John 1:47-51
29 IX 2013 Michaelmas
St. Michael and All Angels
The Rev. Canon Daniel G. P. Gutierrez

Let us bow our heads, close our eyes and open our hearts  to the one who is greater than we.   Lord I humbly pray that some word that is heard, be thine.

Worry.  I do not like to worry.  I find it draining, I am anxious, uncertain, I try to go at it alone and usually mess things up.  I like security.  It is comforting and liberating - it provides a sense of ease.  I use the word “security”  expansively be it financial, personal, safety, relational.  I have found that when I feel secure it is usually because, I trust in something. When you stumble someone or something will steady you.

When you blindly grasp in the darkness there is a knowing that a hand will be there to meet yours.  I was blessed to witness what I call a “blessed assurance” reflected in the marriage and last years of  Arnold and Bernice Fletcher.  They married young during World War II, and raised three beautiful daughters.   They did not change the world with brilliant acts, yet their faith and lives were examples to many. 

There were no poems written about their devotion, yet many could have been written. 

Whatever difficulty that entered their lives, including the tragic death of a daughter, they faced it, trusting.  They know that they were spoken for - by one another.  After 50 years of marriage, a cruel thief began to steal Bernice from Arnold.  Because of the disease, they moved from their beautiful home to small assisted living apartment.  

Yet, they were together.   From assisted living apartment to one small room in a nursing home, and they were still side by side.  Bernice’s world consisted of constant care, a distant stare and arms moving rhythmically.    Arnold patiently sitting nearby.  Listening for her breathing, watching if she rustled, From early morning through late at night, he watched over his beloved Bernice.  

One time when their only grandson came to visit, Arnold gently reached through the rails to hold her hand and spoke to her softly.   Bernice, someone is here to see you.  When she heard Arnold’s voice, her arms stopped moving.  Her clutched fingers grasped his hand and for a few moments, she was calm. 

From the recesses of her soul, a place without speech, where there was no clarity, Arnold’s voice lovingly slipped through the distance.  In that instant, it was as if she understood that her love, her life, was near.    Although her memory was taken, she did not need memory, like a favorite song, she knew his voice by heart.

In remembering that moment and in today’s Gospel, I thought of how Jesus is always nearby - if we realize it.  The first disciples follow Jesus. When invited by Phillip, Nathaniel seems doubt that this man called Jesus is real or that he is something something special.  In fact in the preceding verse - he is downright sarcastic.

When Jesus calls out to him and describes his character,  Nathaniel is stunned.  He asks in a demanding tone “‘Where did you come to know me?”  Not “where did you see me?” or  “who told you/”  In an instant,  he realizes that God has always been in his life, close by, watching, tending, hoping.   That Jesus was in his life, long before he met Jesus. When Nathaniel comes to the realization - he is changed.  

How different things must have been 2000 years ago.  To question the presence in our lives and then have Jesus walk into our lives.  Then suddenly, be changed.  To feel trust, to be liberated, not to worry, to have a new life and new world.  Imagine.  But nothing has changed, it seems we have.  Maybe our openness to Christ has closed over time.  And I am sure we can justify the reasons.

Maybe we have a difficult time accepting that we can be loved or that God is truly capable of love.  How can God love my enemy, even worse - how can God love me.  It is easier and less binding to believe that God spends all eternity judging and rejecting us.   Yet throughout the Bible, the Eucharist, the cross and resurrection, the message is the same.  I know you, you are mine.   We are spoken for by the mouth of Christ. 

Or maybe we can rationalize intellectually. How can Jesus know me?  Yes, these are great stories about some guy who lived over 2000 years ago, he has outstanding messages that I want to live by, great moral stories,  appears in stained glass windows.  Yet you want me to accept that his presence is always near?  Prove it. We want answers instead of questions, understanding instead of desire, clarity instead of mystery.   Yet, how do you explain the unexplainable. How do you define mystery.

I could not explain that millisecond when my breath was stuck  in my chest when I understood that Bernice was grasping for Arnold’s hand and struggling to listen to his voice.  I cannot explain the wonder I feel in a sunset,  the feeling of holding my son in my arms, the pain felt at the death of someone we love.  How do you explain love? 

Maybe we do not recognize the possibility of these moments have their origins in God.

Or maybe the reason is that we are at a point in life where we just do not feel that Jesus is close or really care.  The pain of illness or the cloud of depression leaves us no room to seek or feel.  The world, the pressures, the divorce, the problems with the kids, the bills, they all seem to set me apart from Christ.  Yet somehow, there is a calm in the storm, a sense of relief, a voice that seems to speak.

A small light that shines in our darkest night.   And we cannot explain nor understand it.   A favorite author[1] wrote -  Consider how the sun continually lights our daily world yet we cannot see light except in what it touches.  Though the sun burns constantly and holds everything living within its pull, though it sends its power across millions of miles.   It is unseen for all that way, until it hits a simple blade of grass or makes the web of a spider a golden patch of lace.

In the same way, the presence of God powerfully moves between us unseen, only visible in the brief moments we are lighted, in those moments we know as love.  For just as we can look at that spider web and never see its beauty until it reveals itself in sudden light, we can look upon the nearest face, again and again, never seeing the beauty in each other, until one or both of us is suddenly revealed. It is there until we finally realize it, God is always close.

Maybe this week, let’s open ourselves to the possibility.  In our private moments, walking up to communion, sitting at work or in the darkness of your night,  ask God, “how do you know me?’  Sit back and listen for that silent voice, reach out your hand and grasp whatever is placed in yours. Notice the light that has traveled billions of miles to reflect on your life.  God speaks to us through the heart, not only through the mind.

Somehow I have to believe that in much the same way, Bernice knew by heart Arnold’s voice, our own heart senses that God is near.  That realization was ingrained inside Nathaniel when Jesus called him so that he was forever transformed.  It will change each one of us in much the same way.

To patiently await morning when we only feel the darkness.  Purely Love when hate is all we feel. Struggle upright when broken. Breathe when suffocated.  Or to bravely step forward in hope with Fr. Clark knowing that Jesus is near, walking this parish journey with you.   This assurance provides the type of security that money, a locked door, or a closed heart will never protect.

After Bernice left his world.  I sat with Arnold and we would talk about catching red fish in the Gulf, his daughters, granddaughters and the life that he and Bernice created together.  When talking about his Bernice, he would get a faraway look in his eyes.  “She was the prettiest girl I had ever seen.”  he said. ‘She gave me 61 years of her.  God was good to me, giving me Bernice.  He loved me and I loved her.”

The two are buried next to each other in a small cemetery in Texas,  Arnold knew that in the end he would see the two people who were always with him Bernice and God.  But more importantly,, he understood that the love of Bernice  and the love of Christ, although he could not see them, were still with him

So this week be silly, irrational and take one minute out of your day.  Ask Jesus, “how do you know me”  You may find a surprising response and as a result find within yourself something stronger, braver, trusting, kinder, and holier that anything we could have every imagined.  Hold your hand out, lean against him, he knows you because he is always there.  Your may never see God in the same way ever again.

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[1] Mark Nepo in The Book of Awakening

St. Michael and All Angels Church, Albuquerque
The Rev. Carolyn W. Metzler+
Amos 8:4-7; Luke 16:1-13

You have heard the Gospel appointed for today, and now you know why all the clergy except Judith chose this Sunday to leave town! This is a story which has flummoxed readers and preachers for centuries. It flies in the face of everything we hear Jesus saying about how to be a Christian. Or—does it?

It helps to remember what a parable is. It is a piece of mischievous story-telling. It's like a zen koan. It takes what we think we know and turns it upside down. It confuses us before it enlightens us. Here Jesus is messing with our heads again. Remember also that parables as told by Jesus are always about the Kingdom of God. This is not a story about how not to do business, not about morality. It's about what the community of God looks like. Also, parables are stories where we can usually recognize ourselves, usually in every character at different times. The parables in Luke's gospel present multi-dimensional, complex people. We are them. They are us.

So—having been discovered in his shady business practices, this manager, or steward, is about to be sacked. A steward is someone who is employed to look after another's property, or assets. This man had not done well by his employer and he gets the dreaded pink slip. His security and livelihood is about to vanish. Notice what he does not do. He does not defend himself, argue that the rich man was being unfair, beg for another chance. He accepts the new economic reality and pulls an idea rabbit out of his hat.

Calling in his master's debtors, he takes the original debt—I looked it up and did the math—580 gallons of oil and 1400 bushels of wheat—and reduces them by 50% and 20%. The size of the debts is a clue to me that Jesus is telling this story with a twinkle in his eye. Really? 580 gallons of oil? How on earth did anybody get to owe that much? Jesus—if you haven't noticed—is a very funny guy. I can see the disciples rolling their eyes at each other as they realize the outrageousness of the story.

What happens as a result? The debtors are grateful to the master for his generosity, and certainly turn themselves inside out to be nice to him in the future. And, as a vehicle of the master's generosity, they are also grateful to the shrewd manager, and will—as he anticipates—do what they can to stay on his good side. Everybody's happy! The Master bellows with laughter when he realizes what this slick manager has done, and slaps him on the back. Like most parables, we don't know how this one ends either. Is he rehired? We are the ones left scratching our heads, wondering what just happened.

So let's scratch a little more deeply. If this parable is actually about the Kingdom, what is Jesus saying through it?

First, let's remember that there is dishonesty and maybe more than some shady things going on in the acquisition of this wealth. Isn't there always? Is there any money out there not tainted? In George Bernard Shaw's play “Major Barbara,” Major Barbara Undershaft becomes angry and disillusioned when her beloved church, The Salvation Army, accepts money that comes from armaments and whiskey dealing. She rages that the receiving of such dirty money is utter hypocrisy. How could they even consider doing so? By the end of the play she accepts that more to the point is what happens with the money from here on, not where it came from. Shaw places these words in the mouth of an officer: “They would take money from the devil himself and be only too glad to get it out of his hands and into God's." Our world has become so globally interconnected, that there is no such thing as untainted money anymore. Maybe there never was.

Whatever we purchase is somehow tied up with things which as Christians we abhor: slave labor, human trafficking, prostitution, big business, products and practices which are raping our planet. All wealth is ill-gotten at some level, even that which is earned by hard, honest work. There is no escaping it, and it's so hard to know the real picture which is surely bigger than we have any idea. When I make my confession I always include what I call those “sins of default:” participation in those global enterprises which “corrupt and destroy the creatures of God” (from our baptismal vows). I can do little about it, but I do believe it has to be named before the Throne of Mercy. The prophet Amos rips into these injustices with outraged eloquence: “Hear this you who trample on the needy and bring to ruin the poor of the land...buying the poor for silver and the needy for a pair of sandals, and selling the sweepings of the wheat [how's that for describing third world labor practices?] Surely I will not forget any of their deeds!” Let Wal*Mart beware.

The Gospel is very clear about the real problem with money. It divides people into creditors and debtors, haves and have-nots, owners and owned. Success is measured by how much of it you have. So the story begins with people in these polarized places: the rich man, the steward who manages the rich man's assets, the debtors who owe the shirts off their backs.

But look what happens when the shrewd manager starts playing with the figures: first, he ceases to be the debt-collector with the power of the thumb-screws. He realizes he might need the hospitality or those same debtors one day, and soon! So he comes down from his lofty position and meets them halfway. And they, who aren't in such back hock anymore, are raised up. Sound familiar? “He has cast down the mighty from their thrones and has lifted up the lowly. He has filled the hungry with good things and the rich he has sent empty away.” The shrewd manager is humbled. We might even call this story “The Taming of the Shrewd.” (Not an original joke! I found it at desparatepreacher.com) There is always a switch in status whenever God shows up! To be part of the Kingdom agenda requires real change, a letting go of personal power, a humbling, a meeting of hearts as equals before the Holy One.

What a remarkable paradigm for leadership! We in the church still don't get it. When we seek ordained leaders we generally ask about their gifts and want stories of their successes. Why don't we ask about how God has used them in failure, a character flaw? Why don't we ask about how their weakness has been transformative in ministry? How they have been emptied of egotism so they could be filled with mercy and love? Why don't we ask about the things we say we most value?

Maybe this parable is really about forgiveness and how it builds community. Jesus told this parable not to hoards of people on a mountainside, but to his clueless little band of disciples.

“Pay attention!” he says. “This is how we walk together even when we screw up. We forgive. We use our resources carefully, not for exploitation but for the common good. You are not a franchise! You are a body. You are not a business! You are a family. You won't ever get it all right. But it's OK. Forgive each other. In doing so, you build relationships which will carry the Kingdom forward into a broken and hurting world.”

This is one in a series of stories Jesus tells to show us how to use wealth and resources. Jesus talks a lot about money, and hardly at all about sex. The church talks ad infinitum about sex and very little about money. We are to be stewards of money, and also of our lives. We are accountable for how we use what has been given to us to better the community of the world. I read last night that Congress has just cut $4B in food stamps to the neediest among us. What do you think Amos would say about that? What will you say about that to your congressperson? How does decision that affect the community of the world?

I would end with the Collect for today. This prayer was composed during one of the Barbarian invasions of Europe, when the whole world seemed to be going to hell in a handbasket. It is an invitation to a kind of grounded peace in the midst of all the upheavals of our world. It is not passivistic. It does not tell us not to do anything. It reminds us not to be anxious, to discern what is true and lasting.

Please read it with me. “Grant us, Lord, not to be anxious about earthly things, but to love things heavenly; and even now, while we are placed among things that are passing away, to hold fast to those that shall endure; through Jesus Christ, our Lord, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, for ever and ever. Amen.”

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I am indebted to the following authors:

The Rev. G. David Deppen, “Accounting for Life”
The Rev. Tom Brackett, “Jesus the Rogue Rabbi”
Greg Carey, “Commentary on Luke 16:1-13”
Lois Malcolm, “Commentary on Luke 16:1-13”

I am directionally challenged on a good day. I am easily turned around and struggle to find my bearings. I love to hike but I often discover that the trail isn’t as clear as I expect and I stand there trying to figure out which direction to go. Luckily, my dog has a great sense of direction and she runs ahead rather than waiting on me to direct her. Last year, I did a vision fast during a yearlong intensive Soulcraft program. For four days, I went without food and three of those I camped alone. I was with a group and we created a system for safety. We each had a buddy and we were to check in each day with a signal to let the other know we were ok. My buddy and I had a meeting point halfway between our solo campsites. In the morning, she would go to the cairn we built and remove a rock. In the afternoon, I would go and put the rock back so she would find it the next morning. On the last day, I went to the cairn and headed right back to camp, or so I thought. At some point, I realized I was in an area that was unlike anything I had seen during my stay on the mountain. I knew I was a little off the path, but I assumed if I kept walking, I would soon see my beloved campsite. The more I walked, the more lost I became. I didn’t want to panic. Certainly my group would come to my rescue if I blew my whistle, but they were having their own solo experiences and I didn’t want to disturb them because I couldn’t find my campsite. I walked and watched the light change overhead. I found the skull and bones of an animal long gone. While I was lost, I was sure that I was not alone. I was also aware of how many others had traveled here. My ten-minute trip to the Cairn turned into several hours and finally; I came over a ridge and saw my campsite below.

I was so relieved and grateful to be found. Later that evening, I heard the powerful sound of drumbeat elsewhere on that mountain. Somehow that drum sounded the beautiful heartbeat of a God who had walked with me. I am blown away by this God who has lovingly sustained me throughout the journey I call my life.

I spent a day with Nadia Bolz-Weber last month. Nadia is not a typical Lutheran pastor. Her path to ministry was far from conventional. She has one of the most powerful theologies of incarnation that I have ever experienced. Nadia is so clear about her own humanness. She does not flee or deny it. She owns it and everything she is grows out of it. She knows what it is to be lost and I’m guessing if asked, she would respond that there is no shame in being lost. I hear these stories from Luke and I wonder how many of us would ever think to identify with a coin or a sheep. Wouldn’t we like to be the shepherd who bravely saves the sheep or the woman who diligently searches for the coin? Don’t we want to be the hero?

Jesus turns things upside for us over and over again. He experienced the fullness of humanity and understood how messy it can be. He wasn’t afraid of humanity, but he didn’t allow those around him to hide behind the illusion of being more than they were. While we prefer to be heroes rather than those who need to be saved, Jesus meets us in our weakness then shows us a God who waits to gather us up and welcome us home. *Nadia Bolz-Weber says that we often talk about the strength and might of God. But she wonders about a vulnerable God who creates us and then gives us freedom. This God risked everything for us by allowing us to be fully human and is left wide-open waiting for a potential broken heart. We are not puppets. We have this amazing opportunity to live as compassionate people who are generous and loving. We also have the opportunity to be selfish and uncaring. More realistically, we are a combination of both. Every morning, we wake to navigate through another day. In any given moment, we may find ourselves lost.

This happens to us as individuals when we lose our way. There may be times when we lose our faith. We will lose those that we love. At some point, we may lose our trust in others or in institutions. We will likely lose our dignity. When we have lost our way, we may find ourselves lying awake at night wondering if there is any way home again.

Lost congregations take many forms: they may feel disoriented when the next step is unclear and they must wait for God to show the way. Congregations are lost when they treat people badly and call it Christian. They are lost when they ignore those who are suffering because they are too busy.

It isn’t just individuals and congregations that become lost. It happens in our culture when we choose to express ourselves with violence. Today is the 50th anniversary of the bombing of 16th Street Baptist Church in Birmingham, Alabama. This African-American church was at the center of the local civil rights movement, hosting meetings and marches. At 10:22 am on Sunday, September 15, 1963 a bomb planted by white supremacists of the Ku Klux Klan ripped through the side of the church. Many people were hurt. Four young girls were killed: Addie Mae Collins (14 years old), Cynthia Wesley (14), Carole Robertson (14), and Denise McNair (11). It was Youth Sunday and they were preparing to join their friends and lead the service. The church lesson that day was “The Love that Forgives.”

 

This week alone, we are surrounded by memories and stories of lives lost. We remember the lives lost on September 11, 2001. The horror and devastation of that day lives on twelve years later. The lives lost in Syria are with us every day. We add lives lost in the flooding this week and many more missing.

Into all of this, all of this death and destruction, I wonder about our vulnerable God whose heart breaks when we kill one another. I wonder about a God who loves us and waits for us to figure out that we really are loved. Period. This God walks with us when we are lost. This God never gives up on us. This God not only looks for us when we think we are hopelessly lost. This God throws an over the top party to celebrate when we return. It’s rather embarrassing when you think about it. One little coin and the woman/God is throwing a party that probably cost more than the lost coin. One sheep is found and the shepherd doesn’t go back to life as usual, but invites everyone to join the celebration.

Do you remember how the story began? The Pharisees are grousing because Jesus welcomes sinners and eats with them. Clearly they are not worth his, or their, time. And then Jesus tells these stories about a lost sheep and a lost coin being worth the party of the century to God. Really? The God we hear about wants to throw a party for us? Not just the collective, beautiful us, but the individual who wanders off completely ignoring everyone else. God throws a party for the judgmental, crabby, uncaring us. It is never about who deserves a party and who doesn’t. There is simply a celebration – no questions asked.

One of our favorite family songs is You Cannot Lose My Love by Sara Groves. It is written for her children and the lyrics are:

You will lose your baby teeth.

At times, you'll lose your faith in me.

You will lose a lot of things,

But you cannot lose my love.

You will lose your confidence.

In times of trial, your common sense.

You may lose your innocence,

But you cannot lose my love.

         - Sara Groves – You Cannot Lose My Love

Can you hear God saying, “I know you will wander off. You will lose your way. You will act like you don’t care. You will do many stupid things. You will disappoint those around you. But you cannot lose my love. I will come looking for you. I will not stop until I find you. When I find you, I will celebrate and invite the whole world to join with me.”

That is the God we worship. It is astonishing to realize that God will travel to the end of the earth to find us and bring us home. We are never so lost that this relentless God cannot find us. This extravagant God throws the party of the century when we are found. How do we respond to a love that big?

*God’s vulnerability taken from Nadia Bolz-Weber’s sermon: http://www.patheos.com/blogs/nadiabolzweber/2013/03/sermon-the-parable-of-the-prodigal-father/

SERMON:  Letting Go and Counting the Cost:  Defining Who I Am 
Sept 8th,  judith jenkins


Some of Jesus' words this morning may sound a little harsh to us:  Curious, I picked up The Message, a paraphrase by Eugene Peterson.  Here is how these gospel words are paraphrased:

"One day when large groups of people were walking along with him, Jesus turned and told them, 'anyone who comes to me, but refuses to let go of father, mother, spouse, children, brothers, sisters---yes, even ones' own self---can't be my disciple….

Is there anyone here who, planning to build a new house, doesn't first sit down and figure the cost so you'll know if you can complete it?

Simply put, if you're not willing to take what is dearest to you, whether plans or people, and kiss it goodbye, you can't be my disciple."

The two phrases that give emphasis to the meaning are: "to let go" and "to figure the cost."

Let's turn to the setting:  Here was Jesus, walking along with all these people --- not just his small band of followers, but the gospel says "A CROWD."  There were clearly a large number of people who were drawn to  "this Jesus."  His reputation had obviously preceded him.

So then, when Jesus spoke to the crowd that day, we might wonder why he didn't encourage those in the crowd-- those who were interested, and curious enough to follow him-- if they would like to sign up: to become part of his team: maybe even ask the name of their home village so he could send a disciples to each community, to organize them and to stay with them as their local leader.

After all, this is the way that the movement would grow!  RIGHT?

Instead, Jesus surprised them with some rather disturbing words -- Words about "letting go" of all that was dearest to them and "counting the cost" -- in order to be a disciple - (or an apprentice of Christ, as some have put it.)

Jesus' advisory board might have said to him ---Hey, this is no way to grow your movement!  In fact, this is a great way to kill our whole movement!"

OK---so let's be honest---- how did you respond this morning when the gospel was read?---to the idea of "letting go" of those people and those things that are dearest to you in order to follow Jesus?

I'm guessing that those who were with him were startled, to say the least!  They probably had heard how loving Jesus was--how he had time for little children --how he stopped to heal the despised lepers -- to have dinner with the most disreputable people in towns and villages.

Instead -- Jesus hands them a very different image about what it means to be his follower!  "If you intend to follow me, you'd better calculate very carefully to see if you're ready to pay the price."

So what is the price?  The price we have to pay -- is to continually challenge ourselves to "let go" of anything that stands in our way of allowing ourselves to be transformed by God's love.  

We can ask:  With which are we most concerned:  to be transformed daily by God's all-enveloping love:  or with our own image that we've already spun, seeking affirmation in the eyes of others?  

I think this is what Jesus was saying about counting the cost, which really meant letting go of how others see us, as well as clinging to an image of how others think we should be.

I love what Thomas Merton says about this constant concern of ours about our image, about what it takes to feel worthy:

God is asking me the unworthy, to forget my unworthinessss and that of my brothers, (and sisters), and dare to advance in the love which has redeemed and renewed us all in God's likeness.  And then TO LAUGH, after all, at the preposterous idea of worthiness."

? Am I concerned about my image in the eyes of others? ---Think about how often that concern rules our lives!

Recently coming out of a restaurant, I noticed a young woman who was wearing a t-shirt with these words in large, bold letters:  JUST LET ME BE ME:  EVERYONE ELSE IS TAKEN."

I smiled to myself and thought -- good message!  Then as I climbed into my car, I found myself thinking:  Perhaps we might say:  JUST LET ME -- BECOME THE REAL ME-- WHILE GOD AND I ARE WORKING ON IT!

Are we willing to stand up for those when they need our support even though we might be afraid of the disapproval of others?  When we know that something is wrong, are we willing to let go of anything that would keep us from taking the stand that we know would be the right one?

The word for FAITH in new Testament Greek is a verb.  It is not something we have;  it is something we do- something we live.  And that means "letting go," of those obstructions to our journey as a follower of Christ!

There still are -- pockets of resistance in me-- to God's kingdom and the Spirit -- places where there remain some unresolved reactions, and even some stubborn resistance to change my way of thinking.

It should be of concern to us all -- that the image of ourselves -- created for the benefit of everyone else, should ever warp the image of God already in us!

Brian Taylor in his book SETTING THE GOSPEL FREE, says this:
"When we stop our self-centered emotional 'fleeing' and grasping,' we can then enjoy who others are.  Whether they are attractive, or repellant, angry or sweet, we can simply see them as they are….We don't have to see people as experiences that we want to either avoid of cling to."

Several weeks ago my ten year old grandson, Joshua, and I decided to rent and watch "42", the story of Jack Roosevelt Robinson, first African American to play Major League baseball.

The story of General Manager Branch Rickey's decision and subsequent battle to bring Jackie to play for the Dodgers was a powerful one.  The story of Jackie and his battle to not lose his temper when he had good reason in the face of ugly prejudice, was an amazing story as well!

But the example that stood out for me - as "counting the cost", and of "letting go" --even of family and friends ---was the demonstration by Pee Wee Reese!  Pee Wee stood up for Jackie when the Philies' manager, was disgracefully heckling Jackie with language that you can well imagine was difficult for any African American to stomach!

However, it was when Pee Wee received a letter from home that he was sorely tempted to give in himself.  The letter, as he described it to Mr. Rickey, told him that when the Dodgers played in Cincinnati, which was right next door to Louisville, Kentucky, home to Pee Wee's family and friends --- it would not be wise for him to play in a game while Jackie was still on the team!

"They are calling me a carpet bagger", Pee Wee reported.

Rickey then showed Pee Wee the many files of letters that Jackie and his family had received -- letters which were grossly worse!!!!  Pee Wee wondered out loud if Jackie had seen the letters.

"Of course he saw them," responded Rickey and they called him far worse!  They threatened his life and the life of his family -- yet he's still here"! 

At the beginning of the game that day in 1948, in Cincinnati, Pee Wee walked over to Jackie on the field,  clapped him on the shoulder, and wished him good luck -- this in front of all the fans.  Then…he said "THANK YOU!"

JACKIE TURNED TO PEE WEE AND EXCLAIMED WITH GREAT CONFUSION…."WHY ARE YOU THANKING ME?"

I'm thanking you, responded Pee Wee, "because today my family is all here from Louisville, up there in the stands; and I am able to demonstrate to my family --WHO I AM!"  

Then Pee Wee put his arm around Jackie's shoulder saying:…"Maybe, we should all wear the number 42, next game, and then they wouldn’t be able to tell us apart!

Pee Wee had to count the cost -- and what a witness he was when he made his stand that day!  He knew in his heart what was right, but he had to "let go of his family and friends that --what they thought he should do and who he should be.

What does it mean to each of us in our daily lives to be willing to let go of anything or anyone that stands in the way of our being a follower (an apprentice) to Christ?

AND THEN TO TAKE A STAND WHERE IT COUNTS!!!!    amen

My wife and I were invited to a private school black tie fundraiser.  It was held at a fashionable hotel with a themed setting, hors d’oeuvres at every corner and an open bar.  The items at the silent auction left me speechless - vacations, valuable pieces of art and jewelry.  The event was to raise big money from people with big money. 

I am not one of those with money, so I browsed the auction, sat and people watched.  I noticed that people cluster in like minded groups.  The teachers were popular, everyone smiled, waved and hugged them.  The head of school and development director paid special attention to the grandparents.  However, the dominant group seemed to be the 20 - 30 something, rich, chic , power brokers.

They wear the expensive clothes, designer glasses, large diamonds and watches, the Hummers parked outside.  It was obviously a closed group.  I overheard the conversation, who would spend more tonight.  It seemed like a familiar competition.  Just then, a man in his mid 50’s approached.  He was well dressed, yet seemed older than his years.  He caught my attention because he reminded me of my father. 

I watched as he approached.  Maybe it was the erect bearing, or just because he looked like my Dad.  That kind, gentle war veteran, who suffered through Korea and Vietnam, yet with a beautiful laugh who was loving with his children, who died much too young when his children were far too young.   A man who spent his life working 18 hours a day to make our lives better, to make someone else life easier. 

It was with this memory, that I heard the man ask the group “would any of you like another drink?” He was the waiter. His words hung in the air for what seemed an eternity, and no one acknowledged his presence.  He asked again.  One young man in an expensive tuxedo, fluidly placed his used glass on the tray, grabbed another drink, and kept on talking to the group.  I watched with a sense of sadness.

I do not believe these young successful men and women wanted to be cruel.  This was their world, what is expected.  Survival of the riches, others are employed to make lives easier.   Right in front of me, surrounded by riches, a human with dignity, was seemingly pushed to the margins of society.  Deemed invisible and less than an object.   I wondered how many people moved my father to the margins.

In reading the  Gospel and reflecting on the events of this past week, I am reminded of how close we are to equality, yet how much work we have yet to do to bring about that Kingdom of God.  We find Jesus at a fancy banquet.  The attendees the power brokers and wealthy of the day.  Jesus notices their positions at the party.  He turns to the guests and then speaks directly to the host. 

“Why are you inviting people like you, who can help you, the rich, powerful, people who will help you.  Why do you invite those who cannot do a thing for you, the outcasts, the misfits, those that you cannot stand.  Those you never invite.  It seems typical Jesus and straightforward.  The problem and the beauty of Jesus’ words is that they are  disturbing and discomforting.  Especially when the dinner guests are you and I.  Jesus is pushing each one of us, to move beyond our own safe comfort zones, our like mindedness, our own social groups.

Yes, we volunteer at the food pantry and the homeless shelter. We write checks, yet that is only the beginning.  Jesus wants more.  It is easy to listen to talk radio that agrees with us, eat with friends we know, spend time at work with those we like.  Work for our own families.  It is easier to seek our own heaven than to worry about someone else hell.  And Jesus cannot be serious, who wants to be the lowliest.

He obviously has not lived in 21st century America.   Where in our society are the poor, the lowly, the sick, humble, small, invisible, or powerless exalted and valued.  Only in the eyes of God.  Imagine Jesus speaking to us now, change his words of poor, crippled  and outcast to “invite that hispanic, black or white waitress who is wiping the sweat out of her eyes. 

Invite those totally different from you - by race, social class, gender or belief.  The person you cannot stand the one who screams at you because you have different beliefs on marriage, abortion, war, politics, guns, even different beliefs on faith. It is not that easy now.  What does our Kingdom look like?  Yet the beauty of this challenge is that Jesus always gives us a way, and that way is love. 

You can change the world, you can issue any invitation.  This vision of a Kingdom on Earth is a liberating vision for everyone.   Nothing can make a person so much like Christ as loving, accepting and caring for their neighbors.  Imagine the church of tomorrow, imagine the world today.  It is radically different from the political and religious kingdoms, it is inclusive unlike the the powerful, beautiful social groups. Because no one is excluded.   

Jesus tell us a new relationship with God brings us into a new relationship with our neighbor, especially with the most vulnerable of this world, even with our enemies, those who are not in our social groups.   I know we cannot possibly invite everyone to our table, but maybe we can try.  Yet, imagine the possibilities if that table is not only in your home, that table is your life. 

Instead of clinging to power and wealth, model the new world by putting our worldly goods at the service of others.  Using our seat at the head table to challenge the structures that continue putting people on the margins.   Open our lives to that person waiting on us at a restaurant, a simple I appreciate your service.

With this new table, the person cleaning our rooms at the hotel, is no longer just pushing a cart and cleaning toilets, he or she is my brother or sister.  The janitor who works alone at night, “how is your family, how is your health.”  Mutual dignity and love.  A way of widening the circle of humanity, breaking open the walls of this new Kingdom.

And it has to be done with love.  If I give to the poor and and don’t have love then who is really poor?  The poverty is found within me.  We need our lives to look like the love of Christ, the reason he lived and died.  When all is said and done, it will not be the possessions, it will not be the status, the power, the banquets or the parties.  All that will remain in that Kingdom is love.

That night, as the man wearing the nice black suit was ignored, he continued on.  The slight did not seem to affect him.  He had probably seen too much in his life to worry.  His pains, his joys, his tears, his journey.  What stories his life would tell if someone would pay attention.  I wonder if he was used to being invisible.  He asked another lady and she look at him and smiled, and he smiled in returned.  I thought, the beginning of that Kingdom.  

Maybe Jesus used that night to remind me of the places we find God.  Despite the riches in front of me and models of worldly success.  I have looked for God in many places, in power  because I knew I could control my life.  Searched for God in money and possessions - if I could make a more, I will have more.  I looked for God in the admiration of others - if they think I am OK, I am OK.  I found disappointment. 

I have a feeling that Jesus is right.  That that we need to look for him in different places and people  In the shadows, in the margins, in all those places and people we just seem to pass by.    Then we can stop worrying about how we look in the eyes of others and simply look in love into the eyes of those around us. 

Because the poor are near or far away.  In society or in our home.  The poverty may be material, social or spiritual.  Hungry for bread or hungry for acceptance.  They may need clothing or they may need the sense of wealth that God’s love for them represents.  They may need the shelter of a house made of bricks and cement or the shelter of having a place in our hearts[1], seated at our table, in our lives. 

Yes, Jesus may be on to something, this acceptance and love thing. So for the next few months, try it, invite someone in.   What do you have to lose - maybe this world, but I promise that you gain, one beautiful Kingdom.


[1] Mother Teresa.  In the heart of the world