19 October 2008
Twenty-Second Sunday after Pentecost
Year A
“My presence will go with you.”
In nomine...
To see God's face. Moses asks some pretty lofty things in today's reading from Exodus. He asks to know God's ways and to see God's face. To see God's face? Instead, God's declares that the people Moses is responsible for, the chosen people of Israel will be in God's presence. God said that his presence would be with them. Moses was thought this was so important that he asked “If your presence will not go, do not carry us up from here.” The children of Israel were God's chosen, and they knew this because they were in his presence.
Like the children of Israel, Moses was also chosen. Moses was God's prophet who led Israel out of Egypt. The verses from the narrative, just before those read from Exodus today, talk about a tent that was pitched in the desert where God and Moses would chat. Moses had the opportunity to be alone with God and to be in God's holy presence. They were so close that Moses thought it appropriate to ask God if he could see God face. And while this request was denied, God let his goodness pass over Moses. Moses, like many who went before him, had an intimate relationship with God, in a way that few of us could really expect.
But what of the church? The church is also chosen. In this salutation and introduction to Paul's letter to the Thessalonians Paul writes that we, as the church are God's chosen people too. “For we know, brothers and sisters beloved by God” he writes “that he has chosen you.” Paul writes of the communities in Macedonia and Achaia that seem to be thriving. But clearly by then Christ has died and risen, and the relationships like that between Moses and God don't seem to happen much anymore.
Now, when writing a sermon, I believe that sermons should fit in with the rest of any service. That the music, the time of year, parish happenings, et cetera are all important things to consider. When I started to write this sermon I was bit unsure how to begin. Karin, being organized and responsible as she is, emailed me copies of today's bulletins on Wednesday. When I looked at the service music I had an audible groan. There is one hymn that we are singing today that I really really wish we weren't. Its one of those old favorites, but theologically, it just drives me batty. And that is “I come to the garden alone.” [LEVAS 69, read v 1, chorus 3 at 8am and 11:15am].
I come to the garden alone. I don't believe you are ever alone. To say that you are going to the garden alone says that God is hanging out there waiting for you, and I always thought God's presence is always with us – that God is bit like Santa – he knows when you are sleeping, he knows when you're awake, and so on.
And then there is the last line of the chorus “And the joy we share as we tarry there, none other has ever known.” “Like none other has known?” Like you're so special. If this was sung as the Easter hymn that C. Austin Miles wrote it as – about Mary Magdalene seeing the stone rolled away and confusing Jesus as a gardener, I might deal with it better, but most people don't know that context.
I also feel that this hymn makes God a solitary activity. When Paul writes of Christians in his day, he almost always writes of them and to them in communities. Like this letter: From Paul, Silvanus, and Timothy, to The Church of the Thessalonians. Doing church and doing God's work is a community activity. While in many of his letters he does refer to personal beliefs and behaviors, there is also a degree of holding each other accountable. Indeed, in our society in which many people say they are “spiritual but not religious” and that their “spirituality is private,” we have to remember that Moses' personal relationship with God was for a purpose. It was to bring the Hebrews out of Egypt.
I sometimes fear that this idea of coming to the garden alone where God walks and talks with me makes us forget that God in Jesus said that “when two or three are gathered in my name I am in the midst of them.” And that we can also work in a soup kitchen with others or take part in the CROP walk this afternoon, living out our relationship with God in or out of the garden. And really, why the garden anyway? Why, if God is everywhere, with all of us together, bringing all of us, like the Hebrew people to a new life. Working together to restore God's created world. Who needs to go to a garden?
While Moses' call was to lead the Hebrews out of Egypt, clearly he didn't nor could he have done this on his own. This could not have been imagined if he and the Hebrew people were not in God's presence. But knowing that he was in God's presence wasn't enough, he needed that personal relationship he had with God – he needed that time with God not only to know what to do and what to tell the Hebrew people, but also for his own strength – so he could feel God's goodness pass over him. If he hadn't had that he wouldn't have been able to serve God in the community.
Its a balancing act of sorts and reminds us that we can all fall victim to focusing too much on our personal relationship with God or focusing too much on our communal relationship with God. At such a bright and vibrant church as St. David's, as with many other parishes, including my own, I can imagine it can be easy to get very involved with the communal activities of the parish but to lack the personal time with God. I recall hearing a Sr. Warden of a parish who was also a youth group leader and chorister say that she wished that she had a relationship with God or that she wished she had time for that.
Perhaps that's the wrong way to look at it. Perhaps that's backwards. Perhaps taking that time with God can help strengthen our ministry. In stewardship sermons we are always asked to give - the three T's usually.. time, talent, and treasures. I know I sometimes feel like I need to give so much and have the opportunity so much to so many places – work, school, church, committees, and other groups, that I don't feel like I can have time for myself, that putting aside personal time for me, or for me and God is somehow selfish.
Every Sunday we are asked to “lift up our hearts” and we “lift them up to the Lord.” But are we? Are we taking time to be stewards to ourselves? Are we lifting up our spiritual hearts to God? Are we lifting our physical hearts to God? Keeping our bodies, made in God's image, in the best shape we can? Or do we just not have time?
I agree. I don't really have time for much of anything. But a few months ago I decided to try to make time. I was stressed, didn't have time to get done what I needed to get done, didn't know how I could make everything fit, so I started going to the gym. Just an hour, two or three times a week. I also started put aside time to talk to God. Just ten minutes. And always alone. And somehow, everything fell into place.
Mind you, I'm still drowning in schoolwork, work work, and committees and such, but by being a steward to myself, I have been able to better be a steward to the world – and better take part in a communal relationship with God.
The last time I was here I was about to leave for England to staff Lambeth – the decennial conference of Anglican Bishops. If any one wants to hear about my experience I will be more than happy to chat about it after the service, but I will tell you though, wonderful, it was near, if not the most stressful and trying experience of my life. And truly, it was only when I could get away from the conference – when I would leave campus for a ten minute walk and sit behind a stone garden wall, and just sit with God that I could pull myself back to a useful place.
As many parishes do, a parish I used to attend keeps a prayer vigil between Maundy Thursday and Good Friday morning every year. They move some of the pews and set up a garden in the back of the church. And I will admit that it is the time each year that I felt closest to God. At 2:30 in the morning, with the warmth from the many candles on my skin and the smell of the flowers around me, alone in the garden, with God and God's presence.
So I suppose maybe there is something to be said for that hymn. Something to be said for going out of your way to go somewhere to intentionally be alone with God. To be rejuvenated and healed. To see the dew on the roses, and listen to birds hush their singing, to listen to the sweet, low, voice of God, until he bids us go, knowing that we are chosen to serve God in the world and are always in his presence.
Monday, October 20, 2008
Sunday, June 29, 2008
29 July 2008
A Sermon for St. David's, Cranbury
29 June 2008
Proper 8, Year A
Hi. I'm Allie. And I'm a Christian. Doesn't that sound a bit like the beginning of a 12-step meeting? I'm Allie, and I'm a Christian. I don't know about you, but as an Episcopalian, sometimes it can seem like that hard a thing to admit.
I don't know about the rest of you, but I tend to live in a secular world. A few of my friends are religious – most aren't. Of those, some are Christians – some aren't. And those “aren'ts” in both categories seem to have bad associations with those who consider themselves Christians. I actually have some friends who call themselves “Christ Followers” because they don't want the normally inaccurate associations that go along with calling oneself a Christian.
But I'm proud to be a Christian... quietly.
But what does that mean – to be a Christian quietly? How does that work? How can we, as Paul wrote “be slaves to righteousness” while being effective – and not completely obnoxious? I'm sure everyone here has experienced the... embarrassment... of being around one of those stereotypes? The “Christians” who are completely self-righteous and convinced of their own salvation (and everyone elses damnation) while being generally mean, rude, or otherwise annoying people. Like those who drive their hummers while sipping a latte, talking on their cell phones, with no regard for your or my life... with a Jesus fish on the back of their car? Yeah.
In his letter to the Romans, Paul wrote “Do you not know that if you PRESENT yourselves to anyone as obedient slaves, you are slaves to the one whom you obey?”
“If you PRESENT yourself to ANYONE as obedient slaves... you are SLAVES to the one whom you obey.”
But does to whom we present ourselves equal to whom we are obedient? I'm not so sure.
Can we present ourselves as slaves – giving our whole heart, mind, soul, and strength to God, but actually be slaves to, what Paul calls wickedness?
Now, we normally hear that we are servants of God. But Paul writes that we are slaves. Once you’re a slave to a master, you ARE a slave to that master. So once we are slaves to God, to righteousness, even though we may fall, we are still slaves to God. If we find ourselves as slaves to sin, we risk falling deep into temptations and lusts that leads us away from God – it can lead us to “wickedness.” And when we fall into wickedness, and when we act as, what Paul calls “instruments of wickedness” rather than “instruments of righteousness,” people suffer. We suffer, our relationships suffer, and people around the world, all of our brothers and sisters in all socio-political situations suffer.
But what does it mean to be “an instrument of righteousness” or to be “obedient to righteousness”? I'm not about to tell you that it has to mean giving up all the things you want - that that the driver I mentioned earlier doesn't have to give up the hummer, the latte, the cell phone AND the Jesus fish decal- but it does have to mean respecting God and respecting God's creation – which does sometimes mean giving up what we want.
But we are giving up what we want in exchange for what God wants for us – and what we are told results in righteousness, in sanctification or cleanliness, and results in life.
In the reading from Genesis, God asked Abraham to sacrifice his “only” son. To give him up to God. As the story was written, Abraham didn't think to say “no.” He didn't question, he just went ahead, after he had just banished his only other son, Ishmael, – he was ready to sacrifice this one with no question or thought of saying no.
Um.
I don't think this ever happened in the bible after that. Any reading about Moses or any of the prophets in the Hebrew Scriptures or even Jesus involves a lot questioning... and whining.
God knows we aren't always happy with choices we have to make in his service. He, like any parent, knows that we often don't like what we feel we have to do. And like the driver of that car, its often painfully clear how simple it would be to take the easy way out – the “I take Jesus as my personal Lord and Savior” okay now I'm done method. But as we know, the entire gospels of Matthew and Luke (beatitudes) tell us there's more.
But what is that more? Because there is so much that “more” can be – in word as well as in action.
A few weeks ago I attended a conference at Princeton University called Envision: Scripture, Politics, and the Future. It was aimed at Christians who want to make a positive difference in the world. There were multiple workshop tracks, and I attended the one on International Human Rights. This is a broad topic, so none of us knew what to expect.
It covered a variety of issues, but at one point the woman leading the workshop – an evangelical from Texas, was talking about some of her organization's work in a region of the Sudan (not Darfur).
As she was talking she spoke of how many bibles they had managed to get into the region. How they had gotten a copy of the film “The Jesus Story” in the regional language to a local pastor, as well as a computer on which to play it into the area, and how many new people had made professions of faith.
As we left the session, a Mennonite boy started ranting to me. He couldn't understand how this was so important. Why aren't we talking about how to stop organized rape, or how we can get food to people in North Korea? Why not about ending sex trafficking?” he said. I have to admit that I had many of these thoughts as well.
But as we talked, I had to wonder. Consider two missionaries: one is bringing the bible to people and bringing them to Christianity. Another missionary, also from a church group, is bringing food and teaching skills in an underdeveloped nation. This one, however, decided not to discuss the religion that was his impetus for the trip as to not offend or for fear of appearing to force it on those he was helping?
Who's the better Christian? The one bringing food and skills, or the one sharing a religion of hope?
I honestly don't have an answer. I leave that to you.
But I can tell you the second – the food and skills – would be a lot easier for me. I find talking about my faith to people I don't know absolutely terrifying. I would rather volunteer in a dangerous inner city or work on building projects. In speaking about Christ, there is a vulnerability – an opening for judgment. It’s so much easier to say “my faith is private.” That's so much safer. Speaking makes me so uncomfortable. But that's the point, isn't it?
Our faith isn't supposed to be comfortable. Our faith isn't supposed to be safe. It isn't supposed to be stagnant, static. It isn't always supposed to give us warm fuzzies. This is not to say that the warm fuzzies we will hopefully get in a few minutes when Geneva and Corbin are baptized aren't from God, but Christ didn't die in a painful, gruesome manner for warm fuzzies. In today's gospel Christ spoke of prophets, righteous men, and unvalued. These groups of people weren't “comfortable” they didn't have comfortable situations and yet the gospel spoke of the rewards that we receive from receiving them, and the rewards we receive when we receiving Christ.
Our faith can't be what we want – sitting around doing our thing.
Have could you better serve God? Have you ever spoken with a close friend about your faith? Have you ever tried to figure out what YOU actually believe? For most of us, it isn't EXACTLY what's in the back of the prayer book or in the creeds. Have you tried writing your worldview or your own theology or idea of what God IS down on paper. Really, set aside some time and actually write it down. It may be surprisingly different from that which you think. And may lead you places that you didn't think it would take you. Even beginning to write it down can be a very uncomfortable thing to do... but our faith isn't supposed to be comfortable.
Have you done mission work? Built anything, far or locally? OR do you really hate being hot and sweaty. Do you think you might be called to volunteer for that sort of thing anyway? There are a wide variety of opportunities for all different skill sets and skill levels.
A comfortable faith leads to stagnation and temptation, and away from Christ. But we are called to be Christians, to be slaves to Christ... even if its, hard, uncomfortable, or we're occasionally hypocritical, and at times, like the prophets - whiny. But unlike most forms of slavery, through the grace, mercy and never failing love of God, we will be given sanctification and eternal life. And I can't think of a more comforting thought or reality, than that.
29 June 2008
Proper 8, Year A
Hi. I'm Allie. And I'm a Christian. Doesn't that sound a bit like the beginning of a 12-step meeting? I'm Allie, and I'm a Christian. I don't know about you, but as an Episcopalian, sometimes it can seem like that hard a thing to admit.
I don't know about the rest of you, but I tend to live in a secular world. A few of my friends are religious – most aren't. Of those, some are Christians – some aren't. And those “aren'ts” in both categories seem to have bad associations with those who consider themselves Christians. I actually have some friends who call themselves “Christ Followers” because they don't want the normally inaccurate associations that go along with calling oneself a Christian.
But I'm proud to be a Christian... quietly.
But what does that mean – to be a Christian quietly? How does that work? How can we, as Paul wrote “be slaves to righteousness” while being effective – and not completely obnoxious? I'm sure everyone here has experienced the... embarrassment... of being around one of those stereotypes? The “Christians” who are completely self-righteous and convinced of their own salvation (and everyone elses damnation) while being generally mean, rude, or otherwise annoying people. Like those who drive their hummers while sipping a latte, talking on their cell phones, with no regard for your or my life... with a Jesus fish on the back of their car? Yeah.
In his letter to the Romans, Paul wrote “Do you not know that if you PRESENT yourselves to anyone as obedient slaves, you are slaves to the one whom you obey?”
“If you PRESENT yourself to ANYONE as obedient slaves... you are SLAVES to the one whom you obey.”
But does to whom we present ourselves equal to whom we are obedient? I'm not so sure.
Can we present ourselves as slaves – giving our whole heart, mind, soul, and strength to God, but actually be slaves to, what Paul calls wickedness?
Now, we normally hear that we are servants of God. But Paul writes that we are slaves. Once you’re a slave to a master, you ARE a slave to that master. So once we are slaves to God, to righteousness, even though we may fall, we are still slaves to God. If we find ourselves as slaves to sin, we risk falling deep into temptations and lusts that leads us away from God – it can lead us to “wickedness.” And when we fall into wickedness, and when we act as, what Paul calls “instruments of wickedness” rather than “instruments of righteousness,” people suffer. We suffer, our relationships suffer, and people around the world, all of our brothers and sisters in all socio-political situations suffer.
But what does it mean to be “an instrument of righteousness” or to be “obedient to righteousness”? I'm not about to tell you that it has to mean giving up all the things you want - that that the driver I mentioned earlier doesn't have to give up the hummer, the latte, the cell phone AND the Jesus fish decal- but it does have to mean respecting God and respecting God's creation – which does sometimes mean giving up what we want.
But we are giving up what we want in exchange for what God wants for us – and what we are told results in righteousness, in sanctification or cleanliness, and results in life.
In the reading from Genesis, God asked Abraham to sacrifice his “only” son. To give him up to God. As the story was written, Abraham didn't think to say “no.” He didn't question, he just went ahead, after he had just banished his only other son, Ishmael, – he was ready to sacrifice this one with no question or thought of saying no.
Um.
I don't think this ever happened in the bible after that. Any reading about Moses or any of the prophets in the Hebrew Scriptures or even Jesus involves a lot questioning... and whining.
God knows we aren't always happy with choices we have to make in his service. He, like any parent, knows that we often don't like what we feel we have to do. And like the driver of that car, its often painfully clear how simple it would be to take the easy way out – the “I take Jesus as my personal Lord and Savior” okay now I'm done method. But as we know, the entire gospels of Matthew and Luke (beatitudes) tell us there's more.
But what is that more? Because there is so much that “more” can be – in word as well as in action.
A few weeks ago I attended a conference at Princeton University called Envision: Scripture, Politics, and the Future. It was aimed at Christians who want to make a positive difference in the world. There were multiple workshop tracks, and I attended the one on International Human Rights. This is a broad topic, so none of us knew what to expect.
It covered a variety of issues, but at one point the woman leading the workshop – an evangelical from Texas, was talking about some of her organization's work in a region of the Sudan (not Darfur).
As she was talking she spoke of how many bibles they had managed to get into the region. How they had gotten a copy of the film “The Jesus Story” in the regional language to a local pastor, as well as a computer on which to play it into the area, and how many new people had made professions of faith.
As we left the session, a Mennonite boy started ranting to me. He couldn't understand how this was so important. Why aren't we talking about how to stop organized rape, or how we can get food to people in North Korea? Why not about ending sex trafficking?” he said. I have to admit that I had many of these thoughts as well.
But as we talked, I had to wonder. Consider two missionaries: one is bringing the bible to people and bringing them to Christianity. Another missionary, also from a church group, is bringing food and teaching skills in an underdeveloped nation. This one, however, decided not to discuss the religion that was his impetus for the trip as to not offend or for fear of appearing to force it on those he was helping?
Who's the better Christian? The one bringing food and skills, or the one sharing a religion of hope?
I honestly don't have an answer. I leave that to you.
But I can tell you the second – the food and skills – would be a lot easier for me. I find talking about my faith to people I don't know absolutely terrifying. I would rather volunteer in a dangerous inner city or work on building projects. In speaking about Christ, there is a vulnerability – an opening for judgment. It’s so much easier to say “my faith is private.” That's so much safer. Speaking makes me so uncomfortable. But that's the point, isn't it?
Our faith isn't supposed to be comfortable. Our faith isn't supposed to be safe. It isn't supposed to be stagnant, static. It isn't always supposed to give us warm fuzzies. This is not to say that the warm fuzzies we will hopefully get in a few minutes when Geneva and Corbin are baptized aren't from God, but Christ didn't die in a painful, gruesome manner for warm fuzzies. In today's gospel Christ spoke of prophets, righteous men, and unvalued. These groups of people weren't “comfortable” they didn't have comfortable situations and yet the gospel spoke of the rewards that we receive from receiving them, and the rewards we receive when we receiving Christ.
Our faith can't be what we want – sitting around doing our thing.
Have could you better serve God? Have you ever spoken with a close friend about your faith? Have you ever tried to figure out what YOU actually believe? For most of us, it isn't EXACTLY what's in the back of the prayer book or in the creeds. Have you tried writing your worldview or your own theology or idea of what God IS down on paper. Really, set aside some time and actually write it down. It may be surprisingly different from that which you think. And may lead you places that you didn't think it would take you. Even beginning to write it down can be a very uncomfortable thing to do... but our faith isn't supposed to be comfortable.
Have you done mission work? Built anything, far or locally? OR do you really hate being hot and sweaty. Do you think you might be called to volunteer for that sort of thing anyway? There are a wide variety of opportunities for all different skill sets and skill levels.
A comfortable faith leads to stagnation and temptation, and away from Christ. But we are called to be Christians, to be slaves to Christ... even if its, hard, uncomfortable, or we're occasionally hypocritical, and at times, like the prophets - whiny. But unlike most forms of slavery, through the grace, mercy and never failing love of God, we will be given sanctification and eternal life. And I can't think of a more comforting thought or reality, than that.
Tuesday, March 18, 2008
18 March 2008
Wisdom. Wisdom. Who doesn’t search for wisdom?
For knowledge, for understanding.
Who doesn’t desire to be wise, to be knowing to be
the person others seek for advise, to understand?
And as many seek to understand God, to understand the world
and analyze it, and make sense of it,
it all simply doesn’t seem to – work.
We see suffering and pain
and can feel an inability to do anything about it.
World Religions 101 and Sunday school teach us that
the God is omniscient, and loving, and benevolent,
yet, so much pain and horror are done in the name of God.
And we go through life, and when we sometimes see something good
we jump up and praise God.
It can make it hard to like him.
In tonight’s reading from the Gospel of Mark
God, in the form of Jesus proclaims that
[his] house shall be a house of prayer for all the nations.”
Doesn’t that sound so foolish –
that any house could be a house of prayer for all people-
that god, knowing how differently all the groups
would interpret his messengers,
knowing how much pain trying to serve him would cause
that all the nations will pray in one house –
doesn’t that seem foolish?
foolish…
Doesn’t it seem foolish
that a man would be willing to die in pain and shame
without immediate results
for an eternity of people he didn’t know.
Doesn’t it seem foolish…
God in the form of a man, Jesus,
died on a cross for our eternal life.
Take a moment to think about that.
PPPAAAUUUSSSEEEE (30+ seconds)
Last night Amy spoke about the woman
Who anointed Christ’s feet with expensive ointment
how she gave all she had
That woman was accused of being foolish –
but not by God.
But what of Christ, who was fully God
and fully human.
Who gave up his life
Truly everything he had
For an uncertain future.
Doesn’t that seem foolish… foolish.
Paul writes: For God’s foolishness is wiser than
human wisdom
that, on a bad day, God is wiser than we could
hope to be on the best day –
that we could hope to be ever.
We don’t have to “get it” or understand it,
or even like it,
and that’s okay.
And Thanks be to God
For because of God’s wisdom
in the face of our attempts towards wisdom
because of God’s wisdom and foolishness
we have eternal life.
For knowledge, for understanding.
Who doesn’t desire to be wise, to be knowing to be
the person others seek for advise, to understand?
And as many seek to understand God, to understand the world
and analyze it, and make sense of it,
it all simply doesn’t seem to – work.
We see suffering and pain
and can feel an inability to do anything about it.
World Religions 101 and Sunday school teach us that
the God is omniscient, and loving, and benevolent,
yet, so much pain and horror are done in the name of God.
And we go through life, and when we sometimes see something good
we jump up and praise God.
It can make it hard to like him.
In tonight’s reading from the Gospel of Mark
God, in the form of Jesus proclaims that
[his] house shall be a house of prayer for all the nations.”
Doesn’t that sound so foolish –
that any house could be a house of prayer for all people-
that god, knowing how differently all the groups
would interpret his messengers,
knowing how much pain trying to serve him would cause
that all the nations will pray in one house –
doesn’t that seem foolish?
foolish…
Doesn’t it seem foolish
that a man would be willing to die in pain and shame
without immediate results
for an eternity of people he didn’t know.
Doesn’t it seem foolish…
God in the form of a man, Jesus,
died on a cross for our eternal life.
Take a moment to think about that.
PPPAAAUUUSSSEEEE (30+ seconds)
Last night Amy spoke about the woman
Who anointed Christ’s feet with expensive ointment
how she gave all she had
That woman was accused of being foolish –
but not by God.
But what of Christ, who was fully God
and fully human.
Who gave up his life
Truly everything he had
For an uncertain future.
Doesn’t that seem foolish… foolish.
Paul writes: For God’s foolishness is wiser than
human wisdom
that, on a bad day, God is wiser than we could
hope to be on the best day –
that we could hope to be ever.
We don’t have to “get it” or understand it,
or even like it,
and that’s okay.
And Thanks be to God
For because of God’s wisdom
in the face of our attempts towards wisdom
because of God’s wisdom and foolishness
we have eternal life.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)