Let Us Be Prophets Again!

Advent II + Malachi 3:1-4, Canticle 16, Philippians 1:3-11, Luke 3:1-6

Saint David of Wales Episcopal Church, Elkhart, Indiana

Rev. Joshua Nelson

“Prepare the way of the Lord, make his paths straight. Every valley shall be filled, and every mountain and hill shall be made low, and the crooked shall be made straight, and the rough ways made smooth, and all flesh shall see the salvation of God.”

The Wilderness of Temptation - The Judaean Desert

Photo by: Joshua Nelson, May 2016

Why are the prophets always in the wilderness? Luke has given us this quote from Isaiah, connecting that prophecy and us with John the Baptist, who is a literal voice in the wilderness. But what is so radical about that? 

It’s what prophets have always done. What’s so strange about this particular prophecy? It’s a little difficult to get across in Northern Indiana, where we do not have many hills or valleys. Not too many crooked places, and absolutely no mountains. I’ve heard it said, “well, we’ve got sand dunes.” Those don’t count. The one comment most of my friends from Tennessee make when they visit here is, “golly its flat.”

But as someone who has lived in Tennessee and whose family hales from mid-Appalachia and the coal hills of Kentucky and West Virginia, I can tell you that the mountains mean security. My great-grandfather's still was not just out the kitchen door, no, it was hidden up in the hills where the revenues would be hard pressed to find it, where sometimes my uncles weren't able to find it. When my great-grandmother was in trouble with the law she went and hid out in the mountains. All those crooked hollers and caves and crags are terrific places for hiding what we don’t want to be exposed to the light. There are secrets in those hills, and unlike Tolkien’s fantastical Ent’s, these trees will not divulge what they know.

The ancient Israelites where people of the hills. It was the Philistines and Hittites who lived in the valley along the coast. It was the Egyptians who rode their chariots through the valley of Megiddo. Horses pulling wagons do not fare well in the hills of ancient Palestine. So the ancestors of Jesus and John, all lived up in the mountains. They were hillbillies, you might say. I find that comforting. From up there, it was safer, where you could see the enemy coming, where you could hide. Even Nazareth itself was a few dwellings among the caves on the hillside. No fine walls or patios. Just some steps and door hinges carved into the cave. Jesus grew up in a cave. Yes, Jesus was a caveman. Get your mind around that. It was cheaper, it was cooler, it was safer. 

So what then when the valleys are filled in, and the hills are brought low? What happens when the crooked ditches are made straight and the rough patches made plain? We are made vulnerable. Everything comes into the light. All that was hidden is exposed. Those who dwell in darkness are forced to see the brightness of the sun. 

This is why the prophets go to the wilderness; to show this physically. This is why Isaiah and Elijah wonder around through the wilderness, tracing the crooked watercourses in the Negev desert, and the hills of Galilee, from Mount Carmel to Mount Zion, they go to shout out what it is they see. What those in power have tried to keep hidden and what those who dwell there have tried to ignore. 

What is it that they say out in the wilderness? ‘Why are the poor still hungry? Why are the widows indebted beyond help? Why are there homeless among you? Why do you go to war when God has provided everything you need? Why is profit for some more important than financial stability for all? Why?  Now, this may sound like I pulled it from the headlines yesterday, but I didn’t. This is the prophets. This is Isaiah, this is Elijah, this is Jeremiah. This is the prophets and the prophets’ heirs. The true prophets stand on their soapbox, not to through blame, but to point out what they see. When everything is made level and the salvation of God is made clear, all this we have chosen to leave hidden, to look away from, to ignore, can no longer be kept in the shadows, can no longer be ignored. It can be seen by all. Our sins are exposed to the light and must be dealt with. This is why prophet Malachi ask’s “ who can endure the day of the lords coming?” With all our shame, the poor, the homeless, the hungry, the needy, the lonely, and the despairing.’ It is known great shame to be poor. But for those that have, to not take care of them, that is shameful, that is sin. A few of us serve at Susannah’s Kitchen the first Friday of every month. It is a soup kitchen that serves lunch to the homeless (unsheltered) and the working poor, every day of the week, Monday through Friday. Last Friday, I got a slightly different perspective. I sat in the kitchen and opened up hot dog buns as the others served and I got to really see the faces of everyone who went through the line. I can tell you, there were a lot of faces on Friday that I didn’t recognize. There have always been a lot of people there, but there were a lot of new faces. What does this say about us? All we have not cared for is right before our eyes. When this is exposed in the light of God, who would dare to stand.

Firstly, this is why Advent is also a penitential season. A little Lent. Another wilderness. Our sins are exposed and we are called to repent, to prepare ourselves for the day of God’s coming. As I said last week, God comes to bring judgment, to make justice, to set what is wrong a-right. But remember, that is part of our job too. Expose our own ignorance and compliance as it is, and work to make all things as they should be. If you wonder what it should be, read your Bible. 

If you have been coming to my Sunday School Class, you would have heard some of this before, but I promise, a second booster won’t hurt. The repentance that John proclaims comes with baptism for the forgiveness of sins. A few weeks ago our class explored the history and theology of Baptism. For that class, I pulled from Rowan Williams’ little book “Being Christian.” In it, he points out how dangerous our baptism and the vows we make in it really are, if we are willing to live up to those standards. Williams’ suggest that baptism calls us all to be prophets in the wilderness. This is what he says. 

“One of the very uncomfortable roles we have to play in the Church is to be prophets to one another - that is, to remind one another what we are here for. By that I don’t mean that every Christian needs to go around nagging every other Christian (attractive as that might be to some kinds of people). I mean rather that we need to be, in a variety of ways, ready to show one another what the integrity of Christian life is about. It is much more a case of nudging one another from time to time and saying ‘What do you see?’; ‘What’s your vision?’; [What has God placed in your line of sight];‘What are you making yourself accountable to?’ And to go on gently holding one another accountable before God doesn’t mean nagging or censoriousness. It means something much more like a quiet, persistent re--calling of one another to what is most important. [This is what prophet’s do]. We do it silently every time we meet for worship. We do it, ideally, when we meet together privately. We do it in all sorts of ways. The Church needs always to hear that critical voice saying, ‘Back to the beginning, back to where it all comes from. [and I would add, back to when God was seen by all.] Let’s try and listen again to what God first said to us.’ So, as prophets we lead one another back to the essentials: back to baptism, {study of scripture}, Holy Communion, and prayer.” 

(Being Christian: p. 13-14). 

When we get back to these essentials, we can't help but to live as Christ out in the world. When we get back to these essentials, you can’t just walk passed somebody on the street. You sit in the kitchen and you are keenly aware of all the new faces coming through the line at the Soup Kitchen. And your heart burns with a desire to do something about it. 

When we do that, the church will be able once again to rise as one. After all, it is in baptism that we are all made one.  To go out into wildernesses of our communities and to be prophets again. The age of the prophets is not over. We are called to proclaim the Good News and work for peace, and freedom and justice, truth, and love.

After all, that’s what Jesus did. That’s what Jesus does when we let him. Sometimes we just get in the way.  I don’t know about you, but I rather repent and deal with the little bit of discomfort, than to dwell in darkness and the ignorance. Instead of sitting back, I’d rather go with Jesus, and be prophets in the world again.To close I’d like to draw your attention to the last hymn we will sing today. It number 65 in the blue hymnal if you’d like to follow along. It is said that we as Episcopalians go to scripture for the story, but to our hymns for what we believe. But how often do we not actually pay attention to the words we are singing, especially those in the middle. That’s where I’d like to draw your attention today. After the hill and valley are made level and we greet the one foretold, what does he bring with him? “He brings God’s rule, O Zion; he comes from heaven above,” and here it is, “His rule is peace and freedom, and justice, truth, and love.” I’m sorry if this sounds a bit pointed today, but it was very fresh on Friday morning.“His rule is peace and freedom, and justice, truth, and love.” 

Continue in the way of Love. Go into the wilderness proclaim the way peace. Be prophets one to another, and be God’s voice for all those who are ignored. Be the light of hope for all those who are hidden in the darkness. That is your charge. That is your homework.      

Amen. 

Why does she have so little to give?

Sermon for Year B, Proper 27
11 November 2018
St David of Wales Episcopal Church, Elkhart, Indiana
Rev'd Joshua Nelson

A few years back there was a commercial for a British consulting firm which made the rounds on YouTube and Facebook. It begins with an old man sitting on a piece of cardboard, hallowed steps and marbled colonnade rising up behind him. Before him is a public square with shops and bistros. Crowds pass by, hurrying to their next appointment, staring down at the phones, laughing with friends, and enjoying the latest latte from Starbucks. Next to him is an empty aluminum can, and a cardboard sign someone has made for him. It reads “I’m blind, please help.”

The crowds continue to pass him by, almost unaware that he even exists, some simply choose to ignore him, its much easier that woman. A few people begin tossing some spare change on the ground. He reaches out to the sound the coins make as they hit the pavement,  searching for the pennies left behind. Soon the camera draws our attention to a sleekly dressed woman in a black coat and shades. She initially walks past the man like all the others. But she stops, takes a few steps back and looks at his sign. We see her pick up the piece of cardboard. She flips it over, pulls a marker from her coat, and begins to write something, though we can’t read it. As she writes the blind man reaches out and feels her shoes. She sets the new sign down,  nothing is said and walks away.

In the next scene, dozens are stopping in their tracks, dropping coins for the man to collect. The sound of them hitting the ground is almost like the bells of heaven. He nearly fills up his canister when the woman returns. She stands before him as she did earlier, and the blind man feels her shoes. Recognizing this to be the same woman, he exclaims, “what did you do to my sign?” She bends down, placing a hand on his shoulder. “I’ve wrote the same,” she says, “but in different words.” As she walks away the different words are revealed. “It’s a beautiful day, and I can’t see it.” It’s all about perspective.

In the lectionary reading for today (Mark 12:38-44), Jesus has finished winning the countless arguments with the Lawyers and Pharisees and he finds a place to sit in the Temple grounds. As the Gospel puts it, “he sat down opposite the treasury and watched.” Now as an introvert, I almost love nothing more than finding a serene spot in a park or square, and people-watching for hours. No talking --- just watching. But Jesus isn’t merely watching to entertain himself, he focuses his attention on those who are putting money in the coffers.

He then forces our perspective and points to who he sees. Just as two weeks ago with blind Bartimaeus, Jesus sees a woman who often invisible to everyone around her. A woman who is invisible to the wealthy folk of Jerusalem  tossing their spare change into the tall jars that held the offerings; invisible to the crowds who had just listened to Jesus’ teachings, delighted when he eviscerated the Lawers and Leaders turning their questions back on themselves like any good Rabbi; even invisible to his own disciples who have wandered off. Jesus has to call them back and say,  “Look! Do you see what I see?” It’s no accident that Jesus sees the widow and makes her visible to those who would rather ignore her. All throughout the Torah, there are references to widows. In many of those verses, we find God either commanding the people to care for widows, or chastising them for failing to enact justice and compassion on their behalf. Women who have lost their husbands hold a special place in God’s Kingdom it seems.

Though at the time windowing does not automatically sentence a woman to impoverishment, under the societal systems of shame and economics, the absence of a husband would certainly make her more vulnerable to those who would take advantage.

Earlier in Mark’s chapter, Jesus warns the crowds against rapacious scribes (or lawyers) who “like to walk around in long robes (that means expensive)  and to be greeted with respect in the marketplace  (because they can buy many things)  and to have the best seats in the synagogues  and places of honor at banquets (because human society equates money and privilege with power and wisdom).  These same earn their way while they “devour widows’ houses.” Jesus is drawing attention to a reality, not only true of the biblical times but also our own. A person without privilege could be forced into debt more easily by the powerful who play the legal and economic system to their advantage. It is the same thing, in different words. So now that you understand the poor widow’s social context, let us change our perspective, and open this up a little more.

As Christian’s, we have traditionally been taught that the widow in the story is an outstanding model of sacrificial giving. But the bulk of Jesus focuses in not on her offering. He doesn’t charge us all to follow her example of giving. He doesn’t take the opportunity to lecture to us, to preach a sermon on the importance of supporting operating budgets or the virtues of tithing. Nowhere does he say that because she gave all she had to ministry, she would be blessed with prosperity. I’m looking at you Earnest Angley and Creflo Dollar Rather, Jesus notices her. Jesus sees her. Not the particular amount of money she puts in, but Jesus sees her.  And he comments on her continued participation in a society that has turned its gaze and chosen to ignore her plight.

It is important here, I think, to remind ourselves that God’s watchful eye is never only on the widowed. As I have said before, and drawn to your attention with our Unity Garden, in most of the biblical text about how we are to treat the “less fortunate” three categories of people are usually mentioned together: the widow, the orphan, and the stranger (these are the resident aliens, the migrants, the refugees). I will share some of these and you will see that God is not messing around.

Exodus 22:21-24 - “You shall not wrong or oppress a resident alien, for you were aliens in the land of Egypt. You shall not abuse any widow or orphan. If you do abuse them, when they cry out to me, I will surely heed their cry; my wrath will burn, and I will kill you with the sword, and your wives shall become widows and your children orphans.”

Leviticus 19:9-10 - “When you reap the harvest of your land, you shall not reap to the very edges of your field, or gather the gleanings of your harvest. You shall not strip your vineyard bare, or gather the fallen grapes of your vineyard; you shall leave them for the poor and the alien: I am the Lord your God.”

Leviticus 19:34 - “The alien who resides with you shall be to you as the citizen among you; you shall love the alien as yourself, for you were aliens in the land of Egypt: I am the Lord your God.”

Deuteronomy 27:19 - “‘Cursed be anyone who deprives the alien, the orphan, and the widow of justice.’ All the people shall say, ‘Amen!’”

What do we see when we change our perspective? I see a special place in God’s line of sight for people who have fallen through the cracks of society, for those whose economic and political power is slim to none; whose cries have fallen on deaf ears; and whose plight is not seen by open eyes! It is not always easy or comfortable to see as God sees. When we really open our eyes to the suffering of others, we are forced to come face-to-face with our own complicity in the systems that maintain our comfort while keeping the “widow, orphan, and alien” in their place, out of sight and out of mind. This is nothing new folks. It’s been going on for a couple thousand years and the prophets keep calling us back.

However difficult it may be, we cannot ignore when Jesus invites us to sit with him, simply sit for a moment and watch. Watch who participates in the life of our churches, our cities, our schools, our politics and our economics. We are forced to look into the dark corners of our world, there we find those in need of food, clothing, shelter, decent wages, sometimes just an advocate, a support system, and a friend. Someone to say, “I’m here with you, I see you, I love you.” We are forced to see the people who stand on street corners, those whose voices for one reason or another are silenced so they must speak to us through messages on cardboard signs.

The question is not, ‘why did she give all she had?’

The question is, ‘why does she have so little to give?’

St. Basil the Great, one of the Cappadocian fathers, once said, “The bread you do not use is the bread of the hungry. The garment hanging in your wardrobe that you do not wear is the garment of the person who is naked. The shoes you do not shod your feet are the shoes of the one who is barefoot. The money you keep locked away is the money of the poor. The acts of charity you do not perform are the injustices you commit.”

The month of November is a time that our society gives thanks. We as a church are called to gratitude. I will explain it more during announcements but after Mass, I invite all of us to take strips of colored paper, and write what we are thankful for them. Now rhetorically, what if you wrote those same things in different words? As we move from this season of mindful stewardship and thanksgiving into the season of Advent, I would also invite you to join me in creating a reverse Advent calendar at home. Not one of receiving, but one of giving. For each of the twenty-four days leading up to Christmas, look over the things that you have or the things that you do, in great gratitude for your ability to receive these, see the widow, the orphan, and the stranger. Be mindful of those without change your perspective and give up on the item or practice a day. At the end of those weeks gather up the collection and give it away.

Open your eyes and help those who can not see the beauty in the world to catch a glimpse of what it can look like. Go and talk with those who are hidden in plain view. Ask them about their lives. Find ways to partner with others in our community to create hope out of despair and turn their mourning into resurrected life. Demonstrate that God’s way is not the way of ignorance and oppression, it never is, but the way of wisdom and justice. Show the world the love of God which wells up from within you, can spill out. There is enough for them too. We do this by opening the eyes of others. By pointing and saying “do you see what I see?”

Two days before his arrest and crucifixion, a time when he could have drawn inward and pondered his fate, Jesus sat in the Temple and watched. He invited those he loved to sit and watch with him,  to acknowledge the one who was otherwise lost in the crowd. We have the great opportunity to go and do likewise. Go and watch, go and see, and show someone else.

AMEN.

Thanks to Sermons that Work 

and the Rev'd Christie M. Dalton 

for some of the quotes and inspiration for this sermon.

Thorns in Flesh, Broken Feet and the Enneagram

8 July 2018         Year B Proper IX
Sermon preached at St David's Episcopal Church - Elkhart, Indiana
The Rev. Joshua D Nelson
2 Corinthians 12:2-10

The last few days I have been in Warsaw. There is a local couple who wished to be married, and while St. Anne’s is in transition, searching for a new priest, Bishop Doug asked if I would witness this marriage on behalf of himself and the whole church. In other words, when all the seasoned professionals are in Austin for Convention, send in the rookie. Well, Friday afternoon I conducted the rehearsal and was later invited back to the brides home to share pizza with her family. My attendance at the rehearsal dinner brought back a few memories.

Four years ago,  I took an extended weekend off work at the High School to go back to Ohio for my sister's wedding. I was a groomsman, a reader, and the special music. Although it was a stressful week, we made it through the rehearsal mostly unscarred. Then came the rehearsal dinner. We drove across Columbus, Ohio to the Spaghetti Warehouse. When we arrived, I was asked to carry in the gifts for the wedding party. Upon entering the vestibule we found that our large table was not quite ready. It had been a long day and I needed to use the restroom while waiting. So I passed off the parcels and made my way in that direction. Down the hallway, with the door to the head in sight, I slipped . . . . REALLY SLIPPED. My left foot passed behind my right, my whole body came down on it, and to top it all of . . .  the heavy marble side table I tried to use as a brace came toppling down after me.

A few moments of panic and a late night in the ER showed that I had a fracture in at least one of my metatarsal. I made it through the wedding with a wheelchair and Vicodin and my journey into weakness began.

I was expecting a few days rest and then possibly some time in a boot but nevertheless returning to my job the next week. What a foolish illusion that was. A few days later my parents took me to see an orthopedic surgeon. He returned to the exam room with a copy of my x-ray and a grave look on his face. This was no small fracture. I had what is known as a Lisfranc fracture. oooo french, sounds fancy. It was named after one of Napoleon's soldiers who suffered it after being thrown from a horse his body leaving the mount but his foot remaining in the stirrup.  My left foot, was basically broken in half. They had to wait a few weeks for the swelling to subside but it was going to require surgery
and months of recovery. Now back in South Bend, I had the type of job that required me to stand most of the day and I had a third-floor apartment with no elevator. Needless-to-say, I was done teaching for the year and the weekend my sister finally moved out of the house I moved back in after nearly a decade on my own into a makeshift bedroom in the parlor of my parents home. I’d found the thorn in my flesh (it looks like ten screws in my foot). I had been humbled in more ways than one.

Pot-Op x-ray of my left foot with ten screws to correct it after the break.

Now for a moment, to understand just how difficult this was I ‘d like to talk about the Enneagram. Enneagram is a personality test system that tests its practitioners on various levels assigning them one of nine numbers as well as wings, or shadow sides which are indicators as to how your personality reacts under stress or stimuli.

I am an ONE on the Enneagram scale. This is the reformer and the perfectionist. This person enjoys being in control because they have spent their lives seeing the big picture and get frustrated when the pieces do not fit as the ONE thinks they should. Some practitioners of Enneagram have done various analyses to determine which biblical character would best fit at each point of the scale. I am a ONE,
my biblical doppelganger is the Apostle Paul.

Paul was blinded by God, thrown into weakness at the beginning of his ministry so that he might be shown the big picture. When his sight returned and he humbled himself before God and Ananias, his mission changed and he changed the world. Read his letters candidly and with this in mind. He is not always the greatest theologian as some would like to crown him, At times he probably thinks too highly of himself but is thrown into various circumstances given a thorn in his flesh to remember that all he is and has come from God. He has a temper. He gets things wrong, but deep in his spirit, he has an illumined vision of the way it ought to be. And when he writes to the various churches of Greece and Asia-Minor he is often yelling at them frustrated with them “HOW DO YOU NOT SEE IT?”
“WHY ARE YOU STILL BICKERING OVER THESE TRIFLES?” “LOVE GOD AND LOVE EACH OTHER IT AINT THAT DIFFICULT Y’ALL!”  (I’m paraphrasing)

When I broke my foot I was coming to the end of my discernment period for the priesthood. In fact two weeks later my father would push me around Sewanee as I made my official visit and interview for seminary. I was having a difficult time fully committing. I was afraid to leave my students. I was afraid to leave what I knew and loved.

God had to metaphorically throw me off my horse. Literally, bring me down to earth and stick me in bed for three months. Paul’s initial knockout moment only lasted three days but who am I to complain. I had to learn how to trust others, how to ask for help. I had to begin learning where my weaknesses lie. I had to humble myself before my parents and before God. I had to rely on others and spend a lot of time alone lying in bed seeking God and looking at the big picture.

I would go to seminary and continue learning these lessons catching rides with my brand new roommate when I foot hurt too much to drive. Trusting the physical therapist that what she was asking me to do was for my betterment. My strength of character my level of trust in God and other people is constantly being put into check and sometimes God still needs to “pull the rug out from under me.”

Paul and I both try to do and do and do to bring about all the pieces of the bigger picture but neither of us can do it alone. Paul had Luke and other companions like Timothy and Dorcas who took the mission where he could not go. Paul allowed others to carry some of the burden and trust that God would see him through. This is why the thorn is not taken away. This is why we turn to God. This is why we turn to each other.

Weakness forces us to learn what trust and faith really look like. Weakness forces us to listen to our bodies to listen to our minds, to listen to our spirits. Weakness forces us to take sabbath every once in a while to hand over the reigns so that we may rest and recover to shoulder each other's burdens. Weakness draws us back to earth so that in the midst of ethereal experience with the Divine we may remember that the foundation of the kingdom of God is built deep in the mud. Weakness forces us to accept changes even though they may hurt and frustrate us. Weakness brings us to the humble place to accept the things we can not change. Weakness gives us time to take a break to open our eyes to spend a moment with God and see the bigger picture.

And here is the lesson I want you to take away this morning. Holy weakness is not an unbearable obstacle. It does not hold us back forever. Holy weakness is a strength because in it we must allow God to gently lead us to show us who to walk with and to learn what true power in Jesus really means.