MID WEEK REFLECTION
OCTOBER 26, 2016

Prayer for Sound Government BOOK OF COMMON PRAYER, p. 821

O Lord our Governor, bless the leaders of our land, that we

may be a people at peace among ourselves and a blessing to

other nations of the earth.

To the President and members of the Cabinet, to Governors

of States, Mayors of Cities, and to all in administrative

authority, grant wisdom and grace in the exercise of their

duties.

To Senators and Representatives, and those who make our

laws in States, Cities, and Towns, give courage, wisdom, and

foresight to provide for the needs of all our people, and to

fulfill our obligations in the community of nations.

To the Judges and officers of our Courts give understanding

and integrity, that human rights may be safeguarded and

justice served.

And finally, teach our people to rely on your strength and to

accept their responsibilities to their fellow citizens, that they

may elect trustworthy leaders and make wise decisions for

the well-being of our society; that we may serve you

faithfully in our generation and honor your holy Name.

Church of Our Saviour, Charlottesville

Luke 18:9-14

23 Pentecost/Proper 25

23 October 2016

The Rev. Kathleen M. Sturges

The story from the gospel of Luke today reads almost like a joke: A Pharisee and a tax collector go up to the temple to pray.  Which reminds me of another joke: There was a Catholic Bishop and two Protestant teenage boys stuck in an elevator together.  These mischievous boys decided to strike up a conversation. 

“Hey Father, have you heard that the Pope has started smoking?” asked one boy, “Such a dirty habit.”

“Well no,” the bishop responded, undisturbed, “I can’t say that I have.”

“Not just smoking, Father,” the boy continued, “but drinking too.  The Pope is hitting the bottle and he and Jack Daniels are mighty close.”

“Goodness,” the bishop said, “this is the first I’ve heard of it.”

“And Father, along with all that smoking and drinking there are reports of women stashed away in the Vatican for the Pope.”

“Well,” the bishops responded, “that’s hard to believe, but thank you for keeping me informed.”

These boys were not getting the reaction that they wanted, so the second boy finally jumps into the conversation with a last-ditch effort, “Father, have you heard that the Pope is becoming Episcopalian?”

“Yes,” replied the bishop, “that’s what your friend has been telling me.”

It all depends on where you’re coming from that will inform who you see as the good guy and the bad guy in this joke, and that also applies to our story today: There was a Pharisee and a tax collector who went up to the temple to pray.  We are told that the Pharisee’s prayer was all about himself - how great he was.  But the tax collector’s prayer was quite different.  He couldn’t even raise his eyes to heaven as he beat his breast and said, “God, be merciful to me, a sinner.”  The punchline to this story, at least it was a punchline to the folks in Jesus’s day, was that it was the bad guy, the tax collector, and not the good guy that ended up going home justified - put in a right relationship with God - that day. 

But it’s not so much of a punchline to us, is it?  Actually, the story seems very predictable.  We’ve been around the block enough times to know that Pharisees are almost always cast in the gospels as hypocrites and self-righteous.  And knowing that, it’s an easy jump to the assumption that the simple moral of this story is: be humble.

However, with that simplistic understanding, Jesus could easily add us to the story, making us a third character with a prayer that might go something like this:  Lord, we thank you that we are not like other people.  We’re not hypocrites.  We’re not over-religious.  We’re not self-righteous.  And thank goodness that we are not like that Pharisee!  We come to church most weeks, sometimes now with WAC even on Wednesdays.  We sit and listen attentively to Scripture and we have learned that we should always, always be humble.

Obviously this kind of self-congratulatory response to the story is not what J had in mind.  So let’s take another look.  It may helpful to note that, in fact, everything the Pharisee says is true.  He is faithful in following the law.  He does do it better than most everyone around him.  And by the standards of the world and of his faith, he is righteous.  So let’s not be too quick to judge.

On the other hand, we have the tax collector and this is not a tax collector with a heart of gold.  He lives a rich life on the backs of the hard work of his neighbors whom he taxes.  The sins of the tax collector are real and serious.

And when we see it that way, then Jesus’s declaration packs a lot of punch - the bad guy, the rotten one is justified?  Put in a right relationship with God?  You mean to tell me that all you have to do is beat your breast and say one prayer and all is well with God?  There’s the rub.

So remembering that tension, let’s go back to the beginning.  What prompts this story, we are told, is that there were some in Jesus’s audience who trusted in themselves that they were righteous and regarded others with contempt.  Now notice that the problem here is not the Pharisee’s religious observances.  Good works are essential to a life of faith and devotion.  Being a disciple is a balancing act in a complex world.  Good works have their place, but that place is not at the center of one’s relationship with God. 

Sadly, sometimes it’s those very good works that can lead us to a false sense of righteousness in ourselves which results in separating us from others and ultimately from God.  Because the very nature of feeling righteous or self-satisfied or at least better than others is based on comparison and competition.  Sometimes we hear or say ourselves, I may not be perfect, but, but at least I’m not like those bad people, or those lazy people, or those ignorant people who are clearly voting the wrong way in the presidential election.  I may not be perfect, but at least I am better than them.  That way of thinking causes us to draw lines and divide people into groups - the good and the bad, the righteous and the sinners.  Anytime we draw a line between those who are in and those who are out, our story this morning tells us that God will always be on the other side which not only separates ourselves from others, but from God.

The real punchline to this story is not that someone who seems undeserving, in this case a tax collector, is justified, put in a right relationship with God.  The real punchline, the joyfully, funny Good News is that righteousness and justification have nothing, nothing to do with who we are and what we do.  Rather it has everything to do with who God is and what God does.  God is compassionate and forgiving and merciful and full of grace.  And what does God do?  God showers that overflowing goodness, that right relationship, on us - all of us.

Heaven forbid that we let some misguided trust in ourselves or our good works get in the way.  We are invited to let go of all that puffs us up, all that makes us feel better than others, all that divides us into one group or the other.  We get to shed all of that nonsense and simply come before God just as we are, to some degree a mixture of good and bad, tax collector and Pharisee, trusting not in who we are or what we do, but who God is and what God does.  And you know what the really funny thing is?  Is that when we come before God with that kind of trust it is then that we become justified: our relationship with God is put right.  And we received the joyful outpouring of God’s great gifts: mercy, grace, love. 

SUNDAY SERMON - OCTOBER 16, 2016 - THE REV DAVID R. STODDART

Church of Our Saviour, Charlottesville

Genesis 32:22-31; Luke 18:1-8

22 Pentecost/Proper 24

16 October 2016

The Rev. David M. Stoddart

Some of you may have read Scott Peck’s The Road Less Traveled. Peck was a psychiatrist who was particularly interested in spiritual growth. He wrote a number of books, but this was his first. And it begins with a simple, one sentence paragraph: “Life is difficult.” He then goes on to write: “This is a great truth, one of the greatest truths. It is a great truth because once we truly see this truth, we transcend it. Once we truly know that life is difficult – once we truly understand and accept it – then life is no longer difficult. Because once it is accepted, the fact that life is difficult no longer matters.”

Well. That is both an indisputable and totally provocative statement. Obviously, life is hard. It is also filled with joy and wonder and delight, but we all know that life is not easy. But the idea that accepting the difficulty of life makes life less difficult may make us uncomfortable. Actually, the main thesis of the book, which he goes on to articulate, is that most people do not fully accept the truth that life is difficult: they fight it and rebel against it continually, thus undermining their own spiritual growth and well-being.

This has been on my mind because the Bible definitely accepts the fact that life is difficult. Everything we hear from Scripture on Sunday mornings was written before the advent of antibiotics and anesthesia, before there was such a thing as psychiatry or psychotherapy. Not a single biblical author lived in a democracy that valued human rights. Life was hard in a way that most of us can’t even imagine. Stories from Scripture not only assume this, but they assume that if we are going to encounter God it will only happen in this difficult world, and not in some spiritual la-la land. If we are really going to experience God, somehow we have to accept this.

And that leads me to these two stories today, which vividly illustrate this point. Jacob is a liar who has cheated his brother and is about to meet him again after years of separation. He is scared, and he has reason to be. Like all of us at various times, Jacob has caused his own difficulties − and he is suffering. The widow in Jesus’ parable is among the most vulnerable members of her society. She has clearly been wronged or taken advantage of in some way. Like all of us at various times, she is a victim of powers and circumstances beyond her control − and she is suffering. But neither of these people rolls over and gives up. More significantly, neither of them spends any time wondering why life is so hard. They just accept that and go with it – Jacob wrestles with this mysterious stranger all night long; the widow keeps going back to that judge over and over again. And in both cases, accepting and tackling their difficulty – in Jacob’s case, literally tackling it – leads to blessing.

There is so much to say here, but let me focus on two essential points. The first is just how accessible God is. Presumably God could have appeared to Jacob in some awesome form, but he comes to him as a man, someone he can touch and wrestle with, skin to skin. The judge in the parable is a jerk, but he is still available to this widow, who comes to see him often, leading Jesus to say, “If even this guy is open and available, imagine how much more God is.” And here’s the crucial point: it’s not that God is close to us in spite of our difficulties: God is close to us in our difficulties. It is when we struggle that we so often encounter the Holy One. This may be counter-intuitive for some of us. It is easy to indulge in the fantasy of the perfect moment, a moment when everything is just right – our children are behaving, our spouse isn’t annoying us, our job is going well, the day is sunny, they chose decent hymns at church, UVA won the football game, all the stars align – and in that rare instant of peace and contentment, we can experience the presence of God. I have listened to people wistfully describe such scenarios, but if that is our expectation, we will miss out on everything. Part of accepting the difficulty of life is accepting that God meets us in the difficulty, not just in ideal moments that almost never happen. We may not like that, but it’s the truth.

But this leads to the second essential point: in those difficult times, God always wants to bless. Jacob won’t let go of that stranger until he blesses him; the widow won’t stop going back to that judge until he blesses her. I want to pause here and have you consider, honestly, what do you believe God wants to do in your life? Too many people actually believe, in their heart of hearts, that God wants to judge them, to punish them, to condemn them. But God is love, and if that statement is to have any value or relevance, it means that God always wants to bless us, always wants to do good in our lives, even and especially when we are struggling. Now, let me be clear: I don’t think God blesses us by magically making all our problems go away: after all, life is difficult. And I know it can take time for blessings to unfold and take time for us to recognize them as blessings. But I have been around the block enough times to know that it happens all the time, in ways both mundane and miraculous.

There are as many difficulties among us today as there are people gathered in this church. I certainly have my own. But we gather in the Spirit of Jesus Christ, who came to show us how close God truly is to us and to bless everyone, even the most distressed people, even the worst sinners. If you came here today to escape your troubles, let me gently suggest that you embrace them instead, and accept the truth that God wants to bless you in the midst of disease or financial hardship or emotional turmoil or whatever is making your life difficult right now. Not everyone will do it, but in a challenging world, that is the best way forward. Scott Peck calls it “The Road Less Traveled.” Jesus calls it faith. Whatever we call it, it leads to that joy and peace which the Holy Spirit seeks to instill in our difficult lives each and every day.

SUNDAY SERMON 10/9/16
THE REV. KATHLEEN M. STURGES

For I know the plans I have for you, declares the Lord, plans for your welfare and not for evil, to give you a future and a hope. This passage we heard from our first reading from the prophet Jeremiah is one that is very popular among many Christians. In fact, it is so popular that marketers have taken notice. I Googled this verse to see what things would come up and I found that there are hundreds of posters, prints, and signs for purchase. I printed one up here to give you a sense of it. The Bible verse is printed at the top, “For I know the plans I have for you…” and then you see in the background a picture of a sunrise like this one, or a grove of trees, or a field of flowers -some image that conveys peace and comfort. But that’s not all, if you want you may also purchase a t-shirt with this verse, Jeremiah 29:11, printed on it. Or jewlery, bracelets or necklaces. Even a scarf with the bible verse. Now who wants a scarf with a bible verse, I wonder?

For I know the plans I have for you, declares the Lord, plans for your welfare and not for evil, to give you a future and a hope. It’s so popular and so marketable because it is such a lovelymessage and it’s true. However, it’s not said in a vacuum. There is a history and setting around it that we find in chapter 29. And let me tell you, this declaration of a future and a hope is not said to the Jewish people when everything's coming up roses, quite the contrary. It’s roughly 600 BC and the Jewish people have lived in the promised land for quite a while. The glory days of King David have already come and gone and now the promised land is divided up into two kingdoms, the northern kingdom called Israel and the southern kingdom, Judah. To the east is the rising kingdom and power of Babylon. After some time Babylon’s power overtakes the southern kingdom Judah. And in order to reduce the resistance of this newly conquered territory a good many Jews are deported. They are a conquered people who are ripped from their land, their life - all they know - and sent east to the hostile land of Babylon.

And they cried out wondering where was God? How could their Lord God let this happen? Not only are they torn away from their life, but they also are feeling torn away from their God. For back in this time the Jews understood God as being a God of the land, the promised land, and you worshiped this Lord God primarily at the temple in Jerusalem. Here were the Jewish exiles,separated from that land and wondering where God was literally. They were bereft and abandoned.

Then word came from the promised land of Israel. People claiming to have the word of the Lord said that what was going on was just minor setback lasting two years, tops. That surely wasn’tgreat news for the exiles, but manageable. They could last two years and then return to home. However, that was not to be the case because it was Jeremiah who truly had the word of theLord. And from occupied Jerusalem, Jeremiah sent word. And it is that word that we read today in chapter 29.

This is the word of the Lord: build houses and live in them, plant gardens and eat what they produce, marry and have children, multiply, and pray for the welfare of your captors. And ontop that, Jeremiah also proclaims that this time in exile will not last a mere two years, but seventy. Which meant that most, if not all, of the people who were hearing these words would never see their home again: they would spend the rest of their lives in exile.

This was not what they wanted to hear. They wanted to hear that things were going to change! That God would end their captivity. Punished their enemies. That they would go back home. But that was not to be. The word of the Lord was that even though they were in a circumstance that they did not like, they did not want, a situation that they resisted, resented, and rejected, the message was to live.

Live: put down roots - build homes, plant gardens. Nurture relationships - marry and have families. Pray - now this was a radical thought. If they could pray to their God in exile in Babylon that meant that God was not tied to the Promised Land, rather God was a universal God. Something that we today take for granted today, that wherever we are God is, that concept was just beginning to be developed here. That the captive Israelites far from home could pray and God would hear and be connected to them that was mind-blowing news. However, they were told not just to pray in a general, but to pray specifically for their captors, the hated heathen, for their welfare. (This type of message was unheard of. It would be several hundred years before Jesus was on the scene saying pray for those who persecute you.) So the instruction to pray for the welfare of their enemies and really all of the word of the Lord sent through Jeremiah was not what they wanted to hear.

I can imagine those people wanting to put their fingers in their ears, shake their heads and shout, “No! No! No!” But this was their lot. And it is in this dark time, in exile, it is within this context that the Lord proclaims, “I know the plans I have for you. Plans for your welfare and not for evil to give you a future and a hope.”

This scripture is not a trite message that can be slapped onto various items for sale in order to convey a simple, “Everything’s going to be OK” message. Rather this word of the Lord, this good news is hard-won, born out of a hard, even dire, situation. It challenges the Jews back then and us now to embrace the place or the situation where God has us and to live because God is present and with us.

God doesn’t always defeat or send the enemy away, but God is with us. God doesn’t always cure our diseases, but even through the illness God is with us. God doesn’t make our loved ones immune to death, but God is still with us. And because God is with us in the uncertain, unknowable future, in all circumstance of life - the ones we invite and the ones we resist - we are invited to trust and hear deeply what God declares to us today. I know the plans I have for you, plans for your welfare and not for evil, for a future and a hope.

Sermon - October 2, 2016

Luke 17:5-10; 2 Timothy 1:1-14

2 October 2016

20 Pentecost (Proper 22)

Church of Our Saviour, Charlottesville

The Rev. David M. Stoddart

It is great to see you all and to be back among you. And it’s great to be back at the altar. I’m out of practice siting in the congregation during worship, so these last few months have been a learning experience for me. Apparently there are rules, such as “You shall not be too loud in your responses.” Lori Ann likes to remind me of that one. When we actually sit together in the pew, a typical liturgical sequence goes like this: “The Lord be with you.” “And also with you.” Shhhh! And if it wasn’t Lori Ann shushing me, it was stern English women glancing at me with disapproval. While on retreat at a Trappist monastery a couple weeks ago, I realized at the first Mass that everyone else was murmuring the responses and I quickly toned mine down. So after four months of being suitably subdued, I can now be as loud as I want to be.

So forgive me if I have an abundance of enthusiasm this morning. And, actually, having an abundance of anything gets right at this Gospel, where the disciples do not perceive any abundance at all: they are in scarcity mode ― again. This happens a lot in these stories: there is not enough bread to feed these people; there’s not enough time to deal with that beggar; there’s not enough mercy to show tax collectors, prostitutes, Romans, Samaritans, and all those others beyond the pale. And in today’s passage, there’s just not enough faith: Increase our faith! Give us more! We don’t have enough! Jesus plays along with their spatial imagery ― if you have faith the size of a mustard seed, you can do wonders ― but he does so to make a greater point. Faith is not a thing that can be measured; it’s not a thing at all. Faith is trusting, and while we can use trust as a noun, it is primarily a verb ― it is something we do. In fact, it doesn’t make any sense to talk about having trust unless we are actually trusting someone. In other words, we don’t have faith ― we do faith, we live it. And as Jesus taught those disciples, we already have everything we need to do that right now.

Our reading from Paul’s second letter to Timothy underlines this very point. Timothy was a protégé of Paul, and is apparently struggling with fear and uncertainty as he tries to carry out his ministry. So Paul writes to him and says, Rekindle the gift of God that is within you through the laying on of my hands; for God did not give us a spirit of cowardice, but rather a spirit of power and of love and of self-discipline. Timothy may be going through a tough time, but he has what he needs to thrive. The Spirit of God already lives in him. He doesn’t need to go out and look for it; he doesn’t need to ask for more of it. He only needs to rekindle the gift that is already his.

So often we think that the answer we need is somehow outside of us, that God is outside of us. If we could only find the right program, the right method, the right church, then we’d be okay. If the God up there would only give us that certain something we lack, then we’d be fine. But that is not the message of the Gospel. The Good News given to us through Jesus is that God is with us, that the Holy Spirit poured at our baptism is in us. We are loved, forgiven, empowered each and every moment. You know, I thoroughly enjoyed being on sabbatical: my family and I visited some marvelous places and I was able to do things that really nourished me spiritually. But I have to tell you that sabbatical also showed me how true the old adage is: wherever you go, there you are. I was no closer to God on the island of Iona or at York Minster than I am sitting in traffic on 29. The basic call of faith is the same whether I am taking a seminar in theology in Oxford or trying to fix the kitchen sink at home. And that is true for all of us. No matter where we are or what we are doing, God is ― not just out there, but in here, within us. Always.

Rekindling that gift first means remembering that we have it, which is why daily prayer and weekly worship are so essential: they remind us of who we are: embers of the Body of Christ, temples of the Holy Spirit. The gift of God’s self to us has already been given: we don’t even need to ask for it. So all that is left for us is to give thanks and use it ― and use it in the ordinary, daily circumstances of our lives.

And using the gift means trusting. And trusting means letting go: letting go of our obsessive need for control, letting go of our relentless criticism of ourselves and others, letting go of our fear, letting go of our incessant tendency to set ourselves up as God.

I admire the poetry of Rumi, a 13^th century Persian mystic who wrote many moving poems about God’s love for us and our need to let go and trust in that love if we are to live our faith. One short poem reads as follows:

            The way of love is not

            a subtle argument.

            The door there

            is devastation.

            Birds make great sky-circles

            of their freedom.

            How do they learn this?

            They fall, and falling

            they’re given wings.

This week, today, I invite you to fall into whatever the present moment holds for you, whether it’s just sitting by yourself at home or undergoing surgery for cancer. Whatever it involves, to fall into it is to trust that God’s Spirit of love fills us and gives us all that we need to do whatever the moment calls for. Sometimes we may feel exhilarated by that; sometimes we may feel like we’re just managing to get through the day. No matter. It is in trusting that we rekindle and rediscover the gift of God within us. It is in trusting that we learn that grace is forever abundant. Trying to assess how much faith we have won’t get us there. My preaching on it won’t get us there. It is only by doing it, by actually trusting that God is closer to us than our own breath, that God’s love enfolds us no matter what, that we will experience the truth. It is only in falling that we are given wings.