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Trinity Episcopal Church
Thanksgiving Day 2016
Deut. 26: 1-11 Psalm 100 Phil. 4:4-9 John 6:25-35
As you know, Trinity Church is home to Trinity Academy, where we serve 40 2nd, 3rd and 4th graders in an extended day, tuition –free, private school setting. One of the important aspects of a church-based school is the teaching of values, and if you take a look along the stairway from Goodwin Hall to the 4th grade classroom upstairs, you see several of those values prominently displayed on the walls: Responsibility, excellence, respect, integrity, leadership, community.
At the recently held Biennial Conference of the National Association of Episcopal Schools, David Coleman, President of the College Board, that one of the distinctive contributions of religiously-based schools is the cultivation of two unique values that form the foundation for many of the other values we teach: those are grace and gratitude. Coleman noted that many college admissions people note the absence of gratitude among young people of college age today.
In his weekly meditation sent to all Episcopal Schools, Fr. Dan Heischman, Executive Director of the National Association of Episcopal Schools, wondered: How might we notice that absence of gratitude in any human being? Would it be the absence of saying, “Thank you?” Would chronic stress or anxiety serve to inhibit it? Would it be connected to our contemporary focus on what we lack, as opposed to what we have? Or would it stem from an increasingly secular orientation to life, where grace might seem to be unacknowledged and where references to God, the source of our blessings, seem in short supply?
What does one’s life look like when it is rooted in genuine gratitude? The context of today’s Gospel passage provides some insight into what Jesus means about living a life of gratitude, and it centers on our having a right relationship with God. Today’s passage occurs as part of Jesus’ Sermon on the Mount which includes, among other sayings, what we know as the Beatitudes, beginning with the admonition, “Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.” This passage also follows closely the passage in which Jesus has just taught his disciples how to pray what we know as the Lord’s Prayer, with its petition to “Give us this day our daily bread.” Jesus is speaking to his disciples, all of whom have left gainful employment in the secular world to join Jesus’ small band of faithful followers. They no longer provide for themselves – their livelihood and wellbeing are now at the mercy of sympathizers in the community who will provide them with clothing, with shelter, with food and other basic necessities.
I believe that giving thanks to God is not about the expectation of God providing us with the things or stuff in our lives. I think that giving thanks to God is an attitude toward our own lives, and a visceral, central understanding of our relationship to the God who created us and all things. And when Jesus advises us “not to worry” he is not saying that bad things won’t happen to us, or that we will have everything we want out of life.
The key is in Jesus’ question, “Is not life more than food, and the body more than clothing?” Jesus is not saying that such considerations lack importance. He is saying that they are secondary to the ultimate meaning of lives that are created in God’s image, and for whom Jesus walked this earth and died.
Jesus calls us to an attitude of gratitude. Jesus calls us to give thanks for all the possibilities that come with life in God’s Spirit, for all of the aspects of our lives that give them ultimate meaning.
On Thanksgiving Day, we give thanks for our very lives, for being the people God has made us to be. We give thanks for God’s grace to become the people God intends for us to be, understanding that those lives include times of happiness and times of sadness, occasions when God seems near, and occasions when God seems more distant. We give thanks for those opportunities when we can reflect God’s presence to others, and we give thanks for those opportunities when our own powers are not enough, when we seek and find God’s face in the fellowship and support of others. We give thanks when God has blessed us in such a way that we can give back to God abundantly, and we give thanks when, lacking our own resources, God takes care of us through the bounty of others.
So what does a life based in gratitude look like? Going back to Dan Heischman’s meditation, he writes that he found an example in the life of the late PBS news commentator Gwen Ifill. He says that when he thought about what she brought to her roles on PBS News Hour or Washington Week in Review “I realized what the presence or absence of gratitude is all about: a basic orientation to life, seen in how we treat others, deal with setbacks, and keep life’s joys and travails in perspective. It also had to do with a part of Gwen Ifill’s life that much of the media would not likely report on, her deep faith in God and regular attendance at church. God was at the core of her life and the source of so much that made her a distinctive figure in the news world.
“She also modeled the Christian life as reflected in some of the tributes of her colleagues: how she rejoiced in the accomplishments of others, took friendship so seriously, and was quick to admit what she did not know. She radiated calmness, dignity, and respect for those she interviewed or engaged in conversation. These attributes seemed to point to the final things said in tribute to her: She embodied a belief that life was good, which made her deeply aware of what she had in life. Her life was about gratitude.”
On this Thanksgiving Day 2016, we can lament many things going on this world, many things that we as individuals have little power to change. One thing we CAN change is our relationship with God and with each other, and doing so with an open heart and an open mind: Living a life that recognizes the presence of God both when we are able to give to others in need AND when we are able freely to receive the gifts others have to give to us. And we give thanks – thanks for the heavenly and earthly fellowship we have in the One who assures us in this morning’s Gospel, “I am the bread of life. Whoever comes to me will never be hungry, and whoever believes in me will never be thirsty.” AMEN.
November 20, 2016
The Observance of Christ the King
Because all the clergy must be at the diocesan convention today, Father Don asked me to preach and to conduct the 10 AM service. After a bit of research it became clear that the commeration of Christ the King is one of the more peculiar observances in our liturgical calendar. Most occasions regularly observed are related to significant events described in scripture or to the commemoration of saints. However Christ the King is really a manufactured observance. It was defined - possibly imposed might be a better word – for the Roman Catholic Church by Pope Pius XI in 1925. It was designed to combat the perceived growth of secular influence in the world and, in particular, in Italy and to reinforce the requirement that all “should assent with perfect submission and firm belief to revealed truths and to the doctrines of Christ” – which meant, at that time, the beliefs decreed by the Pope and the church hierarchy. Unlike other observances related to Jesus’ life – for example, Christmas, his baptism, the Transfiguration - there is no specific occurrence in the Gospels that is commemorated by this feast day.
That said, the lessons chosen for this observance provide an opportunity for some reflection on the ideas of leadership and even kingship, in the Bible.
The first of our lessons today is a very familiar text from the book of Jeremia - from the period when the Jewish people were in exile in Babylon after a final unsuccessful revolt against the Babylonian Empire. We tend, perhaps from our church school experiences, to think of the entire nation of Judah in exile. However then, just as now, the Middle East was a complicated region. At the time of the Babylonian capture and destruction of Jerusalem there were probably one to two hundred thousand Jews living in Judah. Opinion varies but somewhere between eight thousand and twenty thousand people were exiled to Babylon. However it is clear that most of the inhabitants of Judah remained there. Most of the cities outside Jerusalem (all relatively small) were destroyed so the remaining population was scattered around Judah.
Although we think of Jeremiah as addressing the Jews in Babylon, the text makes it clear that he was thinking about the entire dispersed nation. After chastising the shepherds – the religious and political leaders – who have not properly cared for the people, he gives God’s promise that “I will gather the remnant of my flock out of all the lands where I have driven them, and I will bring them back to their fold”. This promise clearly sounds like something that Jeremiah expected to happen relatively soon. In fact the period of exile was around sixty years. The promise was fulfilled when the Persians defeated the Babylonians and Cyrus the Great permitted, and even encouraged, the Jews to return home. This passage clearly anticipates leadership by what Jeremiah would call ‘faithful shepherds’ but does not really speak to kingship.
But the second section of this text looks to a longer span of time. The prophet says that God will “raise up for David a righteous Branch, and he shall reign as king and deal wisely, and shall execute justice and righteousness in the land. In his days Judah will be saved and Israel will live in safety”. This far more sweeping declaration looks back almost 500 years to the reign of King David – the glory days of the joined nations of Judah and Israel and it points forward to an indefinite future time. It clearly envisions a kingship like, but better than, the experiences of the past. The king in this context is clearly expected to exercise secular authority over his realm. But there is really no indication that the looked for king will have any aspect of divinity.
If we fast forward something over five hundred years to the Gospels, we find there the record of Jesus’s earthly ministry – those few years when he gathered his disciples and traveled about teaching, preaching and healing –culminating in his death, resurrection and ascension. In thinking about these lessons I became curious to find out what Jesus himself had to say about his kingdom and kingship. The marvels of the web made it quite easy to sort out all references to the words ‘kingdom’ and ‘king’ in the Gospels Jesus refers frequently to “the Kingdom of God” or, equivalently to “the Kingdom of Heaven”. But with one exception - the confrontation with Pontius Pilate on the day of his crucifixion - he does not refer to himself as a king having independent authority. Rather he describes himself as having authority within “the Kingdom of God” or the “Kingdom of Heaven” and says that “the Kingdom of God has come near you”. The only place where he unambiguously addresses his own kingly status is really a negative statement – in which he tells Pilate what his kingdom is not. His words, as reported in John’s gospel, are "My kingdom is not of this world. If it were, my servants would fight to prevent my arrest by the Jewish leaders. But now my kingdom is from another place."
And nobody understood. His disciples and the crowds that followed him, and sometimes even chased him, wanted him to be the righteous king described by Jeremiah and the other prophets. They certainly knew from his teaching and miracles that he had power and authority beyond, or at least very different from, that of any earthly king. In being close to Jesus they were close to God’s kingdom. However they still wanted Jesus to become the savior king of the Jews. Their expectation, their hope, their deeply felt need was for Jesus to take up the mantle of David and lead a spiritually and politically revitalized kingdom of the Jewish people.
On Palm Sunday he was hailed in Jerusalem as the Messiah – and then, in less than a week betrayed, handed over to the Jewish leadership and the Romans and finally crucified. He had tried to prepare the disciples but they simply did not understand. And so, in utter dispair they thought everything was over. Eventually, after the Resurrection and Jesus’s final time spent with them, they understood, at least in part, what Jesus had tried to tell them. They went on to become the indispensable core of the growing Christian community. But for a brief time they had believed that all was over and the hoped for kingdom a fleeting, vanished mirage.
The early church expected that Christ’s second coming – his return to rule in glory would happen almost immediately. Even by the time that Paul was writing to the Colossians it was clear that there was some delay. In the lesson read today Paul tries to explain how we are already part of Christ’s kingdom even though Christ is not physically here acting as a ruler. He says that God “has rescued us from the power of darkness and transferred us into the kingdom of his beloved Son, in whom we have redemption, the forgiveness of sins”. I think that Jesus might have phrased it somewhat differently and said that through his sacrifice we are all made part of what He would probably have called the “Kingdom of God” or the “Kingdom of Heaven”.
And now, a final visit to the Gospel lesson. Despite Jesus’ efforts to prepare his followers nobody really got it. Pilate did not understand what Jesus was saying. Jesus was mocked and derided as a bogus or failed king – by the Romans, by some of the Jews and even by one of those with whom he was crucified. His disciples were frightened and hopeless.
Only one person got it right on that awful day. The two crucified with Jesus might have heard about him. They probably had no contact with him until they were taken out to die together. However one of them saw in Jesus what no one else recognized – power and authority and love in some realm apart from their place of execution and their present suffering. He had no idea what Jesus’s kingdom was but somehow knew it existed and was a place he wanted to be. He said "Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom." And Jesus replied, in the midst of his own suffering, "Truly I tell you, today you will be with me in Paradise."
The dying man on the cross did not have any real idea what Jesus’s kingdom was but somehow knew that he wanted to be part of it – to be with Jesus. As Paul tells us (in over 200 words), we are all already part of the Kingdom of Heaven. But sometimes the best path into that kingdom starts with the three words “Jesus, remember me”.
Sermon November 13, 2016
Proper 28 Year C
Isaiah 65:17-25 Canticle 9 2 Thessalonians 3:6-13 Luke 21-5-19
Blessed Lord, who caused all holy Scriptures to be written for our learning: Grant us so to hear them, read, mark, learn, and inwardly digest them, that we may embrace and ever hold fast the blessed hope of everlasting life, which you have given us in our Savior Jesus Christ; who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, for ever and ever. Amen
One week ago today I had the honor to renew the vows I spoke during my Ordination to the Sacred Order of Deacons. The proximity of my renewal of vows and the collect for today caused me to reflect on the gathering prayer and the beginning of the examination
In both the collect and the first portion of the diaconal examination a commitment is made to study Holy Scripture that has been written for our learning. As we read the Holy Scriptures, we are to mark them and inwardly digest them, and we are called to pray that we might seek nourishment from them.
With intention, a deacon is called to model life upon scripture during the examination. While the collect does not outright state this, I believe when we ask to embrace and hold fast the blessed hope of everlasting life we are petitioning for God’s grace to assist us in modeling our lives after Jesus.
Trinity Episcopal Church does this. In the five years I have been here we have grown. We have grown spiritually and we have grown in mission. I have been blessed to serve with you. I have had the privilege to worship and work in collaboration with you to further God’s Mission in this little corner of the world.
You are on a precipice, about to step into a new vision of what Trinity Episcopal Church is to be. Your love for this community is prevalent in your cares and concerns for one another, for this community and for your neighbors. You are a place of welcome, hope and healing.
I see it when you welcome the stranger into this house of worship, when you come to the aide of someone who is hurting or mourning, when you rejoice with someone who is celebrating. Your participation in Loaves and Fishes, Church By The Pond and its feeding program, Trinity Academy, The Choir School of Hartford, and Covenant to Care and most recently your work with IRIS and sponsoring a refugee family that is still to come, demonstrate your response to God’s call of mission. The examples I have given you are examples of how your lives are modeled in scripture.
Our final hymn today is one of my favorites because it speaks to the collect, my diaconal vows, and the mission of all the baptized. When our worship service has ended and we sing this hymn, allow the music and the words to enter your heart with the knowledge that God has called you in to mission:
We all are one in mission, we are all one in call, our varied gifts united by Christ the Lord of all. A single great commission compels us from above to plan and work together that all may know Christ’s love.
We all are called for service to witness in God’s name. Our ministries are different, our purpose is the same: to touch the lives of others by God’s surprising grace so people of all nations may feel God’s warm embrace.
We all behold one vision, a stark reality; the steward of salvation was nailed upon a tree. Yet resurrected Justice gives rise that we may share free reconciliation and hope amid despair
Now let us be united and let our song be heard. Now let us be a vessel for God’s redeeming word. We all are one in mission, we all are one in call, our varied gifts united by Christ the Lord of all.
This is my last Sunday as a deacon serving Trinity, our journey together is coming to an end. This song reminds me that we are all called together. We are all called together in mission. This hymn assures me that moving forward our paths will be intertwined.
The culmination of our presidential election shows me how our lives may be joined together in mission. The results are a journey many did not see. Unfortunately this country is reeling with division, there is no winner, nor would there have been if election results had been reversed.
Because I had taken some vacation time this week, I have been able to step back from the events surrounding this election week. I have had the opportunity to hibernate from the world around me. I have done so by minimizing my exposure to social media, the news reports of those protesting, and the violence that has ensued. Most importantly I have set aside more time for prayer.
Our friends, our family, our neighbors and those we do not know may have voted differently than we did. Each of us cast our votes out of individual hopes and fears for what this country may become. After having time to absorb what this country is experiencing I better understand the fear of many for what may be.
There are concerns for religious freedom, sexual identity, gender equality, the right to seek freedom in coming to this country, the fear of racism, and the fear of financial oppression. There are divisions between those of privilege and those who have none.
We have the ability to take fear, which when given the opportunity can and will destroy, and turn it into understanding, understanding each other.
My friends, now more than ever, we have the Christian responsibility to respond as scripture has taught us rather than react in anger.
Reflecting on the outcome of the events of this week I sought solace through reading comments posted on the Episcopal News Service. Most of those comments called us to pray.
One comment resonated with my thoughts on what scripture teaches us.
Here, I quote from a portion of a comment by New Hampshire Bishop Rob Hirschfeld:
“At such a delicate and vulnerable moment such as this, I take strength in remembering that, for followers of Jesus, such fractious and anxious, even dangerous, times as these are not unusual or even strange. Sure, times like these may seem strange for a certain class or segment of American Christians, who have for many decades enjoyed access to privilege, wealth, and power. But, nervous times as these were not at all strange for the first disciples of Jesus and certainly not for the vast numbers of saints who have come before us. They are not strange for a majority of Christians in the Holy Land, in China, and in many other places on the planet. They were not strange even for generations of Americans who have faced sacrifice, war, and economic hardship. Even Jesus, on the night before he died, told his followers to find their true peace in him and, in the midst of persecutions, to take courage for he has already conquered the world with his love. (John 16:32-33)”
As we begin the prayer of The Great Thanksgiving let us remember when the consecrated bread and wine are elevated for all to see we hear the words behold what you are and our response is may we become what we see. And we see Jesus, the bread of heaven and the cup of salvation. Now let us do as Jesus has taught, let us embrace the opportunity to be the face of Jesus.
Now is the time to listen to our neighbor, for those who may have privilege, now is a time to better understand the concerns of the non-privileged. It is a time to have compassion for those who are hurting. It is a time to talk with our children, and grandchildren about their concerns for what they see this country going through and if you feel called, to be the peaceable voice of those who are hurting.
Most importantly, now is a time for prayer; individual prayer and corporate prayer. Pray that our president elect and the elected leaders of this country may be guided by truth and knowledge in doing what is right and just for all of this country, the privileged and the underprivileged. Pray for peace and understanding that this country may overcome its divisions through respect, understanding and acceptance of the other.
In the words of Steven Charleston: Now comes the hard part. As this new day dawns, joyful for some, sad for others, we face a single question: how will we walk together when our paths seem so different? There is a word for it. Grace. May we have the grace to be humble in victory and hopeful in defeat. May we have the grace to overcome our fears. This is the hard part, the time of seeking the common good, not for ourselves alone, but for those younger lives watching us. May our first step be made in prayer, spoken in different ways but with a shared appeal: give us your grace, dear God, to care more for one another than for winning."
Trinity Episcopal Church / Grace Lutheran Church
Proper 26 / Reformation Sunday
October 30, 2016
Time for a Second Reformation?
The days are surely coming, says the Lord, when I will make a new covenant with the house of Israel and the house of Judah, writes the Prophet Jeremiah. It will not be like the covenant that I made with their ancestors when I took them by the hand to bring them out of the land of Egypt. . . he writes.
Jeremiah was looking ahead to a time when the exiled Israelites and Judahites would be returning from exile in Babylon. The northern and southern kingdoms – long divided and defeated one by one – would be reunited under this new covenant. The people of Israel broke the first covenant. They had already broken the Law they were given on multiple occasions in multiple ways – what would be different this time?
What is new here is not the giving of a law. What Jeremiah is proclaiming is a new dimension of the Law they had already been given. The first law given to Moses was written on tablets of stone; this new covenant is to be written on the very hearts of the Israelites. I will put my law within them, and I will write it on their hearts; and I will be their God, and they shall be my people. What will be different is the direct, personal relationship with God. No longer shall they teach one another, or say to each other, “Know the Lord,” for they shall all know me.
Four hundred and ninety-nine years ago, Martin Luther had a similar revelation that changed his heart. It actually started over a single issue: The abuse by the Roman church of the power bestowed by Jesus to his disciples to forgive sins. In the 23rd chapter of the Gospel of John, verse 23, Jesus says to his disciples: Receive the Holy Spirit. If you forgive the sins of any, they are forgiven; if you retain the sins of any, they are retained. Luther had already begun to have a crisis in faith with respect to the authority of the church to “forgive” sins. Sometime between 1512 and 1515, he had what is known as his “Tower Experience.” He had a sudden revelation that convinced him of what he came to understand as the essence of the Gospel, namely, that faith alone justifies the human soul without works, a belief that would become the cornerstone of his creed. Over time, he gradually came to question whether priests or the church had any function in the forgiveness of sins. The straw that broke the camel’s back came when the papal commissioner for indulgences himself was sent to Germany by the Pope to sell indulgences to raise money for the construction and restoration of St. Peter’s Basilica in Rome. And so it was that on October 31, 1517, Martin Luther wrote to his bishop what he intended as a scholarly piece entitled, “The Disputation of Doctor Martin Luther on the Power and Efficacy of Indulgences” – what we know as the famous 95 Theses.
Although Luther’s intent wasn’t to start another branch of Christianity, that document is considered the birth of what became known as the Protestant Reformation – the anniversary that we observe this day. The historic inability of the Church of Rome to reform itself, and its refusal to do so in the face of Luther’s challenge – has led to a centuries-long standoff. We need not dig too deeply into church and secular history to be reminded of what ensued in subsequent centuries – the religious enmity between Protestants and Catholics that resulted in persecution, torture, discrimination and death. The history that the followers of Jesus have written for themselves and the world in the name of theological purity is far from the Gospel that our Lord and Savior actually taught and lived.
But do you see a pattern here? Jesus was a faithful Jew. The Jewish authorities weren’t open to his message which was the fulfillment of the Old Testament prophecies, but it was too radical a departure, to great a challenge to the authority and the power of the institution of the Temple. So Jesus was arrested, tried and crucified by those same authorities, and Christianity was born. More than 1500 years later, Martin Luther had his crisis of conscience and tried to draw the Roman Catholic hierarchy into a theological discourse to reform the Roman Church from within. Once again, the institution felt threatened, Luther was banned as a heretic, and the Protestant Reformation was born on Continental Europe. Less than two decades later, in 1534, the Church of England declared itself free from the Church of Rome—under what this Episcopalian must admit were theologically shakier terms than Luther raised.
But what has marked those 499 yearssince? Have Christians been successful in “purifying” the church? Have they been successful in unifying the Body of Christ? I don’t think so. In fact, we have just kept splitting up into tighter and tighter factions, so sure that we and we alone can discern and know the mind of Christ, so confident that our way of Christianity is the true way. The continental Reformation broke into Lutheranism, Calvinism, and Zwinglianism, and all of their progeny, including nationalized versions of each. The Church of England went through nearly a century of upheaval between the Roman and English church and then ultimately split into Anglicanism, Congregationalism and Methodism and their progeny. And all of this in the name of Jesus whose last prayer on earth was that we “all be
one” as He and the Father are one.
Let’s face it – struggling with a diversity of opinion has been part of the Christian tradition from the first century. The Council of Jerusalem – described in the Acts of the Apostles and reflected in the letter to the Galatians – was the first great theological divide among Jesus’ disciples. There, the earth shattering question was, Do gentiles have to become Jews before they can become Christians? That question was resolved when it was agreed that Jesus came for all humankind, as lived out in his radical welcome to all who came to him during his lifetime.
And now, as we enter the 500th year of the start of this great effort to reform Christianity, we read the news that Pope Francis will celebrate the 500th anniversary of the Reformation by attending an ecumenical service in Sweden as a guest of the Lutheran church. In a highly symbolic act of reconciliation that would even recently have been unthinkable for a Catholic pontiff, Francis will visit the Swedish city of Lund tomorrow for a commemoration jointly organized by his own inter-faith agency and the Lutheran World Federation (LWF). The surprise move will see the head of the world's Catholics worship alongside the heirs to a religious tradition founded in opposition to the church of Rome and which once regarded the pope as the anti-Christ. In a joint statement, the two churches said the event would "highlight the solid ecumenical developments between Catholics and Lutherans."
What we are doing here this morning – what we did back on Pentecost Sunday at Trinity – is important and significant. Worshipping together as one body is a step – a small step, but it’s a step! – toward reclaiming the unity that Jesus exemplified in his life. I have been saying for a long time that the church of the 21st Century will look a lot more like the church of the 1st Century than the church of the 20th Century, and this morning we take one more step in that direction.
I believe this process of transformation is happening as we speak in what our Episcopal Presiding Bishop Michael Curry has called the new “Jesus Movement.” We are beginning to reclaim the single-minded focus on the life and teachings of Jesus as a guide to the way we live out our mission and ministries as faithful Christians, irrespective of denominational labels or congregational identities. And I’m talking about the things that Jesus actually said and did, not things that have been attributed to Jesus by his followers or practices that have grown up to support the institution. Nowhere in the Gospels do you ever see Jesus selling indulgences.
Phyllis Tickle, in her book The Great Emergence, talks about the need for today’s church to have a rummage sale so we can rid ourselves of all those practices, beliefs and ways of being that are accretions that the institutional church has taken on over the centuries but have virtually nothing to do with the things Jesus actually taught and did. It is time for us to realize that many of the questions that the institutional church has wrestled with over the centuries were more important to the maintenance of institutional power than they were to furthering God’s mission as embodied in Jesus of Nazareth. What are some of the questions we should be asking?
For decades congregations and church leadership have been asking, “How can we bring them in?” If people on the outside only knew how great we are and all of the wonderful things we do, they would come rushing in – and of course, bring their checkbooks. So how is that working for us? In the Jesus movement, we need instead to be asking the question, “Why do we bring them in?” and the secondary question, “How do we equip them in order for them to be sent back out?”
For centuries we have been clergy-centric, staff driven, and inwardly focused on life within our walls. Do you know, within 10 miles of our two churches, there are 21 different Episcopal churches? In the North Central region of the Episcopal Church in Connecticut (which runs roughly from Middletown to the Massachusetts border, from the Connecticut River to New Britain and the Farmington Valley), there are about 35 different Episcopal Churches, all struggling to figure out how their individual congregation can serve God’s mission in the 21st Century. In the Jesus Movement, we need to be asking, “What is our shared ministry? Who is already doing this work and how can we join in?”
Traditionally, congregations have always had a “strategic plan” and a “parish mission statement.” I believe that what Jesus is asking us is “How can we discern God’s mission in our context and then how do we participate in that mission as Jesus’ apostles?”
You know, when the Episcopal Church was going through its turmoil over gender-related issues and we had parishes wanting to leave and all that, one of our more conservative bishops addressed our diocesan convention and said, “You know, Paul teaches us that nothing can separate us from the love of God in Jesus Christ. Even when we can’t agree on anything else, we can always come together in serving God’s mission through Jesus example of service to others and in sharing the sacrament around the Lord’s table.”
I believe that as we enter into this 500th anniversary year of Martin Luther’s courageous act of challenging the powers of the Church of Rome, God is calling the Christian church as a whole to a second Reformation. This new reformation will be a time of reading and living the Gospel that Jesus of Nazareth actually taught and lived. With God’s help, it will be a time when Jesus’ followers focus on what they have in common rather than bickering over theological minutiae that Jesus never found important enough to teach.
In a few moments, before communion, we will pray in the words our Savior taught us, “Your kingdom come, your will be done, on earth as in heaven.” With open hearts and with God’s help, we can follow Jesus into a loving, liberating, and life-giving relationship with God and with each other that just might bring the Kingdom of God closer in this troubled world. AMEN.
Trinity Episcopal Church
Proper 25
October 23, 2016
Sirach 35:12-17 Psalm 84:1-7 2 Timothy 4:6-8, 16-18 Luke 18:9-14
Pour out upon us your Spirit, O Lord, that we might hear your word and that your wisdom may draw us closer to you. Through Jesus Christ, the Living Word. Amen.
Every so often two events coincide in a way that you just know the Lord is at work. I remember eleven years ago when out of the blue I received a letter from Manuel Goty. Manuel was a Cuban refugee whose family had been assisted in their resettlement by Keith and Alexis Hook and other Trinity families in the late 1960s. He sent me a long letter explaining how much he and his family had benefited from the care and support given them by his Trinity family, and now, he wrote me, he wanted to give something back. Now a mid-level executive at Nike, he began sending me an annual check in the amount of $1,000 to support re-establishment of a refugee ministry at Trinity. Three days after I received that first letter, on a Sunday morning, Fred and Emily Bohlen and their three children walked through our doors having just escaped the ravages of the war in Liberia.
It happened a few years later when a new wave of refugees, this time from Myanmar or the former Burma, arrived in Hartford. The Sunday after they arrived, Roy McAlpine and Emily Estes introduced me to their friend, Fr. Saw Tin Ohn, an Anglican priest from Myanmar who was studying at Yale Divinity School for the year. For that academic year Fr. Philipo, as he was called, worshipped with us and served that community.
A truly amazing thing happened this past week, and I want to share that with you in a moment. But before I get into that, I want to share some thoughts with you about our stewardship of this wonderful congregation known as Trinity Episcopal Church, Hartford. Today is popularly – or maybe unpopularly – dubbed “Stewardship Sunday” because it is the day when we focus on how we give back to God just a small portion of all that God has given to us. Traditionally, this has been the final Sunday following about a month of build-up by a committee of our brothers and sisters who have put together a coordinated campaign of letters, flyers, and brief testimonies during worship. Last year, Toni Fatone put together an amazing series of video collages portraying the many facets of our community life and ministry here at Trinity.
This is what we have done for the past 10 years, and it has been successful. Our annual giving has increased over the past 12 years from approximately $270,000 per year to over $375,000 this year. Twelve years ago, over 70% of our operating budget came out of our endowment; in this year of 2016, only about 20% of our operating budget comes out of our endowment – 26% if you include the costs of capital improvements to the property. In either case, an amazing turnaround, especially in a time when churches are closing and congregations in general are aging and shrinking. These figures are testimony to a community that is growing in faith and in faithfulness.
And now it is time for us to take the next step. For the past 11 years, we have waited for a small leadership group to encourage us and guide us – perhaps goad us? – into giving more to support God’s mission here at Trinity. I believe we have achieved the spiritual maturity as a congregation that we are ready to assume this responsibility on our own as part of our baptismal covenant.
You see, to some extent, our practice over the past 11 years has been based upon an old model of church—the model of church that many of us were raised with. Each American congregation was organized a lot like a social club, around which religious community grew. In this scenario it was natural that the church became the clubhouse. It became a place where the “members” gathered to engage in activity that was reserved to them and, to be sure, people who wanted to be like them – people who wanted to join the club – were always welcome so long as they fit into the community norms. This may sound cold and crass, but when you analyze it, it describes an awful lot of churches.
The unfortunate corollary to this was that the clergy and lay annual appeal leaders were placed in the position of selling a product – in this case, the services of the church – and the congregation was placed in the position of being consumers of that product. Give to the church BECAUSE we do this, and this and that. We provide good music, pastoral care, snacks on Sundays and hopefully you get a good feeling while you are here. It was like the club management going to the club membership each year and asking you to renew your membership and, oh, by the way, there is a voluntary increase in the dues for the coming year so we can balance the budget. To be sure, God was always part of the picture, even at the center of it. But we have to ask ourselves, if God is really at the center of it all, does God really require an organized campaign to get God’s people to do the right thing?
The inter-testamental writer Jesus ben Sirach exhorts us to "Give to the Most High as he has given to you, and as generously as you can afford."
As Christians, we all would agree -- at least theoretically -- that God created the universe and all that is in it, including us. This is a fundamental tenet of our faith. And yet, when it comes to practice, very few of us live fully into that belief. We have all kinds of pressures on our personal resources, and so often as a practical matter, we count giving back to God as just one more of those many pressures. Most of us also give to any of a number of charitable causes, and so often, as a practical matter, we count giving back to God as just one more of those charitable causes.
But as an expression of our faith, our priority in our giving should be directly to God’s mission as that is lived out through our community of faith, and that is Trinity Episcopal Church. It shouldn’t come from what we have left over – it should be the first thing we attend to before anything else. Giving of our first fruits is what God calls us to do, and we can do it with the guidance of the Holy Spirit. With prayer and reflection, each and every one of us can develop a discipline of giving back to God as God has first given to us.
And so this year, we’re going to try something simpler. In the coming week, each of you will receive a letter in the mail along with some simple materials to guide you. Each Sunday between now and the end of November, we will have an inspirational piece as part of our service leaflet insert. On November 1, All Saints Sunday, we will have an ingathering ceremony. At that time, each one of us will have an opportunity to walk directly up to the altar to place before God our intention for giving of our first fruits for the support of God’s work through the ministries of this church in the coming year 2017.
Oh, about that amazing thing that happened this week. I was actually thinking about my message for this morning when the mail arrived on Thursday. There was an envelope addressed to me – no return address, no other identifying information in it. I have no idea who sent it. But when I finished it, I was so moved that I broke down sobbing in my chair – that’s how powerful it was for me. And so I would like to share it with you this morning:
I think there is nothing more to say. As we prayerfully consider how we will support furthering God's mission through the ministries of Trinity Episcopal Church in the coming year, I invite you to inventory the blessings in your life, and to respond as faithfully as you can. AMEN.
Please pray with me. May the words of my mouth and the meditations of all our hearts be acceptable to God our rock and redeemer. Amen.
It has been and is an honor to be with you here at Trinity. I have enjoyed being in conversation with many of you and being a part of the communal life here and look forward to getting to know more of you. Please do not hesitate to stop me for a conversation- I am eager to get to know you and to grow together this year as your seminarian.
At one time, I was absolutely scared to death to talk to people- to ask a question or even introduce myself. Until I learned how valuable smiling can be. Smiling can give us a glimmer of hope, a burst of joy, or sometimes a huge burst of laughter. Even on darker days, offering a smile helps me to remember hope is still there and may adjust someone’s whole perspective. Authentic smiling, not that of a mask, helps connect us to each other as we go day by day.
But for me, this past week is one of many where it can become challenging to claim that inner hope. My hometown of Lumberton, NC is still experiencing devastating effects of flooding from Hurricane Matthew last weekend. People that I grew up with and too many others have lost everything from the effects of the flooding. While my family is fine, many others are experiencing the greatest tragedy of their lives.
We are all familiar at some level with pain or loss that life can bring. Just this year, we have been confronted with tragic acts of gun violence, the political turmoil in our country showcased most prominently in our presidential race, and the fifteenth anniversary of September 11th. Times like our own can make us question where God is and the strength of our own humanity to deal with the world around us.
While our current problems can seem matchless, this is not new pain. Our reading this morning from the prophet Jeremiah comes from a context of great pain. Jeremiah is preaching to a community of individuals who feel utterly broken. The Israelite people have been uprooted from their native land into a foreign land and do not know for sure whether they will ever return home. They are living in a place of excruciating oppression as refugees.
But Jeremiah is revealing that “days that are surely coming” and speaks of a brighter day. His telling of the future shows how God will treat individuals and how humanity should respond to God. This is a message of great hope and greatly contrasts much of the other writing of Jeremiah. God promises to build up God’s people rather than tear down them down!
Jeremiah’s foretelling sounds so similar to the Christian message that we proclaim in our life of prayer. Working into knowledge and love of God transforms us to be God’s people. In asking for forgiveness and the assurance of God’s forgiveness, which we live into at least weekly in our common prayer, we are brought anew into this covenant with God.
Jeremiah’s prophecy says that God’s law or word will be “written on their hearts.” I find this an evocative image. Imagine that our hearts, the same ones that are prone to despair, happiness, and many other emotions, might be one with God’s own heart. Is this not what all of this is about? A gathered community of faith? Our prayers? Scripture study? This service of Eucharist we celebrate weekly?
Our prayer life- made up of all of these things mentioned and so much more of the prayers we lift through our thoughts, words, and actions daily, are essential to living life. In our Gospel reading this morning, Luke introduces his parable as saying explicitly that Jesus stressing to those listening that they “need to pray always.”
Well what does that look like!? We could talk and explore the modes of prayer for our whole lives. Many people devote their whole lives to this, for just cause and they give us much wisdom. But I think that it could start with simply following the model of the Psalmist- actively letting Scripture speak into our lives and their active engagement with prayer and the world around them.
But this is not always easy. It is hard work. Sometimes we have breathtaking and joyful clarity like the Psalmist has in this passage. But if you have spent any time with Psalms, it quickly becomes clear that the Psalms do not shout for joy at all times. Times come when we are on fire and determined, but times of doubt and despair do come and will come.
Several years ago, I was taking routine walks with a friend in a particularly distressing time of my life. I was completely burnt out and was losing hope in where I fit into the world and whether I really believed in God. At some point in our walks, my friend would ask about my prayer life. I responded, I am so mad at God that I can’t talk to God and I doubt that God even hears me or is at work at the world. He would chuckle and would say, “well it sounds like you need to keep on praying.” I would respond, how? He said “honestly.”
Prayer was hard work then and it has not gotten any easier. I used to think that prayer was all about figuring things out or “letting go, and letting God,” but I think it is much more complicated than that.
As I was reviewing this morning’s Scripture passages, I came across a hymn text by Fred Pratt Green, a British Methodist minister that speaks to this reality of a life of faith:
When our confidence is shaken
in beliefs we thought secure,
when the spirit in its sickness
seeks but cannot find a cure,
God is active in the tensions
of a faith not yet mature.
Solar systems, void of meaning,
freeze the spirit into stone;
always our researches lead us
to the ultimate unknown.
Faith must die, or come full circle
to its source in God alone.
In the discipline of praying,
when it's hardest to believe;
in the drudgery of caring,
when it's not enough to grieve;
faith, maturing, learns acceptance
of the insights we receive.
God is love, and thus redeems us
in the Christ we crucify;
this is God's eternal answer
to the world's eternal why.
May we in this faith maturing
be content to live and die.
It is this already but not yet notion of faith that can be so difficult. We are always maturing and growing, but seeking God and finding hope is essential in our lives of prayer.
Hope is best fostered in our persistence of prayer and reflection. This “training in righteousness” that Paul lifts up in Second Timothy can assist each of us to respond in effective ways to the world around us. Paul lifts up staying rooted in our faith and to “carry our mission out fully,” “endure suffering,” and “to be persistent whether the time is favorable or unfavorable.” Paul’s statements are thought provoking and demand action.
The gospel reading showcases an individual living out of this reality. The “persistent widow” who this parable or story is often named after comes continually to the “unjust judge” seeking change in the injustice in her life. It is not easy work to fight for justice, but it can be easier when we do the inner work[1] necessary to be firmly rooted in what is right through our continual lives of prayer and reflection. We must act with courage from the convictions that this reflection brings us. This parable stresses to those listening of the “need to pray always” and to “not lose heart.” Despite our world that often brings us to despair, we must persist in praying and acting.
Even among whatever trials life is bringing to us now, let us keep praying and acting boldly in our faith. Maybe as we smile at each other, we can remember the persistent hope that our faith brings to us and the comfort that we can bring to each other. May our smiles provide an invitation to deeper prayer, abiding hope, and more faithful action.Amen.
Trinity Church Hartford 21st after Pentecost 10-09-16 Proper 23 Year C
Lord, we pray that your grace may always precede and follow us, that we may continually be given to good works; through Jesus Christ our Lord, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, now and for ever. Amen
(On the way to Jerusalem Jesus was going through the region between Samaria and Galilee. As he entered a village, ten lepers approached him. Keeping their distance, they called out, saying, "Jesus, Master, have mercy on us!" When he saw them, he said to them, "Go and show yourselves to the priests." And as they went, they were made clean. Then one of them, when he saw that he was healed, turned back, praising God with a loud voice. He prostrated himself at Jesus' feet and thanked him. And he was a Samaritan. Then Jesus asked, "Were not ten made clean? But the other nine, where are they? Was none of them found to return and give praise to God except this foreigner?" Then he said to him, "Get up and go on your way; your faith has made you well.”)
Who was it who taught you the most important words that were probably drilled into our heads when we were young? What were they? The first was to say “Please” and the second was to say, “__________” (thank you).
Thank you, thanks, I thank you. Today's gospel story about the ten lepers traveling together, who after calling out to Jesus were healed as they went on their way and were made clean, and then one of them, when he saw that he was healed, turned back, praising God with a loud voice, threw himself on the ground at Jesus' feet and thanked him — this one was a Samaritan. — and then Jesus asked, "But the other nine, where are they? Was none of them found to return and give praise to God except this foreigner?" ——— the story set me to thinking about thanking — about thanks, thankfulness, thanksgiving — and how thanks is a core response, value and practice of living in Christ Jesus.
How to define the word “thank”? There’s no real way to define it, (I can’t believe I am going to say this) it is what it is. “Thank” — It’s a really old word, coming down from the Dutch and Old English. And it implies gratitude, and kindly thoughts from something that has been done. You know it when you see it, feel it.
For thanks arises from within, it’s a learned response (it has to be taught) to something that someone — for it’s a social phenomenon — someone has done or given for you. It can be prompted (kick-started), — “Say thank you!” — or self-generated, and when it’s genuine, it is something that wells up from within our soul, our being.
And when that happens, we say we are “thankful.” Filled up with thanks. Filled up. Maybe not always? is there such a thing as thank half-full, or thank one-eighth-full? Maybe not: The beauty of being “Thankful” is that we are so moved, so filled with the kindness and change over what someone has given or brought to or done for us, that we are just filled right up to the top.
Might have been caused by a family member, a friend, a stranger. For us in the Christian community, we respond to God, filled up with thanks to God, most especially in Jesus Christ, for what God has given and brought to us — which is newness of life, God’s constant presence and love, the community in which we live and worship and serve, and the promise for life eternal. Then, as it grows and grows, thankfulness becomes so much more than a response to this or that — it becomes an attribute, a dye in the wool, a classic hallmark of the Christian community and of our individual lives.
Then, then, as we are filled up with thanks, to God, to others, thanks wells up and spills over into outward expression: expressions of gratitude. Giving thanks. Giving. Action. In word, (“thank you!”), in deed (acts of kindness and blessing, to others).
And in prayer. Classic Christian Contemplative Prayer always begins with the expression of thanksgiving to God, named, specific, thanks for the gift of God’s love, and all the other blessings — count ‘em!. Even the hear of our liturgy in which we worship today, is The Great Thanksgiving — our expressing to God, giving thanks, for the love of Jesus poured out for the world on the cross. And notice, there’s thanksgiving inside our Great Thanksgiving — The thanks Jesus gave at the Last Supper for the gift of the bread and the wine which he took and blessed and gave to his companions, and to us.
And thanksgiving to God is just that. Saying thank you. Unlike in employment or business or society, there’s no “thank-you gift”, there’s no payback anyone can give to the One who has given such blessing. There’s no way in the world we can pay God back for the divine love and grace that go before us and behind us, above us and beneath us, just as there’s no way we can earn our way into heaven.
So, in our parish intercessions, when we have opportunity for thanksgiving, perhaps we can pause there just a little longer…
If we cannot pay God back, there may be and should be our paying forward of God’s blessings to others, through personal kindness, generosity, invitation, working for social change and dignity and peace, even for the common-wealth of all people and nations — which may, God willing, engender further thankfulness, in others, to God.
When to be thankful? Here the Scriptures are abundantly clear: at all times and in all places, in all circumstances. For particular blessings, as when the leper was healed, for the blanket blessing of the world in creation, in the calling of Israel, for the Word spoken through the prophets, and in above all in these last days for the sending of Jesus. When? Always, at all times and in all places.
Sometimes it’s hard. Stuff of the world can be an onslaught, coming on at times like the destructive power of a hurricane. Yet, even when we feel inundated, it’s right for us to give thanks and praise: not to be in denial of the storm, nor Pollyannish, nor “positive thinkers,” but to search for blessings past, for promised blessing in the future, and by looking — maybe with help of another — to discover the surprise of God’s presence, love and work in even the worst of times.
Sometimes it’s hard because we can become so accustomed to the goodness that surrounds us from the love of God, that our eyes become dull and we forget who God really is, how God’s love opens the door for new life and our souls are not thanks-filled. Like the nine who went on their way, it’s all to easy to just move on and forget to give thanks. If that’s happening in your life, again it’s time to ask for help from someone, companionship, so that may our eyes may be reopened to see God’s hand at work in the world about us. We can do better than one of ten!
So, sisters and brothers, as whoever taught you said, do count your blessings, and say “thank you” regularly. I try to do that each night just before going to sleep. Practice, practice, practice: Keep your eyes peeled for what God is doing, how God is healing you and loving you and others and forgiving you and others and moving us all to serve with Christ for the renewing of the world. Then, being thankful, Say Thank you! Make thanksgiving, to God and to others, a mark of your life, a virtue for which we are known.
At all times an in all places, as at the end of our worship this morning we’ll hear, Let us go forth in the name of Christ,
And the people respond: ___________ (“Thanks be to God!”)
Yes.
Trinity Episcopal Church, Hartford, CT
Year C, Proper 22
October 2, 2016
Feast of St. Francis & Blessing of the Animals
Jer. 22:13-16; Psalm 148:7-14; Galatians 6:14-18; Mt 11:25-30
Last year we began a new tradition of inviting God’s non-human creatures into our worship as a tangible way of honoring the life and teachings of one of our best known and most beloved saints, Francis of Assisi. His feast day is October 4 and as I have been reflecting on his life this week, I realized how timely our observance is this morning. For the past several weeks, during this long season after Pentecost, our lessons have focused on trusting in God’s mercy and grace, the importance of being instruments of God’s justice and peace, and caring for the poor and those on the margins of society. They are really lessons on what it means to be the church, and the example of Francis’ life is a lesson to us on how we can be closer to God – an important first step before we can begin to be faithful followers of Jesus the Christ.
Francis was born around 1182, son of a wealthy silk merchant of Assisi, in central Italy north of Rome. The Episcopal book Holy Women, Holy Men tells us that he spent his youth in harmless revelry and fruitless attempts to win military glory. Various encounters with beggars and lepers pricked the young man’s conscience, and he decided to embrace a life of poverty and simplicity. Over his family’s opposition, he renounced his inheritance and all material values, and devoted himself to serve the poor. In 1210 he travelled to Rome with 11 of his friars to present themselves to Pope Innocent III, who confirmed the simple Rule for the Order of Friars Minor, a name Francis chose in order to emphasize his desire to be numbered among the “least” of God’s servants. It was the first of the so-called “mendicant” orders, taking a vow of total poverty and dependent totally on the charity of others for their own livelihoods, so closely did they identify with the poor and marginalized.
Early in his ministry, Francis was praying at the Church of San Damiano, a church with a monastery near Assisi, Italy. Built in the 12th century, it was the first monastery of the Order of Saint Clare, where Saint Clare built her community. In 1205 he was praying at San Damiano which at the time was a very run down building. Saint Francis saw the figure of Christ crucified come alive and say to him, "Francis, don't you see my house is crumbling apart? Go, then, and restore it!" Saint Francis took action to repair the building at San Damiano. He eventually came to realize that God's message to him was to restore the Church as a whole rather than literally repair church buildings. More on this later. The cross from which Christ spoke to Saint Francis is known as the San Damiano cross. It currently hangs in the Basilica di Santa Chiara (Basilica of Saint Clare) in Assisi.
Not long before his death in 1226, Francis was on retreat on Mount La Verna. On September 14, Holy Cross Day, Francis received the marks of the Lord’s wounds in his own hands and feet and side. His last years were spent in poor health, perhaps in part due to the severe life of poverty and simplicity of lifestyle he adopted. Pope Gregory IX, a former patron of the Franciscan order, canonized Francis in 1228, and began the erection of the great basilica in Assisi where Francis is buried.
His signature writing, familiarly known as Canticle of the Sun is a beautiful and simple praise of God for all of creation: Brother Sun, Sister Moon and the stars, Brother Wind along with the air, clouds and every kind of weather; Brother Fire, Sister and Mother Earth which sustains and keeps us; and, yes, even Sister Death, “from which no living man can flee.” Interestingly, and contrary to what most of us have been taught, Francis did not write the prayer that is commonly attributed to him. However, in the words of Canticle of the Sun you can feel the heart of that prayer, and it undoubtedly was written by another member of the Order based on Francis’ teachings.
The words of the Canticle of the Sun and the spirit of the prayer attributed to St. Francis capture for us the spirit of this day and give us an appreciation for the life of St. Francis and the example it provides us. First, though, we need to re-think the relation we create in our minds between St. Francis and animals. How many of you have a statue of St. Francis in your garden or in your home? If it is anything like mine, there is a bird or two perched on his shoulder or in his hand. Over the centuries St. Francis has somehow morphed from a frugal, austere mendicant monk to a kind of religious Doctor Doolittle, known primarily as one who talked to the animals and protected them. Some today portray him as a kind of animal rights activist, a sort of patron saint of the Audubon Society or the American Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals.
And while this may not be false or misleading, it is way too simplistic. You may recall at the beginning I said that Francis is one of our best known and beloved saints, but probably the least imitated. I have a theory about that. It is very easy to identify with an animal lover – even if we ourselves are not animal lovers. It is a lot harder to identify with someone who was rich and gave it all up in order to live amongst the poor, the sick, and the destitute as one of them. That image is not nearly as soft and cuddly as the smiling man with the bird on his shoulder; it certainly is not as inviting.
In fact, even during Francis’ lifetime his followers had trouble adapting to his ascetic, self-denying and simple lifestyle – before his death he had given control over the order to others who imposed a less-stringent rule of life. Francis’ asceticism was simply too difficult for most people to deal with.
But here’s the really good news. We don’t have to adopt that lifestyle to learn something valuable from this saint that can be applied to our own 21st century lives. And it brings us back to the animals. You see, Francis’ love for the animals was simply a part of his love of all creation, as shown in The Canticle of the Sun. His regard for God’s creation was the key for his relationship with God. Whether it be the animal world, the elements of earth, wind, fire, water or his fellow human beings – all these were simply channels through which Francis was able to draw closer to the God who created it all. All of the other trappings of life got in the way.
We see this expressed in this morning’s psalm: All creation praise the Lord. . . all creatures … the sea, the land, trees and vegetation; kings and all peoples, princes and all rulers; young men and women, young and old together; praise for the people of Israel who are close to God.
The prophet Jeremiah ties closeness to God with loving mercy and doing justice: Your fathers did justice and righteousness; judged the cause of the poor and the needy. . . then it was well . . .”Is not this to know me?” says the Lord.
Seeing God’s work in creation is a key to St. Paul’s letter to the Galatians: A new creation is everything. . . For those who will follow this rule, Peace be upon them and mercy. . . I carry the marks of Jesus brandished on my body. . . May the grace of our Lord Jesus Christ be with your spirit, brothers and sisters.
And then of course Jesus affirms in St. Matthew’s Gospel that the eternal truths are neither complex nor are they reserved to a select few: God has hidden these things from the wise and the intelligent and has revealed them to infants. And Jesus reaffirms the special place God holds for the downtrodden of the world in verses 28-30: Come to me, all you that are weary and are carrying heavy burdens, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me: for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy and my burden is light.
So what can we learn from this man who had forsaken all of the ease of an aristocratic lifestyle and chose instead a life of humble poverty among the poor and the sick? Francis embodied the principles from this morning’s Scriptures, and he embodied the principle from Chapters 15 and 17 of the Gospel of John: That we are to be IN this world but not OF this world. Francis’ life was deeply rooted in Scripture, but most of all it was rooted in relationship, in being fully present to God’s creation. Francis did this by removing anything that would distract him from that pursuit so that every waking moment was infused with an awareness of God’s presence in the world around him – the people with whom he lived, wildlife, the weather, the earth – and then giving thanks for that creation. He got closer to God by being in relationship with God’s creation – not to exploit it, but to appreciate it as a gift from God.
We can take the first baby steps today by affirming our desire to draw closer to God and developing a plan to do that. When you wake up, give thanks for another day. As often as you can throughout the day, be mindful of your surroundings – all of God’s creation – and just take a moment to give thanks and feel your connection with it all. Let it become a part of you. Look for the face of Jesus in each person you encounter. At the end of the day, try to recall the times in which you felt in touch with God through God’s creation and other people. Try to recall those times when you felt out of touch with God and what you might have done to change that. By the example of blessed Francis, make today the day you commit to drawing closer to God. AMEN.
September 25, 2016
Trinity Church, Hartford
The Rev. Dr. Frank G. Kirkpatrick
There are times when I simply want to ignore the numerous but inescapable biblical references to the rich and the poor, three of which are prominently on display this morning in our readings. Talking about rich and poor is uncomfortable for many of us whether we fall in our personal situations more to the rich side or to the poorer side of the ledger. We are tired of the inflated rhetoric and simplistic solutions to the issue. Some would argue that who we are, deep down within, in the core of our very being, should count far more than how much wealth we have or don’t have. Isn’t the state of our souls of far more importance than the state of our bank accounts, whether full or empty? Shouldn’t the prophet Amos and the repentant rich man in the gospel story really be more concerned about their future lives in either heaven or hell than about their relative wealth or poverty when they were still alive in this world? After all, we are often told, the condition of things in this earthly world pales in comparison to the things of heaven in the next world.
It is certainly true that wealth and poverty are of little moral importance in themselves. As the epistle of Timothy reminds us, it is not riches per se but the love of them that is the root of evil. And what we love is a reflection of our essential moral and spiritual character. That is the crucial psychological fact that makes talking about wealth so difficult because it easily reduces itself to an implicit judgment on the character or moral worth of the person who owns more or less than we do. But all this being said it is still true that Amos was not reluctant to condemn those who used their riches to feel at ease in Zion, or lie on beds of ivory, and lounge on their couches, and fail to grieve for the ruin of joseph.
Amos is not condemning their having wealth per se. But he is questioning how they had acquired and used that wealth in order to flaunt the distance they have created between themselves and those they have impoverished along the way. They have engaged in economic practices that have sold the poor for a pair of sandals and have trampled their heads into the dust. Note also that the unnamed rich man in the gospel is not condemned for being wealthy. He is condemned because he used his wealth to dress in purple and fine linen and to feast sumptuously every day while at his gate there lay a poor man named Lazarus, covered with sores. What was morally egregious about their relationship was that the rich man exploited his economic superiority and would allow the poor man to satisfy his hunger only with what fell from the rich man's table. And there was a conceivable alternative: a publically available store of food that could be drawn upon to feed anyone who was hungry because food is a good necessary for human well-being, whether one is rich or poor.
Food is a common good that according to the principle of justice ought to be accessible to any human being simply by virtue of their being human. It should not be a privately owned good available only to those who can afford it at prices determined solely by market forces. Remember, a good is called such because it is morally good and it is morally good because it is necessary for a good and healthy life and such a life is good because God values it and intends that we enjoy it.
Now what does this suggest? It suggests that our response to these disturbing passages on wealth and poverty must pay attention both to the personal moral dimension of our relationship to others who are less well off than we are, and to the social dimension of how the community to which we belong provides the goods that are necessary to those in greatest need. The personal and the political cannot be cleanly separated from each other. By the word “politics” I simply mean the free development by the people of a democratic society of laws and policies reflecting their basic common values. The practice of politics can be debased, as it often is, but it can also be a noble and genuine contribution to how we ought to live together in accord with the principles of justice. Politics can determine the fair and effective ways in which a society permits wealth to be gained and then distributed according to human need. It does little good to rail against wealth or the wealthy in the abstract or to rail against what some see as the laziness or idleness that leads to poverty and an unfair ‘taking’ of wealth when one has not earned it. Wealth and poverty are relative and are created and sustained both by the personal decisions we make and by the social, political, and economic structures that we create for regulating our social relationships, including those that relate to our access to the basic goods necessary for a good and healthy life in a good and just society. We can’t solve the problem of economic inequality merely by appealing to private personal life-style changes or to charity. But nor can we solve it simply by reforming the economic and political system in and through which we have the freedom and power to create wealth in the first place. We can solve it only by addressing both dimensions at the same time: the personal and the political. (Remember that what is acceptable economic behavior is determined, at least at the margins, by political decisions. You can’t legally choose to produce child pornography no matter how profitable it might be. You can’t pollute the environment without paying for it to some extent as determined by laws and regulations that were created in the political process because pollution harms everyone.)
If we look at the situation of Lazarus and the rich man, one can criticize the lack of personal compassion by the rich man but one can also ask, what kind of political and economic system leads the hungry man to have to depend upon the droppings from the rich man’s table? All the personal compassion in the world will not, by itself, ensure that all those who are hungry get enough to eat. All the personal charity we are capable of today cannot guarantee that all who are ill will have access to quality medical care and the ability to pay for it. Charity and philanthropy are given, thankfully, out of the generosity of good and moral people. But generosity and charity are not based on justice but on the uncertain disposition of the heart and they can always be withheld if our disposition changes. Food and health care are, however, basic common goods that ought to be provided as a matter of right or justice, not as a matter of our personal inclinations. We know enough about the evil in our hearts not to trust just our hearts to feed, clothe and care for the poor. As a free and autonomous philanthropist I can withdraw my generous gifts whenever I feel like it. As a citizen in a just society, however, I cannot simply choose not to pay my taxes because I don’t like the fact that they are providing food stamps or medical care to people I don’t even know.
If, as Timothy says in the epistle, the problem is not riches themselves but my undue attachment to or love of them, then he points us to a better solution to the problem of the conflict between riches and poverty. If we need wealth and riches in order to create the goods that are necessary for human well-being, then we need to free ourselves from the unhealthy and soul-destroying infatuation with the accumulation of personal wealth as a symbol of our success and status. Instead we should use our wealth-generating ingenuity and creativity, which a free market has given us the tools for, not to create vast pools of wealth to be spent primarily on ourselves, but to produce goods for our fellow citizens and fellow children of God. On the basis of our lives reconstructed and renewed by God’s grace, not by how much we own, we can use our freedom and our wealth to see to it that the goods on which we depend are distributed fairly and justly to those in need. This may require a sea change in how we view the benefits of the market and that sea change, grounded in the new and fuller life God has given us, can also help us change our core values. It will go to the heart of our personal spiritual character. But it will also help us to redirect our attention not to helping the hungry pick up the scraps of food dropped from the tables of the wealthy but to finding a way to reform the laws and policies of our society so that the hungry can receive their food, a fundamental good, as a matter of right and justice. We can and must create wealth but we must also by God’s grace use that wealth not for our own glory or ostentatious display but for the well-being of all our poorer brothers and sisters.
Trinity Church Hartford 18th after Pentecost September 18 2016
Proper 20 Year C
Maybe I’ve been seeing too much about the presidential campaigns. They are everywhere — newspapers, radio, TV — you can’t get away from it. Listen again to words we read this morning written down from Jeremiah’s preaching:
18 My joy is gone, grief is upon me,
my heart is sick.
19 Hark, the cry of my poor people
from far and wide in the land:
‘Is the Lord not in Zion?
20 ‘The harvest is past, the summer is ended,
and we are not saved.’
21 For the hurt of my poor people I am hurt,
I mourn, and dismay has taken hold of me.
22 Is there no balm in Gilead?
Is there anyone to bring healing?
I have to tell you that when I first read this section of the eighth chapter of the Book of Jeremiah, what immediately rushed into my mind was: he’s talking about us. The is nation. The United States. Right now. In the crumbling and destructive throes of this presidential election.
Right away, t0 be clear: our plight is nothing, nothing like what Judah faced in the days of Jeremiah. In the early sixth century BCE, Jerusalem and all Judah, the whole people, was under vicious attack and deprivation from military siege by nations far more powerful than they, and ultimately thousands were to to be slaughtered, Jerusalem destroyed, (read again Psalm 79) and most of those left were force-marched into exile. It was the people as a whole who had gone astray, Jeremiah claimed — leaders, priests and people — and every individual no matter who was to be swept up into the military cataclysm that was to come.
The catastrophic image of the present that comes to mind is the horrendous chaos of destruction and slaughter by many nations that afflicts Syria, may God have mercy.
Our plight is nowhere near what was happening in Judah, or is happening now in the Middle East. But as Judah had gone astray, so haven’t we as a nation, a people, also gone off track?
Have we in recent years as a nation every been so internally dispirited and antagonistic? To listen to interviews of potential voters, many don’t know for whom to vote. Some will vote feeling resigned to poor choices, some will swallow very hard and vote reluctantly in the unspecified hope of “change,” some will swallow very hard and vote in the hope that present policies will at least continue. Others may vote for outside candidates. Many will cross party lines, Many will not vote at all.
Both major candidates running, running to be President, have each in his or her own way spun lies and distortions — some blatant, some unthinking, some half-truths. Misinformation. Threats. Prevarications. Hidden information. Name calling. Inconsistency. Insinuations. Provocations. False promises.
Where is the enthusiasm for elections this year? Where are the bumper stickers, and lawn signs? Where is transparency and where is truth?
And, where is the vision??
18 My joy is gone, grief is upon me,
my heart is sick.
19 Hark, the cry of my poor people
from far and wide in the land:
21 For the hurt of my poor people I am hurt,
I mourn, and dismay has taken hold of me.
22 Is there no balm in Gilead?
Is there anyone to bring healing?
Are we off the track, as a nation? I think that in all of history we’re never completely “on the track,” — that’s an impossibility in this world. We’re always off, but now it just seems that something more and vital has drained out of us.
As Christians, how do we know where we are, how do we understand such things?
In Jesus’s day, one way that the faithful grappled with reality was to actually draw a line — a dangerous thing, but a line — between those they understood to be living in darkness and those living in light. The distinction — sons of darkness and sons of light — is a core teaching of some of the Dead Sea scrolls we think were central to the Jewish Essenes. Paul frequently referred to conversion as coming out of the darkness into the light, and then living in the light rather than the darkness.
And here in today's gospel reading from Luke 16, Jesus spun the strange story of the wicked servant who kept his job and remained in his good graces — and he did that by cheating his master of half his income! And he was then commended by his master! They knew the ways of the world; they understood each other. (The ways of the world, children of darkness at work) Jesus said, the children of this age are more shrewd in dealing with their own kind than are the children of light. He then exhorted and chided his listeners: “If children of this world learn to be so shrewd at getting by in this world, why is it that children of light don’t learn to get along with God in the big things and the little things of life?” (That’s a pretty free interpretation…)
Maybe it would be helpful if we were to think more clearly of ourselves, when the world is all muddled up in its ways, as “Children of Light” — people who amidst all that happens, as the collect prays, first love things heavenly. Or, as our Presiding Bishop put it in his most recent YouTube, we are people who when the Gospel is processed down the aisle to be read, we turn to face it, to learn from it, for it’s the center of our lives.
Then, choosing to walk as a child of the light, wanting to follow Jesus, — no one can serve both God and wealth, light and darkness — each of us lives to bring that light into darkness. “Make me a blessing for someone today.” For here the saying holds true: if we are not part of the solution, we are part of the problem.
How?
Prayer. Let’s start there. How many of us are praying for Donald, and Hillary, and other candidates in the shuffle, and for the nation? Every day. We heard it in the exhortation to Timothy ready this morning. Listen again:
1”First of all, then, I urge that supplications, prayers, intercessions, and thanksgivings should be made for everyone, 2for kings (read President, and candidates) and all who are in high positions, so that we may lead a quiet and peaceable life in all godliness and dignity. 3This is right and is acceptable in the sight of God our Saviour, 4who desires everyone to be saved and to come to the knowledge of divine truth.”
(A good form for prayer is the text of Hymn 600-601 which we sang just before the Gospel.)
And, Think and Learn: from Scriptures, from our traditions, from our godly conversation, meditation, extract and cherish the principles of godly living as we have them in Christ, so they become part of the very essence, the soul, of who you and we are together — growing up, together, into the full stature of Christ.
Also, See and hold the vision of God’ purpose for all the world, the vision that we have in faith, for the peaceable realm of God here, lion lying down with lamb, carrying a picture of God’s will done on earth as it is in heaven. The key of forgiveness. The essential of divine love. Compassion for the dispossessed, the poor. The hope, which is above optimism, for wars to cease in all the world.
And then of course, “just do it.” Can we every day consciously live the light of our faith so openly, in the face darkness wherever darkness presents itself, that by our witness and deeds and invitation the light permeates more and more of the world? Serving rather than standing by. That’s the kind of change I hope you and I are ready to work for.
And here a heavy warning. If we in our minds or conversation were to draw a heavy magic marker line between children of light and children of darkness, in our arrogance we surely ourselves would have fallen over to the dark side. For some do that — exclude those who are different, who look different or who believe and speak and dress differently. Or withdraw and keep to themselves. Truth is, and Jesus indicates in his story I believe, that none of us is completely “on the track,” and each of us is assured of salvation only through the death and resurrection of Jesus Christ. To draw that line would be to betray the very divine love in which we are called to live and serve.
If we resonate with the lament of Jeremiah in the gloom and rancor which afflict our country in this unique political season, remember, Jeremiah did more than weep: he brought God’s
word. Jesus too brought God’s word, to the world. Just as surely, rather than only lamenting, we have something — someone — to offer, for we’ve been given balm for Gilead through the God whom we know and seek to serve as we live in the midst of these times in our world.
Search and grow in the faith. Shine with the vision. Serve our neighbors. Pray for our nation, our leaders and those who seek to lead us. In everything, bring light into the darkness. Oh yes, do vote.
Grant us, Lord, not to be anxious about earthy things, but to love things heavenly, and to hold fast to that which shall endure, through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.
