The Venerable Richard I. Cluett
February 26, 2006
2Kings 2:1-12; 2Corinthians 4:3-6; Mark 9:2-9
Mark tells us that Jesus “was transfigured before them and his clothes became dazzling white.” Luke tells us that “the appearance of his face changed and his clothes became dazzling white.” Matthew tells us that “he was transfigured before them, and his face shown like the sun, and his clothes became dazzling white.”
In another place we read that when Moses descended from Sinai after his time in God’s presence, he is significantly altered in his physical features. The face of Moses is transformed; “the skin of his face shone”.
As suddenly as the cloud had descended, it is gone, and “Jesus was found alone”. If anything could testify to the power and majesty of the epiphany they had just experienced, it is the absolute silence that now descends on the usually bantering, chatting, arguing disciples.
Utterly dazed and dazzled by the images they have witnessed, totally confused about the relationship between Jesus’ words about suffering and death and the heavenly voice’s assertion that “this is my Son,” And lest they simply prattle on about the experience, Jesus tells them to be silent.
But you can picture their faces. Amazement. Shining, bright, engaged, aglow, alive with a light. Having been in the presence of the Holy, knowing that they were in the presence of the Holy, things had changed for them and it had to be reflected in their faces.
I remember a time in the past when it was very early in my time as rector. I was still trying to learn who we were in that place. What’s life like here? What are people like here? What’s the kingdom like here? What do we experience of God here here?
After a long period of increasingly severe headaches, the mother in a family was diagnosed to have a brain tumor. An operation was attempted. It was not a success. There would be no medical success.
As the doctors tried other therapies, the shape of this trim, lively woman changed. Mega-doses of steroids do that, you know. Her body became swollen. Her face became swollen. The skin tightened. Her face literally began to shine.
A physical symptom - but it became a sacrament. Remember the definition of sacrament : an outward and visible sign of an inward and spiritual grace. Her face shown!
Eventually she lost the ability to word things – to match words with her thoughts – but this woman never lost the ability to communicate. Her eyes still shone with love, with gratitude, with security, her face shown because she was in the presence of the Living God.
As the family was able to be even less a part of the parish community in terms of being present at liturgies and gatherings, they became more and more a part of this community of faith as individuals, groups, families, committees ministered to that family. In much the same way as Lynn Heiney and Sandy Kelly and others of you carry out your Share Care ministries It was the most incredible ministry of presence, pastoral care, witness and proclamation of faith and love and solidarity.
As this woman and her family lived, and at the same time prepared for her death, Jesus himself was with them nursing, caring, comforting, carrying, cooking, and quietly, by both actions and words, testifying to the faith that was in them – that Jesus is Lord of life and of death – that God is present in all, and that all will be well, even if it doesn’t feel like it now.
When you walked into her presence, she ministered to you because you felt as if you had stepped on holy ground. When she looked at you she was radiant. Her face would break into a beatific smile. As you saw her face shine, you knew that God was present. The Glory of God’s Kingdom was being revealed.
I believe that it is God’s intention- that it is the desire of God’s heart - for each person, all persons, every person to live in God’s presence and for our faces to shine with the light of that presence. It is not meant to be a sometime, hardly ever, or never kind of experience. In the end-time, when God brings it all together and wraps it all up, I believe that is the way we will be. God’s Glory – and ours – fully revealed – face to shining face.
It is a privilege to be nearby when it happens in our own day and time. God means it to happen in our own day and time. Can we see it?
We live in the presence of the holy. On the mountain, on the plain, down in the valleys, our feet are always on holy ground. The world is a holy place. God is powerfully, mysteriously, gracefully present revealing His world and His Glory – and ours – to us.
Pray with me.
O God, who before the passion of your only-begotten Son revealed his glory upon the holy mountain: Grant to us that we, beholding by faith the light of his countenance, may be strengthened to bear our cross, and be changed into his likeness from glory to glory; through Jesus Christ our Lord, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, for ever and ever. Amen.
Tuesday, February 28, 2006
Thursday, February 23, 2006
The Seventh Sunday of Epiphany
The Venerable Howard Stringfellow
February 19, 2006
Isaiah 43:18-25; Psalm 41; 2 Corinthians 1:18-22; Saint Mark 2:1-12
In the Name of the True and Living God: Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. Amen.
If your comfort in seeing me here equals my joy in being here, all is well. Once again, I am delighted to be with you, and I give thanks for the opportunity. The parishioners and the staff of this Cathedral Church have meant and do mean a great deal to me. I am grateful to you.
“And the LORD said, ‘You may very well cut yourself off from me, but I shall never cut myself off from you.’” Forgive me for giving you my version of the Old Testament Lesson so succinctly: “You may very will cut yourself off from me, but I shall never cut myself off from you.”
Some families have members who are cut-offs: people who, when they don’t get their way, just cut off members of their family: the cold shoulder and worse: no more communication; no more exchange of anything, really; and no more relationship. And in the form of this Lesson, God intrudes upon my quiet to say that we may cut ourselves off from God, but God will not do that to us.
We should understand that God means this and means for us to go and do likewise: no cut-offs—no refusing of any opportunity to take part in reconciling the world to God. The four fellows do this in the Gospel. They bring their paralytic friend to Jesus, and, without knowing it, they are reconciling that friend to God. They literally bring him to Jesus, and Jesus forgives the man his sins, and Jesus heals him who walks home under his own power. And that paralytic, forgiven and restored to the fullness of health, is reconciled to God.
We are to go and to do likewise. We Christians have a mission to do our part in reconciling the world to God. This is God’s goal and purpose. It’s what we pray for when we pray, “Thy kingdom come, thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven.” Christ’s work of reconciliation is what all Jesus’ preaching, teaching, and healing are all about: to dramatize the nature of the kingdom of God, and to call people to the choice of joining. Through revelation, through prophecy, through the Scriptures, and especially through the life, ministry, death, and resurrection of Jesus, we have been given the vision of the kingdom of God, and our lives are to be spent fleshing that vision out so that it becomes reality.
“Thy kingdom come.” We have to be at least a little bit careful with what we pray for. What if we get it? What if that kingdom isn’t what we expect it to be? What if that woman who broke in line at the Dunkin’ Donuts is there? Or that man who told you your answer or your service or your idea wasn’t good enough—what if he is there? We may have to face the fact that Jesus died and rose again for them, too. And we’re called to bring those very irksome and very disagreeable people to him for forgiveness and restoration to the fullness of health.
As we bring people to Jesus we have to expect to become nearer to him ourselves. We have to expect that what we are and what we have may need some adjusting. We may need to be a little more like him than our appetites and sinful natures alone make us. We may need his grace to be his instruments, and we may need it, as I certainly do, in fairly large amounts if we are to bring people to him.
“Thy kingdom come.” I hope that this doesn’t sound new. At least since 1835 members of the Episcopal Church have considered themselves missionaries, for then we named our church the “Domestic and Foreign Missionary Society.” And more recently, the General Convention in 1997 reaffirmed that each and every member of the Episcopal Church is a missionary.
We are here to do our part in reconciling the world to God. Whether we understand that imperative to be our free response to the Great Commission or to the Great Commandment, we are united in one call from God to do our part to reconcile the world to God.
The World Mission Committee and our Bishop have kept our mission steadily before our eyes. Opportunity after opportunity has been extended to us to do our part to reconcile the world to God. Those opportunities will not cease; they will continue for as long as our very human need for God makes itself known and for as long as God gives us strength. I don’t think we need to have any doubt about the gift of God’s strength: “You may very well cut yourself off from me, but I shall never cut myself off from you.” The strength we need will be given to us.
In Christ, we heard in the Epistle, the word is always Yes. All the promises of God find their Yes in Jesus Christ. The healing of the paralytic, a healing which includes the forgiveness of sins and the strength to walk, opens the kingdom to us, a kingdom where God reigns and where God’s justice and God’s mercy are the order of the day. That kingdom is our inheritance; but it is ours for a purpose: to be given away—to be given to those whom God calls to be his and to be his forever.
In Christ’s Name. Amen.
February 19, 2006
Isaiah 43:18-25; Psalm 41; 2 Corinthians 1:18-22; Saint Mark 2:1-12
In the Name of the True and Living God: Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. Amen.
If your comfort in seeing me here equals my joy in being here, all is well. Once again, I am delighted to be with you, and I give thanks for the opportunity. The parishioners and the staff of this Cathedral Church have meant and do mean a great deal to me. I am grateful to you.
“And the LORD said, ‘You may very well cut yourself off from me, but I shall never cut myself off from you.’” Forgive me for giving you my version of the Old Testament Lesson so succinctly: “You may very will cut yourself off from me, but I shall never cut myself off from you.”
Some families have members who are cut-offs: people who, when they don’t get their way, just cut off members of their family: the cold shoulder and worse: no more communication; no more exchange of anything, really; and no more relationship. And in the form of this Lesson, God intrudes upon my quiet to say that we may cut ourselves off from God, but God will not do that to us.
We should understand that God means this and means for us to go and do likewise: no cut-offs—no refusing of any opportunity to take part in reconciling the world to God. The four fellows do this in the Gospel. They bring their paralytic friend to Jesus, and, without knowing it, they are reconciling that friend to God. They literally bring him to Jesus, and Jesus forgives the man his sins, and Jesus heals him who walks home under his own power. And that paralytic, forgiven and restored to the fullness of health, is reconciled to God.
We are to go and to do likewise. We Christians have a mission to do our part in reconciling the world to God. This is God’s goal and purpose. It’s what we pray for when we pray, “Thy kingdom come, thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven.” Christ’s work of reconciliation is what all Jesus’ preaching, teaching, and healing are all about: to dramatize the nature of the kingdom of God, and to call people to the choice of joining. Through revelation, through prophecy, through the Scriptures, and especially through the life, ministry, death, and resurrection of Jesus, we have been given the vision of the kingdom of God, and our lives are to be spent fleshing that vision out so that it becomes reality.
“Thy kingdom come.” We have to be at least a little bit careful with what we pray for. What if we get it? What if that kingdom isn’t what we expect it to be? What if that woman who broke in line at the Dunkin’ Donuts is there? Or that man who told you your answer or your service or your idea wasn’t good enough—what if he is there? We may have to face the fact that Jesus died and rose again for them, too. And we’re called to bring those very irksome and very disagreeable people to him for forgiveness and restoration to the fullness of health.
As we bring people to Jesus we have to expect to become nearer to him ourselves. We have to expect that what we are and what we have may need some adjusting. We may need to be a little more like him than our appetites and sinful natures alone make us. We may need his grace to be his instruments, and we may need it, as I certainly do, in fairly large amounts if we are to bring people to him.
“Thy kingdom come.” I hope that this doesn’t sound new. At least since 1835 members of the Episcopal Church have considered themselves missionaries, for then we named our church the “Domestic and Foreign Missionary Society.” And more recently, the General Convention in 1997 reaffirmed that each and every member of the Episcopal Church is a missionary.
We are here to do our part in reconciling the world to God. Whether we understand that imperative to be our free response to the Great Commission or to the Great Commandment, we are united in one call from God to do our part to reconcile the world to God.
The World Mission Committee and our Bishop have kept our mission steadily before our eyes. Opportunity after opportunity has been extended to us to do our part to reconcile the world to God. Those opportunities will not cease; they will continue for as long as our very human need for God makes itself known and for as long as God gives us strength. I don’t think we need to have any doubt about the gift of God’s strength: “You may very well cut yourself off from me, but I shall never cut myself off from you.” The strength we need will be given to us.
In Christ, we heard in the Epistle, the word is always Yes. All the promises of God find their Yes in Jesus Christ. The healing of the paralytic, a healing which includes the forgiveness of sins and the strength to walk, opens the kingdom to us, a kingdom where God reigns and where God’s justice and God’s mercy are the order of the day. That kingdom is our inheritance; but it is ours for a purpose: to be given away—to be given to those whom God calls to be his and to be his forever.
In Christ’s Name. Amen.
Monday, February 20, 2006
The Seventh Sunday in Epiphany: Living a life of Forgiveness
The Rev. Canon Anne E. Kitch
Preached at Trinity Church, Bethlehem
February 19, 2006
Mark 2:1-12
Living a life of Forgiveness
It begins with upheaval. Perhaps forgiveness is always like that, and healing too. Perhaps they are processes that cannot begin without an upheaval, a disruption in the status quo, or an undoing of what seems right and proper. In this case, it begins with the roof caving in: literally.
Jesus had been out and about, doing the savior/Son of God thing. You know, your basic healings, exorcisms, preaching tour. But then he returns home and word gets out that wonder boy is back in town. A crowd gathers, so that there is not room for one more person. There is not even standing room left in front of the house. I wonder what they were all there for? We are told that Jesus was speaking the word to them. But is that why they came? Some of them may have been seekers, looking for a rabbi or a spiritual uplift. I suspect some of them came with their hurts because they had heard he was a great healer. But surely some of them were there just because they were curious and some because they wanted to be where the action was, they wanted to be close to the miracle worker. So there they all are, the teacher, the crowds, the noise, and then some people come carrying a paralyzed man.
They can’t get anywhere near Jesus, but clearly that is what they want to do. They are very determined, these friends. So they climb up onto the roof, manage to dig their way through clay and thatch, and lower the mat on which the paralytic lay. Just think about this: this is no small feat and it takes more than a moment to accomplish. Jesus is talking, with people sitting all around him when debris starts falling followed by commotion and confusion. Surely shouts of protest, what do you think you are doing? And with a great upheaval the paralyzed man lies before Jesus. Jesus stops speaking. He looks at the four friends and sees the faith that led them to such an extreme effort to get their friend into his presence. He says to the man, “Son, your sins are forgiven.”
I imagine a moment of stunned silence. Who said anything about seeking forgiveness? Surely what the friends want, what the man wants, is clear. They want healing. Why else would they go to such an extreme and ridiculous measure to get their friend to Jesus? Forgiveness? What is there to forgive? Clearly this man has done Jesus no wrong. He may be a limited human being, and thus sinful, but who is this Jesus to forgive all of this man’s sins? If you hurt me, I can forgive you. But is it for me to forgive you if you hurt your friend or your child or your neighbor? In the silence, some of the same questions arise in the hearts of the folks sitting there around Jesus. What did he say? Why is he saying that? What does this mean? Forgive sins? Why only God can do that! Who does he think he is! Into the silence Jesus speaks, “Why do you raise such questions in your hearts? Which is easier? To say to the paralytic your sins are forgiven or to say stand up and take your mat and walk?
Well now there’s a question. Because the fact is, they are both easy to say. Anyone could say them.* But making them true? That would be a miracle. And here’s the point. How do those bystanders know that the man’s sins have been forgiven? They don’t--either they believe Jesus or they don’t. But if a paralyzed man stands up and walks, that healing is pretty easy to authenticate. If Jesus can perform this miracle of healing, he must also be right about the forgiveness. So, Jesus says, “Well, just so you know that the Son of Man has the authority on earth to forgive sins, “ he turns to the paralytic, “I say to you stand, uptake your mat, and go home.” The man stands up, takes his mat and walks out in front of them all, healed and forgiven.
Healed and forgiven. Or in this case, forgiven, then healed. Which is the greater miracle? And when it comes to forgiveness, is the miracle that the incarnate God can forgive our sins or that the forgiveness is made real? Jesus didn’t say, “I forgive you.” He said, “Your sins are forgiven.” And in calling the man to rise and walk, Jesus made the possibility of forgiveness real. I think perhaps the real miracle for us would be accepting God’s forgiveness that is already at work.
It’s a good thing that forgiveness is God’s job, because I don’t really believe we are very good at it. When have you really forgiven someone so that you no longer remember their transgression? How good are you at receiving forgiveness? The forgiveness we practice with one another (and perhaps even with God) takes many forms. Here is a few I could think of. There are the times we refuse to forgive, holding on to the hurt and clutching it as if it were a life raft (although this doesn’t save us at all). Writer Anne Lamott says that refusing to forgive is like drinking rat poison and expecting the rat to die.** Then there are times when we seem to hang out in some kind of forgiveness limbo, not actively refusing to forgive but not able to get past the hurt. And there are times when forgives seems to creep up on us. It comes with time; one day we suddenly notice it is there. And there are times when dramatic upheaval breaks open our hearts and the forgiveness just pours in, over, and out of us.
I don’t know how to make this happen. As I said, I am grateful that forgiveness is God’s business, because I am not very good at it. Thank God, God is. God’s forgiveness is real. God’s forgiveness is there, offered for us. But in order for it to work in our lives, in order for us to get up and walk after the paralyzing effects of sin, we need to accept the forgiveness. We need to know it is real. Closed hands and hearts not only can’t offer forgiveness, they can’t accept forgiveness either.
Thousands of years ago, the prophet Isaiah proclaimed this truth about God. “I, I am He. I am the one who blots out your transgressions, for my own sake and I will not remember your sins.” (Isaiah 43:25) God cannot not forgive. For God’s own sake, God forgives us. God’s forgiveness is always active. It is not a matter of whether we deserve it; it is a matter of a relationship forged out of love. God loved us into being and for the sake of that love God forgives. Whether we walk in God’s love or are crippled by guilt is a matter of our own action.
Choosing to engage in a life of forgiveness, a life when we acknowledge both our need to forgive and our need to be forgiven, often begins with upheaval or a disruption in the status quo or an undoing of what seems right and proper. A life of forgiveness, given and received, is often accompanied by falling debris as we dig through the obstacles that keep us from Christ. A life of forgiveness, given and received, begins with and encounter with God and God’s love made real. Sometimes it begins with friends who are willing to get us there. Sometimes we are called to be those friends who stop at nothing to make Gods’ love known. A life of forgiveness, given and received is what we are called to as Christians. Open your hands and your hearts and allow God’s forgiveness to pour in to you, over you and flow out of you.
* Gretchen Pritchard, A Note to Parents, The Sunday Paper Junior, Year B 7th Sunday after Epiphany, The Sunday Paper, New Haven CT, 1999.
**Anne Lamott, Traveling Mercies: Some Thoughts on Faith, Pantheon Books, NY 1999, p. 134
Preached at Trinity Church, Bethlehem
February 19, 2006
Mark 2:1-12
Living a life of Forgiveness
It begins with upheaval. Perhaps forgiveness is always like that, and healing too. Perhaps they are processes that cannot begin without an upheaval, a disruption in the status quo, or an undoing of what seems right and proper. In this case, it begins with the roof caving in: literally.
Jesus had been out and about, doing the savior/Son of God thing. You know, your basic healings, exorcisms, preaching tour. But then he returns home and word gets out that wonder boy is back in town. A crowd gathers, so that there is not room for one more person. There is not even standing room left in front of the house. I wonder what they were all there for? We are told that Jesus was speaking the word to them. But is that why they came? Some of them may have been seekers, looking for a rabbi or a spiritual uplift. I suspect some of them came with their hurts because they had heard he was a great healer. But surely some of them were there just because they were curious and some because they wanted to be where the action was, they wanted to be close to the miracle worker. So there they all are, the teacher, the crowds, the noise, and then some people come carrying a paralyzed man.
They can’t get anywhere near Jesus, but clearly that is what they want to do. They are very determined, these friends. So they climb up onto the roof, manage to dig their way through clay and thatch, and lower the mat on which the paralytic lay. Just think about this: this is no small feat and it takes more than a moment to accomplish. Jesus is talking, with people sitting all around him when debris starts falling followed by commotion and confusion. Surely shouts of protest, what do you think you are doing? And with a great upheaval the paralyzed man lies before Jesus. Jesus stops speaking. He looks at the four friends and sees the faith that led them to such an extreme effort to get their friend into his presence. He says to the man, “Son, your sins are forgiven.”
I imagine a moment of stunned silence. Who said anything about seeking forgiveness? Surely what the friends want, what the man wants, is clear. They want healing. Why else would they go to such an extreme and ridiculous measure to get their friend to Jesus? Forgiveness? What is there to forgive? Clearly this man has done Jesus no wrong. He may be a limited human being, and thus sinful, but who is this Jesus to forgive all of this man’s sins? If you hurt me, I can forgive you. But is it for me to forgive you if you hurt your friend or your child or your neighbor? In the silence, some of the same questions arise in the hearts of the folks sitting there around Jesus. What did he say? Why is he saying that? What does this mean? Forgive sins? Why only God can do that! Who does he think he is! Into the silence Jesus speaks, “Why do you raise such questions in your hearts? Which is easier? To say to the paralytic your sins are forgiven or to say stand up and take your mat and walk?
Well now there’s a question. Because the fact is, they are both easy to say. Anyone could say them.* But making them true? That would be a miracle. And here’s the point. How do those bystanders know that the man’s sins have been forgiven? They don’t--either they believe Jesus or they don’t. But if a paralyzed man stands up and walks, that healing is pretty easy to authenticate. If Jesus can perform this miracle of healing, he must also be right about the forgiveness. So, Jesus says, “Well, just so you know that the Son of Man has the authority on earth to forgive sins, “ he turns to the paralytic, “I say to you stand, uptake your mat, and go home.” The man stands up, takes his mat and walks out in front of them all, healed and forgiven.
Healed and forgiven. Or in this case, forgiven, then healed. Which is the greater miracle? And when it comes to forgiveness, is the miracle that the incarnate God can forgive our sins or that the forgiveness is made real? Jesus didn’t say, “I forgive you.” He said, “Your sins are forgiven.” And in calling the man to rise and walk, Jesus made the possibility of forgiveness real. I think perhaps the real miracle for us would be accepting God’s forgiveness that is already at work.
It’s a good thing that forgiveness is God’s job, because I don’t really believe we are very good at it. When have you really forgiven someone so that you no longer remember their transgression? How good are you at receiving forgiveness? The forgiveness we practice with one another (and perhaps even with God) takes many forms. Here is a few I could think of. There are the times we refuse to forgive, holding on to the hurt and clutching it as if it were a life raft (although this doesn’t save us at all). Writer Anne Lamott says that refusing to forgive is like drinking rat poison and expecting the rat to die.** Then there are times when we seem to hang out in some kind of forgiveness limbo, not actively refusing to forgive but not able to get past the hurt. And there are times when forgives seems to creep up on us. It comes with time; one day we suddenly notice it is there. And there are times when dramatic upheaval breaks open our hearts and the forgiveness just pours in, over, and out of us.
I don’t know how to make this happen. As I said, I am grateful that forgiveness is God’s business, because I am not very good at it. Thank God, God is. God’s forgiveness is real. God’s forgiveness is there, offered for us. But in order for it to work in our lives, in order for us to get up and walk after the paralyzing effects of sin, we need to accept the forgiveness. We need to know it is real. Closed hands and hearts not only can’t offer forgiveness, they can’t accept forgiveness either.
Thousands of years ago, the prophet Isaiah proclaimed this truth about God. “I, I am He. I am the one who blots out your transgressions, for my own sake and I will not remember your sins.” (Isaiah 43:25) God cannot not forgive. For God’s own sake, God forgives us. God’s forgiveness is always active. It is not a matter of whether we deserve it; it is a matter of a relationship forged out of love. God loved us into being and for the sake of that love God forgives. Whether we walk in God’s love or are crippled by guilt is a matter of our own action.
Choosing to engage in a life of forgiveness, a life when we acknowledge both our need to forgive and our need to be forgiven, often begins with upheaval or a disruption in the status quo or an undoing of what seems right and proper. A life of forgiveness, given and received, is often accompanied by falling debris as we dig through the obstacles that keep us from Christ. A life of forgiveness, given and received, begins with and encounter with God and God’s love made real. Sometimes it begins with friends who are willing to get us there. Sometimes we are called to be those friends who stop at nothing to make Gods’ love known. A life of forgiveness, given and received is what we are called to as Christians. Open your hands and your hearts and allow God’s forgiveness to pour in to you, over you and flow out of you.
* Gretchen Pritchard, A Note to Parents, The Sunday Paper Junior, Year B 7th Sunday after Epiphany, The Sunday Paper, New Haven CT, 1999.
**Anne Lamott, Traveling Mercies: Some Thoughts on Faith, Pantheon Books, NY 1999, p. 134
Monday, February 13, 2006
The Sixth Sunday in Epiphany: Keep it Simple
The Rev. Canon Anne E. Kitch
February 12, 2006
2 Kings 5:1-14
This is one fabulous story, the story of Naaman. It has plot twists, warriors and kings, national pride and a miracle cure. To get the most out of this story, it helps to know the background. It takes place about 850 BCE and involves several different nations. First there are the people of Aram, the Arameans, whose kingdom lies northeast of Israel. Their capital city is Damascus and they are part of the Syrian empire. It helps to know that Syria was Israel’s’ major enemy. But there was an enemy even closer to home because at this time the Hebrew people were divided into two kingdoms: Israel and Judah, the North and the South. After the death of King Solomon, they got into an argument about who should rule; that civil war lasted for more than 200 years, until they each were eventually destroyed by other empires (that’s a story for another sermon).
At any rate, since the people of Israel and Judah were fighting amongst themselves it provided plenty of opportunity for neighboring kingdoms to get into the fray. So Syria and Israel fought each other, then had periods of relative peace, and then fought some more. At the time of this story they were more or less at peace.
Now for the main character, Naaman. He is a great Syrian general who brought victory to the King of Aram. He was well rewarded for his military prowess, both in wealth and status. The only trouble is, he does not have his health. He suffers from some skin disease (it says leprosy in the text, but that term was used for many different skin conditions). Now it turns out that there is a young girl who is a servant in Naaman’s house. As a matter of fact she is a slave, an Israelite slave. She was captured in one of those skirmishes between Israel and Syria and now has to work in Naaman’s house. But she knows something. She tells Naaman’s wife about a great prophet who lives in Samaria; he could certainly heal the general. Well Naaman’s wife tells Naaman, and Naaman tells his king and his king says well by all means go to Israel and seek this prophet. In fact, I’ll send a letter of introduction to the King of Israel.
So Naaman sets off to see the king of Israel with letter in hand and a huge gift as well: silver, gold and garments worth about a million dollars. Now imagine you are the King of Israel. Here comes a celebrated general from the neighboring hostile country, one with which you have a very shaky peace agreement, and he is bringing you a ton of cash and a letter that reads, “When this letter reaches you, know that I have sent to you my servant Naaman that you may cure him of his leprosy,” warmest regards, the King of Aram. The King of Israel is not pleased. He is in fact scared. “How am I supposed to cure this man, it is impossible! The King of Aram wants to pick a fight with me; if I can’t do this thing, he will say I snubbed him and send in his army to kill us!”
Now enter the story’s hero, the prophet Elisha, the one of great power of whom that young girl spoke. He sends his messenger to the king of Israel saying, “Don’t get all worked up about this. Just send that general to me; I’ll show him what a prophet of Israel can do!” I am sure the King of Israel was relieved (by the way, it is interesting to note that the king and Elisha did not always see eye to eye about things; in fact Elisha led a faction that was critical of the King. Never a dull moments in these stories!) So off the great general Naaman goes with his horses and chariots and tribute to see the great prophet Elisha. He halts at Elisha’s door. Elisha sends a messenger to the door, “My master says you should go and wash in the Jordon seven times and you will be well.” The door closes.
I imagine that for a brief moment, Naaman, still standing in his chariot in all his finery, is speechless. Then he gets really angry. What kind of affront is this? He storms off raging, “I thought for me he would surely come out and he would stand here and call on the name of his God, waive his hand over the spot and cure the leprosy. What’s this sending his messenger stuff about? Where’s the great prophet? Where is the show of power? Where is my miracle? And wash in the Jordon, that muddy trickle? No thank you! Why, if a river was needed, why not a great river of Damascus like the Abana or the Pharpar? They’re better than all the waters in Israel, little desert kingdom that it is!” He gathers up his horses and chariots and tribute and makes ready to leave Elisha and his Jordon river in the dust; except that his servants dare to approach him. “Sir, just think for a minute. If the prophet had commanded you to do something difficult, you would have done it, right? So how much easier to do this thing when all he said to you was, ‘Wash and be made clean?’ ” Well, they had him there. I imagine him speechless for a second time. Then he just goes and does it. He immerses himself in the Jordan seven times and is made clean.
It’s a great story. The thing about truly great stories is they are so multidimensional, layers upon layers of meaning. This is why Jesus told so many stories as a teacher. We often try to make his stories seem simple and straight forward, but they are not. So what do we make of this great story? What do you take home with you? I have more than one thought about that, so here are some ideas. You choose what cathes your attention this morning.
First idea: Naaman thought a miracle of healing needed to be complicated. It wasn’t. Sometimes we make things much more complicated than they need to be. Which is easier, to take the simple cure trusting a word or to do the heroic deed and pay the big sum? How much value do we place on things that cost more, in either money, energy, or time? When do we miss opportunities for healing because they seem too easy?
Next thought: Naaman was incensed when Elisha didn’t come to him personally. You can almost here him say, “Doesn’t he know who I am?” Well, chances are Elisha knew exactly who he was: a human being beloved of God. When do we let our need for status mask who we really are?
Third thought: the voices of healing and reason in this story--a young girl who must work in the home of her captors and has no reason to love or offer help to Naaman, and the general’s servants who risk their master’s anger. Why is it the powerless in this story know where to find the true healing power?
Final thought? I leave that up to you. Where will this story take you during the next week? But here is the epilogue. As a result of his healing, Naaman becomes faithful to God. But he still doesn’t know how to keep things simple. He returns to Elisha and twice tries to offer him a huge reward. Elisha refuses. So then Naaman asks for two cartloads of dirt, so he may take it home to Damascus and pray to the one God standing on Israelite soil. So one final thought: even when people receive healing, not everything changes.
February 12, 2006
2 Kings 5:1-14
This is one fabulous story, the story of Naaman. It has plot twists, warriors and kings, national pride and a miracle cure. To get the most out of this story, it helps to know the background. It takes place about 850 BCE and involves several different nations. First there are the people of Aram, the Arameans, whose kingdom lies northeast of Israel. Their capital city is Damascus and they are part of the Syrian empire. It helps to know that Syria was Israel’s’ major enemy. But there was an enemy even closer to home because at this time the Hebrew people were divided into two kingdoms: Israel and Judah, the North and the South. After the death of King Solomon, they got into an argument about who should rule; that civil war lasted for more than 200 years, until they each were eventually destroyed by other empires (that’s a story for another sermon).
At any rate, since the people of Israel and Judah were fighting amongst themselves it provided plenty of opportunity for neighboring kingdoms to get into the fray. So Syria and Israel fought each other, then had periods of relative peace, and then fought some more. At the time of this story they were more or less at peace.
Now for the main character, Naaman. He is a great Syrian general who brought victory to the King of Aram. He was well rewarded for his military prowess, both in wealth and status. The only trouble is, he does not have his health. He suffers from some skin disease (it says leprosy in the text, but that term was used for many different skin conditions). Now it turns out that there is a young girl who is a servant in Naaman’s house. As a matter of fact she is a slave, an Israelite slave. She was captured in one of those skirmishes between Israel and Syria and now has to work in Naaman’s house. But she knows something. She tells Naaman’s wife about a great prophet who lives in Samaria; he could certainly heal the general. Well Naaman’s wife tells Naaman, and Naaman tells his king and his king says well by all means go to Israel and seek this prophet. In fact, I’ll send a letter of introduction to the King of Israel.
So Naaman sets off to see the king of Israel with letter in hand and a huge gift as well: silver, gold and garments worth about a million dollars. Now imagine you are the King of Israel. Here comes a celebrated general from the neighboring hostile country, one with which you have a very shaky peace agreement, and he is bringing you a ton of cash and a letter that reads, “When this letter reaches you, know that I have sent to you my servant Naaman that you may cure him of his leprosy,” warmest regards, the King of Aram. The King of Israel is not pleased. He is in fact scared. “How am I supposed to cure this man, it is impossible! The King of Aram wants to pick a fight with me; if I can’t do this thing, he will say I snubbed him and send in his army to kill us!”
Now enter the story’s hero, the prophet Elisha, the one of great power of whom that young girl spoke. He sends his messenger to the king of Israel saying, “Don’t get all worked up about this. Just send that general to me; I’ll show him what a prophet of Israel can do!” I am sure the King of Israel was relieved (by the way, it is interesting to note that the king and Elisha did not always see eye to eye about things; in fact Elisha led a faction that was critical of the King. Never a dull moments in these stories!) So off the great general Naaman goes with his horses and chariots and tribute to see the great prophet Elisha. He halts at Elisha’s door. Elisha sends a messenger to the door, “My master says you should go and wash in the Jordon seven times and you will be well.” The door closes.
I imagine that for a brief moment, Naaman, still standing in his chariot in all his finery, is speechless. Then he gets really angry. What kind of affront is this? He storms off raging, “I thought for me he would surely come out and he would stand here and call on the name of his God, waive his hand over the spot and cure the leprosy. What’s this sending his messenger stuff about? Where’s the great prophet? Where is the show of power? Where is my miracle? And wash in the Jordon, that muddy trickle? No thank you! Why, if a river was needed, why not a great river of Damascus like the Abana or the Pharpar? They’re better than all the waters in Israel, little desert kingdom that it is!” He gathers up his horses and chariots and tribute and makes ready to leave Elisha and his Jordon river in the dust; except that his servants dare to approach him. “Sir, just think for a minute. If the prophet had commanded you to do something difficult, you would have done it, right? So how much easier to do this thing when all he said to you was, ‘Wash and be made clean?’ ” Well, they had him there. I imagine him speechless for a second time. Then he just goes and does it. He immerses himself in the Jordan seven times and is made clean.
It’s a great story. The thing about truly great stories is they are so multidimensional, layers upon layers of meaning. This is why Jesus told so many stories as a teacher. We often try to make his stories seem simple and straight forward, but they are not. So what do we make of this great story? What do you take home with you? I have more than one thought about that, so here are some ideas. You choose what cathes your attention this morning.
First idea: Naaman thought a miracle of healing needed to be complicated. It wasn’t. Sometimes we make things much more complicated than they need to be. Which is easier, to take the simple cure trusting a word or to do the heroic deed and pay the big sum? How much value do we place on things that cost more, in either money, energy, or time? When do we miss opportunities for healing because they seem too easy?
Next thought: Naaman was incensed when Elisha didn’t come to him personally. You can almost here him say, “Doesn’t he know who I am?” Well, chances are Elisha knew exactly who he was: a human being beloved of God. When do we let our need for status mask who we really are?
Third thought: the voices of healing and reason in this story--a young girl who must work in the home of her captors and has no reason to love or offer help to Naaman, and the general’s servants who risk their master’s anger. Why is it the powerless in this story know where to find the true healing power?
Final thought? I leave that up to you. Where will this story take you during the next week? But here is the epilogue. As a result of his healing, Naaman becomes faithful to God. But he still doesn’t know how to keep things simple. He returns to Elisha and twice tries to offer him a huge reward. Elisha refuses. So then Naaman asks for two cartloads of dirt, so he may take it home to Damascus and pray to the one God standing on Israelite soil. So one final thought: even when people receive healing, not everything changes.
Monday, February 06, 2006
The Fifth Sunday of Epiphany: Who do you say that you are?
The Venerable Richard I. Cluett
Isaiah 40:21-31; 1Cor. 9:16-13; Mark 1:29-39
February 5, 2006
This season of Epiphany - which might also be called the season of Revelation - recalls the revealing of the true identity of Jesus to the world.
In the lesson from Isaiah we hear the prophet identify on behalf of God just who the Lord God is:
“The LORD is the everlasting God,
the Creator of the ends of the earth.
He does not faint or grow weary;
his understanding is unsearchable.
He gives power to the faint,
and strengthens the powerless.”
In this morning’s gospel, Jesus restates for himself, his family, his disciples and us, just what his identity is, what his ministry is. “Let us go on to the neighboring towns s that I can proclaim the message there also, for that is what I came out to do.”
We are reading Paul's letter to the Corinthians, too. Paul is living out his identity, his faith, his ministry in the midst of all the human concerns which distract the world. At his core he is a disciple of Jesus Christ and an evangelist. He is willing to intentionally take on the various identities, the various images, of the world in order to convert the world. “I have become all things to all people, that I might by all things save some. I do it all for the sake of the gospel, so that I may share its blessing.”
These are the concerns I want to probe a bit this morning: who we are and what are the conse¬quences of our identity as children of God and disciples of Jesus.
Today, for many of us, our culture and the media that manufacture it are working to distract us from our identity as children of God and disciples of Jesus - to such a degree that when others look at us they cannot quite tell who it is that we are at our core. We have so many conflicting images that we can present to the world - and to ourselves, too.
Jesus is concerned that we live with integrity. That if we say we have faith, we live as if we have faith, and that as others look at us they can see evidence of the power and effect of that faith in our lives.
There are today so many places, forces, and powers which seek to have us identify ourselves through them. Here are some examples.
We human beings have come to identify ourselves by our things. What we fashion with our minds and imagi¬nations, and then make with our hands, have become the models by which we seek to know ourselves. When my boys were young, it was Knightrider and his Pontiac Firebird - that black, magical, mystical, marvel of a machine. For those of us males a bit older it may be Paul Newman and a Porshe. Different images, but based on the same thing. We all have different images of ourselves, but there's a car for each of us, to give us our identity be it SUV or Corvette.
When you are introduced to a person, you are not usually asked, "Who are you?" You are asked, "What do you do?" What we do has become who we are. And if we happen to be unemployed or retired, that reduces us, in the eyes of the world, to "a used to be" If we are fortunate enough to be employed, we have become a function.
Whether a teacher, a salesperson, mechanic, technician, or business person, or a "keeper-of-the-home-hearth" – our occupation is always less than who we are. But our technical, pragmatic, functional culture is comparing, measuring and evaluating us from the image of our function. We are seen as a function, given our worth in our function, are identified as a function. And that is a false, and a graven image.
Another place we receive identity is Other People. We find our identity by looking to other people and emulating them; our parents, our friends, our therapists, our neighbors, and actors and players on the video and silver screens.
It is not uncommon for children to pattern their behavior, values, and work after a parent. It is also common for children to have iden¬tified ways they do not want to be like their parents; in other words they have, at least in their perceptions, clear views of parental inadequacy. And looking at my life and experience as a person and as a parent, there is some validity to the perception of my children as to my not being quite up to the standards they held for me in their early days. Which is, I believe what God intends. No one of us was created to be a clone of our parents.
What often happens, though, is that young people then look to other people for their models: teachers, scout leaders, sports figures, TV personalities, stars, heroes and, musicians and their peers, to name but a few of the possibilities.
These others inform about what clothes to wear; how to cut, brush, tease, iron or mousse one's hair; what deodorant to use; how many earrings to wear where; what brand of jeans or sneakers to buy, and what cars to crave. And, if they are retired athletes, they tell us all what kind of beer to drink.
But, again a problem. No person is an adequate model for our identity, other than ourselves - with one exception.
Jesus is the image. In him, we find our true identity. In him, we discover the truth about ourselves. In him, we see whose image we have. What is God like? What are we to be like? We look to Jesus to see. God is our creator. God is the One who saves and sustains, who guides, who nourishes; who has meaning and purpose for us, who gives us our identity. And we worship that God who shows us himself and ourselves in Jesus.
The question for us is not whether we worship, but who is worshipping whom? The issue is not whether or not we have a spirituality; rather it is, what is our spirituality? Where do we find our identity? In whom do we find our identity?
You and I have come here, to this sanctuary. We put ourselves in physical, spiritu¬al, psychological, and emotional postures of worship so that we can catch something of the Spirit of the Living God – Who would have us renew our strength, mount up with wings like eagles, run and not be weary, walk and not faint -- so that we can become more like the God in whose image we have uniquely been created . And then we go from here to serve this God and God’s people in the world.
Let me tell you a story to highlight this. A teacher story. A teacher, after a particularly difficult lesson, gave her ninth grade students an assignment. She told them to list all the members of the class on a sheet of paper leaving space between each name. In that space they were to write what they believed was the nicest thing about that person. At the end of the class she col¬lected the papers and took them home with her. She spent the week¬end collating and on Monday morning gave each student a list of all the things that his or her classmate had written about them. You can imagine the responses and the feelings of surprise, joy, and affirmation.
Years later, one of the students was killed in the Gulf War. The whole town came out for the funeral. The teacher and a number of members of that ninth grade class also attended the funeral. After the service, the father of the young man came up to the teacher. “We want to show you something. They found this on Mark when he was killed. We thought you might recognize it.” The father took from his pocket two worn pieces of paper that had been folded, unfolded, and refolded countless times. It was the list of all the good things his classmates had written about him. His mother said, “Thank you so much for doing that. He treasured it.”
Some of his former classmates gathered around, One said, “I still have my list, its in the top drawer of my desk.” Another, “Mine’s in my wedding album.” Another, “Mine is in my diary.” Another pulled hers out of her wallet and showed a worn, frayed list to the group. “I think we all saved our lists. I carry this with me at all times. It reminds me who I am and who I need to become.”
Unless we bear the image, unles we are true to our God-given identity, how will the world ever know the wonderful truth about what God did in Jesus Christ and is doing in each of us?
Amen.
Isaiah 40:21-31; 1Cor. 9:16-13; Mark 1:29-39
February 5, 2006
This season of Epiphany - which might also be called the season of Revelation - recalls the revealing of the true identity of Jesus to the world.
In the lesson from Isaiah we hear the prophet identify on behalf of God just who the Lord God is:
“The LORD is the everlasting God,
the Creator of the ends of the earth.
He does not faint or grow weary;
his understanding is unsearchable.
He gives power to the faint,
and strengthens the powerless.”
In this morning’s gospel, Jesus restates for himself, his family, his disciples and us, just what his identity is, what his ministry is. “Let us go on to the neighboring towns s that I can proclaim the message there also, for that is what I came out to do.”
We are reading Paul's letter to the Corinthians, too. Paul is living out his identity, his faith, his ministry in the midst of all the human concerns which distract the world. At his core he is a disciple of Jesus Christ and an evangelist. He is willing to intentionally take on the various identities, the various images, of the world in order to convert the world. “I have become all things to all people, that I might by all things save some. I do it all for the sake of the gospel, so that I may share its blessing.”
These are the concerns I want to probe a bit this morning: who we are and what are the conse¬quences of our identity as children of God and disciples of Jesus.
Today, for many of us, our culture and the media that manufacture it are working to distract us from our identity as children of God and disciples of Jesus - to such a degree that when others look at us they cannot quite tell who it is that we are at our core. We have so many conflicting images that we can present to the world - and to ourselves, too.
Jesus is concerned that we live with integrity. That if we say we have faith, we live as if we have faith, and that as others look at us they can see evidence of the power and effect of that faith in our lives.
There are today so many places, forces, and powers which seek to have us identify ourselves through them. Here are some examples.
We human beings have come to identify ourselves by our things. What we fashion with our minds and imagi¬nations, and then make with our hands, have become the models by which we seek to know ourselves. When my boys were young, it was Knightrider and his Pontiac Firebird - that black, magical, mystical, marvel of a machine. For those of us males a bit older it may be Paul Newman and a Porshe. Different images, but based on the same thing. We all have different images of ourselves, but there's a car for each of us, to give us our identity be it SUV or Corvette.
When you are introduced to a person, you are not usually asked, "Who are you?" You are asked, "What do you do?" What we do has become who we are. And if we happen to be unemployed or retired, that reduces us, in the eyes of the world, to "a used to be" If we are fortunate enough to be employed, we have become a function.
Whether a teacher, a salesperson, mechanic, technician, or business person, or a "keeper-of-the-home-hearth" – our occupation is always less than who we are. But our technical, pragmatic, functional culture is comparing, measuring and evaluating us from the image of our function. We are seen as a function, given our worth in our function, are identified as a function. And that is a false, and a graven image.
Another place we receive identity is Other People. We find our identity by looking to other people and emulating them; our parents, our friends, our therapists, our neighbors, and actors and players on the video and silver screens.
It is not uncommon for children to pattern their behavior, values, and work after a parent. It is also common for children to have iden¬tified ways they do not want to be like their parents; in other words they have, at least in their perceptions, clear views of parental inadequacy. And looking at my life and experience as a person and as a parent, there is some validity to the perception of my children as to my not being quite up to the standards they held for me in their early days. Which is, I believe what God intends. No one of us was created to be a clone of our parents.
What often happens, though, is that young people then look to other people for their models: teachers, scout leaders, sports figures, TV personalities, stars, heroes and, musicians and their peers, to name but a few of the possibilities.
These others inform about what clothes to wear; how to cut, brush, tease, iron or mousse one's hair; what deodorant to use; how many earrings to wear where; what brand of jeans or sneakers to buy, and what cars to crave. And, if they are retired athletes, they tell us all what kind of beer to drink.
But, again a problem. No person is an adequate model for our identity, other than ourselves - with one exception.
Jesus is the image. In him, we find our true identity. In him, we discover the truth about ourselves. In him, we see whose image we have. What is God like? What are we to be like? We look to Jesus to see. God is our creator. God is the One who saves and sustains, who guides, who nourishes; who has meaning and purpose for us, who gives us our identity. And we worship that God who shows us himself and ourselves in Jesus.
The question for us is not whether we worship, but who is worshipping whom? The issue is not whether or not we have a spirituality; rather it is, what is our spirituality? Where do we find our identity? In whom do we find our identity?
You and I have come here, to this sanctuary. We put ourselves in physical, spiritu¬al, psychological, and emotional postures of worship so that we can catch something of the Spirit of the Living God – Who would have us renew our strength, mount up with wings like eagles, run and not be weary, walk and not faint -- so that we can become more like the God in whose image we have uniquely been created . And then we go from here to serve this God and God’s people in the world.
Let me tell you a story to highlight this. A teacher story. A teacher, after a particularly difficult lesson, gave her ninth grade students an assignment. She told them to list all the members of the class on a sheet of paper leaving space between each name. In that space they were to write what they believed was the nicest thing about that person. At the end of the class she col¬lected the papers and took them home with her. She spent the week¬end collating and on Monday morning gave each student a list of all the things that his or her classmate had written about them. You can imagine the responses and the feelings of surprise, joy, and affirmation.
Years later, one of the students was killed in the Gulf War. The whole town came out for the funeral. The teacher and a number of members of that ninth grade class also attended the funeral. After the service, the father of the young man came up to the teacher. “We want to show you something. They found this on Mark when he was killed. We thought you might recognize it.” The father took from his pocket two worn pieces of paper that had been folded, unfolded, and refolded countless times. It was the list of all the good things his classmates had written about him. His mother said, “Thank you so much for doing that. He treasured it.”
Some of his former classmates gathered around, One said, “I still have my list, its in the top drawer of my desk.” Another, “Mine’s in my wedding album.” Another, “Mine is in my diary.” Another pulled hers out of her wallet and showed a worn, frayed list to the group. “I think we all saved our lists. I carry this with me at all times. It reminds me who I am and who I need to become.”
Unless we bear the image, unles we are true to our God-given identity, how will the world ever know the wonderful truth about what God did in Jesus Christ and is doing in each of us?
Amen.
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