January 31, 2021
(can be printed out)
Sunday, January 31, 2021
The non-coercive authority of love. January 31, 2021. The Rev. David M. Stoddart
Mark 1:21-28
So . . . What’s that man with an unclean spirit doing in the synagogue anyway? It’s difficult for us to fully grasp how people living in the first century understood demons and unclean spirits. And we certainly need to let go of our popular images from horror movies like “The Exorcist,” with heads spinning around and other grotesque manifestations of possession. The Gospels do sometimes associate demonic possession with seizures, and in fact it may have been their way of understanding epilepsy. And there are some demoniacs that hurt themselves and are mentally deranged. But while there are different ways that people are harmed by demons and unclean spirits in the Gospels, one thing is always true: demonic forces, however we envision them, keep people bound and oppressed. Whatever their symptoms may be, those with unclean spirits are not free.
Which leads me back to this man in the synagogue. There are no wild behaviors attributed to him. Maybe he presented himself as relatively normal. And maybe he has been worshiping in that synagogue all his life. It’s unlikely that he is just visiting from out of town. And if he is a regular there, that means he has listened to the scribes preach and expound on Scripture. But he is still oppressed by an unclean spirit. Depression? Anxiety? We don’t know what his presenting symptoms are. We just know he is in bondage, and whatever he has been hearing from those scribes has not set him free.
Enter Jesus. He astounds people because he teaches with authority, not like the scribes. There is something authentic and powerful about what he says. And then to drive the point home, Mark shows him setting this man free from the unclean spirit. And how do people respond? A new teaching — with authority! That power to set the oppressed free is what moves those people to see that Jesus is the Real Deal — he speaks with authority, the authority of God’s love.
We can, of course, believe that Jesus has authority because the Bible says so, or because that’s what the church teaches, or because that’s what people who are close to us believe. But while those witnesses can be very important, ultimately we must experience the authority of Jesus for ourselves. It’s not quite enough that other people believe it: we need to believe it and make it our own. James Cone, an African-American theologian, said that experiencing the authority of God to see people free is the core of all black worship:. In his book, God of the Oppressed, he wrote “They sing because they are free. Black worship is a celebration of freedom . . . The people shout, moan, and cry as a testimony to the experience of God’s liberating presence in their lives.”
That may not be our style, but the point is essential for all of us. Has Christ ever set you free? He has certainly set me free. He set me free from the deep feelings of shame and inadequacy I felt growing up, and set me free to love and accept myself as I am. At various points over the years he has liberated me from anxiety, guilt, resentment, anger, and fear. That has not happened with a magical wave of a wand, but by allowing myself to accept his unconditional love and letting that love meet me where I am.
That is the remarkable thing about Jesus: he meets people where they are and loves them without judgment. We are not so good at doing that to others or to ourselves. It does not involve denial but a deep seeing that takes in everything with the eyes of compassion and understanding.
That doesn’t happen simply by repeating the Lord’s Prayer or the Nicene Creed. It is a spiritual practice. And it begins by acknowledging whatever hurt or pain or negative emotion is oppressing us and keeping us bound up. Then we can imagine Jesus looking at the anger or the fear or whatever is binding us, without condemnation. He won’t say that we shouldn’t feel that way or that we should feel a different way. He just loves us. And if we sit with it, that love slowly reveals our core, our soul, our truest self, and that self cannot be bound by anything: no negative condition can touch it. It is one with God and united with Christ in love. As we see that and sense that, all that oppresses us can simply fade away and we can be set free. Jesus works with the non-coercive authority of love.
I know this works because I have experienced it. But you shouldn’t just take my word for it. In the story of the Samaritan woman at the well, the townspeople she has led out to Jesus tell her at the end, It is no longer because of what you said that we believe, for we have heard for ourselves, and we know that this is truly the Savior of the world. Encountering Christ for ourselves is the ultimate authority.
Wednesday, January 27, 2021
Sunday, January 24, 2021
Jesus' call to follow. January 24, 2021. The Rev. Kathleen M. Sturges
Jonah
3:1-5, 10 & Mark 1:14-20
Let me just say it from the start. The book of Jonah is not a history lesson. But neither is it a children’s story. Rather, if we let it, it’s a tale of truth that challenges us to love with a love that is not limited by any boundaries, borders, or bad guys.
Sunday, January 17, 2021
Come and see. January 17, 2021 The Rev. Kathleen M. Sturges
John 1:43-51
The other day I was in my car listening to the news when the reporter announced that the state that was leading the nation in Covid-19 vaccine distribution was...wait for it...West Virginia. West Virginia? You could hear the disbelief in the reporter’s voice. A state that consistently ranks at the low end of any national survey or measure. US News and World Report ranks it as the worst state when it comes to infrastructure and economic opportunities. It gets bumped up two notches when it comes to healthcare, coming in at 48 out of 50. No wonder the reporter was incredulous. Can anything good come out of West Virginia? Well, it appears that the answer is yes. West Virginia is showing the rest of us the way when it comes to how to vaccinate its population. And thank God for that.
But it’s not just West Virginia that has to deal with a bad reputation. Back in Jesus’ day it was Nazareth. A backwater town that, if there was a ranking system, would come in at the bottom of everyone’s list. It was a place that many were sure had nothing going for it. We hear this in our gospel reading when Philip tells his friend, Nathanael, that he has found the Messiah, Jesus son of Joseph from Nazareth. What’s funny is that Nathanael doesn’t seem surprised that Philip could have found the one about “whom Moses in the law and the prophets spoke.” Rather what he balks at is that God’s long awaited one could come out of Nazareth. Nathanael has as much faith as the next guy, but Nazareth? No way. Not there. Clearly, Nathanael has some strong opinions, some negative assumptions about that place.
Have you ever made assumptions? Let me answer that for you - and for me - yes. Because we all have and we all do. We may or may not have an opinion about the state of West Virginia, but we hold opinions and make assumptions about plenty of other things. “He’s so closed minded; he’ll never change.” “They’re not a good fit; that marriage won’t last.” “Those people who voted a certain way; they’re plain crazy.” Whenever we judge, label, or dismiss - whether it be a person, place, or situation - what we are doing is creating our own personal Nazareths from where, we assume, no good can come.
And so with Nathanael we ask, Can anything good come out of Nazareth? Or more to the point, can anything good come out of our divided nation? Can anything good come out of our politics, out of the turmoil, out of the pandemic? And in our personal lives, we have our own questions, Can anything good come out of this loss or this diagnosis or this private struggle? We wonder and pray, Can anything good come out of the Nazareths of our day?
Well, come and see. That is the invitation that Philip offered to the questioning and skeptical Nathanael. Come and see. And Nathanael, to his credit, accepts the invitation. He doesn’t stay stuck under the fig tree, arms crossed, dug into his own assumptions that he was right and everyone else is wrong. Instead he is willing to get up, to leave his place of certitude, and to go with an openness to the possibility that maybe, just maybe, there is something to see. Could it be that he doesn’t know as much as he thought he knew? That perhaps something good could come out of a place called Nazareth?
And it does! Because Nathanael is willing to come, he does see. “Rabbi,” he declares, “you are the Son of God! You are the King of Israel!" Now the way that the gospel of John records this epiphany, this revelation of God, is that it happened just like that. And sometimes, that’s the way God reveals Godself to us, like flipping on the lights in the middle of the night. But more often, epiphanies are gradual, like a sunrise in the morning. A slow dawning of an awareness of what is true, that God is with us and at work, even in Nazareth - even in our nation.
As we enter into the coming week with our nation’s capital, along with state capitals, fortifying themselves against threats of violence surrounding the inauguration we are all living on edge. We rightly wonder if anything good can come. So much is uncertain and it’s tempting to despair. But hear this good news, our God is not limited by our judgments, our assumptions - not even our fears. Even now, in this Nazareth time God is present. And we are given the invitation to come and see. To open ourselves up to the possibility that seemingly hopeless situations can be redeemed. To believe that even in the darkness God’s light can and will shine. To trust that the power of God’s love is greater than anything that is currently going on in our country or in our own lives. That epiphany may not come all at once, but if we are willing to come and see it will surely dawn. Because there is more happening in Nazareth than we ever thought possible.
Can anything good come out of Nazareth? Not just “anything good.” The One who is Good always comes out of Nazareth.
Wednesday, January 13, 2021
Sunday, January 10, 2021
Called to live in the Spirit of Christ. January 10, 2021. The Rev. David M. Stoddart
Matthew 2:1-12
Tradition and liturgy are very powerful. By the time we get to the Gospel in this service, we are primed to know what it’s all about. We see the wise men set up here in the Rock Chapel; our opening collect celebrates the star that led them; we began the service singing “We three kings of Orient are.” But if we could somehow separate this passage from the Feast of the Epiphany which we observe today, we might be shocked to realize that the main character in the story is not the baby Jesus or the wise men. From beginning to end, the primary actor in the story is Herod. These events, Matthew tells us, take place in the time of Herod’s reign. It is Herod who is frightened by the rumors of a newborn king; it is Herod who makes the religious leaders declare where the Messiah must be born; it is Herod who directs the wise men to Bethlehem and tells them to report back to him; it is Herod whom those wise men are warned to avoid on their return home. And it is Herod who will then send in the troops to massacre all the children in Bethlehem who are two years old or younger.
And we know from a variety of historical sources that Herod was indeed a scary man and a terrifying ruler. Living in decadent opulence, he oppressed his people and was largely despised by them. A client king of the hated Romans, he was perpetually surrounded by a bodyguard of brutal mercenaries. Paranoid and narcissistic, he executed his own wife and murdered three of his own sons because he feared they might rival him or dethrone him. His great and singular desire was to hold on to power at all cost.
And really, this story is all about power, and the different ways that power is expressed. Herod’s way of power we know all too well: it is based on domination and violence, and it seeks to serve only itself. By contrast, God’s way of exercising power is fundamentally different. God comes among us as a child, a child who quickly becomes a refugee when his parents flee Bethlehem for the safety of Egypt. From the beginning, Jesus is humanly weak and vulnerable. And yet, from the beginning he is perceived as a threat. The forces of violence and domination did not know what to make of a God who comes in love and weakness. And they still don’t.
Like all of you, I am dismayed by the recent events in Washington. Regardless of our political affiliation, what we have watched unfold is terrible and upsetting. And we would be remiss if we did not ask ourselves what our witness as followers of Jesus Christ should be in such a time. Obviously we should pray fervently for our nation and for our government, that our Constitution be honored and our democratic values be upheld. And of course we should advocate for justice and ask that any administration in office work for the good of all.
But beyond that, the Epiphany story calls us to bear witness to a power that supersedes and transcends all political power, and that is the power of God revealed in Jesus Christ our Savior. Too many people, in this country and around the world, have adopted a Herodian view of power. They see power as self-serving; they seek to amass power through intimidation or outright violence in an effort to dominate others and get their own way. It’s a story as old as humanity. But Jesus tells a very different story. Power as he demonstrates it is about self-giving. There is no place for coercion: instead Jesus models sacrificial love. Not love as mushy sentimentality, but agape, the willingness to give of ourselves for the good of others regardless of how we feel.
If we want to be faithful to Christ, then we will embrace his view of power. We must decry any politician, Republican or Democrat, who tries to hold on to power unjustly and or to use power for self-aggrandizement and not for the common good. And we must denounce any mob violence, whether from the Left or the Right, that tries to seize power through brute force and terror.
But above all, we are called to live in the Spirit of Christ and be Christ in this world. And that means using our personal power the way Jesus does. And we all have power, we all have the ability to give of ourselves for the good of others in our families, our neighborhoods, our churches, our communities, our workplaces, our world. It will not further the cause of Christ if we are horrified by what we see on TV but don't at least try to live differently. We can, for example, be less violent and abusive in our language. Words are powerful and they can hurt. We can choose not to return insult for insult; we can pray for the people who have offended us or annoyed us. There are countless ways we can use power like Jesus does. And like Jesus, we may pay a price for doing so. But remember why we are here. Our happiness and fulfillment will ultimately come from being in Christ and like Christ. We are not on this earth to amass power for ourselves. We are here to give ourselves away in love. And that is true for every one of us. We can kneel in wonder before the Christ child like those wise men did because we can see in that infant God pouring God’s self out for us, not with terror and might, but in weakness and in love — which, Jesus shows us, is the greatest power of all.
Wednesday, January 6, 2021
Sunday, January 3, 2021
Finding Christ's life in yours. January 3, 2021 The Rev. Kathleen M. Sturges
Matthew
2:13-15, 19-23
Jesus is born. The wise men visit. The holy family flees to Egypt. That’s the order of the story, but that’s not the order in which we hear it. Of course on Christmas we celebrated the birth of Jesus. But on this second Sunday of the Christmas season we jump to Joseph, Mary, and Jesus waking in the middle of the night and running for their lives to the land of Egypt before we’ve celebrated the arrival of the wise men - which we will do on Epiphany, January 6, three days from now.
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