Month: July 2013

A Sermon for the 10th Sunday after Pentecost
Year C – July 28, 2013

David H. Knight , Priest Associate

In the Name of God who is Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. Amen.

“Jesus was praying in a certain place, and after he had finished, one of his disciples said to him, ‘Lord, teach us to pray as John taught his disciples.’”  

 What one of us here this morning has not searched the mind of God seeking help in how to pray?  And even if we have once learned how to pray, have we not had those times when we have needed help in our prayer life?  How then, might this conversation between Jesus and his disciples be of help to us today?  Our difficulties about prayer often arise in times of doubt and despair, doubts about God’s presence, and our doubts that even if indeed God is present, God does not hear our prayers.  Jesus’ lesson to his disciples, and to us as well, is straightforward: it is that our persistence in prayer is where we must begin and where we continue.  It’s like an exercise: if we persist and keep at it, we reap the benefits.

 In seeing Jesus at prayer, the disciple knew that it was something he wanted to be able to do, for he could see that prayer had a profound effect on how Jesus was able to face the rigors and challenges of each day.  Jesus’ response to the disciple’s question was straight forward.  He simply offered a model, a template, if you will, for how to pray.  What he offered them that day became the prayer that for two thousand years since has become the prayer most often prayed by his followers throughout the world.  Five short sentences provide the content of this prayer. First of all is the confession that God has been revealed to us. God’s name is holy and in Jesus God’s reign has come near to us.  The prayer then addresses those essential needs that each of us has: the need for daily sustenance, the need for forgiveness and for our need to forgive others, and protection in those times when circumstances arise that test our faith.  He was also reassuring the disciples, as he seeks to reassure us, that nothing will ever separate us from the love of God, for in the words of the psalmist that we recited this morning, “When I called, you answered me; you increased my strength within me.”  On that occasion Jesus  gave his disciples—and he gives us—words to address God, words of praise, followed by words to petition God to supply our basic needs.  We approach God as one to whom we relate in an intimate way.  William Sloane Coffin, the noted preacher, and pastor of Riverside Church, once said that prayer is an act of empathy with God.  It is also an act of self expression. By that he suggests that in prayer we offer our deepest needs to God. In today’s gospel Jesus follows the prayer he gives them with a story and with some advice urging persistence, for God never, ever gives up on us.

 We are blessed to have in our Book of Common Prayer, a rich collection of prayers, not only those that are used in our common worship, but also prayers for our personal devotions. These prayers, like the Lord’s Prayer, provide a framework upon which we can build and sustain our own life of conversation with God.  As Bishop Stewart used to say, “There’s something there for everyone.” Beginning on page 814 are Prayers for the World in which we pray for peace and for the whole human family, followed by Prayers for the Church in which we find prayers for the mission of the Church, for our diocese, and for our parish and conditions related to the Church’s life. Then we come upon the Prayers for National Life which center around various aspects of our life as a nation. Prayers for the Social Order follow.  These prayers embrace a number of conditions among which are such as the call for justice, prayers in times of conflict, prayers for our cities and rural areas, for schools and colleges, for the oppressed and for those in prison us to be good stewards of God’s Creation, and then Prayers for Family and personal Life. Then come prayers for the Natural order which call us to be good stewards of God’s Creation. Then there are Prayers for Family and Personal Life, for guidance, confidence and for those we love. All of these prayers embrace the span of the human condition and provide a framework for our life of prayer. Many of these prayers are prayers for our use in times of our greatest need.  How well I remember, for example, how my mother kept her Prayer Book on her bedside table especially during the final years of her courageous journey living with cancer.  There were prayers in the Prayer Book that articulated what she was experiencing.  As she would read those prayers to herself, and then in her final days when others would read those prayers to her at her bedside, she found strength and she found calm and peace. Those prayers became her time of self expression as she kept in touch with God. Then, of course are the prayers we form with our own hearts and lips as we seek to keep in touch with God.  These prayers need not have the eloquence of the Prayer Book but need only to be an offering of expression from deep within as you and I try as best we can to keep in touch with God. Our prayers may even issue forth in the form of those inarticulate groans about which Paul speaks in his letter to the Church gathered inRome.  He speaks of those times when we groan inwardly. These are those times when we do not know how to pray as we ought, yet even then the Spirit intercedes for us. God is with us in all of that. And so persistence in prayer is how we keep in touch with God.

 But then, as we all know, there may come those periods from time to time, when we may find ourselves simply unable to pray. Such a time may come during a time of despair or after suffering a terrible loss.  It is at these times when our life in common prayer as a community comes to bear.  I remember many years ago reading of such an experience.  It is an experience that has remained etched in my memory forever.   A famous preacher in a large New York City church had lost his son.  If my memory serves me correctly, I believe it was William Sloane Coffin.  While initially, he could speak about the strength that surrounded him, there came a time later on during that arduous journey, a journey full of sharp turns and deep potholes, when he found he could no longer say the Creed, and he found it very hard to pray.  In fact he could not pray.  Sunday after Sunday, leading his congregation, he found the words lacking any meaning, providing him no consolation. The prayers were far removed from where he was in his emotional and spiritual desert.  Then, one Sunday, after being in a deserted place for some time, he suddenly became aware that there were hundreds of voices in the congregation saying the ancient words of the creed ending with “…and I look for the resurrection of the dead, and the life of the world to come.”  In the prayers that followed, he became aware that he was surrounded and lifted up by the voices of the faithful who were reciting the ancient prayers, prayers that have sustained the faithful for generations.  There he had been for some time unable to pray himself, yet his grief was now being borne by those around him. I remember when many years ago I read his account of that experience, that it made a profound impression me.  Little did I know then that only a few years later, the account of his experience would come close to home for me. After our loss of Jamie, I too entered into a very desolate place for some time.  In my anguish, I was unable to pray. Then, one Sunday at St. Stephen’s at the 11:00 service of Morning Prayer—and the memory of this moment is etched in my memory forever—I had a similar experience of being uplifted by several hundred voices surrounding me, voices that were reaffirming the faith that has sustained generations of God’s people. It was almost a physical feeling of being lifted up from the depths. The prayers of our common life said by those around me had become a source of strength and solace.  In those times when you and I are unable to pray, it is the prayers of the faithful who surround us on every side that sustain us through our darkness. The late Bill Oglesby, long time professor of pastoral theology at Union Seminary, and one of the founders of the Virginia Institute of Pastoral Care, was said to have often told people who were going through a tough time and could no longer pray, “I will hold your faith for you on your behalf.”  In those times when we cannot pray ourselves, there are those around us who will hold our faith for us.   I find that helpful.  I hope it might be helpful for you as well.

 You know, even if the prayers we recite week after week may at times become rote and may seem routine, God is nevertheless present in those conversations that are formed, however imperfectly, by our prayers.  We must not underestimate the power of God’s presence in our life of common prayer.  And so Jesus says to us as he said to his disciples when he taught them to pray: “Ask… search… knock.  Be persistent.” Today’s Gospel invites you and me to reflect on the story of our own prayer life and our life of prayer here at St. Mary’s and where it has taken us.  We are grateful for those who have sustained us and we continue to ask, as did the disciples, Lord, teach us to pray.  We can draw comfort from the fact that even when we do not know how to pray as we ought, the Holy Spirit is there to be with us.  In the hymn we just sang are the words of Georg Neumark written in the 17 century.  They still speak to us today:

If thou but trust in God to guide thee, and hope in him through all thy ways,

he’ll give thee strength what e’er betide thee, and bear thee through all evil days.

Who trusts in God’s unchanging love builds on a rock that none can move.

Sing, pray, and keep his ways unswerving; so do thine own part faithfully,

and trust his word, though undeserving; thou yet shall find it true for thee;

God never yet forsook in need the soul that trusted him indeed.   Amen.

A Sermon for the Ninth Sunday after Pentecost
Proper 11 – Year C – July 21, 2013

Kim Baker Glenn, Master of Divinity, Union Presbyterian Seminary

As Jesus and his disciples went on their way, Jesus entered a certain village, where a woman named Martha welcomed him into her home. She had a sister named Mary, who sat at the Lord’s feet and listened to what he was saying. But Martha was distracted by her many tasks; so she came to him and asked, “Lord, do you not care that my sister has left me to do all the work by myself? Tell her then to help me.” But the Lord answered her, “Martha, Martha, you are worried and distracted by many things; there is need of only one thing. Mary has chosen the better part, which will not be taken away from her.”                                                          

                                                                                                                        -Luke 10:38-42

For those of you who don’t know me well, I’d like to share what I think is the one interesting thing about me: I love a good story! The story could be in the form of a good joke. I love to laugh, really laugh. Or it might come in the form of a book. I love a good novel. My husband swears that non-fiction is better. Just give me a good mystery! Other good stories could come from TV theme songs. Some of you may know what I mean. “Let me tell you of a story ‘bout a man named Jed”….  And I could go on about pop culture. But I’ve also discovered that there is a lot of good storytelling in the Bible. Every type of human drama is included; love, revenge, sex, murder, war, grace, mercy – it’s all there. It’s hard to miss! Some books are more story-filled than others, though. I don’t look for a good story in Leviticus. It may be there but it would be hard to find. Some writers tell stories better than others. When I’m for a good story in the gospels, it is really hard to do better than the stories in Luke.  While each of the gospels is rich in its own right according to characteristics unique to each writer, Luke is richer for its storytelling. Luke’s storytelling has balance of character, plot and flow.                    

Lucky for us Luke wrote two books in the New Testament. One is his gospel story of Jesus. His second book is the book of Acts that tells the story of the early church. There is a balance, a completion of the story if you will, when you take those two books together. It is in Acts that Luke makes clear that the mission of the disciples of Jesus is to carry the word of God and the possibility of salvation through Jesus into the wider Roman Empire. Considering that he knew that was his end goal, it is no surprise that Luke spells out the specific duties of the disciples through his storytelling in the gospel. He wrote his gospel with an eye to the future; a future time when Jesus would no longer be physically present; a future time where the disciples of Jesus would be required to take the place of the physical Jesus in the world. The stories he shared came from the times when the apostles were physically present with Jesus in his ministry and travels around Palestine. The stories we’ll focus on, the Good Samaritan and the story of Jesus’ visit with Mary and Martha. These two stories together provide a balanced view of the life of a disciple, as we shall see. That Luke was concerned with balance in life is consistent with the theory that he was a physician. Each of the three characters portrays one distinct part of what is required in a balanced life of discipleship.

The Good Samaritan and Mary and Martha seem familiar to us. First of all, we’ve been hearing these stories for decades; we acted them out as kids in Vacation Bible School. As adults, we’ve taught them to our kids in their Vacation Bible School. The two stories come around from time to time if you teach Sunday School or attend some kind of Adult Bible Study or Adult Christian Formation class. Each time you address these stories you might learn something new. Why is that true do you think? It could be because each time we engage the story, we ourselves are at a different place in our lives; facing new challenges; seeing things through different lenses with a different focus. But I’m going to give some of the credit to Luke’s literary skill here. Using very few words, he is able to create scenarios and characters that invite us in; that allow us to imagine that we know these people – or at least people like them. And the truth is, we probably do. Think about it, Don’t we all know someone who is a committed helper, an avid hostess or an introspective philosopher? Or maybe we recognize them in a part of ourselves. You see, in spite of a two thousand year gap, human beings – that is, human biological and psychological traits – are virtually the same. If it weren’t for the chemicals we’ve added to the food system, our bodies might be exactly the same. But that’s another sermon for another time.

Luke has cleverly and purposefully placed the Good Samaritan story right next to the Mary and Martha story in the text. Together they demonstrate the variety of ministries that disciples of Jesus are called to embody. So let’s review what we’ve been told about the Good Samaritan. We know that he is a man who comes from a marginalized and despised sect of Jewish society – the Samaritans. The key that unlocks this parable is found in what the Samaritan does. This man proves to be willing to suspend judgment by his peers, by his employer, by the victim himself in order to care for this bloodied and dying stranger. We know by virtue of our own experience that anyone who acts as the Samaritan did that day is motivated by real, authentic compassion; that physical sense of compassion that comes from deep within our souls and is put there by God. This despised man gives completely of himself, his time and his wealth for the well being of another.  By inference then, it’s about what we do when faced with the same kind of opportunity or challenge or crisis. Jesus said after the telling of this parable to “Go and do likewise.” Who of us can put ourselves in the Samaritan’s shoes and say we would measure up?

That is not an easy task to fulfill. In fact, it can be downright daunting. Just recently I was faced with caring for my husband after suffering a small stroke. I have a newfound respect for doctors and nurses and those professionals engaged in the therapy that has brought him back to almost 100% of himself. Although I could do nothing but give emotional support the process of doing that wore me out at first! And I was not even despised… though there were moments when …. Just kidding. He’s a great patient… most of the time. Nonetheless, Luke is right to point out that it is part of our call as Christ’s disciples to meet the needs of others as we are confronted with them.

So as a reader or, as in this case this morning, hearer of Luke’s gospel we move from that story of compassionate action to a house in a certain village. We are secretly hoping for a breather after the heavy soul-searching journey we have just been on.  And what he delivers is a companion piece that offers a sense of balance, not quite a breather but almost. After all, aren’t we all searching for a sense of balance in our lives? Today we will look to Mary and Martha to find it.

It was a recognized custom in 1^st century Palestine that to show true hospitality a host or hostess must provide for all the needs of the guest. That included washing the feet of weary travelers as well as preparing a meal for them. Luke tells us that Martha welcomed Jesus into her home. The first century listener would presume that welcome included more than opening the door and taking Jesus’ cloak. We can assume that Martha would have opened the door, greeted Jesus and immediately started preparing to serve her guest.  As Jesus enters, Luke introduces us to another character, Martha’s sister Mary. Just to be clear, this is not Mary, the mother of Jesus or Mary Magdalene. Mary was a common name at that time. Kind of like John Smith or Jane Doe. Imagine with me for a moment, Martha has opened the door and Mary is standing just to the side, on the side of the living room not the kitchen. When Jesus enters he moves, as is customary, into the living and dining area where he would be invited to recline. Then Luke tells his first century audience something they don’t expect to hear. Mary, he tells them, sits at the feet of Jesus to listen to him teach.

Why is that unusual? What would shock them about that? While it is not at all shocking or offensive to our ears, it caused their first century ears to perk up. You see, sitting at Jesus’ feet was an act reserved for apostles and disciples. This was an act reserved for men in the Hebrew society. Women were expected to assume the role of hostess and server. Luke was telling them by way of this story that Jesus came in order to break down those social barriers, that the new covenant with God was available equally to men and women. And we know from the parable of the Good Samaritan that this new covenant was available to marginalized people, too. Jesus shattered the social and economic barriers, too.

Not only would all people, All humanity, now have access to a relationship with God and with Christ but All humanity would be invited to be Jesus’ disciple. Even Martha. Some commentators observe that Jesus rebuked Martha when she boldly insisted that Jesus intervene and demand that Mary help her with hostess duties. I hear it more as a lament; that Jesus is sorrowful that Martha doesn’t see what he is doing in allowing Mary a seat at his feet. He says, “Martha, Martha, you are worried and distracted by many things; but there is need of only one thing: Mary has chosen the better part, which will not be taken from her.”

Mary chose the better part. What do you suppose would make Mary defy the demands of her social structure? Do you suppose that being in the presence of Jesus she may have allowed herself to be naturally drawn to follow him?

Luke tells us that Martha was distracted with the tasks of serving her guest. It was part of her nature to want to serve. Quite literally the verb in Greek for distracted means “pulled away.” How many times are we “pulled away” from this most important task of hearing God’s word; of discerning God’s will for us? I know that many of my to-do lists do not include pray or “appointment with God.” I know in this busy, hyper-connected, wired world it is so very easy to get “pulled away” and distracted by many things.

Perhaps Luke meant to tell us that Martha allowed herself to be pulled away from the most important thing that had ever happened to her. Maybe being in the presence of Jesus, God manifest in human form would be enough for you to suspend adherence to the strictures of etiquette. Maybe Martha just needed to drop her apron for a minute and join Mary at her guest’s feet. Maybe we just need to drop our to-do lists and schedule some time for reverent worship and prayer or silent contemplation with God. Maybe if we are silent we can hear God’s still small voice.

So who is the best disciple: The Good Samaritan, Martha or Mary? The answer according to Luke is all of the above. Each of them exemplifies specific duties that Jesus desired to see in his disciples. Be compassionate. Provide hospitality. Listen and hear the word of God. Take time to be in God’s presence.  Does Christ look for each of those acts from his disciples every day? Probably not. But we need to be willing and ready.  Let’s together be prepared to respond. Set aside at least Sunday to be here at Jesus feet where we can hear and inwardly digest God’s word. If we do that, maybe we too, can be called true Disciples of Christ. Amen.

 A Sermon for the 8th Sunday after Pentecost

Year C – Proper 10 – 14 July 2013

John Edward Miller, Rector

Just then a lawyer stood up to test Jesus. “Teacher,” he said, “what must I do to inherit eternal life?” He said to him, “What is written in the law? What do you read there?” He answered, “You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your strength, and with all your mind; and your neighbor as yourself.” And he said to him, “You have given the right answer; do this, and you will live.”

But wanting to justify himself, he asked Jesus, “And who is my neighbor?” Jesus replied, “A man was going down from Jerusalem to Jericho, and fell into the hands of robbers, who stripped him, beat him, and went away, leaving him half dead. Now by chance a priest was going down that road; and when he saw him, he passed by on the other side. So likewise a Levite, when he came to the place and saw him, passed by on the other side. But a Samaritan while traveling came near him; and when he saw him, he was moved with pity. He went to him and bandaged his wounds, having poured oil and wine on them. Then he put him on his own animal, brought him to an inn, and took care of him. The next day he took out two denarii, gave them to the innkeeper, and said, `Take care of him; and when I come back, I will repay you whatever more you spend.’ Which of these three, do you think, was a neighbor to the man who fell into the hands of the robbers?” He said, “The one who showed him mercy.” Jesus said to him, “Go and do likewise.”

                                                                                                                     – Luke 10:25-37

The Collect

O Lord, mercifully receive the prayers of your people who call upon you, and grant that they may know and understand what things they ought to do, and also may have grace and power faithfully to accomplish them; through Jesus Christ our Lord, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, now and for ever. Amen.

Jesus taught in parables. They were his favorite mode of spelling out the gospel for people to hear and to grasp. His parables were word-pictures, drawn from everyday experience. People could relate to them because they featured familiar scenes, such as farming, shepherding, family relationships, and dealing with loss. Most of Jesus’ parables stick to the walls of our memory. However some are so vivid that they get etched into our consciousness and become part of our language and culture. Such is the case with the parable of the Good Samaritan. It is an unforgettable story, but our understanding of it needs a tune-up now and then so that its meaning can grasp us with real power.

When Jesus told this parable, his featured character (the man from Samaria) was so controversial a figure that he shattered the expectations, as well as the complacency, of his audience. His placement at the focal point of the story made Jesus’ listeners sit up and take notice. And it probably made them angry because Jesus’ message was counter-cultural. However, that is not the usual take on the Good Samaritan. Today the sincere but superficial view is that Samaritans are people who do good deeds, and that Jesus is commending them as examples to emulate.

 On the face of it, the ideal of exemplary compassion is something to applaud, but that is not the parable’s purpose. Jesus is not singling out Samaritans as a special class of heroes, nor is he commanding us to be like them. It is true that Luke quotes Jesus as saying, “Do this, and you will live,” and “go and do likewise.” However, if you consider what Jesus and the lawyer were talking about, you’ll see that his purpose is not to advocate a “just do it” approach to morality. Moreover, for Jesus to have used a Samaritan as an illustration, and to get the lawyer to see him in a favorable light, was a revolutionary move. Samaritans just didn’t fit into a Jewish moral picture. Law and covenant lay at the center of Jewish life, and obedience to the law was their chief religious duty. Samaritans were outsiders with respect to these things, so it was outrageous that Jesus put him in the spotlight. Yet his message was worth taking this risk. It pushed the audience (and it pushes us) beyond the limits of legalism to the surprising realities of God’s grace.

The scene opens with a question put to Jesus by a lawyer – an expert in biblical law. He approached Jesus and asked, “Teacher, what must I do to inherit eternal life?” Although the query sounds innocent, it wasn’t. The lawyer was not seeking spiritual guidance from Jesus the teacher. He was already certain that obeying God’s commandments, statures, and ordinances was the path to life, while disregard for the law is a sure way to condemnation and death. To his point of view, Jesus was a threat to law-abiding Judeans because he was known to play fast and loose with the law. Therefore he must be discredited and removed.

The lawyer’s question was like bait to a trap. With it he challenged Jesus to comment on the law, to distill the whole legal tradition ofIsrael, and cite its most important commandments. Since there were 613 biblical laws to comprehend, this would be more than a challenge. It would press him to choose some laws over the others, and that would open him to criticism about this choice. Jesus would appear to be biased, arbitrary, or even unfaithful. That was what the lawyer was counting on: he was waiting for the teacher fromNazarethto embarrass himself in front of the crowds.

Jesus, however, did not take the bait. He tossed it right back to the lawyer with an appeal to the man’s pride. “You’re a scholar of the law,” he said, “what’s your opinion?” As if by reflex, the lawyer selected two commandments of the law, namely to love God with one’s whole being, and to love one’s neighbor as oneself.[1] Other rabbis had already called those very commandments the summary of the law. Thus, it was a safe bet that he concur.

Jesus nodded, saying, “Right! Do this, and you will live.” That briefly thwarted the lawyer, who now was red-faced that he’d been outmaneuvered. But he recovered sufficiently to snap, “But, teacher, who is my neighbor?”  

The lawyer was tempting him again to enter the realm of rules and paint himself into a corner. By law, the neighbor is a member of the Jewish covenant community. Jesus, however, was known to consort with all sorts of people – Jewish outcasts, Romans, Samaritans, Phoenicians, slaves, lepers, and women of dubious repute. He never limited his contacts to an exclusive group. Thus, if he gave the standard legal answer, he would be excluding every Gentile whom he had treated with respect. But if he expanded the definition of the neighbor to include non-Jews and the so-called unclean, he would be in violation of the law.

Momentarily, the lawyer appeared to have gained the advantage. But Jesus was not about to step into this second snare. He declined to answer, but instead told the lawyer a parable that we all know, or assume we know.

Jesus said that a traveler on the Jericho road was mugged, stripped, beaten, and left for dead. When a priest approached he saw the poor wretch, but he looked away and kept on walking. Then a Levite came along and saw the victim lying on the roadside. But the Levite likewise refrained from getting involved. He walked on down the road, feeling no responsibility to help. But both the Levite and the priest had a moral duty under the law to aid the victim.

Just then, said Jesus, a third traveler happened upon the wounded man, and stopped. He was neither a priest nor a Levite; he was a Samaritan. The awful scene touched his heart, and he put the victim on his own donkey and took him to an inn, where he proceeded to care for his wounds. When he had to go, the Samaritan made arrangements to reimburse the innkeeper for any expenses incurred while the man recuperated.

After he finished the parable, Jesus asked the lawyer, “Which one of these three was the neighbor to the man who fell among the robbers?”

“The one who showed him mercy,” replied the lawyer.

Jesus said to him, “Go and do likewise.”

The passage comes to an end with those words. A dangerous moment has passed, and a message has been sent. Jesus challenged the lawyer to love God totally (with all his heart, soul, strength, and mind) and to love his neighbor as himself (showing mercy as the Samaritan had). But these two commandments are real “stretches” when you think about it. Why spotlight a Samaritan? Is anyone capable of loving like that?

The Samaritans were northern Israelites whose ancestors fell victim to the Assyrian empire seven centuries before Jesus. Many had been deported, and the rest were forced to interbreed with a transplanted population from some other part of the Assyrian empire. As a result the Samaritans’ status as Hebrews had been ruined. They were treated as impure and unclean aliens. So when Jesus introduced the Samaritan into the parable, it would have offended Jewish sensibilities. They were regarded with contempt and suspicion.

The lawyer and the rest of the audience would have presumed that the Samaritan “no good” – a creature who would likely mistreat the victim. No one would have dreamed that the Samaritan would be Jesus’ choice to stop, have compassion on the man in the ditch. The priest and the Levite were the ones who would have been expected to do good. They were, after all, professional “holy people.” They should know the law and abide by it. But in Jesus’ parable they did not. It was the Samaritan – an “outlaw” – that did what the law required.

Jesus asked the lawyer to identify the neighbor to the parable’s victim, The lawyer he chose the Samaritan, saying that he was “the one who showed mercy.” Now it was the lawyer who was being revolutionary, His answer shifted the meaning of “neighbor” from that of a status (a fellow Jew) to that of a mercy-giver. Neighbor more an action word (a verb) than a noun that names a class of people. In this famous encounter between Jesus and the lawyer, every form of distinction – religious, racial, class, and legal – disappears in a beautiful picture inclusive love. Neighboring means showing mercy to anyone who needs mercy. Thus the neighborhood is expansive; it is the whole world.

But loving like that is difficult. If loving my neighbor as myself means that I am required to be a neighbor, to show mercy to someone who has never shown me mercy a day in his life, then I am likely to fall short of the mark. Recognizing that we have no power in our selves to help ourselves, we can be open to another source of strength than our own.

The parable of the Good Samaritan isn’t about obedience and resolve. It is about something else, something that we are being challenged to accept and experience for our own good, despite our bias and preference. What Jesus’ point is clearer when we understand the idea of neighboring together with the other commandment to love the Lord our God with all our heart, soul, strength, and mind.

But who is sufficient to fulfill that commandment?

The answer is that no one is. The goodness that this parable describes, and challenges us to accept, is neither the Samaritan’s goodness, nor the church’s goodness, nor our goodness. The “good” that is necessary is what is lacking. It is not in us, and it cannot be earned or accumulated, or urged or emulated. It is beyond us, but it is what the story beckons us to recognize. It is God’s goodness that made the Samaritan’s act of mercy possible. It is the influence that affects us despite our self-love and our failure to love God wholly. This goodness is the same power that transformed that awful Friday, when Christ was crucified, into the day God made for our good. It is God’s continuous, indefatigable gift – the light that shines in the darkness, and that the darkness has not, and cannot, overcome.

In the late 60s when I was a college student, social activism of many types was sweeping America. “All you need is love” was a Beatles’ song that became an anthem for revolutionary change. One of the activist groups of the era was the Jesus Movement – a religious counterculture phenomenon that took a number of forms. There were Jesus communes run by Christian hippies, the charismatic Pentecostals, school-based Christian clubs, and political progressives inspired by the ideal of love. In the midst of spiritual ferment I was browsing in my college bookstore and spied a small red book entitled, Quotations from Chairman Jesus. It was a collection of Jesus sayings updated for a revolutionary time.

One of my favorite entries was called “The Parable of the Good Black Panther.” You may recall the Black Panther Party as one of the most feared, militant, and misunderstood of all the 60s groups. The parable takes place in a subway station – a place filled with indifference and apathy. A white man has been beaten and mugged, and there are many people who walk right past him, including a priest and a bishop. Everyone is supposed to have a social conscience, but no one steps up to help. Finally a member of the Blank Panthers walks up to the bleeding victim. Everyone freezes; they are afraid that he’ll take out all of his anger on the man. But he doesn’t. Something in him recognized the plight of the man, despite his race or politics or social class. The Black Panther had compassion. He acted. And the man survived. He was the neighbor in the subway scene. Perhaps he had been shown mercy by someone unlike him, or given a second chance when he deserved none. His goodness came from a source beyond himself; all he had to do was to be open to its influence.  

Such love is not a feeling of affection; it is an act of the will. But it is not an act done out of our own reservoir of goodness, it is the effect of being loved in this way by God. We love because God first loved us; we show mercy because we have been shown mercy by a goodness that transcends the best that we can muster on our own. It seemingly can’t be done, and yet we see it happen enough it know that it is a power seeking to be born in us. We experience it in the most surprising of circumstances, and among the most unlikely of people. Sometimes, it grasps our heart, soul, strength, and mind, and does what it is impossible for us to do.

In the Name of God: Father, Son, and Holy Spirit, may such love never let us go.  Amen.

A Sermon for the 7th Sunday after Pentecost
Proper 9 – Year C – 07 July 2013 

Eleanor Lee Wellford, Associate Rector

Naaman, commander of the army of the king of Aram, was a great man and in high favor with his master, because by him the LORD had given victory to Aram. The man, though a mighty warrior, suffered from leprosy. Now the Arameans on one of their raids had taken a young girl captive from the land of Israel, and she served Naaman’s wife. She said to her mistress, “If only my lord were with the prophet who is in Samaria! He would cure him of his leprosy.” So Naaman went in and told his lord just what the girl from the land of Israel had said. And the king of Aram said, “Go then, and I will send along a letter to the king of Israel.”

He went, taking with him ten talents of silver, six thousand shekels of gold, and ten sets of garments. He brought the letter to the king of Israel, which read, “When this letter reaches you, know that I have sent to you my servant Naaman, that you may cure him of his leprosy.” When the king of Israel read the letter, he tore his clothes and said, “Am I God, to give death or life, that this man sends word to me to cure a man of his leprosy? Just look and see how he is trying to pick a quarrel with me.”

But when Elisha the man of God heard that the king of Israel had torn his clothes, he sent a message to the king, “Why have you torn your clothes? Let him come to me, that he may learn that there is a prophet in Israel.” So Naaman came with his horses and chariots, and halted at the entrance of Elisha’s house. Elisha sent a messenger to him, saying, “Go, wash in the Jordan seven times, and your flesh shall be restored and you shall be clean.” But Naaman became angry and went away, saying, “I thought that for me he would surely come out, and stand and call on the name of the LORD his God, and would wave his hand over the spot, and cure the leprosy! Are not Abana and Pharpar, the rivers of Damascus, better than all the waters of Israel? Could I not wash in them, and be clean?” He turned and went away in a rage. But his servants approached and said to him, “Father, if the prophet had commanded you to do something difficult, would you not have done it? How much more, when all he said to you was, `Wash, and be clean’?” So he went down and immersed himself seven times in the Jordan, according to the word of the man of God; his flesh was restored like the flesh of a young boy, and he was clean.

2 Kings 5:1-14

What would happen if we put this morning’s story about the great warrior Naaman into a modern-day context?  What would really change about the story?  Let’s say Naaman is today’s version of a 4-star general who needs medical treatment.  He is suffering from fatigue, headaches, a stiff neck, sore joints and muscles and a skin rash.  He is sent to one of the best military hospitals in the country – perhaps Walter Reed in Washington, D.C.- for testing.  While he is there, the President comes to visit him and wishes him a speedy recovery and assures him that he has personally put together a team of the best medical minds at the hospital – and that immediately comforts the General.   

 After a battery of tests, the consensus of his medical team is that the General must have contracted something strange during his last trip to theMiddle Eastand he is immediately started on some drugs to reduce pain and swelling.  During his second night in the hospital, however, his condition worsens.  A young nurse’s aide sponges him down to cool him off when she notices an unusual looking red mark on the side of his upper arm.   It reminded her of one she had seen on her brother’s neck when he was in the hospital not too long ago. 

 The aide is still there when the General’s doctor comes in to see him later that morning.  The young woman gets up her courage to points out the red mark on the General’s arm and suggests that maybe it is a tick bite. The doctor has to stifle a chuckle as he listens to the young woman but he thanks her for her diligence and tells her that she should go see to her other patients. 

 She is still in the General’s suite when his wife comes to be with her husband.  Once again she gets up her courage and asks the General’s wife if by chance she remembers the General having pulled off a tick from his upper arm.  At first she says she does not, but then she tells her that she does remember seeing him burn something which he later told her was a tick. 

  At this point, the General is awake and agitated because he isn’t feeling any better.  He requests to see the Chief of Staff immediately but he is in a meeting and decides to send one of his Residents to see what the General wants which just irritates the General even more.  The Resident, however, looks at the site of the tick bite and tells the General that she is going to order a blood test specific for a tick-born disease.  The General is not amused and tries to dismiss the female Resident by insisting that something so little as a tick could not be causing him to feel so miserable.  The problem is that the General is used to being in control of the situation and getting his own way and he just doesn’t believe that he is getting the respect that he deserves.

 His wife finally calms him down and gets him to agree to the blood test that the Resident recommended.  It comes back positive for Lyme disease.  The General is given an antibiotic specific for that and finally starts to feel better. 

 So, what does change when our Old Testament story about Naaman is put into a present-day context?  Except for my obvious stretches of the imagination, not much.  And the reason for that is that both stories in their ironic twists and turns reveal the flaws of human nature – and then both stories reveal God’s ability to  use prophets,  -mostly unlikely ones – to help heal us with their wisdom and compassion.    

 Many of the flaws of human nature can be traced to the ego – that false sense of self that we create to protect us from feeling emotional pain.  The ego is a main character in both stories and the way we know that is by the contrast in how it’s manifested in some characters and not in others.  In this morning’s story from 2nd Kings, the King of Aram, the King of Israel and Naaman himself all are in positions of power and have well-developed egos.  The servants and messenger are found in marginal positions of society and seem to have little ego.  And the greatest irony in the story, of course, is that the marginalized characters had the greatest power to help Naaman be healed. 

 It took the wisdom of Naaman’s servants to break through his arrogance and convince him to go wash in the Jordan River and be clean.  In the parallel story in today’s context, it took some convincing from the General’s wife and the Resident to break through the General’s arrogance to get him to agree to another blood test. 

This clash between the powerful and the powerless happens all the time but it takes a prophet’s insight to navigate between the two and broker healing.  That was Elisha’s role.  He pointed the way forward when the King of Israel and Naaman clashed and he pointed the way forward when his messenger and Naaman clashed.  And of course there wouldn’t have been much of a story had it not been for the insight and compassion of  the servant girl of Naaman’s wife. 

 Who are the prophets pointing the way forward in our lives?  Power struggles and disagreements are an inevitable part of life.  I remember one time when my husband, Tenny, and I were arguing about something.  I’m sure it was important although I can’t seem to remember specifically what it was about.  Our then 3-year old daughter wandered into the room and looked at us both and said: “Your faces look really mean!” And I bet they did and she called us on it.  Was she a prophet?  Maybe not in the classic sense of the word, but she allowed us to stop and see what was going on.  She pointed to the fact that our faces were reflecting a meanness inside both of us. 

 We both needed so desperately to be right about something, that we had stopped listening to each other and had dug in.  The truth of what our 3-year old had said made us both laugh which in turn softened our resolve and helped us settle the disagreement  – which, of course, meant Tenny’s admitting that I was right all along!  No, just kidding.   

 To what are the prophets in our lives pointing?  I think they are pointing to the way that God works.  We have to look no further than Mary’s beautiful song which we call the Magnificat to know how God works.  God…”scatters the proud in their conceit…casts down the mighty from their thrones…and sends the rich away empty…God looks with favor upon the lowly and lifts them up…and fills the hungry with good things” (Magnificat, Luke 1:46-55).  Mary was just a lowly young woman and certainly an unlikely prophet when she spoke such truth about God.

 And in today’s world, the meek and lowly rarely get noticed.  People with credentials and titles and awards get our attention.  We tend to gravitate toward them because we believe we deserve the attention of only the best and the brightest when we need help.    But that’s our ego needing to be fed.  That’s not who we really are when our ego is stripped away along with our need to be right and important and in control. 

 I can’t help but believe that God dreams for us to have compassion.  The servant girl to Naaman’s wife had it.  Naaman’s servants had it.  The young nurse’s aide had it and so did the Resident at the hospital.  Compassion seems to level the playing field of powerful and powerless and binds human beings together at a deep, almost imperceptible level – which is a good thing, because if we perceived it, we’d weaken its effectiveness by our own need to be in control. 

 Compassion in this morning’s story crossed long-standing political and religious boundaries.  God’s healing power comes through compassion and each one of us has the ability to be compassionate – to be the agent of healing.  Sometimes that’s easier for some than for others, but that may well be the reason why there are prophets of all kinds out there– likely and unlikely –  to help heal us with their compassion when we can’t seem to find enough of it on our own. 

Who are the prophets in our lives?  What are they telling us?  And most important, are we listening?

. 

 A Sermon for the 6th Sunday after Pentecost

Year C – Proper 8 – 30 June 2013

John Edward Miller, Rector

For freedom Christ has set us free. Stand firm, therefore, and do not submit again to a yoke of slavery.

For you were called to freedom, brothers and sisters; only do not use your freedom as an opportunity for self-indulgence, but through love become slaves to one another. For the whole law is summed up in a single commandment, “You shall love your neighbor as yourself.” If, however, you bite and devour one another, take care that you are not consumed by one another.

Live by the Spirit, I say, and do not gratify the desires of the flesh. For what the flesh desires is opposed to the Spirit, and what the Spirit desires is opposed to the flesh; for these are opposed to each other, to prevent you from doing what you want. But if you are led by the Spirit, you are not subject to the law. Now the works of the flesh are obvious: fornication, impurity, licentiousness, idolatry, sorcery, enmities, strife, jealousy, anger, quarrels, dissensions, factions, envy, drunkenness, carousing, and things like these. I am warning you, as I warned you before: those who do such things will not inherit the kingdom of God.

By contrast, the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, generosity, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control. There is no law against such things. And those who belong to Christ Jesus have crucified the flesh with its passions and desires. If we live by the Spirit, let us also be guided by the Spirit.  – Galatians 5:1,13-25

The Collect

Almighty God, you have built your Church upon the foundation of the apostles and prophets, Jesus Christ himself being the chief cornerstone: Grant us so to be joined together in unity of spirit by their teaching, that we may be made a holy temple acceptable to you; through Jesus Christ our Lord, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, for ever and ever. Amen.

For freedom Christ has set us free. Stand firm, therefore, and do not submit again to a yoke of slavery. For you were called to freedom, brothers and sisters; only do not use your freedom as an opportunity for self-indulgence, but through love become slaves to one another. For the whole law is summed up in a single commandment, “You shall love your neighbor as yourself.” If, however, you bite and devour one another, take care that you are not consumed by one another.

Of all the letters Paul wrote to the young churches, I find his Letter to the Galatians the most appealing. His teachings in Galatians are basic to Christian thought – teachings about things like grace, and freedom, and spiritual health. We really wouldn’t be the Church with out them. But beyond these essentials, there is something else about the letter that grabs me. It is the unabashed humanity of the author that connects to my own foibles. Galatians is full of Paul’s personality, his imperfections, and his struggle to be the man God has called him to be. It is a relief to know that believing and being aren’t necessarily synonymous.

Paul’s inner turmoil affects every part of the Galatian letter. He knows what he should be, but he realizes that he falls short of the mark. That causes him to redouble his efforts, and to commend the same to others. Nevertheless, he fails, and he regularly admits his inability to live as he believes. In Romans, Paul put his dilemma succinctly: “For I do not do the good I want, but the evil I do not want is what I do.”[1] That text is a mirror in which I can see my own reflection.

Like Paul, I have tried to live my life by the rules. I am a first child type; I aim to please, and I have high expectations of myself. Those traits put a premium on achievement and success. But humans – all of us – face failure from time to time. I certainly have, and I’ve been hard on myself because of those lapses. Disappointed that I haven’t performed up to a sterling standard, I get determined to do better. And sometimes that works, but more often than not, the same mistake, or old habit, reappears and I slip again. Not being able to do what I expect of myself is discouraging. But getting down on myself doesn’t help; it only compounds the problem. What has helped me, though, is grace – the experience of mercy, acceptance, encouragement, and helping hands of support.

I remember a time when I was trying to please the four professors that comprised my doctoral committee in graduate school. Each of them had read and annotated a rough draft of my dissertation. My main advisor, Donald Dawe, had freely edited the chapters I had labored to write, sometimes x-ing out whole sections that he thought superfluous or irrelevant. But he did so as my mentor, so I took his critique as positive guidance. Two others made suggestions for minor improvements to the thesis. I appreciated their comments as well. However, there was one reader – a philosophy professor at another university whose expertise in my field was highly touted – whose editorial notes were more like slash-and-burn criticism that helpful hints. On virtually every page of the draft he questioned my logic, my intentions, my style, and my point. My job was to revise my research in response to my readers’ commentary. When I read his, however, I felt as though I was supposed to re-write the whole dissertation.

Needless to say, I was down in the dumps, and down on myself. The project was all about high achievement, and critical remarks like that one professor’s made me feel like a failure. I didn’t understand at the time that he had a particular academic axe to grind, and my thesis ran counter to his agenda. At any rate, I was disconsolate, and I must have appeared so to the faculty. As I stared at my draft in the library, a dark cloud was hovering over my head. That pitiful sight attracted the attention of one of my readers. He walked over to me, put his hand on my shoulder, and said, “I recognize that look your face. I had the same look years ago when I was finishing my work. So I want you to know this: really, John, this is only an academic exercise. It’s not your life.” With that he patted me on the back, smiled, and walked away. His empathy – expressed in a few kind words – pulled me out of a slump, and I was able to complete my work. I am grateful for that simple, but powerful, gift; it freed me (at least momentarily) from the futility of seeking approval at all times.      

Paul too experienced grace – tremendous grace. Jesus forgave him for persecuting his disciples. Christ graciously came to Paul while he was yet a sinner, and he raised him to a whole new life. And he was given a mission, namely to spread the word that the God of love, whom we know in Jesus, accepts us even though, in comparison to his standard of goodness, we are unacceptable. Our RSVP to that invitation to life is to accept that we are accepted.[2]

Knowing that God’s acceptance had saved him from the never-ending treadmill of proving his worth to God by being tough-minded and ruthlessly obedient, Paul was free to help others trust that same grace. On a mission trip in the Roman province of Galatiain what is now central Turkey, Paul preached grace, and his message was heard. The Galatians became Gentile converts to the Christian way. Their ancestors had immigrated from Gaul (which is now France); thus the name of their province. Ethnically-speaking the Galatians were more European than Asian; they had no Jewish roots. Paul had to talk to them in terms that they could grasp. So he coined a new theme to explain the message of Jesus. For Paul the good news that Jesus proclaimed and lived was we are justified by grace through faith. 

That doesn’t sound like anything that Jesus said in the gospels, because it wasn’t. Paul never heard Jesus preach, or tell parables, or see him heal the sick. He came to know Jesus through a vision. So he didn’t tell the story of Jesus’ life; instead he told people about the meaning of Jesus’ life. His teaching about justification by grace was Paul’s way of saying that the Galatians, like all people, were accepted despite their flaws. This was a pure gift from God. It’s the only way it could happen. Being justified – that is, being “put right” with God – is not something that we can do for ourselves. Paul knew that no one earns or deserves that standing on his own merit. It is God’s amazing grace that saves everyone; all we need to do is believe that, to trust that, and acceptance is ours. We are truly free.

Well, it seems as if the Galatians were relieved to know that. They became disciples of Jesus Christ, and Paul assisted them in organizing a church before he went on his way to preach the same message to other Gentiles. However, it also appears that Paul’s message went in one ear and out of the other in the Galatian community. The apostle has heard that something has changed in Galatia, and he is not pleased.           

In his letter, Paul expresses his disappointment in the Galatians. More than that, he is angry. That is the sub-text of this passage of Scripture today. He is so put out by their behavior that, in other spots in the letter, he vents his frustration in graphic language – some of it far too edgy for polite conversation. Calling them “foolish” Paul proceeds to jump on their case. He lambastes them for their lack of spine, conviction, loyalty, and wisdom. To Paul the Galatians appear gullible and naïve. His letter is addressed to their vulnerability and ignorance of what is genuine and true.

The reason for Paul’s anger is that, in his absence, a group of evangelists known as the Judaizers has moved into Galatia and completely hoodwinked the fledgling church he had planted there. The “boys from Jerusalem” thought they knew the score better than Paul did, and told the Galatians so. The Judaizers’ main message was that any Gentile convert would have to become a Jew first in order to qualify as a Christian. For the Gentiles that intermediate step would have significant dietary, religious, and surgical consequences. It would impose hundreds of Jewish laws, statutes, and customs on people who had very little understanding of those rules. But more than that, it meant that all of Paul’s work had been undermined by letter-of-the-law nitpickers – people so caught up in correctness that they failed to see everyone’s need for God’s grace.

Their attitude was that if one follows the rules, then one’s relationship with God is healthy and good. Paul understood that rule following cannot bridge the gap between “is” and “ought.” If legalism were able to accomplish that feat, then there would be no need for a church, or a Jesus. Experience alone teaches that crossing t’s and dotting i’s does not justify us – does not span the chasm between God and humankind. We simply cannot make this relationship wholesome by our own efforts.

That’s because we humans are slaves to self rather than servants of God. “I did it my way” was not just Frank’s or Elvis’ theme song. It is also ours, to a greater or lesser degree. “This is what’s best for me” is a common explanation for actions that indicate egocentrism. Even rule following is/can be self-serving. Pride over a clean record with no demerits leads all of us Jack Horners to boast “what a good boy am I.”

Paul pleaded with the Galatians, saying, “For freedom Christ has set us free; stand firm therefore, and do not submit again to the yoke of slavery.” When he speaks of “the yoke” his reference is to a means of subjugation. A yoke across the shoulders of an ox or a man prevents freedom. Under it there is only slavery. In Paul’s own life, his slavery was to legalism. He was always zealous to obey the letter of the law. Christians, in his estimation, were non-conformists, law breakers. Hence he took it upon himself to harass them into obedience. But his behavior flew in the face of the spirit of the law, which was to preserve peace, order, and the integrity of the community of faith. It took an intervention by Christ to free him from his self-centered slavery to correctness. Through God’s grace he was saved from that slavery. Well, almost. He still had enough ego to feel bruised by the Galatians’ lack of loyalty.

Every child needs to experience grace. Every child needs the comfort of knowing that he is loved unconditionally by his parents. Being accepted without ifs, ands, or buts, is a powerful force for the good. It is enlivening and freeing. Released from the toil and strife of seeking to please, a child can grow into the full stature of Christ. To me that means developing into a grateful, gracious person. It means that one is truly free to love. Freedom of this kind is not the license to do as I please, an entitlement to receive or to presume one’s own importance. Rather it is the liberty to serve, and to give, and to grow in grace for the sake of God’s pure, unbounded love for the whole world.

Accepting God’s acceptance is a process. The gift of grace is not the flipping of a switch; it is an acquired taste. God keeps on giving, and our task is to remain open to God’s continuous stream of unconditional love. Grace had not completely taken hold of the Galatians. Nor had it taken hold of Paul. Neither has it sunk in with us. But grace abides. It is real, and it works, if we’ll let it.

A Collect for Peace

O God, who art the author of peace and lover of concord, in knowledge of whom standeth our eternal life, whose service is perfect freedom: Defend us, thy humble servants, in all assaults of our enemies; that we, surely trusting in thy defense, may not fear the power of any adversaries; through the might of Jesus Christ our Lord.     Amen.