A Highway

 

Barach 5:1-9

Advent 2 / Year C

For God has ordered that every high mountain

and the everlasting hills be made low
and the valleys filled up, to make level ground,
so that Israel may walk safely in the glory of God.

I drive on I64 two or three times a month I suppose.  It is a white-knuckle experience, what with all the construction around the Highrise Bridge.  Nevertheless, I am always curious to see how much progress (or how little progress) has been made since the last time I drove by.  As I say a prayer I won’t get sideswiped in the narrow lanes, I dream of the day all the work will be done and a more modern highway will usher in congestion-free travel.  Ahh, someday.

My various walking and biking pilgrimages have given me an appreciation for our road and highway systems.  We drivers have it pretty well off over most other methods of getting around.  When you are walking you are well aware of the obstacles you face.  You know the amount of energy it will take to climb the step hill you are approaching.  You know how treacherous it is to be descending a rocky path on a rainy day when a single slip can spell disaster.  And you know what it is like to be out in the elements – the heat of the sun and the damp chill of blustery winds and driving sleet.  In a car none of these things greatly affect you.  On foot they are constant challenges.

The present-day road from Jericho to Jerusalem is like any modern highway and the elevation change is dramatic.  It is up hill all the way and when we were in the Holy Land a few years ago our bus struggled at times with the grade.  I remember thanking God I was riding, not walking it.  It brought to mind the 121^st Psalm, which pilgrims would recite as they made their way to Jerusalem to attend one of its many yearly festivals.  After several days of exhausting walking, the Holy City finally came into sight and there is a good reason it is referred to as ‘Mt. Zion’.  I can imagine pilgrims getting their first glimpse of the road ahead and saying,

I lift up mine eyes to the hills,

  from whence is my help to come?

In other words, “How in the world am I going to be able to climb all the way up there!”

All of this is to say the imagery of building a highway where the hills are laid low and the deep valleys filled in and the rough places made smooth and the crooked places made straight would be especially appealing to folks whose only method of transportation was on foot. 

Baruch came from a noble family and was a loyal friend of the prophet Jeremiah.  In fact, he recorded all of Jeremiah’s prophecies about the impending fall of Jerusalem and subsequent exile.  While in exile in Babylon he added his own writings, which is now known as the Book of Baruch (one of the books of the Apocrypha). 

What we read this morning is such a wonderful, hopeful vision of immanent redemption and restoration. 

Take off the garment

of your sorrow and affliction, O Jerusalem,
and put on forever

  the beauty of the glory from God.

Arise, O Jerusalem, stand upon the height;

look toward the east,

  and see your children gathered from west and east

at the word of the Holy One,
rejoicing that God has remembered them.

For they went out from you on foot,

led away by their enemies;

  but God will bring them back to you,
carried in glory, as on a royal throne.

For God has ordered that every high mountain

and the everlasting hills be made low
and the valleys filled up, to make level ground,
so that Israel may walk safely in the glory of God.

As they did then, we also do today – celebrate God’s continual work to restore all people, all things, and all of creation to the beauty we once had before sin and brokenness entered the world. 

Baruch’s vision came to pass not too long after he proclaimed it.  Those exiled in Babylon and those dispersed through the Mediterranean region returned to Jerusalem.  The imagery about the highway was more hyperbole than reality, still, God made a way for exiles to return home.  Thanks be to God.  It is like what G.K. Chesterton once said, “Fairy tales are more than true - not because they tell us dragons exist, but because they tell us dragons can be beaten.”  Through Baruch, God promises a way forward will emerge.

But the story does not end here.  When the exiles get back to Jerusalem they find the Temple is destroyed, the city walls are breached, and the gates no longer exist.  The home to which they have returned is in ruins.  Rather than curse their enemies or the God who brought them back, they roll up their sleeves and get to work; first on the walls, then the gates, and finally the Temple.

We live now in a time very similar to what they experienced.  The pandemic has been an exile experience where we have been separated from family and friends, where much of what was familiar is gone.  We are now in the time of return.  Some of us are back, some are on the way, and a few are not yet comfortable enough to begin the journey. 

So much has changed in our society: worker shortages and supply chain disruptions are two of the more obvious new challenges.  Here at St. Paul’s – like every other church – we are labor to get back up to speed.  We have learned once the routine of ministry stops it is not easy to get it going again. 

But never forget God is in the business of restoration and hope.  There are signs of this in our midst.  Today we welcome back our choir and look forward to seeing many of our children after the service who will be outside engaging in a St. Nicholas’ Day Festival.  While we have much work to do, we also have much to celebrate.  I can see and sense God is tending our parish in a way that will help us blossom and thrive. 

Let’s do this.  Let’s make a mental note of where we are today on this 2^nd Sunday of Advent, 2021.  What have we lost?  What do we have?  Who is here?  Let’s jot it down and seal it away until the day the roadwork around the Highrise Bridge is finally finished.  And then let’s compare where we are at that moment with where we are today and I suspect we will realize we have even much more to celebrate than we do today.

Finding Hope in the ordinary Apocalypses of Daily Living

 

Luke 21:25-36

Advent 1 / Year C

How would you like to do what Jan Richardson did for two straight weeks?  When she was in seminary she was part of a group of twenty students and professors who began each day with Morning Prayer and then, sitting in a circle, took turns reading aloud and straight through the entire Book of Revelation.  Slowly, over time and after repeated readings, what began to emerge from the experience for Richardson was a sense of the book’s astounding beauty and power amidst its images of devastation.

It is curious how we always begin the new year in the Church calendar by going to the end.  Today, like all first Sundays in Advent, we encounter apocalyptic visions about the end times… a time called “the day of the Lord” by many of the Old Testament prophets.   The bible is so clear about the beginning… the place where you and I might start the Church year.  We can all quote from Genesis 1:1… “In the beginning God created the heavens and the earth.”  And we can all recite John 1:1… “In the beginning was the Word and the Word was with God and the Word was God.”  Even while the bible seems to say a great deal about the end, the imagery and language it uses is not nearly as easy to understand as what it says about the beginning.  Apocalyptic writings play on our fears of the future and fuel our sense of anxiety and dread.  So why start the new year here?

Richardson suggests most people take one of two approaches to the bible’s apocalyptic literature.  Either we maintain an embarrassed silence about it or we approach it as if was a codebook for the end of the world.  When we approach it as a codebook we are tempted to dissect all of the images in order to decipher a solitary meaning.  Emerging from her experience over those two weeks, Richardson suggests a different way to read apocalyptic writings… a way she calls ‘devotionally.’  This approach, she writes, “beckons us to sit with the sacred strangeness of the text until the connections begin to surface, until – its visions of destruction and desire, loss and redemption, ending and beginning – we see those rhythms in our own lives, in the ordinary apocalypses of our daily living.” 

Do you ever think of your own life as being a series of ordinary apocalypses?  Probably not, especially if you think of ‘apocalypse’ the way most people today do: a kind of massive, large-scale catastrophe.  But that is not how the biblical writers used the word.  ‘Apocalypse’ is a Greek word meaning “to uncover,” “to reveal,” or “to make known.”  More often than not, apocalyptic writings emerge in times already ominous and threatening, not to predict calamity, but to assure the readers of God’s care and keep in the midst of conflict.  The apocalyptic images of the bible, when taken as a whole, paint a picture of hope.  They reveal or uncover the potential and promise of new life on the other side of struggle, loss, and death.

When Luke writes his gospel, the Christian community is reeling both from religious persecution and the devastating effects of the Roman army’s destruction of Jerusalem in 70 AD.  So Luke remembers Jesus’ words stating these things will take place.  What is most powerful in our Lord’s apocalyptic revealing is not the omen-laced imagery or dire signs, but the instruction about what to do when it all unfolds.  You might expect Jesus to say when the fur begins to fly, duck and take cover.  This would be prudent.  This would make sense.  But this is not what Jesus says.  Instead he tells his followers to stand up and raise their heads because their redemption is drawing near.  It is a powerful call to have courage rooted in the hope no matter what happens God will prevail.

Why do we begin the new year by focusing on the end?  Well, it is kind of like one of those movies where the opening scene is actually the end of the story and then the rest of movie shows you how the drama gets to that point.  What God has uncovered to us is the end of the story.  We know how history will end… with Jesus redeeming all of creation.  But before then, we have to attend to the ordinary apocalypses of daily living… those personal and collective moments when we need to remember the message of hope ringing throughout the bible. 

I was privileged in seminary to be mentored by the Rev. Ed Campbell.  In 1996, medical tests disclosed he had a substantial tumor in his left lung and a cancer that had moved to other parts of his body.  In telling the congregation about his condition, Ed said, “I have no idea what this means for me in the future, but it doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure it out.” 

Over the next six months Ed shared his journey not only with the congregation, but also with the whole community through a series of weekly articles he wrote for the local newspaper.  It was a remarkable six months that transformed many, many lives.  In the last column Ed wrote before he died, he described a time he was feeling weak and down in the dumps, but his wife pestered him to get into the car without revealing where they were going.  The trip led to an ice cream cone and watching a fantastic sunset.   Here is Ed’s reflection on such an ordinary moment, which he initially resisted:

The message I’m looking forward to every day of my life, from this moment on, is that there is joy everywhere, if you just look for it.  Or, to say it another way, God is always around.  He is always in the business of redeeming – that is, of turning what looks like a crummy deal into a real possibility.

Jesus might have said to his followers “a real crummy deal is coming your way, but when it does, take heart, stand up, raise your head, because a new possibility is on the horizon.”  By faith we know this to be true about the end of all time.  By experience, we also know it to be true of the ordinary apocalypses of our life.  There will always be a crummy deal coming your way.  Not a one should come as a surprise.  But what we need to know, what we need to expect, and what we can surely count on. is God will work out something wonderful through it, if we are open to God’s presence. 

This is the message we begin the new year with.  There will be some tough times in the days ahead, but God is going to turn each one into real possibilities.      

The Origin of Christ's Kingdom

 

John 18:33-37

Proper 29 / Year B

The Rt. Rev. Bill Curry, retired bishop suffragan of the Diocese of Connecticut, has found a unique way to occupy his free time.  He travels the country in his Toyota Highlander pulling a trailer which is equipped to function as a mobile blacksmithing forge.  His project is to express the biblical verse Isaiah 2:4 in ways both practical and symbolic.  Is the passage not coming to you right away?  “They shall beat their swords into plowshares, and their spears into pruning hooks.”  Curry does this by melting down guns and turning them into gardening tools.  Some of the weapons have been confiscated by law enforcement while others have come to him through buy-back programs.  Curry is a founding member of a non-profit called Swords to Plowshares Northeast.  Since 2017 its members have melted down over 800 guns.  You can even purchase their gardening tools from the group’s website.

Sadly, the motivation for this ministry has its roots in violence.  It is a response to the shooting at Sandy Hook Elementary School in Newtown, Connecticut nine years ago next month; an unimaginable tragedy which left 20 children and 6 adults dead.  It remains the deadliest mass shooting at an elementary school in our country’s history and, in addition to motivating Bishop Curry, has spurred continued debate about gun control, background checks, and mental health programs.

One aspect of the debate relates to violent crimes.  While it may not seem like it, the murder rate in 2020 was actually half what it was in 1991.  This leads some to assert we are actually safer now than 30 years ago.  But for those of us born before 1963 (Boomers), violent crime today is four times higher than when we were growing up.  Our children and grandchildren are four times more likely to be the victim of a violent crime than we were at their age.  And while we might be safer now than three decades ago, historically, violent crime consistently has been higher in America than in other developed countries, significantly higher.

All of this may seem out of place on the last Sunday of the Church Year as we celebrate the Kingship of Christ, but violence and truth are at the heart of the cagey responses Jesus makes to Pilate’s questions and statements in today’s readings. 

“Are you the King of the Jews?”  Well, in Jesus’ time kings came into power through acts of violence either by attacking and overthrowing other kings or though assassination or by inheriting the position and securing their reign by executing enemies and rivals.  Kings, in Jesus’ day, were notoriously violent thugs with little or no regard for the people they rule.  “My Kingdom is from this world” (or maybe better, “of” this world).  If it were, my followers would fight for me.”  Jesus did not come to Jerusalem to battle it out with Pilate or Herod in order to become the king a specific area or people.  His Kingdom is different from that.

“My Kingdom is not from here.”  In other words, it is not going to come about and be secured in the way earthly kingdoms are.  Don’t think for a second Jesus is saying his Kingdom is in heaven and has nothing at all to do with this earthly realm.  After all, he taught us to pray daily for God’s will to be done on earth as it is in heaven.  Jesus’ Kingdom has a different origin than Pilate’s rule and its scope is much, much broader and deeper than anything an earthly sovereign can achieve.

If it does not originate from violence, then how does it come about?  Jesus tells us how.  “I came into this world to testify to the truth.  Everyone who belongs to the truth listens to my voice.”  We have spent an entire church year listening to the truth of Jesus and witnessing how he embodies it: selflessness, compassion, humility, breaking down barriers, love for God and neighbor…  I could go on and on, but if you have walked the liturgical year with me and if you have been paying attention than you know the truth to which Jesus testifies.

More than most, Dr. Martin Luther King understood the origin and nature of Jesus’ Kingdom and translated it into his effort to create a just society for all.  Here is what he believed and taught:   

The ultimate weakness of violence is that it is a descending spiral, begetting the very thing it seeks to destroy.  Instead of diminishing evil, it multiplies it.  Through violence you may murder the liar, but you cannot murder the lie, nor establish the truth.  Through violence you may murder the hater, but you do not murder hate.  In fact, violence merely increases hate.  So it goes.  Returning violence for violence multiplies violence, adding deeper darkness to a night already devoid of stars.  Darkness cannot drive out darkness: only light can do that.  Hate cannot drive out hate: only love can do that.

Can there be a more apt description of Kyle Rittenhouse and his impact on our society.  He and others like him employed the tactics of intimidation and violence in an attempt to make a community safer and (by their definition) better.  Even though he was acquitted of breaking Wisconsin law, Rittenhouse is guilty of killing two people and wounding another.  In truth, all he did was create more hate and more anger.  Violence begets more violence.  Only love can drive out hate.

This is the truth on which Jesus’ Kingdom is founded.  It is a truth which Pilate cannot hear or see.  He imagines by crucifying Jesus his Kingdom will come to an end.  But Jesus transforms crucifixion – one of the most violent acts in human history – through his own self-offering.  His act of love on the Cross establishes his Kingdom here on earth.   

So as the church year comes to an end we are invited to align ourselves under Christ’s Kingship by seeking ways to reject the violence and power of this world through acts of love and kindness and light and truth.  If you know blacksmithing you may want to consider joining Bishop Curry’s ministry.  The rest of us will have to explore other avenues and expressions of what it looks like to be a loyal and loving citizen in Christ’s Kingdom.

Endings & New Beginnings

 

Mark 13:1-8

Proper 28 / Year B

Not long after I was ordained I organized an alumni gathering in the Diocese of Ohio for clergy who had graduated from the Virginia Seminary.  Forty-some folks attended the event, which included the school’s development director who updated us on the latest developments on “The Hill”, as the school is affectionately known.  I was proud for orchestrating the event and must admit I was feeling pretty good about myself as we settled in to listen to the talk.  He began by saying something like…

“God has used Virginia Seminary since its founding in 1823 for a variety of purposes, including theological education to prepare persons [like me] for ordained ministry in the Episcopal Church.  Of course (he continued), there will come a day when God will no longer need the seminary and it will cease to exist.”

What!  I was absolutely floored at the thought of my school coming to an end.  It hardly seemed the right note to strike at an event intended to fire up alumni.  But, the more I thought about it, the more I realized his statement was true.  Nothing lasts forever, save the Kingdom of God.

Today, this 25^th Sunday in the season of Pentecost, is the penultimate Sunday in the Church Year… and its focus is on endings.  All things, save the Kingdom of God, one day will end. 

As they are leaving the Jerusalem Temple, one of Jesus’ followers observes, “Teacher, look at how big these stones are.”  And some of the stones indeed are huge!  One of the largest remaining today is nearly 40 feet long, 8 feet wide, and 4 feet tall.  It is estimated to weigh about 80 tons.  The Temple certainly is the most impressive structure Jesus and his followers ever see, and yet Jesus responds, “There will come a day when not one of these stones will be left standing on top of another.”  One day it will be here and the next day it will cease to be – a stunning prophecy which unfolds some forty years later.

Given some time to absorb what he says, his disciples ask Jesus what signs they will see before the destruction happens.  He responds with apocalyptic imagery, similar to what we hear in today’s first reading from Daniel.  Most of us tend to think of apocalyptic writing (such as what we find in the Book of Revelation) to be all gloom and doom, but actually it is rooted in hope: the faithful will endure, your name is written in the book of life, God will give you what you need.  And from today’s reading, we learn endings are never the end, rather a pathway to a new beginning. 

Did you catch the last thing Jesus says in the lesson?  After stating there will be wars and earthquakes and famine, he says these things are nothing more than “birthpangs.”  Birthpangs – a brief moment of significant pain necessary to usher in new life. 

Still, endings and new beginnings involve change and change is never easy. 

William Bridges developed a model for approaching change which he describes in his 1991 book Managing Transitions.  Change, he notes, is something that happens all the time, whether we like it or not, whether we want it or not.  It can transpire rather quickly, unfold over time, or lurk in the distance.  Transition, Bridges contends, is an internal process.  It is what happens inside a person who is undergoing change.  

Bridges’ model highlights three stages of transition we go through as we experience change:

1.   Ending, Losing, and Letting Go.

2.   The Neutral Zone.

3.   The New Beginning.

The first stage is often marked by resistance and emotions such as fear, denial, anger, sadness, disorientation, frustration, uncertainty and a sense of loss; especially if a person is being forced to let go of something he or she rather would not.  Acknowledging your feelings, especially if they are negative, is a key element in the process of moving on.

The second phase – the Neutral Zone – is a bridge between the old and the new.  People in this phase tend to be confused, uncertain, and impatient.  They may also be resentful of what is emerging because of what it costs (think of a teenager who is forced to move across the country when a parent takes a new job).  Morale and energy are low in the Neutral Zone, while anxiety is high.  Still, it can be a great time to experiment and to try new things (think about all the ways our church has adapted during the pandemic).

The New Beginning stage is a time of acceptance and energy.  People have developed the skills necessary for a new environment.  They begin to sense the best parts of the past are remembered and celebrated and some even are integrated into what is emerging.  The final phase is marked by individual’s renewed commitment to the group and one’s role in it.

Bridges’ Transitional Model helps us to make sense of where we are in the midst of this pandemic.  Early on we were fearful, anxious, angry, sad, disoriented and full of all the other emotions Bridges says are common in the first phase of Losing, Ending, and Letting Go.  Twenty months later we find ourselves in the Neutral Zone.  We are confused, impatient, and resentful.  Morale is low in many quarters.  The Third Phase – the New Beginning – is still in the offing. 

We are becoming more aware there is no going back to the way things were.  That day has ended.  No amount of fighting this reality will make it not so.  No attempt to fix it what has changed will reverse what has happened.  Our focus and our energy need to be on building something new.  We are in the midst of birthpangs.  Rest assured new life is coming; a New Beginning will happen.

Much has changed here at St. Paul’s, but I am really pleased with how we are transitioning.  We have learned much from success and failure and are adapting well to our new reality.  Folks have remained positive and supportive, being grateful for what is possible rather than carping about what is not.  As the New Beginning emerges, we will be positioned to offer a real gift to our community.  We will be able to embody what it looks like to live with joy and peace in harmony with one another, even in a world very different from what has been lost.

One of the things I like about today’s readings is how when Jesus says not one Temple stone will be left on another the disciples do respond by asking how they can prevent it from happening.  Their focus is on when it will happen and how they should respond to it when it does.  How should they respond?  Jesus tells them to think of it as being like birthpangs.  Every ending, he tells them, is followed by a new beginning.

 

L'Claim on All Saints'

 

John 11:32-44

All Saints' Sunday / Year B

Happy All Saints’ Sunday.  Given the readings, this liturgical date, and the fact we have a baptism today, it might be just as appropriate for me to say l’chaim, the Hebrew toast meaning “to life”, because today is all about life… new life, the lives who have touched us and the lives we touch, and the life we hope one day to receive.

Holy Baptism is a celebration of new life, but perhaps not in the way you think.  To the uninitiated it may appear we are celebrating baby Holland’s birth.  And to be sure, her birth is an occasion of great joy.  She has transformed two people from a being a couple into parents.  She has created two sets of grandparents and numerous aunts and uncles.  It is a remarkable achievement for one so young!  There is no doubt her life makes life new for many people.  But this cause for rejoicing is not what the Baptismal liturgy invites us to celebrate. 

The early church practiced baptism by immersion.  A bishop or priest took you out into a river or lake and pushed you under water three times (in the Name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit).  This was no genteel dipping.  The celebrant held the candidate underwater (sometimes forcibly) to come as close to drowning the person as humanly possible.  This action reflected the spiritual truth the old person dies in the waters of baptism and a new person in Christ rises from it. 

Years ago, while taking a youth group on a canoeing trip, one young person said to me, “You could baptize me in this river.”  I responded, “Do you want me to show you how they use to do it?”  “Sure,” he said, having no idea what he was in for.  He has never forgotten the experience or forgiven me!

Beyond a ritualistic drowning, the new life we celebrate today is about a new direction for living.  We turn from the old life of sin and embrace the new life of grace.  We turn from evil, the corrupting influences of the world, and from our own flawed leanings and put our trust in Jesus as our Savior, our Lord, and our Guide.  Holland’s parents and sponsors commit themselves to raise her on this path and we promise to do all in our power to support them.  Today is the beginning of her new life and the renewal of ours.

Those whose lives have touched ours and those whose lives we have touched.  I was at a meeting with Bishop Susan on Monday (All Saints’ Day) and on a zoom call with her on Tuesday.  At both occasions she invited us to reflect on the people who have touched our lives and to share the story of one of them.  She talked about going to church as a little girl with her grandmother.  She recalled how her grandmother sang the hymns and participated in the liturgy and interacted with other parishioners.  Bishop Susan said watching her grandmother in church lit the religious fire within her.  Who are the saints in your life who have lit that fire in you?

And who are the people who have seen that fire in you and been changed by it?  This may not be an easy question to answer because oftentimes we are not aware of the impact we have on others.  Still, if you live your life in Christ authentically your life will make a difference.  At last Thursday’s funeral, two of Tom Pruden’s twelve grandchildren read the lessons and shared heartfelt stories of how their ‘Pops’ touched their lives.  As I listened to them I realized Tom didn’t do anything extraordinary, but he lived in an extraordinary way.  His life was his gift to his grandchildren.  Whose lives are you touching?  Who might see you as being a saint?

The life we hope one day to receive.  The story of Jesus’ interactions with Mary and Martha around the events of Lazarus’ death is so true to the human experience.  The grief, the anger, the pain, the confusion, and the emotion all ring true.  And at the end of the story there is the voice of Jesus – loud enough to be heard over the wailing of mourners and strong enough to be heard in the tomb – “Lazarus, come out!”  One day it is the voice each of us hopes to hear as Jesus calls us by our name; calls us from death into the new life of the Resurrection.  It is the hope at the heart of our faith.

So this morning let us celebrate life in all its fulness.  L’chaim!

Loving God & Neigbhor

 

Mark 12:28-34

Proper 26 / Year B

Did you know there are 613 commandments in the Torah, the Law of Moses?  According to Hebrew tradition dating back at least to the 3^rd Century, 365 of the commandments are cast in the negative (“thou shalt not…”), which is one for every day of the year.  The other 248 are stated in the positive (“thou shalt...), which is one commandment for every bone and organ in the human body. 

The stipulations and prohibitions cover a wide swath of topics:

s The worship of Yahweh

s The Temple and the Priests

s Sacrifices

s Vows

s Ritual Purity

s Tithes and Offerings

s The Sabbatical (or 7^th) Year

s Animals Fit for Consumption and Offerings

s Dietary Laws

s Agriculture

s Feasts and Sabbaths

s The Duty of the Community

s The Worship of False Gods

s Tribulation and Persecution

s Our Duty to Fellow Human Beings

s Family Relationships

s Judgements and the Conduct of Judges

s Slaves

s Lawsuits

s Making Treaties with Other Nations

s Blasphemy

s Loans and Business Practices

s Improper Relationships

s The Behavior of the King

Of course, not all commandments carry the same weight.  “Thou shalt do no murder” seems more consequential than the commandment found in Deuteronomy 22:11: “Do not wear holy garments made of both wool and linen.”  As you might imagine, there has always been a desire to prioritize this lengthy list.  Is there a single command from which all others derive their authority? 

As forty years of wandering in the wilderness nears its end, Moses wants to prepare God’s people for their new life in the Promised Land.  Foremost on his mind is making sure this new generation does not repeat the sins of their parents, who crafted a golden cow and worshiped it.  He gives to the people a teaching which becomes known as “The Shema”, Hebrew for hear or listen: “Hear, O Israel, the Lord is our God, the Lord alone.”  Observant Jews repeated this as a prayer mantra twice a day, much in the same way we say the Lord’s Prayer throughout our waking hours.  The most important commandment of all is derived from the Shema’s foundational theological truth: “You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, with all your soul, and with all your strength.” 

Over the years additions and subtractions are made to Shema.  The changes are not intended to change the command, but to freshen it by presenting it in a new way.  Jesus adds two insights.  First, in addition to loving God with all you heart, soul, and strength, you must also love God with “all your mind.”  The word translated here as “mind” refers to will power.  No half-hearted effort will suffice. 

His second addition is even more substantial: “You shall love your neighbor as yourself.”  Our duty to God is both vertical and horizontal.  When we worship we look up.  When we serve, as God calls us to serve, we look around.  Being deeply spiritual, but having no regard for human need, will not cut it.  Being devoted to humanitarian efforts without being grounded in God is not adequate either.  Our love of God leads us to our neighbors.  Our love of our neighbors leads us to God.

For most of us, St. Paul’s has been an absolutely indispensable part of how we live out the greatest commandment.  This is where we connect most deeply with God through prayer, through music, through Scripture, and through the sacraments.  And it is here where we express our care for others through listening, laughter, compassion, self-sacrifice, and so many other manifestations.

We were not able to gather in person in this place for fourteen months.  And now that we are back we are not able to be back in the same ways we once were.  The traditions and patterns that fostered our love of God and neighbor – so familiar and comforting – are now not entirely possible.  What do you miss the most?  Pot-Luck dinners?  Passing the Peace?  The Food Pantry ministry?  The common Cup?  While we have lost much, what remains is our desire to love God and to love one another.  Some of our previous expressions may not return.  New manifestations will emerge (and are emerging even now!).

Last Thursday evening St. Paul’s hosted a community reception to wish Skip and Chris Irby Godspeed as they move to Charlottesville.  The Irbys have been fixtures in our community for over 40 years, touching the lives of countless people through their ministries.  Scores of folks, including at least a dozen local clergy, stopped by to honor Skip and Chris.  Cindy, Jan, and Susan tastefully decorated the Parish Hall and provided cupcakes and beverages.  I positioned myself near the door to welcome folks in and to thank them as they left.  Somewhere throughout the 90 minutes we were open I felt a wonderful, old, familiar feeling – something I haven’t felt for some time.  It was the feeling of using this place to express our love for our neighbors.  It was not an overwhelming effort to be sure, but it just felt good to be able to do something for a couple of folks who deserve to be honored and thanked.

Our speaker at last week’s clergy retreat encouraged us to initiate conversations in the parishes we serve around this question: What does it now look like for us to be a loving community?  Not what did we use to do and now can’t, what does it look like now!  We still love God and we still love one another and we still love our neighbors near and far.  New patterns and new traditions are emerging.  While we grieve what has been lost, let us with all our heart, soul, strength, and mind embrace what God is now doing in our midst.  And let us find new ways (or maybe even better ‘now’ ways) to love one another.

 

 

 

Making a Sacrifice

 

Are you going to watch the World Series?  There was a time when October meant baseball, but that day is gone.  The game has changed dramatically in recent years.  Once it was driven by strategy and a manager’s intuition, which was honed by years and years of experience.  His decisions invited admiration when things worked out and second-guessing when they didn’t.  Today, baseball is ruled by analytics - a deep analysis of numbers and probability of outcomes.  Given the formula to follow, even I could manage a major league team! 

Analytics has demonstrated, for example, it is better to try to hit a home run and strike out than to sacrifice an out by bunting a base runner from first base to second, thus putting him in a better position to score a run.  The sacrifice bunt – giving up yourself as a batter in order to advance the greater cause of the team (what once was at the heart of baseball’s strategy) – has gone the way of the VHS overnight rental store. 

Can there be a more apt metaphor for our times than the lost art of bunting; of sacrificing your own desires for the greater good of all?  We live in age of ‘swinging for the fences’, of go for it with no regard to your impact on the world around you.  You define what is best for you.  Keep the focus on you and what you can accomplish, no matter what the cost.  Never ever subjugate your personal aspirations for something bigger than yourself.  The only thing that matters is you take your cuts and try to crush the next pitch deep into the outfield bleachers of life. 

Does any of this matter?  Well, yes.  Reflecting on our country’s resistance to what healthcare professionals’ recommend to combat the spread of Covid 19, David Brooks, the New York Times columnist, wrote a piece in which he lamented today’s generation could never have won the second World War because we would not be capable of making the personal sacrifices necessary to defeat the Nazis.  “We are not asking you to storm the beaches of Normandy,” he wrote.  “Just wear a mask in public.”

If disdain for personal sacrifice accurately describes where we are as a society, then what our parish church is doing today is absolutely counter-cultural.  We are asking you to make a pledge of good faith.

If you finances in the coming year unfold as you anticipate then you will donate X amount of it to St. Paul’s.  It is money you will never get back.  If your health and other variables remain as you expect then you commit to give X amount of your time to support the mission and work of this place.  It is a portion of your life you will not be able to dedicate to other things… from sleeping in on Sunday’s to not having to expend the effort to prepare a Church School lesson.  In essence, we are asking you to affirm the spiritual equivalent of baseball’s sacrifice bunt.  We are asking you to make a sacrifice.

From childhood, the people of Jesus’ world learned the meaning of sacrifice.  It was their custom, whenever they went to the Temple on high holy days, to present to God their choicest lamb or goat or dove.  This meant giving up something extremely valuable to them.  Still, they held one did not approach God without such sacrifice.  They never would have considered sacrificing anything blemished or anything cheap.  Only the best would do.  Furthermore, what they offered was proportionate to their wealth.  If they were poor, a dove was fine.  If they had more of this world’s goods, then they made a sacrifice aligned with their blessings.

Much of the way the people of Jesus’ day thought of sacrifice has been lost to us.  Webster’s Dictionary offers three possible meanings for the word ‘sacrifice.’  The third is “something given up or lost.”  Is this how you think of your pledge?  It is something once under your control, but now lost to you.  The second possibility is “surrender of something for the sake of something else.”  This understanding is more in line with baseball’s notion of the bunt.  You contribute some of your money and your time to advance the cause of the parish team.  At the deepest level, the original use of ‘sacrifice’ simply meant “an act of offering something precious to a deity.”  In this sense, a sacrificial offering is made in order to be in relationship with God.

It is something akin to this.  Suppose you have a young daughter or a granddaughter who presents to you some piece of ‘art’ she has created.  It is her gift to you.  But even more, she is making a type of sacrifice.  Hers is not an offering of great monetary value.  It does not have the quality of a museum masterpiece.  She offers her drawing to you because she made it.  And she offers it to you because she is your child or grandchild and you are her parent or grandparent.  She offers it to you because it is one of the ways open to her to build relationship.  She digs deep for the absolute best she has to offer and gives it to you.

This is not a sacrifice of something given up or lost.  It is not a sacrifice of surrendering something for the sake of something else.  It is a sacrifice of something precious in order to be in relationship with you.  In our current use of the language, ‘sacrifice’ doesn’t even seem close to the right fit.  This girl’s offering is done in love and in hope and in confidence (surely she never dreams the recipient will say, “What do you expect me to do with this amateurish piece of rubbish?”).  She anticipates her offering will be reciprocated; not with more riches and wealth, but with a deeper, more rewarding, and more personal connection with a person she values. 

This it is why, for example, the first thing Abraham does when he enters the land of Canaan is to construct a crude altar of rough stone to enable him to offer a sacrifice.  After having sojourned in faith across much of the Middle East, Abraham wants to make sure this new homeland will be a place where he has a dynamic, living relationship with the God who called him there.

The Latin root for the word ‘sacrifice’ literally means to make sacred.  Jesus made his life sacred (or holy) by offering it completely to God.  At every Eucharist we remember his sacrifice when we say:

He stretched out his arms upon the cross,

and offered himself, in obedience to your will,

a perfect sacrifice for the whole world.

The same liturgy directs us to make three offerings, each one a deeper and more complete sacrifice than the one before.  First, we offer the fruits of our life and labor through two symbolic acts.  We present bread and wine; symbols of how we make good use of God’s creation.  And we present a monetary gift; a portion of the blessings we enjoy.  Next, we offer a sacrifice of praise and thanksgiving.  Our words, our thoughts, our prayers are drawn from a heartfelt place, expressions of our deepest devotion.  Finally, in the Eucharistic liturgy, we say these words:

And here we offer and present unto thee,

O Lord, ourselves, our souls and bodies,

to be a reasonable, holy, and living sacrifice.

The words of the Great Thanksgiving implore us to make the same complete sacrifice which Jesus makes.  We are called to offer not just our money, not just our songs and prayers and our praise, but our very selves.  “Sanctify us,” we pray, “so that we may faithfully receive this holy Sacrament, and serve God in unity, constancy, and peace.”

So this morning, we invite you to turn in a pledge card.  My question to you is this: What spiritual meaning and motivation and hope lies behind your response?  What kind of sacrifice are you making?  Are you giving up something?  Are you trading one thing for another?  Or are you reaching out in faith in order to be in right relationship with the Holy One?