Sermon from November 15, 2009

All Souls, Berkeley

Proper 28/B

1 Samuel 1:4-20

The Song of Hannah

Hebrews 10:11-14, 19-25

Mark 13:1-8

Gracious God, take our minds and think through them;

take our hands and work through them;

take our hearts and set them on fire.

Amen.

What I’m about to say will come as no surprise to some of you – and by some of you, I mean the ones who actually pay attention to the sermon every week rather than those of you who create masterpieces with the coloring sheets in the pews.

There is a saying that every preacher learns in seminary – and that’s that every preacher really only has one sermon. We may dress it up in different scripture and stories, but at the heart we each really preach the same thing again and again.

One of the many reasons to love All Souls is that you get a regular variety of preachers and so it doesn’t get too boring!

But, I always have this in the back of my head when I sit down to prepare a sermon. Even if I don’t consciously think about it, I know it’s there. And yet, I think I actually have two sermons that I preach.

One sermon always leads to, or includes, our call to participate in God’s mission of justice, compassion and reconciliation for the transformation of the world. The other sermon always centers on the community and the grace-filled truth that it through community our lives are transformed; our joys, when shared, are multiplied – and our sorrows, when share, are lessened.

It is perhaps because of this that I had a really hard time this week writing a sermon. I nearly always err on the side of preaching the Gospel, but I kept being drawn in by the complex yet powerful story and song of Hannah, and by the end of the epistle to the Hebrews, And let us consider how to provoke one another to love and good deeds, not neglecting to meet together, as is the habit of some, but encouraging one another, and all the more as you see the Day approaching.

And then I realized – those stories are my two sermons. And so, which do I choose to preach today?

Well, how could I not choose God’s mission, especially when it is wrapped in a story that has a woman strong in faith at its core?

Oh, Hannah—what a story she tells us! Yes she bargains with God, ‘if you give me this, I’ll give you that,’ which is not a prayer that has ever worked for me, but she gets her son, in part because her story and his story are a part of the larger story of ancient Israel and how God is transforming that community. And so when Samuel is weaned Hannah takes him to Eli to be dedicated to the Lord, and the sings a wonderful song—which we too sang today.

Listen again to part of the Song of Hannah:

The bows of the mighty are broken but the weak are clothed in strength.

The once full now labor for bread, those who hungered now are well fed.

The childless woman has borne sevenfold, while the mother of many is forlorn.

God destroys and brings to life, casts down and raises up, gives wealth or takes it away, humbles or dignifies.

God raises the poor from the dust and lifts the needy from the ash heap.

To make them sit with the rulers, and inherit a place of honor.

Does it sound familiar to anyone? Like you’ve heard something else like it before? Remember the Magnificat – also known as the Song of Mary?

His mercy is for those who fear him

from generation to generation.

He has shown strength with his arm;

he has scattered the proud in the thoughts of their hearts.

He has brought down the powerful from their thrones,

and lifted up the lowly;

he has filled the hungry with good things,

and sent the right away empty.

Are these songs not songs of God’s mission? Do they not prophetically sing of justice, compassion and reconciliation?

It is significant that both of these songs come from women whose stories center on giving birth to sons that are dedicated to God. In the case of Hannah’s Samuel, literally a son given to the service of God who was raised up as a mighty prophet and anointer of kings, and in the case of Mary’s Jesus, literally God incarnate.

Two men that radically changed the world of those around them and beyond. And yet, in the lives and ministry of both men, it is their mother’s songs that we see in action, and even in word, and in the process transformation.

For the ancient Israelites, who until that point had an identity rooted in the covenant tradition of early Israel, Samuel served as a priest, judge and prophet – and the one chosen by God to anoint the first kings of Israel, first Saul and then David. But not only anointer, but also prophetic critic. For it is in 1^st and 2^nd Samuel that we see Saul choose the will of the people over the will of God and be cast down as king. It is in those books that we see David abuse his power through war, adultery and murder and be humbled by his choices. The mighty, indeed, were broken.

And then there’s Jesus, who lived his mother’s song every day, and on occasion even copied her. You may remember something we call the Beatitudes? Hear them again, listening for the echoes of Mary.

From Luke –

Blessed are you who are poor,

for yours is the kingdom of God.

Blessed are you who are hungry now,

for you will be filled.

Blessed are you who weep now,

for you will laugh.

And from Matthew –

Blessed are the merciful,

for they will receive mercy.

Blessed are the peacemakers,

for they will be called children of God.

Hannah, Samuel, Mary, Jesus. God’s mission rippling through time from the single drop of Hannah’s song, and now it is our turn to participate in that mission of justice, compassion and reconciliation.

And yet—all that being said—don’t we, today at All Souls, really need to hear the call of Hebrews? Are we not at a place in our ministry as a community where we are taking stock of what has come before and actively seeking new ways to live more fully into our identity as Christians and our mission as a parish?

How do we provoke one another to love and good deeds?

The answer to that question is as varied as the people who make up this glorious community—for some it’s being a part of Outreach and Peace and Justice work, such as the Health Care Forum. For others it is through participation in small groups, whether that be Spaghetti Again or Parents in the Park. For many of you it is through small but powerful acts of pastoral care – taking meals to those who need the support or the way the Altar Guild and Flower Team give the flowers each Sunday to people who are marking birthdays and anniversaries, or just seem to need them.

I know those are only a few of the myriad ways that we provoke each other, but the thing they all have in common is that they happen in community.

Our outreach has more impact when we do it together. Don’t you remember last year the colossal mountain of teddy bears we collected in Advent for kids in foster care? Or how many lives we saved through the malaria nets we purchased with the money collected last Lent? Are these things you would have done on your own? Maybe. But isn’t it better together?

We are more joyful in our love and good deeds when we are inspired by the wisdom and support of those we gather with regularly. Who, that has been fed at Lunch Bunch, both by the food lovingly prepared and company, does not go back out into the world ready to share that love with those they meet? And is not the gift of music that the choir and the Angel Band make for us not a reflection of their love week in and week out? Would any of us be able to proclaim God’s love if we didn’t first come together and share in it? Maybe. But isn’t it easier together

It is the simple, grace-full truth about community that when we are joyous and we share our joy, it is multiplied; and when we are in pain and we share our pain, it is lessened. We care for each other in the good time and the bad, and all the time in between. There is no maybe here, this can only happen in community and it transforms not only our lives, but the world around us.

God’s mission and community. Hannah’s song and provoking love and good deeds. At their heart they are both about transformation and our call as followers of God to be God’s hands and heart in the world.

So maybe I only really have one sermon after all. Or maybe you just heard two little sermons. Either way, my prayer is that at the end of the day we are transformed because we know that we are loved by God, that we are called by God and that we know God most fully when we know God together.

~ AMEN ~

Sermon from October 11, 2009

All Souls, Berkeley
Proper 23/B ~ Stewardship
Job 23:1-9, 16-17
Hebrews 4:12-16
Mark 10:17-31

Gracious God, take our minds and think through them;
take our hands and work through them;
take our hearts and set them on fire.
Amen.

Jesus, looking at him, loved him and said, “You lack one thing; go, sell what you own, and give the money to the poor, and you will have treasure in heaven; then come, follow me.” When he heard this, he was shocked and went away grieving, for he had many possessions.

Yes, this is the Good News of Jesus Christ. And my hope today is that you too will go away shocked and grieving.

No really, I’m serious.

I think the key to this passage isn’t Jesus proclaiming how hard it is to enter the kingdom of God, nor the beautiful statement that for God all things are possible, nor even the whole last part (that is just sooo Jesus) that is all about reversals.

The key to this story is that the rich young man is shocked and goes away grieving. Because Jesus looked at him. And loved him. And told him come, follow me.

And that’s exactly what the rich young wanted to do, right? Because even though he was wealthy, even though he was a “good person” and had kept the commandments, he knew in his heart that he was missing something.

And so he ran to Jesus and knelt before him and asked him, “Good Teacher, what must I do to inherit eternal life?” In other words, ‘what must I do to share fully in the life of God, because there is a God shaped hole in my life right now.’

I don’t know what he expected to hear. We have the benefit of knowing Jesus better than the rich young man, in some ways—because we could probably have guessed that Jesus would come up with something crazy like selling everything you own as an answer to that question—and it seems like that wasn’t the answer the young man expected.

And yet. And yet maybe it was.

Maybe this man already knew in his heart that his possessions were in fact possessing him and that they had become a barrier between himself and God, and were tainting his relationships with others.

Maybe he asked that question, hoping for that answer, knowing that hearing it from the lips of Jesus would confirm what he already knew.

+++++++++

I’d like to share a story with you. Every week I meet with a group of local women clergy—we’re Episcopalians, Lutherans, Methodists and UCC folk—and we spend time together studying the lessons for the following Sunday and talking about how and what we will preach. This week one of my colleagues told us this story and gave me permission to tell it to you:

For a long time this woman was really focused on clothes—she always wanted to buy the newest styles and latest fashions, but because she is a sensible and centered person at heart, she always bought things at Ross Dress for Less. And so when her spouse called her out on her behavior—buying way more clothes than she needed—she always justified her shopping because she wasn’t spending that much. But over time her closet and her drawers filled up. And the weight of the clothes and the compulsive consumption began to build up. She began to feel guilty. And then one day she went to Ross to buy one thing she really needed. And sliding into her pattern she filled her cart with lots of great clothes—all of them bargains—and she went home. Only this time was different. When she got home she laid all of the new clothes out on her bed and looked and them. She then had the courage to ask herself truthfully the question she already knew the answer to: do I need these clothes? And the answer she felt in her bones was NO. And so she put them all back in the bag, took them right back to Ross and returned them. She reflected that she walked away after that feeling 100 lbs. lighter and free at last.

++++++++

Possessions are a two edged sword. It is good to have things: a home, food on the table, favorite books, nice clothes. But in our materialistic world it can seem as if everything around us tells us that we need more. And the more we have the more important it all becomes to us—until we spend our time, our talents and our treasure on the maintenance of what we have and the acquisition of more.

There’s an even sharper sword though. Our letter to the Hebrews today tells us this, “the word of God living and active, sharper than any two-edged sword, piercing until it divides soul from spirit, joints from marrow; it is able to judge the thoughts and intentions of the heart.”

This is the sword that the rich young mad felt in Jesus’ words. And he was shocked and went away grieving.

But why was he shocked and what was he grieving?

It is so easy to assume that he was shocked because he was told that being a wealthy, good person wasn’t enough – and that he went away grieving because he didn’t want to sell what he owned. And maybe that was it.

But the Gospel never actually tells us what he ended up doing.

Maybe he was shocked because Jesus saw that narrow place between soul and spirit, knew him fully, and still loved him.

Maybe he went away grieving not for what he was asked to give up, but for all the time he had spent being possessed by his possessions instead of the love of God which Jesus freely offered him.

+++++++++

Last week Phil asked the question, “Can you have a 30 year fixed mortgage and still follow Jesus?” I’m going to tweak it a bit to fit the context of our Gospel story and ask, “Can you have a 30 year fixed mortgage and still have eternal life?” And I think the answer to that question can be yes.

Jesus isn’t trying to keep us out. Jesus just shows us how it is we keep ourselves out. And he does this by handing each of us the missing puzzle piece that fills in the God shaped hole in our lives.

Because I think we do all have God shaped holes in our lives. It may not be the shape of possessions or clothes. But each of us have something in our lives that we are too attached to, and when we are honest with ourselves we know that those attachments, as much as the objects themselves, separate us from God.

I’m not asking you to share with me what your God shaped hole look like. But I am asking you to ask yourself – what is it that you use to try and fill that hole? What separates you and God?

That is why I hope everyone here goes away shocked and grieving today—because I hope that we all take a close look at our God shaped holes and ask Jesus the questions that we already know the answers to.
I hope that each of us can more authentically live into our relationship with God so that we put God first, above all things – our possessions, our wealth, even our time.

And I hope and believe, that after the shock and the grief, we will know joy. The joy accepting God’s love and the joy of participating in God’s mission of justice, compassion and reconciliation in this world.

+++++++++

That’s a lot to ask I know, and realistically, for most of us it’s a lifetime of work. A continuous cycle of filling in what may be many pieces in our God shaped holes.

But wherever we are in our journey, still afraid to ask the question we know the answer to, or in shock, perhaps still grieving, or even rejoicing, I believe we are all called to Gather the Harvest and Sow the Seeds as a part of this community of God.

For those of you on our mailing list you should have received in the mail this past week an invitation to an evening of dinner, fellowship, music and celebration—our Stewardship Dinner on October 25th. If you did not receive one, no worries, there will be information and sign up tables in the Parish Hall during coffee hour for the next few Sundays.

But in the next month, as we take time to reflect on thankfulness and joy, giving and abundance, our shock and grief, I would want us to make connections between our belief, our actions and our giving.

Stewardship is all that I do, with all that I have, after I say, “I believe.”

That’s one of the definitions of stewardship I found on the website of The Episcopal Church and it’s a good one—not to cheesy and to the point: we believe and then we act.

That is the story of the choice of rich young man, he believed in the Good Teacher and that led his action. It is the story of my friend who literally laid her ‘belief’ out on her bed so that she could claim what she truly believes in. We too are believers and so it is also our story—for we are all called to choose how to use our possessions in meaningful and substantial ways—one of them being the support of this community of faith.

But there’s another way to think of stewardship—one that can cut like a sword, separating for us even more clearly how we live our belief.

There is old saying in the Episcopal Church that praying shapes believing. I believe it is also true that stewardship shapes believing. How we spend our time, where we use our talents, where we spend our money says a lot about what our priorities really are.

Our giving shows us what we believe in.

I know that this gives me pause as I look at my household budget. Do I believe in Comcast each month more than God? Do I believe in Starbucks each day more than All Souls?

And you know what? I know the answer to those questions. And I’m going home shocked and grieving, and I hope you will too.

~AMEN~

Sermon from September 20, 2009

All Souls, Berkeley
Proper 20/B
Proverbs 31:10-31
James 3:13 – 4:3, 7-8a
Mark 9:30-37

Gracious God, take our minds and think through them;
take our hands and work through them;
take our hearts and set them on fire.
Amen.

A capable wife who can find?

Whoever wants to be first must be last of all and servant of all.

Whoever welcomes one such child in my name welcomes me, and whoever welcomes me welcomes not me but the one who sent me.

A wife, a servant and a child. These are the people that scripture raises up for us today as holy models to be emulated.

And while we’ve come to expect things like this from Jesus, and we can sort of get the joke—these are people who are not usually at the top of the power structure and therefore not who we aspire to be like—the social status of these people in ancient times was so much more marginalized than we realize, that the power of what we are really being called to through their example – CHRISTIAN SERVANTHOOD –is mostly lost to us.

To really understand what Christian servanthood is and how we are to embody it we must first, therefore, examine the wife, the servant and the child in their historical contexts.

Proverbs is the oldest of the Israelite works that are considered “wisdom literature.” Unlike the Torah and the Prophets, which view God primarily in terms of covenant and national history, for the wisdom tradition God is primarily Creator. God used Wisdom to create the world and placed Wisdom within creation, where people could observe its harmonies and live in right relation to it. [Women’s Bible Commentary, Newsom and Ringe]

Last week we read the beginning of Proverbs in which the remarkable figure of Woman Wisdom is encountered addressing men from all the busiest parts of the city—teaching them how to live a good life and warning that to disregard her is to court death.

And this week we end Proverbs with the capable wife. The words usually translated “a capable wife” mean literally “a woman of worth.” The term for “capable” can also be translated as “worth,” (though that translation is more often done when referring to men) and the word for “woman” and “wife” is the same in Hebrew. [Women’s Bible Commentary, Newsom and Ringe]

This woman of worth is the living embodiment of Woman Wisdom’s teachings and attributes. And boy does she set a high standard! Her every action is about creating the good life for those around her. And they called her ‘happy.’

Everything she does, she does for her husband—to increase his stature and his wealth, his happiness and his security. She is the consummate giver, serving everyone else’s needs before her own. And in spite of the high praise she is given, she is valued not for her gifts and talents, but for what she can provide for others through her service.

This was the status and role of a wife in ancient Israel the wider culture of the time as well. One of subservience and devotion.

Is this what servanthood looks like to you?

~~~~~~~~~~~

In today’s passage from the Gospel of Mark, Jesus challenges his disciples who have been arguing amongst themselves about who is the greatest. We, and they, know something important is coming because Jesus sits down, like a traditional Jewish teacher.

Whoever wants to be first must be last of all and servant of all.

In the first century servants had no social status or power. They were often, though not always, slaves. The work they were called upon to do was considered demeaning to those above that station.

In telling his disciples they must be servants not just to each other, but to all, Jesus asked them to humble themselves and let go not only of their bickering over who was the best disciple, but of the rules and expectations of the world in which they lived.

This kind of servanthood meant putting your neck on the line and breaking strong-held social norms and risking shame in a culture in which the pivotal social value was honor. [Social-Science Commentary of the Synoptic Gospels, Malina and Rohrbaugh]

That is to say, taking on the mantle of servanthood meant taking risks. And what’s more, it meant fully engaging with the world, in spite of those risks.

Is this what servanthood looks like to you?

~~~~~~~~~~~

Jesus continued with his teaching:

Whoever welcomes one such child in my name welcomes me, and whoever welcomes me welcomes not me but the one who sent me.

To further illustrate his call to be a servant, Jesus made his point by embracing a small child. It is easy for us to sentimentalize this action, imagining groups of small children regularly playing at the feet of Jesus and his reaching out and cuddling a wee one and in an appeal to the hearts of his followers. But that’s not what is going on here.

Jesus and his followers both knew that children had even less status than servants, and they were even more vulnerable.

In our culture children and childhood are given priority and valued. This was not the case in Jesus’ day. Childhood in antiquity was a time of terror. Children were the weakest, most vulnerable members of society. Infant mortality rates sometimes reached 30 percent. Another 30 percent of live births were dead by the age of six, and 60 percent were gone by age sixteen. Children had little to no status within the community and family, and while minors were considered on par with a slave. Children had literally nothing to offer. [Social-Science Commentary of the Synoptic Gospels, Malina and Rohrbaugh]

By instructing the disciples that they must welcome children Jesus was telling them that not only must they be servants, but they had to be servants to those who had no way of ever reciprocating their actions. They had to give without the expectation of receiving anything in return.

Is this what servanthood looks like to you?

~~~~~~~~~~~

The stories of the wife, the servant and the child, rooted in their contexts, each offer us a glimpse of servanthood, but none of them in and of themselves are complete or show us the fullness of Christian servanthood. So I would like to expand our understanding of each and examine how they are related to the formation of community.

When asked what the most difficult instrument was, Leonard Bernstein was quoted as saying, “the second fiddle. Plenty of people want to play first violin, but to get someone to play second violin or second flute, etc...that's a problem. Yet, without them there is no harmony.” That is at the heart of Christian servanthood.

Because Christian servanthood is concerned not only with being a servant, but with how being a servant creates and affects community.

Authentic community, one in which there is harmony, is created when we each use our gifts and talents in such a way that both others and we ourselves become the best we can be, and therefore the community becomes the best it can be.

The capable wife is very good at serving in such a way as to bring out the best in others. But the capable wife only truly becomes the woman of worth when she is valued not just for the benefit she can provide to others through her service, but for the gifts and talents she offers others and her ability to serve herself as well. It is Christian servanthood when in serving others we become the best we can be.

Because Christian servanthood is not about being subservient, not about being the ever-giving giver, not about being the doormat that others walk on and take advantage of – servanthood can only be Christian when we also uphold the necessary truth that being a servant requires boundaries that protect both ourselves and others.

Jesus told the disciples to be servants of all. The Greek word used for servant in this passage, diakonos, can variably mean servant or minister, and is the root for the word deacon. We know that in the early church the office of deacon included serving those in the community in need through the distribution of alms, and our own understanding of the role of a deacon today is one of servant ministry.

For servants to really be the diakonos of Christian servanthood, they must engage both individuals and the larger community.

It is diakonos when we who have the ways and the means take up the status reversing call of Jesus and serve those around us who are unable to help themselves, without expecting something in return. It is diakonos when we risk engaging the world around us and speak out against the status quo of the earthly order by proclaiming God’s order—the first shall be last and the last shall be first.

We are called to expand God’s love in the world, and when we do we are not only agents of transformation but we are ourselves transformed. As Ralph Waldo Emerson said, “It is one of the most beautiful compensations of this life that no man can sincerely try to help another without helping himself.”

Christian servanthood is seen in the welcoming of not just the child that Jesus embraced before the disciples, but the understanding that we are called to offer welcome to all those who are most vulnerable. And not only welcome but to embrace. And not just to embrace, but to serve. And in so doing, create a more authentic community, one in which there is harmony because every member is playing a part.

Barbara Brown Taylor writes, “They wanted to know who was greatest, so he showed them: twenty-six inches tall, limited vocabulary, unemployed, zero net worth, nobody. God's agent. The last, the least of all…if we want to welcome God into our lives then there is no one whom we may safely ignore.”

For it is a holy truth that we advance God’s mission of justice, compassion and reconciliation when we become Christian servants by offering our gifts and talents in ways that sustain both our communities and ourselves. When we take on the mantle of diakonos. And when we live every day knowing there is no one whom we may safely ignore.

For, we are each called to be the woman of worth, the diakonos and the ones who offer welcome. And it is up to each of us to live into this call to Christian servanthood. What does your servanthood look like?

~ AMEN ~

Sermon from August 2, 2009

All Souls, Berkeley
Proper 13/B
2 Samuel 11:26 – 12:13a
Ephesians 4:1-16
John 6:24-35

Gracious God, take our minds and think through them;
take our hands and work through them;
take our hearts and set them on fire.
Amen.

One of the things that I love about being a part of a liturgical church is the ebb and flow of the seasons—the expectation of Advent and the Joy of Christmas—the quiet certainty of Epiphany and the intentionality of Lent—the pageantry of Easter, the Spirit of Pentecost and then the long green season when we really get a chance to delve into the life and work of Jesus.

Part of being part of that liturgical church is that we use a three-year cycle of set readings from holy scripture—which is sometimes hard, often fun and always fruitful. And just as Advent and Easter and the other seasons each have their themes, within our yearly journey through the green season we encounter themes there as well.

Last summer might have been called ‘the summer of growing’, when we read primarily from the Gospel according to Matthew and encountered many a parable and story centered around the theme of gardening and growing.

This summer we have mostly been reading from the Gospel according to Mark and have been treated to a variety stories—stories of healings and miracles, parables and teachings.

Until last week, that is, when we entered what might be called the ‘summer of bread’ as we spend five weeks with the Gospel of John, which began with his version of the feeding of the five thousand with a mere five loaves, and continues with extended teachings around the assertion that Jesus is ‘the bread of life.’

One significant thing to remember is that in the Gospel of John there is no Last Supper—no example set of the blessing and breaking of the bread with the instruction, “take, eat; this is my body”—no cup of wine blessed and offered as the “blood of the covenant.” John provides us with no Eucharist with a capital ‘E.’

What we get instead is that blessing and breaking of the bread and fish that fed 5000 and today’s proclamation that, “I am the bread of life. Whoever comes to me will never be hungry, and whoever believes in me will never be thirsty,” followed in the coming weeks with discourse and conversation around what that really means.

So what does it mean?

Scholars generally agree that the loaves and fishes feeding is a ‘sign’ pointing to other things: the feeding of the Israelites with manna when they were wandering in the desert, for example. Some call this story ‘John’s Eucharist’ since it is the closest thing in the gospel to a Eucharistic meal. But most importantly, this story is sign that points to Jesus as the Bread of Life, the source of our life, in the deepest meaning of that word.

The thing about signs is that they always point to something else. They aren’t really important themselves, they point to the thing that is important. And this is the stumbling block for the crowd that followed Jesus across that sea, and often for us as well.

The crowd, after witnessing the miracle sign of the multiplying loaves and fishes, seeks more and bombards Jesus with questions. Jesus accuses them of seeking nothing more than more of the bread that has filled them, and turns the conversation in a new direction.

Scholar Brian Peterson writes: “As so often happens in John, Jesus refuses to answer the question which they have asked, but instead redirects the conversation to more important issues. Because they have focused on the wrong "bread," Jesus redirects them toward the bread which "endures." The word translated "endures" (meno) in verse 27 is a word which takes on profound meaning as it is used throughout the fourth Gospel, especially to describe the relationship between Jesus and the believer. In the end, this "enduring" or "abiding" will mean nothing less than the Father and the Son dwelling with the believers through the Paraclete (John’s title for the Spirit of God). The bread which "endures" to eternal life is this relationship which has been made possible by the incarnation of the Son. In fact, the bread which endures is the Son himself, whom the Father gives for the world.

But this bread that endures for eternal life only confused the crowds—they sought more signs as a way to understand, and so reflected on the bread memory of their ancestors and Moses with the manna in the wilderness.

We can almost hear Jesus saying, “Again with the signs, and not paying attention to what they are pointing to!”

For Jesus then reminds them that the point of the manna wasn’t that their ancestors had food—it was that they were in relationship with God. It wasn’t Moses who gave them the manna, it was God. And what’s more, they need to look at what today’s ‘sign’ is pointing to: it’s not about what was given in the past, but what God is giving now. “I am the bread of life. Whoever comes to me will never be hungry, and whoever believes in me will never be thirsty.”

Jesus as bread is a sign. He both points to and is the enduring love of God. Bread and everything else around us will perish, but God will abide.

This was the message for the crowds that followed him then, and for the crowd gathered here today that are following still.

Episcopal Priest, author and blogger Barbara Crafton reflects, “Maybe all this emphasis on bread this summer is just that—a recognition of its dailyness, our daily need of it. You don’t bake all the bread you’re going to need for the year on the same day; you bake every couple of days, just a few loaves at a time. You don’t have one experience of God to last you for a lifetime; you enter into the relationship with God every day, again and again.”

The bread is a sign and it points us to God, again and again.

So the Gospel of John does not provide us with a Eucharist with a capital “E” – but it does give us that sign to follow and an invitation to what I can only call a eucharistic life. The Greek verb Eucharistéō means to ‘give thanks’—and a eucharistic life is one in which God is at the center, we give daily thanks and we follow the teachings and life of Jesus as signs pointing to how and who God wants us to be in the world.

And this is where eucharist with a small ‘e’ comes in. The Gospel of John, as well as the Gospels of Mathew, Mark and Luke, contains many stories in which Jesus shares food or meals with those around him, or uses food in his teachings. I’m not talking about that Last Supper meal—but all of the ones leading up to it. Much of the agenda of Jesus is revealed in the context of those meals—how he ate, where he ate and whom he ate with were often the subject of the debates he had with religious authorities and through those debates we have come to know Jesus as the one who proclaimed God’s love for all and made a place at the table for everyone.

Have you ever thought of the many meals Jesus shared throughout his life? In them we are likely to find some of our favorite stories: the lost sheep, the prodigal son, the good Samaritan, Matthew 25 and the feeding of the least of these, the wedding at Cana, the feeding of the 5000, the woman and the crumbs under the table, a meal with Martha and Mary, the meal at Emmaus, that final resurrection meal in Galilee by the sea…and there are oh so many more!!!

Eucharist with a small ‘e’ is a way of seeing the grace that is present every time we break bread and share stories with others.

Eucharist with a small ‘e’ is the daily living out of the love of God.

Eucharist with a small ‘e’ invites us to be Christ in the world because through it we can proclaim God’s mission of justice, compassion and reconciliation.

And lest you think I was clever enough to come up with “eucharist with a small ‘e’” myself, let me commend to you the deceivingly small yet abundantly rich book of the same name by Miriam Therese Winter. When I first read it a few years ago it was a transformative experience and one that shed new light on living a sacramental life, my relationship with others and my relationship with God.

And at the end of the day that is what the John’s passage on the bread of life is really about. It’s about refocusing our eyes and hearts. It’s about reminding us not to focus on the signs, but on what they are pointing to. It’s about the abiding love of God.

For Jesus said, “I am the bread of life. Whoever comes to me will never be hungry, and whoever believes in me will never be thirsty.”

~ AMEN ~

Sermon from July 19, 2009

All Souls, Berkeley
Proper 11/B
2 Samuel 7:1-14a
Ephesians 2:11-22
Mark 6:30-34, 53-56

Gracious God, take our minds and think through them;
take our hands and work through them;
take our hearts and set them on fire.
Amen.

David, the king, settles into a house and thinks to himself that God must also want a fine house instead of residing in a tent and sets about to build a house for the ark. And since he didn’t think to talk to God or ask God about his plan, it is God who strove to be heard – and who said, with a note of credulity in her voice I think, “when did I say I wanted a house?” – thanks, but no thanks.

The writer of the Letter to the Ephesians worked to reconcile two groups of believers in Christ – those whose heritage was Jewish and those who were Gentiles – declaring to them that in the flesh of Christ both groups are made into one, for Christ is peace and has broken down the dividing wall of hostility. It is Christ who will create in himself one new humanity in place of two.

These lessons have much to teach us about being in right relationship with God and with each other.

We must always remember to ask one another, and God, what it is the other needs instead of taking for granted that we know best what to give. In the case of God, specifically, we must always try to attune ourselves with listening hearts so that indeed we hear when God is calling us to action, or like David, not into action.

And we must remember always that it was the life, death and resurrection work of Jesus Christ to bring ALL humanity together into the loving embrace of God, regardless of differences.

These lessons – of listening with our ear and our souls and of the limitless love of God for ALL people – are fitting for today as we reflect on the work that came out of General Convention in the last two weeks.

Begun in 1875 and happening every three years since 1789, the 76th General Convention just wrapped up on Friday in Anaheim. General Convention is the primary governing and legislative body of our church, and like our federal government, is made up of two houses: the House of Bishops (because everybody in that house is a Bishop) and the House of Deputies (which includes both lay people and clergy). This year the Convention met for ten days—and in those ten days the hours of sleep for bishops and deputies alike were few and far between as countless pieces of legislation were brought forward for debate, amendment and votes, as people took every opportunity to schmooze and of course, as they celebrated many a festive Eucharist together.

This year the theme of General Convention was ubuntu, or togetherness, an African theological concept which Presiding Bishop Katharine Jefferts Schori described in her opening address as meaning, “I can only become a whole person in relationship with others. There is no I without you and in our context, you and I are known only as we reflect the image of the one who created us.”

Now I didn’t attend Convention, so I am basing what I am about to say on what amounted to hours of copious web browsing and communication with those I know who were there: watching video of some great sermons from the daily Eucharists, reading the daily Convention notes published by Episcopal Life Online, keeping up with amendments and votes on the online legislation tracker and of course checking out blogs, FB posts and Tweets.

Through all of these forms of communication two things became clear to me: one was the dedication that hundreds of our sisters and brothers had in putting in long and tedious hours to get the business of this church done. As one person, named Jim Richardson, posted to FB, it was like “watching church sausage being made.”

The other thing that I am clear about is that this Spirit of ubuntu really did weave into the work of the Convention, becoming more than mere words and coming alive in the process and outcome.

I believe this because of the many great things that came out of Convention, a few of which I’ll mention:

Gordon’s House – named in honor of a priest from the Diocese of Los Angeles who served on the Board of Habitat for Humanity, this is an entire house that was framed in the convention center during the Convention by convention participants – it will become a home for a single dad and his two kids.

Resolution D019 – A reaffirmation of support of the Millennium Goals as the mission priority of the church.

Resolution A178 – which speaks to our recent experience supporting the Nets for Life through Episcopal Relief and Development by "encourage dioceses, congregations and individuals to remember and support the lifesaving work of Episcopal Relief and Development during Lent through prayer and a special offering."

And then the two big ones that have received the majority of attention, both within church circles and in the mainstream media:

Resolution C056 – the call for the collection of resources, both theological and liturgical, for same-gender blessings which will be presented to the next General Convention in 2012. The resolution says that bishops, “particularly those in dioceses within civil jurisdictions where same-gender marriage, civil unions or domestic partnerships are legal, may provide generous pastoral response to meet the needs of members of this church.” It also specifically “honor[s] the theological diversity of this church in regard to matters of human sexuality.” My former seminary professor, The Rev. Ian Douglas – who serves on the Executive Council of The Episcopal Church, was a member of the Design Group for the 2008 Lambeth Conference and is a member elect of the Anglican Consultative Council (in other words – a big-wig church wonk) – was quoted by Episcopal Life as saying, “We cannot pretend that concurring with C056 will not cause turmoil,” he said. “Yet I will concur with C056, not because it is a justice agenda, but because by doing so our church is being faithful to God in Jesus Christ and the leading of the Holy Spirit.”


And Resolution D025 – which affirms the openness of the ordination process at all levels to all people and recommits the Episcopal Church to continued participation in and financial support of the Anglican Communion; while this does not officially rescind the so called ‘moratorium’ on electing openly gay bishops, it now supersedes that earlier resolution.
With those two Resolutions the Episcopal Church has made clear and honest statements about who we believe God is calling us to be as a church, even though they have the potential to conflict with two of the three moratoria the Windsor Report put forth (the three moratoria being: Consecration of Bishops living in a same gender union, Permission for Rites of Blessing for Same Sex unions, Interventions in Provinces)

And in light of that I hold up what has been called The Anaheim Statement – a statement prepared by Bishop Gary W. Lillibridge of West Texas and signed by nearly 20 other bishops who did not support D025 and in fact support the moratoria on electing openly gay bishops and rites for same-gender blessings, that states in part, “It is apparent that a substantial majority of this Convention believes that The Episcopal Church should move forward on matters of human sexuality. We recognize this reality and understand the clarity with which the majority has expressed itself. We are grateful for those who have reached out to the minority, affirming our place in the Church.”

Why do I include that last one? Because of ubuntu. “I can only become a whole person in relationship with others. There is no I without you and in our context, you and I are known only as we reflect the image of the one who created us.”

It appears that at this Convention, despite differences and disagreements, we as a Church body have begun to arrive at a place where our bonds with each other are strong enough and our honesty with each other is valued enough that D025 could pass and The Anaheim Statement could be issued, and we could still all come together at the table of our Lord to celebrate.

I am not trying to romanticize things or be a Pollyanna here, I am well aware that the most strident voices that oppose the direction of the Episcopal Church were not in attendance, and that many very hard choices had to be made to trim $23 million from the triennial budget.

But the fact remains that we as a Church came and stayed together to make those hard but clear decisions about where we hear the Spirit of God calling us. We listened to God together. And almost as importantly, we are listening to each other.

I am sure there will continue to be many a heated discussion on these topics, and now we wait to see what the fallout of our discernment will be in the wider Anglican Communion in the coming months. But what I have taken away from watching this Convention from the sidelines is that we as a Church took to heart the call to ubuntu.

We as a Church took to heart lesson that David learned – to listen for God’s voice in our midst instead of blindly making decisions.

We as a Church are taking seriously the belief that ‘in Christ the whole structure is joined together and grows into a holy temple in the Lord; in whom you also are built together spiritually into a dwelling place for God.’

And all I can really say is
Thanks be to God!

~AMEN~

Sermon from June 14, 2009

All Souls, Berkeley

Proper 6/B
1 Samuel 15:34-16:13
2 Corinthians 5:6-17
Mark 4:26-34

Gracious God, take our minds and think through them;
take our hands and work through them;
take our hearts and set them on fire.
Amen.

The Hobbit and The Lord of the Rings trilogy by JRR Tolkien are some of my favorite books of all time. I’ve re-read them countless times and a few years ago when Peter Jackson made movie versions of LOTR (as it is affectionately known by us fans known as Ringers), I was pretty – well – obsessed.

I saw all the films on opening night – including the infamous Trilogy Tuesday on which I saw all three films back to back for 10 ½ hours of hobbity goodness – and, I can proudly boast that I have over 70 LOTR action figures.

I even used to joke with Bryan that I was going to make sure that he always listened to my sermons by including some random Tolkien reference in each one that he would have to listen for, even if was only to cough out a character’s name (cough-Gandalf).

And so it’s not surprising that when I began preparing for this sermon today and I read the parable of the mustard seed my mind, and it’s ever-present pop culture lens, immediately made a connection to Lord of the Rings.

Because among my various LOTR treasures is a poster that shows the Hobbit Frodo holding the One Ring in the palm of his hand – and underneath it, it simply states, “Power Can Be Held in the Smallest Things.”

If you are familiar with Lord of the Rings you know that this is an allusion to both to the One Ring – a simple gold band that contains tremendous power – and also to Frodo – a member of the diminutive race known as Hobbits in Tolkien’s mythical Middle Earth.

Power can be held in the smallest of things.

I think this is the essence of the parable of the mustard seed, and it too alludes to more than one thing – offering us an understanding of who we each are and what it is we are called to do collectively.

So, about these mustard seeds – by all accounts they are very small. I will be hosting a show and tell in the greeting line after the service courtesy of Phil who graciously lent me some mustard seeds someone brought back from the Holy Land for him. But in the mean time I would like you to pick up your bulletin and look at the period at the end of any sentence. Found one? Good. That’s roughly the size of a mustard seed. Smaller even than a poppy seed! And less substantial too – being more of a flake than a seed almost.

So what is it about this tiny mustard seed that made Jesus choose it for a parable? Well, if I have learned anything about Jesus over the years it’s that he liked to take the values of the world and turn them around, and that he knew his disciples and those around him well enough to know that he had to bash them over the head with obvious symbolism to get them (and us!) to begin to understand the message he came to proclaim.

The mustard seed symbolizes for us, I believe, the power inherent in each individual – in each of us – to be caretakers.

“It is like a mustard seed, which, when sown upon the ground, is the smallest of all the seeds on earth; yet when it is sown it grows up and becomes the greatest of all shrubs, and puts forth large branches, so that the birds of the air can make nests in its shade.”

Even this shrub, which comes from the smallest of seeds, provides care and is able to nurture the creation around it.

So it is with us. All of us have embedded within us the ability to care for one another and all of God’s creation. Each of us has something to offer, a branch to provide shade. Everyone one of us has something to teach, skills and knowledge to help others build nests.

In Justin’s sermon last week he made just this point when he reflected on the L’Arche community he visited in France.

L’Arche communities around the world are places where people with and without disabilities share their lives together, giving witness to the reality that persons with disabilities possess, in their words, “inherent qualities of welcome, wonderment, spirituality and friendship.”

Those communities are founded on this mustard seed understanding – that everyone can give something to others. And it is easy to see in there. It is often easy to see in others, but what is harder, much harder, is accepting the mustard seed within each of us.

So many people in this community give freely and care for others so generously, and yet I can’t help but wonder how many of those people understand they are offering something of real value when they take someone a meal, or share a conversation or just offer a smile or a laugh with the person next to them? Do they recognize within themselves the gifts that God has given them? Do they accept that they are loved by God wholly and it because of this love that they are able to care for the world around them?

So, do you?

In spite of what you may see as the smallness of your actions, do you see that you are indeed the mustard seed? Can you claim your belovedness and the honest to God truth that even you have something to offer and that the world needs what you can give?

It is when we not only recognize this power in others, but accept it within ourselves, that we are able to begin to co-create God’s kindom of justice, compassion of peace here on earth.

And it is this kindom of God that this parable also points to – for it is God’s kindom that Jesus compares with the mustard seed. It is one where each of us fully lives into the power of caring for one another and God’s creation – and it is one that stands over and against the kingdoms of this world.

For it is not to the majestic cedars of Lebanon, or to our glorious sequoias, that Jesus points to when illustrating what the kindom of God is like. It is compared to a small shrub. God’s kindom does not replicate the kind of greatness that human nations attempt to build for themselves.

Jesus spoke out to the people of his time, and is still speaking to us, telling all who will hear that God’s kindom is not of this world – that it is in fact at odds with this world. It is not a place that values fame, or material wealth or power over. Instead, it is a place where small actions are significant because it is only when we act in the power of love that true justice will be realized, compassion will be the foundation of all relationships and peace will be realized as the journey, not the destination.

Power can the held in the smallest of things –

And so it is my prayer that each of us will embrace the power of the mustard seed planted within us to grow into the people God longs for us to be – caring for those in our lives and in so doing cultivating God’s kindom on earth.

Amen.

My FB posting from today

The Rev. Mama reflects on the intersection of Mamahood and Priestliness:

Kristin Nelson Krantz thinks the only thing that gets more stares than a woman in a clerical collar is a pregnant woman in a clerical collar. And the only thing that gets more stares than a pregnant woman in a clerical collar is a woman in a clerical collar wearing a baby in a sling and dragging a 4 year old behind her.

Let's just say I got a lot of comments from people :)

AMEN.