May 19, 2019 - Easter 5C

Lectionary Readings

Grant us, O Lord, in the Eucharist to remember what we are and become what we receive. Amen.

            Have you ever walked into the kitchen only to forget why you were there? Or maybe you’ve started an email and then forgotten what you needed to say. Perhaps you’ve forgotten something more important – someone’s name, a family member’s birthday, a meeting that you were supposed to attend. We all know what it is to forget things. One of the reasons why the Church celebrates the Eucharist with such intentionality and so often is because it reminds us of some very important things.

January 20, 2019 - Epiphany 2C

Lectionary Readings

Be with us, O God, for if you are with us nothing else matters; and if you are not with us, nothing else matters. Amen.

            Is Scripture about God or is it about us? That simple question greatly influences how you read the Bible and what conclusions you draw from the text. Of course, Scripture offers us insights about both God and all of Creation. But the question is about first impressions. Is the first thing we look for in a Biblical text a revelation into the character of God, or do we primarily read Scripture to find out what we are supposed to do?

August 27, 2017 - Proper 16A

Lectionary Readings

In the name of God ☩ Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. Amen.

            “I appeal to you therefore, brothers and sisters, by the mercies of God, to present your bodies as a living sacrifice, holy and acceptable to God, which is your spiritual worship. Do not be conformed to this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your minds.” These opening sentences of the 12^th chapter of Romans are grand, poetic, and inspiring, but also quite dense. Paul exhorts those hearing his words to be transformed. But what does it really mean to be transformed?

September 4, 2016 - Proper 18C

Lectionary Readings

In the name of God – Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. Amen.

            One of the challenging aspects in preaching is that we often only get a handful of verses read from each book or letter in the Bible on a Sunday. Often, we miss the larger context of the writing when we only focus in on a small section of it. Today though is different, as our second reading is the entire letter of Paul to Philemon. So let’s take this opportunity to consider a full book of the Bible.

May 10, 2015 - Easter 6B

Lectionary Readings

In the name of the Risen Lord. Amen.

Have you ever been at a social gathering where you walked up to a group of people having a conversation in which you had no clue what was happening? That’s what today’s reading from Acts feels like. The whole of chapter 10 of Acts is, I think, one of the most compelling and informative passages in the entire New Testament, but it’s hard to understand in isolation. So before we dive into the text and consider what the Holy Spirit is saying to us today through it, let’s review the tenth chapter of Acts.

January 6, 2015 - Epiphany

Lectionary Readings

May Almighty God, who led the Wise Men by the shining of a star to find the Christ, the Light from Light, lead us also, in our pilgrimage, to find the Lord. Amen.

            On Epiphany, we celebrate the manifestation of Jesus to the world, as the Holy Family was visited by visitors from the East. And in their encounter, there are several things for us to take note of and build upon in our own faith journeys. The first thing we see about the magi’s encounter with God is that it did not go according to the plan. It’s often the same for us too, isn’t it? These wise men were astrologers, journeying from a far away land because of a sign that they saw in the night sky. But notice that they don’t follow the star all the way to Bethlehem. No, instead they show up Herod’s palace in Jerusalem. Bethlehem and Jerusalem are about 6 miles apart, roughly the distance from here to the Rowan County portion of the Yadkin River. Not bad by car, but by camel that’s a least a an hour off. What we see in the magi is that they missed finding God on their first attempt. They thought they were following the signs, they thought they were on the right path,  they even had a divine sign in the star, and they still managed to miss Bethlehem by a decent margin.

December 7, 2014 - Advent 2B

Lectionary Readings 
*preached only at 8am service, as Advent Lessons and Carols were celebrated at 10:30am

O come, O come Emmanuel. Amen.

            One scholar has called Exile the “loss of the known world.” That is the context of our reading today from chapter 40 of Isaiah. Scholars tell us that the first 39 chapters of Isaiah were written leading up to the invasion of Israel by the Babylonian Empire and the early years of their captivity in Babylon. The rest of Isaiah was written as Israel was anticipating the return to their ancestral home. Today’s reading begins with that second part of Isaiah and contains some of the most powerful words in all of Scripture- “comfort, O comfort my people.”

Father Bob sermon

Sermon for the Funeral of the Rev. Bob McGee

Wait Chapel- Wake Forest University, Winston-Salem, North Carolina

Saturday, September 6, 2014

Readings: Isaiah 40:1-8; Psalm 121; 1 John 4:7-12; John 2:1-11

In the name of God: Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. Amen.

            As the Mullah Nasruddin is reported to have once said, “I’ll be surprised if I make it through this life without dying.” That was something that Bob told me a few years ago after surviving one of his near-death experiences, and it reflects the way in which his illness changed him. Some of you have likely heard the story from the Zen Buddhist tradition that Bob told in the past few years. A man walks across a field and encounters a tiger, who begins to chase after him. The man runs towards a cliff and swings over the edge, holding onto a vine. Below him, another hungry tiger has come to wait for him to drop. Two small mice then arrive and begin to gnaw on the vine, when he notices a ripe, red strawberry. Holding onto the vine with one hand, he grabs the strawberry with the other and eats it. And how sweet it tasted.

March 28, 2013 - Maundy Thursday

May the words of my mouth and the meditations of all our hearts, be always acceptable in thy sight, O Lord, our strength and our redeemer. Amen.

            “Do this in remembrance of me.” Jesus himself says very little about what we have come to call Holy Communion, the Divine Liturgy, the Great Thanksgiving, or Holy Eucharist. Simply “do this in remembrance of me.” Maundy Thursday provides no shortage of topics for a preacher. We could turn our focus to the new commandment that Jesus gives, that we “love one another.” Or perhaps an exploration of Jesus as the new Moses, comparing the Passover of Exodus to this Passover meal. Another option would be to dive into the idea of servant leadership, being modeled by Jesus in the act of washing the disciples feet. The themes of betrayal and allegiance as seen in Judas and Peter would also be  a good foundation for a sermon. And while some good intentioned preachers might subject their congregation to a sermon that tries to tied up all of those threads into one, I’d like to instead pay closer attention to the institution of the Last Supper and our own celebration of the Holy Eucharist.

            When I was in Israel last year I learned a lot about some of the ancient traditions of the Church, many of which are still keep alive today. And one gem in particular that I ran across comes from St. Augustine. Tonight when you receive the bread and wine, the body and blood of Christ, we will say “the body of Christ, the bread of heaven; the blood of Christ, the cup of salvation.” But there is a more ancient saying that dates back to the 4^th century, coming from a reflection written by St. Augustine. These words were used as the Eucharist was distributed- “Behold the mystery of your salvation laid before you. Behold what you are. Become what you receive.” It is such a beautiful and powerful way to view the Eucharist and understand what the “this” to which Jesus was referring when he said “do this in remembrance of me.” “Behold the mystery of your salvation laid before you. Behold what you are. Become what you receive.” We’ll spend a few moments on each of these phrases.

            Behold the mystery of your salvation laid before you. Behold isn’t a word that appears in our vernacular. We say things like “see, what I’m saying is…” or “look, the way to go is…” But rarely do we behold anything. Instead, our language forces us to simply glance at things, often gazing past their deeper meaning. But tonight, we are invited to behold the Eucharist. Feel it in your hand, in your mouth, and in your soul. As the Psalmist writes in Psalm 34, “taste…the goodness of the Lord.” Let the taste of the wine linger on your lips, knowing that it is the very grace of God. Truly experience the Eucharist.

            In my work, I notice that the idea of Sacraments tend to give people some trouble. What are we to believe about these acts of faith? Do we have to believe in miracles to believe that Baptism or Eucharist are special? If you look at the Sacraments of the Church, very few of them are taken seriously. Marriage is plagued by infidelity and divorce. Confirmation is often imposed on youth who have no choice in the matter, and whom we rarely see after they are Confirmed. The same is often true of Baptism, which is a grossly misunderstood Sacrament. People are often skeptical and scared of Confession and few know of the power of that Sacrament. Burial and Unction people tend to get, because of their more serious nature. Ordination is only taken on as a choice, so there is often a great deal of solemnity in that Sacrament.

            One of the places that I feel most privileged to serve as a priest is at the Communion rail, distributing the gifts of God to the people of God. And there are many who do take the Sacrament seriously, I can see it on your faces, and it is inspiring. But I’ve also seen many people have conversations with their neighbors while kneeling at the rail. Others smack chewing gum in their mouths. And don’t even get me started on the idea of passing around crackers and grape juice in thimble sized shot glasses. At least in the Episcopal Church we have kept some dignity with the Sacrament.

            Let these words of St. Augustine to truly behold the Eucharist remind us of the importance of the Sacrament of Eucharist. The word “behold” is derived from a word that means “to give regard and obligation to.” In the verses that directly follow our reading from 1 Corinthians, St. Paul writes “Whoever, therefore, eats the bread or drinks the cup of the Lord in an unworthy manner will be answerable for the body and blood of the Lord. Examine yourselves, and only then eat of the bread and drink of the cup.” And a few verses later, he says that because some people have not taken the Eucharist with an attitude of beholding that “many of you are weak and ill, and some have died.” Now I’m not going to tell you that if you don’t take Eucharist seriously enough that God will strike you down, but St. Paul seems to be insinuating that it is a matter of life and death. Just as God told Moses to take off his shoes when he approached the burning bush, approaching the Lord’s Table for Holy Eucharist is worthy of our fear, trembling, and beholding.

St. Paul is writing about Holy Eucharist because there are divisions in the church in Corinth. And he urges them to remember what the Eucharist is about- about the Lord’s body being broken and his blood poured out. Let us remember that the bread and wine are a foretaste of the heavenly banquet where we will one day all dine together. Let us behold these elements as the great mystery which embodies the body and blood of Christ, which were given for us.

            And we would do well to pay special attention to that word, “mystery.” If you were to look up “Eucharist” in a theological dictionary, you’d find an abundance of interpretations such as real presence, transubstantiation, transignification, sacramental union, memorialism, and consubstantiation. They are all human’s attempts to explain the mystery of the Holy Eucharist. And while it can be fun and interesting to wade into those theological waters, let us remember that trying to define a mystery will have the same success rate as trying to lasso the wind. The most important meaning that we can take away from the Eucharist is that Christ is with us. Now how that plays out, the scholars can debate.

            Jesus was a Jew and would have been Jewish in his thought processes. In Hebrew, the word “remember” means to not only “recall to mind,” but to “make real again.” So when he says “do this in remembrance of me,” he is saying “each time you do this, it will happening again for the first time, and I will be there again with you.” The metaphysics of the Eucharist don’t matter nearly as much as the fact that Jesus is with us when we celebrate this feast.

            And the last word in that initial phrase that I’d like to point out is “salvation.” Anytime that word comes up, it is helpful to ask “saved from what?” Now I don’t want to get into the weeds of atonement theology, that will be Michael’s task tomorrow when preaching on Good Friday. But I’d suggest that we look at the roots of the word “atonement;” break it down and you have at-one-ment. Atonement is about reconciling and uniting, and that is also what the Eucharist does. It brings heaven to earth in the bread and wine that are for us the body and blood of Christ. The Eucharist makes Christ present in a very tangible and real sense. The Eucharist saves us from being alone.

            So then we might rephrase “behold the mystery of your salvation laid before you” as “take seriously the unexplainable but very real and very saving presence of Christ with you in the Eucharist.”

Next, St. Augustine’s Eucharistic wording invites us to “behold what you are.” Again, everything I said earlier about behold, repeat it. The linkage of the Last Supper to the Passover meal is quite clear in the gospels. And if you boil both of these holy meals down to their most basic parts, they are meals about identity; they are meals about beholding who we are. What does the Eucharist say about who we are?

            The word “holy” is often tacked on in front of words such as “Communion” or “Eucharist.” Holy means “set apart,” as contrasted to what is ordinary and every day. And when we consume that Holy Eucharist, we become set apart as well. We become set apart for the task of following Jesus. When we eat the bread of heaven, we are given the nourishment to transform this world so that heaven might come to earth. When we drink the blood of Christ, we share in his martyrdom. When Jesus comes to us in the Eucharist, we are then made holy so that we might take Jesus with us into all aspects of our lives.

            As I mentioned earlier, St. Paul was writing because the Corinthians were divided. The issue is that they were coming to the Eucharist as individuals and not a community. He writes “For when the time comes to eat, each of you goes ahead with your own supper, and one goes hungry and another becomes drunk…So then, my brothers and sisters, when you come together to eat, wait for one another.” People who had bread for Eucharist weren’t sharing with those who needed bread, and others were guzzling the wine, becoming drunk as they waited for others to join them to celebrate the Eucharist. They were not beholding what they are- the Body of Christ. The Body of Christ receives the body of Christ in the Eucharist. The people of God receive the gifts of God. So when you behold who you are, remember that you are part of a community, and how we treat other members of our Body matters.

            And the last thing to know about who you are is that you are beloved. Tonight in John, we heard Jesus say “Just as I have loved you, you also should love one another.” Jesus washes feet out of love, he gives himself up to betrayal and death out of love, on Easter he will rise out of the tomb on account of love. We all have scars and flaws. We’re all self-conscious about something. Whatever doubts you might have about yourself or your worthiness- you are loved, deeply loved. And that is as much a part of the Eucharist as anything else- the beloved of God receiving the love of God.

“Behold what you are,” or in other words, when you receive the Eucharist, value and hold in your heart that you are set apart for God’s service, that you are part of a larger community, and that you are loved.

And lastly, and perhaps most importantly, “become what you receive.” We receive the bread of heaven and the cup of salvation, the body and blood of Christ. What does it mean to become those things? We can dedicate ourselves to following Jesus in his willingness to be betrayed by the world. We can forsake our seeking of worldly comforts and stand in solidarity with the poor and marginalized. We can be willing to be broken just as Jesus was as we follow him in taking up our crosses. We can pour out our blood, sweat, and tears working for the justice and dignity of every part of Creation until justice rolls down like waters, and righteousness like an ever-flowing stream. We can be the bread which gives nourishment to others, either literally in helping to feed the hungry, or metaphorically in being a shoulder to those who need one to lean on. We can be the wine of rejoicing to those are struggling to find a reason to give thanks or celebrate.

            One misunderstood part of Christian theology is the concept of the Second-Coming. The problem is that it has created as bunch of people who look towards the sky for the Messiah to come again, meanwhile, as St. Paul suggests, our brothers and sisters are going hungry down below. But Jesus clearly says that the Kingdom of God is a present reality. You’re perhaps familiar with the phrase “be the change you want to see in the world;” to become what you receive is an invitation to be the salvation you want to see in the world. If you have a heart for hunger issues, feed the hungry; if you are passionate about animal welfare, volunteer at the animal shelter. Our salvation is that we are reconciled to God, so be vessels of that reconciliation with the world. Wear your discipleship on your sleeve. Let the whole world behold and know that God is doing a grand thing in your life and in our world.

Regardless of how we view what happens during the Eucharist, some sort of transformation happens. That is part of what makes it a Sacramental event, something changes. Some unleavened grain and fermented grape juice, whether literally, symbolically, or metaphorically, become the body and blood of Christ in some fashion. Transformation happens. So if we are to become what we receive, we must be transformed, because in the Eucharist, we received something that has been transformed. Anytime we have an encounter with the Divine, we are transformed.

But for that transformation to truly take root in our lives, we have to plant those seeds of transformation deep within our soul. The Corinthians weren’t doing that, hence St. Paul wrote this letter exhorting them to become what they received- a transformed people who bear the image of Christ. Be changed in receiving the Eucharist. Let the petty things go, change your outlook, act differently, be transformed.

So we might hear “become what you receive” as an exhortation to “be the body and blood of Christ to those who need it, be the salvation that the world needs, be transformed when you receive the transformation of the Eucharist.”

Behold the mystery of your salvation laid before you. Behold what you are. Become what you receive. They are good words for us to consider on this night when we remember the Last Supper and the first Holy Eucharist. I hope and pray that this has been a truly holy week for you thus far. As we enter the most sacred three-day period in our Christian life and faith, may it be beholding the mystery of our salvation, knowing that God is with us. May it be beholding what we are, the sacred and beloved community of God. And may we become what we receive in the Holy Eucharist, the salvific transformation of this world. Amen.       

January 20, 2013 - Epiphany 2C

In the name of God- Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. Amen.

            Well, it’s been a while since I’ve been in this pulpit. Let’s hope that preaching is a bit like riding a bike and that I haven’t forgotten how to do it. Epiphany is one of those forgotten seasons of the Church year. It falls between Christmas and Lent and doesn’t get much attention. And that’s a shame, as the lessons of this season have something to teach us. Epiphany comes from a Greek word, meaning manifestation or appearing. It is the season in which we remember that God was made manifest in the flesh of Jesus of Nazareth. A season in which we recount the stories of the light coming into the darkness of our world. A season where we hope that this light will be found in the dark alleys of our world and in the dark corners of our soul. And if we allow these Epiphany readings to speak to us, they can enlighten our path through the upcoming year.

            This morning we’ll take a look at the first miracle found in the Gospel according to John, the turning of water into wine at the wedding in Cana of Galilee. Actually, “miracle” is the wrong word for it. John actually calls it a sign, not a miracle, and he does so intentionally. If it were a miracle, it would be a nice little story about Jesus the superhero with super powers. And while it would make for an amazing story, it really wouldn’t do much for our souls or our theology. But this is a sign, the turning of the water into wine points us towards a larger truth. And it is that larger truth that is worthy of our Epiphany focus this morning.

            The sign that we see in this wedding story is the transformation that God brings into our lives. Before we race ahead to the act that all wine lovers are drawn to, the turning of water into wine, let’s take a look at the setting. It is no coincidence that Jesus does this first public sign at a wedding. Now if you think weddings these days can get out of hand, what Jesus experienced would have taken it to a whole other level. Weddings in ancient Israel would have typically lasted a week, and they were truly public celebrations. The bridegroom would go through the streets in a parade to meet his bride and then the festivities would begin. The fact that Jesus starts his ministry at this wedding banquet is very incarnational.

            We are in chapter 2 of John, and remember the first chapter is John’s prologue about the Word becoming incarnate, starting with the well known “in the beginning was the Word, and the Word was God, and the Word was with God.” Some scholars suggest that John was writing, in part, against the Gnostic movement. And part of what the Gnostics said was that the body was evil. That the flesh was a prison for the soul and that enjoyment of the body was sinful. In a sense, they were anti-incarnational. They said that things of the flesh are to be avoided. Life is not something to be enjoyed. And we might not go that far, but how many of us have turned into boring adults who have forgotten how to have fun? I know that I’ve been guilty of that from time to time.

            How many of us are so stressed with work, so consumed with financial stress, so plagued by our pasts, that we don’t allow ourselves to enjoy the gift of the present. Many of you have told me that Ellie will teach me things, and you’re right. Though she’s only 2 months old, she’s already taught me about the idols of productivity and prestige. When I hold her, a very simple and incarnational act, life seems to be at its fullest, not when I’m received awards or having an inflated ego. Taking time to actually experience the gift of life is to embrace the reality of the Word becoming flesh.

            So to those Gnostics that were against these sorts of life-affirming experiences, Jesus shows up at a wedding and has a grand time. I don’t know if there was a DJ, I don’t know if there was dancing, but I know that a good time was had by all if they ran out of wine. Jesus begins his ministry at a party. Jesus begins with extravagance. He starts with joy. And remember, this story is a sign, pointing us to something larger and truer than this particular story. The Epiphany lesson is that the coming of God into our world in the person of Jesus is about God’s extravagant love. It ushers in a time of joy. After the water is changed into wine, the head waiter is shocked at the quality of the wine. He expected the cheap stuff since everyone was a few drinks in, but what Jesus provides is the crème de la crème. And so it is. What God provides isn’t simply the basics in Jesus, God gives all of Godself in Jesus. The first sign is that God startles us with the abundant love of taking on our flesh to be with us.

So let us move into exploring the transformation of this passage. And the transformation that we find here begins the way that much transformation does, with a crisis. Because a wedding was a public event, and the whole town of Cana was there, the family’s honor was at stake. A wedding was the one blow-out event of a lifetime. A family would pull out all the stops to make sure that everyone has a great time at the party. So to run out of wine not only would lead to a bad party, but it would have brought shame on the family. It was a crisis.

And before we go any further, it needs to be pointed out that, though it seems that Jesus is rather harsh to his mother, a lot of that is related to issues of translation. That could perhaps be the subject of another sermon, but not this one. But I just want to say, don’t let that trip you up.

And so the water is transformed into wine. The first thing to note is that the text says that the water that was changed was for the Jewish rite of purification. Before eating, the guests would have needed that water to be ritually clean. And Jesus takes that water and turns it into wine. The water which reminded us of our impurity, of our uncleanliness, of our sins, is transformed into the wine of joy and welcome to all. This aspect of the sign points to the fact that all are welcome to join Jesus at the party.

This sign points to the vision of Isaiah. Isaiah says that Israel will have a crown of beauty and a royal diadem in place of its grief and suffering. It will no longer be called Forsaken, or Desolate, but will go by the name Delight and Married. In the way that the bride and groom rejoice over each other, God will rejoice over us. As soon as he tastes it, the waiter knows that this is something grander and bigger than he expected. In Jesus, the old water has passed away in favor of this new, richer, more vibrant wine. In Jesus, a new age is ushered in, so it’s only fitting that this new age of joy and hope starts with a party. So the transformation of water into wine is a sign that the party has started, that the Kingdom of God is open for business. It is a sign that God’s glory abounds all around us.

I realize that mystery is tough for us moderns. Miracles make us raise an eyebrow. And I’m sure there are those of us that can’t help but wonder, “did Jesus really turn that water into wine?” “How else might we explain the sudden emergence of 150 gallons of wine?” You might ask me, “did the transformation really happen?” And I’d have to say, in all honesty, I don’t know. But I know stories of Jesus changing empty beer cans into furniture in a broken home, I know of Jesus turning hatred between bitter enemies into loving reconciliation, I know of stories of burned bridges being rebuilt, of wrongs becoming right. And that’s a miracle enough for me.

This story reminds us that when you invite Jesus to the party, in the way that this family invited him to the wedding banquet, Jesus will accept the invitation, and he will transform you. And this is Good News, but realize that as it has been said “God often comforts the afflicted and afflicts the comfortable,” transformation isn’t always as nice as water becoming wine. If that’s what following Jesus was all about, then I think more people would be Christians instead of joining wine of the month clubs. If inviting Jesus to transform us was an easy process, we’d have less violence in our culture and less greed. The transformation that God will do in our lives is not always easy or as pleasant as getting free wine. Living for the Kingdom of God instead of our own kingdoms of power, prestige, and wealth means transforming the way we live.

I’ll share a bit of confession with you all. In my spare time, I enjoy playing video games. Mostly I play baseball or college football games, but I’ve enjoyed playing such titles as Modern Warfare and Grand Theft Auto. But after the recent surge in violence in our culture, I realized that inviting Jesus to transform me meant that I could no longer participate in those systems. Were those games turning me into a killer? No. Do I have a right to them as an American? Of course. But was I participating in a system that was leading to evil? Yes. And so I’ve given them up. It’s a rather simple example, but inviting Jesus to transform us means that we will need to consider hard how we live our lives. Do we really want to be transformed? If the answer is yes, we might start by taking a look at how we live our lives. What institutions do we participate in by our complicity? What evil is done on our behalf, or so that we can live the life that we desire? This part of the sign points us towards the total transformation of our lives, souls, and world that God calls us towards.

And finally, I’d like to do a little what-if exercise with this text. Jesus, at first, seems to refuse Mary’s plea to help with the situation of being out of wine. We proclaim that Jesus was both fully-human and fully-divine, maybe at first the human side won out. Whatever the reason was, Jesus was hesitant to do anything. Jesus was having a good time, and he was interrupted. He was distracted with the crisis. And his first reaction is one we all know- “it’s not my problem, let me enjoy what I’m doing.” A spiritual writer once said that he was annoyed with all the interruptions to his ministry, people calling or coming by the office. Then he realized that his ministry wasn’t his to-do list, it was the interruptions. In the interruptions, God breaks through the busyness of our lives.

The sign in this part of the story is that we live in God’s history. Everything we do is a part of the life of God. And so the question isn’t “do I want to be interrupted?” but “how will I handle this opportunity for ministry that is set before me?” What if Jesus had said no at Cana and it set the tone for his life and ministry? What if when he came upon the lepers who asked for healing he said, “you know, I’m busy right now, sorry.” What if when the crowd was ready to stone the adulterous woman to death he said “you know, it’s not really any of my concern?” But Jesus realized that his life was not his own, but was a part of God’s history. And when we are in God’s history, we cannot refuse to act, but instead only control how we will respond. Will it be with grace, or with indifference? Will it be by living for ourselves, or for others?

Henry Ford is reported to have once said “life is just one damned event after another.” Well, I couldn’t disagree more. Life is not just one damned event after another. Life is one opportunity to show the glory of God after another, one chance to show the world that we are a follower of Jesus by serving and loving. How we respond to the interruptions of life matters. Everything we do matters to someone, regardless of how big or small the event is.

This weekend, we of course remember the great Martin Luther King, Jr. What would our culture look life if he had responded differently to the interruptions of life? In 1954, at age 25, King moved to Montgomery, Alabama after finishing his studies at Boston University. He was busy. He had a young family, was the new pastor of a church, and was finishing up his doctoral dissertation. And then on December 1, 1955, Rosa Parks refused to move to the back of the bus. It was an event that King had nothing to do with. He had never met Parks before. But that event began a movement, and local leaders called on King to be the leader of this movement for justice.

What if King though had responded by saying “you know, I have a young family that needs me. And I’m working on this dissertation, and it really need to focus on that. And furthermore, I’m the pastor of a new congregation, and I should spend time getting to know them. Sorry that I can’t help you, but it just isn’t a good time for me, Rosa Parks isn’t my problem, I don’t have the energy for it?” What would our world look like if Martin Luther King had refused to respond to the breaking of God into our world in this interruption? Imagine how our world might be better if we never again said “you know, I’m just too busy right now, I just can’t afford to give more to charity, I’m not sure that I’m qualified to help in that way, I’m afraid I won’t do a good job, someone else will handle it.” Having healthy boundaries are a good and healthy thing and saying “yes” to everything can lead to other problems, but let us not forget that God comes to us in the distractions of life.

In a sermon entitled “The Drum Major Instinct,” King talked about our actions, and the price of inaction. And he concludes by saying that “I want to be at Jesus’ side in love and justice…so that we can make the old world a new world.” Or, if you’ll allow me a paraphrase- I want to work with Jesus to transform the old water into new wine.

Once the water is changed into wine, the head waiter doesn’t say “thank God we had a miracle-worker at this party!” Instead, he assumes the wine came from storage somewhere. This is our call: to be drum majors alongside Jesus and all of his followers like King. To bring out of our storage the love, justice, compassion, grace, and peace that will transform our world into a new one.

It’s a good message to start the new year with, and a good Epiphany lesson. When we invite Jesus to participate in our lives, when we see distractions not just as “damned events” but opportunities for grace, then we can experience Gospel transformation. The old waters of fear, injustice, oppression, vengeance, resentment, and sin can indeed be transformed into the new wine of love, peace, and justice. And in a few moments, we’ll be invited to gather around God’s Table to take a sip of that new wine. May it strengthen us for ministry. May it give us the courage to act and respond in the way that Martin Luther King did. And may it give us a foretaste of that heavenly banquet, inspiring us to work to bring about the Kingdom of God on earth as it is in heaven. Amen.

Confession of St. Peter

The Confession of St. Peter is one of the holy days in the Church Year. On this day we hear Peter confess that Jesus is "the Messiah and Son of the Living God." And Jesus then says that Peter is the rock upon which he will  build the Church. Peter is an interesting fellow, here are some of the highlights-

• Walked on the sea, then began to sink
• At the Transfiguration, he didn't quite get the point and asked to build 3 tabernacles for Moses, Elijah, and Jesus
• Confessed Jesus as Messiah, as noted above
• Argued against the inclusion of Gentiles into the new church, then changed his mind as he was guided by the Spirit and others
• He denied Jesus three times during the Passion

Peter is a great reminder to us all that we don't have to get it all right the first time, or even the second, or the third... If the Church is founded on Jesus, then it is founded on a second chance, and a third chance, and so on. He is the hero of not giving up, of remaining faithful, of being forgiven; and that is an example we all could use, especially our political leaders in Washington. How might they be different if they tried to be like the person of Peter instead of a statue of Peter (trying to be the solid rock that is never wrong).

At Diocesan Convention last weekend, Bishop Michael Curry shared a Scottish poem in his Pastoral Address, which is a paraphrase of the servant girl's words accusing Peter of being Jesus' disciple, this was the final denial by Peter. The poem goes 

O that it might be said of me,

surely thy speech betrayeth thee,

thou wast with Jesus of Galilee.

Bishop Curry then challenged us all to be a church and individuals who looked like we have been with Jesus, so speak as if we intimately know Jesus, to live lives closer to Jesus. Peter struggled to embrace this accent which gave him away. After all, taking up your cross (and Peter literally did) is not easy work. Let us all give thanks for Peter, for second chances, and let us all seek to be transformed by Jesus in such a way that anyone that meets us on the street might say of us "thou wast with Jesus of Galilee."

December 11, 2011 - Advent 3B

O Come, O Come Emmanuel. Amen.

            So today is an interesting Sunday. The third Sunday of Advent is full of history and tradition. One such tradition is that of gaudete Sunday. Gaudete is a Latin word which means “rejoice!” Historically, Advent had been a season of fasting and introspection as we approach Christmas. Our readings the last two Sunday have been challenging as we heard about the coming of the Son of man, and then last week we met John the Baptist who calls us to repent. Gaudete Sunday began as a break from the rigors of Advent. This is why we light the pink Advent candle this Sunday, as pink is lighter in intensity than purple. And though this tradition started in a different place and for different circumstances, we too need to hear the words of “rejoice!” this morning. We are at the half-way point in Advent; two weeks in, two weeks until Christmas. Are you rejoicing, or are you coping? Do you end you day with a smile as you reflect back, or do you let out a stressful sigh? Let this Sunday be a reminder to us to remember what this season is about, the coming of our King, and for that, let us rejoice.

            The other piece of history is that today is also called “Stir-Up” Sunday. Our Collect today begins “stir up your power, O Lord, and with great might come among us.” Traditionally, most Sundays leading up to Christmas had the Latin word excita in the Collect. Excita of course is tied to the word “excite.” As the story goes, pudding was always prepared for the Christmas season, you know, figgy pudding, and it had to stand for a few weeks before being served. So some say that the use of the words “stir up” were also a reminder to cooks and servants that they needed to be stirring the pudding so it would be ready for Christmas. But there is also a spiritual meaning to it. Stir up is a call to wake up and focus, it’s our half-time pep talk as we go through Advent. Maybe the first half of Advent has been great and full of spiritual meaning for you, maybe it hasn’t. Either way, let today be a reminder to let the excitement of the coming of our King stir up your hearts and minds, your hands and feet.

            These tones of rejoicing and excitement are found within our readings from both Isaiah and John. This portion of Isaiah comes from what scholars denote as Third Isaiah. Chapters 1-39 are written before the Babylonian Exile, chapters 40-55 come from Israel’s time in Exile, and 56-66 are written after they return to Israel. So at this point, the people have returned to their homes, and they are joyful. There is good news to share with the oppressed. The brokenhearted will be bound up, or better translated, made whole. The captives will be set free. The prisoners of darkness will be released. The year of the Lord’s favor will be proclaimed. And those who mourn will be comforted. Scholars also see this passage as one of the Servant Songs. The Servant is seen as Israel’s Messiah. Now there is a danger in reading Jesus into Isaiah, but it is acceptable to read Jesus in the light of Isaiah. Afterall, Jesus saw this passage as essential to his self-identity. In Luke, when Jesus begins his ministry in the Temple, he reads this passage. The thing which we are to be excited about on Christmas is this sort of good news, and this is a good reminder to us of that message of hope.

            This passage from Isaiah is also a favorite of liberation theologians. Liberation theology has its roots in the 1950s in Latin America, where government abuse, human rights violations, poverty, and social injustice were spoken out against. Liberation theology calls for Christianity to transform our world, to change our politics, our personal actions, and our prejudices so that justice and equality might thrive. It realizes that Christianity has become the slave to money, to success, to power, to prestige, and that it has ceased to be the radical and counter-cultural movement which it once was under the leadership of Jesus the early disciples. Liberation theologians called attention to the fact that the Church was not transforming our world, the Kingdom of God was not coming on earth as it in heaven, at least not through the Church. Instead, culture was transforming the Church. The Church was more interested in self-preservation and its growth of power and influence. And they were right. Christianity should be odd, not the norm. Christianity should be transformative to our world. So this reading from Isaiah is an invitation for us to consider our own issues of liberation and transformation.

            One of the great things about the Advent season, about all of these readings about the coming Messiah is that we are reminded that we need a Messiah. If any of you do not need to be set free from something, if you don’t need a Messiah, then I’m not sure why you are here. We need to be redeemed. So the first question in considering our liberation is- what enslaves you? Is it work? Is it some image, either self-generated or from others, of what you should be instead of what you are? Is it addiction? Is it the need for revenge? Is it doubt? Is it fear of not having enough? Is it watered down religion? Is it guilt? Is it fear of death? I know it’s not easy to think about these things. These are the sorts of things we all try so hard to forget, the pains, the rejections, the stereotypes, the mistakes, the prejudices.

One thing that the Republican nomination process has shown us is that we all have skeletons in our closet. Isaiah speaks of the coming of the year of the Lord, which is also known as the jubilee year. It is a deeply Hebraic and Biblical idea of liberation for all people. The jubilee happened every 49 years, and it was mandated that all stolen property be returned, all slaves be set free, all debts be forgiven, all fields will rest for a year. Isaiah is proclaiming the ultimate jubilee year, a time where we all are set free from our debts, our enslavements, our crises.

But the interesting thing about this concept of being liberated, is that we have to let go. God can only free you if you let loose of the chains. If you continue to define yourself by your mistakes, by your shortcomings, by your fears and doubts, then you will never be liberated. Your faith will never transform you. We hang onto these things because we think we can control them, because we’ve hidden them so deep in our mind that they’ve taken root in our souls. Advent is a season about preparing for the coming of Christ the King, and this King will liberate us from all of these things, but we have to let him.

One thing that desperately holds us back from doing this during Advent is Christmas. We need to be liberated from Christmas. I’m not talking about the celebration of the birth of Christ, I’m talking about Santa, shopping, and sentimentalism. I really don’t mind the commercialization of Christmas. Shopping helps the economy and giving is not really a bad thing. But the sentimentalization of Christmas is a major problem.

I recently read an interview with the author of a new book- and I love this title because it is so straightforward and truth-telling, the book is called Christmas Is Not Your Birthday. And isn’t that true? Christmas morning seems like a birthday party on steroids for each of us.  People are starting to realize that what we do during December is unhealthy and unchristian. There are big movements online right now called “Advent Conspiracy” and “Occupy Advent,” which urge us to spend less, give more, and love all people. And they have some truth to share. Americans spend $450 billion on Christmas. Some analysts suggest that global hunger could be eliminated with only $30 billion a year. And remind me, how is that dichotomy helping us to celebrate the coming of our King? Is it Jesus’ birthday, or ours? This isn’t to mention the fact that we spend over $500 billion a year as a nation on making war. For every $1 that Americans earn, we spend, on average, $1.22. I forget that part about spending beyond your means in the Sermon on the Mount. How would Greensboro and our world be different if for every dollar you spend on gifts, you also donated a dollar?

Or how about the ethics of Santa? We teach our children that Santa brings toys to good kids and coal to bad ones. What about a generous and loving God who gives grace and salvation to all people? How about our Christmas outreach? We adopt a family by spending an extra $50, which is a nice gesture, I’m not trying to diminish that. But is $50, or even $100 really a sacrifice? Wouldn’t the bigger sacrifice be to live in such a way that poverty didn’t exist?

I really don’t mean to be raining on the Christmas parade. It’s just that Christmas has the potential to be truly transformative, Christmas has the ability to change our world for the better, but not in its current form. It is sentimental and devoid of meaning or sacrifice. I want to reclaim Christmas for Christ, the King of the outcast, the champion of the poor, the spokesperson for the oppressed. If Martians landed in America today and did a study on Christmas, what would they think it was about? I don’t think Jesus would be on page 1 of their report. Let’s change that, let’s liberate Christmas and thereby transform our world.

What we must ask next in our survey of liberation is- who is the oppressor? Now, I’m not encouraging you to scapegoat here, a lot of the problem is with the person in the mirror, but there is injustice that needs to be spoken out against, this is what’s going on with the movements of the Arab Spring. It’s also what Isaiah was talking about. When he speaks about the captives being set free and the oppressed getting good news, he’s talking about the abuse of the poor. When the Israelites returned home, the rich people became gluttons for power and money. They reclaimed all of their old lands, and grabbed up land that wasn’t theirs. There was a system that kept the poor under the heel of the rich, a system that kept the outcasts outside. And folks, I don’t think I have to say it, but these systems are alive and well today. Isn’t this what the Occupy movements are all about? Now it doesn’t matter where you fall on the political spectrum, and I don’t fully agree with all that Occupy stands for, but you can’t deny the absurdity of the top 1% owning 35% of the wealth and bottom 80% owning only 15%. That’s simply not the Kingdom of God.

In considering liberation, we must realize that we are liberators sometimes, sometimes we are the enslaved, and sometimes we are the oppressors. Yes, in the US we are the 99%, but compared to the rest of the world we are the 1%. In fact, an annual income of $40,000 would put you in the top 97% of the world’s wealthy. There are a lot of ways to address this. We can live more simply, we can buy local to cut down on carbon emissions, we can avoid products that are made by slave labor, we can give more to charity. But I’m just wanting to do is to remind of ourselves of this fact- we are the 1% and we are the 99%. But neither of those are our calling as Christians. Instead, our task is to be the agents of God’s liberation for all people. Our mission is to stand up for justice, to stand up for better regulation, to stand up for the Kingdom of God.

And the final thing for us to consider in liberation this morning is-who is the liberator? Let’s turn to our reading from John. People really didn’t know who this John the Baptist character was. They could tell he was important, that he was proclaiming God’s vision, but was he the Messiah? Was he Elijah the prophet? And he says “I am not.” He is simply the voice crying out in the wilderness. As the gospeller John so eloquently puts it, John came as a witness to testify to the light, so that all might believe through him.

John the Baptist reminds us that religion is bigger than you, bigger than me, even bigger than us. And this is because it is about God. There is a temptation out there these days to be spiritual but not religious, to say that you find God in nature, to claim that being a moral person is how your live out your faith. In other words, folks are making up their own religion; which is preposterous because we have a God for that. We don’t need a man-made religion because we have a God-made religion. John the Baptist reminds us that there is a light shining. We don’t need to search for the light, we don’t need to kindle the fire, we don’t need start a fire; it’s already burning.

And remember, John the Baptist was a bit weird. There’s a reason why he wasn’t a prophet in Jerusalem, he was on the outskirts of town for a reason. And he is a reminder to us that this light of God shines in odd and unexpected places. One theologian said that the light of God can only shine through a cracked skull, and don’t we all have some cracks? The light of God shined 2,000 years ago in an unwed mother, and it still shines there today. It shines in the cracks of interfaith dialogue, it shines in moments where Christians surround Muslims in prayer to protect them from danger. The light of God shines in hippie college kids protesting in Zuccotti Park, it shines in soldiers reaching out to children in Afghanistan. It shines in weird and counter-cultural people like St. Francis, Martin Luther King, and Nelson Mandela.

And this light of God is transformational. This light is liberating. This light overcomes the darkness of fear, of extremism, of doubt, of death, of disease, of betrayal, of injustice, of apathy, of a sentimental Christmas, of dictators, of intolerance, of greed, of evil. This is the light of the world, we don’t need to reinvent it; we just need to be mirrors- so that we can reflect this light and share it with others, so that it can transform us and our world.

As I started this sermon, I talked about Stir-Up Sunday and Gaudete Sunday. As we approach Christmas, let us be stirred up. Stirred up to transform how we celebrate the coming of Jesus, stirred up to stand up to our oppressors, external and internal. Stirred up to take a counter-cultural stance to free the captives and comfort the oppressed, and stirred up to live a truly transformational faith. And let us also rejoice this Advent. Bask in the light of Christ, the light that transforms darkness and liberates us from all fear.

And I know this is hard. I know it’s hard to re-envision how we celebrate Christmas. I know it’s hard to be counter cultural. I know it’s hard to face our captors. I know it’s hard to embrace our liberation because we’re not sure what comes next. It’s difficult to stand up to liberate others. It’s difficult to be transformed in ways that seem odd and challenge all the things we’ve assumed and done for so long. But let us take solace in Christ, our Light and our coming King, whose has gone before us in transforming and liberating. Let us all join in the song of saints and angels- “this little light of mine, I’m gonna let it shine.”