7th Sunday After Pentecost, July 27, 2014

The Gospel: Matthew 13:31-33, 44-52

 He put before them another parable: “The kingdom of heaven is like a mustard seed that someone took and sowed in his field; it is the smallest of all the seeds, but when it has grown it is the greatest of shrubs and becomes a tree, so that the birds of the air come and make nests in its branches.”

He told them another parable: “The kingdom of heaven is like yeast that a woman took and mixed in with three measures of flour until all of it was leavened.

“The kingdom of heaven is like treasure hidden in a field, which someone found and hid; then in his joy he goes and sells all that he has and buys that field.

“Again, the kingdom of heaven is like a merchant in search of fine pearls; on finding one pearl of great value, he went and sold all that he had and bought it.

“Again, the kingdom of heaven is like a net that was thrown into the sea and caught fish of every kind; when it was full, they drew it ashore, sat down, and put the good into baskets but threw out the bad. So it will be at the end of the age. The angels will come out and separate the evil from the righteous and throw them into the furnace of fire, where there will be weeping and gnashing of teeth.

“Have you understood all this?” They answered, “Yes.” And he said to them, “Therefore every scribe who has been trained for the kingdom of heaven is like the master of a household who brings out of his treasure what is new and what is old.”

Reflections: We are so accustomed to hearing Jesus’ parables that they have become dull to them. But according to much biblical scholarship, they were designed to “subvert the thinking of the day,” to challenge the status quo. In her sermon, Annett Mayer pondered today’s parables on the Kingdom of God.

Mustard, apparently, was not a desirable plant in the field. Rather than neat rows of plants yielding desired produce, the mustard seed grew into a large, unruly bush. It’s not meant to be a romantic image of songbirds in Eden; Mayer conjured up sparrows, cardinals, grackles. So much for a tidy, predictable, productive Kingdom.

Yeast—or rather, leaven—was usually a piece of old smelly dough, completely transforming the new flour to a new creation. 

Contrast smelly old dough to a treasure hidden in a field or a pearl of great price. Sounds more like a Kingdom, doesn’t it? But if Jesus’ listeners took his words literally, it would have raised some questions. To sell everything—including your home and your livelihood—wouldn’t that be simply foolhardy?

The net that brings in all kinds of fish, desirable and undesirable, to be sorted out later. Now there’s a Kingdom for you. And not very different from the world we live in now.

So, Mayer asks, how do we imagine the Kingdom of Heaven? Is it an achievement we aim for? A particular job? A life passage? Or is it this chaotic world—as it is—in which we open ourselves in compassion and service?

7th Sunday After Pentecost, July 27, 2014

Psalm 105: 1-11, 45b

Give thanks to the LORD and call upon his Name; * make known his deeds among the peoples.

Sing to him, sing praises to him, *and speak of all his marvelous works.

Glory in his holy Name; * let the hearts of those who seek the LORD rejoice.

Search for the LORD and his strength; * continually seek his face.

Remember the marvels he has done, * his wonders and the judgments of his mouth,

O offspring of Abraham his servant, * O children of Jacob his chosen.

He is the LORD our God; * his judgments prevail in all the world.

He has always been mindful of his covenant, * the promise he made for a thousand generations:

The covenant he made with Abraham, * the oath that he swore to Isaac,

Which he established as a statute for Jacob, * an everlasting covenant for Israel,

Saying, "To you will I give the land of Canaan * to be your allotted inheritance." 
Hallelujah!

Reflections: This psalm carries both themes in the collect, things both temporal and eternal. How easy it is to look to the gifts of God--his "marvelous works," "the land of Canaan"--all ways a relationship with our God bring us benefits. But the real gifts of God are a heart that rejoices, ceaselessly seeking God's "face."

7th Sunday After Pentecost, July 27, 2014

The Epistle: Romans 8:26-39

 (Likewise) the Spirit helps us in our weakness; for we do not know how to pray as we ought, but that very Spirit intercedes with sighs too deep for words. And God, who searches the heart, knows what is the mind of the Spirit, because the Spirit intercedes for the saints according to the will of God.

We know that all things work together for good for those who love God, who are called according to his purpose. For those whom he foreknew he also predestined to be conformed to the image of his Son, in order that he might be the firstborn within a large family. And those whom he predestined he also called; and those whom he called he also justified; and those whom he justified he also glorified.

What then are we to say about these things? If God is for us, who is against us? He who did not withhold his own Son, but gave him up for all of us, will he not with him also give us everything else? Who will bring any charge against God’s elect? It is God who justifies. Who is to condemn? It is Christ Jesus, who died, yes, who was raised, who is at the right hand of God, who indeed intercedes for us. Who will separate us from the love of Christ? Will hardship, or distress, or persecution, or famine, or nakedness, or peril, or sword? As it is written,

For your sake we are being killed all day long;
we are accounted as sheep to be slaughtered.

No, in all these things we are more than conquerors through him who loved us. For I am convinced that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor rulers, nor things present, nor things to come, nor powers, nor height, nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord.

Reflections:  This passage is so packed with the mature thoughts and insights of St. Paul it deserves a book. That being the case, I’ll focus on one short passage. But before I turn to it, I must comment on the fact that in this majestic passage, St. Paul uses the words, “foreknew,” “predestined,” “sanctified,” and “glorified.” Over centuries, various Protestant groups have analyzed and attempted to codify these terms, some building elaborate theological systems with very concrete (and often rigid) teachings about salvation. This is often at the expense of the surrounding text, which perhaps deserves a great deal of attention.

            What I want to focus on here, however, is the first paragraph. I can’t help but think that, if we’re truly honest, it may strike us as a bit bizarre. Those of us who take our spiritual life seriously do know how to pray; we do it often; perhaps we say the Daily Office; keep a prayerlist; or are on a prayer chain. We may even have studied (and now practice) different types of prayer. Is Paul talking to people like us?

Indeed, I think he is. All those things may do no more than lay a foundation for the kind of prayer St. Paul is referring to. Strange as it may seem, perhaps knowing how to pray (and even going about it) may even present something of an obstacle to what he’s talking about.

It seems to me that St. Paul suggests that our deepest prayer comes out of a helplessness, when life has crushed us and we cannot pray; when no words are possible. It may be where our most profound prayer takes place precisely because we have come to that deep place in ourselves where there is no me left. But something happens anyway: God prays within us.

That would seem a logical contradiction. But the customs of logic apply to only a sliver of what is real. And sometimes when we can bear no more, something opens inside us. Maybe it even gives us a peek into the Mystery of the Holy Trinity.

7th Sunday After Pentecost, July 27, 2014

Hebrew Bible Lesson: I Kings 3:5-12

 At Gibeon the Lord appeared to Solomon in a dream by night; and God said, “Ask what I should give you.” And Solomon said, “You have shown great and steadfast love to your servant my father David, because he walked before you in faithfulness, in righteousness, and in uprightness of heart toward you; and you have kept for him this great and steadfast love, and have given him a son to sit on his throne today. And now, O Lord my God, you have made your servant king in place of my father David, although I am only a little child; I do not know how to go out or come in. And your servant is in the midst of the people whom you have chosen, a great people, so numerous they cannot be numbered or counted. Give your servant therefore an understanding mind to govern your people, able to discern between good and evil; for who can govern this your great people?”

It pleased the Lord that Solomon had asked this. God said to him, “Because you have asked this, and have not asked for yourself long life or riches, or for the life of your enemies, but have asked for yourself understanding to discern what is right, I now do according to your word. Indeed I give you a wise and discerning mind; no one like you has been before you and no one like you shall arise after you.

Reflections: Solomon’s request and God’s response certainly fit our opening collect. Our prayers are usually for something. Ultimately, though, none of the things that can be objects of prayer really count. There is no guarantee our prayers or our faith will win us good success, health, or love. These things matter to us, but the gift God yearns to give us is . . . Godself. Solomon’s prayer was not for something, but for wisdom and understanding—for transformation. As the collect for the Fifth Sunday of Easter asserts, to know God truly is everlasting life…”

7th Sunday After Pentecost, July 27, 2014

Collect, Proper 12

O god, the protector of all who trust in you, without whom nothing is strong, nothing is holy: Increase and multiply upon us your mercy; that, with you as our ruler and guide, we may so pass through things temporal, that we lose not the things eternal; through Jesus Christ our Lord, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, for ever and ever.  Amen.
Reflections: This prayer means a lot to me because, while “things temporal” are not opposed “things eternal.” My habit, perhaps at some level my preference, is to get lost in the narrative. So often I am consumed by worries, plans, and petty concerns. Truly, it takes practice, attention, willingness, and—most of all—grace to live in both worlds at the same time. 

6th Sunday after Pentecost, July 20, 2014

The Collect, Proper 11

Almighty God, the fountain of all wisdom, you know our necessities before we ask and our ignorance in asking: Have compassion on our weakness, and mercifully give us those things which for our unworthiness we dare not, and for our blindness we cannot ask; through the worthiness of your Son Jesus Christ our Lord, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, now and for ever.  Amen.

Reflection: This is one of my favorite collects. It recognizes the sheer effrontery of approaching God, the painful limitations of our perspective, and the astonishing fact that God nevertheless invites us, wants us to approach. Above all God desires us, body and soul. 

6th Sunday after Pentecost, July 20, 2014

The Hebrew Bible Lesson

Hebrew Bible: Genesis 28:10-19a

Jacob left Beer-sheba and went toward Haran. He came to a certain place and stayed there for the night, because the sun had set. Taking one of the stones of the place, he put it under his head and lay down in that place. And he dreamed that there was a ladder set up on the earth, the top of it reaching to heaven; and the angels of God were ascending and descending on it. And the Lord stood beside him and said, “I am the Lord, the God of Abraham your father and the God of Isaac; the land on which you lie I will give to you and to your offspring; and your offspring shall be like the dust of the earth, and you shall spread abroad to the west and to the east and to the north and to the south; and all the families of the earth shall be blessed in you and in your offspring. Know that I am with you and will keep you wherever you go, and will bring you back to this land; for I will not leave you until I have done what I have promised you.” Then Jacob woke from his sleep and said, “Surely the Lord is in this place—and I did not know it!” And he was afraid, and said, “How awesome is this place! This is none other than the house of God, and this is the gate of heaven.”

So Jacob rose early in the morning, and he took the stone that he had put under his head and set it up for a pillar and poured oil on the top of it. He called that place Bethel; but the name of the city was Luz at the first.

Reflections: Two things about this classic text stand out for me today. The first is that Jacob discovers what by grace we all discover, that God is present, even though “I did not know it!” Sometimes we realize this in retrospect, like in the story of the footprints in the sand. At other times it takes us by surprise. Interestingly, it often has this happened to us when we’re not in church? Sometimes we notice that, as Gerard Manley Hopkins’ poem says, “The world is charged with the glory of God.”

The other thing that captured my attention this time is the statement, “Know that I am with you and will keep you wherever you go, and will bring you back to this land; for I will not leave you until I have done what I have promised you.” It’s easy to forget God, or to feel alone or abandoned. But God’s presence with us is not dependent on our feelings or expectations. What good news this is! 

6th Sunday after Pentecost, July 20, 2014

Psalm 139:1-12, 22-23

LORD, you have searched me out and known me; *  you know my sitting down and my rising up; you discern my thoughts from afar.

You trace my journeys and my resting-places * and are acquainted with all my ways.

Indeed, there is not a word on my lips, * but you, O LORD, know it altogether.

You press upon me behind and before * and lay your hand upon me.

Such knowledge is too wonderful for me; * it is so high that I cannot attain to it.

Where can I go then from your Spirit? * where can I flee from your presence?

If I climb up to heaven, you are there; * if I make the grave my bed, you are there also;

If I take the wings of the morning * and dwell in the uttermost parts of the sea,

Even there your hand will lead me * and your right hand hold me fast.

If I say, "Surely the darkness will cover me, * and the light around me turn to night,"

Darkness is not dark to you; the night is as bright as the day; * darkness and light to you are both alike.

For you yourself created my inmost parts; *  you knit me together in my mother's womb.

Search me out, O God, and know my heart; * try me and know my restless thoughts.

Look well whether there be any wickedness in me * and lead me in the way that is everlasting.

Reflections: One of the deep, majestic psalms. God’s light and life, invisible to us, penetrates and fills even our deepest darkness. 

6th Sunday after Pentecost, July 20, 2014

The Epistle

Romans 8:12-25: So then, brothers and sisters, we are debtors, not to the flesh, to live according to the flesh— for if you live according to the flesh, you will die; but if by the Spirit you put to death the deeds of the body, you will live. For all who are led by the Spirit of God are children of God. For you did not receive a spirit of slavery to fall back into fear, but you have received a spirit of adoption. When we cry, “Abba! Father!” it is that very Spirit bearing witness with our spirit that we are children of God, and if children, then heirs, heirs of God and joint heirs with Christ—if, in fact, we suffer with him so that we may also be glorified with him.

I consider that the sufferings of this present time are not worth comparing with the glory about to be revealed to us. For the creation waits with eager longing for the revealing of the children of God; for the creation was subjected to futility, not of its own will but by the will of the one who subjected it, in hope that the creation itself will be set free from its bondage to decay and will obtain the freedom of the glory of the children of God. We know that the whole creation has been groaning in labor pains until now; and not only the creation, but we ourselves, who have the first fruits of the Spirit, groan inwardly while we wait for adoption, the redemption of our bodies. For in hope we were saved. Now hope that is seen is not hope. For who hopes for what is seen? But if we hope for what we do not see, we wait for it with patience.

Reflections:  Yet another rich reading for St. Paul’s last, most theologically mature letter. God’s call to us is highly personal. Deep within us, our spirit yearns for God, for unity with Christ—this is who we are. So much of popular ideas of salvation—drawing on the writings of St. Paul—seems highly individualistic. My faith, my salvation.

But Paul teaches us here that while the journey into Christ is intimate, it isn’t just a me-and-Jesus thing. From the most intimate and personal, Christ at our deepest center opens into the universal. The whole of creation finds the fulfillment of its purpose in our union with Christ. This suggests that, despite all Paul’s rhetoric about “the world” and “the spirit,” we human beings are not saved from the world; rather, we are saved in creation, and with it.

6th Sunday after Pentecost, July 20, 2014The Gospel

Gospel: Matthew 13:24-30, 36-43

He put before them another parable: “The kingdom of heaven may be compared to someone who sowed good seed in his field; but while everybody was asleep, an enemy came and sowed weeds among the wheat, and then went away. So when the plants came up and bore grain, then the weeds appeared as well. And the slaves of the householder came and said to him, ‘Master, did you not sow good seed in your field? Where, then, did these weeds come from?’ He answered, ‘An enemy has done this.’ The slaves said to him, ‘Then do you want us to go and gather them?’ But he replied, ‘No; for in gathering the weeds you would uproot the wheat along with them. Let both of them grow together until the harvest; and at harvest time I will tell the reapers, Collect the weeds first and bind them in bundles to be burned, but gather the wheat into my barn.’” . . . .

Then he left the crowds and went into the house. And his disciples approached him, saying, “Explain to us the parable of the weeds of the field.” He answered, “The one who sows the good seed is the Son of Man; the field is the world, and the good seed are the children of the kingdom; the weeds are the children of the evil one, and the enemy who sowed them is the devil; the harvest is the end of the age, and the reapers are angels. Just as the weeds are collected and burned up with fire, so will it be at the end of the age. 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!”

Reflections: In his sermon, Penner focused on the teaching on the afterlife in the gospel. Fundamentalist and literalist churches focus on the End Times. There is a consequent tendency to be preoccupied with sin and judgment—and for human beings, that generally comes down to being judgmental.

In contrast, Anglicanism tends to focus on this life and to pay less attention to the afterlife. But End Times should not to be ignored; after all, Jesus talked about them. However we might envision it, oweveFinal Judgment means that we are accountable for the whole of our lives. And we can all bear self-examination. Quoting someone whose name I don’t remember, Penner observed, “We don’t need to be reborn; we need to grow up.” The teaching of Hell “confronts us with the importance of our actions,” and our reliance on “cheap grace.” Nobody can tell us how to live, but we can ask ourselves whether we will regret ways in which we have wasted God’s gifts. 

Further Reflections:  

In this gospel passage, again, the disciples ponder Jesus’ parable for a while before Jesus gives them a hint. I don’t think that is an accident; I am convinced that the questions we carry in our hearts (sometimes even unconsciously) prepare us to receive the answers. In fact, struggling with the questions may be far more valuable than comprehension. Why is this? Answers that are immediately obvious demand nothing from us. A persistent question, on the other hand, helps us grow to the size of the answer. And when the answer is God—well, I suppose that’s what Mystery means.

6th Sunday after Pentecost

Collect: Proper 11

Almighty God, the fountain of all wisdom, you know our necessities before we ask and our ignorance in asking: Have compassion on our weakness, and mercifully give us those things which for our unworthiness we dare not, and for our blindness we cannot ask; through the worthiness of your Son Jesus Christ our Lord, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, now and for ever.  Amen.

Reflection: This is one of my favorite collects. It recognizes the sheer effrontery of approaching God, the painful limitations of our perspective, and the astonishing fact that God nevertheless invites us, wants us to approach. Above all God desires us, body and soul. 

6th Sunday after Pentecost

Gospel: Matthew 13:24-30, 36-43

He put before them another parable: “The kingdom of heaven may be compared to someone who sowed good seed in his field; but while everybody was asleep, an enemy came and sowed weeds among the wheat, and then went away. So when the plants came up and bore grain, then the weeds appeared as well. And the slaves of the householder came and said to him, ‘Master, did you not sow good seed in your field? Where, then, did these weeds come from?’ He answered, ‘An enemy has done this.’ The slaves said to him, ‘Then do you want us to go and gather them?’ But he replied, ‘No; for in gathering the weeds you would uproot the wheat along with them. Let both of them grow together until the harvest; and at harvest time I will tell the reapers, Collect the weeds first and bind them in bundles to be burned, but gather the wheat into my barn.’” . . . .

Then he left the crowds and went into the house. And his disciples approached him, saying, “Explain to us the parable of the weeds of the field.” He answered, “The one who sows the good seed is the Son of Man; the field is the world, and the good seed are the children of the kingdom; the weeds are the children of the evil one, and the enemy who sowed them is the devil; the harvest is the end of the age, and the reapers are angels. Just as the weeds are collected and burned up with fire, so will it be at the end of the age. 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!”

Reflections: Here again, the disciples ponder on the story for a while before Jesus gives them a handle on it. I am convinced that the questions we carry in our hearts (sometimes even unconsciously) prepare us to receive the answers. In fact, wondering—although perhaps uncomfortable—may be far more valuable than immediate comprehension. Why is this? Answers that are immediately obvious are easily forgotten. They demand nothing from us. A persistent question, on the other hand, can help us grow to the size of the answer. And when the answer is God, well, I suppose that’s what Mystery means.

6th Sunday after Pentecost

Epistle: Romans 8:12-25

So then, brothers and sisters, we are debtors, not to the flesh, to live according to the flesh— for if you live according to the flesh, you will die; but if by the Spirit you put to death the deeds of the body, you will live. For all who are led by the Spirit of God are children of God. For you did not receive a spirit of slavery to fall back into fear, but you have received a spirit of adoption. When we cry, “Abba! Father!” it is that very Spirit bearing witness with our spirit that we are children of God, and if children, then heirs, heirs of God and joint heirs with Christ—if, in fact, we suffer with him so that we may also be glorified with him.

I consider that the sufferings of this present time are not worth comparing with the glory about to be revealed to us. For the creation waits with eager longing for the revealing of the children of God; for the creation was subjected to futility, not of its own will but by the will of the one who subjected it, in hope that the creation itself will be set free from its bondage to decay and will obtain the freedom of the glory of the children of God. We know that the whole creation has been groaning in labor pains until now; and not only the creation, but we ourselves, who have the first fruits of the Spirit, groan inwardly while we wait for adoption, the redemption of our bodies. For in hope we were saved. Now hope that is seen is not hope. For who hopes for what is seen? But if we hope for what we do not see, we wait for it with patience.

Reflections:  Yet another rich reading for St. Paul’s last, most theologically mature letter. God’s call to us is highly personal. Deep within us, our spirit yearns for God, for unity with Christ—this is who we are. So much of popular ideas of salvation—drawing on the writings of St. Paul—seems highly individualistic. My faith, my salvation.

But Paul teaches us here that while the journey into Christ is intimate, it isn’t just a me-and-Jesus thing. From the most intimate and personal, Christ at our deepest center opens into the universal. The whole of creation finds the fulfillment of its purpose in our union with Christ. This suggests that, despite all Paul’s rhetoric about “the world” and “the spirit,” we human beings are not saved from the world; rather, we are saved in creation, and with it.

6th Sunday after Pentecost, July 20, 2014

Psalm 1:39, 1-12, 23-24

LORD, you have searched me out and known me; * you know my sitting down and my rising up; you discern my thoughts from afar.

You trace my journeys and my resting-places * and are acquainted with all my ways.

Indeed, there is not a word on my lips, * but you, O LORD, know it altogether.

You press upon me behind and before * and lay your hand upon me.

Such knowledge is too wonderful for me; * it is so high that I cannot attain to it.

Where can I go then from your Spirit? * where can I flee from your presence?

If I climb up to heaven, you are there; * if I make the grave my bed, you are there also;

If I take the wings of the morning * and dwell in the uttermost parts of the sea,

Even there your hand will lead me * and your right hand hold me fast.

If I say, "Surely the darkness will cover me, * and the light around me turn to night,"

Darkness is not dark to you; the night is as bright as the day; * darkness and light to you are both alike.

For you yourself created my inmost parts; * you knit me together in my mother's womb.

Search me out, O God, and know my heart; * try me and know my restless thoughts.

Look well whether there be any wickedness in me * and lead me in the way that is everlasting.

Reflections: One of the deep, majestic psalms. God’s light and life, invisible to us, penetrates and fills even our deepest darkness. 

6th Sunday After Pentecost, July 20, 2014

Hebrew Bible: Genesis 28:10-19a

Jacob left Beer-sheba and went toward Haran. He came to a certain place and stayed there for the night, because the sun had set. Taking one of the stones of the place, he put it under his head and lay down in that place. And he dreamed that there was a ladder set up on the earth, the top of it reaching to heaven; and the angels of God were ascending and descending on it. And the Lord stood beside him and said, “I am the Lord, the God of Abraham your father and the God of Isaac; the land on which you lie I will give to you and to your offspring; and your offspring shall be like the dust of the earth, and you shall spread abroad to the west and to the east and to the north and to the south; and all the families of the earth shall be blessed in you and in your offspring. Know that I am with you and will keep you wherever you go, and will bring you back to this land; for I will not leave you until I have done what I have promised you.” Then Jacob woke from his sleep and said, “Surely the Lord is in this place—and I did not know it!” And he was afraid, and said, “How awesome is this place! This is none other than the house of God, and this is the gate of heaven.”

So Jacob rose early in the morning, and he took the stone that he had put under his head and set it up for a pillar and poured oil on the top of it. He called that place Bethel; but the name of the city was Luz at the first.

Reflections: Two things about this classic text stand out for me today. The first is that Jacob discovers what by grace we all discover, that God is present, even though “I did not know it!” Sometimes we realize this in retrospect, like in the story of the footprints in the sand. At other times it takes us by surprise. Interestingly, it often has this happened to us when we’re not in church? Sometimes we notice that, as Gerard Manley Hopkins’ poem says, “The world is charged with the glory of God.”

The other thing that captured my attention this time is the statement, “Know that I am with you and will keep you wherever you go, and will bring you back to this land; for I will not leave you until I have done what I have promised you.” It’s easy to forget God, or to feel alone or abandoned. But God’s presence with us is not dependent on our feelings or expectations. What good news this is! 

Fifth Sunday after Pentecost, July 13, 2014

Gospel: Matthew 13:1-9, 18-23

That same day Jesus went out of the house and sat beside the sea. Such great crowds gathered around him that he got into a boat and sat there, while the whole crowd stood on the beach. And he told them many things in parables, saying: "Listen! A sower went out to sow. And as he sowed, some seeds fell on the path, and the birds came and ate them up. Other seeds fell on rocky ground, where they did not have much soil, and they sprang up quickly, since they had no depth of soil. But when the sun rose, they were scorched; and since they had no root, they withered away. Other seeds fell among thorns, and the thorns grew up and choked them. Other seeds fell on good soil and brought forth grain, some a hundredfold, some sixty, some thirty. Let anyone with ears listen!" . . .

"Hear then the parable of the sower. When anyone hears the word of the kingdom and does not understand it, the evil one comes and snatches away what is sown in the heart; this is what was sown on the path. As for what was sown on rocky ground, this is the one who hears the word and immediately receives it with joy; yet such a person has no root, but endures only for a while, and when trouble or persecution arises on account of the word, that person immediately falls away. As for what was sown among thorns, this is the one who hears the word, but the cares of the world and the lure of wealth choke the word, and it yields nothing. But as for what was sown on good soil, this is the one who hears the word and understands it, who indeed bears fruit and yields, in one case a hundredfold, in another sixty, and in another thirty."

 

Reflections: A foolish sower this character in Jesus’ parable! He wastes the seed by scattering it where it has no chance to take root. I’d fire him if he worked for me. Wouldn’t you? It’s a matter of decent stewardship, if nothing else.

And yet, the sower is God, and the word is spread with wanton abandon, in reckless abundance, with irresponsible generosity. The seed is everywhere: not just in the words of Jesus, but throughout our lives. I am convinced that we disregard a million daily encounters—too blind to see, too busy to notice, or too distracted to attend.

Tony, our preacher today proposes that we are seeds, strewn with reckless generosity by the divine sower. To the extent that we bear Christ, that we are in Christ, we are strewn here by God, into this place, this life.

What does it take to cultivate the divine word? Perhaps Matthew gives us a model here. The disciples puzzle over Jesus’ teaching, carrying it inside them. The meaning is not immediately clear—and, astonishingly, Jesus doesn’t try to make it immediately clear. In fact, it is some time later that he slips his disciples a transparent hint. Perhaps that’s because the time of puzzling makes them more able to absorb it.

Over centuries, Benedictine monks have practiced various methods of meditating on sacred teaching. “Rumination,” it’s called—the same word used for cows when they chew their cud—again—and again. Lectio Divina is the term for one method of meditative reading. But this monastic practice is not restricted to the Bible. Ultimately, it’s an approach to life itself.

Fourth Sunday after Pentecost, Proper 9, July 6, 2014

Genesis 24:34-38, 42-49, 58-67  

Laban said, “I am Abraham’s servant. The Lord has greatly blessed my master, and he has become wealthy; he has given him flocks and herds, silver and gold, male and female slaves, camels and donkeys.  And Sarah my master’s wife bore a son to my master when she was old; and he has given him all that he has. My master made me swear, saying, ‘You shall not take a wife for my son from the daughters of the Canaanites, in whose land I live; but you shall go to my father’s house, to my kindred, and get a wife for my son.’

“I came today to the spring, and said, ‘O Lord, the God of my master Abraham, if now you will only make successful the way I am going!  I am standing here by the spring of water; let the young woman who comes out to draw, to whom I shall say, “Please give me a little water from your jar to drink,” and who will say to me, “Drink, and I will draw for your camels also”—let her be the woman whom the Lord has appointed for my master’s son.’

“Before I had finished speaking in my heart, there was Rebekah coming out with her water jar on her shoulder; and she went down to the spring, and drew. I said to her, ‘Please let me drink.’ She quickly let down her jar from her shoulder, and said, ‘Drink, and I will also water your camels.’ So I drank, and she also watered the camels. Then I asked her, ‘Whose daughter are you?’ She said, ‘The daughter of Bethuel, Nahor’s son, whom Milcah bore to him.’ So I put the ring on her nose, and the bracelets on her arms. Then I bowed my head and worshiped the Lord, and blessed the Lord, the God of my master Abraham, who had led me by the right way to obtain the daughter of my master’s kinsman for his son. Now then, if you will deal loyally and truly with my master, tell me; and if not, tell me, so that I may turn either to the right hand or to the left.”

And they called Rebekah, and said to her, “Will you go with this man?” She said, “I will.” So they sent away their sister Rebekah and her nurse along with Abraham’s servant and his men. And they blessed Rebekah and said to her,

“May you, our sister, become
    thousands of myriads;
may your offspring gain possession
    of the gates of their foes.”

Then Rebekah and her maids rose up, mounted the camels, and followed the man; thus the servant took Rebekah, and went his way.

Now Isaac had come from Beer-lahai-roi, and was settled in the Negeb. Isaac went out in the evening to walk in the field; and looking up, he saw camels coming. And Rebekah looked up, and when she saw Isaac, she slipped quickly from the camel, and said to the servant, “Who is the man over there, walking in the field to meet us?” The servant said, “It is my master.” So she took her veil and covered herself. And the servant told Isaac all the things that he had done. Then Isaac brought her into his mother Sarah’s tent. He took Rebekah, and she became his wife; and he loved her. So Isaac was comforted after his mother’s death.

Reflections: Evidently, Abraham doesn’t fully approve of the Canaanite women. As you probably remember, Abraham sends his servant back to his old stomping grounds to find a woman from his own people for his son Isaac to marry. What I find interesting today is the way Laban decides he will identify the right woman.

Like so many biblical figures, Laban asks for a sign from God. In Judges 6, for example, Gideon lays out a fleece to catch the dew (alternatively, to not catch the dew) as a signal of God’s intent. Gideon’s test involved what we might call a “miraculous” violation of natural processes. In the first test, dew was to fall only on the fleece; in the second test, it was to fall every except the fleece. And God complied, making it easy for Gideon to discern the divine will.

But in real life—by which I mean our lives—discernment is not so easy. Our lives are fraught with ambiguity; reality just doesn’t fit into our little boxes, or comply with on/off switches. As a consequence, I am not a little troubled by  passages such as this one. Yet I do pray for guidance. But surely there is a significant difference between seeking to be open to the movement of the Spirit, on the one hand, and “putting the Lord God to the test,” on the other.

I can see understand Laban’s prayer for guidance in very different ways. We can interpret it as making a deal, like planning some sort secret handshake by which God will reveal the answer. Maybe that is exactly what is happening in the text, and maybe the story was passed down to us by people who do make decisions that way.

But a “secret handshake” may not be the only way to read the story. Indeed, why should Laban have to work out an elaborate scenario if he wants to fulfill God’s will? Couldn’t God make it easier by speaking out from heaven or, say, carving the woman’s name on a stone tablet?

What if when Laban details the scenario of the woman at the well, he isn’t actually arranging a sign with God, but simply thinking out loud? I notice that the scene reveals not a particular (say a short, cross-eyed woman called Gigi), but a person with a generous heart. Could the scene Laban conjures up be less a set of stage directions for God to follow than an example of the behavior of the kind of woman he’s looking for?  And if that’s possible, then perhaps her generous character more than anything else, is what made her the right person for his master.

We do often yearn for easy-to-interpret “signs,” quick answers with little involvement on our part. But perhaps discernment is really about the cultivation of insight and illumination, perhaps it involves our whole being and the whole of our lives. 

Fourth Sunday After Pentecost: July 6, 2014, Proper 9

Gospel Reading: Matthew 11:16-19, 25-30

Jesus said, to what will I compare this generation? It is like children sitting in the marketplaces and calling to one another,

We played the flute for you, and you did not dance;

We wailed, and you did not mourn.

For John came neither eating nor drinking, and they say, ‘He has a demon’; the Son of Man came eating and drinking, and they say, ‘Look, a glutton and a drunkard, a friend of tax collectors and sinners!’ Yet wisdom is vindicated by her deeds.

At that time Jesus said, “I thank you, Father, Lord of heaven and earth, because you have hidden these things from the wise and the intelligent and have revealed them to infants; yes, Father, for such was your gracious will. All things have been handed over to me by my Father; and no one knows the Son except the Father, and no one knows the Father except the Son and anyone to whom the Son chooses to reveal him.

Come to me, all you that are weary and are carrying heavy burdens, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me; for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light.

Reflections: In his sermon, Fr. William Wilson, our supply priest this Sunday, pointed out that Jesus addresses this last saying to those exhausted the strict demands of religious leaders. To wear the “yoke” was a common Hebrew metaphor for living according the Law of God (which was in itself a grace from God to his people). But under certain heavy handed leadership, that law was a burden.

Jesus contrasts own teaching as a yoke to a way of life that is “easy.” He isn’t saying that life won’t bring problems, but that his teachings are “good to bear”–they “fit.” In Christ, God’s teaching is made for us. Christ’s yoke, Fr. Wilson said, helps us “fulfill our own deepest humanity” which is, after all, “the greatest journey of human existence.”                                               

Second Sunday after Pentecost, June 22, 2014, Proper 7

Jeremiah 20:7-13 O LORD, you have enticed me, and I was enticed; you have overpowered me, and you have prevailed. I have become a laughingstock all day long; everyone mocks me. For whenever I speak, I must cry out, I must shout, "Violence and destruction!" For the word of the LORD has become for me a reproach and derision all day long. If I say, "I will not mention him, or speak any more in his name," then within me there is something like a burning fire shut up in my bones; I am weary with holding it in, and I cannot. For I hear many whispering: "Terror is all around! Denounce him! Let us denounce him!" All my close friends are watching for me to stumble. "Perhaps he can be enticed, and we can prevail against him, and take our revenge on him." 

        But the LORD is with me like a dread warrior; therefore my persecutors will stumble, and they will not prevail. They will be greatly shamed, for they will not succeed. Their eternal dishonor will never be forgotten. O LORD of hosts, you test the righteous, you see the heart and the mind; let me see your retribution upon them, for to you I have committed my cause. Sing to the LORD; praise the LORD! For he has delivered the life of the needy from the hands of evildoers.

Reflections: Our homilist for the day, Fr. Johnson made the unusual move of focusing the sermon on this striking Old Testament reading. Now, I love the prophets, but most of all I love Jeremiah. I admire his passion (“passion” meant both as strong feeling and suffering). But most of all I admire Jeremiah’s courage and honesty with God. From another point of view, as Fr. Johnson put it, Jeremiah “whines.”

        Well, I hate to think this, but maybe that’s precisely why I identify with him so easily. Maybe I’m a whiner, too. But I think Jeremiah fells more than let down. He expresses a sense of coercion, of being used. Another translation more accurately reflects the intensity of the prophet’s choice of words: “You seduced me, and I was seduced.”

        Nevertheless, the Jeremiah passage continues with a statement of faith; God will prevail. The prophet’s persecutors will be punished.
        But if you know the story of Jeremiah, you know that he suffered a great deal; God didn’t rescue him. Why not? Was he a bad prophet? Was God punishing him?
        Of course not. Fr. Johnson identifies Jeremiah’s expectations as the source of his grievances and deep disappointment. Clearly, the prophet believed that if he was faithful, God would protect, rescue, and vindicate him.
        Most of us share this notion that God will protect us from all sorts of things because God loves us. But is this expectation really in line with what we know of Jesus? Does the fact that God didn’t protect Jesus from evildoers mean that God wasn’t with him, or that Jesus wasn’t following the Divine Will. Of course it doesn’t. But it is a challenge to our expectation that God will make us happy. Or comfortable.

Third Sunday After Pentecost: June 29, 2014, Proper 8

Old Testament Reading: Genesis 22:1-14

        After these things God tested Abraham. He said to him, “Abraham!” And he said, “Here I am.” He said, “Take your son, your only son Isaac, whom you love, and go to the land of Moriah, and offer him there as a burnt offering on one of the mountains that I shall show you.” So Abraham rose early in the morning, saddled his donkey, and took two of his young men with him, and his son Isaac; he cut the wood for the burnt offering, and set out and went to the place in the distance that God had shown him. On the third day Abraham looked up and saw the place far away. Then Abraham said to his young men, “Stay here with the donkey; the boy and I will go over there; we will worship, and then we will come back to you.” Abraham took the wood of the burnt offering and laid it on his son Isaac, and he himself carried the fire and the knife. So the two of them walked on together. Isaac said to his father Abraham, “Father!” And he said, “Here I am, my son.” He said, “The fire and the wood are here, but where is the lamb for a burnt offering?” Abraham said, “God himself will provide the lamb for a burnt offering, my son.” So the two of them walked on together.

          When they came to the place that God had shown him, Abraham built an altar there and laid the wood in order. He bound his son Isaac, and laid him on the altar, on top of the wood.  Then Abraham reached out his hand and took the knife to kill his son. But the angel of the Lord called to him from heaven, and said, “Abraham, Abraham!” And he said, “Here I am.” He said, “Do not lay your hand on the boy or do anything to him; for now I know that you fear God, since you have not withheld your son, your only son, from me.” And Abraham looked up and saw a ram, caught in a thicket by its horns. Abraham went and took the ram and offered it up as a burnt offering instead of his son. So Abraham called that place “The Lord will provide”; as it is said to this day, “On the mount of the Lord it shall be provided.”

Reflections: This is one of many troubling passages in Genesis. The text itself states several times that God is testing Abraham; but we know that God searches the heart—God doesn’t need to test Abraham to know that he is faithful. Some scholars point out that the story recalls a practice of child sacrifice later prohibited by God (but continued for some time among neighboring peoples). Other scholars point out that old Abraham would never have been able to bind the boy without Isaac’s own submission.

        Much can be (and is) said. Perhaps stories like this are not intended to be immediately clear. Stories like this give us something to chew on, to struggle with. At one point in my life, I felt this particular tale open up for me.

        In the early 1980’s, I was on the verge of traveling to India to visit a Catholic monastic-style community. I had learned of its leader, Dom Bede Griffiths (a British Catholic monk) through an unlikely series of events that I won’t go into here.

        One day after having spent several years saving money for the trip, my mother gave me a meaningful look and told me that dad’s pickup needed a new engine (the amazing, old slant-6 had taken us hundreds of thousands of miles). The cost of a new engine was almost exactly the amount that I had put aside for my journey.

        The truck did need the engine; after the ravages of the recession in the 1980’s, my dad was without a full time job, scavenging whatever work he could while my mom as much as she could. I was an only child, had a steady job, and (I am ashamed to say) had been making little contribution to the family. Weighing against this, however, was the fact that I knew in my heart that God was calling me to India, and Dom Bede was weak and fragile; I was afraid he’d die before I got there. And yet…God also seemed to be asking me to help my father.

        As I struggled with my inner conflicts, one day the story of the Sacrifice of Isaac suddenly came to mind and illuminated my own dilemma. Abraham was asked to give up his son. But Isaac represented more than his son; Isaac was the very thing God had promised. The contradiction must have been unbearable. It was for me.

        In case you’re wondering, I did buy the engine (the truck would go over 1,000,000 miles before it was done), I did start saving all over again, and I did get to India before Dom Bede died. But for me the point wasn’t “Everything turned out okay in the end.” The point was that God calls us to love. Not to love because of what we can get—or even for what God promises—but for the sake of Love itself, for the God who is that Love. As Fr. Robert Johnson said last week, “The reward for doing God’s will—is doing God’s will.”