by the Rev. Dr. Paul S. Nancarrow
This sermon is based on Mark 6:30-34, 53-56. An audio version of this sermon is available here.
When Jesus saw the crowd he had compassion for them, because they were like sheep without a shepherd; and he began to teach them many things.
When Jesus saw the crowd he saw that they were disorganized, lacking focus, without direction, scattered. There were so many, coming and going, this way and that, rushing around, so busy but so disconnected, with no leisure, no rest, no quietness, no peace, not even to eat. And when they saw Jesus there, they gathered around him, they flocked to him, because they could feel that he had something genuine, they could feel he had a real life — and even though they were so disorganized, so scattered, they didn’t know what they wanted, they knew they wanted what he had. So they flocked to him, they crowded in around him — even though they could tell he has trying to get away to a quiet place, a retreat, with his disciples, they came anyway, they waylaid him on his way, because their souls were so scattered and their need was so deep.
And when Jesus saw them, he had compassion for them, he was moved for them — he felt for them in his belly, in his innards, the Greek says — that kind of deep-down, visceral, undeniable connection you feel with someone you really care about. So he gave them what he had to give: he taught them. He taught them many things. And when he taught them, he taught them in parables. Remember that Mark says Jesus always taught the crowds in parables — that “he did not speak to them except in parables” — and parables are a very particular form of teaching. Teaching in parables is not like saying “Do this” or “Don’t do that” or “Believe this” or “Behave this way.” Teaching in parables doesn’t just lay out information or direction and expect the learner to follow automatically. Teaching in parables always comes at the point indirectly. Teaching in parables always sets you up for one expectation, and then gives you something else, and the learning is in the difference between them. Teaching in parables doesn’t just dump information in your head, but makes you participate in your own learning. Teaching in parables makes you work for what you learn, it makes you figure out for yourself what’s really going on, what God is really doing, beneath the apparent surface story. Teaching in parables makes you co-create with your teacher the thing that you have learned. Teaching in parables doesn’t just convey knowledge, it creates wisdom. And creating wisdom is forming in the very soul the creative image of God.
So when Jesus teaches the crowd in parables because they are like sheep without a shepherd, he is doing for them a very specific thing: he is not just telling them what to do, but he is putting them in touch with God, he’s helping them grow wisdom in their souls so that they can better know what God would have them do, and where God is calling them to go, and how God is leading them in their lives. When Jesus sees the crowds are like sheep without a shepherd, he helps them know their true shepherd is God.
And that is the promise of this gospel for us: that the teaching of Jesus will be there for us to form wisdom in our souls when we feel lost, and scattered, and disorganized, and at loose ends, and like sheep without a shepherd. When the bottom seems to drop out of life for us; when the ways and means and patterns we habitually use to make our lives feel ordered and sensible and meaningful suddenly don’t work anymore; when tragedy or disaster upset the delicate balance we’ve made out of all the desires and duties and aspirations and responsibilities that tug in different directions for us; — then the promise is the Wisdom of Christ is there for us, to help us look beneath the apparent surface of the story, to help us look beyond our own understanding or lack thereof, to put us more deeply in touch with what God would have us do, and where God is calling us to go, and how God is leading us in our lives. The Wisdom of Christ is there for us to help us know our true shepherd is God.
And the fact is our lives can feel very fragile, very vulnerable, very close to the edge of feeling scattered and wandering and shepherdless. A windstorm blows up, and knocks down trees and powerlines and cable connections, and suddenly pumps and water and freezers and communications stop working, and roads are blocked and cars can’t get through — and suddenly a lot of the common infrastructure we so easily take for granted in daily life isn’t there for us, and things just don’t work the way they’re supposed to — and that can make us feel lost, and scattered, and like everyone’s rushing around without any order, and shepherdless. An occasion of vocational change or career move or educational advancement comes up, and anticipation-and-excitement and anxiety-and-trepidation tug both ways within you, and you start to wonder about what you’ve done so far and question what you might be yet to do, and you can almost feel the ripples of change beginning to spread out through all your relationships and all your activities and all your connections — and that can make you feel lost, and scattered, and out of focus, and shepherdless. A gunman carrying an assault rifle walks into a crowded theater during a popular movie and opens fire, and when we hear about it we feel horror and sadness and compassion for the victims and anger at the shooter, and perhaps we begin to feel how our own safety hangs by a thread and our own security is never quite assured and we never know when someone with a gun might be coming close to us — and that can make us feel lost, and scattered, and wandering in the valley of the shadow of death, and shepherdless. We come to church, even, seeking a place of stability and tradition in the midst of a changing world — and we find that God’s mission for us to proclaim the gospel in a changing world requires that we change, that we find new ways to live out the timeless truth that make sense and are engaging and are transforming for the times at hand — and even that can make us feel a little lost, and scattered, and unsettled, and shepherdless. It doesn’t take much to show us our lives are more fragile than we like to think.
And that is when Jesus sees us, and has compassion for us, and teaches us many things, so that we can come to know ever more deeply that, even when we feel most scattered, our true shepherd is God. That is when the Wisdom of Christ is at work in our souls, opening our eyes to see what God is doing beneath the apparent surface of the story, helping us to recognize the new possibilities for compassion and justice and peace and right-relationship and wholeness of life that God is creating even out of the ashes of tragedy and disaster and dis-ease, helping us to realize how God is calling and empowering us to be co-creators with God of those new trajectories for good. Even when we feel most vulnerable, God is as work: a community rebuilds after storm; a career, a vocation, an education enters a new stage, and even though it is challenging, relationships and connections readjust; people gather to grieve, and to sympathize, and to pray, and to work together to change the conditions that lead to violence so that peace may prevail instead; a church turns to mission and faith-practice and not just being an institution but living the Gospel in the timely ways of daily life. Even when we feel most vulnerable and lost and scattered, God is at work — and the Wisdom of God forms in us the mind of Christ, teaching us many things, so that we may know and trust and work with and follow the true shepherding of God.
That is the promise of the Gospel today. Let it be so for us. Amen.
Sunday, July 22, 2012
Sunday, July 15, 2012
Freedom or Not
By
John Wilkinson
It may be impossible for us as human
beings to avoid foolishness. Where we have a choice lies in whether our
foolishness leads us to freedom or a loss of freedom, whether our foolishness
takes us onward to the God revealed in Jesus Christ or traps us in our small
selves. Will our foolishness bring about salvation, or will it take us
down to irreversible loss?
Today's readings from scripture portray
both true and false foolishness, both freedom and the lack of freedom. In
one case they show us a party where wisdom is absent, hope has been cast aside,
and freedom is nowhere to be found. In the other case, we see a most memorable
parade led by a man who knows both sides of foolishness, but at his best
chooses the foolishness which points to God.
King Herod throws a birthday party for
himself. He invites his courtiers, his yes men, and the people he needs
to impress. He has no friends in sight, for he has no friends at all. His
daughter Herodias does a dance of the sort no father should approve of, but
Herod is the one who applauds the loudest. He sputters out a promise to
give the girl anything she wants, even half his kingdom. This promise
exceeds Herod's power; he's but a puppet king, unable to give away even an
acre. But the girl does not ask for real estate. After consulting with
her mother, a latter-day Jezebel, she calls for the head of John the Baptist,
King Herod's prisoner, to be delivered to her posthaste on a platter. Now Herod
is in away fascinated with John; holding him prisoner keeps him safe from
Herod's bloodthirsty wife. But now this so-called king has gone and shot
off his mouth in front of a dining hall full of self-important guests.
Backing down from his intemperate promise would make him look bad in
front of this snide, unforgiving audience.
We
need to hear it too, because we, like God’s people through the ages, are prone
to interpret difficult times as a sign that evil has trumped God. This story
serves another purpose as well. The deaths of John and Jesus warn us that God
does not always reward faithful discipleship with an easy life.
The truth-teller’s road is narrow and
filled with potholes. Thank God that's not today's only
scripture story. And that’s not the only way life can turn out. We
hear also of a real king, King David, bringing the ark of God to Jerusalem in
the grandest style.
He musters thirty thousand soldiers, and
they accompany the Holy Ark carried in a cart, step by step toward Jerusalem.
Everybody is dancing, everybody is shaking it up! Loud singing,
lyres and castanets and cymbals, and still more loud singing!
The star of the show is King David
himself, who, as scripture tells us, "danced before the Lord with all his
might," like Little Richard and Elvis and the Four Tops and Bruce
Springsteen all rolled up into one. David is a free man! He dances
before the Lord, dances for the love of the Lord! His life is not easy,
his life is not perfect, he has done wrong and dealt wickedly and been
forgiven; this king dances with abandon, for the joy of the Lord is his
strength!
King David, though an obvious believer in
monarchy, would have answered AMEN to what anarchist Emma Goldman said,
"If I can't dance, I don't want to be part of your revolution!"
King David would climb up on stage and
play a harp or blow a horn with U2 as they sing out, and this free man would join with choirs
of Anglican cathedrals. He will not dance alone. He does not
dance alone. Look for him in the line of dancing saints that now
encircles the throne of God and the Lamb, a conga line that stretches past the
horizons of heaven. Picture them all present at this altar when our
Sanctus sounds forth.
Heaven's music is a lot like David's
dance, for there as well tragedy does not get the last word: joy and exuberance
prevail. The deep energies of God ignite a cosmic dance that shakes,
rattles, and rolls; that never wearies and never stop’s.
Will our foolishness bring about our salvation,
or will it take us down to irreparable loss? That’s the question that each of us must
answer. Amen!
Sunday, July 8, 2012
Weakness and Strength
By the Rev. Dr. Paul S. Nancarrow
This sermon is based on 2 Corinthians 12:2-10. An audio version of the sermon is available here.
“When I am weak, then I am strong.”
That statement, from our Epistle reading this morning, is one of those paradoxes of the Gospel, one of those statements of the Good News that seems self-contradictory on the surface, but with meditation and reflection reveals a deeper meaning — like “The last will be first” and “Blessed are the poor” and “Whoever loses their life will save it.” “When I am weak, then I am strong” on the face of it makes no sense — especially in a culture and a society like ours that values being strong and being independent and being able to take care of yourself and getting yourself whatever you want whenever you want it. To us, becoming weak in order to reveal a deeper strength just doesn’t add up.
But that is what Paul is talking about, in this second of his letters to the church in Corinth. It seems that sometime after Paul established the Corinthian church, when Paul himself had gone on, traveling further to plant new churches, some other traveling preachers arrived in Corinth — and these other preachers apparently wowed the Corinthian Christians. These preachers would speak about the revelations they had received, and the miracles they had done, and the signs and wonders they had performed. After a while of this, the Corinthians began to think, “Well, Paul wasn’t all that impressive, was he? He didn’t tell us about all the great things he had done. Maybe Paul’s teaching wasn’t all that good, either. Maybe we should be listening to these other preachers, maybe we should believe things their way, instead of the way Paul taught us.”
It was to answer that challenge that Paul wrote this letter to the Corinthians. And in that letter Paul explains, rather patiently, that when he was with them he didn’t draw attention to himself, to his revelations and signs and wonders, because as an apostle it was his job to draw attention to Christ, not to himself. It was his job to draw attention to the Holy Spirit, not to himself. It was his job, not just to talk about the Spirit, but to help the Corinthians experience the Spirit for themselves, so that it would be their revelations and their miracles and their faith that would be their connection-point to God. Paul says, If you want boasting, I can boast: I can tell you about my vision of the third heaven, I can tell you about all the times I’ve spoken in tongues, I can tell you about the unclean spirits I’ve cast out and the people I’ve healed. But what would be the point?, Paul says. The Good News about the Spirit forming Christ within us doesn’t come just by words, Paul says, it comes by experience. And for us to experience that together, Paul says, I have to set my own accomplishments aside, so that we can discover what Christ will accomplish among us. I have to put my own strength aside, Paul says, I have to put my own power aside, so that the Spirit can strengthen all of us and empower all of us, so that we can be more together than any of us can apart, so that God can do more with us than we on our own could ever ask or imagine.
When I am weak, Paul says, I open the space for God’s strength — and that is when I am strong.
And that same truth speaks to us, too: in our personal lives, in our spiritual lives, in our life together as a parish, as a community, as a nation: when we rely too much on our own strength, our own powers, our own abilities, then we are weak, then we are unsure of ourselves, then we can be consumed by the anxiety that we are not good enough. But when we can admit our weaknesses, when we know our need for help, when we can make room for God’s grace, then we are strong, then we are empowered by a power greater than our own, then we become able to do the work God gives us to do.
I knew a woman once who was a recovering alcoholic — and she would talk quite frankly about the path that led her to recovery. She said that for a long time she knew she drank “too much,” she knew she had a drinking “problem” — but she said she would never accept the words “addict” or “addiction” for herself or her situation. She said she always believed she was strong enough to stop drinking whenever she wanted — she just didn’t want to. She said that, looking back, she realized as long as she thought she was strong, then she was too weak to do anything about her drinking. It was only when some close friends did an intervention, when some people who cared about her deeply brought her face-to-face with the evidence of her own addiction — only then could she admit her weakness for alcohol — and only in admitting that weakness could she find the strength to trust her friends, and trust a treatment program, and trust that she could turn around and get clean and live a new life as a sober person. For her, too, it was when she was weak that she could open the space for God’s higher power, and only then could she become strong.
And I think there is a lesson there for our church, as well. I just heard yesterday that the House of Deputies of the General Convention, now meeting in Indianapolis, has voted to sell the Episcopal Church Center office building at 815 2nd Avenue in New York. That is a hugely expensive building, but that building, at that address, has served for a long time as a symbol of the prestige and importance and social position of our church. Not having that address will look to a lot of people like a big step backward. One person commented that “as a business owner” it looked to him like a failing enterprise “slowly selling off assets” before going under. I’ve never been to 815 myself, so I can’t comment on its merits as an administrative center. But I do know that giving up a prestigious address does look a lot like an admission of weakness, it does look like the Episcopal Church admitting to not being on the top of the social heap like it used to be. But there are many people in the church who see this admission of weakness as really an opportunity for strength. One deputy said that 815 was a “relic of our delusions of being an established church from an imperial era.” A lot of people think the old image of the Episcopal Church being “the upper class at prayer” (when I was a kid growing up in Michigan, I once heard someone call the Episcopal Church “General Motors at prayer,”and even as a kid I wasn't sure I liked that corporate image) is actually harmful for us today, because that notion of us being the church of the “upper crust” gets in the way of our doing Christ’s mission, it gets in the way of our reaching out to everyone, and making a tent big enough for everyone to come in, and standing with the poor and the outcast and the marginalized, and laboring for the transformation of our society to be less like a consumerist shopping mall and more like the Peaceable Kingdom of the Reign of God. As a church, our job is to draw attention to Jesus, not to ourselves; and maybe not maintaining a big expensive central office in New York will help us do our job better. Admitting our church’s weakness in institutional reach and social prestige may well be a way for us to become stronger in our on-the-ground work for the mission of Christ. On the national level, or even on our own local parochial level, thinking less about our institutional footprint and more about equipping every member for their mission might be a weakness that reveals a deeper strength.
So for Paul and for the church and for us, the same paradox of the Gospel holds true: when we are weak, when we know our need for grace, when we can put aside our pride and our boasting and our being too full of ourselves, when we can open space for God — then we become strong, then we are filled with a power greater than our own, then we become able to do more than we had ever thought was possible.
That is the Good News for us today. That is God’s invitation to us to live in the Spirit’s strength every day. Amen.
This sermon is based on 2 Corinthians 12:2-10. An audio version of the sermon is available here.
“When I am weak, then I am strong.”
That statement, from our Epistle reading this morning, is one of those paradoxes of the Gospel, one of those statements of the Good News that seems self-contradictory on the surface, but with meditation and reflection reveals a deeper meaning — like “The last will be first” and “Blessed are the poor” and “Whoever loses their life will save it.” “When I am weak, then I am strong” on the face of it makes no sense — especially in a culture and a society like ours that values being strong and being independent and being able to take care of yourself and getting yourself whatever you want whenever you want it. To us, becoming weak in order to reveal a deeper strength just doesn’t add up.
But that is what Paul is talking about, in this second of his letters to the church in Corinth. It seems that sometime after Paul established the Corinthian church, when Paul himself had gone on, traveling further to plant new churches, some other traveling preachers arrived in Corinth — and these other preachers apparently wowed the Corinthian Christians. These preachers would speak about the revelations they had received, and the miracles they had done, and the signs and wonders they had performed. After a while of this, the Corinthians began to think, “Well, Paul wasn’t all that impressive, was he? He didn’t tell us about all the great things he had done. Maybe Paul’s teaching wasn’t all that good, either. Maybe we should be listening to these other preachers, maybe we should believe things their way, instead of the way Paul taught us.”
It was to answer that challenge that Paul wrote this letter to the Corinthians. And in that letter Paul explains, rather patiently, that when he was with them he didn’t draw attention to himself, to his revelations and signs and wonders, because as an apostle it was his job to draw attention to Christ, not to himself. It was his job to draw attention to the Holy Spirit, not to himself. It was his job, not just to talk about the Spirit, but to help the Corinthians experience the Spirit for themselves, so that it would be their revelations and their miracles and their faith that would be their connection-point to God. Paul says, If you want boasting, I can boast: I can tell you about my vision of the third heaven, I can tell you about all the times I’ve spoken in tongues, I can tell you about the unclean spirits I’ve cast out and the people I’ve healed. But what would be the point?, Paul says. The Good News about the Spirit forming Christ within us doesn’t come just by words, Paul says, it comes by experience. And for us to experience that together, Paul says, I have to set my own accomplishments aside, so that we can discover what Christ will accomplish among us. I have to put my own strength aside, Paul says, I have to put my own power aside, so that the Spirit can strengthen all of us and empower all of us, so that we can be more together than any of us can apart, so that God can do more with us than we on our own could ever ask or imagine.
When I am weak, Paul says, I open the space for God’s strength — and that is when I am strong.
And that same truth speaks to us, too: in our personal lives, in our spiritual lives, in our life together as a parish, as a community, as a nation: when we rely too much on our own strength, our own powers, our own abilities, then we are weak, then we are unsure of ourselves, then we can be consumed by the anxiety that we are not good enough. But when we can admit our weaknesses, when we know our need for help, when we can make room for God’s grace, then we are strong, then we are empowered by a power greater than our own, then we become able to do the work God gives us to do.
I knew a woman once who was a recovering alcoholic — and she would talk quite frankly about the path that led her to recovery. She said that for a long time she knew she drank “too much,” she knew she had a drinking “problem” — but she said she would never accept the words “addict” or “addiction” for herself or her situation. She said she always believed she was strong enough to stop drinking whenever she wanted — she just didn’t want to. She said that, looking back, she realized as long as she thought she was strong, then she was too weak to do anything about her drinking. It was only when some close friends did an intervention, when some people who cared about her deeply brought her face-to-face with the evidence of her own addiction — only then could she admit her weakness for alcohol — and only in admitting that weakness could she find the strength to trust her friends, and trust a treatment program, and trust that she could turn around and get clean and live a new life as a sober person. For her, too, it was when she was weak that she could open the space for God’s higher power, and only then could she become strong.
And I think there is a lesson there for our church, as well. I just heard yesterday that the House of Deputies of the General Convention, now meeting in Indianapolis, has voted to sell the Episcopal Church Center office building at 815 2nd Avenue in New York. That is a hugely expensive building, but that building, at that address, has served for a long time as a symbol of the prestige and importance and social position of our church. Not having that address will look to a lot of people like a big step backward. One person commented that “as a business owner” it looked to him like a failing enterprise “slowly selling off assets” before going under. I’ve never been to 815 myself, so I can’t comment on its merits as an administrative center. But I do know that giving up a prestigious address does look a lot like an admission of weakness, it does look like the Episcopal Church admitting to not being on the top of the social heap like it used to be. But there are many people in the church who see this admission of weakness as really an opportunity for strength. One deputy said that 815 was a “relic of our delusions of being an established church from an imperial era.” A lot of people think the old image of the Episcopal Church being “the upper class at prayer” (when I was a kid growing up in Michigan, I once heard someone call the Episcopal Church “General Motors at prayer,”and even as a kid I wasn't sure I liked that corporate image) is actually harmful for us today, because that notion of us being the church of the “upper crust” gets in the way of our doing Christ’s mission, it gets in the way of our reaching out to everyone, and making a tent big enough for everyone to come in, and standing with the poor and the outcast and the marginalized, and laboring for the transformation of our society to be less like a consumerist shopping mall and more like the Peaceable Kingdom of the Reign of God. As a church, our job is to draw attention to Jesus, not to ourselves; and maybe not maintaining a big expensive central office in New York will help us do our job better. Admitting our church’s weakness in institutional reach and social prestige may well be a way for us to become stronger in our on-the-ground work for the mission of Christ. On the national level, or even on our own local parochial level, thinking less about our institutional footprint and more about equipping every member for their mission might be a weakness that reveals a deeper strength.
So for Paul and for the church and for us, the same paradox of the Gospel holds true: when we are weak, when we know our need for grace, when we can put aside our pride and our boasting and our being too full of ourselves, when we can open space for God — then we become strong, then we are filled with a power greater than our own, then we become able to do more than we had ever thought was possible.
That is the Good News for us today. That is God’s invitation to us to live in the Spirit’s strength every day. Amen.
Sunday, July 1, 2012
Opposites Joined Together with Faith
By Susan Peyton
This sermon is based on Wisdom of Solomon 1:13-15; 2:23-24, Psalm 30, 2 Corinthians 8:7-15, and Mark 5:21-43. An audio version of the sermon is available here.
In the name of the Father, Son and Holy Spirit. Amen.
Good morning. For those of you I have not met, I am Susan Peyton. I’m a member of Emmanuel, and taking classes with the ultimate goal of becoming a deacon. One of the requirements is to do an internship at a church other than your own. So my thanks to each of you for providing a church community that has welcomed me. Also, please remember that any mistakes are my own.
The Wisdom of Solomon, Paul’s second letter to the Corinthians, Psalm 30, and a portion of Mark’s 5th chapter. Four readings, themes that are woven together. Life and death, those who have much, those who have nothing, being healed, or maybe being saved. Complete opposites joined together with their faith. Faith in the one they can touch and see, Jesus. And faith in the God they cannot see.
Our first reading, the Wisdom of Solomon. A book we rarely hear, but even the name speaks of strength of character. How often these days do we refer to anyone as truly being wise? God granted Solomon wisdom. God gave each of us many gifts, including wisdom, but do we use them? Do we follow the moral compass he has granted us? And we hear that God delights in the living, not in anything destructive or poisonous. Yet we make choices that may be destructive to ourselves, to others, to our community. God created us as a community to help those less fortunate – our personal actions, our attitudes towards others – part of how we are judged. Our path with God endures, if we have the strength, the wisdom, the faith to follow Him.
Last weekend I was in New York city with 91 Girl Scouts. Two buses representing those who have, and those who have not. Those who have traveled around the world, and those who have never traveled out of Virginia. And there were two visible reminders that portrayed those with faith, and those who had the strength of character to literally give their life for others. The Statue of Liberty: for thousands of immigrants, a symbol of hope. A symbol of faith for a better life. Thousands who faced death in the depths of ships filled with disease, bugs, little food or water. Faith that leaving their entire family, they would find streets paved with gold. Only God knows the names of many who perished at sea, on Ellis Island, or once in America. Ironic that to visit the place where many had only the clothes on their back, we and our belongings were x-rayed. Turns out my bandage scissors in the first aid kit were not allowed. The day before at the Empire State Building they simply held them for me, and returned them to me once I finished my visit.
The second, a new symbol of faith, dedicated to others, and hope – the 9 11 memorial. Two square pools located where the twin towers stood. Filled with water that flows towards the middle. The middle a square void, where we cannot see the bottom. Perhaps the pit the writer of our psalm referred to. The heroes that when faced with an excruciating decision, gave themselves to help others.
Next, A psalm of thanksgiving, Psalm 30. The writer deeply believes in God. And I saw a bit of myself in him. Life is good, things are going fine, a bit of confidence knowing that other people have health issues to worry about, but not him, not me, not us. Normal blips in the road, but nothing big. Not that I thought I was above everything, simply not too concerned. And then a health crisis, for the writer of this psalm, bringing him to the brink of death. While he was faithful before, now we see a bit of bargaining. Um, God. You know I believe in you! And if something happens to me, you’ll lose one of your strongest believers. As long as I’m around, I’ll be telling others of my faith, too. How many times do we think about bargaining with God? I’ll read my Bible every day, and I’ll pray twice a day, and go to church every Sunday. And I won’t argue with Doug, and, and, and. God knows that our intentions are good at that moment. And he also knows chances are slim to none that we carry thru with those bargained for intentions. But God is beyond the bargaining. We cannot predict when things do indeed fall into the pit, and there is no hope. Likewise, we won’t know when someone will be saved. And we need the balance of good and bad to recognize God’s hand in our lives. When we are saved from the depths of despair, or ill health. And the last 36 hours have shown what we do in what our consumer culture might perceive as a crisis. If you’re in Staunton Saturday morning, you still have Farmer’s Market. Good food, good music, good company. If you’re in Staunton and 95% of the people don’t have power but the Mall does, there still won’t be people in the mall. And if you’re in Staunton and Walmart is open, it looks like the day before Christmas. People buying ice, coolers, batteries, fuel for camp stoves, flashlights. Perhaps, people giving thanks to God that they could buy ice and save the food in their freezer. Perhaps, folks working at Walmart giving thanks for another day’s wages to help pay the rent. Perhaps, we all need a perceived crisis to remind us what is important. A time to rest, to stop working, family time, no electronics. A community that rejoices when someone is healed, a community that prays when someone is ill, the joy of a child’s smile, God’s grace as we face hardships and good times, giving thanks forever.
And Paul’s second letter to the Corinthians. Hmm. Perfect lesson for stewardship Sunday. How did that get into here. The Corinthians, just like the writer of the psalm, they have a good life. And Paul has to remind them, Christ was rich, yet became poor for all of us, so how do we use those riches? Give of our riches to others -for the Corinthians, he wanted them to give to some of the poorer churches. For us, sometimes prayer is what we can offer, or a ride to a doctor’s appointment, visiting someone who is grieving. Not giving to end up depriving ourselves, nor to be greedy. What prompts our giving? Gratitude to God, a way to honor others, to help those in need? I used to be in banking, and had a customer who would overdraw her account. She listened to every word her pastor said, and kept giving more and more to the church. It was hard for me to explain that overdraft fees would decrease her funds, and limit even more her giving to the church. She wanted to give, beyond her capacity, and I wondered if her pastor even knew that. Do we look at our budget after the payments for internet, cable, the cell phone, eating out, vacation, gifts and say these are necessities, now I can look at what I can give away. Or do we look at our gross income and say God is good. I have been blessed with a wonderful life, I should share my blessings, not to compare against others, simply to know I have done what is right.
In an ironic twist, I thought about the Diocesan financial reports. It lists each parish in the diocese, their annual pledge and how much they have given. And all I could think of was how it proves how human we are, when consciously or unconsciously we might be comparing ourselves to other parishes.
Finally, the Gospel of Mark, a pair of stories on healing. Jairus, a leader of the synagogue – someone with power, a house, family and friends, obviously at least one child. Respected in his community, a man desperate to save his daughter. I think he would give anything to save her. And his faith led him to Jesus, to beg him to come and heal his 12 year old girl. Then suddenly, there appears a woman with no name, literally a woman with nothing. Her health issues cause her to be considered unclean. She has consulted doctors, spent everything she had. She lives on the outskirts of society, so she would have no family, no friends, probably no way to earn money, no community. All she had left after 12 years of being shunned was her faith. Faith that if she touched Jesus’ garment, she would be healed. Faith that led her thru a crowd she normally would not enter. When she touched his cloak, an amazing thing happened. She knew immediately that she was healed, and Jesus felt some of his power transfer to someone. That split second changed her life in two ways. For not only did he give her the power of health. He also gave her the power of a community, he called her “Daughter”. Not someone undeserving of his time and healing, but rather, someone who could reclaim her family and friends. Contact with people, not being shunned, and having total strangers cross the street to avoid her. For 12 years she had been searching for health, for some way to restore her life. And Jesus healed her, welcoming her to the family of God because of her faith.
In the same way, Jesus proceeded with Jairius to his house. And there they found everyone mourning the daughter. And even laughed at Jesus when he said she was not dead. So Jesus sent out those who had no faith, those who had laughed, and took the girl’s hand and healed her.
Healing two different females. Do we always know when we need healing? Can we step back and look at our life? Are we surrounded by those who laugh at us, instead of being filled with faith? Are we reading books, listening to music or watching TV filled with negative thoughts? Healing is not always physical, it may be a family that is strained, a community that is hurting, an addiction to chocolate, the internet or money. Perhaps we need to learn to balance work and family. And perhaps realizing that in the past, our prayers for healing, meant healing what we want and when we want it. Our idea of healing and God’s may not be the same. To open our hearts and minds to God and to listen to him. Life and death, having riches, being poor, being a non person, having authority. Faith, and hope. Knowing to give of our riches, when to ask to be healed. Filled with God’s love, walking in His path, lifted up by Him. Amen.
This sermon is based on Wisdom of Solomon 1:13-15; 2:23-24, Psalm 30, 2 Corinthians 8:7-15, and Mark 5:21-43. An audio version of the sermon is available here.
In the name of the Father, Son and Holy Spirit. Amen.
Good morning. For those of you I have not met, I am Susan Peyton. I’m a member of Emmanuel, and taking classes with the ultimate goal of becoming a deacon. One of the requirements is to do an internship at a church other than your own. So my thanks to each of you for providing a church community that has welcomed me. Also, please remember that any mistakes are my own.
The Wisdom of Solomon, Paul’s second letter to the Corinthians, Psalm 30, and a portion of Mark’s 5th chapter. Four readings, themes that are woven together. Life and death, those who have much, those who have nothing, being healed, or maybe being saved. Complete opposites joined together with their faith. Faith in the one they can touch and see, Jesus. And faith in the God they cannot see.
Our first reading, the Wisdom of Solomon. A book we rarely hear, but even the name speaks of strength of character. How often these days do we refer to anyone as truly being wise? God granted Solomon wisdom. God gave each of us many gifts, including wisdom, but do we use them? Do we follow the moral compass he has granted us? And we hear that God delights in the living, not in anything destructive or poisonous. Yet we make choices that may be destructive to ourselves, to others, to our community. God created us as a community to help those less fortunate – our personal actions, our attitudes towards others – part of how we are judged. Our path with God endures, if we have the strength, the wisdom, the faith to follow Him.
Last weekend I was in New York city with 91 Girl Scouts. Two buses representing those who have, and those who have not. Those who have traveled around the world, and those who have never traveled out of Virginia. And there were two visible reminders that portrayed those with faith, and those who had the strength of character to literally give their life for others. The Statue of Liberty: for thousands of immigrants, a symbol of hope. A symbol of faith for a better life. Thousands who faced death in the depths of ships filled with disease, bugs, little food or water. Faith that leaving their entire family, they would find streets paved with gold. Only God knows the names of many who perished at sea, on Ellis Island, or once in America. Ironic that to visit the place where many had only the clothes on their back, we and our belongings were x-rayed. Turns out my bandage scissors in the first aid kit were not allowed. The day before at the Empire State Building they simply held them for me, and returned them to me once I finished my visit.
The second, a new symbol of faith, dedicated to others, and hope – the 9 11 memorial. Two square pools located where the twin towers stood. Filled with water that flows towards the middle. The middle a square void, where we cannot see the bottom. Perhaps the pit the writer of our psalm referred to. The heroes that when faced with an excruciating decision, gave themselves to help others.
Next, A psalm of thanksgiving, Psalm 30. The writer deeply believes in God. And I saw a bit of myself in him. Life is good, things are going fine, a bit of confidence knowing that other people have health issues to worry about, but not him, not me, not us. Normal blips in the road, but nothing big. Not that I thought I was above everything, simply not too concerned. And then a health crisis, for the writer of this psalm, bringing him to the brink of death. While he was faithful before, now we see a bit of bargaining. Um, God. You know I believe in you! And if something happens to me, you’ll lose one of your strongest believers. As long as I’m around, I’ll be telling others of my faith, too. How many times do we think about bargaining with God? I’ll read my Bible every day, and I’ll pray twice a day, and go to church every Sunday. And I won’t argue with Doug, and, and, and. God knows that our intentions are good at that moment. And he also knows chances are slim to none that we carry thru with those bargained for intentions. But God is beyond the bargaining. We cannot predict when things do indeed fall into the pit, and there is no hope. Likewise, we won’t know when someone will be saved. And we need the balance of good and bad to recognize God’s hand in our lives. When we are saved from the depths of despair, or ill health. And the last 36 hours have shown what we do in what our consumer culture might perceive as a crisis. If you’re in Staunton Saturday morning, you still have Farmer’s Market. Good food, good music, good company. If you’re in Staunton and 95% of the people don’t have power but the Mall does, there still won’t be people in the mall. And if you’re in Staunton and Walmart is open, it looks like the day before Christmas. People buying ice, coolers, batteries, fuel for camp stoves, flashlights. Perhaps, people giving thanks to God that they could buy ice and save the food in their freezer. Perhaps, folks working at Walmart giving thanks for another day’s wages to help pay the rent. Perhaps, we all need a perceived crisis to remind us what is important. A time to rest, to stop working, family time, no electronics. A community that rejoices when someone is healed, a community that prays when someone is ill, the joy of a child’s smile, God’s grace as we face hardships and good times, giving thanks forever.
And Paul’s second letter to the Corinthians. Hmm. Perfect lesson for stewardship Sunday. How did that get into here. The Corinthians, just like the writer of the psalm, they have a good life. And Paul has to remind them, Christ was rich, yet became poor for all of us, so how do we use those riches? Give of our riches to others -for the Corinthians, he wanted them to give to some of the poorer churches. For us, sometimes prayer is what we can offer, or a ride to a doctor’s appointment, visiting someone who is grieving. Not giving to end up depriving ourselves, nor to be greedy. What prompts our giving? Gratitude to God, a way to honor others, to help those in need? I used to be in banking, and had a customer who would overdraw her account. She listened to every word her pastor said, and kept giving more and more to the church. It was hard for me to explain that overdraft fees would decrease her funds, and limit even more her giving to the church. She wanted to give, beyond her capacity, and I wondered if her pastor even knew that. Do we look at our budget after the payments for internet, cable, the cell phone, eating out, vacation, gifts and say these are necessities, now I can look at what I can give away. Or do we look at our gross income and say God is good. I have been blessed with a wonderful life, I should share my blessings, not to compare against others, simply to know I have done what is right.
In an ironic twist, I thought about the Diocesan financial reports. It lists each parish in the diocese, their annual pledge and how much they have given. And all I could think of was how it proves how human we are, when consciously or unconsciously we might be comparing ourselves to other parishes.
Finally, the Gospel of Mark, a pair of stories on healing. Jairus, a leader of the synagogue – someone with power, a house, family and friends, obviously at least one child. Respected in his community, a man desperate to save his daughter. I think he would give anything to save her. And his faith led him to Jesus, to beg him to come and heal his 12 year old girl. Then suddenly, there appears a woman with no name, literally a woman with nothing. Her health issues cause her to be considered unclean. She has consulted doctors, spent everything she had. She lives on the outskirts of society, so she would have no family, no friends, probably no way to earn money, no community. All she had left after 12 years of being shunned was her faith. Faith that if she touched Jesus’ garment, she would be healed. Faith that led her thru a crowd she normally would not enter. When she touched his cloak, an amazing thing happened. She knew immediately that she was healed, and Jesus felt some of his power transfer to someone. That split second changed her life in two ways. For not only did he give her the power of health. He also gave her the power of a community, he called her “Daughter”. Not someone undeserving of his time and healing, but rather, someone who could reclaim her family and friends. Contact with people, not being shunned, and having total strangers cross the street to avoid her. For 12 years she had been searching for health, for some way to restore her life. And Jesus healed her, welcoming her to the family of God because of her faith.
In the same way, Jesus proceeded with Jairius to his house. And there they found everyone mourning the daughter. And even laughed at Jesus when he said she was not dead. So Jesus sent out those who had no faith, those who had laughed, and took the girl’s hand and healed her.
Healing two different females. Do we always know when we need healing? Can we step back and look at our life? Are we surrounded by those who laugh at us, instead of being filled with faith? Are we reading books, listening to music or watching TV filled with negative thoughts? Healing is not always physical, it may be a family that is strained, a community that is hurting, an addiction to chocolate, the internet or money. Perhaps we need to learn to balance work and family. And perhaps realizing that in the past, our prayers for healing, meant healing what we want and when we want it. Our idea of healing and God’s may not be the same. To open our hearts and minds to God and to listen to him. Life and death, having riches, being poor, being a non person, having authority. Faith, and hope. Knowing to give of our riches, when to ask to be healed. Filled with God’s love, walking in His path, lifted up by Him. Amen.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)