A Rush to Discernment

In pulpits all across America this morning, in parishes where the Lectionary is practiced, preachers will be giving Peter a pounding (but not with pickled-peppers). He is one of three people to accompany Jesus on a hike up a mountain. He is one of three to observe Jesus talking with Moses and Elijah, foundational figures in the faith long ago deceased. He is one of three to witness the Transfiguration, where for a brief moment our Lord’s divine nature eclipses His human body. But he is the only one to say something to try to make sense of it all. Let’s give Peter credit for perceiving the gravity of what was happening. Indeed, this was a momentous event. Building a shrine to commemorate it was certainly an option worth considering. But Peter ends up on the receiving end of a holy, verbal beat-down: “This is my Son. He was around before creation was called forth. Don’t you think it might be a good idea to get His input!”

And what does Jesus say the disciples should do? He directs them not to tell anyone about it – not a word – until after He has risen from the dead. We might want to consider that Peter’s blunder here was a rush to discernment. He wanted to act before he had absorbed. He wanted to respond before he had reflected. He wanted to enshrine before he understood. He would have been very much at home in our contemporary society with its go-go-go-tweet-comment-send-as-quick-as-you-can approach to life. We too are impatience and impetuous. We act first, dive in, and dash ahead pretty much all the time. Have many times have we thought or said, “I should have stopped and thought about before I did it?”

If the rush to discernment was Peter’ faux paus in this situation, Mary, the mother of Jesus, models the other end of the spectrum. You remember the Christmas story: how an angel appears to her and tells her she will have a son even though she is chaste; how they travel to Bethlehem for the census and the baby is born in a small animal shed because she and Joseph could not find more suitable lodging; and how shepherds appeared in the night to worship the child, telling fantastic tales of an angelic chorus. Do you remember Mary’s response to all of this? She did not suggest that Joseph, a carpenter by trade, might want to convert the barn into a shrine. Scripture says she “treasured these things, pondering them in her heart.” Pondering – the opposite of rushing to discernment.

In the long history of our Christian tradition, discernment is thought to have two major components: attentiveness and discrimination.

Early on, if a person was said to be spiritual, it meant he or she was under the power of God’s Spirit. Even still, a spiritual person understood there were other spirits vying for his/her attention. Some of these are the spirits of the world: those aspects of our culture not aligned with God’s purpose. Others are spirits of the flesh, which include bodily addictions as well aspects of the personality (being self-centered, anxious, or hateful for example). And still other spirits come from the “evil one” as active forces intentionally working against God’s good. (Pay attention to today’s baptism where I will ask the parents and sponsors to renounce Satan, the world, and the self.)

If we are going to avoid a rush to discernment then one thing we must do is take time to be attentive, to look deep within our selves in order to sort out the various motivations for our thoughts and actions. As we pay attention to what is going on around us we need to understand what it going on within us. Our first impulse, a lingering sentiment, and sometimes even a nagging thought are not reflective of God’s desire; they are not always the fruit of God’s Spirit. A few years ago, Win Lewis got my attention when he said this: “More and more we are finding that the single most important characteristic required for a person to be a good priest is self-awareness” – being conscious of who you are and what makes you tick so that you do not act out unaware of how your inner world projects itself on the outer world.

The other component of discernment is discrimination. Developing the capacity to pay attention is important. It helps you to know be aware of all that is happing on the inside and the out. Discrimination is about sifting through and evaluating all that you have gathered through focused attention. We have many allies to help us with this work. We can turn to Scripture. We can seek out the advice of a trusted friend or mentor. We can engage the sensus fidelium – the collected sense of the faithful. We can immerse ourselves in the best writing of our current day as well as the works of saints and sages from the past. We can pray. Discrimination is not the same thing as problem solving or weighing the pros and cons. One writer says it is more like when a flower turns itself to face the sun. Don’t understand that image? Live with it for a while and see what emerges.

Peter must have learned something from the events we read about today because some time after the Resurrection and after the Ascension and after Pentecost, Peter finds himself in a costal city staying with a person named Simon the tanner. Its noon and Peter goes to prayer, but he is hungry. He falls into a trance and has a vision of (for lack of better words) a picnic coming down from heaven. God invites him to go ahead and eat, but Peter protests that the meal consists entirely of food Jews are commanded not to eat. God says in reply, “No one must call unclean what I call clean.” Peter awakes and the text says he is puzzled.

At that very moment, representatives of a Roman centurion by the name of Cornelius arrive at Simon’s house. Cornelius was a devout Gentile who wanted to honor God. Days before an angel instructed him to send for Peter. When his emissaries explain their mission, Peter agrees to meet with Cornelius. Once there the two men talk. Peter preaches the Gospel, but he is concerned that his message should only be shared with the children of Israel. Then an astounding thing happens. The Holy Spirit falls on Cornelius and his family just as it had fallen on Peter and the others at Pentecost. Now apostle knows what he must do. He baptizes all who are present into the Christian faith and life.

This time Peter does not rush to discernment. He lives with what puzzles him for several days. Only once all the elements have unfolded and come into focus does Peter speak and act. He has been both attentive and discriminating.

I have found that discernment is both a gift of God’s Spirit and a spiritual discipline I have developed over the course of my life. I am not perfect at it by any means, but do I sense I am better at it now then I was years ago. A part of my prayer life is devoted to reflecting on what is happening in my world and in my being: what am I seeing, what am I missing, what is all of it doing to me, how am I affecting what is happening? And as awareness sets in discrimination begins: what are my options, what is consistent with my sense of integrity, what will give me energy or joy or peace, what is God’s will? Shrines shouldn’t be built at the drop of a hat and when it comes to weighty matters discernment should not be rushed.

The Rule on Poverty

Last week I told you a story about a crooked landlord, so how about we change gears and begin this week with a lawyer. I attended a stewardship conference in the early 90’s where the keynote speaker recalled an event that happened when he was consulting with a vestry. He was with them to talk about stewardship and one aspect of his focus was the biblical notion of the Tithe. He went through scripture after scripture which indicate the starting point for our offering to God is 10% (or the tithe) of our wealth.

Throughout the presentation, one gentleman’s body language became more and more agitated. Finally he spoke up. “I am a lawyer,” he said, “and I make $400,000 a year.” Now that is pretty good money today, but twenty-five years ago it was really good money. “So, based on what you are saying,” the lawyer continued, “I should be giving away $40,000 a year.” “That’s right,” the speaker said, “That would be your tithe.” “Well,” the lawyer responded, “I can’t afford it.” He went on to detail how he had two mortgages, five car payments, three boat loans, college tuition, personal expenses, and on and on and on. In fact, when you tallied all of the lawyer’s financial obligations, he was actually spending more than he was making. The speaker tried to show him how scaling back could help him live within his means, focus on what is essential, be able to offer more to charity, and generally have more peace of mind, but – in the end – the lawyer would have none of it.

That story always comes back to me when I hear the words of Jesus we read just moments ago:

“You cannot serve two masters… You cannot love God and money.”

I have to confess that this teaching brings out all of my most effective defense mechanisms:

• Sure, I have some money, but there are lots of people who are wealthier than me. Obviously Jesus must be talking about them.

• Okay, I have possessions, but I am not dripping with stuff like person X over there.

•And, my new favorite, a significant portion of my tithe is distributed by Uncle Sam.

Somewhere in all these responses, I have lost sight of the truth that Jesus does not heap burdensome commands on us just to test our faithfulness, but rather as a Guide points us toward the path of life; which is to say there is wisdom in what Jesus says that blesses all who heed it. Rather than insolate ourselves from it, we should want to explore it, understand it, and incorporate it into our lives.

Before I was ordained a deacon and before I was ordained a priest, I made silent retreats with the Cowley Fathers, members of the Society of St. John the Evangelist whose monastic community is located on the Charles River just off Harvard Square in Boston. Each member of the community makes the typical monastic vows of poverty, chastity, and obedience. Now, I would have thought that this would make the brothers something wholly other, different from life as I know it, and unrelated to the world as I experience. In fact, what I found was a group of people who were very much engaged with the world and who, better than me, seemed to have figured out what life is all about. They are not perfect, but they are striving to live into the wisdom that Jesus offers through His teaching.

The Cowley Fathers are guided by a Rule of Life, which speaks to the various vows they make. The Rule says that the brothers embrace poverty as a way of relating to God whose self-giving is seen in the calling forth of creation, in the incarnation of Jesus Christ (through which the Rule says “God broke all the limits of generosity”), and in the Cross, which is the ultimate expression of God’s self-giving nature. Each brother takes a vow of poverty in order to be bound to the same self-emptying nature we find in God. The Rule states that the vow of poverty creates space for God to fill each brother with the richness he needs to give himself away in “a common life of worship, hospitality, evangelism, and service.”

So here is the first insight the Rule offers to us: Either we can focus our life on the Creator or we can focus it on the creation. Think of it this way: When I attended the NSA Art Show I saw several of Betsy Brother’s paintings on display and then I ran into Betsey herself. Now Betsey’s paintings are very nice, but if all I knew of her were her paintings my life would be poorer. Wouldn’t it be strange if I ran around from show to show snatching up all of Betsey’s work, but had little or no interest in her? The Rule encourages us to enjoy the artwork, but even more to love the Artist.

The Rule goes on to describe how sharing everything allows the brothers to be “in harmony with the very being of God whose Triune life is boundless sharing.” It helps them to recognize how a focus on “my” needs, “my” fulfillment, and “my” security is a cultural trap from which we can be set free. Now, the Cowley Fathers community obviously has possessions and it is supported by a large endowment. So each brother has a personal responsibility to care for the community’s possessions and as a group they purchase only what is appropriate and necessary. The Rule even directs brothers to “seek the permission of the Superior to keep any gifts offered” to them as individuals.

All of this suggests a second insight. Each one of our households, whether we live alone or as a couple or as a family or in any number of other possible configurations, is a community. As a community, each member is related to the others. What I do has an impact on every person in the household. The Rule suggests we move from an I want this approach to one where we decide how our resources will be allocated. Each person in the household bears the responsibility of using what is in the household in an appropriate manner. What is purchased is necessary and bought for the common good of all. In a culture where consumption is king, this approach may appear to be rigid and heavy-handed, but it is not. It is a path of life designed to set us free from the clutches of our culture’s worship of material things.

Do you get a sense of how this kind of approach to wealth would begin to simplify your life? The Rule goes on to describe some of the implications of this:

“Simplicity of life finds expression in the way we enjoy and value the goodness of ordinary things and the beauty of creation. As we cherish the essential gifts of life, we grow in freedom from the compulsion to accumulate things, and cease to long for wealth. The movement towards simplicity puts us at odds with our culture, which defines human beings primarily as consumers, and gives prestige to those who have the power to indulge themselves in luxury and waste.”

Even brothers united in this vow experience constant pressure to conform to the ways of the world. They find strength in Jesus’ words today about the lilies of the field and the birds of the air. God’s care for us is seen most clearly not as the world defines wealth, but in the things which the world deems to be of little or no value.

So here is a third and final insight. Think back to that lawyer. He had everything of the world that he could afford; in fact, he had more than he could afford. He had it all, and yet he had nothing: no real sense of peace, no real sense of happiness, no real sense of security. He had swallowed whole one of the world’s biggest lies and now he was choking on it.

I will never make as much money as he does, but I know exactly what it is like to be in his position, only on a scale more closely related to my financial means. I can tell you that as I live below my means, purchase only what I need, take care of what I have, and live generously in this world I am happier than when I don’t. I can tell you that as I learn to enjoy the world, rather than to clutch at it for all I can get, as I get free from worldly entanglements and avoid worldly snares, and as I make who I am and what I have available to others, I feel more closely connected to God and I sense I am more like what God intends for me to be as a human being created in God’s image. It is not something I decided to do one time long ago and that was that. It is a daily struggle, but certainly one worth engaging. It is also daily joy full of wonder, surprise, and blessing as I make my way on the path of life.

Between Vengeance and Victimhood

A lot of time has passed, but even still it doesn’t take much to get her blood boiling when she thinks about that landlord from long ago. The Rev. Candace Hodge and her husband were sued after leaving an apartment, accused of causing extensive “damage” to the dwelling. Knowing they had left the rental in good condition, the Hodges suspected that the landlord had destroyed the apartment in order to force his former tenants to foot the bill for renovations. Unfortunately they had no proof of this and ended up paying the landlord a huge sum of money in order to avoid court action.

The daily drive from her new home to her job took Candace Hodge past the landlord’s house and as she went by she held up her hand and “saluted him with the international sign of friendship.” She hated him with a perfect hatred whenever she thought about how he lied and cheated and stole from them and got away with it.

I suspect that each of us has “a landlord” in our past, or maybe even in our present. Perhaps it was a boss or a spouse. Maybe it was a friend or even a fellow parishioner. It might have been a peer or a rival. Those of you who have heard me rant on about it might want to chime in here that it could even be a neighbor. Each one of us knows what it is like to be powerless and backed into that corner where we have no options, no way to effect a just outcome, and sometimes even no ability to scream out. It is an awful place to be and the emotional trauma it inflicts on us stays with us for a long, long, long, long time.

It is such a common experience that Jesus speaks directly to it in His teaching:

“Do not resist an evildoer. If anyone strikes you on the cheek, turn the other also; if anyone wants to sue you to take your coat, give it to him, and give him your cloak as well; if anyone forces you to go a mile, go a second mile.”

This last teaching refers to the common practice of Roman soldiers conscripting civilians to carry their heavy bags for a mile. It was the law of the land and absolutely hated by the local population. Say you are out in the yard playing with your children, or getting ready to sit down to dinner, or resting after a hard day’s work. None of it mattered. At a moment’s notice you could be forced to drop it all and carry a soldier’s luggage a mile down a hot, dirty, dusty road. And once you had done that, you had to walk a mile back home; incensed and humiliated.

I am very much enjoying the daily practice of reading a passage from the Christian tradition. It offers insights from across the ages from men and women so powerful in the faith that if we were to know them in our present day we would know ourselves to be in the company of true godliness. Please don’t be too impressed when, in a sermon, I drop a reference to some obscure church figure. I am not that smart or well read, but I am trying to catch up.

So, on the heels of this disclaimer, let me tell you about something Gregory of Nyssa, a 4th century bishop and theologian, said. He held that God’s law – God’s righteous way for us – always falls in between two extremes. “Virtue,” he said, “is to be discerned in the mean: evil operates either in a deficiency or in an excess.”

Take courage, he says. Cowardice is the deficiency of virtue, while impetuosity is the product of excess. Wisdom lies in a narrow middle way between shrewdness and innocence. Moderation is the middle way between the self-indulgence of pure pleasure seeking on the one hand, and total disdain for the world on the other.

Thinking about this sheds a new and helpful light on the teachings of Jesus we heard this morning. On the surface, turn the other cheek, give your cloak as well, and walk a second mile seem to be very extreme responses, or non-responses. “Jesus,” we want to say, “these things are really hard to do. Why must you make it so difficult?” But what if they are in fact a middle way response between the evil extremes of excess and deficiency, between vengeance and victimhood?

Turning the other cheek is the mean response between retaliation (an eye for an eye) and the complete passivity of allowing yourself to be repeatedly abused because you lack the courage to say enough, no more. Giving you cloak is a middle way response between worshipping your stuff above all and reneging on your obligation to be a steward of what is entrusted to you. Walking the second mile is the mean response between hatred of the other (being consumed with resentment) and hatred of the self (renouncing your human dignity).

Each teaching empowers us to make choices in situations where we feel we have no choice. Jesus says to turn the other check because the perpetuation of violence only begets more violence, whereas complete meekness and helplessness offers no judgment on inappropriate behavior. Turning the other check is an act of the will which shows both restraint where reactivity is expected and action where passivity is the norm. Giving your cloak to the person who takes your coat says that you will not clutch on to your things at all cost, but neither will you stand by idle while everything you own is pilfered. Walking the second mile says that you will not react to an insult either with disdain for the offender or with disdain for yourself.

With regard to the extra mile, early Christians used this particular teaching as a tool for evangelism. As they carried a soldier’s pack they told the story of the Gospel. One of the reasons Christianity spread as far as it did as fast as it did was that converted soldiers, who travelled to the remote ends of the empire, took their new found faith with them. By the grace of God, they found the Gospel as it was lived out by believers who followed the middle way between excess and deficiency, between vengeance and victimhood.

Back to Candace Hodge and her landlord. She began to discern how her hatred was having adverse affects on her life, even though years had passed since the offense. She was lashing at others in anger, displacing her rage on those who did not deserve it. She had a heightened sense of stress and suffered physically and emotionally.

Studies suggest that anger is a human response to injustice that helps a person to gain a sense of control in the face of a situation of powerlessness. One researcher believes that we hold on to grudges because they make us feel more in control and less sad. But studies suggest we enjoy an even greater sense of power as we try to empathize with our offenders; gaining insight into their behavior and doing the hard work of offering forgiveness.

Hodge came to realize that it was difficult to forgive her ex-landlord because she had actually grown to enjoy hating him. But as long as she hated him, he had a power over her. Eventually she got to a point where she was able to write this:

I may not be able to make my former landlord any less of a lying, thieving jerk, but I can control of how I feel about that sort of person. Instead of hatred, I now feel a sense of pity for him. I forgive him now because I know he honestly doesn’t know any other way to behave. He has problems that I can’t begin to understand…

I remember, quite clearly, every detail of the legal hassle with that landlord. But, through the lens of forgiveness, I see it with different eyes. I see a man with little or no conscience, who takes advantage of people. I see him now as a man who schemes and connives, and I take pity on him. I hope one day maybe he’ll become a better person. In the meantime, I must move on with my life, if for no other reason than my own health and well being.

Jesus knew something very important. When we react to injustice from the extremes of excess or deficiency, we tie ourselves to the offender in way that lasts well beyond the offense. Long after the landlord has taken our money or the boss has taken our job or the spouse has destroyed our trust we allow ourselves to be fused to that person and that moment because at the time we could not find a middle way to empower us, nor can we now find the path of forgiveness which allows us to let it go and move on with life.

Jesus offers us teachings, which on the surface appear to be very difficult, but they are in fact the path of life.

Pull It Out & Cut It Off

This year’s Epiphany season Gospel readings have us hearing Jesus’ teaching in a section of Matthew’s Gospel known as the Sermon on the Mount. This sermon is really a collection of teachings, a basic summery of what Jesus must have told people over and over and over again everywhere He went. It begins with the Beatitudes, which we heard two weeks ago. Here, Jesus defines what happiness is all about: “Blessed are the poor in spirit for they shall inherit the earth.” Last week we heard Jesus tell His followers “you are the salt of the earth; you are the light of the world.”

Last week’s reading ended with Jesus telling folks He had not come to abolish all that the Law and the prophets had taught, but to fulfill it. He said that not one little dot of what had come before should be erased. He said that we must both keep the law and teach the law, which I take to mean we are to embody the Kingdom of God by so letting it inhabit us that our lives shout out the Gospel.

Now today, we hear Jesus begin to address specific issues of how the Law and the prophets were being taught and lived out in His own day. We can summarize His teaching by saying that Jesus both intensifies and internalizes the Law. It is no good for you to refrain from expressions of anger, but seethe within. It is no good for you to refrain from improper relationships, but still be racked with lust. Half-hearted commitments and vague promises will not do.

Jesus’ teaching could not be more clear. If you have wronged someone, go work it out. If you are being drawn toward something that is wrong, do whatever it takes to stay away. Remain faithful to your sacred commitments. Speak your intentions plainly. The teaching is clear, but we all know that following through is not. These are easy laws to pass along to others, but embodying them is another thing altogether.

Certainly the most vivid image Jesus uses is this: if your eye causes you to sin, pluck it out; if you hand causes you to sin, cut it off. Now we know that Jesus is speaking metaphorically because plain sense and scripture tell us so. Surely Jesus did not want His followers to maim themselves and we do not have one instance where He specifically instructs a person to do so, although we have several instances of His disciples sinning. Think of Peter: “I will never deny you,” he tells Jesus. But of course, he does… three times. When Jesus greets Peter after the Resurrection, He does not say to him, “Peter, about that denying problem you have… cut out your tongue and that will never happen again.” What He says is, “Peter, do you love me? Feed my sheep.”

So Jesus is not telling us to pull out our eyes if we have lustful thoughts when we see someone attractive, nor is He telling us to cut off a hand if we are tempted too often to dip into the cookie jar. But these powerful, evocative images tell us something straightforward that is very important: we are to do whatever is necessary to stop our self-destructive tendencies and ways and we are to do whatever it takes to put an end to the damage we do to others. Again, this is easier said than done.

In our day and age self-destructive behavior takes many forms: addiction to alcohol, drugs, gambling, pornography, and over-eating are far too common. Some over spend, over-manage, and/or live life at a breakneck speed by being over-committed. Some of us are angry at the world. It becomes our default filter to process everything that happens, be it in our lives, in our families, in our community, or in our world. Others turn anger inward; torturously blaming the self for each and every little way they perceive themselves to be lacking. All of these too are types of addiction: self-destructive patterns of behavior that become so much a part of who we are and how we operate that it becomes difficult to believe we have the power to change.

Why is it so hard to pluck out the eye or cut off the hand of self-destructive or hurtful behavior? It is hard because we get insulated behind a wall of delusion and denial.

• There is a disconnect between how we see ourselves and our actual behavior.

• We repress the memory of painful events in order to escape the emotional consequences.

• Certain types of behavior, especially substance abuse, actually alter the chemistry in our brains in a way which either compromises or blocks our memory. For instance, a person under the influence of alcohol can perform complicated tasks, such as flying a plane or performing surgery, and have no recollection of the event.

• And finally, after time passes, we may experience what is known as “euphoric recall” where the memory of behavior is faded, but memory of the pleasure is heightened.

The more destructive our behavior becomes the more defensive and isolated we become. We shut ourselves off from those who know us best, who see us for who we are, and who love us unconditionally. And we shut off ourselves from God; hearing in His message harsh words of judgment and condemnation. But what God desires for each one of us is salvation. Our modern day understanding of salvation revolves around entrance into heaven, but the biblical notion deals more with health in the here and now. What God desires for you, what God yearns for you, what God offers to you, is health and fullness of life today.

I think we each hold on to a notion that God says this is who you are supposed to be. Sometimes we see ourselves clearly enough to know that there is a disconnect between who we are called to be and who we really are. Other times we are blind to the difference or in denial of it. To the degree that we recognize in ourselves behavior that is in conflict with our values we experience shame, guilt, fear, remorse, self-hatred, and feelings of inadequacy and worthlessness. We deal with all of this spiritually as human beings have from the beginning of time. Do you remember what Adam did after he had eaten the apple? He covered himself and hid from God.

The Monk at Farne is a mystic English figure from the 14th century. I think he says something important to us today if we hide from ourselves or if we try to hide ourselves from God:

What then shall separate me for the love of Christ, and prevent me from casting myself into His embrace, when He stretches out His hands to me all day long? Shame at the sinfulness and impurity which defile me? No, indeed; a shame that would separate me from my Lord would be fatal. I will rather run to Him as He beckons me to come, and by touching Him I shall be cleansed from all impurity of body and soul…

I will gladly run to Thee albeit a sinner, albeit unclean, for with Thee there is merciful forgiveness; Thou wilt wash me in Thy blood, and I shall be made whiter than snow. I will enter into Thee and not stay without, for outside Thee there is no salvation.

In today’s Gospel reading Jesus does not so much lay down the Law as He points the way to health and fullness of life. He doesn’t so much tell us to hide in shame and fear as He implores us to do whatever it takes to master our destructive and hurtful tendencies. In my experience, this is not a journey many of us undertake well when we undertake it on our own. We need allies, friends, supporters, professionals, and power from a Higher Power. Happiness lies down this path and this path alone. Hiding will not get you there. Do whatever it takes to begin this journey. There is nothing in life worth keeping if it costs you your life and the love of those who love you.

Salt, Light, and Homer DaVinci

Like many of you, I have kept a watchful eye on events unfolding in Egypt over the past few days. I am prayerful for a peaceful resolution there that will bring freedom and democracy to a long-oppressed people. I saw an NBC News story where they reported on the nerve center of the uprising. It was a small, cramped room staffed by less than a dozen volunteers led by a single mother aged 33. With access to the internet cut off, they were using satellite cell phones to communicate with an ever-increasing network of people risking their lives working for change.

Unrest in any part of the world makes us anxious, especially if it is a region where we have vital interests at stake. While the outcome of what will happen in Egypt is anything but certain, and the affect this movement has on the rest of Arab world is a serious concern, I can’t help but be impressed that a handful of dedicated people are making history before our very eyes. I am encouraged by their realization that peaceful resistance is more effective that strapping a bomb to your body and blowing yourself up at a hospital, police station, market square, or place of worship.

And I am impressed that a 33 year old woman, armed with a college degree and easily accessible modern technology, is leading the charge. She challenges each one of us to consider Jesus’ words in today’s Gospel reading: “You are the salt of the earth, but if you have lost your saltiness what good are you?” “You are the light of the world, so why would you hide your light under a basket? Put it out on the table so that it will give light to everyone in the room.”

I’ve said before that Denise Levertov is one of my favorite poets. Years ago she was having dinner with a man who at one time had been a painter. She didn’t know if he was a good painter or not, but because his wife wanted more security, he gave up his art and took a lousy advertizing job drawing pictures of ugly furniture for some nasty company. He hated it, every minute of it, every part of it. Levertov could feel his exasperation as they talked. There was something in his situation, she felt, that seemed typical of so many lives. This man, who she dubbed ‘Homer DaVinci’, had sold out (if you will) for money. Some of us do that. Others sell out for comfort, esteem, acceptance, or power to name a few possibilities.

In her 1961 book, The Jacob’s Ladder, Levertov wrote a poem called “The Plan” where she is not so much critical of Homer DaVinci for selling out as she chastises him for being corrupted. By corruption she means that he was not living his own life, rather he had gotten off the track and was living someone else’s life. It is another way of expressing what Jesus is saying: he was no longer salty; he had hidden his light.

In the poem Levertov picks up a provocative quote by Rabbi Judah Loew; a quote which Jesus Himself might just have said were he born into a time closer to our own:

“In some special way every person completes the universe. If he does not play ‘his part,’ he injures the pattern of all existence.”

Do you believe that is true? Do you believe that the person sitting to your right this morning has some special part in completing the universe? Do you believe the person sitting to your left has a role to play in the pattern of all existence? Do you believe that you are the salt of the earth, that you are the light of the world?

Levertov does not perceive the Rabbi to be talking about the need for us to be perfect, but rather about the value we bring to life by being authentic to who we are; utilizing the gifts we have been given and the experiences that have shaped us. Painters need to paint, writers need to write, tinkers need to tinker, and healers need to heal. In the Grand Design that we call God’s Kingdom, each of us has a part; our own unique way to be salt and to be light. When we accept this and live into it, even the world can be changed as we see this week in Egypt. When we shrink back, sell out, give in, or give up it injures the Kingdom of God.
This season of Epiphany the assigned readings from the Old Testament have been a series of challenging prophetic proclamations that attack the shallowness of worship offered by a society unconcerned about justice and righteousness; it denounces the value of praise offered by tasteless salt and hidden light. In today’s reading Isaiah mocks the efforts of a people to fast and pray and practice the rituals of the faith. And then, speaking through the prophet, the Lord says this:

Is not this the fast that I choose:
to loose the bonds of injustice,
to undo the thongs of the yoke,
to let the oppressed go free,
and to break every yoke?

Is it not to share your bread with the hungry,
and bring the homeless poor into your house;
when you see the naked, to cover them,
and not to hide yourself from your own kin?

And what does God say the outcome of such “worship” will be?

Then your light shall break forth like the dawn,
and your healing shall spring up quickly…

If you remove the yoke from among you,
the pointing of the finger, the speaking of evil,
if you offer your food to the hungry
and satisfy the needs of the afflicted,
then your light shall rise in the darkness
and your gloom be like the noonday.

It is as if Isaiah is saying that God’s light shines on us as we allow our light to shine in the world. It is as if the healing properties of salt come to us as we live like the salt of the earth. “To the one who has,” Jesus said, “even more will be given. But to the one who uses not what he has, even that little will be taken away.”

Thomas Merton, in his book The Power and Meaning of Love, cautions against being salt and light in ways that are anything less than concrete:

There is a ‘romantic’ tendency in some Christians – a tendency which seeks Christ not in love of those flesh-and-blood brothers and sisters with whom we live and work, but in some as yet unrealized ideal of ‘brotherhood’. It is always a romantic evasion to turn from the love of people to the love of love itself: to love people in general more than individual persons, to love ‘brotherhood’ and ‘unity’ more than one’s brothers, sisters, neighbors, and associates… This romantic tendency leads to a substitution of… genuine faith and love, and what is seeks in the Church is not so much reality as protection against responsibility.

I think Merton is saying it is possible to have all the words right, to pray and worship just like the people in Isaiah’s time, and still not be salt or light.

Look around. Everyday people are doing ordinary things that play a part in the pattern of all existence. In fact, some ordinary people are doing extraordinary things. And sadly, far too many everyday people are like Homer DaVinci, underestimating the value and worth they have as salt and light. And some of us use our religion to make us bland and blind to the part we are to play, injuring, as it were, the Kingdom of God.

Question #3

Someone (I don’t remember who) said that the most important question we can ask is this: Is there a God? The second most important question is: If there is a God can God be known? Our Judeo/Christian heritage holds that God does in fact exist, that this God has called all things into being, and that God is knowable, self-revealing, and intimately involved in human affairs and history.

Today’s assigned readings from Scripture point us toward what I think is the third most important question human beings must consider: Since there is a God and since we can know God, what then does God expect from us? The poet of the 15th Psalm ponders:

Lord, who may dwell in your tabernacle?
Who may abide upon your holy hill?

The prophet Micah, in one of the most profound passages of the Old Testament, prayerfully considers:

With what shall I come before the Lord,
and bow myself before God on high?

“Should I bring an animal to sacrifice,” he asks? We might rephrase it, should I write a check? “Should I bring a thousand rams?” Should I write a really big check? “Should I pour out a river of oil?” Should I sit on the Vestry, serve on the Altar Guild, sing in the choir, pass out food to the needy, teach a class, never miss a Sunday, and basically be the best parishioner anyone has ever seen? “Should I offer up my first born for my sins and transgressions?” Should I tear myself apart for all the things I am that I should not be and for all the things I am not that I should be? What does God expect from us? What does God expect from you?

I must confess to you that I think I am too comfortable when I walk into church and when I seek to come into God’s presence. It is so easy to open the doors of the church, walk in, sit down, do the worship thing, and then move on without ever having a sense that I have presented myself to One Worthy beyond anything I can imagine. Stop and think about it for a minute. Are you comfortable when you enter this space? Casual? Complacent? Shouldn’t we be terrified or at least a little self-conscious! I think about how different Sunday feels when a bishop is visiting. On those occasions I am very much aware of things that are out of place. I am more in tune with where the parish is not up to snuff. And I am on heightened alert not to say or do the wrong thing. Heck, when a bishop visits I make it a point to get a hair-cut and have my shoes polished. But today I am more low-key because there is no bishop here to inspect us. The only One watching what we do today is us and God. God is watching! Shouldn’t that alarm us?

Now, I am not saying that to come to church you need to dress to the nines nor am I suggesting that authentic worship means trembling in fear for an hour. Scripture and our tradition present a variety of elements and responses that are appropriate in God’s presence. But Micah and the Psalmist remind us that God is an awe-inspiring Being and that to be in God’s presence elicits from us that third question: What does God want me to do and… am I doing it?

And what both Micah and the Psalmist realize is that the question needs to be reframed. It is not so much what God wants me to do as who God wants me to be. The Psalmist comes to see that God desires him or her to be a person of deep integrity: blameless, doing what is right, truthful, never speaking in a way that is wily or deceitful, not evil or contemptuous of others, honoring what is honorable and rejecting what is not, keeping your word at all costs, never taking advantage of the vulnerable. Micah, in his memorable words, describes the core of human integrity in just three poetic phrases: do justice, love kindness, and walk humbly with God. Such a person, the Psalmist says, not only can come into God’s presence, but remain/abide/dwell with God.

William Law was an 18th century English priest whose promising career took a big hit when, as a non-juror, he refused to swear allegiance to George I and remained loyal to his oath to James II. Not long after his fall from grace Law published his most famous work, A Serious Call to a Devout and Holy Life, which to this day remains a devotional classic. Listen to Law’s words as he pursues the question of what God wants from us:

There is no principle of the heart that is more acceptable to God than a universal fervent love for all mankind, wishing and praying for their happiness, because there is no principle of the heart that makes us more like God, who is love and goodness itself...

The greatest idea that we can frame of God is when we conceive him to be a Being of infinite love and goodness, using an infinite wisdom and power for the common good and happiness of all his creatures. The highest notion, therefore, that we can form of man is when we conceive him as like to God in this respect as he can be, using all his finite faculties, whether of wisdom, power, or prayers, for the common good of all his fellow creatures, heartily desiring they may have all the happiness they are capable of…

Then Law turns his thinking around by speaking of the shadow possibility:

And on the other hand, what baseness and iniquity is there in all instances of hatred, envy, spite, and ill will, if we consider that every instance of them is so far acting in opposition to God and intending mischief and harm to those creatures which God favors, and protects, and preserves…

It is this shadow that Jesus addresses in today’s Gospel reading. Those who are poor now will one day be rich, those who mourn will be comforted, those who are meek will own the earth, those who dream of a world that is right will see that dream come to fruition, those who extend mercy will receive mercy. This world is not as it ought to be, but God’s everlasting, ever faithful love will overcome the worst that we can do to one another and God’s desire for blessedness, for human happiness, will prevail.

Jesus, who is God in flesh, who came to be the Light of the World so that we might have an example and a guide – a living embodiment of what God expects of us, said that it all comes down to this: Love God with all your heart, mind, soul, and strength, and love your neighbor as yourself. Simple enough to hear, not so easy to live out, is it.

My record is marked with some success and marred by failures. And so I walk into this space today, more mindful than most days that I am standing in the presence of the Awesome, Holy God. I am doing God no favor by being here today. It is God who extends favor to me, granting me an audience whenever I am open to the possibility. I feel a little bit like the famous Oscar Wilde quote: “We are all in the gutter, but some of us are looking at the stars.” I don’t have much to commend myself, but I do hold on to the starry vision of who God wants me to be. Some days it is within my grasp and I take hold of it, while other days I reach for it not at all.

I am grateful for the words and witness of the Psalmist, of Micah, and of Jesus because they remind us to look at the stars. And there is something in those stars – love for God and love for our neighbor – that helps us to dwell – to abide – in God’s presence. And when we roll over in the gutter and lose sight of our holy calling, it is not God who sends us away, we are the ones who leave the holy hill. The good news is that the stars continue to shine and God continues to work for our happiness – happiness that comes from being in right relationship with God and with our neighbors. And it is good news that God is always and ever willing to grant us an audience. It is up to us to look toward God.

Called by the Master Craftsman

Matthew 4:12-23

When Jesus heard that John had been arrested, he withdrew to Galilee. He left Nazareth and made his home in Capernaum by the sea, in the territory of Zebulun and Naphtali, so that what had been spoken through the prophet Isaiah might be fulfilled:

“Land of Zebulun, land of Naphtali,
on the road by the sea, across the Jordan,
Galilee of the Gentiles--
the people who sat in darkness have seen a great light,
and for those who sat in the region and shadow of death
light has dawned."

From that time Jesus began to proclaim, “Repent, for the kingdom of heaven has come near.”

As he walked by the Sea of Galilee, he saw two brothers, Simon, who is called Peter, and Andrew his brother, casting a net into the sea -- for they were fishermen. And he said to them, “Follow me, and I will make you fish for people.” Immediately they left their nets and followed him.

As he went from there, he saw two other brothers, James son of Zebedee and his brother John, in the boat with their father Zebedee, mending their nets, and he called them. Immediately they left the boat and their father, and followed him.

Jesus went throughout Galilee, teaching in their synagogues and proclaiming the good news of the kingdom and curing every disease and every sickness among the people.

I am very excited about today’s football games: the Packers vs. the Bears and the Jets vs. the Steelers should be great match-ups. You may not know this, but growing up I played a little football. I was the backup quarterback and I was not very good. I did get into a game once when the starting quarterback was injured. The ball was on our three yard line and we were deep in a hole. It was second and long. As I put on my helmet to go into the coach, who had no confidence in me, told me this: “Don’t get cute out there. Hand the ball to the fullback on the first play. Hand the ball to the fullback on the second play. On the third play, drop back and punt the ball.” Well, I knew how to do what I was told. I took the first snap, turned and handed to the fullback. He broke through the line and picked up 30 yards. On the second play I handed it to him again. He got free and ran the ball all the way down to the five yard line before being pushed out of bounds. On the third play I took the snap, dropped back, and punted the ball through the end zone, past the goal post, and deep into the stands. As our team came off the field, the coach was livid. He shouted at me, “What in the world were you thinking when you called that last play?” “What was I thinking?” I answered. “I was thinking our coach sure calls some dumb plays!”

Anyone in charge of a team or an organization or a business or a family or an effort of any kind has to figure out how to get it all to work. It is no different for God. God is about the grand design of creating a kingdom here on earth. From a leadership perspective we might want to ponder how God operates. Is God like that coach: “Here are the plays I want you to run, now go out there and get it done”? Or is God like a chess player: sizing up each one of us and figuring out who has the talent to be a rook or a knight or a castle and who has the limited potential of pawn? Or is God like an experimental chef: “Let’s throw all these ingredients together, stir them up, turn on the heat, and see what happens”? Or is God something else?

Today’s Gospel reading tells the story of Jesus’ calling His first four disciples: brothers Peter and Andrew and brothers James and John. They are fishermen; hard-working small business owners who, while they have much to commend themselves, are hardly the people you would expect to lead a world-changing movement. Our President’s cabinet is stuffed with M.B.A.’s and Ph.D.’s, intellectuals and idealists, experienced military leaders and politicians. Peter, Andrew, James, and John would not be asked to join this esteemed council. The C.E.O. of Apple Computers surrounds himself with men and women skilled in development, marketing, and accounting. I don’t see Jesus’ first followers having much to contribute here either.

If Jesus is going to call the plays they are to run He is going to run head-first into their limited skill sets. If He is going to use them as pieces on the chess board of life, all He has done is pick a pack of pawns. And if He is going to throw them together the way the chef throws together ingredients, don’t hope for a banquet because Jesus will be lucky to get something as tasty as a cracker out of these four.

Still, these are the four people Jesus starts with and history shows that they launched a movement that has, in fact, changed the world. We might want to ask ourselves how did it happen and what does it suggest about Jesus’ “leadership style,” and what implications does it hold for each one of us, since we are all now a part of Jesus’ team.

If the metaphors of Jesus as coach or as chess player or as chef come up lacking, is there an image that helps us better understand how He leads? One that I find helpful comes from an unlikely source: Carla Needleman’s guidebook for woodworkers called The Work of Crafts. In it she says this:

It is as if the honorable craftsman in his journey of exploration of the material asks, “What can this wood, this clay, or this glass, do?” instead of “What can I do with it?” For that he has to listen to the material, entreat it, support it where it needs support, and to be tough and demanding with himself, even more demanding than he is with the material.

Did you catch that? What is this material capable of doing, not what can I do with it! This, in a nutshell, is what Jesus considers as He calls the four fishermen. He certainly has His vision set – He is going to bring God’s Kingdom to earth. But He will not do it by manipulating His followers’ actions nor by leaving them to their own devices. He will work with them and their individual uniqueness because there is something emerging in each one of them that will give the Kingdom its shape and form.

I think my own leadership style has changed over the course of my time in the ordained ministry. When I was younger I used to talk about “getting the church to do this” or “getting the church to do that.” Good ministry meant the ability to make a parish look the way I wanted it to look, to act the way I wanted it to act, to do what I wanted it to do. And its not that my ideas and expectations for a congregation were all that bad, in fact they were pretty good. They had been shaped through theological study and refined by experiences in multiple ministry sites.

But over the years I have become less the authoritarian and more the craftsman. I look at St. Paul’s and ask not what do I want this church to be, but what can it be. What can it be for each person here? What can it be for our community? What can it be for our diocese? What can it be for God? Each one of us, with your unique set of gifts and experiences shapes what this parish is and can become for God.

Years ago a member of the parish I was serving heard about a fantastic ministry in another congregation in another state. It had a group of men who offered to do basic car repairs and maintenance for elderly parishioners. They changed a car’s oil, did other routine upkeep, and offered advise about bigger repairs. It sounded like a great ministry. Why can’t we do that here, our parishioner wondered. The answer was pretty simple: no one in our parish had the skills to offer for that kind of ministry. It just was not a part of the grain in our wood. Never-the-less, that parish, like St. Paul’s, is a good parish where unique gifts and talents and abilities are being offered. We are not called to be like every other parish, we are called to be faithful to who we are and to what we can become.

A part of my daily devotional time is spent keeping up with the saints of the Episcopal Church. Three books help me with this: Holy Women, Holy Men – a description of each saint along with scripture readings and a prayer, Brightest and Best – a very interesting set of reflections on many of the saints, and They Still Speak – original source material from some of the saints. I am amazed at how many of them were ordinary or even limited folks who still managed to do memorable things.

On January 19, we celebrated the life and ministry of Wulfstan, a monastic who only reluctantly accepted the appointment as Bishop of Worchester. He was only English born bishop to retain his see after the Norman Conquest in 1066. All other bishops were replaced by French born, French speaking clerics. Wulfstan had limited education and could not speak French or read Latin and that deficiency put him at a severe disadvantage. And yet he had other qualities which endeared him to the people. He was pious, prayerful, humble, and a faithful administrator. And even as an outsider to the Norman court he was instrumental in putting an end to the slave trade that sold Englishmen to Ireland.

Listen to this quote from some devotional material I read this week:

We say, ‘Here I am, Lord’ when He calls. He calls continually to the willing and the unwilling. It is not so much our ability He has need of, but our availability.

Jesus still walks the shores today, looking at each one of us and pondering what we might become in the kingdom of God. Jesus still invites us to drop our nets and to follow Him. It is not so much our ability He calls as our availability. And when we become available incredible things begin to happen as God allows what is within in us to emerge in service to His kingdom.

Let me close with this quote from Sam Portaro’s book Brightest and Best in which he reflects on one lesson we learn from Wulfstan’s life:

Walking with God, we find ourselves well beyond the limits of our well-reasoned design, in places where all reason says we cannot be. We find ourselves where we never dreamed we would be, seeing things we never dreamed we would see, saying things we never dreamed we would say, doing things we never dreamed we would do, accomplishing what we never dreamed we could accomplish. We find ourselves by God’s side as God’s friend. If we are truly wise, we will not ask how or why. We will just be thankful and keep walking [with Jesus].