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.
Proper 25 C
October 27, 2013
Jesus told this parable to some who trusted in themselves that they were righteous and regarded others with contempt: "Two men went up to the temple to pray, one a Pharisee and the other a tax collector. The Pharisee, standing by himself, was praying thus, `God, I thank you that I am not like other people: thieves, rogues, adulterers, or even like this tax collector. I fast twice a week; I give a tenth of all my income.' But the tax collector, standing far off, would not even look up to heaven, but was beating his breast and saying, `God, be merciful to me, a sinner!' I tell you, this man went down to his home justified rather than the other; for all who exalt themselves will be humbled, but all who humble themselves will be exalted." Luke 18: 9-14
In today’s reading from Luke, a Pharisee and tax collector are praying in the temple. And after their prayers, one walks away justified, and the other does not. Given the social structures and cultural norms of the time, people would have thought that the Pharisee would be the one walking away justified. Pharisees after all, did what was “right”. On the other hand, tax collectors were horrid, culturally and practically much worse than today’s tax collectors. In that time, Jewish people thought it was wrong to pay taxes to a foreign occupying power like the Romans, and yet some Jews took the job of collecting that tax from their fellow Jews. Not only did tax collectors do the Roman’s dirty work, they also did it in a crooked nearly extorting way. They could require payment far in excess of what was actually owed the Romans and pocket the difference. The Romans didn’t care, as long as they got their due. Tax collectors of that time were more like the old crooked government workers from places like Chicago, who took illegal and immoral liberties with their people for the government designed to protect and govern. What tax collectors did was seen as a betrayal to the Jewish people, their culture and religious law.
People hearing the set up for this parable would have known that the Pharisee walks away justified. But again and again Jesus uses parables not so much tell us how the people how they should act, but to illustrate why their expectations and values were so very wrong. How does that happen, and what if anything does this parable say to us now?
The way Jesus tells the story gives us some clues. The Pharisee was offering a prayer of thanksgiving, sort of. True, he was thanking God. But embedded in the thanks was a good dose of judgment and condescension. Thank you God. Thank you that I’m not like those others - the thieves, rogues, adulterers. And certainly not like that tax collector. True, the Pharisee was grateful, but it was a gratitude steeped in one-upmanship.
In one simple prayer that sounds like a thanksgiving prayer, the Pharisee is setting himself above the others, who he deems below or worse off than him. Thank you God, that I’m not like them. I can imagine that the people hearing the parable were getting a little uncomfortable. He’s not talking about us, is he?
After making this sweeping and condemning judgment of the tax collector, the Pharisee makes his second error. He points to all the things he’s been doing that should make him right with God. He fasts and he tithes, giving 10% of his income. While these are good things, those actions alone do not make him right with God. And yet that’s what the Pharisee uses as his defense, as to why he’s better than the tax collector.
So Jesus again uses a parable to smash the status quo myths about who’s justified and who’s not and turns things right side up. It’s not the man who follows the rules, who has more social and cultural status. It’s the very person the Pharisee had judged as unworthy, the betraying, cheating, socially ostracized tax collector
Jesus tells the story and with his typical twists, we can all get to the unexpected conclusion that sounds so simple. Of course the tax collector, who expresses humility, and understands he’s a sinner is the one who’s justified. That’s simple. Of course the Pharisee who’s judgmental and believes he is good because of his actions is not justified. That’s simple. Ahh. Simple, but not easy. We can understand the words, but applying it to our world? Not easy.
But the place where I feel we can learn the most from today’s and probably any parable isn't so much from the simple truths Jesus illuminates. It’s the place where the story is not easy. The way we make it our story. Simple but not easy.
The not- easy part from today’s Gospel reading for me surrounds the Pharisees – who they were, what they stood for, and why they always seem to be in trouble with Jesus.
If you look at the Pharisees, there’s actually much to be respected. The term Pharisee stems from the Hebrew and Aramaic words for separatists. The Pharisees were separating themselves from the other religious and cultural groups at the time because they saw themselves as being true keepers of the Jewish Law unlike other groups. They held on dearly to their laws and traditions, and followed them even when the culture did not.
Unlike other Jewish sects at the time, Pharisees believed that Jews did not need to go to the Temple to experience God. God was not contained in the Temple. So they brought the Jewish law out in the world, in an effort to sanctify the world similar to acts done in the Temple, to make holy the whole of people’s lives.
Unlike other Jewish sects at the time, Pharisees believed in the resurrection of the dead.
And Pharisees were strong advocates for justice, taking care of others.
These don’t sound like horrible traits. In fact, they sound familiar, close to home. Think about our Anglican or Episcopal tradition. Anglicans started as separatists, separating ourselves from both the Roman Catholic Church and the Protestant movement, and while there were some pesky divorce and social issues in play, there was also a fundamental concern with those faiths. We absolutely were separatists.
We believe that the Holy is all around in the world, not just in Church. We believe in the resurrection of the dead. We hold fast to our liturgy, our traditions, and our history, even when the culture and other religious traditions scoff. And, as we commit in our baptismal covenant, we strive for justice and peace on the earth and we respect the dignity of every human being.
What’s fascinating - and disconcerting - to me is how similar this basic description of Pharisee is to my faith tradition. And yet, the Pharisees seem to be frequently criticized in the Gospels, or at least used as the model of what NOT to do. Hmm.
I do not believe that it was the mere fact that the Pharisee was a traditionalist, or a separatist, or a supporter of social justice, or a keeper of the law that doomed the Pharisee again and again. Nor do I think any of those things are inherently bad. After all, that’s a lot like us.
But I do think that because we’re characteristically a lot like the Pharisees, we have some of the same risks and pitfalls that got the Pharisees in all kinds of trouble in Jesus’ time.
Take our rites, rituals and liturgies. We do and say certain things at certain times. We kneel, we stand, we sit, we cross ourselves. We hold on to these actions as a symbol of our faith, and each action is rooted in history and has significant meaning, or at least should. Some people stand after the Sanctus while others kneel. This could be simply due to how you were raised. The Cathedral in Seattle offered a note in the bulletin that provided extra direction and explanation about that time in the service. It said that many people kneel, and that kneeling is a sign of contrition, so by kneeling, you’re showing some humility, sort of like the Tax Collector in today’s story. The bulletin went on to explain that others stand, to express their assurance in a risen Lord that has redeemed and restored us to wholeness. The bulletin left it to the discretion of the worshipper. Some people always knelt, some always stood. Some changed their position week by week, depending on their relationship with God at the time.
Being liturgical and ritualistic and doing certain things at certain times isn’t a problem. But we need to connect what we’re doing with why we’re doing it. We shouldn’t do things either because 1) we’ve always done it that way or worse 2) because we think it will make us right with God. Perform the rituals because they mean something to you. They are an outward and physical expression of your faith and relationship with God. If they are anything else, we risk becoming like the Pharisees. The rituals and traditions in our faith are deep, and meaningful and moving. Take time to think about what you’re doing, or read the rubrics in the prayer book, you know, the italic words preceding each section. Sometimes they just provide stage directions, but often they offer some insight as to why we do what we do. But whatever you do, please do not act out of a misguided sense that those actions make us right with God, or better than people who don’t.
The other, and I believe more dangerous pitfall for us is the one that resulted in the Pharisee’s ill-attempted prayer, being thankful that he was not like those other people. Some of the characteristics of our Episcopal faith put us at risk for the same fault. A 2007 report by the Pew Research Foundation showed the distribution of wealth among Americans by religious tradition. Of the sample of nearly 23,000 people, 19% of all Christians had incomes greater than $100,000. But nearly 35% of us Anglicans had incomes more than $100,000, more than any other Christian denomination. Simply put, we as a denomination are richer than other Christians.
Not only that, we’re better educated, with nearly 29% holding college degrees, nearly twice the number of college graduates of other Protestants or Roman Catholics.
Finally, we are less racially diverse. 92% of Episcopalians are Caucasian, compared with 66% Catholics, and 74% other protestant denominations.
Please do not misunderstand me. I am NOT suggesting any of these things are bad. I do not believe that Jesus inherently prefers or dislikes any one. No one by characteristic is more or less loved and cherished by God. The poor, the tax collector, the Pharisee, the rich. It’s what we do with God’s gifts that is judged by God.
Having said that, we are richer, whiter and better educated than all other Christians in the United States. And while none of those things make us bad, it makes us different. Like the Pharisees, it would be exceedingly easy, given our demographic place in society, to be thankful. Thankful that we aren’t like those other people.
Instead of reveling in our specialness, we need to thank God for who we are, and what we are and how we believe and the community we have. We need to take stock of the great resources we have to help bring about the Kingdom of God, where all people are cherished and loved.
So how can we use what we have and who we are? We at St. Thomas already have great outreach efforts. Through the great work of the Outreach Committee, we donate thousands of dollars each year. The community garden contributed over 20,000 pounds of produce in the month of September alone. The Community Counseling Center sees hundreds of people, and we’ve got dozens of volunteers throughout the community feeding people, working at thrift shops, mentoring youth. We rock. We need to keep doing that, and always strive to do more. Doing things in the community, being engaged with other people, seeking and serving Christ in all people helps reduce those barriers that we put up, that they put up, that society thinks exist.
If we don’t actively break those barriers through service and prayer, it’s easy to simply be grateful that we aren’t like them.
I’m not sure what else we can do, or what we can do better, but I’m sure there’s something. And more importantly, I’m certain you have ideas Talk with your brothers and sisters in Christ at coffee hour sometime. What are we doing that brings us closer to the others, the adulterers, rogues, tax collectors, homeless, hungry? What else can or should we at St. Thomas be doing? How should we be sharing our wealth?
When we share and serve we bridge the chasm between us and them. When we share a cup of coffee, buy a blanket, or mentor a child, we begin to see that we are sort of like them. The rogues, adulterers, mentally ill.
After all, in God’s eyes, we're exactly like them. God’s just waiting for us to figure that out.
Amen
