Fugitive Soul
Tuesday, September 4, 2012
Caveat The Third!
As you probably guess, these sermons are not in order because I put the earliest sermons first--therefore, if there is any internal logical progression to be found, you will find it by working backward. Good luck Starfighter.
14th Sunday After Pentecost 2012
Sometimes there are readings from the lectionary that come up
which are so good and clear, that it might actually be advisable for the
preacher just to read it; shut up; then quietly pack things up and go home.
Our reading from the Epistle of James is exactly like this.
In fact, the whole epistle is pretty good, and if it were published just on its
own, it could be used as a guidebook for how people of faith should live. Of
course, Martin Luther didn’t much care for it, because it seems to deny the
idea that we are justified by faith rather than works.
However, I think more
rightly that it offers us an understanding of the necessity for works that
speak of a life transformed by faith.
Anyway, the letter draws from the earliest known teachings of
Jesus’, which helps scholars to date it at least before 70 CE. So what we’re
reading is not simply an interpretation of what Jesus taught, but likely even
the result of practical experience with Jesus.
Its style relies on a deep love of the Law and tradition, as
well as draws the ethereal and spiritual into the daily and the practical;
making it very instructional for the young Christian community of the First
Century.
James, the apparent author, was certainly well known to the
early followers of Jesus—in fact, he was the one who officiated the Jerusalem
council that we read about in the Acts of the Apostles. This was when the
Apostles were trying to figure out what to do with all of us Gentiles who were
coming into this new faith in Jesus…
James was also respected as a leader in the Early Church, and
we see this in the way that Peter shows deference to him at the Jerusalem
council.
This James isn’t to be confused with the brother of John, our
patron. However, as to what James means about being the brother of Jesus…well,
there are a whole slew of speculations including James being the son of Joseph
from a previous marriage; James being a close relative to Jesus’ earthly
family; or most likely James was the son of Mary and Joseph, making he and
Jesus brothers.
Now, for those of you who were hoping that I would pack up
and go home at this point; I fear you’ll be disappointed. Because, perhaps
against my better judgment, I do plan to speak a bit about this reading…sorry.
Anyway, James begins the passage by making it clear that acts
of generosity are not simple things, because they come down from God, the
father of stars and angels, whose light never fades like other heavenly bodies.
And this is set against an earlier statement about how temptation and sin lead
to destruction and death.
He then goes on to say that by God we’re given birth through
the word—meaning not only the birth of humanity through God’s creative word,
but also the rebirth that we’re given through Jesus Christ as the Incarnate
Word of God.
Now all of this may sound lovely and transcendent, but what
follows makes it very clear that all of this (while it may not seem practical)
no less has practical implications for how we’re to behave.
James says, you must be quick to listen, slow to speak, slow
to anger…even for those of us who enjoy ‘righteous anger’ it’s hard to argue
with the sense of that.
But he says, we’re to rid ourselves of sordidness and rank
growth of wickedness—I think he forgot to add that this is also expected in
election years. Instead, we’re to welcome with meekness the implanted word that
has the power to save our souls.
Finally, we’re told to “be doers of the word, and not merely
hearers who deceive themselves…if any are hearers and not doers, they are like
those who look at themselves in a mirror…and, on going away, immediately forget
what they were like.”
The point is that it’s not enough to claim some deep
ontological change in our lives—there has to be evidence, or incarnation of
that change. Simply put, if we claim a faith that challenges and changes us,
our lives and actions should show it.
Those of us clergy who sit around and talk about how
Christianity is changing, and mourn the decline of mainline denominations are
mistaken when we pretend that we don’t know why. We’ve spent decades resting on
laurels and being the churches of society. We’ve taken credit for the work of a
few who were part of the work of the Underground Railroad; we’ve hung pictures
of the Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. in prominent places in our churches, and
claimed a piece of the Civil Rights Movement.
While that is and has been necessary—it hasn’t been a unified
effort. In fact, there were times when it was hard to tell which side the
church was fighting for…
But now we’re suddenly surprised that people aren’t joining
us in our mission. We’re offended that people point to the Church and talk
about hypocrisy (an allegation that I find very unfair—especially when there’s
always room for one more hypocrite).
The argument of James, however, is not that we are not
justified by our faith—rather that our faith is evidenced in our action. Ours
as a true and lively faith is one that continually calls us to action in the
world—action not of social justice (only) or any other charged term—but action
that is defined as Christian charity; our duty to God; our continued
participation in Christ’s redemption of the world; and above all faithfulness
to the Gospel of Jesus Christ.
And while some of these acts of faith look like social
justice, I can assure you that they are a different thing, because they are
acts which are the effulgence of a life marked and changed by faith. These acts
are responses to a grateful reception of unconditional love, and the promise of
new life. Simply put, we give and work because we have received and are
beneficiaries of Jesus’ mercy. In this way, none of us can claim a right to
terms, nor can we boast about our adherence to a particular aspect of the
Gospel.
We’re not allowed to call our good works prophetic, or glory
in the good work that we do for the sake of more membership. Because, the
beauty of a reading like this is that it leaves vacuous holes in our
self-righteousness. It reminds us that we cannot be people of faith in name
only—that by the Incarnational nature of our religion we cannot exist with
integrity if we are not actively living as the hands and feet of Jesus Christ
in the world.
Now, the Epistle of James shouldn’t make us feel bad about
ourselves. We shouldn’t feel like we’ve neglected our call to Christian faith.
Instead, we should see it for what it is—an admonition—the shot in the arm that
the whole Church needs to be faithful in her mission as Christ’s Body. This is
a reminder and an opportunity to dust off our talents and gifts and put them to
work for the sake of the Kingdom of God. And it’s in fidelity to our Baptismal
call, and our identity as those born of the word of truth that we can begin to
show the meaning and reality of that gift by our actions—actions that are not
only our gifts of generosity, but are gifts given by God.
As much as it may have been advisable for me to have shut up
earlier; I have to admit that the Epistle of James honestly started something
in me. It started a deep sense of longing to see this parish work toward its
full potential. It made me see that many of the right things are in place for us to be an essential and vibrant part of
this community and our diocese. But what it will require is that none of us
only hears readings like this one from James, and does nothing. Instead, we
have to hear it, let it reflect our true selves, and be inspired by it. That
word inspired (for all that it gets over-used) is exactly the right one here,
because its etymology refers to being breathed into—just like the breath of God
that turned molded clay into a living being in Genesis. It’s like the breath of
life called by Ezekiel from the four winds that brought a valley of dry bones
to life again. And it’s the same inspiration—the same God of life breathing
into us now through his word. (Breathe in/breathe out)
But having heard this word, and breathing the breath of life,
will we walk away and forget? The choice is ours, I suppose.
13th Sunday After Pentecost 2012
Last Saturday, Tristan, Gareth, Charity and I were sitting on
the couch watching Saturday morning cartoons. As young children are want to do,
our boys were up very early, and Charity and I were doing our best in the lull
to fortify ourselves with coffee.
Well, as we were watching cartoons, a commercial started, and
Tristan started to sing the theme song for the commercial—but then stopped
himself. He looked at us and said that he really didn’t like commercials
because the songs would get stuck in his head and he didn’t like that, because
they wanted him to buy stuff he didn’t want.
Without realizing it, Tristan stumbled onto a pretty
important truth—namely that there are some very smart people in advertising
working to get us to consume. And in a culture that is already overwhelmed by
media and advertising, the methods for getting our attention have become quite
strategic.
In 2004, the PBS news show, Frontline, did a piece called “The Persuaders.” If you look online,
you can still watch the entire program, and it’s eye-opening…
The point of this piece was to talk about this very
interesting shift in advertising from a time when advertisers were trying to
prove the efficacy and usefulness of their product—to suddenly working to
create a culture, and a kind of spirituality around products. Advertising went
from talking about how a product was tangibly better at what it did—to talking
about what a product meant…
So, a car is no longer just a car, but it’s an expression of
a culture—it’s something elemental—and, of course, they claim all of this while
never actually showing the car. A random guy on a couch getting passersby to
start crying is supposed to get us to buy a certain kind of tissue. Apparently
impromptu emotional catharsis is somehow related to what I use to blow my nose.
All of this is done with the idea that advertisers could
forge a kind of spiritual bond with a cynical consumer base. Brands do this by
hiring consultants who sit around and try to “channel their inner brand.” So in
the end, a product would become a kind of totem for expressing particular
aspects of our lives.
At one point in the program we’re introduced to a man by the
name of Clotaire Rapaille, a man who was a respected psycho-therapist in the
1970s who left his practice to work with advertisers.
In this work, funded by a number of these advertising groups,
Rapaille did a long term study to figure out a consumer’s hidden desires. His belief
was that to know these hidden desires was the key to making a deep connection
with consumers in advertising. Of course, whatever those key components are,
they weren’t revealed in the program. All the same, it shows to what lengths
advertisers will go just to get us to buy.
The interesting thing is that it works… There was a similar
article that I read a while back that talked about how the cigarette brand
Lucky Strikes changed fashion and American culture at the same time. Apparently
during the Second World War, as more women were entering the workforce; more
women also began smoking. With this in mind, the advertising executives began
trying to figure out how to capitalize on this shift—how to get more women
smoking. At the time, Lucky Strikes sold in a green package. So, their solution
was make the color green the fashionable color of the season.
Well, back then the center of fashion was really only Paris,
France—there was no other place in the world where fashion trends were
established. That is, until the ad executives at Lucky Strike decided to make
New York City a center of fashion by holding a fashion show, and set the green
trend that would eventually get more of their products sold.
Honestly, when I hear this kind of stuff; I get kind of
frustrated. I don’t like to think or feel like I’ve been duped—because that’s
how it feels. I don’t like the idea that my choice of fashion, or music, or
even my politics could be the summation of some advertising think tank who had
“channeled their inner brand.”
But then when we consider the amount of media that we’re
exposed to: billboards, television and radio ads, fashionable clothes with
corporate names and logos—it’s a surprise that we’ve not experienced overload.
And for all of the constant barrage of advertising that we are hit with, there
are only more salvos of advertising waiting to catch our attention and draw us in…
So in the midst of all of this white noise, how can we even
begin to hear words that are spirit and are life? How are we supposed to
understand the promise of eternal life given in Christ when we’re promised the
same thing in products?
It might seem like an easy enough answer, because we’re
intelligent people who can see through the glamour of advertising. Like
Tristan, we know that advertisers are working hard to get us to buy stuff we
don’t want. I think we know this
(pointing to head), but I’m not sure if we know
this (pointing to heart).
When Jesus comes to the end of his teaching about being the
bread of life, inevitably he explains that eating his flesh and drinking his
blood is the way in which we are to receive this life that he promises. Like
us, these disciples who were listening knew that he wasn’t being literal—but we
have to remember that they had followed him to get more fish and bread. While
they didn’t confuse Jesus’ spiritual meaning in his teaching, they were however
disconcerted to find out that his mission was about bringing salvation—not free
miraculous food.
Their real issue then, was realizing that discipleship and
the promise of eternal life would require a drastic change of life. And if they
weren’t able to get past that, there was little hope that they would ever hear
the words of life and of spirit.
The sad thing is that our culture tries to seduce us into the
same trap. I mean, if I can buy a new car or a certain kind of tissue, couldn’t
I have a more whole life without having to take in Jesus? Without all of the
tough things that discipleship requires?
Sure, it seems like an easy choice, but it really isn’t. When
I consider the things in my own life—the choices of how I use my time; I have
to humbly admit that my selfish use of time often outweighs the selfless. I’m
guilty of coveting cool technology, and cell phones that are better than mine.
I admit to wishing I owned a car that had all of its wheel covers and doesn’t
rattle. Not that these are terrible things, mind you, but they serve to
distract me from attending to the words of life and spirit. They tempt me to
lose my focus on my responsibilities to my relationship with Jesus and with
others. And, like most of us, I confuse snake oil and placeboes for the true
bread of life.
But then there are readings like today’s that help to sort me
out. Unapologetically, Jesus asks these fair weather disciples “Did I offend
you?”(In my head Jesus sounds like Samuel L. Jackson when he says this). And of
course, those who couldn’t hear the words of life through the noise of their
own lives went away.
Jesus then turns to the twelve and asks, “Do you also want to
leave?” But with the sincerity and impetuousness that only Peter could muster,
he says what I think all of us hope to say: “Where else can we go? You have the
words of life…”
In our modern, busy lives we’re given every opportunity to
neglect our faith. And as we can see there are any number of companies and
advertisers who offer us excuses and alternatives to lives of discipleship in
Jesus Christ.
It’s up to us, then, to be attentive to our relationship with
Jesus in the midst of a world that does its best to grab our attention and sell
us counterfeit. For all of their promises, however, what we know in our hearts
is that in the end there is no other bread that nourishes the soul and gives
eternal life—and there are no other words which are spirit and life. To
understand this, I believe, is really
our ‘hidden desire,’ because to be free and loved and accepted is the cry of
all of humanity (perhaps even all of Creation). And where else can we go when
the words of the spirit that we long for, and the meaning of life we hope to
see are found in Jesus Christ, the true bread of life?
11th Sunday After Pentecost 2012
There is a Benedictine vow, which is called “Conversatio
Morem.” The best translation of this term is something like ‘conversion of
life,’ and it has this sense that in life we have conversion by our vows and
most importantly, by our participation in the life of God.
I think if we consider how our life with God is more of a
journey than one decisive moment; we might understand this idea of conversion
of life as a continuous, on-going process. Because as many of us know, our
lives are marked by any number of conversion experiences along the way,
meaning: God is constantly pursuing us as beloved children.
In my own life, I might give about 8% of it to conversion moments—and
while that might sound like a small percentage, you have understand that there
just aren’t so many “defining moments” in life. Really, there are just a few
here and there to punctuate all of the other moments—because, of course, it’s
the living afterward that changes the course of life beyond the conversion
‘moment.’
I think this is the difficulty of conversion, that it is a
process, and it’s likely that we won’t ever see its fullness in this life.
What’s harder is that the growth in-between can be painful and messy because it
happens in a messy world where painful things happen. Since the growth happens
in the midst of life, it forces us then to pose our experiences with God
against tragedy and all of the other things in life which make us second guess
our faith.
For example, just this past week, a man in Wisconsin walked
into a Sikh Temple and opened fire, killing 6 people who had come to worship.
This of course comes less than a month after the shootings in Aurora, Colorado
where James Holmes opened fire into a crowd at a movie theater killing 12
people and wounding 58. It’s a stark reminder of how dangerous our world can
be, and more evidence against our claim at being a civilized society.
The reasons may have been different, but the violence in the
acts, and the disturbing aftermath linger oppressively—for all of us.
No matter how much the media tempts us to become desensitized
to loss of life by their aggrandizing and voyeurism; people of faith cannot so
easily let it go… Because we’re forced to ask what all of it means in relation
to Providence, and it questions the validity of our own experiences with God.
However, our faith is far from being an opiate to the pain of
the world. We’re not given easy answers to difficult questions—nor are we
allowed to hide our heads in sanctimonious sand. Because at its deepest level,
our faith is brutally honest about pain and suffering. It never ignores the
messiness of the world, but subsumes it, and absorbs it into itself so that the
hopeful resolution in redemption can be realized. It’s the reason that we stand
in the shadow of a crucified God, and is the reason we call ourselves by his
name—Christians, or followers of Christ.
The point is, as people of the Christian faith, we never shy
away from difficult or painful things, but instead deal with them by grace—a
kind of grace that has seen numerous generations through equally impossible situations.
Because somehow by the Spirit of God, and our faith community, we find a way
forward. Even if we cannot make sense of tragedy, we don’t ever work through it
alone. Our experiences with God, and God’s continued participation in our lives
never leaves us abandoned to try to make sense of these things. And with the
help of the Holy Spirit, and those around us, we can begin to re-enter a kind
of conversion of life cycle; wherein we begin to understand not whether there
is some purpose to the tragedy, but that even in such tragic situations, God
joins us in our pain. And through the continued work of the Holy Spirit what we
face can become a kind of conversion experience.
In time, at best, we can look back at pain and tragedy and
mark our own growth from it—our own resolve and strength. Certainly we’ll
continue to mourn the lost, but with God’s help, I believe that we grow to
accept the hope of resurrection as a real and viable hope.
Jesus told the crowds, “I am the bread of life. Whoever comes
to me will never be hungry, and whoever believes in me will never be thirsty.”
I would say in light of all that has occurred in the past couple of months, and
happens continually on different scales all over the world; we are a very
hungry and thirsty people. But a couple
of the verses that are omitted in today’s reading are very important in regard
to this reality. Because Jesus says, “Everything that the Father gives me will
come to me, and anyone who comes to me I will never drive away…And this is the
will of him who sent me, that I should lose nothing of all that he has given
me, but raise it up on the last day.”
Today, like every day, we have the opportunity to be changed—to
experience conversion. But such an opportunity is only viable so long as we have
the courage to understand our faith as our strength in adversity. What’s more,
if we feel that we lack that faith and strength—we have to know that others may
lend us some of theirs. And if that isn’t enough, we have the promise that we
will never be driven away of lost, because we have been given to Jesus Christ,
and we belong to him forever.
10th Sunday After Pentecost 2012
Sometimes it’s just too easy to pick on the people who
surround Jesus. We’re told in the Gospels that wherever he went, by his
preaching and his reputation as a faith healer, that he drew a crowd. And time
and again—no matter what mysteries Jesus reveals to them, or even what
miraculous things he does in their presence—they continue to completely miss
the point.
Today’s reading is no different. We find Jesus having crossed
the lake, and this group of people who were just fed by the loaves and fish are
coming to find him. At first glance we may think that these people were
honestly interested in Jesus’ mission. But it’s soon pointed out by Jesus that
what they’re really after is more bread.
It’s even a little harsh the way that things go down. Jesus
not only calls them out for only being interested in more bread—but he goes on
to tell them that they’re missing the point—that it’s a faithful relationship
with God that is necessary, and that the ‘bread’ that they should be seeking is
an eternal thing.
While they may not have gotten what Jesus was saying, they
are clever enough to bring up Moses and the manna that fed Israel in the
wilderness. They even quote Scripture, apparently. But here again, Jesus has to
remind them that not only was it not about the bread (even heavenly bread), it
was about a faithful relationship with God.
Now, I don’t know whether or not metaphor as a literary
device was completely lost on these people—or if they really were so
hard-headed as to miss the eternal gift that Jesus was offering. Either way, it
makes me feel a little bad for them…and then I suppose picking on them is a bit
like punching a sad clown—right? I mean, if you punch a sad clown—he’s already
sad—what good does it do?
Well, not much, actually, as it turns out. In fact, the more
that I try to dig into these fools, the more I begin to realize what it would
be like to be in their position. I don’t have to try too hard and before I know
it, I’m just as confounded by Jesus as any one of them—and I’m sure I’m not
alone.
Because even as people who know the end of the story, we
still get it all muddled. And in some ways, just like these people in Jesus’
time—we start to think that it’s all about the bread.
It’s kind of ironic. After all, we have a couple thousand
years of studying and understanding all of this stuff. And even though we have
some concept of what Jesus means by Love God, love your neighbor; take care of
the widow and orphan; don’t swim right after you eat—we’re still apparently not
all that great at it.
It kind of makes me wonder what it would be like if our
places were reversed with these nameless crowds that we find in the Gospels; If
somehow they were reading an account of us and our struggle to figure out Jesus
in our own lives.
Maybe they’d say something
like, what’s wrong with these people? How can these people have the gift of the
Holy Spirit and still be at war? How can they have an understanding of what it
means to be a light to the world when their cities are full of violence and
poverty? How could they claim to understand the temporal nature of things, yet
still abide in such an inequitable system?
One answer is that we’ve allowed metaphor as a literary
device to be completely lost on us. And another is that we keep thinking that
it’s about the bread.
Because for many of us our politics are about sound bites and
clever Facebook postings about tax returns and long form birth certificates. For
some a public profession of faith is about waiting two hours to buy a chicken sandwich… All the
while we’re being duped into dividing, self-selecting and infuriating one
another at the whim of politicians and corporations. So that sometimes even
when we think we’re not acting like it’s about the bread, that we’re really
rooted in what is true—we’re actually acting like it’s about the bread.
And somehow our reason and our identity as the redeemed,
beloved of the Risen Christ goes up in a cloud of media smoke.
But y’know, the best news about all of this is that the
answer to all of our issues is very simple. It’s about loving, faithful
relationship with God—but that’s only the start. Because once we begin to
really work on that, we find that we’re inevitably drawn to faithful loving
relationship with those around us.
I know what you’re probably thinking: Matt you’re beating a
dead horse—you’ve used this relationship with God thing before. And you’d be
right, but as long as we need to be reminded of it, I’ll keep preaching it.
Because as I watch the civility of our country begin to
crumble and any number of people slipping through the cracks: the poor, the
middle class, and anyone else along the spectrum; it makes me realize that a
lot of us are just a little lost. We’ve just forgotten what it means to be
family—to be children in the family of God, sharing the blood of the Risen
Christ as our common relation. We’ve forgotten that in casting our slings,
arrows and political views at one another that they are hitting and harming our
own family—Christ’s own beloved. And that should bother us, I think.
Right before Jesus goes out to the garden to pray, and then
be arrested and finally crucified; he leaves his disciples with a final
command. Jesus says,“ I give you a new commandment, that you love one another.
Just as I have loved you, you also should love one another. By this everyone
will know that you are my disciples, if you have love for one another.” It’s
from this command that we get the name for Maundy Thursday in Holy Week
(obviously). And it’s the time when we’re taught to wash one another’s feet.
But this command to love one another is just that—it’s a
commandment just like the ten that were given to Moses on Sinai. So in the same
way, it’s meant to guide us as God’s people. More importantly, it’s by this
love that we’re to be known as Christ’s disciples.
Like I said before, it’s not about the bread, it’s about
loving relationship. Understandably it’s
a tougher thing than it sounds. But for the sake of our community, our country
and our world, I hope we don’t miss the point, and more importantly, I hope
we’re not too hard-headed to miss the eternal gift that Jesus offers.
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