One

Charlotte Collins Reed

Christ Church Episcopal

August 27, 2017

16 Proper A

          After much anticipation and weeks of waiting for the eclipse last Monday, I have to say that I found the experience rather anticlimactic here in Northeast Ohio.  Several members of the staff and I gathered on the porch of Beebe House off and on over the course of the early afternoon, sharing the one pair of eclipse glasses that Lucy Kistler had brought.  We took turns watching as the sun was slowly blotted out by the moon, which was interesting, but not dramatic as the sky never darkened beyond what seemed like a normal cloudy afternoon.  At one brief point, there seemed to be a slightly eerie light outside, but that was pretty much the extent of the effect of the eclipse on Aurora Street.  However, I did watch the eclipse online from places where the sky went completely dark in the middle of the afternoon and the emerging sun had a brilliant glow.  I can see how people centuries ago might have thought the world was coming to an end. 

          In my humble opinion, one of the very best things about the eclipse is that for most of one day, the whole country seemed to focus on something beyond ourselves and our disagreements.  We were captivated by the sun and the moon.  I would even go so far as to say that for a brief time, we were united in the wonder of creation.  The other side effect of the eclipse is the realization of how very, very small we are in the context of the whole of that creation. 

          I don’t know about you, but I can easily feel small these days.  Whether in the face of an eclipse, divisive politics, a massive, devastating hurricane, or the raging humanitarian crises in Yemen and other parts of the world, I wonder what one person can possibly do to make a difference in the face of challenges of such magnitude.  That feeling of smallness can lead to paralysis, and the temptation is to retreat and sit on the couch watching endless hours of Netflix. 

Fortunately, Shiphrah and Puah do not feel small in the face of a great challenge this morning.  The situation of the Hebrew people has changed dramatically since we last checked in on them last week.  Last week, Joseph, the son of Jacob, grandson of Isaac, and great grandson of Abraham, was the ruler of Egypt.  Now Joseph's people are held in oppressive and brutal slavery in that very same land.  The King of Egypt is afraid that the Hebrew people will multiply, and in the event of war, join Egypt's enemies, and escape from Egypt.  But the more brutal the Egyptians made the lives of the Hebrews, the faster the Hebrews multiplied. So the King orders that all Hebrew baby boys are to be killed.  This morning, the Hebrew midwives, Shiphrah and Puah, refuse to obey the King’s command.   These two women were hardly likely candidates to stand up to power.  They were not politicians, royalty, or military leaders.  The two midwives are two ordinary women going about the work they have been called to do, delivering babies.  In the course of that very normal work, they are given the opportunity to make a difference, and they do.

Jesus asks the disciples this morning “Who do you say that I am?”  My guess is that a very long silence followed that question.  The disciples stared at their feet, examined their fingernails, and got very interested in something on the ground, hoping that someone else would speak up.  But finally, Simon looks Jesus in the eye and says "You are the Christ, the Son of the Living God!"  Bingo!  The prize for having answered the question correctly is nothing other than a new name, the keys to the kingdom of heaven, and the assurance that the gates of Hades will not prevail. 

I wonder if Simon, now Peter, and the other disciples understood that by recognizing that Jesus is the Christ, the Son of the Living God, they were also claiming something about themselves as followers of Jesus.  As followers of Jesus, they would be transformed, as Peter’s new name signifies.  They would hold the keys to the Kingdom of Heaven, making them responsible for making the Kingdom of Heaven a more present reality on earth.  And they would be responsible for making sure that the gates of hell would not prevail against that effort.  In short, as followers of Jesus, they would be expected to answer the question “Who do you say that I am” not only with their lips, but with their lives.

The apostle Paul calls us this morning to be transformed by the renewing of our minds, but that does not mean that our faith is a purely mental exercise.  Paul tells us to be transformed by the renewing of our minds so that we can discern the will of God- that which is good and acceptable and perfect, and to present our bodies as a living sacrifice.  How are we called, individually and as a church, to use our lives to make the Kingdom of God a more present reality on earth, and a place were the gates of hell do not prevail?  Shiphrah and Puah did this as midwives, saving the Hebrew babies.  We are engineers, teachers, business people, medical professionals, moms, dads, students, or countless other vocations.  In the face of natural disaster, humanitarian crises, and deep injustice, Jesus calls each of us, as Jesus called Peter and the disciples, to use our lives to answer the question “Who do you say that I am?”

                                                                   Amen.

Barriers

Charlotte Collins Reed

Christ Church Episcopal

August 20, 2017

15 Proper A

Some years ago, I ran into a former grade school teacher of one of our sons.  We were both at a reception following a funeral when we had one of those "Don't I know you from somewhere" moments.  About 15 years had elapsed since this teacher had taught our son, but during the year that our son was in her classroom, the teacher and I had an unfortunate disagreement over the way a particular situation had been handled.  If the teacher had 30 students a year, and 15 years had passed since we last encountered each other, then some 450 students and no doubt several disagreeable parents had passed through her classroom since we last met.  So, hopefully the teacher had forgotten our unpleasant encounter.  However, here’s a free parenting tip: if you don't want your children's teachers to remember them, do not give them names like Slocomb and Caldwell!  And indeed, 15 years later, the teacher did remember our son.  Whether or not she remembered our disagreement, I will never know because if she did, she was gracious enough not to mention it.  Nonetheless, I felt a bit awkward to say the least.

          Awkward does not begin to describe what Joseph's brothers are feeling this morning when they find out that the powerful ruler standing before them is actually the little brother they sold into slavery.  Now, many years have passed and a famine has come upon the land.  Because Joseph had understood one of Pharaoh's dreams to mean that there would be seven years of abundance, followed by seven years of famine, Egypt had prepared well for the famine.  Not only that, but the Pharaoh had made Joseph ruler over Egypt.  When we catch up with Joseph and his brothers this morning, Joseph's brothers stand before him, unaware of his identity, in dire need of food to purchase and take home to their father and families.  When Joseph reveals his identity to his brothers this morning, they are understandably mortified.  But rather than be angry with his brothers, Joseph explains that God has worked through their misdeeds so that now their family can be kept alive.  God has taken a bad situation and used that situation to break down the barriers created between the brothers so that the family could survive.  But those barriers did not come down by magic.  Humility was required on the part of the brothers, and charity was required on the part of Joseph.  Love, despite the earlier barriers they had put up, was required by all of them.

          Jesus seems to be creating barriers this morning.  When the Canaanite woman approaches Jesus and tells Jesus that her daughter is possessed by a demon, Jesus ignores her as if she is not there.  The disciples, too, want to keep the barrier between the woman and Jesus as they tell Jesus to send her away.  Jesus’ mission is to the lost sheep of the house of Israel, and this woman is of another house. Is Jesus’ testing the woman?  Is Jesus just in a bad mood that day?  Is Jesus so moved by the woman’s faith that his understanding of his ministry is expanded?  There are many theories about why Jesus responds to the Canaanite woman in such a seemingly callous way.   But where the disciples and Jesus may see a barrier between the Canaanite woman and themselves, the Canaanite woman sees no barrier.  Her faith is so great that she believes Jesus can heal her daughter with a word. She neither needs to bring her daughter to Jesus nor take Jesus to her daughter.  The woman will not leave, and she even spars a bit with Jesus, responding to his comment about not taking the children’s food and throwing it to the dogs with “Yes, Lord, yet even the dogs eat the crumbs that fall from their masters’ table.”  At this point, for whatever reason, the barrier falls, and Jesus says ““Woman, great is your faith! Let it be done for you as you wish.”  And the woman’s daughter was healed instantly.  Not only was the barrier between the Canaanite woman and the Jewish men destroyed, the barrier that separated the daughter from her health was gone as well.

          I believe God wept this week as God witnessed the deep, vitriolic barriers between human beings.  God wept at the extreme ugliness and violence that result when the gifts of race, religion, and sexual orientation are used to divide the human family.  God wept at the resulting chaos.  There were times this week when I wanted to say “Just wake me up when this is over.”  But God did not give up and neither can we, even if we may feel somewhat sheltered from that ugliness here in Hudson.  Just as God was able to take the bad situation in which Joseph was thrown into the pit and sold into slavery and use that situation to advance the story of God’s people, we have seen God at work through displays of unity in Charlottesville and around the country, as people of a variety of races, faiths, and sexual orientations came together to stand in solidarity with those who are marginalized.  God has been at work in new conversations that open our eyes to implicit racism and privilege and open our ears to really hear each other.  In the Good Friday world that we saw so clearly this week, there were glimpses of Easter.

Our Presiding Bishop, Michael Curry, our first African-American Presiding Bishop, reminded us this week of the last book Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. wrote. In 1967, when the world was as divided then as it is now, King wrote the book “Where do we go from here? Chaos or community?”  This week, we ask “Where do we go from here?”  We can choose chaos, but the chaos will further tear us apart.  And that is not who we are.  As Christians, we are people who believe that, at the deepest level, we are all connected.  Scripture is clear that God calls us to choose community and to be a community that works for justice and peace, and respects the dignity of every human being.  But there is no magic wand that will tear down the barriers and replace them with bridges.  Like Joseph and his brothers, we must be willing to do the work.  Like the Canaanite woman, we must be persistent and not give the barriers the final say.  In the words of Dr. King, which contain the gospel truth, “Darkness cannot drive out darkness. Only light can do that.  Hate cannot drive out hate.  Only love can do that.”  The gospel calls us to practice love.  

                                                                   Amen

Walking on Water

Charlotte Collins Reed

Christ Episcopal Church

August 13, 2017

14 Proper  A

If we want to hear stories about perfect families, perhaps we should look somewhere other than the Bible.  This morning we hear a story of sibling rivalry that lets us know we are in good company if our family is not exactly or even close to perfect.  In our readings from the Old Testament this summer, we have heard the story of the near sacrifice of Isaac, and the apparent estrangement of Isaac and his father Abraham from that moment on.  Isaac’s son Jacob was tricked into marrying Laban’s first born daughter, Leah, before he could also marry Rachel, the love of Jacob’s life.  In his old age, Isaac was fooled by his wife Rebekah and his younger son Jacob into giving the birthright of his eldest son Esau to his younger son.  Today we hear about two additional wives of Jacob, Bilhah and Zilpah, handmaids of Rachel and Leah who Jacob also married, and the tension between the 12 sons of these various wives.  Joseph was the favorite son of Jacob because he was the first born son of Rachel, Jacob’s favorite wife.  Now we hear that 17 year old Joseph has tattled on his brothers, who, we are told, already hate him.  In an act of extreme sibling rivalry, the 11 brothers plotted Joseph’s demise.  One brother, Rueben, convinced the other 10 to spare Joseph’s life, so they threw Joseph into a pit, then sold him to some Midianite traders who took Joseph to Egypt.  If this sounds like a huge, complicated mess to you, you are hearing correctly.  God had promised Abraham, Joseph’s great-grandfather, that Abraham would have descendants that number the stars in the sky, and that they would inhabit a great land.  With Jacob’s 12 sons, the family is moving in the right direction for ample descendants, but the move to Egypt takes them away from the promised land of God.  In short, the descendants of Abraham are now in a real mess.

While Jesus’ disciples are not in a generational mess this morning, they do find themselves in a frightful situation.  After feeding 5000 men, plus women and children, Jesus made the disciples get in a boat and head to the other side of the lake.  They are in the middle of the lake, with the wind against them, fighting their way to the other side, when they see what they believe to be a ghost.  Peter wants proof that this ghost is really Jesus so, at Jesus’ invitation, Peter climbs out of the boat and attempts to walk on the water to Jesus.  When he sees the strong wind, he becomes frightened and begins to sink.  Jesus saves him with a reprimand: “You of little faith, why did you doubt?”

This story leads us to believe that if Peter just had enough faith, he could walk on water like Jesus.  If we are not careful, we quickly slide into thinking that if WE just had enough faith, WE could walk on water as well, defying the forces that threaten to drown us whether they be natural disaster, sickness or disease, worry about global instability, or our own family problems.

There are two problems with this line of thinking.  First, throughout scripture, control over the seas belongs to God, not humans.  God caused the great flood that wiped out all living things not on Noah’s ark, and God caused the rains to stop.  God parted the Red Sea, so that Moses could lead the Hebrew people across the water and away from the Egyptians.  In the book of Jonah, “the Lord hurled a great wind upon the sea, and such a mighty storm came upon the sea that the ship threatened to break up.”  The list goes on and on.  The ability to control the sea belongs to God, not humans.

Secondly, Peter’s problem when he begins to sink is identified as fear.  But when Jesus rescues Peter, he says “You of little faith, why did you doubt?”  What Peter and the disciples doubted was the identity of Jesus.  First, the disciples thought Jesus was a ghost.  And, at 3am in the pitch dark in the middle of the water in a boat being battered by waves, a ghost makes much more sense than thinking that Jesus has strolled out on the water to check on them.  Then Peter says “Lord, if it is you, command me to come to you on the water.”  Peter is testing the identity of their visitor.  When Peter begins to sink and Jesus says “You of little faith. Why did you doubt?” the only thing Peter has doubted is the identity of Jesus.  The point of the story is to prove that Jesus is God, not to make the disciples feel badly because they cannot walk on water.  And at the end of the story, the point has been made, as the disciples say “Truly you are the son of God.”

In the Hebrew Scriptures, God identifies himself as the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob.  In other words, God identifies himself as the God of the whole complicated mess of a story that we find in the book of Genesis.  God does not give up on the Hebrew people, no matter how much they doubt, how much trouble they get into, or how far they stray.  God is their God and they are God’s people for the long haul.  In Matthew’s gospel, Jesus is Emmanuel, God with us.  By having power over the stormy seas, Jesus demonstrates that he is God.  By coming out to the disciples in the boat, Jesus demonstrates that he is with them.  The story about Jesus walking on the water is not a story designed to make us feel inadequate because we do not have the faith to walk on water.  We are humans.  We are not called to walk on water.  When times are fearful and our boat is being battered by waves and is far from land, or when we feel like we’ve been thrown in a pit and sold into bondage, whether we are in a self-made mess or one we have absolutely no control over, Jesus does not expect us to walk on water.  Jesus does expect us to believe that he can walk on water, that he is with us, and that his presence matters.  Jesus’ presence with us gives us the courage we need to be the people God has created and called us to be.  As followers of Jesus, the command of the gospel is, in the words of our Baptismal covenant, to resist evil, to seek and serve Christ in all people, to respect the dignity of every human being, and to work for justice and peace.   The promise of the gospel is that in good times, and especially in frightful and difficult times, Jesus is with us.

        Amen.

Transfiguration

Charlotte Collins Reed

Christ Church Episcopal

August 6, 2017

Transfiguration

          Some years ago, the comedian Robin Williams put forth the top 10 reasons to be an Episcopalian.  The list includes things like no snake handling, pew aerobics, the color coded liturgical year, and “all of the pageantry; none of the guilt.”  Much about Robin Williams’ list is commendable, and much of the list is humorous, reminding us not to take ourselves too seriously.  But I wonder what reasons others give for being an Episcopalian, or being part of Christ Church.  So, this week I did a highly unscientific study to find out the top reasons for being part of Christ Church.

          Interestingly, most of the answers I got were connected in some way with either our Baptismal Covenant or the prayers in the Baptism service.  A couple of the responses reflected the prayer that we pray for the newly baptized in which we ask God to give that person “an inquiring and discerning heart, the courage to will and to persevere, and the gift of joy and wonder in all God’s works.”  Other responses connected with our commitment in baptism to seek and serve Christ in all persons, and to strive for justice and peace among all people and respect the dignity of every human being.  Yet another response valued the relationships formed among those who love God and work to share that love with others, echoing our promise in baptism to proclaim by word and example the good news of God in Christ.  Overall, I found a deep attraction to the understanding of baptism we hold in the Episcopal Church.

          Today is the Feast of the Transfiguration.  Jesus has taken Peter, James, and John and gone up on a mountain to pray. While Jesus was praying, the appearance of his face changed, his clothes became dazzling white, and Moses and Elijah appeared.  When Peter wants to stay on the mountain top forever, the voice of God speaks clearly to the disciples. “This is my Son, my Chosen. Listen to him.”

          Stories like this one are challenging.  Is the message that, if we pray hard enough, our faces will change and our clothes will become dazzling white?  I don’t think so.  Is the message that we have to have a mountain top experience to hear God speak?  I hope not.  What does the transfiguration of Jesus mean for our own lives as Christians?

          The moment the disciples realize that they are on the mountain with the transfigured Jesus, Moses, and Elijah is a moment that is alive with hope and possibility.  If Moses and Elijah, representing the law and the prophets, two of the pillars of the Hebrew faith, appear with Jesus, anything is possible.  The disciples are literally and figuratively on top of the world, and Peter, at least, would like to hold that moment forever.  But in a split second, that hope turns to terror when they are enveloped in the darkness of a cloud.  God speaks in the midst of the darkness, and tells the disciples that Jesus is God’s beloved son, God’s chosen, and they are to listen to him.  Quite possibly because of their terror, we are told that the three keep silent and tell no one in those days what they have seen.

          Perhaps the movement from being on top of the world or at the top of our game one moment, to being utterly terrified the next, is a place we can connect with this story.  Life can be dancing right along, with everything going our way, when the rug is pulled out from under us and a dark cloud enfolds us.  I believe this is true for individuals but also nations as well, as we remember that today is also the anniversary of the bombing of Hiroshima and the bright light and dark cloud of that day.  Institutions also experience this quick movement.   As we prepare to celebrate the 175^th anniversary of Christ Church this fall, we might like to think that we are celebrating 175 years of successful, growing ministry in Hudson, but the history of the parish tells a different story.  From the very beginning in 1842, the history of Christ Church has been one of success and growth, followed by having the rug pulled out from underneath, sometimes due to external factors like the local or national economy, and sometimes caused by poor decisions on the part of the parish.  The story of Christ Church is one of faithful perseverance and tenacity, bearing witness to a light more powerful than the darkness of the time.   

The story of the transfiguration calls us to bear witness to the light that is more powerful than the terror of darkness.  The lesson from 2 Peter reminds us of the transfiguration of Jesus and then says “You will do well to be attentive to this as to a lamp shining in a dark place, until the day dawns and the morning star rises in your hearts.”  We may not have a mountain top experience where we hear the voice of God directly, or be physically transformed while at prayer.  But Transfiguration can also happen when we bear witness to the light of Christ, shining in dark places.   Transfiguration happens when we seek and serve Christ in all people, particularly those in whom the Christ light seems dim.  Transfiguration happens when we strive for justice and peace and respect the dignity of every human being, particularly those with who are different from ourselves.  Transfiguration happens when others can see the brightness of Jesus through our words and deeds.  In other words, Transfiguration can happen when we live out the promises we make in baptism, when we live into what we love about this church.  The Transfiguration calls us to be the people we claim to be.

                                                                             Amen.

Beautiful Weeds

Charlotte Collins Reed

Christ Church Episcopal

July 23, 2017

11 Proper A

          My grandmother’s favorite flower was Queen Anne’s Lace.   Whenever we were out and about and saw a field of Queen Anne’s Lace, we had to stop, no matter where we were, so she could pick the flowers.  She might spot the plants in a cemetery, a park, or even someone’s yard.  Regardless of the location, she thought nothing of hopping out of the car, scissors in hand, to score a beautiful bunch of her favorite flower.  When she got home, she pressed the flowers between the pages of an ancient, enormous encyclopedia.  From what I could tell, flowers only went into the pages of the book.  Nothing ever came out.  But the joy my grandmother had in finding and saving the most perfect specimens of Queen Anne’s lace was perfect and complete.

          So, imagine my surprise when I found out that Queen Anne’s lace is actually a weed!  No wonder we never got arrested for trespassing and cutting other people’s flowers.  What my grandmother saw as utterly beautiful and worthy of preserving was actually something most people pull from their gardens.  If beautiful Queen Anne’s lace is actually a weed, how on earth are we supposed to tell weeds from flowers?  Gardening is so complicated!

          Jesus poses a similar dilemma this morning, but of course Jesus is not talking about actual weeds.  Jesus is comparing the Kingdom of Heaven with someone who sowed good seed in his field, expecting good wheat to grow, but got weeds as well.  When the slaves want to destroy the weeds so that the wheat can grow, Jesus says “no.”  In pulling the weeds, the wheat would be uprooted and die as well.  The slaves want to make sure that the weeds are destroyed.  Jesus wants to make sure the wheat will flourish.

          Any good gardener knows that for the good plants to flourish, the weeds must go.  Otherwise, the good plants will not get enough sunshine or enough nutrients from the soil to grow.  So, the slaves are right in their desire to pull the weeds.  But Jesus is not at all concerned with good gardening practices.  Jesus is concerned with the gospel. 

          But what is the gospel message that Jesus is trying to convey?  After explaining the parable to the disciples, Jesus says “The Son of Man will send his angels, and they will collect out of his kingdom all causes of sin and all evildoers, and they will throw them into the furnace of fire, where there will be weeping and gnashing of teeth. Then the righteous will shine like the sun in the kingdom of their Father. Let anyone with ears listen!”   

Matthew is the only gospel writer to be quite so concerned about the end of the world, the final judgement, and weeping and wailing and gnashing of teeth.  All of the great weeping and wailing and gnashing of teeth stories are in Matthew’s gospel.  Matthew is the one who tells us about the wise and foolish virgins, and the separation of sheep from the goats.  The Christians to whom Matthew wrote were quite concerned to divide the world into insiders and outsiders, the righteous and the unrighteous, the clean and the unclean, those who will survive the fiery judgement and those who will not.  Sometimes our world seems a lot like Matthew’s, with much press being given to who is in and who is out, whose behavior is acceptable and whose is not, who is righteous and who is not, who is saved, and who is not.  Some things never change.  Is the gospel message simply that at the end of time, those of us who are weed, whoever we are, will burn and those of us who are wheat, whoever we are, will shine like the sun?

          The problem with that version of the gospel is that it does not fit with the rest of Jesus’ ministry and teachings. Jesus spent most of his time eating with sinners, curing lepers, inviting the outcasts, and otherwise engaging people considered by the religious authorities to be weeds.  Jesus spent much of the rest of his time challenging those religious authorities and confronting the people who were considered righteous, or the wheat.  So, in the same Kingdom of Heaven where the outsiders are insiders and the last are first, might it be the case that those who appear to be weeds are actually wheat and those who appear to be wheat might actually be weeds?  And how are we to tell which is which?

          I believe that this is Jesus’ point.  We humans cannot always tell the weeds from the wheat, so we are not to be about the business of pronouncing final judgement about who is in the Kingdom of God and who is not.  Weeding is not our job.  This does not mean that we are to ignore violence, condone evil, or endorse oppression.  It simply means that ultimate judgement about who is in the Kingdom of God and who is not, is God’s call not ours.   The reading from Genesis and the reading from Romans remind us of this fact.  In Genesis, we hear God say to Jacob in a dream “I am the Lord, the God of Abraham your father and the God of Isaac.”  God, in effect, says to Jacob “I am the one who chose the chosen people.”  Paul reminds the Christians in Rome, and all Christians, that we are chosen by God as God’s adopted children.  Then, the Psalmist describes the trust he has in the God who makes these choices with these words: “Lord, you have searched me out and known me; you know my sitting down and my rising up; you discern my thoughts from afar....Search me out, O God, and know my heart; try me and know my restless thoughts.”  This is the God who will separate the wheat from the weeds on the last day.  

          When the slaves ask the master if he would like them to gather the weeds from the fields, the householder replies “No, for in gathering the weeds, you would uproot the wheat along with them.”  The workers want to make their calling the destruction of the weeds.  Ironically, in destroying the weeds, the wheat will be destroyed also, and the mission of the weeds will be fulfilled.  Only God can separate the weeds from the wheat without damage.  The gospel calls us to let go of our need to weed, and live our lives sowing the good seed of the Kingdom of Heaven. 

                                                                   Amen.  

         

          

Bound

Charlotte Collins Reed

Christ Church Episcopal

July 2, 2017

8 Proper A

          Last summer, I was looking for an audiobook to listen to in my car on a long drive.  One of the audiobooks available for download from the Hudson library was “Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone,” the first of the seven books in the Harry Potter series.  I read the first Harry Potter book with our son when the book came out in 1997, and read through the series as each new book was released, finishing the last book in 2007.  So, almost a decade later, I was ready to engage the story again.

          After having read the entire series once, I know how the story ends.  Despite that knowledge, I find myself just as caught up in the drama of the story as the first time I read the books.  I am just as tense at the tense parts, concerned about the characters, surprised by the twists and turns of the plot as I was the first time.  How could I possibly lose sleep over the fate of a fictional character in a story I have already read?  Part of the power of a great story is the ability of that story to be experienced as new after being told time and time again. 

          The story of Abraham and Isaac is just such a story.  No matter how many times I hear the story, and no matter how well I know the ending, I am always gripped with both horror and suspense as I hear God tell Abraham to take his son, his only son, who he loves, and offer him as a burnt offering.  What kind of God would even ask that?  And what about Ishmael, Abraham’s son by Hagar?  Isn’t he also Abraham’s beloved son? And why on earth would Abraham comply with God’s request?  Where is Sarah, Isaac’s mother?  Does she not have a say in this matter? There is no evidence that Abraham and Sarah ever speak again after this episode, and Sarah dies shortly thereafter.  And what about God’s promise that God will make a great nation of Abraham?  How is that going to happen if Abraham sacrifices Isaac?  What about Abraham’s relationship with his son, his only son, who he loves?  Abraham, we are told a few verses after our reading concludes, comes down from the mountain alone and I can only imagine the lasting damage that has been done to this father-son relationship.  And how can this story possibly be relevant in our own faith lives?

          While I don’t have the answer to any of these questions, perhaps setting the story in the context of the larger story of Abraham will be helpful.  Sometimes looking at what we do know is helpful in figuring out what we do not know.

          What we know that Abraham has a long and deep relationship with God by the time we get to our story this morning.  When Abram was a mere 75 years old, God called Abram to leave the country of his father and go to a land that God would show him.  Abram trusts God and leaves for an unknown land, and that works out pretty well, despite a few set-backs.  When Abraham is 99 years old, and Abraham and Sarah are childless and obviously way too old to bear children, God promises Abraham descendants that will number the stars in the sky.  As unlikely as that seems, Sarah does give birth to Isaac, at the tender age of 100.  Abraham's trust in God has been amply tested thus far in the story, and God has consistently been worthy of Abraham's trust.

Abraham's long relationship with God has also given Abraham evidence that God knows what God is doing.  When Isaac says to his father "The fire and the wood are here, but where is the lamb for a burnt offering?" Abraham replies "God himself will provide the lamb for the burnt offering."  God has given Isaac to Abraham and Sarah in fulfillment of a promise that Abraham trusts God will keep, some way, some how.  Abraham's trust in God is confirmed when, ultimately, the sacrifice of Isaac is not required.  Abraham is not a person of blind obedience, but a person with a long and deep relationship with God that has taught Abraham that God can be trusted. 

          So that's Abraham's story.  But what do we know about Isaac?  On the one hand, Isaac may be a child in this story, since the story follows closely after we are told that Isaac was weaned at the age of three.  But on the other hand, the next significant thing to happen following the binding of Isaac is the death of Sarah at age 127.  Since she was 100 when Isaac was born, Isaac could be almost 27 years old in our story this morning, and many commentaries find this to be the more plausible option.  Either way, though, Isaac is bound without protest and put on the altar for sacrifice.  He must be terrified.  At this point, Isaac is utterly dependent on God's intervention to release him from bondage because Abraham has the knife raised. And God is faithful and delivers Isaac from that bondage by preventing Abraham from making a human sacrifice. 

Our Jewish brothers and sisters call this story “The Binding of Isaac”  rather than “The Sacrifice of Isaac” since Isaac was bound but he was not sacrificed.  On Rosh Hashana, the Jewish New Year, our Jewish brothers and sisters read this story and ask the question “By what are we bound?" What has us bound in such a way that we are prevented from living faithfully and being the people God calls us to be?  Pride?  Greed?  Fear? Addiction?  Unhealthy relationships? Can we trust God's intervention to release us or does our bondage give us the illusion of security? On the Rosh Hashana, the faithful are called to examine their lives for what binds them and separates them from God.  As Christians, we hear the apostle Paul say this very thing in the letter to the Romans this morning "When you were slaves to sin (bound to sin), you were free in regard to righteousness.....But now that you have been freed from sin and enslaved (bound) to God, you are made holy."  To what are we bound that keeps us from living fully as the people God calls us to be?

          Sometimes life is horrifying.  Sometimes life is merely challenging. Sometimes those challenges are of our own making. Other times they are not. But when we are willing to listen closely to the terrifying story of the binding of Isaac, we hear a story about faithfulness, not blind obedience, rooted in a deep relationship with God, and God's power to release us from bondage and set us free to live as the people God created us to be. The "Binding of Isaac" is no less horrifying, and raises no fewer questions, but perhaps the good news in this story is that we can trust God to act, some way, some how, in the hardest stories of our lives.  

                                                                                                 Amen.

Paralysis

Charlotte Collins Reed

Christ Church Episcopal

June 25, 2017

7 Proper A

          When I was in high school, our youth group took a trip to Six Flags over Texas, an amusement park.  We had washed cars, raked leaves, and sold candy bars all year to raise the money for this trip.  We boarded a bus on a Friday night, arrived at Six Flags on Saturday morning where we spent the day riding the rides, and then got back on the bus and arrived home Sunday morning.  Riding the bus at night saved money on overnight accommodations, and all of our waking hours could be spent riding rides.  My friends talked me into riding the roller coaster, which I am sure was fairly tame by today's standards.  "You will love it," they said.  Against my better judgement, I agreed.   The ride only lasted 90 seconds.  How bad could that be?  Once we got in the cart, were strapped in, and the safety bar had been lowered across the seat, the train started slowly up a steep incline.  "This is not so bad," I thought.  And then, after a brief pause at the top, the bottom fell out.  The roller coaster descended at an alarming rate.  I could hear people screaming, but I couldn't breathe, much less scream.  I was terrified.  In the brief moment I had my eyes open, I could see others with their arms up in the air, eyes open, and their screams seemed to be happy screams.  Apparently, the way to enjoy a roller coaster is to let go and trust the safety bar, but I was having nothing of that.  I shut my eyes, tried to breathe, and learned just a bit about the feeling of being paralyzed with fear.  And I promised God that if God would just get me off that roller coaster alive, I would never, ever get on a roller coaster again.  And I have kept that promise.

          Twice in our readings this morning, we hear the words “Do not be afraid” in circumstances far more dire than any roller coaster ride.  In fact the circumstances we hear about this morning are so dire, that “Do not be afraid” sounds absurd.  When God says to Hagar “Do not be afraid,” she and her child, Ishmael, have just been banished to the wilderness with a bit of bread and some water, which have now run out.  Just when the situation looks most dire, as Hagar prepares to wait while her son dies, God says to her “Do not be afraid.” God tells Hagar that God will make a great nation of Ishmael and provides water for them to drink.  Then, we are told, Ishmael grows up, becomes an expert with the bow, and Hagar finds him a wife in Egypt.  Hagar was able to move beyond her fear and great things happened as a result. 

          Jesus also says to the disciples “Do not be afraid.”  Being a disciple of Jesus is not turning out quite the way the disciples expected when they took the job.  Exorcising demons, healing people of diseases, doing some teaching and preaching, and maybe turning a few loaves of bread and fish into a meal for thousands is one thing.  Sure, they might have no place to sleep at night, or have to rely on the hospitality of strangers, but those were small inconveniences relative to the joy of following Jesus.  Persecution, slander, divided families, and the reality of death is another thing all together.  When there is a great deal to fear, Jesus says “Do not be afraid.”  Had the disciples acted on their fear, nothing good would have happened.  But we know they acted on their faith instead, as they made a gospel difference in the world.

          Neither God nor Jesus say this morning that there is nothing to fear.  In both cases, there is most certainly something to fear.   When the angel of God says to Hagar "Do not be afraid," the angel is telling her not to act based on fear, but on faith in the promise that God will make a great nation of Ishmael.  Even when it seems far more likely that they will simply starve in the dessert, Hagar is asked to believe in God's promise and to live her life based on that promise, not fear.  When Jesus says to the disciples "Do not be afraid," Jesus is asking them to live, not out of fear, which would be pretty normal, but out of faith~faith that neither persecution, nor the unknown, nor ridicule, nor questions, nor failure, nor suffering, have ultimate power over our lives.  The promise of the gospel is that ultimate power over our lives is held, not by any power of this world, but by the God who knows us so well as to have counted the very hairs on our heads.

          The challenges to our faith may not be being cast out into the wilderness, persecution, slander, division of our families, or death for our beliefs.  The challenges to our faith may look more like sickness, broken relationships, conflicted priorities, making faithful decisions with our money, and fear of failure.  Any of those challenges can paralyze us with fear and keeping us from living as people who believe that nothing separates us from the love of God.  When God says “Do not be afraid,” God is not saying that there is nothing to be afraid of.  God is telling us to live like people who believe that God is really present with us, and there will be no end to the incredible gospel work we can do. 

                                                                                      Amen.