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.”