Where our true value lies. August 28, 2022. The Rev. David M. Stoddart

 Luke 14:1, 7-14

We humans can be pretty goofy at times. There is something so obvious and so cringe-worthy about these guests all seeking to occupy the seats of honor at a wedding banquet. We can picture the scene, as they all jostle each other and try to grab the best spots at the table, the high-status places that will make them look good. But if it’s embarrassing to imagine, that might be because we can all probably relate to it. Human beings tend to be very status conscious. Sometimes it is obvious, as when people want to have the nicest clothes or the biggest house or the most expensive car or the most impressive title or the highest honor But even in less obvious ways we often want to have something that is better than what others have, something that makes us stand out somehow, that makes us feel special or important. Acquiring signs of status, in one form or another, is just built into our culture. And I’m not casting stones: it’s there in the church as well. Clergy wear these distinctive vestments and have these comically inflated titles: the Reverend, the Right Reverend, the Very Reverend, the Most Reverend, not to mention such honorifics as Your Eminence and Your Holiness. And Jesus sees right through all of this. The Gospel tells us that the Pharisees are watching him closely, but actually Jesus is the one who is doing the careful observing here. And what he sees are people scrambling to get outward signs that they matter — or at least that they matter more than others.

And, of course, this is not the only time Jesus deals with this. His own disciples argue among themselves about who is the greatest; James and John try to pull a fast one on everyone else by secretly asking Jesus to let them sit at his right hand and on his left when he comes into his kingdom. Add to that stories of Pharisees praying ostentatiously in their long robes and rich men refusing to surrender their wealth and privilege, and — well, you can see it’s a recurring issue in the Gospels.

Jesus addresses it directly today, but we shouldn’t hear his words in an overly pragmatic way. He is not offering a strategy here or a tactical plan to get ahead. The point is not for us to think: “Let’s see, if I position myself at the back of the line, then I will automatically be pushed to the front of the line, which is where I really want to be.” If that is our thinking, then I’m pretty sure we are missing the point of this passage. If we outwardly humble ourselves precisely so that we can be outwardly exalted, then the essential problem still remains: we crave some kind of validation or proof that we have value, and we believe we will get that by acquiring greater signs of status than others have.

Now, Jesus is not harsh in his observations: he doesn’t condemn these people. Nor does he disparage their desire to feel special or important. We all want to feel that we have value, we all want others to see value in us. Jesus doesn’t criticize that. But he insists that the way we so often try to feel a sense of self-worth will ultimately fail. Our value does not come and will not come from seats of honor, fancy titles, or expensive status symbols. If we are going to experience the fullness of life that God made us for, we will have to let go of our craving for such  superficial signs of value, and find our self-worth where it truly lies – in the One who creates us, the One Jesus teaches us to call Abba, “daddy.”

When my two children were born, I had an epiphany that countless other parents have had down through the ages: I love my kids with my whole being just because they exist. They don’t need to do anything or achieve anything to earn my love: they are precious to me simply because they are. I feel that way as an imperfect man and an imperfect father: it is stunning and life-changing to realize that God, the perfect lover, feels that way about each one of us. We are utterly precious just because we exist. We have infinite value because God loves us with an infinite and unconditional love.

Those are just words, but Jesus spends his entire earthly ministry trying to convey the reality behind those words. God really is our tender mother and our adoring father; every hair on our head is numbered; our value is beyond measure. Jesus teaches this, he demonstrates this, he dies to show us this. And right now his Spirit, praying within us in sighs too deep for words, is trying to tell us this. We devote so much time and energy grasping for frivolous signs of value when we already possess infinite value. The more that truth sinks in, the more that truth will set us free. I don’t know about you, but I want that freedom. I want to live and to love, I want to use my gifts to serve God and others in the way I’m called to do without worrying about whether doing so gives me status or somehow makes me special. Each one of us is already special. We are eternally secure in God’s love: imagine what it would be like if we lived completely filled with that assurance.

At the beginning of this service, we sang the hymn, “Love divine, all loves excelling.” It’s a beautiful hymn and has a great ending: “changed from glory into glory, till in heaven we take our place, till we cast our crowns before thee lost in wonder, love, and praise.” That image of casting our crowns before God comes from the fourth chapter of the book of Revelation. It describes twenty-four elders around the throne of God who are so enraptured by God’s love and beauty that they couldn’t care less about crowns or any signs of status. They toss them aside as meaningless, as meaningless as grandiose titles or seats of honor. That powerful  image, like the entire New Testament, is an invitation for us to see where our true value lies. To recognize that what gives us infinite worth is simply the fact that we are God’s beloved children is an act of true humility, one that lets go of ego and vanity, and sets us free just to be. We are all heading to that place, but each day we can say yes to it. We can practice throwing aside our crowns or our need for crowns, and practice opening our hearts and minds to the love which God is pouring into us every moment. If we are just willing, the Holy Spirit will teach us how precious we already are.

In the Name of Jesus, so be it. Amen.

The only rule that matters. August 21, 2022. The Rev. Kathleen M. Sturges

 

Luke 13:10-17

I can’t tell you how many times I sat on the sidelines of my boys’ soccer games watching them play when they were young. Most of those games blur together in my memory. But one that sticks out in my mind was the time when the parents were cheering the boys on and everything was going as usual until one of the dads pulled out a bullhorn - you know, one of those cone-shaped devices that you hold in front of your mouth that electronically amplifies your voice. “Go, Johnny, Go!” the dad yelled but now his voice was really, really loud. To the point that it drowned out all other voices including the coaches. And this dad did not let up for the rest of the game. It was obnoxious. Thankfully, though, this dad did not come very often and I bet someone talked to him later because when he did return it was without the bullhorn. However I had to laugh at the beginning of the next season when going over the registration paperwork I saw a new rule in bold print: No bullhorns allowed.

Rules are certainly at play in our reading from the gospel of Luke. It’s the Sabbath day. A day that God has commanded to be a day of rest. A day that, in order to honor that command, has a whole lot of rules around it. And so on this Sabbath day, Jesus is teaching in the synagogue when a woman appears. She’s bent over and can’t stand up straight. It’s been 18 long years that she has suffered this way. Jesus sees her and calls her over, lays his hands on her and heals her so that she can stand up straight. In the words of Jesus, she is “set free from [her] bondage.” But this miracle of healing turns out to be only a small part of the story. In fact, that's the case with most, if not all, Jesus's miracles. They are less about the hocus pocus, abracadabra of it all than they are about telling a better story, teaching a larger lesson, and proclaiming a wider message of mercy, love, and grace. As much as we might love a good miracle story, or not, the magic of it all is rarely the point.

For as great as it is that this woman who had been hunched over and crippled for nearly two decades can now stand up straight, considering all the things that Jesus can do, this really isn't that impressive. What’s more impressive, what really matters most and what all the fuss is about, is that it happened on the Sabbath. And in at least one person’s mind, Jesus had broken some serious rules.

Because what if the woman had just done what the leader of the synagogue suggested and simply come back for healing on another day? It would have been no less miraculous of a healing if it had happened on a Tuesday or Wednesday. But it’s likely it wouldn’t have been recorded for the ages because the healing itself is not the main point here. And that’s good because if these stories are just about the miracle then we're left with the rather hopeless reality that we can't do what Jesus does and that Jesus doesn't do those types of miracles for everyone. So there must be something more than a “just” a miracle here.

And there is. The “more” is the larger message that Jesus enters into the life of the bent over woman and into each and every one of our lives to heal and to comfort and to share God’s abundant love and grace with us - at all costs. In excess of every expectation. At the expense of every rule. Breaking the rule about working or healing or whatever on the Sabbath is Jesus's larger mission – and our greatest hope. For the only rule that matters to Jesus is the one about loving God and loving neighbor and living in any and every way possible that brings that love to bear upon the world.

So to hell with the rules. And I mean that literally. To hell with them. Let any rule that does not serve the rule of love be subject to whatever weeping and gnashing of teeth it takes to tear it apart. Because I’m sure we all have stories of when a rule, whether written or unwritten, was applied to us or someone we know in such a way that caused real harm. And, I would imagine, there have been times where we have been the one who has been so caught up with enforcing rules that we, perhaps unintentionally, have harmed others.

But here’s the good news. In the face of any rule that threatens to limit love, that infringes upon what God wants to do by extending grace and mercy to us and through us, Jesus stands up in the synagogue on the sabbath day and in any place and day of our lives and breaks the rules. Without hesitation he breaks the law so that we can know just how brave and bold and beyond reason God's love wants to be. And how beyond the rules we are called to be when we follow Jesus. So whenever we are tempted to stick to the rules it would be wise to ask ourselves why? Whom does this rule serve? Is it for my benefit at the expense of another? Is it simply a rule for rules sake? Does the enforcement of this rule serve love? Because if it doesn’t it’s not a rule worth following. For Love is the only rule that matters.

Because we can't heal every disease, but we can love one another through sickness and struggle and sadness - and that's a miracle too. We can't change the weather, but we can trust God's presence when the storms of our lives come - and that can be magical. We can't undo every sin, or change every sinner, but we can accept and offer forgiveness – and that's no small feat. We can't walk on water, but we can reach out to the outcasts and welcome them in – and that can work wonders. Because the greatest miracle of all – Jesus' resurrection from the dead - shows just how far God is willing to go to break every rule for our sake. And the miracle that isn't just something we wait for when our time on this earth is over. In a world full of so many rules, too much fear, and so much sadness which all conspire to convince us otherwise, we are set free from all sorts of bondage, like the woman in today’s Gospel, to live into the miracle of new life and second chances and amazing grace - every day, in Jesus’ name.

Welcome the fire. August 14, 2022. The Rev. David M. Stoddart

 

Hebrews 11:29-12:2; Luke 12:49-56

Many of you, I’m sure, have seen the movie Evan Almighty. You may remember the big set they built for it in Crozet. It tells the story of Evan Baxter, newly elected congressman who campaigned with the slogan, “Change the World.” As the daunting reality of his new job begins to hit him, though, he does something uncharacteristic: he prays to God for help. Sure enough, God, in the form of Morgan Freeman, comes to him and tells him to build an ark next to his house. It’s an absurd idea, of course, but God insists on it, hounding Evan until he finally relents and agrees to do it. At one point, feeling completely exasperated, Evan asks, “Why me? Why are you doing this?” And God replies, “Well, let’s just say that whatever I do, I do because I love you.” Well, Evan builds the boat; it eventually saves lives when a dam breaks, but along the way he becomes a laughing stock: his wife and children leave him, his position in Congress is threatened, and his life seems to fall apart all around him. On a very bad day, he prays: “God, I know that whatever you do, you do because you love me. Do me a favor: love me less.”

Sharing in God’s love is awesome in many ways, but it is not necessarily safe. Today’s reading from Hebrews, for example, celebrates the fact that we are surrounded by a great cloud of witnesses. But did you catch what happened to many of those witnesses? [They] were tortured, refusing to accept release, in order to obtain a better resurrection. Others suffered mocking and flogging, and even chains and imprisonment. They were stoned to death, they were sawn in two, they were killed by the sword; they went about in skins of sheep and goats, destitute, persecuted, tormented. God’s love no doubt inspired them and sustained them, but it certainly did not make life easy for them.

And Jesus does not promise to make life easy for us. Joyful and meaningful? Yes. Filled with love? Absolutely. Comfortable and safe? Not so much. I came to bring fire to the earth, and how I wish it were already kindled!, he says in the Gospel today. Do you think that I have come to bring peace to the earth? No, I tell you, but rather division. Those are tough words to hear, especially in a world that is on fire with so much divisiveness, so much rancor and hatred. What are we to make of this? No other Gospel stresses the importance of peace as much as Luke’s Gospel. This after all, is the Gospel where the angels greet the Messiah’s birth by proclaiming: Glory to God in the highest heaven, and on earth peace among those whom he favors (Luke 2:14). But even as this Gospel focuses on Jesus as the bringer of peace, it acknowledges from the beginning that many people will resist him and fight against him. As Simeon says to Mary, This child is destined for the falling and the rising of many in Israel, and to be a sign that will be opposed so that the inner thoughts of many will be revealed — and a sword will pierce your own soul too (Luke 2:34-35).

It’s clear that Jesus wants us to live in peace, that he desires for all people to be reconciled to God and to each other. And, as Luke records, Jesus insists that we treat everyone with love and kindness: But I say to you that listen, Love your enemies, do good to those who hate you, bless those who curse you, pray for those who abuse you (Luke 6:27). But he knows that those who express that kind of love will sometimes face animosity. He understands fully that his good news will cause bitter divisions because many people will reject that good news and reject the way of love he teaches. I don’t need to dwell much on this: I suspect most of us have experienced it. On a personal level, we know that being loving and kind for Christ’s sake does not guarantee that others will treat us well: sometimes it even encourages them to treat us badly. On a societal level, those who seek to follow Christ by advocating for the poor, calling for racial justice, or working for peace are often vilified. The real question for us is: what are we supposed to do about this? How are we supposed to deal with it? And I think the Gospel’s answer is clear: we need to accept it and welcome the fire.

Fire can be destructive, of course, but in much of Scripture fire is purifying. It strengthens what is most important while burning away what is less important. Jesus tells us that we will all be purified in the fire of life. It’s one thing, after all, to be forgiving and merciful when everyone is behaving well; it’s something else to be forgiving and merciful when those around us are treating us terribly. It’s easy to stand up for goodness when people agree with us; it’s much harder to stand up for goodness when it causes others to dislike or even despise us. But in my experience, it’s precisely when embracing the values of Christ — love, compassion, mercy, peace — is most painful and costly that I most fully see how paramount those values are. Years ago, for example, when I was serving a parish in Massachusetts, a parishioner became very upset with me because of decisions I was making that she disagreed with. So she sent me a letter, easily the nastiest and meanest letter I have ever received, attacking me as a priest and as a person. It left me feeling deeply hurt and angry, and I wanted to lash out at her. But somehow, God’s grace prevailed, and I realized that if I attacked her the way she had attacked me, I would be doing nothing for the cause of Christ, nothing to further God’s kingdom. So I didn’t. I met with her and listened to her and tried to love her as best I could. But as painful as that experience was, it drove home to me that love and mercy really are what matter most. And please don’t get me wrong: I do not like the purifying fire any more than anyone else, and I fail the test all too many times. But the trials I have lived through have convinced me that I don’t want to follow the path of anger and hatred. The way of Christ is the way of love, and that is the only way that leads to life. Maybe an easy existence would still teach us this, but the fire of hard experience will most certainly brand it on our hearts. We are surrounded by a great cloud of witnesses who show us how true this is, and who also assure us that what we gain is worth any pain it may cost us.

 

 

A non-possessive life. August 7, 2022. The Rev. Kathleen M. Sturges

 

Luke 12:32-40

Have you ever received a gift that you didn't want? We’re probably all privileged enough to have had that experience. Maybe in our younger years we might have shown our disappointment, but hopefully by now we have all honed the craft of opening up a gift and in a split second registering in our minds we don’t like it, but without missing a beat put on a happy face and exclaim something along the lines of, “Oh, how nice! Thank you so much!” Only to tuck the gift away never to be seen again.

I wonder if something similar is playing out in our gospel reading when Jesus tells us that it's “[our] Father's good pleasure to give [us] the kingdom? Here we are being handed this kingdom gift and we were raised with enough manners to say “thank you,” but, really? Are we thankful? Do we even know what this gift is or what to do with it?  Does this kingdom gift have something to do with royalty, wealth, palaces, and power? Or is Jesus talking here about entry into heaven? Or maybe the kingdom is like a reward from God - an ideal world or a stress free life. But what if it's not? What if the kingdom is not any of that, not something to be possessed, but instead it’s a different way of being?

I wonder this because right after Jesus says that “it is your father's good pleasure to give you the kingdom," he tells us to sell our possessions, give alms, and make purses that do not wear out. He talks about thieves that do not come near and moths that do not destroy.  Now I don't think he's talking about rules for getting into the kingdom. These behaviors aren't prerequisites. Rather they are descriptions of what the kingdom life is like.

Because when you think about it, what's the best way to keep a purse from wearing out? Don't put anything in it. What's the best way to keep a thief away? Don't have anything worth stealing. What's the best way to keep moths from destroying? Don't have anything that can be destroyed. So what if receiving the gift of the kingdom is about living a non-possessive life? A life in which we sell all our possessions and give alms? Life where our purses are empty? A life in which there is nothing to steal or destroy?

But before you completely tune me out, let me just say that I realize that Jesus is using metaphor here. He is using metaphor to call us into a new way of seeing and being and living. I'm not suggesting that we all need to be poor or go without. And I don't think that Jesus is saying we shouldn't own or have anything. In and of itself, there is nothing virtuous about poverty or insufficiency. The world does not need more poor people. What the world needs is more people who are not possessed by their possessions.

For when I live a possessive life I am more focused on me than we. More passionate about my rights than yours. More concerned about being right then doing what's right. Living a possessive life means that I worry about the thief that steals and the moth that destroys. I fear not only about having enough but that I am not enough. I'm always striving for more of something: more money, more stuff, more status, more success, more control, more power. More, more, more.

Perhaps you’re familiar with the story about a reporter who years ago asked John D. Rockefeller, “How much money is enough?” To which Rockafeller responded, “Just a little bit more.” Now whether or not that exchange actually happened I think the story lives on because it resonates with us. Whether we are Rockefeller or not, what we have never seems to be enough. We cling to what we have while striving to possess just a little bit more - to our detriment.

Because the things that we possess often end up possessing us. And it’s not just things, but also beliefs, opinions, status or power. I mean have you ever felt like you were possessed by your work, your success, your house, or your stuff? Do you ever feel like you spend more time and energy creating or maintaining your life than living it? Have you ever felt possessed by your position, or another’s approval, or the need to be in control? And if so, what did it cost you? What did you lose? Is that how you really want to live? Left to our own devices we tend to be possessive people which is really no way to live, at least not the way our God intended us to live.

That’s why it is God’s good pleasure to give us the kingdom - the gift that seeks to transform our lives. A gift that sets us free to live non-possessive lives because that is when we are at our best. We become more welcoming and hospitable. We forgive more freely. We are more generous with our time, money, and resources. We love more extravagantly. We are able to see more clearly our deep connection with others. A non-possessive life is a life lived with open hearts and minds and souls. When we are not possessed by our possessions we discover that life is full of riches but it’s not the kind that a thief can steal nor moth can destroy. That's how I want to live and I would imagine you do too. We want to live in God’s kingdom of life.

But fear is probably the greatest impediment to a non-possessive life. Most of us live in fear, consciously or unconsciously,  fear of losing what we have and not getting what we desire. Maybe, instead, we should be more afraid of what we already have, of being owned by our possessions and our desires. Maybe that's what Jesus is talking about when he says, “Do not be afraid.” Do not be afraid of a non-possessive life. So what is possessing you today? What owns your life? In what ways are you being possessive of things, opinions, resources, other people, even yourself? What would a non-possessive life look like for you?

 “Do not be afraid…for it is your Father's good pleasure to give you the kingdom.” Don’t just politely receive the gift and tuck it away. Receive God’s gift and live.

Rich toward God. July 31, 2022. The Rev. David M. Stoddart

 

Luke 12:13-21

What should I do, for I have no place to store my crops?

What should I do? I know that many of you have heard this passage before, perhaps many times. And it can be hard to hear familiar passages with fresh ears and open minds. And because that’s true, I have this fantasy: I would love to have everyone read through an entire Gospel, say Luke’s Gospel that we hear from today, and do so with one specific question in mind: “What should I do to be happy?” The Greek word that is often translated as “blessed” — macarios — literally means “happy.” If we were to read through a Gospel with that one question in mind, to see the text as a guide to happiness, it might read quite differently for us. We would, of course, hear about sharing in the kingdom of God, about loving and being loved, as essential components of our happiness. But we would also hear an awful lot about money and possessions. And that’s because Jesus knows how much money affects the quality of our lives, for good and for ill. He is very interested in our relationship with wealth and how that impacts our happiness.

But if we can’t read through a whole Gospel, we can at least look at this passage with that question, that focus in mind: “What should I do to be happy?” It begins with an unhappy person complaining to Jesus because he’s fighting with his brother over an inheritance. And in reply, Jesus tells him this parable about a rich man. And right off the bat, we can see that wealth itself is not the problem. It is not a bad thing that this man’s land has produced abundantly and made him rich. Jesus doesn’t criticize him for being successful. But it does paint the picture of a man who does not enjoy his wealth. He accumulates and he accumulates, leading him to ponder: What should I do, for I have no place to store my crops? So he decides he has to build even bigger barns. He thinks that someday he will finally be able to relax and enjoy the riches he has built up, someday his wealth will make him happy — and then he dies before that can happen. Not a happy story. We could say that at least someone else will inherit all his wealth, but that’s not an unambiguously good thing: remember, the whole passage begins with people fighting over an inheritance. So much stuff, so little happiness. Why?

Jesus addresses this on two levels. First, and most obvious, he says this: Take care! Be on your guard against all kinds of greed; for one’s life does not consist in the abundance of possessions. Greed, the itching need to accumulate more and more money and possessions, will not lead to happiness. While it is good to have things we need and things we delight in, just amassing more stuff will not in and of itself satisfy or fulfill us. We need to be careful, Jesus says, not to fall into the trap of thinking it will. But that just begs a further question: what about the stuff we do have, the money and possessions we already own? What should our relationship with our wealth be? And Jesus touches on this at the very end of the passage, when he says, So it is with those who store up treasures for themselves but are not rich toward God.

Rich toward God? I don’t think that means just giving money to the church. I’m very glad people support the church — please keep doing it — but I’m pretty sure that Jesus is not only talking about religious fundraising here. He is talking about how we can use our money in ways that lead to happiness. And while it may seem odd to do so, I’m going to draw some theological insights from none other than The Harvard Business Review. That journal is published by Harvard Business School, which is in the business of helping people make lots of money. Two years ago, they published an article entitled, “Does More Money Really Make Us More Happy?” The article includes insights from a variety of different studies, and the short answer the authors give to the question the title raises is “not necessarily.” But they do identify three ways in which money can and does significantly contribute to people’s happiness. I’ll sum them up briefly. One, spending money on experiences and not things. Various studies reveal that people who tend to spend their money more on experiences with others like going on vacation with families, attending concerts, or eating out with friends report higher levels of happiness than people who tend to spend their money more on things like iPhones, shoes, and cars. Two, buying time. People who prioritize time over money tend to be happier than people who prioritize money over time. So people who shop at stores closer to them even when they’re more expensive or hire others to mow their lawns or use their money in any way to free up more time report being happier than those who don’t. They have more time to spend with the people they love and do the things they love. Three, investing in others. Study after study shows that people who make a point of using their money to help others are happier than those who don’t. What ties those three points together is that they all involve people using money to build relationships and foster community. Money is a great contributor to happiness when we use it to reach beyond ourselves and connect in meaningful ways with the people and the world around us.

I am convinced that this is the kind of thing Jesus means when he talks about being rich towards God, because those points in that article basically reflect the values of God’s kingdom. God wants us to thrive, which means living in loving communion with God, other people, and all of creation. And to the extent that we use our wealth to do that, our wealth is a blessing that will increase our own happiness and the happiness of others.

So think about our resources in light of Jesus’ teaching. Are we giving way to greed and just accumulating more stuff because we think that’s the thing to do? Or are we using our wealth in ways that deepen our relationship with God and others, ways that build up human community? Are we being generous and open-handed? Is our wealth making us happier people? Is it making the world a happier place? If so, give thanks. And if not, the question stands: What should I do to be happy?