(a sermon for St. Peter’s Episcopal Church, Purcellville, VA, December 6, 2009)
Lectionary Year C (RCL), 2nd Sunday of Advent: Baruch 5:1-9; Philippians 1:3-11; Luke 3:1-6; Canticle 16 (Luke 1:68-79)
[May the words of my mouth and the meditation of my heart be acceptable in Your sight, O Lord.]
Hey, guess what! Something wonderful is coming! Bet you can’t guess what it is! What’s coming? CHRISTMAS! Well, that wasn’t very hard to guess after all, was it?
Actually it’s pretty easy to tell when Christmas is coming, because the signs of it are literally everywhere. Christmas sale ads and Christmas specials fill the television. Stores and offices are decorated in green and red. Christmas songs are playing everywhere. Holiday parties dot the calendar. Homes are tricked out with lights and inflatable figures and the days get shorter and darker. Even on the roads, cars are driving around with trees tied on top and the toll-booth attendants are wearing Santa hats. The signs of the season are too widespread to miss!
But just in case we miss all those other signs, here in the church, we have the season of Advent (which started last Sunday) to remind us that Christmas is coming. In fact, the term “Advent” is from a Latin word that means “coming.” But Advent is much more than just the weeks we spend getting ready to celebrate Jesus’ birthday.
I found a nice description of what Advent is about on Wikipedia, which says: “the season of Advent serves as a reminder both of the original waiting that was done by the Hebrews for the birth of their Messiah as well as the waiting of Christians for the second coming of Christ.” So Advent is a two part season: while we wait for December 25th to remember Jesus birth, we’re reminded that we’re STILL waiting for Jesus to come again.
So how do we respond to that? Jesus is coming!! – what do we do?!
Well, let’s consider the readings we have today.
In the reading from Baruch, the prophet is addressing the city of Jerusalem at the time of the Babylonian exile. The city is desolate, her children - her people – have been carried off to Babylon, but the prophet reminds Jerusalem that God will lead her people home. So, we find Jerusalem waiting for God to come.
And what is she to do while she waits? The answer is in the opening lines of the reading: “Take off the garment of your sorrow and affliction, O Jerusalem, and put on forever the beauty of the glory from God. Put on the robe of the righteousness that comes from God; put on your head the diadem of the glory of the Everlasting…. Arise, O Jerusalem, look toward the east, and see your children gathered from west and east at the word of the Holy One.”
So, what’s that mean? What’s Jerusalem called upon to do while she waits? Well first of all, she’s to remember that she’s waiting for something - something good. “The garment of sorrow and affliction,” that bad attitude that “my life is terrible, woe is me!” – that mindset needs to be taken off and got rid of. Instead, she needs to put on an attitude that reflects the glory of God. Despite her circumstances, she’s called to display God’s splendor and righteousness, even as she “looks toward the east,” expectantly watching for signs of her people’s return.
So we’re called to three things while we wait for God’s coming: we’re called to reflect His Splendor, live His Righteousness, and await His coming with Hopeful Expectation.
Superficially at least, we do a pretty darn good job of displaying splendor as we wait for December 25th. Christmas is nothing if not a splendidly beautiful celebration. We prepare by decorating our homes with the natural beauty of God’s greenery, and the created beauty of lights, and ornaments, beautifully wrapped packages, delicious food, carefully crafted music and entertainment, and well-planned gatherings of the people we love. It’s splendid and it’s glorious and it’s why everyone loves Christmas. Because we’re created in the image of God, our desire to create and live in a world filled with splendid and beautiful things is an expression of the God-image in us.
But…, the call to righteousness and the call to hopeful expectation of God’s return are often lacking in our Advent preparations. They’re certainly lacking out there in the world, but they can be lacking even in here….
So what do we do about that? How can we respond to this call to righteousness? The gospel reading from Luke shows the way. John the Baptist is “the voice of one crying out in the wilderness ‘prepare the way of the Lord.’” John’s job is to announce that the kingdom of God is near – the Messiah is coming – Jesus is coming! And as John makes his announcement, he tells the people how to respond.
John proclaims “a baptism of repentance for the forgiveness of sins.” That is how to prepare. That is how to put on the robe of righteousness. Repent. Be washed and purified and forgiven for your sins. When we sinners repent, God counts us among the righteous.
Repentance and forgiveness are how we “prepare the way of the Lord” in our hearts. The reading from Luke refers back to the words of the prophet Isaiah, and I love the imagery of this passage.
“Prepare the way of the Lord, make his paths straight. Every valley shall be filled, and every mountain and hill shall be made low, and the crooked shall be made straight, and the rough ways made smooth; and all flesh shall see the salvation of God.”
Living in this world is hard on your heart. It gets wrinkled and pitted and bent out of shape; scarred, and warped, and abused. Poor heart! Between the abuse that’s inflicted on it from the outside, and the abuse we subject it to from within, our hearts are difficult terrain for Jesus to travel through, filled with highs and lows, crooked spots and rough patches. But when we prepare a way for the Lord - when we repent and are forgiven – we put on righteousness and our hearts are filled and restored, smoothed and repaired, made into a straight, level path for our Lord to travel.
In fact, the need to repent in order to prepare for the coming of Jesus is why Advent was originally a penitential season, much like Lent. That’s why the candles of our Advent wreath are purple, the color of penitence, and why some churches still use purple vestments and hangings during Advent. It’s important during this season of Advent that we repent and be forgiven in order to receive our coming Savior. That’s our call to righteousness.
And, conveniently, our reading from Philippians addresses the call to await God’s coming with Hopeful Expectation. With Christmas in our culture being what it is, it’s easy for our hopeful expectation to extend no further than the hope that Santa will bring that expensive iPhone or Wii console or diamond tennis bracelet, or that out-of-touch Aunt Gertrude won’t get you yet another “Dancing Santa” Christmas figure.
Paul’s words to the Christians in Philippi address a much larger hope and a much greater expectation than the trivial matter of what gifts will wind up under the Christmas tree. Paul says, “I am confident of this, that the one who began a good work among you will bring it to completion by the day of Jesus Christ.” And Paul’s prayer for these people is that “in the day of Christ you may be pure and blameless, having produced the harvest of righteousness that comes through Jesus Christ for the glory and praise of God.”
Our hopeful expectation is that God will complete the good work he has started in our lives. And that He will complete it by the time Jesus Christ comes again. As we say in the Nicene Creed, Jesus “shall come again in glory to judge the living and the dead.” We have to trust that God’s work in us will be completed by the time of Jesus’ second coming so that when we are judged, we will not be found lacking in righteousness. That is our very hope for salvation.
The question is, has God started a good work in you? If you’re here, it’s because God has drawn you here. But do you know Jesus? Have you accepted him as your Lord and Savior? Has knowing Christ changed your life? God has drawn us here to this community of Christians to hear his life-giving word, and to accept Jesus as our Lord and Savior. And if you’ve already accepted Jesus, then this is another chance to reaffirm that faith, to repent of the ongoing sins that plague us all, to marvel in the splendor of God’s presence.
The splendor and beauty of God that we reflect into the world with such abundance at this time of year, can only be fully enjoyed when we’re filled with the Hopeful Expectation of Jesus’ coming in glory, as our Savior – the one whose perfect Righteousness WE can receive when we confess Him as Lord -- when we repent and are forgiven.
Hey, guess what! Something wonderful is coming! JESUS is coming!
What are you going to do about it?
Amen
Thoughts and observations about life in the kingdom of God. I hope to feed your hungry soul!
Sunday, December 6, 2009
Sunday, October 11, 2009
Why Have I Forsaken You?
(a sermon for St. Andrew’s Episcopal Church, Ada, VA, October 11, 2009)
Lectionary Year B (RCL), 19th Sunday after Pentecost: Job 23:1-9, 16-17; Hebrews 4:12-16; Mark 10:17-31; Psalm 22:1-15
“My God, my God why have you forsaken me? And are so far from my cry and from the words of my distress? Oh my God, I cry in the daytime, but you do not answer; by night as well, but I find no rest. My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?”
Such poignant , rending words from Psalm 22! Words of heartbreak and anguish. The words of one who is suffering and who feels utterly alone - abandoned by people and even by God.
According to tradition, these words were spoken by King David during a time of great trial, although we don’t know the particular circumstances. Jesus also spoke these words, as he was dying on the cross, and in fact, he was quoting from this very psalm.
You and I also, we speak them - feel them – these words of abandonment. And how often we feel forsaken by God! When the bill collector is at the door. When the doctor’s prognosis is bad. When our children have run amok. When our loved ones are hurting. When we are hurting. “God – how could you let this happen? Why have you forsaken me?!”
It’s such a very human way to feel! I love that about the bible – that the people in it are so unapologetically human! God’s people are not “super saints”, they’re not perfect people who have it all together. God’s people are people with faults, people who fail. King David, who wrote this Psalm, accused God of abandoning him. At other times, he committed adultery and even murder. And yet, David is called a man after God’s own heart.
This imperfect humanity is on display throughout the entire Bible, including our gospel reading this morning. Just look at the Rich Young Man we heard about in Mark’s Gospel. I think he’s feeling pretty forsaken, too.
You see, he thought he had his act pretty well together, and he came to Jesus – the new teacher in town - for some advice on how to get eternal life. He had everything else covered; he had all the stuff that money could buy to provide him with a happy life in this world. He even had all the boxes checked in the “religious obligations” column: no murder, no adultery, no stealing, no lying, honor your parents. I also imagine he regularly went to the temple to offer the appropriate sacrifices, too.
But now there’s this exciting new teacher making the rounds, who has the aura of authority about him. So this rich man wants to make sure he’ll make it to the next world, too. And since he does at least as well as everyone else in fulfilling his religious obligations, I don’t think he expected Jesus to tell him to do anything he couldn’t manage. He’s rich, and he’s got his life under control. What could anyone ask of him that he couldn’t make happen?
And of course, Jesus tells him to do the one thing he will not do. Jesus asks him to give up the very thing that makes this wealthy gentleman a rich man: his possessions. Jesus pricks him in his idol: “Sell all you have and give the money to the poor.., THEN, come and follow me.”
The man goes away sorrowing. He feels forsaken, separated from God. Just like any of us might feel forsaken if God seems to be asking something of us that we are unwilling to give – or unwilling to give up.
And that shows us the catch, the wrong way of thinking that’s going on when we feel that God has forsaken us. Because who, after all, is doing the forsaking? Is God forsaking us, or are we forsaking God?
The verb “forsake” means “to leave altogether or abandon; to give up something formerly held dear or renounce.” So if God is forsaking us, then God is abandoning and renouncing us. God is turning away from us.
But that, my friends, just ain’t true! God does not forsake us – ever! God is always there, waiting for us to turn to him. God does not abandon us. In fact, as unbelievable as it may sound, God longs to be in relationship with us.
And that reminds me of the poem “Footprints in the Sand”. Let me read it to you:
One night I dreamed I was walking along the beach with the Lord. Many scenes from my life flashed across the sky. In each scene I noticed footprints in the sand. Sometimes there were two sets of footprints, other times there was only one. This bothered me because I noticed that during the low periods of my life, when I was suffering from anguish, sorrow or defeat, I could see only one set of footprints. So I said to the Lord, “you promised me Lord, that if I followed you, you would walk with me always. But I have noticed that during the most trying periods of my life there has only been one set of footprints in the sand. Why, when I needed you most, have you not been there for me?” The Lord replied, “the years when you have seen only one set of footprints, my child, is when I carried you.”
We are so quick to judge God. Even the person in the poem, who had a relationship with God, immediately assumed that God had left her when she needed him the most, when in fact, that is when the Lord was helping her the most.
No, the truth is that we are the ones who do the forsaking. We forsake God. We leave him, and abandon him. We give him up and renounce him for the sake of our precious idols.
We are the ones who put the distance between us and God. Every time we willfully choose to sin, we step away from God. Every time we doubt God’s good intentions for us, we step away from God. Every time we choose our will over God’s will, the gulf widens. Every time God speaks words of life to us, and we go away sorrowing because we will not follow them, we push God away.
We are not forsaken. Even when it’s not our personal sins hurting us, but just the sin and evil in the world that’s making us hurt and suffer – when the Doctor says “it’s cancer” or when some natural disaster strikes - even then it is we who push God away. We push God away in our hurt, with accusations of “How could You let this happen! Why!?” Instead of turning to God for the comfort that he offer us, we turn to him with anger and accusations.
And even then, God does not forsake us. Even though we forsake God.
The only person forsaken by God was Jesus. How ironic, that the one person who had the most intimate and close relationship with the Father, the one who was willing to give or to give up anything and everything, the only one who truly deserved to NEVER be forsaken was the only one to be forsaken by God!
And all for our sake… For us, for we fickle people who turn away from God of our own accord time and time again. So that we might never have to know the full horror of what being REALLY forsaken by God might feel like.
My God, My God, why have I forsaken You? Forgive Me!
Lectionary Year B (RCL), 19th Sunday after Pentecost: Job 23:1-9, 16-17; Hebrews 4:12-16; Mark 10:17-31; Psalm 22:1-15
“My God, my God why have you forsaken me? And are so far from my cry and from the words of my distress? Oh my God, I cry in the daytime, but you do not answer; by night as well, but I find no rest. My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?”
Such poignant , rending words from Psalm 22! Words of heartbreak and anguish. The words of one who is suffering and who feels utterly alone - abandoned by people and even by God.
According to tradition, these words were spoken by King David during a time of great trial, although we don’t know the particular circumstances. Jesus also spoke these words, as he was dying on the cross, and in fact, he was quoting from this very psalm.
You and I also, we speak them - feel them – these words of abandonment. And how often we feel forsaken by God! When the bill collector is at the door. When the doctor’s prognosis is bad. When our children have run amok. When our loved ones are hurting. When we are hurting. “God – how could you let this happen? Why have you forsaken me?!”
It’s such a very human way to feel! I love that about the bible – that the people in it are so unapologetically human! God’s people are not “super saints”, they’re not perfect people who have it all together. God’s people are people with faults, people who fail. King David, who wrote this Psalm, accused God of abandoning him. At other times, he committed adultery and even murder. And yet, David is called a man after God’s own heart.
This imperfect humanity is on display throughout the entire Bible, including our gospel reading this morning. Just look at the Rich Young Man we heard about in Mark’s Gospel. I think he’s feeling pretty forsaken, too.
You see, he thought he had his act pretty well together, and he came to Jesus – the new teacher in town - for some advice on how to get eternal life. He had everything else covered; he had all the stuff that money could buy to provide him with a happy life in this world. He even had all the boxes checked in the “religious obligations” column: no murder, no adultery, no stealing, no lying, honor your parents. I also imagine he regularly went to the temple to offer the appropriate sacrifices, too.
But now there’s this exciting new teacher making the rounds, who has the aura of authority about him. So this rich man wants to make sure he’ll make it to the next world, too. And since he does at least as well as everyone else in fulfilling his religious obligations, I don’t think he expected Jesus to tell him to do anything he couldn’t manage. He’s rich, and he’s got his life under control. What could anyone ask of him that he couldn’t make happen?
And of course, Jesus tells him to do the one thing he will not do. Jesus asks him to give up the very thing that makes this wealthy gentleman a rich man: his possessions. Jesus pricks him in his idol: “Sell all you have and give the money to the poor.., THEN, come and follow me.”
The man goes away sorrowing. He feels forsaken, separated from God. Just like any of us might feel forsaken if God seems to be asking something of us that we are unwilling to give – or unwilling to give up.
And that shows us the catch, the wrong way of thinking that’s going on when we feel that God has forsaken us. Because who, after all, is doing the forsaking? Is God forsaking us, or are we forsaking God?
The verb “forsake” means “to leave altogether or abandon; to give up something formerly held dear or renounce.” So if God is forsaking us, then God is abandoning and renouncing us. God is turning away from us.
But that, my friends, just ain’t true! God does not forsake us – ever! God is always there, waiting for us to turn to him. God does not abandon us. In fact, as unbelievable as it may sound, God longs to be in relationship with us.
And that reminds me of the poem “Footprints in the Sand”. Let me read it to you:
One night I dreamed I was walking along the beach with the Lord. Many scenes from my life flashed across the sky. In each scene I noticed footprints in the sand. Sometimes there were two sets of footprints, other times there was only one. This bothered me because I noticed that during the low periods of my life, when I was suffering from anguish, sorrow or defeat, I could see only one set of footprints. So I said to the Lord, “you promised me Lord, that if I followed you, you would walk with me always. But I have noticed that during the most trying periods of my life there has only been one set of footprints in the sand. Why, when I needed you most, have you not been there for me?” The Lord replied, “the years when you have seen only one set of footprints, my child, is when I carried you.”
We are so quick to judge God. Even the person in the poem, who had a relationship with God, immediately assumed that God had left her when she needed him the most, when in fact, that is when the Lord was helping her the most.
No, the truth is that we are the ones who do the forsaking. We forsake God. We leave him, and abandon him. We give him up and renounce him for the sake of our precious idols.
We are the ones who put the distance between us and God. Every time we willfully choose to sin, we step away from God. Every time we doubt God’s good intentions for us, we step away from God. Every time we choose our will over God’s will, the gulf widens. Every time God speaks words of life to us, and we go away sorrowing because we will not follow them, we push God away.
We are not forsaken. Even when it’s not our personal sins hurting us, but just the sin and evil in the world that’s making us hurt and suffer – when the Doctor says “it’s cancer” or when some natural disaster strikes - even then it is we who push God away. We push God away in our hurt, with accusations of “How could You let this happen! Why!?” Instead of turning to God for the comfort that he offer us, we turn to him with anger and accusations.
And even then, God does not forsake us. Even though we forsake God.
The only person forsaken by God was Jesus. How ironic, that the one person who had the most intimate and close relationship with the Father, the one who was willing to give or to give up anything and everything, the only one who truly deserved to NEVER be forsaken was the only one to be forsaken by God!
And all for our sake… For us, for we fickle people who turn away from God of our own accord time and time again. So that we might never have to know the full horror of what being REALLY forsaken by God might feel like.
My God, My God, why have I forsaken You? Forgive Me!
Wednesday, September 2, 2009
Unrighteous Anger
a sermon for St. Andrew’s Episcopal Church, Ada, VA
August 30, 2009, 13th Sunday after Pentecost
The readings: Song 2:8-13; James 1:17-27; Mark 7:1-8, 14-15, 21-23; Psalm 45:1-2, 7-10
“Anger” – it’s such an unassuming sounding little word, and yet seems to be everywhere these days. If it’s not in your face, then it’s simmering just below the surface, ready to boil over.
And the Road Rage crisis on our highways is a great example of how the simmering anger so many people live with can erupt in the blink of an eye. You make one wrong move on the highway – not driving the way Joe Schmoe thinks you should drive, or *gasp* making an error in driving judgment – and the next thing you know, you can find yourself part of a road war… whether you want to be or not.
I did a quick internet search for “road rage accidents” and got thousands of stories. When you read them, you just shake your head and think “what is wrong with these people?” A car and a pickup are driving down the road, the pickup passenger throws a beer bottle out the window that nearly hits the car. At the stop light, the car driver tells the pickup passenger that they almost hit the car with the bottle, and the next thing people are out of their cars, the car driver is beaten and hit on the head with a bottle, and one of the pickup passengers is stabbed by the car driver, and several people are on the way to the hospital.
Here’s another: A motocylcist gets frustrated with a motorhome travelling at 55 mph, so passes it, pulls in front, and slams on its brakes. The motorhome couldn’t help running over the cyclist, who was dragged for 75 feet under the motorhome, and died at the scene.
Or this: angry commuters in California forced the highway department to completely close a stretch of road they were widening, because of at three incidents of motorists angry about the possible delay. Two of them hit the highway flagman in order to drive through the construction zone when it wasn’t their turn, and a third also shot the flagger with a BB gun as they drove through. All because they were angry about the delay – so now everybody gets to take a nice long detour until the project’s finished.
We live in an angry, angry world, where the angry people spend their time justifying and explaining why they’re angry – and why it’s okay for them to indulge that anger. Here are some examples:
There’s not enough money, not enough leisure time, too long of a drive to work, the boss makes unreasonable demands, if the kids are still at home they don’t listen and if the kids are grownups they never call. We’re overweight and under-exercised, or dealing with painful health problems. The spouse isn’t making me happy any more, or the ex isn’t abiding by the terms of the divorce settlement. “Nobody understands how hard it is to be me! If they did, they’d get angry, too!”
When you focus on those difficult things and hold onto them, they build up pressure that makes a person frustrated, irritated, irate, stressed, enraged, exasperated, annoyed, infuriated or just plain riled up. We have become a nation of angry, angry people, most of whom think that getting angry is OK – as long as I’m the one getting angry!
The reading from James gives us a different message, though, doesn’t it? “Let everyone be quick to listen, slow to speak, slow to anger; for your anger does not produce God’s righteousness.” And let me just repeat that last bit because it has the key: your anger does not produce God’s righteousness. It can’t. The only thing your anger can produce is your righteousness. Your righteousness is also known as self-righteousness, and we all know self-righteousness isn’t a good thing. One definition I found said that self-righteousness is “hypocritically pious - a feeling of smug moral superiority derived from a sense that one's beliefs, actions, or affiliations are of greater virtue than those of the average person.” Definitely not a Godly was to think!
And isn’t that just where road rage comes from, and a lot of other rages, too? From that smug sense that your way is better than all the other drivers, that you drive better, and that your driving superiority entitles you to punish or chastise drivers who offend your sense of what’s right on the road. It’s also self-righteousness that goads people into other sorts ofbad behavior in public places - the sense that “I know the right way and they aren’t doing it right and it’s my duty to tell them”, or “my errand is more important than any one else’s in this line, so I’m entitled to make a fuss until I get to my turn.”
“My anger” produces “my righteousness” which inevitably leads to bad behavior.
We can see this going on in our gospel reading, too. The Pharisees are criticizing Jesus disciples because they haven’t completed the customary ritual handwashing before they ate. It’s not that the disciples hands were necessarily dirty, it’s just that they hadn’t completed the stylized ritual washing meant to cleanse from contact with anything ritually unclean. The Pharisees speak from a sense of smug moral superiority and the sure knowledge that they know better than the average person. The Pharisees are self righteous to the core. And their anger and irritation that Jesus’ disciples are not following Jewish customs does nothing to bring about God’s righteousness in the world.
The Pharisees are angry because their self-righteousness has been offended, because the rules they’ve spent their lives supporting are not being followed. They’re not angry because they’re particularly worried about what God would think, and Jesus knows it. He calls them on their hypocrisy when he quotes from Isaiah: “this people honors me with their lips, but their hearts are far from me.”
So there we have the problem. We are filled with anger from our offended self-righteousness. We’re not so much concerned that God’s will has been contradicted but that our will has been contradicted. Just like the road rage driver isn’t angry because the governments driven rules have been broken: but rather because his or her own ideas of how traffic should behave have been broken.
We may honor God with our lips, but our hearts are often far away. So how do we fix that? What’s the cure? How do we get our hearts and lips in agreement? The cure is righteousness – not self-righteousness but God’s righteousness, and “righteousness comes with the unity of word and deed.”
Miriam Webster says that to be righteous is to act in accordance with divine or moral law; to be free from guilt or sin. So, to be righteous we need to actually follow God’s law, not just hear it then do something else So you are righteous when you hear God’s Word, you learn God’s word, and your responses, your deeds, are in accordance to that word.
James speaks to this also. He says, “be doers of the word, and not merely hearers who deceive themselves.” James is saying that what you hear and how you respond have to be in sync. Then he goes on to compare the doers with the hearers, using the idea of what happens when you look at a mirror. Now, I don’t think his meaning is particularly clear, so let me explain what’s going on here.
When you look at yourself as reflected from God’s word, you see yourself and all your shortcomings - all the places we don’t measure up to God’s standards, all our sin. It’s like a woman looking into a mirror and seeing that her hair’s mussed up, her makeup is uneven, her shirt’s buttoned crooked, her slip’s hanging out, and there’s a great big run down the front of her stockings. When you hear what God expects, when you consider his word, his law, you realize you’ve got a lot of things wrong.
Now, the person who only hears the word is like a person who looks in the mirror, sees all of the fashion flaws, but continues on their way, fixing nothing. They put their shortcomings and problems out of their mind, forgetting them, instead of putting any effort into fixing them. In just a very short time, it’s as though they never saw that mirror in the first place. For the person who only hears, any notion that they have sin or shortcomings or issues to work on quickly fades to a distant memory.
On the other hand, the person who hears and does the word is like a person who looks in the mirror, sees the fashion errors, and stands there fixing themselves up. Our woman gets out the comb, touches up the makeup, straightens up her clothes, and plans a trip to the 7-11 to pick up a new pair of pantyhose. What she see inspires action, and her actions help her remember where the problems are, what needs fixing, where things tend to get askew. Responding to what God’s Word shows you about your life helps you remember where you tend to sin, how you often go astray, so you can be vigilant.
So what about all that self-righteous anger? What we do with that? How do we overcome the tendency to road rage, or food store frustration, or phonecall fury? Here’s another word from James: “your anger does not produce God’s righteousness, therefore rid yourselves of all sordidness and wickedness and welcome with meekness the implanted word that has the power to save your souls.”
When we look in the mirror of God’s Word, when we own up to the ugliness in ourselves that we see there – the anger and other “evil intentions of the heart”, that ugliness will motivate our doing! Because what is the gospel, the good news, if not the message that Jesus Christ came to save sinners, sinners who peered into the mirror of God’s Word and saw the ugly reflection that greeted them. Sinners who saw the ugly truth and yet found that they – yes, even they - could be forgiven. Just as they are. Fashion flaws and all.
The forgiveness available to us as repentant sinners will fill us with such relief and joy, that we can’t help but go out and do something about it.
Amen.
August 30, 2009, 13th Sunday after Pentecost
The readings: Song 2:8-13; James 1:17-27; Mark 7:1-8, 14-15, 21-23; Psalm 45:1-2, 7-10
“Anger” – it’s such an unassuming sounding little word, and yet seems to be everywhere these days. If it’s not in your face, then it’s simmering just below the surface, ready to boil over.
And the Road Rage crisis on our highways is a great example of how the simmering anger so many people live with can erupt in the blink of an eye. You make one wrong move on the highway – not driving the way Joe Schmoe thinks you should drive, or *gasp* making an error in driving judgment – and the next thing you know, you can find yourself part of a road war… whether you want to be or not.
I did a quick internet search for “road rage accidents” and got thousands of stories. When you read them, you just shake your head and think “what is wrong with these people?” A car and a pickup are driving down the road, the pickup passenger throws a beer bottle out the window that nearly hits the car. At the stop light, the car driver tells the pickup passenger that they almost hit the car with the bottle, and the next thing people are out of their cars, the car driver is beaten and hit on the head with a bottle, and one of the pickup passengers is stabbed by the car driver, and several people are on the way to the hospital.
Here’s another: A motocylcist gets frustrated with a motorhome travelling at 55 mph, so passes it, pulls in front, and slams on its brakes. The motorhome couldn’t help running over the cyclist, who was dragged for 75 feet under the motorhome, and died at the scene.
Or this: angry commuters in California forced the highway department to completely close a stretch of road they were widening, because of at three incidents of motorists angry about the possible delay. Two of them hit the highway flagman in order to drive through the construction zone when it wasn’t their turn, and a third also shot the flagger with a BB gun as they drove through. All because they were angry about the delay – so now everybody gets to take a nice long detour until the project’s finished.
We live in an angry, angry world, where the angry people spend their time justifying and explaining why they’re angry – and why it’s okay for them to indulge that anger. Here are some examples:
There’s not enough money, not enough leisure time, too long of a drive to work, the boss makes unreasonable demands, if the kids are still at home they don’t listen and if the kids are grownups they never call. We’re overweight and under-exercised, or dealing with painful health problems. The spouse isn’t making me happy any more, or the ex isn’t abiding by the terms of the divorce settlement. “Nobody understands how hard it is to be me! If they did, they’d get angry, too!”
When you focus on those difficult things and hold onto them, they build up pressure that makes a person frustrated, irritated, irate, stressed, enraged, exasperated, annoyed, infuriated or just plain riled up. We have become a nation of angry, angry people, most of whom think that getting angry is OK – as long as I’m the one getting angry!
The reading from James gives us a different message, though, doesn’t it? “Let everyone be quick to listen, slow to speak, slow to anger; for your anger does not produce God’s righteousness.” And let me just repeat that last bit because it has the key: your anger does not produce God’s righteousness. It can’t. The only thing your anger can produce is your righteousness. Your righteousness is also known as self-righteousness, and we all know self-righteousness isn’t a good thing. One definition I found said that self-righteousness is “hypocritically pious - a feeling of smug moral superiority derived from a sense that one's beliefs, actions, or affiliations are of greater virtue than those of the average person.” Definitely not a Godly was to think!
And isn’t that just where road rage comes from, and a lot of other rages, too? From that smug sense that your way is better than all the other drivers, that you drive better, and that your driving superiority entitles you to punish or chastise drivers who offend your sense of what’s right on the road. It’s also self-righteousness that goads people into other sorts ofbad behavior in public places - the sense that “I know the right way and they aren’t doing it right and it’s my duty to tell them”, or “my errand is more important than any one else’s in this line, so I’m entitled to make a fuss until I get to my turn.”
“My anger” produces “my righteousness” which inevitably leads to bad behavior.
We can see this going on in our gospel reading, too. The Pharisees are criticizing Jesus disciples because they haven’t completed the customary ritual handwashing before they ate. It’s not that the disciples hands were necessarily dirty, it’s just that they hadn’t completed the stylized ritual washing meant to cleanse from contact with anything ritually unclean. The Pharisees speak from a sense of smug moral superiority and the sure knowledge that they know better than the average person. The Pharisees are self righteous to the core. And their anger and irritation that Jesus’ disciples are not following Jewish customs does nothing to bring about God’s righteousness in the world.
The Pharisees are angry because their self-righteousness has been offended, because the rules they’ve spent their lives supporting are not being followed. They’re not angry because they’re particularly worried about what God would think, and Jesus knows it. He calls them on their hypocrisy when he quotes from Isaiah: “this people honors me with their lips, but their hearts are far from me.”
So there we have the problem. We are filled with anger from our offended self-righteousness. We’re not so much concerned that God’s will has been contradicted but that our will has been contradicted. Just like the road rage driver isn’t angry because the governments driven rules have been broken: but rather because his or her own ideas of how traffic should behave have been broken.
We may honor God with our lips, but our hearts are often far away. So how do we fix that? What’s the cure? How do we get our hearts and lips in agreement? The cure is righteousness – not self-righteousness but God’s righteousness, and “righteousness comes with the unity of word and deed.”
Miriam Webster says that to be righteous is to act in accordance with divine or moral law; to be free from guilt or sin. So, to be righteous we need to actually follow God’s law, not just hear it then do something else So you are righteous when you hear God’s Word, you learn God’s word, and your responses, your deeds, are in accordance to that word.
James speaks to this also. He says, “be doers of the word, and not merely hearers who deceive themselves.” James is saying that what you hear and how you respond have to be in sync. Then he goes on to compare the doers with the hearers, using the idea of what happens when you look at a mirror. Now, I don’t think his meaning is particularly clear, so let me explain what’s going on here.
When you look at yourself as reflected from God’s word, you see yourself and all your shortcomings - all the places we don’t measure up to God’s standards, all our sin. It’s like a woman looking into a mirror and seeing that her hair’s mussed up, her makeup is uneven, her shirt’s buttoned crooked, her slip’s hanging out, and there’s a great big run down the front of her stockings. When you hear what God expects, when you consider his word, his law, you realize you’ve got a lot of things wrong.
Now, the person who only hears the word is like a person who looks in the mirror, sees all of the fashion flaws, but continues on their way, fixing nothing. They put their shortcomings and problems out of their mind, forgetting them, instead of putting any effort into fixing them. In just a very short time, it’s as though they never saw that mirror in the first place. For the person who only hears, any notion that they have sin or shortcomings or issues to work on quickly fades to a distant memory.
On the other hand, the person who hears and does the word is like a person who looks in the mirror, sees the fashion errors, and stands there fixing themselves up. Our woman gets out the comb, touches up the makeup, straightens up her clothes, and plans a trip to the 7-11 to pick up a new pair of pantyhose. What she see inspires action, and her actions help her remember where the problems are, what needs fixing, where things tend to get askew. Responding to what God’s Word shows you about your life helps you remember where you tend to sin, how you often go astray, so you can be vigilant.
So what about all that self-righteous anger? What we do with that? How do we overcome the tendency to road rage, or food store frustration, or phonecall fury? Here’s another word from James: “your anger does not produce God’s righteousness, therefore rid yourselves of all sordidness and wickedness and welcome with meekness the implanted word that has the power to save your souls.”
When we look in the mirror of God’s Word, when we own up to the ugliness in ourselves that we see there – the anger and other “evil intentions of the heart”, that ugliness will motivate our doing! Because what is the gospel, the good news, if not the message that Jesus Christ came to save sinners, sinners who peered into the mirror of God’s Word and saw the ugly reflection that greeted them. Sinners who saw the ugly truth and yet found that they – yes, even they - could be forgiven. Just as they are. Fashion flaws and all.
The forgiveness available to us as repentant sinners will fill us with such relief and joy, that we can’t help but go out and do something about it.
Amen.
Sunday, July 12, 2009
With All Your Might
(a sermon for St. Peter’s Episcopal Church, Purcellville, VA, July 12, 2007)
6th Sunday after Pentecost: 2 Samuel 6:1-5, 12b-19; Ephesians 1:3-14 ; Mark 6:14-29 ; Psalm 24
As I was thinking about our readings today, a scene from “The Blues Brothers” movie came to mind. Have you seen “The Blues Brothers”? Basically, John Belushi and Dan Akroyd play Jake and Elwood Blues – “the blues brothers” - and they’re on a mission from God. They need to raise $5,000 to save the orphanage they were raised in. Early in the movie, an old friend tells them they need to get to church, and somehow they wind up at a black Baptist church, where worship is lead by a character played by the one and only James Brown.
This preacher quickly inspires the congregation, who start speaking and then shouting in response to his message. And when that preacher starts to sing, everyone’s on their feet, and people start dancing until the whole congregation has joined in, and the intensity just builds and builds. They’re leaping and running and bounding around the sanctuary in their enthusiasm and joy.
Meanwhile, at the back of the church, the Jake and Elwood stand out like a couple of sore thumbs, impassive and unmoved in their dark suits, dark glasses, dark fedoras - merely watching the worship going on before them. Until… until it all changes when the brothers get a sudden inspiration of how they can raise the money they need. A light from heaven shines on Jake, and he realizes they can re-form their old band and raise the money. Filled with that inspiration, they both join in the joyous dancing of the congregation.
And that whole scene captures the feeling of our Old Testament reading. “David and all the house of Israel were dancing before the LORD with all their might.” And just so you don’t miss it, it’s in the passage twice: “David danced before the Lord with all his might.”
This is what David and the Israelites were doing as they transported the Ark of God from the town of Baale-judah, back to David’s new capitol city in Jerusalem. They were bringing the visible presence of God to dwell in their midst, and so they danced before the Lord with all their might. And it could well have looked a lot like that worship scene from the Blues Brothers.
But isn’t it a bit unusual to think of dancing as a thing to do “with all your might”? When I think of doing something “with all my might”, dancing is not one of the things that comes to mind. I asked a couple of friends, and their first responses were of two sorts. The first was physical labor - like exercise, gardening, pushing a car out of the snow, opening a jar, splitting wood – things that require the concentrated application of your full physical strength to accomplish. The other sort was heart labors, like loving or praying – things that require the concentrated application of your heart.
How curious, then, to think of dancing “with all your might”, unless you happen to be a dancer. Dancing is just about having fun, right? Where’s the concentrated application of strength? Where’s the concentrated application of heart? What’s the thing to be accomplished?
Well, in the case of David and the Israelites, the thing to be accomplished is worship. What we have in this story is a picture of worship. David and people dance before the Lord with song and music, with instruments and shouts. After the Ark is put in place, offerings are made to God. David blesses the people in the name of the Lord. Food - a meal - is distributed to the people, and then everyone goes home.
It’s just like what we do here at St. Peter’s. We sing and make music to the Lord. We bring offerings. We share a meal in the Eucharist. We are blessed. And then we go home.
There are a couple of differences between what we do in worship and what David did in the particular story we’re looking at today, but the one thing I want to consider is how we express ourselves in worship.
David and company danced with all their might before the Lord. In that Blues Brothers scene, the congregation was dancing in the aisles. I’ve never seen anything even close to that here, with the possible exception of when we played “Carter Says” last week. When we get wild and crazy, we might be so bold as to raise our hands as we make our offering.
I’ve heard Episcopalians referred to as “frozen chosen”, and our worship here is definitely formal, it’s generally restrained, and it’s carefully ordered. And when you consider the contrast between what we do, and the picture of David’s unrestrained exuberance, it might make you wonder whether our worship is okay. Whether it’s adequate. Whether we need to loosen up and dance in the aisles ourselves.
My answer to you is this – “It Depends.” It depends on whether we’re worshipping with all our might, or whether we’ve just shown up to put in an appearance and go through the motions. Remember, to do something with all your might, is to do something that requires a concentrated application of strength or heart.
In David’s case, they applied both their muscles and their hearts to their dance of worship before the Lord. Our manner of worship doesn’t really require the application of muscle, although some might agree that kneeling through the entire Eucharistic prayer can require strength of body and will to accomplish. So that leaves the application of heart. Are you applying your whole heart to worship this morning? Are you giving it your all?
You really cannot answer “yes” to that question unless you know who it is that we’re here to worship. True worship – whether exuberant or more restrained – will always flow from a heart-knowledge of God – who He is and what He’s done for us.
That’s the key question – who is our God? You can be easily mislead if you listen to the wrong people. Even back in Jesus’ day, when his ministry was in full swing, and people were flocking to hear him teach and experience his healing touch, even then most people didn’t know who he really was.
That’s where our gospel passage starts this morning. King Herod thinks that Jesus is John the Baptist come back to life. The people think that Jesus is Elijah returned, or perhaps some new prophet like the prophets of old.
You can hardly blame them for getting it wrong, though. The Jews of Jesus’ time were not expecting God to take on flesh and dwell among them. The Messiah they were expecting was not God incarnate, but a man anointed to do God’s will and to free the Israelites from their bondage to Rome – a new David - a warrior and a politician, not a humble teacher and healer who ultimately got himself killed.
But what excuse do we have for not understanding who Jesus is? We know that he was killed – fully dead – then raised to new life, defeating death in the process. It’s all in here – in the New Testament - a powerful witness to Jesus’ life and work and identity. Why don’t we all believe it? Why do so many people poo-poo this testimony? “Jesus was a good man – a wise teacher – but he wasn’t REALLY God. He wasn’t REALLY raised from the dead. It’s all just a metaphor, or maybe a conspiracy by the disciples – but it didn’t REALLY happen like that!”
If you listen to people who are preaching that sort of message about Jesus – you are not going to understand who he really is. Instead, listen to God’s own testimony from the Bible. Listen to words like these that I’ve taken from our epistle reading, so beautifully summarizing what God has done for us – and who we are in Him!
“… God blessed us in Christ with every spiritual blessing….
He chose us in Christ… to be holy and blameless before him in love.
He destined us for adoption as his children….
In him we have redemption through his blood, the forgiveness of our trespasses.
In Christ we have also obtained an inheritance… so that we… might live for the praise of his glory.”
Letting that kind of information penetrate from your head into your heart - truly acknowledging who our God is, who Jesus is – that’s what transforms us. Until you find that sort of heart-knowledge and understanding, you’ll be like Jake and Elwood Blues, standing at the back of the church, looking on curiously but not participating, and certainly not understanding what everyone is so excited about.
I can personally vouch for this truth because I myself spent many years sitting in these very pews, looking on curiously but not fully participating, and certainly not understanding what everyone was so excited about. It was only when the truth made it to my heart that I finally “got it” – that I finally had some notion of the wonder and glory of what God did for me and for all of us.
And if we live our lives in praise of that God – that God who has done so much for us - then we will surely worship “with all our might”. Whatever our worship together may look like, whether it’s dancing in aisles, or just calmly sitting, standing, kneeling as we move through the communal “dance” of our liturgy, whatever our style, it will be flowing from the sure knowledge of the love of God, to the praise of His glory! Amen.
6th Sunday after Pentecost: 2 Samuel 6:1-5, 12b-19; Ephesians 1:3-14 ; Mark 6:14-29 ; Psalm 24
As I was thinking about our readings today, a scene from “The Blues Brothers” movie came to mind. Have you seen “The Blues Brothers”? Basically, John Belushi and Dan Akroyd play Jake and Elwood Blues – “the blues brothers” - and they’re on a mission from God. They need to raise $5,000 to save the orphanage they were raised in. Early in the movie, an old friend tells them they need to get to church, and somehow they wind up at a black Baptist church, where worship is lead by a character played by the one and only James Brown.
This preacher quickly inspires the congregation, who start speaking and then shouting in response to his message. And when that preacher starts to sing, everyone’s on their feet, and people start dancing until the whole congregation has joined in, and the intensity just builds and builds. They’re leaping and running and bounding around the sanctuary in their enthusiasm and joy.
Meanwhile, at the back of the church, the Jake and Elwood stand out like a couple of sore thumbs, impassive and unmoved in their dark suits, dark glasses, dark fedoras - merely watching the worship going on before them. Until… until it all changes when the brothers get a sudden inspiration of how they can raise the money they need. A light from heaven shines on Jake, and he realizes they can re-form their old band and raise the money. Filled with that inspiration, they both join in the joyous dancing of the congregation.
And that whole scene captures the feeling of our Old Testament reading. “David and all the house of Israel were dancing before the LORD with all their might.” And just so you don’t miss it, it’s in the passage twice: “David danced before the Lord with all his might.”
This is what David and the Israelites were doing as they transported the Ark of God from the town of Baale-judah, back to David’s new capitol city in Jerusalem. They were bringing the visible presence of God to dwell in their midst, and so they danced before the Lord with all their might. And it could well have looked a lot like that worship scene from the Blues Brothers.
But isn’t it a bit unusual to think of dancing as a thing to do “with all your might”? When I think of doing something “with all my might”, dancing is not one of the things that comes to mind. I asked a couple of friends, and their first responses were of two sorts. The first was physical labor - like exercise, gardening, pushing a car out of the snow, opening a jar, splitting wood – things that require the concentrated application of your full physical strength to accomplish. The other sort was heart labors, like loving or praying – things that require the concentrated application of your heart.
How curious, then, to think of dancing “with all your might”, unless you happen to be a dancer. Dancing is just about having fun, right? Where’s the concentrated application of strength? Where’s the concentrated application of heart? What’s the thing to be accomplished?
Well, in the case of David and the Israelites, the thing to be accomplished is worship. What we have in this story is a picture of worship. David and people dance before the Lord with song and music, with instruments and shouts. After the Ark is put in place, offerings are made to God. David blesses the people in the name of the Lord. Food - a meal - is distributed to the people, and then everyone goes home.
It’s just like what we do here at St. Peter’s. We sing and make music to the Lord. We bring offerings. We share a meal in the Eucharist. We are blessed. And then we go home.
There are a couple of differences between what we do in worship and what David did in the particular story we’re looking at today, but the one thing I want to consider is how we express ourselves in worship.
David and company danced with all their might before the Lord. In that Blues Brothers scene, the congregation was dancing in the aisles. I’ve never seen anything even close to that here, with the possible exception of when we played “Carter Says” last week. When we get wild and crazy, we might be so bold as to raise our hands as we make our offering.
I’ve heard Episcopalians referred to as “frozen chosen”, and our worship here is definitely formal, it’s generally restrained, and it’s carefully ordered. And when you consider the contrast between what we do, and the picture of David’s unrestrained exuberance, it might make you wonder whether our worship is okay. Whether it’s adequate. Whether we need to loosen up and dance in the aisles ourselves.
My answer to you is this – “It Depends.” It depends on whether we’re worshipping with all our might, or whether we’ve just shown up to put in an appearance and go through the motions. Remember, to do something with all your might, is to do something that requires a concentrated application of strength or heart.
In David’s case, they applied both their muscles and their hearts to their dance of worship before the Lord. Our manner of worship doesn’t really require the application of muscle, although some might agree that kneeling through the entire Eucharistic prayer can require strength of body and will to accomplish. So that leaves the application of heart. Are you applying your whole heart to worship this morning? Are you giving it your all?
You really cannot answer “yes” to that question unless you know who it is that we’re here to worship. True worship – whether exuberant or more restrained – will always flow from a heart-knowledge of God – who He is and what He’s done for us.
That’s the key question – who is our God? You can be easily mislead if you listen to the wrong people. Even back in Jesus’ day, when his ministry was in full swing, and people were flocking to hear him teach and experience his healing touch, even then most people didn’t know who he really was.
That’s where our gospel passage starts this morning. King Herod thinks that Jesus is John the Baptist come back to life. The people think that Jesus is Elijah returned, or perhaps some new prophet like the prophets of old.
You can hardly blame them for getting it wrong, though. The Jews of Jesus’ time were not expecting God to take on flesh and dwell among them. The Messiah they were expecting was not God incarnate, but a man anointed to do God’s will and to free the Israelites from their bondage to Rome – a new David - a warrior and a politician, not a humble teacher and healer who ultimately got himself killed.
But what excuse do we have for not understanding who Jesus is? We know that he was killed – fully dead – then raised to new life, defeating death in the process. It’s all in here – in the New Testament - a powerful witness to Jesus’ life and work and identity. Why don’t we all believe it? Why do so many people poo-poo this testimony? “Jesus was a good man – a wise teacher – but he wasn’t REALLY God. He wasn’t REALLY raised from the dead. It’s all just a metaphor, or maybe a conspiracy by the disciples – but it didn’t REALLY happen like that!”
If you listen to people who are preaching that sort of message about Jesus – you are not going to understand who he really is. Instead, listen to God’s own testimony from the Bible. Listen to words like these that I’ve taken from our epistle reading, so beautifully summarizing what God has done for us – and who we are in Him!
“… God blessed us in Christ with every spiritual blessing….
He chose us in Christ… to be holy and blameless before him in love.
He destined us for adoption as his children….
In him we have redemption through his blood, the forgiveness of our trespasses.
In Christ we have also obtained an inheritance… so that we… might live for the praise of his glory.”
Letting that kind of information penetrate from your head into your heart - truly acknowledging who our God is, who Jesus is – that’s what transforms us. Until you find that sort of heart-knowledge and understanding, you’ll be like Jake and Elwood Blues, standing at the back of the church, looking on curiously but not participating, and certainly not understanding what everyone is so excited about.
I can personally vouch for this truth because I myself spent many years sitting in these very pews, looking on curiously but not fully participating, and certainly not understanding what everyone was so excited about. It was only when the truth made it to my heart that I finally “got it” – that I finally had some notion of the wonder and glory of what God did for me and for all of us.
And if we live our lives in praise of that God – that God who has done so much for us - then we will surely worship “with all our might”. Whatever our worship together may look like, whether it’s dancing in aisles, or just calmly sitting, standing, kneeling as we move through the communal “dance” of our liturgy, whatever our style, it will be flowing from the sure knowledge of the love of God, to the praise of His glory! Amen.
Monday, June 15, 2009
Dad, Get Me Outta Here!
I had a dream the other night, one of those vivid dreams that you awake in the midst of, not entirely sure that it wasn't somehow real. Now, a few days later, much of the detail has drained away, but the core of it is still powerfully with me. I think I may remeber it always.
I was somewhere away from home, and I was trying to leave. It was time to pack up and head home, something like the end of the Spring semester of college. There were armloads of clothes I was trying to pack into a car to take home, but there was a problem. Either I couldn't figure out how to fit everything into the car, or perhaps I somehow couldn't find or retrieve the things I needed to pack in there. But whichever the cause, I was getting more and more disturbed and distressed, because IT WAS TIME TO GO! And with that horrifying slowness and repitition of dreams, I kept trying and trying and trying to get my stuff ready to go, and it just wouldn't happen.
But then, the cavalry arrived. My parents and some random aunt showed up in their big old car, with plenty of room to take care of my stuff. They saved me! And I had never even told them I had a problem. The oh-so-vivid part of my dream was this : weeping uncontrollably in my fathers arms, in relief and joy that he came and took care of this thing I couldn't handle on my own. Sweet, sweet relief! I don't think I've ever felt so thoroughly rescued in either my life or dreams!
But here's the funny thing: I don't really have that close and intimate of a relationship with my Dad. Sure, he'd come to the rescue if he knew I was in trouble, but I can't imagine him piecing together a problem I hadn't told him about. And I surely can't imagine myself weeping in his arms in response. So that dream left me at loose ends - dealing with such a strong emotional response to something so unlikely. What did it mean?
I never did come up with an answer on my own, and as the days have passed the dream has faded to the one powerful image at the end, and I haven't thought about it for a while. But you know, I had a little more insight today. At a random moment, I stopped to consider my Lord Jesus. And as I turned my mind toward him, it popped into my mind that the dream I'd had was really about Him! Wow!
He was the person who saved me. He was the one who knew my difficulties even though I hadn't asked for help. He knew how much it meant to me, even though it probably looked like a minor problem to an observer. Jesus knew my need - Jesus saved me - Jesus received my tears of gratitude. And Jesus told me that dream was really about Him.
I could go on and on right now, comparing aspects of that dream to the Gospel message and the Christian life, but I think I've said enough. I'll let you think about it for yourself. Father's Day is oming, too. Pretty cool, huh?!
I was somewhere away from home, and I was trying to leave. It was time to pack up and head home, something like the end of the Spring semester of college. There were armloads of clothes I was trying to pack into a car to take home, but there was a problem. Either I couldn't figure out how to fit everything into the car, or perhaps I somehow couldn't find or retrieve the things I needed to pack in there. But whichever the cause, I was getting more and more disturbed and distressed, because IT WAS TIME TO GO! And with that horrifying slowness and repitition of dreams, I kept trying and trying and trying to get my stuff ready to go, and it just wouldn't happen.
But then, the cavalry arrived. My parents and some random aunt showed up in their big old car, with plenty of room to take care of my stuff. They saved me! And I had never even told them I had a problem. The oh-so-vivid part of my dream was this : weeping uncontrollably in my fathers arms, in relief and joy that he came and took care of this thing I couldn't handle on my own. Sweet, sweet relief! I don't think I've ever felt so thoroughly rescued in either my life or dreams!
But here's the funny thing: I don't really have that close and intimate of a relationship with my Dad. Sure, he'd come to the rescue if he knew I was in trouble, but I can't imagine him piecing together a problem I hadn't told him about. And I surely can't imagine myself weeping in his arms in response. So that dream left me at loose ends - dealing with such a strong emotional response to something so unlikely. What did it mean?
I never did come up with an answer on my own, and as the days have passed the dream has faded to the one powerful image at the end, and I haven't thought about it for a while. But you know, I had a little more insight today. At a random moment, I stopped to consider my Lord Jesus. And as I turned my mind toward him, it popped into my mind that the dream I'd had was really about Him! Wow!
He was the person who saved me. He was the one who knew my difficulties even though I hadn't asked for help. He knew how much it meant to me, even though it probably looked like a minor problem to an observer. Jesus knew my need - Jesus saved me - Jesus received my tears of gratitude. And Jesus told me that dream was really about Him.
I could go on and on right now, comparing aspects of that dream to the Gospel message and the Christian life, but I think I've said enough. I'll let you think about it for yourself. Father's Day is oming, too. Pretty cool, huh?!
Thursday, March 12, 2009
Heaven and Earth
Last Sunday my mind wandered off during the Eucharistic prayer. My mental word processor was turned off and instead of listening, I was just “being.” And as I sat there – being – stray thoughts flitted in through that open window in my mind.
“This is what Father Tom is teaching about during Lent – ‘Meeting God in the Eucharist’ – and there was something about the altar as the place where heaven and earth meet….”
The familiar words of prayer continue to flow around, but not through, my mind. The accustomed gestures, the accustomed responses, but what is the reality beyond the words? It’s the coming together of Heaven and Earth, but how does that happen? How might that look?
Images come to supply the answer. Image of a small tornado, a whirlwind, spinning itself to a fine point. The whirlwind grows and lengthens, stretching down from the ceiling – through the ceiling. It’s tiny at first, barely a breath of air. But the words, the gestures, the responses – as they continue, the whirlwind grows, strengthening and lengthening, gathering force. Heaven itself is reaching out. Can no one else see?
And what is it reaching for, this now-mighty whirlwind? What is its goal? Is anything reaching back to it? Yes! The very Earth is rising up! A mountain raises itself at the foot of the altar, straining upward. A mountain, a volcano, reaching up in heated passion, bursting open with the heat of its desire to reach for Heaven. The Earth trembles and strains, throwing out bits of molten rock – its very heart – to try to reach the hand of Heaven. Oh, the incredible roar and thunder of it! Can no one else hear?
But the tremendous effort is not enough. Earth can reach no higher and Heaven remains beyond its grasp. How will this great tumult be resolved? What shall bridge the gap between the reach of Heaven and the desire of Earth?
The flow of the Eucharist continues undaunted – words, gestures, and responses smoothly flowing forth, unaffected by the play of Heaven and Earth around it. And just as all hope seems lost - just when it seems that Earth has surely exhausted itself, and Heaven must certainly grow weary of its wait – just then the Miracle intrudes! What is that sound of bells? What is that loud “AMEN”? The Miracle has been raised up to fill the gap!
Born of Heaven, raised from Earth, the Miracle alone can bridge the gap. Body of Christ, Bread of Heaven; Blood of Christ, Cup of Salvation – Heaven and Earth meet in a dazzling, searing moment of clarity and fulfillment.
Words, gestures, responses… Words, gestures, responses… The service goes on, and a piece of the Miracle is placed in my hand; a cup of the Miracle is brought to my lips. The Miracle is now a part of me. Heaven and Earth can meet IN ME, dwell IN ME, find fulfillment IN ME.
Thanks be to God!
“This is what Father Tom is teaching about during Lent – ‘Meeting God in the Eucharist’ – and there was something about the altar as the place where heaven and earth meet….”
The familiar words of prayer continue to flow around, but not through, my mind. The accustomed gestures, the accustomed responses, but what is the reality beyond the words? It’s the coming together of Heaven and Earth, but how does that happen? How might that look?
Images come to supply the answer. Image of a small tornado, a whirlwind, spinning itself to a fine point. The whirlwind grows and lengthens, stretching down from the ceiling – through the ceiling. It’s tiny at first, barely a breath of air. But the words, the gestures, the responses – as they continue, the whirlwind grows, strengthening and lengthening, gathering force. Heaven itself is reaching out. Can no one else see?
And what is it reaching for, this now-mighty whirlwind? What is its goal? Is anything reaching back to it? Yes! The very Earth is rising up! A mountain raises itself at the foot of the altar, straining upward. A mountain, a volcano, reaching up in heated passion, bursting open with the heat of its desire to reach for Heaven. The Earth trembles and strains, throwing out bits of molten rock – its very heart – to try to reach the hand of Heaven. Oh, the incredible roar and thunder of it! Can no one else hear?
But the tremendous effort is not enough. Earth can reach no higher and Heaven remains beyond its grasp. How will this great tumult be resolved? What shall bridge the gap between the reach of Heaven and the desire of Earth?
The flow of the Eucharist continues undaunted – words, gestures, and responses smoothly flowing forth, unaffected by the play of Heaven and Earth around it. And just as all hope seems lost - just when it seems that Earth has surely exhausted itself, and Heaven must certainly grow weary of its wait – just then the Miracle intrudes! What is that sound of bells? What is that loud “AMEN”? The Miracle has been raised up to fill the gap!
Born of Heaven, raised from Earth, the Miracle alone can bridge the gap. Body of Christ, Bread of Heaven; Blood of Christ, Cup of Salvation – Heaven and Earth meet in a dazzling, searing moment of clarity and fulfillment.
Words, gestures, responses… Words, gestures, responses… The service goes on, and a piece of the Miracle is placed in my hand; a cup of the Miracle is brought to my lips. The Miracle is now a part of me. Heaven and Earth can meet IN ME, dwell IN ME, find fulfillment IN ME.
Thanks be to God!
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