And God Said: Ha!

Readings for the 2nd Sunday of Easter

Click on the image to listen to the sermon

A few weeks before Easter I was having lunch with some of my colleagues – and I said – ok guys, I need a good joke for Easter. And one friend said – on Sunday? Easter Sunday? You read the gospel of the resurrection of our Lord and tell a joke?

Yes, I defended myself. Of course I sometimes tell a joke – it’s a joyful day – a return to Alleluia day - and I want all of to feel that joy. What better way to start a sermon then with a laugh?

So then my other friend says – actually this is an ancient tradition. Risus paschalis – which means “The Easter Laugh.” This was a custom to come out the early church tradition. In the earliest days of Christianity the first week of Easter was one continuous feast…a week meant to inspire intense spiritual joy! Easter Monday was called the Day of Joy and Laughter. And scholars think the tradition it came out of a midnight sermon preached on Easter Vigil in the 4th century by St. John Chrysostom. The highpoint of his sermon described a vision of the resurrected Christ confronting the devil and laughing at him. Leaving the devil powerless and speechless. God has the last laugh on Easter – trampling down death forever![i]

A man was found alive after years of living alone on a deserted island. The head of the rescue party asked him, I see you built 3 buildings – what are they? And the man replied – that’s my house and that’s my church. So what’s this third one? Oh, that’s the church I used to go to.

So this conversation reminded me that somewhere I’d read about a priest who maintains this tradition in his church. Not on Easter Monday – when let’s face it – we’re not together – but on this day, the second Sunday of Easter. When surely we can imagine Jesus chuckling at Thomas’ need for more proof.

Holy Humor Sundays they are frequently called. And are a tradition in a variety of churches. Every year – in some way – they do something – like having people in the congregation tell jokes – a bulletin filled with cartoons - skits instead of readings – the choir singing something a little different than usual.

One church in Florida the pastor simply got up and said in honor of the day – he’d give his shortest sermon ever – the focus of his talk would be sin – Don’t do it. Amen. And he sat down.

Don’t you think Jesus laughed? Always at those parties and dinner gatherings? Certainly people told stories? Surely the Pharisees and the disciples were the punchline in more than a few jokes. Of course there are times when church is solemn and somber – yes. But – we are also called to make a joyful noise unto the Lord!

We read stories that seem as far away from our lives as they are from our time and place. We move through the words of liturgy which can be comforting – but can also sometimes feel very rote – so we stop paying attention. We stare through stained glass windows – which can sometimes reinforce a religious ideal that a perfectly clean esthetic is better than the messy faith of feelings and doubt.

Speaking of stained glass…a priest was giving a children’s message one Sunday instead of a sermon. So she invited all the kids to come up front and she talked about how each of them had gifts to share. And as she looked up she saw the light the light streaming through the stained glass window – like ours – where all the different panes of glass made for the most beautiful image. Inspired with this vision she told the children – See God’s vision of us is like that stained glass window – and each of us are a part. Colin – you’re a pane. And Robbie – you’re a pane. And Julie – even you are a little pane. Until the laughter of the congregation cut her off.[ii]

The scripture we read this morning reminds us that doubt is a part of a full faith. Jesus certainly doesn’t seem to mind hearing about Thomas’ doubts or ours. It seems that Jesus wants us to dig into our doubts – quite literally – sharing them with each other – sharing them with God. Because resurrection is a hard thing to wrap our minds around – a hard thing for us to trust in.

Scott Weems is a cognitive neuroscientist and the author of Ha! The Science of When We Laugh and Why. And one of his findings in researching humor is that – the most important function of laughter is how it helps us handle what we can’t understand. It helps us process. It keeps us moving forward.[iii]

When something happens that fills us with doubt or uncertainty – it can be unsettling – it can be terrifying. The God-given ways we are brought back to the awareness that we’re not in it alone – God is with us, people we love are with us – that’s one way we process the impossible.

Two years ago my sister, Christianna, died. I was raised – Roman Catholic so of course we had the funeral in a Roman Catholic Church. The priest was great, smashing my preconceptions. Not only did he not have a problem with my wearing my clericals to the service – but he invited me to participate – which hasn’t been my experience in that denomination.

It was – as you can imagine – a very, very sad day. And at the end of a funeral service the priests say prayers commending the body to God’s everlasting care. Often times praying with incense as they make their way around. The priest handed the thurible to me – you know it’s a metal box hanging on a chain and you swing it.

Now we don’t use incense here – and the last time I had was seminary – and it takes practice. You have to hold the chain in the right place – high enough so when you swing it – it doesn’t swing back on itself, and dump out. But guess what I did – yep, held it in the wrong place – and so with great solemnity I swung it up only to have it swing backwards, hit the chain, and all the ashes come pouring out. To which my other sister immediately exclaimed – “Ha! Christianna, did it! She was never big on church.” Which did spark a welcome and supporting laugh from all of us there. All of us trying to wrap our heads around this tragic loss and trust in resurrection. I’m sure you have your own experiences you point to. They say it’s the best medicine for a reason.

Make a joyful noise unto the Lord, the psalmist sings (PS 100). Sarah says to Abraham – God has brought laughter for me! (Gen 21:6) In Job even we read – God will fill your mouth with laughter and your lips with shouts of joy! (8:21) And the wisdom of Ecclesiastes shares – Feasts are made for laughter (10:19).

And today is indeed a feast no matter where we are on the doubt spectrum. This is our feast to celebrate that God has conquered death forever. Our feast to celebrate that love always wins! May all of us find the laughter we need – share our laughter with another - and join God in the feast of life we have been given.

So in that prayerful spirit - A priest walks into a bar. Apparently he didn’t see it! Amen.

The Rev. Arianne R. Weeks

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[i] With thanks to - http://goandmake.ca/the-easter-laugh-risus-paschalis-observe-holy-humour-sunday/

[ii] With thanks to - http://www.joyfulnoiseletter.com/hhsunday.asp

[iii] From interview - http://www.npr.org/2014/03/15/289946192/whyd-the-scientist-cross-the-road-to-figure-out-why-youre-laughing

Love Always Wins

Easter Sunday Readings

Alleluia. Christ is risen.  The Lord is risen indeed. Alleluia.

Click the image to listen to the sermon

Why do you look for the living among the dead? The angels ask.  Remember he told you he would be crucified - and in three days would rise again?  Don’t you remember – because Jesus said it like 100 times when y’all were hanging out.

And slowly, I imagine, it begins to dawn on those women – Jesus did say he would rise again.  So they run, probably still with some doubts in their hearts, to tell the guys.  And the disciples think they are crazy – dismissing the women’s words as idle talk.

Why don’t any of the faithful followers remember what Jesus had been telling them all along?

Because resurrection is ridiculous and irrational.  When you’re staring at death – when you’re surrounded by emptiness it is hard to see past that - to trust that God is up to something new.  Until of course you’re standing on the other side.

I don’t mean the other side – as in – life after death.  (Personally I’ve never stood there and would like to hold off on that for some time).  But like you and me, these women are still in the land of the living. That’s what the angels point out.  The women want to bring in a new day with old traditions – anointing the body, weeping and wailing at the tomb – acting as if death has had the final word.  Why, the angels ask.  Why would you want to do that?  Remember what Jesus told you.  Go be with the living – because death has dominion no more! Go - Share the news - tell the story. He is risen from the dead.

Six words.  Jesus is risen from the dead.  Those six words are the whole story.1  The alpha and the omega of how much God loves us, the world – how much God loves life – eternally – but also here and now.

There is a website dedicated to people sharing stories, their life story, in six words.   It’s an online ezine called Smith.  Their tagline is “One life. Six Words. What’s Yours?” And the site is dedicated to collecting these six word memoirs.  Since the magazine launched there have been books, compilations of six word memoirs from the famous celebrities and everyday people (anyone can participate).  As I was scrolling through the site I thought these memoirs were pretty good -

My diary is read by everyone. - Taylor Swift
The chef Mario Batalli wrote – Brought to a boil, quite often.
Stephen Colbert – Well, I thought it was funny.

The idea for this endeavor came from an old writer’s tale.  Ernest Hemingway supposedly was once challenged to write a story in six words and he came up with something extraordinarily poignant,
For sale. Baby shoes. Never worn.

As I was scrolling through the many, many submissions from the not-famous, every day people the one that struck resonated – given where we are is - The exits were entrances in disguise.


The women, the disciples can’t see beyond the exit.  They think they have come to the end of the story and it’s over.  They believed Jesus had lost.  And the political powers of their time had the last violent word yet again.  In their grief and disappointment who could blame them for not trusting, what Jesus had said?  Who can blame us?  It can be hard to see past the political powers of our time and the violence in our day – to believe that God will make a way.  And that the way of the cross – the way of love – will triumph in the end.

There’s a joke that might be heard in various churches this morning.  The preacher gets into the pulpit and begins by saying – so as I was saying on Christmas Eve….

The new beginning stories of God breaking into the world – they will forever be the ones that bring us together – because we so want them to be made real.  And the way God breaks into the world is as crazy as the way God breaks out of it.  And the agents of God – the angels – say the same in both.  To the terrified shepherds – and to the terrified women – don’t be scared – this isn’t the end it’s just the beginning.  Go and tell the good news.  Go it’s up to you – to let people know of God.  God breaks in and breaks out – our job is to go and tell.

So how do these six words – Jesus is risen from the dead – make a difference in your life?  Do they?  Do you want them to?  Because I know you’ve seen – I know you’ve experienced a new beginning when you thought you’d reached the end.

Asking myself this question this week and inspired by the 6-word memoir here’s what I came up with:

Found by love again and again.

I don’t mean romantic love.  I mean God as in God is love.  So why not just say – Found by God again and again.  Because that idea of God – let’s face it – is abstract.  As if God is separate and apart from us, outside of you and me.  But if there is anything the whole story of Jesus shows us – is that God’s love is made real in Christ.

The God who would share our human nature – live and die as one of us?  That’s love.
The God who would walk to a cross for a world like ours?  That’s love.
The God who returns to his disciples the ones who abandoned, to say – Beloved, you are forgiven?  That’s love.

The God who takes every exit – every closed door – every loss I’ve ever known – and loves me through to a new beginning.  The God who takes every disaster – every act of hatred – every act of violent destruction and shows all of us that is not the end.  That is Love.  Out of death there is always new life – because death never has the final word.  Love does.

And that love – that new life – that moment or process of resurrection doesn’t happen by magic.  It happens through the hearts and hands and feet of people like you and me – living and bringing, sometimes literally carrying, the good news of love into our world.

Love is what draws us to God – and shows us that we are God’s.  I could say - Found by hope, joy, peace, gratitude, kindness, patience, forgiveness, courage, faith again and again – you could replace Love with any of those words – but – as Paul famously writes to the Corinthians – while all those things abide – the greatest of all these – is – love.

Despite their fear – love brings the women to that tomb in the early dawn.  And despite their doubts – love is what ultimately propels the disciples to live the truth of a story we continue – a story the first believers thought was just idle talk.

And it certainly can be.  Resurrection is as empty as that tomb – if it’s only a statement in a creed.  Resurrection is only full of life when we live it. When we allow those words – Jesus is risen from the dead – to shape, inspire and write the story of our lives here and now.  So go – and find it.  Go and be it.  Share the good news story – Love always wins.  No matter what.

Alleluia Christ is risen.  The Lord is risen indeed.

[1] With much thanks to the Rev. Cathie Caimano for her essay on this topic!

https://www.faithandleadership.com/sermons/catherine-caimano-christianity-six-words

Extravagant Living

Readings for the Fifth Sunday in Lent

To listen to the sermon click the image below

In an earlier part of my life, I performed with a semi-professional opera company that did a kind of dinner theater.  Based in central Florida we earned our living performing in retirement communities – regaling diners with popular opera arias and musical theater numbers between courses.  One night, I remember, I was slated to sing the closing number – and I asked the director, “Could I sing this one instead?”  No, he said, my second choice wasn’t appropriate.  So I argued and demanded to know why.  It’s simple, he said, our dinners always start and end on a high note!

The last word of Jesus at this dinner does not end on a high note.  The poor will always be with you.  What does that mean? It sounds like Jesus shrugs his shoulders, resigned to the world as it is.  Sadly this verse can and has been misconstrued in that way – usually to justify a laissez-fair attitude towards Christian benevolence.  

But as always, it’s important to remember – this isn’t a statement to the crowds – it’s a response to a particular person.  That duplicitous disciple Judas.  Who, Jesus surely knows, regards his responsibility to the poor as check-list charity.  An obligation to the law born out of guilt.  His remark about selling the oil because of its price tag is meant to shame Mary – and maybe Jesus – in her extravagance.

So Jesus points Judas to the extravagant nature of God – not, by shrugging his shoulders in acknowledgement of the perpetual problem of poverty – but by reminding Judas how God describes generosity in Deuteronomy.  The poor will always be with you – is a summary of that ancient teaching –

If there is among you anyone in need, a member of your community in any of your towns within the land that the Lord your God is giving you, do not be hard-hearted or tight-fisted towards your needy neighbor…open your hand, willingly lending enough to meet the need, whatever it may be. Be careful that you do not entertain a mean thought…[or] view your needy neighbor with hostility…Give liberally and be ungrudging when you do so…Since there will never cease to be some in need on the earth, Open your hand to the poor and needy neighbor in your land. (Deut 15)

What fills, propels, encourages – any of us – with the desire to give liberally – ungrudgingly – and without hostility?  Love.  And we can’t give what we don’t have.

The wholehearted generosity Mary shares with Christ – making use of her hands, her heart, her hair – is a first-order action.  Her generosity reconnects and replenishes love – so that her heart – which will break in a few days – will not be hardened.

You see, Mary and Jesus seem to be the only people at this dinner who want to get real about what’s going to happen in the week ahead.

What is one of the first things you notice when you walk into a bakery – a coffee shop – a barn –  a thrift store, sometimes – a restaurant – a hospital?  The smell.  The smell of a place or a person – can be as inviting as it can be off-putting.  Smell conjures up more memories than any of our other senses.

And Mary’s extravagance – filling the house with the fragrance of perfume - ensures that everyone is reminded of something familiar. Spikenard oil is the historical name.  And, as Jesus says it is used to anoint a body at burial.  A powerful scent reminiscent for us of mint and ginseng that for everyone there would immediately call to mind a funeral.  Except Mary has poured it all out before Jesus is dead.

Recently at a reception following a funeral someone said something to me I’ve heard before – and that I’ve said with my family members – maybe you have with yours.  It’s too bad it takes a funeral to bring us all together for this party.  I mean, it’s not a party – the reception – or wake – or whatever gathering you have after the service, after the burial.  But it’s a really important part of the ritual of grief.  You can’t help but be glad to see certain people.  You can’t help but laugh remembering certain stories.  You can’t help but wish the person who is gone could be there – to see – all the people who showed up, out of respect, out of love.

In those gatherings there is an extravagance – certainly of food – often times of drink.  And especially an extravagance of time.  Many times when we’ve had receptions after funerals here – followed by a reception in the parish hall – they always go long, past when the family thought they’d be done.  When I’ve traveled to be with my family in those times – the gathering will last for days.

This dinner is that gathering with Jesus is sitting next to Lazarus. Martha and Mary’s brother.  And, you’ll remember he died.  Jesus had just raised Lazarus from the dead.  Despite everyone’s panic that they would have to smell death when Jesus asked them to roll away the stone.  Lord there will be a stench, he’s been there four days.
So maybe because she had already had four days of grief for her brother – Mary wants to have that kind of party – now.  Maybe she doesn’t want to wait for the gathering after the burial – she wants everyone she loves to be extravagant and present while they are still together.

So she pours out that oil, that perfume.  Sharing her expensive and extravagant gift so that everyone recognize the priceless time they have left together.  She opens her hands – opens her heart.  Gives liberally and ungrudgingly – without hostility towards those in the room who criticize her indulgence.

One of the reasons I think many of us wish we could have that kind of party with someone before they’ve died – is because we hold back in the giving of ourselves.  We hold grudges and have unkind thoughts. We can be hard-hearted or tight-fisted with a variety of gifts.  All those ways of connecting with the needy described in Deuteronomy – they’re not just about money.

It isn’t easy to be extravagant in our love – our forgiveness – our generosity.  It can cause a spectacle.  It can cause people, and that critic inside our heads, to make snide and judgmental comments.  Extravagant love is vulnerable – because it leaves us open.  And yet – because it opens us up – it is paradoxically the most fulfilling gift there is.

We have to wait a week – but in John’s gospel the next morning is Palm Sunday.  When we’ll be shouting our Hosanna’s with the crowds before we join the mobs in yelling Crucify.  And then Easter follows.  And of course that is a day of extravagance – in terms of people in the pews, in terms of music we will hear, in terms of flowers filling this space.  That is a day that starts and ends on a high note.
But our celebration of it – is so far removed from what Mary experienced.  Perhaps Jesus allows his feet to be anointed for burial because he knows when the women come to perform that ritual in the tomb – on our Easter Sunday – Jesus won’t be there.

Do not remember the former things, or consider the things of old. – we heard in Isaiah
I am about to do a new thing; now it springs forth, do you not perceive it?

Mary apparently did.  And Jesus apparently prefers to be the guest at extravagant parties of the living.

For since there will never cease to be some in need on the earth us – go - give liberally and generously of yourself – so that God can do a new thing in you.

Let us give extravagantly of our time and sit with Mary at the feet of Jesus – so that we too can be filled and moved to share our many variety of riches out of love in the here and now.

God's Invitation

Readings for the Fourth Sunday in Lent

Then the father said to him, 'Son, you are always with me, and all that is mine is yours. But we had to celebrate and rejoice, because this brother of yours was dead and has come to life; he was lost and has been found.'

Click the video to listen to the sermon.

When we know a story well, it can be hard to hear it.  That's often true with our bible stories that we hear over and over.  And certainly true of the famous one - the Prodigal Son which we know so well.

There is a father and two sons.  One son is dutiful.  One son is not.  One son is respectful and works for the family business.  The other son demands his share of the business before his father has died – and then leaves and squanders it all.  One son is good – the other, not so much.

We don’t just know this story very well – some of us have even lived it, haven’t we?  Eldest – good, responsible.  Youngest – free-wheeling and self-seeking.  As an eldest, painting with those ridiculously broad strokes works just fine for me.

And Jesus is painting with broad strokes too – but not in terms of us.  The broad – wide – expansive strokes paint the heart of God.  And the parable’s easy dualism of good and bad – I think - is intended to reveal our tendency to categorize and judge – where God does not.

In chapel this week I read a very simple version of this story to our 3, 4 and 5 year olds.  In it the brother takes all his pennies – and leaves home because he’s tired of his dad telling him what to do.  Then, surprise, he runs out of pennies.  So he goes home and says – I’m sorry.  And the dad isn’t angry and welcomes him back.


Of course, I understand why the story is told that way to that age group – but that’s not this story.  Although I think we hear it that way even as adults.  We hear a younger brother who is repentant – but sorry isn’t what the younger brother says.  It’s not a story about forgiveness – it’s a story about worth.  Who is worthy of the Father’s love.

Some scholars say all of Luke’s gospel is contained within this chapter.  A chapter that begins with Pharisees and scribes – in other words – the churched – grumbling and complaining about who Jesus is eating with.  It hints at the grumbling at God done long ago – when God led the chosen people out of Egypt.  Back then – they grumbled saying – why didn’t you just leave us alone – when we were slaves, at least we knew where our next meal was coming from!   And now the grumbling (we’re always grumbling) because they don’t approve of who God is sharing food with.  Because he’s sharing food with all the younger brothers of the world – who many eldest-types consider undeserving and unworthy.

Which is how the younger brother eventually sees himself.  Treat me like a slave, I’m not worthy to be your son.   Which ironically – or not – is the same thing the older brother says to the father.  All these years, I worked like a slave for you.  Both brothers see their worth as contingent on something they do. Is that the good news? Is it the work that makes us worthy? Is it rule following? Is it something we gain – or always have?  What is worthy in God’s eyes?




Jesus knows these are the questions on the hearts of everyone around him.  The sinners he is eating with – and the religious who are looking down them.  There’s no reason to assume the “sinners” at this table are unhappy.  For all we know – they could be people just like the younger brother before he ran out of pennies – in the midst of a raucous period of self-exploration, who feel good about how they are living their lives.  Who knows?  But it’s clear what the Pharisees are feeling.  Tsk. Tsk. Tsk.  How could this Jesus make his Godlike claims and sit with people who don’t even give God the time of day.  Here we’ve made something of ourselves in the house of God – yet he chooses them over us? I’ll bet deep down they were pretty envious.

Jesus shares three stories in reply - .
#1 – A shepherd with 100 sheep loses one and leaves all the others behind to go and find it.  When he does, he drapes the lamb over his shoulders and then calls all his friends and neighbors and says “Rejoice with me! For I have found my sheep that was lost.”

#2 – A woman with 10 silver coins loses one.  She searches and searches until she finds it – and when she does – she calls out to her friends and neighbors and says, “Rejoice with me! For I have found the coin that was lost!”

And #3 – A father who has two sons – both of whom seem very lost.  An elder son who spends his life counting up and tabulating his deeds, working like a slave for his dad.  And a younger son who asks to be treated like a slave, because he thinks he no longer counts.  But the father calls out to each son – No – Rejoice with me!  For we are here, alive, together.

What is the word that is shared in all three – Rejoice, rejoice and again I say rejoice (Philippians).  And in all three “rejoice” is an invitation.

You and I both know what it is to be a youngest and an eldest.  We know what it is to be disrespectful to people who have cared for us, at some point in our lives.  We know what it is to say, it’s my way or the highway – and do what we want, when we want.

And because we are all dutifully sitting in a church at this moment I’m pretty sure I can safely say – we also all know what it is to do the right thing, the responsible thing, the moral thing.  

Jesus reminds us in these stories – neither path defines our worth in God’s eyes.  But both paths are an opportunity to be found.  We can also relate to the feeling of finding something of incredible worth that we thought was lost.  That completeness – that’s where the worth, the value is.  Because that’s the joy – God runs to share with us.  When people are reconciled within themselves – between each other – restored to their place in a community – that’s when the joy is made complete.  Completing our joy, Jesus later tells his disciples is the whole reason he was here in the first place.

But so often we get hung up on our judgments about which path is better – we stand in the way of reconciliation holding on to our notions of who deserves love, or forgiveness, or restoration.  Whereas God just wants to run and grab us – and help us rejoice, help us see the worth all of us have in God’s eyes.

Ultimately this is a story about letting God find us wherever we are.  Because when that happens – we are made whole.  And it doesn’t happen just once – but again and again.  God’s joy is complete when we are whole – when we give all of ourselves into God.  God’s joy grows as when we continually understand – our worth isn’t based on anything we can do – it’s amazing grace, the gift God invites us to find and to share.  And when we find it – we also find our joy grows and grows as we share that joy with others.

Paul writes - In Christ God was reconciling the world to himself, not counting their trespasses against them, [but] entrusting the message of reconciliation to us. So we are ambassadors for Christ, since God is making his appeal through us; we entreat you on behalf of Christ, be reconciled to God.

There is something good about getting lost.  Getting lost in our selfish pursuits – and getting lost in our value-judgments about everyone else.  Because getting lost – means we can be found.  The stories all end not with a command – but an invitation – God calling to everyone – rejoice with me, rejoice.  This morning is simply another opportunity for us to listen and decide how we will answer.  Amen.

What House are You Building?

Readings for Second Sunday in Lent
2/21/16

Jesus said, Jerusalem, Jerusalem, the city that kills the prophets and stones those who are sent to it! How often have I desired to gather your children together as a hen gathers her brood under her wings, and you were not willing! See, your house is left to you. (Luke 13:33)

The British-American author D. H. Lawrence said, "The world fears a new experience more than it fears anything. Because a new experience displaces so many old experiences." New ideas are not a problem. The world "can pigeon-hole any idea," Lawrence said, "but it can't pigeon-hole a real new experience."1 A true inner experience changes us, changes the way we see.

The inner experience I hear God inviting us into this morning is trust.  Trust for me is interchangeable with faith.  In fact – it’s a better word – because faith has the other connotations.   As if faith is about a set of beliefs that are either right or wrong.

Scripture teaches us faith through relationship, though.  The bible isn’t a compendium of intellectual ideas or systematic beliefs.  It’s a collection of stories, songs and letters and poems about relationships.  Relationships with God, with families, with tribes, neighbors and enemies.   And within those relationships trust (or faith) is strained, strengthened, abandoned, betrayed, etc.

This section of Genesis was pretty revelatory back in the day.  It’s the first time Abraham talks with – and kind of argues with – God.  God is asking him to trust – to have faith.  Abraham wants certainties.  God says that God will be the shield and the reward if Abraham trusts him.  Abraham replies – not good enough.  I want to know “what” the shield is – and I want to know “what” exactly the reward will be.

Me too.  My prayers are pretty specific – how about yours?

"When Abram asks “what?” and “how?” he uses specific Hebrew terminology that usually appears in prophetic texts such as Amos, Isaiah, Ezekiel, and Jeremiah. In virtually every case where the phrase is uttered on human lips, it is part of a plea directed to God, particularly with reference to something that is hard to believe or accept."2

It’s reasonable for Abraham to ask God these questions.  He doesn’t understand how he can pass on an inheritance if he doesn’t have an heir.  He doesn’t understand – given the present circumstances – how in the world God could fulfill God’s promise.  We can relate to that too, can’t we?  We look at the present circumstances of our world and think – how can God make good on God’s promise?

Lean into trust – lean in.  This will be a recurring pattern in all our lives – on the macro and micro level – cycling through situations where it is hard to see the answer or the solution – so how do we do it?  How do we trust in that which we cannot see?

Let’s turn to Jesus.

Jerusalem, Jerusalem Jesus says – how I long to gather you as a mother gathers her children under her wings.  Jesus has a very unusual response to a very real and scary threat.

Some Pharisees came and said to Jesus, "Get away from here, for Herod wants to kill you." Go and tell that fox something for me, he say.  The religious authorities who operate in collusion with the political establishment are scared of Jesus and trying to scare him back.  Herod the Great, as he was known, was a pretty scary guy.  Quick overview of resume highlights –
- Executed one of his 10 wives, two of his sons and numerous detractors
- In the gospels when Herod learned about the birth of a Messiah (rival king) he first tried to kill the magi, then tried to trick the magi into sending Jesus and his family to him, then enacted what we call the slaughter of the innocents – the infanticide in Bethlehem
- And, famously, at the request of his daughter – but really through the manipulations of his wife – he beheaded John the Baptist at a dinner party 3

Herod the terrifying is more like it.  Nothing was built on trust – the rules were intimidation, fear – disagree and you risk your life.  Of course the Pharisees were terrified.  They enjoyed the privileges of the game, so they played it.  They wanted Jesus to play too – or leave.

But Jesus didn’t want to play that game – and he didn’t want to leave.  Because as he said, he had work to do.  His work was bringing people into wholeness – healing people who were sick and thereby restoring outcasts to being back in relationships with their families, their communities.

Jesus put all his trust in the restorative work of God – day by day.  He knows the certain outcome will be rejection and death.  He trusts in living the promise regardless – day by day.

But he shares what he longs for.  Ignoring Herod’s threat – he calls out with a promise – all God longs to do is gather you together like a mother gathers her brood under her wings.   Jesus meets violence with compassion.  And he gives us a choice – we can go running towards that promise – or not.  Our house is left to us, Jesus says.  We get to choose the operating rules of our relationships – our house – macro and micro – is left to us.

(Discussion of the book, The Vanishing Neighbor and the Koran sent to me this week by the Council on American and Islamic Relations)

In hindsight – Abraham got his inheritance – but that wasn’t what was important.  It was his change of heart – opening his heart to trusting in a promise – and letting go of certainty.

In hindsight – Jesus brings us through to resurrection – but something came before.  The cross – the death – the being in a place of forsakenness where there were no certainties or answers.

And before the resurrection – there was all the day by day work – of bringing healing into the lives of individuals.

Trust grows not in grand gestures – but in small acts – in ways God gives each of us to share good news. What is the day by day work God is calling you into?  What is the house you are building with your words, your actions?  Where do you need to lean into trusting God’s promise?  Where might you be called to share your voice – your gifts – in building God’s house here and now?

All of us are part of the story – all of us are part of the promise.  We walk by faith and not by sight - in other words, we trust.  And, as Jesus reminds us this morning, blessed are we when we walk in the name of the Lord.

1 From "A New Experience" Meditation by Richard Rohr
2 Thanks to Working Preacher
3 Thanks to Journey with Jesus

The Tool of the Tempter

Readings for Lent 1, Year C
2/14/16

After his baptism, Jesus, full of the Holy Spirit, returned from the Jordan and was led by the Spirit in the wilderness, where for forty days he waThen the devil took him to Jerusalem, and placed him on the pinnacle of the temple, saying to him, "If you are the Son of God, throw yourself down from here, for it is written, 'He will command his angels concerning you, to protect you,' and 'On their hands they will bear you up,so that you will not dash your foot against a stone.'"

Jesus answered him, "It is said, 'Do not put the Lord your God to the test.'" When the devil had finished every test, he departed from him until an opportune time. (Luke 4)

Click the image to listen to an audio recording.

Do you know the movie “Tender Mercies“? It’s from the early 80s and stars Robert Duvall as Mac.  Mac is a washed up, alcoholic country singer – who, at the start of the film, wakes up one morning after a night of heavy drinking – realizing he can’t pay for his motel room.  Fortunately for him – the woman who owns the motel – a single mom, Tess, whose husband died in the Vietnam War – mercifully, cuts him a break.  She agrees to let him stay on as the handyman at the hotel in exchange for room and board.

It’s a great movie – a redemption story – of a person who through many tender acts of mercy – some seemingly random – some deliberately shared out of love – turns his life around – finds new life actually – when he thought all was lost.  It’s a story about where and how we find our sense of worth.

Part of Mac’s transformation is shaped through attending church – with Tess and her son.  And one of my favorite scenes is after Mac’s and Tess’s son are baptized.  After the baptism at church the three of them are driving home in their truck – and the boy – about 10 years old – asks Mac – “Do you feel anything yet?” – and Sonny calmly replies – “Not yet.”

That’s a pretty different description from what we hear of Jesus this morning after his baptism.  Jesus – full of the Holy Spirit – follows that same Spirit as it leads him out – alone – into the wilderness.  Full of the Holy Spirit Jesus doesn’t go straight to healing and teaching – or preaching and fixing – instead – that sense of wholeness – moves him to be alone – with God – unsheltered and unafraid – to confront his demons.

In the movie – Sonny has a lot of demons.  But really – his demons – like the Tempter in the gospel – can all be boiled down to one thing – shame.  Sonny is ashamed of who is – ashamed of what he’s done in his past – ashamed of the people he’s hurt – ashamed of the fact that he – “no good” guy that he’s been – is allowed to live – while others – seemingly more innocent – do not.

It’s not the baptism that heals Sonny – the baptism, like ours, is just a mark, a reminder.  The healing comes through wrestling with his shame – and the questions shame bombards all of us with – to varying degrees – at different times in our lives – #1) You’re not good enough.  You’re not smart enough – pretty enough – worthy enough – fill in the blank – you are simply not enough as you are.  And #2) Who do you think you are?

That’s exactly how the Tempter is trying to tempt Jesus.  The temptations – or tests – none of them are really bad in and of themselves – making food where there is none.  Taking command over the kingdom that is already his.  Flying like a superhero.  The temptations wouldn’t hurt anybody.

But the devil is trying to undermine Jesus’ confidence in who he is – and whose he is.  He’s trying to tempt him into believing that being a child of God is not enough.  He’s trying to shame Jesus into abandoning his identity – and move him towards proving himself out of fear.


Over this past year I’ve been training – and just this past week – got my official certification – in what’s called The Daring WayTM.  This is a methodology developed by Brené Brown who is a researcher, social scientist and best-selling author of Daring Greatly and Rising Strong.   She self-identifies as a shame researcher.  This work which is being used with such diverse groups as Costco – to the Navy Seals – is about helping people examine their own stories to see where shame and fear keep us from living courageous and vulnerable lives – personally and professionally.

Shame, while none of us like it or want to admit to it, is something all of us experience – it’s what social workers call a primordial or primal affect.  The only way you can’t feel it  - is if you do not have the capacity to connect emotionally with other people – which is the definition of a sociopath.

Shame is different than guilt.  Guilt is about behaviors – as in – I feel really guilty that I talked to someone the way I did – or that I acted a certain way in a given situation.  Guilt doesn’t feel great – but when we identify a behavior we don’t like – a behavior that doesn’t align with our values – well behaviors we can change.

But we can’t change who we are – what we think of our self as a person.  And that is why shame is so debilitating and so very different from guilt.  That’s why shame thrives on secrecy, silence and judgment.  It’s that voice in our head that resonates with the tempter this morning – you aren’t good enough – and just who do you think you are.  Trying to get Jesus to give up his humanity and prove his value – or admit he isn’t worthy of calling himself “son” – and he does this when Jesus is alone, in secret – because that’s another characteristic of shame – it desires to intensify feelings of isolation.
But Jesus, full of the Holy Spirit, knows he is not alone.  He quotes Deuteronomy – placing himself within the story of God which began before this moment – and of which knows he is apart.  And, he never lets go of his identity in God, he claims it.  Personally, I am sure that identity was strengthened because – full of the Holy Spirit – Jesus spent time in God’s hands.  He gave himself, first, to the work of strengthening that connection – before he got into the work of sharing that connection with all those who needed it.

There’s a pretty simple test to see how each of us rate on a shame-scale.  How much those tempting– you are not enough – and who do you think you are – voices influence us on a daily basis.  The next time you make a mistake – something big – like losing a client, or lying, or forgetting something important – or something small – like misplacing your keys – or showing up late for an appointment – notice your self-talk.  Listen to what you’re saying inside, to yourself.

Is it along the lines of – gosh, I’m an idiot – how could I be so stupid – how could I not know better.  Or, is it – kinder.  More like, huh, well that wasn’t my finest moment – but I’ll learn – we all make mistakes.

In other words – when you fall to temptations or just everyday slip-ups – do you talk to yourself the way you would talk to someone you love?  Do you show yourself compassion – patience – kindness aware that you are – after all – just human?

Where we are on that shame scale, research proves – bears a direct correlation with levels of addiction, depression, violence, aggression, eating disorders – the higher on the scale the more of those demons there are.  Whereas people on the low end of the scale - who live, not shame-free, but aware of the insidious ways shame can try and tempt us away from trusting in our inherent value and worth – aren’t afraid to confront and shed light on the Tempter of shame, which robs it of its power.

Hence, they exude a sense of love and belonging, because they truly believe they are worthy of love and belonging.  Because as Jesus shows us – that deep trust in our inherent value because we too are of God, is just no match for the shame the devil tries to throw in our way.

In another church scene, Sonny sings a hymn “Jesus, Savior, Pilot me”  We long, I think, for the strength and ability to live lives with that sense of always being in God’s hands.  Sometimes we feel it – sometimes not yet.  But this morning Jesus reminds us our identity is of God – we don’t have to prove it – it just is.  For we too in baptism have been marked as Christ’s own forever. And as Paul writes – when we live trusting that word is always very near to us, on our lips and in our hearts – then we have nothing to fear – for no one can put us to shame.

The Rev. Arianne R. Weeks

Listening for Transfiguration

Last Sunday after the Epiphany


Then from the cloud came a voice that said, "This is my Son, my Chosen; listen to him!" When the voice had spoken, Jesus was found alone. And they kept silent and in those days told no one any of the things they had seen. (Luke 9:34-36)

To listen to an audio version click the picture below

Perhaps some of you know the name Ronald Heifitz.  He is the founding director of the Center for Public Leadership at Harvard and a best-selling author in the leadership field.  He believes leadership is something we are taught and we cultivate.  Sure there is some aspect of our nature that perhaps helps or hinders our ability to be leaders – but primarily it is something we can work on.  It is something we can choose.  It is something we can practice.

Heifitz would famously begin the first class of his first semester students in this way – they would walk into the classroom, find their seats, chatter would die down, people would settle.  At the appointed hour – the door would swing open – Heifitz would walk in – step in front of the podium – and then…….

Do “that” – he would wait – longer than I’m going to don’t worry.  He would allow for that uncomfortable silence.   Long enough so that the curiosity of most gave way to – something else.  Some students would be uncomfortably frustrated – some would be downright annoyed.

His purpose in this technique regarding leadership was this.  Most of our educational system trains us to be passive recipients of the knowledge the teacher shares.   To soak the learnings up – and then recite them back.  And that’s not wrong – it’s necessary.  But as we move into adulthood – and careers – and circumstances where we are called to lead – we won’t be in classrooms.

We will be in the midst of situations and we will need to be aware of what is happening - mindful.  Mindful of what our emotional and physical responses are in uncomfortable situations.  Mindful of the same in those around us.  Composed enough to listen.  Because leadership requires the presence of mind to recognize what’s underneath the discomfort – and help move through it.

Exercising leadership, (big or small) Heifitz says, generates resistance -- and pain. People are afraid that they will lose something that's worthwhile. They're afraid that they're going to have to give up something that they're comfortable with” (Pain, loss, giving up, discomfort – I hear some parallels with the story of JC)


This morning in the story we’re at the Transfiguration.  A story so well-known it can be hard to hear something new.  But this year, Year C, we also get this follow-up – back down below - with Jesus yelling at this “faithless and perverse generation” on the heels of his divine moment.  It’s kind of strange don’t you think – that after such a beautiful and radiant mountaintop experience – Jesus, of all people, would be so quickly frustrated and angered by the inability of his disciples to do what’s expected of them.

Well Jesus is God – as the transfiguration reveals.  But Jesus is also Jesus – guy, man, human being.  And I think many of us can relate to the feelings of frustration and disappointment – when we go from our glorious mountaintop moments – back into reality.  And perhaps some of his frustration stems not from the disciples inability to heal the boy – but from something they struggle to do on the mountain and down below.

It’s something all of us – from disciples – to students at Harvard – struggle to do – maybe that’s why the voice of God so clearly commands it.  Listen – we hear this morning.


I read a scholar this week say that one way we can see that Transfiguration story is as a metaphor for worship.  For instance – the event takes place on the eighth day – which very early on in Christian tradition referred to Sunday.  It’s a clue to the first community hearing this text a century or so after the death of Jesus.  And who does Jesus take with him on this excursion?  Not everyone, not the crowds – but those who are drawn to God through Christ (Christians).  What does Jesus want them to do? Pray.

And it is after prayer – in the midst of prayer, maybe – that scripture comes alive.   The teachings represented by Elijah and Moses – are right there.  The gathered community isn’t looking back to what was – they are making what was – real, here and now, to see it’s relevance in their lives.

Hopefully that is what we do in worship – come together – set apart – pray – and situate our story in the saving story of God.

On their mountain – God breaks through.  First in Jesus – glory revealed.  And then in that voice – who you’ll notice – interrupts Peter, who most likely out of fear and discomfort – has him babbling about setting up shop on top of the mountain.

God interrupts the small talk – listen. Pay attention.

If in some way this story shares instruction for us on how to worship – then where in this can we listen?  Let’s be honest – there is not a lot of space in our worship for listening – for God’s voice.  While wonderful and uplifting and transformative (sometimes) in its own right – our worship is primarily directed busyness – talking and responding – singing and announcing.  All in service of worship and praise – but not designed for doing what God – this morning is asking us to do.

Perhaps you've noticed or attended one of the meditative services, 5:30pm Parish Hall – Centering Prayer, Singing Meditation, Yoga Nidri, Sacred Sound Meditation we've been offering (and will continue to offer) in January.  Practices as ancient as what we do here – but with a different intention.  To support and encourage us to listen.  Be still.  Pay attention.  If a faith community doesn’t offer ways in which people can come together to simply listen to God – how can that community listen for how it is meant to be a Body of Christ in the world?

On Ash Wednesday this week – we will hear God again instruct us to do the same – don’t practice your piety before others – go into your room – shut the door – and listen.   To actively listen – to engage deep awareness – is not something we easily do.  It takes practice.

After the glory – Jesus brings those guys right into the hard stuff – right to the pain of a parent – the sickness of a child – the family that’s been cast away because their suffering and struggle is not what anyone around them wants to acknowledge.  And Jesus – looks those disciples to lead – to remedy the situation before them.

We want God to transfigure us – we want God to remedy our difficult situations.  God can as this gospel shows.  But God is asking us to participate.  God is encouraging us to carry the voice of God with us.  God is inviting us to take that time to pay attention – to listen.  Be still and know that I am God – one psalmist writes – which is the practice that gives us the courage – as Paul writes -  by the open statement of the truth [to] commend ourselves to the conscience of everyone in the sight of God.
As the season of our church has us moving from Epiphanies – and towards the transfiguring opportunity of Lent – may we continue to open ourselves to the voice of God – always speaking in the sheer silence of our hearts.  Amen.

The Rev. Arianne R. Weeks
2/7/16