St. Michael and All Angels
Twenty Second Sunday after Pentecost – October 20, 2013
Genesis 32:22-31

What do you know about your name? Some of our names have stories or come from ancestors. Some of us love our names. Some, not so much. Some of us choose names for ourselves that fit us better. Some become known by a beloved nickname. Our names are important. They are rarely random. We know what it feels like when someone who loves us calls us by name. We also know the feeling of being called by our full name usually meaning we are in trouble.

My father adored his mother. She died while he was in college and he never talked about her very much. My grandfather remarried a woman before I was born. I loved her deeply so I didn’t think much about my birth grandmother. I remember stopping in my tracks in the Chapel at Emory University on All Saints day while I was in seminary and realizing that the grandmother I did not know was also Sue Joiner. I had never really thought much about my name. My given name is Sue, just Sue. My grandmother was named Effie Sutah but everyone called her Sue. I found a deep connection to this woman I knew very little about when I realized we shared the same name. I felt that there was power in my name because I shared it with a beloved ancestor.

There is power and hospitality in knowing someone else’s name. Some of you may remember the old tv show Cheers whose theme song said:

“Sometimes you want to go
Where everybody knows your name, and they're always glad you came.
You wanna be where you can see, our troubles are all the same
You wanna be where everybody knows your name.”

It’s funny that this song is about a bar in Boston. I’d say it could well describe a church. A church is a place to be welcomed as you are. A church is a place where each person makes a difference. At church we discover that we are all carrying burdens. A church is a place to care for one another and share the journey. We heard that St. Michael’s is that kind of church through the stories David Hardy, Marty Jacobson, and Jason Davis. A church is a place to learn one another’s unique names, but also a place to remember our shared name – God’s beloved child. A church is a place to remember who we are and to whom we belong.

The book of Genesis reads like a soap opera. There are deceptions and twists and turns. A name in Genesis revealed one’s essential character and sometimes one’s destiny. Knowing someone’s name meant knowing something of that person. The name Jacob meant to follow. Jacob and his brother Esau were twins who were fighting while they were still in the womb. Esau was born first and Jacob came out holding Esau’s heel. He trades Esau his birthright for a bowl of soup. Jacob deceives his father Isaac into blessing him by wearing a goatskin and pretending to be the first-born son. Esau finally reaches his limit and threatens to kill Jacob. In the story today, Jacob is running for his life. He leaves his family and possessions on one side of the stream, and then crosses over to spend the night alone. He is incredibly vulnerable.

Things get really interesting when a man comes in the night and wrestles with Jacob until daybreak. It is clear that it is not a one sided wrestling match. Jacob’s opponent strikes his hip and leaves him with a limp. The match reaches an impasse as day approaches and Jacob will not loosen his grip. Jacob is wrestling with God. In this moment in the story, they desperately need each other. God needs Jacob to let go before daylight. Jacob needs to be blessed. The blessing he got from his father was stolen. He needs God to bless him and validate him. Yes, even this guy who would steal from his father and brother needs a blessing.

Before blessing Jacob, God gives him a new name… Israel. Israel means God strives. This new name was a form of blessing for the one who valiantly wrestled with God. The story goes on to say that God blessed Jacob.

We all need to be blessed. I’m guessing most of you have never covered yourself in goatskin to steal your brother’s blessing. But I’m also guessing that you have done something you are ashamed of and wish you could have erased. It is here that we recognize our shared vulnerability. It is here that we acknowledge that this is what it looks like to be human. Our shared humanity is less in our strength and more in our vulnerability.

It is more than a little strange to think of an all night wrestling match with God in the physical sense. But late night spiritual wrestling with God is something many of us have experienced. We may feel a little put off by the idea that God wrestles with us. When I think of common images of God, the wrestler never makes the top ten. Yet there is something to it. God hangs in there with us when we struggle. God keeps vigil with us through the darkness of night whether it is eight hours, eight months or eight years. God stays with us through it all. God blesses us even when we have made bad choices. God is persistent in relationships and NEVER walks away. When I let that sink in, it takes my breath away. There are some wonderful humans who walk with us in our darkest nights and who don’t abandon us when we are lost or afraid. These folks embody a God who will stay with us no matter what we have done, no matter who we have hurt, and no matter how selfish we have been. In Jacob’s story we see a God who will not with hold a blessing from anyone.

This blessing from God is transformative. The next scene in the story is the meeting of Esau and Jacob. They are reconciled and Jacob is forgiven. Jacob no longer runs from his brother as a scoundrel, but walks beside him. Jacob sees the face of God in Esau who graciously receives him. This story could have ended badly. Instead, Jacob is given a new start with God’s blessing. Jacob no longer runs in fear, but meets his brother and is profoundly transformed by grace.

What about you? Do you know this story as your own? I am deeply humbled by this story of blessing and transformation. I reflect on the times in my life when I have felt vulnerable and exposed. In the dark, it is even more lonely and scary. Somehow in those places of utter despair, God comes to us and stays with us. I suppose it looks like a wrestling match at times.

The church is in the blessing business. It is what we do in ways that are public and ways that are almost invisible. Last summer, Judith spent a week with Philip Newell and she came back quoting him, “We should be blessing each other all the time.”

I think of the many people who have blessed me on this journey. Two people who have walked with me through those dark nights and accompanied me in the most difficult places of my life have birthdays this weekend. I have offered these two saints my brokenness and they have blessed me and sent me back out stronger and more whole.

I keep thinking of you and the ways you bless each other each day. I think of Nancy Core who blessed so many kids… especially the ones others had given up on. The Core family told me about a kid who was really tough. He was a drug dealer and most everyone was afraid of him. Nancy cared about him and he knew it. Andy said that when they showed up at the prom, this tough kid and his gang walked into the prom first to create a wide berth for Nancy as if to say, “Don’t mess with her. She’s a good one. If you mess with her, you mess with me.” You can be sure no one wanted to mess with him. I don’t know what happened to that kid, but wherever he is now, he knows that this woman loved him. It changed him.

It changes us to be loved; to be blessed. Jesus blessed those who were closest to him. He blessed those who were on the fringes and rejected by society. Jesus understood the power of blessing to transform. In blessing, we are conformed to the image of God. In blessing we are strengthened for the journey ahead. Jacob’s story isn’t ancient history. It is true for us in our darkest nights. God meets us in our vulnerability and keeps vigil with us. God calls us by name, blesses us, and prepares us for the path that lies before us. In blessing we are liberated to bless others. Blessing means an infusion of holiness. It is something that cannot be contained. It flows through us and out to all that we meet. We are indeed blessed. May we open our hearts and pour out blessing to the world.

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/

St. Michael and All Angels
Fourteenth Sunday after Pentecost – August 25, 2013
Luke 13:10-17

The first time I preached about this bent over woman in Luke, I invited the congregation bend over to hear the gospel lesson to get a glimpse of this woman’s story. Seven verses felt like a really long time. It was incredibly uncomfortable. It was hard to pay attention to the words. We couldn’t begin to wrap our heads around being bent over for eighteen years. I try and imagine this woman who had to live with that kind of pain and isolation for so many years. She could never make eye contact with anyone. Her ability to see was limited to the ground beneath her. Hers was a particular kind of bondage. What an effort it must have been to come to the synagogue, to do daily errands or chores around the house. Would people disregard her simply because she was literally beneath them? Who would take the time and effort it would require to interact with her? It would have been much easier to write her off or ignore her. Given the beliefs of the day, many may have blamed her for her affliction.

The Pharisees seem less concerned that Jesus healed the woman than when he healed her. Healing was considered work and work was banned on the Sabbath. How funny that the issue was which day the healing occurred. Jesus points out that they would make sure their ox was led to water on the Sabbath. So, an ox is more important than a woman? I can imagine him saying, “Look. You are all worried about the wrong thing. This woman is standing upright after eighteen years. She can look you in the eye. She can participate in the life of the community in a new way. She is daughter of Abraham. She is one of us. And you want to talk about what day it is? This is the day God gave us to worship. Why don’t we praise God instead of complaining about what day it is?”

What is it in us that keeps us from celebrating with one another? What is it that causes us to be upset over the good news of someone else? Why would we get worked up over someone being healed on the wrong day?

The pressures and demands of our days can easily weigh us down. Some of those are just ordinary life stuff – getting out of debt, conflict with a friend, relative or coworker, or making difficult decisions about our future. There are others that are more systemic and feel beyond us – how do we help people find their way out of poverty? How do we make the world a safe place for children? What can we do to live in peace? As we carry these concerns around, we may feel them weighing us down making it hard to stand up straight. In some ways, the bent over woman in this story is not just someone from a place long ago and far away. She lives in us and the burdens we carry. She gives us a simple clue to freedom – go where Jesus is and wait there. He will see you. He will touch you and he will make you whole.

Her story is ours as well. Just as we carry the weight of those who suffer, we also have the opportunity to stand up and celebrate with those who are healed and those who find liberation.

In this story, Jesus stops teaching to heal the woman. It seems that more than the woman was healed that day. Helen Pearson says that “All rejoiced. All were freed from bondage of tradition that placed more importance on keeping law than responding to the needs of humans. When the woman is healed, all stand straighter.” (Helen Pearson, Do What You Have the Power to Do p. 57)

This story doesn’t tell us that the law is unimportant. Can you imagine trying to drive anywhere with no laws? The law can keep some chaos at bay. It gives us some parameters with which to live. But the law is not exclusive. It can step aside and make room for God’s great healing love to break through and turn things upside down.

“Law helps order our world, but grace is what holds the world together. Law pushes us to care for each other, but grace restores us to each other when we’ve failed in the law… For above and beyond all the laws ever received or conceived, the absolute law is love: love God and love your neighbor. Or, perhaps, love God by loving your neighbor.” (David Lose, workingpreacher.org)

The community stepped in and rejoiced at the woman’s healing. This woman who had been denied access to the fullness of life was now a community member in good standing. She was free and in her freedom, they could imagine their own.  This story is a powerful reminder that we are born to be whole. When the world has weighed us down, God wants us to be free. In the story, Jesus is teaching and the woman appears. Jesus stops what he is doing to heal her. It is almost as if he was waiting for this moment. He wanted so much to set her free that he didn’t wait until he was finished teaching. He stopped as soon as he saw her.

Maybe that is what he asks of us… that we notice one another and show kindness, that we celebrate with one another and hold one another in our pain. I keep going back to the words from Isaiah this morning, “If you remove the yoke from among you, the pointing of the finger, the speaking of evil, if you offer your food to the hungry and satisfy the needs of the afflicted, then your light shall rise in the darkness and your gloom be like the noonday. The Lord will guide you continually, and satisfy your needs in parched places, and make your bones strong; and you shall be like a watered garden, like a spring of water, whose waters never fail.” (Isaiah 58:9b-10) That is a description of what God wants to do for us – to guide us all of our days, satisfy our needs, and quench our thirsts with life-giving water.

If that is what God wants for us, why would we want anything else for one another? Can we wish that for each person we encounter? Can we pray for their thirsts to be quenched and their lives to be whole?

Three weeks ago, a group from St. Michael’s went to the Santo Domingo Feast Day. We watched people of all ages dance in the hot sun. It was a powerful sight to see the devotion and beauty in the movement of small children and elderly folks. There are some members of the Pueblo who watch the dancers and when there is a need, they respond. They helped with various “wardrobe malfunctions”, they held the long hair up to help the dancers cool off and offered other forms of support. Their job is to help the dances run smoothly and support the dancers. It was lovely to witness their care.

Our culture teaches us that we have value when we have it all together. We are worth something when we are smart, strong, well dressed and sure of ourselves. But over and over, we see Jesus meeting people in their vulnerability. He stops to touch people in their weakness, to care for their brokenness, to love them in their pain. It’s significant that we meet Christ in his vulnerability and brokenness. Our worship centers on the table, which is the story of Christ betrayed by his friend, abandoned by others who had promised loyalty to him, and his body broken by those in power who were threatened by him. The Christian story begins with whatever weighs us down, whatever keeps us from fully entering the community, whatever binds us. We don’t start from the place of utter freedom and hope. We show up in all of our humanness – in our despair and in our bondage – and Christ meets us there. He stops what he is doing to really see us as we are and he comes to us in our vulnerability.

Each week, we gather here and we come as we are. Christ waits to meet us and to touch the parts of us that are broken and in need of healing. I believe that he helps us all stand a bit straighter. Together we witness the power of his touch and the freedom to be whole.

St. Michael and All Angels
Thirteenth Sunday after Pentecost – August 18, 2013
Hebrews 11:29-12:2

The movie Dead Poets Society is set in a boy’s boarding school and features Robin Williams as a rather unconventional Literature teacher named Keating. On the first day of class, Keating leads the boys out into the hall where he tells them to look closely at the pictures on the wall of former students. These students long gone from life on this earth have a message to the current students. Keating tells the boys the message is: “Carpe Diem, boys. Seize the day. Make your lives extraordinary.” Keating’s unorthodox approach unleashes a vision and passion in this class to make their lives count. It is like letting the genie out of the bottle. It’s interesting to me that Keating uses the school alums to call forth that vision.

The Hebrews passage continues this morning with a list of heroes of faith and the amazing lives they lived. Here are a few of their achievements… administering justice, shutting the mouths of lions, quenching raging fire, escaping the edge of the sword, crossing the Red Sea, and circling the walls of Jericho until they fell down. The writer of Hebrews only names a few, but goes on to tell what some endured – stoning, being sawn in two, killing by swords, wandering, being persecuted and tormented. So you can see right away, that it didn’t always go well. We certainly don’t want to lift up these as examples of the rewards of a life of faith. But there is an incredible perseverance and faith in one after another. They were so clear that they belonged to God that they would not give up no matter how difficult the journey.

Hebrews calls us to be inspired by that great “cloud of witnesses” as we run the race that is set before us. I’ve been reflecting on my great cloud of witnesses this week. I’m curious about those whose names I cannot forget and those whose names I cannot remember. It is amazing how so many people can touch our lives in a lifetime. It really is a great cloud that surrounds us. Who are those saints for you and how do they live on in you now? I encourage you to spend the day with them giving thanks for them and the way they are part of you now.

Sharon was my youth director many years ago and one of the reasons I am in ministry today. Sharon is a vibrant, gifted woman who mentored me and had a profound impact on me as a teenager. I am grateful for the way she walked with me through some of the most powerful moments in my life. My prayer life was formed through my time in that youth group. I experienced contemplative prayer in the sanctuary on candlelit evenings. As a teenager, I was blown away as I saw the ocean for the first time on a trip with my youth group. Each morning we would get up in the dark and go out to watch the sunrise and I was amazed at the way God was palpable in this place. Sharon was on the youth retreat where I experienced a powerful call to ministry. She sat with me when I couldn’t stop crying afterward. Sharon is retired now and she travels around the country building houses for Habitat for Humanity. She is one of the people in my cloud of witnesses because she witnessed so much for me and with me. She continues to inspire me and she believes in me thirty years later.

It’s humbling to name those who walked with us and invested in us. Who would we be today without them? This is true for us individually and it’s more than true for us as a community of faith.

I asked for some examples of the St. Michael’s Cloud of Witnesses this week. Here are some folks who were named:

Ann Dietz is one saint who had a vision for St. Michael's. Ann was the catalyst to bring John Tatschal, Paul Saunders and the Vestry together to tell the story of The Life of Christ in our stained glass windows. Ann gave one quarter of her inheritance from her father to pay $7,000 to install the organ in his memory in June 1955.   She was organist at St. Michael's and she purchased hymnals in memory of her mother. Some were shocked at her generosity and questioned her decision. She was unswerving and today we reap the benefits of her big-heartedness.

Another saint is Myndert Gilbert - also one of the original members of St. Michael's - who served as director of the Sunday School for probably 25 or 30 years.  He adored kids and made each child feel like he or she was the most important member of the church.  Sometimes everything came to a halt because he let hyper-active children run the projector for church gatherings. He was also the mastermind behind the Christmas Eve posole suppers after midnight mass, and made sure that we all had the right recipe for cooking legs of lamb for the Seder suppers on Maundy Thursdays.

A third saint with a vision that has shaped who we are today is John Tadigan. John was a first class violinist who had played with the Chicago Symphony before coming to Albuquerque.  He persuaded Brian Taylor to offer the Service of Reconciliation for Gays and Lesbians who had been wounded by the institutional church.  Word of that service spread through the community and we had a packed house of people from all over the city and from many traditions.  It was the beginning of our community becoming a sanctuary for people who had been rejected or wounded by the church.  And John's vision succeeded in getting us in trouble with the Bishop who withdrew the loan for the construction of our sanctuary. That was the impetus for us as a community to define ourselves as a community who sees tries to live the Gospel imperatives of loving our neighbors regardless of differences that sometimes invite discrimination.

This community is what it is today because of those who have come before us. I am grateful for every person in our cloud of witnesses, for the ways they have blessed us with their vision and generosity and for laying the foundation for us at this time. We are in a time of change as a congregation, but it isn’t the first time. We have been here before. We will be again. We have what we need because we stand on the shoulders of so many who have gone before us. This week, I talked with someone who told me she could feel all those saints every time she walks into the sanctuary. They are here in our walls. They are in the hymns that we sing, the prayers that we pray, the peace that we pass with one another. They are in us all and they are calling to persevere and to look to Christ as we continue this race.

I am training for my first triathlon next weekend. It’s a sprint triathlon, which means the run, bike and swim are short. As I feel nervous about it, I have this assurance that it will all be over in a few hours and I’ll be on my way. The life of faith is not a sprint race; it is a marathon. It requires that we train, support one another, and that we stay focused on Christ who goes ahead of us and shows us the way.

I’m struck by the line “let us lay aside every weight and sin that clings so closely”. What do we need to lay aside to run this race? To truly be God’s people, we must set aside our personal agenda and need to get what we want to make way for the greater good. We need to lay aside the part of us that wants to walk away when things get difficult. When I look back at some of what St. Michael’s has been through over the years – arson in the sanctuary that is now our parish hall, the widening of Montano taking away all of the parking, and persecution from the Diocese when we welcomed the gay and lesbian community openly – I am astounded at the cloud of witnesses who stepped up to carry the load.  The strength and vitality of this community is a gracious product of all who give generously in all times and places.

I am grateful for those who stayed in the race, who kept the faith, who took risks to move forward and who generously gave of themselves so that we could be the people of God no matter what adversity we face. It is on their shoulders that we stand. It is our turn to look to Jesus and see where the race will take us next. I don’t know what it will look like, but I believe that the scenery will be stunning and that the gifts that await us in this journey are greater than we are capable of imagining.

____________________________________
*With thanks to Oleta Saunders for the descriptions of Ann Dietz, Myndert Gilbert, and John Tadigan.

St. Michael and All Angels
Twelfth Sunday after Pentecost – August 11, 2013
Luke 12:32-40; Genesis 15:1-6; Hebrews 11:1-3, 8-16

There are times that I read the scriptures for the week and I feel rich. Today as I hear the lessons again, I am stunned by God’s goodness. We are recipients of God’s generosity and I’m not talking about a hundred-dollar bonus, or a gift card to our favorite restaurant. This God gives childless Abraham and Sarah descendants as abundant as the stars. This God gives them a new homeland. This God promises us the kingdom. Maybe we need to hear that again… this God gives us the kingdom!

Here is what our texts give us today: promises too vast to wrap our heads around and the words that so many others have heard: “Do not be afraid.” So we have stories of those who heard God call them to step out with nothing but a promise of everything, and they did. God has given us the kingdom; and yet how many hours of each day do we spend worrying about our bills, our health, our relationships, and all the problems in our world? I wonder if we really believe this kingdom promise. If we did, we wouldn’t be so quick to stress over things like credit cards, insurance, and how we will get everything done we have committed to do.

We want to believe it, but it’s scary. What would have to change if we took this kingdom stuff seriously? What would our lives look like if everything we did were a response to a God who has already given us the kingdom?

Alyce McKenzie is a seminary professor who does a unit on fasting each Lent with her students. Some have health issues that make fasting difficult, so she assigned them the task of fasting from anxious thoughts for a week. One student raised her hand and said, “Dr. McKenzie, if we fast from anxious thoughts, what else will we have to think about?” (http://www.patheos.com/blogs/faithforward/2010/08/thethief-is-at-your-door-lectionary-reflection-for-august-8-2010/)

Wow! On the one hand, it’s funny. But it’s also very real. We spend an inordinate amount of time worrying about things that will go nowhere when God has already given us the kingdom. Alyce goes on to say that “fear is not a protective shield, but a thief. When we dwell on our fears, they become our treasures.”

When God looked for Adam and Eve in the garden, they hid because they were afraid. The Bible is full of stories of folks who fear God. But people fearing God isn’t ancient history. It is true today. Fear is more destructive than we realize. We can become so paralyzed by our fears that we fail to respond to God’s call.  

On any given day, there is plenty to fear. But we gather here to give thanks to a God who has given us the kingdom. Doesn’t that make everything different? You will be excited to know that we are preparing for a fall pledge campaign. I have been through this many times and I know about looking at my money and trying to decide what I will give to the church in the coming year. I know about looking at my money with all the caveats… one of my jobs will end next year, we have this big home improvement project coming, and then there are the debts we already carry. What if I say, “God has given me the kingdom. What shall I pledge in response?” How do I live as a person of faith in the face of a God who has given me everything already?

We tend to get things backwards. It is tempting to think that we are taking the lead here. The psalmist even says “Let your loving-kindness, O Lord, be upon us, as we have put our trust in you.” (Psalm 33:22) That sounds like we trusted in God so God should be kind to us. There are some who believe if we live a certain way, we will be rewarded or punished by God. That doesn’t make sense to me. God breathes life into us and gives us everything. That means everything we do is in response to God.

And if that isn’t enough, Luke tells the story of those who are waiting for their master. Their master arrives and finds them waiting so the master serves them. We show up on any Sunday morning in all forms – we are centered and prayerful or we are running late and a step behind or we are frustrated because someone is driving us crazy. We listen, we pray, we sing, and then we reach this place in the service where we come forward to the altar. God sets the table for us and invites us to come and be fed. Do you ever find as you step into the aisle that you change just a bit? Maybe you are softer, more aware of yourself and those around you, maybe you are more open. I don’t know about you, but so often as I stood from the pew and began to walk toward the front, I would look around and see your beautiful faces and I could feel the table prepared for you, for me, for the whole world. Then I would take my place in the circle and open my hands to receive “the body of Christ, the bread of heaven.” Some good person placed the bread in my hands, but it was God who is serving me. It is God serving us. That is staggering!

In any given week, there are things that cause us to lose our way; there are things to fear, and so many unknowns. It is in the midst of all of it that we learn to trust things not seen. It’s hard to believe that Abraham and Sarah in their old age would leave their homeland for some unknown destination with no GPS, and no children to carry  on the family name if they became ill or were injured. All they had was God’s promise to guide them. We don’t really know our destination. Life has a way of showing us new things and moving us in new directions.

God offers us the kingdom and here is what God asks in return… that we say yes. Not a half-hearted maybe, but a unreserved yes – a yes with our whole being. You may remember that at the Annual Meeting in January, I offered a word to guide our journey this year:

“The word is wholeheartedness. How many of our days are we tired and less than enthused about what lies before us? How often do we find ourselves going through the motions? One of my favorite reflections on this comes from a question David Whyte asked because he was doing work that left him empty. David had no energy for his work and he asked Brother David Steindl-Rast about exhaustion. You may know of David Steindl-Rast as “the gratitude guy.” David Steindl-Rast had a surprising answer to David Whyte’s question about exhaustion:

“The antidote to exhaustion is not necessarily rest. It is wholeheartedness… You are only half here, and half here will kill you after a while. You need something to which you can give your full powers… You must do something heartfelt and you must do it soon.” Brother David Steindl-Rast (Crossing the Unknown Sea: Work as a Pilgrimage of Identity pp. 132-133)

That conversation inspired and moved David Whyte forward to becoming a poet who has profoundly impacted the larger world with his words. It is a good reminder that when we enter the world wholeheartedly, many will benefit.

It is easy to get to the place where we are lethargic about our commitments.” (Annual Meeting Report, January 2013) Perhaps some are feeling fatigue in this in-between time at St. Michael’s. In times like this, we may want to slip into the background. Wherever we are, God comes and asks us to commit wholeheartedly with one word: “Yes.” We hope to have a priest in charge in the next several weeks. In the meantime, a generous God is serving us and we have the privilege of being God’s community. All we have to do is say “yes.” We all know that saying yes doesn’t lead us instantly to a life of ease where everything is simple. But saying yes leads us in an ultimate way to the kingdom, to the place where God’s goodness sets us free and makes us whole.

St. Michael and All Angels
Tenth Sunday after Pentecost – July 28, 2013
Luke 11:1-13

Prayer is the foundation of the Christian life, yet it remains a source of discomfort for many Christians. Luke often refers to Jesus praying and it is clear that it was prayer that enabled Jesus to speak the truth in the most hostile environments, gave him the strength to break the law to heal on the Sabbath, and walk toward his own execution. Grounding his life in prayer gave him great courage. Prayer enabled him to do the impossible over and over again. In the gospel lesson today, Jesus is praying, and when he finishes, he is asked to teach his disciples to pray… and he does. Perhaps that doesn’t strike you as remarkable. It seems so basic that he takes the time to teach them to pray. But it is something we often don’t do today. The church takes for granted that everyone just knows how to pray and that is simply not true. I think many people come to church hoping that we will teach them to pray and we let them down when we assume they already know how.

Jesus doesn’t expect his followers to know what to do. He invests in them and shows them how to pray. He isn’t so much giving them a script as he is teaching them what is important to pray for and showing them that real prayer is a deepening relationship with God.

You are probably waiting for me to talk about Sodom and Gomorrah. After all, how often does that show up in the lectionary? I am actually struck by the parallels between Genesis and Luke today. In Genesis, God is not pleased with Sodom and Gomorrah and in the reading today, Abraham stands before God and pushes back as if to say, “Is this what you really want to do, God? I know that you are a God of justice and I’m wondering if you really want to destroy them. What if there are fifty righteous? Forty-five? Forty? Thirty? Twenty? Ten?” And God says, “You are right. I don’t want to destroy them. I just need ten righteous people and I’ll forgive the whole thing.”

What strikes me about this funny exchange is that the conversation grows out of a relationship. Abraham didn’t go knocking and saying, “You don’t know me, but I have a suggestion to make.” There was a deep sense of trust between God and Abraham that enabled the conversation to happen at all. That kind of trust doesn’t happen overnight. It is cultivated over years. It takes time and a deep investment of oneself. When have you asked something great of someone? Did that grow out of a trusting relationship or was it a cold call? The other piece that is striking is that Abraham was persistent. It seems that he was really pushing it, but he couldn’t give up because he was so convicted of his understanding that God is a God of mercy. That sounds a lot like Jesus telling his disciples to ask, search, and knock. This prayer thing isn’t a one shot deal. It is something we do over and over. When you are praying for something that is of great importance to you, you will find yourself knocking and knocking. Just recently, a couple I love very much experienced the death of their son. I cannot stop praying for them and for their healing. I will knock over and over not because I believe God isn’t listening or needs reminding, but because I find them in my heart and I know that I have to offer that grief to the one who loves us through our most desolate days.

Douglas John Hall says, “Prayer is not a meek, contrived, and ‘merely’ religious act – it is the act of human beings who know how hard it is to be human. Real prayer cannot be faked. Its only prerequisites are sufficient self-knowledge to recognize the depths of our need, and enough humility to ask for help.” (Feasting on the Word, Year C, Volume 3, p. 290)

I have a friend who has been given the impossible task of turning an organization around. The organization is in big trouble and my friend doesn’t have all the skills or expertise she needs to lead them to a healthy place. Taking this step is a huge act of faith and will stretch her in many ways. We were talking about the depth of the issues involved and some of the solutions she is working on and some really insightful ideas she has. I asked who was helping her strategize. She is clearly way out in the deep end right now and there isn’t a particular person who is throwing her a life raft. Yet the raft is there and within weeks of accepting this leadership role, there is hope. She told me about what she prays each day. She is full of humility as she asks for help. She is clear that she cannot do this without God’s help and she is open and receiving the gifts that are coming her way. This approach is changing not only her, but also the organization she leads. I am in awe of the way God is moving there.

I am seeing it here as well. Many of us are praying in this time of transition. At a recent Vestry meeting, we were preparing for the next steps in calling an interim. It was a meeting steeped in prayer… not the sometimes perfunctory prayers we do when we gather, but a profound listening and humble asking for guidance as we made decisions that evening. It was palpable. We could feel the Spirit moving among us. I could feel the Vestry trusting the Spirit and one another. We are not doing business as usual. We are listening, waiting, and trusting. We are seeking, asking, and knocking. We are confident that God is guiding us and that gives us patience even when we don’t know who will walk with us through this time as priest in charge. We are certain that God is walking with us and that has been powerful. This time of uncertainty is teaching us. We are listening and waiting and discovering that God is with us in ways that we take for granted at times.

Prayer is the foundation for all that we do. It changes us to pray. My seminary professor Don Saliers said, “In prayer we hold the hand of the one who holds the destiny of the universe.”

We don’t have to know what is next. We only have to offer ourselves to the One who walks with us. It is through prayer that we participate in bringing about the kingdom of God. It is through prayer that we change the world.

I am not saying this with the assumption that we know how to pray nor that we are comfortable praying. I am assuming that we are here because we have a desire to pray. I believe that church is where we come to learn to pray. We don’t show up on Sunday because we have mastered prayer. We come open to learning. The disciples needed to be taught. Jesus wasn’t offering them a script as much as he was offering them a form. He begins by teaching them what to call God and by doing so; he defined their relationship with God in a new way. In any relationship, we have a name that we call one another. If knowing God’s name is helpful for theological discussion, it is vital for prayer. We recognize that God has a dream for the world that is greater than anything we can imagine, and Jesus invites us through prayer to see the world as God sees it. We pray for what we need each day; more than shiny new cars or winning the lottery. God’s first priority must be meeting basic human needs. We pray for forgiveness because we fall down every day. Receiving God’s forgiveness enables us to forgive others. We pray for strength to face the tests before us. An Abba said, “Everyone is tempted: the only reason you wouldn’t be suffering from it is that you have already given in to it.”

There are some who complain about praying something so repetitive. I heard a great suggestion: to cultivate a deeper prayer life, pray the Lord’s Prayer, but take an hour to say it.

I think that many struggle with the belief that there is one way to pray and they just aren’t good at it. All that does is leave us feeling guilty and disappointed. The reality is that there are many ways to pray and part of our task is discovering what form of prayer brings us into deeper relationship with God – is it contemplative prayer? Is it intercessory prayer? Is it walking prayer? Is it lectio divina? Is it praying with art? I am just getting started here…there are so many forms of prayer. John Chapman said, “Pray as you can, not as you can’t.” It is also true that some forms of prayer work for a season and then begin to feel stale sometimes. Then we move to another form.

If you haven’t found a form of prayer that works for you, it is easy to be overwhelmed and do nothing. We aren’t concerned with achieving perfection on the first try (it won’t happen anyway). We take it a step at a time, beginning where we are.

Our task is to show up…day after day after day…ask when we are enthusiastic, seek when our heart isn’t in it, knock when we are too tired and sleep through, show up no matter what, no matter where. We show up and begin where we are. God meets us there and does the rest.

St. Michael and All Angels
Ninth Sunday after Pentecost – July 21, 2013
Luke 10:38-42

If you heard the gospel reading of the Good Samaritan last week, you may have left with a sense of “I’ve got it… go and DO likewise… go and DO.” Maybe you even opened your eyes more in the last week for opportunities to DO. The story of the Good Samaritan always leaves me feeling like I’m clear about my direction… I just need to do what the Samaritan did… pay attention to the needs around me and be ready to respond. Why then, do we follow that text with the gospel from today? If we follow the logic from last week, it would seem that Martha’s doing is like the Samaritan who does the right thing. Why then, does Jesus commend Mary for not doing? It’s very confusing.

I always thought I knew this story pretty well. Somehow I missed the meaning in the answer to Martha’s question before now. I’ve certainly heard the words many times, but I didn’t really hear what Jesus said. He tells Martha she is “worried and distracted by many things; there is need of only one thing.” Only one thing?? Really?? Doesn’t he know about multitasking? This is not a very productive answer to Martha’s question. Doesn’t he want dinner? For the first time, as I read and studied this text I heard the call to focus. In a day where many are doing at least two (and sometimes more) things at once, the idea of focusing our attention on one thing seems strange. Aren’t we more valuable if we can do many things at once?

I did not get the gift of hospitality. I don’t even pretend that it comes easily to me. I often confuse it with doing a lot of stuff rather than giving someone my attention. I tend to believe that if I do everything right, I can make someone feel welcome. Here is what I am hearing in this text… nothing makes a person feel more welcome than attending to them, listening to them, and receiving them as they are. That requires focus on our part. Jesus isn’t telling Martha that cooking dinner is wrong, he is saying that as she worries and tries to do everything, she is missing that he is right there in front of her. We can certainly explain this and say that he didn’t call ahead, he just showed up and if she had known he was coming, she would have put something in the crock-pot. But Jesus isn’t talking about the food she is cooking, he is asking her to see what is in front of her and to focus on the one thing.

The trouble is that we may not be sure what the “one thing” is. There is a scene in the movie City Slickers where Mitch is in the throes of mid-life and trying to figure out how to find more joy in his life. Curly, the tough old cowboy, has some simple advice for Mitch:
Curly: Do you know what the secret of life is?
[holds up one finger] This.

Mitch: Your finger?

Curly: One thing. Just one thing. You stick to that…
Mitch: But, what is the "one thing?" 
Curly: That's what you have to find out.

I’m not sure if Curly got his wisdom from Jesus or not, but Jesus is clearly advising Martha to be present to that one thing which matters more than any task.

Several years ago, Stephen Covey brought to our attention the tendency to focus on things that are “urgent but not important”. By urgent, he isn’t referring to heart attacks or car accidents, but those things that seem really pressing and want our attention NOW, but may not be contributing to the greater good we are seeking. There are other ways to focus our attention and Covey invites us to be clear about the big picture, of what is ultimately important so that we don’t lose sight of what really matters. For those of us who LOVE to check things off our list, this can be a problem. Those lists seem awfully urgent, but how often do we cross things off our list only to discover that we didn’t really get to the things that mattered? We may feel better in the short term, but we are likely to be disappointed in the longer term. There is some balance required here and part of that balance is about not losing sight of what matters most.

Jesus never seems to lose sight of that. His choice to focus on what really matters takes him away from crowds at times to rest, finds him healing someone on the Sabbath, or sitting with friends when there is work to be done. He knows who he is and what he is about in the world. The one thing is always present for him and his life flows from being grounded in that one thing. It is so clear that his life mattered. His relentless focus on God enabled him to know when to act, when to be, and always where to place his attention.

Do any of you struggle to simply be where you are? Robert Farrar Capon says, “We spend a lot of time wishing we were elsewhere and otherwise.” Or as Carrie Fisher put it, “Having a wonderful time. Wish I were here.”

Often the part of us that isn’t present to where we are is busy worrying about where we are not. We can spend so much time worrying, and worry produces almost no benefit to anyone. Jesus says clearly, “Can any of you by worrying add a single hour to your span of life?” What a bummer to realize that we spent all those hours worrying only to discover we missed Christ who is right in front of us.

I live with a Mary. I am often jealous that the Mary I live with can just be present anywhere she is. I struggle to just be present. I work hard at being, but it is rarely pretty. Often when we process this difference together, I realize that my real struggle is focusing on what is most important in any given moment. I get so caught up in the details that I miss what is right in front of me. It seems like an important spiritual practice for those of us who struggle to focus on the one thing. Realizing this, I’ve started asking again, when was I present today? When did I see Christ right in front of me?

I wonder if the issue in the parable of the Good Samaritan is one of distraction. Did the two people pass by because they were too preoccupied to really see the man in need? I get so caught up in my lists and pulled in so many directions that I can miss the opportunity in front of me. What if both of these stories are about seeing Christ standing in front of us? What if they call us to attend to Christ in each person we meet? What if the one thing is that Christ is right here, now? Would that change anything? Would it change how we live? Would it change how we interact with each other? Would it change how we attend to ourselves?

I’ve been reading a book called Cabin Fever by Tom Montgomery Fate. Tom is trying to find a balance between his life in the city as a husband and father and taking time to savor the quiet of nature in a cabin in the woods. He lives with Thoreau’s Walden as a guide and refers to it often. One day Tom takes his four-year-old son to preschool and watches the boy immediately immerse himself in Legos. As Tom observes his son playing, he asks himself, “When did I first begin to lose my faith in the moment I was living in? When did my life first start to feel like a sprawling to-do list?” (p. 22) Reflecting on that, he turns to Walden and reads “We should be blessed if we lived in the present always and took advantage of every accident that befell us, like the grass which confesses the influence of the slightest dew that falls on it; and did not spend our time in atoning for the neglect of past opportunities, which we call doing our duty.” (p. 24)

I am really struck by how Jesus invites Martha into the community as a response to her resentment. He invites her to see that she is God’s beloved child. Period. Her value is not measured by what she does. How many of us need to hear that we are not what we do? Our value is not wholly determined by our actions. Certainly, we have the opportunity every day to be kind, to show compassion, to share hope with others. Working hard to the point of resentment isn’t what God asks of us. Maintaining our focus on God in all things is what God asks of us. It’s something we practice more than master. It’s something we grow into each day.

I think St. Michael’s often finds that sweet spot – the balance between Mary and Martha. Certainly some of us are more prone to be Mary and others to be Martha. But as a whole, we are a congregation that prays and waits, that acts and works hard. All of that makes us who we are. If we simply worked ourselves to death, we would be empty. If we only waited and prayed, we would be lethargic. The Christian life is both. The question isn’t which. It is more a question of when. If we asked Jesus should we act or contemplate, he would likely say, “yes”. The question that is larger than “when to act and when to pray” is, “can we see Christ in front of us right now?”

We are God’s beloved children. Christ is here now. That is our one thing. 

St. Michael and All Angels
Sixth Sunday after Pentecost – June 30, 2013
I Kings 19:15-16, 19-21 and Luke 9:51-62

Nearly twenty years ago I participated in a two-year Spiritual Formation program. One our teachers for the week ended each of her sessions with a guided meditation. Each day she would begin by asking us to invite Christ to join us. Each day, my mind would turn to the blonde, blue-eyed Jesus on many church walls. Then I would say to myself, “we know that isn’t what Jesus looked like, but what does the risen Christ look like?” I would follow that rabbit path for a while and realize at some point that I had missed the whole meditation because I couldn’t figure out what Christ looks like. By day five, I was frustrated. She took us into the upper room and said the same words, “invite the Christ to join you.” I thought, “Here we go again” and started to check out when something very strange happened…my grandmother appeared. My grandmother had died the summer before and I adored her. She was a unique person who read the newspaper cover to cover because she wanted to know what was happening in the stock exchange, in the world, and with her beloved Dallas Cowboys. She loved the color purple so much that she drove a purple car. She was opinionated and never shy about expressing her opinions. She was very generous and quietly helped several people who were struggling. She was an officer in the Pilot Club International, a women’s service organization. She was very independent. She married my grandfather when she was in her thirties and never had children of her own. Her father was a minister and she loved that I went to seminary, but she died the year before I was ordained. I went to seminary to be faithful to a powerful call I experienced in high school, but I couldn’t imagine serving a church. I wasn’t sure what I was going to do with the highly coveted Master of Divinity degree; I just knew it was the next step in my journey.

In the meditation, my grandmother appeared and she was dancing. (She had been in a wheelchair the last years of her life.) She seemed so vibrant. She was laughing, and then she placed a purple stole over my shoulders. I knew she was passing her mantle on to me. After years of struggling with the United Methodist’s exclusion of very talented gays and lesbians, I decided I needed to do something with my MDiv and take a chance that serving a church was right for me. I was going to be ordained the following month. Receiving the mantle from my beloved grandmother was a powerful moment on my journey. The following month, I stood to be ordained as we sang, “Here I am, Lord. Is it I, Lord? I have heard you calling in the night. I will go Lord, if you lead me. I will hold your people in my heart.” I could feel her with me as a stole was placed over my shoulders and I took vows.

There is a lot in our readings this morning about mantles being passed, following, and being guided by the Spirit. Neither Kings nor Luke glosses over the cost of discipleship and tries to make it look easy. Saying yes is only the beginning of faith. Stewardship is often defined as “everything we do after we say ‘I believe’”. Saying yes is the easy part; it is everything that comes afterward that is difficult. I have been reflecting on marriage as I work with some couples preparing to take those vows to one another. Anyone in a committed relationship understands that the vows are only the first step. Everything we do after we say, “I do” defines our relationship. As we are blessing various ministries this summer, we are asking for a commitment from those we commission. When the words, “I will” are said, those being commissioned turn and face outward to prepare for what comes after the words.

Jesus is preparing to leave his disciples. When the Samaritans do not welcome Jesus, the disciples generously offer to “command fire to come down from heaven and consume them.” Boy, if we did that every time things didn’t go our way, there would be no one left in the world! I do have to admit some curiosity about how we “command fire to come down from heaven” but not enough to pursue it. Jesus has already warned them when he sent them out that this would not always be pleasant. He told the disciples to shake the dust from their feet and move on to the next place. In this text, he describes foxes and birds as having homes, but that he is essentially homeless. Jesus is completely dependent on the hospitality of strangers throughout his ministry. He is telling his disciples that this is what following him looks like. These are not pleasant words for those of us who like our comforts. My first outdoor experience included a low-tech backpack, a heavy sleeping bag that wasn’t very warm and a tent. I have since graduated to a pop-up camper and it’s really hard to think of traveling without EVERYTHING I need. Yet the reality is that life will push us all out of our comfort zones. We all find ourselves depending on the care of others at times in our lives. Sometimes this has to do with an illness or an accident that leaves us relying on the goodness of others to get us through. When we are grieving the loss of someone we love, we need the care of those around us to help us take the next steps.

This morning, our adult formation offers us the chance to hear the story of Stephanie Johnson and her work with ABQ Heading Home. It is powerful to witness the love Stephanie’s team has shown the family they are serving. The mother and her children are in a home thanks to the generosity and commitment of a small team of people. It’s a great reminder that we depend on each other to survive…some of us are just more aware of that than others.

There are some folks in the gospel who want to follow Jesus. They tell him that they are committed, but… Ah, yes. We all know the “but” that goes with yes. Frankly, I think burying one’s father is a fairly legitimate “but”. I don’t think the point is to abandon everyone you know. I do think Jesus wants us to understand that this will cost us. It won’t cost us a little. It will cost us a lot. In the end, it will cost us everything. Dietrich Bonhoeffer put it very clearly, “When Christ calls a man, he bids him come and die.” Doesn’t that make you want to ask for another option? Can we do this differently? Is there an easier way? Is there any other way?

Jesus ends by telling his followers that they must look ahead. He uses the image of a plow, knowing that looking back means the plow doesn’t move ahead. It seems to me that these are interesting words for us today. They may hit you where you are personally, but they certainly speak to us as a community. There is so much here in this text for us. I haven’t really heard much looking back, except to gratefully acknowledge the many gifts of 30 years of leadership from Brian. Brian was very intentional in passing the mantle on to all of us. We are well equipped for the journey ahead.

We are looking forward as we search for an interim. The search was delayed when our two candidates accepted other positions, but we are continuing to look ahead. We are standing among a great cloud of witnesses in this place at this time. Jesus tells us we must depend on one another and we are. We are showing up in powerful ways and the way will open as we continue to do so.

I was reading a piece by George Mason this week about his being called to Wilshire Baptist Church twenty-four years ago. Some worried that he was too young and too inexperienced. What if he couldn’t handle the challenge of this large church? A deacon in the congregation said, “It’s not whether he is up to the challenge. It’s whether we are. Great pastors don’t make great congregations. Great congregations make great pastors.” (www.alban.org) None of us can deny the breadth and depth we received from Brian. But it is true that that happened because the community called forth those things from him, received them, and grew with him.

In times of transition, we wonder what our next steps should be and we like to make plans. It has been a joy to be part of this amazing body of Christ and trust in the spirit together. In Galatians, we are called to live by the Spirit and be guided by the Spirit. That requires that we prayerfully listen and trust. We are called to do one thing in the reading from Galatians…to “love our neighbor as ourselves.” The life of faith is about loving and following. Neither of those is easy all the time, but both lead us into unexpected places.

Gordon Cosby was the founding pastor of the Church of the Savior in Washington, DC. When it was founded in the 1940’s it was one of the first interracial churches in that segregated area. Gordon became a chaplain and at Normandy he witnessed young men dying completely unequipped to reflect on life, death, and faith. He decided that if he lived, he would return to the states and start a church that would help people form deep faith. One of the tenets of membership at Church of the Savior is a requirement to serve. As the church grew, Gordon kept his commitment to form disciples and wouldn’t support the church simply getting larger. Instead, he encouraged people to form ministries that served the community. Thirty-seven ministries have grown from this small, but powerful faith community. Gordon said he was sometimes afraid to enter his prayer closet for fear that God would command him to do one more apparently impossible thing. But he went, listened, and obeyed and the “impossible thing” became the next ministry of Church of the Savior. (taken from Christian Century June 26, 2013 and npr.org 4/14/13)

Sometimes I wonder if being called to do the impossible isn’t the whole point of faith. If everything God wanted us to do looked doable, we wouldn’t need God. It is in those places beyond our comfort zone, in those places where we don’t think we have what it takes, in those places where we are lost and waiting for the way to appear that we discover the Spirit sustaining us and calling us forward. It isn’t exactly comfortable to be between rectors, but we keep loving one another and listening for God. We are wearing this beautiful mantle and standing on the shoulders of many wonderful people. Sometimes during communion, I imagine one incredibly long continuous line of all who have come to this table and I see that long line streaming out into the world carrying all this love to each person they meet. It is breathtaking to think of all who walk with us. We are not alone. We wear the mantle together and God is showing us the way, one step at a time.

St. Michael and All Angels
Third Sunday after Pentecost – June 9, 2013
I Kings 17:17-24 and Luke 7:11-17

There are times that the lectionary seems to be repeating itself. In case you missed the first reading today, you have the opportunity to hear a similar story in the Gospel lesson. They are very much alike. One of the Bible commentaries I read placed the two stories side by side to illustrate all the similarities in them. Both include widows who are grieving the death of their son. Elijah and Jesus raise these sons from the dead and give them back to their mother. Each of the resurrected sons elicits a strong proclamation of faith from those standing by.

To be a widow with no heir in that day was something like a death sentence. Widows had no means to support themselves. Without children they would certainly be destitute. The women in these stories had lost everything. It is into that tender place of vulnerability that Elijah and Jesus step bringing new life to both mothers and sons. Upon first glance it may seem that it is the sons who have been raised from the dead…and they have. But their mothers have as well. The restoration of life to their sons means life and hope for the mothers. These stories aren’t just glimpses into history, they are also invitations for us today. What in you needs to be raised from the dead? Is there something that needs to die so that resurrection can happen?

We talk about death and resurrection on Good Friday and Easter. Then we check them off the list and move onto other things. But death and new life are happening all the time. Many of us carry deep grief because we have lost those that we love. The Service of Loss on Tuesday is for all who are experiencing any kind of loss. Brian’s leaving is a great loss for St. Michael’s. But loss is not the last word. We are also witnessing powerful leadership throughout the parish. The Vestry and many, many others are standing in the gap and offering their gifts. There is new life growing among us. Today, we welcome 33 new members. This concept of death and resurrection really hits home for us right now, but it is with us all the time, sometimes in much more subtle ways.

Philip Newell wrote a blog called “The Wildness of God”. In it, he talks about the Archangel Michael. Michael’s name means “one who resembles God.” It was particularly at times of great transition, that the aid of Michael was invoked. Perhaps rather than waiting until our feast day on September 29th, we can look to our patron saint now for wisdom and guidance in our own time of transition. Newell says, “One of the most striking features of the [Celtic] tradition was its love of wandering or peregrination. In its more extreme form, the peregrini, as they were called, would set sail in a boat without a rudder to be blown wherever the elements might take them. The ideal of the peregrini in the old Celtic Church was defined as 'seeking the place of one's resurrection'.' It consisted of a willingness to let go of or die to one's home, or the place that was comfortably familiar, in order to find new life. The impression given is that the gospel of Christ leads us not into what we already know but into what we do not yet know.” (http://www.salvaterravision.org/jpn-blog/item/202-the-wildness-of-god)

Maybe that explains our tendency to avoid themes of death and resurrection. They take us into the unknown, into places far beyond our comfort zone. Our scriptures describe a God who comes to us in our darkest moments. God meets us when we are lost and alone and stays with us whether we are aware or not. In the gospel lesson, the woman doesn’t ask Jesus for help. He sees her pain and responds. One commentary said, “If religion has nothing to say to a grieving widow, it has nothing to say.” (New Interpreters Bible, p. 159) God meets us in our vulnerability and takes our hand as we make our way through it. I wonder if those who gathered on the street saw the woman following her son through the crowd or did they avert their eyes afraid to acknowledge the depth of her suffering? Jesus sees her and speaks to her. Then he brings her son back to life and gives him to his mother.

I keep finding myself drawn to the words of Nadia Bolz-Weber. Nadia is a Lutheran pastor in Denver. She has the entire Christian year tattooed on her arm. She speaks honestly about faith and she doesn’t water it down or make it easy. One of her sermons confesses that the church will disappoint people. She guarantees that it will happen. Rather than seeking a church that won’t disappoint us, Nadia encourages people to hope in a God who will “reach down into the graves we dig ourselves and each other and love us back to life.” (http://www.patheos.com/blogs/nadiabolzweber/2013/05/sermon-on-why-hope-and-vapid-optimism-are-not-the-same-thing/)

The scriptures don’t call us to trust in our own ability to do everything right, but instead to trust in God who is there when we don’t. How many times a day do we encounter our own inadequacy? Every time, we have the opportunity to turn to the God whose grace is greater than our human messiness. Nadia encourages people to stay with the community even when they have been disappointed because if they leave, they will “miss the way God’s grace fills in the cracks left behind from our brokenness.” (http://www.patheos.com/blogs/nadiabolzweber/2013/05/sermon-on-why-hope-and-vapid-optimism-are-not-the-same-thing/)

It is human nature to flee when we are disappointed or in pain. But that is the place where God’s care is stunning. It touches us so tenderly that we feel like our hearts will break in the face of such goodness. This same God weaves our lives together and creates a container where we are held until we are strong enough to stand on our own again. Then we take one another’s hands and become the face of love and hope. We offer ourselves and allow God to flow through us so that we are surprised when we speak words of compassion that we didn’t know we had. Maybe that is what resurrection looks like.

Listen carefully to the words you will say this morning. We do this as a community. We pray for the new members who join us today. For some that means leaving behind a tradition that has been important to them for many years. They do not make this commitment alone. We all remember our baptismal vows, not in a nostalgic way, but as an active promise to be God’s beloved for one another and for our world. Notice what you are promising to do – supporting our new members, proclaiming the Good News, serving Christ in each person you meet, striving for justice and peace for all and respecting the dignity of each person. These words are important. We say them several times a year. Listen to what you are promising. These words will require you to open your heart to allow God’s grace to fill you so that you can be faithful to the vows you are taking. We aren’t simply mumbling along as a nod in the direction of our new members, we are powerfully remembering who we are as God’s own children. We are claiming our place in the community and that will mean trusting in God’s goodness to make it possible for us to be faithful to these vows. Remember as we renew each part of the baptismal covenant we say, “With God’s help”. It is never up to us alone to live this life we call faith.

We can’t be faithful to the vows we take if we don’t remind ourselves of our commitment. It is reported that when Martin Luther felt afraid, doubtful, or was unsure that he had what he needed, he would remind himself with the words, “I am baptized.” We renew our vows periodically so we can ground ourselves in them and live them wholeheartedly. A life of wholeheartedness grows in response to a God who breathes new life into places of death and despair. That is where hope begins.

Hope is found in the yes of new members. They cast their lot with this beautiful, imperfect community. Here we will listen to the stories of a God who will heal places we didn’t even know were broken. Here we will pray for those who are suffering. Here we will acknowledge our faults and ask for forgiveness. Here we will come to the table to be fed and sustained to be faithful to the vows that we take. Here we will listen for God’s call to serve those who are the most vulnerable. Here we will become faithful, falling down and getting back up. Here we will speak words of faith and we will put flesh and bones on those words. Here we discover God’s grace bringing us back to life and empowering us to do things we never thought possible.

Both stories end with proclamations of faith. Luke often ends stories of healing with the crowd responding with awe and praise. I have been thinking of us as the crowd. We have witnessed God’s healing love in our midst over and over again. Now the camera shifts its gaze in our direction. How do we dare respond to a God whose love is raising us from the dead, a God who is healing us, a God who is forgiving us over and over again, and a God who is walking with us every step of the way? We live the vows we take here again today. We say yes with all that we have and we seek to be true to our yes.

Saying yes doesn’t mean we know where we are going. It simply means we are willing to trust the one who calls us beyond our comfort zone, the one who leads us to our place of resurrection, and who shows us that there is more to a life of faith than we ever imagined.

St. Michael and All Angels
Second Sunday after Pentecost – June 2, 2013
Luke 7:1-10

Leonard Sweet is an unorthodox theologian who begins lectures with the greeting: “Good morning saints! Good morning sinners!” The first time I heard him do this, I was taken aback and didn’t respond to the saints greeting. But when he followed that by greeting us as sinners, I understood what he was doing. We are both…all of us. It is human nature to file people away into categories, but we simply cannot be reduced to one or the other. The centurion in the story this morning is an interesting guy. His slave is ill. We could talk a lot about the evils of slavery, but I’ll save that for another time. What is curious is the way the story introduces this man. First, the centurion sends some Jewish elders to Jesus to vouch for him. He wants Jesus to heal this slave and he isn’t sure he has the clout to do so. Fortunately, the elders are big fans and explain that he is worthy. That is interesting language to use. The proof that they offer is that he loves the people and that he built a synagogue for them. Jesus seems easily convinced and starts toward the man’s home. I’m wondering if the man panicked at the thought of having Jesus come to his home because he quickly sends his friends to say that he is not worthy to have Jesus come into his house.

Which is it? Is he worthy or not worthy? The answer of course, is yes. He is both. How many of us remember the prayer of humble access? 
“We do not presume to come to this thy Table, O merciful Lord, trusting in our own righteousness, but in thy manifold and great mercies. We are not worthy so much as to gather up the crumbs under thy Table. But thou art the same Lord, whose property is always to have mercy.” (1928 Book of Common Prayer)

I grew up saying those same words in the United Methodist Church. Many of us were taught that humility was key to following Jesus. If we grew up in the south, we may have gotten a false sense of what humility is. I spent my first twenty-five years in the south and I grew to understand a southern phenomenon of something that resembles humility but isn’t actually humility. My aunt made quilts for many of our extended family members. They were beautiful! When we complimented her on it, she would be very self-deprecating and talk about how it really wasn’t much or it was full of flaws. She knew that her work was beautiful and she knew that she had invested too many hours to count in these precious gifts that she gave so freely, but she also knew that she wasn’t supposed to take credit for anything or be proud of her work; so she would act like it wasn’t worth much. She was well trained by the culture to be something that looks like humble and maybe smells like humble, but it isn’t actually humble.

Humility isn’t something many of us aspire to in our culture. In an era that emphasizes good self esteem, we don’t want to spend energy thinking less of ourselves. But that isn’t humility. Humility is not minimizing who we are. It is acknowledging who we are…all of it. True humility is an honest understanding of ourselves. It is standing in the balance between saint and sinner as we look in the mirror.

So, true humility invites us to believe the truth about ourselves, no matter how beautiful it is! (Macrina Wiederkehr) There is another truth to this centurion. He is a good man who loves the people and cares for them in concrete and generous ways. He is a man of power and he uses his power to bring goodness into others’ lives.

When we think of power, we often think of situations where it has been abused. We see key players in big corporations stealing and lying to feed their inflated egos. They too, have no real sense of who they are, but are living a lie that tells them it’s ok to take advantage of people.

We tend to think of those who live without resources and struggle to survive as humble or we think of those who are in positions of prominence as powerful. Separating these two as if they are opposites doesn’t tell the truth of either one. Power is defined as the ability to act or do something. That’s pretty generic. Power is not something that belongs to some and not others. We all have power to share God’s love with one another. That has nothing to do with our position in society.

It seems to me that the invitation in this text is to take an honest look at ourselves and embrace all of who we are. There is great freedom that comes in knowing who we are and who we are not.

I finally watched the movie Lincoln. I’m struck by the depth of his humility and his commitment to using his power to abolish slavery through the 13th Amendment. He knew it was the right thing to do. He gave everything he had to do the right thing. He never lost sight of who he was and his simple beginnings. It was a long, arduous process. It required tapping into the fullness of who he was and it cost him his life. His sacrifice set God’s beloved children free.

It’s interesting that while the church has often paid little attention to humility and its own power, the business world perked up and recognized the marriage of these two. Jim Collins’ bestselling book Good to Great describes the difference between good leaders and great leaders. Great leaders are classified as level 5. Collins says, “Level 5 leaders are a study in duality: modest and willful, humble and fearless. To quickly grasp this concept, think of United States President Abraham Lincoln (one of the few Level 5 presidents in United States history), who never let his ego get in the way of his primary ambition for the larger cause of an enduring great nation.” (p. 22)

None of us are here because of our own perfection and accomplishments. We all stand on the shoulders of many others. As a woman, I would not stand here if others hadn’t gone before and taken risks or spoken out on my behalf. We all have the opportunity to offer ourselves for the wholeness of others. In order to do that, we must be the people God created us to be. When we recognize and claim our power; we can humbly be channels of God’s healing in ways we can’t even conceive. It has happened over and over throughout history. It is desperately needed today.

Who are those living in bondage today? Perhaps they are living next door to us. What can we do to help release one another? It is interesting that in the story of Lazarus, Jesus arrives when Lazarus has been dead for four days and calls him forth from the tomb. It is Jesus who calls him back to life, but he calls the community to “unbind him and and let him go.” (John 11:44 NRSV) The centurion is a man of great power. His slave is ill. The centurion cannot heal him. He requires the community to intercede. None of us are solo enterprises. We do this together.

It seems that the church has too often sidestepped humility and been less than cognizant of its power. Throughout history, the church has used its power for transformation and for destruction. The church has funded schools and hospitals. It has started a multitude of nonprofits and ministries that serve the greater community. St. Michael’s is helping people into housing through the ABQ Heading Home project. We are using our power for good every time we create a safe space for someone to share their story, when we feed those who come to the food pantry, and through the day school. Through the centuries, the church has abused its power and caused great devastation through the inquisition, the Salem witch trials, justifying slavery, and more recently the sex abuse scandals. Many people have been wounded or rejected by the church and the church has often justified that saying they are acting on God’s behalf. Power can be a source of healing or hurt – in ways that are both small and widespread. We are called to be aware of the power that we hold and to use it in ways that enable healing.

The church has huge potential to be a vessel of God’s healing for the world, but too often, it misses the call to boldly step out as a channel of hope. I know how easy it is to get caught up in the everyday stuff and miss the larger opportunity to transform the world. I’m not saying we should ignore the everyday details…sometimes those simple moments are the place where we are most aware of God. I just know my tendency to get stuck in my calendar rather than looking up at the bigger picture. Perhaps you know what I mean. I see that in committees when we are so eager to check things off our agenda, that we may miss some greater sign of God in our midst. From time to time, I will stop a meeting and ask people to simply listen to what is happening. Perhaps this can be a form of corporate humility…taking stock of who we are in any given moment. Perhaps God is waiting for the pause to appear and show us the next step.

It seems that this interim time is pregnant with moments like that. We are not expected to know everything, but we are expected to be open so that we can follow the Spirit’s lead. Somehow this interim time is calling us to humility and asking us to rely on God in new ways. It is also asking us to claim our power to be God’s people now. We aren’t passively waiting for a priest in charge or a new rector to arrive so that we can start being St. Michael’s. We are living into it each day and I am excited to see where the Spirit is taking us.