Longing

 Charlotte Collins Reed

Christ Church Episcopal

November 29, 2020

1 Advent B 

          At Compline and Conversation a couple of weeks ago, the conversation prompt was “What are you waiting for?”  The intent of my question was for us to think about that for which we long and try to put words to those longings.  However, one person in the group understood the question to mean “What is holding you up?”  Waiting as longing vs. waiting as stalling is interesting to think about as we enter this Advent season of waiting and anticipation.

          What most of us were longing for that night, in one way or another, was a return to life as we knew it in February.  We are waiting to be able to hug, to have time with family and friends, or to leave the house and run an errand with no thought to germs. We long to sing together and make or hear live music, and to worship and pray together in the same physical space. We long for the time when the rising loss of life and health does not dominate our lives and the news each day. The list went on and on of the specific things we long for these days and we find ourselves growing impatient with the delay.

          The Hebrew people are also waiting for life to go back to normal and growing impatient in today’s reading from Isaiah.  The people long for the life their ancestors knew before the Hebrew people were exiled in Babylon in 586 BC.  The people spent 50 years in exile before returning to the Promised Land which was now a burned out wasteland.  The people long for the glory days when Israel was a military power and the temple in Jerusalem that Solomon built was a place of worship fit for God.  They long for God to come down to earth and do something about their current situation the same way God acted decisively in the past, leading them out of bondage in Egypt and out of exile in Babylon.  “O that you would tear open the heavens and come down,” or a bit more politely in the words of the Psalm “Restore us, O God of hosts.  Show us the light of your countenance and we shall be saved.”

          The community to which the gospel of Mark was written is also waiting.  The early church had been waiting for Jesus’ return ever since Pentecost and Jesus’ ascent into heaven.  Mark was written around 70 AD.  Jerusalem had fallen to the Romans and the second temple, the one that was rebuilt after the Hebrew people returned from exile in Babylon, lay in ruins.  Life as the people knew it had come to an end and they waited with all their hearts for Jesus to return and save them from the Romans.  Jesus points to the darkness of those days and that suffering in this morning’s reading and tells the people that when they see that darkness and that cosmic suffering, they will know that the Son of Man is near, at the very gates.  Jesus’ followers are to keep awake-four times Jesus says this-so they are not asleep when Jesus arrives.  Be awake, be ready, for God is about to act.

          We enter Advent today, in the midst of Thanksgiving weekend, at a time when the news feels almost apocalyptically bad.  While a vaccine appears to be a light at the end of the tunnel, much darkness and suffering appear to stand between now and the mass distribution of that vaccine.  While certainly we wait for specific things-such as an end to mask wearing, or the ability to sing safely together, or see family, and most importantly the end to the loss of health and life caused by the virus-the whole of that for which we wait feels like more than the sum of the parts, and in that way I find myself identifying with both the Hebrew people in the reading from Isaiah and the followers of Jesus in Mark’s gospel.  The Hebrew people wanted God to come down and do something.  Jesus told his followers that the Son of Man will send out his angels and gather his elect from the four winds.  We want God to do something as well, preferably something dramatic and powerful that will stop the virus once and for all.  The Hebrew people wanted life to return to the way it was, but they knew that was not really going to happen.  God calls us forward, not backwards.  Likewise, Jesus’ followers in Mark’s gospel were waiting for Jesus to return and do something new, create something new.  But in both cases, the people did not know what that forward, that new thing, would look like. I can relate to that.   We don’t know what the new normal will be when it arrives or even how we will recognize a new normal.  Lastly, in both cases, the Hebrew people and Jesus’ followers trusted that God was about to do something, and they knew that God would act because God had acted on their behalf in the past.

          In the midst of this pandemic that has turned life upside down in so very many ways, Advent calls us to trust that God will act and at the very same time to watch, to keep alert, for what God is already doing in our midst.  And God is doing much-working through health care providers and first responders to care for the sick and the dying, using the skills of researchers and public health departments to find ways to keep people safe, helping us find new ways to connect and be together, providing us friends and family along with God’s abiding spirit to help keep spirits up.  And when we get discouraged, and the journey seems too long, the apostle Paul promises us in the reading from 1 Corinthians that God has already given us strength for this journey and assures us of God’s faithfulness as we wait…for God to act in our midst, for the Christ Child, and for whatever the future holds. 

          Waiting as longing vs. waiting as stalling.  Advent calls us to name our deep longing for God to come among us while being attentive to the ways God is active in our midst now.  Advent waiting is not idle waiting but active waiting, calling us to look now, to stay awake to God’s action now, to watch for the signs of God’s presence now.   Advent calls us to see what God is doing now and trust that what ever the future holds, God will meet us there. That is the promise of the Christ Child for which we wait, after all.  Emmanuel, God with us.

                                                                                      Amen.

         

Jesus

Charlotte Collins Reed
Christ Church Episcopal
November 22, 2020

Christ the King 

One of my favorite family memories is a meal we had with Don’s parents over the Christmas holidays some years ago.  After dinner we sat around the table for a long while during which Don’s father, Fred, regaled us with stories about his adventures hitchhiking around northwest Arkansas and around the country in the 1940’s.  He met some great folks and some very shady characters and rode with people of a great variety of driving skills.  I am truly amazed and grateful that he lived to marry Don’s mom!  While hitch hiking is no longer a primary means of transportation as it might have been in the 1940’s, I do have a friend who picks up hitch hikers.  My friend is about my size, 10 years younger, and obviously way more adventuresome than I.  When she told me about picking up hitchhikers, my pastoral response was to tell her that she is an idiot.  Her honest reply was "What if the person is really Jesus and this is a test?  I don't want to fail."  My concerned response was "What if it's not Jesus?"  This is not the 1940’s after all!

 Of course, theologically, my friend is more correct than I.  In the baptismal covenant we are asked if we will seek and serve Christ in all people.  And we say with conviction "We will, with God's help."  We believe that Christ is in all people.  Period.  Christ may be more obviously present in some people than others, or more obscure in some people than others.  But Christ is there.  Today is Christ the King Sunday, the last Sunday in the church year, and we are Christ Church Episcopal.  So on this day we at Christ Church are especially called to think about our identity as people who seek and serve Christ in all people, no matter how obscure or well-hidden Christ might seem to be.

Our belief that we are called to seek and serve Christ in all people comes straight out of Jesus' words this morning.  This morning, we watch as Jesus separates the sheep from the goats.  The sheep are those who have fed, clothed, visited, and cared for Jesus.  The goats are those who have not.  When the sheep are surprised to find that they have served Jesus, Jesus tells them that whenever they have served the least of these who are members of his family, they have served Jesus.  When the goats are surprised, shocked even, to learn that they have failed to serve Jesus, they are told that when they failed to serve the least of these, they failed to serve Jesus.

At Christ Church, we think about serving Jesus when we serve lunch at Open M, or dinner at Family Promise, or build houses with Habitat for Humanity, or paint houses with First Serve, or knit caps for school children in impoverished areas of Akron, or collect yams, or laundry detergent or gift cards for those in need.  This Christmas, we will serve Jesus by supporting the Peter Maurin Center in Akron which serves those who live under bridges and on the streets in Akron, help that is especially vital this year since overnight shelters for the homeless cannot open because of the pandemic.  We serve Jesus in each other as we make phone calls and send notes to check in with each other, pray together and for each other, and support each other in countless ways during the pandemic and always. We want to serve Jesus well, and remembering that we serve Jesus also reminds us that we are connected to those we serve, no matter how different we might appear to be.

But here's the catch: In our parable this morning, the sheep had fed the hungry and visited the sick without knowing that they were serving Jesus.  They were as surprised as anyone when Jesus said "Come you that are blessed by my Father, inherit the kingdom prepared for you from the foundations of the world."  They were not serving the hungry and the sick because they thought they were serving Jesus or in order to earn their way into the Kingdom, or to pass a test for that matter.  They were serving for some other reason.

The idea that people of faith should serve others is hardly something new with Jesus.  Matthew's gospel was written to a largely Jewish audience.  The Hebrew scriptures are full of admonitions to live with mercy and kindness, not just to people of like faith, but to all people.  Over and over again in Exodus, Numbers, and Deuteronomy, we hear the command to show hospitality to foreigners for the Hebrew people were once strangers in the land of Egypt.  The Hebrew people and the stranger were connected by the common experience of being in a foreign land.  The prophet Micah sums up the Hebrew teaching with the words "What does the Lord require? That you do justice, love mercy, and walk humbly with your God."  In the reading from Ezekiel, we hear God model the very behavior God expects of God's faithful people.  "I will seek the lost and I will bring back the strayed.  I will bind up the injured and I will strengthen the weak."  Acts of mercy and kindness are part of the identity of the Hebrew people because they are the people of the God of mercy and kindness.

The sheep we hear about this morning are sheep simply because they live as the people of God they were created to be.  Acts of mercy and kindness were part of the identity of the sheep because they belong to the God of mercy and kindness.  The sheep were completely surprised to find that they had served Jesus.   Jesus says in Matthew's gospel "I have come not to abolish the law but to fulfill it" so for Christians, belonging to God through Christ means living out the same acts of mercy and kindness.  Then, to our surprise, we realize that we have served Jesus.

At Christ Church, serving others is what we do simply because we belong to God.  In living out that identity, we do meet Jesus.  In meeting Jesus, we realize that we are connected to the whole human family.  My friend who picks up hitch hikers is correct, even if her judgement might be questionable.  The hitchhiker is Jesus.  But there is no test we are trying to pass to earn our way into the Kingdom.  We are already there.  And God assumes we will live like the Kingdom people we are and find a just and merciful way to help people in need of transportation, or medical care, or education, food, shelter, clothing, or love and acceptance.  The challenge of Christ the King Sunday is to live into our identity as children of God by the way we live our lives and allow ourselves to be surprised by the many ways we encounter Jesus along the way.  By doing so, we will make the Kingdom of God a more present reality in our current time.

Amen.

Immeasurable Love

 

Charlotte Collins Reed

Christ Church Episcopal

November 15, 2020

28 Proper A 

          Many years ago, in the Diocese of Southern Ohio, I participated in a pick-up choir for the Eucharist at Diocesan Convention.  Because this was a pick-up choir with one rehearsal the night before, I assumed a) that the piece would be easy, and b) that the ability to read music was not required.  I cannot read music, but I can generally follow along, so I figured I was up to singing in a pick-up choir.  Was I ever wrong!  I do not remember what the piece was, but simple was by no means an accurate description.  And the ability to read music was assumed as if everyone on the planet knows what the notes sound like without hearing them.  But since there was no graceful way to bow out, or flee, I did my best and tried to pretend I had some clue what to sing.  But at the peace, after the pick-up choir had sung, Bishop Thompson came up to me, winked and said, and I quote “Keep your day job.”

          So, I can find myself a little defensive when I hear the parable of the talents.  Sometimes we have to do what we can with what little talent we have and make the best of a less than optimal situation.  On the surface, the parable of the talents rewards those who have much and punishes those who have little and are afraid to lose what little they have.  On the surface, Jesus seems to be offering advice to Finance Committees everywhere to invest for growth not just for savings.

          But Jesus is not a financial advisor, and as I have said many times, when Jesus looks to be giving common sense advice, we need to look deeper.  Jesus is not a common sense savior.  Plus, the parable ends with the words for which Matthew is famous “throw him into outer darkness where there will be weeping and gnashing of teeth.” This happened to the person who was not dressed for the wedding banquet a few weeks ago, and we can assume that something similar happened to the foolish bridesmaids last week.  This is another clue that Jesus is giving neither financial nor common sense advice.

          So what is Jesus up to this morning in yet another tricky little parable?  A man has entrusted his property to three of his servants, giving one person 5 talents, another 3 talents, and yet another 1 talent.  Two of the servants double the master’s money while he is away, and when the master returns, the servants hear the blessed words “Well done, good and trustworthy slave; you have been trustworthy in a few things, I will put you in charge of many things; enter into the joy of your master.”  But when the  person who received one talent comes forward, that servant says to the master “Master, I knew that you were a harsh man, reaping where you did not sow….so I was afraid, and I went and hid your talent in the ground.” And the servant returns the single talent to the master at which point the servant is cast into utter darkness where there is weeping and gnashing of teeth.

          This parable raises a lot of questions.  First, how does the last servant know the master is harsh?  There is nothing in the parable from the master except generosity and joy until the master gets to the servant who failed to use his one talent to produce anything more.  Secondly, the third servant is very bold to speak to the master the way he does if the servant is so very afraid of the master.  And thirdly, what might the master have done had the first two slaves risked the talents they received on some big venture that failed and they had nothing to return to the master?  Would they, too, have ended up in the outer darkness?  And the big question: where is the good news in this parable?

          I believe the meaning of the parable hinges on the line “so I was afraid.”  Through out the gospels, the opposite of faith is not doubt, but fear.  The first two servants acted on faith, both faith in their master that they would not be punished if they tried and failed, and faith in their abilities to use what they were given to make more.  They were invited to enter into the joy of the master.  I honestly do not think the master would have been angry with them had they tried and failed.  The third servant acted in fear of the master and thus in fear of the servant’s own abilities.  That servant ended up in outer darkness.

          I wonder if we might think of the talents as the immeasurable love of God.   Some days we may feel like we have been given a full measure and rush out in faith and joy to share that love and grow the Kingdom of God.  Other days, such as in the midst of a pandemic, or deep national division, or racial injustice or whatever personal challenges we face, we may feel like we have a smaller measure, even if though the reality is that the love of God is immeasurable and we each have been given God’s love in abundance.  However we might be feeling, whatever challenges we face, we are called to act in faith, not fear, and share that love and be a blessing to the world, not bury God’s love in the ground because we feel we have so little.  Jesus also says in this same gospel “No one after lighting a lamp puts it under the bushel basket, but on the lampstand, and it gives light to all in the house. In the same way, let your light shine before others, so that they may see your good works and give glory to your Father in heaven.”  The message is the same.  The love of God has been poured into our hearts to be shared so that we can be a blessing to the world and make the Kingdom of God a present reality on earth.

          The Good News in this parable is that, as humans, we are loved immeasurably by God, and as humans who follow Jesus, we have not only a call, but a responsibility to step out in faith and make that love known in the world, even and especially when times are hard.  God loves humankind too much to let us simply bury that love in the ground to be dug up and returned someday.  We can get hung up on what happened to the poor servant who acted in fear and was cast into outer darkness, or we can be people of love, taking a risk and stepping out in faith, so that one day we will hear God say to everyone “Enter into the joy of your master.”

                                                                             Amen.

Persistence

Charlotte Collins Reed
Christ Church Episcopal
November 8, 2020

 

27 Proper A 

          Our baby granddaughter Collins was 6 months old on Friday.  She loves music and singing, being held and playing with her toys, and is generally a delightful baby, although her parents could use a bit more sleep.  But Collins’ most striking characteristic is her persistence.  In addition to her persistence in making her needs known, Collins has been trying to crawl for about a month now.  She has advanced from a pretty impressive plank, to getting herself on her hands and knees, to rocking back and forth in a way that sends her backwards, to lunging herself forward so that she does a face plant on the blanket.  She practices this All The Time and for longer at a time than I thought babies could concentrate.  When she wakes up in her crib, we can see her on the monitor trying to get those hands and knees going.  When she is playing on the floor, she spends the time on her hands and knees, back and forth, back and forth, trying to get those hands and knees to do what she wants them to.  Obviously, this is not always successful and never graceful.  After 20 or 30 minutes, she does get tired, but after a cuddle and a song or two, or maybe a nap, she is ready to go again.  Even though she is a bit young, we all wish she would finally master the art of crawling to reward her persistence and her practice and end her frustration!

          This morning, we hear Jesus’ parable about the wise and foolish bridesmaids.  On the surface, the parable sounds like a call to spend all of our time awake, watching for Jesus.  But this is a tricky little parable.  Even though Jesus ends the parable with the words “Keep awake therefore, for you know neither the day nor the hour,” I am not sure the parable is really about keeping our eyes open 24/7.  Both the wise and the foolish bridesmaids fell asleep, so perhaps the parable is really about something else.

          What separates the wise and the foolish bridesmaids is that the wise bridesmaids took flasks of oil with them while the foolish bridesmaids took no oil.  When the bridegroom was delayed, all ten bridesmaids became drowsy and fell asleep.  They all awoke to a shout that the bridegroom had arrived, but the 5 foolish bridesmaids could not go out to greet the bridegroom because they had no oil, and the wise bridesmaids refused to share lest they run out of oil.  Clearly this is not a parable about abundance and generosity!  When the bridegroom arrives at midnight, and the bridesmaids awake, the foolish ones are sent off to the dealers to buy more oil.  At midnight.  In the first century.  I’m not sure you can buy oil at midnight in Hudson, Ohio in 2020.  So the parable must not be about common sense, but then none of Jesus’ parables are.  But the 5 foolish bridesmaids do find oil, and return, only to find the door to the banquet hall shut, and the bridegroom refuses to let them in.  Clearly this parable is not about gracious hospitality, either.

          So what is this parable about?  The faith of the early church and the faith of the church now is rooted in the belief that Jesus will return.  In our reading from 1 Thessalonians, the very early Christians worried about what would happen to those who died before Jesus returned, as his return was thought to be imminent.  Paul’s answer is to reassure the Thessalonians that those who have died in Christ will rise first when Jesus returns. When we, in the 21^st century, celebrate the Eucharist, we affirm the faith of the church and say “Christ has died. Christ is risen.  Christ will come again.”  Around the time that the gospel of Matthew was written, likely toward the end of the first century, the early Christians were struggling with Jesus’ delay.  Some believed that perhaps Jesus had returned and they missed him.  Some gave up the belief all together.  And many struggled with how to wait until Jesus finally returned. 

          In the parable, what was needed for a successful wait was oil in the bridesmaids’ lamps.  Those with oil were ready when the bridegroom appeared with no advance notice and the wedding banquet began.  What do we need in our lamps for a successful wait?  In the big picture, we do still wait for Jesus to return.  Some of us may wonder if Jesus has returned and we missed him, or if Jesus returns in our midst and our eyes are not open to see him, or if the church has been wrong all along about Jesus’ return.  But the faith of the church in Jesus’ return has not changed.  “Christ has died. Christ is risen. Christ will come again.”  What is the oil that we need in our lamps as we wait?

          I believe that the oil we need is a dogged persistence and determined practice that parallels that of baby Collins.  Rather than crawling, however, we are called to persist and practice what our baptismal covenant calls  seeking and serving Christ in all people.  All people, all the time.  I believe that if we practice seeking and serving Christ in all people, we will recognize Jesus when he returns in all his glory.  We don’t have to agree with everyone, want them as a best friend, or even have lunch with them.  But we are called to seek and serve Christ in them.  The process will not always be graceful and we may not always succeed.  But we are called to persistence and practice as we do the work of seeking and serving Christ in those who are a different color, faith, ethnicity, political persuasion, socio-economic background, gender orientation, or anything else from ourselves.  If Jesus is in our midst, which I believe he is, we will recognize him if we are seeking and serving him in all people.  If our lamps are full of persistence and practice, we will succeed at all the other waitings we do, like waiting for the pandemic to end, or the votes to be counted, or a diagnosis to come, or a special day to arrive, and we will make a gospel difference in the world while we wait.  And I believe that if we have spent this time before Jesus arrives with our lamps full of persistence and the practice of seeking and serving Christ in all people, not only will we recognize Jesus when he returns, but Jesus will be more likely to recognize us at the door to the great wedding banquet.

                                                                                            Amen

Together

 Charlotte Collins Reed

Christ Church Episcopal

November 1, 2020

All Saints’ Day 

          My grandmother was a conservative, Rite 1, Morning Prayer Episcopalian.  She was tall, slim, and had sort of strawberry blonde hair, at least when she was younger.  She was not much of a cook, likely because she really didn’t enjoy eating.  So, you could say that she and I had very little in common.  And, in fact, we were not even related biologically.  She was my grandfather’s second wife, not the mother of my father.   But she and my grandfather had married 10 years before I was born so we never made any distinction between this grandmother and our other two biological grandmothers. Her grandmother name was Ninny, our childhood redaction of Elinor, and we adored her.  She let us cook in her kitchen, tried to teach us to sew which was an epic fail despite her patient efforts, and spoiled us rotten.  Even as adults, when some of our differences might have mattered, they did not.  We went hunting for Queen Anne’s lace together, spent hours of time talking at the kitchen table, and shared an unconditional love that went way beyond our differences. 

          Today is All Saints’ Day, the day we remember those who have gone before us and left a mark on our lives.  We will hear, because we cannot sing, some of the greatest hymns of the church.  We will remember our loved ones in our prayers.  We will hear the names of our loved ones spoken out loud as we are reminded that those who have gone before us join us when we pray.  All Saints’ is a beloved feast day of the church, I think in part because on All Saints’ Day we feel connected with both our loved ones who have gone before us and with each other.  On All Saints’ Day, we experience the communion of saints in our song, in our prayers, in the candles and flowers, and in our memories.

          But All Saints’ Day is not just about looking back and remembering, as powerful as those memories are.  Our All Saints’ scripture readings all call us forward, into being our very best selves and making the Kingdom of God a present reality on earth.  The reading from Revelation gives us a vision of the Kingdom of God in which people from all tribes and peoples and languages will be one multitude despite their differences.  They will be united in their praise of God and look to the day when there will be no more hunger or thirst, or any scorching heat, and God will wipe away the tear from every eye.  The reading from 1 John reminds us that what we are now, even as children of God, is not all that we will ever be.  What we will be has not yet been revealed.  We are called into being even more than we already are as children of God, which is hard to imagine.  And the gospel reading from Matthew tells us that those who are poor in spirit, who mourn, are meek, who hunger and thirst for righteousness, are merciful, pure in heart, are peacemakers, or are persecuted for righteousness sake are blessed.  That does not mean that they are happy, or that these characteristics are necessarily good things.  What Jesus is telling us is that they are blessed, which means we experience something of the kingdom of God in them. 

          What I believe we experience in the beatitudes are people who know their dependence on God and others.  Those who mourn rely on God and others to be comforted.  Those who hunger and thirst for righteousness shall be filled-by God and other people.  Peacemakers rely on God and others in their quest for peace. They cannot do that work alone.  And on and on.  In the Kingdom of God there are no lone rangers. 

          On this particular All Saints’ Day, we stand on the cusp of what is perhaps an unprecedented week.  Covid-19 numbers are escalating in our county, our state, our country, and around the world.  Tuesday is Election Day with unprecedented division and fears of violence and upheaval in the aftermath among those on both sides.  In the midst of whatever anxiety we might feel, whatever the source, All Saints’ Day calls us to remember three things.  First, as the body of Christ, and even as the human race, we are one body despite our differences.  The one multitude the reading from Revelation describes has people from all tribes, people, languages, which means all political parties, theological persuasions, faiths, and anything else that divides us.  When we recognize that we are one body, we realize that what we do affects everyone else, and their hurt or suffering affects us.  Secondly, All Saints’ calls us into being our very best selves.  As Christians who identify as Episcopalians, we are our best selves when we keep the promises we make in our baptismal covenant, which include seeking and serving Christ in all people, working for justice and peace, and respecting the dignity of every human being.  1 John tells us that we are God’s children now and that what we will be has not yet been revealed, which is beyond our imaginations.  We are called to live into that reality.  And thirdly, All Saints’ Day and the beatitudes call us to remember our dependence on God and each other.  There is nothing we must do alone.

Whatever the outcome of the election, whatever the situation with Covid or anything else that divides us, there will be an abundance of gospel work that needs to be done.  There are hungry people to feed, homeless people to shelter, grieving people to comfort, justice and peace to work for, divisions to heal, and in the midst of it all, gospel news to proclaim.    The saints of God point us to a reality rooted in peace and justice, love and life and call us forward to work for that reality.  But we can only get there together.  As a friend of mine says “Alone we can go faster, but together we can go further.”  When there is a long way to go, a lot of healing that needs to happen, and a lot of work that needs to be done, we at Christ Church know we need to go together.  In the midst of our memories, our prayers, beautiful music and flowers, our smiles and our tears this day, All Saints’ Day calls us forward to be our very best selves and to work as one body across our differences to make the Kingdom of God a more present reality on earth.     

Amen

Change

 

Charlotte Collins Reed

Christ Church Episcopal

October 18, 2020

 

24 Proper A

 

          My grandfather was born in 1902.  On one of our visits not too long before he died in 1995, he told us with some incredulity that the wheelchair in which he was sitting cost more than his first car.  The wheelchair was an absolutely basic wheelchair-no frills or attachments- and I think he had paid in the neighborhood of $300 for it.  His Model-T Ford-also no frills and no attachments- cost about that in 1922.  For my grandfather, the $300 he paid for the wheelchair was a symbol of the great changes that occurred over his lifetime.  His career field was aviation, which was almost non-existent when he was born and he got to see the Concorde supersonic passenger jet before he died.  He claimed his last car was faster than his first airplane.  When my grandfather was 9, his father died of pernicious anemia, which is cured with B-12 shots now.  He and his generation experienced more change across all aspects of life than perhaps any previous generation and while my grandfather was quite adventuresome and embraced change, even he found all of the changes disconcerting at times.

          This morning, Jesus fields a question from the Pharisees and the Herodians that on the surface, is about taxes.  “Tell us, then, what you think.  Is it lawful to pay taxes to the emperor or not?”  Clearly the Pharisees and Herodians are trying to trap Jesus.  If Jesus says no, then he can be tried for treason.   If he says yes, then he is validating the rule of the Romans over the Jewish people.  Jesus is trapped in a no-win situation.

          However, Jesus rises above the trap.  Jesus requests a coin, then asks whose head and whose title is on the coin.  The answer, of course, is the emperor since the coin is the currency of the state.  Jesus replies “Give therefore to the emperor the things that are the emperor’s and to God the things that are God’s.”  And those who wished to trap him were amazed and left him and went away. 

          Jesus seems to have settle the matter of taxes quite clearly.  Give to the emperor what belongs to the emperor.  Pay your taxes.  Give to God what belongs to God.  Obey the laws of the Torah and make your required sacrifices to God.  For once, Jesus gives a clear answer to a question.

          However, by asking whose head, or whose image is on the coin and using that answer to determine to whom the coin belongs, Jesus is taking the conversation about taxes to an entirely different level.  In fact, he is changing the subject all together.  Anyone listening who was familiar with the Hebrew scriptures would have thought immediately of the story of creation in the first chapter of Genesis which says “So God created humankind in his image, in the image of God he  created them; male and female he created them.”  The image of the emperor may be on the coin, but humans are made in the image of God.

          Jesus has taken the question of taxes and turned the question into one about identity.  What belongs to the emperor may be the coin and the taxes, but what belongs to God is our whole selves.  Our identity as human beings is as people made in the image of God.  We belong to God.  In the reading from Exodus, we hear Moses wrestling with what it means to belong to God as a people God has delivered from bondage in Egypt.  Moses says to God “You have said, “I know you by name, and you have also found favor in my sight.’ Now if I have found favor in your sight, show me your ways so that I may know you and find favor in your sight.”  To which God replies “My presence will go with you, and I will give you rest.”  From this brief exchange, we know that belonging to God means that God knows our name, that God’s presence is with us, and that we can rest in God. 

          In the letter to the Thessalonians, we hear something of what the image of God looks like as lived in the lives of the early Christians.  Paul commends the church in Thessalonica for their work of faith, labor of love, and steadfastness of hope in Jesus.  We are reminded that our identity as people made in the image of God who follow Jesus calls us to a life of faith, hope, and love and that our actions, like Paul’s actions and those of the Thessalonians, speak about that faith, hope, and love to the world around us.

          Life has changed radically in the last 7 months, from the way we worship, to the way we shop, go to work and school, socialize with family and friends, what we wear, how we tend to our health, and on and on and on.  We do not know when the change will end, or what changes are permanent and what changes are temporary.  All of that change can be quite disconcerting as we navigate rapidly changing waters.  But what has not changed and will not change is our identity as children of God, people made in the image of God.   What has not changed is God’s knowledge of our name, God’s promise to be with us, and when we are overwhelmed by the changes and chances of life, God’s call to rest in God.  What has not changed is our call to faith, hope, and love so that the world can see God’s love through our actions.  Our identity as people made in the image of God who follow Jesus is the taproot that grounds us in God’s love and goodness no matter what around us might change.

                                                                             Amen.

Love and Commitment

 Charlotte Collins Reed

Christ Church Episcopal

October 11, 2020

23 Proper A 

          Some years ago, the church I was serving threw a funeral for a beloved 99 year old parishioner.  The parishioner had grown up in the community and at the church and loved both deeply and generously.  She was one of the great philanthropists of the city, supporting the arts, education, and, of course, her church.  Overstating her impact on the community would be difficult.  Her family was small, unwell, and out of town, so when the time came to plan her funeral, we were on our own.  The choir of her university was asked to sing.  Speakers from the arts community were lined up.  The parishioner’s own artwork-creations from her own hand-were borrowed to put in the entryway to the church.  All the arrangements were made to celebrate the life of this remarkable, humble, gracious and generous woman.  When the time for the service arrived, we had a small army of greeters and ushers ready to welcome and assist, musicians prepped, and a fine service planned.  And no one came.  Other than the choir, the speakers, and parishioners, many of whom were helping with the celebration, almost no one showed.  I remember one parishioner, a dear friend of the deceased, sitting in the back of the church weeping and furious that so very few people had come to pay their respects and show their gratitude.  We were sad, angry, disappointed, and felt a bit betrayed by the community.

          So I understand something of the king’s anger when he throws a wedding feast for his son and no one comes.  This is one of the most bizarre of Jesus’ parables about the Kingdom of Heaven.  Because the parable is about a wedding banquet, our thoughts go to love, rejoicing, commitment, and all those things we might learn from a parable about a wedding banquet.  But here we have a king, who we understand to be God, who sends out his servants to call all the invited guests to the wedding banquet for his son, who we understand to be Jesus, but the people would not come. Why?  Were they too busy?  Were they afraid of the king who does seem to have quite a temper?  The king sends more servants with a glorious, mouthwatering description of the wedding feast, and still the guests won’t come.  Some even seized the slaves, mistreated them and killed them.  This is a rather extreme way to send back an RSVP with regrets.  Now the king is understandably enraged, even if his reaction is over the top.  He sent his troops, burned their city, and destroyed the murderers.  Then he sends his servants to invite everyone they find to the wedding banquet, both good and bad, and the wedding hall was filled with guests.  By this time, one would think that the food would be either burned to a crisp, stone cold, or even begun to rot.

          But all’s well that ends well, right?  If the parable just stopped there, we would have a lovely parable about the way the king, or the kingdom of heaven, never gives up even in the face of rejection, trying over and over again to invite people to the banquet, and inviting everyone, good or bad, to the feast that never grows old.  But, unfortunately, the parable does not end there.  One poor guy is not wearing a wedding robe, and he is thrown into utter darkness where there is weeping and wailing and gnashing of teeth.  For many are called but few are chosen. 

          What has this poor man done to deserve such judgement?  He had not planned on going to a wedding banquet when he left home that morning.  He was probably going to work, or out running errands, or dropping the kids off at school when he was summoned to the banquet.  He put down what he was doing and answered the summons.  How could he be expected to have a wedding garment?   And how do we avoid making the same mistake since, after all, we are talking about the Kingdom of Heaven here.

          Since this is a parable about a king who gave a wedding banquet for his son, let’s back up a minute and see what we have learned about the king so far.  First, the king is passionate about the banquet for his son.  This banquet is really, really important to him.  Secondly, it is so important that he never gives up on inviting people to come, despite some startlingly negative responses.  Thirdly, we learn that the king is capable of deep anger in response to rejection, the same deep anger that we see in our reading from Exodus when God is so angry with God’s own people that God threatens to consume them for breaking the second commandment and making and worshipping a golden calf.  My hunch is that in both cases, behind the anger, are feelings of sadness, disappointment, and betrayal.  But the banquet is so important to the king, that when none of the invited guests will come, he opens the doors to everyone, good and bad, and finally the wedding hall is full.  The banquet apparently cannot start until the hall is full.  And the food, whatever is being served, has no expiration date. 

          There are as many theories about why the man got thrown out of the hall and into the utter darkness as there are commentaries on the subject.   Most likely, no one arrived at the wedding banquet with the correct clothes since no one had planned on attending the feast when they left home that morning.  However, in the first century, people often traveled for days on foot to attend a wedding, which often lasted for a week to make the festivities worth the travel.  Wedding garments were often supplied by the host when the guests arrived.  So, by refusing to wear the wedding garment, guest was likely refusing a piece of the king’s hospitality and refusing to enter fully into the celebration of the king’s son.  He wants to enjoy the food and entertainment without giving himself fully to the occasion.

          This parable, along with the story of the golden calf in Exodus, reminds us of two great truths.  First, the God of love is not immune to anger.  God loves us too much not to be hurt and angered by our betrayal and failure to live in faithful response to God’s tremendous love and gracious hospitality.  Secondly, the invitation to the marriage banquet, the feast that celebrates the giving of God’s son Jesus to the world, is so important that the feast demands our whole selves, not just whatever little bit we care to part with at the moment.  In this odd parable about a marriage banquet, we actually do learn a powerful and clear teaching about love and commitment. 

                                                                   Amen.

Belong

 Charlotte Collins Reed

Christ Church Episcopal

October 4, 2020

22 Proper A 

          A few weeks ago, Don and I had a Zoom reunion with two of our closest friends from college.  Rock, Beka, Don, and I formed a bond our junior year in college that has lasted over the decades, even when we rarely see each other.  The last time the four of us were together in person was about 10 years ago with occasional emails in between.  The occasion for our Zoom reunion was a surprise for Beka on her 60^th birthday.

          So, one might think that a Zoom reunion after all this time would be rather awkward.  What does one say to friends one hasn’t seen in 10 years? 

          However, we reconnected immediately in the way people do who have the sense that in some way, they belong to each other.  We talked for almost 2 hours, sharing updates on our lives, our children, some of our challenges, our various professional activities, and the time flew by as if we had just chatted like this a few weeks ago.  The time we spent together in college, even though it was long ago in a galaxy far away, was such a formative experience that decades later we still belong to each other, and when we are together, we have a shared identity.

          Belonging and shared identity are at the heart of the Ten Commandments as we hear them from the book of Exodus this morning.  Last week, we heard the people complaining about the lack of water in the wilderness.  Have they been freed from slavery in Egypt in order to die of thirst in the wilderness?  God provided water as God provided manna, protection, and everything else the people needed as they journeyed through the wilderness to the promised land.

          Part of what the Israelites learned as they journeyed through the wilderness is what it means to be a people who belong to God.  Yes, God got them out of Egypt.  Yes, there is a promised land of milk and honey waiting for them.  But what does it mean to actually belong to the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, the God who led them out of Egypt, through the wilderness, and eventually to the Promised Land?

          The 10 commandments tell the people what it means to belong to God and set them apart with an identity as people who live by God’s commandments.  The first four commandments are about the people’s relationship with God.  They are to have no other gods, to worship no idols, to not make wrong use of God’s name, and to remember the Sabbath and keep that day holy.  Their identity is as a people who belong to God and there a specific ways the people are to nurture that relationship.  But belonging to God and being God’s chosen people are not just about the people’s relationship with God.  The people belong to God and because they belong to God, they also belong to each other.  So, the next 6 commandments govern their relationship with each other.  Honor your father and mother, and do not kill, commit adultery, steal, bear false witness, or covet.  The thunder and lightning, the sound of the trumpets, and the smoking mountain all testify to the solemness and sacredness of the relationship between God and God’s people.

          In Matthew’s gospel, Jesus is clear that he has not come to abolish the law and the prophets but to fulfill them.  And when Jesus is asked which is the greatest of the commandments, rather than choose one, Jesus replies “You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your mind.” This is the greatest and first commandment. And a second is like it: “You shall love your neighbor as yourself.”  Rather than enumerating 4 ways we are to be in relationship with God and 6 ways we are to be in relationship with each other, we are to love God with our whole heart, soul, and mind and love our neighbor as ourselves.  If we do that, we will have fulfilled the law and the prophets.  We will truly love God and each other.  We will completely and totally belong to God.  The world will see our actions and know us to be people of God.

          Suppose, then, that the vineyard the tenants are to tend in Jesus’ parable are those relationships.  Suppose that the tenants have been left to water and care for their relationships with and between God and the people.  The fruits of those relationships, when nurtured properly, would be love and respect, a sense of identity as people of God and belonging to God.  But the tenants do not see their job that way.  The fruit of their labor belongs to them and is a commodity to be used for personal gain.  So when the vineyard owner sends his slaves to collect the produce, the slaves are beaten, stoned, and killed.  Such is the love of the landowner for the vineyard that he sends more slaves, thinking for some absurd reason that they will be treated differently.  But they receive the same treatment.  Then, the love of the landowner completely overcomes all rational thought and the landowner sends his son, thinking that the slaves will treat him better.  Predictably, the tenants kill the son.  Jesus’ hearers assume that the landowner will put the tenants to a miserable death.  But instead, the love of the landowner, who we understand to be God, is so great that the landowner will bring new life out of the death of God’s son, a life that will produce the fruits of the Kingdom.

          We belong to that Love.  Our identity as Christians is bound up in the Love that never gives up, Love that is stronger than our selfish, sinful ways, Love that took death and created new life.  We are called to nurture the vineyard of love and life-to love God with all of our heart, mind, and soul and to love our neighbors, all of our neighbors, as ourselves.  The fruits of that vineyard will change the world.

                                                                   Amen.       

Light

 

Charlotte Collins Reed

Christ Church Episcopal

September 27, 2020

21 Proper A 

        On my morning walks and in my car, I listen to a lot of country music.  The song that has caught my attention lately is titled “Be a Light” sung by Keith Urban and Reba McIntyre.  The song was written this year and is clearly meant to address the current situation in which we find ourselves.

The refrain is this:

          In a world full of hate, be a light

When you do somebody wrong, make it right

Don't hide in the dark, you were born to shine

In a world full of hate, be a light.

There are a number of verses to the song which spell out what is meant by “Be a light” such as “in a time of war, be peace” and “in a time of doubt just believe.” The words of the last verse are

“Yeah, it's hard to live in color,

when you just see black and white

In a world full of hate, be a light.”

The message of the song is clear and is a gospel message whether the author of the song intended that or not.  In a world full of hate, be the light.

          I don’t find a lot of light in our gospel lesson this morning, though.  First, the religious authorities are challenging Jesus’ authority, to which Jesus replies with a question.  “Did the baptism of John come from heaven, or was it of human origin?”  This is a trick question because if the authorities say from heaven, then they should have believed John, which they did not.  If they say of human origin, they will have the crowds mad at them and could have a revolt on their hands.  Either way they answer, they lose.  Not much light there.

          Then we have what is, in my humble opinion as the mother of two sons, Jesus’ best parable.  Which son does the will of the father?  The one who says “yes” but does “no” or the one who says “no” but does yes?  And does it matter since the work in the vineyard got done? 

          Which son did the will of the father?  The chief priests and elders say that the one who actually went and worked in the vineyard did the will of the father. And on one level, that is true.  What the father wanted was for the work to get done and the work was done.  But Jesus’s response to their answer is “Truly I tell you, the tax collectors and prostitutes are going into the Kingdom of Heaven ahead of you.”  That does not sound like “right answer!” to me.  The chief priests and elders will still get into the Kingdom of Heaven, but they will be at the back of the line.  There’s not much light in this parable either.

          There is not much light in this parable because neither son did the will of the father.  The will of the father is not a choice between right words or right actions.  The letter to the Philippians describes the relationship with each other and with God that we are called to have, and it does not look anything like the relationship either son had with the father in the parable.  The apostle Paul writes “Do nothing from selfish ambition or conceit, but in humility regard others as better than yourselves.  Let each of you look not to your own interests, but to the interests of others.  Let the same mind be in you that was in Christ Jesus.”  Does that sound like either of the sons in the parable?  I think not.  The one who does the will of God is the one whose actions and words match, and whose actions and words look to the interests of others and match the words and actions of Christ.  That is the person who does the will of God and that is where light is to be found.

God wants our words and our actions to match.  Last week at the 9am service, we baptized little Charlotte Rankin.  At every baptism, we are asked to renew our baptismal covenant and we are asked five questions about how we will live out our faith.  We are asked if we will continue in the apostle’s teaching and fellowship, the breaking of bread and the prayers.  We are asked if we will proclaim the good news by word and example, if we will resist evil, if will seek and serve Christ in all people, and if we will respect the dignity of every human being and work for justice and peace.  Our responses to those questions are always an enthusiastic “I will with God’s help.”  I’ve never heard anyone say “I’m good with the apostles’ teaching and fellowship, but let me think about respecting the dignity of every human being.”  For our words and actions to match, we are called to build our busy lives, including the use of our time, our skills, and our financial resources, around those promises.  We are called to make our political decisions, our philanthropic and charitable decisions, and our decisions about how we respond to hate and intolerance match the words we profess with our lips.  In a world full of hate, we are called to be a light.

While country music may make being a light sound easy or at least simple, we know that light sometimes shines on things we would rather not see.  Light can blind us as we move from darkness to light and our eyes, and our souls, take time to adjust.  Light is not always popular as the light illuminates the darkness of fear, hatred, and prejudice that we may claim do not exist.  But country music is not the only call to be the light.  Earlier in Matthews gospel, Jesus said to his followers “‘You are the light of the world. A city built on a hill cannot be hidden. No one after lighting a lamp puts it under the bushel basket, but on the lampstand, and it gives light to all in the house. In the same way, let your light shine before others, so that they may see your good works and give glory to your Father in heaven.” 

 

We are the light when we live with our lives the promises we make in baptism.  Don’t hide in the dark.  You were born to shine. In a world full of hate, be the light.

                                                                             Amen.

                   

Labor

 

Charlotte Collins Reed

Christ Church Episcopal

September 6, 2020

18 Proper A 

          From the time I was a little girl, one of our family rituals was a traditional southern New Year’s Day dinner.  This meal always, always includes pork chops, black eyed peas, turnip greens, and cornbread.  When Don and I first moved to Ohio in 1989, I was shocked to find row upon row of sauerkraut on grocery store shelves at the end of the year, and nary a black-eyed pea in the county!  What we ate, and still eat, on New Year’s day is part of our identity as a southern family, with all the good and the ugly that identity and history hold.  Whether we actually like black eyed peas and turnip greens is a moot point.  This is what southerners eat on New Year’s in hopes that the year will be healthy and successful.  And yes, we did eat all of the above this past January 1 despite whatever evidence to the contrary!  Rituals are about identity, after all, not magic.

          Rituals are one of the ways we make sense of the world, ordering the world in ways that give us identity.  We hear in the reading from Exodus this morning about the ritual surrounding the Passover, a ritual rich with meaning.  The story does raises a lot of questions, though.  Are are the Egyptians not also children of God, even if they did enslave God’s chosen people and try to kill all the firstborn males?  Why did God plan to kill every Egyptian firstborn, both male and female, both human beings and animals?  And could God really not tell the Hebrew houses apart from the Egyptian houses without the blood on the door posts?

          But when I set my questions about this passage aside, what I find is the description of a ritual that will remind the Hebrew people from the time of the Exodus until now about God’s mighty act of deliverance.  The Passover ritual reminds the people of the way God delivered them out of Egypt and set the people on their journey to the promised land.  The people girded their loins and left in a hurry, with no time to leaven their bread, to make their escape before Pharaoh’s heart was hardened again.  God called the people to reenact this ritual year after year not to glorify the past, but to remember what God had done for them.  Remembering what God did for them in the past would help them see God at work in their present and trust that God would be at work in their future, whatever situation or circumstance they found themselves in.  The yearly celebration of the Passover became key to the people’s identity and to God’s identity as well, as in the Hebrew Scriptures God often says “I am the Lord your God who brought you out of bondage in the land of Egypt.”

          We are missing our familiar rituals these days, having worshipped in new ways since mid-March.   Our rituals of worship-our music, the order of our worship services, and communion itself-give us our identity as Christians who identify as Episcopalians.  Our rituals continually remind us of what God has done for us in the past so that we can see God at work in the present and trust that God will work in the future.  However, just as Moses would receive the 10 commandments after the people were liberated from Egypt and those commandments would also give the people identity as they lived in response to what God had done for them, the letter to the Romans reminds us this morning that we are called to live a certain way in response to all that God has done for us, and that way is no different from the way the Hebrew people were called to live.  Paul writes “For the one who loves another has fulfilled the commandments.”  He goes on to say that the commandments can be summed up in this word “Love your neighbor as yourself” and that love is the fulfilling of the law.  Not only do our rituals and the rituals of the Hebrew people remind us of all that God has done for us, those rituals also call us to live in response to God’s mighty work on our behalf.

          Scripture is honest, however, in admitting that all this love is not always easy.  This morning, Jesus tells the disciples what they are to do if another member of the church sins against them.  He lays out a detailed path to reconciliation, and what one is to do if the offending member refuses to listen.  If the member refuses to listen even to the church, Jesus says to let that one be to you as a Gentile and a tax collector.  Because this is Matthew’s gospel, and Matthew loves the weeping, wailing and gnashing of teeth, we could easily think that Jesus is telling us to treat such a person as an outcast-someone who can be discarded from the fellowship of the community.  But how did Jesus treat the gentiles and the tax collectors?  He dined with them.  He called them to be his disciples.  He healed them.  So much for the outer darkness!  Jesus tells us to love our neighbor as ourselves-our gentile neighbor, our tax collector neighbor, our neighbor whose politics are different from ours, our neighbor who is a different color, faith, or gender orientation from ours. 

          Taken together, our readings this morning remind us that while the rituals of our worship ground us in what God has done for us and in God’s promise that God is acting in our lives now, we are not the passive recipients of such rituals.  We are called to live as people for whom God has acted mightily, people God has carried through the waters of death into the promise of new life.  We do that by showing the same love to others that God has shown to us, even to those who have offended us.  We do that with the labor of our lives, whatever that labor might be.  While Labor Day is a secular holiday, Labor Day is also an occasion for us to give thanks for the gift of our Labor, to commit ourselves to working for meaningful labor at a decent wage for all people, and as Christians, to use our labor to be the love of God for our neighbors and the world.  Our rituals remind us of all that God has done and continues to do for us.  Our lives are that ritual for the world. 

                                                                   Amen.