The Ordination of a Prophet: John the Baptist

St. Philip's Episcopal Church

Annapolis, Maryland

Mark 1:1-8

The beginning of the good news of Jesus Christ, the Son of God.

As it is written in the prophet Isaiah,

"See, I am sending my messenger ahead of you,

who will prepare your way;

the voice of one crying out in the wilderness:

`Prepare the way of the Lord,

make his paths straight,'"

John the baptizer appeared in the wilderness, proclaiming a baptism of repentance for the forgiveness of sins. And people from the whole Judean countryside and all the people of Jerusalem were going out to him, and were baptized by him in the river Jordan, confessing their sins. Now John was clothed with camel's hair, with a leather belt around his waist, and he ate locusts and wild honey. He proclaimed, "The one who is more powerful than I is coming after me; I am not worthy to stoop down and untie the thong of his sandals. I have baptized you with water; but he will baptize you with the Holy Spirit."

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You can pick your friends, but not your relatives. I’m sure that’s a statement many of us have heard in our lives. Many of us know the truth of that statement. You only have to go to one or two family reunions to realize if you could pick your relatives there’s one or two folks who would get voted off the island and wouldn’t be in your family. Just remember the people you spent Thanksgiving with a few days ago!

I wonder if Jesus felt that way about his cousin John the Baptist. John has actually been quite polite this Advent season and didn’t poke his head in on Advent 1 like he normally does. This year we encounter him – smells and all – on Advent 2. So this morning I want to think with you about this person whom we sometimes write off, or at least I know I do.

As you’ll recall from the Gospel of Luke, John the Baptist was born to Zechariah and Elizabeth. Zechariah was a priest at the Temple in Jerusalem and lived to an advanced age. Zechariah and his wife Elizabeth weren’t able to have children – until an angel comes and tells Elizabeth that she will bear a child. Zechariah finds this all rather funny – much like Abraham and Sarah do when an angel tells them they’ll have a child named Isaac.

So how does John the Baptist end up being such a crazy character – a character that probably none of us would want to have over for dinner – especially given such a good background, the son of a priest.

Scholars have struggled with this question. The best theory is that because Elizabeth and Zechariah were so old that they died and John ended up an orphan. Now because John was the son of a priest, that meant he could be a priest as well.

More than likely John fell into the wrong crowd. At least according to first century Jewish standards. He probably joined a sect within Judaism called the Essenes. This group was distinctive from the rest of Judaism because they had a number of ascetic practices and lived in the wilderness. Why the wilderness? Because of the way they were shunned by their Jewish brothers and sisters and probably by choice. Think about it for a minute. Think about how clear the night sky and the stars are out in the wilderness. What better place to hear God than alone in a wilderness or a desert. Those of us making this Advent pilgrimage to the manger must also travel through the wilderness to get there. It’s hard with all the “Joy to the World” playing in malls and shopping centers long before the 12 days of Christmas.

John the Baptist, I imagine was consumed by God because of spending all the time alone in the wilderness with God. He could probably hear God clearer than any one of us who live such busy lives with our iPhones, iPads, or whatever smart phone or tablet computer you have begging for your attention.

All of a sudden one day John began to preach. It was his vocation after all since his father was a priest. And people came to hear him. At first 20 or so, then a hundred or so, then they came by the thousands. Some walked 10, 20, and maybe even 30 miles which was a great distance in those days. The people were hungry to hear an authentic word from God. They hadn’t heard from a prophet in years.

So what do we see this morning from our Gospel reading? Nothing more than the ordination of a prophet. While John might not have lived up to his father’s dream of being a priest in the Temple, he did something far better. He became a prophet preparing the way for the Messiah. To be sure the ordination of a prophet looks far different than that of a priest.

I believe that each and every one of us in this room also share in John the Baptist’s ordination as a prophet by virtue of our baptism. When you were baptized, you made five vows – or someone made them for you if you were baptized as an infant. The last two in particular ordain each and every one of us as prophets: 1.) to seek and serve Christ in all persons, loving our neighbor as ourselves and 2.) to strive for justice and peace among all people and respect the dignity of every human being. Wrapped within these two vows are the call of the prophet: to speak truth to power, to see every human being as an infinitely loved child of God, and to not be afraid to take risks.

Who are some of the prophets among us or that we have known? Perhaps Dr Martin Luther King, Jr.? Ghandi? Archbishop Desmond Tutu?

Are you a prophet? Do you stand up for justice wherever you are?

As we continue our Advent pilgrimage to the manger I invite you to take seriously your baptismal vows and to follow in the footsteps of John the Baptist and to be a prophet. Amen.

Does Jonah have anything to say to us in the 21st century?

St. Philip's Episcopal Church Annapolis, Maryland

September 18, 2011

Jonah 3:10-4:11

When God saw what the people of Nineveh did, how they turned from their evil ways, God changed his mind about the calamity that he had said he would bring upon them; and he did not do it.

But this was very displeasing to Jonah, and he became angry. He prayed to the LORD and said, "O LORD! Is not this what I said while I was still in my own country? That is why I fled to Tarshish at the beginning; for I knew that you are a gracious God and merciful, slow to anger, and abounding in steadfast love, and ready to relent from punishing. And now, O LORD, please take my life from me, for it is better for me to die than to live." And the LORD said, "Is it right for you to be angry?" Then Jonah went out of the city and sat down east of the city, and made a booth for himself there. He sat under it in the shade, waiting to see what would become of the city.

The LORD God appointed a bush, and made it come up over Jonah, to give shade over his head, to save him from his discomfort; so Jonah was very happy about the bush. But when dawn came up the next day, God appointed a worm that attacked the bush, so that it withered. When the sun rose, God prepared a sultry east wind, and the sun beat down on the head of Jonah so that he was faint and asked that he might die. He said, "It is better for me to die than to live."

But God said to Jonah, "Is it right for you to be angry about the bush?" And he said, "Yes, angry enough to die." Then the LORD said, "You are concerned about the bush, for which you did not labor and which you did not grow; it came into being in a night and perished in a night. And should I not be concerned about Nineveh, that great city, in which there are more than a hundred and twenty thousand persons who do not know their right hand from their left, and also many animals?"

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When I was a kid, I didn't’ like the story of Jonah because I had a fear of drowning and reading or hearing a story about someone being thrown overboard in rough seas wasn’t exactly comforting.

What’s interesting about this story is in many ways it’s been relegated to children’s books and it seems that adults don’t spend much time with it. Which I think is unfortunate because it has many things to say to us. Our Jewish brothers and sisters read this book on Yom Kippur, the day of atonement.

The Book of Jonah opens with God telling Jonah to go and prophesy to the people of Nineveh. In the opening lines, it appears that Jonah is going to get up and do exactly that. He gets up out of bed and heads to the dock to get on a boat. It’s only later that we find out that this boat is headed in the exact opposite direction – to Tarshish which would be modern-day Spain. So Jonah has in his head a nice vacation on the coast of Spain rather than going to the difficult place that God has called him to. That part’s at least clear.

Jonah is like many folks who tell God yes, but mean no.

So Jonah gets on the boat and as they are at sea a great storm arises and everyone is fearful for their lives. All the sailors are pagans and pray to their gods to no avail. The captain finds Jonah asleep in the middle of the ship. He tells Jonah to wake up and begin praying. Jonah doesn’t pray. Finally the sailors draw straws to see who is the culprit. Who has angered God so much. Jonah gets the short straw. Finally he confesses. It’s his fault. God sent him on a journey and he headed in the exact opposite direction. He tells the men to throw him overboard and everything will be okay. These pagans act better than Jonah does. They try everything in their power to prevent throwing him overboard. They try to row back to the shore. They throw things overboard. Finally, when nothing works they decide to do what Jonah asks and throw him overboard. And God has a big fish come alongside the boat and swallow him. End of part one of Jonah and end of most children’s books.

Part two opens with God once again calling Jonah to go to the people of Nineveh and to preach to them. This time Jonah obeys. But what’s interesting is he only utters five Hebrew words. “In forty days Nineveh will be smashed.” That’s it. Jonah obeys the letter of the law, but not necessarily the spirit. Jonah assumed that this wouldn’t be enough for the people of Nineveh to turn to God. The king, the entire nation, do a 180. They put on the clothes of mourning – sackcloth and ashes and repent. We’re told that even animals put on sackcloth.

Jonah sees that the city has repented and God decides to spare the city. He gets angry. Really angry at God. He challenges God – God I knew that if I went and did what you told me to do that you would be merciful and not destroy the city. Then he asks God to kill him. That he’s better of dead. God challenges Jonah. “What do you have to be angry about?” Jonah then goes off to sulk and builds himself a booth to see what happens to Nineveh firsthand. I think Jonah thinks he can change God’s mind again so that God will in fact destroy the city and he wants a front row seat. This is probably the first Reality TV show long before it’s time.

God has a tree suddenly grow up next to the booth Jonah built to give him shade. Jonah was pleased with the shade. Life was looking up. But then the next day God sent a worm to eat the tree. The next day the sun was shining brightly and there was a hot wind blowing like opening an oven set on 425 degrees. Jonah thought he was going to faint and Jonah again wants to die. God asks Jonah what right he has to be mad. Jonah is more concerned about a plant than 120,000 people that live in a city. And so ends the Book of Jonah.

I think the reason we get mad when we hear the story of Jonah is our innate sense of justice. Bishop N. T. Wright in his book Simply Christian: Why Christianity Makes Sense argues that within each of us is a longing for justice. We want people to be treated fairly and justly. Deep inside of us we know when someone has been wronged. We know that Jonah is shortchanging the people of Nineveh by not treating them fairly and seeing them as God sees them – as deeply loved Children of God.

When we see someone treated differently because of the color of their skin, because of their religion, because of their sexual orientation, or because of their socioeconomic status we KNOW it’s wrong. We KNOW it’s wrong when Jonah treats the Ninevites badly simply because they’re Gentiles and not Jews.

One of my favorite theologians is Dr. James Cone a professor at Union Theological Seminary in New York City. I had the privilege of hearing Dr. Cone speak back in January 2008 and someone asked him about the present crisis in the Anglican Communion. Dr. Cone is an African Methodist Episcopal Church pastor, so he didn’t have anything to lose by answering the question honestly and truthfully. The questioner asked “Will there ever be reconciliation in the Anglican Communion over issues of human sexuality?” Dr. Cone responded that reconciliation can never happen until there’s justice. Until gay and lesbian Christians are treated with dignity and respect and treated equally as straight Christians. Archbishop Desmond Tutu who chaired the Truth and Reconciliation Commission in South Africa would probably respond in the same way. Reconciliation couldn’t happen in South Africa until justice had won the day and blacks were treated with the same dignity and respect as whites.

So today I wonder where God might be calling us to work for justice today. I wonder what lessons Jonah might have to teach us. About treating everyone with dignity and respect and loving our fellow human beings as ourselves. Of walking in the ways of Micah 6:8 – of doing justice, loving mercy, and walking humbly with our God. Amen.

Final Sermon at All Saints' Frederick

The Rev’d Thomas S. Rogers, III

Associate Rector

All Saints’ Episcopal Church

Frederick, Maryland

July 24, 2011

            Would you pray with me?  May the words of my mouth and the meditations of all our hearts be pleasing and acceptable in your sight our Strength and Redeemer.  Amen. 

            Now you didn’t really think on my last Sunday I wouldn’t have a joke for you, did you?  If you like this joke, it came from Lute Moran.  If you don’t like it, it came from the Internet.

            Once upon a time there was a 90 year old lady who had just returned home from a revival at her Baptist church when she was startled by an intruder.

            She caught the man in the act of robbing her home and yelled:  “Stop!  Acts 2:38!”

            Now since the majority of people in this room are Episcopalians and not Baptists, I’ll tell you what Acts 2:38 says, “Repent and be baptized in the name of Jesus Christ so that your sins may be forgiven.”

            The robber stopped dead in his tracks.  The woman calmly called the police and explained what she had done.

            As the officer cuffed the man to take him in, he asked the robber:  “Why did you just stand there?  All the old lady did was yell scripture at you.”

            “Scripture?”  replied the man.  “I thought she said she had an axe and two 38s!”

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            As I’m sure you’ll remember the last time I stood in this pulpit I talked about what I was thankful for, highlighting the words on the front of our bulletins each week:  “Lively, Prayerful, and Welcoming.”  If you missed the sermon, a synopsis was reprinted in the July Saints Alive! Newsletter.  Today I want to share with you what I’ve learned here at All Saints’ and my hopes and dreams for you in the future.  The nice thing about sharing my hopes and dreams for this parish is that I’m on my way out.  If you don’t agree with them, you can leave them!

            First, I want to tell you about the greatest gift you’ve given me as a priest – authenticity.  It’s hard to find a place where you can totally be yourself.  Where people love you for who you are warts and all.  You have done that.  You’ve seen my shortcomings as a priest and a human being and loved me anyway.  I have felt immense support from this congregation throughout my 4 ½, nearly 5 years serving as a priest in this church.  I hope I’ve been able to return that love in kind.  It’s never easy to say goodbye, but I want you to know that I will be holding each of you in my heart as I leave this place and when you come to mind, either individually or as a group, you can be assured of my prayers.

            I know that as I shared more of my story about who I was it was a difficult time for some of you in this parish.  For some, it felt like the church they had loved had changed.  Once upon a time many priests served under the same dictum as the armed forces used to – “Don’t ask, don’t tell.”  For many people, myself included, this wasn’t a healthy or helpful place to be.  I know to this day that people in this congregation are not all of one mind on issues of human sexuality, but I thank you for opening your hearts and minds not only to me, but also to Jason.

            I hope that in the future when it comes time for this parish to call a deacon, priest, rector, or other member of staff that sexual orientation won’t be an issue but a candidate’s education, qualifications, and gifts and graces would be.

            One of the challenges I experienced working here at All Saints’ has been the simultaneous 10:30 services.  It was hard to find time in an already busy schedule with other responsibilities to find time to write a sermon week after week.  It’s unusual for a church to have simultaneous services and I don’t have to tell you the drain on resources it takes between having two altar guild teams, two priests/preachers, two musicians, and the list goes on and on.  I’ve heard a few times that one of the dreams of this parish is to be “one church.”  I think this is something that needs to be explored to try and become that “one church” so many people long for.  Maybe a 7:45 a.m. Rite 1 Service, 9:00 Great Hall Service, 10:30 Christian Formation, and 11:15 Historic Church service?  There has to be a way forward to still maintain the core value of this parish to have distinctive worship services while utilizing less human resources.  I leave that to you to pray about and figure out.

            One of the things that attracted me to All Saints’ was serving on a multi-staff team and the diversity of this parish.  During my time here, there have been a number of staff changes and no doubt the departure of Deacon Kay, Deacon Tom, and me represents another round of change.  Change is a part of life as many of you know who have been through more changes than I’ve seen in my lifetime.  Change isn’t always bad nor is it always good.  Whenever I was in discernment with a parish and would read on their profile “open to change” I immediately became suspicious because I know that’s usually not the case.  Whenever we get scared or anxious, we long for security and change makes us angry, sad, or upset.

            Today as I conclude my ministry here at All Saints’, I know I stand in a long line of associates:  Fr. Benedict, Rev. Anne Weatherholt, Fr. Roger Edwards, Rev. Meg Graham, Fr. Scott Bellows, Rev. Joell, and Fr. Andy.  Some of these associates have left well and others haven’t.  I don’t need to tell you who left well and who didn’t – you know the stories as well as I.  What I do need to say is how important it is to leave a place well so you can enter the next place well.  I hope that I’ve been able to say goodbye to All Saints’ well so that I can arrive at Hopkins ready to hit the ground running on August 1.

            Saying goodbye to you has been harder than I expected and I didn’t get to say goodbye to many of you personally as I would have liked.  I look forward to seeing many of you around the diocese when you serve on different committees or at Diocesan Convention.  You’re always welcome to stop by and say hello to me at Johns Hopkins, I just ask that you not do it by coming as a patient.

10:30 only

            So as I take my leave today I will give the final blessing and then take off my stole and leave it on the altar.  In the tradition I learned how to be a priest in, we would pick up our stoles, kiss the cross embroidered on the back and remember the words of Jesus from Matthew 11:29-30 “Take my yoke upon you . . . for my yoke is easy and my burden is light.”  A practice I continue to this day.  My burden serving here as your priest has truly been light and now it is someone else’s responsibility to pick it up.

            Be assured of my prayers and love for you my brothers and sisters in Christ.  Amen.

            

"If I Had My Life to Live Over"

John 11:1-45

Now a certain man was ill, Lazarus of Bethany, the village of Mary and her sister Martha. Mary was the one who anointed the Lord with perfume and wiped his feet with her hair; her brother Lazarus was ill. So the sisters sent a message to Jesus, "Lord, he whom you love is ill." But when Jesus heard it, he said, "This illness does not lead to death; rather it is for God's glory, so that the Son of God may be glorified through it." Accordingly, though Jesus loved Martha and her sister and Lazarus, after having heard that Lazarus was ill, he stayed two days longer in the place where he was.

Then after this he said to the disciples, "Let us go to Judea again." The disciples said to him, "Rabbi, the Jews were just now trying to stone you, and are you going there again?" Jesus answered, "Are there not twelve hours of daylight? Those who walk during the day do not stumble, because they see the light of this world. But those who walk at night stumble, because the light is not in them." After saying this, he told them, "Our friend Lazarus has fallen asleep, but I am going there to awaken him." The disciples said to him, "Lord, if he has fallen asleep, he will be all right." Jesus, however, had been speaking about his death, but they thought that he was referring merely to sleep. Then Jesus told them plainly, "Lazarus is dead. For your sake I am glad I was not there, so that you may believe. But let us go to him." Thomas, who was called the Twin, said to his fellow disciples, "Let us also go, that we may die with him."

When Jesus arrived, he found that Lazarus had already been in the tomb four days. Now Bethany was near Jerusalem, some two miles away, and many of the Jews had come to Martha and Mary to console them about their brother. When Martha heard that Jesus was coming, she went and met him, while Mary stayed at home. Martha said to Jesus, "Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died. But even now I know that God will give you whatever you ask of him." Jesus said to her, "Your brother will rise again." Martha said to him, "I know that he will rise again in the resurrection on the last day." Jesus said to her, "I am the resurrection and the life. Those who believe in me, even though they die, will live, and everyone who lives and believes in me will never die. Do you believe this?" She said to him, "Yes, Lord, I believe that you are the Messiah, the Son of God, the one coming into the world."

When she had said this, she went back and called her sister Mary, and told her privately, "The Teacher is here and is calling for you." And when she heard it, she got up quickly and went to him. Now Jesus had not yet come to the village, but was still at the place where Martha had met him. The Jews who were with her in the house, consoling her, saw Mary get up quickly and go out. They followed her because they thought that she was going to the tomb to weep there. When Mary came where Jesus was and saw him, she knelt at his feet and said to him, "Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died." When Jesus saw her weeping, and the Jews who came with her also weeping, he was greatly disturbed in spirit and deeply moved. He said, "Where have you laid him?" They said to him, "Lord, come and see." Jesus began to weep. So the Jews said, "See how he loved him!" But some of them said, "Could not he who opened the eyes of the blind man have kept this man from dying?"

Then Jesus, again greatly disturbed, came to the tomb. It was a cave, and a stone was lying against it. Jesus said, "Take away the stone." Martha, the sister of the dead man, said to him, "Lord, already there is a stench because he has been dead four days." Jesus said to her, "Did I not tell you that if you believed, you would see the glory of God?" So they took away the stone. And Jesus looked upward and said, "Father, I thank you for having heard me. I knew that you always hear me, but I have said this for the sake of the crowd standing here, so that they may believe that you sent me." When he had said this, he cried with a loud voice, "Lazarus, come out!" The dead man came out, his hands and feet bound with strips of cloth, and his face wrapped in a cloth. Jesus said to them, "Unbind him, and let him go."

Many of the Jews therefore, who had come with Mary and had seen what Jesus did, believed in him.

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            This morning I want you to imagine with me that you and three other people are standing on different corners of a 4-way stop and we watch an accident happen.  We each go home and we write about what we saw from our different perspectives.  I use this analogy because that’s how many people believe the gospels – Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John – were written.  The problem is it’s not.  It’s much more complex.  Alfred North Whitehead used to say that for every question there’s a simple answer and a hard answer – the simple answer is usually always wrong.

            You see if we use the analogy of a car accident happening at a 4-way stop with the gospels it would look like this.  Mark was probably the only person who saw the accident really happen and then 30 years wrote about it.  Matthew and Luke come along even later some 40 or 50 years later and they basically retell Mark’s account of what happened adding some more material that they got from other sources and we’re not sure if they were really there or not.  Then last on the scene is John.  John wrote his account anywhere from 60 to 90 years later.  That’s why for some preachers – especially me – preaching on the Gospel of John is such a challenge.  John is probably the farthest removed from the historical Jesus.  John is a great place to begin if you’d like to know what the early church believed and thought about Jesus the Christ but not so much if you want to get as close as possible to the car accident to move back to our metaphor for a moment.

            So that was the first challenge in thinking about the story of Lazarus this week.  But it certainly wasn’t the only one.  Many commentaries I consulted this week referred to this as the “resurrection of Lazarus.”  I’m not sure I would agree with that summary.  For me, this story isn’t about resurrection but resuscitation of a dead corpse.  You might be wondering – what’s the difference.  Resuscitation is breathing life into a mortal body.  It’s Lazarus’s old body having the breath of life returned to it.  I think that the lectionary elves – the folks that decide which passages from scripture we’re going to hear when – decided to put this passage on this Sunday to give us a preview of coming attractions.  A little something to look forward to on Easter Sunday.  But for me it’s not resurrection.  Resurrection is Jesus on that first Easter morning when the women come to the tomb and it’s empty.  When people meet the resurrected Christ and don’t recognize him at first but think he’s a gardener.  Jesus’s own mother doesn’t recognize him at first because he doesn’t look the same.  For me, that’s resurrection.  It’s not life being breathed into a dead corpse, but it’s something new.  It’s receiving a body that is different that doesn’t have the same limitations as a mortal body.  It bears traces of our old bodies because everyone is able to recognize Jesus and see the marks in his hand but it’s not.  How many of you with your current bodies can walk through walls or enter a room that is tightly locked?  That, for me, is resurrection.

  

          For me the story of Lazarus has much to teach us, especially for those of us living in a Good Friday world where it seems that we are constantly surrounded by images of suffering and death.  For one, it teaches us that the abyss of God’s love is deeper than the abyss of death.  It was because of God’s love shown through Jesus at Lazarus’s tomb that he was brought back to life.  Lazarus and his sisters Martha and Mary were dear friends of Jesus and he couldn’t help but to be moved by Lazarus’s death.  Jesus has a natural human response and weeps when they get to the cemetery.  But out of his love for his friend he does something about it – he brings him back to life.

            What’s interesting about Lazarus, however, is that he never says a word in the fourth gospel.  If you do a word search in the Bible you’ll find two passages in John and a passage from Luke where Lazarus pops up.  In Luke, as you’ll remember, it’s the story of the rich man and the poor man who die and go to the afterlife.  The rich man is in Hades where he is tormented.  The poor man who is named Lazarus is in “Abraham’s bosom” and there is a great gulf which separates them.  I’m not sure if this is the same Lazarus as in John’s gospel or not.

            Lazarus also shows up later in John sharing a meal with Jesus before his final Passover.

            I think for me this passage teaches us about the sacredness and importance of life.  It also teaches us that we never know when we’re going to die so to live each moment to the fullest and to cherish our relationships with friends and family. 

            I want to share with you an article I ran across this week by an 85-year-old woman from Louisville, Kentucky entitled “If I Had My Life to Live Over.”

            If I had my life to live over, I’d dare to make more mistakes next time.  I’d relax.  I would limber up.  I would be sillier than I’ve been this trip.  I would take fewer things seriously.  I would take more chances.  I would climb more mountains and swim more rivers.  I would eat more ice cream and less beans.  I would perhaps have more actual troubles, but I’d have fewer imaginary ones.

            You see I’m one of those people who live sensibly and sanely, hour after hour, day after day.  Oh I’ve had my moments, and if I had it to do over again, I’d have more of them.  In fact, I’d try to have nothing else.  Just moments, one after another, instead of living so many years ahead of each day.  I’ve been one of those persons who never goes anywhere without a thermometer, a hot water bottle, a raincoat and a parachute.  If I had to do it again, I would travel lighter than I have.

            If I had my life to live over, I would start barefoot earlier in the spring and stay that way later in the fall.  I would go to more dances.  I would ride more merry-go-rounds.  I would pick more daises. 

            Not too shabby advice, huh?

            And one more perspective from a poet by the name of Jane Kenyon, who was the poet laureate of New Hampshire who wrote this poem as she was dying from Leukemia entitled “Otherwise”:

I got out of bed


on two strong legs


It might have been


otherwise.

I ate


cereal, sweet


milk, a ripe, flawless


peach. It might


have been otherwise

. 
. . .


All morning I did


the work I love

.
 . . .


We ate dinner together at a table with silver candlesticks.


It might have been otherwise.


I slept in a bed


in a room with paintings


on the wall, and


planned another day


just like this day.


But one day, I know


it will be otherwise.


(from Otherwise, Graywolf Press, 1996)

           

Martin Luther King, Jr. Day Sermon

Luke 6:27-36

Jesus said, "I say to you that listen, Love your enemies, do good to those who hate you, bless those who curse you, pray for those who abuse you. If anyone strikes you on the cheek, offer the other also; and from anyone who takes away your coat do not withhold even your shirt. Give to everyone who begs from you; and if anyone takes away your goods, do not ask for them again. Do to others as you would have them do to you.

"If you love those who love you, what credit is that to you? For even sinners love those who love them. If you do good to those who do good to you, what credit is that to you? For even sinners do the same. If you lend to those from whom you hope to receive, what credit is that to you? Even sinners lend to sinners, to receive as much again. But love your enemies, do good, and lend, expecting nothing in return. Your reward will be great, and you will be children of the Most High; for he is kind to the ungrateful and the wicked. Be merciful, just as your Father is merciful."

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            Well here we are again.  We’re at the weekend in January where the secular calendar remembers the Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr..  On the church calendar he’s remembered on April 4 – but because his birthday was yesterday and tomorrow is the holiday we decided to transfer it.  That’s why we’re wearing red today.

            Each year as we approach this date I have a little routine that I go through.  I pull out some of Dr. King’s letters, sermons, and speeches and re-read them.  You’d think that year after year of doing this it might get a little boring – but it doesn’t.  Each time I read one of his sermons I see new things.  Every time I read a “Letter from a Birmingham Jail,” I hear his prophetic voice in new and exciting ways calling the Christian community to move from complacency to working with the poor and the oppressed.

            In this letter one of the things Dr. King bemoans is the “moderate Christian.”  This is the Christian who doesn’t like the way African Americans are being treated, but refuses to do anything about it.  They refuse to join the march.  But at the same time they aren’t off in the other camp running around town threatening people and burning crosses in people’s yards.  These “moderate Christians” don’t understand why African Americans are marching – aren’t things good enough?  Why do things need to change?

            Within this letter Dr. King remarks that he challenged the white prison guard that because of his low salary and living in poverty that he needed to join the march!

            You see what I love about Dr. King to this day was the way in which he integrated faith and praxis.  Praxis simply means action.  The Book of James, which we don’t hear from very often in church is a small book, but it packs a powerful punch.  James 2:20 says that “faith without works is dead.”  Dr. King got the interconnection between the Christian faith and being involved in the community.  Christianity isn’t a spectator sport where we come to church, sit in our pews, watch the priest and other ministers do a few things in the front of the church and go home.  Christianity is a way of life.  It’s modeling our life on the mystery of the cross.  It’s following in the footsteps of Jesus who always sought to invite more people in.  Jesus who ate with the lowest of the low – sinners, tax collectors, prostitutes – people we would probably turn up our nose at.  All of these people mattered to Jesus – shouldn’t they matter to us as well?

            The other thing I love about Dr. King’s writings is that if you read them sequentially, you begin to notice that his message evolves over time.  He goes deeper.  What began as a struggle for the rights of African Americans gets wider as he begins to lift up the needs of the poor and needy.  Dr. King truly got that we are all made in the image of God and that we are all interconnected as a members of the human family.  How we treat each other matters.  How we even treat the “least of these” matters.  Everyone matters in the eyes of God.  No one is beyond the reach of God’s love and grace.  Here’s a man with a PhD fighting for the rights of garbage workers – not something you see everyday.  As one biographer of Dr. King put it, “Martin came down out of the academy and marched himself to glory.”  He moved from speaking to doing. 

            How did Dr. King do this work?  I believe it was because he got a glimpse into the dream of God.  He knew what God’s dream for the world was.  He saw it clearly when he had “been to the other side” and when he gave his “I have a dream speech.” 

            So this morning as I reflect on Dr. King’s life and legacy and what God might be calling us to do today in light of it I give thanks.  I believe that had it not been for Dr. King and the civil rights struggle that what happened yesterday – the ordination of a woman by the name of Rev. Jessica Knowles wouldn’t have been possible.  The church still might be sitting on the fence of women’s ordination.  Now to be sure, there are still many denominations who don’t ordain women.  It’s sad to me that these churches are missing the gifts and graces of over half their congregation by not doing so.

            I also reflect on my own life and call to ministry.  Had it not been for Dr. King, the civil rights struggle, and many who have come before me I couldn’t be standing before you today as a priest in Christ’s Church. 

            I’m also aware this weekend that while we celebrate the life and legacy of Dr. King that we also have a cloud hanging over us as a country.  The cloud of an attack on a Congresswoman that left six dead, including a nine-year-old girl who was committed to creating a better world.  This attack on one of our nation’s brightest leaders reminds us of the darkness that is present in the world.  It was a darkness that Dr. King testified against with words and deeds.  In the end, he was assassinated, but his message lives on in the hearts of those who will hear this voice. 

            So today I invite you to get off the sidelines or out of your armchair and to get into the game.  To find ways to work for justice in your home, in this Church, in the community and in the world.

            And I leave you with these words from Dr. King: 

All I’m saying  is simply this, that all life is interrelated, that somehow we’re caught in an inescapable network of mutuality tied in a single garment of destiny.  Whatever affects one directly affects all indirectly.  For some strange reason, I can never be what I ought to be until you are what you ought to be.  You can never be what you ought to be until I am what I ought to be.  This is the interrelated structure of reality.[1]

           

           

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[1] From Martin Luther King’s Letter from a Birmingham Jail April 16, 1963.  Found online at http://www.africa.upenn.edu/Articles_Gen/Letter_Birmingham.html

Baptism of Christ Sermon

Matthew 3:13-17

Jesus came from Galilee to John at the Jordan, to be baptized by him. John would have prevented him, saying, "I need to be baptized by you, and do you come to me?" But Jesus answered him, "Let it be so now; for it is proper for us in this way to fulfill all righteousness." Then he consented. And when Jesus had been baptized, just as he came up from the water, suddenly the heavens were opened to him and he saw the Spirit of God descending like a dove and alighting on him. And a voice from heaven said, "This is my Son, the Beloved, with whom I am well pleased."


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            I still remember my baptism.  Probably funny words to hear in an Episcopal church since most people are baptized as infants.  But I didn’t grow up in this church.  I grew up in my grandfather’s small community church which practiced believer’s baptism which simply meant that you couldn’t be baptized until you’d made a public profession of faith.

            I was eight years old and a few weeks before my scheduled baptism, I was a little nervous.  You see they practiced baptism by immersion – it didn’t count unless your whole body was submerged and buried with Christ in his death.  A little daunting for someone who has a fear of drowning.  And I’m sure my grandfather knew what a miserable sinner I was, so I wasn’t too sure that he’d hold me under a little longer than was required to make sure my baptism “stuck.”

            So my dad would practice with me every now and then.  Demonstrating how my grandfather would put his hand in the small of my back and all I had to do was bend the trunk of my body backwards into the water, and then raise back up.  Easier said than done, right?

            But truth be told everything went off without a hitch when the moment arrived.  As soon as my foot touched the warm water of the baptistery and I looked at my grandfather I knew everything was going to be okay.

            I wonder what happened on that day when Jesus was baptized.  While I had the comforts of a nice clean baptistery with warm water to be baptized in, Jesus didn’t.  He was baptized in a river and a dirty muddy river at that.  I wonder what the water was like that day.  Was it as smooth as glass without much movement or was it like the water of a river you’d whitewater raft in?  Was it calm and serene as many moviemakers have imagined or were John the Baptist and Jesus doing all they could simply to stand in the roaring currents of the river?  Was the Spirit of God moving so mightily in that spot that they could hardly stand?  I wonder.

            The other things I wondered about this week as I sat with this text are the way in which John the Baptist tries to discourage Jesus from being baptized.  I wondered why?  Jesus’ baptism is recorded in all four of the Gospels – Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John – yet only Matthew has John inviting Jesus to rethink what baptism means.

            I wonder if John didn’t want Jesus to get dirty.  I don’t know about you, but I need a Messiah who is willing to get dirty in the messiness of human life.  A Jesus who was born in a stable.  A Jesus who was born like any other child with all the blood and mess that comes with being born.  A Jesus who cried as an infant when he was hungry, had a dirty diaper, or was in pain.  A Jesus who made mistakes, disobeyed his parents at the age of 12.  The church has taught for centuries that Jesus was fully God and fully human.  I believe in order for Jesus to be fully human he needed to be baptized by John the Baptist in the River Jordan.  He needed to get into that dark, dirty, murky water filled with the sins of those who had been baptized before to understand what it meant to be fully human.  To feel the guilt and shame of carrying things around and then to feel the release of being forgiven.

            The other thing I wondered about this week was what the voice of God sounded like.  Was is strong like thunder?  Was it gentle like a still, small voice?  I’m not so sure it matters what God’s voice sounded like as much as the words that were uttered:  “This is my Son, the Beloved, with whom I am well pleased.” 

            I believe if we take seriously the Lord’s Prayer which we say each and every Sunday in this church, particularly those first words, “Our Father,” we remember that if God is our Father that each and every one of us are siblings.  Now you might not like the idea that the person sitting next to you in the pew is your brother or sister in Christ – but the fact of the matter is we are all brothers and sisters in Christ through the waters of baptism.  Each of us had the same words said by God over us at our baptism as was said at Jesus’ baptism:  “You are my beloved, with whom I am well pleased.”

           Out of the waters of baptism flow each of our calls to ministry.  Your call won’t look like mine.  Perhaps you’re called to serve on one of our lay pastoral care teams.  Maybe God is calling you to serve as a reader, acolyte, server, or chalicist.  Maybe God is calling you to start a Sunday School class.  Maybe God is calling you to serve on our outreach committee and serve those on the margins. 

            So I invite you in this new year to sit down and to remember your baptism.  To remember that you are claimed by God and loved by God more than you could ever imagine.  Then I want you to pray about what ministry God is calling you to.  You might be saying, “But I’m too young.”  “But I’m too old.”  “Someone else would do a better job.”

            Stop making excuses.  The kingdom of God and the Church are not voluntary organizations.  Every person is called and commissioned to a task by virtue of our baptism.  The word Church in Greek is ecclesia which literally means a community that has been “called out.”  So what is God calling you out to do in 2011?  I can’t answer that question for you.  Your spouse or partner can’t answer that question for you.  Your parents nor children can answer that question for you.  No one, no matter how well they know you, can answer that question for you.  You’ve got to answer it for yourself after a lot of prayer and inner searching. 

            So today remember your baptism and be thankful and ask God to reveal to you what God is calling you out to do in 2011.  Amen.

Proper 28 Sermon

Isaiah 65:17-25

For I am about to create new heavens

and a new earth;

the former things shall not be remembered

or come to mind.

But be glad and rejoice forever

in what I am creating;

for I am about to create Jerusalem as a joy,

and its people as a delight.

I will rejoice in Jerusalem,

and delight in my people;

no more shall the sound of weeping be heard in it,

or the cry of distress.

No more shall there be in it

an infant that lives but a few days,

or an old person who does not live out a lifetime;

for one who dies at a hundred years will be considered a youth,

and one who falls short of a hundred will be considered accursed.

They shall build houses and inhabit them;

they shall plant vineyards and eat their fruit.

They shall not build and another inhabit;

they shall not plant and another eat;

for like the days of a tree shall the days of my people be,

and my chosen shall long enjoy the work of their hands.

They shall not labor in vain,

or bear children for calamity;

for they shall be offspring blessed by the LORD--

and their descendants as well.

Before they call I will answer,

while they are yet speaking I will hear.

The wolf and the lamb shall feed together,

the lion shall eat straw like the ox;

but the serpent-- its food shall be dust!

They shall not hurt or destroy

on all my holy mountain, says the LORD.

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            When I was a kid growing up one of my favorite memories was going to the lake with my grandparents.  Since my grandfather was a pastor, we would never miss church when we went out of town.  We’d usually visit this large nondenominational charismatic church.  I don’t remember much about this church, but three things still come to mind:  first was the lively worship, second was the way in which the preacher always managed to insert politics into his sermon, and third was a huge banner hanging to the side of the church just to the right as you entered the room.  It was a 5 by 15 foot banner with a picture of the world with an angel above it with a trumpet to its lips and the words from Isaiah 64:1 “O that thou would rend the heavens and come down.”

            The theology of this church was quite simple really.  We as human beings have messed up the world in such a major and unfixable way we need God to intervene in space and time and fix it all.  They were looking for a “rapture” a point where God would come and take all of the faithful Christians home.  It was the “Left Behind” sort of theology if you’ve ever read any of those books.  Just as an aside, there’s a reason that those books are in the “Christian Fiction” section of the library.

            What I think this church missed and a number of Christians miss is the danger of proof texting.  Of digging around in scripture and lining up verses that match what you believe or think rather than looking at the whole of scripture.             

            They also missed that God did intervene in space and time 2,000 years ago in the person of Jesus Christ.  Our reading this morning in Isaiah 65 is actually an answer to the People of Israel’s cry in Isaiah 63 and 64.  God says, do you want to see what the Reign of God looks like?  Do you want to see my dream for the human family?  Well, here it is.  A society built on justice.  A place where children don’t die of hunger.  A place where the old have everything they need to not only live long lives, but to thrive.  A place where people can live in safety and security.  Where opposites can exist together:  animals that once ate each other will lie down together.  Republicans and Democrats can live next door to each other and share a meal together. 

            Underlying the world of Isaiah 65 is the theme of justice.  That resources are equitably distributed.  That the poor have enough. 

            Now maybe I’m young and naïve enough to believe too much in the goodness and ability of human beings – but I believe our job as Christians isn’t to sit around and wait until God fixes our problems.  I believe that we are called as Christians to be actively involved in the world around us to try and bring in the Reign of God in any way we can.  Do I think we can create the world of Isaiah 65?  Probably not.  But it gives us something to reach towards.  A goal.  A direction.  If we can’t create this world, perhaps we could begin small and create an Isaiah 65 family.  Teaching our children and grandchildren to strive for justice to in a small way create a space where children don’t die in infancy and the old live long and prosperous lives. 

            As most of you know, before I became an Episcopalian I was a Methodist.  One of the things I loved about the Methodist Church was the way in which it was founded as a social reform movement.  John Wesley and his group of Methodists would go places that most people didn’t want to.  They visited people in prison.  In the hospitals.  Child labor would have never ended had it not been for the Wesleyan revivals.  One of John Wesley’s followers, William Wilberforce ended slavery.  I believe that these men were able to do great things because they had a deep life of prayer and they could see the world the way God saw it.  They saw the world through Isaiah 65 goggles.  They knew that those that were poor, marginalized, and in prison mattered.  As I was leaving the United Methodist Church to become an Episcopalian that was one of the hardest things I left behind – the strong social justice strand within Methodism.

            I believe one of the most dangerous things we do as Christians each and every week is to say the Lord’s Prayer.  Particularly those words “Thy kingdom come, thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven.”  I wonder if we really mean those words.  Do we really want the Reign of God?  Are we willing to make sacrifices for it so that infants no longer die?  So that the old have the healthcare they need? 

            When I was in seminary, we had a number of students who were from Africa.  One day we were reflecting on our different practices surrounding Holy Week.  The African students were telling us that the churches in Africa are packed on Good Friday.  They know what pain and suffering look like.  But hardly anyone comes on Easter Sunday.  They rarely experience resurrection and good news in their daily lives.  Of course, here in the West it’s just the opposite.  Hardly anyone comes to church on Good Friday while the churches are packed on Easter Sunday.  It’s like we think we can skip the suffering and go straight to the resurrection.  That’s not the Christian message.  Just because you come to Jesus doesn’t mean that all of your problems go away.  But the good news is that there is a day when suffering ends. 

            So I invite you this week to take time to try and see the world through God’s eyes.  To put on your Isaiah 65 goggles and imagine what you can do in your corner of the world to help bring it into being.  Amen.