*
O God of grace and glory, we remember before you our sister Amy. We thank you for giving her to us, her family and friends, to know and to love as a companion on our earthly pilgrimage. In your boundless compassion, console us who mourn. Give us faith to see in death the gate of eternal life, so that in quiet confidence we may continue our course on earth, until, by your call, we are reunited with those who have gone before; through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.
- Book of Common Prayer
*
Sunday, December 28, 2008
Sunday, December 21, 2008
People Look East
*
People look East the time is near
Of the crowning of the year
Make your house fair as you are able
Trim the hearth and set the table
People look East and sing today
Love the guest is on the way
Furrows be glad though earth is bare
One more seed is planted there
Give up your strength the seed to nourish
That in course the flower may flourish
People look East and sing today
Love the rose is on the way
Birds though you long have ceased to build
Guard the nest that must be filled
Even the hour when wings are frozen
God for fledgling time has chosen
People look East and sing today
Love the bird is on the way
Stars keep the watch when night is dim
One more light the bowl shall brim
Shining beyond the frosty weather
Bright as sun and moon together
People look East and sing today
Love the star is on the way
Angels announce with shouts of mirth
Christ who brings new life to earth
Set every peak and valley humming
With the word the Lord is coming
People look East and sing today
Love the Lord is on the way
Of the crowning of the year
Make your house fair as you are able
Trim the hearth and set the table
People look East and sing today
Love the guest is on the way
Furrows be glad though earth is bare
One more seed is planted there
Give up your strength the seed to nourish
That in course the flower may flourish
People look East and sing today
Love the rose is on the way
Birds though you long have ceased to build
Guard the nest that must be filled
Even the hour when wings are frozen
God for fledgling time has chosen
People look East and sing today
Love the bird is on the way
Stars keep the watch when night is dim
One more light the bowl shall brim
Shining beyond the frosty weather
Bright as sun and moon together
People look East and sing today
Love the star is on the way
Angels announce with shouts of mirth
Christ who brings new life to earth
Set every peak and valley humming
With the word the Lord is coming
People look East and sing today
Love the Lord is on the way
*
Monday, December 15, 2008
Let Us Be Lights
*
SERMON FOR SUNDAY, DECEMBER 14, 2008
ADVENT 3B
Isaiah 61:1-4, 8-11
Psalm 126
1 Thessalonians 5:16-24
John 1:6-8, 1928
According to the gospel of Luke, the first public act of ministry that Jesus did was this:
He was in Nazareth, his own hometown where he had been raised, and on the Sabbath day he went to the synagogue, as usual. And when it came time to read, he stood up and opened the scroll and read from the prophet Isaiah, from the portion that we just heard:
The Spirit of the Lord is upon me,
because the Lord has anointed me;
he has sent me to bring good news to the oppressed,
to bind up the brokenhearted,
to proclaim liberty to the captives,
and release to the prisoners;
to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor.
These were words that a prophet of Israel had written about 5 centuries before Christ… written to comfort and encourage people in exile, far away from their homeland, living in a reality far different from what they had been expecting… A reality that seemed bereft of the presence of God and very far away from the fulfillment of God’s promises to them.
And the prophet wrote these words, to encourage them that in spite of all the tragedy and difficulties and challenges they had endured, God was working for their good and would bring them home.
And when Jesus picks up the scroll and reads these words, they still have their historical meaning, but they are no longer bound by space or time to just that one meaning. They leap forward 5 centuries and take on greater meaning in a new context.
Jesus read: The Spirit of the Lord is upon me. The Lord has anointed me to bring good news to the poor. To comfort the broken hearted… to proclaim liberty… freedom… to announce the good will of God toward all the world.
And as we hear these words, they have come completely undone from their tether. They are no longer just about the Israelite people in exile in Babylon. They are not just for first-century Nazarenes. They are words of hope for all who are estranged… all who are oppressed… all who are brokenhearted… all who are captive… They are words of hope for us.
The message of all our lessons today is a message of hope and joy. Of light in the darkness. A message of God’s promise for good – in our lives and in our world.
Paul, writing to the fledgling church in Thessalonica, advises them: Rejoice always, pray without ceasing, give thanks in all circumstances… hold fast to what is good. They are struggling, facing persecution, and he tells them to be joyful.
This past week Warren Taylor wrote on the CaringBridge website that Amy’s condition was worsening. The cancer has taken over her bones and her liver, and it is absolutely incurable. They are making plans now for hospice care, and praying for time – weeks, if possible – for them to have as a family before Amy dies. And then Warren asked for stories and jokes. Something to bring a smile. Stories of children’s antics… one-liners that bring a chuckle or guffaw… Even in the darkness of impending death and loss, joy and laughter can help lighten the path.
The Lord has anointed me to bring good news… Rejoice in the Lord… Then was our mouth filled with laughter and our tongue with shouts of joy…
Our world is full of unspeakable pain and also of dazzling joy and goodness. As Christians, we choose to see the goodness. We don’t deny the pain, but we believe that goodness is stronger. We believe the light is stronger than the darkness. And, believing this, we look for the light in even the darkest moments. And we hold the light for one another, so that we can find hope.
A favorite hymn says:
“I will hold the Christ-light for you, in the nighttime of your fear.
I will hold my hand out to you, speak the peace you long to hear.”
We draw on the Divine Light that has come into our world, and fills our world and our hearts, and we let that light shine through us. We become light.
There was a man sent by God whose name was John. He himself was not The Light, but he came to testify to the light. He came to tell about the light, to draw attention to the light.
But you know, and I know, that when we take light from light, (as when lighting a candle from another candle) the source does not grow smaller, but the light becomes brighter. And you know, as well as I, that the best teaching is not only about words. It’s the example of how a person lives that is the real testimony about their convictions.
You can’t just talk about God’s light and love. You have to live them. You have to become them.
Colleen Watson can recite this poem by memory – it’s called “Sermons we see,” by Edgar Guest. Here’s an excerpt:
I'd rather see a sermon than hear one any day;
I'd rather one should walk with me than merely tell the way.
The eye's a better pupil and more willing than the ear,
Fine counsel is confusing, but example's always clear;
And the best of all the preachers are the ones who live their creeds,
For to see good put in action is what everybody needs.
… … … …
When I see a deed of kindness, I am eager to be kind.
When a weaker brother stumbles and a strong man stays behind
Just to see if he can help him, then the wish grows strong in me
To become as big and thoughtful as I know that friend to be.
And all travelers can witness that the best of guides today
Is not the one who tells them, but the one who shows the way.
Yesterday afternoon about 40 people gathered in this sanctuary to pray for Amy and Warren and Isabella and Arbor. We lit candles and we prayed and we read scripture and poetry and we mostly sat in silence.
We did this for the Taylor family, and we also did it for ourselves and each other. Because we need to remind ourselves and each other: The Light shines in the darkness, and the darkness will not overcome it. Rejoice. Even in sorrow, give thanks. God’s goodness and love are over all and in all, and goodness will triumph. Love will have the last word. The Light will never be extinguished.
Let us be lights that shine and point to the Divine Light that has come into our world.
- Lydia Huttar Brown
*
SERMON FOR SUNDAY, DECEMBER 14, 2008
ADVENT 3B
Isaiah 61:1-4, 8-11
Psalm 126
1 Thessalonians 5:16-24
John 1:6-8, 1928
According to the gospel of Luke, the first public act of ministry that Jesus did was this:
He was in Nazareth, his own hometown where he had been raised, and on the Sabbath day he went to the synagogue, as usual. And when it came time to read, he stood up and opened the scroll and read from the prophet Isaiah, from the portion that we just heard:
The Spirit of the Lord is upon me,
because the Lord has anointed me;
he has sent me to bring good news to the oppressed,
to bind up the brokenhearted,
to proclaim liberty to the captives,
and release to the prisoners;
to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor.
These were words that a prophet of Israel had written about 5 centuries before Christ… written to comfort and encourage people in exile, far away from their homeland, living in a reality far different from what they had been expecting… A reality that seemed bereft of the presence of God and very far away from the fulfillment of God’s promises to them.
And the prophet wrote these words, to encourage them that in spite of all the tragedy and difficulties and challenges they had endured, God was working for their good and would bring them home.
And when Jesus picks up the scroll and reads these words, they still have their historical meaning, but they are no longer bound by space or time to just that one meaning. They leap forward 5 centuries and take on greater meaning in a new context.
Jesus read: The Spirit of the Lord is upon me. The Lord has anointed me to bring good news to the poor. To comfort the broken hearted… to proclaim liberty… freedom… to announce the good will of God toward all the world.
And as we hear these words, they have come completely undone from their tether. They are no longer just about the Israelite people in exile in Babylon. They are not just for first-century Nazarenes. They are words of hope for all who are estranged… all who are oppressed… all who are brokenhearted… all who are captive… They are words of hope for us.
The message of all our lessons today is a message of hope and joy. Of light in the darkness. A message of God’s promise for good – in our lives and in our world.
Paul, writing to the fledgling church in Thessalonica, advises them: Rejoice always, pray without ceasing, give thanks in all circumstances… hold fast to what is good. They are struggling, facing persecution, and he tells them to be joyful.
This past week Warren Taylor wrote on the CaringBridge website that Amy’s condition was worsening. The cancer has taken over her bones and her liver, and it is absolutely incurable. They are making plans now for hospice care, and praying for time – weeks, if possible – for them to have as a family before Amy dies. And then Warren asked for stories and jokes. Something to bring a smile. Stories of children’s antics… one-liners that bring a chuckle or guffaw… Even in the darkness of impending death and loss, joy and laughter can help lighten the path.
The Lord has anointed me to bring good news… Rejoice in the Lord… Then was our mouth filled with laughter and our tongue with shouts of joy…
Our world is full of unspeakable pain and also of dazzling joy and goodness. As Christians, we choose to see the goodness. We don’t deny the pain, but we believe that goodness is stronger. We believe the light is stronger than the darkness. And, believing this, we look for the light in even the darkest moments. And we hold the light for one another, so that we can find hope.
A favorite hymn says:
“I will hold the Christ-light for you, in the nighttime of your fear.
I will hold my hand out to you, speak the peace you long to hear.”
We draw on the Divine Light that has come into our world, and fills our world and our hearts, and we let that light shine through us. We become light.
There was a man sent by God whose name was John. He himself was not The Light, but he came to testify to the light. He came to tell about the light, to draw attention to the light.
But you know, and I know, that when we take light from light, (as when lighting a candle from another candle) the source does not grow smaller, but the light becomes brighter. And you know, as well as I, that the best teaching is not only about words. It’s the example of how a person lives that is the real testimony about their convictions.
You can’t just talk about God’s light and love. You have to live them. You have to become them.
Colleen Watson can recite this poem by memory – it’s called “Sermons we see,” by Edgar Guest. Here’s an excerpt:
I'd rather see a sermon than hear one any day;
I'd rather one should walk with me than merely tell the way.
The eye's a better pupil and more willing than the ear,
Fine counsel is confusing, but example's always clear;
And the best of all the preachers are the ones who live their creeds,
For to see good put in action is what everybody needs.
… … … …
When I see a deed of kindness, I am eager to be kind.
When a weaker brother stumbles and a strong man stays behind
Just to see if he can help him, then the wish grows strong in me
To become as big and thoughtful as I know that friend to be.
And all travelers can witness that the best of guides today
Is not the one who tells them, but the one who shows the way.
Yesterday afternoon about 40 people gathered in this sanctuary to pray for Amy and Warren and Isabella and Arbor. We lit candles and we prayed and we read scripture and poetry and we mostly sat in silence.
We did this for the Taylor family, and we also did it for ourselves and each other. Because we need to remind ourselves and each other: The Light shines in the darkness, and the darkness will not overcome it. Rejoice. Even in sorrow, give thanks. God’s goodness and love are over all and in all, and goodness will triumph. Love will have the last word. The Light will never be extinguished.
Let us be lights that shine and point to the Divine Light that has come into our world.
- Lydia Huttar Brown
*
Monday, December 8, 2008
Monday, December 1, 2008
A Place
*
There is a Place Beyond Ambition
When the flute players
couldn’t think of what to say next
they laid down their pipes,
then they lay down themselves
beside the river
and just listened.
Some of them, after a while,
jumped up
and disappeared back inside the busy town.
But the rest—
so quiet, not even thoughtful—
are still there,
still listening.
*
Monday, November 24, 2008
Sheep and Goats
*
SERMON FOR SUNDAY, NOVEMBER 23, 2008
PROPER 29A – CHRIST THE KING SUNDAY
Matthew 25:31-46 The Judgment of the Nations
Most of you know, that 9 ½ weeks ago something happened to Mark and me that has changed us forever. We became grandparents. One of the great joys that has come from this, is that I get to take care of my granddaughter one day a week, while her parents are at work. I changed my day off to Thursday, so I can be home with Olivia.
But there’s one event at church that happens on Thursdays once a month, that I want to be at church for. It’s our monthly Elders’ meeting (a.k.a. Octogenarians Anonymous). This is a group, started by Anne Hotchkiss, that gathers every month just to talk about issues related to aging. Everyone who is at least 70 years old is welcome. (It started out for people at least 80 years old, but now they let some of the young people come.) They let me come, even though I’m a little behind them in life-stages.
A couple weeks ago, on the 2nd Thursday of November, I packed Olivia into the car and brought her to church, and she was a hit. Not only with the group, but with Susan in the office, and Susan’s friend who had stopped by briefly, and waited, on the rumor that Olivia might be making an appearance.
The truth is, everybody loves Olivia. All she has to do is exist, and people are crazy about her. Same thing with Molly here, and with the other children among us. There’s just something about a little one that makes people respond with love and care.
And on that Thursday, I began to wonder: what would it be like if we had that same wonder and delight in every human being? The joy and admiration we feel in the presence of a baby… what if we felt that way around everybody?
What happens to us, that makes that go away?
Competitiveness, perhaps… Possibly fear… Mistrust, based on experience… Defensiveness or protectiveness… Careful managing of our emotions…
Things we learn for our self-preservation, that help us not be taken advantage of, that help us differentiate ourselves and take care of ourselves, but that also put up walls between us.
Just this past Friday I attended the funeral on the West Side, of Jacob MacKenzie, the 15-year-old who was shot on his front porch, allegedly by his cousin’s boyfriend – most likely accidentally, the tragic unintended victim of gang violence.
I went to the funeral because this family are neighbors of Don Austin, and I was moved by his story of their need. I, too, have a son who died, and I wanted, if possible, to reach out to this grieving mother. And I thought, this is part of our geographical parish, our church neighborhood. Perhaps I, or St. Anne’s, can help. And as I sat in the back of the church, I wondered again how it is that we have come so far, as people, from simply taking joy and delight in the presence of one another? Violence, fear, anger, hatred because of things done and left undone…
Jesus told a story to his disciples, an image of the final judgment.
In this story, some are blessed and rewarded because they served the king when they saw him in need – hungry, homeless, in prison, thirsty… And others are rejected because they saw the king in need, but did nothing to help him. Both groups protest – When did we see you in need? And the king replies: whenever you helped anyone, even – perhaps especially – the least important ones, you were helping me. And whenever you turned your back, you were turning your back on me.
I think what’s key in this story is not how much help they gave or didn’t give. We can drive ourselves crazy trying to be the sheep in the story, and realizing that all too often we behave like the goats. In their book, Good Goats: Healing Our Image of God, Dennis and Sheila and Matthew Linn come to the conclusion that we are all “good goats.” Leading a retreat of older, retired Roman Catholic nuns, Dennis Linn asked the group,
How many of you, even once in your life, have done what Jesus asks, … and fed a hungry person, clothed a naked person or visited a person in prison?” All the sisters raised their hands. Dennis said, “That’s wonderful! You’re all sheep.”
Then Dennis asked, “How many of you, even once in your life, have walked by a hungry person, failed to clothe a naked person, or not visited someone in prison?” Slowly all the sisters raised their hands. Dennis said, “That’s too bad. You’re all goats.”
The sisters looked worried and perplexed. Then suddenly one very old sister’s hand shot up. She blurted out, “I get it! We’re all good goats!”
(Good Goats: Healing Our Image of God by Dennis Linn, Sheila Fabricant Linn, and Matthew Linn. Paulist Press, 1994, p. 49)
We’re all good goats. We all succeed and we all fail at meeting the needs of our fellow human beings.
But there’s another aspect of this story that I want to explore a little further. And that is that none of those gathered before the king recognized the king in his need. It’s especially poignant in the case of the goats. Their response is something like: “But Lord! If we had known it was you, of course we would have helped you.”
This story is not calling us to try singlehandedly to meet the needs of the world’s poor or solve all the social problems around us. This story calls us to practice recognizing Christ – to take delight in one another and in every human being, just because they exist. To respond to need, yes, out of love for God, whose children we all are.
The Sunday Club children have learned a new word this fall. Namaste. It’s a Hindu word of greeting, that means roughly “the Divine Spirit in me recognizes and honors the Divine Spirit in you.” A simple greeting, a reminder and daily practice of what we have promised to do: to seek and serve Christ in all persons.
Anthony DeMello tells this story:
(from Taking Flight: A Book of Story Meditations by Anthony De Mello. Image Books, Doubleday, 1990. p. 51)
A Guru meditating in his Himalayan cave opened his eyes to discover an unexpected visitor sitting there before him – the abbot of a well-known monastery.
“What is it you seek?” asked the Guru.
The abbot recounted a tale of woe. At one time his monastery had been famous throughout the western world. Its cells were filled with young aspirants and its church resounded to the chant of its monks. But hard times had come on the monastery. People no longer flocked there to nourish their spirits, the stream of young aspirants had dried up, the church was silent. There was only a handful of monks left and these went about their duties with heavy hearts.
Now this is what the abbot wanted to know: “Is it because of some sin of ours that the monastery has been reduced to this state?”
“Yes,” said the Guru, “a sin of ignorance.”
“And what sin might that be?”
“One of your number is the Messiah in disguise and you are ignorant of this.” Having said that the Guru closed his eyes and returned to his meditation.
Throughout the arduous journey back to his monastery the abbot’s heart beat fast at the thought that the Messiah – the Messiah himself – had returned to earth and was right there in the monastery. How had he failed to recognize him? And who could it be? Brother Cook? Brother Sacristan? Brother Treasurer? Brother Prior? No, not he; he had too many defects, alas. But then, the Guru had said the Messiah was in disguise. Could the defects be one of his disguises? Come to think of it, everyone in the monastery had defects. And one of them had to be the Messiah!
Back in the monastery he assembled the monks and told them what he had discovered. They looked at one another in disbelief. The Messiah? Here? Incredible! But he was supposed to be here in disguise. So, maybe. What if it were so-and-so? Or the other one over there? Or…
One thing was certain. If the Messiah was there in disguise, it was not likely that they would recognize him. So they took to treating everyone with respect and consideration. “You never know,” they said to themselves when they dealt with one another, “Maybe this is the one.”
Soon the atmosphere in the monastery became vibrant with joy. Soon dozens of aspirants were seeking admission to the Order – and once again the church echoed with the holy and joyful chant of monks who were aglow with the spirit of love.
My friends, the Messiah is here. Not just here in this room, but in our world. You will find him in disguise, in need… We will find him in those it is easy to love, and those we find challenging.
Greet him. Delight in his presence. Welcome him. Extend your helping hand. Practice recognizing him, and know that as you serve others, you are serving Christ.
- Lydia Huttar Brown
*
SERMON FOR SUNDAY, NOVEMBER 23, 2008
PROPER 29A – CHRIST THE KING SUNDAY
Matthew 25:31-46 The Judgment of the Nations
Most of you know, that 9 ½ weeks ago something happened to Mark and me that has changed us forever. We became grandparents. One of the great joys that has come from this, is that I get to take care of my granddaughter one day a week, while her parents are at work. I changed my day off to Thursday, so I can be home with Olivia.
But there’s one event at church that happens on Thursdays once a month, that I want to be at church for. It’s our monthly Elders’ meeting (a.k.a. Octogenarians Anonymous). This is a group, started by Anne Hotchkiss, that gathers every month just to talk about issues related to aging. Everyone who is at least 70 years old is welcome. (It started out for people at least 80 years old, but now they let some of the young people come.) They let me come, even though I’m a little behind them in life-stages.
A couple weeks ago, on the 2nd Thursday of November, I packed Olivia into the car and brought her to church, and she was a hit. Not only with the group, but with Susan in the office, and Susan’s friend who had stopped by briefly, and waited, on the rumor that Olivia might be making an appearance.
The truth is, everybody loves Olivia. All she has to do is exist, and people are crazy about her. Same thing with Molly here, and with the other children among us. There’s just something about a little one that makes people respond with love and care.
And on that Thursday, I began to wonder: what would it be like if we had that same wonder and delight in every human being? The joy and admiration we feel in the presence of a baby… what if we felt that way around everybody?
What happens to us, that makes that go away?
Competitiveness, perhaps… Possibly fear… Mistrust, based on experience… Defensiveness or protectiveness… Careful managing of our emotions…
Things we learn for our self-preservation, that help us not be taken advantage of, that help us differentiate ourselves and take care of ourselves, but that also put up walls between us.
Just this past Friday I attended the funeral on the West Side, of Jacob MacKenzie, the 15-year-old who was shot on his front porch, allegedly by his cousin’s boyfriend – most likely accidentally, the tragic unintended victim of gang violence.
I went to the funeral because this family are neighbors of Don Austin, and I was moved by his story of their need. I, too, have a son who died, and I wanted, if possible, to reach out to this grieving mother. And I thought, this is part of our geographical parish, our church neighborhood. Perhaps I, or St. Anne’s, can help. And as I sat in the back of the church, I wondered again how it is that we have come so far, as people, from simply taking joy and delight in the presence of one another? Violence, fear, anger, hatred because of things done and left undone…
Jesus told a story to his disciples, an image of the final judgment.
In this story, some are blessed and rewarded because they served the king when they saw him in need – hungry, homeless, in prison, thirsty… And others are rejected because they saw the king in need, but did nothing to help him. Both groups protest – When did we see you in need? And the king replies: whenever you helped anyone, even – perhaps especially – the least important ones, you were helping me. And whenever you turned your back, you were turning your back on me.
I think what’s key in this story is not how much help they gave or didn’t give. We can drive ourselves crazy trying to be the sheep in the story, and realizing that all too often we behave like the goats. In their book, Good Goats: Healing Our Image of God, Dennis and Sheila and Matthew Linn come to the conclusion that we are all “good goats.” Leading a retreat of older, retired Roman Catholic nuns, Dennis Linn asked the group,
How many of you, even once in your life, have done what Jesus asks, … and fed a hungry person, clothed a naked person or visited a person in prison?” All the sisters raised their hands. Dennis said, “That’s wonderful! You’re all sheep.”
Then Dennis asked, “How many of you, even once in your life, have walked by a hungry person, failed to clothe a naked person, or not visited someone in prison?” Slowly all the sisters raised their hands. Dennis said, “That’s too bad. You’re all goats.”
The sisters looked worried and perplexed. Then suddenly one very old sister’s hand shot up. She blurted out, “I get it! We’re all good goats!”
(Good Goats: Healing Our Image of God by Dennis Linn, Sheila Fabricant Linn, and Matthew Linn. Paulist Press, 1994, p. 49)
We’re all good goats. We all succeed and we all fail at meeting the needs of our fellow human beings.
But there’s another aspect of this story that I want to explore a little further. And that is that none of those gathered before the king recognized the king in his need. It’s especially poignant in the case of the goats. Their response is something like: “But Lord! If we had known it was you, of course we would have helped you.”
This story is not calling us to try singlehandedly to meet the needs of the world’s poor or solve all the social problems around us. This story calls us to practice recognizing Christ – to take delight in one another and in every human being, just because they exist. To respond to need, yes, out of love for God, whose children we all are.
The Sunday Club children have learned a new word this fall. Namaste. It’s a Hindu word of greeting, that means roughly “the Divine Spirit in me recognizes and honors the Divine Spirit in you.” A simple greeting, a reminder and daily practice of what we have promised to do: to seek and serve Christ in all persons.
Anthony DeMello tells this story:
(from Taking Flight: A Book of Story Meditations by Anthony De Mello. Image Books, Doubleday, 1990. p. 51)
A Guru meditating in his Himalayan cave opened his eyes to discover an unexpected visitor sitting there before him – the abbot of a well-known monastery.
“What is it you seek?” asked the Guru.
The abbot recounted a tale of woe. At one time his monastery had been famous throughout the western world. Its cells were filled with young aspirants and its church resounded to the chant of its monks. But hard times had come on the monastery. People no longer flocked there to nourish their spirits, the stream of young aspirants had dried up, the church was silent. There was only a handful of monks left and these went about their duties with heavy hearts.
Now this is what the abbot wanted to know: “Is it because of some sin of ours that the monastery has been reduced to this state?”
“Yes,” said the Guru, “a sin of ignorance.”
“And what sin might that be?”
“One of your number is the Messiah in disguise and you are ignorant of this.” Having said that the Guru closed his eyes and returned to his meditation.
Throughout the arduous journey back to his monastery the abbot’s heart beat fast at the thought that the Messiah – the Messiah himself – had returned to earth and was right there in the monastery. How had he failed to recognize him? And who could it be? Brother Cook? Brother Sacristan? Brother Treasurer? Brother Prior? No, not he; he had too many defects, alas. But then, the Guru had said the Messiah was in disguise. Could the defects be one of his disguises? Come to think of it, everyone in the monastery had defects. And one of them had to be the Messiah!
Back in the monastery he assembled the monks and told them what he had discovered. They looked at one another in disbelief. The Messiah? Here? Incredible! But he was supposed to be here in disguise. So, maybe. What if it were so-and-so? Or the other one over there? Or…
One thing was certain. If the Messiah was there in disguise, it was not likely that they would recognize him. So they took to treating everyone with respect and consideration. “You never know,” they said to themselves when they dealt with one another, “Maybe this is the one.”
Soon the atmosphere in the monastery became vibrant with joy. Soon dozens of aspirants were seeking admission to the Order – and once again the church echoed with the holy and joyful chant of monks who were aglow with the spirit of love.
My friends, the Messiah is here. Not just here in this room, but in our world. You will find him in disguise, in need… We will find him in those it is easy to love, and those we find challenging.
Greet him. Delight in his presence. Welcome him. Extend your helping hand. Practice recognizing him, and know that as you serve others, you are serving Christ.
- Lydia Huttar Brown
*
Thursday, November 20, 2008
What Are You Afraid Of?
*
SUNDAY, NOVEMBER 16, 2008
PROPER 28A
Matthew 25: 14-30 The parable of the talents
What are you afraid of?
Of ghoulies and ghosties and long-leggedy beasties, and things that go bump in the night…
What are you afraid of?
I’m afraid if I say how I feel, I might lose my best friend…
I’m afraid if I try, I might fail, and everyone will know I’m a loser…
What are you afraid of?
Losing my job… Not having enough retirement savings… Losing everything I’ve worked so hard for…
I’m afraid I might fall…
I’m afraid for my children… I’m afraid of the bully at school… I’m afraid of dying… I’m afraid of what the doctor might say…
I’m afraid …
There are some things we should be afraid of, like a hot stove. But too often we fear things we have no control over, or we fear the unknown, the “what if.”
Fear can be paralyzing. It can dominate our thinking and take over our actions.
That’s what happened to the third slave. He was afraid. Afraid of his master, afraid of failure, and so he hid. He hid not just himself, but all that had been entrusted to him.
Now don’t think that just because the master left him with one talent, that it was basically nothing. A talent was the equivalent of 15 years’ wages for a worker. Fifteen years he would have had to work to earn that much – assuming that as a slave, he would have been paid anyway. Fifteen years of wages, given to him freely without condition except the trust that came with it, and the expectation that the slave understood he was managing it for the landowner.
The other slaves in the story were entrusted with 5 talents and 2 talents, respectively. A lot more money than the poor fearful slave. Perhaps his fear extended to comparing himself to them. “Obviously they are the ones the master is really counting on,” he may have thought. “My part is so small, it doesn’t really count. Obviously the master doesn’t expect much from me.”
Perhaps the slave was afraid of the outer darkness, the weeping, the gnashing of teeth. And so he chose those things right up front, burying the money in the dark ground, gnashing his teeth in anxiety every time he thought about the master, weeping with fear at the thought of failure.
Finally the day came when the master returned. Calling the three whom he had entrusted with his wealth, he spoke with them one by one. The first slave had been entrusted with 5 talents – 75 years’ wages! – and joyfully reported that he had invested the money and it had doubled. The 2nd slave had a similar story with his 2 talents. A huge sum of money, doubled!
When it was the 3rd slave’s turn, he said, “Master, I knew you were harsh, and took the fruits of the labor of others … and so I was afraid, and I went and hid your talent in the ground.” The master doesn’t deny or affirm the slave’s description of him. He just repeats it back, and draws a different conclusion, if that’s what the slave believed. “You believed me to be harsh, with high expectations? All the more reason you should have invested, and made something of my investment in you. Be gone, to outer darkness…”
But to each of the other 2 slaves, the master said: “Well done, good and trustworthy slave; you have been trustworthy in a few things, I will put you in charge of many things; enter into the joy of your master.”
Outer darkness… Joy of your master… Interesting talk, isn’t it? Not economic language, not the dialog of master and slave, not business talk. This is “Kingdom of Heaven” talk, “Reign of God” language. It hearkens back to the introduction to this whole section in Matthew’s gospel. Jesus said: The reign of God will be like this…
The reign of God will be like this. All are entrusted with great wealth. Some will recognize the great trust that God has placed in them. They will recognize God’s goodness and generosity in handing over to them this great abundance, with only the expectation that they manage it as God would. They will recognize that God has taken a great risk, in such trust, and so they will do their best to do as their master would. They will do their best to live the God-like qualities of risking, trusting, being generous.
But some, (in this image of the reign of God)… some will not see God as generous, trusting, or good. Some see only a god to be feared. They live in fear of the wrath and judgment of God. They see only a harsh master, an exacting accountant. Instead of abundance and generosity, they see the possibility of loss, they see only a test which they will probably fail.
They pattern their lives after the god they believe in.
Last summer at the Lambeth Conference in England, the Archbishop of Canterbury invited the Chief Rabbi of the United Hebrew Congregations of the Commonwealth, Sir Jonathan Sachs, to speak to the Anglican bishops gathered from all over the world.
Rabbi Sachs spoke of different kinds of institutions and their function in society. Political institutions and structures are about the creation and distribution of power. Economic institutions and structures are about the creation and distribution of wealth. Religious institutions, in their true purpose, are about the creation and distribution of those intangible things that undergird society and make it strong. Things like love, friendship, trust, influence.
Rabbi Sachs said, power and wealth are zero-sum games. They are about competition, and, in the short term at least, there are winners and losers. In contrast, love, friendship, trust – these only exist when they are shared. And they actually grow, the more you share them. Rabbi Sachs calls these “covenantal goods.” The more I share, the more I have. And the more there is, all around.
And so, perhaps the Kingdom of Heaven will be like this: A wealthy landowner went away, and entrusted everything he had to his slaves. Some of them understood that this was a covenant of trust, and that, if they did as their master had done, they could not fail. Losing the original investment was impossible, because the more it was used, the greater it became, and the more there was. But one was afraid. Not understanding the covenant of trust, this one thought it was a zero-sum game. That losing everything was a distinct possibility, and it would be better to hoard and hide.
Jesus said that those who want to save their life will lose it, and those who lose their life for his sake will find it. For what will it profit them if they gain the whole world but forfeit their life?
This is Kingdom of Heaven talk, Reign of God talk, covenant talk. Jesus himself invested everything, completely emulating the generosity and riskiness of God, and by some measures he lost it all. Crucified as a criminal, alone, abandoned. But that’s not the story. This is not a story of losing. No – this is a story of risking everything and multiplying the investment.
Jesus did not fail – he returned to the master double, ten-fold, 100-fold – infinitely more than the investment entrusted to him.
He fulfilled his mission, and the master was well-pleased.
The resurrection, ascension to God’s right hand, and the ongoing life of Christ are the ultimate “Well done, good and faithful One. Enter into the joy of your God.”
Last week in her stewardship talk, Mary McDougall read a quote by Marianne Williamson, used by Nelson Mandela and many other people and places – including the movie Akeelah and the Bee. It’s worth repeating here.
“Tell me, what is it you plan to do with your one wild and precious life?” asks the poet Mary Oliver. What is it you plan to do with the trust placed in you by your Creator, from whom all blessings flow?
What are you afraid of?
- Lydia Huttar Brown
*
SUNDAY, NOVEMBER 16, 2008
PROPER 28A
Matthew 25: 14-30 The parable of the talents
What are you afraid of?
Of ghoulies and ghosties and long-leggedy beasties, and things that go bump in the night…
What are you afraid of?
I’m afraid if I say how I feel, I might lose my best friend…
I’m afraid if I try, I might fail, and everyone will know I’m a loser…
What are you afraid of?
Losing my job… Not having enough retirement savings… Losing everything I’ve worked so hard for…
I’m afraid I might fall…
I’m afraid for my children… I’m afraid of the bully at school… I’m afraid of dying… I’m afraid of what the doctor might say…
I’m afraid …
There are some things we should be afraid of, like a hot stove. But too often we fear things we have no control over, or we fear the unknown, the “what if.”
Fear can be paralyzing. It can dominate our thinking and take over our actions.
That’s what happened to the third slave. He was afraid. Afraid of his master, afraid of failure, and so he hid. He hid not just himself, but all that had been entrusted to him.
Now don’t think that just because the master left him with one talent, that it was basically nothing. A talent was the equivalent of 15 years’ wages for a worker. Fifteen years he would have had to work to earn that much – assuming that as a slave, he would have been paid anyway. Fifteen years of wages, given to him freely without condition except the trust that came with it, and the expectation that the slave understood he was managing it for the landowner.
The other slaves in the story were entrusted with 5 talents and 2 talents, respectively. A lot more money than the poor fearful slave. Perhaps his fear extended to comparing himself to them. “Obviously they are the ones the master is really counting on,” he may have thought. “My part is so small, it doesn’t really count. Obviously the master doesn’t expect much from me.”
Perhaps the slave was afraid of the outer darkness, the weeping, the gnashing of teeth. And so he chose those things right up front, burying the money in the dark ground, gnashing his teeth in anxiety every time he thought about the master, weeping with fear at the thought of failure.
Finally the day came when the master returned. Calling the three whom he had entrusted with his wealth, he spoke with them one by one. The first slave had been entrusted with 5 talents – 75 years’ wages! – and joyfully reported that he had invested the money and it had doubled. The 2nd slave had a similar story with his 2 talents. A huge sum of money, doubled!
When it was the 3rd slave’s turn, he said, “Master, I knew you were harsh, and took the fruits of the labor of others … and so I was afraid, and I went and hid your talent in the ground.” The master doesn’t deny or affirm the slave’s description of him. He just repeats it back, and draws a different conclusion, if that’s what the slave believed. “You believed me to be harsh, with high expectations? All the more reason you should have invested, and made something of my investment in you. Be gone, to outer darkness…”
But to each of the other 2 slaves, the master said: “Well done, good and trustworthy slave; you have been trustworthy in a few things, I will put you in charge of many things; enter into the joy of your master.”
Outer darkness… Joy of your master… Interesting talk, isn’t it? Not economic language, not the dialog of master and slave, not business talk. This is “Kingdom of Heaven” talk, “Reign of God” language. It hearkens back to the introduction to this whole section in Matthew’s gospel. Jesus said: The reign of God will be like this…
The reign of God will be like this. All are entrusted with great wealth. Some will recognize the great trust that God has placed in them. They will recognize God’s goodness and generosity in handing over to them this great abundance, with only the expectation that they manage it as God would. They will recognize that God has taken a great risk, in such trust, and so they will do their best to do as their master would. They will do their best to live the God-like qualities of risking, trusting, being generous.
But some, (in this image of the reign of God)… some will not see God as generous, trusting, or good. Some see only a god to be feared. They live in fear of the wrath and judgment of God. They see only a harsh master, an exacting accountant. Instead of abundance and generosity, they see the possibility of loss, they see only a test which they will probably fail.
They pattern their lives after the god they believe in.
Last summer at the Lambeth Conference in England, the Archbishop of Canterbury invited the Chief Rabbi of the United Hebrew Congregations of the Commonwealth, Sir Jonathan Sachs, to speak to the Anglican bishops gathered from all over the world.
Rabbi Sachs spoke of different kinds of institutions and their function in society. Political institutions and structures are about the creation and distribution of power. Economic institutions and structures are about the creation and distribution of wealth. Religious institutions, in their true purpose, are about the creation and distribution of those intangible things that undergird society and make it strong. Things like love, friendship, trust, influence.
Rabbi Sachs said, power and wealth are zero-sum games. They are about competition, and, in the short term at least, there are winners and losers. In contrast, love, friendship, trust – these only exist when they are shared. And they actually grow, the more you share them. Rabbi Sachs calls these “covenantal goods.” The more I share, the more I have. And the more there is, all around.
And so, perhaps the Kingdom of Heaven will be like this: A wealthy landowner went away, and entrusted everything he had to his slaves. Some of them understood that this was a covenant of trust, and that, if they did as their master had done, they could not fail. Losing the original investment was impossible, because the more it was used, the greater it became, and the more there was. But one was afraid. Not understanding the covenant of trust, this one thought it was a zero-sum game. That losing everything was a distinct possibility, and it would be better to hoard and hide.
Jesus said that those who want to save their life will lose it, and those who lose their life for his sake will find it. For what will it profit them if they gain the whole world but forfeit their life?
This is Kingdom of Heaven talk, Reign of God talk, covenant talk. Jesus himself invested everything, completely emulating the generosity and riskiness of God, and by some measures he lost it all. Crucified as a criminal, alone, abandoned. But that’s not the story. This is not a story of losing. No – this is a story of risking everything and multiplying the investment.
Jesus did not fail – he returned to the master double, ten-fold, 100-fold – infinitely more than the investment entrusted to him.
He fulfilled his mission, and the master was well-pleased.
The resurrection, ascension to God’s right hand, and the ongoing life of Christ are the ultimate “Well done, good and faithful One. Enter into the joy of your God.”
Last week in her stewardship talk, Mary McDougall read a quote by Marianne Williamson, used by Nelson Mandela and many other people and places – including the movie Akeelah and the Bee. It’s worth repeating here.
Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate.
Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure.
It is our light, not our darkness, that most frightens us.
We ask ourselves, who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, and fabulous?
Actually, who are you not to be?
You are a child of God.
Your playing small doesn't serve the world.
There's nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won't feel insecure around you.
We are all meant to shine, as children do.
We are born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us.
It's not just in some of us, it's in everyone.
And as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same.
As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others.
“Tell me, what is it you plan to do with your one wild and precious life?” asks the poet Mary Oliver. What is it you plan to do with the trust placed in you by your Creator, from whom all blessings flow?
What are you afraid of?
- Lydia Huttar Brown
*
Tuesday, November 11, 2008
Prayer For Veterans
*
On this Veterans Day -
We ask for blessings on all those who have served their country in the armed forces.
We ask for healing for the veterans who have been wounded, in body and soul, in conflicts around the globe.
We pray especially for the young men and women, in the thousands, who are coming home from Iraq with injured bodies and traumatized spirits. Bring solace to them, O Lord; may we pray for them when they cannot pray. We ask for an end to wars and the dawning of a new era of peace, as a way to honor all the veterans of past wars.
Have mercy on all our veterans from World War II, Korea, Vietnam, Iraq, bring peace to their hearts and peace to the regions they fought in. Bless all the soldiers who served in non-combative posts; may their calling to service continue in their lives in many positive ways.
Give us all the creative vision to see a world which, grown weary with fighting, moves to affirming the life of every human being and so moves beyond war.
Hear our prayer, O Prince of Peace, hear our prayer.
On this Veterans Day -
We ask for blessings on all those who have served their country in the armed forces.We ask for healing for the veterans who have been wounded, in body and soul, in conflicts around the globe.
We pray especially for the young men and women, in the thousands, who are coming home from Iraq with injured bodies and traumatized spirits. Bring solace to them, O Lord; may we pray for them when they cannot pray. We ask for an end to wars and the dawning of a new era of peace, as a way to honor all the veterans of past wars.
Have mercy on all our veterans from World War II, Korea, Vietnam, Iraq, bring peace to their hearts and peace to the regions they fought in. Bless all the soldiers who served in non-combative posts; may their calling to service continue in their lives in many positive ways.
Give us all the creative vision to see a world which, grown weary with fighting, moves to affirming the life of every human being and so moves beyond war.
Hear our prayer, O Prince of Peace, hear our prayer.
- From Education for Justice
*
Sunday, November 2, 2008
Today
*
Today I purpose to live
My life will shine
As the morning sings I walk in liberty
Bound in true dreams
Manifested promises
Chase my forward motion
A covered path before me
The fruits of my hoping
The fruits of my living
Today I purpose to love
My love will speak
With the sound of grace
Merciful within mercy
The works of my faith
Smiles of overflowing
Inspire my giving
Abundance of joy as rain
The fruits of my living
- michael john faciane
*
Tuesday, October 28, 2008
Tuesday, October 21, 2008
Autumn
*
From all that dwell below the skies
let songs of hope and faith arise;
let peace, goodwill on earth be sung
through every land, by every tongue
- an adaptation by Curtis W. Reese
*
From all that dwell below the skies
let songs of hope and faith arise;
let peace, goodwill on earth be sung
through every land, by every tongue
- an adaptation by Curtis W. Reese
*
Tuesday, October 14, 2008
A Visit To The Apple Orchard
*
Oh, the Lord is good to me
And so I thank the Lord
For giving me the things I need
The sun and the rain and the apple tree
The Lord is good to me!
Keep us, O Lord, as the apple of your eye
*
Tuesday, October 7, 2008
The Blessing of the Animals
But ask the animals and they will teach you;
the birds of the air, and they will tell you;
ask the plants of the earth, and they will teach you;
and the fish of the sea will declare to you.
Who among all these does not know that the hand of the Lord has done this?
In God’s hand is the life of every living thing
and the breath of every human being.
Wednesday, October 1, 2008
Sunday, September 21, 2008
Prayers For Amy and Warren
*
Holy and Life-giving One,
shower your healing grace on Amy and Warren.
You made them in your image, full of light and love.
In their creativity, wisdom, joy, and grace
we catch glimpses of you,
the source of all that is good and joyful and life-giving.
Holy God, we pray for healing.
Touch every cell of Amy's body with health and wholeness.
Drive far away all that is painful or cancerous.
Fill her with physical and emotional strength to win this battle.
When her spirit is tired, give her the comfort of your presence.
When her body is weak, give her the grace of your strength.
When she is afraid, fill her with the confidence of your peace.
Be for Amy and Warren the spring of healing water that washes over and fills them, today and tomorrow and for years to come.
Amen.
- The Reverend Lydia Huttar Brown
*
Holy and Life-giving One,
shower your healing grace on Amy and Warren.
You made them in your image, full of light and love.
In their creativity, wisdom, joy, and grace
we catch glimpses of you,
the source of all that is good and joyful and life-giving.
Holy God, we pray for healing.
Touch every cell of Amy's body with health and wholeness.
Drive far away all that is painful or cancerous.
Fill her with physical and emotional strength to win this battle.
When her spirit is tired, give her the comfort of your presence.
When her body is weak, give her the grace of your strength.
When she is afraid, fill her with the confidence of your peace.
Be for Amy and Warren the spring of healing water that washes over and fills them, today and tomorrow and for years to come.
Amen.
- The Reverend Lydia Huttar Brown
*
Monday, September 8, 2008
The Blessing of the Backpacks
*
Gracious and loving God, you created us in your image, giving us minds to think and hearts to love and hands to serve. Bless these backpacks, to be a sign to those who carry them of your presence with them throughout this year. Bless these students and teachers with your grace and love.
Give them clear minds, that they may learn. Give them compassion to be true friends. Give them strong bodies and good health, to work and play for their own growth and the service of others. Above all, help them remember that you are always with them. May your love fill them with joy and peace, throughout the year.
Gracious and loving God, you created us in your image, giving us minds to think and hearts to love and hands to serve. Bless these backpacks, to be a sign to those who carry them of your presence with them throughout this year. Bless these students and teachers with your grace and love.
Give them clear minds, that they may learn. Give them compassion to be true friends. Give them strong bodies and good health, to work and play for their own growth and the service of others. Above all, help them remember that you are always with them. May your love fill them with joy and peace, throughout the year.
Tuesday, September 2, 2008
Something New
*
Something new is upon us,
and yet nothing is ever new.
...
We are alive in a fearsome time,
and we have been given new things to fear.
We've been delivered huge blows but also
huge opportunities to reinforce or reinvent our will,
depending on where we look for honor and how we name our enemies.
The easiest thing is to think of returning the blows.
But there are other things we must think about as well, other dangers we face.
A careless way of sauntering across the earth and breaking open its treasures, a terrible dependency on sucking out the world's best juices for ourselves—these may also be our enemies.
The changes we dread most may contain our salvation.
- Small Wonder - Barbara Kingsolver - 2002
*
Something new is upon us,
and yet nothing is ever new.
...
We are alive in a fearsome time,
and we have been given new things to fear.
We've been delivered huge blows but also
huge opportunities to reinforce or reinvent our will,
depending on where we look for honor and how we name our enemies.
The easiest thing is to think of returning the blows.
But there are other things we must think about as well, other dangers we face.
A careless way of sauntering across the earth and breaking open its treasures, a terrible dependency on sucking out the world's best juices for ourselves—these may also be our enemies.
The changes we dread most may contain our salvation.
- Small Wonder - Barbara Kingsolver - 2002
*
Tuesday, August 26, 2008
Alone With The Heavens
*
The best remedy for those who are afraid, lonely or unhappy is to go outside, somewhere where they can be quiet, alone with the heavens, nature and God. Because only then does one feel that all is as it should be and that God wishes to see people happy, amidst the simple beauty of nature.
~ Anne Frank
*
The best remedy for those who are afraid, lonely or unhappy is to go outside, somewhere where they can be quiet, alone with the heavens, nature and God. Because only then does one feel that all is as it should be and that God wishes to see people happy, amidst the simple beauty of nature.
~ Anne Frank
*
Tuesday, August 19, 2008
Inuit Song
*
I think over again my small adventures, my fears,
These small ones that seemed so big.
For all the vital things I had to get and to reach.
And yet there is only one great thing,
The only thing.
To live to see the great day that dawns
and the light that fills the world.
- Inuit song
*
I think over again my small adventures, my fears,These small ones that seemed so big.
For all the vital things I had to get and to reach.
And yet there is only one great thing,
The only thing.
To live to see the great day that dawns
and the light that fills the world.
- Inuit song
*
Monday, August 11, 2008
The Hunger Site
*
If you have just an extra second each day, you can "Click to Give", at The Hunger Site. It's easy and it's free and you can donate a cup of rice, daily, simply by visiting the site and clicking on the appropriate button.
(The Hunger Site also has an amazing, fair-trade, store at which to shop to give more!)
Happy clicking!
*
There are people in the world so hungry, that God cannot appear to them except in the form of bread.
- Mahatma Gandhi
Wondering what you can do, right now? Saint Anne's now has a link to The Hunger Site on the side bar to the left. (You may have to scroll down a bit.) You can also click right here:
If you have just an extra second each day, you can "Click to Give", at The Hunger Site. It's easy and it's free and you can donate a cup of rice, daily, simply by visiting the site and clicking on the appropriate button.
(The Hunger Site also has an amazing, fair-trade, store at which to shop to give more!)
Happy clicking!
*
Tuesday, August 5, 2008
Final Thoughts On Lambeth
*
- An excerpt from Bishop James Jelinek's thoughts at the conclusion of the Lambeth Conference.
To read more of Bishop Jelinek's thoughts as he attended the Lambeth Conference, go to his Letters from Lambeth page on the Episcopal Diocese of Minnesota website.
*
Are we whole? Not yet. I am not sure we shall be whole as this Communion within the lifetime of any one of us, maybe ever. On the other hand, that concept of wholeness may itself be an idol, for it is God who does the weaving and knitting and molding so that we may be one as a communion even when we are not of one mind. We may never be able to be of one mind, but we may be able to be of one heart, by God's grace.
- An excerpt from Bishop James Jelinek's thoughts at the conclusion of the Lambeth Conference.
To read more of Bishop Jelinek's thoughts as he attended the Lambeth Conference, go to his Letters from Lambeth page on the Episcopal Diocese of Minnesota website.
*
Wednesday, July 30, 2008
Simple Questions
*
The simplest questions are the most profound.
Where were you born?
Where is your home?
Where are you going?
What are you doing?
Think about these once in a while, and watch your answers change.
- Richard Bach, Illusions
*
The simplest questions are the most profound.
Where were you born?
Where is your home?
Where are you going?
What are you doing?
Think about these once in a while, and watch your answers change.
- Richard Bach, Illusions
*
Tuesday, July 22, 2008
Listen To Your Life
*
Listen to your life. See it for the fathomless mystery that it is. In the boredom and the pain of it no less than in the excitement and gladness: touch, taste, smell your way to the holy and hidden heart of it, because in the last analysis all moments are key moments, and life itself is grace.
- Frederick Buechner
*
Listen to your life. See it for the fathomless mystery that it is. In the boredom and the pain of it no less than in the excitement and gladness: touch, taste, smell your way to the holy and hidden heart of it, because in the last analysis all moments are key moments, and life itself is grace.- Frederick Buechner
*
Tuesday, July 15, 2008
Prayers For Lambeth
*
We are standing at the edge
Faced with just one choice
Teach each other to be kind
And let our hearts rejoice
As different as we seem to be
We are still the same
Divided by our separate walls
But joined before the flame
- Beth Nielson Chapman
*
We are one in the Spirit, we are one in the Lord
We are one in the Spirit, we are one in the Lord
And we pray that all unity may one day be restored
And they'll know we are Christians by our love, by our love
They will know we are Christians by our love
We will work with each other, we will work side by side
We will work with each other, we will work side by side
And we'll guard each one's dignity and save each one's pride
And they'll know we are Christians by our love, by our love
They will know we are Christians by our love
*
On the eve of the Lambeth Conference, we raise our voices in song and our hearts in love. Our prayers are with those attending, and with those not attending. And they’ll know we are Christians by our love, by our love. Yes, they’ll know we are Christians by our love.
*
For some first-hand experiences:
Bishop Jelinek is posting Letters from Lambeth here.
A small group of Bishops are blogging from Lambeth here.
Bishop Robinson is blogging about his experiences here.
We are standing at the edge
Faced with just one choice
Teach each other to be kind
And let our hearts rejoice
As different as we seem to be
We are still the same
Divided by our separate walls
But joined before the flame
- Beth Nielson Chapman
*
We are one in the Spirit, we are one in the Lord
We are one in the Spirit, we are one in the Lord
And we pray that all unity may one day be restored
And they'll know we are Christians by our love, by our love
They will know we are Christians by our love
We will work with each other, we will work side by side
We will work with each other, we will work side by side
And we'll guard each one's dignity and save each one's pride
And they'll know we are Christians by our love, by our love
They will know we are Christians by our love
*
On the eve of the Lambeth Conference, we raise our voices in song and our hearts in love. Our prayers are with those attending, and with those not attending. And they’ll know we are Christians by our love, by our love. Yes, they’ll know we are Christians by our love.
*
For some first-hand experiences:
Bishop Jelinek is posting Letters from Lambeth here.
A small group of Bishops are blogging from Lambeth here.
Bishop Robinson is blogging about his experiences here.
Tuesday, July 8, 2008
Daisies
*
Daisies
It is possible, I suppose
that sometime
we will learn everything there is to learn:
what the world is, for example,
and what it means.
I think this as I am crossing
from one field to another, in summer, and the
mockingbird is mocking me, as one who either
knows enough already or knows enough to be
perfectly content not knowing.
Song being born of quest he knows this:
he must turn silent were he suddenly assaulted with answers.
Instead oh hear his wild, caustic, tender warbling ceaselessly
unanswered.
At my feet the white-petalled daisies display the small suns of their center piece, their - if you don't mind my saying so - their hearts.
Of course I could be wrong,
perhaps their hearts are pale and
narrow and hidden in the roots.
What do I know?
But this:
it is heaven itself to take what is given,
to see what is plain; what the sun lights up willingly;
for example - I think this as I reach down, not to pick but merely to touch - the suitability of the field for the daisies, and the daisies for the field.
-- Mary Oliver
*
Daisies
It is possible, I suppose
that sometime
we will learn everything there is to learn:
what the world is, for example,
and what it means.
I think this as I am crossing
from one field to another, in summer, and the
mockingbird is mocking me, as one who either
knows enough already or knows enough to be
perfectly content not knowing.
Song being born of quest he knows this:
he must turn silent were he suddenly assaulted with answers.
Instead oh hear his wild, caustic, tender warbling ceaselessly
unanswered.
At my feet the white-petalled daisies display the small suns of their center piece, their - if you don't mind my saying so - their hearts.
Of course I could be wrong,
perhaps their hearts are pale and
narrow and hidden in the roots.
What do I know?
But this:
it is heaven itself to take what is given,
to see what is plain; what the sun lights up willingly;
for example - I think this as I reach down, not to pick but merely to touch - the suitability of the field for the daisies, and the daisies for the field.
-- Mary Oliver
*
Monday, June 30, 2008
Sermon for Sunday, June 22, 2008 (Proper 7A)
*
Anthony De Mello tells this story in his book, Taking Flight:
I tell you this story, not to disparage Jews in any way, but to commend this farmer and his wife for their wisdom and insight: the coming of the Messiah – the recognition of the Messiah – is a disruptive event. It upsets the status quo. Things can't stay the same.
The first disciples discovered this when they left their nets lying on the beach, or got up from the tax-collecting booth, to follow Jesus, going around with him as he taught and healed and spoke of God’s forgiveness and grace. And now he has them going out, too, teaching and healing and talking about the nearness of God’s kingdom. But he tells them: Not everyone will be pleased with this good news. Not everyone will experience the coming of God’s reign as a good thing.
“Do not think that I have come to bring peace to the earth,” Jesus says. “I have come to set a man against his father, and a daughter against her mother, and a daughter-in-law against her mother-in-law; and one’s foes will be members of one’s own household.”
Bishop Mark Hanson of the ELCA preached a sermon at the recent Festival of Homiletics in Minneapolis. He said that when he visits congregations, he always asks them to tell him why, if he were new in the area and looking for a church home, he should come to their church. He said the answers were almost always the same. “We're a very friendly church. We all like each other, and we love our pastor.” He goes on to say that getting along should probably not be the primary goal of a church community. Avoiding conflict keeps a community from moving forward in any meaningful way in mission… in naming and addressing the needs of the world around us… in taking a stand for justice, peace, and unconditional love for all people.
Because the status quo, the way things are, may seem really good to some people, but unless we have really achieved heaven on earth, there are issues, things we need to work out – about how to respond to the Messiah, the Christ, who has come and is among us. And if we take Jesus seriously, we will probably disagree on what that looks like and how we can and should move forward.
There's a revival on Broadway now of the Rogers and Hammerstein musical South Pacific. I heard an interview on MPR this week with Kelli O'Hara, who plays Nurse Nellie Forbush in the current production. She talked about the scene where she discovers that the man she’s in love with, Emile DeBeque, has 2 bi-racial children from his previous relationship with a Polynesian woman. In the play, she recoils in disgust. She calls the children “colored,” and feels she must break off the relationship, that she can’t help the way she feels about the children. Then follows the memorable song, “You've Got to be Carefully Taught”:
You've got to be taught to hate and fear
You've got to be taught from year to year
It's got to be drummed in your dear little ear
You've got to be carefully taught
You've got to be taught to be afraid
Of people whose eyes are oddly made
And people whose skin is a different shade
You've got to be carefully taught
You've got to be taught before it's too late
Before you are six or seven or eight
To hate all the people your relatives hate
You've got to be carefully taught
You've got to be carefully taught
When the play first opened, in 1949, this song was so controversial that Rogers and Hammerstein, and even James Michner who adapted his own stories into the screenplay, were urged to remove it. Apparently Michner was even accosted on the street by an agitated man, who insisted that the song should be removed or the show would flop. “Your play will fail if you leave that song in about racial prejudice” he said. “It's ugly, it's untimely and it's not what patrons want to hear when they go to a musical.”
Perhaps not. But telling a sweet, non-controversial story would have removed the heart and soul of the show. Telling the truth was more important than maintaining the peace, and the result was a show that still speaks to audiences today, about prejudice that still exists among us.
In the interview I heard, Kelli O'Hara talked about what it was like to feel the audience reaction to her on-stage bigotry. She said she could feel their disgust at her. This was not the reaction in the 1950’s original production. Back then, audiences completely understood why Nurse Nellie felt she had to break off the relationship. According to the blog, “Gratuitous Violins”, when the show toured in Atlanta in the early 1950’s, it was denounced on the floor of the Georgia legislature. “One Georgia state legislator claimed that a song justifying interracial marriage was a threat to the American way of life.”
Sound familiar? As gay couples got married in California this past week, protesters cried out that marriage is threatened, that the American way of life is in jeopardy.
I know we still have racial prejudice to deal with and overcome. But the thing that's causing division in our family – our Anglican communion family – right now is the issues surrounding full inclusion and honoring of people of all sexual orientations. A Hope College classmate of mine, Gene Sutton, was just elected bishop of Maryland. The fact that he is African American is not causing public debate about his suitability to be a bishop in the church – although not so long ago, that would have been an issue. But 5 years ago another Gene, Gene Robinson, was elected bishop of New Hampshire, by people who knew and loved him, and saw his gifts for ministry and leadership in the church. The fact that he is gay is for many in our Anglican family a deal-breaker. All over the world, members of our family are outraged. There’s talk of schism.
At the upcoming Lambeth conference – the every-10-years gathering of Anglican bishops in Canterbury, England – Gene Robinson (and the most vocal critic of his election) have both been pointedly excluded. Other bishops are boycotting the gathering. Division in the family. Just as Jesus had said would happen.
In his new memoir, In the Eye of the Storm, Gene Robinson writes:
He goes on:
Telling the truth, standing up for what is right, reaching out in love to all people, respecting the dignity of every person – even if it upsets some people – is part of following Jesus. Jesus warned his first disciples that when they went out into the towns and villages with good news of healing and love, there would be some who experienced them and their message as bad news – threatening in some way to their life and livelihood. There would be division in the family.
And so it is, and so it ever shall be, until God’s reign is fully realized on earth as it is in heaven. Our task, our calling, is not to avoid conflict within the family, but to tell the truth… to love even our enemies… to forgive and embrace forgiveness… to reach out in love to all people… to honor Christ in every person… and to do justice, love kindness, and walk humbly with God. And don't be afraid, for God is with us.
-- Lydia Huttar Brown
Preached at Saint Anne's on June 22, 2008 (Proper 7A)
*
Anthony De Mello tells this story in his book, Taking Flight:
A wealthy farmer burst into his home one day and cried out in an anguished voice, “Rebecca, there is a terrible story in town – the Messiah is here!”
“What’s so terrible in that?” asked his wife. “I think it's
great. What are you so upset about?”
“What am I so upset about?” the man exclaimed. “After all these years of sweat and toil, we have finally found prosperity. We have a thousand head of cattle, our barns are full of grain, and our trees laden with fruit. Now we will have to give it all away and follow him.”
“Calm down,” said his wife consolingly. “The Lord our God is good. He knows how much we Jews have always had to suffer. We had a Pharaoh, a Haman, a Hitler – always somebody. But our dear God found a way to deal with them all, didn't he? Just have faith, my dear husband. He will find a way to deal with the Messiah too.”
I tell you this story, not to disparage Jews in any way, but to commend this farmer and his wife for their wisdom and insight: the coming of the Messiah – the recognition of the Messiah – is a disruptive event. It upsets the status quo. Things can't stay the same.
The first disciples discovered this when they left their nets lying on the beach, or got up from the tax-collecting booth, to follow Jesus, going around with him as he taught and healed and spoke of God’s forgiveness and grace. And now he has them going out, too, teaching and healing and talking about the nearness of God’s kingdom. But he tells them: Not everyone will be pleased with this good news. Not everyone will experience the coming of God’s reign as a good thing.
“Do not think that I have come to bring peace to the earth,” Jesus says. “I have come to set a man against his father, and a daughter against her mother, and a daughter-in-law against her mother-in-law; and one’s foes will be members of one’s own household.”
Bishop Mark Hanson of the ELCA preached a sermon at the recent Festival of Homiletics in Minneapolis. He said that when he visits congregations, he always asks them to tell him why, if he were new in the area and looking for a church home, he should come to their church. He said the answers were almost always the same. “We're a very friendly church. We all like each other, and we love our pastor.” He goes on to say that getting along should probably not be the primary goal of a church community. Avoiding conflict keeps a community from moving forward in any meaningful way in mission… in naming and addressing the needs of the world around us… in taking a stand for justice, peace, and unconditional love for all people.
Because the status quo, the way things are, may seem really good to some people, but unless we have really achieved heaven on earth, there are issues, things we need to work out – about how to respond to the Messiah, the Christ, who has come and is among us. And if we take Jesus seriously, we will probably disagree on what that looks like and how we can and should move forward.
There's a revival on Broadway now of the Rogers and Hammerstein musical South Pacific. I heard an interview on MPR this week with Kelli O'Hara, who plays Nurse Nellie Forbush in the current production. She talked about the scene where she discovers that the man she’s in love with, Emile DeBeque, has 2 bi-racial children from his previous relationship with a Polynesian woman. In the play, she recoils in disgust. She calls the children “colored,” and feels she must break off the relationship, that she can’t help the way she feels about the children. Then follows the memorable song, “You've Got to be Carefully Taught”:
You've got to be taught to hate and fear
You've got to be taught from year to year
It's got to be drummed in your dear little ear
You've got to be carefully taught
You've got to be taught to be afraid
Of people whose eyes are oddly made
And people whose skin is a different shade
You've got to be carefully taught
You've got to be taught before it's too late
Before you are six or seven or eight
To hate all the people your relatives hate
You've got to be carefully taught
You've got to be carefully taught
When the play first opened, in 1949, this song was so controversial that Rogers and Hammerstein, and even James Michner who adapted his own stories into the screenplay, were urged to remove it. Apparently Michner was even accosted on the street by an agitated man, who insisted that the song should be removed or the show would flop. “Your play will fail if you leave that song in about racial prejudice” he said. “It's ugly, it's untimely and it's not what patrons want to hear when they go to a musical.”
Perhaps not. But telling a sweet, non-controversial story would have removed the heart and soul of the show. Telling the truth was more important than maintaining the peace, and the result was a show that still speaks to audiences today, about prejudice that still exists among us.
In the interview I heard, Kelli O'Hara talked about what it was like to feel the audience reaction to her on-stage bigotry. She said she could feel their disgust at her. This was not the reaction in the 1950’s original production. Back then, audiences completely understood why Nurse Nellie felt she had to break off the relationship. According to the blog, “Gratuitous Violins”, when the show toured in Atlanta in the early 1950’s, it was denounced on the floor of the Georgia legislature. “One Georgia state legislator claimed that a song justifying interracial marriage was a threat to the American way of life.”
Sound familiar? As gay couples got married in California this past week, protesters cried out that marriage is threatened, that the American way of life is in jeopardy.
I know we still have racial prejudice to deal with and overcome. But the thing that's causing division in our family – our Anglican communion family – right now is the issues surrounding full inclusion and honoring of people of all sexual orientations. A Hope College classmate of mine, Gene Sutton, was just elected bishop of Maryland. The fact that he is African American is not causing public debate about his suitability to be a bishop in the church – although not so long ago, that would have been an issue. But 5 years ago another Gene, Gene Robinson, was elected bishop of New Hampshire, by people who knew and loved him, and saw his gifts for ministry and leadership in the church. The fact that he is gay is for many in our Anglican family a deal-breaker. All over the world, members of our family are outraged. There’s talk of schism.
At the upcoming Lambeth conference – the every-10-years gathering of Anglican bishops in Canterbury, England – Gene Robinson (and the most vocal critic of his election) have both been pointedly excluded. Other bishops are boycotting the gathering. Division in the family. Just as Jesus had said would happen.
In his new memoir, In the Eye of the Storm, Gene Robinson writes:
[The Holy Spirit] is the part of God that refuses to be contained in the little boxes we create for God to live in, safely confined to the careful boundaries we set for God's Spirit. The problem is – and the miracle is – God just won't stay put. And God won't let you and me stay put, content to believe what we've always believed, what we've always been taught, what we've always assumed. Change isn't just something to be wished on our enemies – but something God requires of us as well.
He goes on:
Think of the things we believe and think today that we couldn't have imagined years ago. There was a time when we weren't outraged that black folk were made to drink from separate water fountains, that women were banned from serving at the altar or the boardroom, that differently-abled folk couldn't get into our sacred spaces. Our change in thinking didn't come as a result of our own work, but the work of God's Spirit, blowing through us like wind, calling us away from our narrow thinking and more nearly into the mind and heart of Christ.
Telling the truth, standing up for what is right, reaching out in love to all people, respecting the dignity of every person – even if it upsets some people – is part of following Jesus. Jesus warned his first disciples that when they went out into the towns and villages with good news of healing and love, there would be some who experienced them and their message as bad news – threatening in some way to their life and livelihood. There would be division in the family.
And so it is, and so it ever shall be, until God’s reign is fully realized on earth as it is in heaven. Our task, our calling, is not to avoid conflict within the family, but to tell the truth… to love even our enemies… to forgive and embrace forgiveness… to reach out in love to all people… to honor Christ in every person… and to do justice, love kindness, and walk humbly with God. And don't be afraid, for God is with us.
-- Lydia Huttar Brown
Preached at Saint Anne's on June 22, 2008 (Proper 7A)
*
Thursday, June 26, 2008
Welcome
“Welcome to the spinning world,” the people sang,
as they washed your new tiny hands.
“Welcome to the green Earth,” the people sang,
as they wrapped your wet, slippery body.
And as they held you close
they whispered into your open, curving ear,
“We are so glad you’ve come!”
-- On the Day You Were Born
We have a new little one among us. What a blessing. Welcome, welcome, little one, fresh from God, full of light.
*
as they washed your new tiny hands.
“Welcome to the green Earth,” the people sang,
as they wrapped your wet, slippery body.
And as they held you close
they whispered into your open, curving ear,
“We are so glad you’ve come!”
-- On the Day You Were Born
We have a new little one among us. What a blessing. Welcome, welcome, little one, fresh from God, full of light.
*
Sunday, June 15, 2008
This Wild and Precious Life
Who made the world?
Who made the swan, and the black bear?
Who made the grasshopper?
This grasshopper, I mean --
the one who has flung herself out of the grass,
the one who is eating sugar out of my hand,
who is moving her jaws back and forth instead of up and down --
who is gazing around with her enormous and complicated eyes.
Now she lifts her pale forearms and thoroughly washes her face.
Now she snaps her wings open, and floats away.
I don't know exactly what a prayer is.
I do know how to pay attention,
how to fall down into the grass,
how to kneel down in the grass,
how to be idle and blessed,
how to stroll through the fields,
which is what I have been doing all day.
Tell me, what else should I have done?
Doesn't everything die at last, and too soon?
Tell me, what is it you plan to do with your one wild and precious life?
-- Mary Oliver
Oh, the whole family is out for a ride! smiled the man we passed on the trail.
Not quite the whole family. Some of us spent this afternoon of our one wild and precious life eating a Father’s Day brunch. Some of us spent it preparing for the birth of a sweet new baby. Some of us were up at cabins on the lake. Some of us spent it reading or snoozing or gardening or maybe playing Guitar Hero. Some of the family might have gone on a picnic. Hopefully none of us spent it cleaning out the garage. The afternoon was too beautiful for garage-cleaning.
But some of our Saint Anne’s family did, indeed, spend this wild and precious afternoon out for a (not quite so) wild ride.
Some of the more brilliant among us found a way to combine the riding and the snoozing.
Wishing you days filled with falling down into the grass, being idle and blessed. Days filled with grasshoppers with complicated eyes. Filled with gratitude for this one life that is so wild and is so precious.
*
Who made the swan, and the black bear?
Who made the grasshopper?
This grasshopper, I mean --
the one who has flung herself out of the grass,
the one who is eating sugar out of my hand,
who is moving her jaws back and forth instead of up and down --
who is gazing around with her enormous and complicated eyes.
Now she lifts her pale forearms and thoroughly washes her face.
Now she snaps her wings open, and floats away.
I don't know exactly what a prayer is.
I do know how to pay attention,
how to fall down into the grass,
how to kneel down in the grass,
how to be idle and blessed,
how to stroll through the fields,
which is what I have been doing all day.
Tell me, what else should I have done?
Doesn't everything die at last, and too soon?
Tell me, what is it you plan to do with your one wild and precious life?
-- Mary Oliver
Oh, the whole family is out for a ride! smiled the man we passed on the trail.
Not quite the whole family. Some of us spent this afternoon of our one wild and precious life eating a Father’s Day brunch. Some of us spent it preparing for the birth of a sweet new baby. Some of us were up at cabins on the lake. Some of us spent it reading or snoozing or gardening or maybe playing Guitar Hero. Some of the family might have gone on a picnic. Hopefully none of us spent it cleaning out the garage. The afternoon was too beautiful for garage-cleaning.
But some of our Saint Anne’s family did, indeed, spend this wild and precious afternoon out for a (not quite so) wild ride.
Some of the more brilliant among us found a way to combine the riding and the snoozing.
Wishing you days filled with falling down into the grass, being idle and blessed. Days filled with grasshoppers with complicated eyes. Filled with gratitude for this one life that is so wild and is so precious.
*
Thursday, June 5, 2008
Reflection on Matthew 9:9-13
Preached as a sermon at St. Anne’s on June 5, 2005
by Lydia Huttar Brown
Matthew was a tax collector.
It wasn’t exactly something he had chosen. No-one grows up thinking “I want to work for my people’s enemies, and have a job that will make people despise me.” But there it was. The opportunity had come to him and he had grabbed it. After all, he had a wife and children to support, and they deserved to eat and have a few nice things.
When he was younger, he had not minded so much the scorn of his fellow Jews. "They’re just jealous,” he would think to himself. He felt lucky to have this job, lucky to be in a position to set his own salary by deciding how much extra he would charge each taxpayer. He felt important, knowing the power he had over people. And he had not minded being excluded from the temple, or being considered “unclean” – like certain animals or forbidden foods. The security of wealth had seemed to him more important than friendship, more important than the respect of his countrymen, more important than the health of his soul.
There’s no risk to my soul anyway, he thought. I haven’t really changed inside. I can quit this racket as soon as my future is secured. But as time passed, he found it more and more difficult to even think of quitting. In fact, little by little he found that he was charging more overhead, hardening his heart when paying him created a hardship for others. He realized that he was no longer a good man doing a despicable job, but he had become the despicable: He was a tax collector, a mercenary, a tool of the occupying Roman government in the oppression of his own people.
And his heart cried out: Is this all there is? Does my life have any meaning? Is there any goodness left in me? Oh, if I could do it all over… if I could have a new start…
Around this time, Jesus was traveling around the country, teaching and healing and gathering quite a following. News of this itinerant preacher came to Matthew, and so when Jesus came to town, Matthew went with the crowds to listen to him. He stood at the edge of the crowd, a little apart, noticing the mothers drawing their children closer as they glanced at him.
For days he observed and listened from a distance. He saw sick people become well, and lame people get up and walk. He heard Jesus say, “Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.” And another time “You are the salt of the earth; but if salt has lost its taste, how can its saltiness be restored?” And Matthew felt as though Jesus could see right into his soul and was talking just to him.
So when Jesus saw Matthew sitting at his tax booth, and their eyes met, Matthew felt as if Jesus knew him – knew that he was a despicable and despised tax-collecting cheater, knew his hardness of heart and pride and greed. Matthew had a strong sense that Jesus knew all that about him – and that it didn’t matter.
Jesus knew there was more to Matthew than what others saw. Jesus understood that no-one is all good or all bad. And that very often what looks like righteousness is a disguise for what is really in the heart. Jesus always was one who saw the possibilities for good in a person.
And when he said to Matthew, “Follow me,” Matthew was ready. He stood up and walked away. Just walked away. He left behind his lucrative career, and his wealth, and his hardness of heart, and stepped forward into the adventure of a lifetime.
The adventure began with dinner, at Matthew’s house. Maybe it was a celebration dinner – celebration of courage, of new beginnings, of new friendship. Matthew invited all his colleagues – tax collectors and sinners – like him, outcasts – “Come to my house and eat with me, and meet the person who gave me courage to change my life!”
There were so many people there, eating and drinking, and telling stories and sharing hopes and dreams – that some of Jesus’ disciples had to sit outside.
And some of the people who would never be caught dead associating with Matthew came near the house. These were the Pharisees – the righteous good people, who believed everything they had been taught, quite literally, and who followed every commandment and every rule. And the rules said: Don’t eat with the unclean! If you hang around with bad people, then you are bad.
Oh, those Pharisees! trying so hard to be good. And they were good. So good that they fooled themselves into thinking that there was no bad in them. They were blind to what they had in common with everyone else – the complexity of the human heart, full of good and bad, clean and unclean…
They wouldn’t even go into the house to speak with Jesus directly, but instead they questioned his disciples outside: Why does your teacher eat with tax collectors and sinners?
Jesus was listening at the open window. He realized the ironic truth: These Pharisees were the ones most in need of a new start! Their pride in their own righteousness was the greatest disease of all. It kept them from recognizing their own shortcomings. It made them sit in judgment over their fellow human beings – and that judgment was a wall that divided them from others just as surely as Matthew’s status as unclean had separated him from the community.
Their pride in their righteousness had hardened their hearts so that they didn’t even know they needed forgiveness. Didn’t even know they needed to leave their old life behind and start anew.
Jesus thought back to what he knew of ancient Hebrew scriptures. The words of Hosea came to mind. God says, I desire mercy and not sacrifice, the knowledge of God rather than burnt offerings.
The words of the Psalm echoed, too: Offer to God a sacrifice of thanksgiving…
Without a humble and loving heart, rituals of worship and outward shows of righteousness are meaningless to God.
Although the Pharisees had not spoken directly to Jesus, he spoke directly to them in answer: Those who are well don’t need a doctor. But those who are sick do. Go review your scriptures, that you claim to know so well. Read: I desire mercy, not sacrifice. And when you know what it means, you will recognize that you have much in common with these tax-collectors.
I hope you will want to join the party.
by Lydia Huttar Brown
Matthew was a tax collector.
It wasn’t exactly something he had chosen. No-one grows up thinking “I want to work for my people’s enemies, and have a job that will make people despise me.” But there it was. The opportunity had come to him and he had grabbed it. After all, he had a wife and children to support, and they deserved to eat and have a few nice things.
When he was younger, he had not minded so much the scorn of his fellow Jews. "They’re just jealous,” he would think to himself. He felt lucky to have this job, lucky to be in a position to set his own salary by deciding how much extra he would charge each taxpayer. He felt important, knowing the power he had over people. And he had not minded being excluded from the temple, or being considered “unclean” – like certain animals or forbidden foods. The security of wealth had seemed to him more important than friendship, more important than the respect of his countrymen, more important than the health of his soul.
There’s no risk to my soul anyway, he thought. I haven’t really changed inside. I can quit this racket as soon as my future is secured. But as time passed, he found it more and more difficult to even think of quitting. In fact, little by little he found that he was charging more overhead, hardening his heart when paying him created a hardship for others. He realized that he was no longer a good man doing a despicable job, but he had become the despicable: He was a tax collector, a mercenary, a tool of the occupying Roman government in the oppression of his own people.
And his heart cried out: Is this all there is? Does my life have any meaning? Is there any goodness left in me? Oh, if I could do it all over… if I could have a new start…
Around this time, Jesus was traveling around the country, teaching and healing and gathering quite a following. News of this itinerant preacher came to Matthew, and so when Jesus came to town, Matthew went with the crowds to listen to him. He stood at the edge of the crowd, a little apart, noticing the mothers drawing their children closer as they glanced at him.
For days he observed and listened from a distance. He saw sick people become well, and lame people get up and walk. He heard Jesus say, “Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.” And another time “You are the salt of the earth; but if salt has lost its taste, how can its saltiness be restored?” And Matthew felt as though Jesus could see right into his soul and was talking just to him.
So when Jesus saw Matthew sitting at his tax booth, and their eyes met, Matthew felt as if Jesus knew him – knew that he was a despicable and despised tax-collecting cheater, knew his hardness of heart and pride and greed. Matthew had a strong sense that Jesus knew all that about him – and that it didn’t matter.
Jesus knew there was more to Matthew than what others saw. Jesus understood that no-one is all good or all bad. And that very often what looks like righteousness is a disguise for what is really in the heart. Jesus always was one who saw the possibilities for good in a person.
And when he said to Matthew, “Follow me,” Matthew was ready. He stood up and walked away. Just walked away. He left behind his lucrative career, and his wealth, and his hardness of heart, and stepped forward into the adventure of a lifetime.
The adventure began with dinner, at Matthew’s house. Maybe it was a celebration dinner – celebration of courage, of new beginnings, of new friendship. Matthew invited all his colleagues – tax collectors and sinners – like him, outcasts – “Come to my house and eat with me, and meet the person who gave me courage to change my life!”
There were so many people there, eating and drinking, and telling stories and sharing hopes and dreams – that some of Jesus’ disciples had to sit outside.
And some of the people who would never be caught dead associating with Matthew came near the house. These were the Pharisees – the righteous good people, who believed everything they had been taught, quite literally, and who followed every commandment and every rule. And the rules said: Don’t eat with the unclean! If you hang around with bad people, then you are bad.
Oh, those Pharisees! trying so hard to be good. And they were good. So good that they fooled themselves into thinking that there was no bad in them. They were blind to what they had in common with everyone else – the complexity of the human heart, full of good and bad, clean and unclean…
They wouldn’t even go into the house to speak with Jesus directly, but instead they questioned his disciples outside: Why does your teacher eat with tax collectors and sinners?
Jesus was listening at the open window. He realized the ironic truth: These Pharisees were the ones most in need of a new start! Their pride in their own righteousness was the greatest disease of all. It kept them from recognizing their own shortcomings. It made them sit in judgment over their fellow human beings – and that judgment was a wall that divided them from others just as surely as Matthew’s status as unclean had separated him from the community.
Their pride in their righteousness had hardened their hearts so that they didn’t even know they needed forgiveness. Didn’t even know they needed to leave their old life behind and start anew.
Jesus thought back to what he knew of ancient Hebrew scriptures. The words of Hosea came to mind. God says, I desire mercy and not sacrifice, the knowledge of God rather than burnt offerings.
The words of the Psalm echoed, too: Offer to God a sacrifice of thanksgiving…
Without a humble and loving heart, rituals of worship and outward shows of righteousness are meaningless to God.
Although the Pharisees had not spoken directly to Jesus, he spoke directly to them in answer: Those who are well don’t need a doctor. But those who are sick do. Go review your scriptures, that you claim to know so well. Read: I desire mercy, not sacrifice. And when you know what it means, you will recognize that you have much in common with these tax-collectors.
I hope you will want to join the party.
Wednesday, June 4, 2008
Welcome!
Caribou Coffee on 110 turned out to be the perfect place to create St. Anne's first blog. Jennifer McNally navigated and I steered, and here it is - TA-DA!! - a forum for information and conversation about anything and everything that is on the minds of St. Annians and our friends.
This is where we can have our "Virtual Book Club" conversations, and where you can comment on sermons, or offer your wisdom on what we're doing or could be doing at St. Anne's.
Please leave a comment below to let me know you visited, and give your suggestions for themes and topics. Let's blog!!
blessings and love,
Lydia
This is where we can have our "Virtual Book Club" conversations, and where you can comment on sermons, or offer your wisdom on what we're doing or could be doing at St. Anne's.
Please leave a comment below to let me know you visited, and give your suggestions for themes and topics. Let's blog!!
blessings and love,
Lydia
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