Lenten Alignment

For Christians, today is perhaps the most-counter cultural day of the year.  We are gathered to embrace truths that our culture would rather not face.  In a society that emphasizes human potential, we kneel today to acknowledge our limitations.  In a society that promotes self-esteem, we bow our heads to admit our failures and to acknowledge our faults.  In a society that worships youth and strength and beauty and vitality, we engage in a ritual act that professes our own mortality.  Yes indeed, Ash Wednesday is counter-cultural!

So why do we do this?  What are we trying to accomplish here today?  Let me suggest two potential answers we should reject.

The first is what I call the “Time-Out” answer.  I was a fairly inventive person as a child.  I could figure out any number of different ways to occupy my time; creating a new game, working on a shop project, and don’t get me started on the multiple possibilities of filling time with a hose of running water and dirt!  But often there was a rub.  What I found fun my parents considered destructive.  Time after time, while I was in the midst of some form of revelry or another, my father showed up, surveyed the damage, and lowered the boom.  Think of that as an analogy of what I call the “Time-Out” answer (but believe me when I tell you back in the day we had something much more painful administered to the backside before time out started, which – by the way – we called, “Go to your room”).

The rational for Lent as “Time-Out” is that once a year, in the midst of all our fun and joy in life, we need to be brought up short for a couple of weeks.  As a little boy, I began to anticipate retribution if I was having too much fun.  It was as if the yin of play had to be kept in balance with the yang of you are trouble.  So Lent comes along once a year and in the midst of all our fun, puts us in time out so we can ponder what we did wrong.  The bottom line is this: “Don’t come out of your room, or Lent, until you are sorry for what you did!”

Why is this not a good way to observe Lent?  In a few moments I will say the words of our liturgy inviting you to the observance of a holy Lent.  Nothing about the “Time-Out” approach strikes me as particularly holy.  It feels juvenile and repressive.  I suspect it may have a particular appeal to ex-Roman Catholics and all others who had guilt drilled into them from an early age.  There is something about a church season drawing on guilt that feels meet and right for some folks, but ultimately is more pathological than holy.

So I encourage you to reject the “Time-Out” approach to Lent.  Here is a second possibility I don’t encourage either.  I call it the “Total Depravity” approach in honor of the Protestant reformer John Calvin.  He held that human nature was so fallen on account of original sin that we can do nothing to please God or to save ourselves.  In fact, according to Calvin, we are so totally depraved we cannot even on our own reach out for divine grace and forgiveness.  English reformers held that while human nature was tarnished by sin, we are still capable of doing good and pleasing God who through the Cross of Jesus demonstrates a willingness and deep desire to forgive our sins.

There are some recovering “Total Depravers” lurking around in the Episcopal Church.  They are former Baptists, Fundamentalists, or (like me) originally members of a Reformed tradition.  “Total Depravers” are the folks who work hard, contribute much, reach out, help others, exhibit selflessness, and yet still feel deep down that they are nothing more than a miserable sinner.  They are all too willing to engage Lent because it reinforces what they believe to be true about themselves.  It gives them a chance (drawing on the language of today’s collect) to acknowledge their wretchedness. 

Wretchedness is a strong word, isn’t it.  Given all the churches I have been a part of over the years it goes without saying I have known a lot of people.  Some were real pieces of work, to be sure, but I don’t know that I have ever known a person who was wretched.  Through our baptismal promise we profess a belief that Christ is present in each and every person… including you.  If Lent is for you a kind of wallowing in your self-perceived depravity than you need to find a way to embrace the beauty and grace that is Christ being present in and through you.   

So if Lent is not “Time-Out” and if it is not about “Total Depravity”, what is it?  Why do we engage in this spiritual activity that is so counter-cultural?

Let me suggest that it is about “Alignment”.  What we do this day – and throughout the season of Lent – aligns us with reality as we understand it in the Christian faith.  In a world that says we can have it all, we align ourselves with the Christian reality of our limitations.  We know that we are not perfect.  We know that we don’t control everything.  We know that even our best at times is not enough.  In a world that elevates self-esteem to be an inalienable right, we are comfortable owning up to our mistakes.  We can acknowledge the pain we cause and the brokenness we foster.  In a world that lives in denial of the reality of death we are more than willing to proclaim that we are mortal, formed the dust and to dust we will one day return.

This is reality as we in the Christian tradition understand it.  It is not a reality entirely embraced by the world.  The world’s view, as we see it, is skewed.  It is a distortion and those who adhere to it experience a disconnect with reality.  They are frustrated when faced with limitations, defensive when confronted with failures, and anxious when reminded about death.  If you react to these in any of the same ways then Lent is an opportunity for you to realign yourself with the Christian view of reality.

You see we focus not on what we can’t do, but on what we can.  Given your current limitations, what does it look like to love the Lord your God with all your heart, mind, soul and strength and to love your neighbor as yourself?  This is always the question.  And the answer never revolves around what you can’t do… you know, if only I had more money, or if only I had more time, or if only my knees didn’t hurt so much in the morning.  Given who you are right now and what you are capable of doing, how will you love God and your neighbor?  You never have to worry that it doesn’t measure up to what someone is capable of doing.  Heck, you don’t even have to worry about if it measures up to what you yourself used to be able to do.  Given who you are and what you can do today, how will you love God and your neighbor?  This is one way to align yourself with the Christian reality.

Here is another.  You don’t have to be perfect.  You can make mistakes.  While it is never acceptable to hurt another person, it happens, and it happens all the time.  We align ourselves with the Christian reality that we are sinners and from time to time we sin.  What do we do with this knowledge?  Do we get defensive or dismissive or do we try to shift the blame?  No, we accept it.  We openly and willingly confess our wrongdoing, seek to amend our ways, and receive forgiveness as it is extended.

And finally, as we align ourselves with the reality of the Christian life and faith as we face our own mortality, not through fear and denial, but with courage, joy, and the conviction that at death life is changed, not ended, and that there awaits for us a dwelling place eternal in the heavens.

I invite you to join us Wednesday nights in Lent for our Potluck Dinner & Program where we will explore some of these themes in greater depth.  We will think through why Christians can face mortality with joy and courage.  We will talk about embracing our limitations.  A chaplain from Obici hospital will walk us through quality of life and end of life issues – a topic we have titled “Living on your Own Terms”.  Members of the parish will help us to think about what will happen to our worldly goods – a topic we title “Giving on your Own Terms”.  And finally, we will look at Burial Office itself and provide you with a guidebook that will allow you to record your own wishes for the Celebration of your Life.  For us Christians these are not morbid or depressing topics.  They are ways we align ourselves with reality as we believe it to be.   

One final thought, in just a moment, as I invite you in the name of the Church to an observance of a holy Lent, I will encourage you to engage this season as a time of self-examination and repentance; of prayer, fasting, and self-denial; incorporating reading and meditating on God’s holy Word.  I encourage you to engage these practices not as “Time-Out” nor as a “Total Depraver”, but rather as a way to align yourself with the reality of the Christian faith and life over and against the distortions of this world which can so easily influence us.

As to a Lamp Shining in a Dark Place

Many years ago I spent a couple of days camping at a park on the shores of Lake Ontario just east of where the Niagara River meets it.  It was peaceful and quiet there, especially at night.  I remember sitting on the beach one evening and looking out over the lake as the sun went down.  Eventually it became dark and there were no lights anywhere across the landscape, save one.  Across the lake, just on the line of the horizon, I could see the illuminated skyline of downtown Toronto.  The CNN Tower, which stands at over 1,800 feet tall, was clearly visible, but from where I was sitting looked to be only about a quarter of an inch in height.  I remember being amazed that I could see the city across the lake.  Easily it was thirty miles away or more.  I also remember that try as I might to look at anything else, I could not take my eyes off that lone light in the darkness.

In today’s Epistle reading we heard the words of St. Peter:

“You will do well to be attentive to this as to a lamp shining in a dark place.”

His image of a lamp shining in a dark place is what triggered my memory of that evening spent gazing across the lake.  The lone lamp in the darkness, the single flame of a candle in an unlit room, the faint light of a distant city in the night – each draws and holds our attention as nothing else can.

It is a wonderfully evocative image, isn’t it.  But did you catch what the image stands for in Peter’s letter?  This is what he uses the metaphor to represent:

“Jesus received honor and glory from God the Father when that voice was conveyed to him by the Majestic Glory, saying, ‘This is my Son, my Beloved, with whom I am well pleased.’  We ourselves heard this voice come from heaven, while we were with him on the holy mountain.”

For Peter, what he heard God proclaim about Jesus served to confirm everything the prophets of old had written and said about the Messiah to come.  Jesus is that person.  God’s voice confirms that Jesus, the Beloved Son, is the lamp shining in the darkness.  He commands our attention as a lone light in the nighttime.

The season of Epiphany ends this week with the beginning of Lent.  As its name suggests, this is been of time of revealing, discovery, and ‘ah-ha’ moments.  What has been revealed is God’s true nature as made known in the person, words, and work of Jesus. 

This year’s lectionary readings for Epiphany have been drawn from Matthew’s Gospel.  Other years the readings come from Mark, Luke, and John.  During those times we have readings where Jesus turns water into wine at a wedding, commands a raging storm to calm, and effects a human healing.  These epiphanies reveal that, like God, Jesus is not limited to the constraints of the natural world.  It strikes me that this year’s readings offered not one single account of the ‘miraculous’; not one single display of Jesus’ divine power.

The readings we heard fell into two basic groups.  The first few weeks in Epiphany we heard about Jesus’ baptism and his initial experiences with his eventual disciples.  Do you remember how John the Baptist had to keep pointing out Jesus so that those who had been with him in the wilderness near the Jordon River might investigate the Messiah for themselves?  This first phase of readings culminated when Jesus invited Peter, Andrew, James, and John to put down their nets and to follow him in order to fish for people.

The second cluster of readings was drawn from a portion of Matthew’s Gospel known as The Sermon on the Mount.  We heard the Beatitudes (“Blessed are you…”) and a whole host of teachings – many of them very challenging.  Jesus teaches that we are to love our enemies, to turn a cheek to those who strike us, and not to lust, even in our hearts.  Last Sunday Jesus concluded these teachings with this interesting command: “You must be perfect as your heavenly Father is perfect.”  Now that is a tall order, isn’t it!

So, in this year’s Epiphany season Jesus has revealed God to the world through two primary actions: creating a community and then discipling that community.  Let me say a word about each.

Creating a community.  We understand God’s very nature to be communal.  Isn’t that what the Holy Trinity is all about?  Three Persons/One Being may be confusing to understand, but put simply it is a community.  God exists in a community of relational harmony that embodies perfect love through mutuality and respect.  The community of God desires not to hoard this love but rather to extend it.  God brings forth all of creation and especially the human family to share in God’s communal life.  We live into this life by being in relationship with God and by being in relationship with one another through “ever-widening circles of fellowship” (to borrow a phrase from the prayer book).  The Church exists to incarnate God’s open invitation to join in community.  We do this, in part, as we live into our baptismal promises to “seek and serve Christ in all persons, loving our neighbor as ourselves”, and as we “strive for justice and peace among all people, respecting the dignity of every human being.” 

God’s invitation of community knows no bounds or boundaries.  The gates of the Kingdom are always open and there is always an empty seat at the table in order to have space for the next guest to arrive.  God exists in community and seeks to extend that community throughout creation.  This is exactly what we saw Jesus doing on those early Sundays after the Epiphany. 

The lessons then shifted to reveal Jesus as discipling the gathering and growing community.  We heard a series of teachings.  Some are difficult to accept.  Almost all are difficult to keep.  And it culminated with Jesus saying that our righteous must exceed that of the Pharisees.  We must be perfect as God is perfect.

I suspect that when most people hear this they think of God’s perfection as being like a measuring stick.  Those religious leaders Jesus dismissed may have thought that way.  They may have thought of themselves as being the standard and measure; conveying overtly a message to that masses that you people are not as good as we are.  But Jesus says they are not the measure and, in fact, they fall far short of the standard.  God as Community is our goal.  Well, on one hand I suppose people were delighted to see Jesus cast aside the notion of hypocritical religious leaders as being role models.  But how worrisome is it that Jesus now sets the bar for discipleship at an impossibly high mark – God’s perfection? 

Do you remember going to an amusement park as a small child and having to stand next to one of those character displays that says you must be so tall to go one this ride?  Well, if you were not tall enough at the time you had a reasonable hope of growing so that next year or the year after you could.  If God’s perfection is that kind of measurement, then we can be assured we will never come close.  

But what if we think of God’s perfection not as the measure of discipleship, but as its destination.  Imagine me sitting on the shores of Lake Ontario gazing at the faint light of that city so far away.  Imagine I decide to get in a boat and start rowing my way toward the city.  With each stroke I get a little closer.  Over time the city appears bigger and brighter than before.  Discipleship is not about meeting a particularly impossible standard.  It is about a journey toward a holy destination.  It is, according to Peter, about paying attention to Jesus the way you would pay attention to a lamp shining in a dark place.  Discipleship is not about being good enough or pure enough, because we are neither.  It is about where you are going and how you are growing and what you are always in the process of becoming. 

As we move from the season of Epiphany to the season of Lent we will be given the opportunity to consider where we are on this journey, to ponder again our commitment to the destination, to consider where we have drifted off course, and to renew our attention to the one who is like a lamp shining in a dark place.

Love & Pray for your Enemies

A preacher, upon reading the text we just heard, set out to write a sermon about loving your enemies.  He knew it was a difficult teaching that was challenging for congregants to accept, so he worked extra hard, giving it all he had.  When Sunday came, he preached a very thoughtful, inspiring sermon that was persuasive from beginning to end.  At the conclusion, he asked those present to raise a hand if they had been convinced of the need to love their enemies.  Only about half present did so.  Undeterred, the preacher dove into the subject for another ten minutes.  After that, he asked for another show of hands.  This time 75% indicated they were now willing to love and pray for their enemies.  Another ten minutes of preaching and now everyone raised a hand with the exception of ninety-eight year old Mildred Phlymaldihide.  The preacher asked her stand up and explain why she was not willing to love and pray for her enemies.  In a shaky voice she said, “Well, I don’t have any enemies to hate.”  How could that be wondered the preacher?  “Oh, I used to have lots of enemies back in the day,” she continued, “but, I outlived them all.”

We are forever blessed that the Disciples asked Jesus to teach them how to pray.  From this one simple question we now have the Lord’s Prayer; a prayer that has done more to shape human spirituality and action than any other.  How I wish one of those disciples had spoken up in today’s text and asked Jesus to teach them how to pray for their enemies.  Should we pray that they see their error and come over to our way of thinking?  That seems a little self-serving.  Should we pray that their efforts against us be thwarted while our efforts against them succeed?  Should we pray differently for enemies of our country than we might pray for our own personal enemies?  When our enemy is not a person, but rather a thing - say, perhaps something like cancer – how should we pray?  I really wish we knew how Jesus prayed for his enemies, but we don’t.

We do know this, however, Jesus had enemies.  We can divide them into two basic groups: those he confronted and those he did not.  The occupying Roman forces fell into this second group.  Unlike many other messianic figures in that age, Jesus took a passive approach of non-resistance with regard to the Romans.  He was no insurrectionist, nor was he going to lead a violent uprising.  There is not a single story in any of the Gospels were Jesus directly attacks Roman rule.  What would be the point?  It was futile to resist such a dominant and ruthless force. 

In the face of such powerlessness, Jesus teaches a way to find empowerment that is now often referred to as ‘the second mile.’  By law, a soldier had to right to make any person lug his gear a mile.  Can you imagine setting out on a busy day and getting sidetracked by some Roman thug too lazy to carry his own gear?  Or what if you were working hard in the field trying to grow food for your family and was told abruptly to get walking?  Jewish men found the practice to be humiliating and infuriating.  You can imagine how startled people must have been when Jesus suggested that they voluntarily carry a soldier’s pack a second mile. 

Have you ever seen the 1967 movie Cool Hand Luke?  There is a wonderful scene in the movie where Paul Newman’s character is working with other inmates at menial labor tarring and shoveling gravel along a sunbaked country road.  It is work they did day in and day out under the supervision of gun toting prison guards.  One day, feed up with the indignity of the work and treatment, Newman’s character does something radical… He begins to work with all of his effort and energy.  The entire chain gang responds in kind and before you know it they have exhausted the day’s supply of materials.  They spend the rest of the afternoon sitting in the shade of a tree waiting for the prison bus to arrive at its scheduled time.  Cool Hand Luke could not change his circumstances, but he could change how he approached them.  That is exactly what Jesus is teaching his followers to do.  “You are powerless,” he said, “to resist this law, therefore you must rise above it.” 

Scholars of church history now suggest that some of the earliest converts to take the Gospel message of Jesus to the corners of the Roman world were soldiers.  How many of them do you think might have been converted during a ‘second mile’?  Just imagine how that conversation went:

Soldier: O.K. loser, you can put down my gear now and go home.

Christian: No, I’m still good.  I’m happy to carry it another mile.

Soldier:    What?  Why in the world would you do that?

Christian:  Well, let me tell you about Jesus of Nazareth who was crucified but now lives.

At its heart, Jesus’ teaching about the second mile was a way of preserving one’s dignity and integrity while accepting that some enemies hold certain advantages over us that cannot be altered or challenged.  There will be times that we encounter enemies too powerful for us to confront openly.  When this happens, we can wonder what Jesus might have us do to maintain our own sense of dignity and integrity and how that might, just might, open the door to something transformational.

As I said earlier, Jesus had other enemies that he could (and did) challenge... often.  Certain religious, legal, and political leaders were constantly nipping at his heals and he was more than willing to take them on.  He was unimpressed by the way they took God’s laws and codified them into certain types of external behavior.  To their way of thinking, it was permissible, for instance, to seethe in the presence of one’s enemies as long as you didn’t act upon it.  For Jesus, this was not at all what God intended.  The Law must reign in our hearts even as it rules our actions.  Anything less than this means while we may act peaceably enough, we are still being torn apart on the inside.  For Jesus, that was no good.

In today’s Old Testament reading we heard Moses receive from God a series of moral imperatives.  It is a wide ranging laundry list: don’t glean all the food from your field so that the needy have something to eat; don’t lie or defraud anyone; and my two favorites: don’t scream insults at someone who is deaf and don’t put an object in front of a blind person causing him to trip.  With each instruction comes God’s command: “You must be holy for I am holy.”  So in addition to being just plain wrong, when we act in a way discordant with God’s personality we lose something important about ourselves.  God’s image embedded in us at creation becomes tarnished, or muted, or perhaps diminished.  It is the equivalent to what happens to a world-class athlete who gives up training.  Each day spent sitting on the couch and each bag of potato chips takes him farther and farther away from his true self. 

The last imperative God gives to Moses is a direction not to hate in your heart any one of your own kin (and for some of us that is enough of a challenge, isn’t it).  From there God speaks about neighbors, saying we must love those close to us as we love ourselves.  Jesus expands this idea of neighbor to include all people, even, and especially, our enemies.  He saw in hatred the cumulative spiritual effect of sitting on the couch and eating potato chips day after day.  That which is in us which is of God begins to disappear; being eclipsed by the hatred. 

That Jesus had enemies – people who challenged him in public, mocked him in private, schemed his downfall, and eventually out-and-out sought to have him killed – suggests that what was godly in him was always under threat of being overshadowed by hatred.  Again, I wish we knew the words he prayed that led him to love those who sought his ruin. 

The Book of Common Prayer contains a collect for our enemies.  It reads:

O God, the Father of all, whose son commanded us to love our enemies: Lead them and us from hatred, cruelty, and revenge; and in your good time enable us all to stand reconciled before you, through Jesus Christ our Lord.  Amen.

I find helpful its sense of mutuality and hope for eventual reconciliation.  I know clergy who offered this prayer on the Sunday after the 9/11 attacks on our country and (as they say) actual results varied.  Some found it calming and restorative.  Others were outraged. 

Perhaps one day we will find our self in Mildred Phlymaldihide’s position and we will have outlived all of our enemies.  Short of that, we have a real challenge on our hands.  The writer Anne Lamont said that hating our enemies is akin to drinking rat-poison and expecting all the rodents to disappear.  It just doesn’t work that way.  What we lose is our self and the wonderful way God’s Spirit is intended to shine through our cracks. 

Choosing Happiness

You may not be aware that there will be a football game played later today.  It’s called the ‘Super Bowl’ and it will be broadcast live in at least 180 countries and in 25 different languages.  About 50 million homes and 110 million viewers are expected to watch here in America.  Advertisers are going to spend $4 million dollars for a 30-second spot during the telecast.  I used some math to determine that we here at St. Paul’s could convert our entire operating budget for the year into a 2-second commercial!  Regretfully, the Vestry nixed that idea.  Spending in the United States on Super Bowl-related merchandise, apparel, and snacks is expected to exceed $12 billion, or an average of $68.27 per consumer. 

The entire spectacle we will watch tonight – from the game to the halftime show to the well-crafted and often emotionally moving ads – convey very powerful messages about what it means to be an American and what it takes to be happy:

· Happy are the successful.  Winning is what life is all about.

· Happy are the powerful.  It is better to be able to impose your will on others than to have others impose their will on you.

· Happy are the gifted.  We admire the player who can run the fastest, hit the hardest, or throw the ball with the greatest accuracy.

· Happy are the rich.  Those ads are designed to entice us to want products and it takes money to buy them.   

· Happy are the famous. Make a name for yourself and translate your notoriety into more success, more power, and more wealth.

As followers of Jesus, we could not find a greater contrast if we tried than to put the message and values of the Super Bowl up against the teaching we heard moments ago:

· Happy are the poor in spirit – those who cannot afford to buy a thing and have no cause to celebrate.

· Happy are those who mourn – the losers.

· Happy are the meek – those who cannot or will not impose their will on others.

· Happy are those who hunger and thirst – not for victory or for a new Lexus – but for righteousness.

· Happy are the merciful – those who extend forgiveness rather than perpetuate violence.

· Happy are the pure in heart – not those who feel compelled to purchase this or that.

· Happy are the peacemakers – not those who persist in and benefit from conflict.

· Happy are the persecuted – not the privileged and protected.

· Happy are those about whom others speak poorly – not those on whom praise is heaped.

These sayings of Jesus are known as ‘the Beatitudes’, an Anglicized word for the Latin adjective beatitudo which means ‘happy’, ‘fortunate’, or ‘blissful’.  The Greek word translated as ‘blessed’ in the original biblical text is makarios.  It was a fairly common word in Jesus’ day, but he used it in an uncommon way.  Typically it was used to describe either the wealthy (because their standard of living made it appear as if they were above the cares of everyday life) or the Greek gods (who had the ability to gratify their every desire).  Essentially, makarios/happiness was a state of contentment and delight reserved for a privileged few.  Jesus rejects this notion in two ways.  First, he says makarios/happiness is open to all and second, what makes for makarios/happiness is not at all what we have been led to believe.  Jesus says to his followers – and to us – that we are to think of happiness in a new way.

Is that possible?  Is it possible to change your thinking about the world and to align your notion of happiness with a value system that is counter to that of the prevailing culture?

I have mentioned before that I came to the Episcopal Church after college and was offered a position working with Christian Education and youth at a parish in my home town.  I worked there for only two years before going to seminary and then was back one summer, but I count that brief time as one of the most formative experiences in my life.  The rector was a brilliant man and a caring pastor who took a liking to me.  He was always available to me for counseling and conversation. 

I cannot recall the specifics of a particular exchange, but I have never forgotten the way he challenged me.  I must have been talking about something negative that had happened in my life or ministry and how it made me feel – angry or sad or something.  The inference I made was that because X had happened I was obligated to feel Y.  That sense of obligation is what the rector challenged.  “Why would you feel that way about it”, he questioned?  “What do you mean,” I responded?  “Why wouldn’t you feel Z about it”, he said?  “Are you saying,” I questioned, “that I can choose how I feel about something?”  “Yes,” he said.  “You can choose to be hurt by this, or you can choose to be happy.  No one makes you feel anything.  No one can control you.  You are always free to choose what you think, how you feel, and how you will respond.”  Well, at that moment, you could have knocked me over with a feather.  But I look back on that conversation as being a day I took a huge step forward into maturity.

Through his teaching Jesus challenges his listeners to embrace a very different set of values from that of the world and he challenges them – and us – to think about life in a new way; to do more than simply react to it.  Keep in mind that amongst those who listened to Jesus there were people who were poor and downtrodden and powerless in the face of Roman occupation; people who could do nothing but endure the way certain Jewish political and religious leaders capitulated to it.  Meekness, for them, was not a choice.  It was a survival skill.  Persecution and false accusations were common-life experiences.  Jesus counseled that they didn’t have to change a thing about their life in order to be happy.  They had to change the way they thought about the lives they had. 

Evelyn Underhill once said that we say we believe Jesus was raised in a carpenter’s shop but act like we believe he was raised in a confectionary store.  By this she meant that we tend to take Jesus’ words as benign and sugar-sweet teachings, when in fact often there is something very muscular and demanding about them.  I hear in these beatitudes something of what I heard that rector tell me years ago: you can think of yourself as life’s victim or you can choose to see yourself as something else.  You can choose to see yourself as God’s child; loved for who you are, not for what you have or for what has happened to you.  This world is not a place for pouters.  Happiness is to be found in every instance and in every condition because God is with us and because we are together as God’s people. 

I doubt there is a single person here this morning who does not bring with him or her a burden or two or many.  It may be something you are carrying for yourself.  It may be a concern you hold for a loved one or a friend.  It may be all of this and more.  Our prayer list alone suggests that there are many whose needs are on our hearts.  Jesus is does not say life is easy.  What he says is that in and through the challenges we face we can find happiness.  We are blessed.  We can see our lives in a way different from how the world might see them, because that is how God sees us.

Through the Beatitudes Jesus says that you and I can choose – choose – to see life as God sees it, or you can choose to see it as the world sees it.  You can choose to see yourself as the world sees you, or as God sees you.  Perhaps you have every advantage the world offers, but somewhere deep inside you sense it is not enough.  Or perhaps you have little of the advantages the world offers, but know that it this does not define you.  Why?  What is it that causes restlessness within for those who should be at peace and peace for those who should be discontented?  What is at work in those who have little or nothing of society’s advantages and makes for darkness and despair for those who do?

Zebulun & Naphtali

“Land of Zebulun, land of Naphtali…

         …on those who sat in the region and shadow of death
         light has dawned.”

Zebulun and Naphtali were two of Jacob’s twelve sons.  Like each of the sons, their offspring became a tribe and each tribe inhabited a marked region in Israel.  The tribe’s name, taken from the name of the original son, became the name of that region, much like we would give a name to a county or a state.  The tribe of Judah had the largest geographic region, which encompassed the entire southern half of the Promised Land.  All the other tribes’ regions were to the north of Judah and collectively are referred to as ‘Israel’ throughout the Scriptures.  The regions of Zebulun and Naphtali were located in the northernmost parts of Israel, in land the today encompasses area in Israel and in Lebanon.  It was then what it is now has always has been – a hot bed of conflict and unrest.

Zebulun and Naphtali were border regions; areas where different races and nationalities intermingled.  And because of their geographical location, they were always the first to be invaded whenever a foreign army was on the move.  Over a period of 700 years, the Assyrians, the Babylonians, the Phoenicians, the Greeks, and the Romans each marched through this region and either led off hostages into captivity or held it with an occupying force.  Freedom and tranquility were hardly the norm for those who lived in these lands.

Imagine what Buffalo is to weather, what Detroit is to public finance, and what Compton is to safety, roll it all together and you begin to get something of a sense of what it was like to live in Zebulun or Naphtali.  Well did the prophet Isaiah speak when he described these folks as living in darkness and a region overshadowed by death. 

His original words find their context in the Assyrian invasion of 722 BC., a particularly devastating and brutal attack.  Isaiah dreamed of a time of reversal for these two beleaguered tribal lands.  He hoped for a fulfillment of Jacob’s original blessing of Zebulun; that his region (which was landlocked) would extend to the sea.  And Isaiah expressed this hope using the beautifully poetic and theological image of light.  There will be a time, he said, when gloom and anguish will be no more; a time when those who walk in darkness will see a great light.  And while Isaiah’s hope came to fruition when the Assyrian empire crumbled, the cycle of military conquest and violence continued unabated.

Seven centuries later a man by the name of Matthew set out to write a gospel – a very specific literary genre that arranges historical facts to convey a sense of deeper meaning.  His gospel tells the story of Jesus of Nazareth with the intention of letting the world know that he is the Messiah, the Son of God.  Reflecting on the fact that Jesus grew up in the region of Zebulun and Naphtali, Matthew discerns a deeper meaning.  He discerns that Jesus is the light shining on this region foreseen so long ago by the prophet Isaiah.

Let’s think about this for a moment.  Let’s think about the context in which Jesus was nurtured and formed.  Let’s think about how that setting might have shaped his life.  What was it like to be raised in this Buffalo/Detroit/Compton region?  What would it be like to grow up in an anxious and downtrodden community?  Do you remember what Nathaniel says when he learns where the Messiah is from: “Can anything good come out of Nazareth?”  It is a comment that both reeks with contempt for the people of this area, but also marvels that anyone could survive growing up in such an environment. 

Surely this rugged upbringing was critical in formulating Jesus’ understanding of the kind of world God desires for all; a world Jesus called the “Kingdom of Heaven.”  And as we will see in coming weeks, Jesus’ own life and teachings are the light that shines the way for those of us living in darkness and gloom.  He invites us to live into his vision by means that are subversively countercultural, but not bent on insurrection.  It is a vision we have seen lived out in our own day by people like Gandhi, King, and Mandela; folks from rugged places that subverted oppression not through violence, but with an unflinching demonstration of compassion, forgiveness, and prophetic truth-telling.

If I were God and I was going to ask my child to enter this world in flesh and blood, it would make sense to me to place him in the best of all possible circumstances.  I would choose a tropical climate with a nice ocean view where sea breezes are plentiful.  He would be raised in a family of wealth, intellect, and power – a Kennedy or a Clinton or perhaps a Bush.  He would be educated at the Hassidic equivalent of an Ivy League school.  In short, he would have every advantage possible in life so as to be positioned to make a tremendous impact. 

Obviously, that is not how God works.  God’s light is lit in and dawns first on a hardened area at a difficult time (just after John the Baptist is arrested).  Those first drawn to it are not the brightest and the best, but the tried and tested: fishermen who have eked out a living amidst the same challenges Jesus has known all his life.  It is from this meager and unlikely beginning that the world will be changed and the world will be saved.

Two weeks ago I quoted Evelyn Underhill who said that our lives are spent conjugating three verbs: to want, to have, and to do – craving, clutching, and doing.  She says we miss the central fact that the most important verb in life is to be.  It is our being that matters, not what we want or have or do.  Last Sunday I said something that may seem diametrically opposed to this, that Christianity is neither a noun nor an adjective, but rather is a verb (and an action verb at that).  I reconcile the two statements by holding that our being in God leads us to doing in God’s name.

Today I want to add something to this, something about light.  A few weeks ago I downloaded the album Live in London by Leonard Cohen, a Canadian born singer and songwriter.  Every song of this concert performance is a treat, as is the way Cohen’s personality comes through throughout the show.  One of my favorite songs is titled “Anthem” and Cohen introduces it by saying the words of it is refrain:

Ring the bells that still can ring

Forget your perfect offering

There is a crack, a crack in everything

That’s how the light gets in.

I like that.  Do what you can do and don’t worry that it isn’t perfect.  Nothing is.  God shines through everything you do, but especially when you act even though you are weak and broken.

Some of us here this morning grew up in a place just like Zebulun and Naphtali.  For others, we know this region not from living in it, but rather by living with it.  It is a place in our heart or in our soul or in our mind or in our body.  I’ve said before how much I love the line by Hemmingway that the world breaks everyone, but afterward some become strong in the broken places.  The cracks let in the Light and the Light shines forth from the darkness and gloom.  I hope you know this to be true in your life.  I know I do in mine.  I know what it is like to live with Zebulun and Naphtali and I know the joy of God’s new Light dawning.

Jesus called his disciples and invited them to fish for men and women and children… in essence he invited them to be agents of his Light.  He chose them not because they were perfect or proper or well-positioned in life, but because they were from Zebulun and Naphtali.  They were cracked, but that is how the Light got in.  If Christianity is an action verb, perhaps you have sat on the bench because you know yourself to be an imperfect or broken vessel.  Well, guess what, it is precisely because you are broken and imperfect that God loves you and wants to use you.  Let the Light shine on the darkness and deep gloom of your life and then allow it to shine forth from you.

Be Ignited!

Larry Walters has always been a personal hero of mine.  Several years ago he got bored sitting in a lawn chair in the backyard of his Los Angeles area home so he went to a local army surplus store and bought forty-five used weather balloons.  He took them home, tied them to his lawn chair, and began to fill them with helium.  He strapped himself into the chair just as it began to rise off the grass.  Walters hoped he might go about a hundred feet or so into the air just to see what the neighborhood looked like from above.  Well, old ‘Lawn chair Larry’ (as he came to be known) got a little bit more than he bargained for.  Yes, the chair, with him strapped in it, ascended 100 feet into the sky, but then it kept rising… and rising… and rising!  Before Larry Walters knew what hit him, he was sitting in a floating lawn chair 11,000 feet in the air; right smack in the middle of a major air traffic pattern for the Long Beach Airport.  Just imagine the surprised look on pilots’ faces as they caught sight of this flying chair drifting in front of them.  Flights had to be diverted for over two hours. 

Now, lest you think Larry didn’t think through this undertaking before setting off, think again.  He carried with him some peanut butter and jelly sandwiches (a good idea), a six-pack of beer (and doesn’t that explain a lot!), and a BB gun, which he used to shoot tiny little holes in the weather balloons so that, over time, he began a slow decent back to mother Earth.  When he landed – and, oh did I mention his balloon got tangled in a utility line and caused a major power outage? – he was both arrested on the spot and mobbed by reporters.  “Were you scared?” one reporter shouted at him.  “Yes!”  “Would you do it again?” another asked.  “No.”  “Why did you do it?”  Without flinching, Lawn chair Larry replied, “Because you can’t just sit there all the time.  Eventually you have to do something.” 

You can’t just sit there all the time.  Eventually you have to do something.

To my way of reading it, there is a comical undertone to today’s gospel reading.  John baptizes Jesus and spots him walking around the next day.  They are in the wilderness along the Jordon River.  Apparently many people are there just hanging out with John.  John has many followers – disciplines, in fact.  When he sees Jesus on that second day he launches into a lengthy sermon about how Jesus is the one they all should follow, but nothing much seems to happen. 

The day after that, when John sees Jesus walking by, he says to two of his disciples, “Look, here is the Lamb of God.”  Well, that seems to work and the two start to trail behind Jesus.  Eventually he turns and confronts them, “What are you looking for?”  These are the first words Jesus speaks in John’s gospel and they are simple and straight-forward, but have a deceptive depth about them.  The answer given by the disciples could not be more superficial, “Where are you staying?”  Jesus takes them to where he is camping and they sit together there for the rest of the day. 

Whatever Jesus says to them is enough to convince them that he is the real deal.  Before nightfall, one disciple, Andrew, heads off to find his brother Simon.  “We have found the Messiah,” he tells him.  So Simon goes with his brother to find Jesus and when they meet Jesus gives him a new name – Peter.

For me at least, I see a little bit of old Larry Walters in all of this.  John, his followers, and even Jesus are just hanging out in the wilderness.  Everyone is expecting something to happen, but no one knows what.  John, God bless him, does all he can to get people to pay attention to Jesus, but no one does.  Finally two do follow and when Jesus asks them what they are seeking they might as well have said, “We can’t just sit here anymore.  Eventually we want to do something!”  And with that they are off and running.

Christianity, it seems to me, is neither a noun nor an adjective.  It is a verb and an action verb at that.  Christianity is about acting out your faith.  It is about doing something with the relationship God has initiated with you.  I like to say that the mission of St. Paul’s Church is as simple as “Building Faith, Making Friends, and Meeting Needs in Downtown Suffolk.”  It is a statement about action.  It is about doing something with what God has started in us.

Sometimes that doing starts off rather innocuously, but eventually looks like a lawn chair soaring at 11,000 feet.  Do you know how St. Paul’s Food Pantry began?  About ten years ago or so, before I was called to be your rector, the parish secretary wanted to have some food to give to people who came to the office door looking for help.  A bag here and a bag there became something more regular and at some point Nancy Bangley began giving out a bag of food items every Monday morning from 10:30 to noon.  25-35 people stopped by on any given Monday and by the time I came here in the fall of 2007, Nancy knew most of the clients by name.  I remember she and I went over to Pine Street to check up on someone she hadn’t seen for a few weeks.  I believe Nancy also organized the Christmas baskets distribution.  As I recall, the first year I was here she gave away 40-45 complete meals.  It was a big effort and some folks took off the morning to help. 

Three years ago we made the decision to move the Food Pantry from the office area to its current location in the Christian Education Building.  We also changed the opening time to Monday evenings because we wanted to get more volunteers involved.  Nancy Meakin, Bev Judkins, Jim & Elizabeth Gordon, and George & Elizabeth Jenkins have put their heart and soul into this ministry along with Nancy Bangley.  Many of you have dropped in from time to time and contributed in your own way.  In 2013 the Food Pantry handed out 3,052 bags of groceries – all filled with items clients picked out for themselves.  At Christmas we had 122 turkeys and complete dinners available for our regular clients and others in the community.  Every single meal was given out.  Larry Walters would be proud of our efforts!

Christianity it a verb.  It is about doing something because after a while sitting around just does not cut it anymore.

It was the first day of basketball practice at Brooklyn high school.  The coach handed a ball to each player and said, “Boys, I want you to practice shooting from the spots you might expect to be in during the game.”  One of the boys immediately went to the bench, sat down, and held on to the ball he had been given.  You see, he was the twelfth player on the team and the person least likely to get into a game.  He was content to let the team’s star players do all the work.  He figured his efforts were not needed.

In the Letter of James it is written that faith without works is dead.  That is another way of saying Christianity is a verb.  One person famously noted that faith without works is about as useless as a screen door on a submarine.  That basketball player didn’t understand that his role, while diminished, never-the-less was still important.  He needed to fill his role to the best of his abilities.  Gene Wilkes, in his book Jesus on Leadership, writes, “Confusion arises when you equate higher ‘positions’ with leadership…  As long as ‘position’ is honored above discipleship -- being a follower -- church leaders will honor the ambitious over the obedient.”  In other words, don’t look at me or at the bishop or at some particular saint and think, well I could never do that so I guess there is nothing I can do.  You can’t just sit on the bench or in the lawn chair all of your life.  Eventually you have to do something with your faith.

Earlier this week I came across a poem by Mary Oliver titled, “What I Have Learned So Far”:

Meditation is old and honorable, so why should I not sit, every morning of my life, on the hillside, looking into the shining world?  Because, properly attended to, delight, as well as havoc, is suggestion.  Can one be passionate about the just, the ideal, the sublime, and the holy, and yet commit to no labor in its cause?  I don’t think so.

All summations have a beginning, all effect has a story, all kindness begins with the sown seed.  Thought buds toward radiance. The gospel of light is the crossroads of — indolence, or action.

Be ignited, or be gone

In today’s gospel reading we find a handful of followers who are ready to be ignited by Jesus Christ.  They are tired of sitting.  They have to do something.  They will get more than they bargained for, to be sure.  Once ignited, their lives will be changed forever.  Their lives will not be nouns or adjectives.  They will become a verb.

Christianity is a verb.  What is ready to ignite in you?