Blog Posts

11/13/2023

Who gets in?

As I have said before, Beloved, it all depends on who you understand God to be. If God is the supreme Judge who decides who gets into heaven after we die, deciding who is unworthy and therefore condemned to that other place (you know, h-e-double hockey sticks), then what you will hear in today’s reading from Matthew is that very thing: Jesus telling folx that if they don’t get their act together, when their time comes to meet their Maker, the door will be closed to them and God will not even know who they are.

I get it. This was my understanding of who God is for most of my life. In the past, this was all I could hear when I read this parable.

Beloved, a parable is a story that is held up to our lives so that we can learn a truth. It’s Truth, after all, that Jesus tells us will set us free. So where’s the truth—where’s the Good News—in this parable that can set us free rather than trap us between the crosshairs?
First of all, let’s talk about the kingdom of heaven since this is what the parable is supposed to illuminate. Just what is the kingdom of heaven? It goes by a lot of names: God’s Kingdom, the kingdom of God, the kingdom of heaven, and sometimes, just heaven. I have referred to it as Kingdom Living.

Again, for most of my life, this wondrous place was where all would be right and good, and it was a place to arrive at after one’s death if one had lived a life worthy of such a place, if one has pleased God enough in one’s lifetime.
This is certainly a possible interpretation. One I no longer hold, but perhaps, you do and, perhaps, it is right. But what we should remember is that Heaven, according to Hebrew scripture, is where God dwells. Where God, aka Love, reigns. Heaven is not a place, a “where”. Heaven is a “when.” When Love controls the actions, when Love is the font from which words flow, when Love is the driver—then heaven is present. The Kingdom is come. God is with us. Heaven isn’t a future destination or a reward. Heaven is a present reality; it is all around us, within us, right here and now.

And if we begin with this understanding of the kingdom of heaven as we attune our ears to the parable, and if we begin with God as Love instead of God as Judge, maybe we can hear new truths in this parable, rather than the ones we have carried around for so long.

And there is more than one possible Truth. For example, Lutheran pastor and writer Nadia Bolz-Weber has heard Truth in the parable this way: what makes the five young women foolish is that they listen to a voice that is not God’s. They listen to the other women who tell them to go and get their own oil. But, do they really need to? After all, 5 of them already have lamps, isn’t that light enough? And the Bridegroom typically arrived with a torch; isn’t there sufficient light for all to see? I mean, who are these wise young women and why do they get to go in to the banquet when they are not even nice enough to share a little oil? Bolz-Weber reminds us, in chapter 5 of Matthew, Jesus told folks to “Give to everyone who begs from you,” and in Chapter 19 Jesus tells us to “give to the poor,” and in Chapter 23, just 2 chapters ago, Jesus proclaimed “But woe to you, scribes and Pharisees, hypocrites! For you lock people out of the kingdom of heaven…”

Nadia Bolz-Weber makes the point that the foolish young women fail to trust their own relationship with the Bridegroom, and they question their own actions, and much like Adam and Eve who listened to the snake, they listen to the other young women (who are not acting according to what Jesus has already said) and so they run off to try and make themselves worthy and, in doing so, miss the bridegroom all together.

How many times, Beloved, have we, have you, decided we weren’t enough or that you didn’t have what was needed, so you missed the chance to witness love, to accept love, to give love, to midwife love intp a situation, a relationship, a conflict, a chance opportunity? How many times have we listened to our voices of shame inside our heads and have turned away instead of walking through the door being held open before us? This Truth Nadia Bolz-Weber asks us to consider invites us to recognize that God provides the light and the door is open if we don’t forget to remember who we are and whose we are, if we don’t make ourselves strangers to Love and love’s great desire to welcome us in.

What I love about Nadia Bolz-Weber is she almost always helps me to see and hear the Good news in the Gospel in ways I hadn’t considered before. But this past week, when I contemplated the Good News, and when I talked with the ladies at Dwelling in the Word on Tuesday, another possible Truth arose for me. It came about for some of the same reasons and questions:
Why are those wise young women so not nice and refuse to share?
What is the oil, anyway? Why is it so important that each young woman has to have her own?

Let’s start with: What is the oil anyway? Of course, in this story, the oil is what keeps the lamp burning. And the lamp is the light needed to see, presumably, the light that is needed to see the bridegroom (aka Jesus) and the open door to the banquet. For us, and throughout the New Testament, Jesus is the light, the light of the world. And what makes this light shine is the life and love Jesus lived. Our gig is to carry that light out into the world. As Matthew wrote in chapter 5: In the same way, let your light shine before others, so that they may see your good works and give glory to God in heaven.

When we understand the lamp in this way, then the oil is our lives— lives that are modeled after, and that follow in the footsteps of, Jesus. Our lives—our actions, our trust in Love, our words, our choices—fuel the light. And that is not something we can give to another person. I can’t give you my life of faith; you have to have your own. Go…and buy some for yourselves Maybe this understanding is what made the young women wise. It’s what brought them into the presence of the bridegroom and allowed them to see and know the open door. When we live love out loud, as Jesus does, we are already present at the banquet—it is all around us. Living love wakes us up to more love. Living love is what empowers us to see Jesus right in front us. As a Facebook meme that is going around states “We don’t come to church to find God. We come to church to learn to find God everywhere.”

And if we listen to God through Amos, living love means that justice is enacted and righteousness is lived out. Righteousness, of course, is living in right relationship with all others—-or in Jesus’ words: Loving God and loving our neighbors as Jesus loves us. You know: the Kingdom come, heaven on earth, right here, right now. If only we can wake up and stay awake to this truth instead of listening to the snakes. Instead of, as Amos warns us, thinking our worship is what heaven looks like, thinking our worship is what God wants from us instead of lives of justice and right relationship. Beloved, when I listen to Amos, sometimes I think worship is the costume we put on, hoping God will recognize us when we knock on the door, but instead, Jesus says: Truly, I don’t know you. I think when we put our trust in worship as God’s desire instead of justice and lives of right relationship with all others, we can become pseudo-disciples rather than actual followers of the Way of Love.

So there you have it Beloved. For me, God isn’t the supreme judge but, instead, the supreme lover, so I hear different truths in this parable than I used to hear. Truths that echo Amos’ prophecy thousands of years ago. God wants our love—which is what justice looks like in public—God wants us to recognize our one-ness with all of humanity, all of Creation, with the one, holy and living God. And that, Beloved, that truth, that light—changes everything.

Beloved: what phrase or question from today’s Word or Reflection will linger with you this week?

9/20/2023

Is this Jesus?

We are one in the Spirit, we are one in the Lord
We are one in the Spirit, we are one in the Lord
And we pray that our unity will one day be restored
And they'll know we are Christians by our love, by our love
Yeah they'll know we are Christians by our love

We sang this well-known song a few weeks ago; and, of course, it isn’t only Christians who are called to love extravagantly, who are called to radical compassion that then leads to unity—but love is a marker, a characteristic of those who follow Jesus, who walk this way of Love. Love isn’t limited to Christianity, but it is to be our hallmark.

Dr. Cornel West, an American philosopher and political activist, once wrote: Justice is what love looks like in public. Today’s readings are full of statements about justice, mercy, compassion and love—but here’s the kicker: These statements seem to be contradictory. What do we do with that?
First we have Joseph, after being asked to forgive the crime of his brothers who sold him off and proclaimed him dead, Joseph says: “Even though you intended to do harm to me, God intended it for good, in order to preserve a numerous people….”

That word “intended” is a bit troublesome for me because it sounds like God wanted the brothers to do this harm to Joseph so that, in the end, it would all work out. It’s a way of thinking about God that we hear throughout Scripture. And a way of thinking about God that we hear echoed around us today. You know that nefarious saying: God will never give you more than you can handle. But the Hebrew here in Genesis reads more like: you brothers devised evil for me, but God devised that action for good. The action, itself, came from the brothers—not God. But God, working in and through Joseph, transforms what has happened within Joseph and so what ends up coming out, is not vengeance, not punishment, but mercy, compassion and forgiveness.

Much like we see on the cross. The betrayal, the evil, the turning a blind eye to what is happening to an innocent man is all taken into Jesus who allows it to be transformed within him and it comes out as: Today you will know paradise and Forgive them, they know not what they do.
The beauty in the Genesis story is that when lives are grounded and centered in Love, even the cruelest things that humans do to one another can be transformed into life-giving mercy and grace.

But then, did you hear that end bit in the Gospel passage today, when Jesus ends the parable by saying: then in anger the master handed over the unmerciful servant to be tortured until he would pay his entire debt. And Jesus continues: So my heavenly Father will also do to every one of you, if you do not forgive your brother or sister from your heart.”

Man alive, sounds like we don’t want to get on the bad side of God! There’s a price to pay. That’s how Joseph’s brothers understood the law of the land when they were about to confront Joseph: What if Joseph still bears a grudge against us and pays us back in full for all the wrong that we did to him?
Isn’t that how we have often been taught to think about God? That if we don’t do what God asks of us, that God will hold it all against us and pay us back in full…..I mean, the evangelist Matthew seems to be putting those very words in Jesus’ mouth. What do we do with that?

Now, Beloved, there are theologians and scholars who will interpret this differently than me. And perhaps they are right. I may be wrong. But I want us all to be a bit more critical when we read the Bible—especially bits and pieces that seem to make God a God of vengeance and punishment rather than a God of mercy and love. This is kinda hard to do, especially when we add the word “justice” into the mix.

In our world, in the human way of being, justice equals punishment. But when we look at the life of Jesus, the One who was sent to show us what God in the world looks like and acts like, and when we listen to Jesus’ stories of The Prodigal Son, the story of leaving the 99 to find the one, we can see that God’s justice is about restoring the outcast into community, it is about equity and everyone having what is needed to live—our daily bread. God’s justice comes from collective and communal living that leads to the flourishing of each part and parcel of Creation. That life, health, shelter, community is, actually, a God-given right.

Even in today’s story, we see justice enacted when the slave who experiences radical compassion then denies that same compassion to another—out of a self-centered mindview—and so their fellow slaves then go and report what has happened. Maybe the point of the story is those fellow slaves who saw injustice and took action to end it. Of course, we also clearly hear that it is proper for those who have much to share the wealth, rather than continue to hoard it for themselves in order to gain even more profit. Not just today but in several stories in scripture. If one makes record profit off of others’ labor, then the laborer’s lives should be enriched as well—not just the CEOs.

This particular story we hear today, that has Jesus sounding not very Jesus-like, is only found in Matthew; no other Gospel has it. Partially because Matthew, as did Luke and Mark and John, Matthew has a particular agenda. Matthew is presenting Jesus as a teacher and authority greater even than Moses. Matthew is presenting Jesus as the Messiah. And here we hear Matthew putting into Jesus’ mouth an accepted way of understanding how God might act: Do what I say or it’s gonna be bad for you.

Unfortunately for Matthew, that is not how Jesus lives….or dies for that matter. These words conflict with Jesus’ actions: Forgiving his betrayers from the cross; sitting down to the table with Judas–knowing Judas was about to betray him; allowing Peter to confess his love 3 times after Peter has betrayed him 3 times. In fact, this ending to Matthew’s parable conflicts with Jesus’ intro to the parable: “Not seven times, but, I tell you seventy-seven times.”

There’s a Facebook meme going around right now that, I think, nails it: 2000 years from now, people will not understand the difference between “butt dial” and “booty call,” and this is exactly why the Bible is hard to understand.
The Bible is complicated. Misunderstood or unknown historical contexts, language barriers, years of institutionally manipulated translation. This is why we read and discuss the Word in community. It is why we use the life of Jesus as our lens and litmus test. It doesn’t matter if Joseph said it or Matthew wrote it. If it doesn’t look, act, sound or behave like Jesus—-it might not be Gospel. As Bishop Curry says, if it isn’t about love then it isn’t about God.

I think, even more than the book of Genesis or the Gospel of Matthew, the Psalmist got it right today:
[God] You are full of compassion and mercy,* slow to anger and of great kindness.
You will not always accuse us,* nor will you keep your anger for ever.
You have not dealt with us according to our sins,* nor rewarded us according to our wickedness.
For as the heavens are high above the earth,* so is your mercy great upon those who fear you.
As far as the east is from the west,* so far have you removed our sins from us.

May it be so, Beloved, may it be so….and may we live what we have been given.

8/27/2023

On This rock.....

Who is the first Bishop of the Church? ………..

Yep, Peter is the name that fills that blank.
Today, I am inviting us to hear this Gospel story and declaration a bit differently, in a way that brings us into the story as an active participant rather than allowing this story to remain an abstract history of an institution.

Jesus begins with “who do the people say I am?” And much like if the question were answered today, Jesus gets a variety of answers: John the Baptist, Elijah, a prophet…..Today we might get answers like: Son of God, Redeemer, Savior; and maybe even: some dude in the bible, a hoax, a nice guy who taught good things….

But then, in our story, Jesus turns to his followers and asks: But who do you say that I am? The Greek reveals that this is an all y’all situation. Jesus has moved this question from the general public to this closer circle of students and disciples of Jesus. But who do you say that I am?

And just as he does in many of the stories, Peter eagerly enters the fray first and says: You are the Christos, the Son of the living God.

I imagine some of the disciples gasped, and some must have nodded their heads in agreement–grateful someone else said it first, and some probably muttered Holy Caca! What a declaration. A declaration that reveals Peter has awakened to a whole new reality that has been birthed into the world.

Beloved, what if we were to take Jesus at his word? That he isn’t an entity to be worshiped, but that Jesus is a Way, a Truth, and a Life. A Way of Love to be in this world; a Truth of Love to be enfleshed by our words and actions; a Life of Love to live and walk, empower and equip.

When Jesus says: on this rock I will build my church…. I don’t think the rock was Peter. I mean it was, but not because Peter had mad skills that none of the others did. The rock is that Peter woke up to a new reality, a new way of understanding God and tradition, and a new way of hearing God’s call to God’s people. And on this awakened mindset, Jesus can build the movement.

Yep, movement. When Jesus says “church,” he did not mean an institution or a set of dogma and doctrine, a hierarchy to be defended. The word, ekklesia, means the assembly, the gathering, those called out. Jesus had moved from the general public to this more intentional group of followers, this small band of believers—--much like we here today, this Beloved Community, and says Who do you say that I am? Because Jesus knows that the movement of Love can only truly be built if there are folks who are awakened to a new reality, a new way to be, a new life.

Peter calls Jesus Christos; our translation says Messiah. Both words mean the “Anointed One”; Christos is Greek and Messiah is Hebrew. But let’s recall what that title Messiah means to Peter and the gang, and to the general Hebrew public. The Messiah was the One, sent by God, to cause an apocalypse. Now remember, an apocalypse is an event that ends one world and starts a new world. It ends one era so that a new era can begin. Obviously it involves death, destruction, a complete overturning of life. You know, the Resurrection thing.

The Hebrew people have been waiting for the Messiah; training their hearts and eyes to see the Messiah, preparing for the Messiah. But they understand the Messiah from human terms (don’t we all?) The Israelites are a people who have always been at the mercy of bigger kingdoms: Babylonia, Assyria, and now the Roman Empire. They want to be able to live freely and peacefully according to their customs and beliefs. They want to no longer have a human oppressor; they are expecting the Messiah to come and defeat the oppressor, to put down the Empire and to provide them a place where they will live as they have been called to live by God without other kingdoms and empires enslaving them. They expect Messiah to come and destroy the empire and start this new era of freedom. The Messiah will be a military conqueror; putting an end to the oppressor.

Is it any wonder, then, that the general public think Jesus may be John the Baptist or Elijah or some other prophet. A goodness without doubt, but…..

But Peter, for all his starts and stops, his faults and foibles, his downright humanness, Peter has a revelation—-and he dares to proclaim it: You, Jesus, you are the Messiah.

Which can only mean that the Messiah’s apocalypse is very different than what had been imagined; for Jesus isn’t a military conqueror–using violence and bearing arms to assert his Way. This Jesus means to put an end to one era, one way of life, and start a new era–a new way of life–by conquering our hearts, our minds. Our hearts and minds which are the seat of compassion and mercy, the origin of our decision-making and actions, the font of our words. Or as Paul says: Do not be conformed to this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your minds…..

And when we are told: not to think too highly of yourself more highly than you ought to think…We are not being instructed to think poorly of ourselves. After all, we are gifted and Beloved. We are made in the image of Love itself. But we are being urged to recognize that so is our neighbor. Every neighbor. Each neighbor. God loves each bit and parcel of Creation with the exact same amount of never-ending, eternally forgiving, constantly redeeming love. So this means, as Paul reminds us, that we are members of one another…..that we, who are many, are one body in Christ.

One body in Christos—the Messiah—this One that initiates an apocalyptic event of waking up to a new reality. The reality of heaven that exists in the midst of empire, in the midst of oppression, in the midst of death and destruction. This Way of Love that we can choose; this Truth of love that we can enact; this Life of Love that we can live. And like Peter, when we mess up, God waits for us to turn around and run back toward our home—owning our faults and foibles and allowing them to be transformed into learnings and strengths. You know, Peter denied Jesus the Christos 3 times. In the most crucial moment. And the Risen Christ then comes to Peter and 3 times asks him: Peter, do you love me? Erasing the transgression, removing it as far as the East is from the West. This is the Way, this is the Truth, this is the Life.

I want to end with a poem by Amanda Gorman; I may have shared it before but it is worth repeating. It is called Hymn For The Hurting.

Everything hurts,
Our hearts shadowed and strange,
Minds made muddied and mute.
We carry tragedy, terrifying and true.
And yet none of it is new;
We knew it as home,
As horror,
As heritage.
Even our children
Cannot be children,
Cannot be.
Everything hurts.
It’s a hard time to be alive,
And even harder to stay that way.
We’re burdened to live out these days,
While at the same time, blessed to outlive them.
This alarm is how we know
We must be altered --
That we must differ or die,
That we must triumph or try.
Thus while hate cannot be terminated,
It can be transformed
Into a love that lets us live.
May we not just grieve, but give:
May we not just ache, but act;
May our signed right to bear arms
Never blind our sight from shared harm;
May we choose our children over chaos.
May another innocent never be lost.
Maybe everything hurts,
Our hearts shadowed & strange.
But only when everything hurts
May everything change.

8/9/2023

A Four Word Revolution....

Today we have 2 Gospel readings as part of our gathering because we have an exceptional Sunday. Both the Episcopal Church and the ELCA church use what is called the Revised Common Lectionary—an agreed upon selection of readings for each Sunday. This way Christians across denominations and in different places are hearing the same readings throughout the Church year. And every last Sunday of the Epiphany season, the Sunday before Lent begins, we hear the Transfiguration story. But in the Episcopal church calendar, there is also a set date to celebrate the Transfiguration as a holy day; that date is today, August 6th. And according to the Episcopal Book of Common Prayer, if August 6th falls on a Sunday, then the Transfiguration trumps the regular Sunday readings. But not so in the ELCA world. So today, we honor both. We have the Transfiguration Gospel from Luke for the Episcopal calendar and the 10th Sunday after Pentecost Gospel reading from Matthew for the ELCA calendar. And, Beloved, they are beautifully linked.
In fact, these two readings from Matthew and Luke happen at about the same time in the trajectory of Jesus’s story. In the background of both of these stories is the beheading of John the Baptist and just before the Transfiguration story in Luke is the feeding of the 5,000 that we heard in the reading from Matthew. But these two Gospels are linked in even more beautiful and powerful ways.
In Luke’s story of the Transfiguration, Jesus is about to turn his face toward Jerusalem; he is about to give his life for all of humanity. And before Jesus can make that turn, before Jesus will have his life taken, blessed, broken open in order for it be shared and given and received—Jesus experiences transfiguration. He draws near to God’s presence, and in that experience, he is changed, made new. Even Jesus, this One who is completely human while also being completely divine, even Jesus needs to deliberately and intentionally bring himself into the presence of God, even Jesus needs to be changed, broken open and blessed, before taking the path of surrendering his life to the sacrificial love that is his calling. That is our calling.
Today’s Gospel story from Matthew tells us that when Jesus learns of the murder of his cousin John the Baptist, Jesus withdraws and leaves the area. Jesus removes himself from the realm of Empire, this way of living where power, money and self-centered purposes sit on the throne of human hearts. Jesus withdraws and enters a new landscape. And here’s the detail that just may be the true miracle: the crowd followed. They followed. Because the Gospel truth here is that Jesus offers us a different landscape than the Empire. Jesus offers us an alternate way to live, an alternate world to inhabit. A life removed from the Empire. A life where power, greed, and self-centeredness can be dethroned from our hearts and, instead, compassion, mercy, love and serving others takes up residence. Sacrificial love wears the crown in this country. God’s Kingdom come.
And here’s the thing Beloved—Matthew’s Gospel story is a Transfiguration story too. Here are all these people—5000 men, besides women and children— who have come in hopes of being healed. They have followed Jesus’ footsteps away from the Empire and into this wilderness to find a different way. It’s late. The disciples think it’s time to wrap it up. It was a nice gig, but time for folks to head back to their homes and get themselves some food. Imagine the disciples’ faces when Jesus says to them: They don’t need to go away; you give them something to eat.
What? We don’t have anything! 5 loaves. 2 fish. And there’s 12 of us!
I suspect it’s grudgingly that they hand over those loaves and fishes.
Jesus has the people sit down. Interesting detail. Is it so everyone can see what Jesus does? He takes what has been offered—--asks God to bless it—--breaks it open—-and shares.
When I was younger, I thought the next bit was magic. I thought what must have happened was like the never-ending bowl at Olive Garden. As one piece of bread was given to someone, another one magically appeared in the basket going around. Kind of like feasts at Hogwarts in the Harry Potter movies. But, Beloved, I don’t think that’s what happened. Why? Why not? Because it is not how it happens now. And sure, with God nothing is impossible, but if that’s how God works, then why doesn’t bread just magically appear in all the houses where people are starving?
How God works, how Love works, is that we give what we have, blessed by God’s Creation….we give, allowing our lives to be broken open instead of remaining self-centered enclosures, and then we share. Those thousands of people, besides women and children—they weren’t stupid. Just like the disciples, many of them probably brought some snacks. And I think, instead of a never-ending bowl from Olive Garden, what happened was they watched Jesus take what has been given, ask for God’s blessing, and then break what he has so that it can be shared widely. And then (again, here’s the miracle) the crowd followed! They followed Jesus—asking God to bless what they have, breaking it open, and sharing it—and there was enough for everyone….and then some. 12 baskets of some more.
Why 12? Well, there were 12 tribes of Israel. God’s people. And as we see in the entirety of Matthew’s Gospel, part of Jesus’ transfiguration—part of how he is changed—is that he comes to realize God wants salvation for more than just the Israelites, God wants this for all people. Because all people are God’s people. 12 baskets of food means there is enough for all God’s people. But only when we leave the ways of empire behind and follow Jesus into this alternative way of living. YOU GIVE THEM SOMETHING TO EAT.
Talk about Transfiguration.
And Beloved, this transfiguration is ours for the having. For as we linger and converse with the Law and the Prophets, as we enter the cloud of witness and mystery, as we intentionally climb mountains to draw nearer to God, we are altered. Transfigured. Through experience, through failing and learning, by reflection and contemplation, as we listen and are embraced. We are changed. A small, but important detail of this story is the truth that we must BE before we can DO. As Contemplative writer James Finley puts it: we become a community of awakened hearts.
Take. Bless. Break. Share. It’s who we are. It’s how we are to be. It’s the Way of Love. In those four words is a revolution. In those four words is Creation’s Transfiguration. Creation’s Salvation. Take. Bless. Break. Share. Take. Bless. Break. Share.
Lay down the life of Empire. Take up the Life of Love.

7/31/2023

Will God get what God wants?

Buckle up buttercup. We are going to talk about big ideas today. Let’s go.
We need to start with who God is and what God is about. For each of us, this foundational understanding of God controls how we hear Scripture and how we live out our faith.

For me God is LOVE and LOVE is the force that has created all things and all people. And LOVE’s mission, God’s vision and purpose—what God wants—is for all that has been created to live in right relationship with one another and with God because everyone and everything living in right relationship with each other and with God is the key to a flourishing and ongoing Creation. Are you with me so far?

Beloved, I also believe that God is going to get what God wants because I believe there is no greater power than God. There is no greater force than Love. If somehow my understanding of God includes that some of Creation is not going to be part of salvation, then I am saying there is some force that is greater than God’s love. That something can actually “win” over God’s love. Still with me?

So that brings me to the parable of the net in today’s Gospel reading. Growing up I was taught that when we die, if we are good we go to heaven, and if we are bad, we will go to hell. Therefore, this parable of the net in today’s Gospel would mean that bad people—people who do not follow God—will go to hell. They’re out. While us who do believe in God get to go to heaven (at least if we do a good enough job, right?). And yes, sure, it’s not our role to do the separating—that’s clearly God’s work—but there’s still going to be some who are in and some who are out. AND somehow—all this work of getting it right and being my best version who follows God perfectly—that all has to happen between my birth and my death. I have to get it right before I die. Still with me?

Beloved, today I am inviting us to ditch this understanding of the parable, and to throw out this understanding of God and God’s kindom Kingdom and allow a different understanding to take hold of our hearts. And here’s why:

If faith–if loving God and following Jesus–is about being good enough before we die in order to get into heaven, and if you aren’t then you are banned to hell—-then God is not going to get what God wants. Some of Creation will not be restored to right relationship. If this understanding is true then some of Creation is expendable. And I guess Jesus is just kidding when he says ALL. When, in chapter 10 of the Gospel of John Jesus says: "You need to know that I have other sheep in addition to those in this pen. I need to gather and bring them, too. They’ll also recognize my voice. Then it will be one flock, one Shepherd. “ And then in the 17th chapter of John Jesus says: “...that they all may be one…I in them and you in me, that they may become completely one….”.
And let’s not forget in Genesis, chapter 1 when God declares that all of Creation is good, very good.

If parts of Creation are expendable—if some people are not going to be part of salvation—restored to right relationship with God and each other—then God does not get what God wants and there must be a stronger force than the Love of God in this world.

Deep breaths, now, and let’s do some more unpacking. Beloved, first of all, Heaven is not a destination; Heaven is not a reward. Heaven is wherever God is; heaven is dwelling with God. It isn’t a future promise. It is a present reality. More than once Jesus says: The Kingdom of heaven is near. Sometimes it is the Kingdom of God in Scripture, but Matthew really liked to call it the Kingdom of heaven. Now, Jesus doesn’t say: The kingdom is coming; Jesus says "The kingdom has drawn near."

Because God’s kindom kingdom is always within our reach. Heaven, Beloved, is always at our fingertips. And when we follow Jesus, when we follow the way of Love, we are the seed that grows large enough to nest all the birds. All those who need shelter and homes and food to eat. God does the planting, our work is to grow and become. And remember, a seed dies to what it was and becomes something else. The husk falls off the seed, and the new life of the plant breaks through and works its way out of the soil and becomes a new thing. Becoming requires change, and change requires loss and struggle, and it’s hard and it usually hurts. Talk about weeping and gnashing of teeth. No wonder.

Next, Jesus tells us, in the Kindom Kingdom, God is the woman who leavens the dough—mixing leaven into the the flour, to make a lot of bread. In fact, in this parable, there’s enough flour to make enough bread for a wedding feast. God is the cook; we are the leaven, the love that activates the dough to become nourishment for all the guests.

And then we move to those other stories Jesus tells us about the kingdom. What if, Beloved, what if we are the treasure and God is the one who sells everything to keep us? Imagine if this is how the Kindom Kingdom works. We are the treasure…..

And what if, Beloved, we are the Pearl and God is the merchant who gives up everything to have us. Let that sink in a moment. You are the pearl of great price; you are the treasure and Love seeks to find you, be with you, give everything for you. And me. And every person, part and parcel of Creation. That’s the Kindom Kingdom. That’s how God works; that’s the story of Jesus. Love one another as I have loved you……Marinate in that for a moment.

Now, let’s get back to that net parable. Following this way to look at the parables, God, then, is the one who gathers us all up, the net: “I need to gather and bring them, too. They’ll also recognize my voice. Then it will be one flock, one Shepherd.” And the messengers of God (that’s what the word angel means) God’s workers, God’s servants will be the agents who remove the evil from the gathered—or in other words: release us from whatever keeps us from living love, being love, sharing love. (and yes, beloved—that’s change, that’s loss, that’s death, and all that hard business certainly leads to weeping and gnashing of teeth). Still with me?

This being freed from evil, being freed from sin does not happen by magic. God doesn’t simply cast a spell and make it so. Nor does God use fear to demand compliance. This is not God’s character. Even though there are Scriptures that would have us believe that. Right? There are plenty of passages written by faithful people who were trying to describe how they experience God, how they understood God to act in the world. They describe God as angry, as almost spiteful—only on the side of the righteous and working to put an end to the unrighteous. That version of God, that understanding of God, is in the Bible.

But if that version is completely accurate: Why Jesus? Why do we have Jesus—this One who comes and asks us to realign how we understand God and the Law and what God asks of us. If Jesus is God-in-the-flesh, as we profess, if Jesus is a human who shows us how to be a God-centered human, then we may need to reject those past understandings of God as vengeful and spiteful and angry and war-mongering. Because Jesus is not that. Ever. When faced with the possibility to right the wrong through violence, Jesus always refuses. Even on the cross. And when the merchant found one very precious pearl, he went and sold all that he owned and bought it.

Instead, in Jesus, this God-in-the-flesh, we see that God frees us from evil, from sin, by living in a new way. God doesn’t free us through fearful compliance, but by love. By loving us enough to give us the choice. God shows us, in Jesus, what love looks like, what it costs, and the resurrection it provides, the new life it gives. We are freed from the grasp of evil when we choose to live and follow love. After all, that’s the command: Follow me. Live this way. Love one another. Forgive one another. The kindom kingdom has come near.

Beloved, this life of faith isn’t fire insurance. It’s life insurance, love insurance. God isn’t watching to see who needs to be tossed out; Paul tells us nothing can separate us from the love of God. Not even death. And here’s the other unpacking that needs to happen: we don’t have to get it all right before we die. It isn’t game over when we take our last breath. If it were, why does Jesus descend into hell after he dies? Why is that part of our Good News if it is not to offer to those who are still distant from God a pathway back to right relationship with God and all of Creation? And not to mention that we claim to be an Easter people—ones who believe in life after death, the resurrection. Why would we think that God cannot act after we die, that we cannot change after death? And then, again, there’s this: For I am convinced that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor rulers, nor things present, nor things to come, nor powers, nor height, nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God…”

Perhaps Lutheran pastor, Nadia Bolz-Weber, said it best:
"If you have been told that God is some kind of punishing, angry bastard with a killer surveillance system who is basically always disappointed with you for being a human being then you have been lied to. The church has failed you and I am so sorry."

7/11/2023

Circle of Concern.....

Just over a week ago, I found myself in a state of being that I do not remember ever experiencing before. I wasn’t physically feeling quite right—I was off. Light-headed, out of sorts…now some of this could have been the smoke in the air, but it was also accompanied with a lethargy. Not my usual way of being. I didn’t want to do anything really. I felt hopeless…..like I was at in a gray fog and I really didn’t want to find my way out…..Now, it did not last too long….just over 24 hours…..but it is not something I would like to experience often and would prefer never to experience again.

I have been fortunate enough to be someone who has been mentally well my entire life. During some difficult junctures in my life, I have sought counseling or spiritual coaching, but I have never really experienced ongoing anxiety. Grief, yes, but not depression. A blessing, I know. But, I think that last week’s experience of gray was a taste of depression.

Today we hear Jesus say: “Are you tired? Worn out? Burned out on religion? Come to me. Get away with me and you’ll recover your life. I’ll show you how to take a real rest. Walk with me and work with me—watch how I do it. Learn the unforced rhythms of grace. I won’t lay anything heavy or ill-fitting on you. Keep company with me and you’ll learn to live freely and lightly.” (The Message)

Beloved, I arrived in that gray fog because I was overwhelmed by all the negative situations that are realities in our world. The state of this creation as it is dying and seeing/feeling that first hand in the smoke from the Canadian fires; the decisions on a federal justice level that I consider to be taking steps back into racism and bigotry; local decisions on a county level to, again as I see it, do the same—act as if racism and bigotry is not an issue here. The injustices done to those on the economic margins. And a plethora of other big concerns. Another aspect of these realities is that I have to come face to face with the truth that many of my fellow citizens have a completely different understanding and vision of who they wish America to be, how they want this world to be—and, of course, there are always smaller, personal storms brewing within that get mixed up in the maelstrom.

Keep company with me and you’ll learn to live freely and lightly.

The first step from the bottom of the pit was telling my husband that I thought I may be experiencing depression. I named it. A little scary because it isn’t necessarily who I think myself to be. I didn’t feel ashamed but uncertain. I think the naming of it opened a window—a window still a bit out of my reach—but a window that shed some light into the gray and blew in some fresh air—and something to reach for. Because, Beloved, talking with people you love—particularly when it is about things that matter—that’s a form of prayer.

The second step is really a step that was put into place long before this period of gray began—the practice of intentional, set-aside-time-for prayer. Now, this part of my prayer life hasn’t always been rich; even since I became a priest. Like anyone I have dry spells and valleys. But especially since I have been involved with the Center for Clergy Renewal and my immersion last summer, my prayer life has been consistent. That consistency (some days rich and some days shallow) has built a strong grounding, a centering. And it provided me a path out of the fog.

And the trick is: letting go. Really. Letting go.
As I sat with the Holy, I came to realize that what was beating me down was my holding onto things that are outside of my control—-I was worrying about how other people were acting, climate change, the state of our nation, the state of our community, homelessness, poverty, injustice, my children’s and grandchildren’s lives…..

Now, these are all things we are to be concerned with—but I was dealing with them at the wrong level. Let me explain

Let’s think of it like this: in our lives, there are two circles: the Circle of Control and the Circle of Concern. What sent me over the edge is that I was overwhelmed by all the things in the Circle of Concern–all those things in pink—again, legitimate concerns and things we should be willing to do something about and adjust our behaviors due to them—but I lost my focus on the Circle of Control: those items in green. What I can actually do.

After naming my depression to Murray, instead of allowing the call to “just do nothing and retreat from humanity” have its way with me, I turned to the other whisper: Come to me. Get away with me and you’ll recover your life.

You know, Beloved, times weren’t better when Jesus lived. His people were oppressed by the Romans. Many were poor and unhoused. Enslaved. Undiagnosed. Cast aside. Now, there may not have been the climate change we experience, but there were droughts and floods and other disasters to deal with. And yet, Jesus—who must have felt a lot of weight on his shoulders knowing his job description—Jesus stays grounded. Centered. In the midst of it all.

Get away with me and you’ll recover your life. I’ll show you how to take a real rest. Walk with me and work with me—watch how I do it. Learn the unforced rhythms of grace.

Let me point something out: even though God showed up in the flesh—in the life and ministry of Jesus—there was still poverty, thirst, and the Roman Empire. All those things were still around when Jesus left. Jesus didn’t end the crappy situations that were realities for his people. Having Jesus in their lives did not erase these situations. Let that sink in.

What Jesus gives us is a way to live abundantly in the midst of these things. That’s it.

I think that sometimes people want Jesus, want Christianity, to be a magic pill that we take and then the crap of life will no longer be true for us. Or it’s a magic train ticket so that when we die we will leave it all behind and end up in a wonderland of clouds, angels, where only the good people go.
I think both of those ways of thinking about this Way of Love that we call Christianity are bogus. False. Hot air.

The Way of Love is about how we live, not what happens to us when we die.
The Creator knows that to live in this Creation—where humans have free will and humans are self-centered until they learn and choose otherwise—the Creator knows that this life is a tumultuous ride. And because we are—every single one of us, even the dopes that cause the tumult—because we are Beloved—Love provides us a path, a grounding, a centering, and a truth that can provide us, if we choose, an abundant life—no matter the current situations. A life of joy, love, resilience and resurrection. Even in the midst of whatever the reality of the world is around us.

This path, this rope to grasp, is our connection to Love itself. Walk with me and work with me—watch how I do it. The intertwined strands of this rope are prayer, breaking bread with others, gathering in community, work, serving and loving neighbors, silence, time away, time alone. And, of course, the Truth of Love is our grounding. And that Truth is that what we know as life is one narrative that is unfolding in time as we know it. Our day-to-day existence that is very much situated on this planet at this time. But, Beloved, to believe in God is to believe that there is another narrative that is beyond this human one; a narrative that has always been. The author of that narrative is not a person—but a force, a presence, an existence that permeates everything that is. We know this force and presence as God, as Creator; we know this force and presence as Love. And Love holds everything. Every thing.
In life and beyond this life.

As I re-centered myself—through time in Love’s company, (both in prayer and in community) by choosing to grasp that rope—I remembered this Truth. And so those concerns that are outside of my control—I handed those over to Love. I reminded myself that those are Love’s to hold, to manage. My bit is to figure out what I can do to strengthen the Love that tends to those concerns.

I reminded myself of what I am already doing–items in the green and blue on this slide–that inner circle of control that does affect and shift the outer circle of concern. I let go of all the big, overwhelming things I cannot address and filled my pockets with what I am already doing. This gave me a renewal of energy—the capacity to leave the fog. I found myself feeling desire and excitement to re-engage. Hope blew the fog of gray out of my head and heart……..After all, this is what Jesus does: Jesus tended to the neighbor in front of him, the folx around the dinner table, those who were within his listening circle. And because he kept moving, those circles of influence shifted as needed.

Learn the unforced rhythms of grace. I won’t lay anything heavy or ill-fitting on you. Keep company with me….

Beloved, I am a do-er. So sometimes, when I care deeply, I do too much. I see too much. I carry too much. And the result isn’t always that more gets done. Sometimes what happens—at least this time what happened—is that I was slayed. Cast down.
But, because I have been blessed to be pickled in the Jesus juice my entire life—and because the Spirit has reminded me to keep jumping in the brine—I heard Love’s whisper and saw Love’s light and it gave me the way out. It resurrected me. And I know, I trust, Love will be there to do it every time I need it.

Sometimes, Beloved, and for some folx—it’s a longer time in the depths, it’s a harder road out. Let’s not romanticize this and make it seem like if you only pray right or believe right or do it right, you’ve got it made. I have loved folx who couldn’t make it out. Even though they had exceptional faith. Gifts and capacities. The fog, for them, was unrelenting.

But, I believe, Love has them, Love is holding them. And somehow their being continues where they are no longer weighed down by those things they could not let go or be released from. And I do not know why it’s that way. I can’t reason myself to an answer. All I can do is trust the Love that I know and believe to be the strongest, deepest, most elastic and resilient force in Creation.

We have heard two versions of this passage from Matthew today, let me add part of a third. This is from the First Nations Version of the Bible:
Come close to my side, you whose hearts are on the ground, you who are pushed down and worn out, and I will refresh you. Follow my teachings and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble of heart, and you will find rest from your troubled thoughts. Walk side by side with me and I will share in your heavy load and make it light.
Beloved, may it be so. For me, for you, for our neighbors. May it always be so.

7/4/2023

Become Who You are....

Do you remember that song on Sesame Street: One of these things is not like the other…..? That’s what I hear in my head when I read the Gospel for this morning. Jesus gives examples and first it’s prophet to prophet….righteous person to righteous person…..but then it changes to when you give something to someone—one of these little ones—who can not repay you in kind….and it’s no longer about getting what the other one has, but it’s about not losing what is already yours.

In the Message Translation, Biblical scholar and pastor Eugene Peterson puts it like this: Jesus says: “We are intimately linked in this harvest work. Anyone who accepts what you do, accepts me, the One who sent you. Anyone who accepts what I do accepts my Father, who sent me. Accepting a messenger of God is as good as being God’s messenger. Accepting someone’s help is as good as giving someone help. This is a large work I’ve called you into, but don’t be overwhelmed by it. It’s best to start small. Give a cool cup of water to someone who is thirsty, for instance. The smallest act of giving or receiving makes you a true apprentice. You won’t lose out on a thing.”

Take out and hold up the Monstrance
Beloved—this beautiful, strange thing is called a monstrance, comes from the Latin word, monstrare, which means ‘to show.’ It is a work of art that has been made to hold a blessed host—those wafers of bread that have been used in communion services for centuries. Monstrances were created for a practice called adoration. Sometimes it can have ritual and liturgy wrapped around it; last weekend the Episcopal Diocese of Fond du Lac held its Eucharistic Festival, and Adoration was a part of that gathering. Or it can be done more simply; for example, when we strip the altar on Maundy Thursday, we move some bread and wine that has been blessed down to our prayer room and people keep vigil there throughout the night until noon on Good Friday when we eat the bread and drink the wine because it is Good Friday and Jesus has left the building. The blessed bread and wine are present during the vigil so those who wish can practice adoration during that vigil.

I am a big fan of keeping the vigil; it has been a part of my Holy Week life since I was a teen-ager. And there have been a few times, as a priest, that I have used the monstrance for Maundy Thursday. But I find it more meaningful to simply have the broken bread and a vessel with wine when I practice adoration. For me, on that night—that Maundy Thursday vigil—being present with the blessed bread and wine helps me to connect with the beauty of that night, that last supper when we are called to love one another; when we are called to do what Jesus does: allow our lives to be broken open so that our lives can be given to sustain one another, feed one another, give cold water to those who thirst.

Now for some people, this practice may hold no meaning; it may seem like empty ritual. That’s valid too. One is not more right than another. And friends, our rituals can become idols like anything else. This monstrance can become an idol. We can get so caught up in doing it right, or doing it best that we forget the point: rituals are never the ends; they are a means to becoming……

So I didn’t go this year, but I have been in the past, and what happened last weekend at the Eucharistic Festival is that a blessed wafer of bread was put in a Monstrance like this and then a priest carried it—and didn’t even touch the monstrance with his hands; he had a cloth that went around his hands to carry it—and then the Monstrance was carried outside; there were four people who carried a canopy over it as it was processed to an outside altar. The Monstrance was treated with reverence and honor; carried as precious cargo to be adored, loved, respected.

Now, this particular practice is not my thing. While there are shared theological bits with the blessed bread and wine in the prayer room during the Maundy Thursday vigil, that particular practice of liturgical adoration actually removes me from Christ rather than drawing me closer. I get distracted by the ceremony and lose the purpose. But I know folx who find it very moving and meaningful. Sadly, in church history, rather than making room for one another’s practices, we often completely dismiss those that are different than our own, usually by starting a new denomination or another church.

But here’s the crazy beautiful thing, the mysterious truth, that this Monstrance does remind me about: Here’s this work of art that holds the blessed bread and body of Christ within it; it is to be revered, adored, respected, loved. Beloved: what if we understood, what if we lived our lives, with the understanding, the knowledge that each of us is a monstrance. Each of us is a beautiful work of art who is meant to be loved and respected, and we carry the Christ within us. To show–to shine–the Christ within us. Each week we come and receive; we are welcomed here and reminded that within us we carry the life and love of Christ. We hold out our hands and take Love’s body into our bodies; and in this we are reminded of who we are and whose we are. And then, like this Monstrance that was carried outside with ceremony and ritual—we go out into the world, carrying the love of Christ with us so that others may see and know and be reminded of who they are: the Beloved.

Beloved, what if we understood, what if we recognize, that everyone we meet is a monstrance? Every one. Some may be bright and shiny and hard to miss; some may be a bit dull or dented….frankly, sometimes I feel like that blessed wafer has fallen out and the little door that was supposed to hold it is off its hinges…..and yet, still…..
How would this image, this truth—that we all have space within us to have the body of Christ, the presence of Love, at our center—that we are all God-bearers in this life—how would this change our welcome? Our assumptions? Our expectations, our reactions and responses? How could this help us to love ourselves? To love others…..which, Beloved, is how we love God.

You know, it is tradition that we consume the bread and wine that has been blessed at our communions. Again, Episocpals and Lutherans hold this tradition differently–and both for valid reasons. But within the Beloved Community, we Episcopal-Lutheran people, we either eat it or we drink it or we put it back into the earth from which it came. We don’t dump it down the sink or throw it in the garbage. We have special cloths and vessels we use at communion; we take care with these things. Not because magic happens or because God will strike us down if we don’t.

We take care, we act with reverence, as a way of honoring God’s love for us. To point out the magnificent brilliance of this moment when we re-member. You know those words: do this in remembrance of me. This isn’t simply about calling to mind the last supper; in this moment we gather to re-member–to literally put back together, member by member, this Body of Christ…..so that we can then go out into the world and be the Body of Christ.

If you watch, no crumb goes astray. We have a cloth to catch it on the table. If a crumb falls to the ground, I pick it up and eat it. We take care of this bread and wine that somehow becomes, is connected, holds and contains Jesus who is love; Jesus who is the One who saves. How exactly? I don’t know. It’s a mystery. But, Beloved, what if we then treated the living Body of Christ in this same way? What if we held the same reverence for every person we meet? If we took the same kind of care…..Prophet, righteous, little one…..What if what we do on Sunday informed every minute of every day of our lives? I mean, this is why we have rituals—like drops of water on a rock, these rituals they shape and reshape us; they realign our hearts; they refocus our vision; they attune our hearing to God’s frequency.

Priest and scholar Barbara Brown Taylor wrote: “With all the conceptual truths in the universe at his disposal, Jesus did not give [them] something to think about together when he was gone. Instead, he gave them concrete things to do—-specific ways of being together in their bodies….. ‘Do this’ he said--not believe this but do this— ‘in remembrance of me.’
So come, Beloved, receive what you are; become what you receive. Love in the flesh for the sake of the world.

6/26/2023

Alive to God

For me it happens at my morning prayer time. Right now my practice is to get a cup of coffee and sit in our 4 seasons room—I can see the trees and flowers and sky. I can hear birdsong. I take some deep breaths and keep a time of silence. I have certain resources I use to listen to wisdom and the word. I journal. I let my brain wrestle with wonderings.

It also happens when I am in beautiful church buildings—particularly if they are silent. In our old building on Church Street, I would walk in the sanctuary in the “gloaming” hour—that last bit of day as the sun is setting and the stained glass windows would come alive. It happened then.

It happens when I hold my children or when I hold my grandchildren. When I am in community, and there is joy and the breaking of bread and conversation. Or when I am singing in community. It happened at Point Pride when, after the rain, the human rainbow was shining. When I am walking and my brain is free to wonder and wander. When people come up and hold out their hands, and I look in their faces and give them the bread—that piece of Love’s body. When my husband and I hold hands……at the side of the ocean…..when my family is gathered and laughter rings…..when I am sitting with a neighbor and listening to their story and I feel empathy/connection…..at my father’s grave when voices were lifted in song.

All of these are times when I find or have found myself alive to God.
Alive to God—this is a phrase St Paul uses in his letter to the Romans; a fundraising letter persuading folx to invest in this Jesus movement, trying to convince folx that Jesus is the real deal. And Paul says that because of Jesus’ life, death and ministry, we now have an opportunity to consider ourselves dead to sin and alive to God.

For me, I know I am alive to God when I am feeling the deep contentment and warm strength of love, of being loved, of being able to extend love. When I feel Joy—whether it be light and uplifting or a deeper, weightier feeling that anchors me—Joy is present when I am alive to God.
This is what Jeremiah is talking about in today’s reading when the prophet describes God as a strong defender, another translation uses the term: dread warrior. Jeremiah means God is always with him; Jeremiah cannot escape God. It is God’s persistence in his life that determines Jeremiah’s words, actions, and role in society.
Jeremiah is living in a time of great social upheaval---when known ways of life were being torn down and becoming unrecognizable. I would bet that most of us can identify with Jeremiah; we live in a time of great social upheaval---when so much of how things were in the past are no longer true today or for the future.
And frankly, the message God is telling Jeremiah to speak to his community will not make Jeremiah very popular. God’s message is countercultural and speaks against the powers that exist. And this is true for us as well, as today’s prophets. God’s message of mercy, forgiveness, of unconditional love, of sharing rather than hoarding, of self-sacrifice, of the common good over and above the individual good certainly goes against the grain of our societal norms and expectations. God’s message flies in the face of the nationalistic, individualistic, consumeristic messages that shout in our ears and continually flash before our eyes.
As Christians, we find ourselves with the reality that to speak the Word of Jesus that God is asking us to speak is to find ourselves as prophets with an unpopular message. Today we hear Jeremiah responding with anger to God’s Word. Jeremiah realizes that God’s truth won’t make him the most well-liked chap in town, and Jeremiah lets God know that, frankly, he is not-too happy. He would rather just get about his own business. Take care of his own matters. He is not really keen on having to deal with the world around him and would prefer to simply ignore God and God’s requests.
First of all, Beloved, let us recognize that this anger, this disappointment in God and how things are unfolding is not faithlessness on Jeremiah’s part. In fact, it is faithfulness. Jeremiah is able to be angry and disappointed with God because Jeremiah has a real relationship with God. And in real, authentic relationships, we get angry and disappointed. We know this is a real and strong relationship Jeremiah has with God because, even though he is angry and upset, Jeremiah doesn’t just walk away. Walking away is the easy thing to do, but Jeremiah hangs in there because that’s what a committed and covenantal relationship requires.
Theologian Rachel Baard says: “The life of faith is not always serene. It is not simply quiet submission to God’s will. It is, rather, a life of struggle with God and God’s will.” Proclaiming God’s countercultural voice amid the monumental injustices of culture is a difficult job. It is the work of a prophet. And Beloved, it is our work. Some of us do this work by speaking. Some by teaching. Some by doing. Some by being. But it is the work of us all. It is not some other Christian’s work or some other church’s work or some other person’s work. It is not the work of someone more holy or more powerful or more capable or more wealthy or of someone who has more time. It is our work, your work, my work---this Beloved Community’s work. As authentic and committed disciples, it is not work from which we can walk away or simply ignore.
This reading from Jeremiah holds personal connections for me. When I was discerning how God was calling me to serve, perhaps in the priesthood, I felt this relentless longing, this palpable ache. Kept me up at night. At one point I attended a discernment weekend in the Diocese and was asked to share a Scripture verse that spoke to me and I chose Jeremiah: “there is something like a burning fire shut up in my bones; I am weary with holding it in.”
I think this burning within our bones comes from a life of discipleship---or at least a taste of discipleship. It comes from all the ways we get pickled in the Jesus juice. The word “disciple” means learner/ student. Jesus tells us: “it is enough for the disciple to be like the teacher.” This is why we have church: so we can know Jesus. Not just know about Jesus but become like Jesus. The point isn’t to be able to memorize Bible verses or doctrine or catechism so that we can proclaim the right answers. The point is that the ways of the One we call master, teacher, Lord….these ways become our ways; we become who and what we study. We gather together as a community of faith, not just to know about Jesus—a groovy dude who lived thousands of years ago—but to know about what it means to be humans who live love out loud in their lives. As disciples, we are called to continuously ask: What is Jesus seeking to teach us and what are we to learn from it? Sometimes I think we avoid wondering or asking what Jesus is teaching us because we are perfectly aware of what Jesus wants, and we just don’t want to do it. Like Jeremiah we would rather God doesn’t ask us to speak this countercultural way of living into the world around us.
Because to do this has a cost. As Jesus warns us—sometimes it can cost us our closest relationships. Because to be like Jesus means that our primary relationship is our relationship with God–the One who is Love. When Jesus is talking in today’s Gospel and says: Those who love father or mother more than me aren’t worthy of me. Those who love son or daughter more than me aren’t worthy of me. Those who don’t pick up their crosses and follow me aren’t worthy of me. Jesus isn’t saying we don’t deserve God, that we, or others if they don’t “get it right” are not worthy of God. In fact, Jesus is saying that we fail to recognize our worth; we sell ourselves short. And until we can love ourselves, as God loves us, we will not be able to love as Jesus loves. Because we haven’t been appropriately conditioned for the work. Love begets Love. For the disciple to live as the Master, one must be grounded and centered in Love. Jesus isn’t telling us to hate our father or mother or children. Jesus is saying that the connection, the relationship, which empowers and gives life to all other relationships is our relationship with God….God who is Love. If we are not deeply grounded and rooted in Love–a sacrificial, other-centered, life-giving and liberating Love– then our relationships will flounder rather than flourish.
At each door entering this church building, there is a quotation of Carl Jung’s. Jung put this quote in his home in Zurich and had it put on his tombstone; it reads: “Bidden or unbidden, God is present.” Like a dread warrior, God is unfailingly present. Waiting. Longing for us. Calling to us to speak, to live, to be the Word. The Word this Creation so desperately needs—now and always. The Word that, for us Christians, we hear and know in Jesus.
Disciples know their master. Disciples become as their Master. Let us not respond to God’s call simply because we think there is something in it for us. Let us learn Jesus, soak up Jesus, be consumed by Jesus to such an extent that we respond to God’s call because we cannot NOT respond. Like Jeremiah, let us be God-haunted, God-disturbed, God-burdened, God-emboldened, and God-blessed. As Brother James Martin has said: “There’s no need to tell everyone how Christian you are. Just act like one: love, forgive, be merciful, help the poor. They’ll get it.”

4/24/2023

Change your hearts and your lives

Beloved: I want to give a warning that some of the content in today’s reflection talks about domestic violence and sexual assault. Please do what you must do for your own self-care if this is a trigger for you.
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I thought that this morning I was going to talk with you about the line in the Gospel reading: But their eyes were kept from recognizing him….
It was the line that jumped out and stuck with me, and when I talked about the Word with my colleague Susan on Wednesday, it was the line that was resonating in her brain, so I thought: well, that’s that then. And it stuck with me because I wondered what was going on in that moment.
I think their eyes were kept from recognizing Jesus because of their expectations. Their expectations of who God is and how God moves in the world. Their expectation of who they thought the Messiah was going to be and who Jesus was, who Jesus is….
Their expectations kept them from seeing God, Love in the flesh, revealed to them as they walked and talked, as they shared their story with a stranger.
I thought I was going to preach on this because I think this is our truth. How our expectations of God and of church prevent us from seeing God and love right next to us in the face of the stranger who joins us on the journey.
Expectations—they can fuel us forward or freeze us in our place.
Expectations can be sourced by fear or love, by anger or hope.
Expectations are shaped by what we consume and who and what we trust.
But, on Friday, I was struck by another line from our readings; this time from the reading in the Acts of the apostles. When Peter says: Be saved from this perverse generation. Another translation of the same line is: Get out while you can; get out of this sick and stupid culture. And one other is: Save yourselves from this corrupt generation.
All of these translations seem so apropos for our world, our nation right now…..perverse, corrupt….get out while you can.
This past week we heard the horrifying and sickening stories of people—all young people—being killed because of simple mistakes: Knocking on the wrong door; trying to get into the wrong car; mistaking a long driveway for a road.
I have done all of these things—more than once, in fact. Probably all, or most of us, has. So–what’s different now? Why these three senseless, sick deaths in the past week? Guns. An overabundance of guns. And the mentality that violence saves us. There are roughly 100 million more guns in the United States than there are Americans. We win the gun bonanza by twice as much as any other country. I know, I know that some people want to argue that guns are not the problem. People are the problem. But we keep giving people—the supposed problem—guns. Even at the cost of the well-being of our community. At the cost of now having gun violence as the number 1 cause of death to our nation’s children. Gun violence kills children in America more than any other cause. Something we can stop; something we can decrease; something we can prevent. If we have the will.
But when profit is God in a nation, as it is in the United States, then the profit of the gunmakers and ammunition producers, and the power they carry over our elected servants, is apparently more important than the lives of our children.
Through his parables, his conversations, his questions, Jesus continually challenges us to consider: Is your expectation that the individual is more important or is the community more important? In America it seems to be the individual. In the Gospel—In God’s dream, it is the community. Is it any wonder we don’t recognize Jesus who is in our midst, who calls us to a new way, who tells us to overturn the tables of the unjust systems we have built?
Get out while you can; get out of this sick and stupid culture.
About a month ago, Murray and I watched the movie: Women Talking. It tells the story of a Mennonite colony, based on a true story—where females—from little girls of four to elderly women—were knocked out with cow tranquilizer while they were sleeping in their beds. And then they would be sexually assaulted and find themselves bruised, bleeding and battered in the morning. Sometimes they would end up pregnant or infected. The religious elders told them it was the Devil or ghosts—and even chalked up the women’s story to fantastical imaginations.
Much like what we hear in the Gospel when the women who first witness the resurrection are not believed and they are told that their experience is just an idle tale. As one character in Women Talking says: They made us disbelieve ourselves.
Because women’s realities have been shaped by others’ expectations of them and for them since time began. Mostly because women were not the ones who told their own story, who wrote down their experience to be shared throughout time. Men have been the official historians and storytellers of truth. At least in the published, authorized version of things. Women have always been told their purpose by others: by the Church, by the job market, by their husbands, their fathers, by advertisements, by the culture. And while we now allow women to work outside the home, what that has meant is that women are generally expected to do both: home and work. And the structures, systems and institutions that women have been allowed to become a part of—for lesser pay, mind you; can’t have them make equal pay—those structures, systems and institutions haven’t changed to make room for women. Instead, women are expected to make themselves smaller, misshapen, in order to fit into these male-dominated, male-oriented structures.
While doors have opened for women in my lifetime, the rooms are still decorated and fashioned for men.
Think of it: the word that we were all supposed to accept as a “stand-in” for humanity is “Man.” It was all over our prayer books, songs, and liturgies…..For example, from the Book of Common Prayer’s Rite One Prayers of the People:
Let us pray for the whole state of Christ's Church and the world. Almighty and everliving God, who in thy holy Word hast taught us to make prayers, and supplications, and to give thanks for all men
This language is still in the Episcopal prayer book. It is still prayed by some. And when God was written about and described, by those male historians and storytellers, they made God male. So much so that many people still think God is male—or they can only imagine God as a male—and they are annoyed and uncomfortable if you use Mother or She or They…..
This past Thursday we hosted a gathering for Women Only in order to show the film Women Talking. We put it in our weekly email; I announced it in church, and we put it out on Facebook. But, I didn’t know what to expect. I was thinking that if 20 women showed up to watch and talk about the movie, that would be fantastic. There were 50 of us. 50 women! Younger and older and middle-aged. And what a conversation we had.
Because we are tired and angry and wounded by being seen only through other’s limited expectations. We are tired of our experiences not mattering enough. Enough to not change the systems. Not just to access the systems, but to recognize that this world was built by and for men, and it’s time to re-dream and re-build it for all of us.
Just as many folx are tired and angry and wounded because their loved ones who have been shot by assault rifles in first-grade classrooms don’t matter enough to change our gun laws. That we don’t really believe that the community’s welfare is more important than an individual’s wealth or a corporation’s wealth.
In today’s reading from Acts, when Peter is preaching at Pentecost and the folx who have experienced Holiness in their midst ask the disciples: What should we do? Peter tells them: Change your hearts and lives. Get baptized.
Baptism wasn’t a ritual, as we know it, in the church yet. Peter wasn’t talking about a ritual; Peter was talking about the true meaning of baptism: ending one way of life in order to live a new way. Or as Julia Gatta put it in her book entitled The Life of Christ: “The goal of baptism is to restore us to the human we were dreamed to be.” To replace our expectations with God’s expectations: Community eclipses individualism. Love defeats hate. Hope beats fear. Equity triumphs over privilege.
The women in Women Talking had to make a decision when the men violating them were finally caught and were brought into the town to be tried. They were given 24 hours to decide if they would forgive the men. The women saw it as three choices: Stay and do nothing. Or Stay and Fight to change the colony. Or Leave.
I think this is the same fight that is taking place within the Church. Stay and do nothing: keep everything as it has always been. Or Stay in the Church and fight to change it. Or Leave.
I struggle with these choices pretty much on a daily basis. Well, let me be clear. I am not interested in Stay and do nothing, change nothing. But I would never leave my relationship with Jesus, or abandon my hope in God’s dream. I cannot give up my absolute trust that this is the Way I, that we, are called to live……but when we try to live this faith out in a culture where there are more guns than people and women and their experiences are still doubted and diminished….it can be a long and weary road.
Recently I heard the priest Barbara Brown Taylor say this: “The church gives me a community to figure out what is happening to me in the world.” And, that, perhaps, is the biggest reason I stay and fight…..That and this loveliness from the 2nd chapter of the book of the prophet Isaiah:
There’s a day coming
    when the mountain of God’s House
Will be The Mountain--
    solid, towering over all mountains.
All nations will river toward it,
    people from all over set out for it.
They’ll say, “Come,
    let’s climb God’s Mountain,
    go to the House of the God of Jacob and Rachel and Leah.
God will show us the way she works
    so we can live the way we’re made.”
Zion’s the source of the revelation.
    God’s Message comes from Jerusalem.
God will settle things fairly between nations.
    She’ll make things right between many peoples.
They’ll turn their swords into shovels,
    their spears into hoes.
No more will nation fight nation;
    they won’t play war anymore.
Come, family of Jacob and Leah and Rachel,
    let’s live in the light of God.

4/17/2023

Practice Resurrection

Here we are at the 2nd Sunday of Easter and we dive deeper into what resurrection means: this “wait a minute….Jesus is what?” reality that happens after the cross.

In today’s readings we have two different attempts of making sense of Resurrection. Our reading from Acts takes place at Pentecost; in our church year calendar that is 50 days after Easter, ending the Easter season. For the Jewish people, it was the festival of the weeks, also known as Shavuot or Pentecost—50 days after Passover–and many pilgrims were gathered as Peter and the eleven stand to speak with those who had gathered in Jerusalem—many of whom had witnessed Jesus’ crucifixion.

And after the great wind blew among them, and the tongues of fire landed on their heads–a fairly amazing event I would imagine—Peter begins to speak. And Peter does what humans often do after something unimaginable has happened: Peter tries to explain it—wrap it up in logic—connect it to prior knowledge. It’s what we do; we want to make sense of everything. Peter does his darndest to earn the people’s intellectual assent—probably thinking if he says just the right thing…..

He refers to the prophet Joel, to David the psalmist—-connecting what the people have heard and learned to what they have now experienced. Words, words, words to convince them Jesus is Messiah.

The story tells us that it works; well, something works. Maybe it was the wind and the tongues of fire dancing on their heads, or maybe it was the words, but the story goes on to say that 3000 people became convinced that day…..

Jesus takes a bit of a different approach. Jesus doesn’t primarily use words to convince; he goes with the sensory experience. Jesus invites the disciples to touch: Put your finger here….see my hands….reach out your hand and put it in my side. Jesus breathes on them, breathes the holy life-breath on them and says: Peace be with you. Three times in today’s reading. Peace be with you. Peace be with you. Peace be with you.

When it comes to something like life after death—living beyond dying—we probably need both: experience and words. Sensual and logical. And even then……we still don’t really know, really understand. Our heads, and maybe our hearts?, are too small to capture the whole of this Mystery.

Beloved: I don’t know what to tell you about resurrection. Oh, I am convinced of what Resurrection means to us right now—in this bit where we haven’t physically died but we experience the many, smaller deaths as we live and move and have our being. Like we talked about last week, I am certain that Resurrection happens: Jesus lives when we live Jesus.

But what does Resurrection mean for us when our bodies finally stop breathing? What does Resurrection mean for our physical deaths? I am not sure. Not completely. But I cannot deny that if we believe Gospel, then Resurrection means Love is stronger than Death. Love is stronger than Hate. Resurrection means that the worst thing that happens to us is not the last thing that happens to us. That somehow we shed these human bodies and we join the force field of Love that we know as God—the presence of Love which also contains those who have gone before us—and as we join God’s forever everafter—we still get to participate in the creative force of love that lives and moves and has its being in this Creation, this Universe. Somehow. That’s about all I can say about that. We have to find our Peace with the unknowing.

Now, if you believe in a bodily resurrection—that after he died, Jesus came back in a body and somehow, so will we—that’s faithful. But, if you hear the Gospel resurrection stories, and you really wonder or doubt or, even dare I say, find it impossible to swallow the bodily part—for Jesus or for anyone else—that’s faithful too. Because the important bit is that you are wrestling with what resurrection means, for you, for us, for Creation, —and you are scooping up and applying the Wisdom that is there. The Wisdom you can grasp. After all, the Bible isn’t so much a book of facts as it is a collective of Wisdom.

Actually, there is one more thing…something I was thinking in the shower this morning about Jesus’ post-death body….Maybe the Gospel insists, here in today’s story and in John’s stories after the Resurrection, like Jesus eating breakfast on the beach with the boys—maybe the Gospel insists that Jesus had a post-death body so that we would understand that we’re it. That these resurrection stories are just Jesus tagging out–like in wrestling….Jesus is tagging out and Tag! We’re it. Jesus’ living body in the world today.

Today Jesus says to us : Put your finger here….see my hands.
Beloved: Which wounds of Christ are you being called to touch and see?
Which wounds of Christ have you already tended? Because you have.
In the 25th chapter of Matthew, Jesus says:
I was hungry and you fed me,
I was thirsty and you gave me a drink,
I was homeless and you gave me a room,
I was shivering and you gave me clothes,
I was sick and you stopped to visit,
I was in prison and you came to me.’
And the disciples ask Jesus: When? When did we see you? And Jesus answers: Whenever you did one of these things to someone overlooked or ignored, that was me—you did it to me.’ ………Put your finger here….see my hands.

And then there’s this juicy, wonderful bit of wisdom:
The Resurrection of Jesus undoes the injustice of Jesus’ scandalous death. Resurrection undoes injustice…..Imagine all the ways we can practice resurrection and undo injustice. The violence against Trans lives, the diminishment of immigrant lives, prisoners’ lives, impoverished lives, lonely lives, the willingness to accept the thousands of lives taken due to gun violence. Beloved: RESURRECTION undoes injustice! We are the living body of Christ in the world today.

Okay: one last bit of Wisdom that was written by Serene Jones and Paul Lakeland in their book Constructive Theology. It goes something like this: If the mission of God’s church is to be effective, then it is the message of Jesus that ought to be stressed rather than Jesus as the message. We will know God’s reign has come when folx look at the church and instead of saying: see how those Christians love each other….folx will look at the church and say: See how those Christians love us!

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Are you there God? It's me, Jane Margaret.