Wednesday, July 29, 2015

July 29, 2015

You give them something to eat.
Jesus, Mark 6:37a

The Daily Office gospel reading for Tuesday of Proper 12 in Year Two comes from Mark and recounts the feeding of the 5000.  Other than the Resurrection, this is the only miracle story that appears in all four gospels.  The above words of Jesus appear in the synoptics, and they are implied in John.

A lot of the time we read a version of this story, or we hear it read on Sunday when it comes around in the lectionary cycle, and we immediately tend to gravitate to the miracle itself.  Were there really only five loaves and two fish?  Were there really 5000 people (more if you count women and children)?  Maybe it was the miracle of sharing rather than Jesus actually multiplying the loaves and fishes.  Why were there only twelve baskets-full picked up?  Why and how seem to dominate our thought about this story.

But as I read this story at Morning Prayer yesterday (Tuesday), I was struck by these words of Jesus:  You give them something to eat.

The disciples immediately protested.  We can't feed all these people with only this!  They need to go into the towns and buy food for themselves.  It would take two-hundred days wages to buy food.  The disciples only had two words running through their heads when Jesus spoke that sentence:  We can't.  Those two words come from a belief that we don't have enough resources, that we don't have enough money and that we need to worry about ourselves first.

We have the same concerns today.  We don't have enough resources.  We don't have enough money.  We need to worry about ourselves first.

As we read this story, though, Jesus tells us something different.  Not only do we have enough, but it is also apparently our job to care for those who come to us.  We do have enough.  Nobody is turned away.

But to move from scarcity to abundance, to move from inward thinking to outward thinking, to move from, 'We can't,' to, 'We will,' requires that proverbial leap of faith.  It is hard to consistently look at what we don't have, or what we think we are missing, and begin to see that as enough.

We do have enough.  We have enough resources.  We have enough people.  We have enough faith.  We have enough with what we have on hand to take it up, offer it to God, and distribute it to those around us.

We need to focus more on what we have than on what we don't.  And when we come to understand that we do have an abundance of resources, then it won't be so frightening when Jesus says, “You give them something to eat.”

Amen.

Wednesday, July 22, 2015

July 22, 2015

A soldier asked Abba Mius if God accepted repentance.  “Tell me, my dear, if your cloak is torn, do you throw it away?”  He replied, “No, I mend it and use it again.”  The old man said to him, “If you are so careful about your cloak, will not God be equally careful about his creature?”

We generally like our stuff.  After all, that's why we have it, because we liked it to begin with.  Of course, some stuff was given to us; but the majority of our stuff came from us.  Have you ever noticed that when we really want something we would prefer to purchase it ourselves rather than receive it as a gift?  Or is that just me?

We tend to get attached to our stuff.  Some of us get overly attached to a particular pen on our desk.  Some of us love our cars and care for them deeply.  I served on a volunteer fire department once that had in its jurisdiction a man with a classic car collection.  We had standing orders to let the house burn and save the garage.  If you need an example of this kind of devotion, make your way to the Classic Car Show in Grants Pass this weekend.  And I should probably get a new Prayer Book, but red duct tape works wonders.

Whether we care for our stuff out of a sense of passion and devotion, or whether we care for our stuff because we want it to last, or whether we care for our stuff because we choose not to be part of society's throw-away mindset, the operative words there are, “we care for.”

Abba Mius used the image of a torn cloak to make the point that, if the soldier cared for a piece of cloth – just some stuff – enough to mend it and continue using it, would not God care for one of his living creatures enough to help it mend and be of continued use?  We are more valuable than a piece of cloth.  We are more valuable than stuff.  We are more valuable because we were created from the boundless, and boundary-less, love of God.

I received a request to sign a petition this week from a Christian group determined to force a repeal of a variety of recent government actions granting equality to LGBT people.  They are intent on stopping what they see as a threat to Christianity and America.  There is no sense of love in that petition.  There is no sense of caring.  There is only hateful outrage that they are being required to share their equality with people they don't like.  And that's sad.

It's sad because they choose to not recognize other people as people, just as “others” who need to be stopped and/or eliminated.  It's sad because what they care for is maintaining their superiority, not other human beings.  It's sad because they can't see God working in any way other than through their own agenda of exclusion.  It's sad because they can't see the love of God manifested in people who happen to be different from them.

More than anything else, it's sad because this group of Christians view LGBT people as less valuable than a piece of cloth, stuff not wanted in the first place, whose only value is in the trash.

How do we care for our stuff?  How does God care for his stuff?  If we aren't caring for others with at least as much devotion as we care for our stuff, or if we are part of a group who sees other people only as useless stuff, maybe we need to rethink why that is.

Amen.

Wednesday, July 15, 2015

July 15, 2015

Come away to a deserted place all by yourselves and rest awhile.
Jesus, Gospel of Mark, 6:31

Those words uttered by Jesus come shortly after he was rejected in his home town where he could do no deeds of power.  Those words come shortly after Jesus sends the twelve disciples out into the surrounding villages to preach the gospel, cast out demons and heal the sick.  Jesus and the disciples have been busy.  Jesus and the disciples have had to deal with handling pressure and people in a variety of circumstances.

After the rejection, after the mission, after the constant demands of their time, Jesus calls the twelve to a mini retreat – “Come away to a deserted place all by yourselves and rest awhile.”

There are days (or weeks if you read the previous Wednesday Word) where things seem to constantly crush and wear you down.  Whether it is coworkers who constantly try your patience, family members who treat others in less-than-loving ways, small outside projects that turn into major overhauls sucking out the joy, or a seemingly never-ending litany of interruptions, complaints and problems with no answers, at some point we begin to feel like we are, or have, come to the end of our proverbial rope.  And it seems like, despite all of the gadgets designed to make our lives simpler and easier, our lives are actually getting more complicated, frenzied and stressful.

We are told over and over in hymns and pithy sayings of one sort or another to “follow Jesus.”  For many people that involves trying to love our neighbors, turn the other cheek, feed the hungry, clothe the naked and speak for the voiceless.  And those are all good and holy things to do, or strive to do.  But too many of us miss out on hearing these words, “Come away to a deserted place all by yourselves and rest awhile.”

I have a book on my shelf called, Too Busy NOT to Pray.  It was written by Bill Hybels, founder and pastor of the original mega-church, Willow Creek in Chicago.  While I don't necessarily agree with his theology, churchmanship or methods, this book is a good reminder that, no matter how busy we think we are, we need to commit to times of prayer.  We need to remember to not get caught up in the busy-ness of life and remember to participate in the business of spending time with God.

Where are you in your life?  Do you have too many commitments wearing you down?  Do you have too many people trying to get a piece of you?  Is the clutter of life in general keeping you from participating in the presence of God?  We all get there.  We all have “those days” or “those weeks.”  There are times when we all wonder what we are doing this for.

If that is you, take time to slow down.  Take time to pray.  Take time to do a spiritual inventory.  Take time to follow Jesus.

Come away to a deserted place all by yourself and rest awhile.

Amen.

Wednesday, July 8, 2015

July 8, 2015

It's just another manic Monday.”
The Bangles

On Sunday, June 28, the Fifth Sunday after Pentecost, Proper 8, the gospel passage from Mark was the story of Jesus going to the home of Jairus to heal his terminally ill daughter.  On the way there, Jesus was interrupted by a woman who had touched his robe in an attempt to be healed of her chronic bleeding.  Jesus eventually arrives at Jairus' house, but only after the girl has died.

One of the two areas I preached on was the idea of holy interruptions.  How do we deal with interruptions?  Can we learn to see interruptions as grace-filled moments?  Can we use them to express God's loving presence?

This past Sunday, July 5, the Sixth Sunday after Pentecost, Proper 9, I preached on where we are able to hear and see God at work in the world around us.  The people of Jesus' home town were not able to hear or see God at work because they thought they knew who Jesus was.  They thought they knew what he had to say, and they couldn't see him for anyone other than who they thought he was.

In that sermon, I asked how we heard the word of God being preached and where we might see God at work in the world about us.  What I didn't say was, “Maybe we need to listen more carefully, and look more closely, at how God is being revealed in the world.”

Between Sunday, June 28 and Tuesday, July 7, I have had ample opportunity to live into these ideas of holy interruptions and looking for God in unexpected places.  Last week I met with parishioners after the Sunday services.  On Monday I assisted people with gas and emergency lodging.  On Tuesday I gathered with others for the Men's Breakfast, had a lunch meeting and met with two people regarding visa issues.  And on Wednesday I met with a parishioner and spent a good amount of time following up on the visa issue.

This past Monday and Tuesday I worked with a family member about her deceased father, dealt with someone referred to me for help with a bus ticket (and was also dealing with other legal issues), fielded yet another request for financial assistance, spent 11:45 p.m. to 1:15 a.m. with a self-destructive person who had too much to drink, delivered the man from yesterday to the Greyhound terminal and spent the rest of the day in a form of intervention with said recovering alcoholic and another mutual friend at the hospital working out a productive plan for life.

It has been a busier than normal week.  And the question remains, “Can these interruptions to my life be grace-filled moments, and can I hear and see God working through those same moments?”

I hope so.  I hope the man on the bus was able to see the face of God in my effort to help get him home.  I hope the woman looking for a visa extension can see God working through perseverance.  I hope the parishioners and the fallen alcoholic can hear God speaking through me.  I hope they all see God caring for them through my actions.

More importantly, I hope I can see all that has transpired as not just another manic Monday, but as grace-filled moments where God is present and working in this very messy and broken world.

Amen.

Wednesday, July 1, 2015

July 1, 2015

All too quickly we feel and resent what we suffer at the hands of others, but remain indifferent to the suffering we inflict upon others.”
Thomas a'Kempis, The Imitation of Christ, Book 2, Chapter 5

When I first read this, the first thing I thought of was the quote from Jesus: “Why do you see the speck in your neighbor's eye, but do not notice the log in your own eye?”  It's all too easy to point out the faults of others while ignoring or rationalizing our own faults.

That was the first thing I thought.  But, as I sat with it, I realized that this wasn't really what Thomas was saying.  It went deeper than that.  It goes deeper because, while Jesus' words challenge us to exam our own faults before we criticize the faults of others, these words of Thomas begin to remind us of the suffering we cause to others.  Thomas wrote these words at the earliest in 1418.  He was ahead of his time by approximately 580 years when, in 1998, an updated Confession of Sin appeared in the supplemental liturgical resource Enriching Our Worship 1 with the words, “We repent of the evil that enslaves us, the evil we have done, and the evil done on our behalf.”

For some of us in our modern American society, we are accustomed to getting what we want when we want it.  This is reflected in small ways in our expectation of being served at a restaurant promptly, or being politely waited on at clothing stores while we purchase the items we want, or being able to fill our refrigerators with fresh produce, or taking everyday activities for granted.

But when we don't get our food fast enough, when the clothes and food we want are unavailable, or when someone else is granted the right of equal access for something we thought was our privilege, too many of us make the claim, “It's not fair,” or make claims of persecution.  In reality, we are not being persecuted and it is fair; it's just that we would rather see our own inconvenience and “suffering” instead of the inequality and suffering done to others by, or on behalf of, us.

And this goes well beyond quick, inexpensive food and clothing items.  This also addresses a variety of privileges we take for granted but are often unwilling to grant to those who differ from us.  A certain group of people can expect to be served and purchase basic items without question, while another group of people are unable to purchase those same basic items because of income inequality, lack of availability, or are refused services based upon “deeply held religious beliefs.”

There seems to be a (unfounded) belief that granting equal rights to “them” means fewer rights for me.

At its very worst though, it shows up in the actions of Dylann Roof and the recent unidentified arsonists, who are so afraid of granting people of color equal access to the various privileges they themselves enjoy, that they are driven to kill people and burn churches.

Will we continue to believe we are being persecuted when others are granted the same rights and privileges that we ourselves enjoy?  Will we remain indifferent to the pain and suffering inflicted on others, either by us directly or by others “on our behalf?”

These words of Thomas a'Kempis, and the words in the aforementioned Confession, should give us pause and prompt us to open our eyes to a world fallen short of God's will that there is no partiality.

Amen.