The sign we need. December 22, 2019 The Rev. David M. Stoddart

Isaiah 7:10-16; Matthew 1:18-25

Some years ago, the Christian Science Monitor published an anonymous piece entitled, “Oh God, Just Give Me a Sign.” The author had gone through a traumatic period, and remembered being awake in the night many times, fervently asking God for a sign, some way to know for sure how to move forward in her life. She then writes:

As it happened, I did see a sign during all those sleepless nights — the same one, again and again. It was the enormous Citgo sign — now one of Boston’s landmarks — blinking its neon red, white and blue lights above Fenway Park.

Somehow, when I’d look up at all that bright activity going on at two or three in the morning, after all the noise of the traffic had stilled on my busy street and no one else in the world seemed to be awake — I’d stop feeling quite so alone. And once I became quieter and less afraid, I would find a way to pray to God more intelligently — to ask Him what I should do next, rather than just tearfully beg Him to give me a sign.

Life does improve for this person, and she goes on to say: “Every time I see that Citgo sign, I remember that with God’s help, I made it through that crisis. And then another. And another after that. The fact that I’ve survived again and again, each time I’ve prayed for answers, has taught me something.”

I have often heard people tell me they would like a sign from God when they are struggling and needing God to give them some comfort or guidance. It’s a pretty universal desire. Woody Allen spoke for many people when he said, “If only God would give me some clear sign! Like making a large deposit in my name in a Swiss bank.” So it may surprise us to realize that Ahaz, the king Isaiah addresses in our first reading, does not want any sign from God. Things are a mess: he’s a young and inexperienced ruler, being threatened by an alliance of two other kings, and he’s panicking. He even, horrifically, slaughters his own son as a burnt offering to try to avert calamity. So the prophet Isaiah confronts him and says, “Ask the Lord for a sign, any sign! God will give you what you need!” But Ahaz doesn’t want a sign because he’s afraid and doesn’t trust in God. And what happens? God gives him a sign anyway: “The young woman is with child and shall bear a son, and shall name him Immanuel.  And before he’s old enough to know the difference between right and wrong, the threat you are now facing will disappear.” We don’t know which young woman Isaiah was referring to: he may have been talking about his own wife and the child she was about to give birth to. The early church, of course, came to see these words as a prophecy about Jesus. But in the book of Isaiah, written centuries before Jesus was born, the point is that God gave Ahaz a sign, whether he wanted it or not.

In our Gospel passage, Joseph is also caught up in turmoil: the woman he is engaged to is pregnant, a source of scandal and shame. Joseph is a good man, but he’s not going to marry her. He does not ask God for a sign, but here again, God gives him one anyway: a dream telling him to proceed with his marriage to Mary because the child she carries was conceived by the Holy Spirit and will save his people.

What links that writer looking out at the Citgo sign with Ahaz the king of Judah and Joseph, the betrothed of Mary, is that God gives each of them a sign, even if they don’t get it at first, even if they don’t even ask for it . . . because the God who reveals herself to so many people down through the centuries, who becomes incarnate in Jesus Christ, who pours out the Holy Spirit on all flesh, is a God who wants to be known.

But before I tell you what I think the crucial lesson here is, let me tell you what I don’t think it is. I don’t think these readings should encourage us to engage in magical thinking, the kind of thinking that tries to manipulate God or use God to make decisions for us. You know, something like, “Okay, God. If this traffic light turns green in less than 10 seconds, I am going to take that as a sign that you want me to buy a new car.” I think it is safe to say that God doesn’t work that way. But because God does give so many signs in the Bible, and because so many people of faith believe God has given them signs, there is clearly something significant going on here. And to get at that, we need to remember why it is that God gives signs in the first place. And while the Lord occasionally gives a sign of judgment in Scripture, the vast majority of the time, when God gives a sign, God gives it to remove fear. The sign of Immanuel is given to help Ahaz trust in God and to take away his fear; the dream comes to Joseph so that he will not be afraid to take Mary as his wife; that writer looks out at the Citgo sign and sees it as a sign from God because it makes her feel less afraid.

We are in a season of expectation. We will soon celebrate the birth of God among us. And as we do so, I am sure many of us feel unsettled or uncertain or afraid, for any number of reasons. But we can rightly expect that the One who became enfleshed in Jesus will find a way to touch us and give us signs that set us free from fear, signs that will encourage us, literally give us courage, to move forward in our day or in our life with confidence and the sure knowledge that God is with us. That could take a very dramatic form and sometimes does, but in the Bible and certainly in my own life, God often moves through very ordinary events, like the birth of a baby, a dream, a conversation, looking out the window and seeing a beautiful sky, having a surge of hope come out of nowhere while we pour a cup of tea or wait in line at the grocery store. There is no moment too small for God, who is always moving and always loving. I hope you’ve had such moments: I think they happen a lot. And if we ever doubt our experience or wonder whether a particular event was truly revelatory, we need only ask ourselves one question: Did it lessen our fear? Did it renew our courage? If so, then we can be confident that God used that moment to give us the sign that we need.

Inhabit John's question. December 15, 2019 The Rev. David M. Stoddart

Matthew 11:2-11

Children’s homilies don’t always go as planned. One memorable example of that took place
during Advent several years ago, and it featured a special guest appearance by John the Baptist,
in the form of Sam Sheridan. Sam is our seminarian who, God willing, will graduate from
seminary and be ordained a deacon in the spring. And he has a flair for drama. For a number of
years he did skits with us as part of worship for Summer Celebration. He’s a great person. And
he really got into this role. He dressed up in a primitive outfit, and when the children were
gathered up front, he came running down the aisle, shouting, “Repent! Repent! The Messiah is
coming!” It was supposed to be fun and engaging. Well, it scared them. The kids startled and
looked at Sam in horror and a couple of them sprang up and ran back to the pews to be with
their parents. Sam tried to talk to the children but the homily never recovered. And for a couple
of years afterwards, some of those kids would back away and look askance whenever they saw
Sam coming. We really don’t try to traumatize children on Sundays, but I suppose it was at least
a reminder of how scary John the Baptist can be. And how human.

We saw the scary part last week, when John lashed out at the “brood of vipers” before him and
warned of the wrath to come. But we see the humanity this week. Just a few short chapters ago,
Matthew’s Gospel tells us that John was so convinced that Jesus was the Messiah that he said, I
need to be baptized by you, and do you come to me? And after the baptism, John heard that
voice from heaven saying This is my Son, the Beloved, with whom I am well pleased. And John
was a prophet, I mean the real deal: fierce, strong, and utterly committed. But in the Gospel
passage today, he is in prison and he is uncertain. Herod will soon have him killed. His time is
short. And he sends his disciples to Jesus to ask, Are you the one who is to come, or are we to
wait for another? Did John forget about the baptism? Why is he now doubting? Matthew gives
us no insight into his thinking or his emotions. All we have is that question from a man about to
die: Are you the one?

I say this is so human because we can all relate to it. We run hot and cold; we can feel utterly
convinced of something one day and give up on it the next. If we are even half awake, we have
had moments when we doubt things we most believe in, when we question beliefs we have long
held dear. We all know what it’s like to wonder what God is up to, or if God is up to anything.
And such moments are not necessarily bad. For spiritually alive people, they are sometimes
essential. It would, for example, be easy to treat Christmas as just a pretty spectacle. We enjoy
the music and the decorations, we go to our parties and buy our gifts, and we come to church
and hear about the baby Jesus. It’s all lovely and familiar. It goes down easy. But perhaps it
shouldn’t. John’s question is one we should all ask of Christ: Are you the one? Is Jesus God
enfleshed, the human face of the Creator? Does God really enter into the world in poverty and
weakness? Can this man Jesus truly save us and bring us into right relationship with God and
each other? Can Christ satisfy our deepest needs for connection and meaning? Do we actually
have the Spirit of Christ living in us? Will we share in the resurrection of Jesus after we die? Do
we believe all this? Do we live like we believe all this? Forget for a moment the candles, the
cookies, and the carols. Inhabit John’s question: Are you the one?

If we do, Jesus’ answer to John is also addressed to us. And his response is classic Christ:
indirect. He doesn’t say, “Of course I’m the one! Haven’t you read the Creed?” He doesn’t argue
theology or try to prove anything. Instead he says this to John’s disciples, Go and tell John what
you hear and see: the blind receive their sight, the lame walk, lepers are cleansed, the deaf
hear, the dead are raised, and the poor have good news brought to them. And blessed is
anyone who takes no offense at me. Jesus is not only performing such deeds, but he is echoing
the words of Isaiah we heard in our first lesson, words that describe the end of exile and tell us
what physical and spiritual renewal looks like. How do we know that Jesus is the one? Because
whenever people let down their guard and take no offense at him but trust him, he brings
healing and new life.

One of my greatest joys is witnessing that very reality in the life of our parish. In the past two
weeks, I have had several people talk to me after Men’s Bible study, Exploring the Word Bible
study, and Contemplative Prayer and they have told me how they are coming to a new and
deeper understanding of Christ, and experiencing God in ways that are healing and renewing.
Several times in the last two weeks, I have spoken with people after Mother Kathleen or I have
prayed for them and heard how they are experiencing the love of Christ in this community and
how that is blessing them. I hear and see the energy people have as they do various ministries
for the sake of Christ. Even in this very human and flawed parish of ours, Jesus Christ is alive
and doing what only Christ can do.

And we need only be open enough and expectant enough to see it. Please don’t let Advent just be
about shopping and decorating. I would urge all of us in the coming days to think about how we
experience Christ in our lives. Christ is God meeting us in our humanity: so how is God meeting
you in your humanity? It is spiritually helpful to remember how we have experienced Christ in
the past and how we are experiencing Christ now. And then, in light of that, we can all consider
where we are not experiencing Christ but need to. And like John, we can question him from that
place. If we are trapped in the prison of doubt and despair, to reach out to Christ and ask,
“Where are you?” If we need forgiveness, to ask Christ to set us free. If we have grown cold in
faith or feel distant from God or we are just distracted by the busyness of life, to ask Christ to
renew us and refocus us on what matters most. When we lower our defenses and reach out to
Christ in prayer, we can be confident that he will find a way to touch us. The Gospel, after all, is
not a secret. Look around you, even in this parish. Hear and see what is happening in people’s
lives. For anyone and everyone who takes no offense at him, Jesus Christ finds a way to come
and show them that he is the One.

A change of mind. December 8, 2019 The Rev. Kathleen M. Sturges

Matthew 3:1-12, Isaiah 11:1-10

Here’s my question: What was it that got the people of Jerusalem and all of Judea to leave the comfort of their homes and go out into the wilderness to hear John the Baptist preach a message of repentance? I mean, who here would flock to the downtown mall if we heard there was a preacher shouting, “Repent!” No one, that’s who. We’d all head in the opposite direction.

That’s probably because the word “repent” to our ears carries so baggage - weighed down with things like regret, guilt, and shame. All the things we’d, understandably, rather avoid. Add to that the element of threat that is usually included, something along the lines of “Repent or else you’ll burn in the fires of hell!” And no wonder we turn a deaf ear. But back in the day, in John the Baptist’s day, “Repent!” didn’t sound like that. As you may know, the original Greek word for repentance, “metanoia,” didn’t have all the negative connotations that we hear today. The call to metanoia, repentance, was literally and simply a call to change one’s mind.

And if that’s the case, if that’s what John the Baptist is really proclaiming, “Repent, change your mind, for the kingdom of heaven has come near,” then the message of repentance is less about wrongdoing and condemnation and more about healing and transformation. Because it all begins with the kingdom of heaven. The kingdom which has already come near. Far too often we are led to believe that our good behavior will somehow be the catalyst that ushers in God’s kingdom. But according to John, it’s the exact opposite. Repentance is not what makes the kingdom come. Repentance how we respond to that coming - by changing our minds, our hearts, the direction of our lives and turn towards the kingdom of heaven that is already in our midst.

Think of it this way. Imagine you are standing in a circle of people. In the center of the circle, there is a source of light which we know to be God. But rather than facing the center and the light, you are standing with your back to the light, facing outward. When you stand this way, facing away from the light, what you see is primarily cast in shadows. You don’t see the light. And not only that, you don’t see all the others who are with you in the circle. From your point of view, you are disconnected. Alone in the dark. Now imagine that even though you are turned around you sense a warmth on your back. It’s the light. You turn to face the light and when you turn toward the light, you no longer see only darkness. When you turn toward the light, your shadow is behind you. When you turn toward the light, you can now see the other people who are standing there with you. You can see that the light is shining on you along with everyone else connecting everyone in radiance and love. Changing your mind, making the decision to turn away from the shadows and instead to face the light: this is metanoia. This is repentance.

So what does that look like in real life? Well, how many of you, like me, sometimes get into bed at night, look back on the day, and hear words that you wish you hadn’t said? See actions that you wish you hadn’t taken? Made choices that you already regret? You’re sorry now and recognize that that’s not who you want to be. That that’s not who you are created and called to be. That’s repentance. The changing of your mind. The turning toward the light of God. Opening yourself up to inner healing and transformation that, with God’s help, spurs you and all of us onto change of behavior. To ask for forgiveness, to make amends, and to refrain from doing it again. 

That’s the most traditional way of understanding repentance. But if repentance is more than just addressing outward behaviors, if it really has to do with a change of mind, a turning toward God then there is much more to it. For when we change and turn, we are becoming more fully who we are created to be. So that means that repentance also happens when we are living from our most authentic selves, when we are open and true with ourselves and others. Which can occur anytime doing most anything - enjoying time with friends, watching the beauty of a sunset, listening to exquisite music, working on a project. Any time we experience being in that flow, allowing God’s spirit to move freely in us and through us we are repenting.

And as we let the Spirit flow through us, repentance rightly moves from being just an individual, private matter to a communal, public practice. For repentance involves not just changing our own individual minds but working to change our society’s mind so that we, as God’s people, turn away from practices and policies that are at odds with the kingdom of heaven. The kingdom where, as we heard in our reading from the prophet Isaiah, suffering and violence are no more, but peace and equity reign. As we take action to address injustices, right wrongs, honor the light that shines on and in all peoples, we engage in the process of repentance.

And I use that word “process” intentionally because repenting is not a one-time event. It’s an ongoing spiritual practice. An invitation to a way of life. A way of life that is always turning toward what is more real, more true, more honest, more rooted in the light and love of God. That’s why, I believe, all those people left the comfort of their homes and headed out to the wilderness. And that’s why, I believe, that we have come here today - because deep down we know that we need to hear John’s message. A message of repentance that is actually good news. Repent, change your mind, turn toward God - and behold the kingdom of heaven that is already near!

Endless wellspring of love and life. Thanksgiving Eve 2019 The Rev. David M. Stoddart

The great Swiss theologian Karl Barth once said that the best way to preach the Gospel is with the Bible in one hand and a newspaper in the other. So I will take his advice tonight and do that. On Saturday, as I was eating my eggs and drinking my tea, I was reading The New York Times. I ignored the articles on how to make cranberry sauce and how to avoid political discussions at the dinner table, and came across an opinion piece entitled, “Why Gratitude is Wasted on Thanksgiving.” Well, that piqued my curiosity, so I read it. It was written by a psychologist named David DeSteno. After affirming how important and healthy being thankful is, he says this:

But truth be told, gratitude is wasted on Thanksgiving. Don’t get me wrong: I love the rhythms and rituals of the day as much as anyone. It’s just that the very things that make Thanksgiving so wonderful — the presence of family and friends, the time off from work, indulging in that extra slice of turkey — also make gratitude unnecessary.

Why? Because, he writes, “one of gratitude’s central purposes is to help us form strong bonds with other people.” He goes on to contend that giving thanks helps us get to know other people better, makes us more attractive to others, and strengthens our ties with them. But except for the occasional crazy relative or friend of a friend, most of us will spend Thanksgiving with people we already love and feel close to. And that’s great, but the author does not want us to forget the social benefits of giving thanks that extend beyond our immediate circle.

He writes from a secular point of view, but I was struck by how much his piece resonates with Scripture. Because in the Bible, gratitude is also all about relationship. “Thank,” after all, is a transitive verb. I can’t just thank: I have to thank someone. And when I do, I form a bond with that someone. Now, some religious thinking both in the ancient world and now, sees thanking God as a form of ingratiation, a way of staying on God’s good side. God has given us all this stuff, so we thank God for it so that God doesn’t feel unappreciated or get annoyed but continues to give us more stuff. But that is not the schema laid out in Deuteronomy. As we just heard in our first lesson tonight, when the Israelites offer to God the first fruits of their harvest, they do so remembering all that God has done with them and for them over centuries. They thank God as a way of deepening their faith and trust. For the Israelites, thanksgiving is not transactional — “Here’s our thank offering, give us more food.” — it’s relational — “Here’s our thank offering, we want to love you more.”

I can’t emphasize that enough. We don’t thank God to stroke God’s ego. As Jesus reveals it, God has no ego to stroke. We thank God to grow closer to God, who longs for us to be close. And I think this really helps us understand the Gospel tonight. Jesus has just fed 5,000 people, and that crowd is not eager for him to disappear when he leaves. But when they find him again, he points out, correctly, that they just want more loaves and fishes. What they need, though, is the food that leads to eternal life, the spiritual food which he offers. Put simply, their gratitude should not lead to more bread, but to a deeper relationship with God. 

Most of us here have lots of stuff. We have homes, cars, clothes, and ample amounts of food. And of course it is good to realize that and appreciate that. But as we thank God for all of it, we are called to look beyond our material abundance to an abundance of relationship that God calls us into. For if there is one thing that our acts of thanksgiving should lead us to, it’s the realization that at the heart of all reality is an endless wellspring of love and life, the God Jesus reveals to us. And the unconditional love of that God flows through us at all times and in all circumstances. And it will forever, giving us life forever. Giving thanks helps us to know this God, and the more we know God, the more thanksgiving will pour out of us. This is why Paul can write so exuberantly to the Philippians, urging them to Rejoice in the Lord always; again I will say, Rejoice. Like so many saints, like so many believers over the centuries, Paul comes to understand in his heart, soul, mind, and gut that the food we eat is just the beginning of what we have to be thankful for. As we grow closer to God in gratitude and our hearts expand in love, we see the full abundance we enjoy: the sun lighting our days; the moon and stars shining in the night; the astonishing beauty of creation; every breeze, every raindrop; every breath of life we take; every moment of love we cherish. And the more we thank God for all of it, the more we know that God is in all of it, and that, in God, all of it is ours. We are one with the Creator and with all of creation. Paul speaks the truth magnificently in his first letter to the Corinthians: For all things are yours, whether Paul or Apollos or Cephas or the world or life or death or the present or the future — all belong to you, and you belong to Christ, and Christ belongs to God.

In just a few minutes, we will offer the Great Thanksgiving, and Mother Kathleen will pray on our behalf, saying, “It is right, and a good and joyful thing, always and everywhere to give thanks to you, Father Almighty, Creator of heaven and earth.” It is wonderful to be together in this lovely space, great to enjoy each other and our time together, but the primary reason for us to gather here is to deepen our experience of the Creator, and grow closer to the Holy One whose endless love and grace flows through us every moment. If we can open our hearts to God and rejoice in the intimate presence of God with us right now, then our gratitude will not be wasted. Because thanksgiving is all about relationship. The more we thank God, the more we will know God, and the more we know God, the more we will thank God — always and everywhere.

The message of coming. December 1, 2019 The Rev. Kathleen M. Sturges

Matthew 24:36-44

“...so too will be the coming of the Son of Man,” Jesus says, “Then two will be in the field; one will be taken and one will be left. Two women will be grinding meal together; one will be taken and one will be left.” This vision of some people being taken and others being left on earth was popularized over the last twenty years by a host of books, games, and movies known as the Left Behind series. In which a future apocalypse is depicted as a time when those who are deemed “real Christians” are taken up to heaven leaving most everyone else, “the damned,” behind to face a literal hell on earth.

For reasons that I don’t fully understand this violent and distorted view of the end is gleefully embraced by some. While most Christians in mainline traditions, Catholic, Lutherans, Episcopalians and the like, consider such end time destruction scenarios as at best dark fiction borne out of poor theology or just plain crazy talk. Certainly not the kind of thing we talk about in church. At least, that is, not until Advent rolls around. It’s rather ironic that at the beginning of every new church year, which we celebrate today, the first Sunday in the season of Advent, we turn our attention to thoughts about the end. And I don’t mean the end of the year, but the end of time as we know it.

That’s because at the heart of Advent is the message of coming. God coming to us in three distinct ways. The first coming of God happen when God walked on this earth as Jesus of Nazareth. And I’m sure that it’s not lost on anyone here that we will celebrate that coming in just a few short weeks with the Feast of the Incarnation, better known to most of us as Christmas.

But there’s more. God in Christ has also promised to come again in a final coming - the coming of the Son of Man which we hear about in our gospel reading today. And two things I’d like to note about this. One is that contrary to popular belief, this passage isn’t suggesting that the faithful ones are those who are taken. It’s actually just the opposite, those who are left behind are blessed because, like Noah’s family, they escape the great judgment. But before we go too far down that rabbit hole, the second thing and more important thing to know is that this scripture is not intended to be taken literally. The whole point Jesus is making here is that his coming again will be completely unexpected. We will be going about our business, working in the field, grinding mill, eating, drinking, and marrying and Christ will come out of the blue.

But this isn’t supposed to be taken as a threat. Jesus talks about the end of time not in order to fill us full of fear, but full of hope. Hope that there is more to our story that what we have already known and experienced. Hope that regardless of life is going, whether this was the best Thanksgiving or the worst or somewhere in between, that this is not all there is. Jesus proclaims the good news that whatever our story and struggle, it is enfolded into God’s greater story and salvation. For God is our Alpha and Omega, our beginning and our end. And because that is so, no matter what is going on in this world - in the grand scheme of things or in our own individual lives - in God’s time, a time that no one knows except the Father, the Son of Man will come in the power of love and all will be made well.

 

That’s the hope of the second coming of God. But in the meantime, the time in which we live - the time where Christ has already come, but clearly the fullness of that salvation has yet to be completely realized - God still promises to come. So the call goes out to stay awake, alert, ready.

But how exactly do we do that? Well, understanding the Baader-Meinhof phenomenon may help us in this matter. Baader-Meinhof, also known as the frequency illusion, describes what we’ve all probably experienced multiple times in our lives. It’s when we stumble upon something new - at least it seems new to us - and then it seems to crop up everywhere. Like say you start thinking about getting a blue car because it would be something different. But now that the idea of a blue car is at the forefront of your mind all of a sudden you start seeing all these blue cars on the road. You never knew there we so many blue cars. Or let’s say you go see a movie about gorillas and then in the days following you notice gorillas everywhere - in stores you shop, in the commercials you watch, in the print you read. This is the Baader-Meinhof phenomenon. And it happens not necessarily because you’ve really come across more instances of blue cars or hairy gorillas. More likely, they were always there, but just went unnoticed. The way science explains this is that when our brains are stimulated by a new piece of information it triggers selective attention. The brain subconsciously thinks, "Hey, that's awesome! I'm going to look for that new thing without actually thinking about it." And lo and behold you now see it. It’s a waking up to what’s been there all along.

And that’s exactly what Jesus is calling for today. For us to wake up and see what’s been there all along - God’s loving and active presence in our daily lives. How God comes in the ordinary and the routine and we don’t notice. Well, no more, Jesus says. No more of that. From here on out pay attention. See the ways that God is coming. For God will show up today - in the midst of the hustle and bustle, the messy and chaotic, even in the mundane and routine. And how will you know that God has come? Because in some way grace or peace or mercy or love will reveal itself to you. Expect it. Be ready for it. And make note of it so that your brain becomes more attentive to seeing all the ways the Holy Spirit moving in this world. Because it has been there all along. So wake up and live each day in the wonderful hope of God’s coming - today, tomorrow, and forever.

Give your power away. November 24, 2019 The Rev. David M. Stoddart

Jeremiah 23:1-6; Luke 23:35-43

Dacher Keltner is a professor of psychology at UC Berkeley. Some of you may be familiar with him because he’s the host of a popular podcast called The Science of Happiness. Among other things, he has devoted a lot of time to studying leadership skills and organizational behavior. A couple years ago he published a book entitled The Power Paradox: How We Gain and Lose Influence.  The thesis is this: those who want to have power, which he defines as the ability to influence people and events, need to act collaboratively to get it. They work well with others; they are team players; they are a positive presence in meetings; they listen to the ideas of others; they support others. This is what leads to promotions and higher positions. This is what garners them positive attention and votes and whatever else they need to acquire power. But here is the paradox as Dacher Keltner sees it: once people accrue power, they often abandon the behaviors and practices that brought them power: they become self-centered and self-serving; they don’t listen to others, but treat others with indifference or contempt; they become isolated and out of touch — all of which leads them to having less influence and less power.

This dynamic can be seen in many different organizations: businesses, law firms, country clubs, churches, committees. Probably many of us have seen this played out in one form or another. So you can imagine, for example, a hypothetical priest named Gertrude. Gertrude has lots of energy. She is a great colleague who enjoys working with her fellow priests. She becomes dean of her region, and loves talking to clergy and supporting them in any way she can. She remembers people’s names and she is always willing to listen to them, always has a kind word for them. She is widely known, liked, and respected. She gets elected to the Standing Committee of the diocese and becomes a delegate to General Convention. Not surprisingly, she is eventually elected bishop. But then Bishop Gertrude changes. She loses patience with meetings; she wants things her own way; she becomes more dictatorial; she does not encourage her staff but pushes them hard; she’s critical of priests when she visits them; she becomes an isolated and disliked person. And although she is the bishop, she actually loses a lot of her power and influence as she abandons the social skills she practiced in her rise to power. That is the kind of thing that Dacher Keltner says happens all too often.

And he identifies a remedy, what he calls the power principle. It’s very simple and it goes like this: “we keep and gain power by giving it away . . . . Our power expands as we empower others.” The people with the greatest power are not the people who horde it the most, but the people who share it the most. That finding comes out of research in social psychology and is supported by work in done in other fields as well, like anthropology and economics. But while the scientific branding may reassure us, the truth being presented is not new. We see it graphically illustrated in our readings today.

Jeremiah castigates the rulers of Judah, the shepherds who have failed so miserably: Woe to the shepherds who destroy and scatter the sheep of my pasture! Says the LORD . . . It is you who have scattered my flock, and have driven them away, and have not attended to them. Instead of sharing power for the good of the people, they are abusing power for the good of themselves. New shepherds who will actually use power to care for the people must arise. But we can’t stop there. The message goes even deeper than that. Because, according to Jeremiah, who will raise up those new shepherds? God. Think about that for a moment. The LORD does not directly govern the people of Israel, but delegates it to others. God Almighty exercises power by giving power away. The power principle described by modern psychology is rooted in reality because it reflects the very nature of the Creator.

And that leads me to the Gospel. Today is the last Sunday of the church year, the Feast of Christ the King, the day when we proclaim Jesus to be King of kings and Lord of lords. So we would expect the Gospel passage to reveal Jesus in the most kingly and powerful way possible. And so it does. But unless we grasp the power principle I just laid out for you, we will never understand the Gospel today. Because Jesus is hanging on the cross. He forgives the people who are executing him. He offers Paradise to the criminal being crucified next to him. Slowly suffocating, he gives his power away to the very end, to his last dying breath. This, we are told, is Jesus Christ at his most powerful. This, we are told, is the perfect revelation of God’s power. From the very beginning, when God speaks the universe into existence and says Let it be!, she exercises power is by giving it away.

Now this would all be marvelous if we were just supposed to sit back and admire it. But we’re not just supposed to admire it: we’re supposed to imitate it. We are called to live in Christ, to have the Spirit of Jesus, the Holy Spirit of God, live in us. Not so that we can earn our way into heaven but so that we can begin to experience heaven now. We often think the key to a happy and successful life is amassing power in one form or another, but it’s not: the key is giving power away. As Paul writes to the Philippians, Let the same mind be in you that was in Christ Jesus, who, though he was in the form of God, did not regard equality with God as something to be exploited, but emptied himself, taking the form of a slave.

We don’t have to accept this on blind faith. We can see it in others: the most powerful

and influential people I have ever personally known have been great lovers and great givers, people who readily give power away. But we can also live this and see how true it is for ourselves. All of us, after all, have power. So here’s the charge I give to all of us as we honor Christ the King: think of how you will give your power away this week. There are many ways we can give power away. We can encourage others. We can help others. We can share our gifts and resources with others. We can serve other people. We can listen to others. We can defer to others. We can forgive others. We can treat others the way we ourselves want to be treated. Doing that is not always easy, of course, but doing that does lead us into the great paradox at the heart of our faith, the great paradox at the heart of all creation: the more we give away our power for the happiness of others, the more power we have and the happier we are.

Communal hope and faith. November 17, 2019 The Rev. Kathleen M. Sturges

Luke 21:5-19

We live in uncertain times. But that’s nothing new. Every age and every life deals with uncertainty. And often the way we deal with it is to hold tight to things that make us feel secure.

Back in first century Palestine, it was the temple that offered this sense of security to the Jewish people. Just to look at it conjured up feelings of strength and safety. Made up of gigantic stones weighing anywhere from two to five hundred tons, the temple covered the equivalent of twenty- nine football fields in Jerusalem. It was a sight to behold. A remarkable feat of engineering which was only dwarfed by the grandeur it held in every Jewish heart as the center of everything sacred and dear. 

And then Jesus goes and drops a bomb. A verbal bomb that is, smack dab in the middle of the temple. “As for these things that you see, the days will come when not one stone will be left upon another; all will be thrown down." Which is followed by a series of apocalyptic, end time predictions. Wars, rebellions, earthquakes, famines, plagues, family betrayals. It’s fearful and frightening, to say the least. But we need not get bogged down with the particulars here because, sadly, Jesus’ predictions are not unique to any particular time or place. Every age has its own disasters.

And everybody has their own temples. Some temples are made out of stone, but more of them, especially in our day, are made up of people, places, values, identities, beliefs. Some we have inherited. Others we have built for ourselves. But whatever that shape or form our temple takes its role is always the same - to provide us with a sense of stability, security, identity, meaning - something solid that we can hold onto in an uncertain world.

But part of Jesus’ message to us is that whatever our temple, no matter how seemingly strong or secure, eventually it will fall. So what then? What do we do when our temple falls? When what we have depended upon fails us? Well, what we often do is what the people did in our reading from Luke’s gospel. Upon hearing the shocking news of the coming destruction of their temple they grasp for some sort of certainty even if it’s just some meager details - “When will this be?...What will be the sign?”  they desperately ask - hoping that an answer might give them something to hold onto, some degree of clarity in the midst of the unknown. But that’s not what Jesus offers.

Jesuit philosopher, John Kavanaugh, tells of a time when Mother Teresa asked him, “What can I do for you?” As Kavanaugh had been ministering to the poor in Calcutta with her and all the while had been wrestling mightily as he tried to figure out his life path. “Please pray for me,” he answered. “What do you want me to pray for?” she asked. “Pray that I have clarity,” he requested. Her response, though, took him by surprise. “No. No, I will not do that,” she said emphatically, “Clarity is the last thing you are clinging to and must let go of.” Confused by this Kavanaugh explained to her that she, Mother Teresa, always seemed to have the clarity in what she was doing and that was what he longed for. Which made her laugh. “I have never had clarity,” she told him, “what I have always had is trust. So I will pray that you trust God.”

Clarity is the last thing we cling to when our temples crumble and fall. When we feel unsure, insecure or just completely lost we seek explanations, reasons, answers to why things are the way they are. But instead of offering those kinds of answers, Jesus calls us to what we really need. To be still in the midst of chaos or calamity. To resist reacting out of fear or despair. And instead to remain present and faithful in whatever circumstances we find ourselves. Trusting that even when, or especially when, we are at a loss and things are unclear that God is very present and at work.

Honestly, though, that sounds like a mighty tall order - to be still and present and faithful when things are falling apart? And then to add to that the part about enduring, specifically when Jesus says, “By your endurance you will gain your souls.” The stakes seem way too high. But know this, Jesus isn’t telling us to simply buck up, tough it out, and soldier on. Nor is he calling us to a type of fatalism where we passively accept of life’s hardships. Rather the endurance Jesus speaks of is a communal hope and faith. It’s not something we do on our own, by ourselves individually. But by the power of God’s spirit living in us and moving through us, together, we are able to believe and hope and trust and endure - all the while knowing that at any one time some of us are really solid in the faith while others of us are barely holding on. So that even when our temples fall we hope together trusting ultimately not in our own powers to endure, but in Jesus’ enduring presence which will save our souls in all times and in all places.

Life is uncertain. And all the temples of this world will eventually fall - the one in Jerusalem fell in the year 70. But what will never fall or fail us is God. The love of God. The love of God that promises in Christ that from our ruins, whatever they may be, that there will always, always come new life. 

Beyond our imagining. November 10, 2019 The Rev. David M. Stoddart

Luke 20:27-38

No marriage in the world to come. No sex in heaven. That prospect does not actually sound very . . . heavenly. There are a variety of ways for human beings to be intimate with each other, of course, but certainly vast numbers of people enjoy and depend on the sexual intimacy of marriage. Which is why so many people have found the words of Jesus today so disturbing. There will be no marriage in the resurrected life. But we know God is love, so we can be sure that whatever we will experience in that life, it will involve more loving, not less. So if these verses bother us, I am guessing the problem is not with God’s plan but with our imagination, or lack thereof. C. S. Lewis writes insightfully about this in his book, Miracles:

I think our present outlook might be like that of a small boy who, on being told that the sexual act was the highest bodily pleasure should immediately ask whether you ate chocolates at the same time. On receiving the answer “No,” he might regard absence of chocolates as the chief characteristic of sexuality. In vain would you tell him that the reason why lovers in their carnal raptures don’t bother about chocolates is that they have something better to think of.  The boy knows chocolate: he does not know the positive thing that excludes it. We are in the same position. We know the sexual life; we do not know, except in glimpses, the other thing which, in Heaven, will leave no room for it. Hence where fullness awaits us we anticipate fasting.

We anticipate fasting. We talk a good game. We proclaim that God is awesome, we profess that God’s love is all powerful, but then we limit what God can do to what our human brains can envision. So 0ften what we call a failure of faith is really a failure of imagination. The Sadducees in this Gospel are trapped in the smallness of their own minds. If a woman is married to seven different men in this life, then whose wife will she be in the next life? The Sadducees cannot imagine how to resolve that — “Look at this big problem! How can you fix it? You can’t fix it!” — so they conclude that there is no life after death. And Jesus responds by saying that God is so much bigger than that and has something so much greater than that in store for us.

This is a common theme in our history: God is always inviting us to envision things that seem beyond our imagining. We see in that reading from the prophet Haggai today. The people of Israel are finally going home after their long exile in Babylon, and what they find is Jerusalem in ruins and the temple destroyed. But while they may feel hopeless, the LORD says through Haggai that the latter splendor of this house will be greater than the former. Just because you can’t imagine it doesn’t mean God can’t do it.

In fact, Scripture shows that being filled with the Holy Spirit means opening our minds and expanding our imaginations so that we can share in the dream God has for creation. The prophet Joel says that when the Spirit is poured out, your sons and your daughters shall prophesy, your old men shall dream dreams and your young men shall see visions (Joel 2:28). One of the  reasons we are here today, we who are Gentile Christians, is that Peter had a dream from G0d that blew him away, a dream of a vast sheet covered with animals being lowered from heaven, and all of them — all of them — being declared clean by God. A first century Jew could not imagine enjoying table fellowship with unclean Gentiles, but God imagined it and brought it to pass.

And this is not just true in the Bible. During our lifetime, many people could not imagine a woman standing at the altar, celebrating the Holy Eucharist. During our lifetime, many people could not imagine embracing gay, lesbian, bisexual, and transgender people as they are and blessing same-sex marriages. But God could, and the Spirit, moving through faithful people open enough to get a glimpse of what God is doing, brought it to pass. And the movement of the Spirit is not limited to the church. Not that long ago, it was impossible to imagine that Jim Crow laws would be overturned and that black children would attend school with white children. We have a long way to go to achieve full racial justice, but what progress we have made is due to open-hearted, open-minded people sharing in God’s seemingly impossible vision for humanity. What was Martin Luther King, Jr.’s most famous speech? “I have a dream.”

What is God’s dream for us? That is not a sentimental question: it has a direct bearing on how we live our lives. The Sadducees live sadly diminished lives. They can’t see past their own myopic vision: death conquers everything, and all we do in this life just ends in oblivion. Jesus teaches us that God’s love is so much greater than that, a truth made fully manifest in his resurrection. He doesn’t want us to live constrained lives, always fearing the finality of death, but to live lives filled with hope and expectation. God always has greater things in store for us. Everything this parish does, from building the Mission to feeding 44 children every weekend to giving out Play-Doh on Pride Day, it does because people among us dare to dream with God and do things that we might once have thought impossible.

And the same holds true for our individual lives. We can get hit hard: a loved one dies, we receive a bad diagnosis, things fall apart. We might not be able to see anything but darkness ahead, but God’s vision is never obscured by darkness. God is never finished with us; even at the moment of death, God is not finished with us. The Gospel today and the Good News of Jesus Christ in general set us free from the worst sin of all. And despite conventional wisdom, that sin is not pride, and it’s not even the inveterate human tendency to worship idols. The ultimate sin is despair — and Jesus will not let us go there. Nothing defeats God’s love. Nothing. As that old Raymond Rossiter poem puts it, “Life is eternal; and love is immortal; and death is only a horizon; and a horizon is nothing save the limit of our sight.”

And from God’s perspective, the view is limitless.

Known to God as saints. November 3, 2019 The Rev. Kathleen M. Sturges

Luke 6:20-31

Tennis, chess, poker, Chutes and Ladders, soccer, charades. Many of the games we know and love could be described as zero-sum games - where in order for one person to win another must lose. But it’s not just with games that we think in zero-sum terms. We do it in the world too, especially when resources are limited. Like if you have a pie. The bigger piece of the pie someone else gets means that there is less for me. That’s zero-sum thinking which can be summed up with the motto, “Your gain is my loss” and vice versa, “your loss is my gain.” 

So is that what’s going on here in our reading from the gospel of Luke? Jesus begins by proclaiming blessings to the poor, the hungry, the sad, the excluded. And then moves onto pronouncing woes. Woes to the wealthy, the full, the happy, the popular. Is Jesus suggesting that God’s world operates with a zero-sum model where every winner necessitates a loser or that every one of today’s pleasures will be repaid with a punishment tomorrow?

No. I pray that we all know Jesus well enough to discern that answer. Far from dividing people up as winners or losers, God’s kingdom is all about breaking down the walls that separate us all through the power of love - a love, a mercy, a grace that has no limits, no bounds. It never runs out. God’s abundance is available to all. No one is left out and no one is the less for it. And what Jesus is talking about is the way that we can enter more fully into that abundance which is found in God’s kingdom. A kingdom that not only exists in some distant future but is right here among us, unfolding in our very midst. And no matter who you are or what your condition - poor or rich, hungry or full, sad or happy, excluded or popular - Jesus does not want any of us to miss it.

So instead of playing some kind of zero-sum game, what Jesus is offering with his blessings and woes is more like the childhood game Hot and Cold. Perhaps you know it? Somebody hides an object and then the seeker moves around an area until the hider says something like, “You’re warm,” to signal to the seeker that she is getting close to the object. But if the seeker starts to unknowingly move away then the hider might warn, “You’re getting cold.” And if the seeker is really going in the wrong direction the hider might call out, “Your freezing!” in order to get the seeker back on track.

 Jesus’ blessings and woes aren’t judgments about winners and losers - a declaration of who’s in and who's out. Rather he’s calling to us, letting us know if we are either warm or cold, getting close to or moving away from God’s Kingdom. To those who live relatively comfortable lives, particularly those who act as if they are saying, “I’ve got mine. I’m good. I’m in. Close the door behind me.” Jesus cries, “Woe!” You are getting cold! Freezing, even! You’re going in the opposite direction of the Kingdom of God. But to those who suffer Jesus declares that they are blessed. They’re getting warmer. Not because there is anything good or holy about suffering in and of itself. But because it seems that God’s kingdom of full of love and grace and mercy is more easily found by those who are keenly aware of their need.

For when we recognize our needs and our weaknesses and entrust them to God we are moving in the right direction and come closer to God’s kingdom and God’s people. God’s people who, on this All Saints’ Sunday, we especially remember and celebrate. For in Christ and through Christ we share an intimate unity with one another no matter the differences or distances that separate us here on earth or in the heavenly realm. The connection we have with all people in all time is part of the mystery of our faith. And another part of that mystery is that no matter who we are or what we have done, we are known to God as saints. 

Now, of course, there are the famous saints. The ones whom the Church lauds for their holiness of life like St. Paul, St. Francis or St. Teresa of Avila. Those are the ones whose stories make it into our Sunday bulletin inserts. And then there are the rest of us - the not so well known and, perhaps we’d say, the not so holy either. But I have a sneaking suspicion that if we really knew the whole truth about any saint’s life, famous or not, we’d find a truth more complex and less holy than the legend or the story. For no matter who we are there parts of our lives where God’s love shines brightly and there are parts that exist in the shadows.

That complicated nature is certainly revealed in the life of Mother Teresa of Calcutta. She died in 1997 and in 2016 the Roman Catholic Church canonized her as a saint. But before that, during her lifetime many regarded her as a living saint because she poured her life into caring for India’s poorest of the poor. But after her death letters she wrote to spiritual confidants revealed that this icon of Christian faith spent most of her years of ministry in deep doubt. One time after watching the other sisters of her order pray in chapel, Mother Teresa reflected, “I see them love God, and I am just alone, empty, excluded.” In another letter she confessed that, “As for me, the silence and the emptiness is so great that I look and do not see, listen and do not hear.” This wasn’t just a dark night of the soul. This crisis of faith plagued her for over forty years. These writings were made public not in order to diminish her reputation, but to reveal to the world the fullness and the complexity of who she was. She loved the poor because of her faith even as she struggled with her faith.

Mother Teresa’s struggles and doubts were in no way sin, but I don’t think she or any of us would argue with St. Paul in the book of Romans when he makes the sweeping, but nonetheless accurate, assessment that, “we have all sinned, and come short of the glory of God.” (3:23). Yes, we may be called saints, but we are far from perfect. Yet it is when we humbly acknowledge our imperfections, our brokenness, our weaknesses that we actually come closer to the Kingdom of God and to the love that connects us one to another. And as we do, Jesus proclaims to us that truly we are blessed.

Stewardship Message - October 20, 2019 Darryl Marshall, Stewardship Chair

Stewardship Message – October 20, 2019

Darryl Marshall, Chair Stewardship Ministry

Good morning. My name is Darryl. I am here to talk about stewardship. If you have heard me in past years, you will think that I am very likely to suggest that you pledge for 2020 and that you use a percentage of your income to guide you in the amount. This historical guideline is a tithe, or 10% of adjusted gross income. You would be right. That’s my message. Please hold your applause until the end.

Having said all that, I have a question: Why are you here? My view is that we both want to be here and need to be here, as Christians, members, and communicants. This provides us a way to leave the world better than we found it. And, we need to support “here”.

I enjoy reading The Economist, which is a weekly news magazine published in England. Last week I ran across an article on the subject “Pay to pray.” This is what I learned:

“The governments of ten countries across Europe administer membership fees on behalf of religious organizations. In two of these, Spain and Portugal, believers can opt to pay a portion of their income tax to their religion of choice. Six others run opt-out systems, whereby registered members of certain Christian churches (and, in some cases, other religious groups) are required to pay tax. In most of these, leaving the religion is the only way to get out of paying. Some states in Germany require even more arduous methods of disassociation—in addition to leaving the church, you must also file a notarized de-registration form with the local government, which demands a fee.”

Clearly, this approach would make my job a lot easier. But it would miss a critical issue: this is a faith community. Here is where the Son of Man will find faith when he comes. We have a clear purpose that goes beyond a social club. When you participate in this church you can encounter God in a unique way. And, we give back. You, and this church support many programs helping fill the needs of not only our parishioners, but also our wider community.

And, there is more to the story in Europe: “Icelanders, have found a cunning way to get refunds. Their tithes are distributed to each religious group according to the size of its flock. A surprising number of people have registered as members of the Zuist Church of Iceland, a previously obscure group that preaches ancient Sumerian beliefs. It refunds the contributions of its members, greatly broadening its appeal.”

In the past few months I have done a survey of people who attend Church of Our Saviour, asking them why they are here. When talking to our members the question immediately evolved into “why do I need to be here.” Allow me to read some quotes of the answers I received:

·        I love the clergy here.

·        An opportunity to learn.

·        This is a family.

·        A very human thing, to seek and find our better angels.

·        COOS expresses the full breadth and depth of feelings.

·        A very comfortable experience

.

·        I am valued for what I am, not what I do.

·        It is important to love and be loved. I would love less if I did not come to church.

·        It spans entire lives, birth to death. Very few groups are multi-generational. Very few groups help people die.

·        I love to see young parents relating to kids and kids growing up. Family not close, so it is a treasure watching people go through life.

·        We have a person to person connection, as opposed to social media.

·        It is such an exercise dealing with various people, even with those I don't enjoy.

·        I come to church each Sunday to hit the "reset" button on my life through confession and the Eucharist. I need to get away from the "noise" in the world and give praise to our Lord through prayer with my brothers and sisters in Christ.

I love this one. We worship, sing, and confess together! Once, about three churches ago for Jackie and me, I sat next to someone in choir named Jerry. I noticed that he did not join in the confession during the service. I asked him why not? He said that he had not sinned in the past week, so did not need to confess. I said, “Look Jerry, maybe you didn’t do anything wrong, but you have no idea what I did, so you should join me and the others.”

It is what we do together that is important. We do not say “I confess…”, we say “We confess…”.

Learning is very important to some of us. I saw a survey once that showed that 70% of people in the US think Joan of Arc was Noah’s wife. We can do something about this state of affairs and are working on it. The first group I joined here was the Men’s Bible Study & Breakfast. It is a great experience. 

To me, the most compelling reason to be here and support “here” is this: The common theme in the reasons given is that we need to be here for one-another. God is real and can be experienced. If we pay attention, we can learn how to recognize that experience and participate in it. We are called to love one-another. We share the love here through many programs, our liturgy, and our mutual support.

We need to be here, and we need to support "here." Love demands that we support "here" for those depending on us. It is important to you, to me, to your neighbors in the pews, our community and our world.