and ministry together, imagining the possibilities of what’s to come next. As a community, St. Mark’s has become a place of abundance and I have never been more proud of us than I am in this moment.
So I want to take a moment and reflect on how we have not only become a place of abundance, but how we are rich toward God. Six years ago this past June, I became your priest and you became my spiritual home and community. And it took us a little bit to figure out how we were going to do ministry together...some things worked, and some things didn’t. But you were gracious enough to let me explore my passions with you and the Hood River community, and I can only hope that I have encouraged you to do the same. It has been a blessing to watch Shea, Philip, Sam, Catherine, Cody, Elle, Gabriella and now Aidan graduate high school. It has been wonderful to cheer on our youth and their mentors to do their work at Blanchet House, Oregon Food Bank and Forward Stride in Portland. It has been incredibly humbling to sit with some of you as you grieve the loss of loved ones. It has given me a full heart to watch you engage with the homeless, hungry and neighbors in crisis because you see them not as “other” but as beloved children of God. It has brought me to tears when you’ve taken home laundry to mend, wash and fold for a child you’ll never know. Our prayers for a more peaceful and just world are answered daily...even in the face of disaster and hurt. I truly believe with all of my being that we are actively engaging and becoming what Presiding Bishop Michael Curry has called to us to be--the Jesus Movement. And none of this has happened over night. We have and continue to work hard to spread the abundant love of God around us. Unlike the man in the parable that Jesus shared with those who followed him, we don’t store up our abundance because we’ve earned it or deserve it, but rather our abundance has empowered us to give more, love more, and welcome more. And I am moved beyond words by your generosity of spirit and heart. This year I’ve taken a lot of time to reflect on my own abundance...the gifts and skills that I have to offer as a part of the Jesus Movement. In church lingo we call this discernment. With the guidance and support of colleagues, our Bishop Patrick Bell, and my spiritual director, I have been intentionally looking at the ways I can share my abundance with the larger church. Sometimes this discernment can be very easy and sometimes it means having to make hard choices...it’s the difference between storing up your treasures or sharing it freely...living for God. So after many months of conversation, prayer, and listening, I have discerned a new calling in my life as part of the Jesus Movement. In early September, Matt and I will be moving to California so that I can begin a new ministry in the diocese of San Joaquin as the Canon to the Ordinary for Bishop David Rice. This decision was not an easy one and it comes with a price...it means having to say goodbye to this amazing community and to all of you. I am so proud of all of us...so proud of the work we have done together, the ministries we’ve engaged in, the fact that St. Mark’s is a vital parish in this diocese and the community of Hood River. Now it is time to share abundantly with our neighbors to the south… We all have lots of questions about what this means...and some of the questions I have answers to...some we’re still working out. I invite you to stay for coffee hour and let’s talk. And let’s talk by email, phone, text message, stop by the office, invite me for a smoothie...we don’t have to figure it all out today. But I am here, your vestry is here, Bp Pat will be here to walk with you in this new part of abundant ministry. And I hope you’ll join me in celebrating our time together throughout the month of August. But for now, let’s take a moment to pause and breathe. Let us pray. Everliving God, strengthen and sustain the ministries and people of this congregation, that they may faithfully follow in the way of your Son Jesus Christ, proclaiming in word, deed and sacrament the good news of the kingdom; we lift our prayers to you, the holy, undivided Trinity, one God, for ever and ever. Amen. On Wednesday, we celebrated the feast day of St. Alban, who is noted as being the first British Christian martyr. In our gathering, we reflected on the story of Alban, who until converting to Christianity, was a Roman solider who lived during a time when Christianity was illegal, and who had probably in the course of his duties, persecuted, beat, and perhaps even put to death Christians. And yet, what makes Alban’s story worthy of repeating and being remembered in our Christian history, is the story of his conversion. According to Holy Women, Holy Men, Alban “gave shelter to a Christian priest who was fleeing from persecution and was converted by him. When officers came to Alban’s house he dressed himself in the garments of the priest and gave himself up. Alban was tortured and martyred in place of the priest…[according to the Venerable Bede’s account of the trial, when Alban was brought before the judge, he was demanded to identify himself, to which he replied] ‘My parents named me Alban...and I worship and adore the living and true God, who created all things.’” (HWHM, 434).
Something about Alban meeting this priest and hearing his story changed Alban’s heart. Not only did he become a Christian, but he stood in place of his now Christian brother. He gave his life to save the life of another. And while most of us may not be able to imagine making that kind of choice ourselves, we can recognize in this story the power of love that is given freely one to another. And sometimes the purposes of recalling these stories and sharing them over the centuries, is so that they remind us what it means to follow Christ in the way of love. In the gospel text this morning from Luke, Jesus is headed toward Jerusalem. This is a precarious time for the disciples and those who had experienced the love and healing that he offered. When we read that Jesus has his face toward Jerusalem, we know that he is preparing for the end of his earthly ministry. So when one of his followers says, "I will follow you wherever you go." Jesus’ response is about a willingness to leave everything behind--following Jesus in this ministry meant making the choice to leave everything that felt safe and secure and certain, in order to take the risk to do something bigger in the service of the kingdom of God. It is what Dietrich Bonhoeffer calls the difference between costly grace and cheap grace. In his book The Cost of Discipleship (43-45), Bonhoeffer defines cheap grace and costly grace this way: Cheap grace is the preaching of forgiveness without requiring repentance, baptism without church discipline, Communion without confession, absolution without personal confession. Cheap grace is grace without discipleship, grace without the cross, grace without Jesus Christ, living and incarnate. Grace is costly because it costs a man his life, and it is grace because it gives a man the only true life. It is costly because it condemns sin, and grace because it justifies the sinner. Alban’s choice to offer shelter for the priest and stand in for him is an example of costly grace. And we too have the opportunity to make these choices in our everyday lives...even if they aren’t as radical as Alban’s choice. So where have we seen this costly grace being lived out in our more recent history? The Freedom Riders who worked to bring equal voting rights to blacks in the south, who were beaten, spit on, terrorized and imprisoned to bring about justice in this country, who were working for the coming of the kingdom of God, who sacrificed their well-being for the well-being of others...this is costly grace. And in a more extreme example, the three young civil rights workers who were kidnapped and murdered in Mississippi in June of 1964, having given their life to create just communities where blacks had systematically been denied their voter rights, had been discriminated against and marginalized as Children of God...this is costly grace. The teachers and school personnel of Sandy Hook Elementary School who shielded children from being killed by a gunman--Victoria Soto, Rachel D’Avino, Dawn Hochsprung, Anne Marie Murphy, Lauren Rousseau, Mary Sherlach--they didn’t set out for school that day knowing that they would be victims of a terrible crime. Their intention was to love, care for and educate children to one day become healthy adults in the world. And in their love, they lost their lives...this is costly grace. But grace doesn’t always mean becoming a martyr, right? Costly grace--the giving of oneself freely, out of a place of love and care, the building up of another, or as Eugene Peterson explains, the gift of costly grace is, “a willingness to stick with things, a sense of compassion in the heart, and a conviction that a basic holiness permeates things and people.” (The Message, Galatians 5:23) This week there was a video circulating the internet of Angels. And these weren’t the ordinary, chubby little angels of Christmas greeting cards. These were adult men and women dressed in white with huge (and I mean huge) wing panels that came to the the funeral of Drew Leinonen. Drew was a 32 year old victim of the Orland massacre on June 12. They came to stand outside of the funeral gathering to serve as a counter protest to members of the Westboro Baptist Church who had come to yell and spew anti-gay rhetoric at those in attendance of the funeral. The angels far outnumbered the Westboro members and drowned out their protest by singing “Amazing Grace”. Their wings were big enough to hide the Westboro signs from funeral attendees, so that they could grieve in peace. These Angels were the living embodiment of costly grace. In the Galatians text for this week, we also hear about the gifts of the spirit versus the desires of the flesh. And I’ll admit, some of those desires---well, they’re fun, they’re part of the human condition, and I’m guilty--as I’m sure some of you are as well. But when I read the Message translation of these desires, well, it shifted my perspective a bit. According to the The Message, the desires of the flesh are: Repetitive, loveless, cheap sex; a stinking accumulation of mental and emotional garbage; frenzied and joyless grabs for happiness; trinket gods; magic-show religion; paranoid loneliness; cutthroat competition; all-consuming-yet-never-satisfied wants; a brutal temper; an impotence to love or be loved; divided homes and divided lives; small-minded and lopsided pursuits; the vicious habit of depersonalizing everyone into a rival; uncontrolled and uncontrollable addictions; ugly parodies of community. Well, dang it...that’s the human condition right there. And while we all struggle with various parts of these desires, when we make the choice to follow Jesus, we continue that struggle, but with the intention of maturing into a place of spirit, of costly grace...a place where we act not out of our own self-interest, but with that “willingness to stick with things, a sense of compassion in the heart, and a conviction that a basic holiness permeates things and people.” So this begs the question...who are we called to be? Are we called to be angels, martyrs, protectors, freedom riders? Are we called to follow Jesus in a way that means we strive for justice and peace? Or do we want to continue on the path of self-satisfaction that doesn’t really satisfy? Are our eyes turned toward Jerusalem with Jesus, or are they focused on something else? Amen. Today is June 19, 2016, a new day from last Sunday where 49 Orlando people died, and 50 people were injured. It’s the Lord’s Day; a day to ponder and stand-up to the demons that continue to speak lies on how to fix broken lives and hardened hearts. Today, along with the words of Jesus, we will ponder how Jesus lived in a world much like ours, where violence struck out without warning; where multiple religions warred with each other, and people lived in fear that they would not have enough food, enough energy to live one more day, or show enough allegiance to the Roman leaders. And then Jesus is born into this world with a different message, “Love your God with all your heart and mind, and love your neighbors as yourself.” Jesus lived out his ministry for three years, and during those years his love for the downtrodden and hopeless resurrected hope that life could be different for all people, not just the poor or demon-filled man, as in our storyline today, but the wealthy who were heart-sick. Jesus came for all. Even us, who sit in our pews wringing our minds and hands in disbelief over the violence we witness, as we watch television or read articles nonstop to find a hint of escape or answer to the world we now live in. Because the bottom line to living in our world today is this, “We are not safe from violence.” I believe our Gospel lesson today breaks into our world of insecurity and violence in startling ways. This story is the only time in Luke’s Gospel when Jesus deliberately goes to Gentile territory – he arrives by boat having just stilled the storm, and now encounters demons in a disheveled Gerasene man who rushes up to him. Luke paints a stark picture of acute alienation. The man is homeless among his own people; possessed by many demons, he is wild and unpredictable, naked, sometimes chained and restrained, living alone in a graveyard among the dead. This is a man everyone would fear and run from, and then there is Jesus who stands still. Jesus doesn’t run away when a naked man falls at his feet screaming, “What have you to do with me, Jesus, Son of the Most High God?” Jesus stands his ground by asking the demons inside this shell of a man, “What is your name?” He said, ‘Legion’, for many demons had entered him. They begged him not to order them to go back into the abyss.” Jesus complied with the demons, and sends the demons into a herd of pigs who then run down a bank into the lake and drown. To our modern ears this is a bewildering tale. As one commentator says, “readers who do not inhabit a first-century mental world, where demons are a regular way of accounting for unusual events and exorcism is a recognized way of attempting to deal with them, are liable to be bemused by this episode.” But, let’s not get caught up in the small details on how Jesus deals with this situation, rather, lets listen to the reactions, first, from the man who now sits calmly at the feet of Jesus, and 2nd, from Jesus himself, who tells the man he cannot be a follower of his, but must return to his home and declare how much God has done for him. At this stage in the story we are more accustomed to hearing Jesus ask people to follow him, rather than sending the man home. This healed man cannot stay around Jesus to feel safe, but is sent home to deal with people in his neighborhood who may run from him, or doubt that he is a transformed man. The healed man’s plea is emotional, because the text says he begs Jesus to stay with him. And let’s not forget the people standing around who witnessed this act of transformation, how do they react to change in this man? They do the obvious, something we might do in church, they ask Jesus to leave because they are “seized with great fear.” It’s time for us to enter this story. How do we handle the fear of knowing that we can no longer feel safe within the United States? It is tempting to do what the healed man does, ask to stay within the walls of St. Mark’s, praying together to feel safe, and giving ourselves permission not to act out in love toward those being abused and killed. But Jesus does not respond with apathy in this story, he tells the healed man to go out into his neighborhood to declare what God has done for him. That’s our answer to fear and violence, folks, go out and tell the good news of Jesus. Everyone in this room has people they hang with, and you have a story to tell where violence can be silenced with love, just as Jesus did. Jesus could just as easily have walked right by this demon-possessed man, but he didn’t. He stopped and listened to the demons, and through compassion helped this man to become human. John Philip Newell in his book, “The Rebirthing of God,” states that the word “compassion is about honoring the relationship between two people or between one group and another, and remembering those who suffer. It is about making the connection between the heart of my being and the heart of yours, and following that connection … even when we are filled with doubts as to whether we are moving in the right direction.” Newell goes on to hold up Suu Kyi [Soo Chee] as a living witness of what it means to be compassionate. According Suu Kyi she says that “compassion gives us the courage to see, the courage to feel, and the courage to act” (Loc 466). Suu Kyi challenges us never to forget “that the other nation, the other community, the other family’s child is as precious as ours” (Loc 466). Jesus stepped into the life of a tormented man, and told him to go back into a community of people he probably had no interest in or experience with, because he had been living as an exile, where his behavior was too crazy and unpredictable to be safe around people. Jesus knows that the man can only show his transformation within the midst of a community, regardless of the fear he may feel. Suu Kyi “teaches that the greatest obstacle to compassion is not hatred. It is habitual patterns of narrow self-interest (Loc 504). U.S. culture mirrors a narrow self-interest politically, socially, and often individually, as the rights of the individual or group take precedent over feeling compassion for others. When was the last time you heard someone express in the news, “We need to practice compassion?” Paul says in Galatians, “There is no longer Jew or Greek, there is no longer slave or free, there is no longer male and female; for all of you are one in Christ Jesus.” To be a Christian means that we are to support and love other people. During the tennis season one of the parents came up with the idea that we would show our support for the team by wearing t-shirts which said, “We’ve got your back.” The team really grabbed onto this idea that we were all in this journey of playing tennis together, and started each tennis match with shouting this mantra. Jesus practiced the idea of ‘having the back’ of the disenfranchised by showing his love through being present, sometimes healing, and sometimes reprimanding people who didn’t understand that love wins, not hatred. I want to live the words found in I Corinthians: If I speak in the tongues of mortals and of angels, But do not have love, I am a noisy gong or a clanging cymbal. And if I have prophetic powers, and understand all mysteries, and all knowledge, and if I have all faith, so as to remove mountains, but do not have love, I am nothing …Love bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things. Love never ends. Love forces us to act. Do you love others enough to act? Rev. Deacon Marilyn Roth+ I’ve been struggling the last few weeks with some of the questions that were raised when I went to a conference at the end of May. Yes, we made fantastic six-word sentences about our ministries, we sang incredible hymns and sounded like a choir that had performed for years together, and we told stories of when we’d experienced God in our midst. But something happened at the conference that I could have never imagined or anticipated, and it lead to some important conversations, but I’ve been really struggling about how to talk about it; today’s lessons have given me a platform for what I’m about to share, so please bear with me because it’s been weighing heavy on my heart.
Depending on their life experience, most women will tell you they have experienced some kind of discrimination, harassment, or violence in their lives. Whether it was being passed over for a job, a promotion, or denied access to an opportunity because of their gender, whether they have been “hit on” in a social situation or received unwelcomed physical contact from a man, or worse yet, been the victim of rape or domestic violence, women experience the world differently than men. And add other identifying factors such as race, ethnicity, and socioeconomic status, and there are women for whom discrimination, harassment and violence has unfortunately become “business as usual.” And to just say “that’s unfortunate” isn’t enough. The only way to change business as usual, is to let them tell their stories, stand in solidarity with them, and advocate for change. And while there’s been a lot of political talk about a presidential candidate playing the “Woman Card,” the fact remains that women’s lives are different from the lives of men. They make up half the world’ population, and yet, so many women are still treated like second-class citizens. The issue of sexism is an old topic in the church. We’ve been trying to undo the insidiousness of Eve’s sin in the garden of Eden since forever, and yet, the legacy that has been put upon her, among women like Bathsheba, Jezebel, Delilah, Sarah, Rebecca...these women have all been cast with a legacy of seductresses, deceivers of their male counterparts, and not to be trusted. We see that in this morning’s story of Jezebel. It’s not a particularly good story in the history of women in the biblical tradition. But Jezebel’s decisions about how to have her husband’s adversary murdered...is really not any different than what David does to Bathsheba’s husband...both set these men up to be killed so they can get what they want; they exercise and abuse the power and privilege that they hold. And yet, in our Christian tradition, we honor David...and Jezebel...well, you don’t name your daughters Jezebel. Her name has become a derogatory term for women. In more recent times..really since the first arguments against the ordination of women finally moved beyond the polite “well Jesus didn’t have any female disciples, how can we have women priests” to the more concrete issue that many men feared women’s sexuality at the altar...yes, there were arguments made that a woman who was menstruating or a woman who was pregnant were contaminating the Eucharist...that we have finally started to address the issue of gender disparity in the church. And so at the conference, we tackled the issue head on when a female clergy person was the recipient of a very unwelcomed sexually charged comment after one of our workshops. The next day, our opening workshop was cancelled and replaced by a 3 hour conversation about sexism in the church...everything from wage disparity, being passed over for calls in order to hire another male candidate, the lack of family medical leave in most Letters of Agreement, to the unsolicited comments and touches by male parishioners, clergy and bishops. Three hours...and we barely scratched the surface. So what does that have to do with the gospel? Jesus has been asked to dine at the house of a Pharisee named Simon. It would have been customary for the host to have offered Jesus a water basin and towel to wash the dust from his feet, his hands and his face. Instead, Simon ignores the custom. But in comes an unnamed woman who not only washes Jesus feet, but does so with her tears, and then dries them with her hair. She continues on to anoint Jesus with an expensive perfume. She is ignoring custom. She is a woman who appears unattached to any man who is gathered there for the meal, she has let her hair down in the presence of men (which was really taboo), and as Simon points out, she is a sinner. Yet, her actions cause her to be rebuked by Simon the Pharisee. She is out of place, out of line, and unwelcome. Her sin is her cause for not being included among “the chosen” as far as Simon can tell. But Jesus has a different understanding of the situation. Instead, she is welcomed as a child of God by Jesus because she has offered love. Jesus understands her washing and anointing as a sign of repentance and love, and so he offers forgiveness and love in return. For Jesus, being “chosen” wasn’t about who was in and who was out...it wasn’t about someone’s gender or sexuality...it was about forgiveness and love. Those who were willing to change their lives and their hearts were the ones to be included in the household of God. Now this is good news for us, right? I think it is because it means that we’ve got a chance of being part of the Kingdom! What I gather from this story, and so many of the stories about Jesus healing people, is that being welcomed by Jesus is less about “business as usual” and more about transformation, forgiveness and love. Now I know that we “know” this, but think about how often we get tripped up in our own self-righteousness or rigidity and how often we ignore the stories of those who have suffered the label of “sinner” without even thinking about the times when we’ve been forgiven and included. And this is the gospel message...there are no outsiders; there is no room in the kingdom of God for oppression, violence or degradation. We are ALL children of God, despite our shortcomings and failures, and because we are magnificently created in God’s image...male and female. So as I continue to reflect on the ways in which my foremothers of the Jewish and Christian tradition have been manifested in our corporate memory, and the fallout of that legacy even in our current time and place, I invite you to do as well. And I invite us all to consider how we have participated in the unhealthy “business as usual” situations and circumstances where women are left nameless, cast as less than, and unwelcomed. Until we can repair this situation and fully welcome one another...well, we’ve still got a lot of Kingdom work to do. Amen. Proper 5, June 5, 2016
Last Sunday I shared a little bit about my time with the under 55 Episcopal clergy at the Gathering conference. And for those of you who were here, you may remember that I explained that one of our tasks at the beginning of the week was to create a six-word story that explained our ministry. At the start of the conference, my six-word story was “I can’t say no to God.” It’s true...I can’t say no to God. Long before discernment committees were gathered, or there were even thoughts of seminary, God tugged on my heart in such a way that I couldn’t say no. And as I celebrate 8 years of ordained ministry this month, I still can’t say no to God. And to be honest, I wouldn’t have it any other way. At the end of the week, we were asked to create a new six-word story. Now this...this was much harder for me. I had gotten comfortable with my “I can’t say no to God” story. I thought I could stump the leadership team by changing my story to “I only say yes to God”...but they told me to keep working on it. Our six-word stories were to be reflective of the conversations and discernment that we had done together as a group, but were unique to each of us. And so after getting really stressed out, procrastinating for a while, checking facebook, watching a couple of episodes of “Unbreakable” on Netflix, and doing everything I could to avoid creating a new six-word story, I sat at the desk in my room, and spent some time reflecting on my life prior to the church...and how much things have changed over the years. I thought about the choices I had made as a young woman, ways that I continue to struggle with the priesthood, times when I had dug my heels in and refused to bend. I thought about things I’d done and left undone, people I needed to apologize to, and people I needed to forgive. And I found myself thinking about Paul’s story on the road to Damascus...how he had started out as a persecutor of early Christians, how he probably had a hand in their torture and death, and on the road to Damascus, the Risen Christ appears to him, strikes him blind, and changes his life forever. And while Paul is problematic for me on so many levels, I can’t help but admire his ability to have such a significant change of heart. On the road to Damascus, Paul was given new life. Like the widows’ sons in 1st Kings and Luke, he was raised from the dead...and everything changed. So I scribbled in my little notebook this six-word story: Standing on the precipice of transformation. And I really do believe that I’m not standing there alone...each one of us is there, this church, this community, this diocese, the larger church, the nation, and the world...we’re standing on the edge preparing ourselves to be transformed. And I believe that we find ourselves in this place at multiple times in our lives--before leaving home, before getting married, starting a career, having a baby, caring for aging and dying parents and spouses, as we ourselves step into that space between this world and the next. Standing on the precipice of transformation is not a one time event---it’s a lifetime event. So before I begin to get to philosophical, let’s bring it back to our lessons for the day...where is transformation happening? In 1st Kings and Luke, transformation happens not only in the raising of the dead sons, but it’s also a statement of liberation. With the development of liberation theology in the 1960s in Latin America, the church began to embrace the idea that God cares for the poor...and these widows in our stories would have been numbered among the poor; and especially so without their sons. At that time, society dictated that a woman had to have a man--be him a husband, a son, a father or uncle--to care and provide for her; she had no status without a man. Had Elijah and Jesus not resurrected these sons, their mothers would have been destitute, without status or recourse. These stories are not just about new or resurrected life, but they are also stories of transformation...God cares about God’s people enough to create miracles, and in these signs and wonders, the community was transformed. However, what moved me the most of the readings for today is the Psalm because I think it reminds us of our responsibilities for living transformed lives:
In the Vestry meeting this morning, your vestry will be reflecting on their own six-word stories. But I believe that together, standing on this precipice of transformation, we can do the work that God has called us to do--changing lives, being healed, and welcoming the stranger. Amen. |
AuthorI don't know what the future of the church is, but I know that we will continue to be a place of sanctuary and hope, working towards healing in the world. Archives
October 2017
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