Month: June 2013

A Sermon for the Fifth Sunday after Pentecost
– Year C – June 23, 2013
David H. Knight, Priest Associate

Drop thy still dews of quietness, til all our strivings cease;
take from our souls the strain and stress, and let our ordered lives confess
the beauty of thy peace, the beauty of thy peace
                                                              (Hymn 653, Words: John Greenleaf Whittier, 3rd stanza)

“As many of you as were baptized into Christ have clothed yourselves with Christ. There is no longer Jew or Greek, there is no longer slave or free, there is no longer male and female, for all of you are one in Christ Jesus. And if you belong to Christ, then you are Abraham’s offspring, heirs according to the promise.” 
                                                                                                                                              -Galatians 3:27-29

The readings for this Sunday present you and me with a profound question.  It is this: To what extent is our sense of who we are shaped by our baptismal vows and our ongoing commitment to those vows, and to what extent is our sense of who we are determined by other factors that might distract us from these vows?  In Paul’s letter to the Galatians he reminded the Galatians that they were to find their identity in Christ alone. He encourages them to understand themselves as heirs of God’s promise to Abraham, a promise that that in his descendants all the nations of the earth would be blessed.  It was a promise that would ultimately encompass the life, ministry, death and resurrection of Jesus Christ. It is our union with Christ at our baptism that gives us our identity.  At baptism, our sponsors, if we were small, or we ourselves as adults, confessed the lordship of Christ over all creation.   We promised to put our whole trust in his grace and love. We promised to strive for justice and peace among all people, and to respect the dignity of every human being. The implications of those promises are far reaching into all facets our lives.  It is when you and I live our lives in the context of our baptismal vows that we live ever so much closer to experiencing the promise given to Abraham and his offspring. Daily, you and I are given the opportunity to live according to these promises we made.

 Try as we might, though, there are many distractions that confront us on a daily basis, some of which find their way to us and some of which are the result of our own doing.   How often we become bombarded and even overwhelmed by distractions from many directions clamoring for our attention. Pressures at work, our relationships with others that can be complicated, our worries about things whatever they may be can all be distractions.  We see in so many situations in which people face serious differences how a “we” and “they” dynamic becomes how it works. The nightly news provides us with evidence of how there are factions in government, and among nations, and among people at every turn.  And in the Church over the centuries we recall all the controversies that have taken place.  There are to this present day controversies where different groups within the Church claim to be in the right making it necessary, of course, that others be wrong.  All this is nothing new.

 Paul, in his letter to the Galatians was writing about the various divisions in the early church that were distracting people from the vows they made at their baptism.   He writes to remind them that as they were baptized into Christ, they are all one in Christ.  All differences become subject to Christ.  There is no longer Jew or Greek, there is no longer slave or free, there is no longer male or female for all are one in Christ Jesus.  What he wrote to the Galatians in that day speaks to us in our day. 

Over the years working in this life of parish ministry, with all the goodness I have seen and experienced and the vast majority of what I have seen has been good, it has never ceased to amaze me, however, how on occasion what can divide people in a church and how we can behave, or misbehave, to be closer to the truth. I am reminded of what a Lutheran minister once said about being the pastor of a church.  He said it’s like being a stray dog at a whistlers’ convention—so many voices coming from so many directions.  Those voices at times can be harsh and unyielding, even unkind toward one another. We have seen, for example, controversy over integration, the present prayer book, the ordination of women, sexuality, the exchange of the peace, even the new hymnal when it came out. It seems that people’s views about what happens at worship has often brought out some of the strongest voices of disagreement. I’m reminded of the question once asked, “What is the difference between a liturgist in the Episcopal Church and a terrorist?”  The difference, as you might imagine, is that you can negotiate with a terrorist. 

 And then what comes to mind, of course, is another matter that has had an impact on the life of the Episcopal Church and the wider Anglican Communion, one that has caused much painful division over a number of years.  As the litigation draws to a close and property has been rightfully restored to the Diocese of Virginia, we can be grateful for the outcome, yet we are mindful of the tremendous cost and distraction this all has been to our focus on the mission and ministry to which Christ has called us.  I suspect, and I pray that one day we shall look back on the turmoil in the Episcopal Church following the General Convention of 2003 and wonder what it was all about.

 God’s call to us is one of being ever open to transformation, as a culture, as the Church and as individuals, and that process of transformation never stops.

Recently I was drawn to a sermon posted on the website of the Society of St. John the Evangelist which I found helpful. Brother Mark Brown spoke of how roots of social transformation are found throughout the Bible.  The Hebrew Scriptures, he says, remind us that all human beings are made in the image and likeness of God (not just “our people”)  God’s compassionate love extends to all the peoples of the earth (not just “our people”). (1)

 That people will differ on virtually every subject at hand is a given.  How we differ will make all the difference in the world in what happens as a result of our differences. St. Paul is calling upon each of us to ask ourselves if we would rather behave as grown-ups in the room when there are differenced among us, or continue to bicker as ones who have not yet become willing to live amid our differences and yet still have respect for those among us who differ.  Paul words to us this morning provide the occasion for asking ourselves whether it is more important to be in the right or to be in a healthy, well boundaried relationship to the body of Christ amid all the differences that exist. It is our oneness in Christ that overcomes the distinctions of race, social class, sexuality and gender, our political views, or whatever may divide us.  How we differ with one another will make all the difference in the world.  Just this Friday, I was having a conversation with our own Paul Pace here at St. Mary’s.  Often before Sundays on which we are scheduled to preach, Paul will often stop by and ask us what our sermon is going to be about. As I was trying to explain what message I was trying to give with regard to this Sunday’ passage, Paul listened quietly and then he simply cut to the chase when he said so simply, “Yes, we may disagree, but we should never become disagreeable.”  I looked at Paul and I said, “Paul, that’s good stuff! You must have gotten up early this morning to come up with that. I wish I’d said that.  Indeed I shall! Indeed I shall.” “We may disagree but we should never become disagreeable.”  I am grateful to Paul Pace, our resident theologian, for his precise interpretation of what I was trying to say all along.

 The cacophony of voices of this world may shout at us distracting us from the promises we made at our baptism, yet these voices do not have the last word.  You and I can choose to listen to the views of others keeping ever in mind that we are called to be one in Christ and to be respectful of our differences.  We can declare that God claims us once again, and always as God’s own beloved, we can be heirs of God’s promise.

 Carol Holtz-Martin, in her commentary on this passage in Galatians, speaks to our own day when she writes about situations we continue to face as a nation and as a culture.  I use her words because she has said it better than I could: “In the midst of complex immigration controversies, ‘There is neither native born nor illegal immigrant.’  In a society dramatically divided by income, ‘There is neither monied nor working class nor poor.’ In a society polarized by race, ‘There are neither people of color or people of no color.’ In the season of elections, ‘There is neither Republican nor Democrat nor Independent…’ for to repeat Paul’s own words, ‘There is neither male nor female’ For you all are one in Christ.” (2)

 St. Paul reminds us that Christ alone matters.  Christ is our source of unity.  Christ is our focus.  Christ is the line of energy along which our relationships with one another are run.  For us, Christ is the beginning and he end, the cause for which we live.  You and I can choose to be mindful of these things as we relate to one another in all that we do. We can choose to be adults in the room even when there is the temptation to act otherwise. We may take with us our own Paul’s words of wisdom, “We may disagree, but we should never become disagreeable.”

 I am drawn back to the words of Brother Mark Brown who closed his sermon with these words:   “And seeing Christ more clearly in each other brings us closer  to what Paul calls the ‘mind of Christ’. Christ is the healer and he would heal our vision—so that in him we may see him. We are worthy; we are his people—even if sometimes we behave as poor sick slaves to our own petty antipathies.

 Are we worthy? He has made us so. Only speak the word and let your servants be healed, that we may see you in one another, and even in ourselves.” (3) Amen.

 (1)   A sermon by Br. Mark Brown published in Cowley Magazine, SSJE,Cambridge,MA, posted on June 2, 2013

(2)   Carol E. Holtz-Martin in her commentary on Galatians 3:23-29, Feasting on the Word, Year C, Volume 3, page 165

(3)   Also from Br. Mark Brown’s sermon

The Shame of it

A Sermon for the Fourth Sunday after Pentecost

Proper 6 – Year C – June 16, 2013

Eleanor Lee Wellford,  Associate Rector

 One of the Pharisees asked Jesus to eat with him, and he went into the Pharisee’s house and took his place at the table. And a woman in the city, who was a sinner, having learned that he was eating in the Pharisee’s house, brought an alabaster jar of ointment. She stood behind him at his feet, weeping, and began to bathe his feet with her tears and to dry them with her hair. Then she continued kissing his feet and anointing them with the ointment. Now when the Pharisee who had invited him saw it, he said to himself, “If this man were a prophet, he would have known who and what kind of woman this is who is touching him– that she is a sinner.” Jesus spoke up and said to him, “Simon, I have something to say to you.” “Teacher,” he replied, “Speak.” “A certain creditor had two debtors; one owed five hundred denarii, and the other fifty. When they could not pay, he canceled the debts for both of them. Now which of them will love him more?” Simon answered, “I suppose the one for whom he canceled the greater debt.” And Jesus said to him, “You have judged rightly.” Then turning toward the woman, he said to Simon, “Do you see this woman? I entered your house; you gave me no water for my feet, but she has bathed my feet with her tears and dried them with her hair. You gave me no kiss, but from the time I came in she has not stopped kissing my feet. You did not anoint my head with oil, but she has anointed my feet with ointment. Therefore, I tell you, her sins, which were many, have been forgiven; hence she has shown great love. But the one to whom little is forgiven, loves little.” Then he said to her, “Your sins are forgiven.” But those who were at the table with him began to say among themselves, “Who is this who even forgives sins?” And he said to the woman, “Your faith has saved you; go in peace.”

Soon afterwards he went on through cities and villages, proclaiming and bringing the good news of the kingdom of God. The twelve were with him, as well as some women who had been cured of evil spirits and infirmities: Mary, called Magdalene, from whom seven demons had gone out, and Joanna, the wife of Herod’s steward Chuza, and Susanna, and many others, who provided for them out of their resources.

                                                                                                                        Luke 7:36-8:3

It’s what happened in stories like the one we just heard from Luke that gets Jesus into so much trouble.  His actions and words are bold and daring and fly in the face of what is socially acceptable, increasing the discomfort level of everyone around him. 

The first hint of discomfort comes when we learn Jesus is dining with a Pharisee.  That’s a set up for trouble, right there.  But even more so when the woman with the alabaster jar enters the picture.  “Who does she think she is?” question some.  “How dare she be here” whisper others.  My favorite comment comes from the one who says: “She is a sinner” as if everyone else in the room is not.   

The discomfort increases when Jesus allows the woman to bathe his feet and kiss and anoint them.  That’s blatantly intimate and what self-respecting man would allow that to happen in public?  Has she no shame?  Has he no shame?

Jesus senses the discomfort of the crowd with respect to the woman’s presence and what she is doing and he particularly senses it in Simon, the Pharisee who invited Jesus to dinner in the first place.  Simon is thinking to himself that Jesus can’t be the prophet people believe him to be or else he would have known not to pay attention to the woman who crashed his dinner party.  Ironically, Jesus, the prophet, not only knows what Simon is thinking but knows full well the sins of the woman.      

“Simon”, Jesus says, “think about this for a moment.  Suppose a person owes a creditor a significant amount of money.  Then let’s say that another person owes that same creditor ten times that amount.  When the creditor hears that neither person can pay what is owed to him, he decides to forgive the debts of both persons.” 

Then Jesus asks the question: “Now which of them will love the creditor more?”  And Simon answers: “The one for whom he forgave the greater debt.”

Surprisingly, because Simon’s answer makes it sound as if love is conditional on the size of the gift, Jesus told Simon that he had judged rightly.  Jesus wanted to make Simon feel good about his answer yet at the same time jesus wanted him to connect it to his misguided criticism of the woman’s act of love and gratitude.  (New Interpreter’s Bible, Volume IX, Nashville: Abingdon Press, 1995, p 179).

It was a trap and Simon fell for it.  He didn’t realize it until Jesus began to compare the actions of the woman to Simon’s actions as host of the dinner party.  And Simon came up short as his apparent lack of hospitality when Jesus entered Simon’s home became obvious in the comparison – and in Jesus’ day that could only have brought shame on Simon. 

Luke’s story puts the character of the woman who was thought by others to be deeply flawed and perhaps not worthy of forgiveness squarely in opposition to the character of Simon who was thought by others to be a fine, upstanding man, having few sins and hardly in need of much forgiveness. 

The woman feels nothing but love for Jesus because she knows in her heart that she has been completely forgiven for whatever grievous sin she committed – and she knows that even before Jesus utters the words: “Your sins are forgiven.”  By contrast, since Simon didn’t recognize the need for his sins to be forgiven, no enormous weight was removed from him.  Therefore he didn’t feel the gratitude that the woman did. 

So, do our sins accumulate until we reach a point where we can’t stand how they make us feel?  Is it only then that we recognize our need for forgiveness?  What if our sins are just a chronic burden which we simply live with or get used to carrying around?  Can’t we almost ignore them especially if we get reinforcement from our peers that we really aren’t bad people?  And aren’t we good at rationalizing our sins to make us feel better about ourselves so that we don’t have to feel any shame?

Jesus, by his very presence, reminds us of that part of our nature that we’d rather forget.  And that only increases our discomfort level and makes us distance ourselves from him.  But his purpose is not just to remind us of our sinful nature but to offer us relief from it. 

That’s what the woman with the alabaster jar seemed to know so well.  She recognized what she deeply needed instead of succumbing to the social pressures of her day that worked to keep her stuck in shame.  Doors constantly closed in her face yet, ironically, she was able to make her way to Simon’s front door.  She slipped in quietly and reverently, without calling attention to herself and went straight for her target as a moth drawn to flame.  Her gratitude was nothing less than extravagant. 

There is an expression that states: “To whom much is given much will be required or expected.”  What if the expression instead were: “To whom much is given, much will be forgiven.”  The word “much” in the original saying usually refers to worldly possessions.  But what if “much” referred to mental anguish such as shame, regret, or unworthiness.  

I see Simon, the Pharisee, as having much in terms of worldly goods and little in terms of being aware of his own mental state.  He is the one in Jesus’ parable who believes he has only a small debt to be forgiven which is why his gratitude, reflected in his hospitality, is so small. 

I see the woman as having little in the way of worldly goods and influence and much in the way of shame and regret.  She is the one in Jesus’ parable who has the greater debt and is completely grateful to have it be forgiven.  Her response is unconditional love for the one who forgave her sins. 

So, where and who are we in the story?  I know where I am.  I’m the one whispering my judgment with anyone who will hear me about how appalled I am at the woman’s presence and at her overtly intimate actions.  I’m also wondering where Jesus’ boundaries are in letting the woman care for him so extravagantly and so publicly. 

Yet if I stepped back a moment and viewed the scene as if it had been captured on canvas and hanging on the wall of museum somewhere, I think I would be struck by the beauty of it, the naturalness of it and the pure love that emanates from it.  What complicates the scene is not what is actually happening, but that it is happening with such blatant disrespect for social customs and propriety. 

Jesus didn’t care about social customs and propriety.  He cared about love – unconditional love – and modeling that love in every situation in which he found himself.

 He also showed that the gift of forgiveness comes with that love whether we think we deserve it or not or whether we think we need it or not. 

For a few weeks, now, we have been hearing about Jesus’ travels and the people he encounters in need of forgiveness and healing: the healing of a powerful Roman soldier’s powerless slave; the healing and raising to life of a powerless, suffering widow’s only son; and today, the forgiveness of a scorned and shamed woman.  As one commentary puts it: “Jesus casts an ever-widening net to catch the people of God.  And in doing so, he changes the rules of the game” (David L. Bartlett, Barbara Brown Taylor, editors, Louisville: WJK Press Feasting on the Word, Year C, Volume 3, p 143). 

And changing the rules of the game is precisely what increased the anxiety level of the people around Jesus and what got him into so much trouble and it continues to happen.  We hardly know what to do other than be critical when those rules are broken.  We hardly know what to do with extravagant love or the power of forgiveness when it is right in front of us and has Jesus’ name all over it.  And that’s perhaps the real shame of this morning’s story.

A Sermon for the Third Sunday after Pentecost
Proper 5 – Year C – June 9, 2013

 Kim Baker Glenn
Master of Divinity, Union Presbyterian Seminary

Soon after healing the centurion’s slave, Jesus went to a town called Nain, and his disciples and a large crowd went with him. As he approached the gate of the town, a man who had died was being carried out. He was his mother’s only son, and she was a widow; and with her was a large crowd from the town. When the Lord saw her, he had compassion for her and said to her, “Do not weep.” Then he came forward and touched the bier, and the bearers stood still. And he said, “Young man, I say to you, rise!” The dead man sat up and began to speak, and Jesus gave him to his mother. Fear seized all of them; and they glorified God, saying, “A great prophet has risen among us!” and “God has looked favorably on his people!” This word about him spread throughout Judea and all the surrounding country.

                                                                                                                                  -Luke 7:11-17

It’s a great pleasure for me to be back here at St. Mary’s this morning. This is my church home. No matter where I go, I always long to come back here. Thank you so much Eleanor and John and David for asking me to preach. And thank you for inviting me on this special day as we welcome the newest member into our congregation. Every church has its own way of fulfilling the sacrament of baptism and I so appreciate the way that it’s done here; the way the child is held with such love and care and the way the child is brought close to all the rest of the members of the church in welcome. Your way of baptizing infants is as unique to St. Mary’s as DNA is to each human body. And that uniqueness is something to be treasured and held on to.

Baptism is the mark of Christ by the Holy Spirit through water. Hopefully, this is just the first of the markers of Christian identity this child will come to possess. All of us have just made a vow to sustain (her) as (she) grows up in Christian faith. Hopefully in time, (she) will have the opportunity to affirm for (her)self the baptismal promises just made on (her) behalf at Confirmation. We pray that (she) will always know (her)self first as a Christian.

But we all know that this child, like the rest of us, will be known in (her) world in ways separate from her Christianity, too. We have a social system that gives children some identification markers, too. At the moment of birth American children are given a birth certificate and a social security number. These markers follow a person throughout life. As a person grows and matures the number of identity markers grows.  The teenage rite of passage is marked by a driver’s license, with numbers and a photo. In college a person gains entry to secure buildings with a student ID card. A library card is a must. Resumes are built with diplomas and … I could go on. But I think you get the picture. Even if people don’t know a person they can know all about (her).

In my life so far, I have acquired quite a set of unique markers. I’ve orbited the sun more than 55 times so my list of markers is, let’s just say, extensive. Last week, I happened to go to St. Mary’s hospital to get an outpatient test done. (Tests are normal, aren’t they, when you’ve orbited the sun as many times as I have?) When I registered for the test, the man at the registration desk did not ask me for my social security number to identify me. He did not ask for my insurance plan number. He probably already had those. No. He took a digital scan of my right palm. After he scanned it, he double-checked it to make sure that when my palm is scanned, all my medical history is linked to that image. Is that not amazing? Thanks to technological advances the story of our lives can be reduced to a bar code, or a microchip! More importantly, even though we concoct all sorts of schemes with numbers, still the best way to identify us is by means of our own unique bodies.

Twenty centuries ago, people were identified by their physical appearance and their reputation. Reputations were spread mostly by word of mouth since most people could not read or write. In the text from Luke that we heard this morning, we find Jesus entering a small, obscure town called Nain. The news of Jesus’ healing ministry had not yet traveled to this place. This town, as it is called in the text, is probably more accurately described as a village – more like the size of a modern day Richmond subdivision or neighborhood. We don’t know what prompted Jesus’ to visit there. Most likely it was a place he would have passed on his way to the next city. The villagers there did not know about Jesus yet. It may be that Jesus had planned to stop there. Either way, scripture tells us that Jesus was accompanied by his disciples and by a significant crowd of followers. All of them had either just witnessed or heard about Jesus’ healing of the centurion’s slave. They likely would have been chattering as they walked, talking with a great deal of excitement among them about what might come next.

So there they were, approaching the gate of the little village of Nain with Jesus leading the way. As they approached they could hear the wailing and misery of the crowd that was heading out of the village on the way to bury the only son of the town’s widow. These were two crowds of people who were full of emotion. The emotion of one crowd centered on Jesus and the excitement that his presence engendered. The emotion of the native crowd centered on the widow and her grief. These two crowds were about to collide.

Jesus entered the gate first. His attention turned toward the widow. Her identity would have been clear to him. She would have been following first behind the bier that carried the body. It would be plain that he was her son, and not her husband, by his youth. She would be alone, no mourning husband in sight. The text tells us that Jesus was filled with compassion for her. Luke used a Greek word to describe Jesus’ compassion that is loosely translated as gut-wrenching. The word suggests physical suffering. He literally felt her pain and anguish. It was this widow’s suffering, not concern about dying or death that stopped Jesus in his tracks. Jesus said to the widow, “Do not weep.” Then he stepped forward and held up his hand to touch the bier that was carrying the body of her only son. The pallbearers stood still.

Now imagine this scene with me for a moment. The crowd that had been following Jesus would have stopped when he stopped. They would be facing the crowd of mourners. And the crowd following the pallbearers would have stopped when they stopped. They would have faced Jesus’ followers. The emotional energies of these two crowds didn’t disburse. It hung heavy around them like a dense fog. The clamor of chatter and wails of mourning would have ceased.

Then Jesus broke the silence saying, “Young man, I say to you, rise!” And he rose – and he spoke – and Jesus handed the young man back to his mother.

Now I don’t know about you, but that would scare the willies out of me. A dead person does not sit up in his casket and start talking. We know that, don’t we? At first, the text tells us, the crowd was frightened. Then they understood. The fact that Jesus was able to make the son rise from death was the startling evidence they needed. It assured them that they could believe it was God who was acting in their lives. They could trust that Jesus was not just another wandering Messiah wannabe. This act set him apart. He did not require potions, elixirs or incantations. His words alone raised the widow’s only son from death.

For this Jewish crowd of mourners, Jesus’ saving act would recall for them Elijah’s actions when he saved the widow’s son. That story was part of their salvation history. The villagers of Nain and the Jewish readers of Luke’s gospel would have instantly identified Jesus as a prophet from that act. Jesus’ saving act that day revealed his identity as someone sent to these people by God. The use of the term prophet as a description of Jesus identity was significant to the first century hearer. It was filled with nuanced meaning for them. In fact Luke refers more often to Jesus as a prophet than any other Gospel or New Testament writer.[1] Traditionally, Hebrew prophets fended for the poor and looked out for the vulnerable. Traditionally, worldly power holders sought to have prophets killed. Luke’s use of that description did not detract from, in fact it added to, their understanding of Jesus as Messiah.

Jesus was moved to act as he did when he realized the widow’s looming social vulnerability. She had no husband and now no son to provide for her needs. His act restored her to a place of stability, a place of wholeness. He was not worried about the dead son. Jesus believed the dead would rest with God. Jesus was deeply concerned about the challenges that human beings face in navigating the social and economic obstacles of this world, the world he came to save.

It was a tough 1^st century world that Jesus lived in, and it is a tough 21^st century world that we live in. Power struggles, wars, human trafficking, and hunger – they all still exist. But so does the church, the body of Christ. Although the demise of the church in the world has been talked about, especially given the western world’s decline in church attendance, the church is still very much alive. The church continues to play the role of prophet and the role of the healing Christ in the world.

St. Mary’s continues to act as the body of Christ in places where we are called to serve. As members of that body, each of you has a role to play in seeing our church contribute to society’s wholeness. Think about the promises you made today. Each of you can play a part in helping our young people, like our newly welcomed baptized member; grow up knowing that a supportive church family stands behind him and her. Each of you can be a part of the team that helps them to know themselves first as Christians. Like the crowd who followed behind Jesus on his way into Nain, we stand ready to be amazed by the next move of Christ and the Holy Spirit. And we stand ready to praise God with hearts filled with joy when his gifts are revealed. To God be the glory.