Homily for Sunday, March 25, 2012 Buck Mountain and Graves Chapel
Lessons:
Jeremiah 31: 31-34
Psalm 51: 1-13
Hebrews 5: 5-10
John 12:20-33
In March of 2011, just a year ago, the Oxford English dictionary added the first non-word—a graphical symbol that stands for a word—to its hallowed tome. Do you know what that symbol was? The one that has come to represent LOVE on bumper stickers and t-shirts and even in the title of a funny movie from 2004: I Heart Huckabees. That simple and symmetrical symbol, often colored pink or red and always a very important part of Valentine’s greetings, carries powerful weight in our culture.
Have you ever wondered why the Tin Man was so sure he needed a heart? After all, as he travels the yellow brick roads of Oz with his trusty companions, he demonstrates great courage and kindness numerous times, and courage and kindness are both attributes we associate with the heart. In his song, the Tin Man croons, "When a man's an empty kettle, he should be on his mettle, and yet I'm torn apart. Just because I'm presumin' that I could be kind-a-human if I only had a heart. I'd be tender--I'd be gentle and awful sentimental regarding Love and Art. I'd be friends with the sparrows and the boy who shoots the arrows, if I only had a heart." The Tin Man understands that in order to be human, he needs one thing we associate with a heart--no, not the blood that gets pumped through our bodies to keep us alive. He needs love, and the human heart is where love is found. That goes double for the Christian heart. If it's not about love, then it's not Christianity. Our God is a god of love and mercy and kindness. That doesn't always play itself out with roses and valentines; sometimes love has to be strong, brave, or demanding.
The prophet Jeremiah, who is also credited as the author of the Book of Lamentations, usually speaks words of love most of us would rather not hear. As we used to say, Jeremiah can be a real downer. He has been called the "weeping prophet," and he had good reason to weep. Tasked by God to decry the sins of the people and prepare them for the destruction of Judah and their captivity by the Babylonian army, Jeremiah was not a popular guy. In fact, Jeremiah is so much associated with foretelling doom that any long speech in which the state of society is lamented and destruction predicted is called a Jeremiad.
Our reading from Jeremiah for today, however, seems completely out of character for the prophet. These are the sweet words of a lover, not a lamenter. "The days are surely coming, says the Lord, when I will make a new covenant with the house of Israel and the house of Judah...I will put my law within them, and I will write it on their hearts and I will be their God and they shall be my people. No longer shall they say to each other, 'Know the Lord,' for they shall all know me, from the least of them to the greatest, says the Lord; for I will forgive their iniquity and remember their sin no more." Through Jeremiah, the Lord says he had considered himself to be the husband of the people, and even though they have repeatedly broken his heart, he forgives them and says he is willing to make a new covenant with them. And how will the people know the Lord loves them and is with them? They will know it because God himself will write it on their hearts. In this way, God promises a deeply personal, loving commitment to each of us.
As I read through today's lessons preparing to write this homily, I was struck by how the collect, the lesson from Jeremiah, and the psalm all make reference to the human heart. The psalm includes a plea familiar to anyone who reads the daily morning office: "Create in me a clean heart, O God, and renew a right spirit within me." If God is going to write his covenant of love on our hearts, then he himself will prepare it by wiping clean the slate.
The beautiful words of the collect suggest what we associate with our hearts: the emotions. "Grant your people grace to love what you command and desire what you promise; that, among the swift and varied changes of the world, our hearts may surely there be fixed where true joys are to be found." From ancient times, the heart has not only been associated with the emotions--especially love and courage--but also with the soul. It often seems that the heart and its companion the soul are given more weight than the brain, which is usually related to powers of reasoning. Since the word heart is mentioned 867 times in the Bible, the connection between the heart and the soul is very much a part of our traditional understanding of the way we relate to God. Listen to a few examples:
"Trust in God at all times and pour out your heart before him; God is a refuge for us." (Psalm 62)
"When you said, 'Seek my face,' my heart said to you, 'Your face Lord will I seek." (Psalm 27)
"For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also."
(Matthew 6)
"Blessed are the pure in heart, for they shall see God." (Matthew 6)
"The Lord is near to those who have a broken heart." (Psalm 34)
"Let us draw near with a true heart, in all assurance of faith." (Hebrews 10)
"You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your mind." (Matthew 22:34)
"For the eyes of the Lord range throughout the entire earth, to strengthen those whose heart is true to him." (2nd Chronicles 16:9)
In many other passages we are told how God searches our hearts: in 1st Samuel 16, "For the Lord does not see as mortals see; they look on the outward appearance, but the Lord looks on the heart." In Genesis 6, God has examined the hearts of humans, and he now contemplates destroying them all by flood for the evil he finds there. "The Lord saw that the wickedness of humankind was great in the earth, and that every inclination of the thoughts of their hearts was only evil continually...and it grieved Him to his heart." Isn't it reassuring to think of God's sharing this characteristic with humans--having a heart that can be broken just like ours? The fragility of the heart is connected to the emotion we associate with it most closely--LOVE.
The fragility of the heart, and especially God's heart, reminds us of the sterner side of love, the requirements of love that are not the easiest to bear. In today's Gospel lesson from John, Jesus is preparing the disciples for his final hours. As usual, He speaks in a parable, saying, "Very truly, I tell you, unless a grain of wheat falls into the earth and dies, it remains just a single grain; but if it dies, it bears much fruit." Christ speaks here of the kind of love that produces the ultimate self-sacrifice for the sake of others. He would be the grain of wheat that would fall into the earth and die so that many others might live and flourish. At the time of his crucifixion, it would probably have been possible to count on the fingers of one hand those standing near the cross who would admit to being his followers. Today is it even possible for us to number how many proclaiming Christians have lived down through the centuries and still live as a result of Christ's death? Would anyone standing beneath the cross have been able to predict the fruit Christ's death would bear? Most of them thought all their dreams had ended. They thought the bold teacher they had loved and the experiment they had witnessed were failures. Christ knew better. He understood the ultimate gift of love when he said, "Those who love their life lose it, but those who hate their life in this world will keep it for eternal life." Forgetting himself in his love for others, Christ truly served the cause of love in a way that has drawn countless people to him. As He said, "And I, when I am lifted up from the earth, will draw all people to myself." His was a very great and a very wise heart.
Remember what the Wizard of OZ said to the Tin Man when he awarded him his heart? "A heart is not judged by how much you love, but by how much you are loved by others." In this paradoxical way, the Tin Man is like Jesus. Emptied of his heart from the very beginning, the Tin Man risked all he had, to the point of being broken in pieces, to protect his new friends. Believing he did not have the capacity to love, he became love. And he was rewarded a hundredfold by the love of his friends. The Tin Man’s love bore fruit, even when he didn’t have a heart. What kind of fruit is our heart bearing?
I HEART you! Amen.
Tuesday, March 27, 2012
Friday, March 9, 2012
Holy Waters
Homily for Sunday, February 26, 2012
1st Sunday in Lent
Lessons:
Genesis 9:8-17
Psalm 25
1st Peter 3:18-22
Mark 1:9-15
Today is the first Sunday in Lent, the season of the church year specifically set aside for self-examination and penitence. Lent asks us consciously to join Christ on his journey to Jerusalem and to his crucifixion, to reflect on our own Christian path as we consider his last forty days. Lent is a season that calls for quietness, seriousness, confession, and sacrifice.
And yet the very name Lent is derived from an old English word (Lenten) that described the lengthening of days at this time of year. Spring approaches and it is hard to keep one’s heart from lifting with joy as the light increases and the days grow longer.
I think today’s scriptures beautifully reflect that paradox. In the lesson from Genesis, we get the end of the story of Noah, when God promises Noah and his family that God will never again destroy the earth and all its inhabitants with water. The rainbow God places in the sky is a symbol of his covenant, a binding promise. The rainbow reminds us of God’s mercy and opens the door for penitence and forgiveness, a new idea for humankind.
Since the time of Noah, these verses tell us, we humans have been given a choice. We can choose to follow our own will, to live our lives in selfishness and sin, never considering how our choice affects others or disappoints God. Or, we can choose to be fully aware of our words and actions, considering how our behavior may be detrimental or even harmful to others or ourselves. We can take the time, as this Lenten season calls us to do, to acknowledge our mistakes to God and to others and to ask for forgiveness. This second choice is the path of repentance.
Yet the rainbow reminds us of something else. Even if we choose the first path of willfulness and selfishness, as all of us do from time to time, God’s mercy is still with us. We are granted an entire lifetime to repent and turn toward God. God will continue to seek us out and call to us, even as we look the other way, for as long as we live. Remember those one-hundred sheep Jesus tells us about? Ninety-nine of them were behaving appropriately, safely enclosed in their fold. But the good Shepherd did not forget the lost one and did not give up until she was found and brought home. Although we always have the choice to join the ninety-nine or wander off on our own path, we can count on the shepherd’s love to find us.
The psalmist, King David as we are told, himself once a reliable shepherd, has a good understanding of the fullness of God’s mercy. In verses 5 and 6 of Psalm 25, he says, “Remember, O Lord, your compassion and love, for they are from everlasting. Remember not the sins of my youth and my transgressions; remember me according to your love and for the sake of your goodness, O Lord.” These words are written in complete assurance that God will forgive and forget our trespasses. True repentance offers us a completely new beginning with God. So does baptism.
In his first letter, St. Peter makes a connection between the waters of the great flood and the water of baptism. He tells us that during the time Noah built the ark, God was waiting with hope that others would repent and be saved. Although that didn’t happen, God remembered the righteousness of Noah and saved him and seven members of his family from the destruction of the flood. Peter says that Noah and his family were saved through water as we are saved through baptism. Peter tells us that our baptism is not a removal of dirt from the body but an “appeal to God for a good conscience.” Our baptism is the sign that we belong to God, that we are at least willing to do our part to meet God halfway. Our willingness is all the Lord needs. Our Lord Jesus Christ meets us more than halfway, as Peter tells us: “Christ suffered for sins once for all, the righteous for the unrighteous, in order to bring you to God.”
These words from Peter and Genesis and Psalm 25 remind me of the young woman from Piedmont Episcopal Church who wanted to be baptized a second time. As a young child, she had been baptized into one denomination. At the age of eighteen, and now an Episcopalian, she asked Rev. Brad Jackson to baptize her again. She felt a new consciousness of her life as a Christian, a new, fuller awareness of how she had been called by Jesus. Of course Brad explained to her that the church believes one baptism is all that is necessary—or required. But something in her heartfelt need caused Brad to consider a different approach. He allowed her to hear the words of the baptismal sacrament, spoken by her family and friends who surrounded her, as her own father poured handfuls of water over her head. This lovely ceremony took place on a beautiful late summer afternoon, two and a half years ago, in September of 2009, right down from this chapel in the Kinsey Run. I bet if you were there you will never forget it. Just as the waters washed over her, a strong wind came up and hurled itself through the valley, as if the Holy Spirit spoke approval.
The Spirit descended like a dove on Jesus as he stepped from the waters of the Jordan after his baptism by John. His father’s voice spoke from heaven to say, “You are my son, the Beloved; with you I am well pleased.”
Those words of hope and love and gracious mercy are spoken to us as well. As jonquils bloom and maple trees are adorned with red buds, as the days lengthen and the sun grows warmer, let us think of Christ and of all he sacrificed in dying for us. Let us remember also that the sole purpose of his death was for us to have life and have it abundantly. Amen.
1st Sunday in Lent
Lessons:
Genesis 9:8-17
Psalm 25
1st Peter 3:18-22
Mark 1:9-15
Today is the first Sunday in Lent, the season of the church year specifically set aside for self-examination and penitence. Lent asks us consciously to join Christ on his journey to Jerusalem and to his crucifixion, to reflect on our own Christian path as we consider his last forty days. Lent is a season that calls for quietness, seriousness, confession, and sacrifice.
And yet the very name Lent is derived from an old English word (Lenten) that described the lengthening of days at this time of year. Spring approaches and it is hard to keep one’s heart from lifting with joy as the light increases and the days grow longer.
I think today’s scriptures beautifully reflect that paradox. In the lesson from Genesis, we get the end of the story of Noah, when God promises Noah and his family that God will never again destroy the earth and all its inhabitants with water. The rainbow God places in the sky is a symbol of his covenant, a binding promise. The rainbow reminds us of God’s mercy and opens the door for penitence and forgiveness, a new idea for humankind.
Since the time of Noah, these verses tell us, we humans have been given a choice. We can choose to follow our own will, to live our lives in selfishness and sin, never considering how our choice affects others or disappoints God. Or, we can choose to be fully aware of our words and actions, considering how our behavior may be detrimental or even harmful to others or ourselves. We can take the time, as this Lenten season calls us to do, to acknowledge our mistakes to God and to others and to ask for forgiveness. This second choice is the path of repentance.
Yet the rainbow reminds us of something else. Even if we choose the first path of willfulness and selfishness, as all of us do from time to time, God’s mercy is still with us. We are granted an entire lifetime to repent and turn toward God. God will continue to seek us out and call to us, even as we look the other way, for as long as we live. Remember those one-hundred sheep Jesus tells us about? Ninety-nine of them were behaving appropriately, safely enclosed in their fold. But the good Shepherd did not forget the lost one and did not give up until she was found and brought home. Although we always have the choice to join the ninety-nine or wander off on our own path, we can count on the shepherd’s love to find us.
The psalmist, King David as we are told, himself once a reliable shepherd, has a good understanding of the fullness of God’s mercy. In verses 5 and 6 of Psalm 25, he says, “Remember, O Lord, your compassion and love, for they are from everlasting. Remember not the sins of my youth and my transgressions; remember me according to your love and for the sake of your goodness, O Lord.” These words are written in complete assurance that God will forgive and forget our trespasses. True repentance offers us a completely new beginning with God. So does baptism.
In his first letter, St. Peter makes a connection between the waters of the great flood and the water of baptism. He tells us that during the time Noah built the ark, God was waiting with hope that others would repent and be saved. Although that didn’t happen, God remembered the righteousness of Noah and saved him and seven members of his family from the destruction of the flood. Peter says that Noah and his family were saved through water as we are saved through baptism. Peter tells us that our baptism is not a removal of dirt from the body but an “appeal to God for a good conscience.” Our baptism is the sign that we belong to God, that we are at least willing to do our part to meet God halfway. Our willingness is all the Lord needs. Our Lord Jesus Christ meets us more than halfway, as Peter tells us: “Christ suffered for sins once for all, the righteous for the unrighteous, in order to bring you to God.”
These words from Peter and Genesis and Psalm 25 remind me of the young woman from Piedmont Episcopal Church who wanted to be baptized a second time. As a young child, she had been baptized into one denomination. At the age of eighteen, and now an Episcopalian, she asked Rev. Brad Jackson to baptize her again. She felt a new consciousness of her life as a Christian, a new, fuller awareness of how she had been called by Jesus. Of course Brad explained to her that the church believes one baptism is all that is necessary—or required. But something in her heartfelt need caused Brad to consider a different approach. He allowed her to hear the words of the baptismal sacrament, spoken by her family and friends who surrounded her, as her own father poured handfuls of water over her head. This lovely ceremony took place on a beautiful late summer afternoon, two and a half years ago, in September of 2009, right down from this chapel in the Kinsey Run. I bet if you were there you will never forget it. Just as the waters washed over her, a strong wind came up and hurled itself through the valley, as if the Holy Spirit spoke approval.
The Spirit descended like a dove on Jesus as he stepped from the waters of the Jordan after his baptism by John. His father’s voice spoke from heaven to say, “You are my son, the Beloved; with you I am well pleased.”
Those words of hope and love and gracious mercy are spoken to us as well. As jonquils bloom and maple trees are adorned with red buds, as the days lengthen and the sun grows warmer, let us think of Christ and of all he sacrificed in dying for us. Let us remember also that the sole purpose of his death was for us to have life and have it abundantly. Amen.
Wednesday, December 28, 2011
On Being Humble
Homily for Sunday, October 30, 2011
Lessons:
Joshua 3:7-17
Psalm 107: 1-7, 33-37
1 Thessalonians 2:9-13
Matthew 23:1-12
You may be familiar with the work of T Bone Burnett if you are a fan of the soundtrack of the movie O Brother, Where Art Thou. Not only is T Bone a successful producer of popular recordings, but he is also a gifted singer-songwriter as well. In one of his songs, he has this to say about humility: “As soon as you think you’re being humble, you’re no longer humble.” Achieving humility is a really tricky thing, as T Bone tells us. It is also an attitude and a behavior required of Christians and modeled for us by Jesus. I’ve heard humility defined as “being in a proper relationship with God, acknowledging that all of our goodness comes from Him.” Every gift we possess and any righteous act we perform originates with the Lord. As today’s collect says, “It is only by your gift, Lord, that your faithful people offer you true and laudable service.” Pride, therefore, has no place in the Christian heart.
In the Old Testament lesson, God enables Joshua to put on a big show, as He had done with Joshua’s predecessor Moses. Joshua is to prove his power and leadership ability to the people by parting the Jordon River and making a dry path for the people to cross over, as Moses had done with the Red Sea. God stops the flowing of the river and Joshua says, “By this you shall know that among you is the living God who without fail will drive out from before you the Canaanites, Hittites, Hivites, Perizzites, Girgashites, Amorites, and Jebusites: the ark of the covenant of the Lord of all the earth is going to pass before you into the Jordan. So now select twelve men from the tribes of Israel, one from each tribe. When the soles of the feet of the priests who bear the ark of the LORD, the Lord of all the earth, rest in the waters of the Jordan, the waters of the Jordan flowing from above shall be cut off; they shall stand in a single heap.” Note that Joshua doesn’t claim this power for himself; he gives all the credit to the Lord, who had told him, “This day I will begin to exalt you in the sight of all Israel, so that they may know that I will be with you as I was with Moses.” If there is any exalting to be done, God does it. Still, when you have been exalted by God, as were Joshua and Moses, it must be difficult not to want to flaunt your power just a little bit. Indeed, Moses struck the rock at Meribah to release the water for the people without calling on the Lord first—as if the power to bring forth the water was his alone. For that one prideful act, God barred Moses from entering the Promised land with the people.
In his letter to the Thessalonians, Paul seems to be succumbing to another form of human pridefulness: self-righteousness. He says, “You remember our labor and toil, brothers and sisters; we worked night and day, so that we might not burden any of you while we proclaimed to you the gospel of God. You are witnesses, and God also, how pure, upright, and blameless our conduct was toward you believers.” Isn’t there a definite whiny tone to that speech? I have to admit here that self-righteousness is a sin way too familiar to me. I find it very hard to try to be good every day and not give in to feeling superior about it, particularly when there seem to be a lot of people out there who don’t even try. Paul, who suffered punishment and imprisonment for his faith and good works, may feel justified in claiming his righteousness, but he ultimately does not give in to it: he rightly gives God the credit and gratitude for his accomplishments when he says, “We also constantly give thanks to God for this, that when you received the word of God that you heard from us, you accepted it not as a human word but as what it really is, God's word, which is also at work in you believers.”
Paul’s case is a useful one to consider as we examine the sin of pride. Once a well-respected Pharisee and persecutor of Christians, Paul was a man motivated by deeply-held convictions and proud of his work. Only sudden blindness and the sound of the Lord’s voice speaking to him could radically change the course of his life and cause him to join the church he had once set out to destroy. Other than by God’s grace, how could Paul have integrated two such disparate versions of himself? How did the new Paul forgive the old one? Only by grace must be the answer.
Pride, classically known as hubris, is said to be at the root of all sin. Had they not wanted to be like God, knowing what he knew, Adam and Eve would not have eaten the forbidden fruit. Theirs was the original example of pride “coming before a fall.” But I think there is something else underlying human pride that we ought to contemplate. Don’t all of us experience things that wound our egos? From being called ugly names as a child to suffering rejection as an adult, we can probably all name a time when our pride was deeply wounded, when we felt shamed in some way. Our wounded egos need a little pride to bolster them, and we may have felt we had to exalt ourselves in some way. It’s painful to be humble when we’ve experienced humiliation. On the other hand, even false humility (“Oh, this old dress—I just wear it when I don’t care how I look”) is truly egotistical. How do we navigate the treacherous waters separating pride from humility? As old T Bone said, “As soon as you think you’re being humble, you’re no longer humble.”
In today’s gospel, Jesus uses the example of the hypocrisy of the Pharisees to make a point about pride. He says they do not practice what they teach, that they do all their deeds to be seen by others. The Pharisees are very concerned about their outward appearance, the trappings of pride, making “their phylacteries long and their fringes wide.” But Jesus does not tell his followers to disrespect or judge the scribes and Pharisees; in fact, he says, “The scribes and the Pharisees sit on Moses' seat; therefore, do whatever they teach you and follow it.” No, Jesus tells his followers to be aware of the damning pride of the Pharisees and to remember that humility will be the source of their security and their future reward: “All who exalt themselves will be humbled, and all who humble themselves will be exalted."
So, it seems that humility is really about being so comfortable in our own skin that the pride (or just plain bad behavior) of others doesn’t affect us. Trusting completely in God’s love for us, our wounded egos can be healed. Knowing that it is only by God’s grace, as Paul did, that we can call ourselves either righteous or humble, we can let go of self-consciousness. It isn’t our job to make ourselves look good. Only God can accomplish that for us!
In this season, with All Hallow’s Eve approaching and All Saints Day to follow, I was thinking of the saints as I wrote this homily. I don’t think anyone makes it to sainthood without possessing a good measure of humility. Knowing themselves as both indebted to and connected to God was fundamental for the saints. I like to imagine them living most of their days, anyway, with such strong conviction of their faith that they experienced true inner peace. Maybe that is what is meant by this lovely quotation on humility: "Humility is perpetual quietness of heart. It is to have no trouble. It is never to be fretted or vexed, or irritable, to wonder at nothing that is done to me, to feel nothing that is done against me. It is to be at rest when nobody praises me, and when I am blamed or despised, it is to have a blessed home in myself where I can go in and shut the door and kneel to my Father in secret and be at peace, as in a deep sea of calmness, when all around and about is seeming trouble.”
We can remember the words of Isaiah 57:15: “Thus says the high and lofty one who inhabits eternity, whose name is holy, ‘I dwell in the high and holy place and also with the one who has a contrite and humble spirit, to revive the spirit of the humble and to revive the heart of the contrite.’” When we are content to inhabit our own inner space, the Spirit is pleased to join us there—and to exalt us when the time is right.
Lessons:
Joshua 3:7-17
Psalm 107: 1-7, 33-37
1 Thessalonians 2:9-13
Matthew 23:1-12
You may be familiar with the work of T Bone Burnett if you are a fan of the soundtrack of the movie O Brother, Where Art Thou. Not only is T Bone a successful producer of popular recordings, but he is also a gifted singer-songwriter as well. In one of his songs, he has this to say about humility: “As soon as you think you’re being humble, you’re no longer humble.” Achieving humility is a really tricky thing, as T Bone tells us. It is also an attitude and a behavior required of Christians and modeled for us by Jesus. I’ve heard humility defined as “being in a proper relationship with God, acknowledging that all of our goodness comes from Him.” Every gift we possess and any righteous act we perform originates with the Lord. As today’s collect says, “It is only by your gift, Lord, that your faithful people offer you true and laudable service.” Pride, therefore, has no place in the Christian heart.
In the Old Testament lesson, God enables Joshua to put on a big show, as He had done with Joshua’s predecessor Moses. Joshua is to prove his power and leadership ability to the people by parting the Jordon River and making a dry path for the people to cross over, as Moses had done with the Red Sea. God stops the flowing of the river and Joshua says, “By this you shall know that among you is the living God who without fail will drive out from before you the Canaanites, Hittites, Hivites, Perizzites, Girgashites, Amorites, and Jebusites: the ark of the covenant of the Lord of all the earth is going to pass before you into the Jordan. So now select twelve men from the tribes of Israel, one from each tribe. When the soles of the feet of the priests who bear the ark of the LORD, the Lord of all the earth, rest in the waters of the Jordan, the waters of the Jordan flowing from above shall be cut off; they shall stand in a single heap.” Note that Joshua doesn’t claim this power for himself; he gives all the credit to the Lord, who had told him, “This day I will begin to exalt you in the sight of all Israel, so that they may know that I will be with you as I was with Moses.” If there is any exalting to be done, God does it. Still, when you have been exalted by God, as were Joshua and Moses, it must be difficult not to want to flaunt your power just a little bit. Indeed, Moses struck the rock at Meribah to release the water for the people without calling on the Lord first—as if the power to bring forth the water was his alone. For that one prideful act, God barred Moses from entering the Promised land with the people.
In his letter to the Thessalonians, Paul seems to be succumbing to another form of human pridefulness: self-righteousness. He says, “You remember our labor and toil, brothers and sisters; we worked night and day, so that we might not burden any of you while we proclaimed to you the gospel of God. You are witnesses, and God also, how pure, upright, and blameless our conduct was toward you believers.” Isn’t there a definite whiny tone to that speech? I have to admit here that self-righteousness is a sin way too familiar to me. I find it very hard to try to be good every day and not give in to feeling superior about it, particularly when there seem to be a lot of people out there who don’t even try. Paul, who suffered punishment and imprisonment for his faith and good works, may feel justified in claiming his righteousness, but he ultimately does not give in to it: he rightly gives God the credit and gratitude for his accomplishments when he says, “We also constantly give thanks to God for this, that when you received the word of God that you heard from us, you accepted it not as a human word but as what it really is, God's word, which is also at work in you believers.”
Paul’s case is a useful one to consider as we examine the sin of pride. Once a well-respected Pharisee and persecutor of Christians, Paul was a man motivated by deeply-held convictions and proud of his work. Only sudden blindness and the sound of the Lord’s voice speaking to him could radically change the course of his life and cause him to join the church he had once set out to destroy. Other than by God’s grace, how could Paul have integrated two such disparate versions of himself? How did the new Paul forgive the old one? Only by grace must be the answer.
Pride, classically known as hubris, is said to be at the root of all sin. Had they not wanted to be like God, knowing what he knew, Adam and Eve would not have eaten the forbidden fruit. Theirs was the original example of pride “coming before a fall.” But I think there is something else underlying human pride that we ought to contemplate. Don’t all of us experience things that wound our egos? From being called ugly names as a child to suffering rejection as an adult, we can probably all name a time when our pride was deeply wounded, when we felt shamed in some way. Our wounded egos need a little pride to bolster them, and we may have felt we had to exalt ourselves in some way. It’s painful to be humble when we’ve experienced humiliation. On the other hand, even false humility (“Oh, this old dress—I just wear it when I don’t care how I look”) is truly egotistical. How do we navigate the treacherous waters separating pride from humility? As old T Bone said, “As soon as you think you’re being humble, you’re no longer humble.”
In today’s gospel, Jesus uses the example of the hypocrisy of the Pharisees to make a point about pride. He says they do not practice what they teach, that they do all their deeds to be seen by others. The Pharisees are very concerned about their outward appearance, the trappings of pride, making “their phylacteries long and their fringes wide.” But Jesus does not tell his followers to disrespect or judge the scribes and Pharisees; in fact, he says, “The scribes and the Pharisees sit on Moses' seat; therefore, do whatever they teach you and follow it.” No, Jesus tells his followers to be aware of the damning pride of the Pharisees and to remember that humility will be the source of their security and their future reward: “All who exalt themselves will be humbled, and all who humble themselves will be exalted."
So, it seems that humility is really about being so comfortable in our own skin that the pride (or just plain bad behavior) of others doesn’t affect us. Trusting completely in God’s love for us, our wounded egos can be healed. Knowing that it is only by God’s grace, as Paul did, that we can call ourselves either righteous or humble, we can let go of self-consciousness. It isn’t our job to make ourselves look good. Only God can accomplish that for us!
In this season, with All Hallow’s Eve approaching and All Saints Day to follow, I was thinking of the saints as I wrote this homily. I don’t think anyone makes it to sainthood without possessing a good measure of humility. Knowing themselves as both indebted to and connected to God was fundamental for the saints. I like to imagine them living most of their days, anyway, with such strong conviction of their faith that they experienced true inner peace. Maybe that is what is meant by this lovely quotation on humility: "Humility is perpetual quietness of heart. It is to have no trouble. It is never to be fretted or vexed, or irritable, to wonder at nothing that is done to me, to feel nothing that is done against me. It is to be at rest when nobody praises me, and when I am blamed or despised, it is to have a blessed home in myself where I can go in and shut the door and kneel to my Father in secret and be at peace, as in a deep sea of calmness, when all around and about is seeming trouble.”
We can remember the words of Isaiah 57:15: “Thus says the high and lofty one who inhabits eternity, whose name is holy, ‘I dwell in the high and holy place and also with the one who has a contrite and humble spirit, to revive the spirit of the humble and to revive the heart of the contrite.’” When we are content to inhabit our own inner space, the Spirit is pleased to join us there—and to exalt us when the time is right.
Monday, August 29, 2011
The Work of Kindness
Homily for Sunday, August 28, 2011
Lessons:
Exodus 3:1-15
Psalm 105: 1-6, 23-26, 45c
Romans 12:9-21 [Broadman Hymnal responsive reading #551]
Matthew 16:21-28
We have work to do! The collect for today reminds us of that and provides a rubric for the way God enables us to work: “Lord of all power and might, the author and giver of all good things: Graft in our hearts the love of your name; increase in us true religion; nourish us with all goodness; and bring forth in us the fruit of good works.” I’m reminded of the steps we take as gardeners: we tend the soil, adding improvements to it; we plant the seeds, then water and fertilize them; then, if we’ve done our part, the fruits of our labors come naturally. As God “increases in us true religion and nourishes us with all goodness,” out of gratitude and peace of mind, we bring forth the desired good fruits.
In his epistle to the Romans, Paul tells us what some of these fruits are supposed to be, and they don’t involve especially hard labor: “Love one another with mutual affection; outdo one another in showing honor; be ardent in spirit; serve the Lord; rejoice in hope; be patient in suffering; persevere in prayer; contribute to the needs of the saints; extend hospitality to strangers.” Paul is more than usually straightforward here, and what he considers to be the proper works for Christians (or saints, as he calls them) is also summed up in the Great Commandment: Love the Lord with all your heart and might and love your neighbor as yourself.
In today’s lesson from Exodus, God calls Moses to a work that sounds, not only to Moses, but to us as well, like a supremely difficult task to undertake. Moses, not unlike most of us given such a task, tries very hard to get out of doing it. Like us, Moses believes he simply is not equipped to carry out what God asks him to do: to lead the Hebrew people out of Egypt. But here’s the key statement God makes as he convinces Moses to obey him, and it’s well worth our remembering when we find ourselves undertaking a challenging task: God says to Moses, as he also says to us, “I will be with you.”
Jesus’s words in Matthew 16 are pretty clear, too: “If any want to be my followers, let them take up their cross and follow me…For the Son of Man is to come with his angels in the glory of the father, and then he will repay everyone for what has been done.” The ultimate work of Jesus’s life was to die on the cross for our salvation. In his life he modeled love, kindness and generosity to the poor, helpless, and sick people he encountered. The cross he asks us to take up is certainly not HIS cross. There have been saintly martyrs down through the ages, but martyrdom is not likely to be what we are called to do. However, we are called to do whatever God puts before us that needs doing; when we model our lives on Christ’s life of love, kindness, and generosity, then we have taken up our own cross.
I see that Christ-like kindness bearing fruit here in Graves Mill. This past winter, Michelle and Bill and Doug and Dreama and many others came to the aid of Cecil Berry, and you continue to provide for his needs. Fellowship and neighborly kindness seem to come naturally here in the valley, and that’s a wonderful gift.
My mother, Lillian Estes Haney, was born here and carried that Graves Mill spirit with her throughout her life. Mama never did anything noteworthy enough to call attention to herself, but she lived every day with a kind and loving spirit. She didn’t follow a call to do something deeply challenging for the Lord, as Moses did. But since her death, so many people (including people I didn’t know) have told me stories of the ways my mother helped them or treated them kindly or made them feel loved. Kindness was both her gift and her work.
Recently, the public radio station in Harrisonburg, whose program called “Virginia Insight” airs on Monday afternoons, delved into the topic of kindness, and I listened with great interest. A couple of scholars who have written books on the subject were the featured guests on the show, and what they had to say about their research on kindness sounded like simple common sense to me, expressed in “high-faluting” language. One of them said that kindness was an evolutionary imperative. Survival of the fittest depended on human beings learning how to give and receive help, learning how to value kindness. The other one said that sometimes kindness has an ulterior motive: a “you scratch my back, I’ll scratch yours” attitude. Both of those things are probably accurate.
What I really found moving and true was a story related by a woman who called in to the show. She told of an act of kindness she had witnessed in a grocery line one day, and it was both very simple and very profound. The checker had to deal with a customer who was slow and clumsy, handicapped in some way. Although most of those in line behind that patron were visibly expressing their impatience at having to wait, the checker continued to treat the person she was serving with kindness and patience. When the woman in line in front of the caller got to the checker, she said to her, “I really appreciate the way you took your time with that customer and treated him so kindly.” As she said this, the checker, who had heard a few complaints, smiled with gratitude.
So, really, there were two acts of kindness: that of the checker in handling her disabled customer and that of the woman who praised her for her generous deed. As small as both of these gestures may have seemed, it would be impossible to measure the way such kindness bears fruit, how far-reaching such acts can potentially be.
“Live in love as Christ loved us and gave his life for us.”
“Serve the Lord with gladness.”
Amen.
Lessons:
Exodus 3:1-15
Psalm 105: 1-6, 23-26, 45c
Romans 12:9-21 [Broadman Hymnal responsive reading #551]
Matthew 16:21-28
We have work to do! The collect for today reminds us of that and provides a rubric for the way God enables us to work: “Lord of all power and might, the author and giver of all good things: Graft in our hearts the love of your name; increase in us true religion; nourish us with all goodness; and bring forth in us the fruit of good works.” I’m reminded of the steps we take as gardeners: we tend the soil, adding improvements to it; we plant the seeds, then water and fertilize them; then, if we’ve done our part, the fruits of our labors come naturally. As God “increases in us true religion and nourishes us with all goodness,” out of gratitude and peace of mind, we bring forth the desired good fruits.
In his epistle to the Romans, Paul tells us what some of these fruits are supposed to be, and they don’t involve especially hard labor: “Love one another with mutual affection; outdo one another in showing honor; be ardent in spirit; serve the Lord; rejoice in hope; be patient in suffering; persevere in prayer; contribute to the needs of the saints; extend hospitality to strangers.” Paul is more than usually straightforward here, and what he considers to be the proper works for Christians (or saints, as he calls them) is also summed up in the Great Commandment: Love the Lord with all your heart and might and love your neighbor as yourself.
In today’s lesson from Exodus, God calls Moses to a work that sounds, not only to Moses, but to us as well, like a supremely difficult task to undertake. Moses, not unlike most of us given such a task, tries very hard to get out of doing it. Like us, Moses believes he simply is not equipped to carry out what God asks him to do: to lead the Hebrew people out of Egypt. But here’s the key statement God makes as he convinces Moses to obey him, and it’s well worth our remembering when we find ourselves undertaking a challenging task: God says to Moses, as he also says to us, “I will be with you.”
Jesus’s words in Matthew 16 are pretty clear, too: “If any want to be my followers, let them take up their cross and follow me…For the Son of Man is to come with his angels in the glory of the father, and then he will repay everyone for what has been done.” The ultimate work of Jesus’s life was to die on the cross for our salvation. In his life he modeled love, kindness and generosity to the poor, helpless, and sick people he encountered. The cross he asks us to take up is certainly not HIS cross. There have been saintly martyrs down through the ages, but martyrdom is not likely to be what we are called to do. However, we are called to do whatever God puts before us that needs doing; when we model our lives on Christ’s life of love, kindness, and generosity, then we have taken up our own cross.
I see that Christ-like kindness bearing fruit here in Graves Mill. This past winter, Michelle and Bill and Doug and Dreama and many others came to the aid of Cecil Berry, and you continue to provide for his needs. Fellowship and neighborly kindness seem to come naturally here in the valley, and that’s a wonderful gift.
My mother, Lillian Estes Haney, was born here and carried that Graves Mill spirit with her throughout her life. Mama never did anything noteworthy enough to call attention to herself, but she lived every day with a kind and loving spirit. She didn’t follow a call to do something deeply challenging for the Lord, as Moses did. But since her death, so many people (including people I didn’t know) have told me stories of the ways my mother helped them or treated them kindly or made them feel loved. Kindness was both her gift and her work.
Recently, the public radio station in Harrisonburg, whose program called “Virginia Insight” airs on Monday afternoons, delved into the topic of kindness, and I listened with great interest. A couple of scholars who have written books on the subject were the featured guests on the show, and what they had to say about their research on kindness sounded like simple common sense to me, expressed in “high-faluting” language. One of them said that kindness was an evolutionary imperative. Survival of the fittest depended on human beings learning how to give and receive help, learning how to value kindness. The other one said that sometimes kindness has an ulterior motive: a “you scratch my back, I’ll scratch yours” attitude. Both of those things are probably accurate.
What I really found moving and true was a story related by a woman who called in to the show. She told of an act of kindness she had witnessed in a grocery line one day, and it was both very simple and very profound. The checker had to deal with a customer who was slow and clumsy, handicapped in some way. Although most of those in line behind that patron were visibly expressing their impatience at having to wait, the checker continued to treat the person she was serving with kindness and patience. When the woman in line in front of the caller got to the checker, she said to her, “I really appreciate the way you took your time with that customer and treated him so kindly.” As she said this, the checker, who had heard a few complaints, smiled with gratitude.
So, really, there were two acts of kindness: that of the checker in handling her disabled customer and that of the woman who praised her for her generous deed. As small as both of these gestures may have seemed, it would be impossible to measure the way such kindness bears fruit, how far-reaching such acts can potentially be.
“Live in love as Christ loved us and gave his life for us.”
“Serve the Lord with gladness.”
Amen.
God's Will
Homily for Sunday, August 7 Buck Mountain Church
Lessons:
Genesis 37: 1-4, 12-28
Psalm 105: 1-6, 16-22
Romans 10: 5-15
Matthew 14: 22-33
The collect appointed for today, like many others, could be a little sermon on its own. "Grant to us, Lord, we pray, the spirit to think and do always those things that are right, that we, who cannot exist without you, may by you be enabled to live according to your will." As I interpret the collect, it suggests three things. The first is we want to follow God's will, but we find it hard to do so. Secondly, to follow God's will means to think and do what is right. Finally, the only way we can manage to do that is if God enables us. Hence, we pray. Does this really mean that whether we follow God's will or not is completely up to God? Surely human free will also has a role to play. How do we discern God's will for us?
In his famous book, The Will of God, Leslie Weatherhead offers a convincing clarification. He wrote the book because he didn't agree with people who explained away awful tragedies, like the death of a child, by saying they were the result of "God's will." He said such expressions made no sense, adding, "Surely we cannot identify as the will of God something for which a man would be locked up in jail." Weatherhead explained God's will by dividing it into three parts. The first is what he called "the intentional will of God," or "God's ideal purpose." Quite often, however, "God's ideal purpose" is thwarted by circumstances related to human free will and the existence of evil in the world. Then God has to work through such bad circumstances in order to fulfill his ideal purpose, and Weatherhead calls that "the circumstantial will of God." Finally, in spite of all of the difficult things that may have stood in the way, when God is able to bring about something truly good and fulfill his original intentional will, Weatherhead calls that the "ultimate will of God."
The familiar story of Joseph, the favorite son of Jacob, and all of his brothers is a great illustration of Weatherhead's treatise on God's will. It is clear from the beginning that God has big things planned for Joseph, who can interpret dreams. Remember, Joseph had a couple of dreams--one about sheaves of wheat and the other about the sun, moon and stars--which he interpreted to mean that all of his brothers and even his parents would one day have to bow down to him. The problem was Joseph just couldn't help telling his older brothers about his dreams. How could they hear that prediction and not think Joseph was gloating over them? His words must have sounded like boasting, so there was at least a little bit of hubris on Joseph's part, and pride often comes before a fall, as the old saying goes. It didn't help the brothers feel any more tolerant of Joseph when their father gave him that special robe with long sleeves.
Siblings. If you’ve never had one, you’ve surely heard stories about sibling rivalry. This story about Joseph and his brothers is one of the most famous. You may have seen the movie version of “Joseph and His Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat” starring Donnie Osmond as Joseph. Even without Donnie Osmond, it’s easy to see why Joseph annoyed his siblings, and it wasn't just because of his "nanny nanny boo boo" dreams or the fancy coat. Joseph brought his father a “bad report” about his older brothers. Nobody likes a tattletale.
I can personally attest to that. When I was about four years old, I told on my big brother, who is eight years older than I, and got him into trouble. My brother cornered me, grabbed me by the arm, and said in a very soft and ominous voice, “If you ever tell on me again, I will kill you.” That was a message even a four-year old doesn’t need to hear twice. My tattletale days were over. Maybe Joseph's older brothers should have been kind enough to give him a warning. At least Reuben cared enough about him to figure out a way to keep Joseph alive. So, instead of being killed by his brothers, Joseph was sold into slavery in Egypt.
The intentional will of God for Joseph, "God's ideal purpose" was that he would one day be the salvation of his family, the salvation, really, of Israel. The dream Joseph shared with them about their bundled sheaves of wheat bowing down to his sheaf may even have suggested the upcoming famine and Joseph's role in saving his family from starvation. The evil circumstances that nearly prevented that from happening--the jealousy and revenge of his brothers--had to be used and redirected by God--the "circumstantial will of God." The entire story of Joseph reads like a novel. When he is sold in Egypt, he ends up in the household of a prominent official in Pharaoh's court, a man named Potiphar. Potiphar learns to value Joseph and places him in a position of trust, but Potiphar's wife develops a thing for Joseph and tries repeatedly to seduce him. When he refuses, she accuses him of trying to "lie with" her, and Joseph is thrown into jail. It is in jail that Joseph's talent as an interpreter of dreams is finally revealed, and two years after he correctly interprets the dream of Pharaoh's chief cupbearer, he is brought before the Pharaoh, who has had some troubling dreams. Joseph predicts the upcoming seven years of plenty followed by seven years of famine, and the grateful Pharaoh makes Joseph his second in command. It is in that capacity, and during the famine, that Joseph is able to give help to his starving brothers when they journey to Egypt in search of food. Psalm 105 fills in the details: "Remember the marvels he has done/ the wonders and judgments of his mouth/ O children of Jacob his chosen...He sent a man before them, Joseph, who was sold as a slave./...They bruised his feet in fetters/ his neck they put in an iron collar.../The king sent and released him/ He set him as a master over his household." Think how many twists and turns and unpleasant circumstances had to happen, how many years went by, before the intentional will of God for Joseph could be fulfilled as an ultimate reality. Weatherhead's explanation of God's will supports my belief that God neither causes nor permits the bad things that happen to us. We are the victims of our own mistakes and emotions (fear or pride or envy or anger) or of the bad choices others make. Sometimes we are the victims of unlucky circumstances or natural disasters. But our God is capable of working through all of these things to bring us to his ultimate will for us--that we be happy, well, and free.
In his letter to the Romans, Paul reminds us that discerning God's will for us can be easier than it seems. Quoting Deuteronomy, Paul tells us, "The word is near you, on your lips and in your heart." If we have any conscience at all, if we "think those things that are right," as the collect suggests, then we ought to know how to do the right thing. Listening with our hearts, having faith, trusting in God's love for us will help to carry us through the dark circumstances over which we have no control. His faith in God sustained Joseph through his many trials and brought him to maturity and a gracious generosity when he was finally reunited with his family.
Yesterday was the celebration of the Feast of the Transfiguration. That event in the life of Christ revealed to his chosen disciples that the man they called friend, someone who was much like themselves, could be transformed into a light-filled heavenly creature in the twinkling of an eye. When God exercises his intentional will for us, we too can be transfigured. Our mistakes, our accidents, our weaknesses and sorrows do not have the last word. God can take our darkest circumstances and shed some light on them.
"Grant to us, Lord, we pray, the spirit to think and do always those things that are right, that we, who cannot exist without you, may by you be enabled to live according to your will." How blessed we are to be the children of a loving and persistent God, who grabs hold of us and won't let go
Lessons:
Genesis 37: 1-4, 12-28
Psalm 105: 1-6, 16-22
Romans 10: 5-15
Matthew 14: 22-33
The collect appointed for today, like many others, could be a little sermon on its own. "Grant to us, Lord, we pray, the spirit to think and do always those things that are right, that we, who cannot exist without you, may by you be enabled to live according to your will." As I interpret the collect, it suggests three things. The first is we want to follow God's will, but we find it hard to do so. Secondly, to follow God's will means to think and do what is right. Finally, the only way we can manage to do that is if God enables us. Hence, we pray. Does this really mean that whether we follow God's will or not is completely up to God? Surely human free will also has a role to play. How do we discern God's will for us?
In his famous book, The Will of God, Leslie Weatherhead offers a convincing clarification. He wrote the book because he didn't agree with people who explained away awful tragedies, like the death of a child, by saying they were the result of "God's will." He said such expressions made no sense, adding, "Surely we cannot identify as the will of God something for which a man would be locked up in jail." Weatherhead explained God's will by dividing it into three parts. The first is what he called "the intentional will of God," or "God's ideal purpose." Quite often, however, "God's ideal purpose" is thwarted by circumstances related to human free will and the existence of evil in the world. Then God has to work through such bad circumstances in order to fulfill his ideal purpose, and Weatherhead calls that "the circumstantial will of God." Finally, in spite of all of the difficult things that may have stood in the way, when God is able to bring about something truly good and fulfill his original intentional will, Weatherhead calls that the "ultimate will of God."
The familiar story of Joseph, the favorite son of Jacob, and all of his brothers is a great illustration of Weatherhead's treatise on God's will. It is clear from the beginning that God has big things planned for Joseph, who can interpret dreams. Remember, Joseph had a couple of dreams--one about sheaves of wheat and the other about the sun, moon and stars--which he interpreted to mean that all of his brothers and even his parents would one day have to bow down to him. The problem was Joseph just couldn't help telling his older brothers about his dreams. How could they hear that prediction and not think Joseph was gloating over them? His words must have sounded like boasting, so there was at least a little bit of hubris on Joseph's part, and pride often comes before a fall, as the old saying goes. It didn't help the brothers feel any more tolerant of Joseph when their father gave him that special robe with long sleeves.
Siblings. If you’ve never had one, you’ve surely heard stories about sibling rivalry. This story about Joseph and his brothers is one of the most famous. You may have seen the movie version of “Joseph and His Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat” starring Donnie Osmond as Joseph. Even without Donnie Osmond, it’s easy to see why Joseph annoyed his siblings, and it wasn't just because of his "nanny nanny boo boo" dreams or the fancy coat. Joseph brought his father a “bad report” about his older brothers. Nobody likes a tattletale.
I can personally attest to that. When I was about four years old, I told on my big brother, who is eight years older than I, and got him into trouble. My brother cornered me, grabbed me by the arm, and said in a very soft and ominous voice, “If you ever tell on me again, I will kill you.” That was a message even a four-year old doesn’t need to hear twice. My tattletale days were over. Maybe Joseph's older brothers should have been kind enough to give him a warning. At least Reuben cared enough about him to figure out a way to keep Joseph alive. So, instead of being killed by his brothers, Joseph was sold into slavery in Egypt.
The intentional will of God for Joseph, "God's ideal purpose" was that he would one day be the salvation of his family, the salvation, really, of Israel. The dream Joseph shared with them about their bundled sheaves of wheat bowing down to his sheaf may even have suggested the upcoming famine and Joseph's role in saving his family from starvation. The evil circumstances that nearly prevented that from happening--the jealousy and revenge of his brothers--had to be used and redirected by God--the "circumstantial will of God." The entire story of Joseph reads like a novel. When he is sold in Egypt, he ends up in the household of a prominent official in Pharaoh's court, a man named Potiphar. Potiphar learns to value Joseph and places him in a position of trust, but Potiphar's wife develops a thing for Joseph and tries repeatedly to seduce him. When he refuses, she accuses him of trying to "lie with" her, and Joseph is thrown into jail. It is in jail that Joseph's talent as an interpreter of dreams is finally revealed, and two years after he correctly interprets the dream of Pharaoh's chief cupbearer, he is brought before the Pharaoh, who has had some troubling dreams. Joseph predicts the upcoming seven years of plenty followed by seven years of famine, and the grateful Pharaoh makes Joseph his second in command. It is in that capacity, and during the famine, that Joseph is able to give help to his starving brothers when they journey to Egypt in search of food. Psalm 105 fills in the details: "Remember the marvels he has done/ the wonders and judgments of his mouth/ O children of Jacob his chosen...He sent a man before them, Joseph, who was sold as a slave./...They bruised his feet in fetters/ his neck they put in an iron collar.../The king sent and released him/ He set him as a master over his household." Think how many twists and turns and unpleasant circumstances had to happen, how many years went by, before the intentional will of God for Joseph could be fulfilled as an ultimate reality. Weatherhead's explanation of God's will supports my belief that God neither causes nor permits the bad things that happen to us. We are the victims of our own mistakes and emotions (fear or pride or envy or anger) or of the bad choices others make. Sometimes we are the victims of unlucky circumstances or natural disasters. But our God is capable of working through all of these things to bring us to his ultimate will for us--that we be happy, well, and free.
In his letter to the Romans, Paul reminds us that discerning God's will for us can be easier than it seems. Quoting Deuteronomy, Paul tells us, "The word is near you, on your lips and in your heart." If we have any conscience at all, if we "think those things that are right," as the collect suggests, then we ought to know how to do the right thing. Listening with our hearts, having faith, trusting in God's love for us will help to carry us through the dark circumstances over which we have no control. His faith in God sustained Joseph through his many trials and brought him to maturity and a gracious generosity when he was finally reunited with his family.
Yesterday was the celebration of the Feast of the Transfiguration. That event in the life of Christ revealed to his chosen disciples that the man they called friend, someone who was much like themselves, could be transformed into a light-filled heavenly creature in the twinkling of an eye. When God exercises his intentional will for us, we too can be transfigured. Our mistakes, our accidents, our weaknesses and sorrows do not have the last word. God can take our darkest circumstances and shed some light on them.
"Grant to us, Lord, we pray, the spirit to think and do always those things that are right, that we, who cannot exist without you, may by you be enabled to live according to your will." How blessed we are to be the children of a loving and persistent God, who grabs hold of us and won't let go
Tuesday, August 9, 2011
Wrestling With God
Homily for Sunday, July 31, 2011
Lessons:
Genesis 32: 22-31
Matthew 14: 13-21
Wrestling with God. At first glance, it seems like a pretty crazy thing to do. Who would stand a chance in a battle with the Almighty? Yet, in this famous story of Jacob spending all night wrestling with the Lord, it is the Lord who willingly enjoins the fight and who gives in first.
A couple of years ago, I delivered a homily I called "The Bad Boys of the Bible. " On my list of bad boys were Moses, David, and Jacob--all of whom, in addition to being notorious misbehavers, are three of the most significant figures in Hebrew history. Moses, remember, murdered an Egyptian taskmaster and had to flee from Egypt. When God spoke to him from a burning bush, Moses tried every ruse he could think of to get out of the task God gave him--leading all of the Hebrew people out of Egypt. And King David, remember, had an affair with a married woman and then had her husband killed when he found out she was pregnant. These are not the everyday sins of average human beings. In their efforts to do what they wanted to do rather than follow the will of God, Moses and David wrestled with God, struggled and failed more than once, but ultimately served God to the best of their abilities. Moses and David were big men and big sinners, but God still loved and forgave them.
In our story about Jacob, he is on his way home to encounter his twin brother Esau after living in exile for twenty years. Remember, Jacob had to go into exile after he manipulated the elder Esau into trading his birthright for a bowl of soup. Then he tricked his father Isaac into giving him the blessing that also rightfully belonged to Esau. Jacob was in fact an ambitious con man. Even so, the Lord willingly grapples with him, and Jacob's stubborn determination is rewarded when the Lord blesses him and changes his name to Israel. The twelve sons of Jacob became the founders of the twelve tribes of Israel, the people led out of Egypt, through the Red Sea, and into the Promised Land by Moses. Once again, it is clear that even the worst of sinners (and the greatest of wrestlers) can be loved and used by God.
This is really good news, because I think most of us spend a lot of time wrestling with God. I wrestle with God when things around me seem to be going all wrong and I'm not patient enough to let God reveal a solution. I am also prone to wrestling when what God seems to be calling me to do is not at all what I want to do. We wrestle with God when bad things happen and we want to know why God allowed them. Jacob's story tells us that God not only understands why we wrestle but also encourages us to do so.
In other words, God can handle anything we might want to say when we are anguished or stressed. God seems to prefer that we speak our hearts honestly, express our anger if we need to do so--as long as we stay tuned in for God's response. There's a story about St. Teresa of Avila that illustrates the point very well. St. Teresa, who lived from 1515 to 1582, was traveling by cart one day, on the way to visit one of her monasteries. The cart overturned as it crossed a stream, and St. Teresa's leg was broken. She looked up to Heaven and said, "Lord, if this is how you treat your friends, it's no wonder you have so few."
St. Teresa also said,
Let nothing disturb you
Let nothing frighten you
Everything passes
God never changes
Patience obtains all
Whoever has God wants for nothing
God alone is enough.
Amen.
Lessons:
Genesis 32: 22-31
Matthew 14: 13-21
Wrestling with God. At first glance, it seems like a pretty crazy thing to do. Who would stand a chance in a battle with the Almighty? Yet, in this famous story of Jacob spending all night wrestling with the Lord, it is the Lord who willingly enjoins the fight and who gives in first.
A couple of years ago, I delivered a homily I called "The Bad Boys of the Bible. " On my list of bad boys were Moses, David, and Jacob--all of whom, in addition to being notorious misbehavers, are three of the most significant figures in Hebrew history. Moses, remember, murdered an Egyptian taskmaster and had to flee from Egypt. When God spoke to him from a burning bush, Moses tried every ruse he could think of to get out of the task God gave him--leading all of the Hebrew people out of Egypt. And King David, remember, had an affair with a married woman and then had her husband killed when he found out she was pregnant. These are not the everyday sins of average human beings. In their efforts to do what they wanted to do rather than follow the will of God, Moses and David wrestled with God, struggled and failed more than once, but ultimately served God to the best of their abilities. Moses and David were big men and big sinners, but God still loved and forgave them.
In our story about Jacob, he is on his way home to encounter his twin brother Esau after living in exile for twenty years. Remember, Jacob had to go into exile after he manipulated the elder Esau into trading his birthright for a bowl of soup. Then he tricked his father Isaac into giving him the blessing that also rightfully belonged to Esau. Jacob was in fact an ambitious con man. Even so, the Lord willingly grapples with him, and Jacob's stubborn determination is rewarded when the Lord blesses him and changes his name to Israel. The twelve sons of Jacob became the founders of the twelve tribes of Israel, the people led out of Egypt, through the Red Sea, and into the Promised Land by Moses. Once again, it is clear that even the worst of sinners (and the greatest of wrestlers) can be loved and used by God.
This is really good news, because I think most of us spend a lot of time wrestling with God. I wrestle with God when things around me seem to be going all wrong and I'm not patient enough to let God reveal a solution. I am also prone to wrestling when what God seems to be calling me to do is not at all what I want to do. We wrestle with God when bad things happen and we want to know why God allowed them. Jacob's story tells us that God not only understands why we wrestle but also encourages us to do so.
In other words, God can handle anything we might want to say when we are anguished or stressed. God seems to prefer that we speak our hearts honestly, express our anger if we need to do so--as long as we stay tuned in for God's response. There's a story about St. Teresa of Avila that illustrates the point very well. St. Teresa, who lived from 1515 to 1582, was traveling by cart one day, on the way to visit one of her monasteries. The cart overturned as it crossed a stream, and St. Teresa's leg was broken. She looked up to Heaven and said, "Lord, if this is how you treat your friends, it's no wonder you have so few."
St. Teresa also said,
Let nothing disturb you
Let nothing frighten you
Everything passes
God never changes
Patience obtains all
Whoever has God wants for nothing
God alone is enough.
Amen.
Saturday, July 9, 2011
Faith of Our Fathers
Lessons for today:
Psalm 13
Genesis 22:1-14
Romans 6:12-23
Matthew 10:40-42
When I was attending Waverly Yowell Elementary School, back in the 1960s, we had a special visitor once a month. We called her the Bible lady, and her name was Miss Neff. She brought in an easel with a flannel board and told us stories from the bible, using colorful flat figures arrayed on scenic backgrounds, all depicted in flannel. When she needed a new scene, she would just flip a new sheet of flannel over the top of the easel and be ready to continue her story. I especially remember the dark open maw of the empty cave and the gray rock she moved away from it to show us Jesus' tomb. Having a visit from the Bible lady was fun for us, and looking back on it, probably one of the few times during the month when our teachers got a break from their students. If we memorized Bible verses and recited them to Miss Neff, she gave us prizes. I still have the white faux-leather KJV Bible I received after learning 500 verses.
I attended Sunday school regularly, and often read evening devotions with my mother, who was a devotee of the King James Version. That beautiful language, the stories and pictures, the images I formed in my head of important figures in our faith history, such as Abraham and Jesus, gave me a distorted sense of historical time, I believe. I knew Jesus and Abraham lived a long, long time ago, but since they seemed to dress alike and speak the same language, I had no idea that nearly 2000 years separated the eras of their lives. I didn't have a clue that Abraham lived in a very primitive, ancient world and, in contrast, Jesus lived in the highly civilized age of the Roman Empire. That distinction is very important to our understanding of today's scripture lessons.
The Old and New Testament lessons for today are truly bookends, in an unexpected way. For modern Christians, the Genesis story, of God ordering Abraham to kill his son and Abraham's near compliance, is one of the most disturbing episodes of the entire Bible. The words of Jesus in Matthew 10 clearly suggest his desire that we adults should take care of children, an attitude toward children more closely reflecting our modern one: "...and whoever gives even a cup of water to these little ones in the name of a disciple...truly, none of these will lose their reward." In Jesus, there is a special blessing for those who care for the little ones.
We do believe we live in a world that cherishes children, that puts children first, and it is unimaginable to us that a father would be willing to kill his own son--or that our God would ask him to do such a thing. After the devastating tornado that ravaged Joplin, Missouri, I heard an interview on NPR with a young woman who was searching for the body of her sister. She knew her sister was dead because her nine-year old nephew had survived. In the chaotic hours just after the tornado, neighbors had found the little boy under a pile of debris, his dead mother's body above him. This young woman had done what any mother instinctively does--she had used her body to shelter her son from the storm. He was injured, but he will survive, thanks to his mother's self-sacrifice.
During my years of teaching, I had occasion to think of the legal term for the relationship between teachers and their students. Teachers serve "in loco parentis," Latin for "in place of parents" as they foster and nurture the children they teach. During mass school shootings at places like Columbine High School, teachers took that designation to its fullest extent, giving their lives to stand between their students and the shooters who took aim to kill them. We like to believe that most of the adults we know would go out of their way to protect children, and that's clearly the way the Lord would have the world operate.
So how do we comprehend the order God gives Abraham to kill his only son Isaac as a sacrifice on the altar? Since the story has a happy ending, with an angel intervening and a ram provided for the sacrifice, as a child I simply thought of it as an exciting suspense story. God knew all along he was going to preserve Isaac's life; who worried about how Abraham and Isaac must have felt when the father laid his boy, bound by rope, atop the pile of wood and took his knife in hand. The lesson was a pretty simple one: if you have as much faith as Abraham (and that's a lot of faith) you will always trust God to do the right thing. It wasn't until I reached adulthood and became a parent that this story began to trouble me.
If we put the father's near-sacrifice of his son into its historical context, taking place about 2000 years before the birth of Jesus (4000 years ago), we can see this incident from a very different perspective. Among the peoples of the region, child sacrifice was a common practice in those days, especially the sacrifice of a first-born child. That would explain why Abraham doesn't seem very surprised by God's command, why he obediently takes his son to the appointed place and prepares for the sacrifice. Oh yes, Abraham proves his faith, his complete trust in God. It is easy to see why he is the chosen one of God, with that much faith. But the truly important lesson is one the psalms and prophets reinforce repeatedly: God doesn't want human sacrifice. As the prophet Hosea simply states the Word of God: "I desire steadfast love and not sacrifice, the knowledge of God rather than burnt offerings." Yahweh, the God of Israel, is a God of love, and in this pivotal story about the patriarch of the Hebrew faith, God shows us that he wants his people to be different from all the others. He wants us to love Him with steadfastness and obedience, to love one another, and to take good care of our children!
Of course, this story also carries with it a darker side, one that we may not choose to examine too closely. Yes, we love children and pass laws to protect God's "little ones." But we know that every day all over the world, children die for lack of food or clean water or decent medical care. Children are daily abused in horrendous ways, in spite of laws and our good intentions. On what altar are these children sacrificed? What, if anything, are we called to do?
One more thing to remember--as much as it must have pained Abraham to be told to sacrifice his son, in the end he was spared that terrible agony. But God did not spare himself; he allowed his own son to be sacrificed for the salvation of all of us. Father and Son have endured the worst the world can offer. Let it be a consolation to us to know they are with every child who suffers. Their eyes are on the sparrows, and their hearts are with the little ones.
Thanks be to God.
Psalm 13
Genesis 22:1-14
Romans 6:12-23
Matthew 10:40-42
When I was attending Waverly Yowell Elementary School, back in the 1960s, we had a special visitor once a month. We called her the Bible lady, and her name was Miss Neff. She brought in an easel with a flannel board and told us stories from the bible, using colorful flat figures arrayed on scenic backgrounds, all depicted in flannel. When she needed a new scene, she would just flip a new sheet of flannel over the top of the easel and be ready to continue her story. I especially remember the dark open maw of the empty cave and the gray rock she moved away from it to show us Jesus' tomb. Having a visit from the Bible lady was fun for us, and looking back on it, probably one of the few times during the month when our teachers got a break from their students. If we memorized Bible verses and recited them to Miss Neff, she gave us prizes. I still have the white faux-leather KJV Bible I received after learning 500 verses.
I attended Sunday school regularly, and often read evening devotions with my mother, who was a devotee of the King James Version. That beautiful language, the stories and pictures, the images I formed in my head of important figures in our faith history, such as Abraham and Jesus, gave me a distorted sense of historical time, I believe. I knew Jesus and Abraham lived a long, long time ago, but since they seemed to dress alike and speak the same language, I had no idea that nearly 2000 years separated the eras of their lives. I didn't have a clue that Abraham lived in a very primitive, ancient world and, in contrast, Jesus lived in the highly civilized age of the Roman Empire. That distinction is very important to our understanding of today's scripture lessons.
The Old and New Testament lessons for today are truly bookends, in an unexpected way. For modern Christians, the Genesis story, of God ordering Abraham to kill his son and Abraham's near compliance, is one of the most disturbing episodes of the entire Bible. The words of Jesus in Matthew 10 clearly suggest his desire that we adults should take care of children, an attitude toward children more closely reflecting our modern one: "...and whoever gives even a cup of water to these little ones in the name of a disciple...truly, none of these will lose their reward." In Jesus, there is a special blessing for those who care for the little ones.
We do believe we live in a world that cherishes children, that puts children first, and it is unimaginable to us that a father would be willing to kill his own son--or that our God would ask him to do such a thing. After the devastating tornado that ravaged Joplin, Missouri, I heard an interview on NPR with a young woman who was searching for the body of her sister. She knew her sister was dead because her nine-year old nephew had survived. In the chaotic hours just after the tornado, neighbors had found the little boy under a pile of debris, his dead mother's body above him. This young woman had done what any mother instinctively does--she had used her body to shelter her son from the storm. He was injured, but he will survive, thanks to his mother's self-sacrifice.
During my years of teaching, I had occasion to think of the legal term for the relationship between teachers and their students. Teachers serve "in loco parentis," Latin for "in place of parents" as they foster and nurture the children they teach. During mass school shootings at places like Columbine High School, teachers took that designation to its fullest extent, giving their lives to stand between their students and the shooters who took aim to kill them. We like to believe that most of the adults we know would go out of their way to protect children, and that's clearly the way the Lord would have the world operate.
So how do we comprehend the order God gives Abraham to kill his only son Isaac as a sacrifice on the altar? Since the story has a happy ending, with an angel intervening and a ram provided for the sacrifice, as a child I simply thought of it as an exciting suspense story. God knew all along he was going to preserve Isaac's life; who worried about how Abraham and Isaac must have felt when the father laid his boy, bound by rope, atop the pile of wood and took his knife in hand. The lesson was a pretty simple one: if you have as much faith as Abraham (and that's a lot of faith) you will always trust God to do the right thing. It wasn't until I reached adulthood and became a parent that this story began to trouble me.
If we put the father's near-sacrifice of his son into its historical context, taking place about 2000 years before the birth of Jesus (4000 years ago), we can see this incident from a very different perspective. Among the peoples of the region, child sacrifice was a common practice in those days, especially the sacrifice of a first-born child. That would explain why Abraham doesn't seem very surprised by God's command, why he obediently takes his son to the appointed place and prepares for the sacrifice. Oh yes, Abraham proves his faith, his complete trust in God. It is easy to see why he is the chosen one of God, with that much faith. But the truly important lesson is one the psalms and prophets reinforce repeatedly: God doesn't want human sacrifice. As the prophet Hosea simply states the Word of God: "I desire steadfast love and not sacrifice, the knowledge of God rather than burnt offerings." Yahweh, the God of Israel, is a God of love, and in this pivotal story about the patriarch of the Hebrew faith, God shows us that he wants his people to be different from all the others. He wants us to love Him with steadfastness and obedience, to love one another, and to take good care of our children!
Of course, this story also carries with it a darker side, one that we may not choose to examine too closely. Yes, we love children and pass laws to protect God's "little ones." But we know that every day all over the world, children die for lack of food or clean water or decent medical care. Children are daily abused in horrendous ways, in spite of laws and our good intentions. On what altar are these children sacrificed? What, if anything, are we called to do?
One more thing to remember--as much as it must have pained Abraham to be told to sacrifice his son, in the end he was spared that terrible agony. But God did not spare himself; he allowed his own son to be sacrificed for the salvation of all of us. Father and Son have endured the worst the world can offer. Let it be a consolation to us to know they are with every child who suffers. Their eyes are on the sparrows, and their hearts are with the little ones.
Thanks be to God.
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