7 Epiphany A 2011
(Lev. 19: 1-2, 9-18; Ps. 119: 33-40; 1 Cor. 3: 10-11, 16-23; Mat. 5: 38-48)
In the desert, a young monk went to visit one of the elders. He told the old man, “My brother has harmed me and I want to get him back.”
The old man said, “You must banish this thought from your mind.”
The young man replied, “I can’t do that.”
The old man said, “Then you must not act on this thought.”
“I can’t do that.”
“Then, you must move far away so you cannot do anything to harm your brother.”
“I can’t do that either.”
The old man stood up and called to one of his companions, “Make some soup for this brother, for he is very weak. As for me, all I can do is pray for you.”
When I remember this story, I ask myself, “Where am I in this array of choices?” I myself am sensitive and prone to anger, and when offended I often dwell on thoughts of revenge.
Today we hear that we are to be holy. Holy means different, set apart. A holy life is different in significant ways from others. Holiness is not primarily a feeling of inner peace or spiritual contentment, as pleasant as those feelings may be. Sometimes these feelings can be deceptive and can hide the truth of our lives from ourselves. Biblical holiness is concrete and real.
Holiness is as real as how much of your harvest you take for yourself, and how much you leave for others. The book of Leviticus is all about how Israel is to be and act holy, like a different kind of people. We hear about how to be generous in gathering the harvest—leave the edges of the field and what is left by the first gathering for the poor and for strangers. Don’t steal, don’t defraud, don’t violate fair labor practices, don’t gossip, don’t take revenge. These may seem easy, but there are many ways we can participate in these injustices—that’s why we use the Confession that adds “the evil done on our behalf.” God is proposing a tough, self-critical way of life.
And Jesus takes this life even further. Some have called Christianity “the great untried idea”, and today Jesus’ teaching is a example of this. “Love your enemy” “Do not resist an evil-doer” Most of us are loving and affectionate towards those who love us back. Jesus is talking about difficult love, thankless love, counter-cultural love. But if we Christians have one world-transforming truth to bring to the table, it is this. Love your enemies, do not resist an evil-doer.
It is impossible. But it can be done.
It is impossible because, if we are honest, we admit the angry and vengeful thoughts of our hearts, and we admit the limits of our love.
It can be done, and we have seen some imperfect examples of non-vengeful and risky love. Ghandi’s non-violent protests, the peaceful American civil rights protests, Bishop Tutu’s “truth and reconciliation” process in South Africa, even some of the non-violent protests recently in Cairo—they are glimpses of the fact that there are ways to live and act that do not surrender to the rage and revenge that fills our hearts. Perhaps we have seen smaller, less famous examples of living by this new way, a way that transforms rage into love and hope.
It is impossible, but do not despair. We may be like the angry young monk in the desert tale, but we can change. If we choose, and if we ask for Christ’s strength, then Christ will change us.
If we become a community that lives in this daring way, then the Gospel will look like it matters. Our larger culture does not hate God or the Gospel. Our larger culture simply does not believe that there is anything different about we church people, that we do not really live in this new, difficult, and outrageously loving way.
May we be a changed people of outrageous Gospel love.
archived musings and preachments
Saturday, February 26, 2011
Friday, February 11, 2011
.“Mission Impossible”, some hard teachings from Matthew
On Matthew’s nameless mountain, Jesus the new Moses speaks the demands of the new Law, and it is harsh reading (Mt 5: 21-37).
If you are angry, you will be judged. If you look with lust, you are just as much an adulterer as if you were coming out of a cheap motel room looking guilty. Except for cases of “unchastity”, divorce is the same as adultery too. And oh, did I mention tearing out your sinful eye, cutting off the hand with which you sin?
What do we do with these texts? Take them literally? A few people in the early church did, so bishops issued decrees that self-mutilation was not approved. Be “selectively literal”? Even if we are not going to cut off hands or pluck out eyeballs, who passes a day without getting angry or “looking with lust” if only for a moment? Anyone? Really? Or do we dismiss these texts as representing a Jesus that we want no part of? If we walk a path of dismissing texts and teachings that make us uncomfortable, the result is a cozy and fuzzy belief-set conforming to our own wants and hopes. In effect, we have committed idolatry; we have placed our own desires on an altar and swung a bit of inoffensive incense over it.
Well, my favorite Biblical commentator was Abba Joseph of the early Desert, who when asked the meaning of a Biblical text replied, “I know not.” But here is what I do know:
These texts do not allow any of us to remain in our own “comfort zone.” They do not allow any of us to be complaisant in any sense of self-justification. We are all revealed as falling short, tending towards self-delusion, prone to failing the high standard over and over again.
And when we come to the end of our self-justification, the end of our personal delusions, then end of our complaisance—then we stand as we are, human and ordinary, limited and in need, before God. And in that moment we begin to know who God is and who we are, and God can begin to really do something for us, in us, and through us.
If you are angry, you will be judged. If you look with lust, you are just as much an adulterer as if you were coming out of a cheap motel room looking guilty. Except for cases of “unchastity”, divorce is the same as adultery too. And oh, did I mention tearing out your sinful eye, cutting off the hand with which you sin?
What do we do with these texts? Take them literally? A few people in the early church did, so bishops issued decrees that self-mutilation was not approved. Be “selectively literal”? Even if we are not going to cut off hands or pluck out eyeballs, who passes a day without getting angry or “looking with lust” if only for a moment? Anyone? Really? Or do we dismiss these texts as representing a Jesus that we want no part of? If we walk a path of dismissing texts and teachings that make us uncomfortable, the result is a cozy and fuzzy belief-set conforming to our own wants and hopes. In effect, we have committed idolatry; we have placed our own desires on an altar and swung a bit of inoffensive incense over it.
Well, my favorite Biblical commentator was Abba Joseph of the early Desert, who when asked the meaning of a Biblical text replied, “I know not.” But here is what I do know:
These texts do not allow any of us to remain in our own “comfort zone.” They do not allow any of us to be complaisant in any sense of self-justification. We are all revealed as falling short, tending towards self-delusion, prone to failing the high standard over and over again.
And when we come to the end of our self-justification, the end of our personal delusions, then end of our complaisance—then we stand as we are, human and ordinary, limited and in need, before God. And in that moment we begin to know who God is and who we are, and God can begin to really do something for us, in us, and through us.
Thursday, February 3, 2011
Annual Address 2011: going out
In this past Advent, we have seen a great Light. At Christmas, we received that Light among us, taken flesh in Jesus. At Epiphany, that light broke forth as a gift to the world. Now, in Epiphanitide, we are the Light. As the seasonal blessing at the end of Mass says, “May Christ the true Light be manifest in you, that your lives may be a light to the world.”
In last week’s Gospel we heard how Saints Peter and Paul is called to hear God’s call and to go, to go into the world and not wait for the world to come to us. This gift and this call was given to people who had nothing and who lived on the edges of power and of influence. The God and Father of Jesus likes the edge, and God likes calling simple and unlikely people at the edge to speak healing to the broken and to speak in challenge to those at the center of power and of wealth. This speech may be in words, or in actions, or simply by a witness of life.
And today? Today Jesus gathers us around and tells us that if we are poor in spirit, grieving, simple-hearted, thirsting for justice, that we are happy and we are blessed. That’s good news for us, dear friends in God. If we are feeling at the end of our string, if we are troubled by thoughts of poverty or need, if we think we are too tired and too broke to do anything, then good news! Our own co-patron Saint Paul’s words to the Corinthians are addressed to us as well: “Not many of you were wise, not many were powerful, not many of noble birth.” But we’re the special kin of the prophets and the saints, and we are ready for God to do great things among us and through us.
I am glad that we have heard this call and this promise already, and live it in many ways.
This past Fall we were blessed with a creative and energetic stewardship consultant, Jaimie Sanders. Jaimie offered her talents and her energy to us and together with a hard-working committee conducted a very positive Fall process we called “Loaves and Fishes.” We did not breathe a word of poverty or scarcity the whole time, and dared to believe that we are blessed and rich in God. The campaign did turn out a measurable increase in pledges. But more than that, we used the campaign to turn our language around, even the language that some of us secretly say to ourselves even while we try to keep a brave face.
Jaimie offered her talents so generously because, as she said, “I believe in what you are doing here.” Her study of where Saints Peter and Paul spends its resources, financial and property and human, revealed that 30% of our resources go towards outreach to the larger community. That feels to me like a decent New Testament sense of what a community of the Gospel should look like.
I think our primary task this year is to embrace and live into our call as a community charged and empowered to “Go!” and to welcome as gifts the people and the opportunities and the change that will result.
We have been changed. The threads which have woven into our DNA—that Catholic sense of being at service to the poor, the Celtic Christian story of a joyful and passionate search for God, and most lately the Spanish Misa—have all brought new members and new energy and even a new language and culture among us. We learn so much. We are enriched in so many ways. As many Episcopal parishes in this Diocese seek to re-invent and to renew themselves, we are asked “how did you do it?”, especially in regard to nurturing a Spanish-speaking community in our midst.
My own life as priest and rector continues to grow and to be challenged in so many ways. No downward coast to retirement for me! There are always struggles and frustrations built into the life of a parish priest, but all in all I love my life and I rejoice in the opportunities given to me to not simply care for but to grow the church. Especially, the growth of the Misa community and my work as chaplain of the Academy for Formation and Mission enriches my own life and sense of ministry. I am very grateful for my life and call, and I thank God and thank all of you.
As we live into a deeper sense of call and of mission here at Saints Peter and Paul, I believe that these are our challenges:
We need to each broaden our sense of the mission and life of the overall parish and give thanks. Last week’s text from Paul about factions in the Corinthian community could be paraphrased for us—“I am an 8 o’clocker”, “I always go to 10”, “I’m here for the music”, “I’m here for the Celtic emphasis”, “I’m here for the Misa”. We each have our special reason to be drawn to this community, and I am grateful for any note we strike that has appeal to any given person. But how can we acquire a deeper sense of the whole—give thanks for it, delight in it, value each person as well as each experience available at this surprisingly diverse community?
I think that for the sake of the Gospel as well as for our own health we need to seek ways to be more involved in the neighborhood. This will call for some extra effort on my part, but I cannot do this alone. I welcome ideas and energy to make this a reality.
With all of our energy, we need a way to look at our financial life that is at the same time faith-filled and grateful yet realistic. We may be seeing some fundamental changes in this Diocese in terms of how congregations like ourselves view sustainability and their relationship to other parishes. I am not suggesting that combining parishes is anywhere in the near or far future—that really does not work that well and one community usually comes out on the losing end. I think our own location is priceless for mission and for witness and the Diocese would be saying a loud “no” to God by suggesting it be abandoned. But I have been meeting with a small group of eastside clergy in order to imagine how we can live and work together in ways that respect the integrity of our communities yet not endlessly duplicate programs and mission in each location.
We need to draw more people into active leadership, and to deepen a sense of willingness to serve in traditional leadership roles as well as do new projects. It is harder and harder to attract people to Vestry and other such roles.
We began a great adventure with the successful founding of our Spanish-speaking community, or rather the Spanish-speaking and worshipping portion of our parish. It is still a work in progress. Ways to share leadership, share stewardship, and just share life with one another are all clear goals for us and for the future.
Our own common life has seen great comings and goings. We welcomed a number of newcomers: in the English-speaking community, we welcomed Joe Bender, Michelle Power, William Gustafson and Craig Miller whom we “missioned out” for a time to support the continuing congregation at St. Matthew’s, Paul Peavy and Mark Taylor, Jacob and Tiffany and Aylah Arnold, and Brian Oldham and Dale Walker. We said goodbye to beloved long-time member George Monsauret, who with spouse Lydia are among the 1940’s generation of continuing members. In the Spanish-speaking community there is a dizzying sense of growth and of staying, so much so that I am not proud of the fact that I am not able to provide a reliable list of those whom have come and have stayed with us since last Annual Meeting. But that community has predictable names and faces and has developed the ministries of acolyte and lector and chalice-bearer and sacristy assistant, as well as gathering to help care for the grounds and to clean the church.
Our life here is so rich. Our call has never been clearer. Our opportunities have never been so abundant. Our reasons to give thanks have never been more abundant. Thanks to all of you who help make this a community that listens to God, that acts on what we hear, and that cares for one another as we pray and seek and serve and go to the new people and places where God calls us to be.
In last week’s Gospel we heard how Saints Peter and Paul is called to hear God’s call and to go, to go into the world and not wait for the world to come to us. This gift and this call was given to people who had nothing and who lived on the edges of power and of influence. The God and Father of Jesus likes the edge, and God likes calling simple and unlikely people at the edge to speak healing to the broken and to speak in challenge to those at the center of power and of wealth. This speech may be in words, or in actions, or simply by a witness of life.
And today? Today Jesus gathers us around and tells us that if we are poor in spirit, grieving, simple-hearted, thirsting for justice, that we are happy and we are blessed. That’s good news for us, dear friends in God. If we are feeling at the end of our string, if we are troubled by thoughts of poverty or need, if we think we are too tired and too broke to do anything, then good news! Our own co-patron Saint Paul’s words to the Corinthians are addressed to us as well: “Not many of you were wise, not many were powerful, not many of noble birth.” But we’re the special kin of the prophets and the saints, and we are ready for God to do great things among us and through us.
I am glad that we have heard this call and this promise already, and live it in many ways.
This past Fall we were blessed with a creative and energetic stewardship consultant, Jaimie Sanders. Jaimie offered her talents and her energy to us and together with a hard-working committee conducted a very positive Fall process we called “Loaves and Fishes.” We did not breathe a word of poverty or scarcity the whole time, and dared to believe that we are blessed and rich in God. The campaign did turn out a measurable increase in pledges. But more than that, we used the campaign to turn our language around, even the language that some of us secretly say to ourselves even while we try to keep a brave face.
Jaimie offered her talents so generously because, as she said, “I believe in what you are doing here.” Her study of where Saints Peter and Paul spends its resources, financial and property and human, revealed that 30% of our resources go towards outreach to the larger community. That feels to me like a decent New Testament sense of what a community of the Gospel should look like.
I think our primary task this year is to embrace and live into our call as a community charged and empowered to “Go!” and to welcome as gifts the people and the opportunities and the change that will result.
We have been changed. The threads which have woven into our DNA—that Catholic sense of being at service to the poor, the Celtic Christian story of a joyful and passionate search for God, and most lately the Spanish Misa—have all brought new members and new energy and even a new language and culture among us. We learn so much. We are enriched in so many ways. As many Episcopal parishes in this Diocese seek to re-invent and to renew themselves, we are asked “how did you do it?”, especially in regard to nurturing a Spanish-speaking community in our midst.
My own life as priest and rector continues to grow and to be challenged in so many ways. No downward coast to retirement for me! There are always struggles and frustrations built into the life of a parish priest, but all in all I love my life and I rejoice in the opportunities given to me to not simply care for but to grow the church. Especially, the growth of the Misa community and my work as chaplain of the Academy for Formation and Mission enriches my own life and sense of ministry. I am very grateful for my life and call, and I thank God and thank all of you.
As we live into a deeper sense of call and of mission here at Saints Peter and Paul, I believe that these are our challenges:
We need to each broaden our sense of the mission and life of the overall parish and give thanks. Last week’s text from Paul about factions in the Corinthian community could be paraphrased for us—“I am an 8 o’clocker”, “I always go to 10”, “I’m here for the music”, “I’m here for the Celtic emphasis”, “I’m here for the Misa”. We each have our special reason to be drawn to this community, and I am grateful for any note we strike that has appeal to any given person. But how can we acquire a deeper sense of the whole—give thanks for it, delight in it, value each person as well as each experience available at this surprisingly diverse community?
I think that for the sake of the Gospel as well as for our own health we need to seek ways to be more involved in the neighborhood. This will call for some extra effort on my part, but I cannot do this alone. I welcome ideas and energy to make this a reality.
With all of our energy, we need a way to look at our financial life that is at the same time faith-filled and grateful yet realistic. We may be seeing some fundamental changes in this Diocese in terms of how congregations like ourselves view sustainability and their relationship to other parishes. I am not suggesting that combining parishes is anywhere in the near or far future—that really does not work that well and one community usually comes out on the losing end. I think our own location is priceless for mission and for witness and the Diocese would be saying a loud “no” to God by suggesting it be abandoned. But I have been meeting with a small group of eastside clergy in order to imagine how we can live and work together in ways that respect the integrity of our communities yet not endlessly duplicate programs and mission in each location.
We need to draw more people into active leadership, and to deepen a sense of willingness to serve in traditional leadership roles as well as do new projects. It is harder and harder to attract people to Vestry and other such roles.
We began a great adventure with the successful founding of our Spanish-speaking community, or rather the Spanish-speaking and worshipping portion of our parish. It is still a work in progress. Ways to share leadership, share stewardship, and just share life with one another are all clear goals for us and for the future.
Our own common life has seen great comings and goings. We welcomed a number of newcomers: in the English-speaking community, we welcomed Joe Bender, Michelle Power, William Gustafson and Craig Miller whom we “missioned out” for a time to support the continuing congregation at St. Matthew’s, Paul Peavy and Mark Taylor, Jacob and Tiffany and Aylah Arnold, and Brian Oldham and Dale Walker. We said goodbye to beloved long-time member George Monsauret, who with spouse Lydia are among the 1940’s generation of continuing members. In the Spanish-speaking community there is a dizzying sense of growth and of staying, so much so that I am not proud of the fact that I am not able to provide a reliable list of those whom have come and have stayed with us since last Annual Meeting. But that community has predictable names and faces and has developed the ministries of acolyte and lector and chalice-bearer and sacristy assistant, as well as gathering to help care for the grounds and to clean the church.
Our life here is so rich. Our call has never been clearer. Our opportunities have never been so abundant. Our reasons to give thanks have never been more abundant. Thanks to all of you who help make this a community that listens to God, that acts on what we hear, and that cares for one another as we pray and seek and serve and go to the new people and places where God calls us to be.
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