In Mark’s gospel, Jesus’s baptism is the beginning of everything.
It is literally the beginning – the very first thing that happens once Mark announces that he is telling “the good news of Jesus Christ, the Son of God.”
John baptizes Jesus in the Jordan River, and the heavens open.
A voice from heaven says,
            “You are my Son, the Beloved; with you I am well pleased.”
This is not only the first thing that happens –
            it is the foundation for everything else that happens in the gospel.
Jesus is chosen and blessed, accepted and loved, and filled with the Holy Spirit.
Everything he does after that flows out of this experience.
David Lose, President of the Lutheran Seminary in Philadelphia, says,
“Again and again, as Jesus casts out unclean spirits, heals the sick, feeds the hungry, and welcomes the outcast, he will only do to others what has already been done to him, telling then via word and deed that they, too, are beloved children of God with whom God is well pleased. “                                           - from David Lose’s Blog, In the Meantime

 Baptism is a new beginning for each of us.
Each of us, in our baptism, is chosen and blessed, accepted and loved,
           and filled with the Holy Spirit.
But it may be difficult for most of us to experience baptism as a new beginning.
For many of us here, our baptisms also happened, literally, at the beginning –
            in the first years of our lives.
How many of your remember your baptism?
I was baptized when I was four weeks old, at St Paul Lutheran Church in Omaha, NE,
            the church where my mother grew up
It is hard for me to think of it as a turning point in my life.
And even for those of us who chose baptism as older children or adults,
            it may be hard to hold on to the special new start offered that day.
Martin Luther counseled his followers to remember their baptism daily by making the sign of the cross when they washed in the morning.
He lived his baptism, not as a one-time event,
            but as a new-every day reality in his life with God.
Fr. Doug has mentioned in a recent sermon that, as a young man, Luther was tormented by guilt and worry over the smallest of sins.
He was convinced that God was just waiting to catch him in the act and condemn him for the slightest wrong.
After his revelatory reading of Romans,
            when he finally understood what it means to live in grace,
Luther realized that he could rely on God’s promise of love and forgiveness made at his baptism.
The story goes that occasionally, when Luther started to revert back to thinking that God was an angry hostile vengeful God, he knew that it was the devil trying to get him to doubt God’s grace. And when Luther experienced this despair and discouragement, he was known to throw an occasional ink pot at the devil while yelling "I am baptized!"
Not I was baptized, but I am baptized.
For Luther, baptism was a beginning not just once,
            but a matter of always-being-made-new by his faith in God.
We, too, can live out lives filled with the remembrance of our baptism.
We can share in the belief that God can make all things new.
The reading from Genesis reminds us that
In the Beginning,
God created everything out of chaos and nothingness
God spoke light and the world into being
            and God saw that it was good.
God continues to create
            to create each person in God’s own image
            to create new ideas and new horizons and new relationships.
God can create second chances and new life,
            even when we see only chaos and darkness.
In Detroit we would have said –
            We have a God who makes a way out of no way!
God always offers new life and new beginning
             to those who believe and open our hearts.
This does not mean it is easy.
Nor that we get just the new beginning we want if we pray hard enough.
New beginnings are hard work.
New beginnings usually mean something has been lost.
New beginnings can be exciting, or painful, or both
            and they are usually scary.
But when we pray, work, and open our hearts to God’s love and healing,
            our lives can be transformed
            and we can find new beginnings we dared not hope for.
As Paul writes in his letter to the Ephesians,
            God, by the power at work within us,
            is able to accomplish far more than all we can ask or imagine.
The discernment guild has offered a series of Bible verses for us to pray with throughout January, inviting us to consider God’s offer of new life and new beginnings.
The first was from Isaiah 43:
18Do not remember the former things, or consider the things of old.
 19I am about to do a new thing; now it springs forth, do you not perceive it?
            I will make a way in the wilderness and rivers in the desert.
As a community, we have come through a time of loss, struggle and uncertainty.
We come into 2015 ready for new beginnings,
            as we prepare for the leadership of a new rector.
But I believe this past year we have already seen rivers in the desert,
            new life springing forth among us,
                        even as we hold our breath, waiting for a new day.
We have worked hard together,
            continuing in our faithfulness to our baptismal promises,
            trusting in God’s promise to lead us and guide us.
And our work is just beginning
New beginnings are exciting an a bit scary,
            and often don’t go just as we expect them to.
New leadership will bring new opportunities for service and involvement.
We pray to be led into new ministries of service and love,
            and we seek to share the good news
            that each person is known and loved by God.
We continue to trust God to make a way for us into something exciting and new.

One of my favorite prayers is from the Lutheran baptismal rite.
It is prayed over the baptized, and also used also in the renewal of baptismal vows.
This is the prayer I offer for each of you, and for our community, today:
We give you thanks, O God, that through water and the Holy Spirit you give us new birth, cleanse us from sin, and raise us to eternal life. Stir up in your people the gift of your Holy Spirit: the spirit of wisdom and understanding, the spirit of counsel and might, the spirit of knowledge and the fear of the Lord, the spirit of joy in your presence, both now and forever.

Amen.

 

 

 

 

 

 

May the words of my mouth and the meditation of my heart be acceptable in your sight, O LORD. Amen

Two of my favorite subjects in school were math and chemistry. I liked the challenge of solving the answer to an equation or determining the chemical formulas of the reactants (the starting substances) and the resulting chemical formula of the products (substances formed in the chemical reaction). They were things that had order and could be reproduced. It seemed that if you knew and applied the method, you had the answers. How simple and easy, right? Well, the idea of it anyway. As much as I am an analytical person, a part of me yearns for the mystery. The part of our lives that we just don’t understand. Those things that are bigger than ourselves. There is so much in our lives and world that can be explained by math and science, that is a blessing given to humanity. The ability to discover, learn, and reason. What room is there then for mystery?

I recently had a conversation with a parishioner regarding our search process for a new rector. She said that she just didn’t understand why it has taken so long. She added that she thought we would be more than half way through the process by now. It made me think of one of the blessings of this community. We are not afraid to take action. If we see something that needs to be done. We come together to figure out a way to see that it is done. Look at all the ministries of this parish. The food pantry, 1children ministries, contemplative prayer, newcomers, Cafe Fix-it, all the various works under the ministry of Partnership in Mission & Advocacy, the list can go on and on. I can certainly understand this parishioner’s perspective. Look at all of our knowledge, experience, talents and abilities. Come on, with all of this, we should be able to find a rector, right? We are open to being transfigured - let’s get it finished. Let’s find that leader and go forth. We have work to do. My response to her was, I think its good to be where we are at in the process. Probably a little surprised by my answer, she asked, “you think so?” Of course fear and doubt about my answer snuck in to my head...

As you may know, I am in the process of seeking ordination to the priesthood in the Episcopal Church. I have gone through the discernment process with you my parish, and have been working through and almost finished with the next step of that process with the diocese. As a part of discernment with the diocese, I am expected to serve at a parish other than St. Michaels. I have served in two parishes in my time with the diocese. My current parish, where I have been for a year is Our Lady in the Valley located in the South Valley of Albuquerque. A purpose of this expectation is to learn from, experience and grow with another parish. This experience has been interesting and as a result, I have continued to grow into my calling. One of the most interesting things I have discovered is that people expect you to have all the answers. After all, you’re in discernment surely you know a thing or two about God. This of 2course is quite unnerving and causes me to seek answers about God from others my self. What I have discovered about God, is the more we know, the less we know. The more God reveals Himself to us, the less certainty we have.

Transfiguration is not just about knowing there is change. It is about what that change is going to mean. What will that change give you? Look at Peter, James, and John. They witnessed something truly amazing. They were so unsure of how to react, James and John didn’t say anything and Peter says, “Lord it is good for us to be here...” then “suddenly a bright cloud overshadowed them, and from the cloud a voice said, "This is my Son, the Beloved; with him I am well pleased; listen to him!" They were terrified. Can you blame them? Later, as they looked back on that experience, they understood that Jesus was the Messiah. That he was truly the one sent to save the world. No wonder they were terrified. To experience something that holy and unexplainable, how can we not be fearful?

If we are afraid do we miss the opportunity to experience the mystery? If we are so caught up on what’s happening or not happening in our search process or if the vestry understands our needs or how are we going to pay for this building or does the clergy know who I am - are we missing out on the mystery of this sacred place. This place that I know from so many of you that describes it as simply coming home. This place that reminds 3us that we are loved no matter who we are. A place that we all come together every week to share a meal and remember that God is with us. The mystery of grace found at this table in bread and wine.

A couple of months ago, I gave a sermon at the 5:00 service. In that sermon, I said that fear is a powerful motivator. However, fear in itself is not good nor evil. It is how we deal with that fear that determines the path we take. This morning, I am going to add a little more to that. I want to be a little fearful. I don’t want to have all the answers. That doesn’t mean that we don’t continue to learn. It doesn’t mean that math and science don’t have a place in the church. It simply means that I want the mystery of God to flow over us. To transfigure us into the people we are called to be. I want to experience the mystery of a community gathering, praying, and sharing that holy meal then going out to do the work we are called to do in faith and thanksgiving. You see maybe for a while, we forget all the rationale, knowledge and certainty of what should or needs to be done and recognize that we are afraid. We take time to move from thinking in our minds to praying from our hearts. When we do this, it is in that quietness of fear when we will hear the Holy Spirit guiding us. We then know our path.

Lord, it is good for us to be here. Amen.

Epiphany 7 A
St. Michael and All Angels, Albuquerque
The Rev. Carolyn W. Metzler
Lev. 9:1-2, 9-18; Ps. 119:33-40; 1 Cor. 3:10-11, 16-23; Matt. 5:38-48

A wee story: “I sat there in awe as the old monk answered our questions. Though I'm usually shy, I felt so comfortable in his presence that I found myself raising my hand. “Father, could you tell us something about yourself?” He leaned back. “Myself?” he mused. There was a long pause. “My name...used to be....Me. But now.....it's You.” Remember that. It's where this is going.

For three weeks we've been sitting on the Galilean plain listening to Jesus deliver his Sermon on the Mount. In Biblese, the mountain is always the place of revelation; of divine speech, of transfiguration. The desert is always the place of suffering, temptation, of exile and formation. Sacred landscape is never extraneous to the story. In this sermon as brought to us by Matthew, Jesus is delivering his agenda for the Kingdom. He is at the beginning of his ministry. Curious crowds have followed him here. His disciples have been chosen. Present also are those he has healed and forgiven. This is his opening speech; his sneak preview for what they can expect henceforth. “Blessed are the poor in spirit,” he begins, “for theirs is the kingdom of heaven. Blessed are the meek, for they shall inherit the earth. You are the salt of the earth; you are the light of the world. I have not come to abolish the law, but to fulfill the law. You have heard it said you shall not murder, you shall not commit adultery, you shall not swear falsely, but I say to you what happens to you on the inside is as real as what happens on the outside. If you are leaving your gift at the altar and remember someone has something against you, leave your gift, go and be reconciled, and then come offer your gift. You have heard it said 'an eye for an eye.' But I say to you, turn the other cheek. Go the second mile. You have heard it said 'Love your neighbors.' But I say 'Love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you.' Be perfect, as your heavenly Father is perfect.” You can imagine the people at the bottom of the hill shaking their heads in amazement. “We have never heard anything like this before!” And neither have we. This is certainly not the world WE live in. In our merit-based, litigious, tit-for-tat world where blockbuster movies are about retaliation and the news is full of revenge stories, we have to wonder: are Jesus' words here fanciful idealism, or could they have a real place in human society?

Jesus' world wasn't much different from our own, also ruled by “I'm gonna getcha back, don't you worry!” In fact, the “eye for an eye, tooth for a tooth” imperative was a law limiting retaliation. It wasn't saying “you must extract an eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth.” It was saying “You can ONLY extract one eye for one eye, one tooth for one tooth.” You cannot be harmed a little bit and respond with the nuclear option.

We are called neither to be punching bags nor to become that which we despise. That is the stupidity of the Death Penalty. “Why do we kill people who kill people to show that killing people is wrong?” When I walked with Andy Smith to his execution in 1998, he stood proud and free, even bound in irons and chains. He spoke forgiveness to his executioners. They—the ones with the keys and the needles were only ones who could not join him singing “Amazing Grace.” They were the ones demeaned by this hideous process some call “justice.” When we retaliate; when we hold resentments and righteous indignation; when we exult at the downfall of another we become the same as what we despise. No, says Jesus. Love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you. Come higher.

In preparing this sermon I became uncomfortably aware how easily I might preach on these words as a person of privilege and means in the United States. I cannot think of a single person who might be labeled my “enemy,” poised to bring me down in any way. I do not have anyone pointing missiles at my home, or gassing my children, or poisoning my well. I have not had scores of my family wiped out by the opposition. How differently might these words be heard today in Syria, or in South Sudan? When people's lives are torn apart by capricious violence—the stray bullet, the willful bomb, how do we understand Jesus' words? The history of non-violent resistance always struggles with this. When the heart is broken wide open by suffering and sorrow, how do we do love our enemy?

In my work against the Death Penalty I came to know a woman who has stood in that fire. Her son was brutally murdered. The killer was caught and brought to trial. Julia did not seek the death penalty, and the system punished her for it, making everything as difficult for her as possible, not showing her the courtesy they showed to others demanding the death penalty. She suffered terribly with her rage and incomprehension at the loss of her only son and with the brutality of the system. A few years later she felt compelled to meet his killer. The prison would not let her in. She tried everything to get in and the entry remained shut to her. In exasperation, she threatened to call the news networks if they didn't let her in. When the ABC and CBS helicopters landed on her front lawn, the phone rang. It was the Warden. She could come in. She met with her son's killer, told him about her boy, and how devastating his death was to her. The remorseful man wept with her. She started to visit more regularly. Over the years, they became close. When he was executed she wanted to be with him. Again the prison barred her way. They finally said she could come in if she submitted to a complete body orifice check. She submitted and pushed the demoralizing behavior onto the guards, as such actions actually debased them, not her. When the man was executed, she stood by prayerfully not as a vengeful witness but as his mother and friend. She said to me later “He took my son from me, so he became my son.” When she said that, I swear I saw Christ standing beside her. This was Living Gospel.

Love, as demonstrated in Julia and Jesus is not sentimental and sappy, worthy of Hallmark cards. This love is gutsy, truly vulnerable, creative, humble and the most powerful force in all Creation. It is not for the faint of heart. It demands real engagement, deep humility, outrageous courage, and profound prayer. This is the only kind of love which will save and transform the world. To abandon that love as idealistic is to allow ourselves to be distorted by bitterness, twisted by enmity. Hatred deforms the soul. This planet cannot withstand either people or nations so poisoned. If we don't learn the way of love we will most certainly destroy ourselves.

The whole Sermon on the Mount is our instruction manual for the last line from today's Gospel: “Be perfect, as your Father in heaven is perfect.” Immediately all of us Ones on the Enneagram who are so taken with perfection go “See? See? I'm right! Jesus said so!” Except--perfection is NOT what Jesus is talking about. To be perfect in the way Jesus means, is to empty ourselves of our self-righteousness and release our controlling agendas which bend others to our will. We cannot love anyone, especially not those who persecute us if we are in love with our own power. Jesus' words are an invitation to the kind of holiness which is characteristic of people whose lives belong to God, not to their own importance. I don't mean “holier than thou,” or people who can do no wrong. That's perfectionism. Jesus invites us to the kind of holiness where, as we read last week, we “have the mind of Christ.” This is what God is like! Going back to Leviticus, God says to care for the poor, provide for the hungry, and punctuates this over and over with “I am the Lord!” God's very identity is compassion. The Lord is the One who so loves us that God wants to pass on to us who God is. Love your neighbor as yourself! All your neighbors! ALL of them. Be holy in mercy, as I am Holy! And if you want to know what love looks like in real life, just watch Jesus!

This is a good reminder for us to also consider who is NOT our enemy. Leviticus is clear. The poor are not the enemy, though when we cut billions of dollars in food stamps we treat them as such. The hungry are not the enemy. The immigrant is not the enemy. The homeless are not the enemy. The disabled are not the enemy. People who look differently, act differently, love differently, have different politics, are not the enemy.

All right then! Who IS the enemy? I wish the architects of our Lectionary had chosen a different Psalm for today, like 38: “Those who seek after my life lay snares for me; those who strive to hurt me speak of my ruin and plot treachery all the day long!” Or 55: “I am shaken by the noise of the enemy and by the pressure of the wicked; they have cast an evil spell upon me and are set against me in fury.” Or 79: “O God, the heathen have given the bodies of your servants as food for the birds of the air, and the flesh of your faithful ones to the beasts of the field. They have shed blood like water on every side of Jerusalem, and there was no one to bury them.” There are so many like this. I call them “the persecution psalms.” But there are people who do have people plotting against them. Recent news images from the Ukraine, from Syria, from Sudan and such places are clear: there are people in constant mortal danger and face real evil daily. I can pray these psalms in intercession for them.

But if I don't have enemies behind every bush, I know I do have those enemies within myself that would keep me from deep prayer and the invitation to holiness which is always before me. My anger, resentment, jealousies, my complacency with evil, my selfishness—all these are enemies who would do me as much harm as a terrorist with a car bomb. Sometimes the enemies are outside us. And sometimes they are within. In the immortal words of Pogo, “We have met the enemy, and he is us.”

Then there are those who really do get under our skin—the fellow vestry-person who always disagrees with everything we say; the in-law who puts us down every chance that comes along; the boss who can only criticize; the doctor who will not listen to us; the colleague who steals our ideas for her own glory; the neighbor who does everything possible to irritate us. That's as close as most of us get to real external enemies in this culture of privilege. How are we to love these people? The Dalai Lama calls these people “our teachers in love.” They invite us to dig deeply to find the commonality between us, to find the good in the other; to find and name where we ourselves are part of the problem. Be clear: We are not to be impassive doormats. We need to learn to stand in our identities in God, to speak our truth in love and refrain from hurling back an insult, or being smug over their failure.  That is not the way of love. These are our opportunities to contextualize Jesus' command to love our enemy and pray for those who persecute us. This is how we practice love. And as we do so, we may just find that not only are we ourselves transformed by this holiness of God, but that the person with whom we struggle is also transformed. Not always, but often enough to make you stand slack-jawed in awe.

Many years ago there was a person that I couldn't bear to be in my life. It is arguable that I hated this person. Why doesn't matter. I was AWFUL and knew it. I was ashamed but couldn't fix it. Something had to change. I spoke it in Confession. I took last week's Gospel seriously and forbad myself from receiving communion. I wrote her and asked her forgiveness. And I began to pray for her. You know, you really can't hate a person and pray for them at the same time. I began to change. I worked at developing a relationship, as did she. Today she is my most cherished and beloved step-mother, a title I revere and cherish. Only love and grace can transform us.

When we love those who antagonize us we begin to build a holy connection. Love is the bridge with those who have power over us. Love begins with the acknowledgment that we are all of the Image of God, even those who Mother Teresa called “Christ in a disturbing guise.” When we love those who we deem unloveable we break open our own hearts as Christ did on the cross, still loving those who tortured and executed him. It is worth mentioning that the next story in the Gospel is Jesus teaching the disciples to pray. “Forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us.” They are always connected We all stand before the throne of mercy and grace every day of our lives. It is there that we learn the humility which allows us to reach out to those we would despise and extend God's blessing. It occurs to me that in loving our enemies we actually expand our community—enlarge our world, push out the boundaries of our circles. This is what God does with us. This is what it means to be perfect: to live in the mind of Christ, in the very heart of God. When we see the bonds of love which connects every human being, we know that the distance between us breaks down. What is suffered by one is suffered by the whole. What is imprisoning to one is binding to all. To practice—even imperfectly—this profound connectedness is what it means to live in Christian community. And so we have come full circle.

I sat there in awe as the old monk answered our questions. Though I'm usually shy, I felt so comfortable in his presence that I found myself raising my hand. “Father, could you tell us something about yourself?”

He leaned back. “Myself?” he mused. There was a long pause. “My name...used to be....Me. But now.....it's You.”

Amen.

Story from Tales of a Magic Monastery by Theophane the Monk. p. 18

A few weeks ago I went to Minnesota for a conference at Luther seminary
            where I attended many years ago.
One of the speakers was Paul Hoffman,
            pastor for 15+ years at Phinney Ridge Lutheran church in Seattle.
In one of his presentations, Paul told a simple story of church life.
Some years ago, as Advent approached, the children’s ministry leaders discovered
            that the Christmas pageant costumes were missing.
Every part of the church was searched and searched again,
            questions asked and fingers pointed,
            but the costumes were no where to be found.
The children wore quickly improvised costumes for that year’s pageant,
            and the mystery of the missing costumes began to fade from people’s minds.

I will tell you how the story ends in a few minutes.
First, I want to share more about what I heard at the conference,
            and how it relates to our lessons this morning.

The conference was titled God’s Mission and Worship.
Some of us may be uncomfortable with the word “mission”
because the history of mission in the Christian church is troublesome.
Too often Christian mission has been understood as
            us taking something we have and they don’t to them, whoever they are.
And too often Western Christians brought cultural norms along with the message of Jesus, mistaking cultural imperialism with sharing the good news.

So our conference started with a look at that challenging word – Mission.
Mission was described as what God is already doing in the world –
            God’s ongoing work of creation and restoration, of healing and new life.
God is present and active in the world God loves.
The church is not a box that holds God and portions out bits of salvation.
The church is where followers of Christ come to be nurtured and fed,
            and sent into the world to participate in God’s ongoing work of love.
Dwight Zscheile, a professor at Luther seminary, said this:
It is not the church that has a mission, but the God of mission who has a church.
I love that.
It is not the church that has a mission, but the God of mission who has a church.
The church exists to meaningfully participate in God’s mission in the world.

Jesus was speaking to his disciples and all who followed to hear him.
You are the salt of the earth, he told them.
You are the light of the world.
You have a role to play, just by being who you are in the world.

Salt and light are both necessary things.
They are things we take entirely for granted in a culture where salt is cheap on the grocery shelves, and light is right there when we flip a switch.
For most of us, the problem is not how to get salt in our diets,
            but how to avoid getting too much salt in all the processed food we eat.
But in Jesus’ time, these vital things were not so easy to come by.
They were a precious and necessary part of life –
            salt and light were treasures to be appreciated.
And that is who Jesus says we are.
Salt. Light.
Necessary and good and to be appreciated.

In a commentary on this text professor Amy Oden wrote:
We are the tastiness that adds salt to the lives around us.
We are the light that makes plain the justice way of the kingdom of God.
Jesus says we must be tasty and lit up in order to make a difference for God in the world. Neither salt nor light exists for themselves.
They only fulfill their purpose when they are used, poured out.

I invite you now to think back on your week,
            and think of a time when you were salt and light for someone else.
For some of you, this will be easy.
You are used to thinking of your life as something you share with others –
            by sharing food with someone in need, or in your job or volunteer work.
Others may find it more challenging – but these don’t have to be big things.
Every day we can be salt and light in ways we don’t even recognize.
            Listening to a co-worker who is struggling.
            Reading a bedtime story to a child.
            Bringing tea to your partner while he or she is hard at work.
            Offering patience and kindness to a retail worker dealing
                        with long lines and grumpy customers.

When you have thought of something,
            I invite you to take the card from your worship bulletin and write it down.
Place it in the offering plate when it comes by.
If you don’t have a pen, borrow one from your neighbor –
            or, email me during the week to share your salty, lit-up moments.
I will use these to create a “Salt and Light Log,”  in the Noticias,
to celebrate the ways each and every one of is being salt and light –
            and sharing God’s mission of love in the world.

I’m sure you’ve all been wondering about those missing pageant costumes.
I need to give you a little Lutheran background
A common ministry in Lutheran churches around the country is to create quilts for Lutheran World Relief.
Quilters gather year-round to sew and tie quilts to be sent around to world to people in refugee camps and other places of great need.
At Phinney Ridge Lutheran, as in many churches, there is a quilt Sunday,
            when quilts are spread out on the pews to be seen and blessed
            before being shipped off to LWR.
So quilt Sunday arrived in April, and as folks came into the church and saw the displayed quilts, some of them recognized bits of fabric.
There was Mary’s soft blue head covering,
            and there, the linen of the shepherd’s robes
Here were the swaddling clothes from the manger,
            and over there upholstery fabric fit for a king.
It was an honest mistake.
The quilting cabinet and costume storage sat right there together,
            and in their creative, loving zeal, some quilter had mistaken the shelves.

But really, what better use for the swaddling clothes of Christ
            than to warm a child in need?
What more fitting way to see the story of the church in action?
We gather to hear the story – to be formed and shaped into one,
            the Body of Christ, steeped in God’s imagination of love and justice and peace.
Then we are cut into strips and sent out for the sake of a needy world.

Every Pentecost at Phinney Ridge,
the people renew their commitment to God’s mission in the world.
I am going to share these words of commissioning and invite you all to respond.

Friends in Christ,
Both your work and your rest are in God.
Will you endeavor to pattern your life on the Lord Jesus Christ,
in gratitude to God,
and in service to others,
at morning and evening, at work and at play,
all the days of your life?

If so answer, “I will, and I ask God to help me.”
            I will, and I ask God to help me.  

Amen

One of the great blessings and joys of my life at St. Michaels are the friendships I have made.  One of the most personal and moving has been my friendship with Kenny.  For those of you that do not know Kenny, he attends the 7:30 service with his mother Carol.  At times he serves an acolyte or he brings the gifts.

I can always count on Kenny to be one of the first to greet me in the parish hall after the service.  I keep a gift that Kenny gave me one Christmas, an ornament that plays “O holy night” in one of our rooms.  I see Kenny as a member of the servant of worship, a devoted member but more importantly, as a friend.

However, when I see the true Kenny are those instances, when he comes up to me, his face lights up and he tells me where he placed in the latest Special Olympic event.  It could be bowling, skiing or swimming, it does not matter.  He is transfigured, there is a sense of purity, a sense of perfection, a sense that God is near.

When he recounts his story, for a moment I am speechless.  I do not see the Kenny as the world sees him, I see the person Kenny was born to be. It transcends words or simple explanations.   The same feeling when I see a horse run at a full gallop, an eagle soar among the cottonwoods or when I hear my son sing a solo.  There is purity, a knowing, they are fulfilling what God has placed within them.  

I cannot help but close my eyes and attempt to visualize that scene on the mountaintop, Peter gazing with wonder at Jesus touching the divine. When the Apostles walked with Christ, they knew he was special, they knew there was something about him, but it was there at that mountaintop where they began to see Jesus in a new way.

Peter, James and John got a brand-new insight into this Jesus, who really was — transforming, consuming, literally enlightening. He appears with Elijah and Moses, yet not the same, something new, unique and life changing.  Not Moses the lawgiver, nor Elijah, the prophet.  Jesus, the Son of God.  And then the words, "This is my beloved."

It is no longer just a rumor, God is validating why Jesus walked this earth.   A poor young carpenter, who preached, who loves the poor, heals the sick, welcomes the outcasts, this radical, this Son of God.  The outcast now has a place in the heart of God; living what God called him to do.  Peter in wonder says, "Lord, it is good to be here."

Few would have believed that this poor revolutionary from Nazareth would change mankind, yet he lived into his life.  And he asks us to do the same.  However much easier than it sounds.  We have a tendency to fight against our true calling.   

We often create images of who we think we are instead of living into our true selves.  I know people who have a wonderful capacity to create art, who are truly artists, but they do not trust themselves to live into their creative beauty, into their true lives.  Or the feel that there true calling is silly and put aside the silly dreams and toil as everyday workers secretly yearning for the brush.

Or we do other things like purchase stuff, material objects, we work in unfulfilling jobs, stay in abusive relationships, follow certain cultural expectations all because we believe that is what is expected of us, and our light is diminished. Forgetting that mountaintop, where God is validating our purpose, why we walk this earth.  

Last week Fr. Christopher wrote a beautiful sermon as to why we fill ourselves with stuff and become things we cannot recognize.  He said “it is the treasure that no one can take away from you of realizing that the gifts and resources you have are gifts from God and you can use them to care for people, you can hold them loosely enough to be used in ways that bring glory to God.”  That treasure includes who you are and what God has called you to be.  

I believe that story tellers at Walt Disney had an amazing capacity of describing to both children and adults the capacity to transfigure, to live into who you were called to become.  Think of Pinocchio, Tarzan or Beast in Beauty and the Beast.  One of my favorite is The Lion King, maybe because I remember watching the story with my son.  

The young lion cub named Simba makes a few bad choices that result in tragedy.  He then lets the evil Scar define him so he flees from his community and lives in the shadows far from what he truly is meant to be.  Eventually someone who knows him finds him and asks him to return to his community, which is in peril, and live into his calling.  

While wrestling with a decision about whether or not to accept that challenge, Simba is led to a pond. Poised before the water, Simba watches a reflection of his own image mysteriously transfigured by the presence of his deceased father.  He sees who he his, what he was created for and then understands his purpose in life, he finds the freedom to shed the chains of the past and present behind and to be himself.   He becomes original, unique, he becomes himself.  And we all must do the same.

The transfiguration is not a complicated story.  St. Matthew reminds us that the Transfiguration is a glimpse of glory. At the mountain height we are allowed to see Jesus as he really is and where he is ultimately headed. By implication, we can also see ourselves for who we really are.  

When we view others without expectations, when we allow ourselves the freedom to be completely free, to what God has called us to do, to be God’s children, we find out not only who we are, we find that Christ reveals who he really is in our lives.

We see that in unexpected places.  An infant can only be an infant, no assumptions, no facades.  When we look into the eyes of a child, they look back with trust, amazement and you in turn are filled with awe. Or for those of you that are teachers and that moment when a child gets it, and you know that that child’s life will forever be changed because of you, and you understand why you put up with the pressures and low pay, you understand that God has called you to live into what you were meant to do.   

You are in an intimate moment with the one you love, and realize happiness; you realize that God has you living into your calling.  You wonder where this happiness comes from.  
Or you stop in this journey and finally come to the realization that you need to live the life that God created for you.  That you need to be you, and not a recreation, not a portrait, not an expectation, not an image and  when you do so, there you will find peace, you find a light, living what God has called you to be.  

Look around, when we people live into their calling, it seems that they are bathed in this light of joy.  We began this season of Epiphany with a brilliant light of a star leading three wise men to Christ; it continues this week with Peter, James and John bathed in the brilliant radiance of Jesus on a mountaintop.  And it will continue, in Christ as we walk through lent to the great light of the resurrection on Easter.

Perhaps the story of the transfiguration simply helps us see God revealed in a new and re-creating way. Maybe we can catch a glimpse of how He knows us and how we ought to respond in our knowing of Him.  Maybe it will allow us to see ourselves for who we really are – God beloved, to become who we were meant to be.  

So there is a knowing, when I listen to Kenny speak of his bowling score, when I hear you tell me why you worship at St. Michael, how you fixed the  door at the food pantry, when you gently reach over and grasp the hand of the one who brings you love and joy.  I see a special light, I watch in wonder at you being you and like Peter say “Lord it is good to be here.”

St. Michael and All Angels Episcopal Church   
Sunday February 27, 2011 8 Epiphany
Preacher: Christopher McLaren
Text: Matthew 6: 24- 34
Theme: You Gotta Serve Somebody


When I was in college I had a good friend named Earl Todd Twist. He was a tall, tough, smart boy from Montana.  He had a very ordered mind and was quite thoughtful. One day in the midst of a Bible study Earl Todd Twist made this observation. “You know it seems that in our world people love things and exploit people in order to get things, when really its supposed to be the other way round, we are called to love people and exploit things to serve that purpose.” It is probably one of the best and shortest sermons I’ve ever heard. I’ve never forgotten it. I should probably stop right now. But I’m not as smart as Earl Todd Twist. And besides preachers get paid by the word.

In essence I believe that this is what Jesus is saying in our Gospel reading from the Sermon on the Mount today. “No one can serve two masters; for a slave will either hate the one and love the other, or be devoted to one and despise the other. You cannot serve God and wealth. (Matt. 6:24)

The word for wealth that many Bible’s still use is mammon which is the Aramaic word meaning “money” or “possessions.” In itself it is a neutral word. There was no pagan God called Mammon but using the word in this passage is rather like our cultural idiom of saying you cannot be devoted to God and to the “The Almighty Dollar.” In this passage Jesus is confronting our deep human tendency to allow our thirst for possessions to control us, to set our hearts on them in subtle but destructive ways.  

In the Veggie Tales cartoon series there is an episode which features a store called StuffMart. You’ve probably been to a StuffMart. In one episode three salesmen try to work their retail magic on a newcomer to their neighborhood and they sing a little song for her that has these lyrics.

Salesmen: We represent the Stuff Mart
Salesman #2: An enormous land of goodies
Salesman #1: Would you mind if we stepped in, please?
Salesmen: And as associates of the Stuff Mart
Salesman #1: It looks like you could use some stuff!....

Salesman #1: If you need a rubber hose
Salesman #2 and #3: We got those!
Salesman #1: A rhododendron tree
Salesman #2 and #3: We got three!
Salesman #1: A wrap-around deck
Salesman #2 and #3: Gotta check!
But if you need a window scraper
And a gross of toilet paper
Or a rachet set and pliers
And surround sound amplifiers
And a solar turkey chopper
Or a padded gopher bopper
Flannel shirts for looking grungy
And some rope for goin' bunji
Bunji! Bunji! Bunji-wun-gee-fun-gee!
Here we go, bunji! Come on!
Salesman #1: What we've mentioned are only just some
Salesman #2: Of the wonderful things yet to come
Salesman #1: These pictures you keep are so ... nice
Salesman #3: But you really should take our advice
Salesman #1: Happiness waits at the Stuff Mart!
Salesmen: All you need is lots ... more ... stuff!
Salesman #2 and #3: You really, really ought to!
Madame: How could I afford not to?
Salesman #1: Happiness waits at the Stuff Mart!
Salesmen: All you need is lots ... more ... stuff!

It is a clever and dead-on satire pointing out American’s incredible appetite for stuff. Our materialistic culture ought to be well aware of the incredible power of money and possessions on our lives, but acquisitiveness has become so much a part of the air we breathe that we seem to lack the critical distance to really see the story of our possessions. Isn’t it interesting how our quest for material possessions has a way of starting out as a means to enrich our lives but eventually they end up taking on a life of their own, becoming a kind of beast to be fed, a little less than a god. Too easily our possessions become not our helpful servant but our demanding master.

Oh, yes we all know the right answer to the contest between God and mammon. We faithfully say that we have chosen to serve God, not mammon, but too often in our daily life it is mammon that sets our priorities and determines our choices.  We would like to show more generosity toward the less fortunate but we cannot because there are so many things we need from the StuffMart …..  We truly intend to be more charitable in the future but for right now there are just too many things we need to buy ourselves.

You know the dilemmas yourself. Many families work multiple jobs to make ends meet, especially in this time of recession, giving up time with their children because there is so much they want to get for them, so many opportunities they want to provide.  We all know people who struggle to pay off consumer debt while they drive a new car and have closets full of great clothes and shoes we wish we had.  We all know people, they may in fact be us, who are literally working themselves to death, abandoning their families and marriages to give themselves to work often with what seem the best intentions and sanctioned by our achievement sick society. The other day a student asked me to hold her cell phone while she played with her friends. She handed me her new iphone and I realized that I was having phone envy with an 8 year old. Since when does an 8 year old need a new iphone?  StuffMart….

I’m not sure if it has ever happened to you but once in a while I look around at all the stuff in my house or garage or office and think, “Where did all this stuff come from? Do I really need all this stuff?” I’m amazed at times that just 6 years after losing almost everything in Hurricane Katrina that once again I am surrounded by things.  The truth is that it is not just empty nesters or retirees that need to think about simplifying or downsizing. We all are steeping in a culture of acquisition, of more is better, upsized meals, Costco-sized living. You know there is something wrong when Grande means medium and we have to invent some new word for large, Vente? And what does it mean that the word ginormous has become standard English.

Into our super-sized lives, Jesus strides with his first-century wisdom that seems so contemporary.  “Do not store up for yourselves treasures on earth, where moth and rust consume and where thieves break in an steal, but store up for yourselves treasures in heaven… for where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.”

What does it mean to store up for ourselves treasures in heaven? Instead of assessing our worth and that of others in terms of acquired treasures, cars, houses, art, which makes one so vulnerable to the vicissitudes of life, Jesus’ followers are instructed to look for invulnerable treasures, to build up treasures that cannot be taken away. What are these treasures? My guess is that you know these treasures, you’ve tasted them many times. They are the simple treasures of kindness for its own sake, kindness performed in myriad ways, everyday kindness that can make all the difference in someone else’s life but more importantly in yours. They are acts of friendship when you realize that the person in front of you is really needing someone to talk with and listen. The challenging effort it sometimes takes to be a true friend. The treasure is the real difference between being a friend and wanting to have friends. It is the treasure that no one can take away from you of realizing that the gifts and resources you have are gifts from God and you can use them to care for people, you can hold them loosely enough to be used in ways that bring glory to God.

Storing up treasures in heaven seems to mean beginning to see the world like God sees it. Oh, I realize that is tricky business but it is the business that our spiritual health depends upon. Valuing people over things. Valuing building relationships over building status. Valuing the welfare of the many over the wealth of a few. Investing ourselves in the care and development of children and youth instead of thinking that they are too much trouble or we’ve done our time. Daring to take a conversation into the depth of the spiritual when we are so tempted to remain aloof and shallow talking about the weather or the news of the day. Becoming people to who talk about things that matter to people on the inside, about what moves them in a God-ward direction. Sitting quietly to listen to God’s still small voice instead of running around desperately trying to fill our emptiness. Seeking treasure in heaven is a way of opening yourself up to the movement of God’s Spirit in a way that no amount of purchasing power could ever accomplish. It is in the end a way of finding the freedom that exists in God, for in serving God is perfect freedom.

Bob Dylan said it well in his song, “Gotta serve somebody.”
You may be an ambassador to England or France
You may like to gamble, you might like to dance
You may be the heavyweight champion of the world
You may be a socialite with a long string of pearls.

But you're gonna have to serve somebody, yes indeed
You're gonna have to serve somebody,
It may be the devil or it may be the Lord
        But you're gonna have to serve somebody.

Bob Dylan’s music, Jesus’ words, Matthew’s Gospel all point to a spiritual truth. Our lives are lived in service to what we believe is most important. In fact, what we choose to serve becomes the shape of our spiritual life: the way we order our loves, the way we deploy our resources for good or ill, the way we invest ourselves in people, our 401K’s, our children’s future, our community’s long-term health.  

Sermons rarely give you all the answers you need. But hopefully they invite you into living the questions upon which your life truly depends. These words of Jesus really do call us into a time of reflection and prayer. I want to call you into a time of prayerful consideration about how you are spending your life, what are you investing your life in? Is it something you would call treasure in heaven that thief or rest or moth or a crashed hard drive or a fall in the market can’t take away? Have you by your life and love and compassion and care and money helped someone on their path toward knowing and loving God?

What do you possess that you just couldn’t live without? How has your life slipped off the edge, lost focus and become serving mammon instead of serving God? How have you invested your life in a way that really says that people are more important than things? How have you used things to value people to help them become more human, more fully alive, more open to God? What is a your money for? Is it a gift from God to be used for the kingdom? Or is it your own private possession that is beginning to possess you?

We know what is important. I’m not for a minute going to tell you that I think that this is an easy spiritual task, very few spiritual tasks actually are easy.  The point is that this is the way that leads to life. This is the way that will fill your whole body with light. This is the path that leads to true freedom, to the everlasting life that Jesus is always talking about and is so deeply attractive.

You gotta serve somebody, that’s for sure, but who or what you choose to serve makes all the difference. For in serving Christ is perfect freedom.

A few weeks back, I was introduced to a Lady who was active in her Church.  Within a few minutes, the woman informed me that she was an attorney, who graduated from Harvard, lived in High Desert and was a devout, traditional Roman Catholic.  I did not know how to respond.

Throughout our conversation, she alluded to her identity. Intentionally or unintentionally, she defined herself.  I wished her the best and moved on.  Later, as I reflected on her words, I could not decide if she was attempting to impress me, promote her image or if it was her way of social interaction.

Yet somehow I knew that her insistence on emphasizing her identity spoke to something deeper.  She was telling me not who she was, but what she believed others were not.  I wondered, if I did not go to the same Ivy League school, did I meet her intelligence criteria?  If I did not live in the same neighborhood – would I fit into her social class?  If I did not believe in the same theological doctrine – could we share the Eucharist?

The answer is no. The sadness is that we are breathing the same air, living in the same community, sharing the similar journey.  Yet she had built this set of walls that separated us.  And she had placed me within one set of walls and placed her within a different set of walls.  And walls are dangerous.

Closed walls inhibit fresh air and this leads to oxygen deprivation.    You do not think clearly, you act strangely, your judgment becomes cloudy.  If you close yourself behind walls, nothing new comes into your life.  In our Gospel Jesus speaks of the dangers of closing yourself to others.  

He is not only speaking of forgiveness, he is speaking of inclusion. He is telling us to love, asking us to accept, to break barriers and create openings in our lives.   He wants his light, our light to penetrate all those dark recesses of our hearts.  

Most of us have the natural tendency to spend time with those we know, those that we are most comfortable with.   We share with people from our same social class, race, country or Church; and while this is o.k., if we never move beyond that circle, we unknowingly inhibit our Christian outlook.  

We become comfortable and comfort limits our vision.  We begin to see others through the same lens, our world becomes one-dimensional.  And throughout the Gospels, Jesus tells us his Father’s kingdom is multi-dimensional.  Move beyond our comfort zone and reach out to those who we normally do not let in, those we do not know, and those that are different from us.  If we love only those who love us, how do we show Christ’s love?   

I have a Christian family member who constantly uses the phrase “I am an American” or “love it or leave it.”  I also notice how easy it is for him to categorize people as Muslims, Homos or Illegal’s.    No understanding that many of God’s children live beyond his walls or the walls of America.   The barriers he creates, makes it simple for him to see people as objects, different, easy to categorize, easy to discount, easy to ignore.   

We are Christians and it is hard to imagine God placing a wall between divine love and humanity.  God is constantly welcoming, inviting us into the divine presence.  No secret knock, no special requirements for entry into his Kingdom.  Only openness and a willingness to love God and love one another.  

In this journey, most of us stumble into the Lord’s presence. Much like the story when one the most famous European orchestras played an outdoor concert.  Elegantly dressed, world class musicians take their places.  They precisely tune their fine instruments.  The conductor strides confidently toward the podium; raises his baton, lowers it and then Beethoven’s Third Symphony.  

The music is majestic, the notes join together to create beauty.  Suddenly, a brown curious dog prances on stage toward the Orchestra.  The mutt moves between the violins and the cellos, tail wagging in beat with the music.  The dog weaves in and out as he looks at the musicians, the musicians in turn look at him, and they look at each other, as they attempt to continue with the next measure.  

The dog stops in front of the Cello, and then continues roaming, listening and wagging.  Finally, the music stops because the musicians and audience are laughing.  The dog stops at the conductor’s feet, looks up and pants.   A world class orchestra brought to a stop by a wayward dog.  The conductor lowers his baton.  There is quiet as the conductor turns; everyone is anticipating his fury.   

He looks at the dog, looks at the audience and shrugs his shoulders.  He steps off the podium and scratches the dogs’ ears, a tail starts to wag.  The maestro speaks to the dog and the dog seems to understand.  They visit for a moment, the mutt sits at the feet of the conductor, the conductor returns and the music begins once again.  Life moves forward beautifully.*

Each one us are like that stray, and God is leading this divine symphony.  In our journey, we walk onto God’s stage; and none of us want to be kicked off.  We want to sit at the feet of God and listen to the song.  If God had put up walls, we would never be able to walk among the music.  Jesus is asking us to do the same with one another.

When Jesus left Nazareth, he did not take friends; he invited others into his presence.  He had no barriers or preconceived ideas of who these strangers were, only that they were welcome.  Come, follow me, and let me show you the openness of my father’s love.  Everyone is invited into our lives and God’s stage.  We break down the walls that separate us.  We do not look at that maid as a simple worker, she becomes my sister.  

We do not look at the Muslim as a foreigner, we look at him as a brother who seeks the same peace and happiness, we do not look at those who are ill as a burden, and we take them in as part of our family.  Just as we are invited to remain guests on God’s glorious stage, we must invite others onto the same stage, into our lives.  It is there that we feel the goodness of humanity.

We do not change the world by going out and moving millions, all we have to do is reach out  to the person next to us in love.  It is from the length of an arm that we change the world.  Jean Vanier wrote the following:  The openness to and respect for other implies a belief in our common humanity, in the beauty of other cultures, and in God’s love for each person.  We are one human race.  

We human beings are all fundamentally the same.  We are all people with vulnerable hearts, yearning to love and to be loved and valued.  This openness, which brings together people who are different, is inspired by love, a love that sees the value in others, through and in their differences and the difficulties they might have.

A love that is humble, vulnerable and welcoming.  Peace comes as we approach others humbly, disarmed from a place of truth, not from a place of superiority.  Not from a place with walls.  What good is it if we only love those who love us, if we only care about those who care about us?

Open your heart; break down those barriers.  Let’s sit together, on God’s glorious stage, strays of different colors and backgrounds, listen and prance around to the music of our mutual lives and mutual loves.  When we dance together, when we sing together, when we sit at the maestro feet as one, we know love, and in doing so, we know Christ.  


*Thanks to Max Lucado for the use of this story that is in his book:  “When God Whispers Your Name.”