Proper 9(C): Bearing Witness, Even in the Dust

Proper 9(C): Bearing Witness, Even in the Dust

Luke 10:1-11; 16-20

By: The Rev. Jerrod McCormack

By the time this article is published I will have been a priest for a very short time. My ordination to the priesthood comes some 20 years after the journey began. It has been a long and at times a circuitous route to arrive here. And there have been moments along the way where I was tempted to give up or just go home and do something else, but my conviction that God has called me to this work has called me to push on into God’s preferred future for myself and for the world. Luke’s Gospel, maybe more than any of the other gospels, contains an enormous push toward discipleship of the gentiles and toward the evangelical nature of the Church itself. It should not be possible to look at this text and understand it apart from those two natures. It would be too easy to think that this word is about making new priests or pastors to labour in God’s kingdom, but instead I would suggest that this passage is a call to all believers to come and work in the harvest and find the depth of faith.

This text poses a number of challenges to the would-be preacher. It would be so easy to get caught up in one of the rabbit trails that could take one away from the primary missiological and evangelical nature of this text. It would be tempting to get caught up in the woes that the lectionary has so graciously skipped over. And I say this not to diminish the text, but to acknowledge the challenge it presents to anyone who would proclaim the good news of God present here. This text mimics the sending of the 12 Apostles from chapter nine all the way down to the instructions to leave all the non-essentials behind. Focus on the mission that is really at hand. And that mission is the proclamation that God’s kingdom has come near.

I have been the Spiritual Health Practitioner (Chaplain) at the Alberta Children’s Hospital for just under a year now. It has been a journey full of both great difficulty and great blessing. One of the things that has been so amazing about this journey is that I get to journey alongside people through tremendous moments of joy and celebration and on the opposite side I walk with people through the darkest moments of human life. It isn’t easy work, but it is work that needs someone with a heart for those who are suffering and a tremendous amount of empathy. But one of the things that this work has helped me to realize is that God is always present. God’s kingdom is always right there in the voice of a mom or a dad who has been left in distress because of their sick son or daughter. There may be days in my work where I don’t use the name of Jesus at all, but that doesn’t mean that I am not pointing people towards the light of the divine and the holy. By practicing great compassion and mercy to those who are suffering I am doing my part to expand the kingdom of love and mercy. It is not a work that fits within the model of Christendom, but it is definitely the work of God in the world.

It is perhaps most interesting that this chapter, which begins with the sending of the 70, would end with the parable of the Good Samaritan. That story ends with the question, which of these: the priest, the Levite, or the Samaritan, was a neighbour to the man who fell in amongst the thieves? And of course, the answer is the one who showed him mercy. Jesus gives us instructions to go and do likewise. Not asking if these people are worthy to receive mercy. Not stopping to enquire about church membership or belief structure. Not querying their theological background or being sure that they subscribe to our particular way of being in the world, but offering a hand of assistance and help in times of desperation and trouble.

As God’s sons and daughters, we are called to go into the world and share mercy with those who haven’t seen it in a while. Including those who are on the church’s no go list. Maybe especially those who have been scared by the ministry of the church.

Every holy week in the Anglican Church, the priests and deacons attend a service where the Bishop makes new holy oils for the coming year. I was in downtown Calgary on my way to the Cathedral church for the Chrism Mass and I was verbally accosted by a homeless gentleman on the street. He began asking me how I could possibly wear my collar after everything that ‘you did to us.’ I hadn’t any clue about what sort of pain this man had endured in his life. And honestly, in my rush to get where I was going, my initial response wasn’t so holy. Instead of mercy I offered defensiveness, but that only fueled his fire. As he continued, I looked into his eyes and I offered a simple apology, “I am sorry for whatever pain you have endured in your life.” I wish we lived in a world where I could say that the Church was innocent, but I am not that naive.  Here in Canada as well as in the United States, though it is often unspoken there, there is a legacy of residential schools that set about stripping indigenous peoples and children of their language and culture in order to ‘civilize’ and ‘evangelize’ the indigenous populations.[1] It is an absolutely horrendous legacy and it is a stain on the life of the church.

On Friday, Aug. 6, 1993, the then Primate of the Anglican Church of Canada, The Most Reverend Michael Peers said,

“I accept and I confess before God and you, our failures in the residential schools. We failed you. We failed ourselves. We failed God.

I am sorry, more than I can say, that we were part of a system which took you and your children from home and family.

I am sorry, more than I can say, that we tried to remake you in our image, taking from you your language and the signs of your identity.

I am sorry, more than I can say, that in our schools so many were abused physically, sexually, culturally and emotionally.

On behalf of the Anglican Church of Canada, I present our apology.”[2]

We in the church have so much work to do. It begins in speaking the truth and then going into the world to offer mercy and love to God’s lost sons and daughters. Some of whom have been deeply wounded by the Church; and in those places, it means offering additional understanding and being willing to take upon ourselves the impetus to offer an apology for pain that we might not fully understand in a moment. I have thought about my encounter with that gentleman on the street corner and I hope and pray that the sight of a guy in a collar being able to say “I am sorry for whatever pain you have endured in your life” can offer a step towards healing and wholeness.

Pray to the Lord of the harvest to send labourers into the harvest who are willing to speak truth, own their own failures and shortcomings, and who will share mercy instead of judgement.

[1] Pember, Mary Anne. “When Will U.S. Apologize for Genocide of Indian Boarding Schools?” https://www.huffpost.com/entry/when-will-us-apologize-fo_b_7641656

[2] Peers, Michael. “The Apology- English” The Anglican Church of Canada, Truth in Reconciliation https://www.anglican.ca/tr/apology/english/

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The Rev. Jerrod McCormack

The Rev. Jerrod McCormack was ordained a priest on June 22 in the Anglican Church of Canada’s Diocese of Calgary. He is the Spiritual Health Practitioner (Chaplain) at the Alberta Children’s Hospital and an assistant priest at St. Peter’s Anglican Church, Calgary and a member of the Society of Catholic Priests. He enjoys time spent with friends, hiking, and photography. He is originally from Alabama and now resides in the land of prairie and mountains in Southern Alberta, Canada.

Proper 8(C): What Would Jesus Do?

Proper 8(C): What Would Jesus Do?

Luke 9:51-62

The Rev. Charles Lane Cowen

When I was a kid in the early 90s, WWJD swag was a big deal. I had bracelets, t-shirts, and even a bible with the letters emblazoned across it. With every action we took, we were to ask ourselves the question: What would Jesus do?

Now, at its core, this is not terrible advice. The trouble, of course, comes in knowing what Jesus would actually do. Anyone who has lived in any sort of community (a family, a seminary, a camp, etc.) knows that it is next to impossible to actually know the mind of someone else. It stands to reason that knowing the mind of God, even when God arrives incarnated as a human being, is even more difficult.

Our lectionary reading comes at a turning point in Luke’s Gospel. Jesus has ended his Galilean ministry and is journeying toward his passion in Jerusalem. Here, he will confront the civic and religious leaders, and his message that God’s kingdom includes everyone will ultimately get him executed.

When Jesus sends messengers ahead to proclaim his arrival, a village of Samaritans rejects Jesus and his disciples. Given the animosity between Jews and Samaritans, this is hardly surprising. I can’t help but laugh when I hear James and John’s response to this rejection: “Lord, do you want us to command fire to come down from heaven and consume them?” How many times have I thought about destroying my own enemies or those who speak ill of me?

The comedian Daniel Tosh has a brilliant, if vulgar, routine where he remembers his WWJD bracelet. When an obnoxious man in a movie theater talks on his phone during the film, Tosh recounts that he wants to punch this man. One look at his WWJD bracelet, however, changes his mind. “Oh I was going crazy,” Tosh says, “but then I looked at my bracelet—what would Jesus do? So I lit him on fire and sent him to hell.”[1]

Ok, so maybe not a joke you’re comfortable using in the pulpit, but I think it’s exactly where James and John go. They remember the story of Elijah who sent fire down upon the worshippers of Baal (2 Kings 1:9-16). Wouldn’t Jesus want them to do as the great prophet did?

The inability of James and John, and presumably the other disciples, to understand Jesus gives me a kind of hope. When I read the second part of our Gospel lesson, I have an uneasy reaction. I’m supposed to ignore my family and become a religious zealot? My grandmother recently died, and I took time off from my church job to go home, be with family, and bury her. Is Jesus telling me in this passage that I should not have done that? Knowing the mind of Jesus is difficult.

As with most biblical passages and characters, I think Jesus has to be understood in light of the greater story and its context. This passage in Luke is not simply Jesus strolling through the countryside looking to create disciples. This is Jesus marching toward the center of Roman civic and Jewish religious authority where he knows that his proclamation of the Kingdom will lead him to execution. He has limited time.

The urgency of Jesus’ story and the Lukan community’s expectation of the Parousia gives us some parameters to set around our understanding of Jesus’ teachings. Clearly, Jesus has great concern for compassion. When James and John suggest lighting the Samaritans on fire, Jesus rebukes them. When the first man tells Jesus that he will follow him, Jesus makes sure that the man understands what he’s signing up for. When another wants to follow Jesus after he’s tended to his own needs, Jesus reminds him that the time has arrived for action. Harsh? Maybe, but they are truthful statements.

As I think about how I might preach these two difficult passages, I think the theme throughout is discerning awareness of the magnitude of the work of discipleship. As followers of Jesus, we need constantly to turn to Jesus in prayer and through Holy Scripture in order to understand better how he calls us to follow. Furthermore, we need to be able to make that discernment in light of our own time and context. Just as Jesus in Luke’s Gospel has immediate political and religious challenges, we too have immediate challenges that come from our own social and religious realities.

One way we can bring this Gospel into our own contexts is to ask the question, who would I like to light on fire and send to hell? I’m fairly confident that this is NOT what Jesus would do. There is wisdom, however, in identifying those who impede the work of ministry and understanding that sometimes the most loving thing we can do is move on to the next village and trust that God will continue to love and care for those to whom we cannot minister. Likewise, we can ask ourselves these important questions: What things are standing between me and Jesus? What cares of the world are outweighing the immediacy of God’s kingdom? And where is the Spirit leading me as I follow Jesus’ path?

There is no one correct response to these questions, and I’m certain that different communities and individuals will have differing realities. That is the beauty of discipleship—we are not called as individuals, but as a collective Body of Christ. I am not singularly responsible for the evangelism of the world or the building of the kingdom. I am but one part of God’s great plan. God will utilize me as best suits my gifts, and God will utilize others as best suits theirs. Jesus reminds us in Luke that we should discern his will in our immediate context, keeping in mind the realities of empire and other power structures that attempt to work against us.

[1] http://www.cc.com/video-clips/0hwk4x/comedy-central-presents-what-would-jesus-do-

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The Rev. Charles Lane Cowen

The Rev. Charles Lane Cowen is Associate Rector of Trinity Episcopal Parish in Wilmington, Delaware. Utilizing his former acting career, Charles enjoys engaging with Holy Scripture through various forms of storytelling and performance. Since completing his M.Div. at Seminary of the Southwest in Austin, Texas in 2018, he has put much energy into learning the Spanish language and Latino culture in order to better serve the Latino community in Wilmington. When he is not at church, Charles can be found walking the many beautiful parks in Delaware or attending theatre and music performances.

 

Proper 7(C): Healing from a Place of Strength

Proper 7(C): Healing from a Place of Strength

Luke 8:26-39

By: The Rev. David Clifford

The scripture for Proper 7 offers an example of Jesus’ power over the scary world in which we live in his calming of the storm in verses 22-25. In this scripture, we are told the story of Jesus healing the demon-possessed Gerasene. This scripture reveals to us that Jesus not only has power over the natural world, but over the spiritual as well. We serve a Lord that wants healing for us physically, emotionally, spiritually. We serve a Lord that wants healing for our community and world. There are a few details to this particular scripture I would like to highlight.

While reading through commentaries on this particular scripture, there are two things that stand out to me. The first is that this Gerasene man highlights Jesus’ desire to minister to the world beyond Israel. Many within the church think of ministry to the Gentiles as beginning with Paul. However, this scripture (and many others) clearly shows that Jesus ministered to all groups and types of people. The Church, especially in today’s political and cultural climate, could be reminded of the inclusivity of Jesus’ ministry and his focus on the outcasts.

The second thing that really stands out to me from many of the commentaries are the ways in which so many biblical thinkers compare the demon’s that have possessed this man to the mental health struggles that so many face in our culture today. Personally, I believe there to be some similarities between the ways in which Jesus deals with demons in the scriptures and the ways mental health professionals deal with the mental challenges so many deal with in their own lives. However, we must be careful in the comparisons we make between the two.

It would be inappropriate and insensitive to equate the two and speak of mental health issues as being possessed by demons. In fact, in the history of the church, we have often done more harm than good in equating mental health issues to demon possession. Many in the church have read this scripture literally and believe that Jesus is the only cure to mental health issues. Many in the church have wrongly suggested that those needing mental health services to avoid the medical professionals in preference for prayer and the spiritual work of Jesus. We must acknowledge that this story (like all of scripture) is more complex than we might first acknowledge. In one moment, Jesus is healing this man physically, emotionally, and spiritually. All parts of the individual are important and we must honor each part of this man Luke describes in this explanation of Jesus’ wholistic approach to health, healing, and ministry.

I would highlight the strength of this individual in dealing with the “Legion” of demons. Many times, when individuals face their own demons (whatever they be), many experience a sense of weakness in receiving help and treatment. One of the things our society has done well is shaming folks for their own struggles. Jesus does not shame this individual. Instead, Jesus offers healing and peace. In a strange twist, Jesus does not even shame the demons. In fact, he honors their request to not go into the Abyss.

Jesus sends the demons into a herd of pigs, who immediately rush into the lake a drown (verse 33). I wonder what it would like to honor the man’s strength for dealing with the demons while continuing to live. The true testament to this man’s strength is that he had dealt with these demons “for a long time” (verse 27). There is no weakness in searching for help in our healing. In fact, we should commend folks for their strength in continually dealing with demons that would send us to drown in a lake.

After this miraculous healing, Luke tells of the witnesses that experienced this “new man” who is now so different: he is sitting at Jesus’ feet, is clothed, and in his right mind (verse 35). The crowd and the town are in fear because of this healing. In many respects, this begs us to question about the healing that we must each go through from our own fear and anxiety. We must each witness to the grace of Jesus in spite of our fear and anxiety in the world in which we live. I believe we are each called to witness to the strength of those on the outskirts of society, even (and especially) if society tells us and them how weak they truly are. We must honor the strength that it takes to deal with demons, just as we honor the strength it takes to exorcise demons (whether that be done physically, emotionally, or spiritually).

In fact, such witness is exactly what Jesus commands of the man when he begs to go with Jesus. “Return home and tell how much God has done for you” (verse 39, NIV). I invite you this week to join me in witnessing to the strength of God that can be found in the strength of all those who struggle daily with their own demons. We can be encouraged by this nameless man in scripture because of his own strength and the reality that Christ joins in our own strength to heal us in all of our aspects as creation and humanity.

 

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The Rev. David Clifford

The Rev. David Clifford is an ordained minister in the Christian Church (Disciples of Christ) and serves as the Senior Minister of Westmont Christian Church in Lubbock Texas, where he lives with his wife and three children.

 

Trinity Sunday (C): God is NOT a Puzzle!

Trinity Sunday (C): God is NOT a Puzzle!

John 16:12-15

By: The Rev. Paul Carlson

“When the Spirit of Truth comes, he will guide you into all the truth…”

This Sunday is Trinity Sunday and it is the one day in the year that we do not focus on a proclaimed message from the Gospel or readings for the day, but instead focus on a message or understanding that comes solely from centuries of the Church’s teaching about, and life in, God. Although our understanding of the Trinity is certainly and directly inspired by Scripture, it is important to note that the word “Trinity” is not found anywhere within.

When it comes to this doctrine of the Church, many (most? all?) of us get caught up in when we attempt to explain every detail and specific quirk about it. We try to put all the pieces together in a nice, heavily manipulated picture, and call the puzzle of the Triune God solved. In doing so however, we lose the freedom, power, and understanding the mystery of the Trinity holds and bestows in our lives.

So I’m not going to go there. Instead, what I want to highlight is what the Apostle Paul refers to in Romans 5.2 (the epistle reading for this Sunday) as “boasting in the hope of sharing the glory of God.”

In order to do so, let me first draw you all back again to that image of the puzzle that I mentioned briefly before. Whether they be crossword, Sudoku, or even just the plain old jigsaw puzzles,  my wife and I love them. We like big, complicated puzzles that take days to finish. And the reason we like them, I must admit, is because we know that if we just work at it hard enough and if we just work together well enough, we will finally be able to solve it. We will be able to turn that table top from a picture of chaos into a picture of—oh I don’t know—Mickey Mouse and all his friends, or one of Monet’s paintings, or anything really. The important point is that the puzzle is solved and we have a proud sense of triumph over it. We pat each other on the back and give each other a high five, before looking for the next puzzle to solve.

Now jigsaw puzzles might not be everyone’s preference, but most folks I know gain some degree of satisfaction from solving problems. There is something deeply rewarding about fitting together pieces of information until you can explain every detail and stand in triumph over it, knowing that nothing about that problem, question, or mystery escapes you any longer. This drive for solving problems have moved scientists to map the human genome, allowing them to put together certain pieces of DNA as if they were Lincoln logs or Legos. We are working on trying to solve the puzzle of life itself.

But God…

…God who is the source of all life?

God who created all things and knows each of those things, intimately?

God who weaves us together in our mother’s womb, names us, and numbers every hair on our heads before we take our first breath?

We try to solve God too, but we find that doing so is impossible.

When solving a puzzle, it’s often easier to fill in the border first, fitting each piece together until the image is contained in a neat, perfect box. That leads me to wonder: given that we often treat God as a puzzle to be solved, what borders does God have? What end pieces are there to limit the Creator of all? What box can contain the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit?

This is why we have so many heresies revolving this specific doctrine. People want to give God a definite border. But God is not a puzzle. God is not to be solved. No matter how much time and effort we put into solving God, we find that God is simply too big.

So then what does Jesus mean when he says that when the Spirit of truth comes, he will guide us into all the truth? Doesn’t that mean we will be given all of the answers to life—that all the pieces of the puzzle will finally be put together? I wish it did.

At times, the questions and mysteries of life seem so great and overwhelming that I want to scream! Truth be told, I have screamed! I’ve cried out to God, hoping that God will make things black and white. “Make it clear and easy! Explain yourself to me! Tell me why you let it all get so muddled up! Why you let wars go on, tornadoes and hurricanes rip life apart, loved ones die, hunger prevail, and hate destroy?”

But you know, in return, more often than not (though seldom all at once), eventually I do receive God’s response. It does not come as a proof of some truth that acts as the keystone, solving all of my problems. Rather, it comes as understanding.

Understanding is not the same as solving a puzzle or problem. The details often go completely unexplained. Rarely (and to the chagrin of my math teachers) am I able to “show my work.” When I receive understanding, I do not receive some sense of triumph or victory over a puzzle solved; rather, I receive peace. Peace in the understanding that triumph and victory belong to God. The problems and puzzles in this world are solved by God’s hand, not mine.

Understanding that God is Triune reveals to us what life is and is to be. God is not to be solved, but God is certainly to be revealed. The Holy Trinity reveals to us that through the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit, God is in full, life-giving relationship with Godself. And through the Trinity, we are invited into the truth, life, and peace that flows out of that relationship. In contrast, the individualistic culture that surrounds us in this world leads us to value and decide everything in terms of ourselves. The relationship of the Trinity, however, leads us to value and decide everything in terms of others.

Listen again to some of the key scripture verses we have in this powerful, life-giving faith of ours from just the Gospel of John alone. John 3:16 “For God so love the world that he gave his only son so that whosoever believes in him may not parish but have eternal life.” John 15:13 “No one has greater love than this, to lay down one’s life for one’s friends.” And John 16:15 “All that the Father has is mine. For this reason, I [Jesus] said that he [the Spirit] will take what is mine and declare it to you.”

In Christ we are invited and connected to the Holy Trinity by Jesus’ revealing act of the Father’s love on the Cross and the pouring out of the Holy Spirit on Pentecost. Through the Spirit, we are given the understanding that we have indeed been created in God’s image. We are created in that Triune image of God for relationship. We are made for each other.

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The Rev. Paul Carlson

The Reverend Paul Carlson is a Lutheran pastor along with his wife, Pastor Lauren Carlson, at Calvary Lutheran Church in Morganton, North Carolina. Originally from the West Coast, he moved from San Diego to Dubuque, Iowa, where he graduated from Wartburg Seminary. He has served calls in Wisconsin and Virginia and is now enjoying the opportunity he gets as a half-time pastor, raising two children in the foothills of the Appalachian Mountains.

Reign of Christ(B): Talk Less, Listen More

Reign of Christ(B): Talk Less, Listen More

John 18:33-37

By: The Rev. David Clifford

Coming from a church that does not celebrate the liturgical calendar, I am aware that many Christians may not be aware of the particular festival that is celebrated as Reign of Christ Sunday. Within the liturgical calendar, Reign of Christ Sunday marks the end of Ordinary Time and as well as serving as a prologue to Advent (our preparation and waiting for the coming of Christ at Christmas). I believe that knowing the purpose of this particular Sunday provides aid in the interpretation of the scripture appointed for today: John 18:33-37.

In preparing this essay, one part of the interaction between Jesus and Pilate really stood out to me. In the NRSV translation, Jesus answers Pilate’s question, “So you are a king?” with this response:

You say that I am a king. For this I was born, and for this I came into the world, to testify to the truth. Everyone who belongs to the truth listens to my voice. (verse 37)

In a world and culture where the loudest voices seem to get the most air time; where shouting and yelling seem to be the preferred method of getting our point across; where we fail repeatedly to truly hear the person on the other end of the conversation; it seems to me that listening is a skill and practice that we so desperately need to be teaching, learning, and practicing. In chapter 10 of John’s Gospel, Jesus responds to the crowd’s desire to know if he truly is the Messiah by reminding both them and us that Jesus’ “sheep hear [his] voice” (John 10:27).

This particular scripture walks a very fine line between the politics and theology of Jesus, the early church, and first century Rome. The reality of that particular time period is that there was little to no separation between what we would classify theological and political. In many ways, the theology of the time was political and vice versa. It makes sense for Pilate to question Jesus’ status as king in order to understand if Jesus’ “Kingdom” poses a threat to Rome. Jesus points out that his kingdom is not of this world.

I personally interpreted this statement as Jesus claiming that his kingdom was not created in this world. The Common English Bible translates Jesus’ reply to Pilate as, “My kingdom doesn’t originate from this world.” (John 18:36) Many seem to interpret this statement to mean that Jesus’ kingdom is “out there somewhere” and “not here.” In many ways, this type of interpretation keeps us from doing the work of Christ’s church right now and where we are. In the words of one of my favorite Christian musicians, TobyMac, “If you gotta start somewhere, why not here? If you gotta to start sometime, why not now?”[1] The Kingdom of God is both here, now and is always coming and developing into the future.

As I type this essay, Brett Kavanaugh is being questioned concerning the sexual assault allegations that have been brought to light in the midst of his nomination to the Supreme Court. It appears to me that most of our politics have become a yelling match. Each side attempting to scream the loudest in order to have their voice heard. All the while, the voice of those in pain and hurting are rarely heard or even acknowledged. This is concerning as both an American citizen and a human being.

As a pastor, I am more concerned that this type of culture is overflowing into our churches. Many churches are dividing themselves down theological and political lines. Many churches are yelling at the top of their lungs so their voice will be heard. However, I often find myself wondering how many of our churches are listening to the voice of Christ.

I believe Christ is asking us to do a better job at listening to one another. Maybe we should talk (and in most cases, yell) less and listen more. Maybe we should blame less and confess more. Maybe we should listen to the people that we hear every single day less and listen to the people no one hears more. Jesus shares a very powerful parable in chapter 25 of Matthew’s Gospel about the nations being separated as sheep are separated from goats. One side will be blessed because they feed Christ when he was hungry, gave him something to drink when he was thirsty, clothes him when he was naked, took care of him when he was sick, and visited him when he was in prison. The scripture continues in verse 37:

Then the righteous will answer him, ‘Lord, when was it that we say you hungry and gave you food, or thirsty and gave you something to drink? And when was it that we saw you a stranger and welcomed you, or naked and gave you clothing? And when was it that we saw you sick or in prison and visited you? And the king will answer them, ‘Truly I tell you, just as you did it to one of the least of these who are members of my family, you did it to me.’ (Matthew 25:37-40 NRSV)

For those that may be preaching on this text and preparing sermons for the Advent celebration to come, I might suggest a similar focus on listening with care, love, and understanding. This Reign of Christ Sunday offers to us the importance of listening to the other (both politically and theologically). As we move into the Advent season, we begin to quiet our minds and prepare for the coming of the light of the world. What better time to begin intentionally practicing the listening skills that our world so desperately needs: skills such as listening, understanding, confessing, loving. Who knows? Maybe in learning to listen people to one another and learning to listen to the people no one else seems to listen to; we can learn to better listen to Christ himself: our Lord and Savior.

[1] TobyMac – City On Our Knees From the album Tonight.

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The Rev. David Clifford

The Rev. David Clifford is an ordained minister in the Christian Church (Disciples of Christ) and serves as the Senior Minister of Westmont Christian Church in Lubbock, Texas, where he lives with his wife and three children.

 

 

 

 

 

Thanksgiving (B): Saying Thank You

Thanksgiving (B): Saying Thank You

Matthew 6:25-33

By: The Rev. Sean Ekberg

Modern theologians and philosophers The Rolling Stones melodiously gifted their wisdom when they proclaimed, “You can’t always get what you want; but you get what you need.” Consumer culture—especially during the months of November and December—would benefit greatly from setting that song on repeat. We love to spend money on crap we don’t need just to satisfy a desire to impress our neighbors, our peers, and sadly, ourselves. The way we know God loves us is by counting the amount of material possessions we have, right?

Wrong.

In fact, prosperity preachers—while intending to proclaim a positive message (I hope)—do more harm than good to those less fortunate than themselves; AND to those just as fortunate. The message of “If you pray like me, then you shall have a nice house, three cars, and a boat,” tends to lead to despondency rather than hope; feelings of inadequacy instead of acceptance. What does it say to the single mother of three who works two jobs just to keep her children housed, fed, and safe? “Sorry, you must not be praying hard enough; keep trying. Meanwhile, I’m going to continue being God’s favorite; I mean, look at all my stuff!” There seems to be a general sense of self-importance brought about by tying our self-worth to our obtained earthly desires. I am guilty of this more than I like to admit, just as I imagine you might be, too. But the question I have is this: When is enough, enough?

Humanity is driven by desire; desire to be loved, accepted, appreciated and safe. We want—at our base level—to feel a sense of belonging. Unfortunately, we express that desire in flawed human ways, sometimes forgetting that God has more for us than we could ever need if we would only turn around and accept it. C.S. Lewis explains this in his sermon, “The Weight of Glory,” where he preached,

Indeed, if we consider the unblushing promises of reward and the staggering nature of the rewards promised in the Gospels, it would seem that Our Lord finds our desires, not too strong, but too weak. We are half-hearted creatures, fooling about with drink and sex and ambition when infinite joy is offered us, like an ignorant child who wants to go on making mud pies in a slum because he cannot imagine what is meant by the offer of a holiday at the sea. We are far too easily pleased.1

Our desires have been co-opted in the name of consumerism, the neo-God of the twenty-first century who only takes and never gives back. What would it look like if we simply reigned in our crazy and accepted the fact that, regardless of income and possession, God loves us equally, regardless of our achievements? Psalm 51 says, “Open my lips, O Lord, and my mouth shall proclaim your praise,” but I think that we’re more satisfied with praying, “Fill my wallet, O Lord, and I’ll ask you for a raise.” With these desires running rampant and unfulfilled, when do we have time to say ‘thank you’ to God? When do we stop and rest, knowing that we have already received the greatest gift we can be given—the gift of redemption by way of Jesus’ death on the cross? We haven’t expressed our gratitude to God nearly enough, nor could we ever, for that boon.

But at least we could try.

Praise and thanks are the keys to rebooting that desire, as well as the means to understanding our true needs—to ensure that we love creation in good order, and allow the rest to come after. St. Augustine reminds us how to do this, as he writes,

But living a just and holy life requires one to be capable of an objective and impartial evaluation of things: to love things, that is to say, in the right order, so that you do not love what is not to be loved, or fail to love what is to be loved, or have a greater love for what should be loved less, or an equal love for things that should be loved less or more, or a lesser or greater love for things that should be loved equally.2

Doesn’t this sound like implicit gratitude and praise? By stopping and weighing that which we love, we are also noticing its worth. “Thank you, Lord, for my neighbor, I will love her.” “Thank you, God, for your grace. I will share it with others.” If we can reorder ourselves to notice HOW we love things, then I imagine that the things we love will inevitably change, becoming those which we ought to have sought in the first place.

Preaching thanks and praise can be difficult. I can almost see the eye-rolls and hear the groans of people in my congregation, “Yes, Sean, we KNOW that we’re supposed to say thank you.” But perhaps taking a glance at how we desire will provide a hearing-aid to those who can’t discern the intention behind living a thankful lifestyle. Matthew’s gospel wants us to reorder our yearnings and to lay down our worries; worries that we’re not good enough and that we always have to seek more. The reading also tacitly reminds us to be thankful for that which we already have, and to know that God will always provide what we need. Reminding our folks that they’re starting from a place of that absolute love and care—and asking them to take a look at what they really want—could mitigate some of their anxieties surrounding the upcoming holiday season. And, it might just be the little nudge they need to accept themselves as they are, the Imago Dei, rather than as the world wants them to be.

1 C.S. Lewis, The Weight of Glory, 1.

2 Augustine, On Christian Doctrine, I 27-28.

Fr. Sean Ekberg
The Rev. Sean Ekberg

The Rev. Sean Ekberg is the Rector of Episcopal Church of the Resurrection in Oklahoma City, Oklahoma. He earned a Master of Divinity from Seminary of the Southwest in 2015. His favorite pastimes are talkin’ bout Jesus, enhancing his terrible golf game, and taking vacation time with his favorite person in the world—his wife, Nicole. They have a thirteen year old pit bull named Ty. He likes Jesus, too.

Proper 28(B): Life on the Other Side

Proper 28(B): Life on the Other Side

Mark 13:1-8

By: The Rev. Joslyn Ogden Schaefer

The thirteenth chapter of Mark is known as the “little apocalypse.” The last verses of this chapter with Jesus’ teaching about the last days, the fig tree’s sign, and the need for disciples to “keep awake” kicked off the liturgical year for us back on December 3, 2017.  The Lukan parallel of this text is on tap for Advent I in a couple of weeks.

In my daily rounds, I find more conversation about the “end-times” in the secular rather than ecclesial sphere. Just this week I listened to an episode of Fresh Air with astrophysicist Neil deGrasse Tyson speaking about the real possibility of an asteroid entering the atmosphere and endling life as we know it.[1] In the wake of Hurricane Florence, the media is talking about “super storms,” with their unpredictability and massively destructive potential, becoming the rule, not the exception. The stark black-and-white cover of the October 2018 issue of The Atlantic Monthly poses this question: “Is Democracy Dying?” The issue explores whether we’ve out-smarted and out-manipulated ourselves in the name of progress through the tools of social media, biotechnology, and artificial intelligence. Kendrick Lamar, whose rap lyrics easily pierce the boundary between sacred and secular, voices the despondency, despair, and desperation experienced by many and has suggested that the ‘rapture is comin’’.[2]

These next two weeks offer the preacher a distinct opportunity to compare and contrast current end-time fears, hopes and laments with the long stream of apocalyptic concern found within our Hebrew and Christian spiritual tradition. Today’s end-time fears map so closely with those expressed in today’s pericope: destruction of the natural order as well as social and political unrest. The major contrast between our current fears, expressed more overtly in the secular realm than in my mainline, upper-middle class parish context, and those expressed in the Gospel is where hope lies. Today’s reading ends on a decisively hopeful note: the chaos is a sign of new life, “the beginning of birth pangs” (v. 8). On the other side of the suffering, the fear, and the unknown, is a new beginning. A vision for life on the “other side” of the end-times is blurry at best for someone like Lamar and simply not part of the conversation for Tyson and The Atlantic Monthly editorial team.

Preceding this chapter in Mark, we have two chapters detailing conflict after conflict between Jesus and the representatives of religious and political structures: the scribes, the Sadducees, the Pharisees and Herodians, and finally the whole Temple hierarchy. After this chapter, Mark’s pace dramatically slows, as we hear about the particular evil revealed in the betrayal, mocking and crucifixion of Jesus and the perplexing hope revealed in the resurrection. Today’s reading serves as a reflective pause, inviting listeners to place the opposition to Jesus’ teaching in the wider context of a cosmic battle between God and the powers and principalities.

But if the preacher doesn’t want to wade into apocalyptic territory,[3] another approach might focus on the first two verses with the disciple’s exclamation about the temple and Jesus’ sharp response. What was the purpose and tone of the disciple’s remark about the temple’s grandiosity? Was the disciple trying to distract Jesus from constant conflict he experienced in the temple compound? Was he trying to get Jesus to appreciate the temple as a pointer to God’s majesty? Can we hear any echoes of ourselves in his seemingly placating questioning? I am a people-pleasing, conflict-avoiding person (lots of clergy types are). Certainly, I’ve used similar tactics to “save” people from conflicts they experience and “focus on something more positive.” But Jesus doesn’t take the bait. The temple, with its large stones and impressive structure, isn’t eternal…and worse than that, it actually serves to drive people further from what is eternal, namely sacrificial love.

On my read, the temple is a stand-in for the dazzling idols that deceive us into thinking we are worshipping the real thing. The temple (its exclusive experts, its physical structure, its demands for purity and loyalty) had lost its legitimacy in Jesus’ eyes, as it no longer served to point people toward the real thing, toward a dynamic relationship with the Divine One who is generally invisible to our naked sight but none the less nearer to us than our next breath. For Jesus, that structural stumbling block had to be eliminated, ‘thrown down.’[4] What temple-like structures do you encounter in your ministry? In my context, on more than one occasion dissatisfaction has been expressed at the prospect of using our buildings and grounds for new ministries based on fear of “what could happen to the property.” It is so human, and sinful, to forget that the church buildings and grounds are there to point us toward the ‘real thing,’ the eternal thing, the way of sacrificial love.

[1] Gross, Terry.  “Fresh Air” Neil deGrasse Tyson on Astrophysics and the Military.  NPR, September 17, 2018.  https://www.npr.org/2018/09/17/648719837/neil-degrasse-tyson-on-astrophysics-the-military, accessed September 21, 2018.

[2] Lyrics to “Pray for Me” by Abel Tesfaye / Adam King Feeney / Kendrick Lamar / Martin McKinney, accessed on https://www.google.com/search?q=kendrick+lamar+lyrics+pray+for+me&ie=utf-8&oe=utf-8&client=firefox-b-1-ab, September 21, 2018.

[3] If you do decide to stay with apocalyptic theme, I strongly recommend these two brief essays found on the Working Preacher website: “Preaching Mark in Times of Strife” by Matt Skinner and “Apocalyptic Preaching” by Anathea Portier Young.

[4] Of course, the temple had frequently been viewed ambivalently by the Hebrews. Just look at the story of the first temple’s construction by King Solomon which was built on the backs of the Hebrew people and the critiques of the temple establishment by many of the prophets.

schaefer(1)
The Rev. Joslyn Ogden Schaefer

The Rev. Joslyn Ogden Schaefer serves as the rector of Grace Church in the Mountains in Waynesville, North Carolina–the “Gateway to the Smokies.” She would like to find time to hike, garden, and dabble in poetry. But she actually uses her time to run her two children around, weed, and read a poem or two as she drifts off to sleep at night…and she is grateful.