The Cathedral Church of the Nativity
IV Advent
The Very Rev. Anthony R. Pompa
December 18th, 2011
Have you noticed? Have you noticed that we just don’t wait so well? I suppose it makes sense when we think of the conditioning we have bought into, the conditioning to expect things so immediately. You know, 1G, 2G, 3G, 4G, 4 G that connection so much quicker. Marketing genious has taught us carefully to find value in immediacy, the silver club gets us immediate check in at the hotel of our choice, the green mile club assures us our rental car will be waiting for us and we Not waiting for our rental car, Miracle of all Miracle’s Even the Government will eliminate your waiting time to process your passport, if your willing to pay the price! Indeed it seems we have been conditioned to expect NOT to Wait.
This struck home the other night when I attended my daughter’s orchestra concert. I confess, my internal voice questioned, I wonder how long this will be? The ego-centric me should have been delighted when it seemed clear those who put the program together were concerned about the attention span of the audience. The program was short. No time for an intermission, hard working middle schoolers cleared the stage between acts as we were “entertained” with background piano designed to distract us and try to keep our attention as the stage was furiously cleared…….as if we wouldn’t wait, and equally important, as if what was being presented wasn’t worth waiting for. I mean after all, ALL of us were there to capture the moment of our offspring offering their best!
We are not good at waiting, as a matter a fact, we’ve become so good at not waiting, we tend to expect to move from one thing to the next with such immediacy it is as if we have bought into the belief that we must do so for fear that we might just miss something if we don’t get there quicker. This I submit to you in God’s economy is as they say bass ackwards!
Advent is a time that’s calls us to wait. It is a time to wait expectantly and expectantly wait. In a culture that conditions us to not only expect immediacy but has convinced us its worth paying NOT to wait, hear clearly this spiritual message of waiting expectantly and expectantly waiting is in direct conflict with our culture. Once again, the Gospel is countercultural.
It is this Gospel that leads us to explore what it is we can expect to find if we are patient enough to find it? It seems what we can expect is the unexpected.
We consider Mary in today’s gospel. This young woman--most likely a teenager at the time of the Annunciation--Mary, living out in small town Nazareth, betrothed (engaged) to Joseph the carpenter; is totally taken by surprise, as God’s messenger Gabriel speaks directly to her one day. The messenger shocks her nearly to death by telling her that she is God’s favoured one; she is going to give birth to the Messiah; she is going to name him Jesus (in Hebrew, Joshua or Jeshua, meaning “God will save”)! Surely, if we were to talk with Mary today, and ask her whether this was part of her plan; whether she was EXPECTING such a visitor, with such a message, OR that this message was what she was waiting for all of her young life, my guess is she would be hard pressed to answer Yes.
It seems for sure when it comes to Godly things; one of the things we can expect is the unexpected! Maybe even the unwanted advances of God on our lives. At first blush in this story one would perhaps want to tell Mary, perhaps you shouldn’t have waited around Mary.
If Mary had not waited around, and if we do not wait so we just might miss it. We just might miss God’s opportunity in our lives. The opportunity even to be shocked by God; the opportunity to learn that we ourselves, each of us, are favoured ones of God, that we too have something Godly begging to be born into the world; that we ourselves are called to take part in God’s plan of salvation.
God calls the strangest people; speaks the most surprising messages to them; and asks them to do the most unexpected things. At first, we, like Mary, tend to respond by being perplexed; by becoming overwhelmed or afraid. We, like Mary, may also be sceptical: “How can this be, since I’m a virgin?” Or we, again perhaps like Mary, may wish God would not choose us for such an unplanned, surprising future. After all, we are “creatures of habit,” some of us schedule our lives to the nth degree, We gotta get to the next thing, and some of us may not feel the unplanned or suprising is something worth our waiting. In a world that extols the virtues of planned, ordered living; of living for the immediate, where we seem to have lost the “art of waiting”, moving from one thing to the next for fear that we might be missing something; the message of today’s gospel says to us that which is not to be missed IS Worth waiting for AND we should NOT be afraid of God’s unexpected, surprising plans for our lives.
DO NOT BE Afraid are the words of the interruptor, God’s very Angel. God’s future for our lives can be unexpected and even surprising.
In a world where we have much cause to be afraid; where human life seems all too cheap and even at times disposable. God’s word speaks to us, “Do not be afraid.” As we look at our own personal lives or the lives of loved ones; we may respond with fear for the future and ask questions like: “Am I going to get sick? Am I going to recover from my illness? Am I ready to face and accept the worst? God answers: “Do not be afraid.” Or maybe we fear our future as a congregation: what are God’s future for this Cathedral? Will we live and grow, prosper and flourish / will we wither and die? God answers us: “Do not be afraid.”
So I ask you, when it comes to your relationship with the God who made you…….What do you expectantly Wait For And What are you Waiting for Expectantly? What is it that you feel is worth waiting for?
Sunday, December 18, 2011
Tuesday, December 13, 2011
Third Sunday of Advent 2011
I want to tell you about my first time. I was four years old when my parents took me on my first real family vacation. We went to a hotel on the beach on Cape Cod. It was gorgeous, beautiful, sand, water, fancy. The best thing that happened was that my dad gave me a silver dollar to use on anything I wanted. It wasn’t for saving. It was for using. After a couple of days he suggested that maybe I would want to use it at the ice cream stand down the beach the next day – on anything I wanted. Anything!
So my dad and I went the next day. We walked down the beach to the stand. And we walked and walked and walked. And then I slipped on the deep stand and fell. Actually I sprawled, flat out, hands flailing and my silver dollar flew – away. And I did not know where and I couldn’t find it. I was destroyed. I was desolate. Dad picked me up and dusted me off and dried me up and said, “Let’s go get our ice cream. You can have anything in the stand.” And we did – but it wasn’t the same.
That was my first time. The first time I knew loss, disappointment, a dream unfulfilled, a hope denied. It was the first time. Only the first one. There have been others.
And how about you? Just when was it that you began to realize that not all your hopes and desires and expectations and dreams were going to be met?
The lessons today point to the future, but they point to the future for a people who had learned not to expect what they hoped for to come true. The history of this people, their own personal history meant that they would be disappointed.
The reading from Isaiah today comes from the time when Israel had returned from exile in Babylon. Cyrus had released them to return to the promised land and promised time that had been prophesied when they were a captive people. They had returned to the promised land. They had returned to the Holy City. They had gone to rebuild the temple, their towns, their homes, their lives. But it was still all dust. The Land was dust. The city was dust. The temple was a rubble heap of dust. The prophecy was dust. The promise had turned to dust.
Into their lives comes the voice of the prophet Isaiah reminding them of God’s promise. Telling them that God’s salvation is available to them, even now. God’s salvation is meant to transform the world here and now, not just later at the end. The Israelites were, we are, invited to participate in this salvation, redeeming work of the world now. If salvation is not another place and time but the reality of this world as it should be, then Isaiah asks us to think about how we might participate in ushering in what is meant by God to be the real world, now.
Centuries later along comes John. John, who says he is but a voice crying in the wilderness, testifying to the redeeming of the world that is to come, pointing to what God is doing in the world to make things right. Yes, it was a desert wilderness; but also a human and political wilderness, too.
"O come, O come, Emmanuel!" It wasn’t then a hymn, nor is it just a hymn now. It was a prayer. It was a plea. It was a hope. It was an expectation that God would deliver Israel, one more time out of all her trouble. Foreign domination would end. There would be peace and harmony, and the kingdom of God would be the kingdom of this earth. The Lion would lie down with lamb.
John pointed to the future. To the Messiah. To the One who would bring God's kingdom into being. And no one listened. Well, almost no one. Very few listened... at least in a way that led them to believe one more time in the promises of God. In the future. In the kingdom. In the Messiah.
Today so many of our people are returning from the exile of wars in foreign lands to their families, towns and and churches as those first exiles must have returned to a homeland and a temple in ruins. The home they had expected often turns out to be a place filled with disappointment, disillusionment, and division.
Too many people are living today with loss; loss of a loved one, loss of work, loss of homes; loss of pride; loss of one’s very self by disease or trauma. Alongside the backdrop of war, injustice, poverty, and greed, the word of the prophet still haunts a nation that has grown rich in things but poor in soul.
Yet Isaiah reminds us again today that the God who can build up ancient ruins is also the God who can redeem the ruin of a prodigal life; the God who shall raise up the former devastations is also the God who means to make whole a broken heart; the God who shall repair the ruined cities and the Temple is also the God who can repair even the nation that has forgotten its way in the world.
Each of today's readings tells of God’s prophetic promise and the need to hold fast to faith during times of darkness and anticipation. Advent begins in the dark. For some of us it feels like that’s all there is. There was a flash of light we call Jesus. But now it is pretty dark again, and the future for so many looks as dark as now.
In this late Advent time, when we are getting ready to celebrate the Incarnation, we are reminded that God did send the Messiah, that God did redeem the world, that God is faithful.
The spirit of the Lord GOD was upon him,
because the LORD had anointed him;
he came to bring good news to the oppressed,
to bind up the brokenhearted,
to proclaim liberty to the captives,
and release to the prisoners;
to proclaim the year of the LORD's favor,
and the day of vengeance of our God;
to comfort all who mourn…
As we walk through the last days of Advent, we remember not just that Jesus came but that he came and will come again for this – to bring all of us, to bring each of us, into a time of the Lord’s favor. Stir up your power, O Lord, and with great might come among us – again.
Thursday, October 27, 2011
Pentecost 19
October 23, 2011
The Very Rev. Anthony R. Pompa
On a Tuesday before Thanksgiving, writes Mitch Albom, the author of “Tuesdays with Morrie” and his own memoir, “Have A Little Faith.” On a Tuesday before Thanksgiving, I came by the I Am My Brother’s Keeper Ministry to see firsthand the homeless program that it operated. I still wasn’t totally at ease with Pastor Henry. Everything about his church was different. At least it was different to me. But, what the Rev had said resonated. That you can embrace your own faith’s authenticity and still accept that others believe in something else. Besides there was that whole community thing—well Detroit was my city. So I put my toe in the water. I helped Henry purchase a blue tarp for his ceiling which stretched over the leaky section so at least the sanctuary would not be flooded. Fixing the roof was a much bigger job--maybe $80,000 according to the contractor. “Oooou,” Henry gushed when he heard that estimate. $80,000 was more than this church has seen in years. Mitch Album wrote, “I felt badly for him. But that would have to come from some more committed source. A tarp. A toe in the water was enough for me.” Later that morning in the middle of the floor, there was Henry in a blue sweat shirt and a heavy coat moving between the tables, shifting his feet and his weight from one foot to the next, standing in the midst of parishioners there to serve and the homeless there to be served. “I am somebody” he yelled. “I am somebody,” the crowd replied. I am somebody he yelled again. I am somebody they repeated in kind. Then together they said in a loud voice. “Because God loves me because God loves me I am somebody,” a few people clapped. Henry exhaled and nodded. And, one by one many of the homeless stood up, came into a circle and held hands. And, a prayer was said. And then as if on cue, the circle broke and the line formed parishioners headed to the kitchen and their homeless guests headed to line to get something hot to eat. Thirty minutes later, up in his office, Henry and I sat huddled by a space heater. Similar to the one you probably wished you had this morning. I myself am quite comfortable. Someone came in and offered us a paper plate with some cornbread. “What happened Henry,” I asked. And Henry sighed, “Well it turns out we owe $37,000 to the gas company.” “What?!” I said. “Well I knew we were running behind but it was a small amount. We always manage to pay something--something to keep the heat on. But then this Fall, it got cold so fast, and we started heating the sanctuary for services and Bible study and we didn’t realize the size of that hole in the roof.”
Mitch Album interjects, “It was sucking the heat up.” “Up and out,” Henry said. “And we just kept heating it more and it kept disappearing out the roof,” Mitch Album interjected. “Disappearing,” Henry nodded, “that’s the word.” “What do you do now,” Mitch Album asked. “Well we got these blowers but at first they shut off our electricity too but I called and begged them to leave us something. “I couldn’t believe it,” Mitch Album writes, “a church doing so much good. A church in the cold in America in the 21st century.” “How do you explain that with your faith?” Mitch Album asked Henry. “I ask Jesus that a lot.” Henry said. “I say Jesus – is there something going on with us? Is it like the book of Deuteronomy, the 28th Chapter, you will be cursed in the city and cursed in the country for living in disobedience. “And what does Jesus answer you, Henry?” “I’m still praying, I say God, we need to see you?” and he sighed, and he paused, and he looked at me. That’s why the tarp you helped me with was so important, Mitch. Our people needed a glimmer of hope. Last week it rained and water gushed in the sanctuary. This week it rained and it didn’t. To the people who come here, Mitch, that’s a sign. A sign of hope.” I squirmed, Mitch Album writes. “I didn’t want to be part of any sign. Not in a church. It was just a tarp—a sheet of blue plastic.”
It seems as if Mitch Album stumbled into holiness on that cold November day. He only wanted to stick his toe in the water he said. But he found himself surrounded by a holiness of a people who were down and out but who understood at the core of their being, that they were somebody. Not because of what the world said who they were because God knows by the world’s standards, the opposite message was sent daily. They were somebody because God made them and God loved them. They gathered every day, where someone looked at them and reminded them of that, and, they looked at one another and reminded each other. They WERE Somebody!
Interesting thing for Mitch Album is that he himself, even though he wanted to only to stick his toe in the water, was left with some terribly good news. Whether he liked it or not, he and his blue tarp seemed to be part of Holiness. Mitch Album himself was a holy SOMEBODY.
This is the day when you typically get the Dean’s stewardship message. I’m not going to talk to you about money, Congratulations! I’m not even going to talk to you about giving a little bit more of your time. I’m not even going to talk to you about sharing a little bit more of your talent. I’m just here to share with you some Terribly Good News! That news is that YOU ARE SOMEBODY! You are somebody because the God who made you loves you! The Old Testament lesson tells of Moses speaking to the people of Israel and we hear it ourselves today, that the one who made us is Holy, and, therefore, we are ourselves Holy. So stick a toe in if you’d like, or stick your ear in if you like, or stick your elbow in if you like. (Mine hurts today.) Or jump into the deep end of the pool and put your whole self in it. It doesn’t matter because whatever part you put in is HOlY because YOU ARE SOMEBODY! The God who made you says you are somebody. The God who made you says you are holy.
Fred Beuchner suggests that holiness comes directly from God of course. He suggests that to speak of anything of holiness is to say that God’s mark is upon it. He reminds us that holiness is the space for one who has an eye and a heart for it. It’s a space through which God chooses to send his love.
October 23, 2011
The Very Rev. Anthony R. Pompa
On a Tuesday before Thanksgiving, writes Mitch Albom, the author of “Tuesdays with Morrie” and his own memoir, “Have A Little Faith.” On a Tuesday before Thanksgiving, I came by the I Am My Brother’s Keeper Ministry to see firsthand the homeless program that it operated. I still wasn’t totally at ease with Pastor Henry. Everything about his church was different. At least it was different to me. But, what the Rev had said resonated. That you can embrace your own faith’s authenticity and still accept that others believe in something else. Besides there was that whole community thing—well Detroit was my city. So I put my toe in the water. I helped Henry purchase a blue tarp for his ceiling which stretched over the leaky section so at least the sanctuary would not be flooded. Fixing the roof was a much bigger job--maybe $80,000 according to the contractor. “Oooou,” Henry gushed when he heard that estimate. $80,000 was more than this church has seen in years. Mitch Album wrote, “I felt badly for him. But that would have to come from some more committed source. A tarp. A toe in the water was enough for me.” Later that morning in the middle of the floor, there was Henry in a blue sweat shirt and a heavy coat moving between the tables, shifting his feet and his weight from one foot to the next, standing in the midst of parishioners there to serve and the homeless there to be served. “I am somebody” he yelled. “I am somebody,” the crowd replied. I am somebody he yelled again. I am somebody they repeated in kind. Then together they said in a loud voice. “Because God loves me because God loves me I am somebody,” a few people clapped. Henry exhaled and nodded. And, one by one many of the homeless stood up, came into a circle and held hands. And, a prayer was said. And then as if on cue, the circle broke and the line formed parishioners headed to the kitchen and their homeless guests headed to line to get something hot to eat. Thirty minutes later, up in his office, Henry and I sat huddled by a space heater. Similar to the one you probably wished you had this morning. I myself am quite comfortable. Someone came in and offered us a paper plate with some cornbread. “What happened Henry,” I asked. And Henry sighed, “Well it turns out we owe $37,000 to the gas company.” “What?!” I said. “Well I knew we were running behind but it was a small amount. We always manage to pay something--something to keep the heat on. But then this Fall, it got cold so fast, and we started heating the sanctuary for services and Bible study and we didn’t realize the size of that hole in the roof.”
Mitch Album interjects, “It was sucking the heat up.” “Up and out,” Henry said. “And we just kept heating it more and it kept disappearing out the roof,” Mitch Album interjected. “Disappearing,” Henry nodded, “that’s the word.” “What do you do now,” Mitch Album asked. “Well we got these blowers but at first they shut off our electricity too but I called and begged them to leave us something. “I couldn’t believe it,” Mitch Album writes, “a church doing so much good. A church in the cold in America in the 21st century.” “How do you explain that with your faith?” Mitch Album asked Henry. “I ask Jesus that a lot.” Henry said. “I say Jesus – is there something going on with us? Is it like the book of Deuteronomy, the 28th Chapter, you will be cursed in the city and cursed in the country for living in disobedience. “And what does Jesus answer you, Henry?” “I’m still praying, I say God, we need to see you?” and he sighed, and he paused, and he looked at me. That’s why the tarp you helped me with was so important, Mitch. Our people needed a glimmer of hope. Last week it rained and water gushed in the sanctuary. This week it rained and it didn’t. To the people who come here, Mitch, that’s a sign. A sign of hope.” I squirmed, Mitch Album writes. “I didn’t want to be part of any sign. Not in a church. It was just a tarp—a sheet of blue plastic.”
It seems as if Mitch Album stumbled into holiness on that cold November day. He only wanted to stick his toe in the water he said. But he found himself surrounded by a holiness of a people who were down and out but who understood at the core of their being, that they were somebody. Not because of what the world said who they were because God knows by the world’s standards, the opposite message was sent daily. They were somebody because God made them and God loved them. They gathered every day, where someone looked at them and reminded them of that, and, they looked at one another and reminded each other. They WERE Somebody!
Interesting thing for Mitch Album is that he himself, even though he wanted to only to stick his toe in the water, was left with some terribly good news. Whether he liked it or not, he and his blue tarp seemed to be part of Holiness. Mitch Album himself was a holy SOMEBODY.
This is the day when you typically get the Dean’s stewardship message. I’m not going to talk to you about money, Congratulations! I’m not even going to talk to you about giving a little bit more of your time. I’m not even going to talk to you about sharing a little bit more of your talent. I’m just here to share with you some Terribly Good News! That news is that YOU ARE SOMEBODY! You are somebody because the God who made you loves you! The Old Testament lesson tells of Moses speaking to the people of Israel and we hear it ourselves today, that the one who made us is Holy, and, therefore, we are ourselves Holy. So stick a toe in if you’d like, or stick your ear in if you like, or stick your elbow in if you like. (Mine hurts today.) Or jump into the deep end of the pool and put your whole self in it. It doesn’t matter because whatever part you put in is HOlY because YOU ARE SOMEBODY! The God who made you says you are somebody. The God who made you says you are holy.
Fred Beuchner suggests that holiness comes directly from God of course. He suggests that to speak of anything of holiness is to say that God’s mark is upon it. He reminds us that holiness is the space for one who has an eye and a heart for it. It’s a space through which God chooses to send his love.
Monday, September 12, 2011
Pentecost 13
September 11, 2011
The Very Rev. Anthony R. Pompa
Such a time we have been having these past few months. Do you realize that we have lived through an earthquake, that we have experienced a hurricane, and now a tropical storm has left some of our brothers and sisters, particularly here in Pennsylvania and in our Diocese to the north, sitting in flood waters. It has really been quite some time these last few weeks and months. It has led Mariclair to declare in the office that when she sees frogs start dropping from the sky that she is out of here. And, I am going to follow. I have to admit this is a strange time. And yet I know today, as we gather, that what is most on your mind today is, of course, the happenings of September 11, 2001. This, strange as it sounds, the tenth anniversary of those events.
Anniversaries are times to remember. They are a time to reflect, And I believe they are our opportunity to decide. Because the human experience is a complex one, anniversaries can be quite interesting. There are, of course, those happier anniversaries. Those birthdays still with plenty of complex things to reflect on, wedding anniversaries. Perhaps the anniversary of our graduation from high school or college or graduate school, or whatever trade program we may be proud of having attended and remembering what we achieved there. Perhaps an anniversary of our ordination for some of us. These tend to be the happier times or the more poignant remembering or the more joyful or uplifting occasions to remember. We also know , however, that anniversaries can also bring difficult and challenging things. The anniversary of a death of a loved one for example. The anniversary of an end of a war that, an event that makes us reflect, remember the difficulty and the tragedy and the horror of such a happening. The anniversary perhaps of a suicide of a loved one. The anniversary perhaps of our divorce. These types of anniversaries bring much more complexity to our remembering. I submit to you today that anniversaries are a time to remember, a time to reflect and I believe a time to decide.
This is the very day, the tenth anniversary of 9 11 01. A most tragic day in our history as an American people and in the world. For all of us here, and I think all of us here or most of us here, with the exception of one or two, actually have memory of it. You remember where you were. Like Dr. Joseph Indano, our Forum speaker today invited us to remember, you probably remember who you reached out to that day; Or you remember who called you first. In my case, my brother making sure that I wasn’t on an airplane somewhere that day. Perhaps you’re like me and you remember staring at the television, if that’s where you happened to be, really not believing what was happening. Perhaps you remember the horror that you felt; the anger. the pain, and of course, the sorrow. Without a doubt, this anniversary is a day of remembering a happening that has changed our lives forever. There’s not one of us that would disagree with that statement.
What we remember today or at least what I remember today most importantly is the loss of innocent life. In remembering, the sadness I felt that day that returns in a powerful way. In the remembering however, I also recall the heroism of so many who were the first responders that day and the days and weeks that followed. I also in my remembering reflect on the heroism of those who have survived. The heroism of those who lost loved ones, or were injured, or who are sick now because of just being there, who make decisions daily to continue on with life. Anniversaries are about remembering. They are about reflecting. And, they are about deciding.
Of all that there is on the television this weekend and this week, I’ve only given myself permission, good or ill, to watch the stories of human resiliency. The stories of those who in the darkest of hours and the darkest of days and in the midst of experiencing the greatest loss of their lives, seemed to have made a decision to plot a path forward, rather than giving in and calling life quits. These stories are compelling, courageous, heart wrenching and real and you see, these are the stories about those who have made a decision. The decision of course is to live. Not easily, I do not pretend to believe easily, but in the midst of it all, they have made a decision to live.
Anniversaries are a time to remember. They are time to reflect and they are a time to decide. There are decisions to be made always in life, and those who make decision in the midst of tragedy to bravely fight on is worthy of our remembering and reflecting. I realize that because I am a person of faith, I choose to look through the eyes of faith, and when I do so at the lives of these resilient people, I silmutaneously know it is not easy, And I see grace. I know that even in this place there are those of us who were there, or who lost loved ones close to them. I know none of this is easy, especially today, but I also know without exception that those I speak of here have made a decision, to live. To chart a path forward. This is courage, this is resiliency, this is faith, this is grace
As people of faith, we look today at the Exodus story. We recognize that the Exodus story is the story of the people of God. The people of God, the people of Israel, reading and hearing the story of Exodus were experiencing the reality of having lived in oppression and in slavery and remembering a new day, a new hope, a new life. Remember the big picture story of the people of Israel after being delivered from Egypt. The people land in the dessert where they doubt everything. The truth of the matter is that the people of God from generation to generation will find themselves at various times in despair and in oppression. One can understand the need for a story of freedom and deliverance to be spoken, heard, and believed in. We know today we yearn for such stories. The people of Israel, the people of God yearn for this Exodus story and the own this exodus story because it is a story of hope and freedom in the midst of trouble. Their remembering and reflecting on this story bring them (and us) to a decision point. Will the story of our people be a story defined only by trouble and oppression, OR, will the story of our people be the story of hope and freedom in the face of trouble? The question for them? How will we live? A script of oppression or a script of Freedom!
We look also at the gospel story today and there we find Jesus teaching the ethic of forgiveness. I find myself saying to Jesus as he teaches this ethic, “here you go again Jesus, asking difficult things.” The ethic of forgiveness unfolds in this story as Peter asks the question. “How many times do I forgive? Seven times?” This I am sure seemed generous to Peter given the understood norms of the day in terms of dealing with those who offend. Jesus said, “No, if you’re going to understand the ethic of the heart of the kingdom of God, you’re going to need to discover the ability and the willingness to forgive seventy times seven.” This teaching for those who would hear it would be a mindbender, it is for us I know. Seventy times Seven means just about every chance you get, you need to discover a path to forgiveness. That is to say, even in the midst of what seems unjust, has hurt or offended us gravely, Jesus in the ethic of forgiveness says, seventy times seven, or all the time. Why Jesus? What is so important about being able to forgive?
You see this is Jesus Exodus story for us. Jesus knows that if we cannot come to the place within ourselves to make sense, make peace, to let go of anger, and resentment, even in the face of the most horrific of circumstances, it is we, ourselves, who will be held prisoner. Where does this leave us on an occasion like this where we remember and reflect on a most horrible of circumstance as 9/11. Let me be clear about what I am saying. I understand that the people with hate in their hearts, who got into an airplane and flew it in and killed innocent people are not asking for our forgiveness. What I’m suggesting is, our response to such horror cannot be hate. It cannot even be vengeance. And this is one of the hardest teachings that Jesus puts before us. But it is a teaching of liberation. For if we respond in hate then we ourselves are held in bondage by hate. If we cannot find a path to finding a forgiveness of the event itself somewhere deep inside of us, we are held hostage.
Anniversaries are times to remember, to reflect, and to decide. How should we live? As people in fear? As people held captive by hate? Or shall we seek the much harder road—and decide to live in freedom and in faith?
Today we remember. Especially today we remember those who died. We remember those whose lives were impacted by horrendous loss and challenges because of this loss. We remember those heroic responders, who didn’t run the other way but ran toward danger for the sake of the other. Today we remember rightfully with sorrow in our hearts. And, we reflect. We reflect on the horror and power of hate and prejudice that leads human kind to acts of terror. We reflect on the pain of loss, the anger in response to the ultimate offense, the sadness and the helplessness. Finally we remember and reflect on the resiliency and courage of faithful and good people who in the face of the most profound of challenges seek a path forward. This anniversary we remember, we reflect, and I pray we decide to join the courageous, the faithful, and the peaceful in heart in choosing Life.
Amen.
September 11, 2011
The Very Rev. Anthony R. Pompa
Such a time we have been having these past few months. Do you realize that we have lived through an earthquake, that we have experienced a hurricane, and now a tropical storm has left some of our brothers and sisters, particularly here in Pennsylvania and in our Diocese to the north, sitting in flood waters. It has really been quite some time these last few weeks and months. It has led Mariclair to declare in the office that when she sees frogs start dropping from the sky that she is out of here. And, I am going to follow. I have to admit this is a strange time. And yet I know today, as we gather, that what is most on your mind today is, of course, the happenings of September 11, 2001. This, strange as it sounds, the tenth anniversary of those events.
Anniversaries are times to remember. They are a time to reflect, And I believe they are our opportunity to decide. Because the human experience is a complex one, anniversaries can be quite interesting. There are, of course, those happier anniversaries. Those birthdays still with plenty of complex things to reflect on, wedding anniversaries. Perhaps the anniversary of our graduation from high school or college or graduate school, or whatever trade program we may be proud of having attended and remembering what we achieved there. Perhaps an anniversary of our ordination for some of us. These tend to be the happier times or the more poignant remembering or the more joyful or uplifting occasions to remember. We also know , however, that anniversaries can also bring difficult and challenging things. The anniversary of a death of a loved one for example. The anniversary of an end of a war that, an event that makes us reflect, remember the difficulty and the tragedy and the horror of such a happening. The anniversary perhaps of a suicide of a loved one. The anniversary perhaps of our divorce. These types of anniversaries bring much more complexity to our remembering. I submit to you today that anniversaries are a time to remember, a time to reflect and I believe a time to decide.
This is the very day, the tenth anniversary of 9 11 01. A most tragic day in our history as an American people and in the world. For all of us here, and I think all of us here or most of us here, with the exception of one or two, actually have memory of it. You remember where you were. Like Dr. Joseph Indano, our Forum speaker today invited us to remember, you probably remember who you reached out to that day; Or you remember who called you first. In my case, my brother making sure that I wasn’t on an airplane somewhere that day. Perhaps you’re like me and you remember staring at the television, if that’s where you happened to be, really not believing what was happening. Perhaps you remember the horror that you felt; the anger. the pain, and of course, the sorrow. Without a doubt, this anniversary is a day of remembering a happening that has changed our lives forever. There’s not one of us that would disagree with that statement.
What we remember today or at least what I remember today most importantly is the loss of innocent life. In remembering, the sadness I felt that day that returns in a powerful way. In the remembering however, I also recall the heroism of so many who were the first responders that day and the days and weeks that followed. I also in my remembering reflect on the heroism of those who have survived. The heroism of those who lost loved ones, or were injured, or who are sick now because of just being there, who make decisions daily to continue on with life. Anniversaries are about remembering. They are about reflecting. And, they are about deciding.
Of all that there is on the television this weekend and this week, I’ve only given myself permission, good or ill, to watch the stories of human resiliency. The stories of those who in the darkest of hours and the darkest of days and in the midst of experiencing the greatest loss of their lives, seemed to have made a decision to plot a path forward, rather than giving in and calling life quits. These stories are compelling, courageous, heart wrenching and real and you see, these are the stories about those who have made a decision. The decision of course is to live. Not easily, I do not pretend to believe easily, but in the midst of it all, they have made a decision to live.
Anniversaries are a time to remember. They are time to reflect and they are a time to decide. There are decisions to be made always in life, and those who make decision in the midst of tragedy to bravely fight on is worthy of our remembering and reflecting. I realize that because I am a person of faith, I choose to look through the eyes of faith, and when I do so at the lives of these resilient people, I silmutaneously know it is not easy, And I see grace. I know that even in this place there are those of us who were there, or who lost loved ones close to them. I know none of this is easy, especially today, but I also know without exception that those I speak of here have made a decision, to live. To chart a path forward. This is courage, this is resiliency, this is faith, this is grace
As people of faith, we look today at the Exodus story. We recognize that the Exodus story is the story of the people of God. The people of God, the people of Israel, reading and hearing the story of Exodus were experiencing the reality of having lived in oppression and in slavery and remembering a new day, a new hope, a new life. Remember the big picture story of the people of Israel after being delivered from Egypt. The people land in the dessert where they doubt everything. The truth of the matter is that the people of God from generation to generation will find themselves at various times in despair and in oppression. One can understand the need for a story of freedom and deliverance to be spoken, heard, and believed in. We know today we yearn for such stories. The people of Israel, the people of God yearn for this Exodus story and the own this exodus story because it is a story of hope and freedom in the midst of trouble. Their remembering and reflecting on this story bring them (and us) to a decision point. Will the story of our people be a story defined only by trouble and oppression, OR, will the story of our people be the story of hope and freedom in the face of trouble? The question for them? How will we live? A script of oppression or a script of Freedom!
We look also at the gospel story today and there we find Jesus teaching the ethic of forgiveness. I find myself saying to Jesus as he teaches this ethic, “here you go again Jesus, asking difficult things.” The ethic of forgiveness unfolds in this story as Peter asks the question. “How many times do I forgive? Seven times?” This I am sure seemed generous to Peter given the understood norms of the day in terms of dealing with those who offend. Jesus said, “No, if you’re going to understand the ethic of the heart of the kingdom of God, you’re going to need to discover the ability and the willingness to forgive seventy times seven.” This teaching for those who would hear it would be a mindbender, it is for us I know. Seventy times Seven means just about every chance you get, you need to discover a path to forgiveness. That is to say, even in the midst of what seems unjust, has hurt or offended us gravely, Jesus in the ethic of forgiveness says, seventy times seven, or all the time. Why Jesus? What is so important about being able to forgive?
You see this is Jesus Exodus story for us. Jesus knows that if we cannot come to the place within ourselves to make sense, make peace, to let go of anger, and resentment, even in the face of the most horrific of circumstances, it is we, ourselves, who will be held prisoner. Where does this leave us on an occasion like this where we remember and reflect on a most horrible of circumstance as 9/11. Let me be clear about what I am saying. I understand that the people with hate in their hearts, who got into an airplane and flew it in and killed innocent people are not asking for our forgiveness. What I’m suggesting is, our response to such horror cannot be hate. It cannot even be vengeance. And this is one of the hardest teachings that Jesus puts before us. But it is a teaching of liberation. For if we respond in hate then we ourselves are held in bondage by hate. If we cannot find a path to finding a forgiveness of the event itself somewhere deep inside of us, we are held hostage.
Anniversaries are times to remember, to reflect, and to decide. How should we live? As people in fear? As people held captive by hate? Or shall we seek the much harder road—and decide to live in freedom and in faith?
Today we remember. Especially today we remember those who died. We remember those whose lives were impacted by horrendous loss and challenges because of this loss. We remember those heroic responders, who didn’t run the other way but ran toward danger for the sake of the other. Today we remember rightfully with sorrow in our hearts. And, we reflect. We reflect on the horror and power of hate and prejudice that leads human kind to acts of terror. We reflect on the pain of loss, the anger in response to the ultimate offense, the sadness and the helplessness. Finally we remember and reflect on the resiliency and courage of faithful and good people who in the face of the most profound of challenges seek a path forward. This anniversary we remember, we reflect, and I pray we decide to join the courageous, the faithful, and the peaceful in heart in choosing Life.
Amen.
Sunday, September 04, 2011
The Twelfth Sunday of Pentecost
The Ven. Richard I. Cluett
What I get from these two lessons this morning is a reminder that the Passover was a once and done event. It was a unique, seminal, transformative and divine intervention into the affairs of humankind to bring salvation. God is not going to come down again and wipe away the problems that lay behind us, before us, and upon us and set us free.
And Jesus tells us through Matthew’s gospel that there are ways to get through these times, any times, all times, if we are willing to do the relational work with one another that is required to live together in community with any hope at all of living with integrity, grace, peace, power, or, might I say, success.
Here on this Labor Day weekend of 2011, 14 million Americans are counted as unemployed. Add to that an additional 6 million who have been out of work for so long that they are no longer.
Most Americans have gotten up every morning of the past two decades and found themselves running harder and harder just to keep up. The wealthiest 1% have 25% of the income. While families in the middle are stagnating, those at the bottom are losing ground. After adjusting for inflation, low-income families lost more than 10 percent of their income in those 20 years.
For so many people life seems to be coming apart. Do you remember this description from Thoreau? Leading lives of quiet desperation. Is anyone here today blind, fooled by the relative comfort and ease of those lives which look economically secure, but may be emotionally fragile and relationally fractured? Living on the edge used to be a phrase applied to those on the edge of society, on the edge of town, on the side of the road. Now it includes those who live on the edge of bankruptcy, on the edge of emotional stability, on the edge of human isolation.
In our time, dreams, values, structures, systems that held us together in a commonwealth for the common good have disintegrated into a chaotic maelstrom of competing self interest. There's a sense of everything being out of control – spending, emotions, lives, the world. People are worried about their lives, their children, their futures, and the world. There is a confusion of needs and wants, which has created a culture that values making a killing more than making a living.
What happened to our dreams? For so many they have been drowned by the struggle to live day to day, week to week, month to month, paycheck to paycheck in safety and security.
And instead of coming together to solve these problems in good faith, we are driving each other farther and farther apart. Region against region. USA against the world. Labor against management. Political Right against Political Left. Republican against Democrat. Good faith, indeed!
We can’t even have a civil discussion about what night of the week to meet together to discuss the big issues of the day that affect the quality of life for the entire citizenry of our country. How pathetic is that?
These are the issues of our society and world, these are the issues of people's lives, these are the issues before the Church. These are your issues. Your life and mine, the lives of those around us and those far away; life shapes the agenda for the Church.
We, the Church, have something to bring to this unhappy world. We have something to inform the tenor, quality and content of the debate about which direction to go, what to do, how to live. Most of all we bring hope and a way forward.
While we know that the Passover was once and done, while we know that there are no free passes through this life, while we know that the road ahead is difficult, we also know that there is a way and a truth shown to us by Jesus Christ.
“Again, truly I tell you, if two of you agree on earth about anything you ask, it will be done for you by my Father in heaven. For where two or three are gathered in my name, I am there among them.”
“Where two or three are gathered …” We will only go forward together.
I have learned in my three score and nearly 10 years of life that God has built into human DNA is the primal urge… I know that born into every human being is the Need (with a capital N) to be in relationship with another – to be with others. I have also learned that life can beat that urge down.
But People know this, it does not ever die, because by God we are made for one another. We are created for community. The nature of God’s self is community: Father , Son, and Holy Spirit. Our salvation as a person, our salvation as a people is dependent upon our common well-being – even when it is hard.
We are fast approaching the 10th anniversary of 9/11. One of the enduring images for me, one of the iconic images for me, comes from the film and photos of the all those police officers and firefighters and others, too, running toward the twin towers at the same time people were running away from the towers in fear for their lives.
Now where does that come from? What moved those people to do that? One could say, “Their duty to protect…” But where does that idea of Duty come from? I think they ran toward the towers because they knew in their very being, they knew in their heart of hearts what was most important – those people, saving those other people – no matter who they were, what they believed, or how they looked. The well being of those people was a priority, and so those men and women ran into the towers. The need, the urge to “go toward” was born in them and nurtured in them by family and others along the way. As it is in us.
Many of you know that for the past three years I have been working with some dioceses around the church to assist them in rebuilding after bishops and other leaders and members left the Episcopal Church. When people left, they left behind members who stayed who were hurt and angry at how the leaving was accomplished.
Today, as some of the ones who left are returning, those who remained in the Episcopal Church are coming face to face with the gospel imperative of forgiveness and reconciliation. How do they receive these people back into the church and into their lives? Some are still hurt and angry and are struggling mightily to align how they feel with what they know they need to do.
How do we live together as if Jesus really is among us as he says in the gospel? What do we do? How do we treat one another? How do we order our lives? What decisions do we make? What takes priority? How do we live in this new world?
Those are good questions for our prayer work in the week ahead. And the answers we come up with will have consequences, not just for today and tomorrow, but for eternity. Once we decide, we will need the help of one another to go on. The Good News is that Jesus will be among us.
Monday, August 22, 2011
August 21, 2011
The Very Rev. Anthony R. Pompa
Good morning!
Well, I know I’m not the only one who has noticed that the television networks have now picked up on, I think, what is a common interest of many, and that is the study of genealogy. PBS ran a program last year, where they took prominent figures from our culture, and with them provided resources to explore their heritages and genealogy. The networks, not wanting to be out done by PBS, of course, NBC jumped on the theme. Some of you may have seen the program “Who do you think you are?” which similarly takes more popular-culture type of individuals and explores with them their genealogy.
I confess I have peeked in on a few of these episodes. What’s interesting about the exploration of genealogy and particularly in these programs is that as people explore their heritage and peek back in generation from generation to generation, they are, of course, chasing the question, and I do think NBC actually got this right, they’re chasing the question, who are they. Some of these stories are quite moving as these people explore and discover. Some of these people are moved to tears as they realize in their past that their ancestors endured much or triumphed over much to make the way for generations to come. Sometimes too they are moved to places of compelling opportunities for reconciliation when suddenly a piece of their current history makes sense to them, perhaps a piece of distortion or disruption when they discover a distant relative in their past was all too human. It’s quite moving actually. These compelling stories are family stories that when told will hold a variety of vocabulary that often speak to a similar theme. That theme is the discovery of grace.
It seems most of these “family stories” are actually an intentional journey to discover and to listen for grace. As a person of faith I believe this listening for grace is a journey into the very essence of who God is and who we are in relationship with God. I believe this journey is a voyage into the very dream of God for God’s people. I recognize on these programs that all of the individuals participating may not clearly not see it the same way I do, but all of these stories lead individuals on a discovery of Godly things, like an awareness of how they got to where they are physically in the world. They come to realize through the lives of their ancestors that there seemed to be a force, a drive, a tenacity in the ups and downs of life. What it seems to do every time for those whose discoveries are being shared is to reveal a context for the discoverer that lifts them out of themselves, their selfishness, their egocentricity, and into an awareness and appreciation that for generations themes of human life, convictions, struggles, triumphs, and sacrifices have made it possible for them to be where they are, and also who they are. This is a discovery of something bigger than them and an awareness that there is a much bigger dream going on in their lives and it leads them to the question, “What dream is being lived in my life”?
This is the question I ask you to go home with today. “What dream is being lived in my life”?
So today, I invite you to join me in an exploration of our genealogy as a people of God. But, we’re going to explore our genealogy a bit as the people of God.
Imagine if you will, you are a child of God. I hope this is not a new concept for you. You are a child of God and a child of Israel and you are living somewhere in occupation in 721 AD. You have been carried off somewhere in the the Assyrian Empire, maybe Nineveh for example. Or imagine it’s 500’s AD, and this time it’s the Babylonians who have invaded your land carried you away for a life of indentured service in Babylon. How are you making sense of this for your life? What is life like for you? How much do you miss your house, your yard, your friends, your family? How will you make it day by day with these strange people of strange customs in a strange land. You believe in God and you wonder “How can God let this be?” You wonder if this will be your life forever. You find it difficult to even think about the future. This is your story, your fear, your challenge. How do you make sense of it? Who am I now? Where did I come from? How did life get me to this place? What stories of my past might I long for to help me make sense of this?
Look on the family tree. There you’ll find Abraham. Abraham wondering around in the wilderness lost. A nomadic people he represented. Wondering and looking for a place where he could pitch tent. A land which would produce fruit. He carried with him a bit of livestock. Imagine Abraham coming into encounter with God in this wondering around, schlepping around. God says to Abraham, “Look at the stars and count them, this is how how populous your people will be.” God says because you are my people, this is the dream I have for you, Abraham. Imagine Abraham looking around at the desolation around him, at the bit of livestock he’s carrying from place to place and at his very elderly wife, Sarah, clearly past the age of bearing children. God looks at Abraham and says, “I have a dream. You’re going to be part of it.” Quite impossible it seems. Imagine then when Sarah does indeed get pregnant. Imagine the amazement, joy, and wonder when Isaac is born. Imagine how incredible the living and the hearing of this story is.
So, you are sitting in exile searching for a story. I remember the story of Abraham. God has a dream for me and it’s in the person of Abraham, and indeed Isaac is born. Imagine again hearing the story of Isaac, who in his age grew blind and deaf, and when his two sons, Jacob and Esau, came to him seeking his blessing. Blind and deaf he reached out in desperation, trying to feel the backs of their hands so that he can identify by the hair on their knuckles who was who. God looks at Isaac who is blind and deaf and says I have a dream for my people and you are going to be part of it.
Imagine that Jacob, the one I preached about a few weeks ago, the shyster, the crook. Jacob who tricked his father out of the blessing so that he could receive the economic position of the family. A far cry it seem from God’s dream for God’s people. But imagine then, this Jacob, who despite himself wonders away and finds himself with his head on a rock, and God descending upon him in a dream to remind him that even through him God has a dream and he will be part of it.
Imagine then as we land in today’s scriptures with Jacob’s family, the twelve boys, Joseph, the boy who had dreams himself, we remember how that story goes --Jacob’s offspring, Joseph, and his brothers being jealous of his dreams and his fancy clothing. I’m the youngest of four boys, you know this never happens--they were jealous. And so one day, they take the advantage. They’re wondering away, and they take their brother Joseph and they throw him into a pit and they leave him for dead. And they go home, and they tell their father with tears in their eyes that God’s dream is dead. But God looks at Joseph in that pit and says I have a dream for my people and you are going to be part of it. And Joseph gets himself some help out of that pit and finds himself in Egypt and makes his way because of his gift from God to the favor of Pharaoh and becomes a person of prominence. How ironic in God’s world that his brothers come looking one day for a free meal because they’re starving. Once they figure it all out, they are expecting for Joseph to punish them but instead they get God’s grace. God looks at all of them and says I have a dream for my people and you’re going to be part of it. Imagine then as life will have it that a new pharaoh is in town and Joseph is out of favor. But, having served there with his people so well, his offspring themselves, God’s plan and God’s vision and God’s dream of multiplication occurs and the Pharaoh is threatened because these Hebrew people are a threat. Probably more so God’s dream in them is the threat. And there is this baby born and his name is Moses and despite the plea and the orders from Pharaoh for all of the first born male to be killed, it’s Pharaoh’s own daughter who looks in the river that day and sees this baby floating, and with compassion in her heart she plucks it from that water. God looks at Pharaoh’s daughter and says I have a dream for my people and you will be part of it. Pharaoh’s daughter becomes part of God’s salvation. Literally saving that baby from the water. And it will be that baby who will be salvation for the people of Israel.
So imagine again, we are in exile. Life is blows hard and you’re looking at your Assyrian captors or your Babylonian captors and you’re wondering where is God’s dream for me? Look at the family tree and recognize that God is tenacious in his dream for his people. That dream is a dream for freedom. And for generation God’s people would look at God alone in the midst of the powers of the world that would seek to oppress it. And that reliance on God’s dream of freedom would literally become the hope for generations. Hope for generations because God looks at God’s people and says I have a dream. It is a dream of freedom for all of my creation and you will be part of it. God has a dream for you and for me because we too are children of God and in all our family tree is Abraham and Isaac and Jacob and Joseph and his brothers, and Moses, and the prophets and Jesus Christ his son. And all the faithful servants who throughout time and from place to place regardless of how hard the winds of life would blow, asked the question—what is God’s dream for me?
Isn’t it interesting how the eyes of faith can change the whole picture? Putting on the eyes of faith when you are wondering around a desolate country and doubting God’s promise. Whether you’re Isaac who has grown and blind and deaf. Or, whether you’re Jacob who lays your head hard on a pillow at night only for God to descend upon him with his angels. Whether you run far far away from all of whom you love and all that is promised, or whether you’re like Joseph who’s thrown into a pit, or whether you’re like Pharaoh’s daughter and sit in a place of honor. The eyes of faith lead us to God’s dream of freedom for God’s people and this gives birth to hope and possibility for our lives.
A story, if you will. A true story about a man who shared his life of challenge and faith and doubt, of serendipity and of a discovery of who he was and what God’s dream was for his life. When serving on the staff of the Diocese of Virginia I visited a small mountain parish. And going there to meet with a group of people, we began as we always did with studying the scripture. And, at this time of Bible study, the scripture and the discipline asked, how it is that we discover God in our lives. And this very humble gentleman, probably in his late fifties or early sixties, he said I have a story if you’re willing to listen to it. And we said of course. He said that when he was an infant, toward the end of World War II, he was one of seven. In growing up in rural and poor Oklahoma, his mother could not afford to keep all seven children at home. So the seven children were dispersed among family members throughout the country and he went off to Virginia to live with a distant relative. Shortly after he was dispersed, his father was killed in action. And so the story goes that his mother did the best she could. She saw the children when she could. When he was a young man, in the earliest parts of the Vietnam War was called to serve. When he was getting ready to ship out, his mother contacted him and said I want to give you something from your father. It was his military chest. She dug it out of the attic and she sent it to her son with a note that said I never opened it when it was returned to me so you’ll have to clean it out and put your own things in there. He said he let the chest sit there for a few days and when it became time that he was going to ship out he opened up the chest and began to clean it out. In it he found his father’s Bible. He said I pulled out the Bible and I began to leaf through it and out of the Bible fell an envelope. I opened the envelope and it was a letter written to me from my father. And in the letter he said my father told me that he doubted he would see me again because the place in which he served was very violent. But he wanted me to know how much he loved me and he wanted me to know that he read his Bible every night and that he was certain that God had great plans for his life. This humble gentleman looked across the room at all of us who were now dumbfounded and he said that’s why I’m here. That’s why I’m part of this community of faith. That’s how I discovered God’s dream for me because my father shared with me his faith. God has a dream for God’s people. God has a dream for you and I and we will be part of it.
Amen.
The Very Rev. Anthony R. Pompa
Good morning!
Well, I know I’m not the only one who has noticed that the television networks have now picked up on, I think, what is a common interest of many, and that is the study of genealogy. PBS ran a program last year, where they took prominent figures from our culture, and with them provided resources to explore their heritages and genealogy. The networks, not wanting to be out done by PBS, of course, NBC jumped on the theme. Some of you may have seen the program “Who do you think you are?” which similarly takes more popular-culture type of individuals and explores with them their genealogy.
I confess I have peeked in on a few of these episodes. What’s interesting about the exploration of genealogy and particularly in these programs is that as people explore their heritage and peek back in generation from generation to generation, they are, of course, chasing the question, and I do think NBC actually got this right, they’re chasing the question, who are they. Some of these stories are quite moving as these people explore and discover. Some of these people are moved to tears as they realize in their past that their ancestors endured much or triumphed over much to make the way for generations to come. Sometimes too they are moved to places of compelling opportunities for reconciliation when suddenly a piece of their current history makes sense to them, perhaps a piece of distortion or disruption when they discover a distant relative in their past was all too human. It’s quite moving actually. These compelling stories are family stories that when told will hold a variety of vocabulary that often speak to a similar theme. That theme is the discovery of grace.
It seems most of these “family stories” are actually an intentional journey to discover and to listen for grace. As a person of faith I believe this listening for grace is a journey into the very essence of who God is and who we are in relationship with God. I believe this journey is a voyage into the very dream of God for God’s people. I recognize on these programs that all of the individuals participating may not clearly not see it the same way I do, but all of these stories lead individuals on a discovery of Godly things, like an awareness of how they got to where they are physically in the world. They come to realize through the lives of their ancestors that there seemed to be a force, a drive, a tenacity in the ups and downs of life. What it seems to do every time for those whose discoveries are being shared is to reveal a context for the discoverer that lifts them out of themselves, their selfishness, their egocentricity, and into an awareness and appreciation that for generations themes of human life, convictions, struggles, triumphs, and sacrifices have made it possible for them to be where they are, and also who they are. This is a discovery of something bigger than them and an awareness that there is a much bigger dream going on in their lives and it leads them to the question, “What dream is being lived in my life”?
This is the question I ask you to go home with today. “What dream is being lived in my life”?
So today, I invite you to join me in an exploration of our genealogy as a people of God. But, we’re going to explore our genealogy a bit as the people of God.
Imagine if you will, you are a child of God. I hope this is not a new concept for you. You are a child of God and a child of Israel and you are living somewhere in occupation in 721 AD. You have been carried off somewhere in the the Assyrian Empire, maybe Nineveh for example. Or imagine it’s 500’s AD, and this time it’s the Babylonians who have invaded your land carried you away for a life of indentured service in Babylon. How are you making sense of this for your life? What is life like for you? How much do you miss your house, your yard, your friends, your family? How will you make it day by day with these strange people of strange customs in a strange land. You believe in God and you wonder “How can God let this be?” You wonder if this will be your life forever. You find it difficult to even think about the future. This is your story, your fear, your challenge. How do you make sense of it? Who am I now? Where did I come from? How did life get me to this place? What stories of my past might I long for to help me make sense of this?
Look on the family tree. There you’ll find Abraham. Abraham wondering around in the wilderness lost. A nomadic people he represented. Wondering and looking for a place where he could pitch tent. A land which would produce fruit. He carried with him a bit of livestock. Imagine Abraham coming into encounter with God in this wondering around, schlepping around. God says to Abraham, “Look at the stars and count them, this is how how populous your people will be.” God says because you are my people, this is the dream I have for you, Abraham. Imagine Abraham looking around at the desolation around him, at the bit of livestock he’s carrying from place to place and at his very elderly wife, Sarah, clearly past the age of bearing children. God looks at Abraham and says, “I have a dream. You’re going to be part of it.” Quite impossible it seems. Imagine then when Sarah does indeed get pregnant. Imagine the amazement, joy, and wonder when Isaac is born. Imagine how incredible the living and the hearing of this story is.
So, you are sitting in exile searching for a story. I remember the story of Abraham. God has a dream for me and it’s in the person of Abraham, and indeed Isaac is born. Imagine again hearing the story of Isaac, who in his age grew blind and deaf, and when his two sons, Jacob and Esau, came to him seeking his blessing. Blind and deaf he reached out in desperation, trying to feel the backs of their hands so that he can identify by the hair on their knuckles who was who. God looks at Isaac who is blind and deaf and says I have a dream for my people and you are going to be part of it.
Imagine that Jacob, the one I preached about a few weeks ago, the shyster, the crook. Jacob who tricked his father out of the blessing so that he could receive the economic position of the family. A far cry it seem from God’s dream for God’s people. But imagine then, this Jacob, who despite himself wonders away and finds himself with his head on a rock, and God descending upon him in a dream to remind him that even through him God has a dream and he will be part of it.
Imagine then as we land in today’s scriptures with Jacob’s family, the twelve boys, Joseph, the boy who had dreams himself, we remember how that story goes --Jacob’s offspring, Joseph, and his brothers being jealous of his dreams and his fancy clothing. I’m the youngest of four boys, you know this never happens--they were jealous. And so one day, they take the advantage. They’re wondering away, and they take their brother Joseph and they throw him into a pit and they leave him for dead. And they go home, and they tell their father with tears in their eyes that God’s dream is dead. But God looks at Joseph in that pit and says I have a dream for my people and you are going to be part of it. And Joseph gets himself some help out of that pit and finds himself in Egypt and makes his way because of his gift from God to the favor of Pharaoh and becomes a person of prominence. How ironic in God’s world that his brothers come looking one day for a free meal because they’re starving. Once they figure it all out, they are expecting for Joseph to punish them but instead they get God’s grace. God looks at all of them and says I have a dream for my people and you’re going to be part of it. Imagine then as life will have it that a new pharaoh is in town and Joseph is out of favor. But, having served there with his people so well, his offspring themselves, God’s plan and God’s vision and God’s dream of multiplication occurs and the Pharaoh is threatened because these Hebrew people are a threat. Probably more so God’s dream in them is the threat. And there is this baby born and his name is Moses and despite the plea and the orders from Pharaoh for all of the first born male to be killed, it’s Pharaoh’s own daughter who looks in the river that day and sees this baby floating, and with compassion in her heart she plucks it from that water. God looks at Pharaoh’s daughter and says I have a dream for my people and you will be part of it. Pharaoh’s daughter becomes part of God’s salvation. Literally saving that baby from the water. And it will be that baby who will be salvation for the people of Israel.
So imagine again, we are in exile. Life is blows hard and you’re looking at your Assyrian captors or your Babylonian captors and you’re wondering where is God’s dream for me? Look at the family tree and recognize that God is tenacious in his dream for his people. That dream is a dream for freedom. And for generation God’s people would look at God alone in the midst of the powers of the world that would seek to oppress it. And that reliance on God’s dream of freedom would literally become the hope for generations. Hope for generations because God looks at God’s people and says I have a dream. It is a dream of freedom for all of my creation and you will be part of it. God has a dream for you and for me because we too are children of God and in all our family tree is Abraham and Isaac and Jacob and Joseph and his brothers, and Moses, and the prophets and Jesus Christ his son. And all the faithful servants who throughout time and from place to place regardless of how hard the winds of life would blow, asked the question—what is God’s dream for me?
Isn’t it interesting how the eyes of faith can change the whole picture? Putting on the eyes of faith when you are wondering around a desolate country and doubting God’s promise. Whether you’re Isaac who has grown and blind and deaf. Or, whether you’re Jacob who lays your head hard on a pillow at night only for God to descend upon him with his angels. Whether you run far far away from all of whom you love and all that is promised, or whether you’re like Joseph who’s thrown into a pit, or whether you’re like Pharaoh’s daughter and sit in a place of honor. The eyes of faith lead us to God’s dream of freedom for God’s people and this gives birth to hope and possibility for our lives.
A story, if you will. A true story about a man who shared his life of challenge and faith and doubt, of serendipity and of a discovery of who he was and what God’s dream was for his life. When serving on the staff of the Diocese of Virginia I visited a small mountain parish. And going there to meet with a group of people, we began as we always did with studying the scripture. And, at this time of Bible study, the scripture and the discipline asked, how it is that we discover God in our lives. And this very humble gentleman, probably in his late fifties or early sixties, he said I have a story if you’re willing to listen to it. And we said of course. He said that when he was an infant, toward the end of World War II, he was one of seven. In growing up in rural and poor Oklahoma, his mother could not afford to keep all seven children at home. So the seven children were dispersed among family members throughout the country and he went off to Virginia to live with a distant relative. Shortly after he was dispersed, his father was killed in action. And so the story goes that his mother did the best she could. She saw the children when she could. When he was a young man, in the earliest parts of the Vietnam War was called to serve. When he was getting ready to ship out, his mother contacted him and said I want to give you something from your father. It was his military chest. She dug it out of the attic and she sent it to her son with a note that said I never opened it when it was returned to me so you’ll have to clean it out and put your own things in there. He said he let the chest sit there for a few days and when it became time that he was going to ship out he opened up the chest and began to clean it out. In it he found his father’s Bible. He said I pulled out the Bible and I began to leaf through it and out of the Bible fell an envelope. I opened the envelope and it was a letter written to me from my father. And in the letter he said my father told me that he doubted he would see me again because the place in which he served was very violent. But he wanted me to know how much he loved me and he wanted me to know that he read his Bible every night and that he was certain that God had great plans for his life. This humble gentleman looked across the room at all of us who were now dumbfounded and he said that’s why I’m here. That’s why I’m part of this community of faith. That’s how I discovered God’s dream for me because my father shared with me his faith. God has a dream for God’s people. God has a dream for you and I and we will be part of it.
Amen.
Sunday, July 03, 2011
The Third Sunday of Pentecost
The Rev'd Canon Mariclair Partee
Song of Solomon 2:8-13 + Matthew 11:16-19, 25-30
The last portion of the gospel reading for today is, I would wager, the second most recognizable piece of scripture after John 3:16. As with most of the classics of the New Testament, it sounds best in the King James Version:
"Come unto me, all ye that labour and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you, and learn of me; for I am meek and lowly in heart: and ye shall find rest unto your souls. For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light."
It doesn’t lend itself to banners at the super bowl or a nascar race like John 3:16 does, or enormous billboards on the side of a highway like some other verses, but it has a gravity and a sense of comfort that has emblazoned it on our collective mind and that has linked it, inextricably, to our national identity.
I was raised as a summer vacation bible school only kid for most of my childhood (mainly to give my folks a break for a week), so was basically a heathen, but it is telling that I was around 10 years old before I could be convinced that this verse was from the Bible, and not part of the Emma Lazarus poem found on the pedestal of the statue of liberty (Give me your tired, your poor, your huddled masses yearning to breathe free- that one).
This wasn’t just a rookie mistake- in Matthew’s words of shared burdens, I think, we identify a sense of our selves, our country as a beacon of open armed welcome, of refuge for the homeless and rescue of the tempest-tost from teeming foreign shores, though we don’t seem to want to live into this so much as of late.
In one commentary* I read in preparing for this morning it was pointed out that this passage from Matthew was viewed by many as a rebuke of the 613 laws that observant Jews were required to follow in their daily lives, kept most publicly by the Pharisees of Jesus’ day. Some have proposed that Jesus was offering a simpler way of being faithful that did not involve complicated purity or dietary laws, and this makes sense when the passage is taken on its own, but when read in the context of the wider gospel, this explanation doesn’t hold up. It becomes clear that the life of faith that Jesus sets out for his disciples, for instance in the Sermon on the Mount, is more rigorous than the piety of the day, not less, and Jesus makes strenuous demands of his disciples in previous chapters, going to great length to impress upon them the rejection and persecution they should expect to face as a result of following him.
Christian life should not be viewed simply as doing good. If that were the case, we could join any of a number of public service organizations doing all kinds of good both in the local community and the wider world, feeding the hungry, eradicating polio or malaria- and often with much more calculable results. Doing good is certainly a part of a Christian life, but isn't all-we are called as followers of Christ not only to live a life of loving our neighbors as ourselves, but to live a life defined by a blinding sense of God’s love, a life lived as a way to give glory to that almighty love that created us and gave us our being, redeemed us, and supports us still.
This is much more complex than adhering to laws- it means changing our entire orientation, moving the center of our lives from our own interests to God’s.
Loving God means respecting the dignity of every human being, really, even in the little things (and believe me I have struggled mightily with this part, particularly since that construction started outside of our parking lot on Wyandotte St!).
Loving Gods means forgiving those who have hurt you, and accepting the forgiveness of those you have mistreated. Loving God means putting aside fear and embracing this life that has been given to us as a gift, and it doesn't happen just once, it is a lifetime of turning our faces toward God, breaking open our stone hearts again and again and again and allowing them to be replaced with hearts of flesh.
Is there a more passionate, a more palpable description of that love we share with God than in the Song of Solomon? There is some confusion among biblical scholars about why this book was included in our scriptural canon; it is beautiful but there is no mention of God in it, no mention of heaven or hell, and in many ways it looks more like a popular song from tavern life, circa 1000 years before the birth of our Christ, sung from one lover to another.
Ultimately, this is why many think it was included in the Bible- as a love letter in which God worships us, worships the perfection of our being created by God’s own hands, assuring us of our worth by our precious value to the one who created us.
And so- we are not being let off the hook today, we are not being offered an easier way to live a life of faith. Instead, we are being offered a purpose, a future, one that demands everything of us and summons our best parts.
We are being called in the gospel today to open ourselves up to God’s love, to help make all of God’s dreams for us come true.
We are being called to accept the yoke of our gentle and humble Lord, and in accepting it to embrace a worthy life that puts our souls at ease.
AMEN
*Lance Pape in Feasting on the Word, Year A Vol. 3
Sunday, May 29, 2011
The Sixth Sunday of Easter
The Rev'd Canon Mariclair Partee
John 14:15-21
John 14:15-21
The idea of a tripartite God is often the hardest for kids, also for adults, to grasp in catechism. Our church spent its first thousand years or so trying out different explanations for how our God could be three but one, and many lost their lives as heretics in the mean time. This is one of the reasons that we don’t hear many sermons about the Holy Trinity to this day, and we hear perhaps less concerned solely with the Holy Spirit, but that is what we have in our Gospel today, so let’s jump right in.
I think the best description of the Trinity that I ever heard was of Dad, his Son, and their pet bird. We’ve struggled with the Holy Spirit the most, I think, because we don’t get a whole lot of scriptural discussion like we do with Jesus, with God the Father. Some identify the Holy Spirit with Sophia, the Greek personification of Holy Wisdom, and having a feminine member of the Trinity is a comfort to some, gives a feeling of inclusion in this holy mystery. Others recall the Holy Spirit present at Creation, traveling over the waters like a wind. In the gospel today quite technically the Holy Spirit is called the paraklete, a Greek word meaning something like counselor, comforter, advocate, or quite literally “someone called to your side”. Jesus in this passage form John is describing this advocate, this paraklete, as solace and companionship for the disciples after his own death, a means of ensuring that they are not left orphans when Jesus departs his earthly ministry. Throughout time and church history this advocate has taken on more and more of a lawyerly form, pleading our case in God’s court. This of course requires an angry God, one who must be dissuaded from damning us for eternity, and I don’t think that is an image of God that most of us identify with. I was discussing this notion of the Holy Spirit as divine attorney with a friend over email and his reply was so perfect that I have to share it with you:
“So, what do we do with this idea of the Spirit being an Advocate, or Counselor? Well, let’s try looking at it from a different perspective. What if Jesus is sending the Advocate to make his case to us? What if the Paraklete comes to us to make God’s case against our judging hearts? What if, as Jesus says, “I will ask the Father, and he will give you another Advocate, to be with you forever.” And notice he says, “another Advocate?” Seems that maybe Jesus is the first Advocate, doesn’t it? As if Jesus came to make the case, to show us the love of God in his words and deeds, and now another Advocate will come to continue to make the case to us. But, “the case” seems the wrong term, really.
Have you ever read the play, Cyrano de Bergerac? Or, seen the movie? Or the Steve Martin version, Roxanne? Even if you haven’t, you kind of know the plot, I’m sure. Cyrano loves Roxanne, but ends up putting words into the mouth of Christian, and captures Roxanne’s heart through a messenger, or advocate . . . and it’s hard to tell which one is the advocate for the other, in this play. Now, you never want to press an analogy like this too far, but since we’re dealing with John’s gospel (where Jesus is called the Word), maybe it’s more apt than it seems at first. The great lengths that Christian and Cyrano go to in order to win Roxanne’s heart are perhaps a good glimpse at the effort that God goes through to win our hearts. It’s not a court of law, you see? It’s a romance!
What if the Advocate is not coming to be our helper in the courtroom? What if instead the Advocate is sent by God in order to win our hearts? What if God so loved the world that he sent his only son? Doesn’t Jesus show the ultimate depths of God’s love for you, in that he is willing to lay down his life proclaiming the love of God? Jesus walks among us, preaches the Good News to us, and then . . . well, we have to kill him. We don’t want to hear it.
But God does not give up. Here comes the Advocate to deliver the same message. The Spirit knocks on your heart’s door with the message of God’s love, and will continue to do so forever, because forever is how long God’s love for you lasts. Well beyond the grave, I might add.
And I will tell you the most important part of the message. Jesus says it himself in today’s Gospel: Because I live, you also will live.
There’s a lot more to the message, of course, but it all grows out of that main point: Because I live, you also will live.”
This is what the Holy spirit is, this is what God is trying to tell us, over and over, if only we can listen: the Holy Spirit is God’s love, working in our midst, singing the love songs of the Holy, calling us always back to the care of Him who made us.
“We cannot come to Jesus unless the Father draws us. And the Father draws us by sending the Advocate to plead with our hearts. And the Father and the Spirit together draw us to this altar today, where with the saints of every time and every place…with all of them, we meet the risen Lord in the breaking of the bread.”
(Quoted correspondence is between the author and The Rev'd George Baum)
Sunday, May 22, 2011
The Fifth Sunday of Easter
The Ven. Richard I. Cluett
1Peter 2:2-10 + John 14:1-14
Today’s Gospel speaks of some things of great importance. Most of us are familiar with the gospel scripture in the context of the burial of someone we love or have known. It is good to remember, though that Jesus was speaking to the disciples he was about to leave behind. He speaks about their life ahead and the way forward.
He speaks of fidelity and commitment and trust. In the midst of his disciples’ feelings of abandonment, betrayal, grief, and fear, Jesus speaks a word of comfort, “Do not let your hears be troubled. Believe in God, believe also in me.” The Greek word could as easily be, trust. “Trust in God, trust also in me.”
The opportunity to fall into despair is regularly presented to us by the happenstance of life, by the action of others, by the frailty of our own selves. The tendency to despair lies not far below the surface of any one of us.
Barbara Crafton once wrote, Life is hard. For some, hunger and thirst, the grinding daily experience of poverty and want, from birth to death. For some, lifelong physical pain, or terrible terminal illness. And for those whose physical needs are easily and consistently met, other things: the loss of love, the crippling inability to give oneself completely and its corresponding loneliness, the paralyzing presence of chronic anger. War, and the fear of war. Disappointment. Betrayal. -- For everyone, something.
We share a common human experience of being – in our hearts, in our minds, in our behaviors – at some times, the most wretched of sinners, at other times just ground down by life and circumstance, and at the same time we are people who have known, received, and experienced mercy, the amazing grace of an infinitely loving God.
Everyone, without exception, either has stood or will stand before God at sometime in his or her life hoping against hope that the Good News is really true and discovering that it is true, and then being washed new and clean and being freed and empowered for a new-born life.
The lesson of today’s scripture lessons is Don’t give in, don’t give up. Believe in all I have taught you, believe in all I have shown you. Believe in me as I do in you. Trust in me, as I trust in you. If you have trouble believing my words, then believe what you see. “Believe me because of the works themselves.”
In my life I have believed at times, but I have also doubted. I have trusted at times, but I have also been afraid, not trusted. And then I catch a glimpse of what happens when people believe, when people trust, when people don’t give in, when people don’t give up, when people don’t walk away, when people believe and carry on, when people trust and plow ahead. When I see others, then I find I can believe, I can trust – again.
Jesus is speaking about a new-born life, one that lives in hope, believes in salvation, finds power in fellowship with other believers and strugglers, knows purpose in being God’s people – not only comfort, but purpose; a reason to be, a reason get up, a reason to go on, a reason to go out, a reason to seek and finally to find. It is amazing what happens, when we believe, when we trust.
In my national work for the church, I have seen the dead raised. I didn’t believe it possible at first, but I have seen the lame walk and begin to run. I have seen hope triumph over despair.
For those who may not know, I have been privileged for the past 3 years to work with dioceses that had been abandoned by leaders and members seeking, what they would call, a greater and more fundamental orthodoxy than they found in the Episcopal Church.
In a sense not one stone was left upon another stone in these dioceses. In one sense all that was left was the chief cornerstone and a faithful remnant. Church buildings and property were gone, all the holy books, vessels and vestments, leaders, records, funds, trusts, members, history and traditions, friends and even family members. Gone. All that was left in some places were a few people and their faith.
They could have gone to the local Lutheran church or some other congregation. No one would have blamed them. But battered and bruised as they were, they would not let their community die. So they gathered, a faithful few in living rooms and club halls and church basements, and shops, still the Episcopal Church of St. Whomever of the Episcopal Diocese of Quincy or San Joaquin or Fort Worth or Pittsburgh. They had their faith and they had each other. Period. They decided not to die, but instead to live, to be reborn, and to grow.
In the Diocese of Quincy all that was left was one full parish and two small congregations with about 1/3 of their original members remaining in their buildings; 2 full-time clergy and two retired, and that was it. No bishop, no diocese, no vestries. That was 3 years ago.
Last weekend I was in the Diocese of Quincy to help lead their first-ever Diocesan Ministry Training Conference. 180 people from nine congregations participated in ministry training workshops, learning about leadership and governance, Eucharistic and pastoral visitors, stewardship, Christian formation, evangelism, community advocacy, and more. The day ended in an extraordinary celebration of life and thanksgiving in the Eucharist, and the commissioning of these faithful people to carry on the mission of the church.
I have seen what was lost, found. I have seen what was dead, come alive. And if that can be true in Illinois and California and Texas and Western Pennsylvania, it is true wherever and whenever life needs a new birth. It is true for a diocese, it is true for a congregation, it is true for the lives of God’s people, and it is true for your life and mine.
For, We are … God's own people, in order that we may proclaim the mighty acts of him who called us out of darkness into his marvelous light. Once we were not a people, but now we are God's people; once we had not received mercy, but now we have received mercy.
Thanks be to God through our Lord Jesus Christ. Amen.
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