What’s in a Name?
Matthew 3: 13-17
August 29, 1999
It seems right on this day that we celebrate “Kick Off Sunday,” on this day of young people’s registration. On this day when we begin the boys’ and girl’s choir. On this day of beginnings, we start with baptism – the Sacrament of new beginnings.
When I was the age of some of you (and it was around this time of the year) after school, the kids in the neighborhood would get together to play baseball or sometimes softball. The way we often started was that two people, usually the best players, would take a bat, and each would put his hand over the other until they came to the end, and if you could swing the bat over your head, without dropping it, you had first pick. (Have you ever done that?)
Well, I’m going to tell you a secret. I was a terrible baseball player, and I was usually the youngest playing. As each person was picked, and my name was not mentioned, I always felt terrible. Then they would get to the dregs (maybe a few girls, and a few skinny underage youngsters) and one of the captains would say, “I’ll take Douglas, you can have the rest.” You can imagine how I felt trotting out to right field, hoping no one would hit a ball out my way.
But today is a different kind of day from that. At least it’s different for these people who are going to be baptized. It’s not like the captain of a team calling out your name when one is left. It’s more like being chosen first. We are declaring that these people have been chosen and they are important members of the team. In this service, these people are given a name, and it’s not Roger, or Suzie, or John. The name is the same name as Jesus got.
Do you remember what happened when Jesus was baptized? We just read it. The sky opened up, and a voice from on high spoke. And the voice said, “You are my beloved. I am well pleased with you.” That’s the name God gave Jesus – “Beloved.” Wow, it wasn’t, “Oh well, I’ll take Douglas.” But, “You are my beloved. I am well pleased with you.” So, what is in a name? Our real name, the name God knows us by, is “Beloved.”
The message this morning is that you can’t earn your name. You can’t win it like a prize. You don’t even deserve it. Nothing these people have done or will do makes them good enough to be chosen. It’s a gift from God. We receive our name, and it’s “Beloved.” We’re forever stamped with that name.
Have you ever noticed, when someone is born, the family gathers around and they say funny things like, he or she looks like the father’s or mother’s side of the family. He’s got his grandfather’s coloring or his aunt’s nose, or his mother’s hair. My son Matt had a baby boy a few years back, and he was a redhead. Now, no one in the Douglas or Santley family ever had red hair. And this little baby didn’t look like anyone we could think of. It’s as if he came out stamped with a sign saying, “I’m different. I’m special,” And you know what? A few years later, they had another baby, and he too was a redhead. It’s as if these two children belonged to some other family. Well, today, we are stamping on these people’s foreheads a stamp saying these kids were made in a different place and are a part of a different family. Do you get my drift? We’re making them different. I put on a shirt the other day it had written on the label, “Made in China.” That was its stamp. Well, after these people are baptized, we’re going to say “It doesn’t matter who you look like, what color your hair is, whose ears you have, because you are stamped, marked, “Made in Heaven. And your name is ‘Beloved.”‘
Several years ago, there was a musical that came out called Man of La Mancha. It’s the story of Don Quixote, who is a strange, crazy man. He goes around tilting at windmills. Well, Don Quixote meets up with a scullery maid. She’s a kind of loose woman of the streets. Her name is Aldonza, which isn’t a very pretty name. But Don Quixote keeps calling her by a different name, “Dulcinea.” (The sweet one – the loved one.) And with her new name, she begins to be transformed.
This morning we are going to baptize some people. And we’re going to call them Bill, Mary, Sue, that’s the name their parents chose. But God will come to know them by another name, like the woman in Man of La Ma7Lcba. God will call them beloved, forgiven, accepted, the one I love. And like all of us, these people will have a beginning today. A beginning where we, the community, acknowledge their specialness to God, their origins from God, and their destinations toward God. For their real names will be “Beloved”
Amen
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Back to Basics
Mathew 16: 21-27
August 29, 1999
In the church’s calendar, this is the fourteenth Sunday after Pentecost. It is not a particularly dramatic moment in the church year, and it is totally overshadowed by the fact that this is also the Sunday after the opening of the Arizona football season. Now that is a date that we can really get our teeth into.
On the Sunday after the beginning of our football season, the coaches are talking about getting back to basics. Blocking, tackling, and running are on their mind. So, in the spirit of the season, I would like to talk to you about some of the basics of our faith. I want to briefly say something about God, Jesus, and the church.
First, about God. Many people in and out of the church have come to the conclusion that there is a God. People have figured out that if there is a creation, there must be a creator. And many non-church people have found some sort of pattern in the universe. Therefore, they are willing to conclude that there must be some hand that shapes it all. But after this step, trouble begins to brew. The next question often raised is, ‘What kind of a God is it that fashions our world?” For some, whose world is pretty secure, this God is all about peace and joy, and goodness. These people often come to church to give thanks to God. But for others who are less fortunate, homeless, or are victims of hatred or deprivation, they have come to the conclusion that if there is a God, he is indifferent or irresponsible, or maybe even downright cruel. They often absent themselves from church. The data on God seems too confusing and unpredictable. We often feel lost and hazy in an attempt to make sense of this God. When we come to church, preachers attempt to tell us that God understands our confusion and therefore has given us a hint. The church word for that hint is revelation. We know that God is beyond our understanding, but we have a hint in Jesus. As Jesus said about himself, “When you have seen me, you have seen the Father.”
All of this sounds really good, except that the Jesus we often are shown has been distorted or made complicated and theological to fit our prejudices. Well-meaning preachers have tended to confuse our picture of Jesus. It’s as if when we come to church, we are looking to learn about the simple multiplication tables, and we are handed a lecture on quantum physics. And we often walk away saying, “Yes, I believe in Jesus. I just don’t know what I believe about him.”
But today we’re going back to basics. And in order to do that, I would share with you three things I have learned along the way about Jesus.
First, whatever else Jesus was, He was a human being. He wasn’t God dressed up as a person. If that were the case, God would have been play-acting, and all the suffering and agonies would have been unreal, a show, and not worth talking about.
No, Jesus was human, just like you and me. Which means he was not in control of the events around him. In today’s Gospel, we see that He sensed that he was headed for trouble in Jerusalem, yet there was little he could do to change the feelings of the religious leaders who resided there. We often think or hope that doing God’s bidding will make us content, successful, or happy, but it didn’t work out for Jesus, for he couldn’t alter the course of some events, and neither can we. God reveals to us that even Jesus was unsuccessful, for he was as vulnerable as we are to events and people.
Second, Jesus didn’t have all the answers to life’s questions. He gave no philosophical explanations to why there is pain and suffering. He was never able to explain the nature of evil – why evil sometimes triumphs on the throne and goodness ends up on the gallows. He didn’t have neat answers to a lot of questions we raise today. You must always remember that many of the issues that we face in our post-industrial age were not part of the thinking of a first-century Jewish man. Even though Jesus didn’t have many answers, this didn’t stop him from growing and expanding as new situations presented themselves. A case in point was his encounter with a Samaritan woman at the well. Male Jews of that day did not talk to women in the streets, and certainly not to a loose-living Samaritan woman. But Jesus did, and through that dialogue, He changed his understanding of God’s love. It’s not so much that Jesus provided us with answers. Rather, we were able to see that He was able to risk struggling with difficult questions of his day. We can also see that as he struggled, he grew as a person, which should give us all hope to struggle with the difficult issues of our day
The third thing I’ve learned about Jesus is that he wasn’t very interested in doctrines or rules, or in being particularly pious. Beliefs and morals have their place. We need to have certain rules, certain boundaries, if we are to live together. This is why the Ten Commandments make sense, even today, when so many people think that anything goes as long as you feel good.
For Jesus, the only rule that had total validity was the rule of love. Others are helpful, but without love, all the regulations, all the habits of piety, all the sacramental rites, all the biblical studies, don’t amount to anything but wasted motions. Loving and being loved, this was at the heart of life.
These, then, are some of the basics about Jesus that I learned later in life. Now, you might be asking (at least I hope you might), how can we learn more about this enigmatic hint of God? And a quick answer might be, “Come to church.” Watch out. We preachers are always slipping in commercials.) But seriously, I’m more interested in warning you that coming to church will not necessarily do it. Jesus and the church are not the same thing. The church is where Jesus hangs out. But this wildly, inclusive, loving, risk-taking person is a far cry from the exclusive, status quo Christianity that often characterized churches.
For centuries, the church has been telling people that God does not love them unless they were baptized, belonged to a particular denomination, understood the Bible according to specific interpretations, and lived in certain ways. And this just isn’t true. When the church does that, it is wrong. It has become a distortion of Jesus. And when it acts in this way, we have to remind ourselves that the church is not Jesus. Yet, we have to say that the New Testament writers saw the church as an extension of Jesus’ life. He said it himself. “When two or three are gathered in my name, I will be in the midst of them.” So, however we may distort the picture of Jesus, this is where we will encounter him.
Well, there you are. Some of the things I’ve learned through the years about God, Jesus, and the church. Some of the basics that often get misinterpreted or misunderstood. Even in the church, we forget whom we have come to meet. Even in the church, we often begin to think we are the creators, and God is our creation.
During the summer, I read a book of meditations by a wonderful, feisty, Roman Catholic nun, Joan Chittister. In one of the chapters, she shares a little parable. “Sister Rachel had a dream”, she starts off. “There was a great mail-order catalogue from heaven. In it, you could order Jesus by mail. Jesus came in two kinds. One in a long golden robe, with a Godlike, serene, holy look in his eyes, and lights emanating from his ethereal-looking body, and another in a blue robe, with a pointed hat that had written across the words, The Answer Man. In this dream, you could send off for the Jesus of your choice. There was, however, a catch. You never got what you ordered. Instead, you got the real thing.” And this, Chittister suggested, is what made sister Rachel’s sleep so restless. Pray in the months to come that we may be made restless and be presented with the real thing. In the months to come, may we gain an understanding of God, Jesus, and his church.
Amen -
Covenant or contract?
Joshua 24 verses one through 2
John 6 versus 60 through 69
August 27, 2000
when our children were young, we used to travel from Connecticut to South Carolina in the summer time. The drive with four young kids was anything but peaceful. Back then there was no air conditioning, cassette players nor, television for your car. We were truly in the dark ages. And so, we often had to rely on the parents oldest and most effective weapon, bribery.
There was a place about midway on our Rd. South called Pedro, South of the border. This was a kid’s dream and a parent’s nightmare. It was a motel that had everything from firecrackers to kiddie rides. Whenever we got within 100 miles of the place, our kids would begin to lobby to go.
I can remember 1 summer when the boys were fighting in the back seat Plus we had animals ear to ear. As we approach Pedro’s we were handed a piece of paper. It said, we the children of Roger and Peggy agreed to the following, no arguing, no fighting, no loud noises from the back as long as mom and dad agree to going to Pedro’s. That they had each of their names and there was a place for us to sign.
Even at a young age, children understood contracts. As adults we do this with mortgages, leases, bank loans and everything that involves contracts. They give expectations and consequences. They are part of our everyday existence.
Our Old Testament lesson it’s about the contract that the people of Israel had with God. It’s a little more serious and binding than keeping children silent in the car. Nevertheless, it contained some of the same elements.
This morning I want to look closely with you about your contract with God. What does it mean? How it gives your expectations of him? And what are the consequences?
For most of us the contract we started early in life, is quite simply, although not necessarily written down anywhere but it is well understood. We bank on it, and often build upon it. The contract for most church people is to go to church, provide a few prayers, give a little money, and in return we expect God will protect us from illness and other bad things.
The real problem with this crude contract is that it seems to me that any help we receive from God of us to lead normal happy lives and almost by definition I do not include events and events beyond our control and therefore we feel he’s protected us.
But the only time we look closely at our contracts other than when the preacher asks, is when something happens. We learn that we have cancer, our job gets terminated, we receive a call from the middle of the night from our child. It is then that we begin to cry foul. We feel cheated and we say God has not lived up to his agreement.
I know some people, and I’m sure you do also, who were good churchgoers, church school teachers, regular volunteers who we no longer see. Some event occurred that breached their agreement. The contract that you worship me and I’ll look after you was no longer valid. They left the church, left their faith and because of what I’ve often called the growing number of church alumni.
But it’s not the agreement that is invalid. Suppose it’s our understanding of the contract. Suppose we don’t have a contract, but instead a covenant that is dependent on ourselves. Let’s just admit that life remains unpredictable and yes even perverse. As the scripture reminds us that rain falls on the just and the unjust. In other words, rainfalls on church picnics just as much as it falls on mafia long parties. Lightning strikes church halls as well as pool halls. Neither faith nor good works, nor church attendance, no matter who I am or what place the matter what me think our contract is not about circumstances it’s not a contract where God says if you will be faithful or good I will protect you.
This covenant we have it’s not your normal compromise of a continuing relationship. It’s not an insider’s tip, a peek behind the curtains, a continuation with the future with God
our covenant with God doesn’t say pray and stay out of the hospital. It’s more of a gift than an enslavement. It’s not a way out of damnation, it’s an invitation to what ifs and what is to come and an invitation to live and walk and be with the dancing God
. Jesus tried to walk in the covenant. Most of the people wanted a contract. They wanted an ironclad guarantee of success. They wanted to be first into heaven. Instead they were told of a covenant where they would walk with God. They were told that even in the valley of the shadow of death, God would not desert. The covenant is the knowledge that God is by our side and that we may dance together into the music of the ages.
We may not agree with the covenant or you may want to rewrite another clause into the final draft unfortunately that’s not possible. All we have signed is the bear covenant. The choice is whether we affirm or deny the reality.
Good people, you may not like what I have said this morning. But it seems to me, better to live with the painful truth than to continue in a lie. In the splashing of baptism, in the sharing of bread and wine, in the coming together to hear the word of God, there’s the music of what is and what is to come. We can hear it this morning. We can enter into it. We can even dance to it The covenant is what God offers to his people. Amen -
Welcome to the Revolution
August 24, 1997
I want to welcome you back on this special day – this day of new beginnings – this day when we come together to make a fresh start for the fall and winter season.
My text for this day comes not from Holy Scripture, but rather from the pen of the great Christian mystic, Mechthild of Magdeburg. He writes in his journal, “How should we live . . . Welcoming all.”
But first, let me set his words into context – the big picture. I would ask you to consider that we’re at a special time in the life of our church. But even greater than that, we’re at a special time in the life of the world. We’re at a time of radical change, a new millennium where, in order to “welcome all,” we have to radically change our way of doing business.
This summer, I picked up a book by Tom Peters, the management guru. He starts off by saying, “There’s little doubt that the times are crazy, and getting crazier. Whether you’re a banker, a housewife, or a public official, the times are out of joint. And all of us are trying to cope with an insane world.”*
So welcome to the revolution, where everything is being called into question. Where the foundation of the world is crumbling, and even the process of “welcoming all” is not as easy as it used to be. Even the church, that bulwark in a mixed-up world, is a different animal from what it was when we were younger.
Some of you who have been going to the 7:45 a.m. service during the summer will have heard this. Last month, I went to the General Convention in Philadelphia for a few days. I sat down at a luncheon next to a woman, and we talked about how the convention had changed, about how we were going through a revolution. In a voice filled with frustration and anger, she spoke of remembering how former conventions had been “a wonderful, pleasant gathering of old friends.” Then she looked me in the eye and said with feeling, “Before the new Prayer Book, before the ordination of women, before the acceptance of homosexuals, we had a darling little church.
Now, you and others like you have ruined it.” Well, she was right. That darling little church has disappeared, right along with the darling little communities that supported it. We’re no longer a homogeneous grouping of people who have gone to the right schools. We’re no longer the Republican Party at prayer…To be able to welcome all, we are no longer able to have. God as a hobby, and the church as a bastion against the changing world.
A friend of mine accurately identified the mood of many people who, like this woman, feel abandoned by their church. “These people,” he said, “try to escape from the world into a psychological Disneyland, where the 1990s and their deeply conflicted lives cannot be found.” The lady at the convention wanted to be in the 1950s again. She resented anyone telling her that a revolution was upon us and that we are living in a crazy world.
To survive and thrive in this crazy world, we’ve got to do as Alvin Toffler has suggested. We’ve got to reinvent ourselves. To do this, we have to be honest about where we are and where we are going. “To welcome all” is going to call for a lot more than what we are presently doing.
Can’t you imagine our generation at the Last Judgment being interrogated? “Did you feed the hungry? Did you love the downtrodden? Did you welcome all??? “No, but we balanced the budget.” “Did you take care of those who could not take care of themselves, the children, the poor, the third world?” “No, but we cut taxes.”
My point this morning is that we are personally and corporately going through major changes. These changes are going to force us to be more honest about our decisions, more honest about the implications of “welcoming all.”
Choices, that’s what it’s all about. That’s what rm going to be talking about in one way or another for the next six months. Sometimes we’re going to feel uncomfortable, for we’re going to be asking those hard questions, questions like who do we welcome, and how do we welcome them? It’s a high-risk activity, and most of the time, we hope that our choices don’t really matter. But they do-don’t they? Particularly, the choice between love and fear. Love and fear are the choices for those who are in the midst of a revolution. As the poet has said:
There are only two feelings that count, love and fear.
There are only two languages, love and fear.
There are only two activities, love and fear.
There are only two motives, two procedures,
two frameworks, two results, love and fear.
One way or another, we are challenged with choosing between love and fear. The choices tell us what is permitted and what is forbidden in these crazy times- But wait, what does it mean to love, and what does it mean to fear? To fear means to seek safety, to exclude that which may do harm. We are permitted to live our lives and construct our world in the way it has always been, the way we were taught. Trusting in the old ways, the old certainties.
To love means to take risks, to choose aliveness over comfort, to form attachments, to enter into community. And finally, loving means joining the revolution. It is forbidden to rest with the status quo. To love means to be willing to be a part of a new world where the operative words are, “Welcome to all.”
As we start our year together, I would ask you to consider choosing to love, particularly choosing to love children. And to act out that Choice by saying “Yes” to a future that includes making room for children.
I read, not too long ago, of a report on National Public Radio. I haven’t been able to shake it from my mind. A reporter covering the terrible conflict in Sarajevo happened to see a little girl shot by a sniper. The reporter threw down his pad and pencil, and for a few minutes stopped being a reporter. He rushed up to the man holding the child and helped them both into his car.
As the reporter stepped on the accelerator, racing to the hospital, the man holding the bleeding child said, “Hurry, my friend, my Child is alive.” A moment or two later, “Hurry, my friend, my child is still breathing.” Finally, “Hurry, oh my God, my child is getting cold.” When they got to the hospital, the little girl had died.
As the two men were in the restroom washing the blood off their hands and their clothes, the man turned to the reporter and said, “This is a terrible task for me. I must go tell her father that his child is dead. He will be heartbroken.”
The reporter was amazed. He looked at the grieving man and said, “I thought she was your child.” The man looked back and said, “No, but aren’t they all our children?”
Love or fear. Loving means believing they are all our children. Loving means joining the revolution where each of us is truly welcomed as Gods child.
Amen. -
“Interpreting Our Story”
Luke 12: 4-6
August 9, 1999
Jonah is found in the belly of the whale… (Jesus walks on the water and invites Peter to do the same.) Do you believe these stories? Are they true? What do they have to do with you? For the most part, we take them with a grain of salt and simply say these are myths. And by this we usually mean: a myth is a story that is fanciful, not true, and can’t be verified. But when we say that, we often miss the point. Myths do not try to tell us about events. Regarding facts, they are seldom accurate. Myths tell us about ourselves. And what they say about us is usually very true.
Myths in the Bible, as well as fairy tales (told to us as children), are there to help us interpret our present realities. And we ought to listen closely to what they tell us. Last week, John started his sermon retelling a popular fairy tale. The stone soup story helped to illuminate the Gospel passage. Today, I will try to follow in his footsteps and begin by recounting another story that you may recall from your childhood.
Once upon a time, a time that never was, and always is, there lived in a far-off land, a king and his devoted wife. Now the king and queen were much loved. They lived in a magnificent palace, surrounded by many servants. However, all was not as satisfying as it appeared. (It hardly ever is.)
We tend to look at the outside of people’s lives and think, “Wouldn’t it be nice to live like that?” Behind the facade of many people often lie untold tragedies. And so it was with the king and queen. Behind their successful life lay the specter of dashed hopes. They were unable to have children.
One day, though, a miracle happened. The queen found that she was pregnant, and nine months later she gave birth to a beautiful girl. Everybody was overjoyed. They immediately began making plans for a huge christening celebration. In that kingdom, the most important people to invite to a christening were the thirteen wise women. These women had the power to bestow upon children gifts of unsurpassing value.
As the king was giving orders to invite the thirteen wise women, he suddenly realized that he had only twelve golden plates for the banquet, which was to follow the christening. Because of this, the king made a quick decision about his scarcity problem. He told his servant to deliver invitations to the first twelve wise women encountered
Have you every found yourself making hasty decisions like that? Sometimes when we believe that we are living with scarcity, we look for quick easy answers to difficult problems.
But back to our story. The great day arrives. As the service begins, each wise woman approaches the altar, announcing her gift in ‘3£lowery verse. The princess’s baby received such virtues as a kind heart, good looks, health, and a good mind.
Finally, when the twelfth wise woman was about to approach the altar, a loud bang shook the church. Everybody turned, and a gray mist swept through the doors. Out of it appeared the thirteenth wise woman. She marched right up to the altar and said, “She will have beauty, peace, and joy. For fifteen years without alloy. But that’s the end. A spindle dart will pierce her finger and your heart. Oh red the blood and white the bed, and there’s your darling daughter, dead.”
With a loud laugh that rocked the pillars, the thirteenth wise woman swept out of the church and disappeared. It was, you may recall, the twelfth wise woman who had been interrupted, and who now proceeded to offer her gift. Although she could not change her sister’s curse, she was able to counter the results. This is what she said. “For fifteen years without alloy, she shall indeed have peace and joy. And then fall not to death but sleep. Silent, still, and fathom deep, and so the sun shall not rise upon this house until a hundred years are gone.
The next part of the story, most of you know by heart. The princess grows into a beautiful young girl, and then, by chance, the dread curse happens. She pricks her hand and falls asleep with the rest of the kingdom. One hundred years later, a handsome prince appears, and it is his kiss that awakens the sleeping beauty. The two fall deeply in love, are soon married, and live happily ever after.
Even though you knew that part of the story, you may have forgotten or never heard the last chapter. Actually, this is my reason for telling this story today. The last chapter has the king and queen sitting down after the happy couple has gone off, and they begin to reflect on what happened.
The king says how foolish his hasty decision had been. If he had been wiser, he would have ignored the twelve gold plates, and the whole mess would not have happened. If he had believed that he lived in the kingdom of abundance, he might have acted differently and here is where this fairy tale intersects with the Gospel.
The Gospel and the last chapter both speak of interpreting the times. And the queen suggests that the king missed the whole point. If he had not done what he did, had there been no curse by the thirteenth wise woman, the story could not have happened. The prince and the princess would not have found each other.
This is the heart of the fairy tale for me. Here we see two contrasting ways of interpreting life. If we are like the king, we may choose to spend our passion and energy replaying the past, analyzing our moves, figuring out what went wrong, who to blame, and where we could have done something else. If we are like the queen, we will not so much evaluate the past as embrace the present. We will not feel guilty about our past actions; instead, we will find meaning in the present events.
Jesus, in St. Luke’s account, invites us to interpret the present time. He urges us to see all the events, the tragedies, the absurdities, the good and the bad times, in a different context. He calls upon us to define life in the way that the queen did.
The Christian faith enables us to see life in a different way. But it’s a subversive way of looking at life. The vast majority of people interpret life as a “tale told by an idiot, filled with the sound of lurK.” In other words, life itself doesn’t have much meaning. It’s a great giant crap game. But then the Christian faith subversively says, “No. Life is like a love story, an affair of the heart, where we, like the princess, await God. God’s kiss, God’s embrace. And everything that happens to us is a part of that love story.”
There are many within the sound of my voice who have a tendency to keep rehearsing their past, whose past has a grip on their lives, who seem to keep repeating old patterns. Let me just say, the past doesn’t change, but the Christian faith can change our understanding of the past. By putting a new interpretation on our past, we can begin to be transformed.
A few years ago, Bill Moyers addressed the anniversary of the founding of the Peace Corps. He spoke of John R Kennedy’s contribution to its foundation, and what it meant to that generation. He said, “J.F.K. awakened me to a different story for myself.”
A different story! That’s what our faith is all about. It awakens each one of us to a different story; it sets our suffering, our longings, the good and bad experiences of life in a different context. That’s our task Sunday after Sunday. And that’s why we are here!
Listen. Hear. Understand. This love story is your story.
Amen -
“TO THE WORKAHOLIC”
Matthew 6: 24-34
August 12, 1979
This summer, I found out a shocking truth about myself: I am an addict. No, I am not a drug addict, nor am I an alcoholic. But I am addicted to something even more serious and more lethal, though it never is listed as the direct cause of death.
I discovered my addiction upon reading a fascinating book called “Confessions of a Workaholic”. The author, Dr. Wayne Oatles, coined the term ”workaholic” to describe the addictive disease that afflicts many of us.
Let me tell you about this disease because I know about it first-hand. Workaholism and alcoholism have a lot in common as diseases. Both kinds of addicts, to outward appearances, seem to be normal, average types of people. Both do the same things that most people do. Like millions of people, they work to earn a living. Or, in the case of alcoholics, they drink, as millions of people do, to be sociable.
But some people, for one reason or another, become addicted. In the workaholic’s case, he or she starts out as most people do — enjoying, to some degree, his or her work in the office or the home. They talk shop on occasion; they share their work with others and, if they are lucky, they find some enjoyment in what they do from 9 to 5.
But then, over the years, something happens. No longer is it a matter of being able to take one’s work or leave it. No longer can you leave your troubles at the office or put down your housework to go out and play. The workaholic needs his work in order to survive. For him or her, work has become a compulsion, the most important thing in life, just as drink is to an alcoholic.
They say “it takes one to know one”, and I recognized a fellow workaholic the other day when I asked someone about his vacation. He answered me in this way: ”I had three weeks of enforced idleness, which nearly drove me out of my mInd. The only redeeming feature was that I was able to take some paperwork with me. ”
I spotted a kindred soul yesterday when a woman began to tell me how she wasn’t able to say ”no” to any cause or committee or job that she was asked to do. ”After a11,” she said in a classic workaholic response, ”If I didn’t do it, who would?”
I chatted at a party this past week with another typical workaholic. The conversation began with his telling me how early he started work and how late he finished, and how sorry he was that he couldn’t spend more time with other concerns. To some, this line of talk may sound like someone seeking sympathy or making excuses, but don’t be taken in. This is a typical workaholic conversation.
If you listen intently, you can spot the symptoms of a workaholic fairly easily. The terrible thing is that there are so many of us addicts around. We come in every size and shape, and are found in every conceivable line of work, in and out of the home.
The great tragedy of the Christian faith at least the Americanized version, is that it has made the disease into a virtue. American Christianity has enthroned the value of work. A religious aura has been placed around work, and we have called it the Protestant Work Ethic. But it is not confined to Protestants; the sponsors of the disease under the religious banner are aggressively ecumenical. Our models depict Calvin as a hard-driving lawyer, Luther as an untiring writer, Isaiah as a 60-hour-a-week temple worker — and Jesus, the ultimate symbol, as a success-oriented (God help us), work-oriented religionist.
We sometimes forget that Jesus began His public ministry by going to a wedding feast. And He ended it by sitting down for supper with His friends in an upper room. In between, He found time to eat with Zacchaeus and visit the home of Mary and Martha, and even made time for a picnic with the multitude on the side of a mountain. There is almost as much evidence in the Gospels of Jesus cultivating a sense of leisure as of His working to convert and heal people.
In our lesson this morning, we have an instance in which Jesus spoke directly to workaholics. Do you recall some of His words? Essentially, Jesus said: “Look, why are you so compulsive about your work? Consider the birds. They neither sow nor reap; they have neither storehouses nor barns. Yet God takes care of them. And consider the lilies, how they grow. They neither toil nor spin, but God watches over them.
There is great attractiveness in Jesus’ teachings if we hear them rightly, particularly if you are a workaholic. The word of God that comes to us through the Scriptures this morning is this: As Jesus tells us, you are not going to bring it off by your own efforts. Face up to it, because as long as you think you can bring it off by yourself, you are going to be worried by dread of the future. You are going to be made anxious by the specter of failure, and the chances are that you will be driven to the point of falling flat on your face. But if you can put away your fears, God will watch over you.
Walt Disney has said some wonderful things about life in his cartoons. I can vividly recall a popular, almost classic, cartoon that is in effect, an acting out of the teachings of our parish lesson. Do you remember the old cartoon about Sylvester the cat trying to escape from his enemy the bulldog? I’m sure the TV networks are still running it on Saturday mornings. The plot is always about the same.
The bulldog chases him until they come to a large pond, from which there is no escape. Suddenly, with blind faith, Sylvester takes off across the water, and the bulldog is left barking on the beach. As long as Sylvester remains un-anxious, a lily pad rises up to meet each of his advancing feet. But midway across, the cat becomes fearful. Although his feet have found support thus far, he can see no visible aid for the remainder of the trip. And the moment Sylvester begins to worry about whether the next lily pad will appear, he sinks into the water. The last scene inevitably shows the bulldog standing on the shore and laughing.
As I catch the tenor of Jesus’ message, He delivers solemn warnings that we not end up like Sylvester. He tells us not to worry about the future and not to fret about the past. He bids us to live graciously in the present.
As I watch Jesus ‘ actions in the New Testament, He models someone who has cultivated a sense of leisure, who has learned the secret of play, and mustered the ability to flow with the tide and enjoy life to its fullest.
Now, as a workaholic, I know how difficult it is to live that way and follow in those footsteps. It’s like saying to an alcoholic, “Don’t take another drink. ” Fortunately, Jesus didn’t stop there. He left us with a community in which workaholics can be supported, loved, cared for, and challenged. During the fall and winter season in that community, I hope to speak to many of the issues raised by the workaholic.
In past decades, preachers have challenged the underlying assumptions of their day. At certain times in history when comfort and enjoyment were the ends in life, preachers questioned the assumption expressed by the saying, “Eat, drink, and be merry, for tomorrow we die.” Today we challenge the words, “Work, worry, and get ahead, for your time is very short.”
And the words we hear this morning are the words that challenge the underlying assumption of our workaholic society, which says, ”Work, worry, and get ahead.” The words of Jesus say the opposite. So listen, and ponder, and inwardly digest the words from our lesson that tell us: “Fear not, for the Father will give you all that is sufficient. ”
We began this sermon by saying that workaholics are very similar in some respects to alcoholics. The disease of alcoholism can be stopped– and so can workaholism. It can be stopped, it can be handled, it can even be cured, with God’s grace. I would like to end this sermon with a prayer that is often used by alcoholics, but also can speak, and speak powerfu11y, to those of us who are workaholics.
Let us pray:
God grant us the serenity to accept the
things we cannot change,
the courage to change the things we can, and
The wisdom to know the difference.
Amen -
Hebrews 11: 8-16
Matthew 5: 43-45
July 4, 1993
If we were to look back over the years of American History, as we well might on this national holiday, I don’t think there would be many here who would conclude that we are living in the best of times.
In fact, on a continuum between the best and the worst of times (to now from Dickens), I would place us somewhere on the downside – on the worst side of the equation.
It is true we’re not in the midst of a war. And there doesn’t seem to be any national crisis. But yet, if we reflect on our history, we might realize that we began with a dream of creating a heaven on earth, of alabaster streets, of plenty for all, of welcoming the sojourner. And now we live in a nation where city streets are littered by the bodies of the homeless, a fifth of whose children go to bed hungry if they are lucky enough to have a bed. And we’re quick to turn away foreigners as undesirables.
it is true – there have been other bad times in our history. Generally, though, in other bad times, we Americans seemed to have retained some sense of who we were – and where we were headed. What makes it so frightening today is that there seems to be no sense of national purpose. The American Dream is nowhere articulated.
Some of you here are doubtlessly thinking that this is no way to speak to a congregation awaiting an ice cream soda. But possibly, just because we are anticipating fun and parties, we ought to stop for a moment and reflect on the American Dream of the past
So what made this nation great? What is unique about this country of ours? What is the myth that has surrounded us all these years?
Two hundred and seventeen years ago, a group of people came together and believed they could establish a covenant with God and with each other, a covenant that would embrace people from many places and persuasions into an inclusive community of love.
The keyword in this vision is covenant. Let me remind you that a covenant is different than a set of laws. Laws tell us the right and wrong things we can do. And a covenant is different than a contract. A contract spells out procedures so that things can get done. A covenant is about relationships. It’s about how people see each other and themselves. It’s about communion with one another. This is why we talk about marriage, to give an example, as being a covenant, more than a contract or a legal entity.
The founders of our country believed we had a covenant with Almighty God and with each other. This was the heart of the American Dream.
Through the years, we have lost much of our religious underpinnings of the covenant. We have talked more about a social contract and our vision saw ourselves as the great melting pot of the world. That image was symbolized by the words below the Statue of Liberty: “Give me your tired, your poor, your huddled masses yearning to breathe free.” That image has recently been severely tarnished as we’ve turned our backs on Haitians, Cubans, and Central Americans.
So, what has replaced the melting pot as a national metaphor? What has taken over from our understanding of covenant?
Soon after college, I had the privilege of working on the Lower East Side of New York City. This was an amazing community. Wave after wave of immigrants came here to live out the American Dream. The Irish, the Italians, the Jews, the Blacks, and the Hispanics all settled into this small section of New York City.
There were lots of fights and problems, but it was a zesty and exhilarating community. Even with the tensions, and there were many, there was an undeniable sense of community. Not so today, I am told.
The melting pot which we cherished in the 40s, 50s, and 60s has now, as someone put it, become a salad bowl. We are no longer one nation with a vision of being inclusive. We are hyphenated people. You are either an African-American, Asian-American, Hispanic-American, or Anglo-American. The salad bowl puts everyone into little boxes. We have moved from a sense of oneness to a philosophy of “separate but equal.” And where we label everything – from food to clothing – as ethnic, that is, if it doesn’t conform to our own hyphenated category.
We’ve come a long way from our Gospel, which says to do more than love your own kind, even love your enemies (those that are different). Today, the covenant of love that Matthew describes has been replaced by a contract that keeps the salad bowl understanding going, but still divides people into good people and bad people – enemies or potential enemies and friends. The salad bowl philosophy doesn’t have its roots in the Beatitudes – it has nothing to do with a covenant. The salad bowl grows out of a paranoid, contractual understanding, with exclusivity as its basis.
I read with interest that the Battle of Gettysburg will be re-enacted again this weekend, 130 years after the original battle. It reminded me of the scene of the 50th anniversary of the battle that I saw a few years ago. The old men came back one summer day, Confederates and Union veterans, to commemorate the occasion. The most moving part was the re-enactment of Pickett’s Charge.
The old Union soldiers took their places among the rocks on Seminary Ridge. The old Confederate soldiers took their places on the farmland below. After a while, the Confederates started to move forward across the fields where half a century earlier so many of them had died. They were not holding rifles and bayonets – instead, there were canes and crutches as they made their slow advance toward the ridge. As the Confederate troops got near the Union line, they broke into one long defiant rebel yell. Then a remarkable incident took place – a moan, a sigh, a gigantic gasp of disbelief rose from the men on Seminary Ridge. Unable to restrain themselves, the Yankees burst from behind the stone wall and flung themselves upon their former enemies. Only this time, unlike 50 years earlier, they did not do battle. Instead, they threw their arms around each other. Some in blue uniforms, some in gray – the old men embraced one another and wept.
What the old men saw for a moment – 50 years later – was that the great battle was great madness. The men who were advancing across the field of Gettysburg were not enemies. They were fellow Americans – human beings like themselves. What they saw was that beneath the fear and hostility and misunderstanding that divide this country into a salad bowl, there still remained a covenant a relationship which made them all one.
On this 4th of July, we too have an opportunity to renew our covenant with God and with each other- to be Sons and Daughters of our Father in heaven – to keep faith with our ancestors.
This is a day to recommit ourselves to the covenant where old enmities are swallowed up, and we learn to live as one. Remember the goal of the covenant is communion with God and each other – a relationship of love.
So come forward in a short while and receive Holy Communion – and renew your covenant. And who knows? – We may still catch a glimpse of those Alabaster Streets.
Amen -
Series on Forgiveness
Genesis 1:8:20-33
Luke 1 : i-13
July 26, 1992
Scripture is not only instructive for our religious life. It can also teach us about management skills. For example, the first recorded instance of collective bargaining can be found in the 18th chapter of Genesis. The dialogue between Abraham and God that we just heard can be seen as a model for present-day negotiations.
Let me set the stage: Abraham has just entertained some people who have turned out to be messengers from God. They have predicted an amazing happening. Abraham learns that God does the unexpected. He and his wife Sarah, are surprised by God’s nature. An old woman, Sarah, who has been hagen is to conceive. An old man, Abraham, is to become the father of nations, God acts differently unexpectedly. Abraham has learned that God’s ways are not our ways.
And then we are presented by this delightful dialogue between Abraham and God. (Actually, this conversation can be seen as an internal dialogue within God or within Abraham.) The Hebrew writers heighten the sense of drama by making it a two-way conversation.
God starts the conversation by stating his anger, his disgust for the inhabitants of Sodom and Gomorrah. It’s interesting that many people have bought into the false notion that God’s wrath is a result of Sodom and Gomorrah’s sexual abuses. This simply attests to our ignorance of the Bible or our hang-ups with sex. If one reads the 18th and 19th chapters of Genesis, one can quickly identify the sin of Sodom and Gomorrah, which is a lack of hospitality, not welcoming the stranger. (But that’s for another sermon.}
Today, we focus on collective bargaining. God says “! will destroy these towns for their wickedness.” And the angels or messengers or travelers, whoever they were reply, “Okay, you’re God and you can do whatever you say.” But Abraham the negotiator says, ” Not so fast, God. Let’s talk this over. Will you destroy the righteous as well as the wicked?” I think what Abraham is telling us is that in every place, every situation, every person, there is a mixture. Good and evil lie side by side. There is something worthy of redemption in every country, every agreement, and in every human being, and therefore, one ought not to foreclose judgment too quickly.
Moving back to our parish lesson, Abraham asked, What happens if I find the righteous people in that city? Will you spare the inhabitants? And God responds, if I find 50 righteous people, I’d spare the whole city for their sake. Abraham has made the first inroads into divine justice it’s not that there isn’t judgment, but it’s highly colored by Divine Mercy. Justice and love are both virtues that are intertwined in God’s nature. No that isn’t so for the most of us. Justice and love are completely separated. We talk a lot about justice, and know little about love in this country everybody is a lawyer, knows a lawyer, or acts like a lawyer. We’re unconcerned about justice. We’ve ceased thinking about redemption, we don’t want new starts, we want are just duos and we want them now!
You know that story of the woman who was having her portrait painted. When it was finished and she complained, it didn’t do me justice! The artist replied, It isn’t justice you need, lady, but mercy. So do we all need mercy, forgiveness, and a new beginning more than justice? Judgment without mercy is like a cereal without milk. You can eat it, but it doesn’t go down well. This was Abraham’s issue in the collective bargaining. Sodom needed something more than judgment; they needed to be able to begin again. Divine Mercy and forgiveness are what bring space shoots from dead stones, a people from dog bones, babies from barren woods, redemption from a sick situation, and then new life from a crucified savior.
Looking at this dialogue in Genesis, Abraham’s negotiating skills are a delight to behold. Having established the fact of God’s mercy coming, he keeps reducing the boundaries. If you we’ll spare the city for 50 people who are righteous, how about us, 40 and 20 on downward? He’s a real bargainer. What’s the bottom line for mercy? We never really told what the bottom line is until the coming of Jesus. He answers that question by his life and teaching. The good news of the gospel is that God’s mercy is greater than all our sins. And God is concerned for each individual. I think each of us you needs to hear the bottom line message time and again. There is more mercy in God than sin in any one of us.
I can’t tell you how often I’ve heard people say, I know God is living but he couldn’t possibly accept me. I’ve done too many wrong things. Or I can’t tell you how often I encounter people who are more aware of God’s judgment than God’s love or don’t feel God is for little sinful me. Remember, remember, there is more mercy in God than sin in us. His mercy extends to every individual. He won’t foreclose on any of us. I want to finish this sermon on collective bargaining by sharing a story from the Jewish tradition.
The scene is the last judgement. You are in a courtroom and you are to be judged. Your defense counsel enters the room with a small pile of good deeds. It hasn’t been a banner year for you. He places them on one side of the scale of justice and the prosecuting council comes in with two assistants. They carry piles and piles of misdemeanors, sins, bitterness and taunts. Your howling emptiness, your darknesses, and your spikes are laid on the scales. The prosecutor says, this isn’t 110th of the evidence. They all go out and bring back more and more weighing down the scales. They are worn out by all the carryings and they take a break and go out of the courtroom. Meanwhile, sitting off to the side is an old man called Abraham. He hangs around the door of paradise because he has sworn he will not neglect the plight of the living.
While the defense counsel and the prosecutors are outside, Abraham begins to take the bundle of sin and throw them out the door into hell. It’s an exhausting job. Just as he is about to toss the last bag so that the scales will be balanced and you can go safely to heaven, disaster strikes. The prosecutor comes back in and catches the old man.
Since this is a court, the prosecutor invokes the law and asks for justice. The law says, a thief shall be sold for this theft. There is to be an option in the courtroom. The group of angels comes from heaven, and the demons from hell. Each gathers to bid on Abraham’s soul. The angels can command a great deal of merit as they have the treasures of the patriarchs and matriarchs of Moses and the prophets. They’re accumulated treasure looks wonderful, a great outpouring of love for Abraham. But the demons have more resources, the treasures and the depths of the earth. Alas, the side for condemnation gets heavier and heavier. Eventually, the prosecuting counsel says, we’ve bought him! He comes up to Abraham and takes them by the scruff of the neck and is about to throw him into the pit where there comes a voice from the throne of heaven above the court, above the law, and says, Stop, I buy him, I own the heaven and the earth. All things are mine. And should I not buy back the ones who have had such love for my people?
In that ” I buy him,” God shows us the very essence of his nature. This is the mystery of his love, of God’s mercy, and of God’s forgiveness. it isn’t that God ceases to judge our actions; it is simply that his mercy is greater than our sins.
Jesus puts it very directly. If you then who are human (tainted with sin) know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will the heavenly Father give his love, his mercy to those who seek it.
Amen -
Impressions from the Convention
1 Corinthians 13: 1-13
Matthew 25: 21-43
July 21, 1991
Sometimes a preacher preaches because he has something to say. Other times, a preacher preaches because it’s Sunday and he has to say something. I hope this is one of the former times, for I want to share with you some impressions, feelings, and understandings of the past week in Phoenix. A week that was made remarkable for me and helped me to better understand the nature of the Episcopal Church. But first, let me start with the story. A story told several years ago at an annual parish meeting by the Bishop. Some of you may remember. We were going through controversial times and I invited the Bishop in the midst of our conflict to come and be our keynote speaker. He started out with this story: once there was a synagogue. It was a very well-known place of worship. Its liturgy and music were of the finest, except for one thing period every time they said the hero Israel, which is the high point of the Jewish liturgy, they ended up in controversy. It seems that half of the congregation stood for this recital and half remained seated. If this were not bad enough, there was always a grumbling, the ones who were standing rumbling, get up get up, the ones seated saying sit down, sit down!
Eventually, there was open warfare period not only were the standees not speaking to the sit-downers, but the sit-downers were also talking of pulling out and going to another my God. The incumbent rabbi was at his wits end, and then he had an idea.
He would send for the original, founding rabbi, bringing everybody together in a big meeting, have each side describe what they did during the saying, and then ask him to decide what the tradition was. Fortunately, the original rabbi was still alive, living in retirement in a distant city. On the day of the big meeting, the get-uppers spoke of Selena with the eloquence of the prophets, using scriptural quotes and arguments from history, they ended up with the ringing words, any real Jew of course, would stand! And then the sit-downers began to explain the shape of modern liturgy, how we must capture the younger Jews, and how we show we are made in God’s image by remaining seated, there was much clapping as each person made his or her telling argument. Finally everyone turned to the old rabbi and said, tell us, ohh venerable one what is the real tradition of this synagogue? The old rabbi paused to for a moment and with a twinkle in his eye, said, this is the tradition. Some stand, some sit, and everyone fights.
Some stand, some sit, and everyone fights. That’s what I experienced in phoenix and somehow in all that confusion, I found a special vision of Anglicanism and the Episcopal Church.
As many of you know, I went to Phoenix to our National Convention, with certain skepticism and reluctance. I knew there were going to be a lot of people with passionate views about sex, abortion, inclusive language, ordination of homosexuals, race, and the environment. Somehow in mid-July, I was not looking forward to being amongst a lot of controversy.
To be even more honest with you, I was fearful that we would stumble into some premature solutions to some very difficult problems by succumbing to the alluring challenge that the world, or at least the Episcopal Church, was waiting for some word on those thorny issues. I saw the huge House of deputies, and that smaller House of bishops, as unwieldy and somewhat unlearned, you probably felt that legislation was going to answer these pressing problems of the world. The experience with legislation in the church is that although it is supposed to lead us to a deeper relationship with God, it usually turns out instead to be a stumbling block.
I was also fearful of the fights we were going to have over scripture. For me, scripture, those love letters from God, are the first words on a subject and should lead us into a deeper relationship with each other, and with the Almighty. I was fearful that people would make scripture the last word and try to use it to circumscribe God.
I’m happy to report to you that although there were heated discussions and many strong arguments put forth, we were able to come out with a reason, an Anglican approach. We were able to demonstrate to the world that we could be broad enough to seize the middle ground, and inclusive enough to include all sorts and conditions.
Abba Elon, the distinguished Israeli statesman of a number of years ago, once voiced these words, people and nations, and I would add even churches, do act wisely after they have exhausted all other possible alternatives. And I believe we did act wisely in what little legislation we did.
Somehow the Episcopal Church, as far back as Richard Hooker, or the Elizabethan settlement, has always said, you are a large enough family to include people of differing ideas, and the important thing is not a standard of orthodoxy but a common ground, a common worship, a community together with common prayers.
In the House of bishops, as they debated the sexual resolutions, it became clearer and clearer that our knowledge was initiated, that our need to be pastoral already overshadowed our need for binding legislation, and that in the last analysis, as one Bishop said, Anglicanism tends to be messy and even confusing and takes a lot of time, but at least we don’t posture to have the whole truth or the last word of orthodoxy. Saint Paul in our epistle said We see in a mirror darkly. Yes, there is divine truth, but we discern it as fallible human beings. Only God can say, This is the truth, this is the way. We human beings stumble around with dark, yet in the last analysis, it’s the loving response that lasts. It’s the loving response that is closest to God’s way. To paraphrase our epistle, slightly, there is orthodoxy, there are standards, but only love lasts forever.
I attended a dinner where Robert Bella spoke. He is one of the great historians and sociologists of our day. Doctor Bella made a ringing plea that the Episcopal Church hold to the centrist position. We are beset with extremes on both sides, he said, both sides talk of losing members. Bella asked, Why are we so concerned with losing a handful of people when there are thousands of babies dying every day, millions of homeless and poor? What we have to learn is to care and love, for ultimately, that’s God’s real concern.
In our gospel, there is an interesting point made. At the last judgment, when the sheep and the goats are separated, there is nothing said about purity of theology, about rightness of belief, about standards of ethics. It only speaks of caring. And the people are amazed, for the blessing those who gave food to the hungry and drink to the thirsty, welcomed the strangers, clothe the naked, visited the sick, and went to the prisoners. It’s only caring and love that counts, and I’m convinced that the only kind of church that represents God is one of caring.
Is the Episcopal Church such a church? It is not for me to say but I confess to you this past week I felt the spirit, moving in this old Church of ours. For I felt the primacy of love where we could disagree but do it agreeably, where we could have mutual respect even though we didn’t have mutual theologies. Where we could allow diversity to flourish and still seek a common ground, as members of a thinking, reasoning, somewhat messy family of God.
I haven’t seen what the media have written about the convention. I’m afraid they’re hasn’t been much. There were no winners in the long debates and the many resolutions set forth. But that’s the nature of our family, and for me, I learned to appreciate over and over again how magnificent A privilege it is to be in this Church of ours.
In one of his novels, Peter DeVries as one of his characters offering up a prayer. I would like to repeat it, and ask you to take it to heart as a prayer for those of us in the tradition of Anglicanism as I experienced it this past week.
Let us pray
Oh God, give us courage for our fears.
The wisdom to survive our follies and charity to bind up the wounds we inflict on one another. through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen -
A Warning to Our Country
Deut. 10: 17-21
Luke 4: 16-22
July 2, 2000
Every three years, the Episcopal Church gathers in a national convention. In a few days, we will begin our convention in Denver, Colorado. You will probably read about the disputes over sexuality, ordination, the Prayer Book, and other hot-button topics. It always amazes me that the press devotes its space to these items when so much more is going on. We are often given the impression that the principal reason the church convenes every three years is to debate sexual issues.
Somehow, I think there are other, more valid reasons to come together. And on this day, when we anticipate a national holiday, as well as our national convention, I would like to draw your attention to a theme that hopefully will be sounded throughout the convention, and hopefully as a national theme,(although you probably will not read much about it in the newspapers). It is one of sharing what we have.
Let me introduce our topic by giving you all a quiz. What subject was most talked about by Jesus and his disciples? Was it sexuality? Not very likely. I doubt if you can find anything in Scripture that Jesus said about sexuality. Was it women’s rights? Hardly. To my knowledge, there was only one incident with a Samaritan woman that Jesus clearly £louted societal conventions regarding women. Was it the Prayer Book? Sorry, that hadn’t been invented. Well, if you haven’t guessed by now, let me help. The subject that Jesus talked about most in his ministry was money. He constantly warned all who would listen of the dangers of prosperity. He told us that it could choke the work of God right out of us. He said that it was as hard for a rich person to enter heaven as it was for a camel to go through the eye of a needle.
Why do you think it was so dangerous? Was he an anti-capitalist?. Not really. Then why do you suppose Jesus spent so much time warning us about the difficulty in handling prosperity?
Why? Why, because prosperity can separate us from other people. It allows us to become blind to the rest of the world. Here’s how it often works. We re our prosperity, so we have to focus on how to keep it, rather than on sharing it; on how to get more of it, rather than on giving a portion away; on how to enjoy our prosperity, rather than on raising the difficult questions like, ‘Why don’t others have the same level of prosperity as we do?
Jesus also understood that prosperity has the power to distort one’s view of the world. We forget that not everybody is as blessed as we are. We start to think that because I have enough of this world’s goods, everybody else, if they work hard enough, will also be able to have sufficient. Jesus and the Old Testament writers knew that prosperity can blind, distort, and cut off a person or a nation, keeping them from joining the rest of the human family Jesus understood that a people can see themselves as set apart from all the troubles and foibles of the world and how this can shrivel one’s soul. Judaism as a religion understood this problem. This is why the writers of Deuteronomy, as well as the later prophets, tried to remind the people that they hadn’t always been as prosperous and as secure. Moses says to Israel in our Old Testament lesson, “You shall love the stranger, for you were strangers in the land of Egypt.” You, too, were poor, slaves, in need, so beware. If you forget your past, you may still be well aware, but your soul will shrivel, and your heart will harden.
The Jewish people were so aware of these problems that they introduced a special feast. It took place every five years. It was called the Jubilee Year Celebration. In that year, all slaves were to be liberated, all mortgaged property was to be canceled, and all debts were to be forgiven. This Jubilee Year concept was commanded by the Hebrew religion as a reminder – a reminder that all things came from God, and are ultimately owned by God.
The Jubilee Year concept was a counterbalance to the power of prosperity. It forced one to have a sense of responsibility not for what one has, but for those who have not. The Jubilee Year was what Jesus was referring to when he said that he had come to preach, “The acceptable Year of the Lord.”
I mention this concept of the Jubilee Year, not only because it’s part of today’s Gospel, but also because it’s the theme of the Denver Episcopal Convention. The Presiding Bishop (remember him in your prayers) has the toughest job in the church. The Presiding Bishop, in a tremendous attempt to keep the church focused, has declared this next year to be Jubilee Year. The convention is being asked to deal with Jubilee matters, rather than putting its energy into internal squabbles over subjects like sexuality.
Well, you might be thinking, “What does all this Jubilee business have to do with the Fourth of July, and our coming holiday?” The Fourth is a day when all Americans are reminded of their heritage. It’s a day when we feel a tug of patriotism, or as Jimmy Cagney used to say, “It’s a day when all Americans begin to bleed red, white, and blue.” It’s a day we are thankful for being an American.”
But what then is patriotism? Is it saying, “My country, right or wrong?” Is it being an uncritical lover? No – it’s loving our country and still acknowledging our faults, our flaws, and our problems as a country. The ancient Roman, Tacitus, defines patriotism as entering into praiseworthy competition with our ancestors. So why not compete with Jesus and Moses when they remind us that our task is to welcome strangers and preach deliverance to the captives, and show what we have to prepare for the Jubilee year? And why not compete with Washington and Jefferson as they declare their interdependence with the whole world, welcoming the poor, the hungry, the destitute from many lands?
And why not become responsible for more than the Gross National Product? Why not realize on this national holiday weekend that our prosperity, our abundance, can be a stumbling block to our joining the human race, and that a Jubilee Year can be the beginning of real greatness for us as individuals, as well as our country as a whole.
When our forebearers stood with few resources and powerful enemies, they reached backwards for great truths. They looked to Scripture to guide them through perilous days. And the words of Jesus were a solemn warning to them of the dangers of prosperity. They used this warning as they formed this country, knowing they too were immigrants.
The warning has been sounded. Do we join the human family, or do we hold on to what we have? Hold on to our comfort zones, or do we risk being thought of as mad by beginning to think in Jubilee terms? I’ve been asking a lot of questions today. Let me try one more. Are we defined as a country by our prosperity, or are we known by the way we reach out to those less fortunate? Our answer will be the legacy we leave for generations to come.
Pray for our convention as well as our nation.
Amen
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