Preparation

Charlotte Collins Reed
Christ Church Episcopal
November 27, 2016

1 Advent A

          When our sons, Slocomb and Caldwell, were little boys, my aunt gave them Advent calendars. The calendars had small doors cut into them, one door for each day until Christmas, and behind each door was a small piece of chocolate. Each night in December, they got to open one of the doors and mark off one more day until Christmas by eating a piece of chocolate. So far as Slocomb and Caldwell were concerned, all time moved toward Christmas and the only time that mattered was the number of days left until that holy day. Advent was a season, not so much of waiting, as of marking time. How many days left until Christmas? The theology here is simple: when the chocolate is gone, Jesus is here. 

          While that theology of Advent is perhaps a bit shallow, I have to say that I like that version of Advent better than what I hear in the gospel lesson this morning. On this first Sunday of Advent, when we might hope to hear something about the coming birth of the Christ child, something that will inspire us for this time of waiting, 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 the little pieces of chocolate??? I have to say that neither the image of preparation for a flood, nor being taken up from my daily work, nor being in a state of lock-down to prevent a thief from breaking into my house make me long for the coming of the Son of Man. Besides, aren’t we supposed to welcome Jesus rather than lock him out? 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, of course, is "yes." While Isaiah gives us a vision of the world coming together in peaceful unity, Jesus reminds us that we have no calendar, chocolate or otherwise, to tell us when that will happen. 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. According to Jesus, just as there were no signs that the great flood was coming, just as two women will be about their daily work grinding meal when one will be taken, just as a thief breaks in without warning, so will Jesus come. There will be no 4 weeks of Advent to prepare. 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 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 in our lifetime. 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.

We Gather Together

Charlotte Collins Reed

Christ Church Episcopal

November 20, 2016

Christ the King

          One of the first things that impressed me when I arrived at Christ Church back in May was the extent to which our building is used by both our own ministries and community groups.  Take this past week, for example.  On Monday, our parish nurse, Mary Pat, had her yoga class in the Parish Hall in the morning.  Later that day, the Youth Chorus rehearsed in the church, Education for Ministry met upstairs, and the Quilters met in the Parish Hall.  On Tuesday, the morning started with Bible and Biscuits at 7am, followed by SAGE and about 150 adult learners at 8:30 for the whole day.  The scouts met in the Parish Hall at 7pm; the vestry met in the library at 7:15, and AA was in the Upper Room at 8pm.  On Wednesday, a quilting group used the Parish Hall all afternoon, and the Weeblos were here in the evening.  Thursday, Centering Prayer was in the chapel at 10. Lunch and Learn was at noon in the Parish Hall, and the choir rehearsed that night.  On Friday, Al Anon met in the Upper Room at noon, and AA was here in the evening.  On Saturday, yesterday, Job Search met here at 8:30, we did yard work from 9am to noon with the boy scouts, and Newborns in Need worked here all day.  And that is just one random week at Christ Church!

Today is Christ the King Sunday.  Next Sunday will be the first Sunday of Advent, and we turn our attention to the coming of the Messiah.  Christ the King Sunday is our patronal feast day at Christ Church, in the way that the Feast of St. Francis is the patronal feast day for a church of that name.  And so, on the cusp of Advent, we pause for a moment to think about the significance of carrying the name Christ Church.

          Our readings on this Christ the King Sunday carry a common theme.  In the reading from Jeremiah, we hear God’s condemnation of shepherds who destroy and scatter the sheep of God’s pasture.  The passage continues “Then I myself will gather the remnant of my flock out of all the lands where I have driven them, and I will bring them back to their fold, and they shall be fruitful and multiply.  I will raise up shepherd over them who will shepherd them, and they shall not fear any longer or be dismayed, nor shall any be missing, says the Lord.”  God has little patience with those who will scatter God’s flock, and God will gather the remnant and give them new life.  How will God do that?  God will “raise up for David a righteous branch, and he shall reign as King and deal wisely, and shall execute righteousness in the land.” 

          As Christians, we believe that the righteous branch is Jesus.  Yet today, on Christ the King Sunday, we find Jesus hanging on the cross.  We are told that there is an inscription over him that read “This is the King of the Jews.”  Is this what God had in mind?  And yet, the work of the King described in Jeremiah was to gather the scattered flock.  And on the cross, what does Jesus do?  Jesus forgives those who crucified him.  Forgiveness is the ultimate act of gathering as forgiveness brings back together those who have been separated by sin.  And when one of the criminals crucified with Jesus derides Jesus saying “Are you not the Messiah? Save yourself and us,” the other criminal rebukes him, then says “Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom.”  To which Jesus replied “Truly I tell you, today you will be with me in paradise.”  Even on the cross, Jesus is about the work of gathering scattered people, doing the work of bringing God’s flock together.

          The reading from Colossians reflects on the kingship of Christ many decades after the crucifixion.  The writer reminds us that Jesus is the first born of all creation, and in Jesus all things in heaven and earth were created.  Then the writer says “He himself is before all things, and in him all things hold together.”  And then, just in case we did not get the point, we hear “For in him all the fullness of God was pleased to dwell, and through him God was pleased to reconcile to himself all things, whether on earth or in heaven, by making peace through the blood of the cross.”  In Jesus, God has done the work of gathering all people together, and in Jesus, all things are held together.

          The work of Christ the King is to gather. The work of a church called by the name Christ Church is also to gather.  People gather in this place day after day, week after week, for all kinds of reasons.  We gather to be nourished by God’s work and sacrament, and by the fellowship we experience together.  People gather here to do work that helps other people.  People gather here to learn, to improve their own lives, and to learn new skills.  But the question is less who gathers here than who is scattered and needs to know there is a place that will welcome them.  Who is feeling cut off, left out, marginalized, and needs to not only hear the words “God loves you. No exceptions.” but also experience those words?

          Christ the King Sunday challenges us to live as a church that not only says the words, but carries on the gospel work of gathering. Christ the King Sunday challenges us to be not only a welcoming and inclusive place for people when they gather, but to actually do the work of gathering, bringing together all sorts and conditions of people to make a gospel difference in the world. Jesus challenges us to gather those who have been scattered, whether those who have given up on faith because they have experienced church as judgmental or exclusive, or those who have been scattered because the world has given up on them. When we are shepherds who work to gather scattered people together, the Paradise Jesus promised the thief who was gathered with him on the cross comes just a little bit closer.  

                                                                           Amen.

Sowing Love

Charlotte Collins Reed

Christ Church Episcopal

November 13, 2016

28 Proper C

          As many of you know, last Wednesday night at Christ Church, we hosted a Post-Election service for the community as we begin to move forward from this divisive election season.  The service included readings, songs, and prayers, all with a focus on unity and peace.  We welcomed those for whom the results of the election are a breath of fresh air, and those for whom the election results cause deep pain.  We welcomed those who feel empowered by the election and those who feel disenfranchised. We welcomed those who are sure, those who are scared, and those who are just plain tired.  The point was to come together as one human family to begin moving into the future with some measure of hope and peace.

          A reporter and a photographer from the Akron Beacon-Journal were there, and after the service, they spoke with several of us. They had a lot of questions about when we planned the service, why we held this service and whether we changed the service after the election.   The reality is that we planned the service and announced it weeks ahead of the election so we could be clear that the service was not celebrating a victory or mourning a defeat.  We held the service because well in advance of election day we knew that there would be work to be done to move forward in a productive way once the result was announced.  And no, we did not change the service after the election.   Any change would have defeated our purpose.

          On the other hand, I did write this sermon after the election.  One of the occupational hazards of a priest is that everything that happens during the week gets filtered through the readings for Sunday.  So, the election was certainly on my mind as I worked through Isaiah, the canticle, which is also from Isaiah, the letter to the Thessalonians, and Jesus’ words in Luke’s gospel.  Those readings offer a challenge to all of us, in all times and in all places, regardless of who our president might be.  As Christians, we are never promised that we will always get our way, or that life will always be easy, or that no harm will ever come to us.  As Christians, we are expected to be faithful in our response to whatever life hands us.  

In the reading from Isaiah, we hear God’s promise that God is about to create a new heaven and a new earth.  God is promising to do something new in our midst.  But God does not leave us wondering what the new creation will look like. Isaiah describes that creation with these words “The wolf and the lamb shall feed together, the lion shall eat straw like the ox;  but the serpent-- its food shall be dust! They shall not hurt or destroy on all my holy mountain, says the Lord.”  While Isaiah is describing what the coming Kingdom will look like, God calls all of us to look for the places where God’s new creation is coming into being now, to believe that God is doing something new in our midst, and to work to make this future creation where the wolf and the lamb feed together more visible and more present now.

          In the gospel reading, we hear some difficult and seemingly irrelevant words from Jesus about the destruction of the temple in Jerusalem, which had already happened by the time the gospel was written.  Jesus speaks of wars and earthquakes, and famines and plagues which will happen before the end times.  We’ve seen plenty of wars, earthquakes, famines, and plagues, and the end times have not yet come.  We can easily write Jesus’ words off as irrelevant.  And yet, Jesus makes two points that are quite relevant.  First, Jesus reminds us that the powers and principalities of this world are temporary.   We are to put our trust in God, not any human or human institution.  The canticle this morning, which comes from the book of Isaiah and is my favorite of the canticles, tells us the same thing.  “Surely it is God who saves me.  I will trust in him and not be afraid.  For the Lord is my stronghold and my sure defense and he will be my savior.”  Secondly, Jesus tells us that adversity, whatever the cause, is an opportunity to witness to our faith.  We are always called to witness to our belief that all people are created in the image of God and worthy of dignity and respect.  We are always called to model seeking and serving Christ in all people, and to work for justice and peace.  We are called to those actions all the time, period.

          Lastly, the reading from 2 Thessalonians reminds us that the Christian life requires work. The specific work that is being to 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 that is before us as a nation.  That work is the work of listening deeply to each other, of loving each other despite our differences, of being willing to learn from each other and understand those with whom we disagree.  That work is not easy, but that work is holy.

          At the end of our service on Wednesday, we prayed the prayer attributed to St. Francis.  The work to which Jesus calls us now and always, is the work described in this prayer, and the way people who disagree on important issues can move forward together and model a better way in a divided world is summed up here.  “Lord, make us instruments of your peace. Where there is hatred, let us sow love; where there is injury, pardon; where there is discord, union; where there is doubt, faith; where there is despair, hope; where there is darkness, light; where there is sadness, joy. Grant that we may not so much seek to be consoled as to console; to be understood as to understand; to be loved as to love. For it is in giving that we receive; it is in pardoning that we are pardoned; and it is in dying that we are born to eternal life.”  

                                                                                          Amen.

          

Knit Together

Charlotte Collins Reed

Christ Church Episcopal

November 6, 2016

All Saints

          I met Brittany one cold Saturday night in January a number of years ago.  She had gotten my cell phone number off the church voice mail.  Brittany was about 18 years old, married, pregnant with her first child, and completely out of food.  Something about her voice was compelling and I knew that she was telling the truth when she said she had spent the day looking for a place to get food, but there were no food pantries open on Saturday.  So, I called a parishioner who is a retired social worker, and we went to the church, gathered up food, and drove to the address Brittany had given me.  She met us outside of one of the scariest housing projects in Springfield, took the food, thanked us over and over again, and we went on our way.  

          Over the years, I would hear from Brittany every few months.  Her baby was born and she and her husband realized they could not care for the little girl.  Rather than having the baby taken from them by children’s services, they put her up for adoption and chose parents for her.  Brittany called me from the Emergency Room one morning, where she had fled from her husband who was abusive.  She didn’t want anything material.  She wanted to know she was not alone and to hear a familiar voice.  After her husband got the help he needed and they got back together, they moved in with his mother and I would hear from Brittany every now and then.  Sometimes she needed something; sometimes she just wanted to talk.  The last time I saw her, she brought her new baby by for me to meet.  This time, she thought they might be able to keep the baby.  Brittany had a clear sense of what she could and could not do for herself.  What she could do, she did.  What she could not do herself, she got help doing.  What she was absolutely certain of was that she could not make it in this world by herself.

          I think of Brittany when I hear Jesus’ words on this All Saints Sunday.  “Blessed are you who are poor, for yours is the Kingdom of God.  Blessed are you who are hungry now, for you will be filled.  Blessed are you who weep now, for you will laugh.”  We might squirm a bit at these words, but Jesus is not saying that it is good to be poor, or that we should be poor, or even that only the poor are blessed.  But Jesus is describing a reality that is the Kingdom of God.

          If we were not caught squirming by these first sentences in today’s gospel, we most likely are very uncomfortable by the end.  “Woe to you who are rich, for you have received your consolation.  Woe to you who are full now, for you will be hungry.  Woe to you who are laughing now, for you will mourn and weep.”  While Jesus might not have been recommending poverty before, he does seem to have harsh words this morning for those of us with plenty.  Couldn’t we hear something else from Jesus on All Saints’ Sunday?  Perhaps something about love, or good works, or the merits of our ancestors?  Why these words on the day that we remember our loved ones and all who have gone before us? 

          What Brittany knows, that I tend to forget, is that we cannot make it in this world alone.  The poor know we are all connected.  Those of us who are neither poor nor hungry tend to think that our success is all our own, and we forget that we are all connected.  On All Saints’ Day, we do not celebrate the accomplishments of individual saints.  The Collect for All Saints’ Day begins “Almighty God, you have knit together your elect in one communion and fellowship in the mystical body of your Son Christ our Lord.” On this day, we celebrate our connection with those who have gone before us in the faith, and our connection with our own loved ones who have died.  We also celebrate our connection with each other and the whole human family.  When the Ephesians are commended this morning for their love toward all the saints, they are being commended for their love and support of their fellow Christians.  And when the Ephesians are reminded that all things are under God’s rule, they are reminded that God connects us all with one another.  Jesus pushes us one step further in the gospel when he tells us to love our enemies, do good to those who hate us, bless those who curse us, and pray for those who abuse us.  This does not mean that we are to allow people to abuse us, which is a sermon for another day, but always needs to be said when these words of Jesus are read. 

          Christ Church is an historic parish.  Next year, we will celebrate our 175^th anniversary.  We know that we did not get here by ourselves.  Hundreds, actually thousands of faithful people came before us.  They did not know exactly what they were building for the future as they strove to be faithful in their present, however long ago that was.  We can read the history and know that there are good times recorded in that history, and there are hard times.  As we strive to be faithful today, to be good stewards of all that we have inherited from those who have gone before us in this place, we do not know exactly what we are building for future generations.  But we do know that we are creating what future generations will inherit from us.  All Saints’ Day reminds us that we are knit together with those who came before us and those who will follow, in our individual lives, in our community, our nation, the world, and in this very church.  What we are creating for those who will come after us?   On All Saints’ Day Jesus tells us that in the Kingdom of God, we are all knit together, past, present and future, and living faithfully in the Kingdom of God without each other is simply impossible.

                                                                   Amen.

          

Persistence

Charlotte Collins Reed

Christ Church Episcopal

October 16, 2016

24 Proper C

          The model of dogged persistence in our household is, indeed, our dog.  Fang is a 125 pound Italian mastiff, so his sheer size makes him a formidable opponent when he wants something.  However, his persistence does not begin with his size.  Fang starts with The Look.  He gets very still and stares at us with a pleading look.  When The Look does not work, he sits. Years ago, Fang had both of his ACLs repaired within a few months, so he could not sit for a long time.  Don and I were so excited when he could finally sit, that we rewarded him every time.  Fang remembers that.  When sitting does not work, Fang moves to nudging, still gently, but annoyingly.  By now the drool is pouring out of his mouth, so being nudged, even gently by that great. slobbery muzzle does begin to wear us down.  At this point, Fang is usually asked to go to his mat.  After a brief time on his mat, measured in something close to nano seconds, Fang returns to try again, this time skipping steps one and two and going straight back to nudging.  By this time, Don and I have almost finished supper, and Fang usually wins some morsel of food.  Fang is nothing if not persistent.

          My hunch is that most of us have some experience of our own with persistence. We learn from a young age that to get whatever we want in life, we have to keep trying.  Many times, but not always, our persistence pays off.   When we do not succeed, we often wonder whether we should have tried just a little bit harder. But in my experience, and perhaps yours, prayer is the one area where persistence just does not always seem to reap the results I ask for. Did my loved one die because I was not persistent enough in prayer?  Do I believe that if I had just prayed a little harder, or gotten just a few more people to pray, she would have lived? I don’t think so, but today’s gospel lesson certainly seems to tell us that if we are persistent enough in prayer, we will get whatever we want from God.

          In Jesus’ parable this morning, the widow wants the judge to grant her justice against her opponent. In Jesus’ time, judges were entrusted with protecting the poor, the widows and the orphans. This judge ignores the widow’s request, and, because the widow is not willing to take "no" for an answer, she repeats it. This cycle occurs over and over again, until finally worn down, the judge grants the widow justice so that she will go away. At the end of the parable, Jesus says "Listen to what the unjust judge says. And will not God grant justice to his chosen ones who cry to him day and night? Will he delay long in helping them? I tell you, he will quickly grant justice to them." Jesus seems to be telling us that if we pray long enough and hard enough, if we are persistent enough and if we refuse to take "no" for an answer, eventually we will wear God down and God will give us what we want, just to get us to go away.  

            How are we to understand this parable?

            The reading from 2 Timothy reminds us that all Scripture is given to us for our learning. We tend to shy away from such passages because we wonder if God really wants us to stone our children when they talk back to us, as Deuteronomy 21 suggests, or refrain from wearing blended fabric as Leviticus 19 and Deuteronomy 22 suggest, or hate our mother and father, brothers and sisters, or even life itself as Jesus suggests in the gospels of Matthew and Luke. But the writer of 2 Timothy is not talking about every individual verse of Scripture, nor is 2 Timothy talking about taking one verse of Scripture and using that single verse to interpret all of Scripture. 2 Timothy is telling us that the whole of Scripture is inspired by God and given to us for our learning. God invites us to use the fullness of Scripture to understand a single difficult passage, so that we don’t have to rely on just our own experience and the words of a single passage of Scripture to figure out what God is calling us to do and be. 

         So, in this morning’s parable, we have a widow and an unjust judge. When we think about all of Scripture, we remember that over and over again in the gospels, especially Luke’s gospel, we see Jesus identify himself with the poor and the outcast, the widows and the orphans. In Matthew’s gospel, we hear Jesus say that whenever we minister to the hungry and the thirsty, to those on the margins of society, we minister to him. We watch Jesus care for those who have been cast aside, which would certainly include the widows of Jesus’ time. We hear Jesus say in the Book of Revelation "Behold, I stand at the door and knock." In the Hebrew Scriptures, the one who cares passionately about justice is God. And, through out Scripture, typically the ones who act unjustly and exploit other people, are people, not God. In the parables, typically, the bad king, the rude guest, the corrupt manager, or the stingy farmer represent people, not God. So, in the context of all of Scripture, perhaps there is different way to understand the parable of the unjust judge. Perhaps God is the one knocking so persistently, demanding justice, and perhaps WE are the judge. Perhaps the persistence in this parable is God’s persistence, the knocking that will not stop until justice has been served. And in this parable, suppose that we are the judge, the ones empowered by God to bring about justice, to care for the poor and the oppressed, the outcasts and the victims of injustice. The persistent knocking is knocking on the door of our hearts so that we may see and hear and feel the injustice of the world and be inspired by God to do something about it. Perhaps prayer is not about continually pestering God to do something about all that is wrong with our lives and the world until God gives in just so we will go away. Perhaps prayer is, at least in part, our listening for God to tell us all that is broken in this world and how we are to work on God’s behalf to bring about justice, healing, and peace.

             In the end, the story of Scripture, and the parable of the unjust judge, is not the story of human persistence at all. The story of Scripture, including our parable this morning, is the story of the persistence of God and how we respond to God’s persistent knocking.
                                                                                           Amen.

Joy

Charlotte Collins Reed

Christ Church Episcopal

October 9, 2016

23 Proper C

          The last parish I served runs a large food pantry one Wednesday afternoon a month.  They serve about 150 families each time they open and distribute three days’ worth of food to each family.  The food comes from Shared Harvest, which provides food to food banks at a nominal cost.  So, the church is able to provide the usual staples like canned goods, peanut butter, and cereal, along with fresh produce and meat.  In addition, the parishioners provide toilet paper to go in the food bags since toilet paper is something that cannot be purchased with food stamps.  Here at Christ Church we are also collecting toilet paper for the Hudson food bank for the same reason. 

          One particular Wednesday the food pantry ran out of food a good thirty minutes before the posted closing time.  There was no food left on the shelves when a woman came to the door and rang the bell.  But we still had some toilet paper, so as I went to the door to explain to the woman that we were out of food, I picked up a large package so at least I could offer her something.  What the woman had actually come to do was retrieve her walker, which she had left behind earlier in the day when she had come for her food.  Since I was standing in the doorway holding a package of toilet paper, I offered it to her anyway.  The woman’s face lit up, she threw her hands up in the air and she shouted “Thank you, Jesus!”  Then she went on her way.

          I believe the gratitude the woman displayed for a package of toilet paper is the kind of gratitude the 10^th person with leprosy displays when he realizes that he has been healed.  He turns back, praises God with a loud voice, and falls at Jesus’ feet to thank him.  After the man has been healed, and after he has returned to give thanks, we are told that he is also a Samaritan. The ancestry of Samaritans was a mix of Hebrew and pagan, going back to the time when the Assyrians conquered and invaded the northern kingdom of Israel and mixed marriage became common.  The form of Judaism that developed in what remained of the Northern Kingdom was different from the Judaism that developed in the southern Kingdom as well, making the Samaritan a double outsider-once on account of the leprosy and once on account of his faith.

          What I find interesting and a bit annoying quite frankly, is Jesus’ criticism of the other 9 people who he healed of leprosy.  Jesus told them to go and show themselves to the priests, who would certify that they had been healed of the leprosy and could be restored to the community.  Those 9 people did what Jesus told them to do.  They were going off to show themselves to the priests.  The 10^th person who returned, was actually disobeying Jesus.  However, since he was a Samaritan, a) he did not observe the same laws around cleanliness that the other 9 did and b) even if he was declared clean by the priests, he still was not going to be made part of the community because he was a Samaritan.  But why does Jesus criticize the 9 who were simply doing what Jesus had told them to do?

          Hold that question while we hear what Jeremiah says this morning to the people who have been forcibly taken from the Promised Land and exiled in Babylon in the 6^th century BC.  We know from Psalm 137, which was written early in the exile, but which we did not hear this morning, that the people who were exiled in Babylon thought they could not possibly live as God’s people in a foreign land.  Their identity was tied up in being the people of a particular piece of real estate that God had provided for them.  The beginning of Psalm 137 reads “By the rivers of Babylon, there we sat down and wept when we remembered Zion.  On the willows there, we hung up our harps.  For there our captors asked us for songs, and our tormentors asked for mirth, saying “Sing us one of the songs of Zion!”  How could we sing the Lord’s song in a foreign land?”  Into that misery, God speaks the words we hear from Jeremiah this morning: “Thus says the Lord of hosts, the God of Israel, to all the exiles whom I have sent into exile from Jerusalem to Babylon: Build houses and live in them; plant gardens and eat what they produce. Take wives and have sons and daughters; take wives for your sons, and give you daughters in marriage….seek the welfare of the city where I have sent you into exile and pray to the Lord on its behalf.  For in its welfare, you will find your welfare.”   God is telling the Hebrew people to settle down in Babylon, in this foreign place, and make it their home in the fullest sense of the word.  They will find new and different ways to worship and obey God in a foreign land.

          The 9 people who were cleansed of their leprosy did as Jesus instructed and they were doing as the law required.  They were obedient and faithful.  I am also quite sure that they were thankful.  The exiled people in Babylon also thought they were doing as God and the law required by holding on to their faithfulness to the land God had provided and their identity as people of that land.  They saw no way they could keep God’s law without a temple in which to worship.  In both cases, however, I think God is telling the faithful people that there is more to faith than just obedience.  Faith is also about joy and gratitude.  The Samaritan was filled with great joy and deep gratitude at the sudden miracle Jesus had done in his life, and used his whole self to demonstrate that gratitude.  The Hebrew people would settle down in Babylon, would learn that they could, indeed, worship and obey God there.  In fact, they would come to enjoy life there and find such meaningful ways to practice their faith apart from the Promised Land that many would choose to stay even when they were allowed return to the Promised Land some 50 years later. 

          We may not be as demonstrative in our gratitude as either the woman at the food pantry was when she received the package of toilet paper or as the Samaritan who was cleansed of leprosy.  But Jesus calls us to more than lip service to express our gratitude.  Our worship calls us to live as grateful people at all times and in all places.  We obey this call every Sunday as we pray “It is right and a good and joyful thing, always and everywhere, to give thanks to You.”  This parish has certainly experienced times of deep challenge when you had to do the spiritual equivalent of building homes and living in a foreign land.  You have learned to give thanks in all times and places.  This parish has also experienced times of restoration and deep delight.  Jesus calls us to a lively faith, and to throw our whole selves into gratitude, not just out of obedience but out of joy.

                                                                   Amen.

Measuring

Charlotte Collins Reed

Christ Church Episcopal

October 2, 2016

22 Proper C

          Our oldest son, Slocomb, celebrated his 30^th birthday this past Thursday.  This occasion required the making of our traditional family birthday cake and mailing it to Cincinnati.  The cake itself is our own creation, but the icing is the recipe my mother got from her mother.  Recipes handed on by word of mouth can be a bit tricky, especially since my mother did not put much stock in traditional units of measure when cooking.  Most of her recipes begin with a glob of butter, end with a package of chocolate chips, and might include a splash of vanilla.  If a recipe called for a teaspoon of something, baking soda, for instance, she used a teaspoon out of the silverware drawer.  Likewise, a soup spoon made a fine tablespoon.  Not until my sister and I took home economics in Junior High School did we know that real measuring spoons and cups actually exist.  Somehow Mom’s recipes always worked out, but following them now that she is gone is a bit of a challenge.  Through trial and error, I have taken the icing recipe which includes a glob of butter, two heaping spoons of cocoa, a small bowl of powdered sugar, some milk and a little vanilla and converted the recipe into something a little more precise.  And most of the time, my version turns out pretty close to Mom’s.

          This morning, the disciples think of faith as something that can be quantified and measured.  “Increase our faith,” they say to Jesus.  Maybe they have ¼ cup of faith now and think they would be better off, better disciples even, if they had ½ cup or even a whole cup.  When we read the stories leading up to their request this morning, we understand why they want more faith.  In the five verses prior to our gospel lesson, Jesus has said “Occasions for stumbling are bound to come, but woe to anyone by whom they come! It would be better for you if a millstone were hung around your neck and you were thrown into the sea than for you to cause one of these little ones to stumble,” and “If another disciple sins, you must rebuke the offender, and if there is repentance, you must forgive. And if the same person sins against you seven times a day, and turns back to you seven times and says, ‘I repent’, you must forgive.”  Having heard these two difficult teachings from Jesus, the disciples immediately say “Increase our faith.”

          Jesus is somewhat less than pastoral in his response to his disciple’s request.  To the disciples, who seem earnest in their request for more faith, Jesus says “If you had faith the size of a mustard seed, you could say to this mulberry tree, `Be uprooted and planted in the sea,' and it would obey you.”  Exactly how much faith is faith the size of a mustard seed?  And why would anyone want a mulberry tree to uproot itself and be planted in the sea in the first place?  And if the disciples only need faith the size of a mustard seed, however much that is, their current faith must be invisible to the naked eye.  Jesus answer seems rather unhelpful.

          To make things worse, rather than tell the disciples and us how to have faith even the size of a mustard seed, Jesus says “Who among you would say to your slave…”  Jesus has called people who catch fish and collect taxes for a living, not people likely to have slaves who plow fields or tend sheep.  The answer to “who among you” is probably “none of us.”  That tells us that perhaps the disciples are asking the wrong question. Then Jesus proceeds with an odd and offensive teaching about the relationship between master and slave, which ends with the slaves saying at the end of a day spent serving the master “We are worthless slaves.  We have done only what we ought to have done.”  The whole passage makes little sense.

I wonder if absurdity might be at least part of Jesus’ point.  Perhaps the idea that there are units of measure for faith, and that faith can be increased from one size to another is also absurd.  If we put aside for a moment our offense at Jesus’ reference to slavery, what might we learn about faith from the rest of what Jesus has to say this morning?

Jesus’ point about the slaves is that they were not doing anything special or glamorous with their lives. They were simply doing the work they were given to do.  I wonder if the response to “Increase our faith” is “do the work you have been given to do.”  The reference to slaves, while abhorrent to our ears, is a reminder that, like a slave, we belong to someone else.  We belong to God.  Perhaps faith, rather than something that can be doled out a quarter cup at a time, is something that grows with use.  Just a few chapters earlier, Jesus said “What is the kingdom of God like? And to what should I compare it? It is like a mustard seed that someone took and sowed in the garden; it grew and became a tree, and the birds of the air made nests in its branches.”  With the comparison to the mustard seed this morning, perhaps Jesus is telling the disciples that faith is something that must be nurtured and grown, and that the way to grow faith is by living our faith, practicing our faith over and over again by living our lives as people who belong to God.

          Mother Teresa is quoted as having said “Not all of us can do great things.  But we can do small things with great love.”  The people I know who I think of as people of great faith didn’t move metaphorical mountains or uproot metaphorical mulberry trees overnight.  My friend who founded a domestic violence shelter in a small town in West Virginia where all the civic organizations told her there was no domestic violence did this by taking one faithful baby step at a time until there was a fully funded and fully occupied shelter.  My friend who lived with pancreatic cancer for 13 months, lived one prayer at a time, one step at a time.  My friend that works for human rights in a town that is not interested in protecting human rights takes two steps forward and one step back, or one step forward and two steps back, but he keeps at the work, one small step at a time.  In all cases, their faith grew as they practiced their faith one small step at a time and did not give up.

          The disciples say to Jesus “Increase our faith.”  But there are no units of measure for faith, enough of which will give us the ability to say to a metaphorical mulberry tree “Be uprooted and planted in the sea.”  I think what Jesus says to the disciples and to us is “Grow your faith by practicing your faith one baby step at a time, you will change the world.” 

                                                                   Amen.