Bishop Paul V. Marshall
March 29, 2007
Cathedral Church of the Nativity, Bethlehem
Therefore, since it is by God’s mercy that we are engaged in this ministry, we do not lose heart. We have renounced the shameful things that one hides; we refuse to practice cunning or to falsify God’s word; but by the open statement of the truth we commend ourselves to the conscience of everyone in the sight of God. And even if our gospel is veiled, it is veiled to those who are perishing. In their case the god of this world has blinded the minds of the unbelievers, to keep them from seeing the light of the gospel of the glory of Christ, who is the image of God. For we do not proclaim ourselves; we proclaim Jesus Christ as Lord and ourselves as your slaves for Jesus’ sake. For it is the God who said, ‘Let light shine out of darkness’, who has shone in our hearts to give the light of the knowledge of the glory of God in the face of Jesus Christ. [2 Corinthians 5: 1-6]
Alone in human history, our Lord Jesus was both priest and victim. The rest of us must decide which to be, and that decision must be made many times.
While that percolates, let me say thank you to all who have come today to show support for the presbyters and deacons who serve our church as all its people labor on for Jesus Christ. Some of you have driven two and a half hours to get here; others have taken time off from work or rearranged schedules so that we can have this moment of solidarity, rededication, and focus. Showing up for the people who love you means a great deal to them.
It is a special pleasure to welcome Bishop John Croneberger and his wife Marilyn back into our diocese after an exemplary and inspiring ministry in Newark. Bishop Croneberger honors us with his participation in today’s liturgy, and I crave his companionship and counsel in the years ahead.
Anybody who starts a talk with a list of thank yous has probably just been given something, and I have, of course, and that something is you, jointly and severally. The Diocese of Bethlehem is a treasure of community and of mission. We have together done things entirely disproportionate to our size and resources, and now stand poised for deeper work to bring New Hope to those who have lives to rebuild both in Kajo-Keji and also at our own gates. That does not happen without committed leadership, parish by parish. It is a privilege to work with my colleagues throughout this diocese.
As to church leadership, two thousand years ago, St. Paul wrote a letter to the church at Corinth and told them some hard truths and some glorious truths. But as often happens when you take any clear stand for either glorious or hard truth, there is resistance and the attacks on Paul became very personal. So in today’s epistle today we read along as he writes to them again, and in Second Corinthians the gloves are off. He answers the charges that were made against him not for his own sake, but for the sake of the gospel he proclaimed. I read this passage as a recipe for courageous ministry, reaffirming what we know and cherish about the calling. Let’s follow the apostle’s thinking.
Attack number one on Paul was at his most vulnerable point: just who did he think he was to reshape their religion? Paul was something worse than an uppity newcomer. He had by his own admission been a vicious opponent of the founding members of the faith. Why should they listen to him, of all people? It is always easier to attack the messenger than analyze the message, and Paul’s past made him an easy target for evasive maneuvers.
Interestingly, St. Paul responds like a Ninja and lets his opponent’s attack work for him. He says that they are absolutely right. Of course, he admits at every opportunity, he has no right in himself, he has no claim in himself, no credentials in himself, to be a steward of the mysteries of Christ. The very reason he is not crushed by criticism or reaction is that he knows his ministry is an act of God’s mercy, a totally undeserved gift.
Those of us who lead in the church have worked very hard to get equipped for our work, and have been screened and tested and interviewed in ways that many people might not believe. All that effort and trial (and the fact that doing ordained ministry effectively is very hard work!) may distract us from basic truth, that the call, the gifts, and guts are graces from a merciful God. But before, during, and after any talk of job or gifts or qualification, like St. Paul, each of us stands here a sinner who takes daily refuge in the forgiveness of a crucified God. That is the primary credential for church leadership, knowing the depth to which one is accepted, forgiven, at peace. It controls how we relate to others.
I used to think that Jesus was just being generous when he prayed, “for they do not know what they are doing” to the prayer from the cross, “Father forgive them.” I have come to realize how often when we think we are thinking, we are just reacting. St. Paul’s talk of being in conflict with his “lower nature” seems to be neurologically accurate as well as theologically profound. It is increasingly clear to me how much of human behavior comes from reflex rather than reflection, and Christ’s mercy in his prayer from the cross looks more lavish all the time.
So the apostle’s bottom line is that he does not lose heart because the ministry he does is a gift from the God who scooped him up, forgave his sins, and trusted him with vital work.
St. Paul goes on to say that no matter what the criticisms, he has been and will continue steadfast in stating his case plainly and simply. Here is our bind as well as his: the more easily understood you are, the more enemies you will collect. St. Paul’s reading of scripture was in his day a hotly contested one as surely as was that of Jesus in our gospel this morning [Luke 24: 44-49a], but you and I are here because Paul kept preaching the same thing in private and public, in every kind of circumstance.
But even if you are the apostle of directness, as St Paul certainly was, proclamation is not always fruitful. The next charge St Paul had to deal with is the one we feel with particular poignancy in our post-post-modern world when not everybody is flocking to church. If Paul’s gospel is so great, his critics ask, why don’t more people believe it?
Ouch. Whether we are paid this way or not, most of us operate spiritually on a “straight commission” basis, allowing ourselves to feel successful in proportion to the numbers we see coming in, minus the numbers who leave, and the national church provides a form to help you think that way in case you weren’t doing it already. St Paul reminds us that then as now, there surely are competing gods and competing religions out there that offer what seems like more certainty or less work. A less commercially appealing ministry of invitation to join the crucified Messiah will have widely varying results, and Paul had made peace with that reality and lived with it without losing heart. Finally, individuals are themselves answerable for the choices they make in the religious marketplace, and if we take responsibility for other people’s outcomes we can become physically and mentally quite ill ourselves.
Paul then rejects the final slam against him, the idea that he’s in this religion game for himself—you still hear that, of course: “oh she became a priest because she wants a bit of power,” or “he’s in this because at last he’ll have the approval he didn’t get as a child.”
So what? St Paul was aware that he carried some of what we would call neurosis that could have affected his interests to a degree, but he isn’t foolish enough to let his thorn in the flesh define him. In his writings he points to his relative poverty, his frequent beatings and imprisonments, and in this passage says quite coolly the words that challenge every sermon, every vestry meeting, every pastoral act. “For we do not proclaim ourselves; we proclaim Jesus Christ as Lord.” And when we do get around to speaking of ourselves, he says, we proclaim “ourselves as your slaves for Jesus’ sake.”
That is very helpful because it keeps the focus of every act, every meeting, on Jesus. Imagine it becoming the “point of order” at every vestry meeting when things get, well, interesting – what does this have to do with Jesus? It is brilliant because of all the words available to him for describing servile relationships, Paul chooses “slaves for Jesus’ sake” when he describes himself in relationship to his Corinthian critics. There are many obvious points we can make from that word choice, especially as Holy Week draws near. I offer one less commonly observed. In the Roman world slaves might be seen working side-by-side with free people in the many jobs. One difference was they didn’t get anything out of it. The big difference was that they had no will in the matter: slaves don’t decide things. St. Paul speaks directly with the Corinthians, he works for and with the Corinthians in the most humble way possible, but he does not will them into salvation, because he is doing the will of his Lord.
Burn-out does not come from hard work – none of the great advances in civilization were made by people who punched a clock or worked a 35-hr week. Burn-out comes from the mistake of willing other people to change, from taking responsibility for how other people’s lives and events turn out. In short, studies show that burn-out comes from trying to do what is impossible.
Paul models a ministry here that does its very best, and then lets it go. He can do this for Jesus sake. It is Jesus, not Paul, who is and brings the light, who is both priest and victim. As he always does when he argues, Paul brings the argument to a close by reminding people that it’s about Christ in the last place as surely as it was in the first place. He has seen Christ’s face in so many ways, just as we have, and will not relinquish that focus, and simply will not lose heart – that’s a choice, too.
With our hearts unlost, let us pray for a powerful year of partnership in witness to the risen Jesus.
Saturday, March 31, 2007
Wednesday, March 28, 2007
Presiding Bishop's Easter Message
New life out of death: a message for Easter
By Katharine Jefferts Schori
I write at the close of our recent House of Bishops meeting. On the way from the airport to the meeting, we saw a few wildflowers, of one or two varieties. They stood out from the grass, just beginning to turn to the green lushness of spring. During the week we met in Texas, the trees went from mere hints of green in the topmost branches to having leaves unfolding on all their branches. And on the way back to the airport a week later, the riot of wildflowers was astounding.
The new life of resurrection can be just as surreptitious -- we look and things seem quite dead, we look away, and when our focus returns, we discover that God has been at work making all things new. Anyone who has grieved the death of a loved one will recognize the pattern. Those who experience the loss involved in moving away from a beloved community will know it as well. As this Lent draws to a close, take a careful look at your life. Where has God been at work during this fast? What new life can you discern?
For my own part, I will celebrate the new life that has been growing hidden in the lives of leaders in this church. We are blessed with leaders, lay and ordained, who are increasingly aware of their God-given ministries to lead this people into fuller participation in God's mission of healing the world.
I celebrate the work of God expressed in the gathering of Anglican women at the United Nations in late February and early March, who were able to say to the world that attention to mission is what unites us as a Communion.
I celebrate the gathering of people from all across the world in South Africa, at the TEAM (Towards Effective Anglican Mission) conference, to build stronger partnerships for doing that healing work, especially around AIDS and HIV.
I celebrate the gracious way in which the bishops of this Church engaged each other in discussing challenging and difficult matters in the meeting just past, and affirmed the focus of this Church on mission.
I celebrate the many, many healthy and vital congregations of this Church, engaged in God's mission of healing the world. The Executive Council joined in worship at one, St. Michael and All Angels, in Portland, Oregon, recently, and saw passionate engagement in children's ministry, the work Episcopal Relief and Development, abundant outreach in the community, and a lively life of worship.
Among my mail when I returned to the office was a generous check from a congregation in North Carolina. Members there had read about a fire in the Bronx that had killed several members of an immigrant family from Mali, and left others injured and homeless. Somehow the news of their suffering had reached across the mountains and plains to touch the hearts of people of St. James in Wilmington, and they responded.
A new heart of flesh is growing in countless places across this Church.
Alleluia. Christ is risen. The Lord is risen indeed. Alleluia!
By Katharine Jefferts Schori
I write at the close of our recent House of Bishops meeting. On the way from the airport to the meeting, we saw a few wildflowers, of one or two varieties. They stood out from the grass, just beginning to turn to the green lushness of spring. During the week we met in Texas, the trees went from mere hints of green in the topmost branches to having leaves unfolding on all their branches. And on the way back to the airport a week later, the riot of wildflowers was astounding.
The new life of resurrection can be just as surreptitious -- we look and things seem quite dead, we look away, and when our focus returns, we discover that God has been at work making all things new. Anyone who has grieved the death of a loved one will recognize the pattern. Those who experience the loss involved in moving away from a beloved community will know it as well. As this Lent draws to a close, take a careful look at your life. Where has God been at work during this fast? What new life can you discern?
For my own part, I will celebrate the new life that has been growing hidden in the lives of leaders in this church. We are blessed with leaders, lay and ordained, who are increasingly aware of their God-given ministries to lead this people into fuller participation in God's mission of healing the world.
I celebrate the work of God expressed in the gathering of Anglican women at the United Nations in late February and early March, who were able to say to the world that attention to mission is what unites us as a Communion.
I celebrate the gathering of people from all across the world in South Africa, at the TEAM (Towards Effective Anglican Mission) conference, to build stronger partnerships for doing that healing work, especially around AIDS and HIV.
I celebrate the gracious way in which the bishops of this Church engaged each other in discussing challenging and difficult matters in the meeting just past, and affirmed the focus of this Church on mission.
I celebrate the many, many healthy and vital congregations of this Church, engaged in God's mission of healing the world. The Executive Council joined in worship at one, St. Michael and All Angels, in Portland, Oregon, recently, and saw passionate engagement in children's ministry, the work Episcopal Relief and Development, abundant outreach in the community, and a lively life of worship.
Among my mail when I returned to the office was a generous check from a congregation in North Carolina. Members there had read about a fire in the Bronx that had killed several members of an immigrant family from Mali, and left others injured and homeless. Somehow the news of their suffering had reached across the mountains and plains to touch the hearts of people of St. James in Wilmington, and they responded.
A new heart of flesh is growing in countless places across this Church.
Alleluia. Christ is risen. The Lord is risen indeed. Alleluia!
Monday, March 26, 2007
Report from the House of Bishops
March 26, 2007
A Report from Bishop Paul V. Marshall
On the recent meeting of the House of Bishops
Dear Colleagues, Sisters, and Brothers,
I want to report on the recent House of Bishops meeting. The four texts issued by the bishops are here (three “Mind of the House” resolutions) and here (the House of Bishops’ “Message to God’s People”). I support all four measures.
Some of you may know that I am particularly invested in the invitation to the Archbishop of Canterbury to meet personally with the leadership of our Church before further steps are taken. The House of Bishops unanimously offered the invitation and offered to pay for transportation and housing.
The most important parts of the meeting were the two days spent on mission. A stunning report from Dr. Ian Douglas on the mission of God and the Church’s participation in it is here. I have never felt so keenly motivated about our part in rebuilding southern Sudan and attending to those in need at home as I did after hearing this presentation. I hope you will read it.
Bishop George Packard, bishop for chaplaincies, alerted us to the needs of the families of troops deployed in Iraq. I ask each of the parishes ministering with such families to contact me directly so that I can connect you to the resources the Church has established for them. Bishop Packard, a Vietnam field-grade officer, spoke about the difference in wounds our troops are sustaining in this war, and the long-term care they will need.
Contrary to some press coverage, the Bishops did not attempt to answer the two questions put to them by the Primates’ meeting in Tanzania (whether we will abstain from consecrating gay bishops and refuse to authorize blessing rites).The entire Church will be consulted before those questions are addressed in September.
Because the deadline for nomination of members of a proposed international “pastoral council” was last week, we had no choice but to act on that. We advised the Executive Council of the Church that to participate in that proposed plan would violate our own constitution and our theology of the Church. What the Executive Council will decide is not yet known. Please understand that the provisions for the pastoral care of congregations and dioceses alienated from either their own bishop or from Bishop Jefferts Schori remain in effect, and her generous offer to appoint a primatial vicar remains solidly in place.
We received reports on the progress in rebuilding the dioceses of Mississippi and Louisiana, the hardest hit by Hurricane Katrina. Sadly, most of the work is still to be done. The bishop of Louisiana told us that if fifty houses were built each day (and that is not the case), they would still be many decades behind. Pray, please, for the young people of our diocese who will be working with Mother Demery Bader-Saye on Katrina rebuilding this summer. In September, bishops and their spouses will also form work groups in New Orleans.
I remind you of my own position on our life together. Our primary task is to tell the good news of salvation in Jesus Christ and to be of service to those in need. A recent article in the Morning Call well represents the ability of members of our diocese to stay focused on mission. In one of her recent reflections, Mother Barbara Crafton wrote of the cruelty of spending our lives “waiting for just the right time to serve, and to die still waiting.” We shall not wait.
I cannot close without recalling the Main Thing. April 1 is Palm Sunday and the center of our religious year begins. We ask God in the prayers that day to assist us to contemplate the mystery of our salvation. These are not just words, and I beg that each of us lay aside all distractions for those eight days and focus entirely on Jesus.
As has been my custom since coming here in April of 1996, I will celebrate Maundy Thursday in one region of the diocese, Good Friday in another, and the Great Vigil in yet another, and on Easter Day will lead the praises in the Cathedral to demonstrate our unity in the great truth of Holy Week. The passion, death, and bodily resurrection of Jesus are why we exist, the center of what we do, the ultimate meaning for each of our lives. May God richly bless you as you adore the cross and bask in the light of the resurrection.
+Paul
Websites referenced:
www.episcopalchurch.org/3577_84148_ENG_HTM.htm
www.episcopalchurch.org/79901_84233_ENG_HTM.htm
www.episcopalchurch.org/79901_84224_ENG_HTM.htm
http://diobeth.typepad.com/diobeth_newspin/2007/03/area_episcopal_.html
A Report from Bishop Paul V. Marshall
On the recent meeting of the House of Bishops
Dear Colleagues, Sisters, and Brothers,
I want to report on the recent House of Bishops meeting. The four texts issued by the bishops are here (three “Mind of the House” resolutions) and here (the House of Bishops’ “Message to God’s People”). I support all four measures.
Some of you may know that I am particularly invested in the invitation to the Archbishop of Canterbury to meet personally with the leadership of our Church before further steps are taken. The House of Bishops unanimously offered the invitation and offered to pay for transportation and housing.
The most important parts of the meeting were the two days spent on mission. A stunning report from Dr. Ian Douglas on the mission of God and the Church’s participation in it is here. I have never felt so keenly motivated about our part in rebuilding southern Sudan and attending to those in need at home as I did after hearing this presentation. I hope you will read it.
Bishop George Packard, bishop for chaplaincies, alerted us to the needs of the families of troops deployed in Iraq. I ask each of the parishes ministering with such families to contact me directly so that I can connect you to the resources the Church has established for them. Bishop Packard, a Vietnam field-grade officer, spoke about the difference in wounds our troops are sustaining in this war, and the long-term care they will need.
Contrary to some press coverage, the Bishops did not attempt to answer the two questions put to them by the Primates’ meeting in Tanzania (whether we will abstain from consecrating gay bishops and refuse to authorize blessing rites).The entire Church will be consulted before those questions are addressed in September.
Because the deadline for nomination of members of a proposed international “pastoral council” was last week, we had no choice but to act on that. We advised the Executive Council of the Church that to participate in that proposed plan would violate our own constitution and our theology of the Church. What the Executive Council will decide is not yet known. Please understand that the provisions for the pastoral care of congregations and dioceses alienated from either their own bishop or from Bishop Jefferts Schori remain in effect, and her generous offer to appoint a primatial vicar remains solidly in place.
We received reports on the progress in rebuilding the dioceses of Mississippi and Louisiana, the hardest hit by Hurricane Katrina. Sadly, most of the work is still to be done. The bishop of Louisiana told us that if fifty houses were built each day (and that is not the case), they would still be many decades behind. Pray, please, for the young people of our diocese who will be working with Mother Demery Bader-Saye on Katrina rebuilding this summer. In September, bishops and their spouses will also form work groups in New Orleans.
I remind you of my own position on our life together. Our primary task is to tell the good news of salvation in Jesus Christ and to be of service to those in need. A recent article in the Morning Call well represents the ability of members of our diocese to stay focused on mission. In one of her recent reflections, Mother Barbara Crafton wrote of the cruelty of spending our lives “waiting for just the right time to serve, and to die still waiting.” We shall not wait.
I cannot close without recalling the Main Thing. April 1 is Palm Sunday and the center of our religious year begins. We ask God in the prayers that day to assist us to contemplate the mystery of our salvation. These are not just words, and I beg that each of us lay aside all distractions for those eight days and focus entirely on Jesus.
As has been my custom since coming here in April of 1996, I will celebrate Maundy Thursday in one region of the diocese, Good Friday in another, and the Great Vigil in yet another, and on Easter Day will lead the praises in the Cathedral to demonstrate our unity in the great truth of Holy Week. The passion, death, and bodily resurrection of Jesus are why we exist, the center of what we do, the ultimate meaning for each of our lives. May God richly bless you as you adore the cross and bask in the light of the resurrection.
+Paul
Websites referenced:
www.episcopalchurch.org/3577_84148_ENG_HTM.htm
www.episcopalchurch.org/79901_84233_ENG_HTM.htm
www.episcopalchurch.org/79901_84224_ENG_HTM.htm
http://diobeth.typepad.com/diobeth_newspin/2007/03/area_episcopal_.html
Sunday, March 25, 2007
5 Lent: Mary of Bethany
The Rev. Canon Anne E. Kitch
Isaiah 43:16-21 – Philippians 3:4b-14 – John 12:1-8
I have to confess to you, I think the twelve disciples are highly overrated. I don’t mean the disciples in general. I mean the ones we call “the twelve.” After all, Jesus had a lot more disciples than twelve. The word translated "disciple" simply means follower or student. Those who went around with Jesus, who learned at his feet, witnessed his ministry and followed his example, included a much larger group than twelve. It is clear that of his disciples Jesus appointed “the Twelve” for specific tasks. But he also appointed 70 for a mission trip. And many of the wonderful individuals whose stories are told in the gospels are not among the twelve. In fact, Matthew and Luke have different lists of who the twelve were and John barely mentions them at all.
Today I want to tell you about a disciple named Mary of Bethany. You may think you have not heard of her, but there are three stories about her in scripture. Do you know any stories about Thaddeus? He was listed as one of the twelve. How about Bartholomew? Know anything about him? But let me tell you about Mary.
She lived in Bethany with her brother Lazarus and he sister Martha. Bethany was about two miles from Jerusalem and according to scripture Jesus visited there often. In fact, in his last week after he triumphantly entered Jerusalem, he didn’t stay in the city. Apparently then as now, accommodations in the big city were more expensive and harder to come by during important holidays. So he stayed at his friends’ house in Bethany.
While you may not be familiar with Mary of Bethany by name, you probably know at least one of her stories. How about the time Jesus came to her house and she eagerly sat at his feet while her sister Martha complained that she wasn’t helping? Jesus encouraged her then. She took her place as a disciple to learn all that he taught and to take it to heart. Then there was the time that her brother Lazarus was deathly ill. The sisters sent a message to Jesus, but by the time Jesus got there Lazarus was dead and buried. Martha meets him, and it is to Martha that Jesus declares, “I am the resurrection and the life.” And it is Martha that proclaims in return, “Yes Lord, I believe that you are the Messiah, the son of God, the one coming into the world.” Then Mary falls at the feet of Jesus weeping for her brother. Jesus is so moved by her that he also begins to weep. He commands them to remove the stone from Lazarus’ tomb and he calls Lazarus out.
Now, six days before he will begin his own death march, Jesus comes again to the house of his friends. Martha is serving, Lazarus is at the table, and Mary comes. Mary loved Jesus. He had been a guest in her house many times. He was a friend. She had sat at his feet and listened to him teach. She had seen him perform great miracles, including raising her brother Lazarus to life. She understands discipleship. Now she comes to offer her gift—an extravagant gift. She bathes his feet in scented oil. The house is filled with the fragrance as all are bathed in her love and care for Jesus, in her devotion, in her service. It is intimate, loving, and pure gift; and Judas cannot abide it.
There are some people who don’t know what to do with abundance, who cannot understand generosity and are angered by selfless acts. There are some people like that and I suspect there are some times like that for any of us. In the face of such devotion, Judas cannot remain silent. So he pulls the rug out from under her, “That’s 300 denarii’s worth of oil!” Somehow the fragrance of her outpouring of love was unable to reach his heart. He must deny its strength its potency and the only way to do that is to call its worth into question. This is a waste, why that oil is worth 300 denarii!
Now one denarius was a day’s wage for a laborer. So 300…a year’s salary. By naming its monetary value, Judas undermines the gift. He removes it from the category of generosity and casts it as a commodity, something material, part of a market economy. Then he pulls the guilt card—you could have done better; you should have fed the poor! Judas turns what is an act of devotion and service into a financial transaction and calls it lacking. In doing so he undermines the Gospel itself.
You remember the Gospel? Love the Lord your God with all your heart and soul and strength and love your neighbor as yourself. When has Jesus ever said is was a market transaction? When has our salvation ever been about our net worth? Since when is God’s grace and mercy a commodity?
For Judas it is either/or. Either you can adore Jesus, or you can feed the poor. Either you can love God, or love your neighbor. Either/or thinking is the calculation of scarcity and of desperation. It is a stance that mistrusts true generosity. True generosity is generative. For Mary it is not an either/or transaction; it is a both/and. She can love Jesus, and she can serve others. She acts out of abundance. Who is the caring disciple? Who is the faithful one?
In anointing Jesus’ feet, Mary cares deeply—as Jesus would care deeply for others at the end of the week when he washed the feet of his friends. Perhaps Mary was one of those whose feet he washed. Perhaps she had shown him the way to this act of service.
We live in a market economy where we value things that we can count: money, hours in the day, test scores. We are so easily led into an operating system of scarcity in which we think in terms of material gain, limited resources, and must-have commodities. But love is not a commodity that you can market. The Gospel is not about anybody’s bottom line. God’s generosity is not limited. For Mary it is both/and. She can love her Lord extravagantly, and she can reach out in service to others. For Jesus its is both/and. He can sacrifice his life for God’s people, and show us the way to eternal life.
And for us? We are called to both/and. We are called to love God and love our neighbor, to carry our cross and to bear one another’s burdens, to serve others and to be served. After he washes his disciples’ feet, Jesus tells them, “I give you a new commandment, that you love one another. Just as I have loved you, you should also love one another. Mary loved extravagantly because Jesus loved extravagantly. I give you Mary of Bethany—a faithful disciple full of love and truth.
Copyright © 2007 by Anne E. Kitch
Isaiah 43:16-21 – Philippians 3:4b-14 – John 12:1-8
I have to confess to you, I think the twelve disciples are highly overrated. I don’t mean the disciples in general. I mean the ones we call “the twelve.” After all, Jesus had a lot more disciples than twelve. The word translated "disciple" simply means follower or student. Those who went around with Jesus, who learned at his feet, witnessed his ministry and followed his example, included a much larger group than twelve. It is clear that of his disciples Jesus appointed “the Twelve” for specific tasks. But he also appointed 70 for a mission trip. And many of the wonderful individuals whose stories are told in the gospels are not among the twelve. In fact, Matthew and Luke have different lists of who the twelve were and John barely mentions them at all.
Today I want to tell you about a disciple named Mary of Bethany. You may think you have not heard of her, but there are three stories about her in scripture. Do you know any stories about Thaddeus? He was listed as one of the twelve. How about Bartholomew? Know anything about him? But let me tell you about Mary.
She lived in Bethany with her brother Lazarus and he sister Martha. Bethany was about two miles from Jerusalem and according to scripture Jesus visited there often. In fact, in his last week after he triumphantly entered Jerusalem, he didn’t stay in the city. Apparently then as now, accommodations in the big city were more expensive and harder to come by during important holidays. So he stayed at his friends’ house in Bethany.
While you may not be familiar with Mary of Bethany by name, you probably know at least one of her stories. How about the time Jesus came to her house and she eagerly sat at his feet while her sister Martha complained that she wasn’t helping? Jesus encouraged her then. She took her place as a disciple to learn all that he taught and to take it to heart. Then there was the time that her brother Lazarus was deathly ill. The sisters sent a message to Jesus, but by the time Jesus got there Lazarus was dead and buried. Martha meets him, and it is to Martha that Jesus declares, “I am the resurrection and the life.” And it is Martha that proclaims in return, “Yes Lord, I believe that you are the Messiah, the son of God, the one coming into the world.” Then Mary falls at the feet of Jesus weeping for her brother. Jesus is so moved by her that he also begins to weep. He commands them to remove the stone from Lazarus’ tomb and he calls Lazarus out.
Now, six days before he will begin his own death march, Jesus comes again to the house of his friends. Martha is serving, Lazarus is at the table, and Mary comes. Mary loved Jesus. He had been a guest in her house many times. He was a friend. She had sat at his feet and listened to him teach. She had seen him perform great miracles, including raising her brother Lazarus to life. She understands discipleship. Now she comes to offer her gift—an extravagant gift. She bathes his feet in scented oil. The house is filled with the fragrance as all are bathed in her love and care for Jesus, in her devotion, in her service. It is intimate, loving, and pure gift; and Judas cannot abide it.
There are some people who don’t know what to do with abundance, who cannot understand generosity and are angered by selfless acts. There are some people like that and I suspect there are some times like that for any of us. In the face of such devotion, Judas cannot remain silent. So he pulls the rug out from under her, “That’s 300 denarii’s worth of oil!” Somehow the fragrance of her outpouring of love was unable to reach his heart. He must deny its strength its potency and the only way to do that is to call its worth into question. This is a waste, why that oil is worth 300 denarii!
Now one denarius was a day’s wage for a laborer. So 300…a year’s salary. By naming its monetary value, Judas undermines the gift. He removes it from the category of generosity and casts it as a commodity, something material, part of a market economy. Then he pulls the guilt card—you could have done better; you should have fed the poor! Judas turns what is an act of devotion and service into a financial transaction and calls it lacking. In doing so he undermines the Gospel itself.
You remember the Gospel? Love the Lord your God with all your heart and soul and strength and love your neighbor as yourself. When has Jesus ever said is was a market transaction? When has our salvation ever been about our net worth? Since when is God’s grace and mercy a commodity?
For Judas it is either/or. Either you can adore Jesus, or you can feed the poor. Either you can love God, or love your neighbor. Either/or thinking is the calculation of scarcity and of desperation. It is a stance that mistrusts true generosity. True generosity is generative. For Mary it is not an either/or transaction; it is a both/and. She can love Jesus, and she can serve others. She acts out of abundance. Who is the caring disciple? Who is the faithful one?
In anointing Jesus’ feet, Mary cares deeply—as Jesus would care deeply for others at the end of the week when he washed the feet of his friends. Perhaps Mary was one of those whose feet he washed. Perhaps she had shown him the way to this act of service.
We live in a market economy where we value things that we can count: money, hours in the day, test scores. We are so easily led into an operating system of scarcity in which we think in terms of material gain, limited resources, and must-have commodities. But love is not a commodity that you can market. The Gospel is not about anybody’s bottom line. God’s generosity is not limited. For Mary it is both/and. She can love her Lord extravagantly, and she can reach out in service to others. For Jesus its is both/and. He can sacrifice his life for God’s people, and show us the way to eternal life.
And for us? We are called to both/and. We are called to love God and love our neighbor, to carry our cross and to bear one another’s burdens, to serve others and to be served. After he washes his disciples’ feet, Jesus tells them, “I give you a new commandment, that you love one another. Just as I have loved you, you should also love one another. Mary loved extravagantly because Jesus loved extravagantly. I give you Mary of Bethany—a faithful disciple full of love and truth.
Copyright © 2007 by Anne E. Kitch
Tuesday, March 20, 2007
4 Lent: Lost and Found
The Ven. Richard I Cluett
March 18, 2007
Joshua 5:9-12 + 2 Corinthians 5:16-21 + Luke 15:1-3, 11b-32
It has been said that a parable is like an icon, it invites us into it. And we enter it from whatever life situation or circumstance we are experiencing.
It has also been said that a parable is like a Rorschach test, “You see what you see.” There is no right or wrong, you get from the parable what you get from the parable.
This is the longest parable in Jesus repertoire, at least as we have them in scripture. So the thought is that it must have been important to Jesus, to take such care in the telling. If you read Luke carefully, you can see that this parable reflects the theological center of Luke’s gospel, the core message of the redemption of the lost, the reconciliation of all the beloved of God by God.
Today’s parable is best known as the parable of the prodigal son. It has also been called the parable of the elder brother or the parable of the beloved sons or the parable of the loving father or the parable of… you get the idea. There is no one message here, but there is a message here for each one of us. What is it for you?
This year I have personally focused on the father (I wonder why). The brothers are written or told about in a rather obvious way; their portraits are painted with rather broad bright strokes. They are both prodigal. They both insult their father and they both reject their father, just at different times and in different ways.
But the father seems to me to be more subtly drawn. In the beginning he seems like kind of a wimp of a father; being pushed to and fro by his children. He gives in to outrageous demands. He accepts their lack of respect for his person and his fatherhood. They both reject his love and their relationship with him. He is, in his own way, also lost.
They are all lost. There is an abundance of lost in this story: the prodigal son who not only lost his relationship with his father and his inheritance, but he also lost himself. The elder brother who feels that he has lost his place in line, first place, to his younger brother, and is ready to lose his relationship with his father. And the father himself, who seems to have lost not one son, but two. A fatherhood rejected. And he is lost as well.
But he loves them still, and he will do whatever he can to be reconciled with them. We are shown that in the story when we hear, “While he (the younger son) was still far off, his father saw him and was filled with compassion; he ran and put his arms around him and kissed him.”
Now consider that the father was a man of some substance, some standing in the community, a man of wealth and stature and position, who sees his son, lifts up the skirts of his garment so that his legs are exposed for all to see, and runs to meet his son, probably shouting aloud all the way, making a public and undignified spectacle of himself, all for the over-flowing love of him. And that leads in to the fatted calf and the party and all.
Then we hear that the elder brother “became angry and refused to go in. His father came out” to meet him as well.
This father who would take the first step and the last step to regain the relationships with his beloved children.
Perhaps the key phrase here is “This brother of yours was dead and has come to life; he was lost and has been found.” By the end of the story, each of them who was lost has been found.
What was it we heard from the apostle Paul in the letter to the church in Corinth? “God was in Christ reconciling the world to himself…”
Frederick Buechner, one of my most favorite authors, has a wonderful novel about a man named Godric, which is also the title of the novel. Godric is a lot like the prodigal son in that his life covered a lot of territory both geographic and behavioral. He was, for much of his life, lost, but in the end has found God and been found by God, as the familiar prayer petition goes.
At the end of his life and at the end of the novel, Godric sums everything up when he says, “All’s lost; all’s found”. Now is that the central message of the Incarnation? Is that the reason for the birth, life, passion, death and resurrection of Jesus Christ? Thanks be to God, YES!
This season of Lent is a time when God asks us, “Where are you?” Are we the younger son off in a country far from God? Do we believe that we have been so bad, that God would not run to embrace us?
Are we the elder brother? Do we think that we are so insignificant to the heart of God, that God would not be moved to go to any length to restore us? Yes, at times, most of us have felt that way.
Or the father who has lost those he loves.
God's love for us is an unremitting, unrelenting grace-filled mercy that God holds out to us and in which would enfold us.
There is a statue in which God, as a Father, is holding Adam tenderly on his lap. Adam is asleep with his knees tucked up underneath his chin, as if he were in the womb. God is looking at him with deep love, caring and compassion, as though he longed for his grace to waken Adam, so that Adam could know who was holding him, how he was being held, and how much he was loved.
One of the messages today is about who is holding us, how we are being held, and how much we are loved, and how far God will go to bring us back.
There is also an invitation to share that news with others, because the apostle Paul tells us that we have been entrusted with the message of love and reconciliation, so that all can say with Godric, “All’s lost; all’s found.”
Thanks be to God. Amen.
March 18, 2007
Joshua 5:9-12 + 2 Corinthians 5:16-21 + Luke 15:1-3, 11b-32
It has been said that a parable is like an icon, it invites us into it. And we enter it from whatever life situation or circumstance we are experiencing.
It has also been said that a parable is like a Rorschach test, “You see what you see.” There is no right or wrong, you get from the parable what you get from the parable.
This is the longest parable in Jesus repertoire, at least as we have them in scripture. So the thought is that it must have been important to Jesus, to take such care in the telling. If you read Luke carefully, you can see that this parable reflects the theological center of Luke’s gospel, the core message of the redemption of the lost, the reconciliation of all the beloved of God by God.
Today’s parable is best known as the parable of the prodigal son. It has also been called the parable of the elder brother or the parable of the beloved sons or the parable of the loving father or the parable of… you get the idea. There is no one message here, but there is a message here for each one of us. What is it for you?
This year I have personally focused on the father (I wonder why). The brothers are written or told about in a rather obvious way; their portraits are painted with rather broad bright strokes. They are both prodigal. They both insult their father and they both reject their father, just at different times and in different ways.
But the father seems to me to be more subtly drawn. In the beginning he seems like kind of a wimp of a father; being pushed to and fro by his children. He gives in to outrageous demands. He accepts their lack of respect for his person and his fatherhood. They both reject his love and their relationship with him. He is, in his own way, also lost.
They are all lost. There is an abundance of lost in this story: the prodigal son who not only lost his relationship with his father and his inheritance, but he also lost himself. The elder brother who feels that he has lost his place in line, first place, to his younger brother, and is ready to lose his relationship with his father. And the father himself, who seems to have lost not one son, but two. A fatherhood rejected. And he is lost as well.
But he loves them still, and he will do whatever he can to be reconciled with them. We are shown that in the story when we hear, “While he (the younger son) was still far off, his father saw him and was filled with compassion; he ran and put his arms around him and kissed him.”
Now consider that the father was a man of some substance, some standing in the community, a man of wealth and stature and position, who sees his son, lifts up the skirts of his garment so that his legs are exposed for all to see, and runs to meet his son, probably shouting aloud all the way, making a public and undignified spectacle of himself, all for the over-flowing love of him. And that leads in to the fatted calf and the party and all.
Then we hear that the elder brother “became angry and refused to go in. His father came out” to meet him as well.
This father who would take the first step and the last step to regain the relationships with his beloved children.
Perhaps the key phrase here is “This brother of yours was dead and has come to life; he was lost and has been found.” By the end of the story, each of them who was lost has been found.
What was it we heard from the apostle Paul in the letter to the church in Corinth? “God was in Christ reconciling the world to himself…”
Frederick Buechner, one of my most favorite authors, has a wonderful novel about a man named Godric, which is also the title of the novel. Godric is a lot like the prodigal son in that his life covered a lot of territory both geographic and behavioral. He was, for much of his life, lost, but in the end has found God and been found by God, as the familiar prayer petition goes.
At the end of his life and at the end of the novel, Godric sums everything up when he says, “All’s lost; all’s found”. Now is that the central message of the Incarnation? Is that the reason for the birth, life, passion, death and resurrection of Jesus Christ? Thanks be to God, YES!
This season of Lent is a time when God asks us, “Where are you?” Are we the younger son off in a country far from God? Do we believe that we have been so bad, that God would not run to embrace us?
Are we the elder brother? Do we think that we are so insignificant to the heart of God, that God would not be moved to go to any length to restore us? Yes, at times, most of us have felt that way.
Or the father who has lost those he loves.
God's love for us is an unremitting, unrelenting grace-filled mercy that God holds out to us and in which would enfold us.
There is a statue in which God, as a Father, is holding Adam tenderly on his lap. Adam is asleep with his knees tucked up underneath his chin, as if he were in the womb. God is looking at him with deep love, caring and compassion, as though he longed for his grace to waken Adam, so that Adam could know who was holding him, how he was being held, and how much he was loved.
One of the messages today is about who is holding us, how we are being held, and how much we are loved, and how far God will go to bring us back.
There is also an invitation to share that news with others, because the apostle Paul tells us that we have been entrusted with the message of love and reconciliation, so that all can say with Godric, “All’s lost; all’s found.”
Thanks be to God. Amen.
Thursday, March 15, 2007
3 Lent: Ten O'clock
The Ven. Howard Stringfellow III
March 11, 2007
Exodus 3:1-15; Psalm 63:1-8; 1 Corinthians 10:1-13; Saint Luke 13:1-9
In the Name of the True and Living God: Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. Amen.
Once again, I am delighted to be with you. If DST should stand for Daylight Sleeping Time, I hope it’s not so for you for the next few minutes. My prayer for you is that you are keeping a holy and costly Lent for the love of Christ alone.
I want to convey the sincerely heartfelt greetings of Bishop Manasseh and all the people of Kajo-Keji whom I visited in January and who told me over and over again how deeply proud they are to be brothers and sisters of the people in the Diocese of Bethlehem. You cannot fully imagine the circumstances in which they live. I know I couldn’t imagine them before I went.
I would like to read something to you from the diary I kept when I was there.
“But I want now to make some notes about the term ‘subsistence economy.’ Features of it seem to be a lack of electricity and running water, very crude housing, the requirement that each person subsist on his own agricultural produce, usually farming, chickens, and goats, and the utter demand on time of the above. Thus work in the church is almost completely voluntary. The men apparently leave the domestic and agricultural work to their wives. Women remain thus chained to necessary and primary responsibilities while men are free to work on development and managing. There are times of course when the men find the primary responsibilities so demanding that they too join the women to complete them. I have not seen any men carrying water.”
“Though I noticed it first, the economic and infrastructural situation, however, fails to be the chief characteristic of the people. That honor belongs to their deep and yet (in every positive way) superficial faith in Jesus Christ. Every meeting begins with earnest spontaneous prayer, and every small speech and word of welcome begins with “Praise the Lord!” They mean it: they have been saved by Jesus Christ from so many things other than merely existential ones. They have been saved from war and the remnants of war, brief incursions and hostilities from their enemies, and land mines that are still being decommissioned by the United Nations. Every day’s activities conclude with a Scriptural reflection that invariably sews a credible connection between God's revelation and the dusty duties each person cannot but undertake to survive.
“The people of Kajo-Keji proudly identify themselves as your and my brothers and sisters, united as one family, as Canon Henry Leju said in greeting us, “by the sacred blood of Jesus Christ.” He and others could find, if they wished, so many things to distinguish us. Instead, he chose the Thing that unites us for time and for eternity.” It was a privilege to visit Southern Sudan as it is a privilege to extend their greetings to you.
Did you hear the Gospel? I ask you because Jesus speaks very stridently and high-handedly today. It’s the Third Sunday of Lent, and if we are to listen to some tough things, now, or never, is the time. Today he says, and I have trouble simply repeating the words: “unless you repent you will all likewise perish.” Who, really, wants to preach on that? Who, really, wouldn’t rather evade that, swerve around it, and tap-dance to a much different tune? “Unless you repent you will all likewise perish.” Jesus says this twice in today’s Gospel. The first time, he refers to some “Galileans whose blood Pilate had mingled with their sacrifices.” My study Bible tells me that the Galileans had been slain by Pilate’s order while they were sacrificing, worshipping, at the temple in Jerusalem. Pilate, evidently could give an order to kill when he wanted. Jesus’ point is that the Galileans who were killed didn’t specially deserve to be killed. They were not worse sinners that other worshippers in Jerusalem. Everyone has the need to repent in order not to perish. Who, really, wants to preach on that?
On this Sunday, years ago, I heard a sermon about Moses, and the sermon went like this. Moses lives the good life tending his father-in-law’s sheep. The preacher said, if I remember correctly, that Moses had a Cadillac in the garage and a color TV in the den. This was years ago, but you see. Today it might be a Hummer and a plasma TV. But then something happens. God reveals himself not only to Moses, but to us, through the Scriptures, and Moses changes. He changes from a contented consumer living comfortably in the employ of his father-in-law to be an advocate for his people. Is advocate a biting word? For Moses really gets in the face of Pharaoh. He marches right in and says, “Let my people go.” Moses changes from a comfortable, risk-free life in the family business to taking big risks and not for himself but for his people and for God. Jesus asks something similar of us. We have to change, too, from living for ourselves to living for God, if we don’t already live for God. One thing that Moses knew, and we know too, is that big risks are easier to take when you know God is on your side.
And I once heard another sermon on the Epistle, a sermon not as spicy and culturally relevant as the one about Moses—there were no cars or televisions mentioned—but a good sermon about temptation and the assurance that our temptations are never stronger than we are, itself a fairly challenging idea. But it made the same point as the sermon about Moses: we have to change. We have to give in to fewer temptations if we hope to be forgiven for our sins. Again, having God on your side helps, not only in confronting present-day Pharaohs, but in resisting doing those things, those sinful and harmful things, which destabilize our families and our parish.
That, I believe, is what Jesus is telling us though most definitely he is telling us rather harshly. We have to change for the better if we hope to live. The Good News is that we can choose life rather than death, and God offers us life, offers us life in the person of his Son who died to open the way of everlasting life to all who put their trust in him. That’s very good news. But it’s not good news for passive people who wish not to have to repent or not to have to change. It’s good news for people, like Moses, who are willing to put aside the comfortable life to live the life God calls them to live.
Not one of us is free from the obligation to put a little more energy in our relationship with God. The burning bushes are around us, but we have to turn aside and to look and to listen. And we have to embrace, if not a wooden cross, at least the cross that God wants to give us—the cross that will mean the death of everything that hinders us from a full relationship with God, the very cross from which we shall be raised on the last Day.
In Christ’s Name, Amen.
March 11, 2007
Exodus 3:1-15; Psalm 63:1-8; 1 Corinthians 10:1-13; Saint Luke 13:1-9
In the Name of the True and Living God: Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. Amen.
Once again, I am delighted to be with you. If DST should stand for Daylight Sleeping Time, I hope it’s not so for you for the next few minutes. My prayer for you is that you are keeping a holy and costly Lent for the love of Christ alone.
I want to convey the sincerely heartfelt greetings of Bishop Manasseh and all the people of Kajo-Keji whom I visited in January and who told me over and over again how deeply proud they are to be brothers and sisters of the people in the Diocese of Bethlehem. You cannot fully imagine the circumstances in which they live. I know I couldn’t imagine them before I went.
I would like to read something to you from the diary I kept when I was there.
“But I want now to make some notes about the term ‘subsistence economy.’ Features of it seem to be a lack of electricity and running water, very crude housing, the requirement that each person subsist on his own agricultural produce, usually farming, chickens, and goats, and the utter demand on time of the above. Thus work in the church is almost completely voluntary. The men apparently leave the domestic and agricultural work to their wives. Women remain thus chained to necessary and primary responsibilities while men are free to work on development and managing. There are times of course when the men find the primary responsibilities so demanding that they too join the women to complete them. I have not seen any men carrying water.”
“Though I noticed it first, the economic and infrastructural situation, however, fails to be the chief characteristic of the people. That honor belongs to their deep and yet (in every positive way) superficial faith in Jesus Christ. Every meeting begins with earnest spontaneous prayer, and every small speech and word of welcome begins with “Praise the Lord!” They mean it: they have been saved by Jesus Christ from so many things other than merely existential ones. They have been saved from war and the remnants of war, brief incursions and hostilities from their enemies, and land mines that are still being decommissioned by the United Nations. Every day’s activities conclude with a Scriptural reflection that invariably sews a credible connection between God's revelation and the dusty duties each person cannot but undertake to survive.
“The people of Kajo-Keji proudly identify themselves as your and my brothers and sisters, united as one family, as Canon Henry Leju said in greeting us, “by the sacred blood of Jesus Christ.” He and others could find, if they wished, so many things to distinguish us. Instead, he chose the Thing that unites us for time and for eternity.” It was a privilege to visit Southern Sudan as it is a privilege to extend their greetings to you.
Did you hear the Gospel? I ask you because Jesus speaks very stridently and high-handedly today. It’s the Third Sunday of Lent, and if we are to listen to some tough things, now, or never, is the time. Today he says, and I have trouble simply repeating the words: “unless you repent you will all likewise perish.” Who, really, wants to preach on that? Who, really, wouldn’t rather evade that, swerve around it, and tap-dance to a much different tune? “Unless you repent you will all likewise perish.” Jesus says this twice in today’s Gospel. The first time, he refers to some “Galileans whose blood Pilate had mingled with their sacrifices.” My study Bible tells me that the Galileans had been slain by Pilate’s order while they were sacrificing, worshipping, at the temple in Jerusalem. Pilate, evidently could give an order to kill when he wanted. Jesus’ point is that the Galileans who were killed didn’t specially deserve to be killed. They were not worse sinners that other worshippers in Jerusalem. Everyone has the need to repent in order not to perish. Who, really, wants to preach on that?
On this Sunday, years ago, I heard a sermon about Moses, and the sermon went like this. Moses lives the good life tending his father-in-law’s sheep. The preacher said, if I remember correctly, that Moses had a Cadillac in the garage and a color TV in the den. This was years ago, but you see. Today it might be a Hummer and a plasma TV. But then something happens. God reveals himself not only to Moses, but to us, through the Scriptures, and Moses changes. He changes from a contented consumer living comfortably in the employ of his father-in-law to be an advocate for his people. Is advocate a biting word? For Moses really gets in the face of Pharaoh. He marches right in and says, “Let my people go.” Moses changes from a comfortable, risk-free life in the family business to taking big risks and not for himself but for his people and for God. Jesus asks something similar of us. We have to change, too, from living for ourselves to living for God, if we don’t already live for God. One thing that Moses knew, and we know too, is that big risks are easier to take when you know God is on your side.
And I once heard another sermon on the Epistle, a sermon not as spicy and culturally relevant as the one about Moses—there were no cars or televisions mentioned—but a good sermon about temptation and the assurance that our temptations are never stronger than we are, itself a fairly challenging idea. But it made the same point as the sermon about Moses: we have to change. We have to give in to fewer temptations if we hope to be forgiven for our sins. Again, having God on your side helps, not only in confronting present-day Pharaohs, but in resisting doing those things, those sinful and harmful things, which destabilize our families and our parish.
That, I believe, is what Jesus is telling us though most definitely he is telling us rather harshly. We have to change for the better if we hope to live. The Good News is that we can choose life rather than death, and God offers us life, offers us life in the person of his Son who died to open the way of everlasting life to all who put their trust in him. That’s very good news. But it’s not good news for passive people who wish not to have to repent or not to have to change. It’s good news for people, like Moses, who are willing to put aside the comfortable life to live the life God calls them to live.
Not one of us is free from the obligation to put a little more energy in our relationship with God. The burning bushes are around us, but we have to turn aside and to look and to listen. And we have to embrace, if not a wooden cross, at least the cross that God wants to give us—the cross that will mean the death of everything that hinders us from a full relationship with God, the very cross from which we shall be raised on the last Day.
In Christ’s Name, Amen.
3 Lent: Eight O'clock
The Ven. Howard Stringfellow III
March 11, 2007
Exodus 3:1-15; Psalm 63:1-8; 1 Corinthians 10:1-13; Saint Luke 13:1-9
In the Name of the True and Living God: Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. Amen.
Once again, I am delighted to be with you. If in the days ahead someone asks you whether Daylight Savings Time causes us to lose sleep, please remember today and say Yes. My prayer for you is that you are observing a holy and costly Lent for the love of Christ alone.
I want to convey the sincerely heartfelt greetings of Bishop Manasseh and all the people of Kajo-Keji whom I visited in January and who told me over and over again how deeply proud they are to be brothers and sisters of the people in the Diocese of Bethlehem. You cannot fully imagine the circumstances in which they live. I know I couldn’t imagine them before I went.
I would like to read something to you from the diary I kept when I was there.
“But I want now to make some notes about the term ‘subsistence economy.’ Features of it seem to be a lack of electricity and running water, very crude housing, the requirement that each person subsist on his own agricultural produce, usually farming, chickens, and goats, and the utter demand on time of the above. Thus work in the church is almost completely voluntary. The men apparently leave the domestic and agricultural work to their wives. Women remain thus chained to necessary and primary responsibilities while men are free to work on development and managing. There are times of course when the men find the primary responsibilities so demanding that they too join the women to complete them. I have not seen any men carrying water.”
“Though I noticed it first, the economic and infrastructural situation, however, fails to be the chief characteristic of the people. That honor belongs to their deep and yet (in every positive way) superficial faith in Jesus Christ. Every meeting begins with earnest spontaneous prayer, and every small speech and word of welcome begins with “Praise the Lord!” They mean it: they have been saved by Jesus Christ from so many things other than merely existential ones. They have been saved from war and the remnants of war, brief incursions and hostilities from their enemies, and land mines that are still being decommissioned by the United Nations. Every day’s activities conclude with a Scriptural reflection which invariably sews a credible connection between God's revelation and the dusty duties each person cannot but undertake to survive.
“The people of Kajo-Keji proudly identify themselves as your and my brothers and sisters, united as one family, as Canon Henry Leju said in greeting us, “by the sacred blood of Jesus Christ.” He and others could find, if they wished, so many things to distinguish us. Instead, he chose the Thing that unites us for time and for eternity.” It was a privilege to visit Southern Sudan, even as it is a privilege to extend their greetings to you.
For those of you who think that Jesus is meek and mild, a sort of nice guy who lives next door and who never ruffles any feathers, the parable in today’s Gospel is for you. This parable ruffles a lot of feathers. It disturbs the peace of everyone who thinks that things are fine just they way they are. The point of the parable is that everyone is given plenty of opportunity to put things right, to do the will of God, or to put his or her priorities in order. But that opportunity doesn’t last forever. After plenty of opportunity, people will be called in to give an account, to give the explanation for what they’ve done or left undone, in the words of the General Confession.
You remember the parable. It concerns a fig tree whose purpose in life is to produce figs. It concerns a gardener whose purpose in life is to see that the tree has what it needs to produce figs. It concerns an owner who has the reasonable expectation that his tree will produce figs. After three years of no produce that owner raises the obvious question, and the gardener intercedes—one more year for the tree. But after that year, after four years of expectation, well…
You can apply this little but pointed parable to almost any phase of your lives: your service to the community, your giving to your parish; your participation in its life and its plans—you can see almost any phase of your life in this parable, so long as you see yourself as that tree whose purpose is to yield fruit. “If it bears fruit next year, well and good.” Very well and very good.
In Christ’s Name. Amen.
March 11, 2007
Exodus 3:1-15; Psalm 63:1-8; 1 Corinthians 10:1-13; Saint Luke 13:1-9
In the Name of the True and Living God: Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. Amen.
Once again, I am delighted to be with you. If in the days ahead someone asks you whether Daylight Savings Time causes us to lose sleep, please remember today and say Yes. My prayer for you is that you are observing a holy and costly Lent for the love of Christ alone.
I want to convey the sincerely heartfelt greetings of Bishop Manasseh and all the people of Kajo-Keji whom I visited in January and who told me over and over again how deeply proud they are to be brothers and sisters of the people in the Diocese of Bethlehem. You cannot fully imagine the circumstances in which they live. I know I couldn’t imagine them before I went.
I would like to read something to you from the diary I kept when I was there.
“But I want now to make some notes about the term ‘subsistence economy.’ Features of it seem to be a lack of electricity and running water, very crude housing, the requirement that each person subsist on his own agricultural produce, usually farming, chickens, and goats, and the utter demand on time of the above. Thus work in the church is almost completely voluntary. The men apparently leave the domestic and agricultural work to their wives. Women remain thus chained to necessary and primary responsibilities while men are free to work on development and managing. There are times of course when the men find the primary responsibilities so demanding that they too join the women to complete them. I have not seen any men carrying water.”
“Though I noticed it first, the economic and infrastructural situation, however, fails to be the chief characteristic of the people. That honor belongs to their deep and yet (in every positive way) superficial faith in Jesus Christ. Every meeting begins with earnest spontaneous prayer, and every small speech and word of welcome begins with “Praise the Lord!” They mean it: they have been saved by Jesus Christ from so many things other than merely existential ones. They have been saved from war and the remnants of war, brief incursions and hostilities from their enemies, and land mines that are still being decommissioned by the United Nations. Every day’s activities conclude with a Scriptural reflection which invariably sews a credible connection between God's revelation and the dusty duties each person cannot but undertake to survive.
“The people of Kajo-Keji proudly identify themselves as your and my brothers and sisters, united as one family, as Canon Henry Leju said in greeting us, “by the sacred blood of Jesus Christ.” He and others could find, if they wished, so many things to distinguish us. Instead, he chose the Thing that unites us for time and for eternity.” It was a privilege to visit Southern Sudan, even as it is a privilege to extend their greetings to you.
For those of you who think that Jesus is meek and mild, a sort of nice guy who lives next door and who never ruffles any feathers, the parable in today’s Gospel is for you. This parable ruffles a lot of feathers. It disturbs the peace of everyone who thinks that things are fine just they way they are. The point of the parable is that everyone is given plenty of opportunity to put things right, to do the will of God, or to put his or her priorities in order. But that opportunity doesn’t last forever. After plenty of opportunity, people will be called in to give an account, to give the explanation for what they’ve done or left undone, in the words of the General Confession.
You remember the parable. It concerns a fig tree whose purpose in life is to produce figs. It concerns a gardener whose purpose in life is to see that the tree has what it needs to produce figs. It concerns an owner who has the reasonable expectation that his tree will produce figs. After three years of no produce that owner raises the obvious question, and the gardener intercedes—one more year for the tree. But after that year, after four years of expectation, well…
You can apply this little but pointed parable to almost any phase of your lives: your service to the community, your giving to your parish; your participation in its life and its plans—you can see almost any phase of your life in this parable, so long as you see yourself as that tree whose purpose is to yield fruit. “If it bears fruit next year, well and good.” Very well and very good.
In Christ’s Name. Amen.
Sunday, March 04, 2007
2 Lent : Love Answered
The Ven Richard I Cluett
March 4, 2007
Genesis 15:1-12,17-18 + Philippians 3:17-4:1 + Luke 13:31-35
One of the great gifts of time that I have received was a three-week visit in Israel and Palestine. I had the pleasure of traveling with Dean Lane on a fact-finding mission given to us by Bishop Paul. It was my first visit there. For Dean Lane, Jerusalem is almost like a second home, he has been there so many times. Bishop Paul wanted a report on the condition of the Christian church there. How was it doing in these dark days?
And so we went. While there we spent an entire day on the Mount of Olives. For me, one of the most moving places was on the western slope where there is a small chapel named Dominus Flevit, which is Latin for “The Lord Wept”. It is the place where Jesus wept over Jerusalem.
When you face the altar you look through a window, out over the Kidron Valley to the city of Jerusalem – both old and new. I have a photograph in my office that I took looking through that window.
On the front of the altar is a hen with her chicks, and the inscription, “Jerusalem, Jerusalem, the city that kills the prophets and stones those who are sent to it! How often have I desired to gather your children together as a hen gathers her brood under her wings, and you were not willing!”
One cannot stand or kneel there without being moved in the depths of heart, soul, mind and body by the power of God’s love for his people. Moved by the extent God would go to reconcile with his creation.
One other thing you need to know about that scene is that the hen pictured on the altar is not some sweet old biddy of a mother hen. Instead it is a rendition of the fiercest kind of mother love. One that says, “Do not dare to hurt even one of these my beloved.” Perhaps you have experienced a mother hen or a mother of another kind who is in full-blown “protection-of-her-young” mode. “Do not dare to threaten…”
And even so, the city rejected him and the love offered of God. And Jesus weeps for Jerusalem and for all who were not then, and are not today, willing to be gathered into God’s love. And one can do no other than to weep with him.
It must also be noted that he not only wept over Jerusalem, he went to the cross for Jerusalem. Could one do that with him?
That is the kind of love that would enfold us. That is the kind of protection being offered us.
Every parent knows what it is to love a child whom finally you can no longer protect. All you can do from time to time is to open your arms wide when needed. The arms of love spread wide. A stance of love, of welcome, of offering; and a stance of vulnerability with body exposed.
One morning collect reads, Lord Jesus Christ you stretched out your arms of love on the hard wood of the cross that everyone might come within the reach of your saving embrace…
This is the nature of the God who seeks us because he loves us and seeks an answering love in return.
Another image of this God who loves us is found in the poem The Hound of Heaven by Francis Thompson. It begins and ends with this:
What is it that makes us turn and run? Why is it we hesitate to fully commit ourselves in heart, body, mind and spirit to this God who craves a relationship with us?
Even Abram found it difficult to trust, to commit to a new relationship with God. We heard it in the first lesson this morning. He finds all kinds of problems with what he perceives as the lack of God’s ability to follow through, to keep his side of the covenant. He complains, he whines. He is scared. He is without child. He is without a home. God has provided none of what he wants, and he is ready to walk away, when God engages him one more time.
I don’t know what it is with us. Maybe it is an unwillingness to give up the illusion of control over our lives. Maybe it is a fear of disappointment. I don’t know.
I do know that I have never been able to walk straight and continually in a God-ward direction. I know that in this Lent I will not be able to walk straight toward the cross, I have never been able to do that. Jesus did, but I can’t. And that’s all right. All that is being asked is my willingness to try. All that is being sought is my desire to know and be known, to trust and be trusted, to love and be loved.
We were reminded this week in a NY Times op-ed piece that “God writes straight with crooked lines,” I take comfort in that.
And I also know that any time we are ready to turn to those open arms they will be there to receive us. Jesus has shown us that in his life and death and resurrection.
That morning collect in its entirety reads, Lord Jesus Christ you stretched out your arms of love on the hard wood of the cross that everyone might come within the reach of your saving embrace; so clothe us in your spirit that we reaching forth our hands in love, may bring those who do not know you to the knowledge and love of you; for the honor of your name.
So, along with our own turning to God, we have some Lenten work to do on behalf of others as well, don’t we? Amen.
March 4, 2007
Genesis 15:1-12,17-18 + Philippians 3:17-4:1 + Luke 13:31-35
One of the great gifts of time that I have received was a three-week visit in Israel and Palestine. I had the pleasure of traveling with Dean Lane on a fact-finding mission given to us by Bishop Paul. It was my first visit there. For Dean Lane, Jerusalem is almost like a second home, he has been there so many times. Bishop Paul wanted a report on the condition of the Christian church there. How was it doing in these dark days?
And so we went. While there we spent an entire day on the Mount of Olives. For me, one of the most moving places was on the western slope where there is a small chapel named Dominus Flevit, which is Latin for “The Lord Wept”. It is the place where Jesus wept over Jerusalem.
When you face the altar you look through a window, out over the Kidron Valley to the city of Jerusalem – both old and new. I have a photograph in my office that I took looking through that window.
On the front of the altar is a hen with her chicks, and the inscription, “Jerusalem, Jerusalem, the city that kills the prophets and stones those who are sent to it! How often have I desired to gather your children together as a hen gathers her brood under her wings, and you were not willing!”
One cannot stand or kneel there without being moved in the depths of heart, soul, mind and body by the power of God’s love for his people. Moved by the extent God would go to reconcile with his creation.
One other thing you need to know about that scene is that the hen pictured on the altar is not some sweet old biddy of a mother hen. Instead it is a rendition of the fiercest kind of mother love. One that says, “Do not dare to hurt even one of these my beloved.” Perhaps you have experienced a mother hen or a mother of another kind who is in full-blown “protection-of-her-young” mode. “Do not dare to threaten…”
And even so, the city rejected him and the love offered of God. And Jesus weeps for Jerusalem and for all who were not then, and are not today, willing to be gathered into God’s love. And one can do no other than to weep with him.
It must also be noted that he not only wept over Jerusalem, he went to the cross for Jerusalem. Could one do that with him?
That is the kind of love that would enfold us. That is the kind of protection being offered us.
Every parent knows what it is to love a child whom finally you can no longer protect. All you can do from time to time is to open your arms wide when needed. The arms of love spread wide. A stance of love, of welcome, of offering; and a stance of vulnerability with body exposed.
One morning collect reads, Lord Jesus Christ you stretched out your arms of love on the hard wood of the cross that everyone might come within the reach of your saving embrace…
This is the nature of the God who seeks us because he loves us and seeks an answering love in return.
Another image of this God who loves us is found in the poem The Hound of Heaven by Francis Thompson. It begins and ends with this:
I fled Him, down the nights and down the days;
I fled Him, down the arches of the years;
I fled Him, down the labyrinthine ways
Of my own mind; and in the mist of tears
I hid from Him, and under running laughter.
Up vistaed hopes I sped;
And shot, precipitated,
Adown Titanic glooms of chasmed fears,
From those strong Feet that followed, followed after.
But with unhurrying chase,
And unperturbèd pace,
Deliberate speed, majestic instancy,
They beat - and a Voice beat
More instant than the Feet -
"All things betray thee, who betrayest Me."
Halts by me that footfall:
Is my gloom, after all,
Shade of His hand, outstretched caressingly?
"Ah, fondest, blindest, weakest,
I am He Whom thou seekest!
I fled Him, down the arches of the years;
I fled Him, down the labyrinthine ways
Of my own mind; and in the mist of tears
I hid from Him, and under running laughter.
Up vistaed hopes I sped;
And shot, precipitated,
Adown Titanic glooms of chasmed fears,
From those strong Feet that followed, followed after.
But with unhurrying chase,
And unperturbèd pace,
Deliberate speed, majestic instancy,
They beat - and a Voice beat
More instant than the Feet -
"All things betray thee, who betrayest Me."
Halts by me that footfall:
Is my gloom, after all,
Shade of His hand, outstretched caressingly?
"Ah, fondest, blindest, weakest,
I am He Whom thou seekest!
What is it that makes us turn and run? Why is it we hesitate to fully commit ourselves in heart, body, mind and spirit to this God who craves a relationship with us?
Even Abram found it difficult to trust, to commit to a new relationship with God. We heard it in the first lesson this morning. He finds all kinds of problems with what he perceives as the lack of God’s ability to follow through, to keep his side of the covenant. He complains, he whines. He is scared. He is without child. He is without a home. God has provided none of what he wants, and he is ready to walk away, when God engages him one more time.
I don’t know what it is with us. Maybe it is an unwillingness to give up the illusion of control over our lives. Maybe it is a fear of disappointment. I don’t know.
I do know that I have never been able to walk straight and continually in a God-ward direction. I know that in this Lent I will not be able to walk straight toward the cross, I have never been able to do that. Jesus did, but I can’t. And that’s all right. All that is being asked is my willingness to try. All that is being sought is my desire to know and be known, to trust and be trusted, to love and be loved.
We were reminded this week in a NY Times op-ed piece that “God writes straight with crooked lines,” I take comfort in that.
And I also know that any time we are ready to turn to those open arms they will be there to receive us. Jesus has shown us that in his life and death and resurrection.
That morning collect in its entirety reads, Lord Jesus Christ you stretched out your arms of love on the hard wood of the cross that everyone might come within the reach of your saving embrace; so clothe us in your spirit that we reaching forth our hands in love, may bring those who do not know you to the knowledge and love of you; for the honor of your name.
So, along with our own turning to God, we have some Lenten work to do on behalf of others as well, don’t we? Amen.
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