Prepare

Charlotte Collins Reed
Christ Church Episcopal
November 27, 2022

1 Advent A

          Now that two of our granddaughters are old enough to know their numbers and count a bit, I have been on the hunt for age appropriate Advent calendars.  I have found chocolate Advent calendars, of course, but also Advent calendars with socks, little toys, holiday critters, legos, and of course the not age appropriate adult beverages like coffee and tea.  I have two peevish priest problems with these calendars.  First, they all assume that Advent begins on December 1.  Advent rarely begins on December 1.  Secondly, these are really count down calendars as if Advent is a season of simply marking time. How many days left until Christmas? The theology here is simple: when the chocolate is gone, Jesus is here.

          And while that theology of Advent is perhaps a bit shallow, I have to say that I like that version of Advent better than anything I hear in the gospel lesson this morning. On this first Sunday of Advent, when we might hope to hear something inspiring about the coming birth of the Christ child, instead we hear Jesus compare his return with high level security, the preparation, or lack thereof, for the Great Flood, and a woman being taken up from her work grinding wheat. Where is that Advent calendar with those little Legos?  Aren’t we supposed to welcome Jesus rather than lock him out or prepare for disaster? I much prefer Isaiah’s vision of people beating their swords into plowshares, and their spears into pruning hooks, and nations not lifting up sword against nation, and no one learning war anymore. Isaiah calls us to wait for this day by walking in the light of the Lord. Jesus calls us to prepare for his return as if we were expecting a thief to break into our home.

          Whose image of the coming of the Messiah is correct? Isaiah’s or Jesus’? In true Anglican fashion, the answer is, of course, "yes." While Isaiah gives us a vision of the world coming together in peaceful unity, Jesus reminds us that there is no calendar of any kind that will give us the date of the Messiah’s arrival. Jesus’ message is not that his return will be a flood, a kidnaping or a theft, but that God will break in among us while we are going about our everyday work, living our everyday lives, with no advance notice, so we need to be prepared.  There will be no 4 weeks of Advent to prepare, no little calendar with a pair of socks behind each door to tell us when to be ready. We will have to be ready because the call to the holy mountain, to gather in peace as God’s people, will come without warning.

How are we to be ready? I am reminded of the way that people and whole cities, states, and countries for that matter, prepare for hurricane season. Tremendous energy and resources are used to board up houses, fill sandbags, stock groceries, water and other necessities, and move to higher ground, because the people’s lives depend on being ready for the wind and rains to come. But is disaster preparedness really the metaphor we want when we think about being prepared for Jesus?

          Preparation for anything involves practice. If we want to be prepared for a recital, we practice. If we want to be prepared to host a dinner party, we practice our recipes on our family. If we want to be prepared for the test, we practice. And, because Jesus himself talks about floods and kidnappings, if we want to be prepared for disaster, we practice. So, if we want to recognize the Christ child when he is born, we practice recognizing those places where he is born among us now. How do we practice that? The apostle Paul gives us some idea of how we practice in the letter to the Romans. In the passage just before our reading from Romans this morning, Paul tells us to love one another, for the one who loves another has fulfilled the law. This morning we hear Paul tell us to lay aside works of darkness and put on the armor of light. Practice being people of light. We are to practice living fully, fulfilling all the law simply by loving one another and living honorably, and doing this with all the intensity and energy we would put into preparing for a flood, kidnaping, or a theft.

          Advent calls us to a season of intentional practice by calling us to live as if the Christ child will be born in our midst this very minute to usher in the Reign of God. The irony is that, if we live as Paul and Jesus call us to, we will be doing our part to make the future peaceful kingdom that Isaiah describes a more present reality in this world now. Jesus told us that no one knows the hour, the place, or the manner in which he will return, this is true. But Jesus also proclaimed that the Kingdom of God has arrived, and told us that the Kingdom of God is like a mustard seed, growing among us until sometime in the future when the Kingdom will appear in all its fullness. Jesus calls us to prepare for his coming by living as if that for which we wait has already arrived.

          So we wait and we practice. Advent is so much more than just counting down the days until Christmas. Advent is the call to be prepared, not by stockpiling necessities or by locking all our doors, but by living in the light, looking for those places where the Christ Child is born in our midst now. And when we live into Advent, Isaiah’s vision of the peaceful city will come just a little bit closer.   

Amen.

Work

Charlotte Collins Reed
Christ Church Episcopal
November 13, 2022

28 Proper C 

          Sometime in the summer of 2018, Rabbi Michael Ross from Temple Beth Shalom, Pastor Peter Wiley from First Congregational next door, and I began talking about hosting an Interfaith Thanksgiving Service.  Our congregations are a three-minute walk from each other, at most.  We share a rootedness in gratitude, and Thanksgiving is a holiday we all hold in common.  We talked over coffee several times and decided to wait until 2019 rather than rush things in 2018.  We really wanted to get the Interfaith Thanksgiving service right.

          But then, on October 27 of 2018, a gunman entered the Tree of Life synagogue in Pittsburgh, killing 11 congregants who were at prayer.  This was the deadliest antisemitic attack in American history and shock and fear rippled through the Jewish community in this country.  Peter and I reached out to Rabbi Michael immediately to offer our support, then quickly decided that this was not the year to delay an Interfaith Thanksgiving Service.  We put together a service quickly, letting go of any notion of perfection, and members of the three congregations gathered at Temple Beth Sholom on the Sunday before Thanksgiving to worship, sing, and give thanks together.  We have gathered every year since then, even when we had to be totally online, convinced that not only are we are better together than we are apart, we also need each other. 

          I thought about the Tree of Life shooting, other school and faith community shootings, the war in Ukraine, the pandemic, hurricanes Ian and Nicole, the conflict in our country, and so many other disasters as I read our gospel lesson this morning.  Jesus is speaking to people who will endure everything he describes, and Luke is writing to an audience currently experiencing those events.  Jesus tells the people that all of these things will come to pass before he returns and that his followers are to endure.  But here we are, two thousands of years later and acts of hatred, natural disaster, and plagues are still among us and Jesus has not returned.  What do we do with Jesus words?

          The answer to the question about Jesus’ return is a mystery I cannot solve.  But our other readings this morning do guide us in how we are to live while we wait.  The prophet Isaiah is writing to people who are trying to rebuild their lives in the Promised Land after their exile in Babylon.  The work is difficult and there is no clear path forward, much less agreement on that path.  The temple has been destroyed, the land burned out, and most of the people who once lived there have died.  Isaiah writes to encourage the people and call them to watch for the new thing God is doing in their midst.  God is not going to repeat what God has already done, but God will create Jerusalem as a joy and her people as a delight, a place where there will be no more weeping or cries of distress, and even the animals will get along.  In the midst of all that plagues and horrifies us, whether as individuals, as an institution, or as a country, God promises that God is about to do something new and God calls us to open our eyes and watch for God’s new action. 

          But this watching is not to be passive waiting.  The reading from I Thessalonians reminds us that the Christian life requires work. The specific work that is being commended to the Thessalonians is the work of earning their keep.  As Christians, the Thessalonians cannot expect others to do their work.  Likewise, as Christians we are called to model the work to which Jesus calls us, the work of tending the sick, caring for those affected by disaster or tragedy, working for justice and peace in cases of conflict.  That work is not easy, but that work is holy.  Our work is to point to and actually be part of the new thing God is doing in our midst despite any and all evidence that wars, plagues, violence, and conflict are winning. 

          In 2018, in the face of devastating violence, the Interfaith Thanksgiving Service was our attempt to bring people together across differences and to see what new thing God might be doing in our midst in the face of tragedy.  The work to which I Thessalonians calls us is the work of actually being that new thing Isaiah writes about, working across differences to usher in a new day in which faithful people across faith traditions can gather, give thanks, and build relationships that will make the world look a little less like what Jesus predicts and a little more like what Isaiah foretells.  When we practice that work in something so easy and simple as an Interfaith Thanksgiving Service, we are better prepared to practice that work in the rest of our lives.

                                                                   Amen.

         

Present Tense

Charlotte Collins Reed
Christ Church Episcopal
November 6, 2022

All Saints Day

One afternoon many years ago, I received a call from the husband of my close friend and mentor of about 35 years. His wife, my beloved friend, had been sick for a year. I had been to Arkansas to visit her twice during that year and both visits were deep and rich. We had the kind of friendship where we could be apart for several years and then pick up right where we left off, like no time had elapsed at all.

When her husband called that afternoon, the situation was deteriorating rapidly and my friend was only expected to live a few more hours, or a day at best. While the news was not unexpected, I was crushed nonetheless. I knew I could not get to Arkansas in time, and really did not feel called to be there. So I asked her husband "What can I do?" Of course, I thought he would say "Keep us in your prayers." Instead, he said "Just get out there and be the best priest you know how to be."

On All Saints Sunday, we remember those who have gone before us and their impact on our lives. The music, the candles, and the names evoke powerful emotions within us as we remember those who, in the words of the Burial service, "we love but see no longer." We remember those whose lives touched our own, as well as the people the church has named the "official" saints, like St. Peter or St. Mary. All Saints Sunday evokes tears of both joy and sadness as we celebrate these lives that are now lived in the nearer presence of God, and we pause for a moment to simply dwell in those memories.

On All Saints Sunday, while we remember the past and dream of a future in which God will reunite us with our loved ones, Jesus grounds us firmly in the present with the present tense words of the beatitudes. The reassuring words "Blessed are you who are poor, for yours is the kingdom of God" quickly become "Woe to you who are rich for you have received your consolation." The comforting words "Blessed are you who weep now, for you will laugh" become "Woe to you who are laughing now, for you will mourn and weep." Jesus begins the beatitudes with words of comfort which quickly turn to words of challenge and judgement.  These are not the words I want to hear on All Saints Sunday.

What are we to make of Jesus’ words this morning?  Jesus fed thousands of hungry people with a few fish and loaves of bread. Jesus had mercy on tears of grief and raised the dead. Jesus befriended the poor and the outcast, healing the lepers and the blind so they could rejoin society and be productive. Jesus certainly did not glorify hungry, sorrow and poverty with his actions. If Jesus worked so hard with his actions to feed the hungry, comfort the sorrowful, and lift people out of poverty, what could his words this morning possibly mean?

On All Saints Sunday, Jesus does not tell us that hunger, poverty, and misery are good things. What Jesus does is invite us into the Kingdom of God where those who have food share with those who are hungry, and those who are joyful comfort those who mourn, and those who are blessed with material resources share with those in need.  Then the hungry will be fed, and those who weep will laugh again.  When Jesus tells us to love our enemies, do good to those who hate us, and give to everyone who begs from us, Jesus is inviting us to make the Kingdom of God a present reality in our midst now.  The Kingdom of God is not a magical place where all of the problems of the world are suddenly solved.  The Kingdom of God is a real place that is brought into existence in our midst when everyone does to others as they would have them to themselves, everyone is loving their enemies, doing good to those who hate them, and on and on.  On All Saints Sunday, Jesus calls us to remember those who worked to make the Kingdom of God a present reality in the world and to commit ourselves to that same work.

          This morning, we baptize Anna Longenecker into the body of Christ.  In baptism, she joins the communion of saints we celebrate this day.  In baptism, her parents and godparents promise to help her grow into the full stature of Christ and to work to bring the Kingdom of God near.  With Anna, we all promise to seek and serve Christ in all people, respect the dignity of every human being, and work for justice and peace.  When we do that work, the hungry are fed, the sorrowful are comforted, the poor are blessed, and the Kingdom of God is in our midst.

On All Saints Sunday, we remember those who have gone before us because their lives showed us how to bring the Kingdom of God near. We sing the great hymns, light the candles, read the names, and say the prayers, not just because they comfort us, but because they remind us that we, like all the saints, are called to live into our baptism and be a gospel witness in the world. When I asked my friend’s husband what I could do in the face of her death, he did not say to me "light a candle, say a prayer, or sing a really great hymn.” He said "Get out there and be the best priest you can be." The saints in our lives are the ones who call us, who challenge us, to trust in Jesus and get out there and live our lives such that the world around us will experience the Kingdom of God in their midst.

Amen

Notice

Charlotte Collins Reed
Christ Church Episcopal
October 30, 2022

26 Proper C 

          In our family, we have a running joke about my father-in-law, Don’s dad.  If anyone says “Would you like to go…,” Fred has his shoes on and is out the door before we finish the sentence.  Fred has always loved to go and will still go anywhere, anytime.  When we lived in Springfield, Ohio, where Fred still lives, he would go with me to out of town evening meetings, or to our cottage on the Ohio River.  The one time he rethought his willingness to go anyplace anytime with me was the time he found himself at Ikea, the massive home furnishings store.  That was a stretch even for Fred!

          The thing about traveling with Fred is that he notices everything.  One evening we were taking back roads from Springfield to Columbus, which is largely farm country.  I was very focused on not getting lost as this was before I had gps in my car.  Fred was noticing the cows, the make and model of the cows, wondering about the farm and how many acres it was, where the water supply was, and how the farmer was doing.  On another trip, this one down highway 68 to the Ohio River, while I am wondering if there is a speed trap in the next small town, Fred is noticing all the John Deere tractor stores along the way, wondering who is buying all these tractors, what their farms are like, noticing the size of the store we are currently passing compared with the one we passed a few miles back.  The only thing we both noticed was the large sign saying “Homemade Amish Baked Goods.”

          This morning, we hear the story of Jesus’ encounter with Zacchaeus.  Zacchaeus was a chief tax collector, so likely very good at extorting money from the people, thus very wealthy and very unpopular with the people.  Zacchaeus wants to see Jesus, so he climbs a tree to get a better view.  Jesus notices Zacchaeus and calls him to come down from the tree so he can stay at Zacchaeus’ house.  Jesus is going to stay, and presumably dine, with a tax collector, a despised and notorious sinner.  This is hardly the first time Jesus has taken up the cause of a tax collector having called one as a disciple and having just last week held up the faith of a tax collector.  Zacchaeus’s life is transformed by the encounter with Jesus, and he amends his life, bringing salvation to his house. 

          Jesus noticed Zacchaeus.  Not only did Jesus notice Zacchaeus, but Jesus also stopped and engaged the tax collector.  Jesus could have simply seen the grown man in the tree and moved on, but he did not.  In the reading from Isaiah, the prophet calls the people to notice those in need of justice, the oppressed, the orphan and the widow, and to do something about their plight.  God is tired of empty sacrifices and rituals that do not lead to the transformation of people’s lives.   Those sacrifices and rituals are worthless to God unless they are accompanied by action that transforms human life and suffering. 

          In the lovely and encouraging reading from 2 Thessalonians, Paul and his companions notice the faith and steadfastness of the church in Thessalonica in the midst of persecution and affliction.  They see the deep love the Thessalonians have for one another.  Paul prays for the Thessalonians.  The persecuted Thessalonians feel seen and encouraged by the words and action of Paul, Silvanus, and Timothy and they know that their work for the gospel matters.

          In the Episcopal Church, at every baptism, we promise to seek and serve Christ in all people.  In order to do that, we are called to notice people, to really see them, and not just pass by.  Look around for a moment.  Notice who is here that you have not met yet.  If you have been at Christ Church a while, notice who is not here.  Out in the world around us, notice the person who has gone above and beyond for you and offer a word of thanks, or the person who seems overwhelmed and need of encouragement, or who is alone and in need of friendship.  Notice and then act, because noticing is not enough.  In Isaiah, God calls the people to “seek justice, rescue the oppressed, defend the orphan, plead for the widow.”  We are called to notice the oppressed, the orphan, and the widow, metaphorical or literal, then God calls us to act whether with a simple action in the moment like Jesus did with Zacchaeus, or with an encouraging word like Paul offered the Thessalonians, or with work for systemic change as when Isaiah calls the people to seek justice and transform society.   When we notice with the curiosity of Fred and respond with the compassion of Jesus, the transforming love of God, working through us, will change lives and change the world. 

                                                                                      Amen.