(another Ash Wednesday homily, this one from Nadia Boltz-Weber. With thanks to Larry Hansen)
People who think Ash Wednesday is depressing totally don’t get it. I mean, I understand why confessing our sins, marking ourselves with ashes and reminding each other that we are all going to die isn’t exactly Disney on Ice, but it’s not depressing. If anything it’s refreshing.
It’s refreshing in a way that only the truth can be… because we know deep down that we live in a death-denying culture which tries to tell us that we can live forever with the right combination of exercise, yoga, vacations and elective surgery. With enough money you can stretch, inject, massage and vacuum out enough skin and fat –as to appear that you have not actually lived each day of your life consecutively since your birth. And it’s all very tempting – especially to me as a middle aged woman, Yet we all know that after buying into all the anti-aging solutions society has to offer – you won’t actually be younger and you won’t actually look younger you’ll just look kinda shiny and misshapen. Which all feels like a metaphor for all our pathetic attempts at immortality.
So it’s a refreshing thing we and Christians all over the world do today. We gather to remind each other of the truth. To remind each other of our mortality. We tell each other the inescapable truth that we are dust and to dust we shall return. It’s downright audacious that amidst our societal anxiety about impermanence we just blurt out the truth as if it’s not offensive. But the thing about blurting out this kind of truth about ourselves…is that after you do it ..you can finally exhale. It’s like the moment when you stop having to spiritually hold your stomach in.
Because all the while we are denying the truth, God is delighting in it.
This is what we hear in Psalm 51:
Indeed, you delight in truth | deep within me
and would have me know wisdom | deep within.
And the thing is, this truth we speak tonight about our mortality is only offensive if it’s heard as an insult and not a promise. It’s only offensive when it’s heard as being the last word. And it’s not. It’s not the last word.
The same is true about confessing our sins. I’ve said it before but it bears repeating: People who think I’m some crazy liberal are always so shocked about how much I love to talk about sin. I think liberals tend to think admitting we are sinful is the same as having low self-esteem. And then conservatives equate sin with immorality. So one end of the church tells us that sin is an antiquated notion that only makes us feel bad about ourselves so we should avoid mentioning it at all. While the other end of the church tells us that sin is the same as immorality and totally avoidable if you can just be a good squeaky-clean Christian. Yet when sin is boiled down to low self-esteem or immorality then it becomes something we can control or limit in some way rather than something we are simply in bondage to. The reality is that I cannot free myself from the bondage of self. I cannot by my own understanding or effort disentangle myself from self interest – and when I think that I can …I’m basically trying to do what is only God’s to do.
So, to me, there is actually great hope in Ash Wednesday, a great hope in admitting my mortality and my brokenness because then I finally lay aside my sin management program long enough to allow God to be God for me. Which is all any of us really need when it comes down to it.
And this God of which I speak is nothing if not a God of hope and promise. Here’s the image I have of Ash Wednesday: If our lives were a long piece of fabric with our baptism on one end and our funeral on another, and us not knowing what the distance is between the two, well then Ash Wednesday is a time when that fabric is pinched in the middle and then held up so that our baptism in the past and our funeral in the future meet. With these ashes it is as though the water and words from our baptism plus the earth and words from our funerals have come from the future to meet us here today. And in that meeting we are reminded of the promises of God. Promises which outlast our piety, outlast our efforts in self-improvement, outlast our earthly bodies and the limits of time.
No week in recent history has this been as real to me as now. Yesterday I stood in a small restaurant on 6th ave and preached at the funeral of a 29 year old who took his own life. A man I’d never met. I don’t generally agree to do weddings and funerals of those who are not a part of this church. But Billy was queer and an artist and suffered from bi-polar and addiction so it felt like he could have belonged to us. So I stood and spoke of love and Jesus. And I looked his mother in the eyes and said that God is always present in love and in suffering. And that God was present both the moment Billy entered this world and the moment Billy left this world.
We are dust and to dust we return.
I did not know yesterday that today, 19 hours after standing in a funeral of one child I would stand in the birth room of another. Less than a day after preaching about love and suffering and Jesus I held Duffy and Charlie’s baby Willa in my arms and thanked God for brand new life.
Then her parents asked for ashes. For them and for Zane and baby Willa too. I pressed ever so gently into her brow, onto this brand new skin that had only been exposed to air for a few precious hours, and said that even she, full of beauty and hope and just hours from her mother’s womb, even she will return– return to dust and the very heart of God.
And then I knew. I knew more than any other Ash Wednesday in my life, that the promises of baptism and funerals, the promises of birth and death are so totally wrapped up together. For we come from God and to God we shall go. And that Oh my Gosh is there so much that gets in the way of that simple truth. And it is times like funerals when all the other BS just doesn’t matter anymore.
So Lent isn’t about punishing ourselves for being human – the practice of Lent is about peeling away layers of insulation and anesthesia which keep us from the truth of God’s promises. Lent is about looking at our lives in as bright a light as possible, the light of Christ. It is during this time of self-reflection and sacrificial giving and prayer that we make our way through the over grown and tangled mess of our lives. We trudge through the lies of our death-denying culture to seek the simple weighty truth of who we really are. Lent is about hacking through self-delusion and false promises. We let go of all the pretenses and the destructive independence from God. We let go of defending ourselves. We let go of our indulgent self-loathing. Then, like the prodigal son we begin to see a God running with abandon to welcome us home. But we can’t begin to see this God until we hack through our arrogance and certainty and cynicism and ambivalence. The Psalmist says that God delights in the truth that is deep in us. The truth. Therefore there’s no shame in the truth of who we are; the broken and blessed beloved of God. There’s no shame in the truth that our lives on earth will all end and that we are in bondage to sin and cannot free ourselves. It’s not depressing. What’s depressing is the desperation of trying to pretend otherwise. What’s depressing is to insist that I can free myself I just haven’t managed to pull it off yet.
What is so wonderful about Ash Wednesday and Lent is that through being marked with the cross and reminded of our own mortality we are free. Reminded that the God of your salvation, the same God who created you from the very earth to which you will return – the very God of Moses and Sarah and Abraham is also God for you. This God delights in the truth that you are God’s very own redeemed sinner beloved in all your broken beauty. So as you receive these ashes and hear the promise that you are dust and to dust you shall return, know that it is the truth and that the truth will set you free in a way that nothing else ever can.
Rev. Nadia Boltz-Weber, House for Saints and Sinners
archived musings and preachments
Friday, March 7, 2014
Thursday, March 6, 2014
Remnant of fire
ASH WEDNESDAY - 12 Noon - March 5, 2014 Ss. Peter & Paul
The parish I grew up in introduced ashes on this day, long before our present Prayer Book came into being. The Mass was at 6:30 in the morning, before school, and I was bleary-eyed and yearned to be back in bed. But I remember being fascinated by this day: the priest would sign us with the cross of ashes and say, "Remember, O man, that thou art dust and to dust shalt thou return."
Of course, mortality and sin were beyond my comprehension! The solemnity of this day was what really got to me, though I could never say why. But as I've grown older, I've learned more about ashes than I ever wanted to know ... and was too afraid to ask. The cremated remains of a young boy who was killed in a tractor accident on his farm became a few ounces of silent dust in a small box that I carried in my arms to his grave when I was a young Transitional Deacon, serving alone in my first parish. And some of the ashes got stuck in my prayer book and lingered there for years. The "cremains" of my Dad, as we scattered them on the old football field at his university, while the campus cops looked on! (The old stadium had become an intramural field and hq for the cops!) My Mom clutching the cremains of my brother Dan, who had taken his own life, before we placed it in the columbarium at their church. And, nine years later, placing Mom's cremains in the same niche. I have learned that ashes are the end of human life.
They are also an emblem of futility and despair, a visible sign of all we do to mess up our lives, spoil our dreams, and make us quiet murderers of ourselves and others. We were made to love, but our lust makes ashes of love. We were made to give; and instead we steal, though time will make ashes of all we've stolen. We were made as a living, thinking prayer to God, and instead, we build temples to ourselves on foundations of dust. We become used to our own sin, so much that we think almost nothing of it, believing that we really are good people.
Ashes are a witness that everything we desire that is not God's will, like our bodies, sooner or later will be burned and plowed under; and no plan of action or system of thought can change that. The ashes remain.
We might ask: what possible purpose is served by keeping a season in which all of this is rubbed in our faces? The answer lies in the ashes, for ashes are the visible memory of fire. The Hebrew Scriptures tell us again and again of a God whose glory is so magnificent, whose beauty and majesty are of such brilliance that to behold them is to die. God is a consuming fire, says Deuteronomy. God called the people of Israel forth in fire on the mountaintop and led them with fire through the wilderness. This is a God of infinite intensity and awe, sovereign, beautiful. To look on the Lord is to indulge in an overdose of glory. No wonder Israel trembles at the foot of Sinai: when what is glorious meets what is human, the result is ashes. Yet, ashes are at least the memorial of fire, and though we can't look on the face of God's glory, we can look into the ashes as into some dark mirror, and try to dream of what is so beautiful.
Israel took the risk of being consumed, of being turned to ashes, because they realized God had something to offer them that they needed: deliverance, a plan, a road map, a way out of the ash heap of their own sin - in short, the Law. It was to be made part of them, taken into their very being, for the God of absolute power was a God of utter love. This God would meet them half-way and go with them down the mountain. Though they could not look on the face of the almighty, they would see God's reflection in the Law. More than the ashes in the spot where God's fire had passed, now they would know the way of God's knowledge and love.

There is another fire: the Lord also gave the Holy Spirit into our hearts, a Spirit of fire to
burn away everything that would turn us to ashes. Lent is a season of learning to live in that fire, and living there is possible as long as we acknowledge two things at the beginning: First, that God is sovereign, and we are not; and second, the road through this fire will look like the road Jesus has walked.
The ashes of Lent are the sign of our mortal bodies and the reminder that God has turned death to ashes. The ashes are the memorial of our sin and the proof that Christ has beaten down Satan under his feet. The ashes are the evidence of our dying and the hope of our rising and living with and in Christ. In this holy season, confess your sins and stand in the fire of Christ's glory. Let his majesty rule you, his Spirit purge you, and the fire of his love make you his own forever.
[adapted from a homily given on this day, February 21, 1996, Trinity Church, Marshall, MI]

The parish I grew up in introduced ashes on this day, long before our present Prayer Book came into being. The Mass was at 6:30 in the morning, before school, and I was bleary-eyed and yearned to be back in bed. But I remember being fascinated by this day: the priest would sign us with the cross of ashes and say, "Remember, O man, that thou art dust and to dust shalt thou return."
Of course, mortality and sin were beyond my comprehension! The solemnity of this day was what really got to me, though I could never say why. But as I've grown older, I've learned more about ashes than I ever wanted to know ... and was too afraid to ask. The cremated remains of a young boy who was killed in a tractor accident on his farm became a few ounces of silent dust in a small box that I carried in my arms to his grave when I was a young Transitional Deacon, serving alone in my first parish. And some of the ashes got stuck in my prayer book and lingered there for years. The "cremains" of my Dad, as we scattered them on the old football field at his university, while the campus cops looked on! (The old stadium had become an intramural field and hq for the cops!) My Mom clutching the cremains of my brother Dan, who had taken his own life, before we placed it in the columbarium at their church. And, nine years later, placing Mom's cremains in the same niche. I have learned that ashes are the end of human life.
They are also an emblem of futility and despair, a visible sign of all we do to mess up our lives, spoil our dreams, and make us quiet murderers of ourselves and others. We were made to love, but our lust makes ashes of love. We were made to give; and instead we steal, though time will make ashes of all we've stolen. We were made as a living, thinking prayer to God, and instead, we build temples to ourselves on foundations of dust. We become used to our own sin, so much that we think almost nothing of it, believing that we really are good people.
Ashes are a witness that everything we desire that is not God's will, like our bodies, sooner or later will be burned and plowed under; and no plan of action or system of thought can change that. The ashes remain.
We might ask: what possible purpose is served by keeping a season in which all of this is rubbed in our faces? The answer lies in the ashes, for ashes are the visible memory of fire. The Hebrew Scriptures tell us again and again of a God whose glory is so magnificent, whose beauty and majesty are of such brilliance that to behold them is to die. God is a consuming fire, says Deuteronomy. God called the people of Israel forth in fire on the mountaintop and led them with fire through the wilderness. This is a God of infinite intensity and awe, sovereign, beautiful. To look on the Lord is to indulge in an overdose of glory. No wonder Israel trembles at the foot of Sinai: when what is glorious meets what is human, the result is ashes. Yet, ashes are at least the memorial of fire, and though we can't look on the face of God's glory, we can look into the ashes as into some dark mirror, and try to dream of what is so beautiful.
Israel took the risk of being consumed, of being turned to ashes, because they realized God had something to offer them that they needed: deliverance, a plan, a road map, a way out of the ash heap of their own sin - in short, the Law. It was to be made part of them, taken into their very being, for the God of absolute power was a God of utter love. This God would meet them half-way and go with them down the mountain. Though they could not look on the face of the almighty, they would see God's reflection in the Law. More than the ashes in the spot where God's fire had passed, now they would know the way of God's knowledge and love.

There is another fire: the Lord also gave the Holy Spirit into our hearts, a Spirit of fire to
burn away everything that would turn us to ashes. Lent is a season of learning to live in that fire, and living there is possible as long as we acknowledge two things at the beginning: First, that God is sovereign, and we are not; and second, the road through this fire will look like the road Jesus has walked.
The ashes of Lent are the sign of our mortal bodies and the reminder that God has turned death to ashes. The ashes are the memorial of our sin and the proof that Christ has beaten down Satan under his feet. The ashes are the evidence of our dying and the hope of our rising and living with and in Christ. In this holy season, confess your sins and stand in the fire of Christ's glory. Let his majesty rule you, his Spirit purge you, and the fire of his love make you his own forever.
[adapted from a homily given on this day, February 21, 1996, Trinity Church, Marshall, MI]

Sunday, March 2, 2014
Entre la nube/through the cloud
Last Epiphany/Ultima Epifania 2014
http://www.lectionarypage.net/YearA_RCL/Epiphany/AEpiLast_RCL.html
Today we remember that the Christian path is all about change. Todavia nos recordamos que el camino Cristiano es un camino del cambio.
Moses climbed the sacred mountain. There he waited for God to speak. Moises subio al monte sagrado, y alla el se esperaba a la palabra de Dios viviente.
For God does not speak right when you want him to. El Dios no se habla cuando queremos. But God does speak. Pero el Dios nos habla.
The glory of God did appear. La Gloria del Dios viviente se aparecio.
And Moses entered the cloud. Y Moises se entro a la nube.
Years later Jesus and three friends also climbed a mountain. Despues de muchos anos Jesus y tres amigos tambien les subieron una monte.
The glory of God appeared in the face of Jesus. La Gloria de Dios se aparecio en la faz de Jesucristo. And as Moses did before, the three disciples entered the cloud. Como Moises en antes, los discipulos les entraron a la nube.
In a cloud one cannot see what is behind and in front. Cuando estamos en una nube, no podamos a ver el que esta delante o tambien atras.
In the cloud, we need faith. Cuando estamos en una nube, necesitamos confianza y fe.
Most of our lives are lived in a cloud. El major parte de nuestras vidas estamos en una nube. The past is a memory. The future is unknown. La pasada es una memoria. No lo conocemos el futuro.
And so here we need faith and trust. Aqui necesitamos confianza y fe.
This congregation is in that same cloud. Nuestra congregation esta en la misma nube. The past is a memory. La pasada es una memoria. The future is unknown. No lo conocemos el futuro.
And so we need faith and trust. Entonces necesitamos fe y confianza.
Because in the cloud Moses received the Torah. Porque en la nube Moises se recibio la Ley Santa. And in the cloud the disciples heard the new Torah, that Jesus is the Beloved. Y en la nube los discipulos les oyeron La Ley Nueva, que el Senor Jesucristo es el Amado de Dios.
But no one gets to stay in the cloud. Pero nadie puede quedar en la nube.
The people of Israel received the Law and continued their journey. El pueblo de Israel recibieron la Ley y sigieron en su viaje. The disciples looked and saw only Jesus and left with him down the mountain. Los discipulos se miraron a Jesus solo y con el les bajaron desde el monte.
And on the journey, the people of Israel and the disciples were changed, from surprising glory to glory. Y durante el viaje, el pueblo de Israel y los discipulos tambien estaban cambiado, desde Gloria a Gloria sorprendente.
That is our journey too. Este es nuestro viaje tambien.
We are trying a new road. Estamos tratando un nuevo camino. We are trying to become a new congregation. Tratamos a ser una nueva congregacion. We do not know how it will end. No conocemos como se terminara.
But if we walk in faith we shall be changed from glory to glory. Pero si caminaremos en fe seamos cambiado de Gloria a Gloria.
For as the poet said, “Traveler, there is no path. The path is made by walking.” Como el poeta dice, “Caminante, no hay camino / se hace camino al andar...”
http://www.lectionarypage.net/YearA_RCL/Epiphany/AEpiLast_RCL.html
Today we remember that the Christian path is all about change. Todavia nos recordamos que el camino Cristiano es un camino del cambio.
Moses climbed the sacred mountain. There he waited for God to speak. Moises subio al monte sagrado, y alla el se esperaba a la palabra de Dios viviente.
For God does not speak right when you want him to. El Dios no se habla cuando queremos. But God does speak. Pero el Dios nos habla.
The glory of God did appear. La Gloria del Dios viviente se aparecio.
And Moses entered the cloud. Y Moises se entro a la nube.
Years later Jesus and three friends also climbed a mountain. Despues de muchos anos Jesus y tres amigos tambien les subieron una monte.
The glory of God appeared in the face of Jesus. La Gloria de Dios se aparecio en la faz de Jesucristo. And as Moses did before, the three disciples entered the cloud. Como Moises en antes, los discipulos les entraron a la nube.
In a cloud one cannot see what is behind and in front. Cuando estamos en una nube, no podamos a ver el que esta delante o tambien atras.
In the cloud, we need faith. Cuando estamos en una nube, necesitamos confianza y fe.
Most of our lives are lived in a cloud. El major parte de nuestras vidas estamos en una nube. The past is a memory. The future is unknown. La pasada es una memoria. No lo conocemos el futuro.
And so here we need faith and trust. Aqui necesitamos confianza y fe.
This congregation is in that same cloud. Nuestra congregation esta en la misma nube. The past is a memory. La pasada es una memoria. The future is unknown. No lo conocemos el futuro.
And so we need faith and trust. Entonces necesitamos fe y confianza.
Because in the cloud Moses received the Torah. Porque en la nube Moises se recibio la Ley Santa. And in the cloud the disciples heard the new Torah, that Jesus is the Beloved. Y en la nube los discipulos les oyeron La Ley Nueva, que el Senor Jesucristo es el Amado de Dios.
But no one gets to stay in the cloud. Pero nadie puede quedar en la nube.
The people of Israel received the Law and continued their journey. El pueblo de Israel recibieron la Ley y sigieron en su viaje. The disciples looked and saw only Jesus and left with him down the mountain. Los discipulos se miraron a Jesus solo y con el les bajaron desde el monte.
And on the journey, the people of Israel and the disciples were changed, from surprising glory to glory. Y durante el viaje, el pueblo de Israel y los discipulos tambien estaban cambiado, desde Gloria a Gloria sorprendente.
That is our journey too. Este es nuestro viaje tambien.
We are trying a new road. Estamos tratando un nuevo camino. We are trying to become a new congregation. Tratamos a ser una nueva congregacion. We do not know how it will end. No conocemos como se terminara.
But if we walk in faith we shall be changed from glory to glory. Pero si caminaremos en fe seamos cambiado de Gloria a Gloria.
For as the poet said, “Traveler, there is no path. The path is made by walking.” Como el poeta dice, “Caminante, no hay camino / se hace camino al andar...”
Sunday, February 23, 2014
More than enough
7 Epiphany A 2014
http://www.lectionarypage.net/YearA_RCL/Epiphany/AEpi7_RCL.html
“And it would have been enough…”
Our text from Leviticus proclaims a vision of generous justice to a people used to raiding and abusing and plundering one another’s goods. “I am the Lord” God thunders, loud enough to get them to take their hands off the hilts of their knives and off of one another’s throats. Don’t cheat, don’t abuse, don’t lie, don’t swindle. When you harvest, don’t pick the field clean. Leave what’s left behind and what’s left on the edges for the poor and the homeless. Don’t hate, don’t do blood-feuds, don’t do pay-back. What’s more—love your neighbor as yourself. It is the word of a God who chose to love a rough and ragged people, who called them to be more that desert bandits. It was radical justice and forbearance in a brutal age.
“And it would have been enough…”
Some say that proclaiming justice in a greedy age is foolish. Well, we’re about to become even bigger fools. Because Jesus takes this vision of God’s justice, a radical vision in its time to a new and frightening level, a level beyond justice.
What’s beyond justice? Costly love.
Do not resist the bad guy—give him another cheek to punch. Got your wallet snatched? Hand over your watch as well. Asked again for a dollar? Hand it over, and maybe add another. That’s what Jesus’ teaching looks like in today’s language.
And there’s more—“love your enemy.” And, “be perfect.” That word “perfection”—many of us were taught this saying as a source of shame, like our lives never measured up. But the word “perfection” here is related to “whole.” “Be whole, be complete.”
Complete what?
Complete fools, says anyone with sense. If justice is foolish, this kind of over-abundant love and mercy is lunacy.
But Paul says that we have only one foundation on which to build—the One and Complete Fool himself, God’s Fool, Jesus Christ.
A traditional Jewish chant on Passover goes something like this…
“If he had led us through the desert
and not led us to Mount Sinai—
it would have been enough
“If he had led us to Mount Sinai
and not given us the Torah--
it would have been enough
“If he had given us the Torah
and not led us to the Promised Land--
it would have been enough”
With the God of the Gospel, the generous and foolish God, it is never enough.
It is never enough to simply be tolerant. God goes beyond tolerance. It is not enough to simply be just. God goes beyond justice.
God goes to self-giving, self-sacrificing love. God makes God’s own self vulnerable and foolish. The Gospel really is a joke in most people’s eyes I think. Who can love that much, forgive that much, check out of the culture of greed and self-interest and payback that much?
So now, go do likewise.
As a church, there was a day when it would have been enough to be a nice church, kind, forbearing, courteous to the stranger. That is a good thing. But as we saw at Annual Meeting, we are called to be more.
We are called to be love. We are called to the grand foolishness of Jesus. We are called to be one, humble with one another, grateful, to make no peace with inequality or separation, to be one. To take a new road.
Perhaps it will be enough if we leave behind all our former assurance, our old securities, our long-held opinions, and walk out on the road with new companions in humility and vulnerability and peace. One congregation, two languages, a small and foolish gathering in a large and cynical and divided world, a racist world, a world that measures people by power and wealth and skin color and gender and preference and so many other things that are nonsense in God’s eyes.
We will see if it is enough. And perhaps we’ll find ourselves joined on the road by someone whom we did not expect. Perhaps we’ll find Jesus there, not the Jesus of gilded images or gold crowns. The foolish, vulnerable Jesus. The Jesus of the Gospel.
And this road, and this Jesus, will be enough.
http://www.lectionarypage.net/YearA_RCL/Epiphany/AEpi7_RCL.html
“And it would have been enough…”
Our text from Leviticus proclaims a vision of generous justice to a people used to raiding and abusing and plundering one another’s goods. “I am the Lord” God thunders, loud enough to get them to take their hands off the hilts of their knives and off of one another’s throats. Don’t cheat, don’t abuse, don’t lie, don’t swindle. When you harvest, don’t pick the field clean. Leave what’s left behind and what’s left on the edges for the poor and the homeless. Don’t hate, don’t do blood-feuds, don’t do pay-back. What’s more—love your neighbor as yourself. It is the word of a God who chose to love a rough and ragged people, who called them to be more that desert bandits. It was radical justice and forbearance in a brutal age.
“And it would have been enough…”
Some say that proclaiming justice in a greedy age is foolish. Well, we’re about to become even bigger fools. Because Jesus takes this vision of God’s justice, a radical vision in its time to a new and frightening level, a level beyond justice.
What’s beyond justice? Costly love.
Do not resist the bad guy—give him another cheek to punch. Got your wallet snatched? Hand over your watch as well. Asked again for a dollar? Hand it over, and maybe add another. That’s what Jesus’ teaching looks like in today’s language.
And there’s more—“love your enemy.” And, “be perfect.” That word “perfection”—many of us were taught this saying as a source of shame, like our lives never measured up. But the word “perfection” here is related to “whole.” “Be whole, be complete.”
Complete what?
Complete fools, says anyone with sense. If justice is foolish, this kind of over-abundant love and mercy is lunacy.
But Paul says that we have only one foundation on which to build—the One and Complete Fool himself, God’s Fool, Jesus Christ.
A traditional Jewish chant on Passover goes something like this…
“If he had led us through the desert
and not led us to Mount Sinai—
it would have been enough
“If he had led us to Mount Sinai
and not given us the Torah--
it would have been enough
“If he had given us the Torah
and not led us to the Promised Land--
it would have been enough”
With the God of the Gospel, the generous and foolish God, it is never enough.
It is never enough to simply be tolerant. God goes beyond tolerance. It is not enough to simply be just. God goes beyond justice.
God goes to self-giving, self-sacrificing love. God makes God’s own self vulnerable and foolish. The Gospel really is a joke in most people’s eyes I think. Who can love that much, forgive that much, check out of the culture of greed and self-interest and payback that much?
So now, go do likewise.
As a church, there was a day when it would have been enough to be a nice church, kind, forbearing, courteous to the stranger. That is a good thing. But as we saw at Annual Meeting, we are called to be more.
We are called to be love. We are called to the grand foolishness of Jesus. We are called to be one, humble with one another, grateful, to make no peace with inequality or separation, to be one. To take a new road.
Perhaps it will be enough if we leave behind all our former assurance, our old securities, our long-held opinions, and walk out on the road with new companions in humility and vulnerability and peace. One congregation, two languages, a small and foolish gathering in a large and cynical and divided world, a racist world, a world that measures people by power and wealth and skin color and gender and preference and so many other things that are nonsense in God’s eyes.
We will see if it is enough. And perhaps we’ll find ourselves joined on the road by someone whom we did not expect. Perhaps we’ll find Jesus there, not the Jesus of gilded images or gold crowns. The foolish, vulnerable Jesus. The Jesus of the Gospel.
And this road, and this Jesus, will be enough.
Sunday, February 9, 2014
How big is your house?
EPIPHANY 5 2014
I TOOK AN ECONOMICS COURSE IN COLLEGE, AND LEARNED TWO MAIN THINGS. FIRST OF ALL, “ECONOMICS” MEANS MEASURING THE HOUSE. ECO IS GREEK FOR HOUSE, AND NOMICS HAS SOMETHING TO DO WITH NUMBERS. THE SECOND IMPORTANT POINT I DISCOVERED IS THAT THE PURPOSE OF ECONOMICS IS TO ALLOCATE GUNS AND BUTTER. THIS MEANS DETERMINING HOW MUCH OF THE RESOURCES OF A COUNTRY, A STATE, A CITY, OR A FAMILY GOES TO BUTTER, FOOD, OR WELFARE OF THE CITIZENS, AND HOW MUCH GOES FOR SECURITY, POLICE, MILITARY OR FOOD INSPECTORS.
IN TODAY’S BIBLE PASSAGES, ISAIAH AND MATTHEW ALSO TALK ABOUT RESOURCE ALLOCATION, THOUGH NOT NECESSARILLY GUNS AND BUTTER. THE ALLOCATION THEY TALK ABOUT IS TIME, ENERGY, AND PASSION. THEY ARE SAYING THAT WE SHOULD SPEND OUR TIME, OUR ENERGY, AND OUR PASSION ON HEALING A BROKEN WORLD, NOT ON SELF AGRANDIZING.
TODAY WE HEARD FROM ISAIAH: “WHY DO WE FAST, BUT YOU DO NOT SEE? WHY HUMBLE OURSELVES, BUT YOU DO NOT NOTICE? LOOK, YOU SERVE YOUR OWN INTEREST ON YOUR FAST DAY, AND OPPRESS ALL YOUR WORKERS. LOOK, YOU FAST ONLY TO QUARREL AND TO FIGHT AND TO STRIKE WITH A WICKED FIST. SUCH FASTING AS YOU DO TODAY WILL NOT MAKE YOUR VOICE HEARD ON HIGH.”
JESUS TOLD US THE FIRST AND GREAT COMMANDMENT IS THIS: “YOU SHALL LOVE THE LORD WITH ALL YOUR HEART, AND WITH ALL YOUR SOUL, AND WITH ALL YOUR MIGHT, AND THE SECOND IS LIKE IT; YOU SHALL LOVE YOUR NEIGHBOR AS YOURSELF. ON THESE TWO COMMANDMENTS HANG ALL THE LAW AND PROPHETS.”
THE GOSPEL IS NOT ABOUT EARNING POINTS TO GET INTO HEAVEN SOME DAY; THE GOSPEL IS ABOUT DOING WHAT WE CAN TO HEAL A HURTING WORLD RIGHT TODAY.
TODAY WE HEARD FROM MATTHEW: “YOU ARE THE SALT OF THE EARTH, BUT IF THE SALT HAS LOST ITS TASTE, HOW CAN ITS SALTINESS BE RESTORED?”, AND ALSO : “YOU ARE THE LIGHT OF THE WORLD. A CITY BUILT ON A HILL CANNOT BE HID. NO ONE AFTER LIGHTING A LAMP PUTS IT UNDER A BUSHEL BASKET, BUT ON THE LAMPSTAND, AND IT GIVES LIGHT FOR ALL IN THE HOUSE.”
THE VALUE OF SALT IS NOT IN AND OF ITSELF. THE VALUE OF SALT IS THAT IT IS ADDED TO OTHER FOOD TO PRESERVE IT OR TO IMPROVE ITS TASTE. THE VALUE OF A LAMP IS NOT SO THE LAMP CAN SEE OR BE SEEN, THE VALUE OF A LAMP IS SO THAT OTHERS MAY SEE. “WE (SHOULD) IMPACT THE WORLD WE LIVE IN.” 1
WHEN OUR LECTIONARY STUDY GROUP LOOKED AT THIS PIECE OF ST. MATTHEW’S GOSPEL, ONE OF OUR GROUP QUOTED JAMES SLEDGE. JAMES SLEDGE IS SOMEONE WHO WROTE A COMMENT ABOUT THIS PASSAGE AND HE SAID: “CHRISTIAN FAITH IN AMERICA TENDS TO BE A PRIVATE AND PERSONAL THING. FAITH IS WHAT WE BELIEVE, AND THAT CAN BE SAFELY TUCKED AWAY IN OUR BRAIN SOMEWHERE.---YOU CAN BE A FAITHFUL CHRISTIAN IF YOU GO TO CHURCH ON SUNDAY AND ABIDE BY SOCIETAL NORMS FOR MORALITY. SO, IN ESSENCE, IF PEOPLE DON’T CHECK THE CHURCH PARKING LOT ON SUNDAYS, NOTHING ABOUT YOUR FAITH WOULD DISTINGUISH YOU FROM ANYONE ELSE WHO FUNCTIONED AS A GOOD CITIZEN.” AND THIS REMINDS ME OF AN OLD SAYING THAT IF IT WERE ILLEGAL TO BE A FOLLOWER OF CHRIST’S GOSPEL WOULD ENOUGH EVIDENCE BE FOUND TO CONVICT US?
JAMES SLEDGE THEN WENT ON TO SAY: “IT’S WORTH NOTING THAT PROPHETS GENERALLY WERE NOT PERSECUTED FOR WHAT THEY BELIEVED. THE PEOPLE WHO PERSECUTED THEM WERE FELLOW MEMBERS OF THEIR FAITH, FELLOW WORSHIPPERS OF YAHYEH. THEY WERE PERSECUTED BECAUSE THEY INSISTED THAT BEING GOD’S PEOPLE DEMANDED THAT THEY LIVE DIFFERENTLY THEN THEY WERE DOING. THE PROPHETS INSISTED THAT THEY COULD NOT CLAIM TO BE GOD’S PEOPLE WHILE EXPLOITING THE POOR, WORRYING ABOUT THEIR PERSONAL FORTUNES MORE THAN GOD’S COMMANDS, AND SO ON.
AMEN
John Nesbitt+, Feb 9, 2014
I TOOK AN ECONOMICS COURSE IN COLLEGE, AND LEARNED TWO MAIN THINGS. FIRST OF ALL, “ECONOMICS” MEANS MEASURING THE HOUSE. ECO IS GREEK FOR HOUSE, AND NOMICS HAS SOMETHING TO DO WITH NUMBERS. THE SECOND IMPORTANT POINT I DISCOVERED IS THAT THE PURPOSE OF ECONOMICS IS TO ALLOCATE GUNS AND BUTTER. THIS MEANS DETERMINING HOW MUCH OF THE RESOURCES OF A COUNTRY, A STATE, A CITY, OR A FAMILY GOES TO BUTTER, FOOD, OR WELFARE OF THE CITIZENS, AND HOW MUCH GOES FOR SECURITY, POLICE, MILITARY OR FOOD INSPECTORS.
IN TODAY’S BIBLE PASSAGES, ISAIAH AND MATTHEW ALSO TALK ABOUT RESOURCE ALLOCATION, THOUGH NOT NECESSARILLY GUNS AND BUTTER. THE ALLOCATION THEY TALK ABOUT IS TIME, ENERGY, AND PASSION. THEY ARE SAYING THAT WE SHOULD SPEND OUR TIME, OUR ENERGY, AND OUR PASSION ON HEALING A BROKEN WORLD, NOT ON SELF AGRANDIZING.
TODAY WE HEARD FROM ISAIAH: “WHY DO WE FAST, BUT YOU DO NOT SEE? WHY HUMBLE OURSELVES, BUT YOU DO NOT NOTICE? LOOK, YOU SERVE YOUR OWN INTEREST ON YOUR FAST DAY, AND OPPRESS ALL YOUR WORKERS. LOOK, YOU FAST ONLY TO QUARREL AND TO FIGHT AND TO STRIKE WITH A WICKED FIST. SUCH FASTING AS YOU DO TODAY WILL NOT MAKE YOUR VOICE HEARD ON HIGH.”
JESUS TOLD US THE FIRST AND GREAT COMMANDMENT IS THIS: “YOU SHALL LOVE THE LORD WITH ALL YOUR HEART, AND WITH ALL YOUR SOUL, AND WITH ALL YOUR MIGHT, AND THE SECOND IS LIKE IT; YOU SHALL LOVE YOUR NEIGHBOR AS YOURSELF. ON THESE TWO COMMANDMENTS HANG ALL THE LAW AND PROPHETS.”
THE GOSPEL IS NOT ABOUT EARNING POINTS TO GET INTO HEAVEN SOME DAY; THE GOSPEL IS ABOUT DOING WHAT WE CAN TO HEAL A HURTING WORLD RIGHT TODAY.
TODAY WE HEARD FROM MATTHEW: “YOU ARE THE SALT OF THE EARTH, BUT IF THE SALT HAS LOST ITS TASTE, HOW CAN ITS SALTINESS BE RESTORED?”, AND ALSO : “YOU ARE THE LIGHT OF THE WORLD. A CITY BUILT ON A HILL CANNOT BE HID. NO ONE AFTER LIGHTING A LAMP PUTS IT UNDER A BUSHEL BASKET, BUT ON THE LAMPSTAND, AND IT GIVES LIGHT FOR ALL IN THE HOUSE.”
THE VALUE OF SALT IS NOT IN AND OF ITSELF. THE VALUE OF SALT IS THAT IT IS ADDED TO OTHER FOOD TO PRESERVE IT OR TO IMPROVE ITS TASTE. THE VALUE OF A LAMP IS NOT SO THE LAMP CAN SEE OR BE SEEN, THE VALUE OF A LAMP IS SO THAT OTHERS MAY SEE. “WE (SHOULD) IMPACT THE WORLD WE LIVE IN.” 1
WHEN OUR LECTIONARY STUDY GROUP LOOKED AT THIS PIECE OF ST. MATTHEW’S GOSPEL, ONE OF OUR GROUP QUOTED JAMES SLEDGE. JAMES SLEDGE IS SOMEONE WHO WROTE A COMMENT ABOUT THIS PASSAGE AND HE SAID: “CHRISTIAN FAITH IN AMERICA TENDS TO BE A PRIVATE AND PERSONAL THING. FAITH IS WHAT WE BELIEVE, AND THAT CAN BE SAFELY TUCKED AWAY IN OUR BRAIN SOMEWHERE.---YOU CAN BE A FAITHFUL CHRISTIAN IF YOU GO TO CHURCH ON SUNDAY AND ABIDE BY SOCIETAL NORMS FOR MORALITY. SO, IN ESSENCE, IF PEOPLE DON’T CHECK THE CHURCH PARKING LOT ON SUNDAYS, NOTHING ABOUT YOUR FAITH WOULD DISTINGUISH YOU FROM ANYONE ELSE WHO FUNCTIONED AS A GOOD CITIZEN.” AND THIS REMINDS ME OF AN OLD SAYING THAT IF IT WERE ILLEGAL TO BE A FOLLOWER OF CHRIST’S GOSPEL WOULD ENOUGH EVIDENCE BE FOUND TO CONVICT US?
JAMES SLEDGE THEN WENT ON TO SAY: “IT’S WORTH NOTING THAT PROPHETS GENERALLY WERE NOT PERSECUTED FOR WHAT THEY BELIEVED. THE PEOPLE WHO PERSECUTED THEM WERE FELLOW MEMBERS OF THEIR FAITH, FELLOW WORSHIPPERS OF YAHYEH. THEY WERE PERSECUTED BECAUSE THEY INSISTED THAT BEING GOD’S PEOPLE DEMANDED THAT THEY LIVE DIFFERENTLY THEN THEY WERE DOING. THE PROPHETS INSISTED THAT THEY COULD NOT CLAIM TO BE GOD’S PEOPLE WHILE EXPLOITING THE POOR, WORRYING ABOUT THEIR PERSONAL FORTUNES MORE THAN GOD’S COMMANDS, AND SO ON.
AMEN
John Nesbitt+, Feb 9, 2014
Sunday, February 2, 2014
Of headaches and fire
Brigid’s Day 2014
Isaiah 61: 1-3; Ps 138; 1 Cor 1: 26-31; Mt 6: 25-33
When we read Brigid legends, we find a lot of headaches.
One story tells of Brigid traveling to visit a family that had suffered tragic loss. All their children had died except two daughters, and these two were mute. Brigid took the two young women with her when she left. On the way, Brigid suffered a terrible headache. Then the horse pulling her chariot shied and pitched Brigid out. She hit her head on a rock and gave herself a bad gash. Strangely, Brigid’s headache vanished, and she told the two girls to bathe their necks with the water from the tiny stream by the road that had been mixed with Brigid’s blood. Immediately they began to speak. It’s a bizarre enough story to be true.
Brigid is a wounded healer in this tale. Headaches come up so frequently in her stories that I suspect she suffered from migraines. Brigid takes two young women with her, takes them to herself, voiceless and powerless. Brigid herself is wounded but shares her blood, her wound, with the two girls. The voiceless then begin to speak.
“The spirit of the Lord is upon me, to bring good news to the oppressed, to bind up the broken-hearted, to proclaim liberty to captives…to give them the mantle of praise instead of a faint spirit.”
The prophet speaks from the standpoint of wounds and vulnerability. Not many chapters before, he sang of the Suffering Servant, the one who “by his wounds we are healed.” Here and in this old Brigid story, it is the wounded who take to themselves the wounded. It is through wounds and vulnerability, not through power and coercion, that the voiceless are given voice, that the powerless are set free.
Brigid’s Mantle, the traditional cloth laid out on the eve of Feb 1, is strangely enough said to cure headaches. Behind this sweet old custom lies a powerful Gospel mystery. To be wrapped in Brigid’s Mantle is to accept one’s wounds and one’s need. To be wrapped in Brigid’s Mantle is to accept the healing that the wounded share with us. To be wrapped in Brigid’s Mantle is to believe that the poor and voiceless will have hope and voice. It’s strange that the Isaiah passage actually mentions a “mantle of praise.”
Some years ago we cast open our doors to Brigid. She’s been bringing her poor and wounded ever since
It was her fire and her passion that kindled our hearts to renew our meal program. Brigid vowed to “save every miserable person.” Misery is easy to come by on this street. Many of us have looked into misery’s eyes and given food to mouths often mute with their suffering. It is a hard, rich ministry, and as in all such ministries we get back more than we give.
And Brigid walked on the street outside casting her mantle around the women in the sex trade. Love and dedication were kindled in the hearts of those who began the Friday night ministry to this day.
This consciousness, this mad casting of Brigid’s Mantle, only deepens and grows. We have become a community that welcomes and reaches out. I think that is the single most important aspect of who we are.
Not many of us are wise, not many of us are powerful. Not many of us are famous in the world’s eyes. But God chooses a broken vessel like this church, and broken hearts like ours, to reach out to the poor and broken.
And how do we continue our life? That’s not clear. But this is what we’re told: “Do not worry about your life, or about your body…But strive first for the Kingdom of God.”
It is said of Brigid that her monastery was rich because she was always giving everything away.
To be the people of Brigid’s Mantle is to trust, to give, to reach out from the vulnerability of our own wounds. It is to know that when we do, headaches and all, the mad and generous Christ who loves his outrageous Brigid will reach out to us, through us, in us, to work rich and wonderful things, for us, through us, in us.
Isaiah 61: 1-3; Ps 138; 1 Cor 1: 26-31; Mt 6: 25-33
When we read Brigid legends, we find a lot of headaches.
One story tells of Brigid traveling to visit a family that had suffered tragic loss. All their children had died except two daughters, and these two were mute. Brigid took the two young women with her when she left. On the way, Brigid suffered a terrible headache. Then the horse pulling her chariot shied and pitched Brigid out. She hit her head on a rock and gave herself a bad gash. Strangely, Brigid’s headache vanished, and she told the two girls to bathe their necks with the water from the tiny stream by the road that had been mixed with Brigid’s blood. Immediately they began to speak. It’s a bizarre enough story to be true.
Brigid is a wounded healer in this tale. Headaches come up so frequently in her stories that I suspect she suffered from migraines. Brigid takes two young women with her, takes them to herself, voiceless and powerless. Brigid herself is wounded but shares her blood, her wound, with the two girls. The voiceless then begin to speak.
“The spirit of the Lord is upon me, to bring good news to the oppressed, to bind up the broken-hearted, to proclaim liberty to captives…to give them the mantle of praise instead of a faint spirit.”
The prophet speaks from the standpoint of wounds and vulnerability. Not many chapters before, he sang of the Suffering Servant, the one who “by his wounds we are healed.” Here and in this old Brigid story, it is the wounded who take to themselves the wounded. It is through wounds and vulnerability, not through power and coercion, that the voiceless are given voice, that the powerless are set free.
Brigid’s Mantle, the traditional cloth laid out on the eve of Feb 1, is strangely enough said to cure headaches. Behind this sweet old custom lies a powerful Gospel mystery. To be wrapped in Brigid’s Mantle is to accept one’s wounds and one’s need. To be wrapped in Brigid’s Mantle is to accept the healing that the wounded share with us. To be wrapped in Brigid’s Mantle is to believe that the poor and voiceless will have hope and voice. It’s strange that the Isaiah passage actually mentions a “mantle of praise.”
Some years ago we cast open our doors to Brigid. She’s been bringing her poor and wounded ever since
It was her fire and her passion that kindled our hearts to renew our meal program. Brigid vowed to “save every miserable person.” Misery is easy to come by on this street. Many of us have looked into misery’s eyes and given food to mouths often mute with their suffering. It is a hard, rich ministry, and as in all such ministries we get back more than we give.
And Brigid walked on the street outside casting her mantle around the women in the sex trade. Love and dedication were kindled in the hearts of those who began the Friday night ministry to this day.
This consciousness, this mad casting of Brigid’s Mantle, only deepens and grows. We have become a community that welcomes and reaches out. I think that is the single most important aspect of who we are.
Not many of us are wise, not many of us are powerful. Not many of us are famous in the world’s eyes. But God chooses a broken vessel like this church, and broken hearts like ours, to reach out to the poor and broken.
And how do we continue our life? That’s not clear. But this is what we’re told: “Do not worry about your life, or about your body…But strive first for the Kingdom of God.”
It is said of Brigid that her monastery was rich because she was always giving everything away.
To be the people of Brigid’s Mantle is to trust, to give, to reach out from the vulnerability of our own wounds. It is to know that when we do, headaches and all, the mad and generous Christ who loves his outrageous Brigid will reach out to us, through us, in us, to work rich and wonderful things, for us, through us, in us.
Wednesday, January 29, 2014
Fools
3 Epiphany A 2014
http://www.lectionarypage.net/YearA_RCL/Epiphany/AEpi3_RCL.html
We are a very foolish congregation. I hope we stay that way.
We’re perched here on 82nd Avenue. Other churches have fled this street. We reach out to people who do not have deep pockets and big bank balances. We proclaim the love of God in the lives of people who have every reason to doubt that God loves them or that their lives mean anything to anyone. We come to be with one another, living, serving, celebrating, forgiving, getting back up when we fall.
We are a very foolish congregation. I hope we stay fools.
Paul tells us it is important to be foolish. If we’re foolish, we just might be living the message of the Cross: foolishness to some, the power of God for those who live it.
I think we’re ready to live like fools only after we’ve seen the darkness. “The people who walked in darkness have seen a great light.”
I was a much younger man when I was hired at an Episcopal social service agency in Chicago. I soon learned that the heart of the agency was a recovery group that oversaw long-term residential treatment for addiction. Those who worked in the recovery house and those who supported it were all recovering from addiction.
It was those men and women who first taught me about grace, really taught me about grace. They told me stories about their personal hells, how they had looked into the depth of despair, gazed into the end of their own lives as a real possibility, just another doper, another dead drunk. At some moment, light shone. Perhaps it was the acceptance and friendship of a sponsor. Perhaps it was a stubborn stir in their own hearts that refused to surrender the shattered remnant of their lives to the garbage can. Those who shared their stories with me spoke of this humbly, as a gift. Everything that happened after this, the daily walk, one day at a time, sometimes one hour or one minute at a time, was pure gift, pure grace, pure light.
The tribes that the prophet speaks of today, Zebulon and Naphtali, were shattered and humiliated, seeming at the end of their story, living on the edge in a despised land. But it was there that light shone, a light not just for them but for us all. We’re reminded that it is among those who seem defeated, broken, ignored, on the edge, that light breaks forth.
And Jesus’ own ministry, and his first call of disciples, begins after the imprisonment of his cousin John. Every once in awhile the powers of the world demonstrate how foolish it is to resist them. Herod had shown that “resistance is futile” by jailing John. I do not think anyone believed that once John had gone to Herod’s dungeons that he would emerge alive. It was foolish to attract the attention of Herod, or the Romans, or the temple guard. Crosses stood along the main roads with the bodies of those who had, a foolish death for fools.
But here is where the light shown, the light of a new message of liberation and hope and the gathering of scattered people. It was here that the foolishness of the light and those who dare to trust the light began to drive the power of darkness before it. It still does.
It’s a foolish thing to dare to believe that light is stronger than darkness. It’s a foolish thing to believe that we are a graced congregation, gathered from whatever darkness and defeats have left their mark on our lives. It is that very foolish part of ourselves and our community that the divine spark can kindle into light. The Collect today says “proclaim to all people the good news of his salvation.” That’s not about convincing people of doctrines. That’s humbly sharing and showing that light has shown in the dark places of our lives and in our world. That’s showing how an insignificant-seeming life can be set ablaze by that mysterious spark that comes as a gift.
If we’re feeling foolish and at the end of our rope, maybe it’s then that the divine light can really do something with us!
http://www.lectionarypage.net/YearA_RCL/Epiphany/AEpi3_RCL.html
We are a very foolish congregation. I hope we stay that way.
We’re perched here on 82nd Avenue. Other churches have fled this street. We reach out to people who do not have deep pockets and big bank balances. We proclaim the love of God in the lives of people who have every reason to doubt that God loves them or that their lives mean anything to anyone. We come to be with one another, living, serving, celebrating, forgiving, getting back up when we fall.
We are a very foolish congregation. I hope we stay fools.
Paul tells us it is important to be foolish. If we’re foolish, we just might be living the message of the Cross: foolishness to some, the power of God for those who live it.
I think we’re ready to live like fools only after we’ve seen the darkness. “The people who walked in darkness have seen a great light.”
I was a much younger man when I was hired at an Episcopal social service agency in Chicago. I soon learned that the heart of the agency was a recovery group that oversaw long-term residential treatment for addiction. Those who worked in the recovery house and those who supported it were all recovering from addiction.
It was those men and women who first taught me about grace, really taught me about grace. They told me stories about their personal hells, how they had looked into the depth of despair, gazed into the end of their own lives as a real possibility, just another doper, another dead drunk. At some moment, light shone. Perhaps it was the acceptance and friendship of a sponsor. Perhaps it was a stubborn stir in their own hearts that refused to surrender the shattered remnant of their lives to the garbage can. Those who shared their stories with me spoke of this humbly, as a gift. Everything that happened after this, the daily walk, one day at a time, sometimes one hour or one minute at a time, was pure gift, pure grace, pure light.
The tribes that the prophet speaks of today, Zebulon and Naphtali, were shattered and humiliated, seeming at the end of their story, living on the edge in a despised land. But it was there that light shone, a light not just for them but for us all. We’re reminded that it is among those who seem defeated, broken, ignored, on the edge, that light breaks forth.
And Jesus’ own ministry, and his first call of disciples, begins after the imprisonment of his cousin John. Every once in awhile the powers of the world demonstrate how foolish it is to resist them. Herod had shown that “resistance is futile” by jailing John. I do not think anyone believed that once John had gone to Herod’s dungeons that he would emerge alive. It was foolish to attract the attention of Herod, or the Romans, or the temple guard. Crosses stood along the main roads with the bodies of those who had, a foolish death for fools.
But here is where the light shown, the light of a new message of liberation and hope and the gathering of scattered people. It was here that the foolishness of the light and those who dare to trust the light began to drive the power of darkness before it. It still does.
It’s a foolish thing to dare to believe that light is stronger than darkness. It’s a foolish thing to believe that we are a graced congregation, gathered from whatever darkness and defeats have left their mark on our lives. It is that very foolish part of ourselves and our community that the divine spark can kindle into light. The Collect today says “proclaim to all people the good news of his salvation.” That’s not about convincing people of doctrines. That’s humbly sharing and showing that light has shown in the dark places of our lives and in our world. That’s showing how an insignificant-seeming life can be set ablaze by that mysterious spark that comes as a gift.
If we’re feeling foolish and at the end of our rope, maybe it’s then that the divine light can really do something with us!
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