Grace Episcopal Church (Sheldon, VT)

Lent 3A RCL    March 27, 2011
 Exodus 17: 1-7
Psalm 95
Romans 5: 1-11
John 4: 5-42

 Have you ever gone on a long car trip with the family? When are we going to get there? Are we there yet? I have to go to the bathroom. I’m hungry. This is no fun. I’m bored. The people Israel are very much like a large family on a long trip. We’ve all been there. Leaving the old familiar place is not easy. Leaving our various forms of bondage is not easy. This Lent we are on a journey with the people Israel. God is going to make sure that we end the journey with enough water and with enough of everything that we need.

Paul this morning gives us one of those unforgettable statements about the journey. “Suffering produces endurance, and endurance produces character, and character produces hope, and hope does not disappoint us, because God’s love has been poured into our hearts through the Holy Spirit that has been given to us.”

 As with many days in the lectionary, there are such riches that we could go on for hours. But I would like to focus especially on today’s gospel. Jesus is on his way to Galilee. John tells us that he has to go through Samaria. He comes to Jacob’s well. He is tired and thirsty. He asks a Samaritan woman for a drink of water. As we look upon this scene, we need to be aware that Jesus has just broken two rules of his time. First, Jesus is a teacher, a rabbi, and rabbis do not speak to women. Second, Jews do not associate with Samaritans because Samaritans have departed from the true faith. So, when Jesus asks for this drink of water, thousands of years of tradition are crumbling in the background. Right at the start, Jesus is dissolving walls, breaking through barriers with this simple request.

The conversation goes on. It is like an archeological dig of the spirit, going deeper and deeper into the realities of spiritual life. When Jesus talks about the living water, the woman is attracted by the idea on a practical level, If I had a water supply that would never dry up, I would not have to come to this well several times a day, she says. Jesus asks her to bring her husband. She tells the truth. She has no husband. Jesus tells her about her whole life, that she has had five husbands and is not married to the man she lives with. Is Jesus put off by this? No.

Jesus can see into her heart. He knows all about her. She sees that he is far more than just a teacher. She thinks he may be a prophet. But then he tells her it does not matter where people worship. That is one of the issues that have divided the Jews and the Samaritans. The Jews feel that the only place one can worship is in the temple in Jerusalem. The Samaritans worship on Mt. Gerizim But Jesus is saying, that’s not the point. The whole argument that has separated the Jews and the Samaritans is irrelevant, like so many theological arguments that we can allow to separate us. What matters is to worship God in spirit and in truth.

Then she really begins to see. “I know that messiah is coming. When he comes. He will proclaim all things to us,” she says. And Jesus answers, “I am he, the one who is speaking to you.”

Jesus has reached across racial, gender, and religious barriers to a woman who, according to the conventional wisdom of her time has a checkered past at best. She knows that he is the One, and what does she do? She runs into town and tells everyone about him. She becomes the first preacher of the good news! And she must be pretty convincing because the people flock to see him, and then they come to know him for themselves.

Here in the first decade of the twenty-first century, we are on a journey, as individuals and as the Church. We are on a journey of realizing that by virtue of our baptism, each of us is a minister. We call this baptismal ministry. God gives every one of us gifts for ministry—gifts of listening, of teaching, music, art, cooking, visiting, balancing the books, paying the bills, caring for kids, extending accessibility, ministries of community development, woodworking, building, encouraging people, shoveling snow. The list goes on and on. Everything we do is ministry.  St. Paul says many wonderful things about this in Ephesians 4 and 1 Corinthians 12. With his good teaching and encouragement, people developed their God-given gifts and carried on Christ’s ministry in the congregations which Paul planted all around the Mediterranean basin.

So here we are, on the journey again, the journey to the Promised Land, the journey to a deeper knowledge of our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ, the journey to a more profound and joyful sense of who we are, individually and corporately, in God’s eyes. In a very real sense, each of us and all of us are in the kind of dialogue with Jesus that Nicodemus had in last week’s gospel and the Samaritan woman has today. A dialogue in which we look into his eyes and see ourselves so differently than we had before—because Jesus has so much love for us, so much true respect for God’s creation in us that we have to accept that love and respect.

 To the Samaritan woman, Jesus says, without saying it, “You are not an outcast you are a spiritual seeker; you’re on the right track,” and she grasps a truth that is like bedrock to her life, and she begins a relationship with Jesus that carries her into the village to share this new truth.

 I hope and pray that each of us may open ourselves to that level of dialogue with Christ this Lent, to see ourselves as he sees us, and to accept his love for us.

Like the Samaritan woman, may we share the Good News.

                                                                   Amen.

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Lent 2A RCL March 20, 2011
Genesis 12: 1-4a
Psalm 121
Romans 4: 1-5, 13-17
John 3: 1-17

In all of Scripture, Abraham stands out as the prime model of the faithful person. God calls Abram, as he is named when we first meet him, and, without hesitation, Abram gathers all his family, all his possessions, everything he has built up over a life of hard work, and heads for an unknown land.

How many of us would do that? What a difficult thing—to leave all that is familiar, all our friends, everyone and everything we know and love—and launch out into the totally unfamiliar. Yet that is what the journey of the spirit is all about.

At first glance, Nicodemus seems much more cautious than Abraham. But then he is part of the religious establishment—a Pharisee, an expert on the Law, a member of the body of ruling elders called the Sanhedrin. Wealthy, powerful. We learn later in John’s gospel that Nicodemus brings something on the order of seventy-five pounds of very precious ointments for the anointing of Jesus’ body after the crucifixion. No one but a wealthy person could afford to do such a thing.

Nicodemus has reason to be cautious. He has a lot to lose. After all, an honored elder cannot be seen associating with every new preacher who pops up around the countryside. So Nicodemus comes to Jesus by night and enters into one of those very mystical and practical dialogues that Jesus is always getting into with people.

There is no doubt in Nicodemus’ mind that Jesus is authentically from God. The healings and all those powerful events make that clear. But Jesus immediately calls Nicodemus to make a quantum leap of the spirit. He says that no one can see the kingdom of God, the realm of God, the shalom of God, without being born of water and the Spirit. I think Jesus can see that Nicodemus is a true spiritual seeker, and that Nicodemus can make that leap. But Nicodemus is still caught in the physical, literal realm. “Do I need to go back into my mother’s womb?” he wonders. No, you need to be born of water and the Spirit, Jesus answers. Pneuma, Ruach, the Spirit, the wind that blows where it will, the desert wind blowing across the sand, molding, shaping, shaping us, transforming us. The Spirit acting in Baptism, calling each of us into our God-given identity, calling us to go on that journey of finding out who we truly are, as individuals, as a Christian community, as the People of God.

And then, Jesus tells Nicodemus that he, Jesus, will be lifted up just as the serpent was lifted up (Numbers 21: 9). As the people Israel were journeying in the wilderness on the way to the Promised Land, Moses made a bronze serpent and held it up, so that, when the people were bitten by poisonous snakes, they could look at the bronze serpent and be healed. Jesus will be lifted up. Healing, wholeness, comes to those who look upon the cross of Christ.

So today we have two journeyers. Abraham packs up everything into a big U Haul and heads for the land of Canaan. Nicodemus arrives full of caution, but in fact, it is a miracle that he visits Jesus at all, given his training and background. So Nicodemus, too, turns out to be an icon of one who is willing to risk and to journey with God. While this section of the gospel leaves us hanging as to the future of Nicodemus, we do know that, later on, when the Pharisees are going to kill Jesus, Nicodemus asks, “Our law does not judge people without first giving them a hearing, does it?” (John 7: 50-51). Later in the chapter we hear of his bringing the spices for the burial of our Lord. Even if he did not become a full time follower, he was certainly a defender and supporter of Christ. That took courage. Lent is about taking the journey. Lent is about letting go of what we need to let go of, taking new paths, new directions, new disciplines, new identities, exploring new maps, new terrains. It is about the kind of faith and openness that led Abram into his new identity of Abraham, and led Nicodemus on a path to new possibilities.

Lent is about being born anew. Births are joyful, but they are not always easy or painless. All kinds of feelings happen when we are allowing new things to come to birth in us. We feel nostalgia for the way things were, sadness at leaving old landscapes behind. Sometimes we feel anger that God is prodding us to look at things and make changes. Sometimes we feel guilt at things we have done which we regret. And yet there is a deep down joy in responding to the call to change and grow and blossom. But change can be scary, and that is where faith comes in.

The journey to the Promised Land is not easy, and it can be downright scary, but the important thing is that God is with us. Jesus, the Good Shepherd, is out in front leading us. The Holy Spirit is breathing new life into us. The presence of God gives us strength and hope.

Let us pray

Loving and gracious God, help us to be open to your grace and love as we journey together this Lent. Help us to trust wholly in you. Help us to listen to you and to each other as we journey in and with and toward you. Surround us with your love. In Jesus’ name.

Amen

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Exodus 24: 12-18
Psalm 2
2 Peter 1: 16-21
Matthew 17: 1-9

 This Sunday, we leave the season of Epiphany, with its focus on light and mission, and move into the season of Lent, in which we walk the Way of the Cross with our Lord. The Epiphany star gives way to the Cross of Christ.

 In our opening lesson from the Book of Exodus, God calls Moses to go up on Mt. Sinai and to wait there. Moses goes up the mountain with his assistant, Joshua. During their absence, Aaron and Hur will lead the people and settle any disagreements among them.

 The holiness of God is emphasized. A cloud covers the mountain. The glory of the Lord settles on Mt. Sinai.  The revered biblical scholar Walter Brueggemann writes, “The glory is light, the light of God’s sovereign will and presence.” (Texts for preaching, Year A, p. 66). The glory of the Lord appears like a devouring fire. God is so holy and so powerful that only Moses is allowed to go up further into God’s presence. He is there for forty days and forty nights, a way of saying he is there for a very long time. And then he comes down with the Ten Commandments of the law, the framework that is going to hold God’s people together.

 Our epistle for today was written by a disciple of Peter. In those days, as we have noted before, it was common to claim the name of the teacher, in this case, Peter, in order to emphasize that, if Peter were here, this is what he would say.  Scholars tell us that the letter was written sometime between 100 and 150 A.D. We can imagine that this disciple of Peter spent a great deal of time with Peter and tried to learn everything he could from this great apostle. Peter had told this disciple about his experience on the mountain as Jesus became transfigured right in front of Peter and James and John, and, to the disciple, this experience became as real as if he himself had experienced it. As we move into Lent, one sentence rings out very clearly from this epistle reading: “You will do well to be attentive to this as to a lamp shining in a dark place, until the day dawns and the morning star rises in your hearts.” We who live in this age of electricity may have trouble understanding how much this image of light meant to folks of the first or second century A.D. During a hard night of struggle, if you had a lamp to help you get through until morning, that was a great blessing. The memory of Christ transfigured on the mountain will shine in our hearts all through Lent.

In the verses of Matthew’s gospel just preceding our passage for today, some very important things have happened. Jesus has asked the disciples that crucial question, “Who do you say that I am?’ and Peter has answered, “You are the Messiah, the Son of the living God.” And then Jesus has begun to tell the disciples what he is going to have to go through, that he is going to suffer and die and then rise. And Peter can’t take it, and he draws Jesus aside and says, Lord, this can’t happen to you. This is too horrible. And that’s how all of them feel, And that is how all of us feel.

 Then he takes them up on the mountain and he is transfigured. He is transformed. And Moses and Elijah are there, two great prophets who also went into God’s presence on the mountain, and they are talking to Jesus. And Peter blurts out that thing about building three dwellings, which I take as a very human attempt to preserve the mountaintop experience. And then the overpowering light of the presence of God comes with the cloud , and God says, “This is my Son, the Beloved; with him I am well pleased; listen to him.” The disciples are terrified; we remember that they would have believed in those days that you could not look into the face of God and live. So they fall to the ground and are overcome by fear.

 They are terrified. They are cowering on the ground expecting to die at any moment.  They have gotten very close to the awesome power of God. Too close, they think.

And then what happens? Jesus comes over and touches them. He says, “Get up, and do not be afraid.” And when they dare to look up, Moses and Elijah are gone. They see only the familiar, beloved face of Jesus.

Imagine what it would have been like to be Peter or James or John, and to have had that experience.

 Just before the transfiguration, when he is talking with his disciples, Jesus tells them and us that we are going to have to take up our cross and follow him, that we are going to have to lose our lives in order to save our lives, in other words, we are going with him to the cross.

 And on our way, and when we get there, we are going to learn how the awesome power of God is exercised and used. Not in gathering armies, not in overpowering people or nations, not in any of the ways we might think power is ordinarily used.

 It is the way of compassion, of letting go, and letting God, of emptying ourselves and letting God come in and transform us so that Christ lives in us. The way of the cross is the way of transformation. At this pivotal moment as we leave Epiphany and prepare for Ash Wednesday, we have before us the vision of our transfigured Lord because he wants to transfigure and transform us so that we can become more like him.

 This can seem quite terrifying to us and we can feel like falling to the ground in fear. And we may do that. Or we may try to run or avoid in some other way his call to transformation. But then he does this simple thing. He comes over and touches us and invites us to stand up, and he reassures us. He tells us not to be afraid. After all, he is with us. He is leading and guiding us. He is walking with us. We are walking with him.

 On a journey to the cross. On a journey to new life. And the vision of our Lord transfigured is “like a lamp shining in a dark place until the day dawns and the morning star rises in [our] hearts.”

                                                                    Amen 

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Leviticus 19: 1-2. 9-18
Psalm 119: 33-40
1 Corinthians 3: 10-11, 16-23
Matthew 5:38-48

 The Book of Leviticus deals with the laws which govern all aspects of the life of God’s chosen people Israel. Some parts of this book can seem quite irrelevant to people of our time. For example, the Book of Leviticus forbids wearing garments of two different fabrics and also covers detailed aspects of the dietary laws.

 This portion of Leviticus, however, meshes in spirit with the Beatitudes of Jesus. This is the law which governs the community life of the people, and it is solidly based on love of God and love of neighbor. For example, when the people are harvesting their fields or vineyards, they are to leave some of the crop so that the poor can have food. People should not steal or lie. They shall be honest and considerate of others. They shall take special care of those who are deaf or blind. In sum, the people are called to show others the love and care which God has shown them. This is quite startling when we remember that these words were written thousands of years ago.

 In today’s epistle,  Paul is using the metaphor of a building to describe the life of the Church.  Paul laid the foundation and others are building upon it. The foundation is Jesus Christ. One commentator says that this passage makes him think of the church as a busy construction site with all the workers doing their part. Each of us is using our gifts to build up the body of Christ, the Church. It is not the human leaders who are important, whether Paul or Apollos or whomever. It is that we as the Church carry out the ministry of our Lord.

 And once again we turn to our Lord’s expression of the core of our faith in the Sermon on the Mount. “You have heard it said, ‘An eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth.’ But I say to you, Do not resist an evildoer.” From our modern vantage point, we think an eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth is rather primitive and gory. But actually, this rule, called the lex talionis was designed to keep people from going too far in their retaliation. It was actually designed to control violence, so that, if somebody hurt someone’s arm, for example, the opposing side could not kill him. The comment about, if someone forces you to go one mile, go the second mile refers to the fact that Palestine was occupied territory. If a Roman soldier asked you to carry his pack for a mile, you had to do it.  Turning the other cheek and giving the coat as well as the cloak also fit into this approach of going the extra mile. The law says that we should love our neighbors, but Jesus is saying that even our enemies are our neighbors.

 Then he ends with that statement, “Be perfect, therefore, as your heavenly father is perfect.” If we were reading the Beatitudes in Luke, we would have an easier time. Luke says, “Be merciful as your father in heaven in merciful.” But we are faced with Matthew’s version, so let’s try to think about it together.

  As we all know, we are far from perfect. Is Jesus asking us to do the impossible? These Beatitudes can be seen as so impossible as to be deeply depressing or so impossible as to be ridiculous, so we’ll just have to sweep them under the rug and ignore them.  But let’s try to persevere.

 Let’s start with “Be perfect as your heavenly father is perfect.” The Greek word translated as “perfect” is teleios. Teleios means, according to Bishop Frederick Borsch, “to come to the goal or purpose, to become what one was created for, to reach full growth, potential, maturity.”  Ephesians 4, Borsch writes, “presents the vision of all Christians attaining, ‘To the unity of the faith and of the knowledge of the Son of God to mature (teleios) humanity, to the measure of the stature of the fullness of Christ.’”  Borsch goes on to say, “In relationship to God, there are no limits on who we may become morally and ethically.” He says,  “ But we may also see ourselves as people just beginning to realize the power of love that is God’s gift. We become who we are meant to be—God’s children—as we more maturely reflect the character of the divine parent.” (Proclamation 4, p. 49.)

 The Beatitudes are our goal as a community of faith, the goal to be channels of God’s love and healing.  We are called to actively and energetically extend love and generosity. These are the principles which guided Gandhi and Martin Luther King Jr.

 I always have to say that this vision does not mean that we are condoning or accepting abuse of any kind. In this fallen world, we are not telling the battered woman to go home and take another beating, and we are called to protect children from those who would hurt them in any way. But when Jesus talks about loving our enemies, there is a truth there.  In this very small world, we need to be very careful not to demonize our opponents. We need to focus on learning how to find common ground.

 I once saw a demonstration of what Jesus may have meant when he talked about turning the other cheek. It was a martial arts demonstration—Aikido, I think. The attacker came on, the person doing the demonstration skillfully absorbed and redirected the energy of the attacker in such a way that each of them ended up where the other had been, and with their bodies having rotated so that their cheeks were indeed turned.

 Nothing is as powerful as love. All of these lessons are talking about how to live together as a loving community, whether it is the people Israel, the congregation in Corinth, Grace Church, the United States of America, or planet Earth.

 Jesus was a revolutionary. He was a radical, meaning he went to the roots of things.  His vision is not business as usual. It is difficult to embrace and transform negative energy rather than simply to retaliate.

Thanks be to God for people like Gandhi and Martin Luther King and Nelson Mandela and Desmond Tutu. They are our icons for these lessons. And these lessons are, in the words of Bishop Borsch, “the invitation to an unlimited human adventure in holiness.” (Proclamation 4, p. 52.)

 May we be inspired by the vision of our Savior and our brother, Jesus.

May we put love above all else. May we be channels of God’s love, peace, and healing.    Amen.

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Epiphany 6A RCL February 13, 2011

Deuteronomy 30:15-20
Psalm 119: 1-8
1 Corinthians 3: 1-9
Matthew 5: 21-37

We have some challenging readings this morning, and we could spend hours discussing them. In our first lesson, from the Book of Deuteronomy, Moses is with the people and they are on the verge of crossing into the Promised Land. But he is not going to be able to go with them. So he is trying to make sure that they understand how important it is for them to keep their covenant with God and with each other.

The choice is between life and death, and Moses urges the people to choose life. Once they cross over into Canaan there will be other gods and other ways of living. Moses wants the people to choose the way that is life-giving. The choice also seems to be between prosperity and adversity. This is interesting because we know that following God does not always lead to prosperity or success in the world’s terms. Scholars tell us that the link between life in and with God and prosperity refers more to the quality of community life centered in God. A community that focuses its life on God and follows that central command to love God with all our heart and mind and soul and strength and to love our neighbors as ourselves is more able to weather the challenges of living in a broken creation because its members help and support each other through difficult times. That love and support is true prosperity as we jump the hurdles of life.

The people of Corinth are breaking into factions, and Paul is telling them that, in God’s vineyard, Paul planted, Apollos watered, but God gave the growth. We are God’s field, God’s building. We are all servants, God is helping us to do the ministry we are called to do. If we truly stay centered on God, we are all one in Christ Jesus and in the Spirit.

Our Gospel for today is the continuation of the Beatitudes. One scholar says that, in reading this passage, we need to remember that Jesus is being a visionary. He is going to the root if the law. He is not here to abolish the law but to fulfill it. For example, we all know we are not supposed to murder anyone, and it is safe to say that none of us has murdered anyone literally, But, if we are angry at each other, or if we insult each other, or look down on each other, Jesus is saying that’s the same as murder.

In the early Church, when they got to the Peace, if anyone was in a fight with someone else, the Celebrant, who, in those days was usually the Bishop, would call the people who had a disagreement to reconcile right in front of the congregation. That’s what the Peace really means, that we are at peace with one another.

Jesus talks about adultery and about divorce. Back in those days, a man could divorce his wife if he did not like her looks, if he did not like her cooking, or if she talked too much. He could just write a certificate of divorce and put her out in the street. A woman without a man to protect her was totally vulnerable in that world. Unless a family member took her in, she was homeless. So Jesus is doing a revolutionary thing: he is saying that women are human. He is saying that we all need to respect each other. When he talks about adultery, he is going far beyond the actual act of adultery. He is saying that objectifying others is denying their humanity.

When he talks about swearing, this does not mean profanity; this means the taking of oaths in court, for example. Jesus says that, if we were all honest, we would not need to have oaths. When I think of this world of oil spills and Enron and Mr. Madoff, I think that the first thing a CEO does when the evidence has been gathered and he or she is charged with the crime, is to deny it. You can just expect it. It’s all a game of legal jousting. What if we all simply told the truth?

What if we truly reconciled with each other, held no anger, treated each other with respect and love, did not objectify others in any way, and told the truth? That would be the Shalom of God.

One of my heroes and role models, Archbishop Desmond Tutu, has written a deeply inspiring book called God Has a Dream.
Bishop Tutu writes:
God has called us to be his partners to work for a new kind of society where people count, where people matter more than things, more than possessions, where human life is not just respected but positively revered, where people will be secure and not suffer from the fear of hunger, from ignorance, from disease, where there will be more gentleness, more caring. More sharing, more compassion, more laughter, where there is peace and not war.

Our partnership with God comes from the fact that we are made in God’s image. Each and every human being is created in the same divine image. This is an incredible, a staggering assertion about human beings. It might seem to be an innocuous religious truth, until you say it in a situation of injustice and oppression and exploitation. When I was rector of a small parish in Soweto, I would tell an old lady whose white employer called her “Annie” because her name was too difficult, “Mama, as you walk the dusty streets of Soweto and they ask who you are, you can say, ‘I am God’s partner, God’s representative. God’s viceroy—that’s who I am—because I am created in the image of God.’ ” (God Has a Dream, p. 62.)

That ability to see each other as being created in the image of God is, I think, what is at the heart of the attitudes that we are called to have as we try, with God’s help, to be shalom people. Every one is an Alter Christus. Every one is created in the image of God.

Amen

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Epiphany 5 RCL Year A February 6, 2011

Isaiah 58:1-9a(9b-12)
Psalm 112:1-9 (10)
1 Corinthians 2: 1-12 (13-16)
Matthew 5:13-20

Our first reading this morning is from the prophet and poet we call the Third Isaiah. His or her ministry took place in the Southern Kingdom, Judah, between 538 and 515 B.C.E. During this time, some of the exiles had returned from Babylon, and others were in the process of returning. Those who had been home for a while, at least some of them, had achieved some level of stability and security in their lives. Others were poor, did not have adequate food or shelter, and were suffering. Scholars tell us that things were in chaos. The temple had not been rebuilt, there was violence in the streets and quarreling going on, and people did not reach out and help those in need.

Yes, there were fasts and prayer going on all the time. The peace and harmony the people had looked forward to when they first returned home under the reign of King Cyrus of Persia, had not happened. Now there was a new king and things looked bleak indeed. The people were saying, We are fasting and praying. Why is God not noticing us? Why aren’t things getting better?

Isaiah tells the people and us that our worship must create transformation in our lives and that true worship changes us: true worship causes us to “loose the bonds of injustice.” To “let the oppressed go free, to share our bread with the hungry and let the homeless poor into our house.” Isaiah tells us that, when our lives are congruent with our worship, that is when the light breaks forth like a new dawn. That is God’s shalom. That is the time when we know that God is very near.

Isaiah also says that when the people live lives of compassion, when they feed the hungry and satisfy the needs of the afflicted, then their light will rise in the darkness, the Lord will guide them and make their bones strong, and they will be like a watered garden and like a spring of water that never dries up. Isaiah also says that their ancient ruins will be rebuilt, they will be called the repairers of the breach and the restorers of streets to live in. Isaiah is saying that the depth and quality of the people’s spiritual life is related to their material life, specifically, their ability to rebuild the temple.

There is so much in our lesson from Paul this morning. If we try to reduce it to its essence, he is telling his brothers and sisters in Corinth that conveying the message about Christ does not depend on intellect; it does not depend on exercising the intricacies of logic or the rules of rhetoric. The way he tries to convey the message is to live it, and that’s the way we are called to do it. Paul is not denying the value of intellectual activity or logic or rhetoric. He is saying that, as a preacher, he tries to stick to substance, not gimmicks. Fred Borsch, retired Bishop of Los Angeles, writes of this passage, “I remember being surprised in my seminary preaching class to learn that some of the great preachers of my Anglican tradition (for example, Philips Brooks), were not that gifted by our contemporary standards when it came to public speaking styles. It was substance and perhaps above all, who they were as believing Christians that allowed the Spirit to speak through them.” (Borsch, Proclamation 4, Series A, 1989, pp. 39-40.) This takes us back to that old saying, that we may be the only Bible someone reads.

The gospel is again speaking to this whole matter of living our faith. Jesus is not saying , “Try to be the light of the world, Try to be the salt of the earth. “ He is saying that’s what we are. Salt gives zest; in those days it was an essential preservative. Food would spoil without salt. Light is to be shown, not hidden.

What are these lessons saying to us? One thing, I think, is that how we live our lives, individually and together, is crucial. If I were going to try to sum it up in one question that we could ask ourselves, it would be: are we people of compassion?

There’s a lovely old hymn and prayer which was given new life in Godspell. It came to me as I was praying through these lessons. It goes like this: “Day by day, dear Lord, of thee three things I pray: to see thee more clearly, love thee more dearly, and follow thee more nearly, day by day.”

Amen

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Epiphany 4 Year A RCL January 30, 2011

Micah 6:1-8
Psalm 15
1 Corinthians 1:18-31
Matthew 5:1-12

God does not see things as we do. God is not concerned with the externals. God is not concerned with the outward appearance. That is one theme of today’s lessons. Another theme is that all these lessons help us to understand what qualities mark the lives of people and communities who are dedicated to the building of God’s reign on earth. Shalom people and shalom communities.

The prophet Micah lived and worked in the eighth century B.C.E. He was a contemporary of the great prophet Isaiah. As he looks at the religious and secular leaders of his time, Micah sees widespread corruption. The people have forgotten that God led them out of slavery in Egypt and has walked every step of the way with them ever since. They are focussed on externals. Their worship consists of sacrifices of things—animals. The people are even turning to thoughts of sacrificing their eldest sons, as the native Canaanites do.

God does not want any of this. God is concerned about the offering of our hearts, minds, and spirits. God wants us to focus on the spiritual journey as individuals and as communities. So Micah writes the words which have come down to us through the ages, words which call us to a truth which is as relevant today as it was almost three thousand years ago. “What does the Lord require of you but to do justice, to love kindness, and to walk humbly with your God?” To do justice means to focus on equity in all human relationships. To love kindness, in Hebrew hesed, mercy, or compassion, mean to be faithful in covenant relationships, to maintain solidarity with others, including those in need or trouble. To walk humbly with your God. Humility comes from the root word humus—good earth ready for planting. Humility is openness to God, the will and desire to be open to God’s will rather than our own will. Walter Brueggemann says that “to do justice is to be actively engaged in the redistributi0n of power in the world, to correct the systematic inequalities that marginalize some for the excessive enhancement of others.” He says that “to walk humbly with God means to abandon all self-sufficiency, to acknowledge in daily attitude and act that life is indeed derived from the reality of God.”

The beatitudes flesh out this thinking. Happy are they. Fortunate are they who have these attitudes. Happy are the poor in spirit. Fortunate are those who realize that they need God. Blessed are those who mourn. Blessed are those who have a profound sense of the brokenness of this world and of how far the world is from where God wants it to be. Blessed are the meek. Meek. Now there is a word we don’t use that often. Meek does not mean weak or being like Mr. Milquetoast. Scholars tell us that the best one word translation is nonviolent. Blessed are those who renounce the methods of this world’s power. Blessed are those who hunger and thirst after righteousness. Blessed are those who actively pursue their spiritual life, who engage in active seeking for God and for right relationship with God and with others. Blessed are the merciful, for they will obtain mercy. Again, compassion is the mark of a shalom person and a shalom community. Blessed are the pure in heart. Blessed are those who are devoted to God with all their hearts, who are not divided in their loyalty. Blessed are the peacemakers. Blessed are those who pursue the ministry of reconciliation.

The church in Corinth is marked by factions, as we saw last week. This week we find that there are some who lord it over others because they claim special wisdom. Paul is almost desperate to get these people to see the point that shalom community has one focus and one focus only. Here, the paradox of our faith is most clearly evident. The cross was the way the Roman Empire eradicated those who would dare to challenge the status quo. Kings did not die on the cross. Only the poor and outcast, only the powerless were crucified. Yet Paul is saying that the Cross reveals God’s power. Because, if we truly allow ourselves to absorb and to participate in the ministry of our Lord, if we allow the love and the compassion and the strength of his courage to infuse our hearts and minds and spirits and lives, then something happens.

Nothing else matters because, in the light of Christ as the mystic Julian of Norwich said, all manner of thing shall be well. We can let go and let God. We can focus on the only thing that is going to make us and the world whole, the love of God in Christ. We can ask for help instead of trying to prove how well we can manage things on our own. And, with that help, things go differently, very differently. Everything is transformed. We become channels of God’s peace and wholeness. Individuals and communities become living, vibrant icons of God’s shalom, and the whole creation moves ever closer to God’s vision of wholeness.

Amen.

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Epiphany 2 Year A RCL January 16, 2011

Isaiah 49:1-7
Psalm 40: 1-12
1 Corinthians 1: 1-9
John 1: 29-42

What does it mean to be called by God? Today’s lessons give us insight into this question. In our lesson from Isaiah, the Servant is discouraged. He knows he is called; he knows that God has called him from even before the time he was born, as indeed God has called you and me. The Servant is trying to call the people Israel back from their exile in Babylon, back to Zion, back to community with each other and with God. But the message is falling on deaf ears.

The Servant complains to God about this. “I have labored in vain. I have spent my strength for nothing.” This is an excellent example for us. When we are trying to do God’s work and things are going poorly, we need to talk to God about it. It may sound like complaining, but it is really praying.

God hears, but what does God do? In the case of the Servant, God expands the mission. The Servant’s mission is not just to the people Israel, but to everyone. “I will give you as a light to the nations, that my salvation may reach to the ends of the earth.” Watch out. Sometimes when things are not going that well, God expands the vision and the mission by a few quantum leaps!

In today’s gospel, John the Baptist has a two-fold calling. First, he has to know who he is not. He is not the Messiah. Secondly, he has to proclaim Jesus as the Messiah, the Son of God, the Lamb of God. This phrase has so many meanings. If we were to try to sum them up, we might say that Jesus is the One, who, by offering himself, heals all the brokenness of the world. As John continues to proclaim Jesus as the Messiah, two of John’s disciples follow Jesus. Jesus asks them, “What are you looking for?” He knows they are seekers of spiritual truth. They ask him, “Where are you staying?” This is more than a request for his address. This is a question about what he is about, how they can hear more. He says, “Come and see.” Ultimately maybe he is saying, “It’s a hands-on thing. You have to live it.” They go with him and they remain with him that day. This is all it takes for Andrew, one of the men, to go home and tell his brother, Simon Peter, “We have found the Messiah.” How the word spreads after that!

Today we read the opening portion of Paul’s letter to the Church in Corinth, a bustling port city with all sorts of temples to various gods and goddesses, all kinds of philosophies being discussed. The congregation in Corinth is blessed with many gifts. Lack of gifts is not their problem. The people in Corinth tend to divide into factions. They have many controversies over which gifts are better and which teachers are superior. Is it Paul, or Apollos or someone else who is best?

Today, Paul begins to build the foundation for a letter full of teaching. He tells the people that they are not lacking in any spiritual gift. Later on, as you know, he will tell them that the greatest gift of all is agape—unconditional love, the kind of love that mirrors, as best we can, God’s love for us. He also emphasizes this matter of being called by God. He, Paul, is called to be an apostle, and he tells the people that they, too, are called into the fellowship of God’s Son, Jesus Christ our Lord. Paul will spell out later in this letter the idea that gifts are given to build up the Body of Christ rather than to divide the Body.

What is all this saying to us, here in the twenty-first century in Sheldon, Vermont? One thing is that, in the Church in Corinth and in the Church in Sheldon, we are called into the fellowship of Jesus Christ, the community of Christ. The Greek word for this is koinonia. And in Corinth, and in Sheldon, in every Church, there are plenty of gifts to get the job done.

In Grace Church, Sheldon, Vermont, we have all the gifts we need to do the ministry to which we are called. We are not too small or too poor or too weak or too anything else to be the light of Christ. We have all the gifts we need. We have an overflowing of gifts of the Holy Spirit. We are the Body of Christ here in this place; we have everything we need to do God’s work, and God is going to give us the strength to do that work. God is at this very moment strengthening us.

We are called. God has called us since before we were born, when we were still in our mother’s womb. We are called into koinonia, fellowship, community. And we have all the gifts we need to do a beautiful job of carrying out our ministry together.

This past week, we have all been keeping the situation in Tucson in our thoughts and prayers. We remember those who were killed—Christina Taylor Green, a nine year old girl who had just been elected to her student council and wanted to meet her Congresswoman; Dorothy Morris, a retired homemaker and secretary, who died in the shooting while her hospital, George, a retired airline pilot, remains in the hospital recovering; John Roll, a highly respected federal judge who lived his faith; Phyllis Schneck, who, after raising her children, devoted her time to volunteering at her church; Dorwin Stoddard, who threw himself on top of his wife to save her life; and Gabe Zimmerman, Director of Community Outreach for Congresswoman Gabrielle Giffords. Gabe had a degree in social work and cared deeply about helping others. He was engaged and planned to be married in 2012. Rest eternal grant them, O Lord, and may light perpetual shine upon them.

We give thanks for the vibrant spunk of Gabrielle Giffords, who opened her eyes and gave, not only a thumbs up, but a raised arm. Her doctors are saying that her whole journey of recovery is a miracle. We thank God and good physicians for miracles like that. And we pray for the others who are continuing to heal, and for their families and all who love them, and for all who are affected by this event. That probably includes our whole country, perhaps even our whole planet.

I would not attempt to try to explain this event. But what I would say is that, in the face of brokenness, we are called to continue to build God’s shalom of wholeness. You are all doing this in your lives. Every one of the people we lost was someone who lived to help others. Let us do the same. Let us be a community of love, compassion, healing, and transformation.

Amen.

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Epiphany 1A RCL The Baptism of Christ January 9, 2011

Isaiah 42:1-9
Psalm 29
Acts 10: 34-43
Matthew 3:13-17

This morning, we celebrate the Baptism of Christ and we celebrate and recall our own baptisms.

We begin with the lesson from Isaiah, which describes the Servant, with whom we as Christians identify Christ. This passage can also describe the ideal servant community. Isaiah says of the Servant, “A bruised reed he will not break and a dimly burning wick he will not quench.” The servant is infinitely gentle. Yet, says Isaiah, “He will not grow faint or be crushed until he has established justice in the earth. The servant, or the servant community, is quiet, unobtrusive, does not force, yet has great endurance and doesn’t give up until justice is established. Isaiah continues, speaking to the people in exile, “I have given you as a covenant to the people, a light to the nations, to open the eyes that are blind, to bring out the prisoner from the dungeon, from the prison those who sit in darkness. See, the former things have come to pass, and new things I now declare.”

A new creation is beginning. A new order of justice. The Servant will establish his reign of justice, but he will do so by protecting the weak plant until it can grow and by cupping his hands around the flickering flame until it can grow strong.

Our passage from the Book of Acts is the central sermon by Peter, which is found in the middle of a great story. This story begins with Cornelius, a centurion on the Roman army. This means that he commands a company of 100 soldiers. Cornelius believes in the God of the Jews, but he does not follow the law. He is a devout man.

One afternoon, at about three o’clock, Cornelius is praying, and an angel of the Lord comes to him and tells him to send messengers to Joppa so that they can find a man named Simon Peter and tell Peter to come and see Cornelius so that Cornelius can hear what Peter has to say.

While those messengers are on their way to find Peter, Peter has gone up on the roof to pray, and there he has his vision of all kinds of food coming down on a sheet, and the voice of God saying, “Kill and eat.”

Peter tells God that he has always followed the law; he has never eaten anything unclean, and God tells him that nothing is unclean. In other words, Peter, who has always felt that the new faith is only for Jews, now realizes that the faith is for everyone. Peter has thought that converts would have to follow the Jewish law. God tells him this is not the case. Something new is being created.

Just as Peter is puzzling over this vision, the men sent by Cornelius arrive and tell Peter that they have been sent by Cornelius, an upright and good man, to take Peter back to see Cornelius to see what Peter has to say.

So, bright and early the next morning, Peter and some other believers from Joppa set out for Caesarea to see Cornelius. When they get there, Cornelius has gathered a group of his family and friends, all Gentiles. As Peter is preaching the good news to them, the Holy Spirit falls on the entire group of Gentiles, who begin to speak in tongues and praise God. Peter then realizes that, since these people have already received the Holy Spirit, they should be baptized. This happens, and then the whole group spends several days together. In other words, a new community of faith is being born.

Jesus is baptized, and his true identity is revealed. Our baptism tells us who we truly are—children of God and inheritors of the kingdom of heaven.

We can clearly see how Jesus embodies the characteristics of the Servant described by Isaiah. These are the qualities which are needed for ministers and ministering communities. We are all ministers by virtue of our baptism. Everyone here at Grace carries out an amazing ministry out on the world. Each of you nurtures those who are weak until they can become strong. Each of you treats those who are hurting with healing tenderness. Each of you and all of you minister God’s care for each person as an infinitely precious child of God. I believe, and I think we all believe, that God has called us together to be a ministering community following the model of our Lord.

Peter very firmly believed that the mission of the apostles was only to the Jewish people and that new converts would have to follow the law. What a quantum leap it was for Peter to realize that, in his own words, “God shows no partiality, but in every nation everyone who fears God and does what is right is acceptable to God,”

Both Cornelius and Peter were listening very carefully to God and following God’s guidance. If they had not been faithful, this amazing encounter, the showering of gifts of the Holy Spirit and the subsequent baptisms would never have happened.

What are these lessons saying to us? One thing is that we need to ground ourselves in the Servant songs of Isaiah. Most scholars think that Jesus’ vision of his ministry was rooted and grounded in the model of the Servant. Like Jesus, we are called to base our ministry on that model–gentleness, especially toward those who are most vulnerable, and yet perseverance, hanging in there until God’s shalom covers the whole wide earth.

Secondly, we are called, I believe, always to be open to God, always to be listening for God’s direction. If Peter hadn’t listened; if Cornelius hadn’t listened, we would have lost that outpouring of the Holy Spirit. If Peter had not listened, the nascent faith would have been a tiny sect of Judaism.

May we be a servant community of compassionate gentleness and stalwart endurance. May we always be listening for the guidance of God. May we be always open to the presence and power of the Holy Spirit.

Amen.

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