Love builds up. January 28, 2018 The Rev. Kathleen M. Sturges

1 Corinthians 8:1-13

What do you do when you spill salt on the table?  Have you ever thrown a pinch of that salt over your shoulder?  If you have, you are carrying on a superstition created, at least in part, from Leonardo da Vinci’s painting of the Last Supper.  The next time you see that piece of art notice that Judas has knocked the salt container with his forearm.  Legend has it that that image reinforced the popular notion that spilled salt was associated with evil.  The thinking was that to combat such dark forces throwing salt over one’s shoulder would cast the evil away and bring good luck instead.  So how superstitious are you?  Most of us can’t help but take note when Friday the 13th comes along (it’s April of this year, by the way).  And I know more than a few sports fans who swear that wearing certain articles of clothes really does help their team win.  How about when two bad things happen?  It’s not uncommon to hear someone say that they are waiting for the next thing to occur because, you know, bad things come in threes.  And I’ve lost count how many times someone tells me about something in their life that is going well - they haven’t gotten the flu or their child is on the straight and narrow or things have settled down at work - and then catch themselves and say, “knock on wood.” 

Superstitions may or may not have much of a hold on us these days, but our reading from 1 Corinthians offers us a glimpse of a time when everyday life seemed to be under the influence of countless unseen and half-known forces.  Gods were everywhere and each one demanded attention.  One of the ways these gods were worshiped and appeased was by sacrificing food to them.  However, these pagan gods must have had very small stomachs because there were always plenty of leftovers from these rituals. And these leftovers were often sold in the markets or served in homes which caused Christians to wonder what they were to do.  Was it okay for them to eat food that had been sacrificed to idols? 

Being that this was a very serious matter of the day, naturally sides were taken.  One group, the eaters, argued that it was fine to eat idol food while the other group, the non-eaters, feared that in doing so they were somehow aligning themselves with pagan gods and that unacceptable.  The apostle Paul was asked to weigh in on the matter and, to cut to the chase, Paul said that the eaters were correct.  And they must have been thrilled - because who doesn’t like to be on the winning side of things?

But before there could be much celebrating and high-fiving, Paul explains being right is really what  matters here.  For, “Knowledge puffs up, but love builds up,” writes the apostle.  Knowledge taken all by itself often creates a dynamic of winners and losers, who’s right and who’s wrong, who’s in the know and who’s not.  But love, love is completely different.  When love is present then it’s not about competition, but connection and no one is the loser.  Love builds up by seeking what is genuinely good for the other.  The well-being of people always takes precedence over policy.  So when it came to this particular case 1 Corinthians, Paul points out that even if technically eating food sacrificed to idols does no physical harm to the non-eaters, nonetheless, for them it somehow causes damage to their souls.  And love in no way wants that for the other.  So, Paul concludes, if food can cause such injury then he will gladly use his freedom, his liberty, to restrain from eating the food in question and counsels the other eaters to do likewise.  For knowledge puffs up, but love builds up.

But does this mean that love does not to do anything that might offend?  Are we to back down from every fight and hide behind the gospel of niceness for the sake of not rocking the boat?  Absolutely not - not for those who seek to follow the way of Jesus.  The one who never let the threat of conflict stop him from loving and seeking the well-being of the other - which meant that exorcisms and healings would take place on the Sabbath, the bloody and unclean would be touched, and the prostitutes and tax collectors would be forgiven, come what may.

And that’s all fine and well when we’re dealing with other people’s issues from another time.  But what about our issues in our time?  Like how do we love the people of God who today are in this country with or without documentation?  What does love look like when we seek the good of the other, in this case immigrants in our land?  Or how do we respond when people of color look at us and tell us about their experience of race?  Do we think we know better and insist on being right or do we respond with a love that builds up the other?  In all the complexities of life we are called through our baptism, with God’s help, to seek to serve Christ in all persons, to strive for justice and peace among all people, and respect the dignity of every human being.  

This is the love of God that builds up all of us and no one is the loser.  Unlike any pinch of salt or a piece of wood that’s been knocked, this love has the power to cast away any dark forces that seek to divide and separate.  Jesus is always about expanding the circle of compassion.  The circle of compassion in which we live and move and have our being.  The circle of compassion that we get to be a part of expanding so that no one is left standing on the outside of the Kingdom of God.  This knowledge coupled with love builds up everyone and brings the good news of life, abundant life, to us all.    

"Real" Christian?

I have had a number of conversations recently about people intent on being known as "real" Christians. This brings to mind countless discussions I've had over the years about who is actually a real Christian and which church is actually a real church. It's a tedious topic, one which brings out the worst in us as we try to burnish our Christian bona fides. Conservatives claim they are real Christians because they oppose abortion or same-sex marriage or ordaining women. Liberals point out how they stand against racism and social injustice and fundamentalism. People claim to be real Christians because they were baptized as adults or because they have read the whole Bible or because they really fast during Lent or never miss a Sunday at church. And, depending on who you talk to, real churches baptize people by fully immersing them or by celebrating the Eucharist with wine (not grape juice) or by singing the good old hymns or by offering contemporary praise music. And lest you think I am casting stones, I sadly confess that there have been too many times when I have contributed ‒ sometimes passionately ‒ to such discussions.

I suppose it fulfills some basic ego needs we have to compare ourselves with others and come out on top. If we can disparage or look down on someone else's faith or religious practice, that helps us to feel like we excel at it, like we are "real" Christians, as opposed to  . . . well, you know, all those others. And so the one Church founded by the Prince of Peace, the community that is supposed to be light for the world, bickers and frets, with various groups of "real" Christians condemning and excommunicating others who somehow don't measure up or make the grade.

But the more I meditate on the Gospels, the more I realize how senseless such nonsense is. Jesus spends no time opining on the various issues that divide his Church. For Jesus, a true follower is just that: someone who follows him. And that means giving oneself away in love, like Jesus does. If people are serious about being "real"Christians, they have no business condemning anyone who believes or practices differently. If we want to show that we really mean it when it comes to faith, then we need to love like Jesus, and that means loving everyone, especially those who most need it, even those who have most hurt us. I would be happy never having another discussion about "true" baptism or which Communion is "real" or how some some people's religion is superior to others. Want to show how serious we are? Share what we have. Feed the hungry. Care for the sick. Advocate for the poor. Forgive our enemies. Love our neighbors as ourselves. Proclaim the Good News of God's love. Those who do that are the only "Super Christians" there are — and they don't need to prove that to anyone.

Carrying a gift. January 21, 2018 The Rev. Jeffrey Fishwick

Mark 1:14-20

There has been a lot of news about the news past year, hasn’t there? Is it real or is it fake? Left wing or right wing; manipulated by a foreign government? Have social media sources been checked out or not?

Don’t know about you, but I never used to wonder about those kind of things. When Walter Cronkite ended the evening broadcast on CBS with “and that’s the way it is” you believed him. When he returned from Vietnam in early 1968 and told the American people that the war was un-winnable, President Johnson decided not to run for re-election.

The Walter Cronkite era is long gone; clearly journalistic standards are different today. And not only that, there are so many options for how we get the news. We are bombarded with so much information, and people can manipulate it make it seem so palatable, enticing.

Yet like it or not, the influence of the media is pervasive - true or not, it confirms our prejudices and shapes our understanding. Even can apply it to the Church. For instance, take this this statement: Episcopalians are not evangelical. True or false? Real or fake?

The term evangelical derives from the Greek word “euangelion” (pronounced: u-an-gel-ion) meaning “gospel” or “good news.” Technically speaking, evangelical refers to a person or church organization committed to the Christian message that Jesus Christ is the savior of the world. That He has brought into the world good news. As the Christmas carol says, “our hopes and fears of all the years are met in thee tonight.” In other words, Love came down at Christmas, and through that life, that death, that resurrection – that love is roaming the world even more, accomplishing the purposes of renewal, forgiveness, reconciliation, healing and peace. As followers of Christ we carry within us for our own lives and in our interactions with others that hope that belief. So in that sense all Christians are evangelical.

However, the secular media has chosen to distinguish different types of Christians, some are evangelical - like people who go to a certain university in Lynchburg. While others are not. In some circles evangelical has become a negative term!

I would like to gently suggest that this, if not fake news, is very misleading. And has some serious consequences. First of all it creates a false dichotomy among different Christian groups that divides and hurts the cause of Christ; the division between Christian Churches has been and remains a scandal. Secondarily, if we really come to believe that some Christians are evangelical and we aren’t, if relieves us of any responsibility to be a bearers of the good news of Christ to others. So our Christian life becomes inwardly focused, more interested in what goes on in here than what is going on the the world out there. Of course Episcopalians believe in the u an gel ion!

Baptismal covenant: Will you proclaim by word and example the Good News of God in Christ.

So what does it mean when Jesus says Follow me and I will make you fish for people? For some people it does means a launching out from home and family – missionaries. Jesus said go into all the world and they did, and they do; the missionary movement in Christianity is rich indeed, too multifaceted and pervasive to go into detail in this sermon. Let me mention one important missionary evangelical movement in the Episcopal Church that started right here in Albemarle County.

In 1888 an Englishman, Frederick William Neve, accepted the call to become the Rector of two yoked parishes in western Albemarle County: Emmanuel Greenwood and St. Paul’s Ivy. As Neve road his horse to get to the two parishes he served, he discovered in the Ragged Mountains mountain people who were poor, isolated, and uneducated. The state of Virginia, still economically devastated after the Civil War, was unable to provide in infrastructure to help them.

Neve sensed a call to minister to these folks and set out to do it. In 1890 the first

mission St. John the Baptist was built; he recruited men and women to go into the surrounding "hollars" - to provide basic services such as schooling and medical clinics. In 1901 one of Neve’s followers, George Mayo, started the Blue Ridge Industrial School for boys and girls as place to provide nurture security and vocational training.

Over the years the mountain work grew and expanded. Eventually it spread into surrounding Greene, Page, Madison, and Rockingham counties. In a recent biography of Archdeacon Neve, the author stated that when he died in 1948 at the age of 93, he and his followers had founded 30 churches, numerous missions, schools, medical stations, and a children’s tubercular preventorium. Some of those churches in our area include Holy Cross, Batesville; Grace, Stanardsville; Good Shepherd of the Hills in Booneville; Grace, Red Hill; Good Shepherd, Hickory Hill. All in all, the ministry that Archdeacon Neve began wound up touching the lives of

thousands of people here in Central Virginia. Want to know more? Talk to David Wayland, who served in several of the churches I have mentioned, grew

up in the area, and is giving a talk on Feb 25th at  Adult Forum here at COOS.

But of course there are other ways to follow Christ and to be fishers of people, to be missionaries and evangelists. We can also follow him in particular and distinct ways that may or may not be like the first disciples. Perhaps we follow by becoming a teacher, or volunteering at a homeless shelter. Perhaps we follow by inviting a neighbor to church or when the time is right, sharing our faith story with someone. Perhaps we follow by being generous with our wealth and with our time. Perhaps we follow by welcoming a stranger into our midst. Perhaps we follow by caring for an

aging parent or a special needs child or fill in the blank.

The point is whether we leave our circumstances and launch out in a new direction or stay right where we are, there is a movement, an intentionality to by word or deed to be a bearer of good news, treating others with the same regard love and patience that Jesus did - especially those who were overlooked by society.

Such an understanding on our part is at the heart of being a Christian; being an evangel, a bearer of the good news; of trying with the grace of God, of course, to follow Jesus as a beloved child of God, warts and all.

So this week, think of yourself as someone who is carrying around a gift - a gift of good news. Be alert this week for opportunities to share it and do this, not out of obligation, but desire; and as you do that don’t be surprised to discover richer deeper experience of Christ, for yourself. And that, my friends, is what it means to be an evangelist, to be evangelical. Amen.

Assumption. 1/14/18 The Rev. Kathleen M. Sturges

“You know, when we lived in England we were very active in a church.” This surprising news came out of the mouth of an acquaintance of mine as we talked last month.   She and I knew each other casually through a mutual friend, but up until then our conversations had been about as deep as you can get when talking about the weather.  Her comment surprised me, not so much because she wanted to talk about faith. What surprised me was that she had been connected to a church.  From the little I knew of her I had assumed that she was like most Europeans who dismiss the Christian faith as a relic of the past.  Obviously, I was wrong.  She told me how, at the beginning of her married life, she and her husband had befriended some Christians who invited them to church.  That invitation grew into regular attendance, baptisms for both of them, and years of meaningful connection and relationship with God and God’s people.  However, when they moved to the States things changed.  They tried to find a church home, but nothing seemed to fit so they gave up.  She ended her story with the sweeping declaration that, “All churches here in the States are just interested in money.”        

My heart went out to her.  The time in her life when she and her husband were a part of the Church had meant a lot to her.  It had been rich and meaningful and had nurtured her relationship with God.  It saddened me that she felt that part of her life was over and done.  So trying not to sound pushy or like I was a salesperson working on commission, I suggested that not all churches were as bad as she thought and told her a little about Church of Our Saviour - about you and this wonderful, imperfect community in Christ.  Then I gave her one of our small cards  with our contact information on it and I invited her to come sometime to check us out.  Unfortunately, she has yet to come and I fear that her assumption that all churches are just about money may keep her out of any church for the rest of her life.  But perhaps I’m the one who is jumping to conclusions because there’s no doubt that God is up to something in her heart.

It’s too bad my acquaintance-friend isn’t here this Sunday because she would have found a kindred spirit in the soon-to-be disciple, Nathaniel, whom we meet in our reading from the gospel of John.  Jesus is just beginning his public ministry and he’s gathering followers.  Andrew has just come on board - Peter too.  Then Philip answers the call to follow and is so excited about Jesus that he finds Nathaniel and says, “We have found him - the one whom Moses wrote about - it’s Jesus son of Joseph from Nazareth.” But Nathaniel scoffs, “Can anything good come out of Nazareth?” Clearly Nathaniel has some strong opinions, some assumptions about Nazareth, and they aren’t good. 

Do you ever make assumptions?  That’s really a rhetorical question.  Safe to say we all do.  Sometimes our assumptions are about people.  We might say something like, “She’s always so negative,” or “He’s a crazy conservative,” or, I confess, “Europeans have no interest in the Christian faith.”  And we don’t seem to hold back when it comes to passing judgment on various situations. “This marriage will never work.”  “The middle east will always be in conflict.” “The Church is only interested in money.”   We may even turn this way of thinking inward on ourselves and our struggles and decide that whatever it is that plagues us, it will never get any better. 

But there’s a big problem when we make such assumptions.  They limit us and they limit the possibilities.  Assumptions narrow our vision because it really is true that people see what they expect to see. Yet we assume things so often and so recklessly thinking that we know more than we really do.  The old saying about what happens when you assume, what it makes out of you and me, is not something I can repeat here in church, but there is some truth to it.  Assumptions close down the potential of growth and change.  And ultimately they diminish our faith declaring that there is no room for God to show up and act. 

To Nathaniel’s credit, his assumptions don’t stop him from responding when Philip tells him about Jesus and suggests that he come and see for himself.  Nathaniel accepts the invitation and upon encountering the man from a place from where nothing good can come, his assumptions fall away.  Nathaniel experiences an epiphany - a sudden understanding of God’s ways - and is moved to confess that this Jesus of Nazareth really is the Son of God, the King of Israel.   

It’s just like God to show up and be at work in unexpected people and places like Nazareth.  And thank God that God is not limited by our assumptions.  Rather it is just the opposite, for every Nazareth - for every person or situation that we have written off as unchangeable or hopeless - there is an invitation to us.  An invitation to come and see.  Come and see with open hearts and open minds what God’s spirit is up to.  Come and see, like Nathaniel, and be willing to let go of assumptions so that you might be surprised by finding God in unexpected and even hopeless situations.  For our God is a God whose power of love and life can heal and make whole any type of Nazareth, any place where we surely think that nothing good can happen.  In every assumption that we make there is a deeper truth to be discovered - that there is no place, no person, no circumstance where God is not present and at work.  Can anything good come out of Nazareth?  Yes indeed it can, and not just anything, but it is the One who is Good who comes out of Nazareth and can make that place for each one of us a place of God’s epiphany for you.  So what do you have to lose?  Your invitation is waiting - come and see.    

Emptying ourselves in love. 1/7/18 The Rev. David M. Stoddart

Matthew 2:1-12

Epiphany Sunday

My son recently asked me a provocative question. He wanted to know when I first really felt like I was a priest. I didn’t have a quick answer to that. There is a lot of pageantry and hoopla around ordination services, and I remember mine vividly: it was a wonderful event. And certainly celebrating the Eucharist for the first time felt momentous. But looking back, those were not the moments I first knew I was a priest. What comes to mind are other moments, like the time a person with terminal cancer asked me to pray for his healing, while his family gathered around him in tears. Or the time when a woman in her forties committed suicide. He sister just could not bear to tell their mother, and so I went to the mother’s home and delivered the awful news to that elderly woman and then sat with her in the horror of it. Or the time a 16-year-old was in a terrible car accident, and I was called to the hospital, and then called on to bury her a few days later. All of those happened early in my ministry, and I had no way to make any of those situations better. Years of advanced education, a shiny new collar, an ecclesiastical title: none of that mattered at all. All I could do was empty myself of all pretense and power and just love those people. I think those are the times I first learned what it means to be a priest.

It’s lesson I continue to learn and continue to resist, and I can’t help thinking about it as we hear this Gospel today. The story is familiar, but I will remind you this is Matthew’s version of the Nativity: there is no manger, no cute animals, no way to romanticize the story. It takes place in an insignificant town, a baby born to poor parents in a nondescript house. Matthew does not tell us that the wise men are kings — that tradition is extrapolated from Psalm 72 —but whether they are royalty or not, they are clearly men of status and means who come a long way to find this child, and when they do, they kneel before him. And in that familiar but strange scene, we see God. The Holy One empties himself of divine power to become a vulnerable human infant. Those wise men empty themselves of all the trappings of human power to kneel on the floor to kneel before this baby born in a backwater. If we want to know what God looks like, there it is: emptying oneself for the good of others; becoming weak in order to save; giving away power for the sake of love.

Matthew paints the scene brilliantly by contrasting the self-surrender that happens in that house with the self-aggrandizing actions of King Herod. Herod is a brutal ruler who has already murdered his wife and several of his own children in order to maintain power, and who will soon slaughter all the infants of Bethlehem to make sure no other king arises there. He is what people normally think of when they think of human power: he amasses wealth and weapons and everything he needs to secure himself and protect his power and privileges. He is the exact opposite of the God who empties himself of power to become a baby and the wise men who empty themselves of power to pay homage to that baby. The contrast just serves to make the message clear: if we want to find God, we will find her in self-giving, self-emptying acts of love — or not at all.

This shouldn’t surprise us. Jesus spends his whole life undefended and vulnerable, giving his power away by loving, healing, teaching, and building community among people. The cross is just the ultimate expression of that. But we imagine God in glorious terms, and we often think about going up to God: having peak experiences or mountain top moments. The Bible describes a few of those, and no doubt many of us have had such moments ourselves, when we have felt spiritually high and close to God. They’re great when they happen, but in both Scripture and life they are relatively rare. On a daily basis, the way to God does not involve ascending, but descending. We do not go up to God so much as we go down. Because that is what God does: God empties Godself, becomes the least of the least, so that all may know God’s love.

That very reality is embodied in our understanding of the Trinity: the Father pours out power, life, and love into the Son, who does not hold on to any of it but pours it all out on the world by sharing the Holy Spirit. I love that when we baptize people, we pour water on their heads, initiating them into the flow of divine love, the self-emptying nature of God. When we are baptized, we enter into the life of the Holy Trinity. And we experience Christ within us, we experience the Spirit moving through us, we experience God, when we go with that flow and give ourselves away in love.

So if we truly want to experience the power of God in our lives, then we don’t need to look at wealth and success: that is how the Herods of the world may understand power, but it is not how God manifests power. Nor should we just focus on peak experiences, which are few and fleeting. The one sure way to know God’s power is to surrender power and give ourselves away in love. In my early days of ordained life, I learned that is not only the nature of priestly ministry, but the nature of discipleship, the essence of following Jesus. And we all have power. We have power by virtue of being white, affluent Americans. We have education and money and skills. We can use our power to burnish our reputations and bolster our resumes and build up our retirement accounts, but the Lord of all, who gave himself away in the Christ child, calls us to experience the presence and power of Christ within us by giving ourselves away as well. This week, today, we will have opportunities to empty ourselves and give our power away for the sake of love. A catechist once told me that she never feels closer to God than when she is on the floor helping a child discover something new. All of us can find those moments of surrender and revelation. It’s not that we “should” do it: those wise men didn’t have to travel to Bethlehem. But if we really desire to experience the flow of God’s love and power in our lives, then, like them, we will want to do it — because it is the only way.  

Be Brave... A Reflection from Emily Rutledge

My 6 year old has started practicing yoga once a week at the studio I go to.  Just admitting that to all of you makes me simultaneously mortified and giddy.  Mortified because I am now a mom that takes her child to yoga and giddy because it's the first time I've had something that I love doing that my child also enjoys.  The magical day has come that we are together enjoying a thing.

We are a family that struggles with anxiety living in a culture that glorifies excellence. Last year I focused on slowing down and separating myself from my innate need to compare; my body, my achievements, my clothing, my situations.  Much of that separation centered around yoga, it is my contemplative prayer, my radical body acceptance, and the place my mind finds quiet and the Holy finds space.  When our daughter started displaying the same struggles as I did as a young girl the planets aligned and my studio began offering children's yoga.

For the past few months late on Monday afternoons we have walked into the small and intimate yoga studio where I have dropped her off for an hour that sets her week right.  With the new year came a move and our tiny yoga studio grew into a larger space with two practice rooms and a later time.

My daughter, AG, was excited to see the new space and her friends after the Christmas break.  To my surprise instead of the four to six other little girls she had been practicing with for months there was a gaggle of children; some much younger, some much older, all in a smaller studio while we adults got to take up the big room.  AG happily found her spot and I went to practice with a bit of a pit in my stomach.  The worry monster inside of me got very loud...

• Well it's all ruined, her quiet little happy space is gone forever
• See.. all change is bad.  BAD BAD BAD
• Nothing ever lasts, guess I can give this up now, no more yoga for AG
• She is going to hate this, why can't anything work out?

If you also have a worry monster inside of you, you know how this story goes.  By the time I was out of my practice and she hers the monster had convinced me that not only was yoga ruined but my child would end up an anxious adult (probably sitting in yoga class worried about her own child) with no coping skills and destined to a life of internal turmoil.  I have a very advanced worry monster.   

When we all united in the lobby the miracle-worker instructor, Maggie, informed us that they had done partner poses for the class.

Well that did me right in.  Not only did my child loose her happy place but she had to do yoga with other kids and probably felt so uncomfortable and anxious that she is ruined forever and I'm sure she was left out and LIFE IS HORRIBLE.  

As we walked to the car together I asked the question I was afraid to hear the answer to, 

'How was it today?'

AG's response,  'IT WAS AWESOME.'

I was convinced I must have misheard, so I asked more specifically, 

'Ms. Maggie said you did partner poses, was it okay? Was it awkward?  Did you like it?'

AG's response, 'IT WAS FUN, WHEN WE GET HOME CAN I SHOW YOU WHAT WE DID?

When Jesus rebukes the disciples for keeping the children away and tells them that the Kingdom of Heaven belongs to them, I always thought it was because they were young and innocent.  I never considered it belonged to children because they were BRAVE.  If you have ever listened in on a children's homily you know that there is no limit to what a child is willing to share or question.  There is no answer too far fetched or question too bold.  

As we embark on a new year I invite you to join me in being childlike.  I invite you to do the new things and believe you will be awesome at them.  Meet people with the assumption they will love you and you will love them.  Ask the questions as they roll off your tongue and share your answers no matter how wild.  Play.  Eagerly reach for the Eucharist and belt out the alleluias.  Do the partner yoga without worrying about the partner yoga.  

The Kingdom is waiting for us in all these things, we only need to be brave enough to enter in.