The Daily Wage

 

Mathew 20:1-16

Proper 20 / Year A

Day laborers are an important part of the work force in biblical times and both the Law and the prophets go to great lengths to protect them.  For example, Deuteronomy 24:14-15 says this:

Do not take advantage of a hired worker who is poor and needy, whether that worker is a fellow Israelite or a foreigner residing in one of your towns.  Pay them their wages each day before sunset, because they are poor and are counting on it.  Otherwise they may cry to the Lord against you, and you will be guilty of sin.

Jesus is more than aware of the value of this sector of the workforce.  In Matthew 9:37-38, he draws metaphorically on it when describing the need for disciples to do the work of the Kingdom: “The harvest is plentiful, but the laborers are few, so pray the Lord will send laborers out into the harvest.” 

This morning we hear Jesus tell a parable about a wealthy landowner who hires several waves of workers over the course of a day, agreeing to pay the first group the “usual daily wage” while promising to pay “whatever is right” to subsequent recruits.  At the end of the day the landowner pays the usual daily wage to those who worked the least, leading to speculation from those who worked the longest they will be paid more.  When they aren’t, they are outraged. 

Here are two small details about this parable.  First, it appears only in Matthew’s gospel.  And second, while Jesus explains to his disciples the meaning of many of his stories, this one he does not.  It is up to us to figure out how to interpret it. 

Some hold the first group of workers represent God’s chosen people.  They are the ones who have ‘worked’ the longest at being God’s witnesses in the world.  The later workers represent converts to the faith, gentiles who are now disciples.  The ‘wage’ all receive is salvation but those who have been at it the longest believe they deserve more.  I suppose this is close to the standard interpretation.

Some commentators are critical of this parable because it perpetuates a system of economic injustice, allowing the wealthy to thrive while trapping the disadvantaged in a cycle of poverty.  Why does Jesus have the landowner pay only the daily wage?  Why does the one who invited people to sell all they have, give it to the poor, and follow him, not have the landowner to do something dramatic to lift all the workers out of their destitution?  It is an interpretation which goes against what most see in this story – an overly generous landowner who goes above and beyond to take care of day laborers in his community.

My focus is on the “usual daily wage.”  Typically, it is a Roman coin called a denarius and it affords a person the ability to buy enough food to feed a family for one day.  Today we might call it a living wage.  It is the minimum amount of money a person needs to survive.  Jesus’ landowner, aware of this, continues to hire throughout the day because he knows families will go hungry if he doesn’t put people to work.  Paying “whatever is right” might seem obvious to us.  If one group works twelve hours to earn a denarius, then those who worked only one hour should receive 1/12 of a denarius.  Right?  But Jesus’ landowner knows this pittance will not be enough to feed a family of four.  The one-hour worker needs the usual daily wage just as the twelve-hour workers do. 

When Jesus’ followers ask him to teach them how to pray, he gives us great insight into how he himself approaches living.  What does it say to you his prayer includes “Give us this day our daily bread”?  It says to me Jesus did not always know where his next meal is coming from, but he trusts God does.  It says to me he lives one day at a time and in his experience God provides enough for today’s needs. 

I am grateful I don’t have to live hand to mouth.  When I see a person at the grocery store checking out the cost of an item to see if she can afford it or not, I am made deeply aware of how blessed I am.  Daily bread is not something I have to worry about.  But there is plenty else I need to get through this day.  God knows what it is.  God cares about it.  And God provides.

I know some of you have a lot on your plate (and I am not talking about food).  Health problems, family dynamics, career concerns, disappointments, emotional scars… I could go on and on.  I think this morning’s parable tells us God is not going to make these things simply go away.  But God is going to give us everything we need to carry our load for today.   

Today we remember God’s favor is not about who earns what or who deserves the most.  It is about what you need today in order to live faithfully and fruitfully.  I count on it and you can too!

 

To Bind or to Unbind?

 

Matthew 18:21-35

Proper 19 / Year A

There was an attention-grabbing headline last Monday coinciding with the 22^nd anniversary of the terrorist attack on our country: “Planners of 9/11 Offered Pardons.”  As with most headlines, this one was a tad misleading.  Last year, it seems, military prosecutors offered the prisoners not to seek the death penalty if they would sign confessions to their roles in the high-jackings.  The prisoners, who are kept at Guantánamo Bay, attempted to negotiate a sentence which would end their solitary confinement, allow them to eat and pray with together, and give them access to mental and physical healthcare. 

As you might imagine, when word of the negotiations became public, reaction was swift and predictable.  Terry Strada, who was widowed on 9/11, spoke for many when she said, “They deserve no mercy…  They have no remorse.   They would do it again… and [they believe] we deserve what we got when they come over and they terrorized us the way they did…  So why do they deserve any type of mercy now?”  Last Monday, the Biden Administration announced it has ordered the Department of Defense to rescind the offer. 

This morning, Peter approaches Jesus with a question: “How many times should I forgive my brother who sins against me?  Seven times?”  The number seems to be based on account found in the fourth chapter of the book of Genesis when God banishes Cain for murdering his brother.  After a series of curses, God promises the family of anyone who does him harm will suffer for seven generations.  A few verses later, Cain’s great-great grandson, Lamech, fesses up to killing a man who injured him.  He brags God will avenge him for seventy-seven generations.  Perhaps this little detail informs Jesus’ response to Peter; “Seventy times seven.”  Jesus then tells a parable which is a cautionary tale about what happens if we, who have been forgiven by God, do not forgive someone who offends us.

It is a teaching which makes us uncomfortable because we have all experienced hurts and wrongs that are difficult to forgive.  It is tempting to do one of two things with all of this.  Either try to parse seventy times seven and the parable in some way which gives us an outlet.  Or, simply admonish each other to forgive, as if it is like turning on a light switch.  One approach is not faithful, the other is not realistic. 

Kevin used to knock on my front door at all hours of the day and night, always asking for money.  Last summer he asked to borrow my lawn mower because someone was going to pay him to cut their grass.  He had done this two or three times before, but this time he never returned it.  I encountered him several times over the next few weeks and each time he had some kind of story, but the bottom line is I had to lay out over $400 for a new mower.  Oh, and Kevin hasn’t knocked on my door since then. 

Robert also comes by asking for money.  Earlier this summer I told him I would pay him $20 if he would return later in the afternoon and weed for an hour.  He agreed, told me he was hungry, and asked if I would pay him in advance.  I did and he did not come back to fulfill his part of the deal.  He too has avoided knocking on my door since then.  I am not inclined to forgive either, although I easily could if either reappears in my life.   In these two slights I could practice Jesus’ teaching about forgiveness because, in reality, the offenses are aggravating, but not grievous.     

None of us would say the same is true for what Terry Strada has been through.  If she advocated to show mercy to the Guantánamo prisoners, we would all marvel at her ability to forgive.  That she doesn’t, we understand.  Some people describe forgiveness as being similar to a pilgrimage whose progress comes in fits and spurts.  That Jesus, hanging on the Cross, prays for God to forgive those who crucified him shows us the goal of our pilgrimage. 

According to legend, there was a ritual practiced in Africa some time ago called “The Drowning Man Trial”; based on the principle the only way to get over grief is to save a life.  When a person is murdered, the surviving family members enter into a year-long period of grieving while the killer is held in prison.  Then comes the time for trail.  The killer is tied up and thrown into a river as the family of the victim looks on.  They have a choice to make and it is theirs alone.  Either they can let the killer drown and have their justice, but it means they will spend the rest of their lives in mourning.  Or, they can forgo justice, rescue the killer, affirm our common humanity, and begin the process of recovery. 

The Latin word for mercy is eleison, which literally means “to unbind.”  When we refuse to forgive, we bind the one who has wronged us and in a very real sense we remain bound by what we have suffered.  Seeking vengeance and punishment has a way of trapping us in grief and bitterness while the pilgrimage of forgiveness has a way of initiating healing, both for us and for the one who has wronged us.  This, I think, is what Jesus wants to keep in front of us through today’s difficult teaching. 

Church Conflict

 

Matthew 18:15-20

Proper 18 / Year A

When the preacher took to the pulpit everyone in the congregation noticed the huge Band-Aid on his chin.  As the sermon dragged on and on and on, minds began to stray and most wondered how the preacher had injured himself.  After the service he was bombarded by everyone with the same question: What did you do to your chin?  He patiently answered each person.  “While I was shaving I was thinking intently about my sermon and, not paying attention to what I was doing, I accidently cut myself.”  Without missing a beat, one of the church’s longtime members responded, “Next time, focus on shaving and cut the sermon!”

I don’t know how much you keep up with news about the Episcopal Church.  For those who do, you know this has been an interesting couple of weeks.  On August 30, Julia Ayala Harris, the President of the House of Deputies (elected lay and clergy leaders from every diocese in our church), announced in a letter to the members of this body that a retired bishop had made “unwanted and non-consensual physical contact” with her followed by “inappropriate verbal comments” immediately after her election to her office. 

Ayala Harris found the actions so egregious she filed a formal complaint under the process outlined by our national disciplinary canons.  She said nothing publicly about this while the investigation was on-going, which went on for over a year.  Even though the event was witnessed by three other people who corroborated her account, a church attorney determined the incident merited only a “pastoral response”, rather than a more severe form of punishment.  This is when the president chose to go public with her experience.  She did not name the bishop responsible for these offenses, but subsequent reports revealed him to be her former bishop from the Diocese of Oklahoma. 

This incident follows on the heels of two other accusations against bishops in our church.  One bishop has been accused by his adult children of being physically, verbally, and emotionally abusive toward them and his ex-wife.  Another bishop has been accused of “a pattern and practice” of discrimination against LGBTQ clergy and their supporters. 

On August 31, a group of over fifty bishops signed a letter indicating they are aware of all three allegations and are deeply concerned about the perception bishops accused of misconduct get a “free pass.”  Bishop Susan did not sign this letter because she serves on the Disciplinary Panel which oversees this process and thus is not able to comment publicly on matters which might fall to them.  As I understand it, she would not be involved in any of these cases until they reached the point of a church trial. 

From this morning’s gospel reading we learn there has always been conflict in the church – always.  Jesus experienced it within his own small band of followers.  Paul dealt with it in several of the churches he founded, especially the church in Corinth.  The process Jesus lays out for dealing with conflict is rooted in the belief our relationships in Christ matter.  Every effort must be made to nurture and protect them, and, when damaged, to heal and restore them.

It also speaks to the need to safeguard the health and well-being of the community as a whole.  If one person’s actions or behavior is disruptive or detrimental to the common life of a congregation, it cannot be ignored or swept under a rug.  Fortunately, most congregations have a healthy culture which allows for things to get worked out in a fairly natural way.  But, there are times when a more direct, aggressive approach is necessary.  Sometimes this will resolve the issue.  Sometimes it won’t.  The stronger the relationship – what Jesus refers to as “binding” – the more likely a positive outcome will be.

The person most likely to be most disruptive in a faith community is the ordained leader.  We clergy can cause all manner of mischief!  A few years ago, the Episcopal Church changed its canons around clergy discipline – what is referred to a Title IV.  The old canons were based on the model of a military court marshal and allowed little room for flexibility or discernment.  The current model is more pastoral in nature, provides care for the accuser and the accused, and seeks healing and restoration whenever possible.  Is it perfect?  No.  But it is better than what we had before and seems more adaptable to necessary change.  If you would like to know more about this, talk with John Rector.  He has been elected by our Diocesan Council to serve on our Disciplinary Board.  As such, he has undergone extensive training in the Tile IV process. 

In her letter to the deputies, Julia Ayala Harris wrote, “My motivation for sharing this story stems from a deep love for our church.  It is from this place of profound care and concern that I raise important questions about safety and security.”  I applaud her courage and pray her actions will lead to deeper awareness and reform.

King of the Hill

 

Matthew 16:21-28

Proper 17 / Year A 

Greetings my brothers and sisters in Christ.

When I was five years old I won a supermarket contest with a prize of $10.  As you might imagine I was itching to spend it, so off we went to a local toy store.  I fell in love with a game called King of the Hill, a picture of which is in your bulletin.  I remember distinctly it cost $5.99.  I remember this because I thought you had to have exact change to make a purchase.  So I said to my mother, “Can I trade you my $10 for $5.99?”  Puzzled, she agreed and I bought my game.

The object of King of the Hill is to move your marble up anyone of numerous circuitous paths.  A spinner tells you how many spaces you get to advance on your turn.  Each space is a little dimple in the path.  Now, to make the game more interesting, some spaces are holes.  If this is where you land your marble disappears into the mountain and reappears randomly at one of several tunnel openings lower on the path.  At the very top of the mountain is a crown and the first person to get a marble to it is the King of the Hill.

This simple children’s game provides some insight into this morning’s reading from the gospel of Matthew.  When Jesus tells his followers about the challenges which await him in Jerusalem, Peter suggests nothing but good times lie ahead.  Surely someone as special as Jesus will be subject only to special treatment.  It is as if Peter is saying to Jesus “Your marble will move right up the hill without a hiccup.”  Jesus responds by saying, “If you want to be my disciple you must pick up your cross and follow me.”

In this I hear him saying the way forward in life will not always be easy.  There will be set backs, disappointments, failures, suffering, and (yes) even death.  You can’t avoid them.  You can’t go around them.  You just have to go through them.  You just have to carry your cross, spin again on your next turn and keep moving forward.  The good news is eventually, in the end, we are promised a crown of glory which will never fade away.  

I look forward to being with you all next Sunday.  Until then… be good… do good… and go with God.

Keith+

An Offering to God

 

Romans 12:1-8

Proper 16 / Year A

St. Paul writes:

I appeal to you therefore, brothers and sisters, by the mercies of God, to present your bodies as a living sacrifice, holy and acceptable to God, which is your spiritual worship.

What have you brought with you today to offer to God?  Perhaps some money.  Some of you have come to offer a song or a hymn, others an act of service such as ushering or reading or preparing the altar.  What did you bring here today to offer?  This is one question I want you to ponder.

Here is another:  Why did you bring it?  What are you hoping to accomplish by your offering?  If you are the Kitchen Queen, perhaps you brought a tasty treat to foster fellowship and hospitality after the service.  If you are the organist perhaps you prepared a voluntary to raise our spirits through classic music composed to the glory of God.  If you are acolyting for the very first time, perhaps you want to do something useful for the church all the while taking another step toward adulthood.  Why did you bring your offering?

The Hebrew word for ‘sacrifice’ is korbán, which literally means “to come closer.”  Given this understanding, the purpose of every sacrifice or offering is to get closer to God, and, in some form or fashion, to get closer to God’s community in this place.   

When it comes to making an offering, Paul encourages us not to set aside some small part of ourselves – what we have or what we can do –  but rather to offer our bodies as a living sacrifice.  Like we pray in Rite 1 Holy Eucharist:

And here we offer and present unto thee, O Lord, our selves, our souls and bodies, to be a reasonable, holy, and living sacrifice unto thee…

This kind of prayer where we offer something to God is called an ‘oblation.’  We offer bread and wine in order that it may be transformed into the Body and Blood of Christ.  We offer our selves in order to be transformed into the image of Christ.

There is a story about St. Jerome, the fifth century figure who translated bible from Greek into Latin. God asks him, “What do you have for me today, Jerome?  He answers, “Lord, I give you my prayer.”  “Good!  And what else?”  Jerome cites his self-discipline, his vigils, his love for those who came to visit him, and more.   God responds, “Anything else?”  Jerome, dejected, says, “I don’t know what else I can give you!”  The Lord then says to him: “There is still something you haven’t given me.  You haven’t given me your sins!”

I like this story because it suggests there is nothing we need to hide or hold back when we offer ourselves to God.  A prayer by Pedro de la Cruz offers the same lesson, but in more detail:

Lord, I offer you all of me, all that I am and all that I am not.  I offer you every good decision and every regrettable mistake, every great accomplishment and every missed opportunity, every divinely inspired gift and every unapplied talent, every success and every miserable failure.  I offer you all joy and all heartache, every kindness and every bitterness to be forgotten, every twinkle in my eye and every tear flowing down my cheek, every great love and each lost or irrecoverable act of charity.

I offer you every quiet reflective moment and all of the unneeded chaos around me, all things holy and good in me and all things in need of greater purification.  I give you every joyful memory and every bitter pain, each future moment and every missed opportunity to love, every kind act and each regrettable harsh word, all meekness and humility within me and every misplaced prideful thought, every virtue and every weak vice, every laugh and all misery mixed with weeping.

I give you every healthy breath and every weakness of mind and body, every attempt at chastity and every unworthy lustful thought, every restful repose and every anxious, sleepless night.  O Lord, you can have all of me, the beauty that you’ve deposited deep within me and the emptiness of my sinful faults.  I love you and I am yours completely.  Amen.

I ask you again… what did you bring today to offer and why did you bring it.  What are you trying to hide or hold back?  I appeal to you, brothers and sisters, by the mercies of God, to present your bodies as a living sacrifice, holy and acceptable to God, which is your spiritual worship.

The 'Dog' who Opens Jesus' Eyes

 

Matthew 15:10-28

Proper 15 / Year A

Some biblical commentators – perhaps most – refer to the second half of this morning’s gospel reading as “The Testing of the Canaanite Woman’s Faith”, contending Jesus’ rudeness is merely a method to assess her worthiness. They just cannot bear or believe Jesus could be so cruel and insensitive.  Does he really give her the silent treatment?  Does he really refuse to help her?  Does he actually call her a dog?  Can he really be so blind that she must open his eyes in order for him to see her humanity?  Well, the answer is either it is all a ploy to test her faith or yes, he really did these ugly and insensitive things.

Our doctrine holds Jesus is perfect, sinless.  His sinlessness is essential if he is going to atone for our sins.  But Jesus is also human and a product of a particular culture and ethnic heritage.  As such he is raised, as we are, in a society which has particular ideas about such things as the role of men, the status of women, and the value of children.  We find Jesus comfortable with the language of slave and master.  And, at times, he expresses his culture’s bias against foreigners. 

As a product of his culture, Jesus consistently elevates the dignity of every human being: defending a woman who listens to his teaching rather than working in the kitchen, criticizing his disciples for trying to shoo away children who want to be blessed, reaching out a touching a leper… I could go on and on.  But here, in this one instance, Jesus manifests the limitations of his cultural upbringing. 

His silence and then his insulting dismissiveness are ironic considering his teaching in the first part of the reading.  Religious leaders from Jerusalem pay a visit on Jesus in his hometown.  They are checking out what he is all about.  They question why his disciples are lax about some of the purification rules before eating.  Jesus answers it is not what goes into the body through the mouth which makes a person unclean, it is what come out of the mouth – the words from your heart – which defiles.  While typical of how Jesus consistently reinterprets the rules of his religion to deepen them spiritually, he himself violates this in the very next paragraph of the reading. 

He leaves his home – most likely to get away from the nagging and nit-picking religious leaders – and heads to the district of Tyre and Sidon; two coastal towns on the Mediterranean in present day southern Lebanon.  Then, like now, it is home to a lot of people outside of the Jewish lineage.  Jesus must know he is going to encounter foreigners while there.  

Yet, he seems taken unawares by his encounter with the Canaanite woman.  He appears to be put off, annoyed, maybe wondering if there is anywhere he can go just to get away.  His behavior reminds me of how I react when I encounter a panhandler outside a store.  I want to look away and pass on by.  I feel irritated and guilty at the same time.  Do I really have to do what this person wants me to do for him?  Let’s just say, these encounters seldom bring out the best in me.

And Jesus’ encounter with this woman doesn’t bring out the best in him.  When the disciples encourage him to send her away Jesus articulates his mission statement: “I was sent only to the lost sheep of the house of Israel.”  It is not clear from the text if the woman is privy to his comment or not, but regardless, she kneels before him and begs for help.  He responds with his comment about not taking food from the table and feeding it to dogs.  She responds with what I might call The Harper Rule (Harper is my Jack Russell): “Even the dogs eat the crumbs that fall from the master’s table” (and thank God for this in my home!).

It is at this moment Jesus’ eyes are opened and he see before him not a foreigner, and certainly not a dog, but a mother… a desperate mother who possesses a deep, resilient faith.  Hers is a faith so strong, it upends a cultural limitation and assumption Jesus has absorbed since childhood.  Jesus wakes up and in a profound way he progresses more toward living out God’s dream for all people.

It might sound odd to think the Son of God has work to do on himself, that he makes discoveries about himself along the way, that he more and more grows into the person God desires him to be.  And to be honest, I feel a little bit like I am flirting with heresy here.  No wonder so many commenters elect to say Jesus is merely testing her faith, even though there is not a single shred of evidence in the text to support this. 

And as odd as it feels, there is something very powerful and encouraging about looking at this passage in this new way.  If Jesus can grow and change and develop, then so can we.  And most of us can and do.  I suspect none of us are the exact same person with the exact same views we held when we were – pick an age – 10, 15, 25.  We have all been walking a path of faithfulness with the intention of getting closer and closer to God’s dream for us and for all people.  Today we learn Jesus walked this same path.  We pray he will be our companion and guide along the way.

The Value of Vulnerability

 

Matthew 14:22-33

Proper 14 / Year A

It has not been a good eight days for St. Peter.  In last Sunday’s reading, after he suggests they build three mountaintop booths – one for Moses, one for Elijah, and one for Jesus – no less of an authority than God the Father Almighty tells him to be quiet and listen to Jesus.  And now today, we find Peter being chastised for his lack of faith after stepping out of the boat and walking on the waves toward Jesus before beginning to sink.  Eight days, two readings, and two rebukes.  No, these are a couple of Sundays the great apostle most likely would rather have other readings assigned.

Still, there is something endearing about Peter and his ability to say or do the wrong thing at the wrong time.  Like they say in baseball, it is better to go down swinging than to strike out with the bat on your shoulder.  I have said before I would rather be Peter soaking wet from the waist down than be like the other disciples playing it safe back in the boat.  I would rather have Jesus say to me, “Why did you doubt?” than “Why didn’t you even try?”

Why didn’t you try?  Sometimes we don’t try because it just isn’t import to us.  Sometimes it is because we don’t know how to attack the problem.  And sometimes it is because we just don’t want to embarrass ourselves.  We don’t want to look foolish.  We don’t want to set ourselves up for failure.  We don’t want to make ourselves vulnerable. 

Avoiding vulnerability is a major problem, at least according to the researcher and writer Brené Brown.  She holds we all long for connection and a sense of belonging but have a deep-seated fear of being rejected.  The experience of rejection leads to a profound sense of shame; an emotion we seek to prevent at all costs.  She cites many different ways we numb ourselves to limit vulnerability.  If we don’t expose ourselves, if we don’t allow ourselves to be “seen”, then we can’t be hurt. 

According to Brown, this numbing or hiddenness comes at a huge cost because we can’t be selective about it.  We can’t simply decide to minimize risk and maximize reward.  While being vulnerable opens us to possibility of pain and loss, she notes it is also the “birthplace of joy, creativity, belonging, and love.”  Brown contends you cannot eliminate the difficult and uncomfortable feelings in your life without having it take a toll on the things which make you feel gratitude and happiness.

Every happy marriage begins with person getting down on one knee and proposing (vulnerability).  Every book begins with a writer sending a manuscript to a publisher for evaluation and critique (vulnerability).  Every new recipe you try creates the possibility for a new, favorite meal or a very bad dinner (vulnerability). 

The text tells us when Jesus approaches the boat the disciples are afraid because they think they are seeing a ghost.  He says three things to them.  “Take heart.”  “It is I.”  “Do not be afraid.”  Some versions of the bible translate “Take heart” as “Have courage”, noting the Latin and French roots for both words are the same.  Literally translated, “It is I” is “I am”, harkening back to the holy name God reveals to Moses.  “Do not be afraid” is as much of an invitation as it is a command.

These three statements inspire Peter to be vulnerable in the midst of a fearful situation.  Take heart is an invitation to live life to the fullest, even if it opens to the door to failure and rejection.  In the midst of a world we cannot always predict or control, “I am” reminds us one thing is certain: God is with us and God does not change.  Do not be afraid encourages us to live with a sense of possibility rather than acting to avoid the worst outcome.

Many sermons have been preached about why Jesus decides to build the church upon Peter, whom he names as “a rock”.  I don’t know if there is one single quality about him which merits his calling, but surely his willingness to be vulnerable is a major part of the mix.  Nowhere will this be more evident than when he accepts an invitation to visit the gentile home of Cornelius, a Roman centurion, and to baptize him and his family.  It is a bold move which opens the doors of the church to all people.  It also elicits criticism from several of the leaders of the early church, so of whom are the same folks who played it safe by staying in the boat that night on lake.

We live in an anxious time.  When the pandemic began, we learned how to isolate and insolate in order to feel safe.  It was a good strategy at the time, to be sure.  Now, every Sunday after church I sense a deep joy in the Parish Hall as we spend time with one another.  We are experiencing the value of connecting and belonging.  It is an act of vulnerability, not so much in the sense we might be exposed to a communicable disease, but in that we are risking being in relationship (albeit, in a fairly safe place).  As Jesus bid to his followers long ago, he bids to us: “Take heart!  I am!  Do not be afraid!” 

Perhaps this week you might pay attention to opportunities your reject and invitations you accept.  Be mindful of the value of being vulnerable.