The Time for Love is Now!

Christmas Day 2016
St Phillip's Episcopal Church, Circleville, Ohio
Luke 2:1-20

Imagine for a moment that you are Mary,

Teen pregnancy

Unmarried

Far from home, Far from your mother

Tossed around on the back of a donkey for the last few days traveling cross country

Nine months pregnant, very uncomfortable, beginning labor

The contractions get worse as the night goes on.

You finally get to town and there is no room, anywhere.

It must have been a full moon.

Now imagine you are Joseph.

First time Dad (not usually the calmest people in the room)

The girl you are going to marry is pregnant,

You know the child is not yours

But you plan to care for it as your own because you love Mary.

You get to town after a very long journey on foot 

And all you want to do is sit down, but no one has a room.

To top it all off, Maryis in labor and you have no idea what to do.

Imagine the anxiety - imagine the fear - imagine the hopelessness.

Suddenly a stranger come to you and says, "I've got a cave available, it's where we keep the animals."

You both grew up around animals, but a cave converted stable on the outskirts of town is the last place one would want to bring a new human life into the world. But at this point you will take whatever you can get. 

Once again imagine that you are Mary.

After some more hours of pain and sweat, you find yourself surrounded by farm animals and yet you have never felt more alone. You only have a few bits of oil left in the lamps.  The light grows dim as the fear increases.

Now Joseph,

Standing outside the cave nervously looking up at the bright sky, a little brighter than normal tonight.

A woman from the town has kicked you out of the cave and all. You can do is wait, ringing your hands and gritting your teeth.

From town you can hear the crowds, with their full bellies and warm beds. Behind you in the cave you hear the sound of chickens cackling, sheep baaing, cows mooing, donkeys braying, and Mary crying out as the towns woman talks her through the labor,

Suddenly, the cacophony is cut through by a richer, louder, purer, holier sound . . . . The sound of a babies first cry.

Imagine that scene . . . 

Mary and Joseph, and the very newborn baby Jesus.

It's just a bit cleaned up in the Cresche scenes we place out t Christmas

There are smells and mess and chaos all around them, 

But in that moment . . . In the sweat and tears and muck . . . There is JOY!

there is a feeling of love like nothing they have ever felt before.

A calm descends amidst a the laughter and tears,

The fear is gone and for a brief moment their is only

Joy

Love

And Peace.

This is a story we know well, not because we hear it every year at Christmas, but because it is a truly human story.

Besides a few of the details we have all seen or experienced this story in some way.

This type of story could have happened somewhere just last night.

There are still unwed teen mothers, some of them find no one has room for them.

Somewhere in the world there very well may have been a baby born in a cave or a barn or the back of a taxi last night.

There are many parents and grandparents and aunts and uncles amount you who have at one point or another possibly been through a similar experience . . . Experiencing the same pain and fear and anxiety, but also knowing the joy that come from new life. 

Though it may not be because the birth of a baby, many of us know the feelings of fear in the night, of pain, of anxiety about the unknown.  Many of us may be feeling them right now. 

But just as the birth of a baby bring race and joy and love unknown into the cacophony of chaos for a brief shining moment . . . The birth that we celebrate today brings that peaches and joy and love and hope into our world every moment.  If we let it, it continues to break through the chaos even now. 

Today we celebrate the Nativity of the Christ.

Today we celebrate the birth of Joy.

                                The birth of Peace.

                                The birth of Hope.

                                 The birth of Love.

Today we celebrate the Incarnation

          The day when God emptied himself and took on flesh,

          The day when God became truly human, so that we might learn from him what it means to be truly human. 

           And in loving each other by his example 

           We learn to be like him

                          To love like him

                          To share the Good news like him

                          To BE the Good news like him

                          To become and live out

                          THE INCARNATION.

We do this everyday. We are the incarnation in perpetuity. We are the body (the carna, the corpus) of Christ.

Though sometimes we may be fragile, or frightened, lonely, or anxious, we like the baby born in the chaos of the cave are the bringers of joy through Christ. 

We are called to proclaim the good news of the Incarnation. 

We are called to spread the message of Peace.

We are called to share the love of God.

We are called to give hope to the hopeless,

Because, as the Body of Christ, we are part of the Incarnation.

God takes on flesh ----- in us.

A few years ago Madeleine L'Engle composed a poem which I believe sums this up well.

This is no time for a child to be born,

With the earth betrayed by war and hate,

And a nova lighting the sky to warn,

That times run out and the sun burns late.

That was no time for a child to be born

In a land in the crushing grip of Rome

Honor and truth were trampled by scorn

Yet here did the Savior make his home.

When is the time for love to be born?

The Inn is full on planet earth,

And by greed and pride the sky is torn ---

Yet love still takes the risk of birth.

When is the time for love to be born?

The time is now!

Bring it into the world give it flesh, make it incarnate!

Bring the Joy, Spread the message of Peace, Share the love of God, Give hope to the hopeless, proclaim the Good News!

Be the Incarnation!

Rejoice!

And Proclaim!

The time is now!

The time is now!

THE TIME IS NOW!

Let us pray . . . 

Almighty God, who took on flesh to be the good news in the chaos of our world; Grant that we, being members of the body of Christ, may have the strength to bear the good news and proclaim your love, joy, and peace, and by our witness offer to the world the eternal hope we have in your Word Incarnate, Jesus Christ; who with you and the Holy Spirit continues to live and reign now and forever more.

AMEN.

The Light that Banishes the Darkness

Advent 1A, 2016, Joshua Nelson
St Luke’s Episcopal Church, Cleveland, Tennessee
Romans 13:(10)11-14


May the incarnate Word, the Light of the World speak in our hearts today and everyday.


It’s finally Advent y’all! Whether we are ready or not.
This is the first day of the new church year. This is the day we begin looking toward the coming day of the Lord, both in the remembrance of the Nativity of the Christ, known as Christmas, but also in preparing ourselves for his eminent return.


Part of looking ahead always includes a little of reflecting on the past. As I reflect on this past year there are many good things to remember. The opportunity to visit the Holy Land was certainly a highlight. But one of the greatest delights of this last year has been to serve through active ministry in this community, A time of learning and growth, full of love and joy, as well as humility and reoriented perspective.


The past year has also brought with it many dark nights. We have borne the loss of some we love who have gone ahead of us, many whom we remembered just three weeks ago on All Saints. We seem more divided than ever as a nation and a world. The mountains are burning, and we have even witnessed the extinguishing of six tiny lights in the death of multiple school aged children in Chattanooga just in this last week.


The world can seem very dark right now, and the apocalyptic readings the last few weeks may only raised anxiety.

But in reflecting on the scripture for today, I brought to mind a poem I read a few months ago while doing preparation for a class.


The poem by Robert Francis, seems to express what many of us may be feeling in these darker days.

Three darks come down together,

Three darks close in around me:

Day dark, year dark, dark weather.

They whisper and conspire,

They search me and they sound me

Hugging my private fire.

Day done, year done, storm blowing,

Three darknesses impound me

With dark of white snow snowing.

Three darks gang up to end me,

To browbeat and dumbfound me.

Three future lights defend me.

Three future lights defend me.

Since the Feast of the Nativity of John the Baptist in late June, the days have begun to physically grow darker as the nights grow longer.


We are now entering the time of year with the most dark, and cold. Just as the words of Robert Francis offer. . . the dark can seem to surround us; to browbeat and dumbfound us. And if we are not careful, it can become overwhelming. When we allow ourselves to be overwhelmed by the dark,
we become cynical, we become depressed, we become frightened, and we become angry.


Giving in to these feelings are what work to extinguish our “private fire.” Over Thanksgiving I was relaxing by watching some Star Wars, and I have never heard this point put more succinctly than by a young-ish Master Yoda in Star Wars Episode 1: A Phantom Menace. In the film, The young Anakin Skywalker is brought before the Jedi council to test whether or not he is suited to begin training as a Jedi Knight. Some on the council recognize the darkness within the boy, and they ask if he is asked if he is afraid.
To this questioning, Master Yoda responds,

“Fear is the path to the dark side.

Fear leads to anger,

Anger leads to hate, 

Hate leads to suffering.”

It is through this path from fear, both corporal and individual, that suffering enters our world, and it seems that all you need do is walk outside to see its prevalence among us.


So where is our hope?


Our hope is in the light; in clinging to the private fire, in being defended by the “three future lights,” The Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit --- Who was, and is, and is to come. It is with light that we banish the darkness. We are made acutely aware of this fact during the season of Advent as today we have lighted one candle of the Advent Wreath.  Each week we will light a new candle.  As the darkness of the day grows deeper, the flickering lights grow brighter and brighter, banishing the darkness.


Last Friday I had gone to the movies with my mother and sister. On the return trip to my parents house the surrounding became very dark, very dark indeed. This is flat, Ohio, farm country. There are no street lights, and the lighted houses are few and far between. It was also late, the evening after Thanksgiving so not many people were traveling on these back roads. I became very aware of the depth of the night.


But on the horizon I saw a glimmer. There was a bright light, breaking the darkness. As we drove closer the source of the light became very clear.


One of the local farmers had placed a symbol on one of his silos.
A star. . . a very large, very clear, and very bright . . . Star!
On clear nights we can look up and see trillions of these stars, these tiny lights piercing the darkness, but at this time of year we are drawn to a particular star. We follow the path of a particular light, do we not?

That star gave light to announce the birth and show the path to the Light of the World.


The Light of the World has given us a new path; a way of light. That way is . . . Love!


To play with the words of master Yoda a bit, one might put it this way:

Love is the path to the light side.

Love leads to compassion,

Compassion leads us to share the light,

Sharing the light leads to life. 

In the segment of the letter to the Romans which we heard this morning, the author tells his readers to “Wake Up!” Put away the things of the night and put on the armor of light, step into the day . . . the new day.


I was running over this phrase “Put on the armor of light” and thinking about the defense of the three future lights in the poem what all armor actually entails.


There is something to be said about putting on armor.


Yes, it protects us, deflecting the munition of the enemy and keeps us safe.
But wearing armor does something else. It gives us IDENTITY. It identifies the knight, the warrior, the bravest, the noblest, and the most powerful on the field of battle.


Inside that armor may be a shivering, cowering, coward, but the chain, and the metal, and the glint of shield and sword, have presented a new identity.


When we put on the armor of light we are taking on a new identity. That identity is one of a child of the light of the World. We are taking on the identity of a follower of Jesus. We must live into that identity.


The field onto which we must willingly walk is very dark. It is full of fear, and anger, and hate, and suffering. But through the love of Christ that burns within us, we carry within us the antidote to all that, the healing balm to burn away the suffering.


A few weeks ago, Koinonia offered an evening of prayer and the music of the Taize community. One of those pieces which we offered, I think best sums up the love we carry when we put on the Armor of Light. The English lyrics are as follows:  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=J8BmvxqJH0g

Within our darkest night

You kindle a fire that never dies away

Never dies away

Within our darkest night

You kindle a fire that never dies away

Never dies away.

In the coming weeks of Advent as our anticipation grows. as our anxiety grows. and as the darkness grows, may we be ever mindful to put away the things of darkness; to put on the armor of light, to show the love of God that he may kindle a bright, blazing, starlight fire within us that will never die away. AMEN

Water

Water - it fascinates us, terrifies us, soothes us, feeds us, heals us, teaches us, carries us, and cleanses us.  We have no way to escape water. A whopping 71% of the earths surface is covered by water, although we seem to do our best to shrink that number. The cycle of water trickling up to the surface or falling from the heavens is always active somewhere on earth. Rain, snow, ice, steam, and springs are constant reminders of the waters around us. There is also water within us, with an average of 65% of the human body being composed of water.

Water holds significance in nearly every time, place, and peoples. The ancient Egyptians lived their life around the river. The calendar was set by the Nile's two floods each year. Their entire economy and survival depended on the rivers provision for the fertile land and transport of goods and people. The Nile was and is the source of life.

 Floor tiling map of the Nile - Zippori, Israel

The world was conquered by one civilization after another based on their proximity to water, their mastery of its life giving properties through irrigation of its courses, the collecting and successful retention of water in desert lands, the navigation of rivers and the conquering of the seas, the stabilization and redirection of its mighty power through mills and dams and turbines to harness its potential, and the violent restriction of water to ones enemy.  A communities vitality or destruction all through out history can be connected to its relationship with water. The new frontier to other planets and comets and stars is obsessed with the search for water.  Without water there is no life. 

Even mythological and historical biblical texts center on themes of water more than any other natural element.

OLD TESTAMENT REFERENCES

In the beginning when God created the heavens and the earth, the earth was a formless void and darkness covered the face of the deep, while a wind from God swept over the face of the waters. Genesis 1:1-2

Then Moses stretched out his hand over the sea. The Lord drove the sea back by a strong east wind all night, and turned the sea into dry land; and the waters were divided. The Israelite's went into the sea on dry ground, the waters forming a wall for them on their right and on their left. 

Exodus 14:21-23

But his servants approached and said to him, "Father, if the prophet had commanded you to do something difficult, would you not have done it? How much more, when all he said to you was, 'Wash, and be clean'?" So he went down and immersed himself seven times in the Jordan, according to the word of the man of God; his flesh was restored like the flesh of a young boy, and he was clean.

2 Kings 5:13-14

For my people have committed two evils: they have forsaken me, the fountain of living water, and dug out cisterns for themselves, cracked cisterns that can hold no water.

Jeremiah 2:13

God is our refuge and strength, *
    a very present help in trouble.

Therefore we will not fear, though the earth be moved, *
    and though the mountains be toppled into the
                             depths of the sea;

Though its waters rage and foam, *
    and though the mountains tremble at its tumult.

The LORD of hosts is with us; *
    the God of Jacob is our stronghold.

There is a river whose streams make glad the city of God, *
    the holy habitation of the Most High.

God is in the midst of her;
she shall not be overthrown; *
    God shall help her at the break of day.
Psalm 46:1-6

The Gihon Spring which runs beneath the city of Jerusalem

But let justice roll down like waters, and righteousness like an ever-flowing stream.

Amos 5:24

NEW TESTAMENT REFERENCES

And when he got into the boat, his disciples followed him. A windstorm arose on the sea, so great that boat was being swamped by the waves; but he was asleep. And they went and woke him up, saying, "Lord, save us! We are perishing!" And he said to them, "Why are you afraid, you of little faith?" Then he got up and rebuked the winds and the sea; and there was a dead calm. They were amazed, saying, "What sort of man is this, that even the winds and the sea obey him?"

Matthew 8:23-27

The shore of the Sea of Galilee from Capernaum

A Samaritan woman came to draw water, and Jesus said to her, "Give me a drink." (His disciples had gone to the city to buy food.) The Samaritan woman said to him, "How is it that you, a Jew, ask a drink of me, a woman of Samaria?" (Jews do not share things in common with Samaritans." Jesus answered her, "If you knew the gift of God, and who it is that is saying to you, 'Give me a drink,' you would have asked him, and he would have given you living water." The woman said to him, "Sir, you have no bucket, and the well is deep. Where do you get that living water? Are you greater than our ancestor Jacob, who gave us the well, and with his sons and his flocks drank from it?" Jesus said to her "Everyone who drinks of this water will be thirsty again, but those who drink of the water that I will give them will never be thirsty. The water that I will give will become in them a spring of water gushing up to eternal life." 

John 4:7-14

On the last day of the feast, the great day, Jesus stood up and cried out, "if anyone thirsts, let him come to me and drink. Whoever believes in me, as the Scripture has said, 'Out of his heart will flow rivers of living water.'"

John 7:37-38

Then the angel showed me the river of the water of life, bright as crystal, flowing from the throne of God and of the Lamb through the middle of the street of the city; also, on either side of the river, the tree of life with its twelve kinds of fruit, yielding its fruit each month. The leaves of the tree were for the healing of the nations.

Revelation 22:1-2

Today I have been catching up on some reading for classes and all of my readings today had to do with baptism in some way.  Baptism is the full Christian rite of initiation into the community of faith, into the body of Christ and into his royal priesthood. The waters of baptism represent for us the chaos beyond created order.  It represents the passing of time, of death and rebirth.  It is both the waters of birth such as amniotic fluid, and death, in the encapsulation of the grave.  It is simultaneously washing away the old life, and anointing us in newness of life.

The traditional site of the baptism of Jesus by John in the River Jordan

All this conversation about water and baptism, its properties, its symbol, its tangible, visible, and aural power, has me thinking about three major events concerning the lack of water which I have witnessed this year. 1- Water restrictions of Palestinians by the Israeli government, 2- The poisoned waters offered for public consumption in Flint, Michigan, and 3- the protests and crisis at the Standing Rock Sioux Reservation in North Dakota.

 

Today, the contested lands of Israel and Palestine seemed to always be in the news. Last May I had the opportunity to travel and study for two weeks in the land of the Holy One. My journey through lands internationally accepted as within the borders of the Nation of Israel and those within Palestinian territory. Though it is not much for conversations in the United States, the modern state is fully implementing a system of apartheid on Palestinian inhabitants (Muslim, Christian, and Other). One of the most visible signs of this injustice, besides the great "border" wall, is the evidence on the roofs of citizens. In areas of jewish settlement the contrast is beyond obvious.  Israeli homes have pitched, tiled roofs and are built in a very western style. Palestinian homes are flat roofed and always hold large black tanks.  These tanks are present to gather and retain water. Palestinians, even those living within the established borders are treated as second class citizens, unable to travel freely, unable to drive on Israeli roads, subject to sudden and unprovoked searches, and a lack of water. These peoples are only given access to public water a few days a week, while the rest of the time they must collect and preserve water for use.  As I said earlier, there is no more sure way to maintain an upper hand on ones enemy than to control their access to water.

In the United States, the plight of the people of Flint, Michigan and other US cities as been brought to the national spotlight. The waters are poisoned either through over fracking or lax laws and corrupt governments who only perpetuate the disease of systematic poverty by ignoring one of the most vital aspects of life on earth. 

And most recently, the Native peoples of the America's who were deposed and deported, lied to, massacred, and forgotten, have not forgotten their connection to the land from which we are all given life. As the corrupt corporations push us into a cycle of dependence on fossil fuels and we yet ignore the signs of permanent damage we are doing to creation, these people are standing up and saying enough.  They are standing with the river, protecting the waters. The waters are sacred.  The waters are the source of life. 

Baptismal font and pool in the Episcopal Cathedral of Saint George in East Jerusalem

We as Christians are a people of Baptism.  It is in our baptism that we are born, in which we are given our identity.  It is in those living waters that we are also made one with each other, all members incorporate of the body of Christ.  In the Episcopal Church we reaffirm the vows of our baptismal covenant every time we celebrate the initiation of a new member of our body.  If we are wise will will wake up every morning,  as Bishop Dean J. Neil Alexander has put it "trying to survive our baptism," and living out our covenant in everything that we do. In that covenant we make certain promises to recognize God in all creation, to love and serve one another, and to proclaim the Good News. All this we promise to do, with God's help. 

If we forget about the water, if we allow ourselves to dry up and wonder in the wilderness grumbling, then we have failed in our vows. We are born of the water. We are washed in the waves. We have even come through some storms. If the water of life swells within us, gushing from our hearts, don't you think it should pour out on all creation. Anthropologically we have spent our history attempting to conquer, master, and direct the seas, and have only succeeded in hording, poisoning, and losing the stream.  Go and speak with the sound of the roaring waves which crash within you. Pour out the gushing spring, allow the spirit of God to drown you and those around you.

Soothe! Quench! Heal! Teach! Carry! and Cleanse! And perhaps as God has said through the Prophet Amos, we shall see justice roll down like waters, and righteousness like an ever-flowing stream.

Always Look Up

From a sermon preached at St. Luke's Episcopal Church in Cleveland, Tennessee on 31 July 2016.
Biblical texts used:
Colossians 3:1-11
Luke 12:13-21

I have an iPhone!
This little device I keep in my pocket has everything on it, my calendar, my notes, the news.  I even access the Book of Common Prayer and the Bible on this little thing.  This is how I keep in touch with friends and relatives, through texting and phone calls, but mostly through Facebook.

I spend much of my time looking down at the tiny screen just so I can feel connected to the rest of the world. I use this little device to listen to music and watch clips that make me smile (who can pass up a laughing baby or a cat video).  I also read comments and news stories, and watch reports that make me fume with frustration and weep with grief when I see the painful stones we throw at each other.

The language is appalling that someone can throw at a stranger because they are made uncomfortable by what they see or hear or read or simply because they disagree.  Because of this little thing I hold in my hand we engage without consequence. We engage without engaging.  We think we are looking at others when in reality we are focused on the reflection of ourselves. We find ways to escape into our own worlds, sit back in our own comfort and ignore what is out there.

I have heard it said recently that "the world is just getting worse and worse."  I don't know if I can fully accept that statement.  As a student of history and a student of scripture I can find evidence of mankind's capability to do horrible things to one another since the time of Cain and Abel. Not much has changed in content, only the mechanisms we use to carry it out.  The difference lies in our constant connection to up-to-date information, which we always keep in front of our eyes.  The veil of ignorance is slowly being removed and we are coming face to face with the ugliness that has always been behind the screen.

When everything becomes overwhelming, and painful, and scary, we can very easily find ourselves sucked into the madness.  When we gaze on earthly things, with earthly eyes, we can only see in an earthly way.  When we keep our gaze downward, we put on blinders and make ourselves oblivious to what is right with us the whole time.

My grandmother is a fountain of wisdom that I continually return to for refreshment and replenishment. When I was in college and would get overwhelmed with life, I would call her in the middle of the night and ask her to pray for me over the phone. One night she offered me some free advice that I will never forget.  One simple little phrase that has stuck with me since that day, and has seen me through mountains of pain and distraction. It wasn't until this weekend that I realized she was telling me the same thing Paul is telling the Colossians and the same thing Jesus is telling the two brothers in the gospel.  That simple little phrase was this:

Always Look Up!

At first I didn't fully understand.  I though I was meant to hold my head high and pretend like nothing was wrong.  All that did was bring the focus back on me because it caused me to hide the truth deep inside.  It also doesn't me standing in the singing stand and smiling like nothing is wrong simply because you are gazing on heaven above. 

If there is anything that we have learned from Jesus, it is that the realm of man and the realm of God have become one in him.  Jesus suffered the same pains and tragedies that we face.  He suffered as we suffer, event o go so far as to suffer death on a cross.  He was tempted as we are tempted, and buried his face in his hands in agony in the Garden of Gethsemane as he prayed the cup of responsibility to be taken from him. But Jesus knew to always look up.

Paul was beaten nearly to death, cursed, burned, poisoned, and shipwrecked, and stoned. He could have hung his head and cursed God and cursed the world, be he knew to always look up.

You see, when I keep this in mind I am forced to lift my gaze, to raise my eyes.  In the process of lifting my eyes from my news feed or my despair, and moving them toward my Father in Heaven, something always causes me to take pause in the middle.  It is you.  In that space between heaven and earth I gaze into the faces of Brothers and Sisters.

As Jesus raised his gaze toward heaven, he was looking on those he loved.  Looking into the eyes of his children he was given the strength to keep his gaze forward, so to lead him to the cross and to give up his life for his friends.

As Paul lifted his eyes he was drawn to the death of Christ on the cross.  In that death he died to himself and was able to see the world from the vantage of Christ, to see the world with the love of Christ. 

When you take the position to always look up, God will affect your vision.  This is one of those great paradoxical positions.  We must look up and think on heavenly things, in order to look down and out and see what is truly important. We will then see what troubles and moves the heart of God, and allow our hearts to also be troubled and moved by those same things. 

In the parable in today's Gospel, Jesus gives us a picture of one whose gaze is down and whose thoughts are on himself.  The "rich fool" is focused on what he has.  If he had an iPhone, it would probably have bank statements and rolling grain totals.  After the harvest, the rich man realizes he has had a bumper crop.  There is so much produced that he doesn't have room to store what he has taken in, but he is still looking at earthly things with earthly eyes and seeing in an earthly way.  So he decides to tear down his old barns and build newer, bigger ones, still keeping all the product for his own wealth and being contented to sit back in the comfort of his own bounty.  That night he dies and does not get to enjoy anything he has attained or accumulated. 

If he would have taken a moment to lift his yes, to look to heaven for a change of vision, his gaze would also have paused on the way.  He would have seen his neighbors, his brothers and sisters.  He would have seen the peasants gleaning his field for whatever measly scrap might be left.  He would have seen the opportunity to gather together with his neighbors in need and share in love.  The kind of love God shares with all of us. 

In the 1940's, 50's and 60's, there was a Baptist theologian named Clarence Jordan.  After seeing the plight of the poor in Louisville, Kentucky during seminary, and being moved by the radical community life of the first followers of The Way in the book of Acts, Jordan moved to Americus, Georgia.  There, he and his wife and a few friends established Koinonia Farm.  The farm was a space free of racial and economic divide, and presented a social experiment where all the residents would live in true apostolic community, owning nothing as individuals, and always working for each other in the love of God.   The fame and infamy of the farm grew attracting the welcomed attention of Martin Luther King Jr. and Dorothy Day, as well as the unwelcome reactions of the KKK.

One day in 1965, Jordan had some visitors.  A very wealthy businessman and his wife drove all the way from Birmingham, Alabama to spend a few hours with Mr. Jordan and talk about the work he was doing in Americus.  When the man approached Jordan, he was told that he was too busy to talk at the moment, but he was more than welcome to stay for dinner and accompany him to the barns. Dinner came and went and they still had not broached the topics the gentleman wished to discuss, so Jordan convinced him and his wife to stay the night and join them for worship the next day. 

After the twenty-four hour trip, the man had learned to look up. In doing so he had to take pause as he looked upon the real kingdom of God all around him and he witnessed the love of God in action on a small farm in south Georgia.  The man returned to Alabama and liquidated most of his wealth.  He then started a foundation based on the ideas he learned from Clarence Jordan and moved his family to Americus. That man was Millard Fuller, and the foundation is known today as Habitat for Humanity.

Where the things of this world, greed, hatred, idolatry, covetousness, anger, only serve to tear us apart and we end up losing all we think we have gained, the love and charity of God brings us together.  When we look at each other through the eyes of God and gather together, God stands in the midst of us and shows us how just how to reveal His Kingdom on earth.  All we have to do is take the initiative and practice that simple phrase: Always Look Up!

Go! Build a Beautiful City!

My reflections on Godspell and keeping the Great Vigil of Easter

Tonight we gather.
We gather in the darkness and light the new fire. This is not a consuming fire, but a life giving spark, kindled in our hearths through the waters of our baptism.

Out of the ruins and rubble,
Out of the smoke,
Out of our night of struggle
Can we see a ray of hope?
One pale thin ray reaching for the day . . . 

Tonight we welcome.
We welcome those new to our community, and we welcome each other in reconciliation. A reconciliation among brothers, and sisters, and to our Father through our brother, Christ.

We may not reach the ending,
but we can start.
Slowly but surely mending,
brick by brick,
heart by heart.
Now, maybe now,
We start learning how.

Then we move to the table.
We move to the table, with all our bruising, and shame, and guilt. We let it go upon the altar, and share in the meal that binds us all as one.

When your trust is all but shattered.
When your faith is all but killed.
You can give up bitter and battered,
Or you can slowly start to build!

We are raised!
Finally raised from ashes, resurrected, and restored, we leave the tomb and enter the world. Now the work begins. Proclaim the Gospel! Share the Love, and build the city!

A Beautiful City.
Yes, we can. (Yes, we can)
We can build a beautiful city,
Not a city of angels,
But finally a city of man! *

* Lyrics - "A Beautiful City" from Godpell by Stephen Schwartz

Life at the Time of Death

Two weeks from today, Western Christians will observe the rituals and liturgies of the Good Friday service. A day of fasting, and mourning, and recalling the death on a cross of one innocent of guilt. I will join the cassock clad assembly as we process the heavy wooden beams to the tolling of the bells up the street and into the darkened nave of All Saints Chapel.  This year, in preparation of the events of Passiontide, I realize how different my approach has become.

Since this time last year, I have seen and experienced many things. During my time as a CPE chaplain, I spent many hours with people before they died, at the time of death and afterwards with the families. For the most part I had no words holy enough for me to even presume to utter in those moments, and I had to learn to trust in the sacredness of silence, and God's presence in the stillness beyond a whisper. Due to various circumstances, I also found myself on the receiving end, sitting in my grief while someone else held the sacred silence for me.

Even in my darkest moments I was always made aware of newness of life, in what ever form it be made manifest. On a rather taxing on-call, I was paged to guide a bereaved family through the transition of losing their mother. After a few tense hours, we gathered together in the room and surrounded their recently deceased love one. As I offered prayers I noticed the dawn was just breaking through the window. We had been weeping all through the night, but now the sun pierced over the horizon, a sign that life would renew. Another occasion presented itself on a Sunday morning. One weekend while I was feeling exceptionally broken I awoke and prepared to go to church.  As I was making ready, I felt the need to change my plans and attend a different church in town. When I arrived I discovered that there was to be a baptism this day. Baptism, when flesh meets water in representation of both tomb and womb, a symbol of new birth and resurrection.

Today my heart again breaks for those I know who suffer pain or bereavement. This afternoon I took some time to sit in the hammock.  I gazed upward at grey skies and baron trees, but as I followed the branches to the trunk and down to the earth I saw a beautiful thing.  Breaking through the muddy ground were strong green shoots of daffodils, not yet bloomed, but quietly waiting for that moment when life bursts forth in glorious color.

These thoughts remained with me through this evening. Before retiring I went to our Oratory and lit the candles. I opened my prayer book so that I might turn to Compline, but instead I happened upon the Ministration at the Time of Death. I have read this portion many times, but one particular prayer stood out and struck me in a new way.

A Commendation at the Time of Death

 

Depart, O Christian soul, out of this world;

In the Name of God the Father Almighty who created you;

In the Name of Jesus Christ who redeemed you;

In the Name of the Holy Spirit who sanctifies you.

May your rest be this day in peace,

    and your dwelling place in the Paradise of God. (BCP 464)

Death is only a part of life; a passing point from life to life.  This year as we recall the Passion of our Lord, let us look to resurrection, while being ever mindful of the death all around us.  For in this we have no fear, the darkness around only makes the color's burst more brightly and makes each sacred silent moment ever more precious. 

"Just In Case"

Sermon given at the Chapel of the Apostles, The School of Theology, Sewanee, Tennessee

Monday, February 15, 2016

Lectionary Text: Matthew 25:31–46

The Benedictines are known for practicing what has become known as “radical hospitality.”  

According to the Rule, when a stranger arrives at the door, they are to be welcomed in the name of Christ.  They are to be cared for until they depart and no compensation is to be required.

There is an old story of a man who crossed the desert alone. After days of travel, when his body was weak, his mouth parched, and his spirit broken, he happened upon an old monastery.

Exhausted, he knocked at the entrance. The dust which had coated his clothing, and hair, and filled his mouth and nostrils, billowed with each rap of his knuckles against the gate, stinging his eyes already scorched by the mid-day sun.The door opened. He lifted his gaze and there before him stood an elderly monk. His black robe faded in the sun, his brow furrowed with years of wisdom.

He said nothing, but took the poor man by the arm and lead him to a small table. At the well in the courtyard, he drew water. Some he placed before the man in a cup, the rest he used to wash his feet, and hands, and face, soothing his skin and cooling his palate. Without making a sound, the old monk left the courtyard and made his way down the corridor. When he returned, he held a clean cloak. With outstretched arms he gave it to the man. The stranger said thank you and began to ask a question, but the monk simply ignored him. Instead he continued his work in silence. He exited to another room in the abbey and a few moments later, he returned placing a bowl of hot soup and piece of bread before the man.

In stunned gratitude, the stranger sat in silence the steam from the bowl rose to fill his nostrils with with the stimulating scent of the simple soup. As the monk turned to leave the man alone with his meal, he turned to the stranger and said, “I welcome you as Christ, just in case.”

Then they also will answer,

“Lord, when was it that we saw you hungry or thirsty

or a stranger or naked

or sick or in prison,

and did not take care of you?”

Then he will answer them,

“Truly I tell you,

just as you did not do it to one of the least of these,

you did not do it to me.”

“Radical Hospitality” is only radical because, unfortunately its practice is not common at all.  In the story we hear in today’s Gospel, Jesus makes no demands on the “least of these,” neither does he say it will be someone we do not know. In fact, Jesus makes the character’s in his story extremely personal. “I was thirsty” he says. Often times the one in need could be someone we know very well, and may even change over time.

As we have been hearing, Lent is a time to slow down and make self examination. I want us to examine where these people are in our lives.

May God open our hearts and our eyes to see them wherever they may be. And when we see them, let us welcome them as Christ, just in case.

"They saw Him the way He was"

The Last Sunday after Epiphany, Year C
St Luke’s Episcopal Church, Cleveland, Tennessee

Transfiguration by Madeleine L’engle

Suddenly they saw him the way he was,
the way he really was all the time,
although they had never seen it before,
the glory which blinds the everyday eye
and so becomes invisible. This is how
He was, radiant, brilliant, carrying joy
like a flaming sun in his hands.
This is the way he was - is - from the beginning,
and we cannot bear it. So he manned himself,
came manifest to us; and there on the mountain
they saw him, really saw him, saw his light.
We all know that if we really see him we die.
But isn’t that what is required of us
Then, perhaps, we will see each other, too.

What a mountain top experience! These three apostles are seeing something they have never seen before. Something it is said, no one has seen, and lived. They are undoubtedly changed by their experience.

I know a little of mountain top experiences myself. I live in Sewanee, Tennessee.I spend most of my time, literally on a mountain top.That is where I am seeking God. I find spiritual nourishment in my walks
alone with God crossing the tripping brook that is running through the forest with me. Or taking my theology books out to the bluff to be distracted by the expanse of God’s work in nature while attempting to focus myself on the nourishment of mind through study. I even moved to the mountain
two years ago on the Feast of the Transfiguration and I have been undoubtedly changed in my tenure there.

I have loved my time on the mountain and it is important to return now and then for another taste of the Mountain Top Experience. But what I have discovered in that time is that I can not stay on the mountain.
Like Peter, I would love to remain in the moment, to build a tent, a marker,
So I could keep the feelling of those holy moments. But Jesus tells Peter, no. They must return to the valley and continue the work.

That is why I am here at Saint Luke’s. For seminarians , this period is called Field Education. A time to leave the mountain and go into the field
and continue the work. I, as all of us, will learn much, when we do the work God has called us to do, and we allow ourselves to be transformed in the light of transfiguration.

In 1958, the Trappist Monk, Thomas Merton was walking in downtown Louisville, Kentucky. While standing at the corner of Fourth and Walnut,
Merton himself saw the same light of transfiguration. In his own words of the experience, Merton says,“I was suddenly overwhelmed with the realization that I loved all those people, that they were mine and I theirs,
that we could not be alien to one another even though we were total strangers.”

The experience resulted in him reevaluating his vocation, and though he remained a monastic for the rest of his life he turned his focus to issues of social justice and sharing with the world the epiphany that all peoples are connected. He went on to write of the Louisville Revelation, “It was like waking from a dream of separateness, of spurious self-isolation in a special world,the world of renunciation and supposed holiness . . . I have the immense joy of being man, a member of a race in which God Himself became incarnate. As if the sorrows and stupidities of the human condition could overwhelm me, now I realized what we all are. And if only everybody could realize this! But it cannot be explained. There is no way of telling people that they are all walking around shining like the sun.”

We have seen Christ, as He is. Every week we are given a small glimpse of that flickering light through the celebration of the Eucharist. Daily, we must live as an image of Christ transfigured, full of joy in the light of the love of God radiating out into the midst of a dark and lonely world. Walking around, shining like the sun.

Though those mountain top experience fill us with life and vigor we often walk away with the feeling that we could do anything, life back in the valley though, is not easy. We sit in the shade, which can easily become the shadow of our own selfishness. We pass the homeless man on the street
and do everything in our power to convince ourselves he’s not there. Or we tell ourself, that’s someone else’s problem. Or we suppress the empathy welling up within us for the friend who seems to be having a rough time right now.So we don’t say anything, and hurry home. I know it’s true, because I am guilty of it myself.

But when we truly see Christ AS HE IS We have to die, we have to die to ourselves and allow the light of the transfigured Christ to drive away the shadows we chose to live in. It is not easy, but since we have seen Him, we can not help but be changed.

Archbishop Rowan Williams a few years back wrote a small book called “The Dwelling of the Light.” It is a series of reflections brought about by praying with Icons of Christ. The first one is this, of the Transfiguration.
In his reflection, he sits in the juxtaposition between this image of Christ on the mountain top and Christ crucified on the hill. We hear this in the Collect for today
Grant to us that we, beholding by faith the light of his countenance, may be strengthened to bear our cross, and be changed into his likeness from glory to glory
Williams calls it, “A huge hope, but also a huge dose of unwelcome reality: to be brought into such relation with Jesus that we live in his glory ought surely mean that we are kept safe, taken out of the world. But faith in Jesus appears to mean that we have to live in the world with all its risks, our lives open to the depths from which Jesus lives.”

That is why Madelein ends her poem the way she does.
We all know that if we really see him we die.
But isn’t that what is required of us
Then, perhaps, we will see each other, too.

We have seen Him, The “SELF” is blinded by the light so we die to ourselves daily. We now live as reflections of the light. We must leave the mountain, walk out of the church and into the field. The field of our places of work, our homes, our schools, our community, and share the light of the Christ we know. This is why we pray at the end of the Eucharist “. . .And now, Father, send us out to do the work you have given us to do. . .”

You have seen Him as He is, now go, and see each other too.

Wise Men in the Labyrinth

The Second Sunday after Christmas Year C

at St Phillip’s Episcopal Church, Circleville, OH, 1/3/16

In one of the little chapels at St Gregory’s Abbey they have a small metal labyrinth and a stylus to trace your path. During my time with the monks I would spend many hours of meditation

weaving the stylus around each twist and turn of the pattern. It wasn't until I got to seminary that I was able to actually walk the labyrinth and make this prayerful practice part of my spiritual life.

As I was preparing this sermon I began to see the similarities between the labyrinth and our lives, and the journey of the Magi.

The Magi, a word from which we get Magician,were most likely astronomers, astrologers, and other philosophical practitioners. We are not sure of how many there were only the varying number of gifts they brought: Gold, Frankincense, and Myrrh. We are not even certain of where they came from,

only that they saw a stellar phenomenon at its rising over the eastern horizon.

For some reason, they felt this sign to be something special. It was not uncommon to believe phenomenon in the heavens told of the birth of a great person or the coming of a great event. Even in our own local history we have the story of Tecumseh, whose very name tells his origin as being born under a shooting star. In any case, a group of Magi, sets out to seek the important child whose birth was foretold by this new occurrence in the heavens. They brought with them the traditional gifts of a King.

Other traditions suggest that these “Three Kings” as we know them may never have existed and are only metaphors for the three roles of Christ as God, priest, and King, or a symbol of Christ being born for all the world. But in the dirt of it, this story still touches us. This story continues to speak to us in many ways.

Back to my labyrinth for a moment. Labyrinths used for prayer are not just mazes. When I think of mazes I think of tall hedgerows or cornfields. No, these labyrinths are laid out - in a circle - flat before you. You can see your destination at the center, but you must follow the path wherever it leads.

Do you ever feel like you can see where God is pointing you, but keep messing up the details? Or you try to take the shortcut to the supposed destination? I sure have. It was more than a decade ago when I first felt a drawing toward life in ministry, always pursuing other ventures but continuing to have the small voice urging me toward the prior. On a few occasions I stepped into the light of the calling.

Since I could not see the whole picture I decided to fill in the pieces myself.

My first attempt was to reconcile ministry with my love for music. I declared to myself and others that I was going to devote my life to music ministry. As many of you know I have spent most of my life doing just that, in one form or another. I even spent two years of undergrad pursuing a degree in Church Music.Though that passion and practice is and has been very important, I have come to realize it is not the end goal. It is not the destination.

A few years ago, I decided I had completed the picture again. In the interim I had found my way to the Episcopal Church, and to this tiny parish on the Mound. Though I was still constructing most of it myself, I caught a glimpse more of the whole picture. I had accepted my calling to be something in the church and perhaps something to do with ordained ministry. There was only one problem, I loved teaching music, and I could not imagine leaving that vocation for another. I even went as far, as to sit in the library, a few steps from this spot, and discuss the possibility of becoming a vocational Deacon with Father Harris. He offered very sage advice, but in the end we came to the mutual conclusion that my place was not in the diaconate.

Another year or so passed and I was confirmed in the Episcopal Church, as the Bishop placed his hands on my head, I prayed for God to show me the path. Be careful what you pray for . . .

That night I dreamed myself celebrating the Mass. When I woke I knew what it meant, though I didn’t want to fully believe it myself.

Since that time I have studied, and prayed, and prepared. As the Magi from Jerusalem, I have even traveled South, not to Bethlehem, but to Sewanee, Tennessee, and to seminary.

It has been a long journey, but along the way I have made frequent stops, thinking I am at the end.

Thinking I have found God and his purpose right where I expected him. Not too unlike the Magi in today’s Gospel.

Matthew begins by telling us that Wise Men have come to Jerusalem seeking a new King

after seeing a new “star” which proclaimed his birth. Again, there are many traditions surrounding this story, but I believe that the wise men saw the sign,they saw the light, but not the whole picture.

They too filled in the picture themselves. This is why they stop in Jerusalem,not to pull over at the local 7/11 and ask directions, but because “where else should a king of the Jews be born, but in the capital city of Jerusalem?”

There have long been rumors and prophecies of a coming Messiah, which no doubt, through caravans, and exiles, have caught the ears of Jew and Gentile alike, to the farthest reaches of the earth. They have an idea of what is happening, or may even make themselves believe it. It takes the knowledge and wisdom of others to help these Magi on their journey. As we hear in the Gospel, the chief priests and scribes look to the texts to see one prophecy, that the Messiah is to be born in Bethlehem.

The journey is not over. The end was not where they expected it. In fact it is in the place least likely to be expected. They may be too late. After all, the context clues tell us that it could be upwards of two years since Jesus was born in a stable in Bethlehem. But they go anyway, to see what they seek.

Walking the labyrinth takes time, a LOT of time.You walk it slowly, keeping your eyes on the path.

You look not to the left or to the right but remain fixed on the forward placement of each step. At each twist and turn you take a moment to pause, spending a few seconds in prayer and silence listening for the breath of God before taking another step.

In the secular calendar we just celebrated the New Year with the rest of the world. We always have hope in the New Year, time to say goodbye to the regrets and struggles of the past and make plans for the future continuing to look for every bit of happiness in the cold.

I am sure the Magi had hopes of their own.They spent their time looking for light in the darkness:

the light of a new star in the heavens, the light of knowledge found in the prophets, the light of hope found in a Messiah, and eventually from the candle lighting a poor household in Bethlehem.

During the past year we had many reminders of how dark the world can be. In this new year let us remember the light which the Magi found. We too have that same light.

A final return to the labyrinth.You have come to the center, your goal. Once you reach that point you kneel feeling the earth between your fingers.You take a moment to worship God, to adore the creator

and to give him thanks. Just as the Magi of old brought their gifts and laid them before the Christ.

But the Magi did not stay in Bethlehem, nor can we stay in the centered moment. The labyrinth, just as all our journeys does not end. You make your way back out of the labyrinth and the Magi returned home from Bethlehem. But no one leaves the same as when they started.

At the entrance to the circle, we must now go on a new path. We have come to the end of one year

the end of twists and turns in our journey. Each New Year, each Sunday, each Morning, we find ourselves at a new center.Take a moment to thank God, to worship and adore him. Then begin to walk the path again, perhaps going by a different route, but keeping your eyes on the light you can see one step at a time.

Gods path has many twists and turns and unexpected stops. It may not be going where WE expect it,

and the light is not always as bright as we’d like, but we can not rush it or take a shortcut. All we can do is have patience with God and ourselves, and trust him to guide us.