A gathering of sermons, reflections, and writings from the ministers at Church of Our Saviour
Thursday, August 31, 2017
Invited In: A Reflection by Fr. David
I lingered outside for quite awhile. The building is lovely, but imposing: a Romanesque masterpiece designed by Ralph Adams Cram that overlooks the Charles River in Cambridge, Massachusetts. It is a monastery, the home of the Society of St. John the Evangelist, the oldest religious order for men in the Anglican Communion. And when I first stood outside the doors to the monastery chapel, I was 18 years old, spiritually hungry, and nervous as hell. I had heard about this community and felt drawn to it. I wanted to experience what they were about and participate in their worship, but I did not know how I could ever walk through those solid doors with no windows. But as I stood gazing at the place on that cool autumn day many years ago, a monk came out, saw me, and walked right up to me. I froze, but he greeted me warmly and invited me in. And I will forever be thankful: that community helped to form me as person in Christ and has continued to nourish me to this very day.
But what if that man had not invited me in?
The research shows that thousands of unchurched people here in Charlottesville and Albemarle County have never once been invited to church by anyone. And the reality is that, with some notable exceptions, Episcopalians tend not to be very inviting. COOS is a warm community and we try to make anyone who walks through our front door feel welcome. But actually inviting someone to walk through that door is something else entirely. And, yes, there are some understandable reasons why people feel reluctant to do this. Too much "bad evangelism" goes on out there, which often consists of religious people telling others why they are wrong and why they better come to church, or else! We have probably all encountered people who are pushy about their faith, trying to impose it on others. And certainly religion is a sensitive topic in our society: it's one of those subjects you don't mention in polite conversation.
But the truth is that we are all human, and we are all striving to find meaning in our lives and to feel connected to Ultimate Reality, whatever that might mean. Many people are suspicious of organized religion; not a few have been burned by it. And there are some common notions of God that are frankly terrible. But there is a hunger for the real God, the God of love and mercy whom Jesus reveals, the God who can transform lives and who is constantly working to transform our world for the better. This is not a God of rules and condemnation, but a God of compassion and new life. This is the God people desire and need — the God we can invite them to experience.
On Sunday, September 17, Church of Our Saviour is having an Invitation Sunday. We encourage all of our parishioners to invite someone to worship with us that day. The goal is not to convert them or to make them members of the parish. I will not be handing out pledge cards in the gathering area! We just want people to come and see what we are about.
And we are simply asking parishioners to issue the invitation to someone. If people decline, that's okay: at least they were invited. Some may not be interested. Some may not be ready. Some may need a different kind of church or worship experience. But there are undoubtedly people out there who would love what we have at COOS, and who are hungry for a faith community that can help them experience the love and presence of God. I think of my younger self, standing outside the doors of that monastery chapel: I just needed an invitation. Each one of us can give that gift to someone else. And when we do, who knows what the Holy Spirit will do with that? There is no limit to the power and mercy of God, no limit to what God can do through you and me when we ask someone, "Would you like to come to church with me?"
Monday, August 28, 2017
Keys to the Kingdom 8/27/17 The Rev. David M. Stoddart
Matthew
16:13-20
The Big Book of Alcoholics Anonymous contains, among
other things, some powerful personal stories. One that I find especially moving
was written by a woman who describes in painful detail her harrowing descent
into addiction to alcohol and sedatives, which led to multiple
hospitalizations, ten days in a coma, and by the age of 33, total despair. Most
of the people around her had given up on her, except for one doctor who
introduced her to A.A., which at that point was new and largely unknown, and it
saved her life. She describes that process beautifully as well, but it’s the
end of her account, written years later, that I want to share with you:
The last
fifteen years of my life have been rich and meaningful. I have had my share of
problems, heartaches and disappointments, because that is life, but also I have
known a great deal of joy, and a peace that is the handmaiden of an inner
freedom. I have a wealth of friends and, with my A.A. friends, an unusual
quality of fellowship. For, to these people, I am truly related. First, through
mutual pain and despair, and later through mutual objectives and new-found
faith and hope. And, as the years go by, working together, sharing our
experiences with one another, and also sharing a mutual trust, understanding
and love—without strings, without obligation—we acquire relationships that are
unique and priceless.
There
is no more "aloneness," with that awful ache, so deep in the heart of
every alcoholic that nothing, before, could ever reach it. That ache is gone
and never need return again.
Now
there is a sense of belonging, of being wanted and needed and loved. In return
for a bottle and a hangover, we have been given the Keys of the Kingdom.
When Jesus gives Peter the keys to the Kingdom of Heaven,
that’s what he’s talking about: setting people free. The Church too often
forgets that. In familiar jokes, Peter is portrayed as the gatekeeper to
heaven, the one who stands guard at the pearly gates mainly to keep people out:
in the popular imagination, the Kingdom has become a gated community in the
afterlife. But that is not what Jesus wants: the keys are given not to lock the
doors or bind the shackles, but to unlock them and set people free now. It’s
the loosing of bonds that he wants. That is not my quirky take on this text:
Jesus says as much himself. You’ll notice that he never gets angry with
ordinary, sinful people — not with prostitutes, thieves, corrupt officials,
Roman collaborators, Jewish terrorists, or any other flawed human being. He
only gets angry at religious people who feel like their purpose in life is to
lock 0thers up. One of the scariest chapters in the New Testament is Matthew
23, his passionate denunciation of scribes and Pharisees. It does not make for
easy reading Let me give you just three verses: But woe to you, scribes and
Pharisees, hypocrites! For you lock people out of the kingdom of heaven. For
you do not go in yourselves, and when others are going in, you stop them. Woe
to you, scribes and Pharisees, hypocrites! For you cross sea and land to make a
single convert, and you make the new convert twice as much a child of hell as
yourselves.
We have not been given the keys of the kingdom to lock people
out of it. And I say we deliberately. Peter gets them in chapter 16, but in
chapter 18 Jesus makes it clear that what he gives to Peter he gives to
everyone (Matthew 18:18). We all have the keys of the kingdom: we can bind or
we can loose. We can lock people up or we can set people free. And Jesus always
sets people free. He forgives them, he heals them, he feeds them, he teaches
them, he loves them, he dies for them. You can sum up his entire ministry with
the great words he speaks after he brings Lazarus back to life, the final words
of that story: Unbind him, and let him go. Those words are spoken to us:
You have the keys, you have the authority and the power — you have the Holy
Spirit! For God’s sake, unbind people, and let them go.
And, you know, that is the work of community: God working
through other people. The woman who wrote “The Keys of the Kingdom” in the Big
Book established the first meeting of A.A .in the city of Chicago, in
September of 1939. She wasn’t just set free for herself, but so that she could
also set others free — and she knew that. And that is true for all
Christ-centered and Spirit-filled communities: God unbinds us so that we can
unbind others. So who have you set free recently? Have you forgiven someone who
needs to be forgiven? Have you loved someone who doesn’t “deserve” it but who
desperately needs it? Have you shown mercy to anyone? Are you helping carry
someone else’s burdens? Are you walking with someone who is sick or in pain?
And are you letting anyone do that for you?
And in the wider world, what are we doing to promote justice
and racial reconciliation? Are we reaching out to people who feel marginalized
or afraid, to people who are different than us? Are we taking any time or
making any effort to listen more and to understand what it feels like to be an
immigrant or a person of color in our city? We have not been given the keys
of the kingdom so that they can rust, unused, in some forgotten drawer. We have
been given the keys to use them, generously and often, just like Jesus. And
then experience the joy that comes with that, just like Jesus.
I think about this a lot in my pastoral ministry, and as I
attend Friday prayers at the local mosque. I thought about it as I marched with
other clergy in witness to love during that rally of hate. And there is much to
think about and act on moving forward. But I want to offer you one concrete
suggestion today, one way to use the keys entrusted to all of us: Invite
someone to church. On September 17, we are going to have an Invitation Sunday
and encourage people to invite someone to worship with us that day. The goal
isn’t to convert them or make them into members; they will not be given a
pledge card or a hard sell. It is just an opportunity for people to come and
see. We don’t have a perfect parish, but it is a wonderful community where
people can experience the love of God and be set free. There are people out
there who need what we have, but they are not just going to walk through the
doors uninvited. I have shared the statistics with you before: according to the
research, thousands of unchurched people in Charlottesville and Albemarle County
have never once been invited to church by anyone. From their perspective, those
front doors are effectively locked. But we can unlock them. If what we offer
here has made a difference in your life, then it may well make a difference in
the life of someone you know. We have all that we need to follow Jesus and be
an inviting and freeing church: we have a community grounded in the love of
Christ; we have the Holy Spirit; and we have the keys of the kingdom. Please
use them.
Tuesday, August 22, 2017
No One Sits Alone: A Reflection from Emily Rutledge
*an expansion of a reflection from August 2015
We have a rule in our youth community: No one eats alone.
As students begin school this week, I am acutely aware that there will be children with heavy hearts in every building. Students surrounded by swarms of people and all alone. The way that loneliness feels: magnified, amplified, and underlined while being surrounded by swarms of seemingly happy classmates is crushing. So often, those who don’t feel alone are so preoccupied with the novelty and chaos of the day that it is easy to overlook the lonely, the new, the out of place. At school, it seems, the ultimate goal is to be on top, to be the best at whatever it is that you can be the best at: the best student, athlete, musician, actor, and the list goes on and on. Yet, as Christians, we are called to be counter-cultural. To be rebels. To be like Jesus. So at school, as Christians, the goal should be to better each other instead of being the best; to seek out the lonely, the new, the left-out, and lift them up. To see and know those others don't. Sometimes that means taking yourself out of the battle for the top and sitting on the sidelines with someone who hasn't even been invited to play.
And what about us old people? Do we leave school and all those feelings of insecurity, loneliness, and isolation disappear? Ha! If only. They multiply and deepen. We are far guiltier than our children of overlooking those who are lonely, new, or left-out. We have escaped the nice walls of school and now are in the messy world of work, neighborhoods, parish life, and family. Who is surrounding you that needs lifting up? Who needs to be seen and recognized? Who needs to be known? We are often so busy or insecure ourselves that we forget it is our job to be the rebel, to be like Jesus, to introduce ourselves and invite someone to our table.
Students: be brave in the ways that grades won't reflect and for which trophies won't be awarded. I promise, the act of including and affirming will make a far longer and deeper impact than any accolade.
Parents: remind your kids before they get on the bus, or out of your car, or into their own car, that you don't expect them to be perfect but you do expect them to be kind; to look for the child alone in the lunch room or on the playground or lost in the halls. While you're at it, look for the parent feeling those same things, introduce yourself, connect over how dang hard this raising kids thing is.
You could easily become the brightest part of someone's day.
When we are living like Christ calls us to: no one eats alone.
Monday, August 21, 2017
Love, Grace, Mercy for Everyone 8/20/17 The Rev. Kathleen M. Sturges
Matthew 15:10-28
There’s been a lot of name calling,
drawing of lines and taking sides this past week. It really shouldn’t be a surprise. We human beings are tribal by nature. We have a deep desire to belong, whether it
be to a family, a social group, a political party, a church. Well-meaning people, without intentionally
trying to exclude anyone, tend to congregate with others who are pretty much
the same as they are. (I mean, look at
us.) Clearly, we find comfort in the
familiar. Which means that people who
are different than us or circumstances that ask us to change at the very least
makes us feel uncomfortable, but more often stir up anxiety and fear which
rarely brings out our best selves. This
darker side of humanity has been particularly on display.
Given all that’s been going on in our
city and our nation, I can’t help but see our gospel lesson through this lens
that makes me acutely sensitive to name calling, line drawing and taking
sides. What’s particularly disturbing in
this instance is that Jesus seems to be on the wrong side of the issue. It beings in the middle of our reading when
we are told that Jesus goes away to the district of Tyre and Sidon. This is foreign territory naturally inhabited
for by foreigners. It is there that
Jesus is approached by a Canaanite woman who desperately needs help. Have mercy on me, Lord, Son of David; my
daughter is tormented by a demon.
It’s not the first time that a parent had come to Jesus asking,
pleading, with him to heal their child.
And Jesus, at least the Jesus we know and love, is always more than
willing to help.
But this time is different. Jesus ignores her. So the woman keeps shouting, Have mercy on me, Lord, Son of David; my
daughter is tormented by a demon!
She is causing such a ruckus that the disciples ask Jesus to just get
rid of her, send her away. It comes as
rather a shock to hear Jesus respond, I was sent only to the lost sheep of the
house of Israel. Translation - she’s not a Jew, she’s not one of us, I didn’t
come for her. On the surface, at least,
Jesus draws a line and takes a side.
And it only gets worse. The poor woman, able to get herself right in
front of Jesus, kneels at his feet and continues to plead, Lord, help me. Jesus has
already drawn a line, made her the “other” and now here comes the name
calling. He says, It is not fair to take the children's food and throw it to the dogs. It’s a racial slur that demeans this woman,
her daughter and all of her people.
It’s ironic that it is the very
teachings of Jesus, himself, about the great love God has for all people that
makes this encounter with the Canaanite woman so disturbing to us. It doesn’t
make sense. And there’s a lot of
theological backbends that people do to justify Jesus’ behavior. A common
explanation is that Jesus was testing this woman’s faith knowing that she’d
pass with flying colors. Others say that
Jesus’ body language and tone of voice made it clear that he was just
joking. Some suggest that it
demonstrates Jesus’s human side that was influenced and prejudiced by his
culture. Still others insist it simply
didn’t happen and that early Church made it up.
Whether or not these explanations help you to understand this story
their very existence speaks to the consensus of thought that being exclusive
and insulting is not the way of God revealed to us through Christ.
That’s something we all can agree on and
the truth is that we may never know what’s really going in this story. Nonetheless, for whatever reason Jesus did
what he did his behavior mirrors the tribal tendency of human beings. Jesus is acting (again, for whatever reason)
like he too wants to keep to his own people, staying safe with the familiar and
comfortable. We can identify with that,
can’t we?
But Jesus doesn’t get stuck there like
the rest of tend to do. Remarkably, even
in the face of insult this woman does not give up. She is given the gift that I’m sure we’d all
like to have - the gift of the quick comeback.
Yes, Lord, yet even the dogs eat
the crumbs that fall from their masters' table. And here Jesus models for us an openness to
growth and change - he switches gears. Woman, great is your faith! Let it be done
for you as you wish. And her
daughter was healed instantly. Clearly,
by the end of this encounter the interaction between Jesus and the Canaanite
woman demonstrates to everyone that in God’s Kingdom there is no line, no
boundary, no in or out group that separates one human being from another. In God’s Kingdom there is just love and grace
and mercy for everyone.
Now, I can’t say how it works for Jesus,
being both fully God and fully human, but for the rest of us who solely fall in
the fully human category, along with our tendency to be tribal an essential
part of our humanity is growth and change.
Obviously, that happens with our bodies all the time, but it needs to
happen with our minds too. Problems
develop when we get stuck and think we know it all. Teenagers often feel this way. I know I did.
But it doesn’t take long for life to happen, give the necessary dose of humility
to prod us along in development.
However, we can revisit that mentality at various times in our adulthood
when we are certain that we’ve seen enough, experienced enough, learned enough
to come to firm, intractable conclusions.
In the encounter Jesus has with the
Canaanite woman, Jesus shows us a different way . How a person can start with one understanding
that feels safe and comfortable, but then be willing to let it go in order to
embrace a new perspective that is truer and richer. That’s what human beings are really good at
when we are brave enough to chance it.
Now I would be surprised if there is anyone here who thinks that God’s
love and grace is limited to a select few.
But I would also be surprised if there are not things in all of us -
what we do or think or believe that needs to change so that we can more fully
bring God’s love and grace into the world.
The rally in Charlottesville last week
and all that has come in its wake has stirred up a lot of fear and anxiety in
our community and in our country. As we
seek to find the best response the all-inclusive love of God needs to be our
guiding principle and Jesus our exemplar.
With all humility we must dare to let our perspectives and our
understandings grow and change so that we are better able to see like Jesus
sees, do what Jesus does, love like Jesus loves. The deep desire all human beings have to
belong is only able to be fully met in God’s Kingdom where there is only love,
only grace, only mercy for everyone, no exceptions. In in the power of the Spirit let us be at
work to make it so.
Thursday, August 17, 2017
Statement from the Bishops of Virginia about the Charlottesville Tragedy
Tuesday, August 15, 2017
Do Not Be Afraid 8/13/17 The Rev. David M. Stoddart
Matthew
14:22-33
“No
hate! No fear!” That was the message printed on many placards yesterday and
chanted by the clergy gathered to offer a peaceful protest to the racist and
anti-Semitic views being proclaimed in Emancipation Park. But there was fear
there yesterday, lots of fear. People rallied for a hateful cause because they
are afraid they are somehow losing something; people opposed them because they
fear where racism and hatred will take us. Clearly there were people afraid of
those they perceive as strange or different. And everyone felt uncertain and
out of control: What is happening? Where will it all lead? It was a scary day.
But
I think that gives us a good entree into our Gospel passage today. It’s a weird
story, and we might almost dismiss it as cartoonish, like Jesus is performing
some cheap stunt here. Except he doesn’t do that kind of stuff. And for me, it
is the very weirdness of the story that makes it so accessible and so relevant.
Whether it’s the disciples seeing Jesus walking on water, or Peter realizing he
is standing on the Sea of Galilee with nothing physical holding him up, we can
safely say, “This is not normal.” It is strange, unexpected, and upsetting. And
what do things which are strange, unexpected, and upsetting often do? They make
us afraid. We are told several times in this brief Gospel passage that the
disciples feel afraid.
So,
yes, here we go with fear again. In my sermon last week, I talked about our
fear of intimacy, our fear of being loved in the thorough, unconditional way
that God loves. And actually, if I were determined enough and morbid enough to
do so, I could preach on fear almost every week: there’s a lot of fear in the
Bible. Which makes sense, because the Bible is filled with human beings, and
human beings spend lots of time and energy being afraid.
I
have never seen someone walking on the water or tried doing it myself. But I
regularly minister to people who are feeling shocked and frightened by things
they did not expect. I often talk to people after they have received a bad
diagnosis or have had some terrible thing happen to them, and they’re scared.
Or I listen to people who find themselves doing things they never thought they
would do, even good things, and feeling uncertain and afraid: there are so many
things that could go wrong, so many things they can’t control. And since most
people like having some measure of control, when they realize they don’t have
that, it’s scary. And that is not just pastoral knowledge for me. I’m as human
as everyone else, and I know what it feels like to be ambushed by upsetting and
unforeseen circumstances. I have, for example, watched my own family members go
through serious medical tests and have waited with them for potentially
devastating results, feeling totally out of control. I have struggled with many
challenges as a priest and as a rector that have left me feeling unsure and
fearful. And, yeah, there was a lot of that kind of fear in our city yesterday.
But
Scripture tells us not to be afraid. Jesus says it in this passage today, and he
says it in many other passages as well. In fact, some form of that admonition —
fear not, do not be afraid — occurs
dozens and dozens of times in the Bible. According to one count, there are 365
verses that tells us not to be afraid: one for every day of the year. I want
this to sink in for a moment. It is so obvious and yet so many people miss it:
Christ does not want us to be afraid. God does not want us to live in fear.
That might not register easily with you because so much popular religion has
become so fear-based. You could talk to lots of people in our country and come
away assuming that God wants us to be afraid all the time. God wants us to to
live in fear: fear of God’s anger, fear of punishment, fear of hell, fear of
terrible things happening to us. I saw a big truck driving on High Street
yesterday with all of America’s supposed sins painted on its side along with
warnings to repent or face dire consequences. Much institutional religion, much
institutional Christianity, has sought to motivate people through fear: do it
our way . . . or else.
So
breathe all of that nonsense out, and breathe this in right now: God does not
want us to be frightened. Fear is not how God motivates anyone. Over and over
and over again in Scripture, the Holy One says, “Do not be afraid.” And when
fear becomes a thing in the Bible, when people feel afraid and project that
onto God, invariably the Spirit comes along to correct that misunderstanding
and set people straight.
So
here is our conundrum. Unexpected things happen, things that are of our
control, and make us afraid. But God does not want us to be afraid. So . . .
how do we resolve that? Well, we know how not to resolve it: by trying to
assert more control. That is a common approach: we often attempt to conquer fear
by trying to take charge. But Scripture does not recommend that approach. Jesus
does not tell those disciples in the boat, “Come on! Get a grip!” He does not
say to Peter, “Try harder! Focus!” Instead, he reassures those disciples and
reaches out his hand to Peter. The message is simple: I’m here and I’m with
you, which is to say, I love you. You don’t need to be afraid.
We
will never have complete control over our world or our lives. Fear will be a
constant temptation that we will not conquer by taking charge or controlling
others. The only antidote to fear is love. When I am afraid, I have found the
one thing that can consistently help me is to connect with God’s love. That
love, which is infinitely powerful, is also infinitely available. When I’m scared,
I may not be able to change my circumstances at all. The diagnosis may still be
bad; the situation I’m in may still be terrible. I may still suffer pain or
loss, and I have. But when I breathe deeply and connect with the love that is
within me and all around me, then fear loses it's power over me. I felt it
yesterday. I don’t even know why it works, I just know it does. And it has
always worked. The great assurance Jesus gives at the end of Matthew’s Gospel
has stood the test of time: I am with you
always, even to the end of the age. It is the same assurance we find in the
Gospel today. When the love of God is with us — and it will be with us always —
there really is no reason to fear and no room for fear. The First Letter of
John says it all: Perfect love casts out
fear (1 John 4:18). There is a great spiritual practice for all of us in
this day and age. When we are afraid, we don’t need to run from it or conquer
it or lash out at others because of it. We can let God love the fear out of us
and set us free. It is a great practice. Don’t just take my word for it: try
it.
No Separation 8/6/17 The Rev. David M. Stoddart
Luke
9:28-36
Moses’
face was shining, and the Israelites were
afraid to come near him. Jesus’ face was shining, and his disciples were terrified. What do you think
everyone is so afraid of? It would be simple and perhaps tempting to hear these
passages superficially as “scary god” stories. The “scary god” notion is,
unfortunately, so deeply embedded in our minds and in our culture that this
would be the easiest way to interpret these stories. God is scary: he is a huge
guy in the sky with a big beard and an even bigger temper. He is irascible and
vindictive, routinely dishing out diseases and disasters as punishment. If we
get everything right and live the way we’re supposed to, then God will love us
and be nice to us, but that’s always a big “if.” The only certain thing is that
most people make God angry and it is only a lucky few saints and superhumans
who manage to consistently stay on his good side. So, yeah, coming into close
contact with that God would be frightening and would explain the behavior of
the Israelites and the disciples in these readings.
Except
that it doesn’t make any sense. There is no scary god in these stories. The
face of Moses is shining because, as Exodus tells us just a few verses before
this passage, when Moses talked to God, the LORD spoke to Moses face to face, as one speaks to a friend (Exod.
33:11). The light they see on his face is the light of friendship and love. And
when Jesus goes up the mountain, he brings his three closest friends with him,
Peter, James, and John, who then see their friend revealed as he truly is, with
all the love of God shining out of his face. These people are not afraid of
lightning bolts or punishments. There is something far scarier than that going
on in these two passages. And it shouldn’t completely surprise us. You know,
various polling groups and research studies regularly publish articles about
the things people fear the most. And the list of things people are most afraid
invariably include old favorites like snakes, heights, flying, public speaking,
going to the dentist, and death. But perhaps the most telling fear of all, and
the most pertinent as we hear these texts today, is the fear of intimacy, the
fear of being vulnerable and really loving someone else and really allowing
someone else to love us as we are.
I
am convinced that provides us with the key to fully grasping these two stories
today because what these people encounter is the love of God. I don’t mean
benign indifference, some deity patting us on the head and saying, “Oh, sure,
whatever.” I mean pure, unadulterated love, the love that pierces the depths
and gazes into our hearts and minds and sees everything: every lie, every
pretense, every addiction, every heinous thought, every hurtful word, every
hateful act — and loves us, loves us completely and thoroughly, always
forgiving us, always working to heal us and make us whole so we can enjoy
fullness of life forever. Paul sums it up in Romans: God proves his love for us in that while we were still sinners Christ
died for us. This is the Good News, no strings attached — and it scares the
hell out of people. Literally. Hell is just separation from God, but to
experience God’s love means to know there is no separation. God loves us no
matter what.
And
that “no matter what” part is frightening because it makes us so vulnerable: we
are left to receive love as a gift. It’s all we can do, but we’re not good at
that. I have been paying attention of late to advertisements and internet
memes, and there is a message I encounter over and over again. Here are just
some of the catchy phrases I have seen and heard: “Earned, not given.”
“Everything is worth more when you have to earn it.” “If you earn it, you will
appreciate it more.” “Trust isn’t given, it’s earned.” “Success is not given,
it is earned.” “Respect is something earned, not something given.” “Everything
is worth more when you have to earn it.” “My love is not a lottery. You can’t
win it, you have to earn it.” I could go on and on. Our culture is obsessed
with earning things. It satisfies our egos to think that we deserve everything
we have. And, conversely, that people who lack anything just don’t deserve it
because they haven’t earned it. And while there is some limited value to that
approach — encouraging a good work ethic, that kind of thing — the whole
“earning worthiness” system completely falls apart when it comes to God’s love,
or love in general, and that threatens our whole way of being in the world and
it unnerves people. Several years ago I did some pastoral counseling with a
man, and I was able to help him during a difficult time. And so he insisted on
paying me, but I refused it. This is my job, and I wasn’t going to take money from
him for helping him. But he wanted to feel like he somehow earned it by paying
for it: “I am not a charity case!”
Dear
people: we are all charity cases! Every blessed one of us! We exist because God
loves us. I get no brownie points for being a priest. You get no brownie points
for being in church today. We get no brownie points for all our good deeds and
kind words. We don’t need any! God already loves us infinitely. We could be in
church every day for the rest of our lives and give all our money away to the
poor, and we could not make God love us any more than God loves us right now.
There is nothing we can do to make God love us more, and there is nothing we
can do to make God love us less. We could go out and lie, cheat, and steal; we
could become murderers and terrorists, and still God would love us. That is so
shocking and so upsetting to our human ego systems, and the change of
perspective it demands is so dizzying, that the Bible uses very dramatic
language to describe it: being transformed, being born from above, being filled
with the Holy Spirit, dying in order to live. But when people get it, it
changes everything, and their whole being shines. Look at Moses. Look at Jesus.
Look
at yourself. There is so much damage done by people who have never experienced
unconditional love. This world desperately needs the good news of God’s love to
shine out in the lives of believers like you and me. If the thought of that is
scary, so be it. Admit the fear, but open yourself up to the love. There is
nothing we can do to earn it: it is already ours. So we don’t have to judge
ourselves any more. We don’t have to judge other people any more or compare
ourselves with them. We don’t have to decide who’s worthy and who’s not. We
don’t have to boost our fragile egos by pretending we have earned a place in
heaven or by trying to keep others out. We are free: free to live and to love
and to share in God’s ongoing work of forgiving and healing and restoring the
whole of creation. Yes, even you and I. Scary, yes — and awesome. Let your
light shine by first letting God’s love in.
What really is priceless.... 7/30/17 The Rev. Kathleen M. Sturges
Matthew
13:31-33, 44-52
Two tickets to a
baseball game, $46, two hot dogs, two popcorns, two sodas, $27, one autographed
baseball, $50. Real conversation with
your eleven year old son: priceless.
Sound familiar? It’s from the
first Mastercard priceless commercial that ran back in 1997. (Hence the great deal on the tickets and
food!) That commercial launched an ad
campaign that twenty years later is still going strong because it touches upon
a deep truth that resonates in all of us - that ultimately the meaning and
fulfillment that we seek is not something that can be bought.
Ironically
though, Jesus uses some things that money can buy in order to point to what
really is priceless. First, he says,
there is a man who discovers a treasure hidden in a field. That man is so excited that he goes and sells
everything he has to lay hold of that treasure.
Then there is a merchant who comes upon one of the finest of
pearls. He desires it so much that he too
goes and sells all he has to buy it. In
both cases, these men are not just willing, but eager, to completely upend
their lives, abandon all other pursuits and sell everything they own so that
they may have something they recognize as having more value than anything
else.
This, Jesus tells
us, is like the Kingdom of Heaven - even though it can be easily overlooked
like a treasure that’s buried or a pearl amongst many it is of the utmost value
and worth all that we have and all that we are.
But what exactly is this Kingdom of Heaven? It’s God, Herself, as well as the world in
which God’s ways, God’s priorities, and God’s love has full rein. What makes the Kingdom of Heaven the most
priceless thing of all things is that it gives us what we ultimately desire - lasting fulfillment and satisfaction. Nothing else, no human relationship, no
longed for accomplishment, no unique set of experiences is able to meet our
deepest need for any sustained amount of time.
Seeking fulfillment in anything that God has created is a recipe for
disappointment. St. Augustine puts it
this way, “You have made us for yourself, O God, and our hearts are restless
until they rest in you.” The Kingdom of
Heaven is where our hearts find true and priceless rest.
Now in order to
help us better grasp the value of God’s Kingdom and the path one might take to
enter into it I’d like to call upon the 12th century a monk and Church Father,
Bernard of Clairvaux. He wrote a book
called On Loving God and in it he
lays out four stages a person takes in order to find a spiritual
fulfillment.
The first stage,
Bernard says, is loving oneself for one’s own sake. This is where we all begin. When we are born we are naturally only
concern for ourselves. We have needs and
we want them to be met. That’s all good
and appropriate for the first stage of development, but if by the time we reach
adulthood we still act as is we are the center of the universe then very likely
our universe will be very empty and lonely one.
Thankfully, most
of us choose to move from this stage onto the next - Loving God for one’s own sake. This is considered the next level because
there is some awareness of something beyond ourselves. However, at this stage the reason we seek God
in our life is because it serves us in some way and it’s easy to get stuck here
or visit this stage over and over again.
I mean how much of our prayer life is focused on asking God for
something or telling God what to do? A
lot, right? No wonder our faith is
shaken when life doesn’t go the way we want and God doesn’t act like our
all-powerful butler at our beck and call.
When the states are high, when it’s a matter of life or death, and it
appears that God does not come through for us it can be absolutely devastating
and we are left with bitterness and hurt.
Loving God for one’s own sake is a step in the right direction, but this
kind of faith will never truly satisfy.
But if we can
shift from loving God for one’s own sake to loving God for God’s own sake
well, then we’re making real progress in the Kingdom. To love God for God’s own sake begins to happen
when we start to recognize that God’s value, God’s worthiness is not based on
what we get from God, but on who God is.
To worship, delight and stand in awe of God because God is God - period. We know the difference in our own lives and
relationships - people who attend to us because of what we can do for them
versus people who value us just for who we are.
This dynamic may be especially obvious in some parent/teenager
relationships. Imagine you are a parent
of a teenager who one day sits down next to you and strikes up a pleasant
conversation. He says that it’s nice to
see you and even asks about your day! At
this point, for many parents at least, one’s radar goes on alert. And an internal monologue may begin. What does this child of mine want? The car?
Money? A later curfew? There’s got to be something behind all this
attention and kindness. So you the
parent ask the question, “My Dear Teenager, what can I do for you?” Imagine the surprise and delight to hear,
“Nothing. I just wanted to be with
you.” Now that may be fantasy, but we
can still apply it to our relationship with God. Simply wanting to be present with God with no
agenda is loving God for God’s own sake and that’s when true fulfillment for
the soul begins to happen.
But there’s one
more stage in the Kingdom of God that Bernard speaks of which, quite honestly,
is hard to get one’s mind around. It
brings us back full circle to the beginning for it is about loving oneself, but
it’s not about loving oneself in a self-centered way. At this point it’s loving oneself...for God’s sake. Now let me remind you this does not come from
a modern writer influenced by the “Me Generation.” This is written by a 12th century French monk
reflecting on the highest stage of spiritual connection and fulfillment. Loving oneself for God’s sake means that we
are able to see ourselves the way God sees us with charity, humility and
mercy. Seeing that we are full of flaws,
failures and frailties, yet even so knowing deep in our hearts, as Psalm 139 puts
it, that we really are fearfully and wonderfully made. To love oneself for God’s sake is to
recognize that in God’s eyes each one of us, with no exceptions, is a treasure,
a pearl of great price - a keeper! When
we are able to know that for God’s sake then we are able to love more perfectly
and our hearts find rest.
That’s not to say
that having a real conversation at a baseball game with your eleven year old
son or anyone else is an insignificant thing.
God has blessed us with countless wonderful and meaningful things in
this world. However, to experience the
fullness and ultimate fulfillment of the Kingdom of Heaven? That is truly priceless.
Wednesday, August 9, 2017
Statement on the "Unite the Right" Rally from Fr. David Stoddart
Dear Friends,
As you know, a rally entitled "Unite the Right" is set to take place in Charlottesville on Saturday, August 12. The gathering is drawing individuals and groups who espouse various forms of white supremacy along with overtly racist and anti-Semitic ideologies. The language used to publicize this event has been hate-filled and divisive, and many people have expressed concern about the rally and the potential for violence.
So let me state what I hope is obvious: any form of racism directly contradicts everything the Church stands for. In fact, any attempt to disparage or divide people based on skin color, ethnic background, religious beliefs, gender, or sexual orientation clearly violates the teaching and witness of Jesus Christ, who calls all people into loving community. The Apostle Paul beautifully sums up the all-inclusive nature of that community when he writes: There is no longer Jew or Greek, there is no longer slave or free, there is no longer male and female; for all of you are one in Christ Jesus (Gal. 3:28).
Certainly the organizers of this rally have the right to express their opinions without fear of violence or retribution. But those of us in Christ also have a responsibility to bear witness to an alternative vision. In that spirit, Mo. Kathleen and I will be participating in a march that day organized by the Charlottesville Clergy Collective. Joining with our bishops and clergy from around the diocese and across the country, we will march from the Jefferson School African-American Heritage Center to the First United Methodist Church. The purpose of this march is to offer prayerful and non-confrontational opposition to the rally and all that it represents.
I am happy to offer such witness with my sister and brother clergy. But I want to make something very clear: while I strongly oppose all forms of racism and exclusivity, I am not marching against anyone. There is too much anger and hatred in our nation as it is, and I have no desire to add to it. I do not want to hate the people I disagree with or cause them harm. I am not marching against — I am marching for: for a vision of humanity which embraces all people with care and acceptance, and for the Reign of God in which every single person can experience the abundant life God created everyone to enjoy — no exceptions. I am marching for Love, that eternal Love which embraces all of us and which can never be defeated or overcome. This is what I believe Church of Our Saviour stands for. It is certainly what I stand for.
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