Baptized for Hope

 

Summer time and the preaching is not easy. Neither the Letter to the Romans nor the Gospel were particularly "easy" texts. And with the way things are in our American society, with a president and his regime who are dedicated to disruption and discord, it is very hard to wrap my mind around themes of "hope" and "love" while acknowledging that all is not right and good on the other side of our Episcopal red doors.

It is further complicated by knowing where I am in the country: in a place where my little congregation is one of the few that isn't a church ascribing to the white Christian Nationalist mindset, while surrounded by those who do.

Every week feels like a tightrope walk. And I keep stepping carefully.

See what you think.

Texts: Romans 8:12-25, Matt 13:24-30, 36-43

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One of my most favorite services in the Episcopal Church is baptism.

I love it when we get to formally welcome people into the larger Body of Christ…and celebrate with them as they’re brought into this greater connection through the symbol of water...and invited to participate fully in the meal served at this table.

And I love that we all get to take part in that welcome.

We not only rejoice with those who we are baptizing…we also get to speak to our own place as children of this Love that is God.

We make promises to keep doing the work that comes with our inheritance…to keep praying…keep loving… and keep striving for justice and peace.

Baptism is our ritual to mark a person joining a new family…taking on a new identity and becoming another one of our siblings.

And that can be particularly important to people who may have felt caught off from their families of origin for one reason or another.

That feeling of belonging is vital to our mental well-being.

Baptism not only means we gain some new aunties and uncles in the church.

We are also being adopted as beloved children of God…marked and sealed as Christ’s own forever and handed that light of Christ to burn in our hearts and lead us to being good stewards in our communities.

We’re grafted into a larger family tree that is bigger…broader…and filled with the hope that our branch of this tree will produce really good fruit.

That’s a lot of what Paul is driving at when says,

“For you did not receive a spirit of slavery to fall back into fear, but you have received a spirit of adoption. When we cry, “Abba! Father!” it is that very Spirit bearing witness with our spirit that we are children of God, and if children, then heirs, heirs of God and joint heirs with Christ-- if, in fact, we suffer with him so that we may also be glorified with him.”

If that sounds good to us…it was even more important to the members of the emerging Roman churches of the First Century.

These churches were made up of Jews and non-Jews who were mostly living on the  margins of the Greco-Roman society.

Some were recently freed slaves…some not even native to Rome.

The ways of the Empire hadn’t changed much from the time of Jesus’s crucifixion.

There was still a lot of classism.

And the military and well-connected held power over the labor class.

The Roman Emperors used to declare themselves to be god and expected the people to worship them.

For the Jews hearing this letter of Paul…the words to not fall back into “a spirit of slavery” recalled the story of their exodus through the Sea of Reeds as they fled Egypt into freedom.

For both the Jews and non-Jews in the churches…the feeling of adoption and belonging was a bonus.

Paul’s expression spoke to that sense of freedom from oppression…and the liberating Love of God.

“Adoption” also served as a useful tool for people who were accustomed to living under the laws of the Empire.

Under the Greco-Roman law of adoption…the family name and property could be passed on to a chosen heir…preserving the family lineage.

In fact…Emperor Augustus…not having any male heirs of his own…adopted Tiberius before his death so that he could have a successor of his own liking.

But Paul puts a twist on this adoption language.

Paul says those who become one with God in Christ have secured something even more binding.

Because God has adopted them spiritually.

And as adopted spiritual children of God…they’re now full members of this family not hung up on power plays on earth.

God has become closer to them …and this relationship is so personal that they can call God, “Father” or “Abba.”

These ordinary citizens…who did not occupy the seats of power in government…and couldn’t hold public office in some cases…are hearing from Paul that they have something better…richer…fuller.

They’ve been clothed with a different kind of sovereignty…one that has made them Christ’s adopted siblings….with an equal share of his inheritance…making them heirs to a freedom possible through Christ’s life…death…and resurrection.

This is the legacy that is passed on to us through our baptism.

To be heirs of God…and siblings of Christ…is both amazingly freeing…and it comes with some costs as well.

Because what comes with our inheritance is the same mission that Jesus was on in the world:

"To bring good news to the poor;

Sight to the blind;

To proclaim release to the prisoners

And to liberate the oppressed." –Luke 4:18-19

 

All very good and noble words to say.

Doing those works…stepping outside of our comfort zones and striving for a more just and equitable society is not easy.

It involves working together…even with those we don’t always agree with on everything…in the hope of making a difference that we may or may not ever see in our lifetimes.

It means taking a good long hard look at what’s happening around us and doing the work of discernment about what we see and having that vision of what could be better.

It’s like what Jesus is saying in our Gospel lesson about wheat and weeds.

Again…just a little bit of background here to understand this.

There was a weed…called darnel…that was very toxic…and grew in the climate of the Middle East.

It closely resembled the wheat crops of Palestine…and would shoot up between the wheat. 

Farmers had to be careful to tell the difference between the good wheat and the darnel as they did their harvesting…otherwise they’d ruin their harvest.

So just as Paul used the ideas of “slavery” and “adoption” to make a point…Jesus is using this agricultural metaphor to caution those eager to kick out anyone they thought wasn’t worthy or a “real” follower of the Way.

This is important for all of us to remember…particularly right now as we live in a culture where there is so much coming at us on a daily basis and attempts to get us to turn on one another…scapegoating communities and people for problems that require much more thought and attention to address.

Our work is not to get into the judging business.

Our work is to get into the questioning business.

To ask why is that people are going without food and shelter?

What factors contribute to some places receiving resources and others not?

How do we break some of these cycles and work toward a better society for all people regardless of their race…ethnicity…identity or other factors?

The fact that inequities still exist means that we have an obligation to keep asking the questions…and pursuing the solutions.

This is how we live fully into our baptisms…and how we make good use of our inheritance as the adopted beloved children of God.

This how we keep hope alive not only for ourselves…but for the generations to come.

In the Name of Our One Holy Undivided Trinity.

Liberally Sharing of Grace

It doesn't happen often, but this week was one where I just couldn't wrap my mind around any of the assigned Scripture readings. Nothing was breaking through...until I happened to listen to the reflection offered by the Rev. Canon Dana Corsello at Washington National Cathedral. Listening to her words, and then looking at the Scriptures, I finally found what was there the whole time: God's grace is abundant, it goes wherever it wants, and when we accept it and live by God's love...we can offer that same grace to others.

At least that's what I got out of all my wrestling and struggling. And it sure beat talking about Jacob and Esau and red lentil stew.

See what you think. 

Text: Texts: Matthew 13:1-9, 18-23, Romans 8:1-11

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I recently heard a story told by one of the priests at Washington National Cathedral that seemed relevant to our readings today.

She was talking about scrolling through Instagram and reading the experience of a Japanese Soccer fan who had come here for the World Cup.

 But this wasn’t about the soccer games.

This was about eating at a Mexican restaurant.

This man had never been to the States before…and so he was unaware of some of the customs of hospitality that we take for granted.

He’s in this Mexican restaurant….and places his drink and food order.

He’s talking with his friends when the basket of chips and salsa arrive.

Confused…he stops the waiter.

Motioning to the basket he says, “We did not order this.”

“It’s OK,” says the waiter, “They come with the table.”

The Japanese man was awe struck.

These chips…this overflowing basket of chips with salsa…comes with the table?

In his post…the man went on to talk about the cultural difference…the fact that in Japanese restaurants…the idea of giving food away for free was a foreign concept.

His post went on to note that after they’d finished the first basket of chips …My goodness! Another basket of free chips arrived.

Chips for free.

Without asking.

And accompanied by what he called a sampling from the seemingly bottomless well of salsa.

This experience seemed to rival any sort of awe-inspiring play on the soccer pitch!

Something good… hospitable…for free.

Aside from the feeling of goodwill we can get from seeing a foreigner enjoy the perks of eating at a Mexican restaurant in America….this story makes for a great analogy about the nature of God’s grace.

Like chips and salsa that come with the table…

It’s free.

It’s abundant.

We don’t need to earn it and we can’t buy it.

We just need to be willing to accept it and let it fill us up.

And because we’re filled with such grace… and because of grace we have experienced this sense of freedom…we are more able to share it with others.

That is the hope…the dream… that God has for us.

This is similar to the sower…going about…freely tossing seeds here…there and everywhere.

It doesn’t matter if it’s the right time of year… or the best season… or the most ideal soil.

These seeds are going to get thrown because that’s what the sower does.

In this case…our “sower” is Jesus.

The “seeds” he’s spreading are his teachings…his healings…his kindness…all the Love…the grace of God…that is within him.

He’s using this metaphor of a sower to a people familiar with this farming practice.

Unlike today…where farmers carefully measure the acidity of soil…and plan and rotate crops…the farmers of ancient Palestine used this scattering method…knowing that some plants would grow… and others would not.

So Jesus’s audience would at the very least grasp this image of a sower.

Whether they understood it as meaning the spreading and growing of God’s Love… and could take in that message… was another matter.

For some…they hear it and don’t care…or they care too much about other things.

These are the ones who want power over others…or more money... and prestige.

They don’t want to receive this gift…especially if it means changing their outlook…and becoming a person who cares about the well-being of others.

This is what Paul is driving at in his letter to the Romans with his talk about “flesh” and “Spirit.”

They’ve set their hearts and minds on the “things” of the world that might bring about instant gratification…but will not serve them in the long run.

Now I know a lot of people find Paul’s writings to be challenging.

And yes—in our 21^st century ears—he is long-winded and his letters can lead one to think: “T-L-D-R”…the short-hand for “Too Long, Didn’t Read.”

And this one from chapter eight has been really badly  misconstrued…and has led some to believe that our bodies are bad and evil and sinful.

To sound like Paul for a moment, “Is Paul saying the human body is horrible? No! Not at all!”

Don’t forget that we are made in the image of God.

All of our limbs…ligaments…the breath in our lungs….these are all blessings given to us.

Heck—as Paul even says…Jesus took on human flesh.

And that’s an important part of what Paul wants us to hear in this portion of his letter.

It was through Jesus’s actions…both his loving ministry of mercy…compassion…and justice in the world…and going to the cross as an innocent man… that Jesus did the work of freeing our fleshy humanity from that the sin that got Adam and Eve kicked out of the Garden of Eden in the first place… and his actions transforms us into a new people to carry on the God’s mission.  

By living in Love…and dying in Love…and being raised again out of Love…Jesus gave all of us who were baptized…a shot at new life…new breath… and the fire within of the Spirit.

Now…sadly…this doesn’t mean that sin…the force that seeks power over others and drives a wedge between us and God and each other…is dead and gone forever.

We’re all aware of that.

Our news media reminds us of it daily.

People still hurt and abuse other people…as well as animals…and the planet.

Cancer and other diseases still claim lives.

Those holding earthly power still attempt to dominate others through violence.

There is always this perpetual struggle between those who are self-serving…and those who are joining in the mission to spread more Love…and grow up more people who want a world where everyone enjoys that grace that’s like those free chips and salsa at a Mexican restaurant.

But what Paul’s Epistle to the Romans and the Gospel lesson this morning are encouraging us to hear is that when we choose to live into the liberating life found in Christ…and when we set are sights on achieving a world where there is health…healing…and hope with unconditional love… we have a power source of the Spirit… ready to help us grow that garden of Love…and boost our efforts.

These lessons speak to how it is through God’s power working in us and through us …as a community… we can achieve infinitely more than we can ask or imagine in the mission of caring for each other.

We may live in a world where there are stony paths or  rocky soil… and places where weeds have been allowed to choke the life out of people.

But still we go. 

We may have rocky soil or thorny bushes growing in our own hearts.

But we are still loved…and encouraged to never give up on the grace that is there to help us cultivate the goodness that is within us.

If we keep doing our best with our hearts and minds fixed on Love… we can and will be able to freely sow hope out in our communities.

In the name of our One Holy and Undivided Trinity.

 

 

 

 

 

Resting from Heavy Burdens

 

I realize I do a lot of critiquing of our lectionary diviners, but I do have to say, God must have had a hand in the decision to include the conclusion of Matthew 11 for the Sunday that would fall the closest to the Fourth of July celebration. 

And with this year being the 250th, it might have felt a little bit off to talk about "heavy burdens." But this semiquincentinnel has, regretfully, been like nothing I would have ever anticipated. I have vague memories of the things that happened in my hometown for the bicentennial in 1976. And the thing I remember most was that despite any misgivings in the larger culture, there was some sense of resilience and purpose and excitement about marking this moment.

None of that seemed to be anywhere this year. Most of my friends didn't even really want to acknowledge the holiday...not even with a cook out. Even the fireworks, which typically are obnoxiously loud and are going off at all hours of the day and night for weeks and days before and after the holiday were not all that this year. 

Groceries are too expensive. We're in a war nobody wanted that is driving up the cost of gasoline at the pump. And people are getting killed and disappeared off the streets of American cities in this horrible and insane crackdown on immigrants, regardless of their documented status (which, by the way, their undocumented standing doesn't make killing them warranted!) We're being lied to daily about the health and whereabouts of Republican U.S. Senator Mitch McConnell. Our president is unhinged and wanting people prosecuted for touching the algae-riddled waters of the Reflecting Pool at the Lincoln Memorial in DC. Nothing, just nothing, feels good about the USA right now.

So maybe Matthew 11 was the perfect passage for THIS Independence Day. See what you think.

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Text: Matthew 11:16-19; 25-30

 

 

“Come to me all you that are weary and are carrying heavy burdens, and I will give you rest.”

This particular Gospel passage from Matthew always shows up on the Fourth of July weekend every three years.

I don’t know if the lectionary diviners did that on purpose…or if they even had the holiday in mind as they pulled together the readings we’ve heard this morning.

But on this weekend…where we’ve marked the 250^th birthday of the United States of America…this reading from the eleventh chapter of Matthew is timely and relevant.

Because it offers words of comfort to a people living in an uncomfortable time.

And if we’re being honest… that’s where we are right now…as we mark this milestone in our nation’s life story.

The community that first was reading and hearing these words from Matthew’s Gospel were a people who had been through war and the second destruction of their Temple in Jerusalem.

That loss had left them beleaguered and feeling unmoored. The whole point of Matthew’s Gospel was to give this remnant of the Jewish Christians of that time a sense that they still had a place…that God had not forgotten them…even as they saw the world around them seeming to be on fire.

This morning’s reading follows upon Jesus’s calling and sending out of the disciples.

He’s given them their marching orders…cautioning them that they won’t always be received well…but they must go anyway.

If the people will listen to them…welcome them…great. Even a cup of cold water…counts as welcome enough.

But Jesus doesn’t simply talk the talk.

He’s walking the walk…he’s on the move.

And he’s traveled to more places…continuing to preach and teach.

And…just as he had warned the disciples…he was encountering those who didn’t want to hear what he had to say.

These are people who had rejected John the Baptist because he was too demanding.

It probably didn’t help that John had called them a “brood of vipers”…basically accusing them of being people who would kill their own mother if it meant keeping their power and status.

But they don’t like Jesus either because…oh my goodness…he’s too welcoming…too inclusive…breaking bread with the despised and disinherited.

 

Now…the lectionary skips over some verses.

And that’s too bad because Jesus had some specific words for three ancient cities:…Chorizin…Bethsaida and Capernaum.

Jesus blasts the people of these three places for their unwillingness to listen and their inhospitable behavior.

These were cities of great wealth…and that excessive wealth had led to greed…and that greed had infected their hearts.

They didn’t care that Jesus was there curing their sick…and preaching God’s Love.

In fact they resented it…because it brought them up short.

Just like places such as Sodom…they had become hard-hearted and unwelcoming.

Too full of themselves.

Too proud of their own wisdom.

So self-satisfied and wanting to hoard what they had.

Too caught up in having power over others and they had no need or love for anyone different…the foreigners.

Sadly…this is a critique that could be laid on our society today.

There are those in our country who are happy to ignore the suffering and the hardships of others.

They can’t be bothered with what’s happening to the so-called “little people.”

They’ve got their affairs in order and they don’t care what happens to the next generation.

From courtrooms to state Capitols…all the way up to the highest levels of government…we’ve been witnessing the stripping away of the dignity of those seen as “other.”

We’re even now questioning who belongs…to whom of those born here do we guarantee the inalienable rights of life…liberty…and pursuit of happiness?

The powerful have been flexing their muscles against the immigrants…the working class…the elderly…and the minorities…many who are the descendants of the very people who have helped build this country for 250 years.

What has become of a country…with a landmark such as the Statue of Liberty…emblazoned with words,

“Give me your tired, your poor,

Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free….”?

Have we become the new Chorizin…Bethsaida…and Capernaum…having accumulated so much wealth that we have grown so proud and cold too?

In this land of E Pluribus Unum…we seem to be less “unum” and more siloed into our own tribes…viewing each other with suspicion if not outright hostility.

This separation is contributing to the loneliness in society.

And the loneliness leads to us feeling wearier and more worn out than ever.

Jesus not only has some words for those who are pulling us apart… but he also has something to say to those who are struggling.

 “I will give you rest.”

He’s not telling us to ignore the exhaustion we might be feeling.

He’s not asking us to make excuses or apologies for the load we’re bearing.

He’s not telling us to avoid it… nor is he giving us a magic pill to make it all better.

Instead… he names it.

He acknowledges what it is: heavy burdens.

He knows that the attitude of those who think they have it all…the ones who say they have no need to live into the mission of loving the stranger…visiting the friendless… and caring for the vulnerable…these are the ones who have made our lives harder.

He sees our struggles and says, “Let me give you rest.”

“Come to me” with your worries.

“Come to me” with your pressures.

“Lay these things on me…let me help carry this load.”

“I will meet you in this place of your inner turmoil and tiredness…and I will show you kindness…rest and renewal.”

This invitation to rest is Jesus’s way of reaching out to us and reminding us that none of us has to nor should we try to do this life journey alone.

He’s prompting us to lean into our faith…and not stiffen our backs hoping to grit things out during trying times.

Name this weight…these burdens…and say, help.

And we know this is the way.

These are the things that we all know and have done before.

Think of how we respond in times of crisis.

When the recent hurricanes tore up sections of Lowndes County…restaurants responded with preparing and serving food…and neighbors checked on neighbors.

When the medical students from Georgia universities come to this area to offer clinics for the migrant farm workers… our Episcopal churches help to feed these up and coming healthcare professionals and we send them off with the leftovers to share with their clients.

I think about the way that sports help to pull people together…perfect strangers…setting aside differences as we cheer on our team and celebrate accomplishments.

I’m a Boston Celtics fan…and yet I couldn’t help but smile and rejoice with New Yorkers when their Knicks won the N-B-A Championship for the first time in 53 years.

When we remember that we are all one…brought together into a human family in Christ…and all children of a loving…life-affirming…and liberating God…that’s when the heavy burdens we bear become lighter.

Together…we can learn from each other…lean on each other…and grow together…rejoice when things go well…and give aid in times when we need help.

That’s how Love works wonders in the world.

I want to leave us with these words by James Weldon Johnson from the hymn “Lift every voice and sing.” It’s the third verse of the hymn and captures the spirit of this Gospel message:

God of our weary years, God of our silent tears

Thou who has brought us thus far on the way

Thou who hast by Thy might led us into the light

Keep us forever in the path, we pray.

Lest our feet stray from the places, our God, where we met Thee,

Lest our hearts, drunk with the wine of the world we forget Thee,

Shadowed beneath Thy hand, may we forever stand

True to our God, true to our native land.

In the name of Our One Holy and Undivided Trinity.

 

"The Meaning of Sacrifice"

I'm baaaaack! After two weeks off from preaching, I was back at the St. Barnabas lectern again (we don't have a pulpit really. All readings and preaching happen from a wooden lectern).

And while it would have been a good thing to focus on the importance of "welcome" in light of some of the things happening in the country, when the first reading of the day is the story of Abraham's near-sacrifice of Isaac.....kind of hard not to spend some time unpacking that cheery tale! 

See what you think.

Texts: Genesis 22:1-14; Matt 10:40-42

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As many of you know…I’m in an interfaith marriage.

My wife converted to Judaism more than 20 years ago and has been very active in her Temple.

We have an agreement about the holidays.

She will come to church and be with us for Christmas Eve…and I will go to her Temple for the  Rosh Hashanah morning service.

I love the blowing of the shofar…the traditional tune settings for the prayers and the marking of the Jewish New Year.

What I don’t really love is that every year…the Torah portion that is read…is this passage from Genesis 22…the Akedah…the binding of Isaac.

It strikes me as odd that this is the Torah story told each time to start the new year.

It’s not a joyful part of the Bible. And it makes Jews just as uncomfortable as it makes us.

This is one of those readings that the late theologian Phyllis Trible called, “the texts of terror.”

But I’m of a mind that when we come across one of these stories…the ones that leave us feeling a little itchy…that’s usually a sign that we are to slow down…and consider what might God be up to and why are we reading these passages?

So…here we go.

Let’s look at the binding of Isaac.

An important thing to remember is that this is all taking place about five thousand years ago…well before Jesus….even before Moses.

Abraham and Sarah were living in a time when there were several other cultural groups around them that practiced human sacrifices.

We know this because archaeologists in Southern Iraq have uncovered ruins and artifacts that show there were sacrifices made of adults and children.

So for Abraham to hear and to understand God’s command to make a literal sacrifice of Isaac was probably not out of the realm of the possible given the culture of that time.

As they approach the mountain…Abraham tells his two servants to stay behind with the donkey and…”we will worship, and then we will come back to you.”

Was Abraham trying to cover his tracks for this horrible deed he was about to do?

Or maybe did he have an understanding that Isaac wasn’t going to die?

Abraham and Isaac head up Mount Moriah.

Mountains in the Bible are places of great “a-ha’s!”

Moses receives the stone tablets at Mount Sinai.

Jesus undergoes his transfiguration on a mountain.

He gives his major teaching in the Gospel of Matthew…as the Sermon on the Mount.

That this particular mountain is called Moriah is also significant.

The name “Moriah” derives from Hebrew root word…”rah” …meaning “to see” as in “coming to an understanding….a discernment.”

What is it that Abraham is going “to see”?

What is Isaac going to understand about all of this?

What is God seeing in this moment?

There aren’t any simple…and short-cut answers to those questions.

The scriptures often leave us with these things to contemplate…and wrestle with.

In that way…this is our own challenge “to see” or “to understand” the lessons of this story.

What’s strange and can’t be pushed aside is that this ask that God has made of Abraham regarding Isaac…comes from the same God who has repeatedly said that from Abraham will come many nations.

In fact…God repeats that promise again in the verses that immediately follow our reading this morning.

So…what’s being seen…or understood…or revealed…in this story?

Why would God make this ask of Abraham?

Well…luckily…Abraham hears a voice of an angel that stops him. It’s then that he sees the ram…the actual and promised sacrifice…caught in the thicket.

But Isaac is left with the discomfort of having been bound and placed on an altar as his father’s supposed sacrificial offering.

And yet…even Isaac…who despite artistic depictions of 17^th century artists as a young boy…he was actually a young man in the story.

And he didn’t fight back against his father.

He seemed to be going along with this scheme.

That’s some level of trust!

Is it any wonder that for the rest of their lives…there are no more conversations recorded between Isaac and Abraham?!

We don’t have the benefit of knowing what was in the heads of Abraham and Isaac during this whole episode.

But like with all “mountain top moments” there is clearly a change in them.

And perhaps this led them to do something of a self-examination…and some critical thinking about the meaning of sacrifice.

For God’s part…these two have demonstrated their willingness to follow even the most outrageous of commands.

And—thankfully--God stepped in to stop them from carrying out a human sacrifice.

This helped lay down the bright line for Jews about killing people to appease God.

From that time on…Abraham and his descendants shunned such practices…no matter what was happening even among the other cultures in ancient Mesopotamia.

The message from God seems clear enough.

God doesn’t want or need bloodshed.

God is looking for a different…and a much deeper and more sincere… and transformative type of sacrifice.

Think of what we hear in Psalm 51:

“The sacrifice of God is a troubled spirit;

 a broken and contrite heart, O God, you will not despise.”

We can imagine that both Abraham and Isaac came away from this experience with a troubled spirit.

Troubled both in that sense of trembling from the adrenaline pumping through their veins at such a drama of near-death.

And troubled in that way that the Spirit pokes and prods at us and makes us reflect upon our actions…and how the way we live our lives effects those around us.

In this case…we have two men who have had their hearts broken open to the understanding that to “sacrifice to God” means the giving of ourselves…our own lives…out of our own free will…and not making a sacrifice of someone else to appease some higher power.

A lesson that should not be lost on us living in 21^st century in this country.

Now I’ve heard a lot of people…especially church people…shy away from this and other “texts of terror” out of the Old Testament by saying…”That Old Testament God is so mean and violent.”

But…and I’m putting this nicely…that’s a bunch of hogwash!

The same God who we read as testing Abraham is the same God who gave us Jesus to preach…teach…and reach us with a message of mercy…love…compassion and justice.

This is the same God who… when the bullies and tyrants of the world tried to kill the message of Love as way to protect their own greed and desire for power…defeated their evil scheme…through the resurrection of Jesus thus declaring that Love Wins.

This is the same God who is at work in the world today…that Holy Spirit that is always with us…nudging us…urging us…calling to us to live out the work of Love in our everyday lives.

And as Jesus says in our Gospel…we are called upon to make sacrifices.

And that sacrifice we make of ourselves is to be a people of welcome.

Welcoming the foreigner…the stranger…those who differ from us in color…national origin…income…age…ability…orientation and identity.

It’s through our inclusion of others that we grow a world… a place…where we learn from and about each other…forming stronger connections and building the type of relationships that create community.

And in creating community we discover that we have more in common with each other than differences.

This is the kind of world God has been dreaming of since those first plants poked up through the rich soil in the Garden.

We can make this happen…if we are willing to lay down our prejudices…and sacrifice our desires to keep to ourselves…pushing away anyone that isn’t who we call “one of us.”

In this time where we hear constantly about division and isolation…we are being called to do the work of welcoming and building community.

That’s a sacrifice acceptable to God…even something as simple as offering a cold cup of water to that person thirsting for kindness.

In the name of our One Holy and Undivided Trinity.

 

 

Trust. Follow. Believe.

 When I first saw the readings for this particular Sunday, I thought I would find myself touching on the horrors happening in the Middle East. I had heard a story the week before on NPR about the religious extremists in Israel who are hell bent (and I mean HELL bent) on seizing lands where non-Jews have been living for centuries and using God's promise to Abram in Genesis 12 as their justification. 

I was ready to talk about the dangers of taking the Scriptures literally, instead of seriously, and how that plays out in cruel and deadly ways for many people, not just Palestinians and the Lebanese. 

But that's not where I went. I kept thinking about the amount of trust it took not just for Abram...and also Sarai who didn't get a say in any of this...and also Matthew to do something they'd probably never dreamed they'd do: just drop what they were up to and follow God.

When God's Spirit gets ahold of you, good luck trying to get away. 

And the same thing is true of realizing when it's time to move on from a job, or a relationship. And so that's the path the Spirit had me follow. A path which I think was better suited for my St. Barnabas population in southwest Georgia.

See what you think. 

And while I'm at it: I will be taking a break from preaching for two weeks. My bishop is coming one Sunday, and my seminarian is preaching the following one. Yay! 

Texts: Genesis 12:1-12; Matt 9:9-13; 18-26

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When we meet someone new…and we’re first introduced to each other…after “hi, my name is”…the typical small talk conversation moves to a couple of other topics:

Where are you from?...and

What do you do?

These are probably the safest and most generalized questions to ask when we’re first getting to know another person.

They’re also questions tightly tied to our identities.

Where we’re from helps set the stage of explaining the external forces that have shaped and formed us.

Where we grew up…the north or the south…the far west…the Midwest…outside the country all together…sets the tone for what kind of culture we know…customs we’ve practiced…and common understanding of history…and even terminology for various objects.

Does the supermarket have paper bags or paper sacks?

Are you thirsty? Do you want a “soda”? Or is it “pop” or do you call all carbonated beverages “Coke”?

And are you getting that drink out of the refrigerator or the ice box?

What we do…meaning how we earn money…can serve as a springboard for more conversation…especially if we’ve had similar jobs…or know someone who did that same thing.

Maybe the person has a career that sounds interesting or fun.

Or maybe they’re in school…which gets to what grade are you in? Or what’s your major?

So much of who we are seems to get enmeshed in where we’re from and what we do…that those two things become central to our identities.

So when we strip away one or more of those things…suddenly we feel…odd or out-of-place.

I know that I went through that experience when I left journalism.

I remember once…a few weeks before my last day…waking up in the middle of the night in a cold sweat with the question, “If I’m not Susan Gage of Florida Public Radio, then who am I?”

If I wasn’t going to the Florida Capitol building…or the State Supreme Court…or working in a production studio at the Public Broadcast Center…where am I going? What am I doing?

Leaving behind a career and temporarily relocating to a goat farm in Gainesville Florida required me to let go of what I did…and who I thought I was…as I followed a new path…trusting that it was the right thing to do.

Trust and being willing to follow is at the heart of the Genesis reading.

We hear that God tells Abram to leave his country. Leave his father’s house. Take his family with him. God blesses Abram and makes promises to him that Abram’s name will be great…and a great nation will come from him.

Let me just pause here a moment to give some background.

Up until now in the Book of Genesis…God has done all this work of creating a marvelous world…with lots of beautiful waters and land producing fruit…birds and sea creatures…and lots of critters running around in the woods.

And God creates human beings…with reason and skill and the charge to take care of creation.

And by the end of chapter eleven of Genesis…humans have shown themselves to be disobedient…and murderers.

God had flooded the world…promised Noah that wouldn’t happen again…and still…the people kept trying to be God building a tower of Babel…that God knocked down and confused their languages.

So… this moment with Abram…and these blessings…was God’s way of having something of a “do over” with humanity.

And amazingly…we hear…”Abram went as the Lord told him.”

There was no questioning.

No arguing.

No “but what if this doesn’t work out?”

Abram listened to God.

And something about God’s voice…God’s blessings…resonated deeply with this old man…that he knew to just go.

Leave behind the place…leave this land of his identity…and go.

Now he did take others with him.

Scholars suppose that Lot was along for this adventure because he was younger…and maybe Abram thought Lot was going to have all the children…since Sarai was supposedly barren.

And this barren Sarai was also an important traveler with Abram.

Without her…there would have been no future…no Isaac.

Without her…there also wouldn’t have been the Egyptian handmaid Hagar.

And without Hagar…there would have been no Ishmael…the offspring that tradition holds as a prophet of Islam.

We might imagine that when she heard the news that they were picking up and moving…Sarai probably gave Abram a side-eye…and shook her head with a chuckle and a “Really, Abram?”

And we can also imagine that God blew a soft breeze across her face and gave Sarai some assurances to trust that this uprooting from everything she’d known…and all that was familiar…would be for the good.

That same trust and obedience shows up in our Gospel this morning.

Matthew is sitting in his tax booth…doing his calculations…figuring out how much he might tack on to this person’s bill so he could have a nice take-home sum of money.

Along comes Jesus.

Jesus sees what Matthew is doing.

He walks up to the tax booth…looks at this tax collector and simply says, “Follow me.”

And without hesitation…without thinking about it…or even asking any questions…Matthew dropped his life of serving the Empire…and extorting his fellow Jews…and follows Jesus.

Something about this simple command was so strong and persuasive that Matthew was willing to trust and abandon his career to start down another path.

Maybe Matthew had been feeling uneasy about this job.

Maybe the years and years of scorn and rejection from his community had left him feeling alone.

And now Jesus looked at him…saw him…and spoke words that told him, “You don’t need to do this. You are loved. Follow the Love.”

And not just Matthew…but we hear how Jesus then sits with a bunch of tax collectors…and other outcasts along with disciples as they have a big ol’ dinner party at Matthew’s house.

The respectable ones…the Pharisees…see what’s happening and are aghast.

They don’t dare say anything directly to Jesus…so instead they want to know from the disciples why he’s hanging out with this bunch of no-good lousy creeps.

The Pharisees only knew what Matthew and the others did for a living.

They’d seen them in their tax booths…and concluded they were their enemies.

But Jesus saw in Matthew not just a tax collector.

He saw a more complete identity: a person with more potential… a man whose whole self was greater than the sum of all those external labels on him…someone rejected by society and most importantly… a beloved child of God…worthy of love.

Like Abram…like Sarai…Matthew heard the call and followed…not knowing where it would lead…but trusting that it was all going to be OK.

And in following he discovered that he had a place at God’s table.

It takes a lot for us to trust and leave behind things familiar…our homes…our families…our vocations.

There’s always a risk involved in such decisions.

But sometimes…there is a stirring inside of us…a sense that we must make a move…or at the very least attempt to change course.

And being willing to take risks without absolute certainty of success is a lot about what it means to have faith.

Again…in the Gospel reading…the synagogue leader didn’t know for sure that Jesus could bring his apparently dead daughter back to life.

But he acted on a desperate hope to seek Jesus for help.

The bleeding woman wasn’t 100-percent certain that touching was his clothing the one medicine that would stop her pain. But she reached out anyway.

Listening and trusting…following and believing.

These are the starting points of hope and faith and trust that God is a God of Love…and mercy.

When we feel moved to follow a new path…or make any major change in our current life…there’s no guarantee of success.

There will be difficulties…and some degree of growing pains that come with making a break with the old and starting something new.

But the promise that God makes is that we are never going at it alone in life…and that God is with us as we step out in a new direction.

Trust. Follow. And most importantly beloved: believe…and stick with that source of Love.

In the name of our One Holy and Undivided Trinity.