October 8, 2017

Gospel: Matthew 21:33-46         

1^st Reading: Isaiah 5:1-7

2^nd Reading: Philippians 3:4b-14

                In our Wednesday morning Bible Study group we’ve just started on the book of Deuteronomy.  We just finished Moses first sermon of 3, where he is handing out the parts of the promised land to the twelve tribes of Israel, and griping a lot because he can’t enter the promised land with them.  Every tribe has their allotment.  The land is all claimed, shared as equally as possible so that all may prosper and find abundant life.

                The people enter the promised land, a people who have only known desert wandering.  What a shock for them to even begin thinking about putting down roots and living in community in a whole new way.  Everything they learned in the desert has prepared them for this moment.  They’ve learned to rely on God.  They’ve learned not to stockpile the manna.  They’ve been learning to live in freedom and what their freedom is for—the abundant life of the community.

                Fast forward to the Isaiah reading for this morning.  This love-song is a sad song that God is singing because people forgot what their freedom was for.  They began adding house to house and field to field.  They have stolen from the poor and abandoned the orphan and the widow.  In Isaiah’s time, real-estate developers were squeezing the poor.  They were making loans to poor farmers and when there was a bad year, they would take their farms and turn those farmers in to tenant farmers.  God’s anger in Isaiah was about folks forgetting that the point of it all is the thriving of the whole community, not one’s personal prosperity.  God is reminding them that God gave them the land, and now they are claiming it as their own, or taking it from others through laws the rich set up to take from the poor.  God made plants to grow on it to feed each person and now the rich are saying they want the land to produce to line their own pockets.  God drew the boundary around it, and shared it generously tribe by tribe and now the rich tear down the boundary and say it all is theirs.  God did all these things for the good of God’s people and expected grapes, a beautiful community full of life and sharing.  Instead, God got sour-grapes, that set God’s teeth on edge, leave a bad taste in God’s mouth, something useless and divisive.  Something destructive and violent.

                The Social Justice Committee has been working on housing issues in Clackamas County for over a year, and we’ve been doing some research on landlords and tenants.  There are many landlords who know that the point is healthy community and thriving people, some even in this congregation, who haven’t raised their rents even though they knew the market would bear it.  People who have resisted the temptation to try to bring in more money, people who may have endured scorn and mocking for doing the right thing by their tenants.  Some in this congregation have been faithful and sold their home for a good enough price instead of waiting for the bid that was $20,000-$50,000 above asking price.  This is because they know the point is community, not money, and because God has been so generous to them.  But there are also a lot of landlords, many from out of state that do not have an investment in the community, who are doing violence to the poor, taking food from the mouths of children, displacing seniors from their support systems, putting people on the streets, in order to add field to field. 

                But we’re not going to give up making changes to state and local laws to protect the poor and vulnerable.  We’ve run up against the landlord lobby, which is very rich and afraid to let go of any power.  But we’re not giving up, on the social justice committee and we’d love to have you join us as we figure out how to shape our communities into ones that give life instead of take it away.

                So now we come to the Gospel.  It is a parable, but notice it never says this is what the Kingdom of God is like, like so many other parables do.  This is a story of tenants and the landlord.  To us maybe who have been trained to associate the landlord with God, it seems the landlord is entirely innocent, so we read this and we think it is about how God has let us borrow this land and we shouldn’t abuse the gift God has given us.  That’s a good take-away.  But it is problematic to think that God is putting those wretches to a miserable death and other not-so-Godlike things.  So we try to look a little deeper.  Jesus’ listeners were the tenants and landlords of his time, some of them chief priests and elders who had been adding farm to farm and field to field and trampling widows, taking people’s livelihood and dignity.  When they all heard Jesus’ opening sentence this morning, they would all have thought of Isaiah and known that it was about this behavior, the destruction of the beloved community, the stealing of land by perfectly legal means.  Jesus is calling the priests and elders out for the violence they were doing in the community. 

We might wonder about the mistaken logic of the tenants who think that if they can kill the son they will inherit the land.  However, in that day and age, if tenants press their claim for 3 years in a row, they may have a chance of converting the tenancy back to ownership in court.  We might shake our finger at the tenants who seem to think that 2 wrongs make a right, that violence is also ok, who beat and kill the messengers.  However, let me point out that they are defending their right to feed their families.  They are thinking that if they lose this fight, their whole family will starve without the land to feed them.  Remember all the land had been handed out.  There was no where else for them to go except to be under the thumb of a landlord who may or may not care if they had enough to eat.  So if these tenants so mistreated the messengers, why would the landlord send the son in the third year?  It was because the landlord needed a representative in court to defend his interests.  Why would the tenants kill the son, thinking the land would become theirs?  Because maybe the landlord has already given the son his inheritance, and if so the land would go back to them.

However, everyone knows what is going to happen when the landowner finds out—put those wretches to a miserable death.  In other words, violence begets violence.  When we act violently, when we tear the society apart by taking from another person their means of survival, when we attack those who have taken from us, no one benefits.  Insurrections almost always fail because the rich and powerful have weapons and army and the poor will be crushed.

Both of these stories are inviting us to firstly put the needs of the community before our own and to remember why we’re here and what our freedom is for—for the thriving of the community.  Secondly, these stories are reminding us that when we meet violence, instead of responding by escalating, to be creative in our response.  It is an appeal to us and it is an appeal to God who may or may not be acting violently in the Isaiah text as God pledges to tear down the wall and hedge of the vineyard and make it a waste.

But maybe it is an example of one creative way of responding to the violence of the Israelites who are destroying the poor.  Maybe it is death and resurrection.  That land will be stripped bare, but for how long.  Soon enough, something will be growing.  The seeds lie dormant in the soil waiting.  New life is waiting to grow. 

This week we have been grieving with Las Vegas in the violent attack there.  I have seen examples of people responding creatively to violence.  Some shielded others from the shots.  Some helped people from the venue.  Some have stood in line for hours to give blood.  Some offered free counseling services for the victims and families.  Some have written to their senators and representatives.  Some have called someone they know who is lonely.  Some have turned off the TV and gone out to volunteer.  Some have attended forums to better understand the issues.

In the same way, God’s son didn’t respond to violence with violence.  Someone was violent to a woman who had committed adultery and Jesus was creative in pointing out that we all have failures.  He held up a mirror to all who would condemn.  He stood up to the violence of the community against lepers by forgiving and healing them and ordering them back to community life.  And he didn’t defend himself when he was handed over to be killed.  Instead, he used that as an opportunity to join with all the suffering who have ever lived and show them that God does not abandon us even when there is silence when we cry out.  God is there.

Humanity has often used violence to control and keep power, to add field to field, garage to garage.  We’ve often rejected the way of love and shalom, wholeness, thriving, community.  We were so threatened by Jesus’ refusal to live within our violent system that we put him to death.  We let our greed become the god, instead of building the beloved community, the Kingdom of God.

We thought we knew the goal, to gain wealth and power, have the most people in church, the nicest car, the biggest pay check.  But them we met Jesus and saw how he let go of everything in order to share abundant life with those who were willing to follow his way.  He invited us to set down our fancy stuff and go to work in the vineyard, to work on something that mattered and gave life to everyone, the Kingdom of God.  So we stand here, afraid to set down our stuff.  Afraid that the emptiness of our arms will feel like failure.  But if we don’t all we’ll feel in our hearts is emptiness and brokenness as we perpetuate and escalate the violence.  We know the old system isn’t working, isn’t healthy for anyone, but we’re not sure yet of where God is leading us.  We want assurances.  We want a map.  We don’t want to look like fools, like we don’t know what we’re doing.  Will we forsake our violent ways?  Will we use this holy creativity, God has given us?  Will we let Jesus lead us to empty ourselves?  Will we let go of death and find our arms not empty, but filled with the love of God?

I pray that as we consider our gifts, our estimates of giving and of our time, we will remember that it all comes from God.  God made the vineyard, put the hedge around it etc.  Remember that God has a vision for creativity, that we don’t just give and volunteer for the continuation of all our favorite things, but for the new ministries that God is spurring us toward.  Remember to give of time and money out of love and generosity rather than out of fear. 

September 24, 2017

Gospel: Matthew 20:1-16      

1^st Reading: Jonah 3:10-4:11

2^nd Reading: Philippians 1:21-30

            “Amazing grace how sweet the sound.”  It is a pretty sweet sound when it rewards me, when it confirms that I am a good person deserving of God’s grace, when it rewards people like me who work hard, when it keeps track of every Sunday I’ve been in church and every door I’ve held open, every smile I’ve shared with someone at the checkout stand, every dollar I’ve given to charity, every coat I’ve donated to the poor, every prayer I’ve said at dinner. 

            “That saved a wretch like me.”  That part’s not so sweet.  I don’t want to sing that in church.  There’s already so many with poor self-esteem.  What good will it do to call ourselves wretches.  Doesn’t that just heap on the guilt and shame?  But when I lay awake at night, and there is no one to impress, I know it’s true.  My shortcomings flash in front of my eyes, what I said that I shouldn’t have said, what I didn’t say that I should have, my own helplessness watching the news while they pull children from a collapsed school in Mexico City, my own contribution to the world’s misery from what I buy and how I live and where I drive and what I wear, and what I should have done but didn’t get to, who I alienated, who I favored and why, and on and on.  But at least Jesus forgives and loves me.  Maybe there’s a chance I can forgive and love myself.  Maybe there’s a chance I can change and do better next week, and then I never do, even though I know exactly what I should do.

            Amazing Grace.  This is the song that Jonah sang when he went running away from God’s call.  He was happy with what God had done for him and the Israelites.  He liked being in the special group of graced people.  He was glad God was generous to him, but that was where it was going to stop.

            The Disciples were enjoying their place of privilege next to Jesus.  They were also reveling in God’s amazing grace.  They accepted the call.  They walked by his side.  The learned from him.  The shared the good news.  The touched his hand and side.  They heard his words.  They gave up everything to be with him.  And their lives were threatened because of their proximity to him.  What grace to stand in God’s presence.  What grace for a wretch like me, they all thought, knowing their shortcomings, their lack of education, their propensity for sticking their foot in their mouths, their inability to get it, the way they kept shooing off people Jesus valued.  They knew they were struggling numbskulls, but they were doing the work and they were earlier to the harvest, so they wanted to make sure Jesus was keeping track, that their ledger was full of all the reasons why they deserved God’s grace.

            Except that’s not grace at all.  Grace is God’s mercy to undeserving people.  We’re all undeserving.  So now we’ve got people vying for the spot of least undeserving. 

We could say that the Old Testament was a time when God was keeping tabs and trying to help people obey the law and find their salvation that way.  I tend to think that may have been the human understanding of what was happening.  But you can’t record everything on a ledger sheet.  You can keep track of numbers and values, but you can’t record the quality of interactions and relationships.  You can’t keep track of history and conversations.  Even if humans thought that was the point from the beginning, two things.  One is that there never was a righteous person, not a single one could keep the whole law.  Secondly, if accounting could save the world we wouldn’t need Jesus, because Moses would have been the savior, or we would all have been our own saviors and done it all ourselves! 

            Throughout the Old Testament, God uses the refrain we get this morning from grumpy old Jonah, God is “gracious and merciful, slow to anger, and abounding in steadfast love, and ready to relent from punishing.”  God has always been this way, even under the law.  But some people only thought it applied to them, namely the Israelites, even though we have a ton of examples where foreigners are included in this.

            Now Jonah is singing another song, “Offensive grace, how awful the sound the saved a wretch like them!”  He cannot stand that God shows grace to the people of Ninevah!  These people are not deserving!  How long will it be until they screw up again!  They’ve only been faithful one minute and that’s good enough for God?!  Ridiculous!

            Paul is concerned that the Philippians will fear that he is getting what he deserved because he is in prison and he doesn’t know whether he will eventually be executed or go free.  He’s showing them that God’s grace doesn’t always look like a usual reward in this life looks.  Paul is afraid they will be ashamed of him, that they will assume God has abandoned him.  But he points out that his imprisonment may actually be helping spread the Gospel because people see what he is willing to give up because of his faith.  They can see he truly believes what he is saying, or he’d have recanted it all by now.  This grace is offensive, because the one who should be most rewarded doesn’t appear to be, at least not in the ways we expect in this world.  Paul’s a laborer who has been in the field all day, yet his wages, his pay is a prison sentence.  It just isn’t right.  But he doesn’t mind, because he is experiencing another kind of reward.

            The Vineyard workers who worked all day are also singing about offensive grace, or maybe they are too mad to sing.  They were glad to get hired, glad to participate in the harvest—they who were out there early, who had transportation to the market, who had child care so they could get away, who had able bodies, who weren’t lazy, who weren’t hungover.  They were getting what they deserved.  What they were paid, showed what they were worth.

            So along come these lazy drunks, these late-comers, undocumented, pierced, lazy losers, and they all get paid the same.  “You have made them equal to us, who have borne the burden of the day and the scorching heat.” 

            That’s the problem.  Paying them more than they are worth.  Making everyone equal.  I had a barbecue I needed to get rid of.  I put a free sign on it and it sat there for two days.  Then I put a sign on it $10 and it was gone the next day.  Until I put a dollar figure on it, people thought my barbecue was worthless.  Too bad we value ourselves and one another by dollar figures, too—how much money we make and what job we have.  We even say refer to people by how much they’re worth, that is how much money they have.

            The problem is, when we keep ledgers, we assume everyone starts at zero.  That’s not so when the vineyard owner is God.  In this case, we start out owing him everything.  What do we owe that God gave us life, this earth, food, shelter, family, opportunities to learn, everything we have.  If we want to keep tabs we’re so far in debt, we can never repay God’s generosity. 

            For us and for the undeserving lazy slob, occasionally the same person, God wipes it all away.  Because God knows you can’t earn enough to pay God back.  You can’t follow the rules enough to pass the test of godliness.  You can’t earn your way into a family.  You can’t earn eternal, abundant life.  Only God can give us that, the true generous gift of grace, for all of us undeserving jerks.

            So why would anyone ever go to work a whole day in the vineyard, if they know they can get paid the same for a single hour of work?  I’ll tell you why.  Think of the volunteering you do here.  You don’t make a dime.  So why do you do it?  It’s the community you’re building.  It is because of the friends you are making and the friendships you maintain.  It is the satisfaction of doing something worthwhile.  It is the chance to learn and grow your gifts.  It is the chance to spend time in God’s presence and to learn from the vineyard owner.  It is the chance to be equal to each other—no one is better than anyone else, we can all move chairs around, we can all hold someone who is in tears, we can all plunge a toilet.

            If we feel offended when those we see God’s generosity to the undeserving or startled about others being equal to us, let’s remember that Jesus invites us to be adopted into God’s family.  We are made equal with him.  We don’t deserve it, but that’s not the point.  God wants the family to be together, so God is drawing us together.  Now is our chance to appreciate that our flawed system of ledgers is thrown out the window, cancelled by God, and that instead of keeping tabs, we are part of the Kingdom where we leave our resentments and jealousy behind, where we realize that what is good for our neighbor means good things for us all, and where we realize there isn’t a limited amount of God’s grace, so someone else getting some doesn’t need to be a threat to us. 

            God is throwing a party.  We’re all invited.  The guest list is all losers and wretches like us.  But God is elevating us to sons and daughters, every last one of us.  Amazing grace, how sweet the sound that saved brothers and sisters period.  I hope we’ll accept the invitation and not be too concerned about the rif raff on the guest list, and just be glad that even rif raff like us have a place in God’s Kingdom.

September 17, 2017

Gospel: Matthew 18:21-35          

1^st Reading: Genesis 50:15-21

2^nd Reading: Romans 14:1-12

                When I was 4 or 5 years old, my babysitter refused to play my favorite board game, Babar The Elephant, with me because I was a sore loser.  If I didn’t win, I would burst into tears.  She was probably 13 or 14 years old, so she didn’t know you were supposed to let the little kid win.  And I didn’t know that it wasn’t about winning.  It was about the playing of the game, the spinning of the spinner, the counting of the moves, and the conversation that happened in between that mattered.  I didn’t realize until I was an adult and lost in Chinese Checkers my mom, as she relished the victory, that I came by my competitiveness naturally, either by genetics or learning or both, from her. 

                In our house we don’t make that big a deal out of winning.  Maybe it is a flaw in our thinking that everyone can win.  But win or lose, we can always take something from the experience.  The problems is that so often we think winning is the point, when actually it is learning from the experience that is most important.

                For Joseph’s brothers, winning was most important.  They were bigger than him, so they should win.  He was getting too big for his britches, having dreams about them bowing to him, and that’s the reason they sold him to the Egyptians.  So then when they end up in Egypt during the famine, having to beg for food and assistance, they are surprised at how much Joseph has been winning and how he doesn’t punish them for what they did to him.  Now that their father has died, you’d think they’d be mourning and caring for each other in their grief.  But they still think the game is about winning and they are afraid Joseph will crush them—punish them for what they did, give them what they deserve. 

                Joseph knows that it isn’t about winning, it is all about relationships.  Maybe he knows this because he’s been at every point in life.  He’s been the favorite son.  He’s been at the bottom of a pit his brothers dug for him.  He’s been separated from his family.  He’s built a new family.  He’s been a slave.  He’s been a trusted advisor to the Pharaoh.  He’s had dreams that got him in trouble.  He’s had dreams that helped him.  And he’s had dreams that helped a nation prepare for famine.  Through everything, God brought good out of hardship.  Joseph knows his brothers wronged him on purpose.  They could never repay him for what they did—the time with his father that he missed out on, especially.  But Joseph knows that it would bring him no pleasure to ruin their lives.  So they weep together like the family they are, out of sadness for what was lost, out of relief for the mercy that Joseph shows, out of joy at having found each other, at the new life they will have together going forward.

                For the Romans, too, it was hard to believe life wasn’t about winning.  These are the folks that bring us the Olympic games, and the marathon.  They are competitive.  So now there are a whole bunch of them trying to live this new religion where they are all equal and they share things in common.  Some of them have different customs around eating.  For a community that centers itself around a table and eating, Holy Communion, this is difficult.  This isn’t really vegetarians verses meat-eaters, like it sounds.  In their day, some didn’t eat meat, because most of the meat when it was butchered, was offered to idols first.  So, unless you slaughtered it yourself, you couldn’t be sure it hadn’t been offered to idols.  And if someone saw you eating meat offered to idols, they might think you worshipped that idol.  It’s something that’s hard to relate to today, but it was a key problem in the early Christian community. 

So there are different customs around food, including the Jewish dietary rules.  There are different holidays celebrated.  One isn’t more right than the other.  You can’t win enough points by following laws to make God love you.  God already loves you.  Instead, whatever rituals you follow, do it in a way that honors God.  Remember to be faithful to God in whatever you do.  Don’t use it as a wedge to divide you and make winners and losers.  Instead may your rituals and holidays join you to God and each other in the body of Christ.

                Peter, too, was trying to figure out winning and losing in this Kingdom of God that was coming.  How many times should he forgive?  How should he keep score against someone in the community, a brother or sister in Christ?  How would he know he had won the forgiveness award? 

                So Jesus told a story about keeping score.  The first slave was losing big time.  He owed millions of dollars—more than he could have ever repaid.  His owner had every right to sell him and his family to recoup some of his expenses.  But he is merciful.  He lets this be a learning experience.  However, the slave doesn’t learn from it.  Someone else owes him ten bucks.  Instead of being merciful, he threw him into prison. He was home free, but when he threw the other slave in prison, he got himself thrown in prison.  It is almost as if the act of not forgiving holds us in a kind of prison.  We let it eat at us.  We can’t seem to let it go.

The unforgiving slave used his power to hurt someone else.  He thought he made himself the winner.  But he was playing the wrong game.  He thought the point was to be more powerful, but instead the point of the game was to get along with others, to be kind, to treat others how he wanted to be treated, to build community.  The point of the game was to forgive.

                It is true, we owe everything to God.  If we were to try to pay God back all that we owe, we’d never repay the debt.  If we ever tried to make up for all the wrong we’ve done, we’d never pay the bill.  But Jesus is merciful and he says our debt is paid.  Now, how can we ever demand payment from anyone.  Because of the forgiveness we’ve received, it is our job to forgive.  In fact, this week I heard someone call church a “forgiveness factory.”  In this place we let people know they are forgiven, and we inspire one another to forgive, and we live in community where we must forgive one another from our hearts in order to be the body of Christ.

                There’s been a lot of talk about the boy who lit the gorge on fire.  People are sad about the damage to some of our sacred Oregon sites, places of beauty and peace, ruined for our lifetimes.  People are angry about what he did.  No matter how much he paid, he could never undo the damage he did.  There is no number of dollars that one can place on what has been lost.  There is no amount of community service or replanting he could do to make up for that mistake.

                Some have accused stupid teenagers.  Some have said, “He’s not one of us, he’s from Washington State.”  We have said, “In my day, kids didn’t run wild like that.”  We’ve said a lot to separate ourselves from him, to say he’s not like us.  But that boy is one of us.  He needs us and we need him.  He is part of our human community.  We’ve done stupid things in our lives.  We’ve done dangerous things.  And we’ve all contributed to the dry conditions in the gorge with all our burning of fossil fuels that are changing the climate.  He is a child of God.  We are children of God.  And we’ve all got the rest of our lives to learn from this.  God has already made it clear, we all owe God everything and our debt is paid.  We are forgiven by God.  So how do we forgive this boy?  How do we forgive ourselves?  And how do we learn from this experience?  How do we go on in a new way?  How does accountability and judgment fit into all this? 

                Since I’ve become a mother, I’ve often thought of God’s perspective.  I could keep score of every diaper change, every meal cooked, every nightmare where I got up to rock my child back to sleep, every time I said “Eat your dinner,” every item of laundry, every trip to the doctor, every dollar spent and so on.  But that’s not the game we’re playing.  We’re learning.  We’re growing.  We’re making memories.  We’re building each other up, because we belong to God who is loving.  Because God made us to be loving rather than winning.  When my son grows up, whether he lights a fire in the gorge or wins the semester achievement award or both, we can be forgiven and forgiving, part of the human family, part of the body of Christ.

                God has given us everything, every mountain and tree, every blue and smoky sky, every good or bad night’s rest, every memory with family, every meal, every moment.  We could waste it all trying to win.  Or we can enjoy each other.  We can and must forgive to set ourselves free.  God has set the example and done the most forgiving.  Now let us look at each other as brothers and sisters and find new life in a new way, the Kingdom way.

               

August 27, 2017

Gospel: Matthew 16:13-20    

1^st Reading: Isaiah 51:1-6       

2^nd Reading: Romans 12:1-8

            Ok, pop-quiz everyone, Jesus announces, “Who do people say that I am?”  The Disciples who were nervous, sigh with relief when they realize they will only have to regurgitate what other people have been saying.  Yay, it’s an open-book test! Peter, the teacher’s pet, who can’t seem to keep his mouth shut, raises his hand.  “Pick me! Pick me!”  He carefully leaves out the most offensive of what people are saying and picks the ones he think might please Jesus a little.  He goes with the safe responses.  “John the Baptist.  Elijah. Jeremiah, or one of the prophets.”      Then Jesus asks a follow up question, “But who do you say that I am?”  Peter’s face falls.  His blood drains from his head.  His head beats loudly in his chest.  He swallows with a cartoonish, “Gulp!”  I can just see him hesitate, flip through all the possibilities in his mind, and the words leaving his mouth.  Did he even know what he was about to say?  It is like the spelling bee when the kid spells the word like it’s a question and by their lack of confidence you know they are going to spell it wrong, and they get it right.  Peter says it.  Does he say it like this, “You are the Messiah, the son of the living God.”  Or like this, “You are the Messiah, the son of the living God?”  Is he asking or telling.  Unfortunately, we can’t hear it, but St. Peter is supposed to be the first one we meet at the pearly gates, so I think I’ll ask him when I get the chance.

             Knowing who Jesus is, means knowing who we are.  Partly because it means knowing who our relatives are.  The reading from Isaiah is about a people who are forgetting who they are.  They are listening to all sorts of messages.  They are anxious and afraid as they have returned from captivity, and it was their parents or grandparents who were the ones who were carried off.  They don’t know this land.  They don’t know this religion.  They don’t know how to relate to the people who never left.  They don’t know who God is.  So Isaiah is telling them the first thing to do is listen.  Shut up and listen.  Don’t ask questions.  Don’t worry.  Don’t argue.  Just listen.  Listen to stories of your ancestors Abraham and Sarah.  Listen to stories of where you come from and why God made you.  Listen to stories about your proper place in God’s Creation.  Listen to God’s plans for you.  You’re not alone. You matter to God. There is reason to hope and that is that many things in this life are temporary, like gnats which is good, and people which may or may not be good, depending on your point of view.  Even heaven and earth are temporary.  However there are some things that last and the main one is God’s salvation, in other words, healing, and God’s deliverance.  Knowing Jesus means knowing that we are blessed and that God made us to be a blessing to all the families of the earth, as God explained to Abraham.

            Knowing who Jesus is means knowing who we are.  We are part of the body of Christ.  If we are the body, then it would be good to know who the head is and where Jesus is directing us.  Because we are the body of Christ, we depend on each other, we work together, we have the same values, we aren’t jealous of each other, we are part of something good, our gifts are to be shared.  To be part of the body of Christ, we are fully involved in what Jesus is involved in.

            I wonder what we would say if we were called upon in a pop-quiz to answer who Jesus is to us.  And I wonder what our actions say about who Jesus is.  Because our actions reveal what we really think, what our true priorities are.  They speak volumes about who Jesus is.  If we believe that Jesus is our great Physician, we focus on healing on many levels.  If we believe that Jesus welcomes us all to the table, we make sure that food is distributed to all in need so that all may experience Jesus.  If we believe that Jesus is the living God, we let him live and love and move in our lives, transforming us, making us see what we didn’t see before, helping us to live in new ways, generous ways. 

            Peter’s declaration of faith, “You are the Messiah, the son of the living God, “ becomes an example to us who are trying to put our faith into words and express it in our actions.  Jesus then says, “On this rock I will build my church.”  Some have said that rock is Peter himself, whose name means rock and this and the keys to the kingdom stuff somehow means a pope.  But Jesus is more likely saying the rock he is building his church, or gathering on, is this confession of faith, “You are the Messiah, the son of the living God."  How can we make this confession with our both our lips and our lives?

            Whether we pass or fail Jesus’ pop-quiz, whether we are teacher’s pet or in detention, Jesus passes the test.  He knows who he is, first of all, that he isn’t here to do things the way we do things, to treat rich people better than poor or to follow rules that benefit and few and hurt many.  He remains who he is through the misunderstandings of all his disciples, betrayals and challenges, even on the cross.  And he passes the test of really knowing who we are.  The world may tell us we aren’t enough.  “Who do people say that I am?” the message is the world says we are not young enough, smart enough, good-looking enough, important enough.  But Jesus sees the true value in us.  When we ask Jesus what he sees in us, he says, “You are my beloved child and nothing can ever separate you from my love.”  And not only the singular you, but also the lot of you.  As a whole we belong to Jesus our Savior, and he makes us into his body, and he is bringing in the Kingdom of God through us.

            Knowing who Jesus is gives us hope.  It gives us hope that God will comfort us and all who are anxious. It gives us hope that God will transform the places in our lives that are desolate.  It gives us hope that justice and light will go out to all people.  It gives us hope that we will claim what is healthy and life giving and loose what is hurtful.  It gives us hope that God’s Kingdom will one day be fully realized

August 20, 2017

Gospel: Matthew 15:21-28   

1st Reading: Isaiah 56:1, 6-8

2nd Reading: Romans 11:1-2a, 29-32

      I am having an emotional reaction to this reading today, because I keep thinking of my niece, Macey.  She is the one who died in May.  She was profoundly disabled.  One of the symptoms of Aicardi Syndrome is seizures.  And seizures in Jesus' time were thought to be caused by a demon.  "Have mercy on me, Lord, Son of David; my daughter is tormented by a demon."  My pain today is for Macey and her family, her sisters and parents.  They were quiet in the way they cared for her.  They cared for their daughter and sister around the clock.  They bathed her and fed her and tended to her needs.  But in another way, their lives shouted loudly about the value of a human life of someone who was different.  Macey never spoke, but her life spoke volumes to people around her.  Her family took Macey to soccer games and on vacations.  Every other year her family attended an Aicardi Conference of families affected by her syndrome and since it was difficult to travel with Macey on an airplane, they took a road trip across the country.  She met all kinds of people on those trips.  Macey went to school and shorty before she got ill this last time, even went with her class to tour the high school they would be entering in the fall, right now in fact.  Because Macey was in the world, people had to confront their own discomfort.  Do I look or don't I?  How long can I look?  What can I say to acknowledge her, but not sound rude?  Is it ok to be curious and ask questions about Macey?  What do I say to my kids who have questions?  Over the years Macey's family developed a thick skin.  They came to expect stares.  They learned quick comebacks to words for their daughter that indicated that her life was less than other people's.  They talked openly about the "R" word, "retarded" and how much that label hurt them and Macey and what it indicated about the person who said it.  And they taught everyone who knew them about Macey, about the helplessness we all face at different levels, and about unconditional love.

      One key thing that Macey taught us is about the value of life, even for someone we don't see as contributing in the same way as many other people.  Macey's life had value and we're better for having known her.  Our world is more loving and open because of her.

      So here is this woman, a Canaanite.  Her people were supposed to be eradicated from the land when the Israelites entered it after wandering in the wilderness.  Yet, here she is, a native of the land, removed from the land of her people, a supposed obstacle to the chosen people, a life without value.  But she's a survivor.  And we have a chance to meet her, listen to her, learn from her, and experience joy in the healing of her daughter.  She isn't supposed to be worthy of anything, but she gets an audience with Jesus.  She isn't entitled to anything, but she gets what she asks for.  She isn't supposed to matter, but her faith is stronger than Peter's who was just scolded for having so little of it.  In fact, this Canaanite woman, takes her place alongside Abraham and Moses and argues with God.  Remember Abraham arguing with God to spare the people of Sodom and Gomorrah.  "If I can find 50 faithful people, will you spare the city, God?  How about 10?  How about 5?"  And remember several times Moses argues with God and intervenes on behalf of the people.  "Don't give up on them, God!  Spare your people.  Don't be angry with them!  Remember you are a merciful God!"  And now here is this woman also arguing with God.  But I don't think that God forgets who God is.  These stories about Moses and Abraham are for the benefit of the audience reading or hearing them.  They remind us who God is.  I believe the same is true of this story of Jesus and the Canaanite woman.  Jesus knows God's love is big enough even for her, but argues with her so that she has the chance to proclaim, to reveal her faith, to teach us how big God's love is.

      Before this reading we have reminders that there is more than enough in God's Kingdom.  When we share, there are enough loaves and fishes and zucchini for everyone.  Peter and the disciples witness this great feeding and they still don't get that there is enough and are surprised when there is enough.  And here comes this woman.  Jesus ignores her.  That part hurts.  But she's used to that.  She won't let that stop her. She knows there is enough for her a Canaanite.  She knows there is enough for her daughter, suffering from seizures, a disability.  She lives this life each day.  She doesn't have time for the rude things that people say or the discomfort they feel.  She knows the answer to the questions, "Who sinned, this girl or her parents that she has seizures?" She knows that isn't the question to ask.  She knows the question is this, "What sin keeps us from valuing the life of this woman or her child?  What sin keeps us from sharing our crumbs? What sin leads us to waste our food, our time, our money on things that don't matter, while this woman and her child suffer?"  The disciples thought of this woman as a waste of time, not even worth the waste of what was on the table, with a life less valuable than a dog’s.  This woman didn't waste her energy on their prejudice.  She was determined to receive what she knew was available and what would satisfy her need.

      And because of that we learn something from her:  We learned the value of persistence.  Don't give up on what is really important.  We learn to develop a thick skin.  People are going to say things that hurt.  They will be cruel. Don't waste your time caring what they think.  Don't let that stop you.  We learn to identify our need and not be afraid to ask for help with it.  We learn to clarify who we are and what is our story.  She knows what is important to her.  She is clear about it.  We can be, too, but it takes practice.

      Finally and most importantly we can learn to claim the promise of God. We don't keep the sabbath.  We don't keep the commandments.  We often pursue values that are different from God's. We are Gentile, like this woman.  Yet we need God's love and healing.  We want to draw near to him and learn to live a life of health and well-being.  We are undeserving.  Yet even that can't keep God from loving and healing us and showing us our lives have value.  God is merciful.  God is loving.  There is enough love for all of us and nothing can keep that love from going out to all.  God's love is for you.  Claim it!  Demand it!  And demand it for every neglected, undervalued person and part of creation that you can. 

      I think of Macey and wonder about her blessing.  Did her mother come to Jesus and not receive that blessing?  But then I think of all the blessings and healings she did receive, surgeries we weren’t sure she’d survive, close calls.  God did let that blessing flow to her.  But we are not fully in God’s Kingdom, yet.  It is coming near, but not fully realized.  So that blessing is not fully realized.  Even Lazarus who was raised from the dead, had to eventually die again.  Someday we will be fully in God’s presence and there will be no more weeping or pain or hunger or greed, no more prejudice, no more “R” word or “N” word, but one beautiful family of God living in God’s shalom.

      God's love is flowing forth.  In the Gospel of Matthew, as Jesus traveled in his ministry, it seems that it flowed first to the people of Israel.  Matthew, the Gospel writer, wanted to make sure that the Jewish people knew they still mattered to God and were a priority.  But there are a few hints that this is going further.  One is this story.  Another is the faith of the Roman Centurion whose servant is immediately healed as well.  But after Jesus was raised, he gave the great commission, to go to the whole world with the good news of God's love.  God's love is meant to continue flowing, like a river.  It can't be hoarded.  It should not be blocked from flowing out to all people and animals.  There is enough of it for everyone.  So lets get out of the way and let that love flow through us, merciful and open, loving and generous to all.

August 13, 2017

Gospel: Matthew 14:22-33          

1^st Reading: 1 Kings 19:9-18

2^nd Reading: Romans 10:5-15

                Elijah is running away, beautiful feet are bringing good news, and Jesus and Peter are walking on water!  This is feet Sunday!  I love all the action. 

                Elijah is running away—he has just killed the false prophets, and that is why his life is at risk.  He has his rehearsed speech that places the blame on everyone else.  “I’m the good guy here, God.  Those Israelites haven’t been doing what you told them to.  Now it’s just little ol’ me and I’m hiding because they are trying to get me.”  I can imagine him throwing his little fit, kicking and pounding his fists.  So much action!  And then there is the impressive action of the mountains splitting wind, and earthquake, and a fire, almost like the earth is throwing a fit of its own.

                The reading from Romans is one of the most difficult to understand and scholars disagree about every inch of this reading.  The good news we can get out of it is God’s incredible generosity to absolutely everyone, that we can’t divide ourselves up into categories and say we’re better than anyone else, and how available God’s healing and wholeness is.  Since those truths are not just for a few, word needs to get out.  How does God advertise and let us know the healing the unity and the love God has to give, but through each one of us.  And to our great relief, maybe it isn’t just words that can let people know they are part of something good, but it is our feet, our actions that say the most.  “How beautiful are the feet of the one who brings good news!”

                Finally, the Disciples are being tossed in the boat, all night long—did you catch that?  Jesus is walking on the water.  Peter is walking on the water.  Peter is sinking in the water. Jesus is reaching for Peter and pulling him dripping from the lake.  Again active feet taking a central role!

                Running feet, walking feet, sinking feet, hiding feet, stamping feet, shaking the dust off of feet,  Jesus’ feet walking among us, washing the disciples’ feet, his feet nailed to the cross, rising from the dead to show his hands and feet and side, that it is really him, rising to forgive all who betrayed him and tried to get in the way of the good news and love he had to share to walk the earth again.

                I think of feet, counting the toes on a newborn baby, those little razorblade toenails, those first steps, the sound of running feet in the house, all those places that our feet take us, on adventures, back home again, moving us constantly, unappreciated, hidden, forgotten until we injure them!

                So many feet came to the pantry this week.  I wondered where those feet had been.  What burdens have they carried, what trials have they borne, what joys have they known, what oceans have they traveled, what good news have they brought, what bad news have they received. 

                God’s love is active, moving, shown in actions, on the move, carried by feet to all corners of the world.

                We are used to activity, movement.  But there is something quite in contrast to all this running around also in our readings this morning.  “A sound of sheer silence.”  Whoa.  Every mother knows, if you are hearing all kinds of racket, talking, singing, stomping all is well.  What we dread is “The sound of sheer silence.”  That’s when we get up and go flying into the other room to see what’s going on.   That’s when a parent’s heart leaps in alarm!

 My husband’s mom tells the story of the time little Nicky made the sound of sheer silence.  She went to check on him and he’d poured out all the baby powder of his baby sister and made hills for his cars to drive through.  “Look mom, snow!” he said.  Usually the sound of sheer silence at our house means that the stickers have been located and now are being placed up on the walls of the bedroom, or all the labels are being torn off the crayons, or one of my plants is being repotted, or our waste basket is receiving the sharpie treatment, changing it into a robot.

                Silence is something that can be scary.  It certainly got Elijah’s attention.  God has promised to make a personal appearance.  There was a violent wind, not the sound of God.  There was an earthquake, also not the sound of God.  There was a fire, also not the sound of God.  Then there was the sound of sheer silence, that was when Elijah had no question, God had showed up.  And Elijah was scared out of his mind, not by the powerful action, but by the sound of sheer silence. 

                For the Disciples on the lake, the storm had been battering their boat all night long.  In the morning, they are exhausted and still the storm raged.  And the disciples saw Jesus walking toward them on the water.  They would have been looking into the rising sun, so he would have been a silhouette, maybe not so easy to recognize.  Peter walked out on that choppy lake, toward Jesus, and he was doing fine at first but he started to sink.  Jesus reached out to him and together they got into the boat, and the wind ceased.  I wonder what Peter was thinking in that moment of sheer silence.  Was he confused, afraid, ashamed.  It is in those moments of silence, that we are faced with our own helplessness and sometimes that scares us           However, silence is good for us.  Jesus showed by his example, how he went away to pray by himself, how healthy it is to have a balance of activity and rest.  Silence is a good time to listen to God, to refill our spiritual pitcher that we have been pouring out all week to others.  Do we take time for silence to just listen?  Do we develop our capacity for listening, by practicing over time?  The danger is, if we listen, we’d better be ready to respond to what we hear from God, whether it is about things we need to change about ourselves, or something we need to do for another, or a new direction we take in our life path.  The other good thing about silence, and facing our own helplessness, is that sometimes the realization that we can’t do it ourselves, can turn us toward the one who is all powerful and all knowing.

                In this Gospel, Jesus performs a miracle.  It is the miracle of walking on water.  I have not always been so fond of the miracles in the Gospels.  Sometimes I think they set us up to be disappointed.  We pray and pray for a miracle, and most times it doesn’t happen.  These miracles tell us that God is all-powerful, that God has the power to intervene to change bad situations, and times when bad things happen, we think God chooses not to use that power.  How can we call that love?  Does God let awful things happen? 

                Today, I am feeling a little more kind toward the miracles.  What I think the miracles demonstrate is how the world is intended to be, the way the world is when the Kingdom of God comes near.  When God comes near, what seemed impossible is possible.  When God comes near, we want to imitate Jesus.  When God comes near, we step out, take risks, walk on choppy waters.  When God comes near, we don’t drown on the lake, but take Jesus’ hand and let him lead us.  When God comes near, the hungry are fed, the sick are healed, and the blind receive their sight.

                In the absence of a miracle, sometimes it seems like God is silent, not acting, not loving, not saving.  Even Jesus cried from the cross, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” But God hadn’t forsaken him.  God was there.  God was there in the women at the foot of the cross.  God was there feeling his pain.  God was there when Jesus took his last breath and when he raised him from the dead, offering forgiveness and love, offering new life.  Sometimes the presence of God is like the sound of sheer silence. 

 Jesus walking on the water, demonstrates his power over nature.  Water in the Bible symbolizes the forces of chaos.  Remember they had no diving suits to explore these deep lakes.  Who knows what might be lurking there?  Who knows when a storm might come up?  There are so many mysteries about the water.  So Jesus walking on the water, shows his power over the forces of chaos. 

                Please also notice, that although he gives Peter a bad time about doubting, that doesn’t stop Jesus from reaching out his hand and lifting him out of the chaotic waters and back into the boat.

                We go from action to silence, and there is more work to do.  God has a new assignment for Elijah, to quit his whining and develop a new story, to pass the torch to the next generation of kings and prophets.  Peter and the disciples have a new assignment, to worship God.  What does that look and sound like?  Is it words?  Is it actions?  Yes and yes.  It is living abundantly, without divisions, sharing food, sharing life, giving of themselves, and listening to God and each other.

                I reflect on the sounds of shouts in Charlottesville, white supremacists taking up torches and marching against the humanity of other people and the counter-protesters, including many pastors in the area.  And I think of the sheer silence in that place following the attack by those who would spread hate killing 1 and injuring a dozen, the police tape, the silent weeping.  Our feet rush to their side.  Our hearts silently reflect on the ways we contribute to and benefit from prejudice and white supremacy.  And then we get busy again, standing with those who are oppressed and downtrodden.  There is always more work to do, more to learn as a disciple of Jesus, more to give, more loving to do, and more ways to challenge ourselves to build the Kingdom of God that we have glimpses of through the miracles of Jesus.