Monday, July 29, 2013

Luke 11:1-13

by the Rev. Allison Liles

This sermon is based on Luke 11:1-13.

After a year out of the pulpit I can say with great conviction that I am excited to be here with you today. I was ordained seven years ago and served as a parish priest for six years before putting my collar on the shelf for a little while so I could focus on my calling as a parent of two small children. Presently I work part-time as the Executive Director of Episcopal Peace Fellowship and full-time as mother to Hill and Pailet Liles. Fortunately my life as a parent has proven to be equally as sacramental as my life behind the altar. While my attention might no longer be on bread or wine, I still find that I’m blessing and sanctifying things all day long: skinned knees, butterflies, altars built out of tiny stones in the backyard. I’m praying over the water in our children’s bathtub rather than that within the church’s baptismal font. My life as a priest has changed, not ended.

And some days priesthood and parenthood collide…Like the day in March when our four-year-old son asked me how to pray. During a video chat with an Alabama friend over the computer Hill heard his friend Catherine Ellis say the Lord’s Prayer, which she recently learned from her momma. Catherine Ellis knew something that Hill did not and his words to me later that night could have come right out of the mouth of the disciple from our gospel reading today. “Mommy, will you teach me how to pray like Megann taught Catherine Ellis?” And so it began. By the 4th night he had learned the Lord’s Prayer and it now accompanies all his other prayers of petitions and thanksgivings at bedtime.

This question posed by an unnamed disciple is the only time in the gospel accounts when the disciples ask Jesus to teach them something… Every other example of Jesus teaching the disciples is initiated by Jesus. It is not surprising when you think about it because prayer seems to be one of those things in which most people feel perpetually inadequate. We’re told as people of faith we need to pray, that we should pray and yet it’s one of the things we struggle the most at putting into practice. Perhaps because so many of us never really learned how to pray. We make New Year’s Resolutions, we take on Lenten Disciplines. We buy books on prayer and try to teach ourselves what we are too afraid to ask. So one of the disciples, probably speaking for most of us, comes to Jesus and say, “Lord, teach us to pray.” And Jesus responds with a sample prayer, a parable and some additional sayings about prayer that make it all seem so easy.

But prayer is not easy – it’s a spiritual discipline that requires a lot of patience and practice before it begins to feel natural. It requires that we look at our own strengths and weaknesses to find the best form of prayer that suits us. The way I pray might not be the way for you to pray. And the things that will cause me difficulties will not be exactly the same as what causes anyone else difficulties.

I took a course on prayer in seminary from a visiting professor who belonged to the Society of Saint John the Evangelist monastery in Cambridge, Mass. This Episcopal monk deeply believed that we should pray using our weaknesses so that we are more fully dependent on God’s assistance and intervention. An artist should not pray through icon writing, but instead try praying through lectio divina. A literal minded mechanical engineer would benefit from Ignatian Prayer or another form of praying through imagination. With that in mind I, an easily distracted person who enjoys being in control, tried centering prayer. For years I tried centering prayer and it took a long time before I felt it actually working. Working in the sense that I felt like I was praying. For weeks I found myself making to do lists in my brain rather than mediating on my chosen word. I felt my muscles twitch & my back itch rather than falling into complete stillness. I looked like I was praying to other people in the group, but certainly didn’t feel like I was praying. I think this might be what my son feels like when reciting the Lord’s Prayer each night. Those first few nights we talked through all the difficult words like trespasses, temptation, thy, and evil. And he memorized it quickly and now says it nightly even though it’s not yet something he believes. But praying shapes believing. Our faith is formed through regular prayer so Hill keeps saying those words…just like 9 years ago I kept at centering prayer.

Prayer is not easy – it’s a spiritual discipline that requires patience and practice but also courage, honesty and vulnerability. Real prayer is something that takes us into unfamiliar territory. We do not know how the prayer will be answered and the deeper we journey into the experience of a routine prayer life, into the experience of an ongoing intimate communion with God the more unfamiliar the territory becomes. Jesus says, “Ask, and it will be given you; search, and you will find; knock, and the door will be opened for you.” But what will be given? What will we find? What door will be opened? These answers come with time and vulnerability … not from one prayer offered at a time of existential crisis.

I think many of us avoid our routine prayer life because of this unfamiliarity. We fear we don’t know how to pray but also fear how God will respond to our prayers. And so many of us hang around in our safety zones, going no further than we’ve been before and where we still maintain control. We offer petitions. We offer thanksgivings. But we don’t ask questions, we don’t listen for answers even though deep down we know that’s what we should be doing. I struggle with my prayer life and I’m a priest. I often feel inadequate about my relationship with God. I feel a hunger to go further, to connect with God more deeply, to journey into the mysteries of God that lie beyond the end of my safety rope. But I’m scared. I know God talks to me. I know God calls me to great actions. I’ve heard and felt that call multiple times including at St John’s Norwood Parish in Chevy Chase, Maryland during my centering prayer sessions … but now I’m a wife and a mother and that voice from God is provocative and risky. I don’t always want to hear it – so I stop short in my prayers, never venturing into that unfamiliar territory.

And I think Jesus understands this hesitation. It’s why Jesus gives us a sample prayer. It’s why Jesus invites his disciples into a deeply personal relationship with God, encouraging us to call upon God using the same name he uses -- Abba, Father. He invites us as his disciples to call upon God as children call upon a loving parent, trusting that they belong to God and that God wants for them what is good and life giving. What Jesus says at the end of our gospel reading today reinforce this invitation. If human parents, with all our faults, know how to give our children gifts that are good for them, how much more will our heavenly Father give to us who ask? Praying seems risky because God’s answer is beyond our control. We do not know what the outcome of our prayers will be but are still called to trust in God’s response. Even if that response is no. Even if that response sounds risky.

Jesus calls us to be shameless in our prayers, to keep bringing our needs and our hopes to our heavenly Father, trusting that God is listening, trusting that God loves us. Establishing a regular prayer life will be difficult at first. But what’s essential in moving from nervous paralysis to competence and confidence is practice. It requires us going through the motions even when we don’t know what we are saying or when it feels awkward or when we feel like we aren’t even praying. We have to keep at it because prayer is something we learn by doing. Establishing a routine prayer life will require our honesty. Jesus’ parable invites us to imagine that, like a man confident of his neighbor’s hospitality, we should ask God for whatever we need. Prayer isn’t about saying the right words or sounding particularly eloquent; it’s about being vulnerable and saying what’s on our heart in our own words and being courageous enough to hear God’s response. We just have to do it. We don’t have to be “good” at praying for God to hear us. There are neither prayers that are too small nor are there wrong ways to pray. There are no wasted prayers. So however you pray be it contemplative or corporate, silently or aloud, with words or deeds or disposition, trust that God is eager to hear and receive and respond to our prayers because there is, I believe, nothing more that God wants than to be in relationship with us –all of us – and for us to flourish in this life together and with each other.

Monday, July 22, 2013

The Word of the Lord

by the Rev. John D. Lane

This sermon is based on Amos 8:11-12 & Luke 10:39.

The time is surely coming, says the Lord GOD, when I will send a famine on the land; not a famine of bread, or a thirst for water, but of hearing the words of the LORD. They shall wander from sea to sea, and from north to east; they shall run to and fro, seeking the word of the LORD, but they shall not find it.

[Martha] had a sister named Mary, who sat at the Lord's feet and listened to what he was saying.

Hurricane Katrina hit New Orleans and the Gulf coast of Mississippi nearly 8 years ago. Thinking about such storms brought to mind the following story which you may already know:

A big storm was coming to a low-lying area, and people were warned they should evacuate. Almost everyone heeded the warning but one man, Rick, who had ridden out a number of storms before, refused to go. A few hours later as the water began to flood the road, a sheriff’s deputy knocked on the door, “It’s time to leave. The storm is coming for sure, and it’s gonna be a bad one. Come with me while I can still drive out of here.”

          “Thanks, but I’ll stay. I have faith; the Lord will protect me.”

A few hours later, the water had come up to the second floor balcony of the man’s home, where he stood watching the sky. A rescue team came by in a boat. “You need to leave now. Get in the boat, and we’ll take you out of danger.”

          “Thanks, but I’ll stay. I have faith; the Lord will protect me.”

A while later, the water had risen even higher, almost to the top of the house, and Rick was standing on the peak of the roof. A helicopter was flying low over the area, and spotted him below holding on for dear life. A rescue worker came down on a rope, and said, “You’re the last person still here. Your house will be entirely underwater in a short time. I’ll hook you on to the rope and you’ll be pulled up into the chopper.”

          “Thanks, but I’ll stay. I have faith; the Lord will protect me.”

The waters rose, the house disappeared below the surface and washed away. Rick drowned. He went to heaven, but he was really mad when he met Saint Peter. “I had total faith in you. I’ve trusted in you completely since I was a young boy. A big flood came, and I prayed for help, and what happened? Nuttin’! That’s what!”

Saint Peter said, “Well, I don’t know what happened either. We sent a police car, a boat, and a helicopter, and you drowned nonetheless. What went wrong?”

Prayer can be answered in a variety of ways, by a variety of means. We pray to the Lord for help, and he may delegate the responsibility to someone else. In the same way, the word of the Lord can come to us in a whole assortment of ways.

Many people turn to the Bible to discover the word of the Lord. It is, however, a long book, and different people get different things from it. There are moving and profound stories and passages in the Bible, but they often don’t have as much effect as music. A particularly wonderful hymn can bring tears to my eyes. A particularly awful hymn can also bring tears to my eyes, but for a different reason.

The time is surely coming, says the Lord GOD, when I will send a famine on the land; not a famine of bread, or a thirst for water, but of hearing the words of the LORD. They shall wander from sea to sea, and from north to east; they shall run to and fro, seeking the word of the LORD, but they shall not find it.

[Martha] had a sister named Mary, who sat at the Lord's feet and listened to what he was saying.

Mary was lucky. She was able to sit quite literally at Jesus’ feet, and hear every word and nuance of his teaching. The prophet Amos talks about a different reality, a famine of hearing the words of the Lord. Though a very old book, its warnings sound disturbingly contemporary. Many of us seem to be running on treadmills, overwhelmed by outside stimuli and unable to filter the important from the frivolous. As Thoreau put it, “Most men live lives of quiet desperation.” Today, it might be noisy desperation. It’s important to remember, however, that Thoreau, the prophet of getting away from it all, built his cabin a half mile from his mother’s house. Sounds a little like a couple of 10 year-olds pitching their tent in the back yard.

The word of the Lord can indeed come to us through the Bible and through prayer and contemplation. I think for me it often comes through the lives of others. My parents were good people, humble people. Until my mother was unable to get out of the house, they were in church every single Sunday. They went the extra mile in their jobs and in the community. I didn’t realize it at the time, but by watching them I heard the word of the Lord. And as Yogi Berra said, “You can observe a lot just by watchin’.”

My greatest clergy mentor was the rector of the parish where I worked during seminary. The parish was in Spanish Harlem, and he was the only Episcopal priest in Harlem who lived next door to the church. Everyone else lived in Westchester County. He knew all about every member of the parish, a community of Christians made up of welfare recipients, multi-millionaires, and everyone in between. It was a very special place, and the Reverend Frank Voelcker was the one who made it special. He was gay, which has affected my position on such issues ever since. Look and listen to the word of the Lord.

Our son Andrew provided many life lessons for the rest of the family. We prayed a lot. We didn’t get what we prayed for, but we did come to recognize Andrew as our special blessing. By his life he taught us the word of the Lord. And Bizzy who devoted her life to taking care of Andrew taught me a lot about God’s love.

We both have been inspired by a special friend who has been around for over 100 years, Mary Artis Dennis. I’ve never heard her say anything mean about anyone. Now there’s a lesson for all of us. Call it the word of the Lord.

And speaking of Dennis, many of us were touched deeply by the life of Dennis Case. As someone wrote in the Trinity Tribune, Dennis had an unusual way of ending a telephone conversation. He just hung up. When I was reminded of that in the Tribune, I thought his life ended suddenly. Like one of his phone calls, there was no goodbye.

The Christian faith emphasizes incarnation, and that includes those who bring us the word of the Lord through their lives, transparently lived in front of us all. Think back on those who have influenced you. And don’t forget to take a look around. You might have been sitting at Jesus’ feet without realizing it.

Monday, July 15, 2013

Love is Messy Business

by the Rev. Shelby Ochs Owen


“And when the Samaritan saw him he was moved…”

Most of you have heard this Good Samaritan story a bazillian times. And if you haven’t heard this story you have at least heard that phrase, “the Good Samaritan.”  In our culture it has come to refer to someone, a stranger, who has stopped to help a fellow stranger in need.  

This story within a story begins with an encounter between Jesus and a lawyer.  Luke says that the lawyer wants to test Jesus. “Teacher, what must I do to inherit eternal life?” And ever wise Jesus says for the man to look at what is written in the law. Isn’t that what a lawyer should do? The lawyer goes on to read the same words we say each Sunday, “You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your strength and with all your mind; and your neighbor as yourself.”  But wanting to justify himself, he asks Jesus, “And who is my neighbor?”

To be fair, lawyers are trained to be precise, informed with the facts, equipped with debate skills, bent on justice, and to be rule followers.  The question is a fair one, the lawyer wants to know exactly who his neighbor is so that he can follow that law, follow that rule, get control of the situation. Cross that “t” and dot that ”i”.  How many of us have a bit of this lawyer in us? Seeking refuge in rules.  We often want to know what precisely it is we have to do to be accepted by God, want to know what the rules and boundaries are for us to be a part of God’s kingdom. How many of us find ourselves wanting to justify ourselves in our behavior.  Just what is the minimum daily requirement of ways we are to love our neighbor?

And then rather than give the lawyer a clear, clean, precise, black and white answer, he tells a story, which is so often Jesus’ M.O., his modus operandi.   Jesus understands human nature well enough to know that the black and white answer just pings off of us like hail on a windshield.  And the story answer can often penetrate our psyches in deeper and more meaningful ways.

A man has been left for dead along the side of the road, a road that is dusty and deserted and probably pretty scary place as it was known for robberies. Two men, a priest and a Levite, who one would EXPECT to help, for whatever reason, choose to ignore the wounded man (doesn’t it figure these are the clergymen?); and then a Samaritan actually sees the man, stops to help him and goes the extra mile to make sure he is o.k.  A Samaritan?  “So what?” you might think. A Samaritan is a good person, right? Well, reverse the tape two thousand years and you would find that in this first century Palestine world, the Jews hated the Samaritans and they had hated them for centuries.  The Samaritans were despised and unaccepted.

No doubt the lawyer, who is bright and perceptive enough, must have been disturbed to hear this twist in the story.  Instead of Jesus being tested by the lawyer, the lawyer is tested by Jesus. He flips the understanding of the lawyer who wants to affirm the law as the gospel to the gospel as law; Jesus turns away from the measurable and precise to something beyond measure, something beyond rules.  Jesus takes him beyond a black and white, two-dimensional answer and offers the multicolored, multi-layered brilliance of Godly love instead.

Jesus invites the lawyer to a new understanding of the ways of God that involve the human heart, that involve human action. We don’t know why the clergymen ignored the wounded man but whatever the reasons, in doing so they protected themselves, kept themselves safe and closed off to the one in need.  By ignoring the wounded man they may have kept themselves ritually clean.  When the priest and Levite walked to the other side of the road, they shielded themselves from the messiness of the situation.

Maybe it’s because he grew up on a farm but my husband doesn’t mind getting his hands dirty.  He will pick up an interesting slug on the sidewalk in a heartbeat, will drink the water in a strange lake, he will reach out and touch weird fungi growing on the ground. Not afraid of getting his hands dirty.  He would do well on the show “Dirty Jobs.”

The Samaritan was willing to get his hands dirty for the sake of love. He came near the wounded man, saw him, and was moved with pity; he went to him, bandaged his wounds, having poured oil and wine on them, put him on his own animal, brought him to an inn and took care of him. One giant act of kindness. The Samaritan was willing to let the man in need touch him.  He allowed himself to be vulnerable and to risk his own discomfort for the sake of love for the wounded man. No doubt at the end of the day the Samaritan was dirty, bloody, sweaty, tired and had less money. This love thing is messy business! Nothing neat and tidy about it.  And yet by entering into love we are entering eternal life! 

To truly love and to be loved we must allow ourselves to be vulnerable. When one helps a neighbor there is vulnerability on both sides.  It is risky to ask for help, risky to receive help and risky to give help.  Only in vulnerability and humility do we see a need for one another, a need for God.  We are confronted with folks in need every day, family members, friends and strangers. We can choose to see them as a burden, an imposition, an interruption or we can choose to see them as human beings, the face of Christ. It won’t always be clear as to the best ways to help them.  Just as most of us don’t pick up slugs off the sidewalk we must use discernment when we act out of love!  We have to figure out the best ways to use the resources God has given us.

So roll up your sleeves, risk your own ritual cleanliness or your pride to show a little love in this world. Lord knows the world needs your kindness, needs your willingness to gets your hands dirty. This world is crying out to experience the multi-colored, multi-dimensional  love of God through YOU – you, through your smile; you, through your kind word; you, through sharing what is in your wallet; you through your prayer; you, through your presence.  Allow God to use you!

Amen.

Sunday, July 7, 2013

The Spirit in the Simple

by the Rev. Dr. Paul S. Nancarrow


Naaman, war leader of Aram, was in an intolerable situation. In our First Testament reading today, Naaman is a person of great importance. He has the favor of the king, he gives orders to thousands of troops who trust his strategies and obey his commands without question, he wins great victories and inspires fear and respect in his enemies. Naaman is a person of consequence in the world as he perceives it.

And Naaman apparently is accustomed to being a person of consequence. He expects the people around him to show him the proper respect and deference and fear. He is used to giving orders and having them obeyed. In the game of posturing and posing and throwing one’s weight around that was a staple of politics in Naaman’s day – and in ours, too – in the art of being important, Naaman is pretty darn good. And he expects everyone around him to recognize that he is pretty darn good.

But – Naaman has leprosy. Now the biblical word we translate “leprosy” here was in fact used to name several different skin diseases, not just the Hansen’s disease we today name “leprosy”; so we can’t be entirely sure just what kind of skin condition Naaman has. Nevertheless, in the ancient world skin diseases were very bad news: whether Hansen’s disease or not, “leprosy” was considered highly contagious and difficult to treat: which meant that people who had it were typically isolated, quarantined, outcast, and they could look forward to a long, painful, lonely deterioration and death. Naaman doesn’t seem to be at that stage yet: he’s been allowed to keep his wife, and his household, and his servants, and his job – so he’s not yet a total social outcast. But I imagine Naaman is not very welcome at the royal court; the king and the nobles probably don’t want to be too close to someone they think is contagious; people might respect him but I doubt they want to be near him; all of which means Naaman probably does not get to enjoy the perks and prestige that are properly due his position. And for a man of Naaman’s pride and self-importance, that must hurt a lot. And he knows it’s only going to get worse. For all Naaman’s power, here is something he can’t control; for all Naaman’s ability to defeat the enemy on the battlefield, here is an enemy he can’t overcome; for all Naaman’s expectations of heroic consequence, here is something that cares not a bit for his stature and his prestige and his self-importance. Naaman, war leader of Aram, finds this an intolerable situation.

And it is into this intolerable situation that God sends healing grace. A slave taken on a raid into Israel tells Naaman about a prophet, a mighty man of God, a wonderworker, who is to be found in Samaria (at that time the capital of Israel), and who could certainly cure Naaman of his leprosy. So Naaman goes to his king, and gets a letter of introduction to the king of Israel, and puts together an entourage befitting a dignitary of his importance, and brings a gift of gold and silver and festive garments – the lavishness of the gift being another sign of his prestige – and Naaman goes off to Israel to be healed. He expects to arrive at the royal palace, and have the king come out to meet him, and summon forth the wonderworker, who will lead a ceremony of great pomp and circumstance, and call upon his God, and wave his hand over the infected spot, and cure Naaman in the sight of all the people – thus proving once again that God gives Naaman great victories, that even disease cannot become Naaman’s enemy and survive.

But of course that’s not what happens. When Naaman arrives in Samaria, the king there has no idea what’s going on – he thinks the whole thing is a pretext to pick a quarrel, an excuse for starting a war. Elisha, the miracle-worker, isn’t even there – he’s not at the palace, he’s at his own house. And when Elisha gets word of what’s going on, he doesn’t rush to the palace himself, but he sends a messenger to say “Send Naaman to my place, and I’ll see him.” And when Naaman gets to Elisha’s house – presumably a place far less important and far less consequential than the palace – Elisha doesn’t even come out in person, but sends a servant to tell Naaman to go wash in the Jordan River seven times. Wash. No ceremony, no pomp, no circumstance, no waving of hands, no public miracle. Take a bath. And in the Jordan: a small, unimpressive mud-ditch of a river, nowhere near as magnificent as the Abana and the Pharpar rivers Naaman knows in Damascus. If all Naaman has to do is take a bath, he might as well have stayed at home. This is certainly not what Naaman had expected. This treatment by Elisha only adds insult to the injury of his leprosy. It’s more than Naaman can take! So, in a fit of pique, Naaman turns on his heel and is about to leave for home, writing off the whole stupid journey as a bad idea.

And that’s when one of Naaman’s servants, perhaps a foot soldier, speaks up and addresses his commander in a way he might never have dared before: “If the prophet had asked you to do something hard and difficult and heroic,” he says, “you wouldn’t have hesitated. Why not do something simple, and see if it works?” And for once in his life, Naaman puts aside his pride and his privilege and his grandiose expectations – and he goes to the Jordan, and he washes, and he is made clean.

The thing I love about our First Testament story today is the way it shows God using very ordinary means to accomplish extraordinary ends. Something so simple as washing in a river becomes the channel through which God’s creating and re-creating and healing energy can enter Naaman’s life. Things so simple as the ordinary, everyday activities of living can be the openings for God’s grace to come into our lives. But at the same time, this story shows how we have to be ready to perceive God’s grace, how we have to be open to recognize God’s extraordinary presence in the midst of ordinary things. Naaman has to cut through his pride and his self-importance and his expectations before he can receive healing in the simple act of washing. And we often have to set aside our sense of privilege, and our conviction of our own importance, and our expectations – our grandiose or our anxious expectations – if we are to be open to God’s healing and shalom and well-being offered to us in the simple gift of each present moment.

And that ability to set aside our sense of busy-ness or importance or expectation in order to attend to God in the present moment – that’s something that can be learned. It’s not just a talent of the spiritually advanced, but it is a skill, a discipline, a practice of faith that you and I and anyone can begin and develop and grow in with experience. So I invite you to do precisely that; I invite you to adopt and develop that practice in this coming week. Every day this week – maybe even several times a day – take a moment when you’re right in the middle of something and pause, mentally step back from whatever it is you’re doing, disengage from the sense of urgency or busy-ness or attachment that the moment seems to demand, and just ask yourself “What is God doing right here, right now? What movement or energy or inspiration is the Spirit drawing forth from me in this particular action? What moment of love or healing or justice or compassion or joy is God creating with me right now?” Try this spiritual exercise: in the middle of doing some ordinary thing, put your expectations aside and be open to the extraordinary grace God is giving you just then. If you make that a practice of prayer, I can bear witness it will release some amazing energy into your soul.

When Lee and I were in Wisconsin last week, we stopped for a couple of hours at the International Crane Foundation outside of Baraboo. The Crane Foundation is not a very big place; but they house there individuals from all fifteen crane species in the world, some of them quite endangered; and they are doing remarkable work to restore a migrating population of Whooping Cranes in North America. As we were walking around the crane enclosures, we came to some Blue Cranes, which I’d never seen before. Blue Cranes come from southern Africa, and they are smaller and more delicate than most cranes, and they have long tail feathers that give them a dignified and elegant look. It was fascinating to watch them as they moved about their enclosure, looking for food, observing the humans observing them. They weren’t in a hurry, they moved with a kind of simple slowness – and as I watched them, I could feel my mind slowing down, too. The stress of driving through traffic and rain that morning, the urgency about getting to our B&B by the time we’d said we’d be there – all that kind of faded away, and I was just there, watching the Blue Cranes. And in that moment, in that extended now, I felt a great gratitude, a deep joy that such beautiful creatures and such beautiful moments could be. I became aware of the gift God was giving me, and that awareness changed the rest of the day.

That was the moment of God I found when I looked for it. What will you be looking for? What moments will you take to set aside expectations and to attend to God? What ordinary actions will open up for you into extraordinary grace? And if we practice such attentiveness this week, what practice might we grow into in the weeks to come?

Naaman, war leader of Aram, found healing by cutting through his expectations and attending to the extraordinary energy of God flowing through ordinary human action. The Good News for us today is that we can do that too, we can make that a pattern of our prayer, we can make that a practice of our faith, we can let that be healing for our lives. Amen.