Sunday, June 28, 2020
No easy answers. June 28, 2020. The Rev. Kathleen M. Sturges
It’s a story that could give a kid nightmares - and probably has. A trusted parent tying up a child and raising a knife to kill him all because God said so. For good reason the story of Abraham's willingness to sacrifice his son, Isaac, is one that doesn’t make it into many children’s bibles. But when it does it often looks like this…
Abraham standing over a bound Isaac with a raised knife - an angel stopping Abraham at the last moment by calling his name.
Then Abraham takes a ram caught in a nearby bush and offers the animal up as a sacrifice instead of his son.
And when all is said and done, father and son walk home happy and untroubled. The story is often explained not just to children, but to adults as well, by saying that God was only testing Abraham’s faith. And that this story teaches us that we should always put God first.
But if that explanation doesn’t satisfy you, you are not alone. Both Jewish and Christian theologians alike have wrestled with this horror story over the years in an attempt to try to tame it - seeking some way to understand it, to explain it or to resolve it, with little luck. Clearly, there are no easy answers.
Because it’s deeply distressing to think that God would ever command someone to harm another person, especially an innocent. Which makes me wonder, did God really tell Abraham to kill Isaac? Yes, according to the writer of Genesis, that’s what Abraham heard. But maybe that’s not what God actually said. That’s certainly possible because in other places in the Old Testament, like in Leviticus and Deuteronomy, child sacrifice is condemned by God. But instead of going down that rabbit hole of questioning what’s going on with God in this story - a question that is really impossible to answer - maybe a better question is to ask what’s going on with Abraham?
It is Abraham’s understanding that God is telling him, commanding him even, to go and sacrifice his son as a burnt offering. What’s surprising here is that Abraham doesn’t protest. Even though years earlier when God told Abraham that he was going to kill everyone in Sodom and Gomorrah, Abraham spoke up and cleverly negotiated the sparing of lives. But strangely enough in this case, when God is talking about the death of his beloved son, Abraham says nothing.
Apparently Abraham is so sure about God’s command that he keeps silent. So certain is he that he knows the mind of God that there’s no room for discussion. Because what if he had told Sarah, Abraham’s wife and Isaac’s mother? Would she have been so certain? I wonder. Abraham also avoids revealing his plan to his traveling companions - maybe because they would have tried to change his mind? And finally he hides his plan from the one whose sacrifice would be the greatest. Surely Isaac would have had an opinion.
Abraham's sense of certainty prevents him from considering any other way or listening to any other viewpoint. And it’s not just Abraham. We all can get stuck in thinking we know something beyond a shadow of a doubt - whether that be the right parenting style or business strategy or political party or whatever. We all have our certainties that we cling to and that make us feel safe. And when we throw God into the mix it can become really hard to budge. It’s like that slogan, “God said it. I believe it. That settles it.” That type of certainty isn’t godly. It isn’t godly because it shuts people down. It silences and isolates. It denies our need for others, including God. And it halts the Spirit’s work in us for growth and change. Often when we are sure of what God thinks it is remarkably similar to our own thinking, which should always give us pause.
For a life of faith is not a life of certainty. In fact, in many ways certainty is the opposite of faith. If nothing else the unsettling story of Abraham and Isaac bears witness to the fact that life and faith are complicated. And sometimes there are just no easy answers - which should keep us all humble. Although God never changes, the way we experience and understand God does. At least it does for those who are growing in their faith. And part of that growth is the challenge to surrender, even sacrifice, dearly held certainties that turn out to be working against God’s love and God’s life in this world - which is not an easy thing to do. But with God’s help, all things are possible. And with God’s help, we will continue to grow in the knowledge and love of God. Not that that will give us more answers, but grant us a peace and a trust in the ultimate mystery that is God.
Wednesday, June 24, 2020
Tuesday, June 23, 2020
The status quo is not acceptable. June 21, 2020. The Rev. David M. Stoddart
Matthew
10:24-39
Beel’zebul.
Ancient deity of the pagan Philistines. Prince of demons. Lord of the flies.
That’s what they are calling Jesus: Beel’zebul. Seriously. This passage today
comes from the tenth chapter of Matthew’s Gospel, so what has happened so far in the story? Jesus has
been baptized, he has called Simon, Andrew, James, John, and Matthew to be his
disciples. He has healed people: a leper, two paralyzed men, two blind men,
Simon’s mother-in-law, and countless others in villages throughout Galilee and
Judea. He has cast out demons. And he has delivered his sermon on the mount.
Now, some of his sayings are certainly tough to understand and to follow: turn
the other cheek, cut off your hand if it causes you to sin, do good to your
enemies, don’t worry. But the thrust of Jesus’ life and teaching is perfectly
clear: he loves people, and teaches them to love God and to love others as
well. That's what he does, and so far, he hasn’t even gotten into a single
argument with a Pharisees or anyone else.
And yet they are calling him Satan, Beel’zebul. What the hell is that
about? Literally: how could someone living and proclaiming the kingdom of
heaven be called an emissary of hell?
I
think Jesus gives us the answer to that in this passage: nothing is covered up that will not be uncovered, and nothing secret
that will not become known. Everywhere Jesus goes, he exposes a system of
cruelty and oppression. In that system, there are a few people with power and
money, and many others who suffer under their tyranny. Some are deemed clean
and respectable; many others are written off as dirty and untouchable. There
are a few good Jews pleasing to God, and there are multitudes of bad Jews and
sinful Gentiles who stand forever condemned. It’s a world rife with the abuse
of power. And Jesus will have none of it. He will heal a Roman centurion’s
slave; he’ll touch a leper; he’ll call a tax collector to be his friend and
disciple. He will welcome anyone and everyone to share in the Good News he
proclaims. And every healing he performs, every meal he shares, every word he
utters shows that the status quo is not acceptable, that God has something so
much better to offer. The hurting and the hopeless flock to Jesus. But those
who are invested in the system, those who profit off of the pain of others,
those who don't want anything to change — they hate him. His message of
universal love and mercy threatens everything. For those people, Jesus is hell.
And,
you know, uncomfortable though it may be, we can see this same dynamic
painfully displayed in our world right now. A raging pandemic has exposed the
terrible inequities in our own nation: if you are poor or black, you are much
more likely to die of COVID-19 than if you are affluent or white. There are
some who have health insurance and adequate resources to weather the storm, but
there are many who do not. And in the same way, we are seeing the systemic and
brutal racism in our society laid bare as black men continue to die while in
custody, and white men in power continue to resist taking down monuments that
have long symbolized racial hatred and white supremacy.
How
we view all this as people of faith really depends on how we view Jesus. If we
see Jesus as the ultimate establishment figure, the chief law enforcer and the
guardian of tradition, we may be horrified by what’s happening and feel
threatened by the prospect of significant change in our society. But, truly, it
is impossible to read the Gospels and see Jesus as an establishment figure at
all. The Gospel stories show us over and over again that Jesus has not come to
maintain the status quo but to overturn it. He is the Great Disrupter: even as
he preaches and practices the way of self-giving love, he knows how violently
people will resist it. Too many would rather hate and exclude and build walls
than love and include and tear down walls. Which is why he says that he has not
come to bring peace but the sword, and that even family members will turn
against each other as some cling to the way things are and fight against any
change at all.
I
urge all of us to see what is happening around us through the eyes of Christ,
and to choose to follow Jesus as the ultimate change agent he is. When we say
the prayer he taught us and pray “Your kingdom come,” we are asking that God’s
reign of goodness will overcome with love everything that stands against it.
And that’s true on every level. As individuals, we want our words and actions
to help and to heal others, not to hurt them. As a nation we want our policies
and laws to promote justice and not limit it. At every level, Jesus invites
those with power to use their power not just for themselves but for the good of
others. Christ has come to usher in a way of being that sets all people free
from the abuse of power. All people. As the civil rights activist Fannie Lou
Hamer once said, “Nobody’s free until everybody’s free.” Those who resist that
might, tragically, see Jesus as a devil, but for all of us who embrace his
message of freedom and Good News, Jesus is and will forever be Our Savior.
So
with his words, let us pray:
Our Father in heaven,
hallowed be your Name.
your kingdom come,
your will be done,
on earth as in heaven.
Give us today our daily bread.
Forgive us our sins
as we forgive those who sin
against us.
Save us from the time of trial,
and deliver us from evil.
For the kingdom, the power,
and the glory are yours,
now and forever. Amen.
Sunday, June 21, 2020
Wednesday, June 17, 2020
Tuesday, June 16, 2020
The harvest is plentiful - our time is ripe. June 14, 2020. The Rev. Kathleen M. Sturges
Matthew
9:35-10:8
Jesus
is in the thick of his ministry. He’s going about teaching, healing, and
proclaiming the good news. Which sounds like Jesus, doesn’t it? And, to our
ears, it also sounds pretty harmless too. I mean who can argue with teaching,
healing, and proclaiming good news? Well, actually, a lot of people can and
did. Because what may sound as relatively benign to us was actually quite
radical - particularly the part about good news.
For
Jesus was not the first to claim he had good news. Far from it. The proclamation
of good news was the language of Rome - the occupying force in the land. “Good
news” was the propaganda term used to frame dominion and power. Whenever a
military victory was won messengers would be sent out throughout the empire to
announce the “good news” of the kingdom. The good news that Rome had conquered
yet another people. The good news that new lands had been acquired. The good
news, and a “friendly reminder,” that those who were willing to surrender and
pledge allegiance to Rome would be saved from destruction. That was the type of
so-called “good news” that the people were used to hearing.
So
when Jesus comes on the scene and proclaims the good news of a different
kingdom, the kingdom of heaven, and that the kingdom of heaven has come near no
one would have missed that he wasn’t just talking about a personal message of
good news. He was talking politics. He was going up against the powers that be
using their own language - political language - to confront and to challenge.
When
Jesus went through village after village, city after city teaching, healing,
and proclaiming the good news that the kingdom of heaven, not Rome, had
come near, he was letting people know that there was a new king in town with a
new kingdom that offered a very different political vision. No longer would
violence, fear, and oppression rule the day. Rather the kingdom of heaven’s
power came from love, peace, and justice for all. Which made those who were
doing just fine under the current system shudder. But for those on the margins,
those who bore the brunt of fear, violence, oppression, well, Jesus’ news
sounded very good indeed. No wonder so many flocked to him.
Yet
the crowds were like harassed and helpless sheep, as we hear in the gospel
today. Sheep for whom Jesus had great compassion. But not only compassion, but
a sense of urgency. "The harvest is plentiful,” he says to his
disciples,”but the laborers are few; therefore ask the Lord of the harvest to
send out laborers into his harvest." The time was ripe.
Just
as our time is ripe. For now is the time that the harvest is plentiful. Now is
the time for God’s kingdom to come near. Now is the time to right the wrongs of
the injustices of racism. And now is the time that Jesus tells us to pray - to
pray that God’s kingdom come, God’s will be done, on earth as it is in heaven -
and to act, to become a part of the answer to that prayer. To go and proclaim the good news, “The kingdom of heaven has come
near.” A kingdom that offers a very different political vision than the
kingdom of this land.
Our
lives can announce this good news not by leading the cause or acting as if we
are the ones with the answers, but by listening and by valuing the experiences
and leadership given by those who have lived on our margins, people of color.
We can join with them by calling for justice, by voting for reforming
leadership, by supporting black owned businesses, by making a long-term
commitment to racial healing. These, among other acts for social justice, are
ways that we can fulfill the call to proclaim that the kingdom of heaven has
come near so that when people hear that message in our words, but more
importantly in our deeds, it will actually sound the way that God intended -
like Good News!
Sunday, June 14, 2020
Wednesday, June 10, 2020
Monday, June 8, 2020
The life of the Holy Trinity. June 7, 2020. The Rev. David M. Stoddart
Matthew 28:16-20
Trinity Sunday
Go therefore and make disciples,
baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit.
There
is just no escaping it: from the very beginning, the Church has understood God
as Trinity. Long before there was a creed or any formal doctrine, there was an
experience of God that could only be described in Trinitarian terms. It’s a
dynamic experience of God as One who is always moving, in whom and through whom
flow endless life and love. This Gospel today sheds light on that dynamic. And
as I describe it, I want to show you one of my favorite images for the Trinity.
In this passage, which comes at the very end of Matthew’s Gospel, Jesus says these remarkable words: All authority in heaven and earth has been given to me. That is amazing: God the Father, the Creator of the Universe, pours out all power into Jesus, the Christ. And Jesus in turn does not cling to it, but imitates his Father and gives that power away: he feeds the hungry and heals the sick and serves the poor. He washes his disciples’ feet. And here, after the resurrection, he pours out power and authority on those same disciples to baptize and teach. The giving of the Holy Spirit is the outpouring of God’s power on all of us: the Spirit is the very flow of love and power from the Father through the Son, and we are baptized into that flow, made to swim in that stream. Self-giving love is the essence of God; it’s the very nature of God to give power away. I’m not just being mystical here: this is our faith — the Bible and the Prayer Book say it over and over again. We are made one with Christ so that we can share in the life of the Holy Trinity. That’s why I love this photo: the Trinity is like an unending waterfall, a continuous outpouring of power for the sake of love, cascading in the Spirit from the Father to Son and into the world. To enter into that flow is to live fully and forever.
So Jesus is being true to all of this when he tells his followers elsewhere in the Gospel, You know that the rulers of the Gentiles lord it over them, and their great ones are tyrants over them. It will not be so among you; but whoever wishes to be great among you must be your servant. Like Jesus, like God, his followers, and that includes us, are to give power away in service to others. There are many, many ways to do that, and I will focus on just one today. Our parish is composed almost entirely of white people, and in our society, we have a lot of power just by virtue of being white. But as recent events have shown so starkly, we really do need to give that power away in service to others. We need to surrender some of our power for the sake of those who have for too long been powerless.
And one immediate way to do that is to listen to African-Americans as they speak and take what they say to heart. Rather than dismiss them or try to explain away anything they say that makes us uncomfortable, we need to hear their pain, just as Jesus heard the pain of people wherever he went. Being black in America really is very different than being white. Black people are discriminated against in systemic ways, often resulting in poverty, incarceration, and despair. It is harder for black people to achieve success in our society. People in power do not always look out for the interests of African-Americans. Black communities are underserved. Black people do fear the police. I have listened to black clergy in Charlottesville talk about being followed in department stores by security personnel or being pulled out of their cars and frisked for routine traffic violations because they’re black. These things really do happen. That needs to change, but change begins when people in power, people like us, listen and take the voices of the black community seriously.
One of the things that those voices have said for years is that Confederate monuments on public property, which have long served as symbols of white supremacy and racial hatred, continue to hurt African-Americans. I will be joining a march this evening in peaceful support of removing those statues in Charlottesville. That is one way I can give power away. But whether we march or not, there will be other ways that we as white people can use our power to work for justice and racial reconciliation, and to promote the welfare of all people.
God would have us do no less. We are followers of Jesus Christ: we share in the life of the Holy Trinity, a life of continuously pouring out power for the sake of love. On this Trinity Sunday, I can think of no greater way to honor the God we love than by finding ways to be like God and give our power away.
Wednesday, June 3, 2020
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