Annual Parish Meeting
January 31, 2010
The Rev. Brian C. Taylor

Once a year every Episcopal congregation gathers for its annual parish meeting, as we do today. We receive ministry and budget reports, and we elect new lay leadership. We celebrate what we’ve accomplished, acknowledge our challenges, and look to the year ahead. 

At our meeting today you will receive a 30-page report booklet, filled with lots of information about the amazing variety of ministries that you do. I recommend that someone from each household take one home: please take the time to read it later, so that as a member, you become educated about what’s going on here. I guarantee, there will be some surprises for you. 

We’re also going to hear about the building of our wonderful and desperately-needed new spaces for ministry that will begin this week –at last! – the construction timeline, and how it will affect us. I’ll tell you a little about the sabbatical I’m taking, starting November of this year, and how my wondering about what to do during that time has led me into some unexpected and exciting possibilities for me and for you. 

And finally, we will talk about something I preached about two weeks ago: a parish discernment process we’re calling ReImagine St. Michael’s. ReImagine St. Michael’s will be led by a large and diverse core team, who, over a period of 18 months, will involve every member in a series of small groups, one-on-one conversations, and large meetings. We will be praying and asking ourselves about our history, our passions, what kind of community God is calling us to become, and how we are to be in relationship to the people of our neighborhood and city. 

I think we are at a crossroad. I’ve been here for almost 3 decades, and I can tell when we’ve arrived at one. You and I are standing on the edge of a new phase of our history that is yet to be revealed. I believe that we are about to blossom, mature, and live into our potential as a light to the world. It is an exciting time for us. 

As we stand at this crossroad, it might be a good time to pause and reflect upon what we are really doing here, and why we are doing it. For our purpose motivates and shapes everything we do. 

Last Sunday we heard the section of Luke’s gospel that immediately precedes what we heard today. In his hometown synagogue, Jesus had been reading the passage from Isaiah that proclaimed the ancient, divine promise of good news for the poor, release for the captives, sight for the blind, and freedom for the oppressed. Jesus then looked up and had the audacity to state, after a dramatic pause, “Today this scripture has been fulfilled in your hearing.” No wonder they tried to throw him off a cliff!

As I said in my sermon last Sunday at the 5pm service, this year I had a completely new way of seeing this passage. I have usually thought that Jesus meant that through his teaching and healing, he was fulfilling these promises for a few, and that someday, either in heaven or in the second coming, they would be fulfilled for the rest of us. 

But perhaps Jesus was saying something far more radical, something that reaches across the ages, right to us in this parish: that wherever his followers live in his Spirit, all the hopes of scripture are fulfilled, in that time and place. Wherever people devote themselves to Christ, poor people receive good news, people who are bound or captive are set free, and those who are spiritually blind finally see. Wherever Jesus’ spirit is truly present, these things happen, and the kingdom of God has come among us, in all its glory. It isn’t limited to Galilee of 2,000 years ago, or to the far-off pie in the sky. The kingdom of God is fully here and now, whenever we, together with God, bring it forth. 

I think of the kingdom of God as an alternate reality, an alternative to the more common human consciousness and way of life. In this alternate reality, we know that God is always immediately accessible. We know that we are brothers and sisters, all equal children of God, no lowly, no exalted. We are all parts of one mystical Body, living and breathing the one Spirit. Kindness and forgiveness are the norm, and our actions create justice and freedom. Imbedded in every difficulty is the seed of new life, of resurrection. We therefore go through this world with gratitude, love, trust, and wonder. 

This is the kingdom of God; it is an alternate reality from the world around us, as a kind of society within society, and it is supposed to be what we manifest in church. 

Now the church is not perfect. It does not live in this alternative reality all the time. But at least we consider it our shared ideal. It is at least the direction we aim for, after we’ve fallen down and dusted ourselves off. And so in this parish, we do our best to live out what Isaiah envisioned and what Jesus manifested. 

Because we know that the last shall be first and the first shall be last, we try to treat those on the bottom of the social ladder with the respect and dignity they deserve as children of God, and we don’t give the social elites any special deference. We try to help those who are disadvantaged with concrete assistance. Those who are captive to addiction or bound by guilt or fear are offered ways to move into freedom, forgiveness, and release. Those who are oppressed by unhealthy situations at home or work reclaim their dignity and self-respect, because they are treated that way here. You and I are offered spiritual practices that help us move through our particular blindness, so that we might better see things as God sees them. When we find ourselves in conflict with one another, we try to practice understanding, forgiveness, and reconciliation. We treat our hard-working employees with justice, paying them well and giving them good benefits. 

All of this is to say that the church is meant to be a manifestation of the kingdom of God. It is a place where we learn to live into the promises of scripture. Here, however imperfectly, we experience the alternative reality that Jesus brought. And this alternative reality is, as St. Paul said in the second lesson, in one of the clearest and most moving passages of all scripture, marked by three things: faith, hope, and love. 

Here, you and I learn faith – not just blindly believing 3 impossible things before breakfast every day, - but faith as trust, trust that God is always with us, always moving within to bring good things out of every circumstance. 

Here, you and I learn hope – not just a Pollyanna view that everything will always go well for us because we’re special in God’s eyes – but hope that the promise of resurrection is real, that we are not walking down a blind alley, that God brings us new life as we risk walking towards it. 

Here, you and I learn love – not just the sentiment – but how to be respectful and kind to everyone, whether they deserve it or not, how to assume the best in others, how to be patient with each others’ weaknesses. 

Our community is a school of faith, hope, and love where we learn, through the scriptures and the prayers, and above all, through our shared experience, how to live into the alternate reality we call the kingdom of God. 

This then enables us to make the same radical claim that Jesus made, in the midst of his own community of followers: “Today, here and now, the scriptures have been fulfilled in our hearing. The kingdom of God has come near.” 

As we celebrate our life together in our annual parish meeting, remember this. We worship and we organize and we volunteer our time and give our money so that all the promises of scriptures might be fulfilled in our hearing. And just maybe, if we learn it here, we will live it out there, and we will participate in God’s redemption of the world.  

Have you ever the pleasure of encountering family members or acquaintances who ask the question that begins with “Since when?”  For example - “Since when did you stop going to bars?” “Since when did you care about the environment?” “Since when did you become soooo religious?”  The question is usually asked with cynicism and unbelief.   

These people seem to want to define you by past interactions at school, family functions, or superficial conversations.  It is as if they have kept you frozen in amber.  No allowance for your growth, transformation or change.  No true understanding of what or who you have become. 
  
In my personal experience, I notice the people who usually ask me this question are people who knew me, but never took the time to know me.  I become like one of those prehistoric mosquitoes frozen in amber, and every once and a while I am held up to the light, so they could see right through me.  

Primarily because of my ego, I become irritated with these people and their “since when” questioning. I often ask myself, “is that how they really see me?”  I often wish they could see me through a different set of eyes and to really know me.   

Today’s Gospel speaks of how Christ sees us with a different set of eyes.  But more importantly, the Gospel allows us to see ourselves through the eyes of God.   Jesus is in the temple where he was raised, and he chooses to read the passage from Isaiah.  In a few brief sentences, he describes to the listeners this wondrous change that is occurring in the world, he speaks of a special love.   

In the temple, there seems to be an air of disbelief. Imagine if you were raised with the notion that God only judges, God is distant and you have to meet prerequisites in order to be loved by God.  Your response?   Disbelief.   We read that “all eyes were fixed upon him” In the next verse, they ask if this is really Joseph’s son.  Now remember, this is Jesus’ hometown.  Most would of known Jesus since he was a baby.  Why the amazement?   They had this image of Jesus, and did not allow for something new.  

I am sure that some of said to themselves - “Since when did you become sooo religious?”  “Since when did God make YOU King?”  I sure these responses did not faze Jesus, he still hears the same questions today.  Notice that Jesus did not speak of a strict, brutal or unforgiving God.  He did not speak of worthiness or unworthiness, of sinfulness, self-interest or condemnation.  

Jesus spoke of serving others; of hope for the poor, release for the oppressed, healing for the sick, including the excluded.  Jesus told them of the all encompassing, indescribable love that God has for each one of us.  That is why they call it the Good News. 

This message of God’s love was revolutionary.  For thousands of years, people knew God, but they did know God.  It was extremely difficult for them to understand that God intimately loved them.  Why?  Because if they truly accept and understood this love, then they have to look at the world in love.  

If they understood God’s deep love, they could not ostracize they could not ostracize those who were different.    If they understood God’s love, they could not ignore the sick and poor.  If they understood this love, they would welcome all to God’s table with love and without conditions.   In the words of St. Paul– we are we are one body, and if one member suffers, we all suffer.  

It was hard to recognize that deep love over 2000 years ago, and it is difficult to embrace God’s love today.   Each Sunday, the deacon comes out in your midst and announces the Holy Gospel of our Lord Jesus Christ.  Deacon Jan and Deacon Judith read poetic language that describes this holy mystery of the Son of God, who gives, serves and loves.   But what does it really mean?  These Gospels mean that God holds each one of us close, God loves each one of us without reservation or conditions.  So perfectly reflected in Jesus Christ. 

And that is why Jesus walked toward Calvary with complete faith, because he knew of the great love God had for him.  At times fearful, hesitant and even questioning, he embraced God’s love and then went out to the poor, the lost and the hurting.  And then Jesus said there is nothing that will keep us from God’s love and no one, no one has to hide in the shadows.  God does not push anyone to the margins we are loved equally.

This unconditional love is hard to accept.  Because if we accept it, we must respond, and when we respond, our faith comes alive.  It means that despite the challenges of our lives, the incredible joys and the devastatingly lows, you are deeply loved by God.  This love gives us hope, and with hope, we can change the world.   

Our faith, the Eucharist, this Church does not make any sense unless it is transformed into practical action.    You cannot learn to dance by reading a book, you cannot swim by looking at the water, and you cannot love by watching a romantic comedy.  You have to dance, dive in, and offer your heart.   When we understand God’s love for each one of us, we move from thinking of how to love others, to a place where we cannot help but love one another.   

While preparing this sermon, I read a story that describes the inherent call to love.   Nicholas Kristoff wrote of growing up on farm.   The most admirable creates were the geese; they mate for life and adhere to values that would shame most of those who dine on them.  If one of the geese was sitting on her eggs, her mate would forage for food and if he found a delicacy, he would rush back to give it to his mate.   Kristoff would offer males a dish of corn to fatten them up — but it was impossible, for they would take it all home to their true loves.

Kristoffs monthly job was to grab a goose for slaughter.  The geese knew that something dreadful was happening and would cower in a corner of the barn, and run away in terror as he approached. He would grab one and carry it away as it screeched and struggled in his arms.  Inevitably, another goose would bravely step away from the panicked flock and walk toward him.   It would be the mate of the one he caught, male or female, and it would step right up to him, protesting pitifully. It would be frightened out of its wits, but still determined to stand with and comfort its love.

Jesus walked toward the cross because of God’s love, and we are called to step forward for others because of that love.  Scared out of our wits, unsure what our steps will bring, we step forward because realize we are united to each other and God by this amazing, unconditional, divine love.  

I do not need to tell you that the world is hurting.  Haiti suffered an indescribable tragedy, but we forget that Haiti was suffering terribly prior to the earthquake.  There is suffering in Africa, Central America, in the neighborhoods around St. Michaels.   People are losing their homes, children are being abused, the sick are without health insurance, and millions are relegated to the shadows.  Embrace God’s love and even if it is tentative, step forward in love and change the world for them.  

In that temple 2000 years ago, Jesus shocked people by announcing that everyone matters, that God loves each one of us passionately.   So when you are asked “Since when did you care so much about others?”  “Since when did you start spending sooo much time at the church?”  Feel the power of that love that burns for you, that love that burns within you and respond with a knowing smile  - “Since right here and right now.” 

St. Michael and All Angels Episcopal Church   
Albuquerque, New Mexico 
Sunday January 17, 2010  
Preacher: Fr. Christopher McLaren
Text: John 2: 1-11 The Wedding Feast at Cana 
Drink Deep the Life and Love of God’s New Wine

The Wedding Feast at Cana is one of the three primary stories of the Epiphany season alongside the Visit of the Magi and Jesus’ baptism in the Jordan. It is one of the first stories of Jesus in action and how wonderful that it is at a wedding, no rather a wedding party that Jesus begins to reveal the Glory of God. From the very beginning we learn that God is one who shows up where we are. Our artificial separation of the sacred from the secular is broken down as Jesus begins his ministry at a party of all places. 

Strangely it is a quiet almost reluctant tale. Jesus and his disciples are at a wedding feast in Cana of Galilee with his mother. The simple phrase, “When the wine gave out,” introduces the crisis of the story. Perhaps Jesus and his disciples were unexpected guests and somewhat responsible the wine running out, we are not told. We are only told that Jesus’ mother alerts him to the problem facing the newly married couple. 

“When the wine gave out” is an evocative phrase. The party has come to a dessicated halt. The wine jugs are bone dry.  The rejoicing of those at this feast is about to end. The maidens will soon cease their dancing. The merriment of old and young alike is about to be interrupted. I wonder if this phrase can be heard by us in a more personal way. Could this wedding feast be our lives? How like our lives at times is this phrase, “When the wine gave out.”  Do you know what it is to be bone dry? Have you ever felt like the feast that is your life is running on empty? Are you tired, spent, weary, exhausted, drained, at a loss for inspiration? Perhaps the story of the wedding feast is about something deeper and more contemporary than a young couple in a little known village in Galilee long ago?  Perhaps the crisis of this story is closer to us than we imagined. 

Jesus’ response to his mother is hardly gallant. He sounds a bit punchy and disrespectful in this vignette. More than one parent has probably wondered why we read this passage in church? Jesus says, “Woman, what concern is that to you and to me? My hour has not yet come.” In the Greek Jesus sounds odd, distant toward his mother, strangely like a sullen teenager, hardly acceptable. What is at work in this passage? The time is not right for his manifestation, his epiphany. John, the gospel writer is careful in his narrative to build up to the disclosure of Jesus’ glory in its proper time. Jesus must do what the Father has given him to do. The final epiphany is reserved for the lifting up of Jesus from the earth. John wants us to understand Jesus’ glory but not too soon it seems.

Jesus’ mother is not deterred for a moment from her purpose. Immediately she instructs the servants to “Do whatever he tells you.”  Ponder this phrase for a moment. “Do whatever he tells you.” Is this a practical instruction given at a country wedding? As John frames it, in all of its odd simplicity, from the mouth of Mary comes a command for the ages, “Do whatever he tells you.” This is an invitation to seek life at its source, for in this gospel Jesus is the source of new life, “whoever hears my word and believes has eternal life (John 3:36, 5:24).”  In the midst of this troubled wedding feast is a bold call to discipleship, for those who would be Jesus’ servants.  Put plainly doing “whatever Jesus tells you to do” is the essence of discipleship. If we were to stop here we could capture the story by saying simply- “When the wine of your life gives out, do whatever Jesus says.”

And then comes the mystery and wonder. Jesus uses what is at hand, six stone jars for purification rites. They are not wine vessels but rather stone vessels used to hold water to wash the feet and hands of dusty travelers. It is no small task to fill these containers. It would have required a great deal of water hauling. A hundred and fifty gallons would have provided a large amount of “good wine” for a party already in progress. But I guess I don’t know what parties are like at your house. Whatever Jesus is doing it is not a small thing. 

His instructions are simple “Fill the jars with water.” We are told they filled them to the brim and did as Jesus instructed drawing some out and taking it to the chief steward. All of this of course makes perfect sense in the flow of the story, but this is not a Perrier commercial. Only when we are told that the steward tasted the water that had become wine do we understand that something miraculous taken place. Time begins to swirl, when did it become wine? Did the servants know? Where has this good wine come from? Minds are stretched, who is this one who makes new wine? Life is renewed, the party continues, and best is saved for last. The stone jars holding water for the ancient rites are used to deliver the new wine of a new time and a new relationship.

In this simple disarming story of Jesus saving a young couples’ beginning from public embarrassment and shame, we are given much to ponder. Who is this master of the revels who gives new life to the nuptial celebration?  Who is this wonder-worker who reverses the order of things, providing the best vintage after the party is in full-swing? 

No one speaks ill of water in the deserts of the Middle East, or New Mexico for that matter. Living in dry country we know the blessing of water and the deep symbolism of thirst and its refreshment, of rivers and streams making glad a landscape, of rain blessing the earth. Its preciousness is defining, its abundance rare. Similarly, wine was not something that everyone had and drank freely. Wine was a cash crop. The poor drank little wine, ate less meat and quenched their thirst with water. But at a wedding or other large family celebration it was different. Families would save and sacrifice to do it up right. Family and friends passed harsh judgments on those who could not host a wedding in style and abundance.  No expense was to be spared. Meat of all kinds was served in abundance and wine flowed freely. It our story it is not that water is looked down upon, but rather that wine is most fitting for the occasion. 

As Frederick Buechner writes, “Wine is booze, which means it is dangerous and drunk-making. It makes the timid brave and the reserved amorous. It loosens the tongue and breaks the ice especially when served in a loving cup. It kills germs. As symbols go, it is a rather splendid one (Wishful Thinking, p. 96).”

Water turning into wine is powerfully symbolic. Some rabbinic writings set the water of this age against the wine of the future.  And often, eschatological writings envision the hoped-for age-to-come as flowing with an abundance of wine. Listen to the words of Isaiah:

On this mountain the Lord of hosts will make for all peoples a feast of rich food, a feast of well-aged wines, of rich food filled with marrow, of well-aged wines strained clear. .. and he will swallow up death forever. (Isaiah 25:6)

The wedding feast at Cana is a story of a new age. In the person of Jesus God is doing something new, but it is hidden to all but a few at this telling. The miracle of water into wine is kept from the crowd. They continue to celebrate clueless of the strange and wonderful work done behind the scenes. The event is faith-producing in the small circle of Jesus’ mother and his disciples for others it was simply the best wedding feast in recent memory. The story quickly shifts away from the drama of the abundant and superior wine to the mundane of everyday life as the disciples return to Capernaum and stay there a few days. 

What is this story telling us? In a wonderfully disarming way I believe this story tells us that Jesus is the life of the party. When your wine has run out, it is God who comes near, it is God who presides over the refilling of our lives, it is God who can once again gladden our hearts and bring us back into life. To be sure we must respond and “do whatever we hear Jesus ask of us”: love your enemy, forgive one another from the heart, show compassion, do justice, pray without ceasing, live simply, be generous, be vulnerable, seek peace, in the midst of these you will discover the new wine of life, the best wine, which must be enjoyed in the midst of ordinary life. To know Jesus, to walk in his ways, is to experience the intoxicating love of God, is to be transformed, to be made new. 

Listen to the poetry of Isaiah as he shamelessly tells Israel of God’s love for her and God’s desire to marry himself to his people, 

You shall no more be termed Forsaken,
and your land shall no more be termed Desolate;
but you shall be called My Delight Is in Her,
and your land Married;
for the LORD delights in you,
and your land shall be married.
For as a young man marries a young woman,
so shall your builder marry you,
and as the bridegroom rejoices over the bride,
so shall your God rejoice over you.

This is poetry that describes a passionate and sensual God who desires to know and be among his people. God erotically risks, desires union with humanity. So God comes close enough to be not only God for us, but also God with us. This is our story, that a most amazing overture of love is revealed anew at this wedding feast. The God who was from the first so joyously creative extends that divine creativity to become Incarnate. Through a young woman’s yes God smuggles himself into our world for a miraculous move on humanity, bringing newness and abundance to us in himself. 

As I ponder this deeply mystical story of the Wedding at Cana, I wonder who’s wedding feast this is?  I believe this story is inviting you to your own wedding feast, the wedding feast of your soul. It seems Christ is the lover come to celebrate your union with God. I wonder what it will take for you to join the feast in progress? Do you sense any newness around you?  Can you feel the Spirit urging you on? Are you willing to fill up the jars that have been standing dark and hollow in the corner of your life? I wonder, do you believe that water can become wine, the intoxicating wine of God’s newness in our life? What will it take? Has the wine given out? Are you ready to do what ever God tells you? 

In a few minutes the invitation to the wedding feast will be given, as you reach into heaven to receive the bread and wine of this marriage feast of your soul, as you guide the chalice of new life to your lips, taking Christ into your very core, know that newness is in that cup, newness is hidden in your very midst. Drink deep, the love and life of God. Do whatever he tells you and find life everlasting and then smuggle, drag and wrestle it back into the world with you. 

Hear this ancient prayer and know that it is speaking to us. It is speaking to you.

Collect: 
Today the Bridegroom claims his bride, the church, since Christ has washed her sins away in Jordan’s waters; the Magi hasten with their gifts to the royal wedding; and the wedding guests rejoice, for Christ has changed water into wine, alleluia. 

January 10, 2010
The Baptism of our Lord
The Rev. Brian C. Taylor

Today is the feast of the Baptism of our Lord, and we have just heard the story of Jesus being cleansed in the water of the Jordan, the fire of the Holy Spirit came upon him from heaven, and he was sent forth to serve God in the world, as Messiah. 

That’s our story, too: we are purified by God, fired up in the Spirit, and sent forth to serve. So it’s a good day to baptize children and an adult at two of our services. For in this feast we’re celebrating not only Jesus’ baptism; we’re celebrating our baptismal life, a lifestyle of cleansing, renewing, and going out of ourselves into ministry. 

Recently, ministry has been much on my mind: the ministries of deacons, priests, bishops, but most importantly, lay people. And so this morning I’d like to give you a kind of state of the parish report on ministry. First, ordained ministry. 

We’ve just passed a year since Fr. Daniel Gutierrez’ ordination to the priesthood, and a year and a half since Judith Jenkins’ ordination as a deacon. 10 days ago Deacon Jan Bales transferred to volunteer status, and hopefully, more freedom in how she balances the ministry she chooses to do here and her personal and family life. 

On Wednesday, Deacon Judith and I will be going to Texas to take part Patricia Riggins’ ordination to the priesthood, at long last. Judith and Daniel and I were reminiscing about how 3½ years ago the three of them first went to the diocese for approval to go forward towards ordination. Patricia ended up having to go to another diocese, because of some muddy waters around here. But she persevered, and Bishop Mathes of San Diego came through for us. 

Patricia is one of 4 women over the last 20 years who have had to take the same circuitous route from this parish to the priesthood: Julie Graham, Susan Allison-Hatch, Johnette Shane, and Patricia. One can’t help but see a pattern. I hope that things are easier when we elect a new bishop this year. 

This fall the parish Discernment Guild, and then your Vestry, unanimously agreed to put forward Randy Elliott for consideration by the diocese as a deacon. Randy happens to be a gay, partnered man, and has chosen to wait until our new bishop is in place before he approaches the diocese. 

Speaking of whom, in a week the diocesan search committee will be announcing the nominees for the election of our next bishop, which will take place in April. Frankly, my prayer is that God will give us the grace to find and choose a person who will help this diocese mature. For many years, we have desperately needed a more contemporary, intelligent, creative, inclusive, and professional atmosphere in this diocese, and this starts with leadership. 

Finally, in the January issue of the Angelus, our newsletter, you may have seen a letter from our Vestry to the diocese, urging them to consent to the election of Mary Glasspool, a partnerned lesbian woman, as an assisting bishop in the diocese of Los Angeles. 

All of this is about ordained ministry, and there is much to be thankful for, much to be concerned about, and much to pray for and work towards. St. Michael’s is a community that, despite the odds, has fostered many remarkable ordained vocations. It is a community that has attracted about a dozen retired and non-stipendiary clergy who choose to be a part of parish life here. And it is a community that will continue to discern with women and men whether they are called to ministry as deacons or priests. 

But the really important ministry is lay ministry. You are 98% of the church. Clergy may provide some of the leadership and support and theological grounding, but you also teach and pastor, lead liturgy, serve the suffering, gather people for spiritual formation, imagine the future with God, and give your time, talent, and treasure to make that future possible. Everything happens because of you. 

In 3 weeks, at our Annual Parish Meeting, we plan on sharing with you a vision for developing lay ministry in the parish. In its depth and scope, it is unlike anything we have done here before. 

I believe that the Holy Spirit has been building this vision, and I hope that you will find it not only challenging, but very exciting. I think it will be the beginning of a new era in the history of our parish. I won’t reveal the details of this vision today – for that, you’ll have to come to the Annual Meeting on January 31. But I can paint a general picture. 

As you know, we have been quite occupied over the last few years with two things. One has been the very practical work of architectural design and fundraising for our Ministry Complex. We will soon begin construction. 

The second is strengthening our organization for lay ministry. We have undertaken a coordinated, intentional effort to structure things differently so that we look to one another for direction, so that more of us own the ministries we share, so that spirituality can be found in one another and in our programs. 

These two emphases are coming together this year: construction and reorganization. We will soon have space to do the ministry we feel called to do and be the community we are becoming. But what are we called to do? And what are we becoming? This is the challenging and exciting part. 

To discover this, we will be undertaking an 18-month process of renewal and visioning. After two years of concern with money and buildings and organization, we will now begin to dream again. It’s really time for that. 

With the help of a spiritual director to the process and the community-organizing methodology of Albuquerque Interfaith, we will discover together what our passions are, who our most effective lay leaders are, what our resources consist of, and where God is calling us in the decade ahead. It will be a ground-level, bottom-up work of the Spirit, explored patiently over 18 months in one-on-one conversations, prayer, home meetings, Bible study, and large gatherings. You will re-imagine St. Michael’s ministry, with the guidance of the Spirit. 

At the end of this time, I suspect that in many ways, we will continue to be the kind of place St. Michael’s has been for 60 years. But we will also be living into much more of our potential. 

We are currently an amazingly vibrant and gifted parish; but if we can welcome the fire of the Spirit by re-visioning our call to ministry, we will blossom into a remarkable community. We will harmonize and set loose the gifts, passions, and resources that are still somewhat dormant. And we will be a brighter light to the world around us. 

That, after all, is what it is all about. God came to the world as light, filling a human life with divinity. The wise men saw this light in Jesus. When he was cleansed and empowered through baptism, he took God’s light out into the world, healing and loving and teaching, and the world was never the same. 

This is our story, too. We come into this world, filled with God’s light. As we journey deeper in faith, this light becomes more visible. As we are cleansed and empowered by the Spirit in baptism, we are compelled to go out and serve the world in which we live. 

This is Jesus’ story. It is the story of those to be baptized today. And it is the story of every faithful Christian community. Pray for your parish community, that we might live into its promise. 

January 3, 2010
2nd Sunday of Christmas
The Rev. Brian C. Taylor

This morning we read all of chapter 2 of Matthew’s gospel because it’s one story, and a part of the Christmas narrative that we usually don’t hear. 

We tend to focus on the manger, the shepherds, and the portion about the wise men where they give the baby Jesus gold, frankincense, and myrrh. These parts are full of light and joy, simplicity, and peace. The chapter we just heard, however, brings darkness, complexity, and danger. It makes the Christmas story much more interesting, and much more real, in some ways. 

One way to see this chapter of Matthew is a contrast between two points of view: the way of the world, and the way of the Spirit. The difference between them is quite defined, almost stereotyped. It is a kind of melodrama. The way of the world is represented by the evil king Herod. The way of the Spirit is represented by the wise men and Joseph. 

King Herod was a Jew who had been appointed by Rome to be their puppet king in Judea. He profited enormously from being in bed with the oppressors. He owned several palaces, forts, and mines. During Jesus’ lifetime, he was in the process of rebuilding the great temple in Jerusalem, so that he would be remembered like King Solomon, who had built the first temple a thousand years before. 

The wise men, probably astrologers from Persia, told him that a sign in the heavens signified the birth of a new king of the Jews. To Herod, this was very bad news. He was, he thought, about to be replaced. He would lose all the privilege he enjoyed. So he tried to trick the wise men into revealing the child’s whereabouts. 

When this didn’t work, he thought, “Well then, I’ll just kill all the children under 2 years old.” You can almost hear the gasp of the soldiers who were ordered to carry it out. You can certainly imagine the wailing of the parents in the streets. 

In this story, Herod shows us the worst of humanity: fear, greed, deceit, rage, and violence. Herod reminds us of every war that has been fought by governments to protect wealth and privilege, every corporate exploitation of the powerless, every time we believe that self-serving ends justify horrible means. It is the dark side of humanity, and it is not particular to any nation, or any period of history. 

But if Herod’s actions were not quite so extreme, so melodramatic, we might see his general approach to life all the time in ourselves and others. Herod has a problem: someone came along who might threaten things that are important to him. He is afraid, angry. He goes about trying to solve this unexpected problem by using his will power, his strength. He forces his way through life, defending his vital interests.

We often do the same when faced with an unexpected problem. It’s natural, of course, and only human, we could say, to be motivated by our emotions, and then to use our strength, our will power, to defend and protect our vital self-interest. 

That’s the way the world works. If someone lies about us, we loudly set the record straight. If someone cheats us, we sue. If someone gets between us and what we feel we really need, we try to get them out of our way. If someone attacks us, we strike back hard, so they won’t do it again. That’s the way the world works. 

But this isn’t how the wise men or Joseph responded. They, too, had a problem. But instead of fighting force with force, instead of acting out of fear, the wise men and Joseph slide sideways, into a separate reality. They slip into the night, into the desert of God. Instead of meeting their problem with strength of will, they listen to their dreams. They watch the skies for signs. They pray. They listen to the whisper of an angel in the desert. They found their way home via another road. They follow the ways of the Spirit. 

As I said on Christmas Eve, God’s light came into the darkness of this world not to overcome the darkness, but to exist alongside it, in another dimension. God does not battle the darkness head to head, and then come out victorious. The light just shines in the darkness, as an alternative to it. 

In facing conflict, Jesus didn’t go head to head. He was like a spiritual ju-jitsu master. He usually didn’t answer his accusers directly, but flipped them upside down with another question. Once he even disappeared out of the middle of a crowd that was about to stone him. And after they killed him, all that was left in his tomb was a white cloth. He never allowed himself to be subject to the rules of worldly reason and power. 

This is how the spiritual life seems to work. Many years ago, I was trying to go head-to-head against some very dramatic issue in my life which now, of course, I don’t remember. I was trying to use my brain and will power to force things God-ward. A priest told me “you need to learn to see with your peripheral vision. God will appear in the margins of your awareness and show you a way forward.” 

We will never win our spiritual struggles if we rely only upon our will, our reason, and our human power. Some things in life are just too much for these means. At times, we need to slip into another dimension, another way of being. If this is something we want, we must cultivate it. 

How do we cultivate this? Through a life of prayer and worship. By regularly opening our minds to a reality that is greater than our own experience. By surrendering our strength and riding the current of the Spirit. By waiting for the voices of angels. 
By listening to our dreams, to the magic of music and poetry and art. And sometimes by temporarily forgetting our problems entirely, and giving our devotion to the One who is vastly bigger than the dramas of life. 

When we cultivate our more subtle spiritual faculties, as the wise men and Joseph must have long before Herod came along, we have access to another dimension that lives alongside our God-given ability to exercise our will and our strength. It is like having an additional set of eyes, an additional pair of ears. And when we call upon these spiritual faculties, we are at a significant advantage, because not all of life can be figured out and improved through our reason and our will. 

As we begin a new year this early January, we cannot possibly know what the future will bring. The Herods around and within us will probably raise their fearful little heads and try to bully their way forward. But f we continue to cultivate our peripheral vision, if we listen for the subtle voice of angels and dreams, we will not be bound to respond in kind. 

Like the wise men and the holy family, we will be able to slip into the night of God’s life, and then find that we have returned home by another road.