The Fourteenth Sunday after Pentecost

Active Worship

It is easy for us adults to become passive about worship, to think of worship as something we just attend… something that is offered to us or done for us. But worship is a verb, an active verb. And you, in the pews, are the ones whose activity creates worship. Without your active participation, there is no worship.

This sermon is prompted by a change taking place in our worship practice here at St. John’s. For some of you just those words elicit anxiety. For those of you who are feeling anxious now, I wonder if you could articulate what specific change in worship it is that you dread, or does any mention of any change at all in worship fill you with apprehension.

In general, not just in worship, change is often good. Remember: One of our foundational affirmations as Christians is that in death, life is changed, not ended. Not all change is good, but the complete absence of change is death.

The specific worship change here at St. John’s will primarily impact the 10:00 service. This fall, children’s chapel will no longer be offered. Many parishes offer some sort of children’s chapel as an alternative worship experience for children. When Donica was hired as our Christian Education director, I asked her to develop a children’s chapel program here. It was offered at the same time as the first half of the 10:00 service and designed to be an age-appropriate liturgy of the word. And Donica did a great job of creating an experience that was engaging for the kids.

Despite the fact that children’s chapel here began at my initiative, I’ve always had mixed feelings about it. I admit that the elimination of children’s chapel at this particular time is prompted in part by the fact that we have not been able to fill the Christian Ed position, but that doesn’t change the fact that I have always had real reservations about anything that segregates the worshiping community.

Children’s chapel certainly has some potential benefits for children, but I believe we are impoverished as a community when we are segregated during worship. To have two separate worship experiences going on at 10:00 diminishes us all. Worship should unite us as a parish family.

To have really common worship as a full community may be more work, especially for us adults, but I think God is calling us to that work. To create worship together that is engaging for all ages is work, but I know that we will be spiritually enriched by doing that work. For one thing, having the children with us as part of the worshiping community throughout the 10:00 service challenges us to a healthy reexamination of the activity of worship. Worship as activity.

On the one hand you might say that Episcopalians are pretty active in worship. As a child, I was taught the sit/stand/kneel drill. Sit for instruction, stand for praise, kneel for prayer. More recently some people have quipped that one of the advantages of being an Episcopalian is that you get worship and aerobics all at the same time. And then there are all those books and leaflets to juggle.

But I want to offer a particular definition of worship, at least for the purposes of this sermon. Worship is not just any physical activity that happens to take place in this place. Worship is activity directed specifically to God. Worship is active, created by activity… activity aimed directly at God. Which is to say, it is possible to be within this space for a whole hour and never actually worship.

What are the activities of worship? Prayer is one, of course. At least when those prayers are our own, active prayers. Being a people of “common prayer” has both strengths and weaknesses. It is our common prayer that unites us, draws us into communion with one another. In these common prayers we support one another and share times of trial and joy. The Book of Common Prayer provides a depth of reverence and majesty of language that most of us could not muster on our own. But it also enables us to coast. To just sit back and passively coast through the prayers without making them our own, without ever personally, actively engaging God with our own prayers. Pray actively. To God.

Another activity of worship is praise. Episcopalians talk about praise; we are not so good at it as an activity, as something we do towards God. Every Sunday as we begin Communion, I say, “Lift up your hearts.” For the early Christians that was a literal command to stand up. Stand up in praise. Throw your heart open to God. Offer your whole body to God in praise. Be actively praise-full. Other denominations clap and shout and dance in praise. That’s not the only way to be actively praise-full. I think our children can probably help us find ways to be better at the worship activity of praise.

Offering is another activity of worship. That portion of our Sunday liturgy that serves as a prelude to Holy Communion is called the offertory. It is a time specifically dedicated to the activity of offering. How do you participate in the offertory? The ushers are busy collecting money. I am busy setting the table. In the midst of that busy-ness it’s hard to think of directing those activities to God, but I, at least, am going to work on it. The choir is offering their voices and talent to God.

What about you? Theoretically, placing an envelope in a plate could be an activity of worship, could be a focused activity directed towards God. But is it? Does it feel that way? Or is placing an envelope in a plate a brief distraction from whatever thoughts or conversations or non-worship activities you happen to be involved in at the time?

Starting next Sunday there will be an opportunity for children to participate actively in the offertory. To offer something themselves to God. To bring an offering to God’s altar. That’s what the red basket is for in front of the altar. Each week it will be placed there at the offertory time, and children are encouraged to walk up and place their personal offering in the basket. Whatever they want to offer of themselves for God’s use.

A few possible suggestions might include things for the food pantry. A can of soup or a box of cereal. Offered out of their abundance in compassion for God’s children who are hungry.

Or something for God’s non-human creatures in need. The needs of lost and abandoned pets have been dear to the hearts of the children here at St. John’s for a long time. A child may want to offer a blanket or some dog food to God as an act of sharing in God’s care for all creatures. We’ll make sure it gets to the Humane Society.

Or money. Families handle money differently. Have that conversation in your family if it is appropriate. We have special offering envelopes available in the back of the church for kids to use. They go in the red basket, too. An offering to God, for the church’s use in doing God’s work.

We’re going to make one change, too, in how the “adult” financial offering is handled. After it’s collected, we’re going to place it on the altar and leave it there throughout Communion. That’s better liturgical practice anyway. Money isn’t something we collect and then stash in the corner; it is part of each of our self-offering to God. So it should be brought to God’s altar.

Any given Sunday during the time you are here, ask yourself: When am I actually doing something active, directed towards God? Not just sitting here thankful that God has dropped by to share this time with me, but actively praying, praising, offering myself directly to God?

It seems like those things that we get most actively involved in are not worship, not God-directed activities. Even during worship time that can be true. The challenge for all of us of all ages is to dedicate ourselves to worship, to seek out and focus ourselves on activities that engage us with God. For those of us who are adults it is also our responsibility to try to make this particular Sunday morning time a time when children’s God-directed activity engages them and enriches our common worship.

Some people say that children are too active to be in worship. I would suggest that most adults are not nearly active enough to be in worship.

A little child will lead us, Isaiah said. And Jesus seemed to agree, when he said in Matthew’s Gospel, speaking to his grown-up disciples, “unless you change and become like children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven.”

The Twelth Sunday after Pentecost

Remembering September 10th, September 2001

Today, of course, is September 11th. It is the tenth September 11th since the one in 2001. Anniversaries with zeros on the end tend to get special attention—whether they are anniversaries of joy, like a birth or a marriage, or if they are anniversaries of grief or tragedy.

So this anniversary has received a lot of attention in the media and the public sphere. Everyone is remembering… in public. It almost seems like businesses, organizations, public figures… all are engaged in competitive remembering. Or, if not competitive remembering, compulsive remembering. Major League Baseball remembers, America Remembers, ABC remembers, the Stars of Lyric opera concert at Millennium Park last night remember. The front page of today’s Tribune—after you peel of the post-it note advertisement—proclaims in the largest possible font: We Remember.

As though any American who was alive then could forget. As though any of us who were alive then could forget the loss, the fear, the heroism, the compassion, the shock.

This is an important anniversary, but I’m a bit tired of all the public reflecting and remembering. I feel a bit guilty admitting it, but I’m definitely suffering from 9/11 news overload now.
 
Nevertheless… Considering much of what has been said in the last week or so, change seems to be the most prominent topic. How 9/11 caused change.

The Christian Science Monitor writes, “The terrorist attacks have become this generation’s Pearl Harbor—an epic event that has changed young peoples’ view of the world and America’s place in it.”

One news anchor said, “It changed everything.” Everything.

In an interview with National Geographic, President Bush noted how the events of that day dramatically changed his presidency. Probably no one would argue with that.

BBC North America editor, Mark Mardell, wrote, “When I first started asking Americans about how 9/11 had changed their country, I was surprised. I had been expecting something about the wars, or other philosophical reflections. Instead they talked about queues at airports.” The responses may seem a bit superficial, but the focus is still on change, the expectation that the way to reflect on 9/11 is to analyze the changes that it produced.

A subheading on the front page of today’s Tribune says, “The day that changed a decade.”

Change. 9/11 is to be interpreted and understood in terms of the changes that were set in motion by the events of that day.

Despite my news fatigue, remembering is not a bad thing to do today, on this tenth anniversary of September 11th, 2001. I was not here then, of course. When I preached to the people of St. Patrick’s, in Brewer, Maine, on the Sunday after September 11th, I did urge them to remember. I want to say to you some of what I said to them ten years ago. Remember. Remember September 10th, 2001. Ten years ago September 11th was a Tuesday. I urge you to remember Monday. Remember Monday, September 10th, 2001.

On Monday, September 10th, countless Christians around the world woke up and began the day with prayer. As they have for thousands and thousands of years, people of faith offered their private and corporate prayers and praises to God. They found joy, courage, hope and strength in the unshakable presence of God in their daily lives. Many in this country, Episcopalians in particular, may have begun their day on September 10th with the pamphlet of prayer and meditation knows as Forward Day by Day. On that Monday, it referred to Paul’s letter to the Philippians and spoke of “sharing in the gospel.” “Did you ever see a child,” the meditation said, “open a wonderful present and not share it with anyone? Good news is to be shared. ‘I pray’ says Paul, ‘that your love may overflow.’ Love is never static; it grows or diminishes. And in growth, our capacity to love breaks through, overflows, and takes root in another and another and another. Love is always shared, and always more than enough.” A Christian meditation from September 10th, 2001. Love is always shared, and always more than enough.
 
On Monday, September 10th, countless other Christians began their day with Daily Morning Prayer. As they do every single day, they presented themselves to God. Possibly, as they read through the service of Daily Morning Prayer, they may have confessed their sins, large and small, so that they could begin that ordinary Monday with newness of heart. They read a lesson from the First Book of Kings, chapter 13, verses 1-10. The day before they had read the end of chapter 12. The next day they would continue on in First Kings… Because, as Christians have, for thousands of years, they found insight and guidance in the regular, daily reading of God’s word. In Morning Prayer, they said the Lord’s Prayer… “give us this day our daily bread… thy kingdom come, thy will be done.”

On that Monday, September 10th, ten years ago, I imagine that some Christian woman somewhere, widowed perhaps, deeply connected to the life and worship of the church, went out to work in her garden early in the morning and began humming to herself, “Oh God, our help in ages past. Our hope for years to come. Our shelter from the stormy blast, and our eternal home.” Maybe she was lonely or anxious on that particular Monday. Or maybe it was just one of her absolute favorite hymns of the church. That day in her garden, she felt the resonance of the hymn and its powerful words grow and grow with the strength of the millions upon millions of voices of faith who have sung that hymn over the centuries.

On Monday, September 10th, 2001, the day before September 11th, Christians around the world buried their dead. On Monday. Proclaiming in the midst of their grief and loss, as Christians always have, the sure and certain hope that in death life is changed, not ended. And that nothing can separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus.

On Monday, September 10th, Christians around the world reached out with compassion to the sick and suffering. Every day for almost 2000 years Christian have heeded Jesus’ words: “If you do this for the least of these, you do it for me.”

On Monday, September 10th, 2001, September 10th being a Monday that year, some Christians might have paused for just a moment to remember the day before—a Sunday, the Lord’s Day. It would have been the Fourteenth Sunday after Pentecost. Maybe on that Sunday a parent watched his child reach out to receive communion for the first time and then, in the moment when he, too, received, the father knew, with a startling certainty, the absolutely insurmountable strength of the bond shared by those who share the Body and Blood of Christ. Those who are united in Christ cannot be separated.

That September Sunday would have been Rally Day, Jubilation Sunday, for many parishes. Christians would have done what Christian in parish communities do: they would have signed up for Sunday School, joined in fellowship and conversation with one another, perhaps shared in a common meal. They would have participated in the everyday activities of Christian community because it is within Christian community… it is in the relationships that bind a parish together into the Body of Christ… It is those relationships that manifest God’s power of unity to overcome estrangement, the power of forgiveness to heal guilt, and of joy to conquer despair. It happens whenever two or three are gathered together in Jesus’ name.

Perhaps that Monday, September 10th, a goodly number of Christian clergy read the Scripture readings appointed for the coming Sunday. (I would not have been among them looking ahead.) Not having any idea what the week ahead would bring, they read the Scripture passages so that God’s Word might color and inform their lives during the week, and so that the meshing of the Scriptures with their experiences during the coming week might inspire their preaching on the following Sunday. Those clergy would have gone to bed Monday night with these words rolling around in their minds (we were in a different lectionary year that year): “Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners.”

On Monday, September 10th, Christians gave thanks. Thanks for the food on their tables. Thanks for the blessing of families. Thanks for minds to think and hearts to love, and hands to touch and serve. Thanks for health and leisure. Thanks for those who are brave and courageous and patient. Thanks for the opportunity, as creatures in God’s creation, to seek and explore and build and imagine.

And on Monday, September 10th, 2001, a Christian particularly prone to spiritual reflection might have reflected back upon the worst day that the world has ever seen. A day when human kind crucified the Son of God. When we left the God of love hanging to die upon a cross on Calvary. No day can ever be worse than that one. Nothing can be darker, more hopeless, more evil than that day. And yet God entered into that day of human evil and suffering and brought us out of it. Brought us out of it. Out of that very worst day God brought unimaginable hew hope and new life.

On Monday, September 10th, 2001, Christians found strength and guidance in prayer; celebrated the blessing of God’s presence; shared God’s love in worship; supported one another with compassion; and proclaimed God’s victory over evil and death.

Many people are saying that on Tuesday, September 11th, 2001, everything changed.

I hope not.

Given what everyday Christian were doing on September 10th, I hope that everything did not change.

I know that our baptismal covenant did not change. The baptismal covenant, which begins with the ancient affirmation of faith from the Apostles’ Creed and continues with our prayer, that by God’s help, we may live into our Christian vocations… The baptismal covenant did not change.

Many people were profoundly affected by the events of September 11th, 2001. Please don’t imagine for a second that I am discounting the impact of the events of that day ten years ago upon individuals and upon our nation.

But for those of us who are Christian, what did not change that day is more important than what did. The baptismal covenant did not change. Our affirmation of Christ’s love and mercy. The glorious hope to which we are called as beloved children of God. The measure of the Christian vocation to which, with God’s help, we may aspire. These have not changed. And these are bigger, more important, even, than 9/11.

Well more than ten years ago, St. Paul wrote to the Christians in Rome, encouraging them to persevere in the Christian faith and life. A few weeks ago, we heard St. Paul’s list of characteristics of the Christian life. He concluded by reminding the Christians in Rome that Christians are called to be people who “overcome evil with good.”

Christians are people who overcome evil with good. That is something that 9/11 has not changed.

The Twelfth Sunday after Pentecost

Just Do Your Best

Matthew 18:15-20

In the portion from Romans that we heard last week Paul offered what sounded to me like a checklist. He provided the Christians in Rome a checklist on the different aspects of Christian living. If you want to live as a Christian, these are the things you should be doing. How many can you check in your own life?

Let love be genuine.
Hate what is evil.
Hold fast to what is good.
Love one another with mutual affection.
Do not lag in zeal.
Be ardent in spirit.
Serve the Lord.
Rejoice in hope.
Be patient in suffering.
Persevere in prayer.
Contribute to the needs of the saints.
Extend hospitality to strangers.
Bless those who persecute you.
Rejoice with those who rejoice.
Weep with those who weep.
Live in harmony with one another.
Do not be haughty, but associate with the lowly.
Do not claim to be wiser than you are.
Live peaceably with all.
Never avenge yourselves.
Do not be overcome by evil, but overcome evil with good.
(Romans 12:9-21)

That was last week; he gets a bit of a second wind in this week’s passage and there’s more. So how do you do? How many can you check of as “yeses” in your daily life?

I expect most of us would agree that all of the things on Paul’s list are aspects of good Christian living. But the list seems pretty overwhelming. If that list were a parents’ advice to a child for the first day of school, the kids’ eyes would have glazed over after item three.

Thinking of advice that we give to children and young people, how often do we say to them, “Just do your best.” Just do your best. Before a big test. Before the first day of kindergarten. Before the first day of college. Before the big game. Before the first game of T-ball season. Before their first job.
Just do your best.

Don’t worry about remembering a checklist.
Don’t measure yourself against others.
Don’t measure yourself by some perceived outside standard.
Don’t measure yourself by the final score on the scoreboard.
Just do your best.

I hear Jesus saying that to us in this morning’s Gospel. Just do your best.

What he actually says in Matthew’s Gospel is: “For where two or three are gathered together in my name, I am there among them.” These words are particularly familiar to many Episcopalians from the prayer of St Chrysostom which is in our Prayer Book. “O Lord, you have promised through your well-beloved Son that when two or three are gathered together in his Name, you will be in the midst of them.” I still remember an occasion when I was in high school, and the little church we attended in Edwardsville was between priests. One Sunday the lay reader and I (the acolyte) were the only ones who showed up. He reminded me of this prayer. He reminded me that we two were gathered together in Jesus’ Name and Jesus was with us. We know and cherish Jesus’ promise.

You may or may not know the particulars of the context for Jesus’ words. Jewish public worship then and now requires a minyan. A minyan is a quorum of ten. It is required for most public worship. There has been considerable debate over the years exactly who constitutes a legitimate participant (age, gender, standing in the community), but the quorum, the number is absolute. Ten participants. The peoples’ prayers, public worship cannot begin without ten.

But Jesus says, if two or three is the best you can do today, I will be in the midst of you. If two or three is the best you can do, that’s OK. I… whom Peter has just named Son of the living God… I will be with you.

So Jesus says to us today: Do not measure the quality of your worship against the numbers of the megachurch down the street. Do not fret about some perceived ideal or standard without which worship is not authentic. Don’t worry about whether or not everything is “just right.”

Just do your best. And I will be among you. Whenever two or three gather in my name—you have my promise—I will be among you.

The editorial in the most recent issue of the Christian Century talks about the nature of the church—what makes a group of people a church? One thing a church is is a group of people skilled in everyday practices of faith. People who “display some measure of forgiveness, compassion, hospitality, care for the Earth, solidarity with those who suffer and perseverance in distress.”

It’s a shorter summary of Paul. Maybe it seems more manageable than his long checklist. Or maybe you still say to yourself… I can’t meet that standard. Maybe if I were stronger, or more spiritual. Maybe if we were bigger church. If, if, if… if only, then maybe.

Jesus says to us, whenever two or three are gathered in my name, in worship or in service… Whenever two or three work side by side, in my name, doing their best to live faithfully, I will be with you.
This is a very comforting assurance. Jesus says, don’t measure yourself by somebody else’s standard. Just do you best. Don’t give up. Just gather one or two others with you and do your best. And I, Jesus, will be with you.

Hear Jesus’ words of comfort. Hang on to Jesus’ words of comfort.

But also hear these words as challenge.

As adults, often when we say the words “It was the best I could do,” we say them as throw-away words. We actually mean, “This nowhere near the best I could do.” The words mean: I didn’t take the time to do better; I didn’t care enough to do better… given the very low priority of this project in the midst of everything else going on my life, this was all I really felt like doing… It was the best I could do.

We say those words, with that meaning, a lot to Jesus.

In next week’s Gospel, Peter asks Jesus, “Lord, if another member of the community sins against me, how often should I forgive?” Then, imagining an extravagant number as a sign of his holiness, he says, “As many as seven times?” Should we, your followers forgive as many as seven times?

Jesus says to Peter, “Just do your best.” Do your best to forgive. Not seven times, but maybe seventy-seven times. Jesus concludes this passage by saying, it isn’t really about numbers. Forgive from your heart. Offer the best of yourself in forgiveness. Do your best to forgive.

How often do we save our best for other things and other times and other activities, and withhold our best from God?

Just do your best, Jesus says.

Of course, Jesus doesn’t actually say those words anywhere in Matthew’s Gospel. But it’s what I hear Jesus saying to me, to us, today. In these passages from Matthew that are all about being a community in Christ.

Just do your best.

They are words both of profound comfort and significant challenge. We need to remember them as both, as comfort and as challenge. Your best is enough, but offer your best. Comfort and challenge. “Just do your best.”

The Eleventh Sunday after Pentecost

I Want to Be Like Mike Moses
Exodus 3:1-15
Matthew 16:21-28

Part of our focus as we gather as a parish community today is the beginning of a new school year. At the 10:00 service we are blessing backpacks and the students who carry them and praying for everyone who is involved in the process of education.

At first glance I thought today’s Gospel reading might be relevant to the beginning of a new school year—especially from the students’ perspective. Jesus talks about how he is going to undergo “great suffering” and he mentions carrying your own cross. But that really isn’t an appropriate use of Jesus’ words.

As we do focus on the commencing of another new school year it is a time to think about aspirations, dreams. It is a time to look forward to the person God is calling each of us to become. Education is a process of formation that shapes and grows us into who we are called to be. For children, of course, one part of who they are called to be is functional and productive members of society. And part of the role of education is to help them grow into their vocation as citizens. It also helps them grow towards their own individual vocational dreams and aspirations. Helps them become who they want to be when they grow up.

Who do you want to become? No matter what your age; no matter whether you think you are already “grown up” or not… As you look forward, who do you want to become. The question for the moment is not so much “What do you want to do?” As it is “Who do you want to be?”

If part of your answer is Christian, then I remind you, no matter what your age, that Christian Formation is absolutely necessary. That’s how you become a Christian. That’s how you grow into your identity and vocation as a Christian. Life-long Christian Formation.

Thinking about dreams and aspirations reminded me of an iconic TV commercial. I was a bit shocked to discover that it aired 20 years ago (!) but many of you will remember it. It had a very catchy song… “I Want to be like Mike.” I want to be like Mike. Even if you are too young or don’t remember the commercial itself, you know who Mike is. Especially here in Chicago, you know who Mike is. Michael Jordan.

I want to be like Mike. The commercial did not so much play upon the affluence and fame that come along with being Michael Jordan, although it obviously would not have been effective without that context. But it was mostly about his wondrous grace and skill. His ability to make seemingly miraculous dunk shots. And the sense of joy with which he played the game. Not bad aspirations for anyone: to be grace-full and skill-full and to find joy in your vocation. Sadly, of course, very, very few people can realistically aspire to be like Mike. Even with Gatorade.

But I’m wondering… What if the same advertising genius that created that commercial were to focus on Moses?

I want to be like Moses may not have quite the same ring, but it is a very good aspiration for kids and for all of us. I want to be like Moses. I want to become like Moses. And Moses, if you think about it, does some pretty cool things. Things I would like to do. It is unlikely that he was skilled at dunking a basketball, but he saw a burning bush and talked with God as flames sparkled and danced in the bush, but did not consume it. Moses parted the Red Sea. That’s a neat trick. He was a mountain climber. He helped free God’s people. He helped others escape slavery.

I want to be like Moses. He had a close, spirit-filled, enthusiastic relationship with God. He did a lot for God’s people. I want to be like Moses.

At first glance that may seem about as likely as me being like Mike. For any of us to aspire to be like Moses may seem about as unreasonable as aspiring to be like Michael Jordan.

It’s easy to think of Moses as having special qualities, of being remarkable, exceptional, different from most of us. More spiritually gifted than we are.

But think about what we really know about Moses. He was abandoned by his mother at birth. We know why, but did he? As a child? There were no safe haven laws back then. She put him adrift in a river! He was brought up in foster care. In his case, it turned out to be pretty cushy foster care, but still he was away from his family, his culture, his people. Maybe not so unlike people today who deal with complicated parenting and family situations.

Later on, in today’s vernacular, he made a bad life decision. He killed a man. True, the man he killed was an Egyptian slave master, but that doesn’t change the fact that, in uncontrolled anger, Moses took another human life.

He fled that situation and now he’s doing an entry-level job working for his father-in-law.

When he talks with God in the burning bush, Moses is not eager to serve. He is reluctant. He is adamant that he does not have “the right stuff” for the job. He has no special skills or personal qualities that equip him for God’s service.

Finally, he does grudgingly say OK. OK, God. This is your show, but I will be a part of it. This is your team, and I guess I want to be on it.

Moses, unlike Michael Jordan, does not have any special talent. He is not extraordinarily religious or remarkably equipped to serve God. There is nothing about Moses that is any different or better than any one of us. So if we want to be like Moses, we can be.

If we want to be like Moses, we can be. Nothing stands in the way of that aspiration.

We can have the same enthusiastic, intimate relationship with God that Moses had. We can do wondrous things to free and help the people that God loves. We can be like Moses.

All we have to do is stop for just a minute when God speaks to us. Just for a minute. Stop to listen when God speaks your name. In the middle of whatever you’re doing, stop just for a minute. And then trust God just enough to say, OK, this is your show, God. You don’t have to trust God infinitely or extravagantly… Trust God just a bit, just enough, to grudgingly say, “OK, God. I’ll try, with your help. I’d like to be a part of your show. Fill me with your spirit. Use me as you will. And always to your glory.” I want to be like Moses. Amen.

The Blessing of the Backpacks

A litany of thanksgiving as a new school year begins.

For our minds and the ability to think and reason;
We thank you, Lord.

For the passion and dedication of all who teach;
We thank you, Lord.

For the gifts of wonder and creativity and the vision to see you, Lord, in things that are new;
We thank you, Lord.

For schools and the opportunity learn;
We thank you, Lord.

For our friends at school, who share the good times and the hard times with us;
We thank you, Lord.

For our families, for their love and support;
We thank you, Lord.

For computers and calculators and all the other tools that help us learn and explore;
We thank you, Lord.

For words and stories and ideas and the chance to share them with others;
We thank you, Lord.

For music and art and drama and joy;
We thank you, Lord.

For games and times of recreation and renewal;
We thank you, Lord.

For all those people who help us learn and all those whom we are able to help;
We thank you, Lord.

For our own unique gifts and talents and the opportunity use them in your service;
We thank you, Lord.

God of power and hope, we pray your blessing upon these backpacks, on the students who carry them and on all students and teachers everywhere. Bless us all in our vocation as learners, in Jesus’ name we pray. Amen.

The Tenth Sunday after Pentecost

A Peculiar Church
Matthew 16:13-20

The passage we heard as this morning’s Gospel is usually referred to as the “Confession of Peter.” Peter witnesses, proclaims, “confesses,” that Jesus is the Son of God. Similar passages appear in Mark and Luke’s Gospels. God reveals to Peter the wonder of Jesus’ identity. It’s a powerful and important passage and remains a strong witness to us today of who Jesus is.

As powerful and important as Peter’s words are as witness and revelation, interpreting Jesus’ words is a bit more problematic. As I work to interpret Jesus’ words I’ve drawn heavily on a commentary on Matthew’s Gospel by Eduard Schweizer that we used in seminary. My focus in particular is on the phrase spoken by Jesus: “You are Peter and on this rock I will build my church.”

What was Jesus’ vision for the future for his followers? What did Jesus hope to build?

When Jesus says, “on this rock I will build my church,” the Greek word that is translated “church” is ecclesia. It is the root of our contemporary churchy words like ecclesiastical. But there are two very important things to know about that word ecclesia as it is used in the Bible.

One. Although it has now come to be a part of words meaning church, it was not a religious word in Jesus’ day. It was a general, entirely secular word meaning simply “gathering” or “assembly.” It did not mean “church.” Schweizer translates it “community.” It just meant any community of people who were gathered or assembled.

Two. The word is virtually absent from all four Gospels. It appears here and in one other place in Matthew and that’s it. It appears a lot in Paul and the post-Easter letters, but it is not a part of the Gospels. The words and activities of Jesus' life and ministry do not include the word “church.”

Jesus’ proclamation to Peter about being the rock upon which Jesus will build his church does not appear at all in Mark or Luke’s telling of the Confession of Peter. (The Confession itself is not recounted at all in John.) Writing about this particular phrase, Schweizer states: “the saying about the community [or church] is a post-Easter addition, possibly Matthew’s own. In all four Gospels the word “community” appears only here and in 18:17. In the post-Easter epistles and in Acts it appears frequently, but always in the phrase “community of God,” which translates the Old Testament expression “levy of God,” meaning Israel. The New Testament is aware throughout that Jesus, unlike the Qumran community or the Pharisees, does not seek to establish a special community but to call the whole people of God back to their Lord.”

Whether or not Jesus actually said the words proclaiming Peter as the rock upon which the church would be built is a matter of scholarly debate. Schweizer thinks that Jesus did not say these words; that the words were added by a later author. So what can we say about Jesus’ vision?

I think we can say that Jesus had absolutely no idea whatsoever of anything that we might call “church.” Nothing that we might call church was a part of Jesus’ vision… Church as an institution with any sort of organizational and leadership structure, whether that leadership be papal, episcopal or congregational… Church as something with defined membership guidelines… Even church as a group of people ascribing to a particular creed or confession… None of these was a part of Jesus’ vision.

The word “peculiar” shows up in some of our hymns and Rite 1 collects in its archaic sense of “special.” We sang one last week, which is probably why it’s in my head: “Let every creature rise and bring peculiar honors to our King.” “Peculiar” always means particular. It used to mean particularly special, uniquely wonderful. Only in the 17th century did it come to mean particularly odd, uniquely strange.

I’m not sure how far to push this idea, but maybe it’s helpful to think of everything we call church as peculiar. In both senses of the word. Our own special, uniquely wonderful way of knowing and sharing and praising God. But totally strange, odd, unknown to Jesus. Our current churches would be peculiar indeed to Jesus’ vision.

Jesus does not talk about ecclesia or church. The words Jesus uses are words like people and kingdom. Jesus talks about all of God’s people. All of God’s people. And about bringing them to God’s kingdom and bringing God’s kingdom to them. Jesus’ ministry is about making God’s kingdom real for all of God’s people.

To say that Jesus’ did not talk about ecclesia, whether you translate it church or community, is not a license for us to abandon our particular faith communities. That, I think, would be equally incomprehensible to Jesus. There is only the “people” of God; not "a person" of God. There is no singular.

God only knows if there are any limits on how broad the expanse of God’s people is. Only God knows.
But the people of God are a people bound together by God. Bound. United. Held together by God. Not by human choice, but by God. The people of God are not just individuals, each cared for by God; they are a people… a people bound to one another by God. Not by our choice, but by God's power.

The absolutely greatest differentiation we might imagine amongst us is trivial compared to what binds us one to another. The link is forged by God’s desire and by God’s power. It is literally infinitely stronger than anything on earth.

I am bound to people of God whom I do not know by the power of God.  People I do not know, do not understand, maybe don’t even like… the bond uniting us is full of God’s power.

That turns the world upside down.

Whether the words in Matthew’s Gospel about Peter and the church are Jesus’ own or a post-Easter addition is an issue debated among scholars. The collect appointed for this day is definitely post-Easter, appearing first in the 1928 Book of Common Prayer. “Grant, O merciful God, that your Church, being gathered together in unity by your Holy Spirit, may show forth your power among all peoples, to the glory of your Name.” It is the Holy Spirit’s presence and power that gathers, unites the people of God. It is God’s spirit, love and power that gathers us into unity. Not us. The Holy Spirit. That gathers the people of God into unity. And then we pray that we may, by how we live and serve as God’s people, show forth God’s power to the world. That we, by our words and actions, may proclaim God’s power to gather and unite. That’s the particular power this collect is talking about—God’s power to gather and unite. We pray that even this peculiar church may be a witness to the world of God’s power to gather and unify.

The Ninth Sunday after Pentecost

What if God Doesn't Like Me? 

Matthew 15:10-28

The story we just heard in the second part of today’s appointed Gospel reading is a challenging one. Jesus and the Canaanite woman. What could God be saying to us today in the words of this story? How are we to interpret this passage?

To begin, we should remember that in Jesus’ day, the Hebrew people knew the Canaanites as foreigners and pagans. They were foreigners and they did not worship the one, true God. In the perception of the Jews, the Canaanites were the very people whom God had displaced when God brought the Jews into the promised land.

In addition to being a foreigner and a pagan, she was a woman. She didn’t count. No census of the day would have counted her  among the living. In this story she doesn’t even have a name. No identity worth noticing.

When she comes before Jesus with her intercession, Jesus first ignores her completely. Then Jesus more or less says, “I did not come for such as you.” Then Jesus says, “It is not fair to take the children’s food and throw it to the dogs.” You are no more than an animal to me. Jesus says.

One tempting way to try to interpret this story is to focus in on just single facets of the story. There is the woman’s persistence and courage. That persistence and courage ultimately pay off. That’s a good message and one that Jesus himself makes elsewhere. Persist in prayer; persist in intercession. The woman’s persistence can be an encouraging model to us.

If we look at the passage as a whole, however, we cannot avoid Jesus’ words. Jesus’ hurtful, hateful words. Jesus’ name-calling that defines this woman as literally subhuman.

I suppose these words of Jesus could be used by some people as justification for their own desire to label some other people as subhuman. After all, if Jesus calls pagans dogs, if Jesus calls women dogs, if Jesus calls foreigners dogs…. Well then I ought to be able to call people whatever I want to. Some people might use Jesus’ words to justify their frustration with the demand to use “politically correct” language. Or even worse, some people might use Jesus’ words to justify their hatred of others who differ from them. If anyone is even remotely tempted by this argument, bear in mind that Jesus does not ultimately destroy the Canaanite woman, or cast her away or even “correct” her perceived shortcomings—he helps her.

Other people (and I would put myself in this category) might be tempted to just chuck out this whole particular passage from Matthew’s Gospel. This passage can’t be as important as the other ones that I like better.

In past years (and this Gospel comes around every three years) one of the sermons I’ve preached focuses on the human Jesus. Maybe the human Jesus, conditioned by his own human experience and the social setting of his day, could have spoken those words, but thank God the divine Jesus won out in the end! That’s a spin on the passage that can teach us something, but it’s really pretty bad theology. The two natures of Jesus—human and divine—are not that separate. The human and divine Jesus don’t settle issues by debate or arm wrestling. There is one Jesus. The divine Jesus spoke these difficult words as fully as the human Jesus did.

One on-line sermon I found skirted the issue very creatively, focusing on the disciples' impatience with the woman’s shouting on behalf of her daughter. Jesus’ message, then, in helping the woman, is to affirm that it is OK to get overly emotional where your children are involved.

I’ve said all this up to this point to point out—again!—the complexity of Biblical interpretation, if we take it seriously. If we take Biblical interpretation seriously it is complicated and difficult work.

Here’s how this passage speaks to me this year.

The context is real. We can’t narrow our focus so much that we lose the context of Jews and Canaanites… the “us” versus “them” animosity between Canaanites and Jews. I don’t know if Jesus actually said the words calling this woman a “dog.” It’s hard for me to imagine that he did, but I can’t know for sure. I can’t know for sure. It is ironic, though, to say the least, that just a few lines earlier in this Gospel passage, Jesus himself says that “what comes out of the mouth defiles…” The words that come out of a human mouth defile the speaker when those words express “evil intentions or slander.” Jesus’ words about the Canaanite woman seem slanderous. So either he didn’t say both parts of this passage, or he proclaims himself defiled…

We cannot be absolutely certain what specific words he said. But I think we can be pretty confident that most of the Jews of Jesus’ day would have seen the Canaanite woman as no more than an animal. They would have dismissed her out of hand. Jesus’ disciples would have seen her that way… the writer of Matthew would have seen her that way… and she, herself, would have seen herself that way. That’s what grabs my attention. She would have seen herself as contemptible, of no account, in the eyes of Jesus. Just because of who she was. As a Canaanite woman, she had every expectation that Jesus would dismiss her, dislike her.

Do you think Jesus likes you? We always make these sweeping statements about God’s limitless love, but do you think that Jesus likes...  you? Would like to spend time with you, on a human level? Likes you for who you are?

You’ve been taught, I hope, that God loves you unconditionally (and therefore will forgive you when you sin). But, beyond this theological affirmation, do you feel like Jesus likes you? Do you think Jesus has any reason to care for you in particular? Most of us want to feel liked. It’s distressing to feel disliked. We work to be liked. Do you think Jesus likes who you are?

God acts with healing and hope regardless. Regardless of what you think God thinks of you, God acts with healing and hope in your life.

These are two things we know from this story: The Canaanite woman saw herself as contemptible in Jesus' eyes. Jesus healed her daughter.

It isn’t about what we think God thinks of us. Even if and when you think of yourself as unlikeable in God’s eyes, God will act with hope and healing in your life. Even when you see yourself as beneath God’s notice, God acts with hope and healing. Even if you feel contemptible before God, God acts with hope and healing.

One final word… It’s also important to remember that those "other" people whom you think that God couldn’t possibly like, for whatever reason… God acts with hope and healing in their lives, too.