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December 21, 2014
Fourth Sunday of Advent
Trinity Church, Hartford
The Rev. Dr. Frank G. Kirkpatrick
Romans 16: 25-27, Luke 1: 26-38
This is the season of the year when things get a bit nauseatingly romantic and overly sentimental. In their extreme form they get channeled through overbearing drive-you-mad seasonal music blaring from TV screens and mall shopping outlets. To be sure, most of the music that bombards us has little if anything to do with Christmas as the celebration of the birth of Jesus our Savior. Most of the music that drowns us is focused on the generic ‘season’ celebrating good cheer and fellowship in the midst of the dark and cold (reminding us that most of this music originated in and is oriented to the peoples of a northern European climate). Now I don’t agree with those who would claim that some anonymous but malicious “they” somewhere out there in the cultural environment are trying to take Christmas away from the increasingly smaller number of us who really do want to think of Christmas as having to do with Christ. In fact Christians might be grateful for the growing awareness that celebrating the birth of Christ is not the same as celebrating good fellowship and cheer, as important as these are, by going on buying sprees and succumbing to a frenzied desire to shop until we drop. Don’t worry: I’m not about to go into a rant (as tempting as that might be) on the perverseness of associating the birth of Jesus with spending wads of money (which some of us really can’t afford to do) for gifts which really don’t enhance the meaning of someone else’s life but presumably make us feel better by showing that we ‘care’. But what I do want to do is reflect briefly on how even some of our uniquely Christian moments have gotten caught up in the false romanticism of much of the seasonal celebrations that take place before Christmas. In particular I want to touch on the way in which our religious tradition has treated the young woman, Mary, who bore Jesus as her son. Mary has often become herself a romantic non-human fantasy figure whom the church over time seemed to want to strip out of her humanity by creating a non-historical, ethereal, non-human mythology about her. She has also, fortunately and rightly, been seen as a loving, nurturing mother. And, third, and often this is underplayed, she is part of a divine drama which is profoundly destabilizing and revolutionary for the privileged powerful who run the world on their own terms as if there is no God other than their own egos and greed.
Part of the story of Mary is that of a young woman or, as the text this morning says, a virgin, who is told by the angel that she will bear a son in accordance with the will of God. It should be noted that mention of her virginity is relatively insignificant to her role in the divine drama. Only two of the gospels even have a birth narrative and both rely on an ambiguous passage from the prophet Isaiah in which the word “virgin” can also be translated simply as a young or unmarried woman. The decision on the part of some of the gospel writers and later Christians to call her a virgin has more to do with their felt need to single out the birth of Jesus as being of special significance for the life of the world. One way (but not the only way available to them) to underline that significance was to insist that God overrode the normal means of conception by being, in effect, the direct father of the child Jesus without the sexual intermediation of Joseph.
And with that decision began a series of attempts to remove Mary from her humanity and to clothe her instead in the sentimental, romantic, and mythical garb of a woman uncontaminated by sex and biology, as if human sex is somehow less worthy of God’s good creation than supernatural sex. This is quite ironic given that Jesus became fully human in order to redeem humanity but somehow the full biological and sexual humanity of his mother was not good enough for him. By suggesting her virginity the Church made Mary in many ways an exception to all things earthly, beginning with the claim that she never lost her virginity and that the brothers and sisters of Jesus were not her biological children. The culmination of extracting Mary from the human condition is found in the last infallible doctrine of the Catholic Church which proclaimed the bodily assumption of Mary into heaven, by-passing the process of biological death that the rest of us, including Jesus, go through.
But fortunately in addition to this mythical, almost non-human Mary, there is the warm, nurturing, welcoming and grieving mother who gives herself unstintingly both to God and later to her child, Jesus. She remains bound to him even to the moment of his death upon a cross. This compassionate and nurturing Mary is one to whom we are all drawn, one who is fully human in her vulnerability and tender faithful love. And we surround her with art and music and legends that call us to invite her into our spiritual lives as she embraces us, too, with her motherly love. In fact, over time, Mary sometimes seems closer to us than Jesus, the resurrected one who became for many theologians, perhaps inadvertently, more a subject of doctrinal theological definition than a living person accessible to us in our broken humanity. In some parts of the Christian tradition Mary is more often prayed to than is Jesus. She intercedes for us with her son almost as if he was not intercessor enough. This second more human Mary is a good corrective to the increasingly remote and mythological Mary.
But I would like to suggest that there is still a third Mary somewhat hidden under the mythology and the blue robes and the motherly warmth we so often associate with her at this time of year. And this third Mary is the one who appears just a few verses after the ones we heard in this morning’s gospel. This is the Mary of the Magnificat [[which we’ve heard so magnificently sung this morning]]. This is the Mary who willingly gives herself up to God’s will and offers thanks to God for looking with favor on her, a lowly servant. This is the Mary who knows that wealth and power are not the foundation on or the entrance through which God builds his kingdom in the world. This is the Mary who reminds others that the God to whom she has given herself is the same God who has scattered the proud in the imagination of their hearts. This is the God who does not hide behind the gauzy plush curtains of sloppy seasonal sentimentality or who blesses conspicuous consumption and fevered buying in order to show love, but a God who, instead, brings down the powerful from their thrones and lifts up the lowly, who fills the hungry with good things while he sends the rich away empty.
It must seem quite jarring and disturbing to have the glow and warmth of season’s greetings interrupted by mention of the cruelty often inflicted by unjust exercise of political and economic power. But there it is in the text, in the very center of one of the most romantic parts of scripture, the Magnificat. If there is ever a time in the year in which the power of the rich and of riches is seen most clearly it is in these days between Thanksgiving and Christmas. We are lured from every side to show our love for others by buying, buying, buying. We rush to the malls on Thanksgiving Day and stay online until Christmas buying, buying, buying. And how are we able to fulfill our economic duty to buy? By becoming as rich as possible. Meanwhile people are literally going hungry around the world and in our own nation. Recently the UN World Food program for refugees from Syria was in danger of closing down because donor nations, other than the US, were not fulfilling their promises to provide the money to keep it going. There was no concerted effort to pool the wealth of nations to feed the hungry and to lift up the lowly. We can’t do this only by putting money in Salvation Army kettles or giving money to Food Share, as important and vital as this giving is. The effort to feed the hungry of the world often half-way around the globe takes large amounts of our collective as well as individual financial wealth distributed efficiently through workable international programs and policies. And that financial wealth is there, especially among the 1% of our society whose increase in wealth far outstrips the meager gains and mostly losses of the lesser 99%. And so, perhaps we might hear underneath the racket of seasonal music and in the midst of the poverty of our imaginations the voice of the third Mary, the Mary who reminds us all that the frenzy of making and spending means nothing at all unless it first feeds the hungry, lifts the lowly, and brings justice to the oppressed even if doing so rattles and disturbs the thrones of the privileged and their and our incessant greed for more and more.
Trinity Church Hartford Third Sunday of Advent December 14, 2014
Why am I dressed like this, you may ask. (sweatshirt, jeans, boots)
For a preacher in The Episcopal Church, there is no more important touchstone than the assignment for the Day from Holy Scripture. Except at Trinity Church Hartford, when the Outreach Committee of the parish gives the preacher an assignment. I’ve been instructed to talk about an “other side” of my life. The Outreach Committee assignment for December 14: to talk about Foodshare.
Do you know about Foodshare?
Perhaps you have noticed that quietly, yet consistently, during November, there were announcements from the lectern and in the bulletin about a new focus of our parish community’s outreach: Foodshare.
And that’s an “other side” of my life, as a volunteer there, and my assignment for this morning: Foodshare. And that’s why I’m dressed like this today.
Every other week, on a Tuesday and Wednesday, I am at Foodshare. It’s a Tuesday morning and after signing in on the log sheet at 7:55, I sling my daypack over my shoulder, and walk through the vast Bloomfield warehouse, whose shelves are piled over thirty feet high with tons of canned and boxed food, to meet my Tuesday driver in the new storage area for the trucks. The truck area is a space large enough to house five commercial straight reefers, including the two which look like beer trucks, but which are specially outfitted for our work today. Our truck is fueled and already has been loaded this morning with almost 5000 pounds of fresh produce, perhaps apples, potatoes, onions, corn, pears, tomatoes, other vegetables or fruit, and often, bread.
Isaiah said, and Jesus said, and as Christian we say,(61:1ff) The spirit of the Lord GOD is upon me, because the LORD has anointed me; he has sent me to bring good news to the oppressed, to bind up the brokenhearted, to proclaim liberty to the captives, and release to the prisoners; to proclaim the time of the Lord's favor, to give the oppressed a garland instead of ashes, the oil of gladness instead of mourning, the mantle of praise instead of a faint spirit. So they will be called oaks of righteousness, the planting of the LORD, to display his glory.
On Tuesday, we will set up at two sites in New Britain, then one in Bloomfield; Wednesday we zig-zag back and forth, first to Wethersfield, then Glastonbury, west to Newington and finally to Manchester. On each of the days anywhere from 280 to 370 families will receive fresh food free. Poverty, need and hunger do not respect geographical boundaries nor iare they confined just to certain neighborhoods.
This wasn’t my first job at Foodshare. When I first walked in off the street, I was sent to the back of the warehouse to repack loaves of bread from the baker’s shipping flats into banana boxes, working alongside a young woman who had been assigned there for court-ordered community service.
I have gone out on the Thursday meat run. Departure with the driver at 6 am. Fourteen supermarkets east of the river and north of Hartford. Returning at 2 in the afternoon with a truckload of 5000-7000 pounds of packaged meat, which had been frozen in plastic bins as it approached its sell-by date. If we hadn’t made that run it all would have gone into dumpsters. Instead it goes into Foodshare’s freezer. That’s just one weekday.
It’s all part of Foodshare’s work, we would call it an outreach ministry, to provide food for those who are hungry, in Hartford and Tolland counties, whether in shelters, soup kitchens, through community food pantries, half-way houses, or — in the case of our mobile repurposed beer trucks — to people in our communities who come to our outdoor sites for the free distribution of fresh produce.
How big an enterprise is this? Thirty-two years old, Five trucks on the road every day. Numerous patent agencies coming to Bloomfield to pick up orders of food. Receiving from wholesalers at our warehouse at the Hartford Regional Market. Truckloads coming in from across the country. Participating donors include Stop and Shop, Pepperidge Farms, Big Y, Whole Foods, local orchards and farmers, community gardeners, including Saint Andrew’s Rocky Hill which raises over 3000 pounds of acorn squash on their property. Volunteers pick up food from smaller markets to take directly to partner agencies. 14 million pounds of food this past year.
Thousands of volunteers, repacking bulk produce, sorting frozen meat, speaking in public, enrolling clients in the Supplemental Nutrition Assistance Program …
When I started, to everyone I was just “Drew.” Whoever. But people are curious, and people began to ask, “who are you?” It was not quite to the extent people wondered about John the Baptist, but still — . And word got out. As I came to know them, I began to see that the employees truly see their mission, as an action to care for the poor, personal witness, seeking greater health, security, and justice in society.
That’s why I am there too — remembering how Jesus said, “I was hungry and you gave me food,” and the writer of James, “Be doers of the word, not just hearers.”
The work evolved quickly into so much more than handing out food. Witness. Ministry. Welcome and engagement with the clients. The relationship with and care for the site volunteers, some of whom I have served with for over four years. One volunteer and one site co-ordinator have died. One Viet Nam Vet has been re-diagnosed with cancer. And, more intensely, the relationships with the men and women with whom I work most closely, in the warehouse and especially the drivers. They know I am ordained. We talk of God and faith, for all have had some brush with God. With one driver I have solid theological disagreement: always we have interesting conversations when we are together in a truck cab for the better part of a day. Among the drivers: three surgeries, the death of a close brother, the two deaths of the volunteers, occasional difficult site relationships, institutional change at Foodshare, one driver’s loss of his job.
I realize I spend more time with these two drivers than I do with anyone else except for Kate. I am a Christian, and people know that, and I continue to be called to be on mission, though it’s much different from the 43 years before.
Foodshare itself has moved into expanded service and greater work, including increasing the supply of food, engaging in community education and recruitment, and assisting clients themselves to become food independent.
On this second anniversary of the massacre in Newtown, and on this day of a national Gun Violence Prevention Sabbath Weekend,iIt’s important to know that many people, so many people, rather than claiming their gun rights, and retreating and arming themselves defensively or for aggression, instead, reach out, offer themselves for the sake of others, with contributions, in jobs or as volunteers, and venture forth in charity to address the inequities of our culture and work for good.
My “other life” is to ride on Foodshare’s mobile units, all day every other Tuesday and Wednesday, rain, snow or shine, to help bring fresh food to those in need. Such a blessing, for others, I believe; for me, I know. I also know there are many other such stories among us — stories which could, should, deserve to behold from this pulpit.
When you get home, visit Foodshare’s extensive and interactive website. Come visit Foodshare’s headquarters and warehouse in Bloomfield. Volunteer: right now we are seeking four volunteers to help staff our first New Britain site: ask me about it. And think of how you, and how we together as Trinity Church, can engage deeply in this ministry,’’
And, finally, listen to my dream in Christ: that every one of us,, however young or old, have, or will seek to have, (at least) one significant “other life”, an engagement, commitment, a mission or ministry to “do good and to share what we have, to proclaim the time of the Lord’s favor, for with such sacrifices God is well pleased.” It’s a good dream. Think what a difference we can make.
Advent 2, December 7, 2014
The Rev. Dr. Dennis Winkleblack
Trinity Episcopal Church, Hartford, CT
It’s Messiah time again. Yes, Jesus the Messiah time – that’s most important. But also, Handel’s Messiah time. For me, there’s no one thing that epitomizes this holy season more than the wonderful oratorio by George Frideric Handel, one of the most frequently performed musical works in Western music.
So, you’ve got to know how happy I am with just hearing the opening verses from our Hebrew scriptures this morning from the prophet Isaiah as appropriated by Handel:
“Comfort ye, comfort ye my people, saith your God. Speak ye comfortably to Jerusalem, and cry unto her, that her warfare is accomplished, that her iniquity is pardoned. The voice of him that crieth in the wilderness: Prepare ye the way of the Lord, make straight in the desert a highway for our God.”
And then the portion that John the Baptist borrowed from Isaiah in announcing the coming of Jesus the Messiah, “Every valley shall be exalted, and every mountain and hill made low, the crooked straight, and the rough places plain. And the glory of the Lord shall be revealed, and all flesh shall see it together: for the mouth of the Lord hath spoken it.”
Brothers and sisters: It’s Messiah time again on planet earth! Hallelujah! Whoops, that comes later.
Now, did you notice that the text from Isaiah begins with the admonition of God to the prophet to “comfort” God’s people? Who doesn’t like a good comforting? So are you ready for some good comforting?
First, though, please permit me a couple of minutes of historical background. We need to know or remember that in 587 BCE the Jewish nation had been defeated by King Nebuchadnezzar of Babylonia. Thousands of Jews and their king, Jehoicim, were then taken captiveand carried off to Babylonia, a country that encompasses much of modern day Iraq. Some were even forced into slavery. And what separated Babylonia and their homeland? The same thing that separates Iraq and Israel today: a desert wilderness.
Long story short, some 40 plus years after being taken captive, a man, Isaiah, stands among the people and proclaims that he’s received a word from God. “Gather round,” he says. “Listen up: God says that we have suffered enough. We’re going to get to go back home! Soon!”
Talk about words of hope, of promise, of comfort!
So, how was God going to pull this off? Well, Isaiah says poetically: through a divine road construction program. More than 500 miles of highway, so to speak, would be built across the wilderness – a new infrastructure that would alter the natural features of the land. By God’s hand mountains would be leveled, valleys lifted up, crooked ways made straight, rough places be made smooth. All for the sake of the people of God who could then go home after nearly 50 years in exile.
And it came to pass. God made good on God’s promise: through the pagan King Cyrus of Persia who would conquer Babylonia. Not surprisingly, this rescue from exile by God would eventually become the talk of the Jewish world: What a God we have!
But then more troubles came. Political troubles. First Greece, then Rome. Now, they were often treated as servants in their own land. They could not imagine a future – unless God intervened again.
So along comes a man named John who caught God’s vision same as Isaiah had some 500 plus earlier. Taking Isaiah’s words, he applied them to what the Messiah, Jesus, would do for the Jewish people in their time.
In effect, John says Jesus will comfort them. Not by patting them on the back and saying, “Now, now, don’t cry.” But by helping God’s people reaffirm their first loyalty to God and God’s way of life. For this, you see, is the way to genuine, lasting comfort and peace.
As in Isaiah’s time, so in John’s and Jesus’ time: this would be a time of coming home. Coming home to the way, the truth, the life that is God’s clear intention for humanity. A way, truth and life that you and I have been blessed and privileged to know in Jesus of Nazareth whom we call Christ, Messiah.
Accordingly, our scriptures today are an announcement of returning, of coming home, coming home to our true home following God’s way.
Dan Wakefield is a man who took 40 modern years in the wilderness before he found his way home. In his book "Returning," he describes how he wandered away from God, how his life as an adult became total chaos.
But then, he writes, "I cannot pinpoint any particular time when I suddenly believed in God again. I only know that such belief came to seem as natural as for all but a few stray moments of 25 or more years before it had been inconceivable. I realized this while looking at fish.
"I had gone with my girlfriend to the New England Aquarium, and as we gazed at the astonishingly brilliant colors of some of the small tropical fish -- reds and yellows and oranges -- and watched the amazing lights of the flashlight fish that blinked on like the beacons of some creature of a sci-fi epic, I wondered how anyone could think that all this was the result of some chain of accidental explosions! There had to be a God! Yet. . . to try to convince me otherwise even 5 years before would have been hopeless. Was this what they called 'conversion'?"
He continues. "The term bothered me because it suggested being 'born again' and, like many of my contemporaries, I had been put off by the melodramatic nature of that label. Besides, I didn't "feel" 'reborn.' No voice came out of the sky nor did a thunderclap strike me. . . I was relieved when our minister explained that the literal translation of 'conversion' . . . is not so much 'rebirth' but 'turning.' That's what my own experience felt like -- as if I'd been walking in one direction and then, in response to some inner pull, I turned."
I don’t think Wakefield’s story is unusual. No doubt there are several among us this morning whose story might sound much the same -- a story of being in exile, in wilderness, being lost, and of returning. Coming home. Coming home to ourselves. Coming home to God.
According to Bishop William Willimon, "Wilderness is that place, which is no place, where we lose our way, wander from the path, get lost. Exile is that time when we become enslaved to false gods, serve an alien empire, sell out, forget."
Professor Emeritus Fred Craddock of Emory University's Candler School of Theology remembers a little girl from one of his pastorates. Her parents sent her to church, never came with her. They would pull in the church's circular drive, the little girl would hop out of the car, and they would go out for Sunday brunch. The father was an executive for a chemical company, upwardly mobile, ambitious.
The father and mother were known for their Saturday night parties. I guess everybody got drunk, stoned. But every Sunday, there was the little girl in church.
One Sunday Craddock says he looked out over the congregation and thought, "There she is with a couple of adult friends." Turns out it was mom and dad.
At the end of the service, the invitation was given to come forward and join the church – a practice of churches of his denomination. Anyway, here came Mom and Dad to the front to confess their faith and join the church. After the service, Craddock asked them what had prompted their decision to start a new life. They replied, "Do you know about our parties?" "Yes,” he said, “he’d heard.”
"Well, we had one last night. It got a bit loud, a little rough, everybody was drunk. And it woke up our daughter, and she came downstairs and she was on about the third step. And she saw the eating and drinking and said, 'Oh, can I say the blessing? ‘God is great, God is good, let us thank him for our food. Amen. Goodnight, everybody.’ And she went back upstairs.
“The guests were stunned,” the parents said. “People began to say, 'It's getting late, we really must be goin,... Thanks for a great evening,... Thanks for a good... whatever.' And within about two minutes the room was empty.
"So my wife and I picked up the crumpled napkins, the spilled peanuts, the half-eaten sandwiches, the overflowing ashtrays, and the empty glasses and took them into the kitchen. “And then we looked at each other and my wife said what I was thinking: 'What on earth are we doing? Where do we think we're going with our lives?'"
In the midst of the ordinary that had come to pass for real life for this mother and father, they were met by God in a nightgown clad little girl.
Not bad people. I’m sure these folks weren’t bad people. Just people who’d gotten lost in ways like – well, like any of us can become lost: little by little, just wandering away, chasing this false god, then that, selling out, forgetting.
It’s not that the past is unimportant. It’s only that the future is all important. Accordingly, the hope, the promise, the comfort of advent, this advent, is that wherever we are personally, with whatever past we have, we can be sure that a way home exists. Can be sure that God will make that way and lead us even if it takes leveling mountains, lifting valleys, making crooked paths straight, smoothing the rough places. Hallelujah!
Sermon Advent 1B
Sunday, November 30, 2014
Trinity Episcopal Church, Hartford, CT
Marie Alford-Harkey, M.Div.
Isaiah 64:1-9, Mark 13:24-37
“Oh that you would tear open the heavens and come down!”
“And what I say to you, I say to all: Keep awake!”
Today begins the season of Advent, the season of waiting.
There is a kind of waiting that most of us don’t mind. It’s the kind of waiting that is joyful anticipation – waiting to see those we haven’t seen in a long time. Waiting to see the delight on the faces of those for whom we have made or chosen thoughtful gifts. Waiting to revisit our most cherished traditions, songs, foods, and rituals. Waiting for the good things that we know are coming.
But there is another kind of waiting that is much more difficult to endure. There is a waiting that feels more like dread. Waiting for news – and not knowing whether it will be good or bad. Waiting for hope and yet doubting that there is any. Waiting for healing that may not come. Waiting for answers, and not knowing when or if they will come. Waiting for life to get better. There is a waiting that is, quite frankly, painful, destabilizing, and hard.
This is the waiting that makes us cry out to God – tear open the heavens and come down! Can’t you see that we need you here? Tear open the heavens and come down! You can show yourself in power, you can make the nations tremble, you can surprise us with your awesome deeds, you can make the mountains quake – come down!
That kind of waiting, that kind of longing, is real for so many people today.
We have sick relatives and friends or maybe we ourselves are sick. We are waiting for a decent-paying job, and worried about putting food on the table. Our hearts are breaking because Ebola is spreading in West Africa, now in Guinea. We lament that schoolchildren are missing in Mexico and Nigeria.
Perhaps most urgently, we feel the unrest manifested in the protests that are happening in Ferguson and around the US to assert that Black lives matter.
The announcement that police officer Darren Wilson will not be indicted for the killing of Michael Brown has sparked new protests in Ferguson, Missouri. The outrage over the killing of 12 year old Tamir Rice by a police officer in Cleveland, Ohio because he was playing with a realistic-looking toy gun in a park has added to the sense of hopelessness.
There are so very many things to be said about these unfortunately not isolated events, and many of them have been said by people who are, perhaps like many of you, reflecting deeply on the sin of structural racism.
I have a Facebook Friend who lives in Cleveland, Ohio. He has two Black sons. He is White. On the day that Tamir Rice was killed, he posted this.
“I had a very shiny chrome/steel cap gun at his age, and used it in public parks - I am (just like) Tamir Rice.” A friend of his replied, “And you don't dare to let your son have one.” My friend answered, “You're right- I had that conversation with the two younger boys at dinner.”
This is not an uncommon story. I know of many Black mothers and fathers who have these kinds of conversations with their sons. Those of us who are White, who enjoy the privilege of not having to have those conversations with the children we love – can we imagine what this is like for the parents of Black children?
Of course not. I can’t live another person’s reality, no matter how much goodwill I have.
Another Facebook friend said this about the killing of Michael Brown. “If I had stolen cigars, walked down the middle of the street, refused to move to the sidewalk, got into an argument or even altercation with the policeman, I would have been subdued, perhaps beaten, would have had my feet kicked out from under me to get me to the ground, but I would never, ever have been shot multiple times and killed with my body left out in the street for hours. Because I have a white body.”
It isn’t easy for those of us who are White to name our privilege. How hard it is to admit that I benefit from a system that I never asked for, and that I don’t know how to dismantle.
But my friend is right. The numbers are stark. A report was released in October on the 1,217 deadly police shootings from 2010 to 2012 that are captured in the federal data.
The data shows that Black young men aged 15 to 19 are 21 times more likely to be killed in a police shooting than White young men in the same age group.
It’s easy to get distracted by the specifics of these cases and to miss the bigger point. The privilege of having a white body is a real one. The truth that all lives are sacred is being lost in a system and a structure that privileges some people over others.
I remember when I first learned about white privilege. I was in seminary at Episcopal Divinity School, where the entire curriculum is built around challenging systems of oppression. So the first class that we all take is one called Foundations of Theological Praxis. It involves intensive anti-racism training. When I first was awakened to the idea of white privilege, I said in class that I felt guilty about all this unearned privilege that I have.
I’ll never forget what our instructor said. “We don’t need your guilt.”
She was right. Guilt doesn’t get us very far in the struggle for justice. Neither does blaming the police or blaming the victim. We don’t need more guilt, or more blame. What we need are two advent practices. We need a longing for justice and we need to stay awake.
That cry from the Israelites for God to tear open the heavens gives voice to a deep longing for justice. The world is not as it should be for them. The Israelites have finally returned to Jerusalem after hundreds of years of exile and much to their chagrin they have discovered a deep spiritual truth. Wherever they go, there they are.
Yes, they have arrived back in their promised land of Jerusalem. The temple has been rebuilt. Surely that means that the golden days of Israel’s happiness with God are returning. Except… they have brought themselves along. In the refounding of temple worship, the Israelites begin to encounter resistance from each other. There are disputes between those who have been in Jerusalem and those who have just returned. The exultant vision of a triumphant return to Jerusalem that the Israelites have clung to for hundreds of years is not exactly as they had imagined. Life is still hard. Enemies still prevail against them.
And so, once again, Israel feels abandoned. God’s people are looking and cannot find God. They beg for God to come down and vindicate in the sight of their enemies. They know they are not blameless. They admit that it is by their own fault that they cannot see God’s face, saying “You meet those gladly who do right,” and acknowledging “you were angry, and we sinned.”
And yet, these Israelites who know that they have not been the people they could have been, who believe that God is justified in turning God’s face from them – they still make an audacious request. They remind God that God is a kind parent, a potter to their clay, and that they are the work of God’s hands. And so, they say, we are all your people.
Their lament has turned to hope. Hope not in themselves, but in God’s ultimate goodness.
Our sisters and brothers – and maybe some of us – are lamenting all around this country. These prophet-protesters are calling us to remember that all life is sacred, that Black lives matter.
Mike Kinman, the dean of Christ Church Cathedral in St. Louis, has been writing about his journey in accompanying the protesters in Ferguson. He says that the first times he was out as a clergyperson with demonstrators, he wanted people to calm down. But, he says, “I realize now that, for me, a big part of it was my own uncomfortability with the anger and my own fear at its power. But the anger is the natural result of injustice and it must be expressed. White people like me must not only allow it, we must…allow it to cut us to the core and shake our foundations. We must feel the anger and let it change us.”
Mike has friends who are police officers. And he is making friends among the demonstrators. He says that he wants the police and the protesters “…to see each other's humanity and beauty. I want them to see each other as I see them. And I want it to happen right now because it hurts so much that they can't. I want it to happen right now because it hurts so bad. And I hate the pain. I want it to happen right now because I want the pain to stop.”
Mike is longing for a better world. And so are the protesters. Anger at an unjust system makes sense. Mike has learned that and is allowing himself to be change by that righteous anger.
The protesters know that the world should be different, and they are forcing us to take notice as well. And so we all cry out with all our longing to God – come down! Tear open the heavens and come down! Make this different!
We who are Christians believe that Jesus did come among us. And yet, the world is still not as it should be. Racism infects us and our systems, violence abounds here and around the world.
But we too are audacious in our belief and hope in God. We too, remind God that we are all God’s people. We believe that there will be healing. We believe that wrongs can be put right. We believe that Jesus began that work by coming among us.
And like the disciples, we’d like to put our hope in the miraculous return of Jesus with power and great glory. We’d like to know exactly when Jesus is going to show up and vindicate us to our enemies.
But what we know is that we are not going to know the day or the hour. We know that all through his ministry, Jesus taught that the kingdom of God is among us, not somewhere or sometime far away. He exercised his ministry with those who were oppressed and he taught that his disciples are to do likewise.
So it is our job to keep awake. To keep awake to who needs food, or comfort. To keep awake to the times when we should just show up and weep with those who weep. And it is our job to make the kingdom of God real among us by working for justice and dignity for all people.
May our longing for justice inspire us to tear open the heavens this Advent.
Trinity Episcopal Church Ezekiel 34:11-16, 20-24
Hartford, CT Psalm 100
Christ the King Sunday Ephesians 1:15-23
November 23, 2014 Matthew 25:31-46
The Reign of Christ is Here—Rejoice!
Many of you know what it’s like traveling with children, and you know their eternal question—are we there yet? So it is with the Reign of Christ that we celebrate today. We see the fat sheep, to use Ezekiel’s metaphor, still butting aside the hungry skinny sheep, the one-tenth of one-percenters continually getting richer, and everybody else struggling, finding their road steeper and their journey harder. We look around our city and our nation and our world and are distressed that violence is for many a daily fact of life.
The day will come, Jesus says, when the Son of Man will return in great glory and sort out those who have acted with compassion from those who have not, dispensing eternal reward or eternal punishment. But we’re still waiting. There are still more hungry people than we can feed, people dying of diseases we still can’t cure, people suffering injustice because of the color of their skin or the place on the planet they come from, or because of the gender of the person they are drawn to love, or simply because they’re poor.
Has Christ’s Realm arrived? Are we there yet? Clearly not. And it often seems like the hard rock group of the early 1990’s, Guns ’n’ Roses, had it right when they sang, “Welcome to the jungle, it gets worse here every day.”
Actually, it’s better than the rock group thought. The Harvard cognitive scientist Steven Pinker demonstrates persuasively in his recent book Better Angels of our Nature that in fact the 20th century was the least homicidal one in human history, when homicides are calculated as a fraction of the entire human population at the time. And Pinker, no friend of religion, and in fact hostile to religion, very grudgingly acknowledges that religion has had a positive impact in that measurable progress.
The reason is clear. We’ve been trying to do what Jesus tells us to do in this last great parable before he goes down to Jerusalem and enters into the events of Maundy Thursday and Good Friday. We must feed the hungry, clothe the ill-clothed, visit the sick and imprisoned, welcome the stranger. Attend in his name to human need. And that is precisely what Christians have been doing, and in this parish are doing right now so very well.
The good news I want to offer you this morning comes from stopping to look back and notice what we’ve done AND ARE DOING. And when you stop and notice you will find joy in that. When winter coats and jackets were needed for schoolchildren, what happened? Lo and behold, winter coats and jackets appeared. Now that food at Thanksgiving, and gifts at Christmas for children who otherwise won’t have any are needed, you know what will happen: food and gifts will appear from this congregation. Recall the Rite 13 youngsters celebrated last week, and notice the acolytes serving at the altar. Pay attention when the young children come in from Godly Play, and when older children remain after the service for Church School. Listen to the Choir sing and the great organ play.
Rejoice in what we have done, and are doing, and find energy for your soul by noticing. And today, notice in especial the two new schools founded in this parish. One, the Choir School, presents beautiful music that we hear every Sunday and instructs children every day. And the other, Trinity Academy, will be the subject of special reports in a few minutes from Mark MacGougan and Louise Loomis, with a school open house to follow the service.
Paul talks about the power of God that raised Jesus from the dead working in us through hope. I want to suggest that the resurrection power of God is also visible and mighty and life-giving as we do the work Jesus enjoins in today’s parable of the sheep and goats. Sheep-work, let us call it, this feeding and clothing and visiting.
In fact, I deeply believe that doing sheep-work expresses the power of the Resurrection and gives us more than a glimpse, more than a foretaste, of the Realm of God. Doing that sheep-work IS TO DWELL ALREADY in eternal life, in the realm of God, and that is nothing short of glorious. Even when the work is messy, when the rewards are modest at best, when the thanks fail to arrive, even when you’re tired out, look around you, rejoice, and find restoration for your spirit. One of the great gifts of worship is the great hymns and anthems that irresistibly call us to rejoice—you can’t sing or hear them and NOT rejoice! Another gift is silence, in which we can dwell and take stock of all the good that surrounds us, and rejoice and be grateful.
Toward the end of Luke’s Gospel Jesus replies to people wondering about when God’s triumphant reign is going to occur. He replies (17:20-21) that it won’t be arriving like a Roman emperor, but in fact is already here: “The kingdom of God is in your midst,” he says. It’s here already.
The simple truth is that when we do the sheep-work that Jesus requires of us, we bring in the Reign of Christ, we live in it, we embody it, we embody the resurrection hope, we make it present for other people to touch and see, and to be healed by that experience. Bringing in, living in, this Realm of God—that is what our time and talent, our tithes and offerings, our work in and through this parish church is directed toward.
We are there already, and we’re still on the way, and we celebrate those simultaneous realities in special ways today as we lift up the work we do with the young people of the neighborhood. Notice that, rejoice, and find your spirit restored!
Amen.
April Alford-Harkey, M.Div.
Trinity Episcopal Church, Hartford, CT
November 16, 2014
Year A Proper 28
When I read the gospel for this morning, my first thought was, “You have to be kidding me. I’m going to find the good news in a parable about a harsh master who reaps where he doesn’t sow, a wicked and lazy slave, and weeping and gnashing of teeth? Really…Of all the days for a gospel like this to be read!” Once I gained my composure – or should I say once I stopped weeping and gnashing my teeth – I got to work. I remembered that one of my seminary professors had told us to find ourselves in the text… to find who we most identified with. I didn’t find any good news in that either, when I realized who I identified with the most. The not so good news was… I was the third slave in the narrative. Let me tell you how I came to this realization.
The parable of the talents is about a man who is going on a long journey. He entrusts part of his enormous wealth to three of his slaves. One source estimated a single talent was equal to thirty thousand dollars. That means the master gave the first slave one hundred fifty thousand dollars, the second slave received sixty thousand dollars and the third slave thirty thousand dollars. The first two slaves invested the money and made a profit. The third slave buried the money. When the master returns the first and second slave report they have made him a profit. The master is so pleased he calls the two slaves good and trustworthy. The third slave tells the master that he buried the money he was given. He tells the master he was afraid of him. He was afraid because the master was a mean, harsh man. The master calls the third slave wicked and lazy and chastises him for not making a profit. The master then has the third slave thrown into the outer darkness, where there is weeping and gnashing of teeth. So… you could imagine why I was not excited to see myself as the third slave.
The first two slaves risked their position and power to try to make a profit for the master. Fortunately for them, their financial risks paid off. The slaves made money for their master, a man known for not having the best business practices. But the third slave also risked position and power by not multiplying the master’s money. Did the third slave’s actions warrant being thrown into outer darkness? And why would the third slave bury the money, knowing he would be punished for protecting the money and himself?
The hearers of Matthew’s gospel would have understood why the third slave buried the money. By burying the money the slave was not responsible for it being lost in a business transaction. It was a known fact that putting money in the ground was a safer bet than investing it. In addition, investing the money meant that the third slave would be participating in a corrupt system. The unethical financial practices in Matthew’s time left the poor powerless and vulnerable to the greedy.
The third slave’s story is much bigger than burying the master’s money. The third slave actually calls his master out. He tells the master he didn’t want to make money for him because of his unjust practices. The slave refused to participate in the corrupt oppressive system of the master where money and profits were made off the backs of the poor who were vulnerable and defenseless. The listeners would have seen the third slave as a hero and a whistle blower according to biblical scholar William Herzog. The third slave spoke his truth, knowing he would be cast out, losing his status and income… He was willing to become poor.
Nowhere in the Bible do we hear Jesus say, “Make all the money you want no matter how much you exploit others.” The parable of the talents exemplifies Jesus’ ministry. The third slave flips the paradigm upside down. Just like Jesus the third slave challenged the system that oppressed others. What if the third slave illustrates for us how we can be in the world? How we might behave while we await Jesus’ return?
The good news is that none of us needs to participate in the marginalization of others for self-gain. We have the choice to speak up when we see injustice. The third slave shows us another way of being.
Today we recognize the young people in the Rite-13 formation class with a rite of passage ceremony. Today we begin to see these young people as adults in the church. Moving into adulthood is more than a number for them. It is about maturing into a person who is able to make wiser decisions for yourself: decisions about relationships, friends, family and the world you live in. You can choose to be a person who speaks out and questions the status quo. This is a time to cultivate who you are in the world. What if as a community we continue to empower these young people who are celebrating adulthood? We can let them know that, if they choose, it is okay to be like the third slave in our gospel reading.
Let us pray: “Merciful God resisting the iron fist that which reaps where it did not sow: give us courage to accept your faith in us and compassion to stand with all who are cast aside; through Jesus Christ, who became nothing that we might have everything. Amen.” [i]
[i] --From Prayers for an Inclusive Church by Steven Shakespeare
Sermon November 9, 2014
Year A Proper 27
The Rev. Bonnie Matthews, Deacon
Joshua 24:1-3a, 14-25
Psalm 78:1-7
1 Thessalonians 4:13-18
Matthew 25:1-13
May my meditations, my words and my actions always be acceptable to you,
O Lord my strength and my redeemer.
Good morning.
God is good all the time…..All the time God is good
With this lectionary, I needed to be reminded that God is good all the time.
Here we are, we have just celebrated All Saints’ Day with the knowledge that we will one day be joined in heaven with God and All the Saints and there are only three weeks before the start of our new church year with Advent and our anticipation of the Coming of Jesus. The scripture for today seems daunting and apocalyptic in nature. Or perhaps not, perhaps it’s a lesson on preparedness.
1 Thessalonians 4:16-17
For the Lord himself, with a cry of command, with the archangel's call and with the sound of God's trumpet, will descend from heaven, and the dead in Christ will rise first. Then we who are alive, who are left, will be caught up in the clouds together with them to meet the Lord in the air; and so we will be with the Lord forever. Therefore encourage one another with these words.
Paul’s discourse while apocalyptic is meant to be pastoral. He is addressing the Thessalonians who were grieving the death of fellow Christians. Paul recalls what God has done for Jesus. Jesus has died and has risen. God will do the same for those who die in Christ, they will live with Jesus. Paul is not trying to scare those who do not believe in Christ. He is encouraging those who believe in Christ. We need to hear this, we need to exercise our voices, we need to be our actions into words and deeds, we need to be prepared for that time.
Matthew 25:10-13
When the foolish took their lamps, they took no oil with them; but the wise took flasks of oil with their lamps. As the bridegroom was delayed, all of them became drowsy and slept. But at midnight there was a shout, `Look! Here is the bridegroom! Come out to meet him.' Then all those bridesmaids got up and trimmed their lamps. The foolish said to the wise, `Give us some of your oil, for our lamps are going out.' But the wise replied, `No! there will not be enough for you and for us; you had better go to the dealers and buy some for yourselves.' And while they went to buy it, the bridegroom came, and those who were ready went with him into the wedding banquet; and the door was shut. Later the other bridesmaids came also, saying, `Lord, lord, open to us.' But he replied, `Truly I tell you, I do not know you.' Keep awake therefore, for you know neither the day nor the hour."
Jesus uses this parable because in ancient Palestine everyone understood that wedding customs required vigilance and preparation for all who were involved. The bride and groom’s wedding celebration often lasted for a full week with their family and friends who, in many instances, had traveled a long way on foot. It was customary for the groom, at his discretion, to come and bring the bride to the wedding party. Because the groom came at his discretion it was necessary to be prepared. If the groom came at night by necessity lamps were required.
In today’s words it could be like traveling by air, sometimes by bus or train. You have to be ready, you need to pack, keeping in mind, the things you need and the things you can’t bring with you. You get to the TSA check point and you don’t have your proper identification or maybe it’s expired. Oops you don’t get to travel. But you had the opportunity to plan. Because weddings were so customary, the five foolish bridesmaids had the time to prepare. They knew what they needed. Jesus doesn’t say the bridesmaids used their oil foolishly. Jesus says they didn’t have any oil. The bridesmaids just weren’t prepared. They didn’t plan.
Today is stewardship Sunday.
A day identified to gather our estimate of giving cards noting our intention of financial support for Trinity Episcopal Church. Hopefully we have given prayerful attention to the financial needs of Trinity Church and what we can offer. With the excellent work of the Annual Appeals Team, we have all had the opportunity to review the materials contained in the mailing we received this past week. We may have read the book Thrift & Generosity by John Templeton, Jr. or the Warden's Report, the essays and poems by our brothers and sisters at Trinity as part of our discernment process and we have committed ourselves to the needs of the church.
But stewardship Sunday is not only about our monetary treasure.
Stewardship is also the responsible overseeing and protection of something considered worth caring for and preserving.
I know Trinity Church is something we care about and want to preserve. And we show that through participation.
Perhaps stewardship is raising your voice cheerfully like our young choristers, Jenna, Amaree, and Daniella who are being promoted to White Voice Life Level and Blue Voice Life Level in The Choir School of Hartford during today’s 10:00am service. You may be a choir member, or someone reading and/or studying scripture, praying with those who are requesting healing, tending to the alter as members of the alter guild, serving as an acolyte or minister of communion, bringing the Eucharist to those who are homebound, caring for the grounds of the church. Perhaps you are a steward of Christian Education for youth or adults. Please forgive me if I have not specifically named a ministry that is dear to you. There are so many ministries in the church that we take a whole year to name them as we lifting them up in prayer each week.
Stewardship is not solely about Trinity Church. God has entrusted us to care for all of God’s creation. It is about furthering God’s love for all in the world. In this sense, stewardship is also about how Trinity Church cares and tends to God’s creation outside of these walls. It is about how God may be calling you to action and service in the world. It is about being a witness to God’s love for us.
At the time of my ordination to the Holy Order of the Diaconate I vowed to interpret to the Church the needs, concerns, and hopes of the world, living and teaching Christ’s people that in serving the helpless they are serving Christ himself.
My vocation as a deacon calls me to remind you that stewardship is not only about what we do within the church or the giving of goods or money to those in need. It is also about being a voice for justice for those who are in need. A voice against violence, a voice against hunger, a voice that calls for resolutions to end hunger, a voice that is lifted for racial, ethnic, financial, and sexual inequality.
If you have not considered this as part of your stewardship responsibility I urge you to reflect on how you can better participate in being prepared and in preparing others for when Christ will come again. For you know neither the day nor the hour.
Jesus warns us that there are consequences for being unprepared. There are certain things we cannot obtain at the last moment. For example, a student cannot prepare for his/her SATs the day before testing. One who is seeking employment creates a resume highlighting particular character strengths and skills they have before having an interview with a perspective employer. We take time to prepare for what is ahead. The Lord invites us to feast at his banquet table. We will not be prepared to meet the Lord, face to face, when we are called, unless we listen to God calling us today.
I wonder, are we ready?
Oh Lord, giver of life and source of our freedom, we are reminded that Yours is “the earth in its fullness; the world and those who dwell in it.” We know that it is from your hand that we have received all we have and are and will be. Gracious and loving God, we understand that you call us to be the stewards of Your abundance, the caretakers of all you have entrusted to us. Help us always to use your gifts wisely and teach us to share them generously. May our faithful stewardship bear witness to the love of Christ in our lives. We pray this with grateful hearts in Jesus’ name. Amen.[1]
[1] Stewardship Prayer www.archchicago.org
October 19, 2014
Trinity Parish, Hartford
Nineteenth Sunday After Pentecost
Exodus 33:12-23; Psalm 99; 1 Thessalonians 1:1-10; Matthew 22:15-22
The Rev. Dr. Frank G. Kirkpatrick
In today’s Gospel Jesus takes hold of a coin used to pay taxes to the Roman administration and says “give therefore to the emperor the things that are the emperor's, and to God the things that are God's." This utterance by Jesus has been one of the most important and most misunderstood of any of his sayings. One reason for these misunderstandings seems obvious on the surface: Jesus doesn’t actually tell us specifically what belongs to the emperor and what belongs to God. This is especially puzzling because in one sense everything belongs to God and we are only the stewards of God’s possessions. But Jesus does not question the fact that emperors are also stewards of God’s wealth. The question is what does that stewardship consist of?
One particularly false reading of the passage concludes that Jesus resolved the perennial tension between religion and the government, which for us today is the parallel to the emperor, by, in effect, dividing them completely. This interpretation suggests that we give to the governmental powers that be whatever they demand in the form of taxes and then get on about the more important business of developing our spirituality, our relationship with the non-temporal, non-governmental dimensions of our lives. It is assumed that Jesus, in his pithy comment, is simply dismissing the world of politics and governance and replacing it with the world of God and religion. Since God has established the worldly powers they need to be respected and obeyed but they are not really all that important. If we pay too much attention to them they will suck us up into a realm of concern for the nitty-gritty of everyday living and in the process distract us from the higher, transcendental obligation to deepen our spirituality and focus on our religious aspirations. We ought, it is claimed, to keep moral judgments out of politics and restrict them primarily to our personal relationships which we believe are uncontaminated by the messiness and corruption which we see throughout the political order.
But this division between religion and government is dangerously false if understood in the wrong way. Now it is true that Jesus was not, in today’s sense of the term, a social reformer. He had no political or social agenda or program or policy recommendations to set before the Roman government. His mission was more basic: he was laying the groundwork for the coming of the Kingdom of God on earth. That groundwork consisted of a set of moral and spiritual principles upon which the kingdom would be built. But it was a kingdom which no human government would ever fully embody. It was a kingdom that, in significant ways, went beyond any form of human society.
Nevertheless, the principles of the kingdom of God are not utterly alien to our life together in this world prior to the full establishment of the Kingdom. After all, a kingdom is a family, a society, a fellowship – in short a community of some kind. It is a polis, the Greek word for a city-state in which people live out their social natures in relationship with others through the common work of the people known as politics. It is where we as human beings belong if we want the fullest aspects of our potential for wholeness to be most fully realized. The truth of the world God created is that we cannot fully flourish or attain the fullest expression of what God created us to be individualistically by ourselves or for ourselves. We were made for each other, to live in bonds of the deepest attachment and intimacy with each other, to experience the exquisite delights of mutual love and companionship. The kingdom of God when it is fully developed will consist of these delights, or as Ben said last week, our deepest joy. In the meantime our religious lives will try to model, albeit brokenly and incompletely, something like a foretaste of the Kingdom, but they will not participate in the Kingdom in its fullness until God brings it about in God’s own time.
And in the meantime all our other forms of communal or social living will remain part of how we live in the world. Among those other forms is the world of organized society. And society is what human beings form in order to live together in accordance with the principles of justice. Justice is the hallmark of a good society. It is treating all people fairly and in accordance with their basic needs and our ability to fulfill those needs (and these are genuine needs essential to living abundantly in accord with our God-created nature. They are not just desires or wants which may have little to do with what we truly need). Perhaps justice will not be necessary in the kingdom of God because there we will relate to each other solely out of love and mutual regard. But in a society in which love is never a reliable basis for governing, given our still sinful and self-seeking sinful natures, we need principles of justice to counter such selfishness; to block the unfair aggrandizement of power by the few at the expense of the many; to stymie the excesses of greed and self-seeking; to protect the rights of the oppressed; to ensure the rights of all to fair play, meaningful employment at a living wage, health care, food, decent housing: the list is long and unfortunately we have only made little progress in addressing it.
The point is that until we live fully in the kingdom of God we have a moral responsibility to take seriously the building of societies on principles of justice and fairness. And whether we like it or not the application of those principles directly involves us in the work of government. And government requires a principled and engaged involvement with the work of politics for the polis. And the work of justice and politics directly implicates the issue of taxes: the very issue in the gospel this morning to which Jesus’ words regarding the coin point us. For that coin was intended to pay taxes to the emperor. The emperor was the head of government in the Roman Empire and he determined where the tax money would go. Taxes are nothing more and nothing less than the means by which a society pays for the institutions and practices that, in theory, put the principles of justice into effect. Unfortunately, justice for those in need is not free. It requires the expenditure of time, labor, and resources. If it is only just that all persons have equal access to quality medical care, then the provision of that care for everyone in the polis takes money. Taxes are the means by which a society pays for what services and resources its people need in order to live justly and humanely. Therefore, taxes are inherently a moral matter. If you want to know what the moral convictions of a society are look at its budget and how it raises and spends its tax revenues.
Unfortunately today many people have come to believe that society is best governed without socially mandated taxes. The mania of hate and loathing against taxes has reached a fevered pitch that is leading many people to blindly and irrationally oppose all taxes, except perhaps those which pay for the services and privileges which they happen to enjoy and which some of them seem to think do not require taxes such as Medicare and Social Security. This hatred of taxes has sometimes been justified by some Christians by appealing to this morning’s text in which Jesus fails to tell us what really belongs to Ceaser.
This coming weekend the Diocese of Connecticut at its annual convention will consider a proposal to address one of the crying issues of justice in our country today. This motion asks that the Church name economic inequality as a spiritual and moral issue of immediate and urgent concern. It notes that since 1970, the richest 1 percent of Americans have gained a larger share of total national pretax income, and this increase in inequality has been exacerbated by a regressive tax policy. [Tax rates on the top 1 percent of taxpayers have fallen over this same period while the bottom 60 percent lost wealth during these years.] [Our sense of values has become distorted, when making money justifies the means, and where the U.S. subprime crisis came to mean exploiting the poorest and least educated among us.]
Joseph E. Stiglitz (Nobel Prize Winner in Economics and Chief Economist of the World Bank) has written, “Much of what has gone on can only be described by the words MORAL DEPRIVATION.” If Stiglitz, an economist, can invoke moral judgment, surely the Church ought to do so as well. The motion goes on to say that as Christians we should be deeply concerned about moral deprivation. In our Book of Common Prayer, we pray that in this nation no one may suffer the ravages of poverty and that “every one of us may enjoy a fair portion of the riches of this land.” (Prayer 36, pg. 826) We also pray that God will “guide the people of this land so to use our public and private wealth that all may find suitable and fulfilling employment, and receive just payment for their labor.” (Prayer 30, pg. 824) And in our psalm this morning we say “O mighty King, lover of justice, you have established equity; you have executed justice and righteousness in Jacob”.
The motion concludes by enjoining us to take responsibility for our own relative wealth and evaluate our own financial practices individually and as a church. We must use our voices and our assets to seek justice and relieve the suffering and inequity that surround us.”
This lengthy section of the motion which I’ve just referenced reminds us that we have a deep moral responsibility to take seriously the use to which we put our coins for the emperor, or in our terms, for the governance of justice in our society. We cannot pretend that what belongs to the society is not of crying moral concern or that we can avoid engaging with the political, economic, and social order just because it is not yet the complete Kingdom of God on earth. Until that divine kingdom comes in its fullness we will have enough to do here in our human kingdoms to use our common resources and common wealth to create a tax system that will truly direct our taxes toward meeting the needs of the poor, the hungry, the ill-fed, the homeless, the sick, and those working at jobs which do not pay a living wage. Instead of shunting the issue of taxing into a realm of life we would prefer not to deal with, we must embrace tax reform as one of the fundamental moral issues of our time. If a fair and flourishing life in this world is part of what God intends for us, then using the resources gathered from our tax system is part of providing that life. And it integrates both our social responsibility and our most basic religious principles.
Sunday, October 12, 2014
Philippians 4:1-9 Psalm 106:1-6, 19-23 II Corinthians 5:14-21 Matthew 22: 1-14
I am very glad be here and to be able to help out while your rector is on medical disability leave; and of course I’m very sorry for the circumstances that bring me here. I know Father Hamer loves you and this parish, and you love him. We will all be praying earnestly for his speedy return to health.
On behalf of the parish, I want to most cordially thank Bishop Smith and Father Kirkpatrick, and Deacon Bonnie Matthews for so selflessly caring for the parish during Fr. Hamer’s absence, and to thank all the fine preachers who continue to bring us the Word from this pulpit, and all the excellent staff members, lay leaders and volunteers who keep this parish faithfully doing God’s work here.
If you happen to be a keen observer of such things you will have noticed that I’ve omitted the prescribed lesson from the Hebrew scriptures this morning, and in its place substituted the passage from II Corinthians 5.
The reason is simple. That passage really defines what I consider my ministry to be all about. I confess I was going to have us read that passage today that no matter what the appointed lessons were.
As a boy growing up I belonged to a church youth organization modeled on the Boy Scouts that included memorizing scripture passages as a part of advancing in rank. And II Cor. 5: 17-19 defined our calling and purpose. A bit grandiosely, we understood our calling to be “ambassadors for Christ,” in Paul’s words.
I have to acknowledge that those word of this passage stuck, and I want to say at the outset of our time together that proclaiming and trying to live out the ministry of reconciliation that Paul describes is what I hope we can do together here.
“God was in Christ reconciling people to each other and to God.” So, along with those words, my theme today is from Philippians—rejoice in the Lord always.
And I rejoice first of all that the music we’re singing proclaims that theme—and that both the Gospel and Paul’s words to the Corinthians explain how we can experience and live in that joy.
Now as the fine little book that you are reading as part of your stewardship awareness this fall—John Templeton’s Thrift and Generosity—explains, joy is not the same thing as happiness, and something I could never get my college students to understand, is hardly ever to be confused with “having a good time.”
Joy is something a whole lot deeper. It is an awareness of well-being in the very core of our deep self, at the heart of our existence. I’d describe it as a powerful sense of being aligned with the loving and creative power that brought the universe into existence and charts its course—and our own—with loving although often unknowable purpose. Joy is, in J R R Tolkien’s words, “beyond the walls of the world.” And it is available—and so many of you here know this—even when our immediate circumstances are far from happy. Even when we are beset by pain, even when fear lurks around the corner or close at hand, this joy, this ability to rejoice in the Lord always and not let any kind of care overwhelm us—this joy frees us from the tyranny of pain and liberates us from fear.
And I want to suggest to you that one magnificent way we can know this fine joy and walk continually in it is by taking to heart Paul’s invitation to be ambassadors of Christ, ambassadors of reconciliation.
And I believe you in this parish already live out and bear witness in so many powerful ways to what reconciliation means—making right something that had been wrong. During the week, AA and other group-help programs meet here. And even if alcohol has never been the false god of your particular life or mine, all of us know what it means to worship some false god and to need and be grateful for God’s mercy, just as the Psalm says. We know God’s reconciling love first hand and are grateful for it.
Next, look around this parish, and you will see people present born in many different nations—I recently called Trinity the Church version of the United Nations.
And over our main front door is a rainbow banner. It proclaims to me this parish’s marvelous living into the reconciling truth that God creates human beings with individual gender and sexual identities. You proclaim that God calls us human beings to treat all of God’s children not only with dignity and respect, but with the welcoming love that God displays toward each of us, and with the invitation to share equally in this calling to reconcile the world to God and people to each other in Jesus Christ.
And that rainbow also bears witness to another magnificent testimony this parish embodies: if you look around, you will see every skin tone that human beings can wear, and that reality testifies to the splendor of God’s own nature, all of us being created in God’s image, and it is as splendid and awe- and wonder- and joy-inspiring as the most magnificent rainbow you’ve ever seen.
Weren’t you thrilled this week that Malala Yusafzai and Kailash Satyarthi jointly won the Nobel Peace Prize?-- A grand and globally visible manifestation of the human longing for, and capacity to achieve, reconciliation by making education equally available to girls and boys and by ending exploitation of children. It’s a reminder of Archbishop Tutu who received the Nobel Peace Prize thirty years ago for the Truth and Reconciliation Commission that brought racial peace to South Africa.
And I believe that what you are doing so well here, and what Malala and Kailash are doing without calling it that, is that you are walking in the Way of the Cross. As our great collect for Fridays says, yes, you are walking in the Way of the Cross and you are finding it none other than the way of life and peace, of joy beyond the walls of the world, and of the peace that passes all understanding. The Way of the Cross is reconciliation between God and human beings and God, and human beings with each other. It is the way of self-giving love, love that focuses on reconciliation, not retribution.
And how did you get there, to that amazing place? By putting fear aside. By trusting God to help you bridge the gulf that our basic human nature digs—the fear of what appears to be Other, with a capital O. Marilynne Robinson states the sad truth: “Fear is the default condition of being human” [NYT Magazine, Oct. 5, 2014].
But you, you are putting that fear behind you. In the metaphor of Jesus’ troubling parable, you have accepted the invitation to ENTER the wedding feast.And by being here and bringing your friends here and by so generously supporting the mission and ministry that Trinity Church brings to this neighborhood, this city, this state and nation and world, you are being doers of the word, and not hearers only [James 1:22].
How many people do you know who declare they are spiritual but not religious? SBNR folk. I think SBNR folk are those who are intrigued by the awe and serenity that emerge from spiritual tradition and practice and look at it longingly from afar. They are the folks in Jesus’ parable who come in off the streets in response to the invitation to attend the wedding feast.
But they have not yet put on their wedding garment. They have not set aside their fear. They are merely witnessing what is possible. They are spiritually and emotionally on the outside, looking in the window. They’re not experiencing the joy. But you in this place, you have put on your wedding garment. You have stepped beyond the fear and are joyful participants, feasting at the marriage banquet of the Lamb of God. You are wearing gorgeous robes, rainbow hued, robes washed in the blood of the Lamb and made spotless unto the day of the Lord.
You are living the joy and bearing witness to it. You are ambassadors for Christ and by your lives giving other people whose lives are closely bound with yours courage not only to enter this marriage feast and to see the joy, but to step outside their own fear and put on their own wedding garments and live in the joy and wonder that is the birthright of every citizen of the City of God.
Friday I was celebrating communion with the folks in the Caleb Hitchcock wing of the Duncaster Retirement Community. Now when I drove into the place I noticed construction equipment, a big excavation. And a sign that said, danger, blasting zone.
Which of course I forgot all about. Until during communion I held up the paten with the bread on it and said, “This is my body, given for you. Do this in remembrance of me.” And at that instant, there was a great BOOM and the building shook, and of course we all jumped out of our skin—and then laughed out loud. We were all thinking the same thing, I’m sure—“OK boss, that was a little dramatic —even for you.
We need little reminders like that from time. I’m here. You’re here. And then the reminder—the Holy Spirit is here, and in the words of the fine old hymn, “to know it’s the Spirit of the Lord.” “The Lord is at hand,” Paul says. And you know what, that’s enough. We know this is the marriage feast and we are living in it all the time, living ambassadors, walking in joy. And that’s enough, and MORE THAN ENOUGH. HOW CAN WE NOT RESPOND WITH GENEROSITY TO GOD’S GLORY SO RICHLY MANIFESTED AS IT IS HERE?
Do you remember Paul’s words to the Ephesians that Bishop Smith reminded us of last week, words that close Evening Prayer? What did he say? Glory to God? What? “Glory to God, whose power, working in us can do more than we can ask or imagine.” And yes, “Glory to God, from generation to generation in the church, and in Christ Jesus for ever and ever.” AMEN? AMEN.
Sermon at the Ordination to the Diaconate of
The Rev. Kim Jeanne Litsey, Deacon
Trinity Episcopal Church
Hartford, CT
October 5, 2014
Numbers 11:16-17,24-29;
1Peter 5:1-4;
John 4:31-38
Greetings....
What if you missed your own ordination? Most likely that will never happen. But suppose it happens how would it be handled. Chances are that the bishop, if satisfied that there was an acceptable reason that you would not make it, would set up a new date for you to be done.
It should come as no surprise if God does things differently! Eldad and Medad missed their anointing/commissioning. They were numbered among the 70 but did not make it to the tent of meeting with God (or are we talking about an extra 2? This is the same problem with Biblical counting we find in the Gospels). Everyone who had been selected except them was there. The 68 (or is it still the 70?) got their infilling with the Spirit of God: A measure from that which Moses had from God. They prophesied for a while and all was calm and work had to begin. If there were more signs and wonders we do not know as we are not told. Joshua, the son of Nun, Moses' Canon to the Ordinary, asks Moses to stop them. Moses answers in a very unexpected way:
“Are you jealous for my sake? Would that all the LORD’s people were prophets, and that the LORD would put his spirit on them!”
A strange thing happened to our two absentees! When the great spectacle at the tent of meeting was over, the two got possessed of God and began to prophesy in the camp where they were. How could this be? They missed the occasion. Things only happen at the designated place! What's with this clandestine activity in a place where God was not to be found and with no visible connection to Moses, a portion of whose spirit they were going to get. All irregular!! I suppose the point is that if you are marked by God for a task he will make sure you get to be empowered to do it by hook or by crook. If it means some irregular style, so be it!!
The Spirit in Moses was not Moses' own. It was God's. The ministry and office he held was not his own. It was not his choice that he was possessed of God. If we can recall his story we would know that in fact he tried to get out of it at the very beginning by positing so many reasons why he could not possibly be the one to lead God's people.
Another theme that runs through this is that God specializes in giving people more work than they can handle and then making them share the load with others. We have Moses in this scenario, in the Gospels we see the same with Jesus who makes it very clear to the disciples that once they are one with him as he is with the Father they will do what he has done and more!! As they too in turn get to do the job they quickly realize that they cannot do it all and so they have to choose among them some people full of the Spirit of God to administer food distribution and other alms:
“Select from among yourselves seven men of good standing, full of the Spirit and of wisdom, whom we may appoint to this task, 4 while we, for our part, will devote ourselves to prayer and to serving the word.” 5 What they said pleased the whole community, and they chose Stephen, a man full of faith and the Holy Spirit, together with Philip, Prochorus, Nicanor, Timon, Parmenas, and Nicolaus, a proselyte of Antioch. 6 They had these men stand before the apostles, who prayed and laid their hands on them”
And as their ministry grows beyond their local region the apostles in turn appoint elders of all sorts to carry on the work. It is to such that we hear Peter in the Epistle addressing his advice.
As Tradition has it, it is in this spirit that the ministry of deacons developed. They are to serve as helpers of the bishops and priests: a ministry of "assistance". Hear what the ordinal says of this ministry:
“As a deacon in the Church, you are to study the Holy Scriptures, to seek nourishment from them, and to model your life upon them. You are to make Christ and his redemptive love known, by your word and example, to those among whom you live, and work, and worship. You are to interpret to the Church the needs, concerns, and hopes of the world. You are to assist the bishop and priests in public worship and in the ministration of God’s Word and Sacraments, and you are to carry out other duties assigned to you from time to time. At all times, your life and teaching are to show Christ’s people that in serving the helpless they are serving Christ himself.”
A ministry no less in importance than that of those for whom the assistance is envisioned. Just a different charism of the same Spirit!
The same spirit that was in Moses is on the 70. The same spirit that was in Christ is on the disciples. The same spirit that was on the disciples was on the deacons.
Back to the absentee "ordinands". God has a tendency to do stuff in his own way and in his own time. Once God has decided you are to serve him and you indicate your willingness to do it he finds a way to make it happen. We on the other hand have a tendency to want it to happen where and when we want it. We quickly take over the initiative forgetting whose it is. The initiative has always been God's and so are the means by which all is accomplished. You cannot push it, shove it or pull it to make it happen. God will find you in his time and place and at his pace. When he has not kept what we believe to be the timetable we sometimes think that we are less than the others whose timetable seemed to go according to "plan".
Knowing one's place in God's design helps us focus on the ministry that God has called us for. It may seem strange to some and out of step for yet others. Hind sight helps put things into perspective. St Paul is a good example. In fact he even calls himself the least of the apostles, one still-born. Yet he was used of God in amazing ways to the extent that even the other apostles were envious and even tried to proscribe boundaries to his ministry. When others were copying his style and preaching everywhere some of his followers wanted him to stop them but he did a Moses on them when he said that as long as they preached the same message they can preach on, whether they preach out of competition or not they can preach on! This does not mean that any charlatan can get away with an imitation Gospel. Another of St Paul's stories is that of the sons of a certain Mr. Sceva who tried to imitate Paul. The demoniac gave them a good hiding that they ran out stark naked!"
Depending on how the Lord works in, with and through you, you may find yourself being very successful. This has a tendency to make you feel special. The chosen one. The one who was not expected to amount to much but has demonstrated that they are something. This may happen to you as it happens to quite a lot of us. What causes this in us is that we tend to forget that the Spirit who is enabling us to do this is not our Spirit, the gifts we have are but just gifts from that same Spirit who is the Spirit of Christ Jesus who is at work in you to do God's good pleasure just as She is in others doing the same. In fact as the Gospel we read today poignantly reminds us:
"I sent you to reap what you have not worked for. Others have done the hard work, and you have reaped the benefits of their labor!"
So much for what we consider our innovativeness and special gifts that bring about extraordinary results! Whether you are inside the tent meeting or missed your own ordination it is God's Spirit who does his good pleasure in you. In fact this is why the Gospel constantly reminds us that it is not about us. When the 72 disciples came back from the preaching mission on which Jesus had sent them, Jesus quickly told them not to rejoice in their accomplishments but to rejoice that their names are written in heaven. It's not about accomplishments but about what the Spirit of God is able to do through us.
I suppose the foregoing is a scenario when all is going well and one is on fire for the Lord and blazing through ministry. What of those times when the going is tough and there aren't that many results to show for it? I am talking about a feeling like one has during CPE when you have to go back into that depressing ward in the hospital and face those in pain and the irascible ungrateful. Work and a pain it all seems! Done under compulsion and not from a happy and willing disposition. Done from a position that says one has got to earn one's keep! But do you really? I am referring to that time when the euphoria is gone and you are no longer "prophesying". At this point one has to hear Peter, the seasoned elder, speaking to others like him and take his word to heart when he says
“To tend the flock of God that is in your charge, ... not under compulsion but willingly, as God would have you do it; not for sordid gain but eagerly.
As the field shrinks but vocations are on the rise we wonder what the Lord is up to. Are we seeing the field right? Is it the problem of seeing only through one set of lenses? Has the field really shrunk? What of the saying that the harvest is plentiful and the laborers few? I cannot claim to have the inside knowledge of what this is. What I know for a fact is that the Lord is calling people for a purpose and there is work to be done. It seems that those of us who are already in the field already know the full extent of that vineyard and dare to judge the number required to fulfil the task. Are we God, I wonder? Sometimes we know who all his workers are because we have a census that tells us who they all are and the limits of the pool from which to draw. Certainly our duty of oversight as some of us who are bishops and recruitment officers gives us some insights into this and we have a sense of it all and operate under a certain rule of thumb. Is it not time we paused awhile and asked ourselves what God is about and figure or rather discern what new thing he is setting in motion. Is it possible that he has some other people for this and other tasks, who are prophesying outside the tent of meeting, in the camp?
I would like to suggest to us today that God is calling us to his tent meeting to give us a word which word we would need to obey and set in motion a ministry, if not ministries, that we have not thought about or even imagined. Moses had not even thought about what kind of help he needed until God spoke to him through his father-in-law and then directly to him. Once he obeyed and did as God suggested he unleashed ministry to God's people he had not imagined. Only then can we appreciate the prophecy from the camp and unleash ministries relevant to this day and age. We will then have the humility to recognize that the Holy Spirit is at work among this generation to will and to do God's good pleasure.
“For this reason I bow my knees before the Father, 15 from whom every family in heaven and on earth takes its name. 16 I pray that, according to the riches of his glory, he may grant that you may be strengthened in your inner being with power through his Spirit, 17 and that Christ may dwell in your hearts through faith, as you are being rooted and grounded in love. 18 I pray that you may have the power to comprehend, with all the saints, what is the breadth and length and height and depth, 19 and to know the love of Christ that surpasses knowledge, so that you may be filled with all the fullness of God.
20 Now to him who by the power at work within us is able to accomplish abundantly far more than all we can ask or imagine, 21 to him be glory in the church and in Christ Jesus to all generations, forever and ever. Amen.”
