Proper 28 C

Proper 28C
November 17, 2013

Have you ever seen the life-stressors chart?  It’s a chart that lists all those life events that result in increased stress in our lives, and includes things that you’d expect, like being arrested, trouble with your boss, or foreclosure.  Stressful, right?   But also on that list are good things that you wouldn’t think would be on the list like vacation, retirement, marriage.  These things are on the list because change is stressful.  Change is hard, even if it’s good change.

In two weeks, we enter Advent.  A time of new beginnings.  The new church year, the birth of an infant God.  The reading from Isaiah talks about creating a new heaven and a new earth, and that the old things will be forgotten.  This reading spells out the vision of a new, reborn, transformed world, where no one will die too early, not infants or not seniors.  Where people will not labor in vain. Where the wolf and the lamb shall feed together.

We hear this story today about things made new as we near Advent, and the connection between new things and the child God is apparent.  Christ makes all things renewed and restored.   This is a good change, God entering our life again.

But like all change, new things, even new restored things, change is hard.  
In my experience, there are two distinct ways new things are hard.  First, new things come out of chaos, out of hard places.  Some of the most beautiful wildflowers came up after the desolation caused by the Mt. St. Helen’s eruption.   And ancient oak groves were best maintained by burning the fast growing forest plants and trees that crowd the mighty oaks out of their air, water and sun.   Earthquakes create new mountains and new landscapes.  And on a human level, community tragedy can birth new commitment, compassion and forgiveness. Chaos and destruction happen, and new things spring forth.

The Gospel talks about this.  Jesus is telling the disciples that before the end times, there will be great chaos.  Wars and insurrections, nation rising against nation.  Famines and plagues.  Betrayal from family members. Pretty horrible chaos.  

The Thessalonians were sure that that the end was near, that cataclysmic end, not unlike the image portrayed in modern tv and popular book series.   Their world was in chaos, and because of the chaos, they knew the end was near.  Jesus said the end would come only after chaos, right?

Amidst the chaos, many of the faithful did,  what people often do in times like that.   They stopped in their tracks.  They stopped participating in the society and contributing to the work of the community.   Instead, they sat waiting, waiting and suffering, waiting for that moment when Christ returns.  Paul is asking the community to continue in community, contributing and participating.  Don’t be idle.  Don’t freeze like a deer in the headlights. Don’t sit and wait.  

This counsel is hard.  It’s hard to continue to forge ahead when the world is so chaotic and uncertain.  It is much easier to stop, and wait and see what will happen.  Or wait for the chaos to end.  Or to stick your head in the sand. If I don’t see trouble, trouble can’t see me.  

A problem with this perspective is that the end, as it’s talked about in these readings and in most of the readings between All Saints and Advent isn’t referring to a finish line, or a destination or a big cataclysmic melt down.  It isn’t as Webster’s first definition reads, “the point at which something no longer continues to happen or exist”.  Rather, the original language translation is closer to the third meaning in Websters, “an outcome worked towards”.  It’s more like the fulfillment or culmination.   More like we us the word “ends” as in “the ends justifies the means.”  In that context, ends is more like the a resolution.

We know that on this earth, we are Christ’s hands and feet and heart and actions. That creates problems with the Thessalonians’ idea of just waiting it out.   If the Thessalonians were just sitting around, who was loving, teaching, feeding, caring, sharing? Who was going to help bring about “thy kingdom come, on earth?” Paul urges the Thessalonians to forge ahead, even amidst chaos and their misguided idea that because there was chaos and turmoil, the world was going to just stop.
This is definitely not an easy proposition, to take a step when you don’t know what’s ahead at best, or when you know exactly what horrible things are ahead at worst.  And yet, that’s what Paul is urging them to do.  He concludes with the cheer,  ‘Do not be weary in doing what is right’.   Regardless of the turmoil, keep doing what’s right.

New and glorious things spring from chaos, and turmoil.  And we need to keep doing what is right in its midst.

The second hard thing about new things is highlighted in the Gospel reading.  New things often come at the cost of something old.  Jesus is telling the people that they will gain their soul.  And, it will come at the price of the destruction of the Temple, the temple that was the center of the Jews’ faith.  To tell them they were going to gain anything at the cost of their Temple would have been very stressful, and likely an unwelcome offer.

When we receive any new thing, even a glorious wonderful new thing, something  ends or ceases or is destroyed.  If you get a beautiful new gift, you’ve given up some storage space, a free shelf, or gotten rid of something you already had to make room.   If you have a new baby, you give up full restful nights of sleep.

Always something ceases, the space, the condition, your attitude.  You are not the same after having received or experienced something new, and  the world as it was, will never be again. True, the Temple, adorned with jewels, will come down.  But after that, something new will be born.

So here we sit.   At the end of the calendar year, on the edge of something new.  We’re on the verge of Christ making all things new, all over again.  And as I have experienced new things and change and as the Epistle and Gospel tell us today, new things come from chaos and result in something ceasing.  
I think that the change we’re staring down, the birth of Christ will be surrounded by those same challenges -  chaos before and the necessary destruction of something to make room for the change.

Advent is designed to be a time in the church year when we prepare for this new thing, the reentry of Christ into our world and our lives.  And given today’s readings, I think there are a couple of things that our Advent should do.

First, I think Advent is a time when I need to continue to do what is right, and not weary, amidst the chaos.   What IS the right action for me?  What should I do, or practice during Advent that would put me in a better place to fully experience the new thing that comes at Christmas?

Second, Advent gives me time to destroy my proverbial Temple.  What is it in my life that needs to go away or be taken down, in order to make room for God incarnate?  Has Christmas become too commercial, and I need to shed some long-held belief or practice that’s interfering with Christ’s arrival?

Advent is the time to make those changes because it’s our time to prepare.  To figure out what IS right, and continue doing right, And to dismantle or destroy the Temple that leaves no room for Christ.   The problem, as I see it, is that Advent is only 4 weeks long.  That’s not a lot of time to think through all of this chaos and destruction and imminent new things.  To set your course, and end up at Christmas prepared.   Instead of cramming that all into Advent, I’d propose that this is an excellent time to think about Christ coming into our lives again, and each of us laying out our individual Advent preparations.  We’ve got two weeks. And then we should be on the Advent Journey.

For me, the BEST part about a vacation is the planning.  I love thinking through the destination, the side trips, the transportation, and the accommodations.  That generally takes way longer, often months, than the final vacation, weeks.  
For the next two weeks, we have time to plan our trip.  We know where we’ll end up, at Christ’s entrance into this world all over again.  But what route should I take?  Is it important that I address the chaos, figuring out how to be unwearied, or to continue to do what’s right?  Maybe instead, I need to make plans to demolish the proverbial temple that’s in the way.

We have four short weeks in Advent to prepare for Christmas.   We can’t make the preparations or reserve our flights, until we plan our journey. Try to find a few quiet moments to plan your trip now.  As you know, it will be Christmas in no time.

All Saints C, November 1, 2013

All Saints
November 1, 2013



Today we celebrate All Saints’ Day, and the communion of saints. Through the stories of the saints, known and unknown, we get a vision of how things will be, of how things are in that heavenly place. The communion of saints is full of all of those people we’ve known and loved, and those we didn’t know but admired. Today, we pause in this world, to think about their lives and their stories. The part of their narrative that took place on Earth may have ended when they died. But their story didn’t end with death. It continues in the communion of saints. 

The collect tells us that God has knit the elect together in one communion and fellowship. One communion and fellowship. Imagine what that looks like, the communion of saints. Whether you’ve got the image of a classic icon with dozens of saints, or the more modern mural of the dancing saints from St. Gregory of Nyssa, or a less-distinct picture in your mind, it probably reflects harmony and unity. One communion. Holding together because the saints are knit together in the mystical body of Jesus Christ. 

The Gospel reading provides a vision of the way things will be in the age to come. Jesus is telling his disciples about the Kingdom of God, about who is blessed now because of what will happen in their future. As he often does, he portrays a new world order, where he sets the world right side up. He also provides a comforting vision for those who don’t feel blessed. And as happened with many of Jesus teachings, the key to being blessed wasn’t what people were expecting. At all. Blessings and better times will come if you’re poor. If you’re hungry. If you weep. If people hate you. 

Those aren’t good feelings or situations. I’ve felt all of those things at one point or another. And at that time, I didn’t feel particularly blessed. But there is some comfort in the midst of that kind of anguish, from this promise from Jesus of blessings and better times. Hunger will be filled, weeping will be turned in to laughter. Things will be made right. Maybe not in the way I think, or on my timeline, but on God’s. “Your reward will be great in heaven”. Jesus doesn’t stop with the blessings.

This story in Luke continues with parallel woes. Woe to you if you’re full, happy, wealthy. Those traits in the woe-to-you litany? They’re things that we all strive to achieve. Happiness, wealth, sufficient food, being well regarded. They’re things that I would think, and many in society would think reflect God’s blessings. But Jesus says fullness will turn to hunger, wealth to poverty, happiness to mourning. Taken the wrong way, this section could discourage us from ever striving for happiness, or being well regarded. I don’t think it’s is a warning against being happy, wealthy or full. Rather, I think it’s sort of like what All Saints teaches us about death. Death is not the end of the story. Death doesn’t define us. And there’s so much more to God’s kingdom that goes far beyond death. Likewise, wealth doesn’t define us. Being well regarded isn’t the end of the story. There is so much more to God’s kingdom than happiness or being well fed. If we act as if death is the ultimate ending, or that we have arrived at the final destination after achieving wealth or happiness, we’ve opted out of the rest of the glorious story, the part where we live in fellowship and communion with all of the elect, in the mystical body of Christ. 

And it’s more than just a future lost opportunity we miss. It’s here and now. The Prayer Book tells us that the communion of saints includes the whole family of God, the dead.. and the living. So everything we hear about the communion of saints? The vision Christ shares? That’s not just some point in the future. We’re part of the communion, and those words of Christ are for us too, here and now. Today, All Saints is about us. It is true that God will make all things right, future tense, as the Gospel tells us. In God’s kingdom, the playing field will be leveled. Those who hunger will be filled. Those who weep will laugh. The wrongs will be righted. 

But what about until then, until we come to that heavenly place? Are we supposed to simply wait because eventually we’ll be blessed if we’re hungry, sad and poor? Are we just supposed to wait for God, on God’s time, to make everything right at some distant point in the future? Since we are in the communion of saints, I don’t think that’s the plan for us now. I think here, we are the answer. We’re the ones who are to make things right, or at least righter. As Christ’s hands and feet and heart, we need to strive to make all things right here. We are how those bad things turn good here and now. How hunger is filled. Sadness turns to joy. If you have wealth, share it with someone who doesn’t. If you have happiness, share with someone who doesn’t. A quote that’s making its way through the internet applies, “Sometimes I want to ask God why God allows poverty, famine, and injustice in the world when he could do something about it. But I’m afraid he might ask me the same question”.

As a part of the communion of saints, with the vision portrayed by Jesus we know what we need to do now. We also don’t need to wait for the age to come for that sense of communion or unity. We need to do that here. But that’s not how we work. One of the challenging things about human nature that this passage highlights is that when we see a dichotomy or difference, we are too quick to pick sides, and judge. Some who hear today’s gospel will identify more with the poor and hungry and sad. Some will identify with the wealthy and well regarded. And while that’s ok, the problem I see is that once we do that – once we pick sides, we’re quick to jump into the role of adjudicator, and judge the other side. I am right. My position is right. You are not. Woe to you.

In the Eugene Springfield area more than anywhere else I’ve lived, it seems we are quick to take sides on any number of issues: hunger, poverty, homelessness, economic development, politics. Not only do we take sides, but we go right to “woe to you”. As a community, this place is full of a wide diverse, varied mix of perspectives, people and politics. And while that diversity is rich and fascinating, as a community, we are amazingly quick to judge and then dismiss the other guy, the perspective, the position that differs from ours. We do it as individuals. We do it as communities, and it even happens in and among our churches. We represent five distinct parishes in the Eugene Springfield area, with distinct and unique strengths, values and perspectives. It is far too easy for us to jump to Woe to you. 

But that’s not our call to make, and I think that’s one of the reason Jesus ends this story the way he does. As today’s Gospel story starts, Jesus is sharing the Blessed are you and woe to you, he’s talking in the future tense. “You will laugh. Your reward will be great”. I can imagine that he has a prophetic far-off look, as he’s talking about how things will be. Sharing this vision of the future. Then he realizes he’s among humans on earth, and after a little head shaking, realizes he needs to make this real for the people then, and for us now. He returns to the present tense, with advice that will help counter this natural tendency of ours to pick sides and judge. He lays down the blessings and woes, and then turns to the people gathered and clarifies that we are to love our enemies, and do good to those who curse us. So regardless of what the other guy, the other political party or the other position is doing or saying, we are to love, do good and pray. Present tense. Ours is not to judge. Ours is not to utter or even think, “woe to you”. Samuel Johnson, an 18th Century English writer said “God himself doesn't propose to judge man until the end of his days. So why should you and I?” 

About 10 years ago, we were foster parents. The 5 year old little girl with us was sad, because she’d learned that her father had died. She didn’t really know him. What she also didn’t really know was that he’d been killed some years before, in a drug deal gone bad, soon after having gotten out of prison. It was October, and we had an upcoming All Saints Service. My mom had recently died, and I really took comfort in the message and music of All Saints. Death is not the end of the story. So I explained to her, in my best 5 year old theology, about the Communion of Saints. We looked through the texts of some of the standard hymns, those we sing tonight. She was intrigued with the idea that she could be a saint, and her dad could too. I invited her to join me. We went. She sat there listening more intently than I would have imagined. 

On the way home in the car, I was busy thinking about what was for dinner, and she was still quiet. Finally she spoke. “I like that your mom and my dad are saints now. You know what I think they’re doing?” She asked. “I think they’re sitting together and talking and smiling. They’ve both happy that I’m living with you, because I’m safe.” 

What makes All Saints so spectacular is that we believe in one communion of saints, of a time when the divisions and judgments cease, where the hungry are filled, when all the saints are knit together as one communion before God. We can imagine that in the age to come. But we are in the communion of saints. We need to live it now. As the hymn we sing tonight says, “We feebly struggle, they in glory shine. Yet all are one in thee, for all are thine. Alleluia. Alleluia.”

Amen.

All Saints,  November 1, 2013

Today we celebrate All Saints’ Day, and the communion of saints.    Through the stories of the saints, known and unknown, we get a vision of how things will be, of how things are in that heavenly place.   The communion of saints is full of all of those people we’ve known and loved, and those we didn’t know but admired.  Today, we pause in this world, to think about their lives and their stories.  The part of their narrative that took place on Earth may have ended when they died.  But their story didn’t end with death.  It continues in the communion of saints. 

The collect tells us that God has knit the elect together in one communion and fellowship.  One communion and fellowship.  Imagine what that looks like, the communion of saints.   Whether you’ve got the image of a classic icon with dozens of saints, or the more modern mural of the dancing saints from St. Gregory of Nyssa, or a less-distinct picture in your mind, it probably reflects harmony and unity.  One communion.   Holding together because the saints are knit together in the mystical body of Jesus Christ.  

The Gospel reading provides a vision of the way things will be in the age to come.  Jesus is telling his disciples about the Kingdom of God, about who is blessed now because of what will happen in their future.  As he often does, he portrays a new world order, where he sets the world right side up.  He also provides a comforting vision for those who don’t feel blessed.   And as happened with many of Jesus teachings, the key to being blessed wasn’t what people were expecting.  At all.  

Blessings and better times will come if you’re poor. If you’re hungry. If you weep. If people hate you. Those aren’t good feelings or situations.    I’ve felt all of those things at one point or another.  And at that time, I didn’t feel particularly blessed.  But there is some comfort in the midst of that kind of anguish, from this promise from Jesus of blessings and better times.   Hunger will be filled, weeping will be turned in to laughter. Things will be made right. Maybe not in the way I think, or on my timeline, but on God’s.  “Your reward will be great in heaven”. 

Jesus doesn’t stop with the blessings. This story in Luke continues with parallel woes.  Woe to you if you’re full, happy, wealthy.  Those traits in the woe-to-you litany?  They’re things that we all strive to achieve.  Happiness, wealth, sufficient food, being well regarded.  They’re things that I would think, and many in society would think reflect God’s blessings.  But Jesus says fullness will turn to hunger, wealth to poverty, happiness to mourning.  Taken the wrong way, this section could discourage us from ever striving for happiness, or being well regarded.  I don’t think it’s is a warning against being happy, wealthy or full.  Rather, I think it’s sort of like what All Saints teaches us about death.  Death is not the end of the story.  Death doesn’t define us.   And there’s so much more to God’s kingdom that goes far beyond death.  Likewise, wealth doesn’t define us.   Being well regarded isn’t the end of the story.   There is so much more to God’s kingdom than happiness or being well fed.  If we act as if death is the ultimate ending, or that we have arrived at the final destination after achieving wealth or happiness, we’ve opted out of the rest of the glorious story, the part where we live in fellowship and communion with all of the elect, in the mystical body of Christ.    

And it’s more than just a future lost opportunity we miss.  It’s here and now.  The Prayer Book tells us that the communion of saints includes the whole family of God, the dead.. and the living.   So everything we hear about the communion of saints?  The vision Christ shares?  That’s not just some point in the future.  We’re part of the communion, and those words of Christ are for us too, here and now.  Today, All Saints is about us.    

It is true that God will make all things right, future tense, as the Gospel tells us.   In God’s kingdom, the playing field will be leveled.  Those who hunger will be filled.  Those who weep will laugh.  The wrongs will be righted.  

But what about until then, until we come to that heavenly place?   Are we supposed to simply wait because eventually we’ll be blessed if we’re hungry, sad and poor?  Are we just supposed to wait for God, on God’s time, to make everything right at some distant point in the future?  Since we are in the communion of saints, I don’t think that’s the plan for us now.  I think here, we are the answer.  We’re the ones who are to make things right, or at least righter.  As Christ’s hands and feet and heart, we need to strive to make all things right here.  We are how those bad things turn good here and now.  How hunger is filled.  Sadness turns to joy.  If you have wealth, share it with someone who doesn’t.  If you have happiness, share with someone who doesn’t.  A quote that’s making its way through the internet applies, “Sometimes I want to ask God why God allows poverty, famine, and injustice in the world when he could do something about it.      But I’m afraid he might ask me the same question”.   As a part of the communion of saints, with the vision portrayed by Jesus we know what we need to do now.   

We also don’t need to wait for the age to come for that sense of communion or unity.   We need to do that here.   But that’s not how we work.   One of the challenging things about human nature that this passage highlights is that when we see a dichotomy or difference, we are too quick to pick sides, and judge.  Some who hear today’s gospel will identify more with the poor and hungry and sad.  Some will identify with the wealthy and well regarded.  And while that’s ok, the problem I see is that once we do that – once we pick sides, we’re quick to jump into the role of adjudicator, and judge the other side.  I am right.  My position is right.  You are not.   Woe to you.   

In the Eugene Springfield area more than anywhere else I’ve lived, it seems we are quick to take sides on any number of issues:  hunger, poverty, homelessness, economic development, politics.  Not only do we take sides, but we go right to “woe to you”.   As a community, this place is full of a wide diverse, varied mix of perspectives, people and politics.  And while that diversity is rich and fascinating, as a community, we are amazingly quick to judge and then dismiss the other guy, the perspective, the position that differs from ours.  We do it as individuals.  We do it as communities, and it even happens in and among our churches. We represent five distinct parishes in the Eugene Springfield area, with distinct and unique strengths, values and perspectives.  It is far too easy for us to jump to   Woe to you. 

But that’s not our call to make, and I think that’s one of the reason Jesus ends this story the way he does.  As today’s Gospel story starts, Jesus is sharing the Blessed are you and woe to you, he’s talking in the future tense.  “You will laugh.  Your reward will be great”.  I can imagine that he has a prophetic far-off look, as he’s talking about how things will be.  Sharing this vision of the future.  Then he realizes he’s amongst humans on earth, and after a little head shaking, realizes he needs to make this real for the people then, and for us now.  He returns to the present tense, with advice that will help counter this natural tendency of ours to pick sides and judge.  He lays down the blessings and woes, and then turns to the people gathered and clarifies that we are to love our enemies, and do good to those who curse us.  So regardless of what the other guy, the other political party or the other position is doing or saying, we are to love, do good and pray.   Present tense.  Ours is not to judge.  Ours is not to utter or even think, “woe to you”.  Samuel Johnson, an 18th Century English writer said “God himself doesn't propose to judge man until the end of his days. So why should you and I?” 

About 10 years ago, we were foster parents.  The 5 year old little girl with us was sad, because she’d learned that her father had died.  She didn’t really know him, but I think was sad in principle.   What she also didn’t really know was that he’d been killed some years before, in a drug deal gone bad, soon after having gotten out of prison.  It was October, and we had an upcoming All Saints Service. My mom had recently died, and I really took comfort in the message and music of All Saints.  Death is not the end of the story.  So I explained to her, in my best 5 year old theology, about the Communion of Saints.  We looked through the texts of some of the standard hymns, those we sing tonight.  She was intrigued with the idea that she could be a saint, and her dad could too. I invited her to join me.  We went.  She sat there listening more intently than I would have imagined.   

On the way home in the car, I was busy thinking about what was for dinner, and she was still quiet.  Finally she spoke.   “I like that your mom and my dad are saints now.   You know what I think they’re doing?” She asked.  “I think they’re sitting together and talking and smiling.  They’ve both happy that I’m living with you, because I’m safe.” 

What makes All Saints so spectacular is that we believe in one communion of saints, of a time when the divisions and judgments cease, where the hungry are filled, when all the saints are knit together as one communion before God.    We can imagine that in the age to come.  

But we are in the communion of saints.   We need to live it now.  As the hymn we sing tonight says, “We feebly struggle, they in glory shine.  Yet all are one in thee, for all are thine. Alleluia.  Alleluia.”

Amen.