"BY ANOTHER ROAD"

"By Another Road"

First Sunday of Epiphany, January 6, 2019

LISTEN

I love to travel, even though I have a horrible sense of direction. I have always been fascinated by maps, and now, GPS.  One of the things that amazes me is that we can sometimes get to the same destination using a number of different paths. Few places fit this description more aptly than this very town of Glenside.  Without knowing exactly how, I have discovered that there are at least a half dozen different ways to get to St. Paul’s from our home in Northeast Philadelphia.  I learned this one night in October, just before Halloween. Some of you may have your own stories about that night.

It was late afternoon on a Thursday, Kids’ Choir night. My son Noah and I headed down Glenside Avenue toward the church cutting it close and as usual, not leaving ourselves adequate time for our commute. Just as we approached Easton Road, we encountered walls of people and the street turned into a parking lot.  Traffic was at a standstill.  Unbeknownst to me, the Food Truck Festival, originally scheduled for October 11,  was rained out, so it took place a week later.  Long story short, it took us another 40 minutes to go up and around on one of the side streets, all the way over to Limekiln and Mt. Carmel, circling back to St. Paul’s the long way.  We finally arrived about 15 minutes late for Noah’s rehearsal.  I met another mom in the hallway and no words were needed to comprehend the frustration on our faces.  She broke the tension, saying, “What on earth is up with that traffic? I uttered some very UN-Christian words on the road just now!”  Didn’t we all!

Since there was no other way, we took the long way home, too, by turning right instead of left onto Mt. Carmel.  But we still got there - eventually.  And we learned a thing or two.  Things we wouldn’t have learned if it hadn’t been for that Food Truck Festival. Who knew?  It was an “Aha! moment.”  The light turned on.

Revelation. That’s what the word “Epiphany” literally means.  “Revelation,” God with us, revealed to us.   It is the twelfth day of Christmas, traditionally the day three sages followed the star to Bethlehem to visit the Christ Child and present him with gifts of gold, frankincense and myrrh 

This is also the day that many get their homes blessed. You see it a little more in Germany or around Europe — Doorways of homes are marked in chalk:  C+M+B 2019.  Those are the names of the t
Magi — Caspar, Melchior, Balthazar — and the year 2019, with which a priest would enter the home, say a prayer to bless it, and write the initials of the kings along with the numerals of the current new year.

Epiphany happened to me as I was reading the Gospel lesson this week.  I read about those Magi, and as usual, was taken in by their grandeur.  I pictured jewel-toned robes, camels, precious stones, gold, and incense.  Great stuff.  But what more could I say about them?  I have more questions than answers. Were those their real names?  They don’t have names in the Bible.  So where did the names  come from? Who were they, exactly?  Astrologers?  Magi?  Did they really exist?  Were they really kings, or just sages?  

The Bible refers to them as “wise men from the East.” There is no proof that they were actually kings, as it is not stated in the scriptures as such.  It’s another reason why “We Three Kings” no longer appears in our latest hymnal.  It may not be biblical history, but is certainly filled with legend.

In Matthew’s account, we do know that Herod summoned these three sages (I will call them sages or Magi or wise men) and asked them to find this King of the Jews that, according to prophecy and the stars, was to have been born recently.

Herod knew that Bethlehem would be the place where this king would be born because ot was written in the Hebrew scriptures by the prophet Micah, which we read a few weeks back.  It turns out that when you search the Bible for the word “Bethlehem,” up pop almost countless references, most in the Old Testament. Based on this knowledge, and motivated by fear, Herod sends for these three Magi and learns of the exact time when the star had appeared.  You see, these wise men had been observing this star since its rising. Isaiah actually ties together our two other readings by saying, “And the Gentiles will come to your light, and Kings to the brightness of your rising.”   Having traveled through the prophecies of the Advent season, we have learned that things don’t always turn out according to HUMAN plan.  That is also the “Mystery of Christ” that the Apostle Paul talks about in his letter to the Ephesians — that Christ will come to ALL people and nations.  This is something nobody expected would happen.

“And having been warned in a dream no to return to Herod, they left for their own country by another road.”

“By another road.”  HERE is the verse that I would typically zone out on for most of my life.  That is, until I read it again and again — so much so, that this jumped out at me this time. I had my own Ephiphany-revelation as I pondered “by another road.”

The three wise men did not go home the same way they came. They were transformed by seeing the Christ Child. It says earlier in the reading that when they saw that the star had stopped, they were filled with JOY.  And they would never be the same again.  They knew they couldn’t go back to Herod.   King Herod sent the Magi out, motivated by fear and anger.  Filled with Joy upon seeing the Christ Child, they were transformed.  If they went back the same way, there would be trouble with Herod, and at the very least they would hit the same roadblocks again.  So they took another road. They were called back to their own country and never turned back to Herod.

We, too, face unexpected roadblocks in life.

What are some of the ways we can face them?  By trusting Jesus, who leads us through them.   By praying to be open to the ways of the Spirit, by following a new kind of light.  Yet they only seem like roadblocks until we look and listen to God’s revealing power, the “God WITH US” power demonstrated in the Epiphany.  

Throughout Advent and Christmas, we lit candles in the darkness.  It is always amazing to me how a single candle can completely change a darkened room, offering a special kind of light that reminds us of the sacred and gives us focus.  It is enclosed, protected.  When we have more than one candle, we generate light as a community and suddenly there is literally more warmth in the room, which those of you who were here at Christmas can attest to as we sang together “Silent Night.”  It was a very special moment.

Now that Christmas is winding down and the Light has come into the world, it shines even brighter. Instead of a candle, though, it’s now an “Aha!’ moment, when the light bulb suddenly turns on and we see a whole lot more than we thought there was.

Revelation can be a challenge. At times we see more than we want or expect  - a medical problem, a challenging relationship, a job loss.…  the list goes on. What do we do when forces beyond our control divert us from the path we thought we were meant to be on?

We may be called to take another direction, even at a moment’s notice. It requires faith to go down another road, but God gives it to us in abundance.  Taking that first step, that first turn in faith is often all we need.   In this imperfect world, we don’t need to wait for the stars to be perfectly aligned for this transformation.  Only a simple kernel of faith.

Listen to the words of a Christmas poem by Madeleine L’ Engle, entitled “First Coming -“

He did not wait till the world was ready, till men and nations were at peace.

He came when the Heavens were unsteady, and prisoners cried out for release.

He did not wait for the perfect time. 

He came when the need was deep and great.

He dined with sinners in all their grime, turned water into wine.

He did not wait till hearts were pure. 

In joy he came to a tarnished world of sin and doubt.

To a world like ours, of anguished shame he came, and his Light would not go out.

He came to a world which did not mesh, to heal its tangles, shield its scorn.

In the mystery of the Word made Flesh, the Maker of the stars was born.

We cannot wait till the world is sane to raise our songs with joyful voice,

for to share our grief, to touch our pain, 

He came with Love: Rejoice! Rejoice!

What comfort, what assurance there is in knowing that Jesus is our guiding Star on that road.  He is our hope.  We are never alone, even though we may often feel that way. Look up. God is here.  Follow that Star!  For THIS particular Star is different. Unlike a typical star that generates its own light, this Star reflects the light of the Son — the Son of God.  He is here for us, for you and for me. AMEN.

THE BETHLEHEM CONNECTION

"The Bethlehem Connection"

Advent 4, December 23, 2018

LISTEN

I would like for all of us to just take a moment to stop. And breathe.  Not so much because of the obvious stress surrounding this season, or the fact that it’s Christmas Eve tomorrow, but just to first take a breath, think about where that breath is coming from and Whose it ultimately is in the first place.  Breathe in the space around you, take in what is new - those things you did not see, hear or feel last week. Take it all in.  Then breathe out, breathe out your concerns, your prayers, your anxiety.  Breathe out joy as well.
When we breathe, it’s not just the air that changes. We are not only renewed and refreshed, but by the grace of God, we sustain our very lives. We remember the Source of this breath. Our very breaths right here, right now, are directly connected to the first breath — the RUACH - that God breathed into Adam.
Tomorrow night, we celebrate Jesus’ first breath on this earth.  We celebrate something very glorious — the Incarnation — God coming down TO US, FOR US - in the form of a living, breathing, human being.  At his first cry, Jesus begins to breathe WITH US. He begins to live among us.
Jesus’ first cry was the first embodied song of hope on this planet. There were prophets before him who diligently did the work to prepare us for this moment, yet we never knew exactly how it would be until his arrival. Jesus’ first cry was the first incarnate song of hope — and this morning I’d like to share several other songs that lead up to that holy moment.
Mary had recently had the encounter with the angel Gabriel, who had told her that the Spirit of God would come upon her and she would give birth to a baby boy and he will be called the Son of God.  I think what really helped convince Mary was Gabriel’s first words, “Do not be afraid, Mary.”  I will always hear those words read by a certain woman in our congregation who would intone them just right… she said, “Don’ be afraid, Mary” with such a beautiful lilt in her voice that I’ll never forget it. I imagine that Mary must have been comforted in a similar way as this angel reassured her, ‘you have found favor with God.”  But what really clicked for her must have been the story of Elizabeth herself — and this is what made her run to the hills of Judea to go and find her sister.  Gabriel told her, “See?  Your relative Elizabeth has conceived a son in her old age, and she’s in her 6th month already…and she was said to have been barren.  For NOTHING WILL BE IMPOSSIBLE WITH GOD.”
Mary was probably feeling isolated in her own way.  The gossip, the scoffing, the wagging tongues and pointing fingers. Perhaps her sense of isolation is best expressed in a song that came out fairly recently, Amy Grant’s “Breath of Heaven:”  I imagine her singing this as she travels to Elizabeth’s house in the Judean hills, talking to herself and God, reflecting on what the angel just said to her -

I have traveled many moonless nights
Cold and weary with a babe inside
And I wonder what I've done
Holy father you have come
And chosen me now to carry your son

I am waiting in a silent prayer
I am frightened by the load I bear
In a world as cold as stone
Must I walk this path alone?
Be with me now

Do you wonder as you watch my face
If a wiser one should have had my place
But I offer all I am
For the mercy of your plan
Help me be strong
Help me be
Help me

Breath of heaven
Hold me together
Be forever near me
Breath of heaven

Breath of heaven
Lighten my darkness
Pour over me your holiness
For you are holy
Breath of heaven
(knock-knock-knock). Mary is finally here, at Elizabeth’s house.  “Hello?!” she calls. Elizabeth is thrilled to see her.  “Come on in!” she cries — and HER song becomes “Ave Maria” — “Blessed are you among women and blessed is the fruit of your womb.”  Elizabeth was thrilled to hear Mary’s voice, greeting her as she entered her house.
Suddenly Mary felt connected  to someone else again. And she spent some time with her sister, who, at 6 months shared a “kick story.”  There are, perhaps, fewer things more thrilling as a pregnancy progresses than being able to feel a baby move. And this particular baby, John the Baptist, Elizabeth tells us, leapt in her womb as his mother greeted Mary.  Suddenly not only the two mothers intersected, but the cousins did as well.  Yes, there were still a few months left to go for Elizabeth, and of course 9 months for Mary.  They still had to keep waiting, expecting.  But now they were connected.
This season at St. Paul’s, at least since I’ve been here, we have all shared concerns and celebrations. Some of us have gone off to college for the first time, some of us have had to cope with unexpected diagnoses, some more of us are recovering from surgery, and several have lost loved ones. We have had ups and downs in our studies, our work situations, our relationships.  We may have been injured physically or emotionally.
Advent can be a profound time of growth and waiting. But we can sometimes feel isolated. Over the next few days, we will potentially encounter a huge amount of people coming through these doors.  Some of them we may not have seen in years, some come in once or twice a year, but there they are.  For a very short space in time.  How can they touch our lives. and how can we touch theirs, just by sitting side by side in the pews?
Well, as we speak of connections just within our four walls, we can start with last Sunday. Three of our own St. Paul's Youth — Catherine, Caelin, and Carson — along with my husband, sang a beautiful concert with the Commonwealth Youthchoirs at the Church of the Holy Trinity on Rittenhouse Square.  Now, if you recall this church at all, you know that it’s been around for a long time - at least a couple hundred years.  Our performers will tell you this is true because there are very few bathrooms there.
This church itself, however, is notable for something else. The Church of the Holy Trinity on Rittenhouse Square was a site that made music history 150 years ago — not quite as old as “Silent Night,” but it seems appropriate to note that we have our own “Silent Night” story right here in Philadelphia.
In 1863, Phillips Brooks, an Episcopal priest, then rector of Church of the Holy Trinity, Philadelphia, was inspired by visiting the village of Bethlehem in Jerusalem. Three years later, he wrote the poem for his church, and his organist Lewis Redner (1831-1908) added the music.
Lewis Redner describes it this way “As Christmas of 1868 approached, Mr. Brooks told me that he had written a simple little carol for the Christmas Sunday-school service, and he asked me to write the tune to it. The simple music was written in great haste and under great pressure. We were to practice it on the following Sunday. Mr. Brooks came to me on Friday, and said, ‘Redner, have you ground out that music yet to "O Little Town of Bethlehem"? I replied, 'No,' but that he should have it by Sunday. On the Saturday night previous my brain was all confused about the tune. I thought more about my Sunday-school lesson than I did about the music. But I was roused from sleep late in the night hearing an angel-strain whispering in my ear, and seizing a piece of music paper I jotted down the treble of the tune as we now have it, and on Sunday morning before going to church I filled in the harmony. Neither Mr. Brooks nor I ever thought the carol or the music to it would live beyond that Christmas of 1868. Rev. Brooks, a formidable  man standing at 6 feet 4 inches tall and went on to become one of the great preachers of the 19th century.  Please join me in singing the first verse of O Little Town of Bethlehem (found in ELW 279):

O little town of Bethlehem, how STILL we see thee lie,
Above thy deep and dreamless sleep the silent stars go by.
Yet, in thy dark streets shineth the everlasting light
The hopes and fears of all the years are met in Thee tonight.

“But you, Bethlehem Ephrata…” says the prophet Micah, speaking of that little town of which we just sang.  “one of the little clans of Judah.”  Bethlehem - or “bet-lechem” means “house of bread” in Hebrew. Just a coincidence? I don’t think so.  The Bread of life, the Word made Flesh.  The Son of God now come to earth, the living bread we share each week through the very body and blood of Jesus Christ our Savior.  That little town with such great promise.
Upon accepting her mission with the words, “Let it be according to your word,” Mary joined ranks of many prophetesses before her, all with distinct songs to sing — Miriam, Moses’ sister, who danced and sang in triumph in the book of Exodus after the Israelites had crossed the Red Sea,; Hannah, singing as she learns she is expecting a the child Samuel, for whom she had proved so fervently, and finally Zechariah, when he was given his voice back — all speaking of justice for the oppressed, raising up the poor from the dust, the Lord opens up the eyes of the blind, those who are bowed down, the orphan, the widow, God makes them to sit in the place of honor.
Yes, Miriam, Hannah, Elizabeth, Zechariah, and Mary and Zechariah, were able to speak this way because they were filled with a certain hope.  Despite the things going on around them, despite the odds of their contexts, their level of hope and trust in the future was high.
Like the prophet Micah today,  the Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King, in his speech, “Where do we go from Here?”  says that “the arc of the universe is long, but it bends toward justice.”  That is hope.
As we look toward the coming of Christ once again this season, and daily in our own lives - we become filled with hope. That hope heard round the world awaiting Jesus’ first breath, the Breath of Heaven - that first cry giving voice to an everlasting radical love for you and for me — a love that widens our circle, connecting and making room enough for everyone.  AMEN











"Already, But Not Yet"

“Prepare the way!”  How often have we heard these words over the past two weeks, if not earlier?. When we think of preparing for Christmas, we conjure up images of that corner in the attic, lots of totes and boxes, praying for weather that is at least warm enough for you to hang the lights outside before we get any busier.  

I don’t know about you, but I am literally trying to “make straight in the desert a highway,” as the scripture says, though in my case it is more like a jungle that desperately needs a machete to clear as much as a path in order to get those boxes and totes downstairs in the first place.  Whatever we need to do before Christmas, we are, in a sense, preparing by coming out of a wilderness.  

We might think of wilderness in various ways. Here are two. First as rough, barren land unsuitable for farming.  Second as an area outside of the control of the nearest city, where we can ponder in quiet and solitude.

What a contrast to the 21st century, where we have such a cacophony that it becomes difficult to hear the word of God.  A 24/7 city has perhaps too much to offer, too many distractions that the word becomes one thing among many.  We might even think of Sunday morning worship as the wilderness, a time to shut off the noise of the world and listen to the word of God,  A time to turn off cell phones, place to one side the little issues that nag at us, and give our concentration to things eternal.

Our wilderness doesn’t need to be a deserted, wild or desolate place.  The point is simply that it is a different place from where we came, or where we are trying to go. It can either be retreating to a quieter place, or even plunging into greater cacophony as a way to distract ourselves the cares or mundane things in life.  This is quite easy to do as Christmastime seemingly approaches  - which is now practically before Halloween.  But there is a voice that calls us out of our respective wildernesses, a voice that alerts us, wakes us, challenges us — that voice that indeed is crying , “Prepare the way of the Lord!”

What sort of wilderness are you coming from today?  What brings you here this morning?  If you could put it into words, what do you have to proclaim in your life today?

Today marks the second Sunday in Advent.  By the end of the week, we’ll be more than halfway through to Christmas. Our second candle on the Advent wreath is the Bethlehem candle that stands for faith.  In our Psalm reading today, we hear from the old prophet Zechariah - his song in Luke 1 - as well as the Gospel, taken from the third chapter.  Last week, we started Year C at the end of Luke at the end, when we heard of the fulfillment of God’s promise of redemption.  Ad somehow, now, we find ourselves in the wilderness.  This Advent seems to be calling on our powers of time travel as we learn increasingly more about God’s time.  God, being the Alpha and Omega, the beginning and the end….more like a circle than a linear time line. And through it all echo the words we heard last week, “Heaven and earth may pass away, but My words are here to stay.” 

We can cling to the Word made flesh, Jesus Christ.  In fact, today we hear from his cousin, John the Baptist.  The voice in the wilderness that we hear in the third chapter of Luke is actually the full-grown John, just 6 months older than Jesus, crying out prophetic words that themselves fulfill Isaiah’s earlier prophecy, “The voice of him crying in the wilderness, ‘Prepare ye the way of the Lord.  Make straight in the desert a highway for our God.”  Talk about time travel! This is very close to the time that Jesus Himself is baptized by John.  I think we just missed the Christmas story. Or did we?

This is just one example of the way our Advent readings are structured this year. It’s like a set of bookends that talk about God’s breaking into the world in weeks 1 and 4.  Sandwiched in between are weeks 2 and 3, which focus on the hearts and wills of the people - sort of an A-B=B=A structure, if you will.  Also a circle. God in Christ is at work in us this season — not only in our past and future, but in the here and now.

And into this ordered scheme of time, God breaks in — in a very unexpected way. Advent, like it or not, is a season of high expectations. Some years we think we succeed more than others.  Here in this place, we are getting off to a very festive start.  Witness the beautiful events we’ve already hosted thus far as well as those to come — the Pages and Pirouettes ballet last week, followed by the beautiful contemplative Advent music that Tom Keesecker shared with us last week.  This afternoon promises to kick off the holiday season in earnest.  Here Comes Christmas!

Don’t get me wrong.  I’m all for it and then some.  I generally strive to begin the season with brand-new Advent candles in my wreath, the Elf on the Shelf, and a fresh new Advent calendar chock full of chocolates. Inevitably, though, the kids miss opening a few windows on the calendar and end up playing catch-up, arguing about whose turn it was to open it next. I fall behind on my daily devotions.  Some years I even did a craft every day, only to have that plan fizzle out in a little over a week or so.

But there was one year I almost had it all together. I was even getting a little excited and smug about it.  And within that sliver of perfection, the phone rang one night. It was my sister calling, tearfully explaining that my mother had suffered a stroke.  Life had changed in an instant, and once again those little things fell by the wayside. We cannot move on to new things without experiencing rough, bumpy places on the journey.  The holidays are not always packed with glee for everyone.  We find ourselves ill or hospitalized at this time of year, still more are financially strapped, lose loved ones, or just woefully overstressed, or depressed.

It is then that the third verse of a beloved Christmas carol comes to mind — “It Came Upon A Midnight Clear.” -

O ye beneath life's crushing load,

Whose forms are bending low,

Who toil along the climbing way

With painful steps and slow;

Look now, for glad and golden hours

Come swiftly on the wing;

Oh rest beside the weary road

And hear the angels sing.

Just listen.  Listen to the voice of the Spirit.

“Comfort ye, my people, says your God.”  The crooked, rough, the unexpected may happen at any time. Here is where I love today’s words from St. Paul - he is, here in Phillippians,”speaking comforting words to Jerusalem, even as he says, “I thank God every time I remember you, constantly praying with joy in every one of m prayers for all of you….I am confident of this, that the one who began a good work among you will bring it to completion by the day of Jesus Christ.”  Though we celebrate Christ’s coming year after year, and we anticipate by waiting, our waiting is not to be passive, but proactive.  We have lots to do in that waiting time.  We can, as John did, proclaim the coming of the Lord.  We can speak words of comfort to one another, thanking each other each time we remember them.  

This is probably the principle behind sending Christmas cards and greetings.  You can do it so many ways these days — emails, video chats, phone calls, you name it.  But those greetings, those connections mean a lot, and they keep us connected within the Kingdom of God.

Today, as ever, there is as sharp a distinction between this Kingdom of God and the Kingdom of this world as there was in the days of the Roman emperor Tiberias.  Two thousand years ago, Judea’s political landscape had changed. As a result, there was a whole set of new rulers aligned against the word of God.  So John had to go to the wilderness to hear the word and then becomes the word of God through his preaching.

It’s a very sharp contrast to the names of those holding power on this earth.  But God lifts up the lowly, and through folks like John, Mary, Jesus, and Zechariah, power becomes reoriented towards God’s kingdom.. 

Tiberius, Pontius Pilate, Herod, Philip, Lysanias, Annas, and Caiaphas are powers in time only and not forever.  Their time will not last. Their reign is only temporary.  We hear hope in this promise, that those who have claimed power now, will not be in power indefinitely. Their names are temporary placeholders in history. 

John the Baptist’s ministry reminds us, however, this does not mean we can just sit around and wait it out. A “this too shall pass” mentality is not the mindset of the Kingdom of God. We recognize the temporality of today’s authorities and yet actively prepare so as to bring God’s time to bear. “Let every heart prepare him room, and heaven and nature sing.”

So it is into this landscape that we hear the voice crying the wilderness - John the Baptist, the bearded man who clearly stands out in society, the man who “ate locusts and wild honey.”   He is the son of Zechariah and Elizabeth, that couple, in many ways not unlike Abram and Sarah. By typical standards, they were old and apparently Elizabeth was also barren.  And so we hit rewind once more before I close —  to our “Psalm” for today, which is actually a reading from Luke

 1 - Zecharaiah’s naming ceremony for the infant  John the Baptist.   Quick recap - the Angel Gabriel comes to Zechariah the old priest and tells him his son will be filled with the Holy Spirit and essentially pave the way for the Messiah.  The old priest, of course, does not believe this.  “How can I have a son?/“  Because Zechariah said this, Gabriel renders him unable to speak until his son is born.. The old priest has been unable to speak for months and as he finally fulfills the angel’s demands from earlier in the chapter, he bursts like a dam. The words of prophecy pour out. Perhaps in the months when Zechariah couldn’t speak, he did a lot more thinking and listening than usual.. Clearly it was a time in which his faith grew. Zechariah’s prophetic song, typically called the Benedictus, is an ironic moment in Luke’s telling

All that silence - that “wilderness time” -  also gave Zechariah time to create something to honor the occasion of something holy.  When the spirit comes upon Zechariah, his tongue is loosened, and he is given voice to debut his new song for John.  But it is a rather strange moment. At his own son’s naming ceremony, Zechariah begins his song by singing about his wife’s cousin’s kid.

Suddenly the subject of the song switches from John to Jesus. The song assumes that the savior has already been “raised up” when Jesus hasn’t been born. Zechariah’s song ends with a conclusion before the question has been asked. 

“Already but not yet.” It’s another paradox. The Quaker sociologist and author Parker J. Palmer describes this as the “tragic gap ” between what is and what will be.  — if we want to hang in for the long haul with birthing a better world:

“On one side of that gap are the harsh and discouraging realities around us. On the other side is the better world we know to be possible — not merely because we wish it were so, but because we have seen it with our own eyes. We’re surrounded by greed, but we’ve seen great acts of generosity. We’re surrounded by violence, but we’ve seen people make peace.

This tragic gap will never close once and for all, a fact that can lead us into despair and resignation. But we know the end of the story. if we recall the ample evidence that “the better angels of our nature” are still with us, we are more likely to keep working at making the world a better place.” 

“Already, but not yet.”  “Time is the fire from which we burn,” says Captian Pickard in one of the Star Trek movies. “but time is more like a companion on our journey.” 

Year after year, we count the days toward Christ’s coming at the end of time, yet right now He comes down to us in love each and every day. It’s not just one neat little box after another in a series of 24 windows.  It is round, more like our wreaths.  God finds us. Christ comes down to us. That is the promise - 

For lo! the days are hastening on,

By prophets seen of old,

When with the ever-circling years

Shall come the time foretold,

When the new heaven and earth shall own

The Prince of Peace, their King,

And the whole world send back the song

Which now the angels sing.

Already, but not yet. AMEN.

"Running on Empty: Giving from a Place of Need"

We’ve all been there. Driving down the highway, or through busy city streets. Let’s say it’s been a hectic couple of days, so it’s probably the last thing on your mind. Suddenly you glance down at the dashboard, and the gas gauge light turns on.  I’m curious — what do you usually do?  Are you one of those people who:

A) Pulls over to the nearest gas station right away to fill up the tank;

B) Keep on driving, “I have a big tank — I think”  tempting fate

C) Keep on driving but try not to use the accelerator too much - after all, you can make the next 20 miles home.

Now I’d like for you to imagine how it feels to have a full tank of gas.  Do you lean on the accelerator just a bit more? Does having that full tank give you just a bit more “edge,” “control,” or security as you travel to your destination? It’s interesting, isn’t it? Like it or not, there seems to be a big gap between “full” and “empty,” and it does influence how we go about life on a daily basis. 

In our Gospel lesson this morning, I picture Jesus in the temple, hiding behind one of the pillars and whispering to his disciples.  He is watching and listening to the poor widow, about to put her last two coins in the offering box.  Can’t you just see him sneaking behind the pillar, telling them, “Here she comes….wait for it — Ker PLUNK ker PLUNK,”  That was the sound of the Saducees’ coins in their long robes.  Then came the widow with her two small coins (lepta), both adding up to about a penny. In her case, it was probably “clink - clink.” 

Jesus’ point? Long story short, he says to his followers, “The Saducees gave from a place of abundance while the widow gave from a place of need.”  To Jesus, the difference between the two of them was not how much they gave, but what motivated their giving. There is a difference.

What about our OT widow today? We heard about her in our first reading.  Elijah goes to Zarephath, already on a mission. The Lord already told him, “I have commanded a widow to feed you.” Apparently this is his God-ordained rest stop, so he meets her by the gate of the city as she is gathering sticks, and asks her first for a little cup of water. So she goes to get the water, and Elijah calls out to her, “Bring me a little piece of bread.” It appears he’s trying not to presume she has a whole lot, he’s just asking for a tiny pice, but she answers, “As the Lord God lives,” - which is a strong statement, meaning perhaps, “I swear to you (with undertones of “give me a break, who do you think I am?”) all I have is a handful of meal and a little oil in a jug — I was just about to bring these sticks home, make a little cake for myself and my son — and die.”

The story could have ended there.  Elijah could have excused himself, saying, “Ok, I get it, sorry to bother you, I’ll be on my way, you’ll be in my thoughts and prayers.” But — he had a mandate from God.  And whenever someone is sent by God in the Bible, it seems that they utter three amazing words ‘’ “Do not be afraid.”  Remember Mary again? And the angel?  “Do not be afraid, Mary..” That is the ultimate example. “Be not afraid” are PIVOTAL words — words that indicate a turning point in every story. They signal that something great is about to happen. (Moses on the mountain? — cite other examples)

“For thus says the Lord God of Israel,” he says. The jar of meal will not be emptied and the jug of oil will not rail until the day that the Lord send rain on the earth.”  Next step:  SHE WENT AND DID as Elijah said, so that she as wells he and her household ate for many days.  (I guess he stayed there for a while). The jar of meal was not empited, neither did the jug of il fail, according to the word of the Lord that he spoke by Elijah.”  Hello? Feeding of the 5000?  Manna from heaven?  The list goes on and on…

And if that weren’t enough, we have the Psalmist chiming in today  He, too, mentions the widow and the orphaned - “the least of these,” the ones the Hebrew Scriptures as well as Jesus command us to make our priority. But here, also, we see how God acts in the world.  First of all, he praises God and very quickly becomes quite specific:  “Put not your trust in rulers, in mortals in whom there is no help.” A very timely reminder especially after a particularly loaded  midterm election, a reminder that only GOD is in ultimate control. We have our rulers, who pledge to do their best, but the distinction here is that “in them there is no help.” An earlier Psalm says, “I lift up mine eyes to the hills, from whence cometh my HELP?”  My help comes from the Lord, maker of heaven and earth. And listen to what God DOES —

Many, many verbs here -  read with me:

gives justice to those who are oppressed, 

food to those who hunger,

sets the captive free,

opens the eyes of the blind

lifts up those who are bowed down

loves the righteous

cares for the stranger

sustains the orphan and widow

And furthermore, he frustrates the way of the wicked. 

With such a mighty God, we still tend to forget the immensity of God’s strength, the immediacy of God’s  help, the blessed assurance that God knows what we need.  He acts in this world through the Holy Spirit, who in turn, sets people into action.

in just a few minutes, we will hear from two members of the Deborah Circle, who have inspired me greatly as I have watched just these few moments as they talk about their work at St. Paul’s community and how it impacts the world at large.  They do lots of work with the Welcome Church, and hearing about this community again took me back to my first days in seminary.

I was taking the Intro to Liturgy class, and our professor, Dr. Claudio Carvalhaes, was a very hands-on instructor. It was coming up to Ash Wednesday 2013 and one of our first assignments was that the class would meet outside the Free Library at 19th and the Parkway with the intent to break up into groups and distribute ashes to people walking by - whoever wanted them. The results were surprising and heartwarming. Nearly every person, regardless of their faith tradition, seemed genuinely appreciative and so thankful that we approached them. In one case, I met a Muslim couple.  They did not outright refuse the ashes, but of course pointed out that they were Muslim and not sure they could do that. My partner and I asked, “Well, how about a blessing?”  They nodded, “Sure.” I gently laid my hand on their head, one at a time, saying, ‘Child of God, remember that you are loved by God and be blessed.”  The next person I met was a woman named Lisa,  This resonated with me for obvious reasons, but it made me see that in blessing others, we also bless ourselves — a reminder that we all are much more connected that we usually realize.  Finally, we regrouped again and met Pastor Violet Little in front of the Library, where she set up a card table with Dixie cups, grape juice, and a paper plate of Ritz crackers for Communion.  Other people began to arrive and chat with us.  Many if not all were homeless.  They were gracious, warm, and hospitable - living up to their community’s name - The Welcome  Church.  One of the men had written a song and sang it for us.  He taught us the refrain. Another woman testified about how good God had been to her that week. Yet it appeared she didn’t have much at all and was carrying what little belongings she had along with her in one of those granny carts.  We shared the Eucharist.  It was truly amazing.  

God is at work in this world, my friends!  Let’s watch….

(or try clicking here --->) DEBORAH CIRCLE VIDEO  

It certainly is inspiring to see our sisters jump into action right here, right now, and reaching out to those in need.  YOUR help makes groups like the Deborah Circle possible, groups that have touched lives for decades right out of St. Paul’s.  Thank you to Nancy and Linda and all who worked hard to produce this video. 

In a Stewardship report after service, Cathy Keim read a lot of statistics last week.  We heard about all the tiers of giving we have here at St. Paul’s.  What you may not have heard is that our giving reflects faithful obedience to a great degree - we, as in life, don’t generally see the whole picture.  When we get to the bottom line, our church, like most churches, still has a ways to go.  The cost of building maintenance and the cost of living constantly goes up, so our giving needs to go up as well.  Remember those important three words I mentioned earlier?  The ones that come up in the Bible many times just before God shows up? — “Be not afraid”

I am told that if all of us — those presently giving as well as those units who have not — gave $10 more per week (that’s roughly the cost of a sandwich and drink at Wawa) — St. Paul’s would be closer to reaching the bottom line.  “Are you a ’10?’”

It’s not up to me, or the pastor, or anyone on the stewardship committee to convince you to give.  Only Jesus, through the power of the Holy Spirit, can transform and convince your heart about those details.

It’s not about what you have, but what we have been entrusted with. It’s about grace.  It’s about power made perfect in the very weakness and emptiness we feel.  In what ways are you widowed and orphaned today?  We don’t all lose our spouses or parents, but we all suffer loss and emptiness.  

Our Veterans, whose sacrifices we remember this weekend, are valiant examples of the kind of selfless giving that cost them their very lives.  Of our Veterans that do survive, many have an extremely difficult time resettling into civilian life - finding jobs, homes, and the health care they desperately need to help them with conditions developed or exacerbated by their deployment.  Pray for our veterans.  Also, remember that this year we celebrate the 100th Anniversary of Armistice Day, remembering World War I and those veterans which gave their lives - many of our grandparents, great grandparents, brothers, sisters, husbands and wives. As Rudyard Kipling writes in The Old Issue, "When you go home, tell them of us and say, for their tomorrow we gave our today."

This  Armistice Day, realizing the great costs of the Great War, we say no to war and yes to peace. Despite Satan’s continued efforts to thwart us, we say no to evil and yes to God. That’s what Baptism is all about, and that’s yet another reason to celebrate this day. Stewardship, too, is connected to this commitment of our lives to God in baptism, when we empty ourselves by dying to sin and rising to new life in Christ.

When Jesus came down to earth in human skin, He emptied himself, too. He gave up his heavenly power to come down and become one of us, “once for all,” as it says in the Paul’s letter to the Hebrews. It was this power of the Spirit that allowed the Widow’s “mite” - 2 small coins become the widow’s ‘Might” — her strength made perfect in weakness.  Giving — from a place of abundance — the abundance that God gives us each and every day, through his infinite love for each one of us.  

Be not afraid. Put your pedal to the metal!

"Gladly, the Cross-Eyed Bear" aka “The Three ‘Bears’l

Organists are rare birds. As our own Phyllis Linn or Rae Ann Anderson can tell you, good organists are not only few and far between, but they also share wonderful jokes amongst themselves.

Sometimes, when we hear hymn and song texts, our ears can deceive us. Many church musicians like to share corny jokes in the form of alternate or misheard hymn titles. So I decided to ask the FB Organists Association, who were happy to send me some of their favorite hymn bloopers:

-“Come for Tea, My People” (Comfort Ye, My People)

-“We believe in being honest, true, chased by elephants." (The Thirteenth Article of Faith)

-What is Andy doing there in the garden, anyway? “Andy walks with me, Andy talks with me”

-“Lead On, O Kinky Turtle”

-“The cattle are blowing the baby away.” (Away in A Manger)

-and for Christmas, the line in “The Angel Gabriel” = “most highly flavored gravy”

-“While shepherds washed their socks by night “

…and my personal favorite — “Gladly, the Cross-Eyed Bear.” 

“Gladly” can sit here as a reminder that Words can play tricks on us.  We hear the same word side by side and it may have slightly or entirely different meanings. Language is important, but not always perceived in the same way.

This morning I would like to talk about three different ways we can bear the cross.  (Four, if you count Gladly here).

But first, let’s unpack the Gospel lesson we just heard. 

There they are, James and John walking together with Jesus. It’s a weird proposition — “Teacher, we want you to do for us whatever we ask of you.”  Kind of presumptuous, don’t you think?  And if it weren’t addressed to Jesus I would almost suspect it was a trick question.  What’s Jesus supposed to say?  If it were up to me, I’d say “Suuure, I’ll do anything you ask.” But that’s just me, and  I’m not as smart as Jesus.  Instead, he answers them with a question. “What is it you want me to do for you?” “Grant us to sit, one at your right hand and one at your left, in Your glory.”  First lesson learned: Never say yes to such a question

Jesus knew that James and John had absolutely no clue what they were asking, and tells them so. When He asks them, “Are you able to drink the cup that I drink, or be baptized with the baptism that I was baptized with?” Not knowing what they were really getting into, they’re like, “Yeah, yeah, sure.. We are able.” 

So we, too, must be careful.  For instance , when we baptize — we are asked questions like, “PoG, do you promise to support these sisters and brothers and pray for them in their life in Christ?” and we answer, “We do, and we ask God to help and guide us.”  

In passages like this, we learn that we need to KNOW, to the best of our limited knowledge, what it is we are asking of as well as promising to God. Although we act in faith — and  there are a lot of unknowns —we are still responsible for what we DO know. If we have the daunting task of taking up the cross before us, we’d better have some idea of what we’re getting into.

So Jesus continues, saying, “Okay.  You will drink the cup that I will drink, and be baptized with the baptism of which I am baptized, BUT…to sit at my RH or at my left is not for me to decide. God has already taken care of this,” says Jesus.  

At this point all the disciples get a bit angry with James and John. Jesus smashes the prevailing hierarchy to bits.   “You know that the great rulers around here are tyrants and keep those below them under their thumb. But that’s not what we’re about here. Whoever wants to be great among you must be your servant, and whoever wishes to be first among you must be slave of all.  For the Son of Man came not to be served but to serve, and to give his life as a ransom for many.”

Drinking the cup, sharing His baptism, we are also invited to share in Jesus’ suffering, to carry the cross.  In effect, Jesus is asking, “Are you willing to walk in my shoes?” asking us to leave ourselves behind and concern ourselves with those around us. 

People will often say things like, “Well, that is my cross to BEAR (same spelling).”  But that sounds passive, that sounds like, “Well, I’ll just have to deal with it, this is the pain that I am stuck with.”  But Jesus tells us, “TAKE up your cross DAILY” — it is an active challenge to us all.  In order to TAKE up something, we need to make a decision.  Now, this is not the same as making a decision for Christ.  Christ already made a decision FOR US. Therefore, we are already IN Christ. But, as Dietrich Bonhoeffer points out in “The Cost Of Discipleship,” this is not cheap, but costly grace. We are still faced with a choice every day — whether or not to dare to go outside of ourselves and our own comfort zone and TAKE up the cross of Christ.  Every day.. Each day brings new challenges.

Second form... I think of the verb “to BEAR,” which means “to give birth.”  And I think of Mary, the mother of Jesus, who was given her own cross even before her son arrived on this earth — and that was to actually CARRY him in her womb.  When we hear her Magnificat we hear of her willingness to BEAR the very cross of Christ — “My Soul does magnify the Lord, and my spirit rejoices in God my Savior. For He who is mighty has done great things, and holy is his Name.”  

We, too bear, or birth the Cross every day, as, what Martin Luther calls, “little Christs” in this world. We bear the cross in the world by proclaiming the Good News.  As we walk the talk,  people can’t help but see that we are followers of Christ.  Just as one couldn’t help but see Mary’s pregnant belly as she was with child, we too, can be so full of the Holy Spirit and the good news of the Gospel as we bring it forth — birth it — to others. (New moms example)

Yet we, as residents of this world, sometimes find ourselves in situations where we are truly in the midst of our own suffering, or perhaps we see a lot of turmoil around us. While it’s so easy to get drawn into darkness, we remember and re-member and BARE (homonym) - reveal, show - B-A-R-E the Cross even as we bare our souls to others.  We take that risk and become vulnerable, in spite of our brokenness.

This is where the rubber hits the road.  This is where we find ourselves this day.  World Hunger Sunday.  We take risks when we forget ourselves and put others first. When we see someone at the intersection carrying a cardboard sign -  (“Will work for food” “Homeless and hungry” “Help me get my wife back”) — those signs are symbols of have THEIR “crosses.”   When we see these signs, sometimes our minds race. We come up with all kinds of excuses.  The light’s gonna change.  Oh man, this guy’s gonna get run over if he doesn’t get out of the road.

Well, who is it that really needs to get out of the road?  Maybe WE need to get out of our OWN road.  Maybe WE need to put ourselves last, and not second-guess the Holy Spirit.

Many times, I try to rationalize things. The skinny young woman outside the Wawa, asking very politely for a handout.  “Ok, maybe when I come back I’ll have some change, ” I say.  “I don’t have any cash right now.”  Silently I hope that maybe she’ll move on while we’re in there getting our coffee.  “Oh, maybe I could buy her a sandwich, but who knows if that’s what she really wants anyway.  Probably not. She probably wants money.  And she’ll buy more meth with that.  Or other drugs. Or alcohol. Aww, forget about it.”

Well.  People of God, guess what?  What she will do with that money has already been decided — by the same God who already arranged where James and John will be sitting on that day of glory.  And it’s not about sitting on thrones. That entire exchange is about the Ultimate Exchange — through Christ’s redemptive sacrifice on the cross, crucified between two THIEVES on either side of Him. the Suffering Servant we hear about in Isaiah, the hymn we so often sing in Lent:  

When I survey the wondrous cross, On which the Prince of Glory died

My richest gain I count but loss, And POUR CONTEMPT on all my pride.

“All my pride.” When confronted by someone in need, we can’t presume to do the work of the Holy Spirit.  We can’t translate the message of the Spirit into our own version of God’s will.  It’s the Holy Spirit’s job to tug at your heart.  It’s the Spirit’s job to make you feel uncomfortable, and to stir you enough to reach out to someone else.  To put ourselves last. 

Our job is to act in response to the Spirit,  not to second-guess —  Go with the first thing you hear, don’t make it up on your own terms. If God says feed the hungry - go feed the hungry.  Clothe the naked, go to the thirsty, give them drink.  Make disciples. Baptize them in Jesus name.  We show up and do whatever it takes because we are God’s hands in this world, acting on behalf of the One who gave Himself for all of us.

Finally, What’s the name of our bear again?  “GLADLY — the cross-eyed bear,  We are to bear our cross gladly because we love the One who loved us first, without ever thinking of himself.  “The Son of Man came not to be served but to serve.”  

How about you?  What can we do?  Be vulnerable. Take that risk. Throwing aside all weight, let’s put ourselves last and follow in Jesus’ footsteps, sharing His Baptism, sharing His cup - gladly.  AMEN