What is Church?

Jesus said, "If another member of the church sins against you, go and point out the fault when the two of you are alone...For where two or three are gathered in my name, I am there among them." Matthew 18:15ff

Well – I have to tell you – for some of us this is day 3 of church, church and church!  Josh and I – and the clergy of this diocese and many of the people of this diocese have been together non-stop for 72 hours!  And are finally at the resurrection day of completion for celebrating the gathered faithful giving thanks to God in Christ.

If you have no idea what I’m talking about – let me explain.  Yesterday, as you may know from our announcements, we ordained Heather Cook a bishop and consecrated her ministry as a Suffragan bishop in our diocese.   Of course when a someone is ordained bishop – the person who does so – is our presiding bishop Kathryn Jefferts Schiori.  And it is her practice – maybe the practice of all presiding bishops to meet with the clergy of the diocese before the big event.

So Friday morning Josh and I and I guess about 100 other priests gathered at St. Michael and All Angels downtown to hear her – but she didn’t do much talking.  She had us think about God’s words at Jesus’ baptism – you are my son and with you, I am well pleased.  And she reminded us of our baptism – because at our baptisms – regardless of whether or not we are priests – God speaks those words to us as we are marked with the sign of Christ.

You are my beloved – with you I am well pleased.  She invited us to close our eyes, sit with the thought quietly for a few minutes.  And then she invited us to turn to our neighbor and talk about what that phrase made us think about.

And then, she opened it up – and one by one – many of us shared our thoughts on that phrase.

Someone once said to me – you know, priests are a little like fertilizer – they shouldn't be all clumped together, its much better to spread them around.  And yes, some truth to that.  Because we tend when we’re speaking in those situations – to want to prove our spirituality, our faith, our knowledge.  And, I’m one of that group, and yes – I lump myself and my insecurities in with that need to.  And listening to everything being said – I wondered to myself – Jesus, is this what you were thinking of when you talked about the church?  Jesus never seemed really keen on the religious experts.

  

And then yesterday – the 11am service at Redeemer – holy moley was that an event.  It started at 11am I got there at 10 and had to park down the road, on a side road that was already packed with cars.  And inside the building was swarming with people – clergy getting vested, a gazillion acolytes – choir members – people preparing the reception inside and outside.  Signs for restrooms and gathering rooms and special orders for the procession.  Hats off to the organization team, honestly, it was truly controlled chaos.

And then they line us up for the procession – and I was part of I think the 3^rd section of the procession which began with banners from every single church – our banner carried faithfully by Cynthia Frasier (thank you Cynthia) – then all the clergy (even though the first shall be last, somehow clergy always get the best seats) – then the bishops.  And as we process into the church – the church is packed like Easter morning – with Praise my soul the King of Heaven joyfully being sung full voice by everyone there.  It was indeed the church triumphant!  And I wondered to myself – is this it Jesus?  Is this what you imagined when you talked about church?

Because I totally underestimated that event – Josh and I scurried out of that service right after the sermon because at 2 o’clock we had a funeral.  Hugh Stierhoff, 83, member of Good Shepherd for at least 20 years if not more.  Taught Sunday school, came regularly, and it was pretty full in here.  Family and friends from near and far – I think we counted about 100 people.  And yep, in the midst of that I wondered – how about this Jesus – is this what you imagined your church would be?

And then – at the end of the service the the family and I and Josh processed to our columbarium – holding the “earth to earth, ashes to ashes and dust to dust” that we are at the last – and now we were down to 15?  18 people – gathered around a niche and tearfully saying final prayers – a small flock, a family taking comfort in the faith of God’s eternal promise.

This, I think, is what Jesus imagined when he talked to his disciples about church.  Its not a building – stones will always topple, Jesus said (Matt 24:1-2).  It’s not pageantry and banners and us looking and singing our best – they did that right before the crucifixion with those shouts of Hosanna in the highest (Matt 21:1).  It’s the small gatherings – its 12 disciples – or 18 vestry – or 15 mourners – or 2 or 3.  A community of people working through something in Jesus’ name – that is what church is really all about.

You know that phrase – where 2 or 3 are gathered there Jesus is.  You hear that one a lot, its pretty well know.  It’s either the phrase we use when only a few people have shown up for a church event.  Or we use it when talking about prayer and worship.  If only 2 or 3 are gathered to pray Jesus is there.

But this morning we have the phrase in context (and this is the only place it occurs in the scripture) is not about prayer or worship – it’s about conflict and disagreement.  Specifically when one member of the church has a conflict with another – feels they’ve been sinned against or wronged. 

So, that tells me something else about what Jesus thought church would be.  He thought it would be a community of people who make mistakes, who hurt one another, who disappoint one another – BUT – just as God does with us – it is a community of people who have been given the grace to work through hurt and anger and disappoint – in a whole, new way.

For example, let’s pretend Jesus is talking to a 21^st century Peter – he might say, if another member of the church sins against you in an email – do not reply with an email!  We’ve all been there, right?  We read this epistle in our In box that gives a one-sided, and totally unfair representation of an point of contention.  In the church – I think Jesus wants us to then go and talk it out!

Jesus has this crazy idea that relationships are in person – not on Facebook, or email, or through an opt-in opt-out dialogue box or tweeting or texting what we think and feel and want to say.  Jesus says – go and talk to the brother or sister you have an issue with because – you are a member of the church.  You are a member of a family that gathers in Christ’s name.

Please note, my friends, this instruction of Jesus’ is not to the crowds – this is specific to the people who want to be in a Christian community. I don’t say that to be exclusive – or to suggest we are any better than any other community or religion – but Jesus is saying, this community is to practice Christ-like behaviors when we are together.

You know, right that this is why we have committees?  We’re great with the jokes about committees – how many Episcopalians does it take to change a lightbulb?  1 to start the committee, 1 to suggest a motion, yadda, yadda, yadda.  But really – work done by committee is harder than just having one person do everything (the trap of church is that you know, one person doing everything)  Because in the committee we have to practice working together.

This – worship – this is practice too.  This is how as a community we practice reading the bible, praying the bible, praying for each other and the world, remembering Christ’s life and sacrifice for us, remembering our vows to seek and serve – this each Sunday is practice.  But conflict rarely comes into it because we are following a script!  It’s all spelled out, what we’re supposed to do.

But, when we have to deal with scheduling Sunday school – scheduling readers – making decisions about how we spend our money – how we raise our money – how we maintain the property – how we handle a problem – that’s when we see if we just talk the talk or walk the walk.  Where 2 or 3 are gathered struggling with something difficult in a loving way – that’s where Jesus says he is.

So, here we are again – start of the program year.  And it’s also a week that marks my third year as rector of this church.  And I have to tell you brothers and sisters I continue to be surprised that the people of this church do not know one another.  Very often I mention someone to someone else and they do not know who I’m talking about and I’m shocked because this is someone who attends regularly, who I see often.  And here we are in S’maltimore/Baltimore in a church that is not mega size!  So it seems in this community we need to do some relationship building, some being together in groups of 2 and 3 or more and working out what God wants us to be doing here and now.

I invite you therefore, if you have not participated on a committee or ministry team in this church for the last three years to try it out!  Get involved with some people and strengthen this community because it will not only be good for us as a church – but more importantly – it will be a witness to the beloved community that we are.  For that is what Jesus imagined a church would be – a beloved community of people who know that they too are beloved.  And that what we are called to do in Christ’s name to spread some much needed good news.  Amen.

- The Rev. Arianne R. Weeks

When It's Okay to Make Mistakes

Matthew 16:21-28
The Rev. Joshua Rodriguez-Hobbs

Pop quiz time: Do you remember last week’s Gospel lesson?

It’s really important for understanding today’s Gospel lesson, because it’s the first half of the story we’re hearing today. In case you’ve forgotten, or if you weren’t in church last week, let’s refresh everyone’s memories. Jesus asks his disciples, “Who do people say that the Son of Man is?” And his disciples reply, “Some say John the Baptist, but others Elijah, and still others Jeremiah or one of the prophets.” Then Jesus asks, “Who do you say that I am?” Peter replies, “You are the Christ, the Son of the Living God.” Jesus shouts, “Blessed are you, Simon son of Jonah! You are Peter, and on this rock I will build my church, and the gates of Hades will not prevail against it.” And yet, this Sunday, five verses later, Jesus tells Peter, “Get behind me, Satan!” What happens? How do we get from Jesus calling Peter blessed to Jesus calling Peter Satan?

It’s clearly got something to do with what Jesus tells his disciples between the two statements he makes to Peter. From that time on, Matthew tells us, Jesus began to show his disciples that he must go to Jerusalem and undergo great sufferings at the hands of the elders and chief priests and scribes, and be killed…Peter doesn’t like this. It goes counter to all his expectations about the Messiah. Peter believed that the Messiah was God’s Anointed One, sent by God to restore David’s kingdom on earth. That’s what he means when he calls Jesus the “son of the living God;” it was one of the titles of the kings of Judah, David’s heir. The king of Judah, the Hebrew people believed, was God’s agent on earth, adopted as God’s son on the day he took the throne. When Peter acclaims Jesus as the son of God, that’s what he’s thinking of, not that Jesus is God from God, light from light, true God from true God, begotten, not made, of one being with the Father. Peter thinks Jesus is supposed to be the king who will defeats the Romans, and that means that he cannot go to Jerusalem to die. Peter is setting his mind on human things, not divine things.

I’m a lot more like Peter than I care to admit. I think that’s why I like Peter so much. He’s always messing up like today, when he goes from blessed to Satan, or a few weeks ago, when he tried to walk on water, but sank. Peter, try as he might to get it right, never seems to actually do anything right. But Peter, poor, misguided Peter, is probably the disciple that best exemplifies the Episcopalian and Anglican view of the spiritual life. Some Christian traditions focus on the fact that we humans are basically good. We’re made in the image of God, and we basically get things right. But that doesn’t seem true for Peter, does it? No matter what Gospel you read, Peter gets things wrong, even though he tries so hard to get them right. Other Christian traditions focus on how sinful and depraved we humans are. They tell us that we are incapable of even wanting to do anything good. But Peter proves them wrong, too. Peter really, really wants to get things right. Otherwise, he wouldn’t be trying nearly as hard as he does. In the middle, you’ve got us Episcopalians, there with Peter. We want to do the right thing, but a lot of times, we fall short, don’t we?

The truth is, I don’t always understand heavenly things. I don’t get this losing my life to find it. I’d much rather just keep it in the first place. But Jesus says that if I do that, I’ll lose it. And this reality that Peter and I share, this fact that we are all so prone to focus on the things we do understand, rather than the ones we don’t, this fact that we want the messiah we expected to arrive on our time table, this reality is at the heart of the way we Anglicans see the Christian life. We want to get things right, but so often we don’t.

If you ever get bored and flip to the back of your Prayer Book, you’ll find a section marked “Historical Documents.” One of these documents is called the “Thirty-Nine Articles of Religion.” They were originally written in Queen Elizabeth’s I reign, set out as a guide to the things that the Church of England believed. And one of these articles (the twenty-first, if you’re worried about that sort of thing) says something really remarkable, something that no one really said before it was written: “When [general counsels of the Church] be gathered together, (forasmuch as they be an assembly of men, whereof all be not governed with the Spirit and Word of God,) they may err, and sometimes have erred, even in things pertaining unto God." In 1571, when the bishops of the Church of England wrote this, no one made this claim. Everyone said that the mistakes that you thought other people in the church made were a sign that they weren’t really part of the church. That’s why Luther left the Roman Catholic Church. It’s only in England that you get a group of Christians admitting that the church gets it wrong sometimes. Peter got it wrong, and he had Jesus with him!

This is the heart of Anglican spirituality: we want to get it right, but sometimes we get it wrong. We pair this realistic view of our humanity with a high view of grace. We believe that somehow, in a way that we cannot understand, Jesus Christ shows up at the altar every Sunday, in bread and wine, to give us grace to journey on. Jesus teaches Peter why he’s wrong. He doesn’t just call him Satan and write him off. Jesus doesn’t write us off, either, even when we’re wrong. We, like Peter, are going to vacillate rapidly between the high and low points of our spiritual journey. We, like the counsels of the church, since they are made up of people, are going to get it wrong sometimes, even when we’re talking about God. The good news is that God doesn’t leave us there. God doesn’t abandon us in error. God gives us grace, and grace helps us to continue to journey closer to God, so that mistaken step is never our last. Thanks be to God for that. Amen.

Failure, Success and Faith

1 Kings 19/Matthew 14
Proper 14, Year A
The Rev. Arianne R. Weeks

  

In Jesus time his disciples needed step out of a boat.  In our time, this disciple needs to step out of the pulpit.

And like a boat on the water – a pulpit in a church sets the priest who is preaching apart.  Not just apart, but actually above all of you.  You all know that is done on purpose.  For acoustic reasons – and visual reasons.  But it also has other more subtle implications.

At our worship retreat this week we discussed – where does worship happen – on the altar (there) or in the nave (here) amidst the gathered faithful?  We all agreed that it’s a both/and.  Like a procession into church worship begins here – and moves towards the altar – then back through and into the world.  But our job as liturgical leaders is to always – through movement and through music – keep a constant connection – because otherwise, worship becomes performance.  You sit there and watch us up there.

For those of us here last week – when Jesus handed bread and fish to the disciples part of that teaching was – it’s not performance.  You feed them – we all participate.  Liturgy is after all, the work of the people.

So, I do believe standing here to preach, from time to time, helps us be mindful of the connection, how we are all in this together.  And for me, it’s also a risk.  I don’t have a script.  I could sink.  I could fail.

And that’s what I want to talk about this morning – failure.  Peter failed – he sank.  Elijah failed – we just listened to God decommission him as prophet.  And where I want to go is to say something we all know – every person here will fail.  And furthermore, it’s necessary. It helps us grow.  And theologically speaking I want to leave you with the question – what does God see?  Does God view us as successes or failures? Do those categories work in a life of faith?

With an average attendance of 150 people on a Sunday a success when compared with the church down the road that only sees 60?  Are we a failure as a faith community compared to the church up the road that sees 1,000?  Is that how God is judging us?

Let’s start with Elijah.  Even though he is atop a mountain – it is amazing how far and how fast he has fallen!  Just a chapter ago he had confronted a king and defeated almost 500 prophets of Baal in one of those – my God is better than your God and I’ll prove it Old Testament battles.  For all the specifics, read 18.  With one of the best lines in scripture, “How long will you people go limping with two different opinions?” he challenges the Israelites -  Choose a god – and choose Yahweh – for that is the true God of Israel.  That is the God who has kept his promise and remained faithful to you.  And he wins.  Baal’s prophets are defeated (killed actually – it’s amazing the psalm we just read, “God speaks peace to his faithful people” right after reading that God is killing people in Kings…but that is a sermon on the contradictions in scripture for a different day). And the king, King Ahab is left defeated and ashamed.

So he wins!  Elijah is a success.  But all it takes is a word – a threat from one of the king’s wives – Jezebel and it’s as if he lost all faith, al confidence, all hope in God’s abiding presence.  King Ahab tells Jezebel all about what happened and she sends word to Elijah saying – I will take your life by this time tomorrow.  Then he was afraid.  That’s all we know about Elijah’s reaction.  So afraid that he runs for his life into the wilderness and begs God to end his life.  Who knows – maybe he just had a nervous breakdown.  Even though it was a success, I’ll bet it took a lot out of him.  Doesn’t it usually feel like after a big success you should be done? Challenges complete? But they keep coming, don’t they.

And depressed, and a little self-righteous with his bemoaning that it is ALL up to him, he is zealous and the last faithful person left, atop Mt. Horeb God tells Elijah - Ok.  You’re done.  Go anoint Elisha in your place as prophet.  And by the way, Elijah, despite your protests that you are the ONLY one left who is faithful there are at least 7,000 others as faithful as you.

Ever thought to yourself – Oh, if everyone was just as faithful and as righteous as me!  If it all didn’t rest on my shoulders!  A reminder from this reading is that it really doesn’t.

Have you ever struggled to ask for help?  Have you ever thought you were better than everyone else and didn’t need help? Have you ever felt a failure because you couldn’t accomplish what you started out doing?  You realized you would have to pass the torch, you’d have to call in reinforcements?  You had to take a break.

For God – is Elijah failing – or is God caring for him?  Recognizing he is one in a long line of people who will participate in God’s purpose getting worked out?

  

And what about Peter.  This story is probably more familiar to us than Elijah’s.  Remember the feeding of the 5,000 has just happened.  The disciples had just witnessed something miraculous that they had all been a part of, but then Jesus sets them apart.  A community unto themselves.

And just like Elijah, despite their recent success they are afraid and doubting? It’s amazing how quickly that now-what-is-there emptiness can overtake us, isn’t it?

Now – maybe some of you remember an excellent sermon preached by Josh on the first Sunday of Lent and Matthew’s take on Jesus’ temptations in the wilderness.  Josh talked about that conditional clause the tempter uses – If you are the Son of God, then turn these stones into bread, and the like.  Generally speaking when you and I use that phrase in our relationship with God, or with someone else, it’s not the beginning of a good conversation.

Well what does Peter say to Jesus in his doubt – if you are Jesus then command me to walk on water.  The whole thing is Peter’s idea – not Jesus’!  And it sinks him.  He couldn’t do it.  And you know what – I don’t think Jesus expected him to be able to do it.   Because – I don’t think we can walk on water.  God in Christ – yes.  You and me – no.  That’s not the miraculous spectacle God has in mind for us.  When God uses us for miracles, then and now, it’s always to benefit someone else, not for supernatural successes that make us feel superior.  God’s miracles are practical and down to earth – feeding and healing people.

So, when Jesus catches him in his arms and says, oh why did you doubt?  Couldn’t he be referring to the FIRST doubt Peter had.  The same doubt that Elijah had – that Jesus had left them, that God had abandoned him.  The doubt that had Peter uttering the same phrase as the tempter – if you are Lord, then do such and such….

  

So here’s where I end up.  I don’t think life with God is about success and failure.  Elijah appears beside Christ at the Transfiguration.  Peter goes on to bring people to Christ and work miracles of healing.  I don’t think God looks at us and sees us and judges our ministries, our projects, our risks in those worldly success or failure terms.

Jesus in many people’s eyes was the ultimate failure.  A King, a Messiah, a prophet – punished, abandoned, naked and ashamed – left to die on a cross.  And while even he cried out that he had been forsaken – he acted as if he hadn’t.  He forgave those who crucified and mocked him.  He promised paradise to the thief who simply asked to be remembered.  He died faithfully – giving himself over to the Father out of love.

Acting in faith even when we feel forsaken.  Trusting God’s presence, without the tests, when we feel alone.  Giving thanks to God for any successes we may have.  Asking God to help us and help us reach out to others to accomplish our tasks. 

God does not call us to be successful – to walk on water - but to be faithful.  Take heart – that’s what God wants.  Intentions of the heart that radiate the truth that God is always with us and we are not afraid.  God doesn’t measure our successes like the world does. God wants our heart.

What Matters about Miracles?

Matthew 14:13-21
The Rev. Arianne R. Weeks

Taking the five loaves and the two fish, he looked up to heaven, and blessed and broke the loaves, and gave them to the disciples, and the disciples gave them to the crowds. And all ate and were filled.  Matthew 14:20

Given the incredible miracle we hear this morning, let’s spend some time talking about miracles.  It’s a word we hear and use often but there is a distinction between the more common use of the word and the very specific function and intention of the word used in scripture. 

Generally speaking, a miracle is an event, or occurrence that is unexpected that is for the good.  “It’s a miracle he caught that Hail Mary pass at the end of the game.”  Or, “it’s a miracle I made it on time given the traffic on the beltway.” 

And of course we also use the word when events of a much greater magnitude surprise us.  After the car accident – it’s a miracle I walked away.  After the diagnosis – it’s a miracle he’s still alive. 

In everyday vernacular we focus on the good outcome for an individual or group.  And some people assign agency to it – like God – but some people don’t.  A miracle is just one part of an interconnected universe, a coincidence to be grateful for.

But in the gospels, miracles are about more than the outcome.  We hear Jesus often say, “the kingdom of heaven is like this – or – the kingdom of heaven in like that.”  But when a miracle happens – that is God breaking into our world through Jesus or someone else to make “thy kingdom come, now!”  And it is never in secret.  It isn’t about just one person’s good fortune, but all those who see the miracle and think, “what does this mean for me?”

Lazarus is unbound and brought to new life and all who see (and hear) realize, “Ah!  That is kingdom living!”

The bleeding woman touches the fringe of Christ’s cloak and is healed and all who see realize, “No one is meant to be an outcast.  God desires health and inclusion for all!”

Water is turned into wine and all who witness the miracle are reminded, this is God’s son.

In John’s gospel miracles are always called, signs.  Because they orient our eyes and ears to the source, God.  So that we might ask why this miracle?  What does it tell me about God?  What does it tell me about God’s relationship to me and humanity?  How does it help me in my discipleship?

So, all that miracle preamble because today we read the one and only miracle that occurs in not 1, not 2, not 3 but all four gospels!  That is significant and amazing.  The birth – the birth of Jesus even – not the same in all four gospels, doesn’t even exist in two.  This miraculous story of something so simple – just a stressful situation that leads to people being fed – was critical enough to make the cut in all four.  Clearly, then, this miracle points to something very important about God that we are supposed to pay attention to.   

So, what matters about this miracle?  What does it teach us about God?  What does it teach us about discipleship?  While you could mine this miracle for many teachings, let’s focus on four.

5,000 men PLUS women and children.  In Mark it’s 4,000 but does the specific number matter?  I don’t think so – I think we’re supposed to see it is a WHOLE LOT OF PEOPLE.  A crowd, nameless and anonymous. 

And we learn that God has great compassion for the anonymous crowds in our world.  There are many of them today – the poor, the undocumented, the ones in the city and the county.  Do we have compassion for the anonymous crowds in our world?  Or, like the disciples, do we want them to fix their own problems and go away?

Second point, Jesus wasn’t having a great day on this morning.  Our excerpt begins – Jesus withdrew in a boat – making it sound like he’s just doing his morning prayer.  But in the chapter it says, “Now when Jesus heard this, he withdrew from there in a boat by himself.”  When Jesus heard what?  Jesus has just learned that his cousin, his friend, John the Baptist had been killed by King Herod.  But when the crowds (and we can include disciples) hear this same thing they follow Jesus.

Jesus is grieving over death.  The crowds and disciples maybe are grieving – but I bet they are also scared and anxious.  John the Baptist who we followed, who baptized us has been killed? What does this mean for our safety?  Jesus will know, he’ll fix it, he’ll take charge. 

Does Jesus get upset or frustrated or angry – that his disciples and this crowd have interrupted his grief with their anxiety and issues?  Nope.  Jesus has compassion and right away, tends to some of their needs by curing the sick. 

There is something miraculous in that, yes?  When we have the ability to stay calm, collected and compassionate in the face of another’s anxiety, fear, even grief.  That composure believe it or not can actually make a way for healing.

Number three. The disciples, they make a fair point don’t they?  It’s late, there are A LOT of people around, there are no Royal Farms in the area, it’s deserted.  So ok, we’ve done enough.  Jesus, it’s time to call it a day with our duties.  Tell them to go and get their own dinner.

Not necessary, says Jesus.  You, disciples, have the ability to feed them here and now, bring me what you have.  And one imagines with that same calm, collected and compassionate presence Jesus takes the gifts they bring, blesses them, breaks them and asks the disciples to share them.

Take, bless, break, share – this is what we practice together every week!  So I take an important point in Jesus teaching his disciples – they can’t just sit back and watch him do everything.  Their gifts, their actions, their doing is a part of the plan.  “They need not go away; you give them something to eat.”  Jesus says.  A lesson and in invitation to discipleship, there.

Finally what is perhaps the most obvious, God wants the world to be fed.  God wants us with the resources we have – an abundance that can sustain all of creation – to feed and care for the hungry.  Pretty simple I guess – but give us this day, our daily bread – is still a prayer for actual bread for millions of children and adults in our world.

So, as I said, you could spend a year, a lifetime, I truly believe praying and reflecting on this incredible revelation about God in Christ.  And then you could apply what you glean – apply how the Spirit inspires your heart and mind to your and our life now.  We all know the headlines in the news right now.  You all know the situations of scarcity, or fear, or anxiety in your own life. 

God has compassion for the nameless and hungry crowds – how does that apply?

Jesus has a calm and collected presence in the midst of a group charged with sickness and stress – how does that apply?

God takes, blesses, breaks and asks us to share the gifts we have – how does that apply?

God wants men, women and children to be fed – how does that apply?

And with the questions and the challenges also comes our good news.  God looks on us with compassion – we are part of the crowd of humanity.  God offers us Christ’s calm and collected presence anytime we need it in the midst of our grief, fear or stress.  God takes, blesses, breaks open and shares Christ’s life so that we might know eternal life now and forever.  God wants our hunger – literally and spiritually – to be fed.

The challenges of this miracle and the good news of this miracle apply to us.  And there can be more miracles in the world as more and more disciples participate in the miraculous.  Amen.

Proper 13, Year A

The Rev. Arianne R. Weeks

8/3/14

The Disreputable Kingdom

Matthew 13:31-33, 44-52
The Rev. Joshua Rodriguez

Is it just me, or are you getting tired of parables too? Matthew’s Gospel contains the most parables of all the Gospels, but the fact is that most of them are the “B-side parables.” They’re not the ones you bought the record for. Those parables are all in Luke. Prodigal Son—Only in Luke. Lost Coin—Only in Luke. Rich Man and Lazarus—Only in Luke. Pharisee and the Tax Collector—Only in Luke. The Rich Fool—Only in Luke. What Matthew gives us is quantity, rather than quality. Like this morning, where we heard five short parables in rapid succession. It’s a little unnerving. Unlike the longer parables that we hear in Luke’s Gospel, these five parables, the last four of which are unique to Matthew, don’t tell a story. They don’t have an explanation attached. We’re just told, “The kingdom of heaven is like…” And it’s like so many things that it can be hard to see what they have in common, isn’t it?

There is a common thread between these five parables though, but it’s not one that you or I would easily identify, separated as we are from Jesus’ words by two thousand years. There’s some nuances that we’re missing.

To begin with, did you know that mustard was not valued as a spice in ancient Palestine? These mustard plants, which grow so quickly from such a small seed, were viewed as weeds by the people Jesus told that the kingdom of heaven is like a mustard seed. I know that some of you are avid gardeners, and you’d appreciate how Jesus’ first audience felt if I were to stand up before you this morning and begin my sermon, “The kingdom of heaven is like kudzu.” No one wants kudzu. No one wanted mustard. And the birds? Forget the birds. Just a few verses ago, when Jesus told the parable of the sower, the birds were stand-ins for the devil and his angels, snatching the word of God from people. Birds are not generally a reputable sign in the Bible.

Yeast is similarly disreputable. In fact, this is the only positive references to yeast in the Bible. Everywhere else it’s viewed as a contaminant—since you couldn’t just pick up a jar of Red Star Yeast from the corner store, you had to let old bread dough ferment to get yeast. Jesus has recently told his disciples to beware the yeast of the Pharisees, using yeast as a metaphor for false teaching. Now yeast is a metaphor for the kingdom of heaven!

The next two parables are just as bad. The parable of the treasure hidden in a field sounds good at first. The kingdom of heaven is a costly treasure, and we should sell everything we have to get it. That sounds nice. Respectable. The sort of thing you go to church to hear, right? But let’s read it again, carefully: The kingdom of heaven is like a treasure hidden in a field, which someone found and hid; then in his joy he goes and sells everything that he has and buys that field. What Jesus is actually describing is someone digging for buried treasure in his neighbor’s backyard. And when he finds treasure, he goes and buys the house, neglecting to tell his neighbor the property’s real value. This is a parable about someone practicing shady business, if not outright thievery.

The parable of the pearl of great price is similar. The piece we’re missing there is how Jesus audience would have viewed merchants. The merchant in this parable isn’t anything like the fine, upstanding businessman or woman of today. No, if Jesus were to tell us this parable using modern day language, he’d say something like, “Again, the kingdom of heaven is like a used car salesman…” People used to assume that a rich merchant had gotten rich by cheating other people. And the kingdom of heaven is like that?

The final parable of the set is the least objectionable, and even it’s a bit fishy. There’s nothing dishonest about it, but no one really aspired to be a fisherman in those days. It was hard work, and you were at the mercy of fish. I can’t be sure about this, but there might have been a popular song back in those days, “Mommas, don’t let your boys grow up to be fishermen…”

So what are we to do with disreputable parables? What is Jesus trying to tell us? None of them describe the way that we typically imagine heaven: fluffy clouds, angels flying around strumming harps. Maybe that’s the point. Jesus isn’t talking about heaven, about some future state of bliss. Jesus is talking about the kingdom of heaven, God’s reign on earth. You know, the one we pray for: “thy kingdom come, thy will be done, on earth as it is in heaven.” Maybe we need that reminder that the kingdom of heaven is amongst us, here and now. It’s often in unexpected places. We should assume that it is. After all, its king was born in a manger, not a palace. Should we be surprised that we can find the kingdom among gardens and kitchens, in backyards and in used car lots, even at the end of a fishing pole? The kingdom of heaven is revealed among us, in the last places we’d choose to look. Anyone who’s served breakfast at Our Daily Bread or lunch at Paul’s Place knows that. We see Jesus in the least of these: the tired, the poor, the huddled masses yearning to breathe free.

The kingdom of heaven is a thoroughly disreputable place, at least by the world’s standards. But in this kingdom, all are free and all are loved, simply because all are made in God’s own image. Thank God for the disreputable kingdom of heaven, because, I don’t know about you, but I’m not sure I’d make it into a thoroughly reputable one. May God give us eyes to see the kingdom of heaven already around us, and hands to help it come more fully on earth, as it already is in heaven. Amen.

Heaven is a Lot Like Summer Camp

The Sixth Sunday after Pentecost
The Rev. Joshua Rodriguez
Romans 8:12-25

For the creation waits with eager longing for the revealing of the children of God…

I have to wonder if Paul had summer camp in mind when he wrote those words. I’m only partly joking when I say that. I’ve just come back from a week at the Bishop Claggett Center, our diocesan camp and conference center, where I was the chaplain for the final session of camp. I’ve got the sunburn and the friendship bracelets to prove it. The Bishop Clagget Center, for those of you who haven’t been there, is a special, beautiful place any time of the year, but it really shines during the summer, when it is overrun by campers. Loud, rambunctious campers who are probably more interested,  at least at the beginning of the week, in tie dying and canoeing and the swimming pool than they are in chapel. But in spite of that, or maybe because of that, God shows up at camp in profound ways. I know that Paul wasn’t talking about summer camp when he wrote the words we heard this morning, words about how salvation is not just about a personal relationship with Jesus, something that, in other words, concerns only individual human  beings. But Paul’s vision of nature groaning for salvation does describe summer camp, and I can’t read it any other way this morning.

The theme for Camp Claggett this year was “Re-Creation: Making Things Happen with God.” All week, we focused on stories about how our God has helped God’s people begin anew, time and time again. We heard stories about how Jesus healed paralytics and the blind. We heard stories about God’s love for the children of Israel. We heard stories that invited us to become partners with God as God makes all things new, releasing creation from its bondage to decay.

That, of course, is the grand story of Scripture, a story that begins and ends in a garden. When Paul speaks of creation being subjected to futility, he is talking about Adam. When Adam sinned in Eden, God cursed the ground, subjecting it to futility, so that humanity would toil to bring forth food from the earth. Since then, Paul tells us, the very earth beneath our feet has been groaning for salvation, for a promise that the curse would be lifted. Creation has been waiting for the children of God to be revealed. Creation has been waiting for God to adopt humanity as daughters and sons. Creation has been waiting for Jesus Christ. That is why, in Luke’s Gospel, Jesus tells the Pharisees that if he silences the crowd cheering on his entrance to Jerusalem, the rocks will cry out. And still, creation waits, groaning in labor pains, for the consummation of our hope. In Christ, God has promised us that all will be made new, and yet, we wait. We wait for the end of God’s great story, which, again, will take place in a garden. In his Revelation, St. John records that the final vision he received was of a new heaven and a new earth. He saw the city of God, the heavenly Jerusalem, coming down from heaven. He saw God making a home with humanity in this city, in the midst of which was a garden. Through this garden runs the river of the water of life, and on the banks of this river grow twelve trees, the leaves of which are for the healing of nations. In this garden, John saw humanity once again dwelling in perfect relationship with God, just as our first parents did in Eden. And we wait, with inward groans, for the promised redemption of all creation, which will take place in this garden.

Until then, we have summer camp. At a staff meeting this past week, the camp director remarked that she was convinced that heaven is going to be like summer camp. I have to agree with her. There is something about summer camp that is special. In the midst of sunburns and homesickness, something profoundly spiritual happens. Campers begin to talk about God in beautiful and surprising ways. They request songs to be sung in chapel. They pray—oh! they pray. During a chapel service this past week, I invited the campers to write or draw their prayers on index cards, and we pasted the prayers all over the chapel walls. They were amazing prayers, the kind that only children can pray, prayers that God keep their families safe, prayers for pets, prayers for watermelon, prayers that they might be a support for parents with terminal illnesses, prayers that they might tell people about the Good News of God in Jesus Christ, prayers that God might, through them, make all things new.

We ourselves, who have the first fruits of the Spirit, groan inwardly while we wait for adoption, the redemption of our bodies. For in hope we were saved. Now hope that is seen is not hope. For who hopes for what is seen? But if we hope for what we do not see, we wait for it with patience.

Beloved, we do not know when that garden that John saw shall come down from heaven. We do know that we are called to work with God to make all things new. We do know that, from time to time, at places like summer camp, we catch glimpses of what heaven will be like. We do know that we are saved in hope, through Jesus Christ. The hard thing can be to remember this, to live in hope. And yet, after summer camp, everything seems a little bit more possible. During camp, one of the campers came up to me and said, “When I grow up, I am going to be a priest.” Now, I don’t know if she is going to be a priest when she grows up, but I do know that God was at work within her that moment, making all things new, beginning with her. And I know that the God who makes all things new is with us now, helping us to wait in hope, helping us to see things anew through the eyes of a child, just back from summer camp.

Amen.

When the Burden is too Heavy

Romans 7:15-25a
Matthew 11:16-19, 25-30

Every year at the beginning of Lent, our preschoolers and I read Oh No, George! by Chris Haughton in chapel. If you’ll permit me, I’d like to read a bit of this story about a dog to you this morning.

Harry is going out. “Will you be good, George?” asks Harry. “Yes,” says George. “I’ll be very good.” I hope I’ll be good, George thinks. George sees something in the kitchen. It’s cake!  I said I’d be good, George thinks, but I LOVE cake. What will George do? (George eats the cake.) Oh no, George![1]

I think you can guess how the rest of the story goes. George sees Cat, who he loves to chase. George sees dirt, which he loves to dig in. George said he’d be good, but these temptations are just so tempting. And when Harry returns, George has ruined the house. George is sorry. George resolves to do better. George does do better, for a while, but the story ends with George, tempted to dig in a trash can. We don’t know what George does in the end. The book ends on a question: George?

           

We’ve all had moments in our lives that end with a similar question, haven’t we. We can will what is right, but we cannot do it. We are just like George the dog. This little children’s book is such a great illustration of exactly what St. Paul is talking about! And I get that. I understand exactly how St. Paul feels. Don’t you? Wretched man that I am! Who will save me from this body of death? Who will save George the dog from digging in the trash can?

I like to imagine that the first time Paul’s letter to the Romans was read in Rome, Pheobe, the deacon of the church in Cenchrae whom Paul identifies as the end of the letter as is bearer, whom Paul would have trained in how to read the letter, Pheobe paused at this point. Maybe she sat the scroll down. And I like to think that the depth of this question penetrated into the hearts of all of those who had gathered to hear this new letter from Paul.

Who will save me from this body of death? I ask myself this question on a regular basis. Don’t you? Now, I don’t use quite these words, but I’m still asking the same question. Sometimes I ask it without using words. One of those times occurred when I was doing my hospital chaplain internship. I was paged to the Neonatal Intensive Care Unit to sit with a mother as she took her newborn daughter off life support. It was awful. When you’re in a situation like that, there are no answers. The mother didn’t even ask me why God would let something like that happen. She just cried. I held her hand and cried with her. As we sat there, watching the heartbeats fade from the heart monitor, we were both crying out, with sighs too deep for words, Paul’s cry: Who will save me from this body of death?

That is the essential question of human life. Sometimes, it’s tempting to jump right over to the answer: Thanks be to God through Jesus Christ our Lord! But that’s not the way life works. And when we are confronted with our human frailty in a powerful way, the answer isn’t as simple as skipping right ahead to the next verse. When we are grieving as we are now over the death of John Burk, an answer is simple as “Jesus needed another angel in heaven” doesn’t satisfy. There is a real existential angst in that question, in our finite inability to do all the good we want, a finitude revealed to us in death. We don’t need pat answers. We need Jesus.

We need to hear our Gospel reading. We need to be reminded that we relate to God as children, not as adults. If we were adults, maybe we’d have this life thing figured out. Maybe we’d know how to do the good we will. Maybe we’d know the answers to give grieving people. But we aren’t, so we don’t. God has revealed these things—the Good News of God in Jesus Christ—to children. And we receive grace, the free gift of God, as children. We can’t run faster or beat our arms harder and somehow arrive at salvation. We need to be given it. And thank God, Jesus does give it to us.

Come to me, all you that are weary and are carrying heavy burdens, and I will give you rest.

Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me; for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light.

We find rest for our weary souls when we stop trying to do it ourselves. That’s why Jesus’ yoke is easy, and his burden is light: he has shouldered it for us. Somehow, in the midst of that awful hospital room where I sat with that mother and her dying child, Jesus showed up. He showed up when I stopped trying to make things right, stopped trying to find something to say to the mother to make her feel better. I had nothing to do with Jesus showing up. He didn’t show up because someone called for a chaplain. He showed up because everyone in that room needed him, and we had stopped pretending otherwise. When that happened, it was like all the air in the room changed. It grew lighter. The mother sang “Jesus loves me” as she rocked her daughter for the last time. Somehow, in a way that I do not understand, Jesus gave us rest and comfort. Jesus let us set heavy burdens down. All there was left was a palpable sense of God’s love.

Who will save me from this body of death? Thanks be to God through Jesus Christ our Lord!

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[1] Chris Haughton, Oh No, George! Somerville: Candlewick, 2012.