The Eleventh Sunday after Pentecost - August 24

Who is Jesus, Really?
Matthew 16:13-20
Proper 16

The Gospel for this morning almost sounds like it could be the setting for a game show. “Who do YOU say that I am?!” Contestants from all over Galilee competing for the grand prize. Who do you say that I am??

Quite a few get it wrong… John the Baptist? Elijah? One of the prophets? Then the disciples get the question, but who do YOU say I am?? And Peter gets it right! One of the few stories in Scripture where Peter does not mess up. He gets the right answer. And he wins the grand prize. You shall be the rock, Jesus says, upon which the church is built. You shall be given the keys to the kingdom of heaven and the power to bind and loose.

The church calls this passage the Confession of Peter. “Confession” in the sense of proclamation, witness. Peter proclaims that Jesus is the Messiah, the Son of the living God.

But what if Jesus had asked us: Who do you say that I am? Our first reaction would probably be: Oh, that’s easy. We know the right answer. The one Peter gave. You are the Messiah. The Son of the loving God. Or if a more complete answer is needed, we have the words of the Creeds… You are, “the only Son of God, eternally begotten of the Father, God from God, Light from Light, true God from true God, begotten, not made, of one Being with the Father.”

But what if Jesus said: But who did you say I was yesterday? The words you spoke yesterday… The things you did yesterday… Who did they say that I am?

Many preachers and commentators have pointed out that the challenge of this passage for us today is to ask ourselves: What does the way we live our lives say about who Jesus is? The words we say outside of these church walls say something about who we think Jesus is. Our checkbooks say something about what he means in our lives. The choices we make, the things we do, speak to who we think Jesus is in our worlds. And probably all of these things indicate that Jesus means something to us, that he is worth some measure of attention or study in our lives. But do we confess him as Messiah? Son of the living God?

The Lutheran Pastor and preacher David Lose (who often has a very helpful perspective) points out (HERE) that as we follow this train of thought there is a step beyond feeling guilty. There is a way beyond the general feeling of guilt that we are not doing all we should be doing to proclaim Jesus. It’s probably pretty easy for all of us to get to that guilty place, knowing we are not confessing Jesus as boldly as we should.

But Lose suggests a next step. First start with going beyond the titles we have for Jesus. We have lots. The ones we use in church. Messiah, Lord, Savior, Son of God. And, as Christians, we use those titles a lot, especially here in church. But do we stop to think about what we really mean by those titles? We can’t live what we confess if we don’t rally know what we mean when we confess it. What does it really mean to you or me or to our world when we say that Jesus is the Son of the living God? And we needn’t feel to bad. As we’ll hear next week, Peter didn’t really get it, either.

If you were talking to a child or someone who had absolutely no introduction to Christianity, what words would you use to describe what it really means to you that Jesus is the Son of the living God. This goes a bit beyond describing your personal relationship with Jesus, although that’s a great exercise, too. What does it mean to you and to the world you live in that Jesus is the Son of the living God?

One of the good things about this exercise is that there is not just one right answer. It’s not a game show where only the right answer wins the prize

Here’s part of David Lose’s answer: “I think Jesus is God’s way of showing us how much God loves us and all people. God is so big that I think we have a hard time connecting with God. And so God came to be like one of us, to live like one of us, in order to reveal just how God feels about us. In this sense, Jesus revealed God’s heart”

Here’s my first effort: Jesus shows us that life matters. Our lives matter. The things we do, the choices we make matter. Our lives matter so much that God, in all of God’s power and wonder and divinity, participated and shared our human lives. God lived a human life. That’s how much human lives matter. It’s the total opposite of society’s response to every situation with, “Oh, whatever.” Jesus made God’s presence and purpose real in human life. We matter that much.

So here’s your assignment. Think about how you would describe what it means that Jesus is the Son of the living God. Just a couple of sentences. Using your own words. Try to avoid the stock titles and phrases we use in church.

And I agree with Lose. If we have a better understanding of what it is we’re confessing when we say Jesus is the Son of the living God, I think we’ll do a better job of living that confession throughout out lives. For example, when I think about Jesus as the proof that our lives and choices matter, it helps me take seriously many of the choices I make each day. It helps me remember, too, that every human being I encounter matters.

Don’t worry: if you’ve spent anytime in church your description will be theologically OK. You’ve been shaped by the words and prayers you’ve heard here, but do try to find your own words. Your description won’t be complete. It won’t speak to everything that Jesus is or does. It can’t. Keep it short and focused. It’s OK if it’s not complete.

In the epistle for today, St. Paul talks about how it is the combined gifts of the people in the Body of Christ that make us the Body of Christ

If we combine all of our own confessions of what it means that Jesus is the Son of the living God. And if we combine all of our efforts to live into what we confess, we’ll be doing OK as the Body of Christ.

The Tenth Sunday after Pentecost - August 17

Transformed? by Grace
Proper 15
Matthew 15:21-28

In the collect appointed for today, one of prayers is that Jesus may be for us an example of godly life. And then, in an odd twist of timing, we have the Gospel reading appointed for this morning. Not only do Jesus’ words to the Canaanite woman seem ungodly, they are downright ugly. Essentially, Jesus says to her: “I did not come for such as you… you, who are less-than-human.”

Pretty much every commentary I looked at this week said we have two choices in interpreting Jesus’ words in this incident. In the first choice, it is a test. Jesus is testing the Canaanite woman. One writer called this the Jesus as drill sergeant scenario. Jesus breaks her down in order to build her up. If this is a test, ultimately she passes. And in this interpretation she serves as an example to us of persistence in faith. But it seems so unlike Jesus to cause so much hurt before he bestows a blessing.

In the second interpretation of Jesus’ words, we are seeing a glimpse of the human Jesus still growing in his understanding of his purpose and ministry and as a human being unavoidably shaped by the conditions and social prejudices of his day. In this interpretation, the Canaanite woman teaches Jesus something. She teaches him that even people perceived as less than human can have remarkable faith. Surely that is a good lesson for anyone to learn, but do we really think of Jesus as someone who needed to be taught that?

Personally, I have a preference for interpretation number 2, but there are significant problems with both. Which one of these interpretations you favor probably depends upon the pre-existing Christology you bring to your interpretation. And, whether or not you know it, you do have a preexisting Christology. You either think of Jesus as primarily divine and perfect who sees every situation with total omniscience and acts accordingly… testing the Canaanite woman for her own good. Or you see Jesus as primarily a wholly holy human being, who under God’s guidance grows into his understanding and power of who he is and what he is called to do. Orthodox theology, of course, says Jesus is both, but that’s hard to wrap your head around and most of us lean one way or the other. As I said, I lean towards the holy human Jesus. But, in the end, I don’t think there’s any way we can know for sure what was in Jesus’ mind or what his motives were when he spoke to the Canaanite woman.

One of the pieces I read offered to me, at least, another way to enter into this story. Another way to explore what this piece of sacred Scripture might be saying to us. Just put the whole issue of Jesus’ intent aside, and ask instead: What was it like for the disciples? What did the disciples experience in this event?

For quite a while before this they’ve been in the region of Galilee, “where all the women are strong, all the men are good-looking, and all the children are above average.” That allusion either clicks with you or it doesn’t, but what it’s meant to illustrate is that Galilee is their hometown. For the disciples in Galilee, everything is familiar. They know who lives on every corner; they are related to someone in every town. It’s familiar territory among their own people. And they’ve watched and participated as Jesus has done wonderful things in Galilee, healing and feeding their neighbors, preaching the kingdom to the people of Israel.

So the disciples must have been puzzled at best when Jesus chose to travel some 30 miles as the crow flies (many more as the sandal trudges) to the district of Tyre and Sidon. Tyre and Sidon lie along the Mediterranean coast in present day Lebanon. In Jesus’ day the people there were foreigners, Gentiles.

One commentator writes: "The story is set in a geographical area where good Jewish people would not usually go. The Pharisees avoided the area, because they worried that just being there would make them unclean. The disciples must have been uncomfortable about being there, and sure enough, in this troubling place, trouble found them. A Canaanite person, a woman, no less, who should have known that women don’t go up and talk to strange Jewish men, came running to them, shouting at the top of her voice" (Dawn M. Mayes; http://www.goodpreacher.com/shareit/readreviews.php?cat=50; retrieved 8/16/14).

It seems the disciples must have felt uncomfortable, possibly threatened and frightened. Almost certainly saying to themselves… why on earth are we here, wasting time among these dogs, these useless people? And then Jesus says out loud what they had been thinking.

The same writer suggests the disciples would have been shamed and shocked to hear their prejudice given voice by another, especially Jesus. But I think that’s a modern response and that’s why this story troubles us so deeply. We hear our prejudices being given voice by another, by Jesus! And Jesus’ words hold a mirror up to our faces reminding us of how we still see others who are different as subhuman, worth only being dismissed or cast aside. We are forced to face the contemporary reality of our society and our human nature that is easier for a good person to shoot another person, when that other person is different. It is easi-er for a good person to shoot another person when that other person is different. Whether it is in the Middle East or Missouri.

Going back to the Gospel story, at least in my imagination, the disciples’ more likely response to Jesus words would have been relief and maybe a sense of self-affirmation. As though they were getting their bearings or feeling a bit more secure in the midst of the uncertainty and discomfort they were feeling. Jesus feels the same way I do! Whew! So now let’s move on…

But Jesus doesn’t move on. He stops…

Jesus stops and continues his engagement with the Canaanite woman.

And then…. And then God’s grace breaks the whole world open. God’s grace flows from the woman to Jesus. God’s grace flows from Jesus to the woman. It enfolds and overcomes the disciples. God’s grace floods the hearts and minds of everyone there. I think for a moment God’s grace, God’s love and purpose, was visible and tangible to the disciples without any doubt. The disciples experienced God’s love and purpose in the healing of the Canaanite woman’s daughter.

They were in a land where they felt very out of place. With a person whom they dismissed as subhuman. Together representing two vastly different peoples and perspectives. And all were filled with and radiating God’s grace.

Then that moment passed. That world changing, potentially life-changing, moment was over. And we are left to wonder, to speculate, whether the disciples’ lives were changed by their experience. Matthew’s focus is not on the disciples. He moves on to another event in Jesus’ ministry. Were the disciples transformed by what they experienced?

Did the experience fade in their memories? Especially as they returned with Jesus returned to the familiar territory of Galilee?

Did a few of them perhaps remember and privately nurture that brief moment when Jesus appeared to affirm their prejudice? Clinging to and replaying just that sound bite over and over again?

Or were they transformed? Did they grow in their understanding of God and God’s purpose and of their role in God’s mission? Were they transformed by their experience of God’s grace?

The Ninth Sunday after Pentecost - August 10

Trying to Be With Jesus
Matthew 14:22-33

The stories we are hearing these last few weeks in the Gospel readings come from the heart of Jesus’ ministry in Galilee. Last week we heard how Jesus fed a multitude along the shores of the Sea of Galilee.

This week’s reading follows immediately after. Jesus has dismissed the crowds. He then instructs his disciples to get into the boat and proceed across the lake while he goes up on the mountain alone to pray. As night falls a strong storm arises and wind and waves batter the boat. In the early hours of the morning as the storm rages, Jesus comes towards the disciples in the boat, walking across the stormy sea. The disciples are initially terrified, not knowing who he is. But he says, “It is I.” In the Greek, he actually just says “I am” using the same phrase that God used to identify himself to Moses when he spoke from the burning bush. Peter eagerly jumps up and says, “If it is you, Lord, command me to come to you.” Jesus says “come.” Peter steps out of the boat and initially walks across the stormy waves. But he becomes frightened by the storm. His faith and his focus waver and he begins to sink. Jesus immediately reaches out and saves him and brings him safely back into the boat. In awe the disciples worship Jesus as God’s Son.

I find Peter to be an endearing character throughout the stories we have about him in Scripture. He is so eager and well intentioned, but so often misguided. And here we have another “Peter messes up” story. It seems like most of the Peter stories are “Peter messes up” stories. He’s like that favorite adolescent nephew—a really good kid, but somehow just can't stay out of trouble.

I found myself wondering, at least in my imagination, how this story might have ended differently. What other trajectories might the plot have followed?

The story itself seems to invite us to consider the possibility that Peter might have made it all the way to Jesus. If he hadn’t become frightened; if his faith hadn’t faltered; he could have successfully walked across the waves to Jesus. But, in Peter’s life, that’s an impossible ending. It couldn’t have ended that way because Peter is never without fear or doubt or uncertainty. Peter’s faith is never perfect. It’s fruitless to imagine that it might have been. Peter’s faith is never perfectly clear and secure, unassaulted by doubt or fear.

As Matthew tells the story it seems like Peter initiates this event to test Jesus’ power and identity. “If you are who you say you are, Jesus, work your miracle in me, too.” But the “facts” of the story say that it is Peter’s faith that determines whether he makes it or not. Jesus’ power and identity are manifest in other ways. Jesus has just fed 5000 people with mere morsels of food. Jesus has come walking across the stormy water to the disciples. Jesus saves Peter from drowning. Jesus’ power and identity have been revealed. So if Peter had made it, it would not really have told us anything new about Jesus. It would have told us something we know to be pretty highly unlikely—that Peter had somehow acquired a full and perfect faith.

Another way the story might have played out: What if Peter stayed in the boat with the other disciples. Then, with them, he would have seen a very impressive miracle. He would have observed Jesus walking on water, once again seen a revelation of Jesus’ divinity and power. But he would have been just an observer, learning nothing new about himself or his personal relationship with Jesus.

One other possible scenario for this story: Peter might have missed the boat. Literally. That sounds like something that could happen to the Peter we know. Maybe he got sidetracked trying to figure out exactly how Jesus had fed five thousand with five loaves and two fish. Maybe he was helping clean up. Maybe it had just been a very busy day and he had one more thing to do before he got back to Jesus. So he missed Jesus’ instruction to get in the boat. He missed witnessing the miracle. He missed a personal interaction with Jesus in his life. Because he was busy or distracted, he could have missed the boat.

But the story didn’t go any of those ways. Peter was in the boat and when he saw Jesus, he jumped out into the waves. Because Peter was always trying to be with Jesus! Always, Peter was eagerly trying to be with Jesus, as close to his Lord as possible. Have you thought about that? Even the events we call Peter’s denial—the stage is set for that because Peter just couldn’t stay away. Yes, still assaulted by fear and doubt, but he was there, following as close as possible, trying to be near Jesus.

Then there’s the wonderful post-resurrection story that John tells in his Gospel. After Jesus crucifixion and resurrection some of the disciples, including Peter, are fishing in a boat on the Sea of Galilee. They have caught nothing until a figure on the shore tells them to cast their nets on the other side and they haul in a full catch. When Peter realizes it is Jesus, he jumps overboard to try to get to Jesus as quickly as possible. The boat isn’t fast enough. Peter urgently, eagerly, wants to be with Jesus.

And in this morning’s story, Peter is trying to get to Jesus. So I think the message of this story is: if you’re trying to get to Jesus, Jesus will save you. No matter what dangers threaten you, no matter how secure or not your faith is… if you are trying to get to Jesus, Jesus will save you. If you are working at coming to Jesus, Jesus will save you.

So the point of the story is not if Peter had just had more faith or a more perfect faith, things would have been better. Peter’s faith will never be perfect But he’s eagerly trying to get to Jesus and Jesus saves him.

It’s always better to try to get to Jesus. Even if it involves considerable risk. Peter jumped out of a boat into a stormy sea and was held, caught, and saved by Jesus. Our faith, like Peter’s, will never be perfect. But even in the midst of whatever fear or doubt or uncertainty threatens us, if we are trying to get to Jesus, Jesus will save us. Jesus will take hold of us and hold us close in his arms.

The Fourth Sunday after Pentecost - July 6

Learn From Me
Matthew 11:16-19, 25-30

In this season of liturgical green, we continue to make our way through the middle portion of Matthew’s Gospel. This is Matthew’s year in our Eucharistic lectionary. For the last two weeks, we’ve been in the tenth chapter of Matthew, as Jesus spoke with his disciples about discipleship. Today we’ve moved in to Matthew 11. Today’s reading began at verse 16. But here’s how Matthew 11 begins: “Now when Jesus had finished instructing his twelve disciples, he went on from there to teach and proclaim his message in their cities.” He went on to teach and share his message in the nearby cities.

Today’s Gospel passage is problematic for scholars. It appears to be patched together from several sources and there is uncertainty about how much Jesus’ words may have been modified by the early community before they were recorded in Matthew.

But I came across an interesting take on the first part of today’s reading. It was a commentary written by a preacher. He hears frustration, maybe anger, in Jesus’ words and he sympathizes with Jesus’ feelings of frustration (http://thelisteninghermit.com/2011/06/28/troubled-change-to-yoke-light-ordinary-14a/; viewed July 5, 2014).

Jesus says: How do I get through to you people!!?? I tried offering you joy and you wouldn’t dance. So I tried joining you in grief, and you weren’t interested in that either. You just sit there.

Then Jesus articulates what could be God’s frustration: I sent John the Baptist, who was ascetic, abstaining from eating and drinking, and you criticized him as being possessed. So I sent the Son of Man who sat down with you, shared meals with the least of you, and you really laid into him, condemning him as a glutton and a drunkard.

There’s no pleasing you! There’s no getting through to you! I’ve tried everything and nothing seems to make any difference to you.

And then there are the deleted verses in this morning’s Gospel, the ones we skipped. Jesus’ anger really comes through there. He calls down woe upon those cities he has visited where he has done deeds of power, but they haven’t responded in any way. They’ve shown no repentance. Woe to you, Jesus says. It will be better for Sodom on the day of judgment than for you.

Then ultimately, seemingly calmed, Jesus pleads: Come to me. Learn from me. Learn. From. Me. That’s his plea, Jesus’ plea to the people to whom he speaks. Learn from me. Remember? He went out into the cities to teach. Learn from me.

Jesus’ plea compels us to ask ourselves, do we want to learn from Jesus.

Do you want to learn from Jesus? Really? It’s one thing to think of Jesus as a teacher. It’s one thing to have a passing interest in learning about Jesus. It’s another thing to learn from Jesus himself, to be an active and motivated learner at the feet of Jesus.

There are lots of people out there in the world and undoubtedly several folks here in the parish who know a lot more about education theory than I do. But it’s my sense, based on what I do know, that education theory used to be all about teaching… and various teaching methods. But now it’s about teaching AND learning. Teaching methods and learning styles. There’s a lot more emphasis now on active learning as part of the education process. Students are not just the recipients of teaching; they are learners.

Evidently, there is even a concept called “active learning.” This is from a University of Minnesota Center for Teaching and Learning website (http://www1.umn.edu/ohr/teachlearn/tutorials/active/what/, viewed July 5, 2014):

Defining ‘active learning’ is a bit problematic. The term means different thing to different people, while for some the very concept is redundant since it is impossible to learn anything passively.

It is impossible to learn anything passively.

It is impossible to learn anything passively. But that’s exactly how most of us approach learning from Jesus. That was exactly the source of Jesus’ apparent frustration in the beginning of today’s reading. And it is still the case. We’d like to learn, maybe, as long as it doesn’t cost us any effort.

I can’t help but note with some irony that the sermon, as a teaching tool, comes out of the old model of a teacher lecturing to a passive group of people. And historically, the church has encouraged a certain passivity among parishioners. All the congregation was asked to do was congregate. Surely, Jesus would be sad and frustrated.

I do wonder, how would you react if I asked you to be actively engaged, to participate, in this sermon learning opportunity?

In this morning’s passage, Jesus did encounter some folks who were a bit more active, but they were active only by deflecting any possibility of learning by criticizing the teachers. I can’t learn from John, he’s crazy; I can’t learn from Jesus, he’s a drunkard. One commentator I came across pointed out this tendency is often seen in the church… People criticize as a means to avoid or deflect participation.

But aside from that church dynamic, we do it with God, too. We say, it’s not my fault I can’t learn, it’s God’s fault. The fault is in God’s teaching method. God isn’t meeting me where I am. God isn’t speaking “my” language. God isn’t engaging me. Jesus’ pleads with us. Learn from me.

So do you really want to learn from Jesus?

It means bringing openness to our encounters with Jesus. Openness to new things. Maybe that’s why Jesus praises infants in this passage. Infants are eager and open to learn. To learn new things. To learn new ways to communicate, new ways to perambulate, new ways to relate.

Are you? Eager and open to learn from Jesus? Think about how you learn best. Different people do learn in different ways. How do you learn best? And how can you actively bring that learning activity to your encounters with Jesus? How can you really learn from Jesus' word as it is given to us in Scripture? From the living Christ as you encounter him in prayer? From Christ’s actions as you witness them in others?

How can you really learn from Jesus’ words as we find them on these Scripture inserts? How can these words be more than just words your eyes skim over or that go in one ear and out the other? Do you need to underline as you listen? Take them home and read them out loud yourself? Summarize them in your own words? Grab a friend and turn them into a drama? How can you find their meaning for your own life? Find those places where they are relevant to your personal concerns? How can you actively listen to these words so that they come alive in your life?

Or when you encounter Jesus’ in prayer. How can you move beyond rote repetition of familiar words? Prayer is a conversation. Sometimes an argument. Demand a response from God. Don’t back down until you get it. If writing helps you, write out your own prayers. Knit your prayers if that works for you.

How do you process observations so that they become learnings? How do you reflect on God’s presence and activity in your life so that you grow in your awareness and understanding? Maybe you need a soul friend or a spiritual director who will help you reflect. Maybe journaling works for you. Maybe meditation. But do something to reflect upon and process Jesus’ presence in your life.

There are risks to learning new things, of course. For one thing knowledge brings responsibility. Responsibility to act upon what we have learned. And learning always brings change.

To face those risks would seem to require motivation. What is the motivation to learn from Jesus? What might motivate us to bring ourselves as active learners in our encounters with Jesus? For one thing, learning from Jesus is really the only way to know God. You can probably pick up a little information about God by passive osmosis. But to know God, to have a relationship with God… that can only be learned from Jesus. And second, Jesus tells us we will find rest for our souls. That’s the reward for us. That’s Jesus’ promise. If we do the work of learning from Jesus, we will find rest for our souls.

The Third Sunday after Pentecost - June 29

A Question of Scale
Matthew 10:40-42 
(Proper 8)

For me, today’s Gospel reading raises a question of scale.

I don’t know for sure if you know what I mean by scale. It’s not the sort of scale you weigh yourself on, or weigh vegetables on.

I’m thinking of scale as it means relative size or significance. The size or significance of one thing is measured relative to something else. In my previous life as a field geologist, scale was very important. Geologists who work in the field use photos a lot to illustrate important observations. But if I take a photo of a fossil surrounded by a bunch of rock, you have no way of knowing if the fossil is ½ inch high or 2 feet high. Which is why field geologists always carry a penny, or a pen, or a lens cap to place in the photo for scale. So you can see the size of the fossil relative to the size of something else.

The idea of scale comes up in other contexts as well. We say: Jimmy is short, for a fourth grader. We’re not taking about his actual height, but his height relative to other kids in his class. And recently, I’ve heard comments like: The current flooding on the Mississippi in the Twin Cities area is on an unprecedented scale. Relative to other floods, this is bad.

Scale always involves a comparison. It always involves evaluating the size or significance of something relative to, or compared to, something else.

I’m thinking about this in terms of being a disciple, a follower of Jesus. Disciples do what Jesus taught us to do. And it seems to me, there is a huge difference in scale between last week’s reading and today’s, in terms of what disciples do.

In today’s reading from Matthew, Jesus says, “whoever gives even a cup of cold water to one of these little ones in the name of a disciple” will be rewarded. Jesus praises disciples who give a cup of water to “these little ones.” He probably meant all those who were considered of no account at the time. That would have included children, and many more. Jesus praises an act of discipleship that involves giving just a cup of water to someone who is considered of no account.

Last Sunday… and today’s reading follows directly after last week’s… so this us just a few verses earlier, Jesus says: “whoever loves father or mother more than me is not worthy of me; and whoever loves son or daughter more than me is not worthy of me”

Giving somebody unimportant a glass of water versus turning away from relationships with your closest family. That seems like such a huge difference in scale with respect to what a disciple is asked to do.

So what are the implications of this for us? Sharing a glass of water. It seems so easy. Especially on the scale of acts of discipleship. It is so easy it may seem insignificant. Does it really matter? Why bother? Such a small act won’t really make any difference in the big picture. And we might also think, if that’s all I do, I must not be much of a disciple. All of these thoughts come out of the world of scale. Where measurement and comparison rule. This is such a small act of discipleship compared to others. And because it is so small, it can’t be of much value.

I can give you several reasons to persevere in small acts of discipleship.

One of Loren Eiseley’s most well-known essays is called “The Starthrower.” It describes a young man who went out to the beach at dawn after a night of severe storms. In the storm surge, many starfish had been stranded on the beach. If they weren’t returned to the sea, they would die. The starthrower was casting them, one by one, back into the sea. In the essay, the observer asks, “What does it matter, there are so many?” And the starthrower replies, “It matters to those I save.” Small acts of discipleship matter to those who are the recipients.

Another point. Crowd sourcing. A new term, but an old idea. The term comes from the internet age. But the practice is much older. The combined action of a number of small acts can create a large result. A lot of people, a crowd, doing small acts can add up to a large result. Christians are a big crowd. When each of us does our little bit, combined, they can produce a large impact.

And then there’s the “butterfly effect.” According to Wikipedia, the butterfly effect is… “in chaos theory, the sensitive dependency on initial conditions in which a small change at one place in a deterministic nonlinear system can result in large differences in a later state. The name of the effect… is derived from the theoretical example of a hurricane's formation being contingent on whether or not a distant butterfly had flapped its wings several weeks earlier.” Human beings are nonlinear systems. I’m sure you can imagine a scenario in which a small act of kindness, a small act of discipleship, a kind word, a small gift, might create a chain of events that leads to a big result.

Those are all good things to bear in mind. And if they motivate you to do small acts of discipleship, I hope you’ll hang on to them. But they are part of the world of scale. Where the value of something is measured by its relative size compared to something else.

My main point today is different. My main message today is this: I don’t think scale exists in God’s kingdom or in the life of discipleship. There is no scale in the life of discipleship. Things aren’t measured by relative size. It isn’t about comparing one act of discipleship versus another. There is no scale among acts of discipleship. ALL acts of discipleship are God-sized.

There isn’t a “big” God versus a “small” God. God is the immeasurable size of God’s wonder and love. There isn’t a “real” God’s kingdom in contrast to a “partial” kingdom. There is only the fullness of God’s kingdom. And every act of discipleship that acts to bring God into the world is God-sized. And every effort to make real the kingdom of God is full of the fullness of God’s kingdom.

I think it’s almost impossible for us to imagine that world, that world without scale. But try.

There is no scale among acts of discipleship. Acts of discipleship are not measured by the size of the results. The value of very act of discipleship is in the action itself. And every one is immeasurably important. There are no big scale acts of discipleship versus small scale acts of discipleship. All acts of discipleship are God sized.

This is not the world we live our daily lives in—a world without scale. No, but I really believe it’s God’s world. And in God’s world, more is not more. Every single thing… every individual creature… every one is all.

I am reminded of an article I read years and years ago in the Christian Century about a father taking his daughter for a hike. As I remember it, the question came up whether or not small, individual acts of environmental stewardship were worth it. Does picking up that one candy wrapper make a difference? What’s the point of preserving one example of a rare plant? Will it matter in the big picture? The response is that these are the wrong questions, the wrong perspective. We do these things because of who we are, because cherishing God’s creation is what God’s people do.

The article referenced the story from Scripture of the widow’s mite. The widow who gave her two pennies to the temple. Was that gift less valuable than the larger gifts of others? No. Because it is the giving that matters, not some measure of the result.

So do not try to measure the result of any act of discipleship. Every act of discipleship is God sized. The widow who gave her two mites and the martyrs who gave their lives are the same scale. The value of an act of discipleship is not determined by the size of the result. It’s not a business or a sports endeavor. The value is in doing God’s work. And that is always immeasurably God-sized.

It occurs to me that if I were taking pictures of acts of discipleship, like I used to take pictures of rocks, Jesus would be the scale in each picture of discipleship.

The implications of this scale-less world of discipleship will be different for different people. But those implications are mind blowing.

The key for all of us is to focus on living as disciples, followers of Jesus, and doing acts of discipleship, whatever they may be, whenever they present themselves. God-sized acts of discipleship.

The Second Sunday after Pentecost - June 22

Reading the Bible
(Proper 7)
Genesis 21:8-21
Romans 6:1b-11
Matthew 10:24-39

This morning we embark into that long season of liturgical green. The Sundays after Pentecost will continue all the way up until the beginning of the next church year with Advent late in the fall. One of the names we give to these green seasons is ordinary time. We are not focused on a particular holy day or a season with its individual character. This is ordinary time. A reminder that God is with us even in the ordinary times of our lives. Ordinary time also gives us the opportunity to systematically work our way through large portions of Scripture.

And what Scripture readings we are offered today for this beginning of our journey in ordinary time!

There are some real gems in these readings. The Old Testament story is about Ishmael. You may remember that Abraham and Sarah found themselves childless and they despaired of ever having a child. So, as was the custom of the time, Abraham fathered a child with Sarah’s Egyptian slave, Hagar. That boy was Ishmael. Later, against all odds, in their old age, Sarah bore Abraham a son, Isaac. Today’s story is about Ishmael, although he is named only indirectly. He is just dismissively called “the boy.” Except that, in the Hebrew, he is named. One of the sentences begins “God heard.” In Hebrew that is “Ishmael.” That’s a gem in Scripture. This cast out boy has a name that means God hears. And his mother, a slave in the household has an intimate conversation with God, or an angel of God (in Genesis it’s not always easy to tell the apart). Marginalized and of no account, but she speaks to God.

Then in the epistle there is Paul’s passionate theology of baptism… passionate and faithful, but a bit obscure to interpret in terms of our daily lives.

And there is some very rich stuff in the Gospel. Again and again Jesus says do not fear. Do not be afraid, Jesus reassures us. The hairs on your head are counted. God knows you that well. And values you. You are of great value to God…. at least more value than bunch of sparrows.

From amongst these readings, I could pluck any one of these gems and preach on that. And I’ve often taken that approach when presented with readings that contain both gems and difficult parts. Pluck out the gems and ignore the difficult parts. We all do that with Bible. From the strongest literalist to the most liberal interpreter… we all pick out our favorite parts and ignore others. But today’s difficult parts are just too big to ignore. There are many large elephants in the middle of today’s room of Scriptural passages. There are multiple really difficult parts in both the Old Testament reading and the Gospel. Some of these can be softened a bit by scholarly interpretation. Some not so much.

The story we heard from Genesis is sometimes called the sacrifice of Ishmael. If you look at it closely it has striking parallels to the story we call the sacrifice of Isaac. Which (hip hip hooray!) we’ll hear next week.

Like that story it includes the uncomfortable piece of God setting a test for Abraham’s trust. God says to Abraham… trust me… send your eldest son out into the wilderness with a crust of bread and one jug of water… the price of your trust is your son. Today’s story also includes what some call the “scandal” of election. Isaac was designated to be the father of the covenant, the progenitor of God’s elected, God’s chosen people. Ishmael, on the other hand is written out of the story of God’s people. His status could at best be described as separate, but not equal. Yes, God listens to and cares for Ishmael and Hagar as outcasts. But it is God who made them outcasts! And if that weren’t enough, what bothers me most in this story is that God provides a well. For Ishmael and Hagar that well literally saves their lives. But how can I proclaim that as good news when today children of Abraham are dying in the dessert all the time for lack of water. Faithful children of Abraham… refugees, many of them literally children, forced to flee poverty or violence. Dying every day in the desserts of Sudan, Syria and Arizona.

Those are the elephants in the Old Testament reading! Moving on to the Gospel.

Jesus said, “Do not think that I have come to bring peace to the earth; I have not come to bring peace, but a sword,” Jesus said.

Jesus said, "For I have come to set a man against his father, and a daughter against her mother”

Jesus said, “Whoever loves son or daughter more than me is not worthy of me.”

 I think I have preached before on the context of Jesus words in Matthew’s Gospel. Understanding that context provides at least one way to interpret Jesus’ harsh words. Many of those to whom Matthew wrote were already facing the situations Jesus’ describes. Because of their choice to follow Jesus they faced conflict in their communities and within their families. So perhaps Jesus’ words, as Matthew presents them, describe a present reality rather than predicting a future reality. They are meant to reassure those people who have chosen Christ… the words suggest that Jesus understands and even expected what the people were facing. That interpretation helps, for me at least. The elephant is smaller, but still there.

So, given the extreme challenges of these readings, I asked myself what I could offer to you today. It is my task and responsibility to share and proclaim the Scriptures. What can I preach? I can only offer you my own personal reassurance, based on my own experience, that I’m better off with the Bible than without it. It has been my experience that the more I read the Scriptures, the closer I know myself to God and the more deeply I feel God’s love. Tempting as it may be, with passages like those appointed for today, to read less of the Scriptures or to discount their value, my experience has taught me the immeasurable reward of reading more.

It tells my story and the story of people I know and God is a part of that story. I know people like Sarah who had so many wonderful qualities: full of faith, gracious with hospitality, and a good sense of humor. Who in this passage is consumed with petty jealousy towards the son who is not hers. And I know people like those for whom Matthew wrote. People who are afraid, especially afraid to claim their faith. Whose backbones in the faith need bolstering. These stories speak of God’s abiding presence with them.

With his usual pithy wit, Frederick Buechner writes about the Bible in his book Wishful Thinking:

In short, one way to describe the Bible, written by many different men over a period of three thousand years and more, would be to say that it is a disorderly collection of sixty-odd books which are often tedious, barbaric, obscure, and teem with contradictions and inconsistencies. It is a swarming compost of a book, an Irish stew of poetry and propaganda, law and legalism, myth and murk, history and hysteria. Over the centuries it has become hopelessly associated with tub-thumping evangelism, and dreary piety, with superannuated superstition and blue-nosed moralizing, with ecclesiastical authoritarianism and crippling literalism. Let him who tries to start out at Genesis and work his way conscientiously to Revelation beware.

And yet—

And yet just because it is a book about both the sublime and the unspeakable, it is a book also about life the way it really is. It is a book about people who at one and the same time can be both believing and unbelieving, innocent and guilty, crusaders and crooks, full of hope and full of despair. In other words it is a book about us.

And it is also a book about God….

The great Protestant theologian Karl Barth says that reading the Bible is like looking out of the window and seeing everybody on the street shading their eyes with their hands and gazing up into the sky toward something which is hidden from us by the roof. They are pointing up. They are speaking strange words. They are very excited. Something is happening which we can’t see happening. Or something is about to happen. Something beyond our comprehension has caught them up and is seeking to lead them on “from land to land for strange, intense, uncertain, and yet mysteriously well-planned service” (Karl Barth, The Word of God and the Word of Men, 1957).

To read the Bible is to try to read the expression on their faces. To listen to the words of the Bible is to try to catch the sound of the queer, dangerous, and compelling word they see to hear. 

 It is reading the reality and presence of God through the words and experience of others. And it has been my experience that the more I read, the closer I know that God is to me and people I know and love. The more I read the more clearly I see and feel God’s love and care. The more I read the more I feel myself led deeper into the wonder of God’s kingdom.

For most of us, summer provides some measure of leisure. Make good use of that leisure. Read the Bible.

Trinity Sunday - June 15

The Great Commission
Matthew 28:16-20

Today, of course, is one of the seven principal feast days on the church calendar. The most important holy days we celebrate together in worship. It is Trinity Sunday.

To paraphrase a clergy colleague of mine. She has given up trying to explain the Trinity. She says the main thing you learn in seminary is which particular heresy is your personal favorite. I remember one of my seminary classmates deciding she was quite happy being a Pelagian… (Although I think, technically that is a Christological, rather than Trinitarian heresy.) I certainly learned more about identifying heresies than fully understanding the Trinity. And I would say that everyone who starts a sentence “I’ve always understood the Trinity this way…” is about to describe one of the Trinitarian heresies.

Another thing I learned in seminary was not to try to preach on the doctrine on Trinity Sunday; preach on the Scripture lessons.

And the lessons appointed for today are worthy of our attention. We have the glorious sweep of the creation story. And the celebration of the goodness that is in all that God, as creator, has created, from the seas to the stars, from the creeping things to us.

The epistle and gospel readings are obviously appointed for this day because both include words that imply, possibly, a Trinity. We heard the closing benediction from Second Corinthians: “The grace of the Lord Jesus Christ, the love of God, and the communion of the Holy Spirit be with all of you.” And we heard Jesus’ Great Commission in Matthew 28: “Go therefore and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit.”

These apparently Trinitarian words long predate any development of the doctrine of God as Trinity. That would begin to evolve in the 4th century. And the celebration of the Trinity as a part of the church calendar wouldn’t start until the 10th or 11th centuries. The collect for this day comes from that time. As much as I cherish the collects in the Book of Common Prayer, this is not one of my favorites. It includes our plea that we remain steadfast in the confession of a “true” faith… a true faith being one of orthodox Trinitarianism.

I’ll come back to the collect, but first the Gospel. You should know this Gospel passage. Anyone with any involvement in the Christian life should be able to roughly quote it and know its context. When you hear it, a light bulb should go off: “Ah, the Great Commission.” If you come to the service on Wednesdays you will hear it a bit more often. We commemorate the saints in that service and this gospel passage is appointed for several of them, from St. Patrick to Jackson Kemper. Patrick you’ve undoubtedly heard of. Jackson Kemper’s ministry was in the early 1800’s. He was the first “missionary bishop” of the Episcopal church. He served the wilderness of Wisconsin.

The verses appointed for today come at the close of Matthew’s Gospel. This is one of only two post-resurrection appearances of Jesus described in Matthew. Matthew tells how on that first Easter Day the resurrected Jesus meets some women who had lingered at the tomb. The first post-resurrection appearance. He tells them to tell the disciples that he will meet them in Galilee.

Now the eleven disciples went to Galilee, to the mountain to which Jesus had directed them. When they saw him, they worshipped him; but some doubted. And Jesus came and said to them, ‘All authority in heaven and on earth has been given to me. Go therefore and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, and teaching them to obey everything that I have commanded you. And remember, I am with you always, to the end of the age.’

This passage does include that apparently Trinitarian phrase which, of course, we still use when we baptize as we did last Sunday. But I don’t think anyone would maintain that Jesus’ main point here has anything to do with the doctrine of the Trinity.

This is the resurrected Christ speaking to his closest disciples. These are his final words to them. What does Jesus tell them to DO? He does not tell them: Go out there and study real heard so you can understand the doctrine of Trinity. He does not even tell them to go out there and make sure everyone else ascribes to the true orthodox Trinitarian faith. Jesus says, go make disciples. Disciple means follower. Go and bring others to follow me. Go and bring others to me.

And it does not seem that they need to have “true” faith to be disciples. Matthew says that even those who found themselves in the presence of the risen Christ doubted.

When they saw Jesus, they worshiped him; but some doubted. New Testament Professor Stanley Saunders writes about this passage:

Most English translations of 28:17 leave the impression that the disciples included some worshippers and some doubters, but the Greek may also be translated, perhaps more naturally, to suggest that the whole group of disciples both worship and doubt.

The Greek word distazo carries a sense of standing in two places at the same time or being of two minds. Jesus commissions not perfect disciples, but people who both worship and doubt as they stand at the edge of the world that is passing away and the one that is coming to them. 

 In Matthew’s Gospel, this is the culmination of all of Jesus’ life and ministry, the summation of all that he has come to do, his last words to those who have been closest and most devoted to him on earth. And to those disciples (whose understanding, even then, is incomplete and whose faith is uncertain) the resurrected Christ says: You’re the ones. Go. You’re the ones. Go. Go out there and bring others to me. And, “Lo, (as Jesus often says in King James English) LO, I am with you always, even unto the end of the world.” Go out amongst all peoples and make disciples. And remember, he said to them and he says to us “And remember, I am with you always, to the end of the age.”