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.

Treasures New and Old

 

Matthew 13:31-33, 44-52

Proper 12 / Year A

The American minister Robert Fulghum made quite a sensation when he published a book of short essays in 1986.  The piece which gives the book its title is called All I Really Need to Know I Learned in Kindergarten.  It offers folksy wisdom such as play fair, say you are sorry when you hurt somebody, and flush.  It still resonates with us today because we recognize how our lives are built on the foundational truths and values we learned at a young age. 

Those kindergarten lessons are still in us, but we are no longer in kindergarten, are we!  Our life’s project is to apply these basics to an ever-changing, ever-evolving world.  I think this is what Jesus means when he says “the kingdom of heaven is like the master of a household who brings out of his treasure what is new and what is old.”  We may be doing new things, but they are rooted in old values. 

Michael Curry, our Presiding Bishop, has been reminding us for almost a decade, “If it isn’t about love, it isn’t about Jesus.”  This is the old, old truth.  What is new about it is his emphasis how God loves everyone – no exceptions.  There are folks who, for various reasons, have been marginalized by our society for generations; who have been told because of the color of their skin or their sexual orientation or their gender identity or their economic status or their lack of education or a host of other different reasons they are second class citizens and thus are less deserving of love and respect.  What is new – rejecting this kind of thinking – is rooted in what is old – Jesus calls his followers to love without limitations or preconditions.

Treasures new and old.  I don’t have to tell you there are some folks who just want the old treasure served up in the way it has always been.  They label what is new as “woke”, which strikes me as an odd term because the opposite (it seems to me) is “asleep”, not exactly a positive virtue.  Every day the governor of Florida picks another societal target to attack in his campaign to make his state the place where woke goes to die.  It all strikes me as very mean, petty, and pointless, except that it pleases the people who treasure only the old.

Russell Moore, a prominent Baptist minister and theologian, cautions against this.  In his newly released book, Losing Our Religion: An Altar Call for Evangelical America, Moore cautions about the dangers of nostalgia and a desire to return the church to a supposed “golden age.”  He notes surveys which indicate white evangelicals are more likely than other religious groups and the general population to embrace tenets and thinking of white supremacy.  He also links religious nostalgia with foot-dragging on sexual-abuse cover-ups and the expulsion of churches too affirming of role of women in leadership. 

The treasure of what is old can become toxic if it is not accompanied by a treasure that is new.  “Nostalgia”, writes Moore, “—especially of the sort wielded by demagogues and authoritarians—cannot protect religious faith, because it uses religion as a tool for worldly ends, leaving a spiritual void.”  He states it can only be helpful if you understand it to be memories, not blueprints.

Most mainline churches no longer desire to get back to the 1950’s.  We know it isn’t going to happen.  But we are still nostalgic… for February 2020.  “If only we could get back to the way things were before the pandemic,” we say.  There isn’t a day which goes by here at St. Paul’s where I do not long for something we have lost or left behind – a member who no longer attends, a ministry we no longer staff, a program we no longer offer.  What I notice is the more I look back with longing for the old treasure, the less I am able to see and appreciate the new treasures emerging in our common life.

What Russell Moore writes to his fellow Evangelicals applies equally to us:

“Those who wish to hold on to the Old Time Religion must recognize that God is doing something new.  The old alliances and coalitions are shaking apart.  And the sense of disorientation, disillusionment, and political and religious ‘homelessness’ that many Christians feel is not a problem to be overcome but a key part of the process...  [A] pilgrimage cannot start with a road map of certainty but must begin with the cry of faith that says, like the noble disciple Thomas wrongly labeled as a doubter, ‘Lord, we do not know where you are going.  How can we know the way?’”

Every week or so someone asks me if I think we will ever reopen the Food Pantry.  “I don’t think so,” I reply.  The Food Pantry isn’t something we learned in kindergarten, to use Fulghum’s analogy.  What we learned in kindergarten was to connect with and care for our neighbors.  The Food Pantry was a fantastic way to do this when we did it.  Now we connect with and care for our community in new ways – partnering with ForKids and the Suffolk Community Outreach Center being just two new manifestations of our old treasure.  More new treasure is on the horizon.

I feel the same way about our worship life, our fellowship, and our formation programs.  These are core elements of our common life – the old treasures – and they are being expressed in new and faithful ways.  As householders in this place known as St. Paul’s, may we continue to bring out treasures new and old, for this is what the kingdom of heaven is like.

Wheat & Weeds

 

Matthew 13:24-30, 36-43 

Proper 11 / Year A

An aerospace engineer designed a revolutionary new aircraft which promised to be a great critical and commercial success, save for one problem.  Every time the plane got in the air the wings broke off at the fuselage.  Attempts to correct the weakness failed time and again and the designer was baffled.  Finally, when all seemed lost, a janitor spoke up, “I know how to fix it.  Drill a line of small holes across the wings at the place where they snap off.”  Since nothing else had worked the engineer decided to give it a try.  He drilled the holes and the plane flew perfectly.  After the test flight the engineer asked the janitor how he knew this would work.  “If life teaches us one thing it is this,” answered the janitor, “nothing ever tears along the dotted line.”

In a nutshell this is what the Parable of the Wheat and the Weeds is all about.  Why don’t things go the way they are supposed to go?  Why do bad things happen in a field sown with good intentions?  Why does the paper never tear along the dotted line?  Why are there weeds?

Jesus makes one clear point in the parable: in this world there is resistance to good.  Want proof?  Just ask Joshua Tanner, a freshman disc jockey at college radio station.  The school took exception to the rap music he was playing sent him a letter.  It stated Tanner could no longer play his music because it was “too spiritually explicit.”  You heard me right.  It seems Tanner was censured for playing Christian rap music.  There is resistance to good. 

But let’s be honest about one thing.  Too many people use this resistance in order to explain away problems of their own making.  A sign in a New York office proclaims, “If you want to kick the behind of the person responsible for most of your troubles you wouldn’t be able to sit down for weeks!”  As we heard a few weeks ago, St. Paul wrote, “The good I want to do, I don’t do.  And what I do not want to do, I do.”  Jack Paar used to say, “My life seems to be one long obstacle course with me as the chief obstacle.”  Several years ago I transplanted what I thought were wildflowers into the beds around my house.  Turns out they are little more than an invasive perennial that doesn’t play nice with other plants.  The servant asks the master, “How did the weeds get into the field?”  Well, sometimes we put them there ourselves. 

Whether it stems from resistance to good or simply is a byproduct of our own devices, life presents us with many difficulties, but the only factor which will determine if they will grind us down or polish us up is what we make of them.  The philosopher Jean Vieujean once said, “There is much in us, but it often takes some obstacle, accident, or hardship to reveal it.”  Aldous Huxley observed, “Experience is not what happens to a person; it is what a person does with what happens to him.”  St. Paul wrote, “The sufferings of this present time are not worth comparing with the glory that will be revealed.”

There are two options you can take when weeds sprout up in your garden.  There are two paths to go down when you face adversity.  One is typified by the old Jew who had seen everything from the inhumanity of the concentration camps to present day anti-Semitism.  “O Lord,” he prayed in the synagogue, “isn’t it true we are your chosen people?”  A voice boomed back from heaven, “Yes, the Jews are my chosen people.”  “Well then,” moaned the old man, “isn’t it time you chose somebody else?”  This is a path which finds no wheat among weeds in life.  The other path notes before any bottle of medicine can be used for good, the instructions indicate it first must be well-shaken.  Immanuel Kant said a dove might consider wind resistance to be a problem, but without it flight would be impossible.  From this perspective we realize the only path to glory goes not around the weeds, but through them.

The path of adversity can be of great benefit and though life may buffet us with the worst it can offer, we always have the power to choose how we will respond; be it positively or negatively.  A psychologist did a study on two brothers who grew up in a home ruled by an abusive and alcoholic father.  As adults, one of the brothers became just like his dad while the other turned out the exact opposite.  The psychologist privately asked each one why he turned out as he did.  Even though their lives had gone in dramatically different directions, each had the same answer: “What else would you expect with a father like mine?”  It is not what happens to you in life but how you react to it which makes all the difference.

John Claypool was a Baptist preacher before finding his way into the Episcopal Church.  He says of his life everything came easy to him.  He was successful in his ministry.  He had a beautiful wife and great marriage.  They had several happy, well-adjusted children.  Then, without warning, his little girl was diagnosed with Leukemia, a horrible disease which eventually took her life.  Claypool’s world took a cruel and devastating turn.  This is what he said from the pulpit:

“We do not get all the answers and then live life in light of our understanding.  We must rather plunge into life – meeting what we have to meet and experiencing what we have to experience – and in light of our living try to understand.”

These are the words of a person who understands both the wheat and the weeds and why Jesus says to let them grow up together.  When John Claypool wrote a book about his life he gave it the title Tracks of a Fellow Struggler.

I submit it is only possible to live this way in the light of the Gospel.  If Jesus had not claimed to be the Lord of the wheat and the weeds, if our God was not sovereign over the fields of our existence, if there was no point to which befalls us, then why go on?  Thanks be to God all of life, when offered humbly to God, is redeemable.  Thanks be to God the trials and tribulations of the world can never overcome us if we allow the Lord of life to walk with us.  And thanks be to God someday the wheat I plant will be harvested and the weeds – no matter what their origin – will be removed.

The Sower

 

Matthew 13:1-9, 18-23

Proper 10 / Year A

Some commentators refer to Matthew’s thirteenth chapter as “The Sermon from a Boat”, as opposed to the more famous “Sermon on the Mount.”  Jesus is hanging out at on Galilean lakeside when a large crowd gathers around him.  So large, in fact, he has to get into a fishing boat in order to have a space from which to teach.  And teach he does.  Over the next few weeks we will read the content of what has to say, all of which he sets forth in parables.  

The word ‘parable’ comes from two root words - para and bolos.  Para means “alongside of” (think of the word parallel).  Bolas means “to throw” or “to cast.”  So a parable is a story where something is thrown against something else.  For Jesus, his parables are stories of familiar activities and events thrown against deeper and perhaps hidden spiritual things in order to shed light on what the kingdom of heaven is like.

This morning we read what we might call ‘the leadoff hitter’ in Jesus’ all-star story line-up… the sower who spreads seeds.  Now, all parables have been given names, mostly by scholars and bible translators.  These names can be helpful or misleading.  As an example of the later, the title “The Parable of the Prodigal Son” diverts our attention away from the older brother who refuses to welcome back his wayward sibling.  

Some suggest today’s reading should be called “The Parable of the Soils” and to be sure Jesus focuses much attention on the different types of earth which receive the scattered seed resulting in very different outcomes.  But, with this parable, Jesus himself gives it a name so it would seem reckless to deviate from it.  He calls this “The Parable of the Sower.”

Jesus tells us a farmer does the sowing.  He refers to the seed as being ‘the message of the kingdom” and as “the word.”  This suggests farmer is God the Father and the seed is Jesus the Word.  More than one commentator has suggested the farmer, by scattering seed so indiscriminately, is wasteful.  His approach, they contend, should be less random and more targeted.  The farmers who spend this day at the beach listening to Jesus surely are thinking about how carefully they sow resources as precious as seed only where it has the best chance to thrive.

But, as I always say about parables, this is Jesus’ story and he gets to tell it any way he wants to.  Rather than wasteful, what Jesus wants us to know through the metaphor of the farmer with his wide casting method is that God is generous and desires to reach each and every person.  For Jesus, God the Father is not angry, vengeful, or punitive.  For him, God holds there are no exclusions and no outsiders.  The message of the kingdom Jesus proclaims is not MIGA - Make Israel Great Again.  God cares deeply and equally for each and every person and this is why everyone receives the Word without preconditions or limitations.  The seed - the Word of God’s love - is made known to everyone… because everyone is precious to God… no exceptions.  

There are at least two things Jesus understands about his seed.  First, every seed is going to die in or on the ground it which it lands.  Jesus will say in another parable, “Unless a seed falls into the earth and dies it cannot bear fruit.”  Jesus the Word does not come into the world with great power and might, but rather humble and vulnerable.  He says he comes to serve, not to be served.  Humility, vulnerability, and service are the hallmarks of God’s seed once it dies in the soil and erupts into new life.  

The second thing Jesus knows about the seed is not all of it will make it.  Some will sprout up, but for various reasons, not survive.  And rather than try to consign particular individuals, groups, or movements to being one type of soil or another, I am acutely aware how the soil of my own soul is a composite of all four conditions.  A part of me is so densely packed the Word of God never even penetrates it for consideration.  There are other parts of me where the evil one has a hold and it is tough to shake it off.   There is a part of me wrapped up in the cares and concerns of the world and in spite of my intentions, these things chock out God’s Word in my life.  And, thankfully, there are places in my soul where the seeds find fertile soil and produce an abundance of humility, vulnerability, and service.  I am confident you see this in your own life as well. 

Perhaps the best known line from Oscar Wilde’s 1893 play A Woman of No Importance is this: “The only difference between the saint and the sinner is every saint has a past and every sinner has a future.”  It is a sentiment much in keeping with the message of today’s parable.  Each person is precious to God and God will withhold nothing in order for any and every one of us to know divine Love.  It is a love which is capable of producing in each of us a harvest of goodness and godliness beyond measure.  Thanks be to God.

 

Impulses & Mortification

 

Romans 7:15-25

Matthew 11:16-19, 25-30

Proper 9 / Year A

I find it to be a law that when I want to do what is good, evil lies close at hand.  For I delight in the law of God in my inmost self, but I see in my members another law at war with the law of my mind, making me captive to the law of sin that dwells in my members.

I have always found this passage from Paul to be some of the most genuine and compelling verses in scripture.  Its power lies in its brutal honesty.  It is a self-disclosure of his struggle to do the right thing - a struggle we can easily recognize taking place within us.  A comedian once quipped the bible basically talks about two things: wine and a lot of stuff that is hard to believe, but what Paul is describing here is neither.  He confesses to an inner struggle we all know all too well.

“Wretched man that I am,” says Paul!  “Who will rescue me from this body of death?”, which is a very good question.  The answer for Paul is only the atoning death of Christ can set him free, but allow me to add something to this.

Sigmund Freud holds human beings are driven by impulses.  Many of these impulses are strong and unidentified until they are denied.  We Christians who practice fasting and self-denial during Lent get a first-hand opportunity to discover just how powerful some impulses can be.  All impulses stem from basic human needs – survival, security, nourishment, love, etc. – and so they are both good and necessary.  But they can also become distorted.  The impulse for survival can become a will to power.  The impulse for food can become gluttony.  Freud believes within every one of us there is something he names the superego – a parent-like voice of morality whose function is to moderate our impulses and keep them from running out of control. 

Psychiatrists are finding the superego is not present in serial killers.  It has been destroyed by childhood trauma or simply never developed.  Thus these killers have no conscience, no sense of right or wrong, no feelings of guilt or remorse, and no internal conflict where a moral voice advocates for behavioral control.  There is only unregulated and perverted impulse.  Given this knowledge, we might want to say to Paul his internal struggle is actually an indication of health and well-being.  The mere fact he wants to exercise control over his impulses indicates he is on the right path.

Christian tradition has always made a distinction between penance and mortification – two practices which don’t get a lot of run these days.  Penance is an act of making reparation for one’s sins.  Think of it this way: when you act out on a distorted impulse – say, losing your temper – penance looks like making amends; perhaps asking the forgiveness of those who bore the brunt of your wrath.   Penance is associated with actual behavior.

Mortification, on the other hand, is associated not with actions, but with impulses.  The very word in Latin (which also gives us the word “mortician”) means “to put to death.”  In the Christian tradition mortification is a conscious form of self-denial with the aim of subduing distorted impulses (those desires which, if acted out, hurt us or hurt others or draw us away from the love of God).  It is an attempt to strengthen the power of our own will and the power of God’s will in our lives.  The Christian practice of mortification falls within the gamut of self-denial, abstinence, self-imposed poverty, wearing abrasive clothing (such as hair shirts) to the extreme of self-flagellation.

Paul is right, when we want to do good evil is always close at hand.  There simply is no way of escaping it.   God has created us in such a way that the inner voice Freud identified is there to help us navigate these treacherous waters.  At the heart of the Christian faith, at the core of our proclamation, is the truth God loves us and accepts us.  Yes, God desires our perfection.  Yes, God seeks to dispel our inner darkness.  But no, God does not condemn us or forsake us because our impulses do not always conform with God’s holy will.  God comes to us in our weakness and shows us pure love. 

Jesus, seeing how the religious leaders of his day laid it on thick and heavy, Jesus, observing how they sniffed out the inner struggles of the faithful, Jesus, knowing they sought to convert the weakness of good people into self-loathing in order for their own position in the religious hierarchy of the day might be more firm and prominent, made this offer: “Come to me, all you who are weary and carrying heavy burdens, and I will give you rest.  I will not lessen the standards, but neither will I impose artificial burdens of human religion as a means of deliverance from internal struggles.  Take my yoke upon you and learn from me.  I am gentle and humble of heart and in me you will find rest for your weary souls.  My yoke is easy and my burden I light.”

The Christian Church is not a place where hurtful behavior is dismissed without the call to repentance and the command to make amends, but neither is it a place where good people are to be beaten down because inner impulses suggest hurtful actions.  The Church of Jesus Christ calls us to purity of action by providing us with spiritual resources aimed at strengthening will power.  Jesus calls this his “yoke” and in love he offers his yoke to each one of us.

Even a Cup of Cold Water

 

Matthew 10:40-42

Proper 8 / Year A

Jesus said, “Whoever gives even a cup of cold water to one of these little ones in the name of a disciple-- truly I tell you, none of these will lose their reward.”

Lu Mascaro decided to attend a religious discussion group the evening after she quit her job.  Although she did not know any of the members and felt a bit exposed, she sensed a need for support and encouragement.  She writes,

From the moment I stepped into the house everyone was welcoming. The discussion was interesting and respectful, and I felt myself relax.  Then suddenly, someone asked me if there was anything I wanted to share.  Without hesitation and with a quivering voice, I poured my heart out.

While I was talking, someone opened the door.  The dog barked. People got distracted.  I instantly felt ashamed and self-conscious, with an urge to hold my breath and not disturb anyone.  Was I too boring?  What was probably only a split second played out in my head like a film scene in slow motion.  My daze was interrupted when a woman across from me gently called my name.  Looking directly into my eyes she said, “I’m listening.”  I could feel myself breathe again.

A cup of water.  Attentiveness to another.  Simple gestures matter, don’t they.  Mark Twain once said kindness is a language the deaf can hear and the blind can see.  And when you speak this language two things happen.  First, someone else is blessed.  And second, you become a better person for it because, as Jesus teaches, one of the great paradoxes of life is the more you give yourself away the richer you become. 

At my dentist appoint last week, Beth Bagley was bragging about her grandson Landon.  “Do you know what he did the other day?  We were watching TV and he got up and headed toward the kitchen.  ‘Grandma’, he said, ‘can I get you something to drink?’”  I thought about that for a moment or two and then said, “Over the course of my entire life I don’t think I have ever said those words.”  Landon’s simple gesture of thoughtfulness and Beth’s story about it got me pondering much about my self-centered life.

If giving a person a cup of water leads to an eternal reward, what other simple gestures might we do to make another person’s world brighter and better?

Google this question and you will discover number one on every list is write a thank you note.  I am pleased many of you have adopted a Chanco staff person for the summer.  I am already hearing how much it means to them to know you care and you are praying for them.  I spent yesterday with our international staffers and was delighted to learn Wanda Rector wrote a note to each of them after hosting them last weekend.  Marty Wilson has adopted one of the international staffers and that person beamed a radiant smile when I asked her if she had gotten her card yet.

Number 2: Tone down aggressive driving.  If someone uses a turn signal, give them the space to do what they need to do – especially truck drivers.  Newsflash, no trophies are awarded to interstate drivers who pass the most cars.  It is meant to be a place where we all cooperate in order to ensure everyone arrives safely to their destination.

Next, let a mother with small children go ahead of you in a checkout line.  Parents have a lot on their minds and a lot of balls to juggle.  Any small kindness you can show to them means another drop or two does not get added into a bucket already overflowing. 

Here is something which goes a long way – compliments and expressing appreciation.  I have said before churches are gratitude factories.  A few of us here are paid to do what we do.  Still, your kind words go a long way to helping us realize our efforts are worthwhile and make a difference.  Everything else in our church happens because someone volunteers to do it.  A pat on the back in recognition of peoples’ contributions has real value.

A final idea… share a positive experience on-line, especially for great service from a local business.  Social media can be a bad news dumping ground and being exposed to negativity takes a toll on us all.  Why not use your voice to turn it into a blessing garden where people who follow you and see your posts are reminded there is goodness – and lots of it – in this world!   

Researchers have found a person who offers a gesture of kindness to another tends to undervalue its impact on the recipient compared with how the recipient rates what it means to him or her.  Marisa Franco, a psychologist and author, contends “We have a negativity bias when it comes to social connection.  We just don’t think the impact of our behaviors is as positive as it is.”

I don’t know how Jesus did his research, but long ago he decerned the same thing.  Whoever gives even a cup of cold water…  I will leave you with this from Robert Lewis Stevenson: “Don’t judge each day by the harvest you reap, but by the seeds you plant.”  Seeds are small things, aren’t they.  It doesn’t take a whole lot of effort to spread them, just intentionality.  Go and do some sowing.

A Guys' Night Out

 

Jeremiah 20:7-13

Matthew 10:24-39

Proper 7 / Year A

When I was in seminary, some of my classmates invited me to join them for a guy’s night out.  We were all young, all men, and all in training for the ordained ministry.  At one point in the evening we began to discuss other classmates.  The conversation became increasing petty, negative, and critical as my friends zeroed in on Lucy, who drew their ire for being excessively over-weight.  “How can someone that fat be a priest?” one asked.  “In my diocese,” another proffered, “she would never get into the ordination process.” 

I grew increasingly uncomfortable with the tenor of the talk but kept my silence.  Lucy was a friend; someone I had come to know and respect.  In my estimation, the discussion served only one purpose; it alleviated personal insecurities by dwelling on the shortcomings of another.  Just like the prophet Jeremiah described in today’s first reading, a burning fire was growing within me as I held my tongue in the face of their verbal onslaught.  Finally, one of my classmates asked me, “Keith, what do you think?  Is Lucy too fat to be a priest?”

Jim Wallis contends “Prophecy is not future telling but rather articulating moral truth.”  This truth may be applied to church life, to national policies, or to interpersonal relationships.  “A prophet,” says Wallis, “diagnoses the present and points the way to a just solution.”

When I responded to my friends, I spoke as a prophet... as one who diagnosed the present situation, discerned its injustice, and articulated a moral truth.  “Nobody has asked us to judge the moral, spiritual, or physical fitness of another’s call to the priesthood,” I said.  “We are in seminary to discern our own calling, nothing more.  Our call will be tested and confirmed by our bishops and sponsoring dioceses.  If Lucy’s bishop sees fit to ordain her, that is up to him.”  And to put a frosting on my frosty response I said, “I wonder what our bishops would think of us if they were listening to the way we are ripping her apart.” 

Well, it will not surprise you to learn this changed the nature of my relationship with my fellow classmates.  Our friendship moving forward diminished dramatically and I never again was invited to socialize with them.  Perhaps – no, almost for certain – I became the subject of their vicious conversations.  Oh, and by the way, Lucy has gone on to be a fine priest who has done fantastic work in her diocese for almost 35 years. 

Being a prophet is tricky business.  It is fraught with peril.  In our first lesson, Jeremiah laments God has tricked him in his calling.  “You enticed me and I was enticed.” The Hebrew word translated as enticed literally means duped or deceived.  “You deceived me and I was a dope.”  Jeremiah supposes people will warm to his words of truth, but has come to find the opposite.  He is mocked and ridiculed.  He has become a caricature and a laughingstock.  Rather than deal the substance of his message his audience attacks the messenger. 

In today’s Gospel reading Jesus prepares his disciples to go forth and carry on the work he has been doing.  He knows they will be attacked as he has been attacked.  He knows their commitment will create deep divisions, even their own families.  He assures them God is with them to protect them.  Rather than shrink back from their calling, Jesus tells them to shout truth from rooftops; to be bold in the face of resistance and ridicule.  To do anything less will not save their skin.  It will compromise who they are called and created to be.

When I think back now on the guys’ night out, I realize I was not (and still am not) the most tactful person on the planet.  I wonder what would have happened if I had responded by laughing it off, “Heck, I still trying to figure out why God would ever call me.”  Or if had been evasive, “Well, it is something to consider.”  What might have happened?  Well, I might have been invited to the next guys’ night out where I would have had to listen to more judgmental, mean-spirited conversations.  And eventually, I suspect, one of two things would have happened.  Either I would have had enough and spoken my truth or over time I would have begun to adopt the skewed views and values of my fellow seminarians.

The last thing Jesus says to his followers in today’s reading is this: “If you love your life you will lose it, but if you lose your life for my sake you will find it.”  Loving your life, in my story, looks like biting my tongue and biding my time in order to fit in and be accepted.  Yes, my friendships would have remained intact, but not my integrity.  Being willing to lose something important – relationships – in order to preserve what is essential – who God has created and calls me to be – is at the core of the Christian faith and life, not to mention what it means to be a decent, moral human being.  It is the prophet’s burden and the prophet’s reward.