1 Lent C 2010
(Deut 26: 1-11; Ps 91; Rom 10: 8b-13; Luke 4: 1-13)
A mother told me the story of her four year old son running across a parking lot. Suddenly he tripped over one of those concrete wheel-barriers. He fell down hard. He slowly picked himself up. Then, to his mother’s shock, he stooped down and kissed the concrete block that had just tripped him.
I doubt that many of us would kiss the chunk of concrete that had just tripped us, or the cop who just pulled us over for speeding, or the can lid that had just cut our finger. We rarely feel much like kissing the people, places, things, and moments that stop us, inconvenience us, hurt us, which bring us annoyance or even pain and loss. And yet there is something deeply wise and insightful about that young boy’s kiss, even if he grows up to be just as grumpy, self-pitying, and impatient as the rest of us. After all, this is Lent, and at the end of this season we will gather on Good Friday and be invited to come forward and kiss the cross. It is one thing to kiss the cross of Jesus and be thankful for the pain that the Son of God suffered for our sake. It is another thing to kiss our own cross, to embrace and love those moments and people and things which bring us face to face with our vulnerable, impatient, anxious, fearful, angry humanity.
When I would whine about something that was bothering me, my mother would unpack her favorite phrase drawn from an older Roman Catholic spirituality. “Offer it up,” she’d say. Even then I would mutter mutinously about the mean-spirited God who was happy about my stubbed toe or extra-hard arithmetic homework. Later I would reflect contemptuously about “doormat spirituality” which painted a dark vision of human life as endless drudgery and a God who loved to look on and keep score.
But I look with new eyes both upon Mom’s weary faith as well as a young boy kissing that concrete block. I look at my own life and the lives of all those around me, knowing that pain and struggle and annoyance and interruption and routine are not interruptions to normal life. They are normal life. Life does not begin when pain and mischance and struggle are ended. Life is lived precisely here, in the world of to-do lists and being decent to those who annoy us and fender-benders and bad traffic and the aching knee that does not ever completely heal. This is our life, and our only life. It is this life that is inhabited by God, which is filled with Spirit. It is this life that can beat us down and fill us with bitterness and disillusionment. It is also this life that can be the promised land, the sacred space where God the Son of God welcomes us and transforms us by walking our walk and inviting us to walk his walk.
Lent is our school where we learn how to walk, how to trip and fall down, how to stand up again, and how to look upon what tripped us. The teaching of Lent is simple and clear. We’re invited to strip our lives down to the bone just as the church is stripped down to white shrouds and bare wood. We are invited to remember who we are, and what we are, and why we are, and who is the God who has made us all these things. And we gaze in wonder at who this God is, and simple words spring forth. Good. Love. Mercy.
Today in the Hebrew Scripture, we hear how once a year Israel remembered who they were, each one of them. You had to work hard in the land of promise. At the harvest, each person carried the best of their harvest to the holy place, made the offering, and said what is the oldest Creed in the Bible. “My ancestor, the wanderer…I came into this land…through God’s mighty hand…” Abraham and Moses were already long ago when this was written, but each person participated in those journeys of faith and liberation. And participating did not mean simply repeating ancient words, but in showing how one’s life was transformed because you were a child of the journey and the promise. Generosity, what we call “stewardship”, being part of a people who shared a vision, celebration, gratitude, and sharing with the stranger and with those who had nothing. In a few short moments when we say our New Testament version of this faith, the Nicene Creed, let’s ask ourselves how does our own faith call us to live and to be transformed. How does our faith which we profess, Sunday after Sunday, re-make us into a new people? That’s how Lent brings us back to school.
And Lent is a school that does not require advanced coursework or a fancy degree. “The word is near you,” says Saint Paul, not anything distant or new. You know it, you’ve heard it before. But it is funny how distant we can become from what we know very well, and from who we really and most truly are. Put the word on your lips, believe in your heart, says Paul. And the Christ whom you believe and whose name you speak will change you and make the promises come alive.
We have that on good authority, as we hear that Jesus himself walked the path that faces us all.
Jesus’ ministry begins today with walking through desert dust and tripping over his own humanity. I wonder if he wished he had stayed by the Jordan River where he had just been baptized, where John proclaimed him the Chosen and where there was light and wonder and the Voice and the dove and the acclaim of the crowd. But that is not where a life of faith is lived, not even for the Son of God. Hunger, thirst, doubt, weakness in the desert, where all things are stripped down to their bare essentials and we know how small we really are. “Turn the stones into bread,” “rule these kingdoms when you worship me,” “throw yourself down.” Life as filling your appetites, life as seeking power over others, life as asserting complete control over ourselves and our destiny…these temptations are all ours. Jesus does not turn from these temptations with a contemptuous gesture and a flash of lightning. His faith is torn from parched lips and from a raw and naked faith. And the evil one will be back, waiting for another moment of weakness.
Some say that we were saved there in the desert, when Jesus faced what we all face and in his weakness turned to God. When we are weak, we can learn again that God is strong. When we’ve come to the end of our own willpower, we can meet the God who is mercy. God is strong and weak both—weak in the mercy and understanding of the utterly human Jesus, yet strong in that weakness and that understanding.
So school is back in session, so we can learn what we probably already know. Life is about the frailty of our humanity, loved and understood by a merciful God. Love the moments and places where we know how vulnerable and needy we are. There God is strong, filled with tenderness to save.
archived musings and preachments
Saturday, February 27, 2010
Wednesday, February 17, 2010
creation transfigured
Climate Change and the Church
A Sermon Delivered at Ss. Peter & Paul Episcopal Church
on Transfiguration Sunday, February 14, 2010
GOOD MORNING!
My name is Larry Shadbolt and I was invited to talk this morning as part of the Interfaith Power and Light “preach-in” at parishes and congregations across the country. Now retired from a career in community planning and public health, I am a member of the Oregon Episcopal Diocese Environmental Commission, and on the joint Steering Committee for Ecumenical Ministry of Oregon’s Interfaith Power and Light, and the Network for Earth Concerns.
I am here today is because I am a grandparent of 3 boys with a granddaughter on the way, and I am, frankly, worried about their future. I believe we are truly at a turning point in world history, and the prospects for human survival are not assured.
Last October, I worked with OIPL, and other community groups to organize a walk and rally in Pioneer Square urging world leaders in Copenhagen to adopt a standard of 350 parts per million of carbon dioxide in the atmosphere - the level considered the upper “safe” limit by many scientists. We are now at 390 ppm and growing. Here at Ss. Peter and Paul we rang the bell 350 times to join with other churches around the world in sounding the alarm.
Recently I went to a conference in Seattle as a representative of the Interfaith Network for Earth Concerns in Portland. I was inspired by so many bright and committed people across the country from government, industry, NGO’s, labor, and community activists working to address climate change by reducing emissions, finding alternative fuels, and creating more fair and sustainable communities.
Today I bring a story of crisis and hope. First, I need to talk a little about what is at stake and the urgency to take action now. I used to think, like many of my friends and associates, and, perhaps you, that climate change was like a lot of other problems we have faced in our long history - natural, inevitable, and that we could adapt to a world of warmer climate, higher shorelines, fewer animal species and more extreme weather events without profound changes.
But there is a much darker view, based on our understanding of geological history and what climate science tells us. We are making changes to the climate and natural systems that will at some point be irreversible - a point of no return. This view is consistent with a biblical view that God created the universe and we are connected with all that is in it, which understands that man has become alienated from the natural world, in which our worship of false idols results in over-consumption and addiction; and, the inequitable treatment of humans and animals and degradation of the air and water has dire consequences. Eventually these changes, if allowed to continue, will result in catastrophic and irreversible changes to the complex web of life that has formed on this beautiful planet.
How could this come about? The earth has had a relatively stable climate over the past 10,000 years - roughly the same period in which humans have moved from hunting and gathering, to developing agrarian and industrial societies. Increasingly, particularly since the 1850’s, we have become more dependent on ancient carbon deposits in the form of coal, petroleum and natural gas to heat our homes, power our cars, and produce our food. A by-product of this carbon-based economy is the emission of carbon dioxide into the atmosphere and oceans where it has been accumulating.
Now we are beginning to witness the effects of these many years of emissions - warmer air temperature, chemical changes in the ocean, melting glaciers, species extinction - these changes now affect humans - native people who live in the arctic, humans who depend on the ocean fisheries for sustenance, and people who grow crops in arid lands. It is important to act soon, because emissions today will cause atmospheric changes for 30 years.
What is the good news? Well, I am told the Chinese symbol for crisis also means opportunity. I think we all have the human gift of awareness - the ability to understand the connection between what we do and its effect in the world. Dr. Rowan Williams, Archbishop of Canterbury, asks us to consider: “How do we live in a way that honours rather than endangers the life of our planet?....how do we live in a way that shows an understanding that we genuinely live in a shared world, not one that simply belongs to us?”
So today we can consider the alternatives to business as usual. Here are some of my thoughts about our opportunity to create a better future for our children and grandchildren:
First, the most important thing we can do right now is pass a national energy bill that moves us away from dependence on foreign oil, creates green jobs, and supports the creation of healthy communities. The House has enacted a bill but the Senate has yet to act. I ask you to consider calling your legislator or sending your legislator a card (postcards are in the back) to tell them you support legislation curbing greenhouse gases and creating new jobs.
Second, our parish can continue to support and expand our national church’s commitment to the Genesis Covenant, originally proposed by Bishop Steve Charleston to reduce greenhouse gas omissions by 50% by the year 2020, and approved by our Oregon convention and national church - a goal which we are well on our way to achieving here at Ss. P&P thanks to the good work of Steve Hiscoe and Father Kurt, with help from OIPL and the Environmental Commission. We have a “greening” committee here at Ss. P&P, and we can continue the work we have begun here. We can look at how our parish, located at the intersection of both low and high end commerce, residential neighborhoods, and regional transportation can play a more significant role as the neighborhood changes to meet the challenges of the future - over the next 20 years we will have major growth in Portland due to migration to the Pacific Northwest. I suggest our parish become more actively involved in neighborhood affairs - such as the farmers market and the neighborhood association - which would generate interest by the neighborhood in Ss. P&P as a place of value in the community, as well as help us better understand our role in a changing world.
Most importantly, we can deepen our commitment within our faith community and other faith traditions to bring a “change of heart”, working together to heal the damage we have done to the earth and human communities. In the Gospel reading today, we are told of the Transfiguration of Christ. Again the words of Archbishop Williams: “The Christian story lays out a model of reconnection with an alienated world: it tells us of a material human life inhabited by God and raised transfigured from death; of a sharing of material food which makes us sharers in eternal life, of a community whose life together seeks to express within creation the care of the creator. In the words used by both Moses and St. Paul, this is not a message remote from us in heaven or buried under the earth: it is near, on our lips and hearts. And, as Moses immediately goes on to say in the Old Testament passage, ‘You know it and can quote it, so now obey it. Today I am giving you a choice between good and evil, between life and death…Choose life.’”
We are asked by our Creator to be stewards of the earth and care for creation. I believe that the faith community has yet to fulfill our calling in this area. With an understanding of the sacredness of life, and our commitment to social justice, we have the foundation for a deep, moral, engagement with the issue of climate change as we become more connected with the natural world. The time for “full engagement” is now.
Thank you for the opportunity to speak today. I am happy to talk with anyone about this work.
A Sermon Delivered at Ss. Peter & Paul Episcopal Church
on Transfiguration Sunday, February 14, 2010
GOOD MORNING!
My name is Larry Shadbolt and I was invited to talk this morning as part of the Interfaith Power and Light “preach-in” at parishes and congregations across the country. Now retired from a career in community planning and public health, I am a member of the Oregon Episcopal Diocese Environmental Commission, and on the joint Steering Committee for Ecumenical Ministry of Oregon’s Interfaith Power and Light, and the Network for Earth Concerns.
I am here today is because I am a grandparent of 3 boys with a granddaughter on the way, and I am, frankly, worried about their future. I believe we are truly at a turning point in world history, and the prospects for human survival are not assured.
Last October, I worked with OIPL, and other community groups to organize a walk and rally in Pioneer Square urging world leaders in Copenhagen to adopt a standard of 350 parts per million of carbon dioxide in the atmosphere - the level considered the upper “safe” limit by many scientists. We are now at 390 ppm and growing. Here at Ss. Peter and Paul we rang the bell 350 times to join with other churches around the world in sounding the alarm.
Recently I went to a conference in Seattle as a representative of the Interfaith Network for Earth Concerns in Portland. I was inspired by so many bright and committed people across the country from government, industry, NGO’s, labor, and community activists working to address climate change by reducing emissions, finding alternative fuels, and creating more fair and sustainable communities.
Today I bring a story of crisis and hope. First, I need to talk a little about what is at stake and the urgency to take action now. I used to think, like many of my friends and associates, and, perhaps you, that climate change was like a lot of other problems we have faced in our long history - natural, inevitable, and that we could adapt to a world of warmer climate, higher shorelines, fewer animal species and more extreme weather events without profound changes.
But there is a much darker view, based on our understanding of geological history and what climate science tells us. We are making changes to the climate and natural systems that will at some point be irreversible - a point of no return. This view is consistent with a biblical view that God created the universe and we are connected with all that is in it, which understands that man has become alienated from the natural world, in which our worship of false idols results in over-consumption and addiction; and, the inequitable treatment of humans and animals and degradation of the air and water has dire consequences. Eventually these changes, if allowed to continue, will result in catastrophic and irreversible changes to the complex web of life that has formed on this beautiful planet.
How could this come about? The earth has had a relatively stable climate over the past 10,000 years - roughly the same period in which humans have moved from hunting and gathering, to developing agrarian and industrial societies. Increasingly, particularly since the 1850’s, we have become more dependent on ancient carbon deposits in the form of coal, petroleum and natural gas to heat our homes, power our cars, and produce our food. A by-product of this carbon-based economy is the emission of carbon dioxide into the atmosphere and oceans where it has been accumulating.
Now we are beginning to witness the effects of these many years of emissions - warmer air temperature, chemical changes in the ocean, melting glaciers, species extinction - these changes now affect humans - native people who live in the arctic, humans who depend on the ocean fisheries for sustenance, and people who grow crops in arid lands. It is important to act soon, because emissions today will cause atmospheric changes for 30 years.
What is the good news? Well, I am told the Chinese symbol for crisis also means opportunity. I think we all have the human gift of awareness - the ability to understand the connection between what we do and its effect in the world. Dr. Rowan Williams, Archbishop of Canterbury, asks us to consider: “How do we live in a way that honours rather than endangers the life of our planet?....how do we live in a way that shows an understanding that we genuinely live in a shared world, not one that simply belongs to us?”
So today we can consider the alternatives to business as usual. Here are some of my thoughts about our opportunity to create a better future for our children and grandchildren:
First, the most important thing we can do right now is pass a national energy bill that moves us away from dependence on foreign oil, creates green jobs, and supports the creation of healthy communities. The House has enacted a bill but the Senate has yet to act. I ask you to consider calling your legislator or sending your legislator a card (postcards are in the back) to tell them you support legislation curbing greenhouse gases and creating new jobs.
Second, our parish can continue to support and expand our national church’s commitment to the Genesis Covenant, originally proposed by Bishop Steve Charleston to reduce greenhouse gas omissions by 50% by the year 2020, and approved by our Oregon convention and national church - a goal which we are well on our way to achieving here at Ss. P&P thanks to the good work of Steve Hiscoe and Father Kurt, with help from OIPL and the Environmental Commission. We have a “greening” committee here at Ss. P&P, and we can continue the work we have begun here. We can look at how our parish, located at the intersection of both low and high end commerce, residential neighborhoods, and regional transportation can play a more significant role as the neighborhood changes to meet the challenges of the future - over the next 20 years we will have major growth in Portland due to migration to the Pacific Northwest. I suggest our parish become more actively involved in neighborhood affairs - such as the farmers market and the neighborhood association - which would generate interest by the neighborhood in Ss. P&P as a place of value in the community, as well as help us better understand our role in a changing world.
Most importantly, we can deepen our commitment within our faith community and other faith traditions to bring a “change of heart”, working together to heal the damage we have done to the earth and human communities. In the Gospel reading today, we are told of the Transfiguration of Christ. Again the words of Archbishop Williams: “The Christian story lays out a model of reconnection with an alienated world: it tells us of a material human life inhabited by God and raised transfigured from death; of a sharing of material food which makes us sharers in eternal life, of a community whose life together seeks to express within creation the care of the creator. In the words used by both Moses and St. Paul, this is not a message remote from us in heaven or buried under the earth: it is near, on our lips and hearts. And, as Moses immediately goes on to say in the Old Testament passage, ‘You know it and can quote it, so now obey it. Today I am giving you a choice between good and evil, between life and death…Choose life.’”
We are asked by our Creator to be stewards of the earth and care for creation. I believe that the faith community has yet to fulfill our calling in this area. With an understanding of the sacredness of life, and our commitment to social justice, we have the foundation for a deep, moral, engagement with the issue of climate change as we become more connected with the natural world. The time for “full engagement” is now.
Thank you for the opportunity to speak today. I am happy to talk with anyone about this work.
Monday, February 8, 2010
fresh start
Candlemas 2010
(Malachi 3: 1-4; Ps 84: 1-6; Hebrews 2: 14-18; Luke 2: 22-40_
Did you ever long for a clean, fresh start?
I had a small taste of one. A couple of years ago I suffered a bout of actual temporary amnesia. It’s a middle-aged guy stress-related thing. I found myself slowly swimming to consciousness in what I recognized as an emergency room cubicle. My first conscious act was to try and guess whether I was in Providence or Adventist based on the pattern of the curtain across the opening. My son Jake was sitting there, and he was the first person whom I could remember beyond about 1 minute. This kind of amnesia lets you keep most long-term memory, but makes it impossible to remember short-term, even from minute to minute. It’s like your brain is walking on ice, constantly slipping and losing footing. I have no memory of about 5 hours of that day.
Jake says I was very entertaining, funny and charming, operating on a kind of 14 year old level with little impulse control. It sounds like I had a great time—I just wish I had been around to enjoy it. It was a re-boot, a fresh start, a brand-new day starting at 4:30 PM.
But today there is astounding news—we do not need a memory-scrub in order to taste the reality of purity. No matter what we carry as baggage or burden, along comes today to fill us with light and to scrub us as fresh as any infant with that fresh baby-smell. That’s today’s feast. That’s Candlemas, this ancient feast of Light and newness and the promise of purity in a smudgy world. No re-boot needed—we are simply carried into the temple like Jesus was carried by his parents. We are received, we are welcomed, and we are filled with the Light that shone that day for eyes to see and arms to hold.
Malachi the prophet knew the day would come when the daily business of religion in the Temple would be stopped in its tracks. “The Lord whom you seek will come suddenly into his temple…” Wouldn’t we be as shocked as the Temple-folks if into Sunday-morning-as-usual the Lord suddenly came? What would we do? Welcome him and be glad? Or be anxious, startled, frightened, or even angry that he interrupted the flow of the Mass?
When he comes, says the prophet, it will be jarring. We’re talking about a deep look into the truth of our lives and our openness to the surprise of God. The process is like burning base metal out of gold, like scrubbing cloth until it gleams. Beneath is pure gold and fair new cloth. But how do we uncover the fresh glory of what God has breathed and woven into the depths of our souls?
For this is what the old Law and the old words and the old customs are all about, and only what they are all about—opening ourselves to the New. Those who are truly faithful to the old ways, whether those of ancient Israel or of Anglo-Catholic Episcopalians, are most open to the New Thing that God is doing in our midst. Those who use the old ways to ignore the new Light are actually unfaithful to the old ways. Or, as one priest said, these days one must change in order to stay the same.
Don’t take it from me. Take it from Simeon and Anna.
These two lovely elders had grown old as faithful servants of the old Law. But both had explored the depths of what was the old Law was really all about. Their hearts had been plowed and planted by prayer and watching and quiet faithfulness and just plain showing up. And so they were revealed to be as young and pure in soul as the young Pure One carried in his parents’ arms. The business of the Temple did not pause for the little family coming in quietly with their poor persons’ offering. The high priest did not stop whatever he was doing, the sacrifices at the altar did not cease, the Levites did not stop their busyness, the singers did not hush. But Simeon and Anna stopped, and their souls shone with light as they sang of the new Light.
So we light candles, at this feast marking the thin border between Christmastide and Lent. We hold light in our hands to greet the new Light among us. We shine with light along with Simeon and Anna and all those truly young in soul. We only keep the ancient faith truly and faithfully if we welcome the new Light when it comes. And in the new Light we are made pure, with no amnesia needed to make a new start. We greet Light and we are light. We greet the Pure and are made pure.
(Malachi 3: 1-4; Ps 84: 1-6; Hebrews 2: 14-18; Luke 2: 22-40_
Did you ever long for a clean, fresh start?
I had a small taste of one. A couple of years ago I suffered a bout of actual temporary amnesia. It’s a middle-aged guy stress-related thing. I found myself slowly swimming to consciousness in what I recognized as an emergency room cubicle. My first conscious act was to try and guess whether I was in Providence or Adventist based on the pattern of the curtain across the opening. My son Jake was sitting there, and he was the first person whom I could remember beyond about 1 minute. This kind of amnesia lets you keep most long-term memory, but makes it impossible to remember short-term, even from minute to minute. It’s like your brain is walking on ice, constantly slipping and losing footing. I have no memory of about 5 hours of that day.
Jake says I was very entertaining, funny and charming, operating on a kind of 14 year old level with little impulse control. It sounds like I had a great time—I just wish I had been around to enjoy it. It was a re-boot, a fresh start, a brand-new day starting at 4:30 PM.
But today there is astounding news—we do not need a memory-scrub in order to taste the reality of purity. No matter what we carry as baggage or burden, along comes today to fill us with light and to scrub us as fresh as any infant with that fresh baby-smell. That’s today’s feast. That’s Candlemas, this ancient feast of Light and newness and the promise of purity in a smudgy world. No re-boot needed—we are simply carried into the temple like Jesus was carried by his parents. We are received, we are welcomed, and we are filled with the Light that shone that day for eyes to see and arms to hold.
Malachi the prophet knew the day would come when the daily business of religion in the Temple would be stopped in its tracks. “The Lord whom you seek will come suddenly into his temple…” Wouldn’t we be as shocked as the Temple-folks if into Sunday-morning-as-usual the Lord suddenly came? What would we do? Welcome him and be glad? Or be anxious, startled, frightened, or even angry that he interrupted the flow of the Mass?
When he comes, says the prophet, it will be jarring. We’re talking about a deep look into the truth of our lives and our openness to the surprise of God. The process is like burning base metal out of gold, like scrubbing cloth until it gleams. Beneath is pure gold and fair new cloth. But how do we uncover the fresh glory of what God has breathed and woven into the depths of our souls?
For this is what the old Law and the old words and the old customs are all about, and only what they are all about—opening ourselves to the New. Those who are truly faithful to the old ways, whether those of ancient Israel or of Anglo-Catholic Episcopalians, are most open to the New Thing that God is doing in our midst. Those who use the old ways to ignore the new Light are actually unfaithful to the old ways. Or, as one priest said, these days one must change in order to stay the same.
Don’t take it from me. Take it from Simeon and Anna.
These two lovely elders had grown old as faithful servants of the old Law. But both had explored the depths of what was the old Law was really all about. Their hearts had been plowed and planted by prayer and watching and quiet faithfulness and just plain showing up. And so they were revealed to be as young and pure in soul as the young Pure One carried in his parents’ arms. The business of the Temple did not pause for the little family coming in quietly with their poor persons’ offering. The high priest did not stop whatever he was doing, the sacrifices at the altar did not cease, the Levites did not stop their busyness, the singers did not hush. But Simeon and Anna stopped, and their souls shone with light as they sang of the new Light.
So we light candles, at this feast marking the thin border between Christmastide and Lent. We hold light in our hands to greet the new Light among us. We shine with light along with Simeon and Anna and all those truly young in soul. We only keep the ancient faith truly and faithfully if we welcome the new Light when it comes. And in the new Light we are made pure, with no amnesia needed to make a new start. We greet Light and we are light. We greet the Pure and are made pure.
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