Saturday, December 29, 2018

Pitching a Tent in Our Midst

Click for: Today's Collect and Scripture.

Today's lesson is the homily of The Rev. Joslyn Ogden Schaefer, "A Tent Among Us."


In today’s Gospel, St. John uses a fascinating image that most of our Bible translations miss. Some of us are accustomed to hearing this majestic and abstract prologue to John’s mystical-leaning Gospel: “The Word became flesh and lived among us.” But we aren’t so used to hearing this: “Jesus became flesh and pitched a tent among humanity.” The image of God dwelling among us is beautiful and a bit abstract, maybe even domesticated—but Jesus pitching a tent? Hmm… This week, our small-town paper has been running a series of articles about the growing population of homeless people. The paper reports, “Word has gotten out beyond our kith and kin” about a local storefront ministry that serves hot breakfasts and lunches seven days a week, as well as a 90-day transitional housing program. Folk are coming here, pitching tents on vacant lots, and trying to get enough food and respect to survive another day. Predictably, town fathers and mothers, as well as non-profit donors, fear that we won’t have the resources to provide care for them. Right now, the idea of anyone pitching a tent in our town—except for scouts in the backyard—is viewed suspiciously. Recently, I heard a friend talk about pitching a tent in a very different context when she attended a Woodstock-like music festival called Bonnaroo. She recalled pitching her tent in a sea of thousands of other tents. One day, exhausted and exasperated by the constant stimulation, she went into her tent and had a miniature breakdown: she complained (loudly) that she was tired of the noise, the humidity, and the smiling strangers everywhere she looked. When her temper-tantrum ended, and she emerged from the tent, she realized with great embarrassment that all her “neighbors” had borne witness to her discontent. The idea of God Almighty pitching a tent among us temper-tantrum prone, smelly, needy, and shame-filled human beings is quite shocking. This earthy image is such a contrast to the more central metaphor for Jesus at the beginning of John’s gospel, the logos, translated as the Word. Logos connotes order, rationality, an “operating system” designed by a masterful creator. But St. John doesn’t allow us to indulge our de-personalizing tendency when it comes to relating to God. Instead, he brings us back down to the gritty reality of the Incarnation by juxtaposing the logos with tent-camping among humankind. In fact, I think many of us might recoil a bit at the idea of the Christ showing up in our backyard and asking us to pitch our tent right next to his. Why might we be reluctant to go camping with Jesus? First, I bet most of us wouldn’t want to be exposed; every conversation can be overheard, not to mention the snoring and that annoying zip-sound in the middle of the night when a fellow camper needs to relieve him or herself. Not to mention the shadows on the side of the tents revealing the silhouette of our actual lumpy, unruly flesh. And secondly, tents are always a bit dirty, no matter how stringent you are about keeping your shoes outside. Dirtiness and exposure. So much for putting on our Sunday best to meet Jesus! So much for the obsessive nature of reputation-management that consciously or unconsciously drives how we present ourselves on social media. But you know, our aversion to tent-pitching God is about something more than our desire to “look good” for God. Our deeper fear is being known by Jesus, inside and out. Of, in a phrase, personal intimacy. Intimacy is in trouble these days. A recent cover story for The Atlantic explored the steady delay and decline in intimate relationships (not just marriage) among younger people. We live in an age and culture where self-sufficiency and independence are upheld as attainable goals. If you lack a cup of sugar, don’t bother your neighbors, just run to Wal-Mart. Don’t know how to fix something? Pull up a video on YouTube on your private smartphone. And if that fails, just call a serviceman. Need a ride to the airport? Don’t ask a friend for a favor (who wants to be indebted?), just text Uber for quick service, requiring only your credit card and small-talk, not meaningful conversation. Genuine intimacy means that we’ll be exposed, flabby flesh, anxious ruminations, perfectionist tendencies, short-tempers, and all. And more and more of us, in the United States anyway, say, “No, thank you. I’ll take care of myself.” And then, even when we can’t, many of us prefer to pay a professional to provide for our physical needs. Later in the same verse, when St. John tells us that the Word, the logos, the Christ, Jesus, has come to pitch his tent among us, he says that we have seen Jesus’ glory—and it is full of grace and truth. Grace and truth. For most of us to even begin to entertain the idea of Jesus pitching a tent in our backyards, much less his Spirit taking up residence in our hearts, as Paul puts it in Galatians, we need the assurance of Christ’s grace—the assurance that God sees us through the lens of mercy and loving-kindness, unconditional love. And that assurance of God’s grace, of God’s desire to be with us—no matter how much we want to avoid being exposed, being caught with metaphorical dirt under our nails, no matter how much we want to hide because of our shame, our guilt, or just the fact that we are imperfect, never measuring up to the person we’d like to be—that assurance is the greatest gift we can receive. It is the gift of the Incarnation, the gift of Emmanuel – God-with-us. The invitation for us this Christmas is to accept the gift. And I’m not talking about some sort of formula where we “accept Jesus Christ into our hearts” and are, from thenceforth, “saved.” Accepting the gift of grace, of God-with-us, isn’t a one-time transaction. Rather, it is a lifelong process of growing more comfortable with intimacy, with showing up in the world, showing up for life, “Just as I am,” as the old hymn says. Accepting the gift of grace sometimes means letting go of the demands of the law, the cultural law, anyway, that suggests that dependence or interdependence is anathema to maturity. The law tells us we must always be engaging in some type of self-improvement project to be worthy of another’s affection. The law keeps us from intimacy with ourselves, our spouses, our families, and, of course, the Christ who wants to pitch a tent and come to know and love us as we are, rather than as we want, or even ought to be. The Incarnation, Christmas, is about Jesus pitching his tent in the messiness of the human condition, coming to understand our struggle, our messiness, our finitude, our sin, our truth, and then redeeming it all by assuring us that we are worthy of being Jesus’ brother, or sister, of being adopted children of God. Emmanuel, God-with-us, full of grace and truth, so full, in fact, that we can’t help but receive that fullness, grace upon grace. God-with-us, so intimately, that in our quiet moments, when we tune down the law, the fear of intimacy, the running from our imperfections, we can hear Jesus’ spirit in our own hearts, crying out, “Abba!” And Abba saying to each of us, “This is my son, my daughter, with whom I am well-pleased.”  

Tuesday, December 18, 2018

Overcoming Shame and Anxiety

Scripture:


  • Micah 5:2-5a  • 
  • Luke 1:46b-55 or Psalm 80:1-7  • 
  • Hebrews 10:5-10  • 
  • Luke 1:39-45, (46-55)
  •  



    Imagine a young girl, unmarried and pregnant 2000 years ago in Judea. The gospel says she left her hometown in haste to go to her cousin Elizabeth’s home. Why? How was she met and received? And how did Mary respond?
    What a blessing we have in this week’s gospel. Mary, surely anxious and in what her countrymen would say is a shameful condition, is met with joy, and gives us her Magnificat. She is received with joy, and thanks God, declares her lowliness in humility, and shows us how the glory of God finds favor in the lowly and lays out for us God’s merciful plan of salvation in the baby she carries. The mighty and powerful will be brought down, the prideful will be scattered, and the hungry will be filled with good things. Shame and anxiety will be no more as God in his mercy has given us his Son to bear and remove all sin and that which separates us from God and each other. Mary’s heart is bursting with joy and love and hope. And if we receive those who are ashamed or have anxiety with joy, and love, Christ, in his love, comes again, and give them strength and hope.
    We light the fourth candle in this last Sunday of Advent, with hope, joy and love. Reflect on this as Elizabeth receives Mary, and Christ is born in Bethlehem, and in our hearts this Christmas.
    Our readings this week are:  Fr. Rick Morley's remarks about Elizabeth in "from shame to blessing with haste," Dan Clendenin's "Blessed is the Child You Will Bear - Advent and Anxiety," and The Rev. Anna Tew's " A Song of Hope."




    Saturday, December 15, 2018

    Rejoice in all things... how can we do that?



    Amid the hustle and bustle of the season, year's end work to finish, cleaning, baking, decorating, shopping, wrapping presents, meetings, choir practice, addressing Christmas cards, office and church dinners, worshiping, reading, checking off our lists and agendas, thinking of others...thinking of others? There are a lot of emotions which come into play during Advent and Christmas. How can we rejoice in all things?

    We again encounter John the Baptizer, crying out for repentance in the wilderness, preparing the way of the Lord, and this time, in addition to the urgency of his message, we see can hear anger in his voice. What place does this have in the good news coming near? In preparing for the Lord, what are we called to do? See Good News? Ouch that hurts! by Peter Woods.

    Yes, we have all experienced or witnessed the full range of emotions and human conditions during the Christmas season. Great joy, wonder, surprise and sadness, loneliness, nostalgia, and anger. And in the midst of all of our humanity, the Lord comes to us, the giver of life, to share all that is life with us. Read "Joy- their Color of Grace" by Christopher Burkett, and the story of the grandmother, Gagi, to see how anger and self pity is overcome by joy, as we prepare for the coming of the Lord, who is doing something wonderful and new.



    Saturday, December 8, 2018

    What do we listen to?



    The prophet Isaiah foretold the coming of a voice of one crying in the wilderness, called, and calling us, to prepare the way of the Lord, to make his paths straight, and all flesh shall see the salvation of God.  From Luke's gospel, we recognize this to be John the Baptist, or better yet, to begin with John the Baptist. We are to prepare for a new beginning.

    What is a prophet? What do prophets do? Why do we need a prophet? That is the question The Rev. Leon Johnson asks in his homily, "Who Needs a Prophet?" What do you think about prophets, and why do you think we , or don't need prophets? What does John the Baptist do? What are we called to do?

    What, or whose voice do we listen to? The Rev. Lucy Standlund, "Prepare the Way," asks. 
    Is it voice of the powerful and privileged? Debie Thomas examines this, and more in 

    In "This Isn't the Way It's Supposed to Be," The Rev. Frank Pagano tells us it is good news to know something isn't what it should be, and to be able to move on, with hope and the power to move on to God's peace with forgiveness. 




    Saturday, December 1, 2018

    Awaiting the Coming Presence of the Lord, with Hope - Advent 1C




    We finished Lectionary year B with apocalyptic readings, followed by Christ the King Sunday, and begin Lectionary Year C this first Sunday in Advent, a season in which we celebrate Christ's coming, with apocalyptic readings concerning the second coming of Christ, the Parousia (παρουσια - coming, presence).

    Read "Advent:Waiting and Working for the Kingdom," by the Rev. Dr. J. Barney Hawkins, IV, and see how many ways you can think of how we can prepare and be part of the coming of Christ, now and tomorrow. How can a kingdom be made of a wasteland? Read "A Kingdom from a Wasteland," by Dave Barnhart. What are the wastelands of our lives, our community , church and society? What are we called to do about them? Why?

    How are we to wait? See Father Barrie Bates' "We Need A Little Hopefulness."





    Apocalypse - The end of the world as we know it

    Apocalypse - The End of the World As We Know It

    Scripture1 Samuel 1:4-20 and 1 Samuel 2:1-10 Daniel 12:1-3 and Psalm 16 Hebrews 10:11-14, (15-18), 19-25 Mark 13:1-8

    It is fitting, at the close of Lectionary Year B, and before the beginning of Advent, that we consider endings. Apocalyptic and eschatological readings are sometimes read to portend of the end times. Apocalypse comes from the Greek αποκαλυψισ, interpreted as a revelation, an appearance, a manifestation. Eschatology is sometimes referred to as the study of the end times, but on a different level, addresses the meaning of history, the ultimate destiny of humanity. Most modern eschatology and apocalypticism, both religious and secular, involves the violent disruption or destruction of the world, whereas Christian and Jewish eschatologies view the end times as the consummation or perfection of God's creation of the world. For example, according to ancient Hebrew belief, life takes a linear (and not cyclical) path; the world began with God and is constantly headed toward God’s final goal for creation. Rudolph Bultmann in his "History and Eschatology: the Presence of Eternity," sees Christ as the eschaton (εσχατον),  the presence and focal point of realizing the ultimate meaning of our lives. A lot has been written, jokingly and seriously, about the end of the Mayan calendar..

    In the gospel account this week, the disciples marvel at the huge stones of Herod's temple. Jesus tells them: "Do you see these great buildings? Not one stone will be left here upon another; all will be thrown down." Many will come in my name and say, 'I am he!' and they will lead many astray. When you hear of wars and rumors of wars, do not be alarmed; this must take place, but the end is still to come. For nation will rise against nation, and kingdom against kingdom; there will be earthquakes in various places; there will be famines. This is but the beginning of the birthpangs."

    What is Jesus telling us? Read "Transcending all that is 'thrown down'," by the Rev. Anjel Scarborough, and The Destruction of  the Temple Foretold” by David Owens and  Mark Smith. What does "The End of the World as We Know it" mean?



    Saturday, November 17, 2018

    Image of God


    What do you think of when you think about God? What is your image of God? Is God one who dishes out rewards and punishment depending on our actions? Is God a God of wrath, or love - or both, or somewhere in between? Do you believe in God?

    What do you think about God when there is injustice, futility, casualties, violence, disasters, and heart break?

    What do you think about judgment, the Judgment Day, the apocalypse?

    Where is God in all of this? What does Jesus have to say about this?

    Consider the couple struggling with infertility, and compare your thoughts with those of The Rev. Danae M. Ashley in "Journey Through Grief."



    Friday, November 9, 2018

    Widows who gave all

    This week widows figure prominently in our Scripture and lesson. The widow in 1 Kings is preparing what she thinks is the last meal for herself and her son when Elijah intervenes and asks her to prepare a cake for him. What does he say to her? What does she do? What is God's promise?

    Jesus notices the widow who puts her last two coins into the temple treasury, and uses that to teach his disciples, and us, a lesson. What does Jesus say immediately before this happens? Is this more than a lesson about stewardship? What is the significance of the temple in the passage from Mark? Beyond stewardship, and God's care for the poor, hungry, and oppressed, what else can we take away from this lesson? What and how can we give? What happens if we do, or do not do as the widows did in these stories? Where is God in all of this? Read The Rev. Sharron Blezard's "When Less is More, " and The Rev. Debie Thomas' "The Widowed Prophet."


    Saturday, November 3, 2018

    More than words - live into it

    Scripture:
  • Ruth 1:1-18 and Psalm 146  • 
  • Deuteronomy 6:1-9 and Psalm 119:1-8  • 
  • Hebrews 9:11-14  • 
  • Mark 12:28-34


  • This week I will not be in Sunday School class. I have been asked to give the homily at St. James Episcopal Church in Louis, VA while Alex is at his diocesan convention.

    I would like to share my message with you this week. 

                    I am honored and humbled to be asked to deliver a homily here with you, in what has been our church away from home, and which we also consider our second home church. When I prepare for Sunday school, or to deliver a homily at St. Mark’s, my first inclination is to examine the words in the texts. In my work, words are very important. It is essential to use clear, meaningful, and persuasive words. But words mean nothing if they are not “lived into.”
                A couple of weeks ago, I got to bask in grandfatherly glory as I was able to hold our fourth grandchild, Margaret Ann Riffee, surrounded by my Virginia family. Debi and I had raised two ornery boys, who turned out pretty well, but I had no experience dealing with young girls. Of course, Emma has me wrapped around her little finger. I watched Emma interact with her little sister, and thought about sisters. I like to ask questions. Part of my life’s work, I guess. As we were all gathered in Alex and Yinghao’s family room, I thought about sisters, and I asked, “What were the name of the sisters in “Fiddler on the Roof?[i]
                After a pause, Alex, in perfect Hebrew, gave us the name of the first sister, Chava. Later, Yinghao gave us the names of the two other teen sisters, Tseitel, or as Alex says in the voice of his favorite Hebrew professor, “Zeitel.” Do you know the name of the other sister? (Hovel.) You don’t want to take on Alex and Yinghao in Jeopardy, or trivia. I manage to get in a couple of answers, but they usually get most of them, if not all of them. Debi’s better than I am, too.
                So, I asked Alex, “What does “Chava” mean in Hebrew. Alex immediately replied, “it is a name meaning `love’.” Chava means love. And that leads to today’s Old Testament reading, the great Shema, “Hear, O Israel. The Lord your God is one God. You shall love the LORD your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your might. Keep these words that I am commanding you today in your heart. Recite them to your children and talk about them when you are at home and when you are away, when you lie down and when you rise.” Devout Jews recite this in their morning and evening prayers. The Hebrew word for “love” used in this passage from Deuteronomy is “ahava,” the root of which is “hav,” which means “to give.” Giving effect to the Shema, is to act to give one’s heart, soul and might to God.  
                During my last visit with my family, it was touching to see Emma give affection to her baby sister. Knowing this is a big step for a two year old to go from being the center of her parents’ attention, to sharing that love and attention with a totally dependent newborn, Debi, gave Emma her own life size baby doll. What a prescient, loving gift. And what a wonderful and profound thing to see, Emma caring for her baby doll. Ahava is an act of giving love.
                There is another Hebrew word for love. And this type of love is shown in the alternative Old Testament reading for today in the lectionary. It involves the story of an older Hebrew woman whose husband died, whose sons married foreigners, and whose sons died. In ancient Israel, a woman could die without property and sustenance if she had no husband or sons, who could own property and provide for her. Even though her daughters in law were devoted to her, she told them to go back to their homeland, saying, “May the LORD show you loving kindness, as you have shown loving kindness [chesed] to your dead husbands and to me.’”   One left weeping and sad. The other told her “Where you go, I will go; Where you lodge, I will lodge; your people shall be my people, and your God my God. Where you die, I will die-- there will I be buried. May the LORD do thus and so to me, and more as well, if even death parts me from you!" One left, and one stayed, even when things seemed hopeless, and gleaned the leftovers in the fields of Israel to look after her. She later married a man to help her mother in law.  This was more than just loving kindness.  Do you know this story? Who is this about? (Ruth). It is also about you and me.
                Ruth demonstrated chesed, a loyal love that goes beyond the requirement of familial duty. A love which goes beyond a command, a duty.  Beyond a covenant, contract, or agreement. It is not dependent upon feelings or mood; it is something that we do to provide for what another person needs.  It is motivated by compassion and “ahava.” Ruth is the great grandmother of King David, from whom Jews and Christians believe comes the Messiah.
                And now let’s look at today’s gospel. When a scribe asks Jesus what the great Commandment is, Jesus starts with the Shema, adds the word “mind,”  “you shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your mind, and with all your strength.' and says there is another, quoting from Leviticus, “'You shall love your neighbor as yourself.' There is no other commandment greater than these." The translation of the Greek word for “love,” which Jesus uses is a word I now you have heard before, “agape (ἀγάπη).” We see a further development of our understanding of God’s love, and the love we are to have for God, and our neighbor. It has been described as early as the prehistoric Greek poet, Homer, as “affection.” 
                 Agape was also used by the early Christians to refer to the self-sacrificing love of God for humanity, which they were committed to reciprocating and practicing towards God and among one another. It embraces a universal, unconditional love that transcends and persists regardless of circumstance. C. S. Lewis uses agape in The Four Loves to describe what he believes is the highest level of love known to humanity: a selfless love that is passionately committed to the well-being of others.
                And these are not just words. John tells us that the Word became flesh and dwelled among us. Jesus embodied, not just the commandment to give love, as in “ahava,” but something that goes beyond a duty, or obedience to a command. It is motivated by the affection of “ahava,” and is something we do to provide for what another person needs, the “chesed,” in Ruth.
                But it is more than that. Jesus told us the first must be last, that we must welcome the weak, the poor, the child, the stranger, and lose ourselves to gain ourselves. For, he said, in losing one’s life, one shall gain it. As Paul in his letter to the Philippians told us, Jesus who, though he was in qthe form of God, did not count equality with God ra thing to be grasped,2 but semptied himself, by taking the form of a tservant,3 ubeing born in the likeness of men. And being found in human form, he humbled himself by vbecoming obedient to the point of death, weven death on a cross.” That is the kind of love Jesus is about, and we, as Christians are to be about.
                And Jesus showed us, embodying the love of God and love of neighbor as ourselves. He gave us the parable of the Good Samaritan, an outcast half-breed to the Jews, who took care of the traveler who was beaten and left to die by thieves when the priest, and good law observing Jews would not. He touched and healed the untouchable. He invited the despised tax collector to become a disciple, Matthew, who gave us one of the gospels. He gave us the parable of the prodigal son, who squandered his inheritance, but was welcomed home by his father who ran to him and ordered the fatted calf be prepared to celebrate his homecoming. He said the widow, with her paltry sum, gave more than the wealthy Pharisee who proudly announced his greatness in giving. He reached out to the Samaritan woman at the well, and he stopped the stoning of an accused adulteress saying “let who among you has not sinned, cast the first stone.” He turned over the tables of the money changers in the temple. He disabused  the idea of a militaristic Messiah who would challenge Rome and the powers of that time, and told his disciples how he must suffer a humiliating death, and then rise again in three days.
                In all of this we see that Jesus lived into the words of love. He showed us who our neighbors are, and lived into it. Some call it grace. Some call it mercy. But the bedrock of all of it is love with affection, compassion, and being able to put aside that which blocks or interferes with showing God’s loving grace to each other, even if that means sacrificing what we want, even ourselves.
                 This kind of love enables us to forgive. Forgive ourselves, and others who have wronged us, as Jesus forgave the ones who crucified him, and the thief on the cross.
                This kind of love works for peace, and reconciliation. Much needed in a world so divided today. A world in which we are goaded into choosing sides.
                In Jesus, we are given a love of abundance – not scarcity – love and life, even eternal life, for all – he showed us – for all, not just some of us, or those on our side.
                Just as the Word became flesh, and dwelled among us, we are reminded in the Holy Eucharist, the meal Jesus asked us to celebrate in remembrance of him, that the unconditional love that transcends and persists, dwells in us, through the presence of Christ in the elements, and in our lives. Through thick and thin, and through all life has to offer. Jesus knows we will falter and fall. We will get angry, lose our cool, say things we shouldn’t say or do things we know we shouldn’t do. We will get tired and sick.  People make mistakes. That’s why we need to come to his table, and often, for he says as often as we partake of his meal, do it remembrance of him. Jesus has shown us the face of God. A God of loving kindness. Of unconditional love. We won’t get all the answers, but we worship a God who is with us on our journey.  We know the love we are called to. We know the neighbors we are called to love. With all our hearts, souls, minds, and might, let us live into it.
                Amen.


    [i] Tevye and his Daughters (or Tevye the Dairyman) and other tales by Sholem Aleichem.




    Friday, October 26, 2018

    Seeing a new vision of justice


    In the final passages of the Book of Job, Job learns a new kind of justice. A justice not limited to retribution. What moves Job to see a different way of looking at things - to begin life anew after suffering great loss? What is this new way of looking at life after loss or separation? What is this new kind of justice? Consider The Rev. Shelli Williams' "See Life Begin Again." Her article also considers the gospel reading and the reading from Hebrews.

    In the gospel lesson, like last week, Jesus asks the blind beggar, Bartimaeus, what he wants Jesus to do for him. What is Bartimaeus' response? What is Jesus' response? What does it take for Bartimaeus to see again?

    The writer of Hebrews tells of the difference of Christ, the priest, and the Levitical priests. What is the difference? What is the significance of the permanent priesthood of Christ? What does that mean for us?

    Consider the theme of restoration as you think about this lesson.