4 Advent A

Charlotte Collins Reed
Christ Episcopal Church
December 22, 2013

4 Advent A

For some time now, my brother Bo has been working on our family genealogy, using websites like ancestry.com along with books, family stories, and social security records. He has been able to trace both sides of our family back many generations, and while at first glance the chart looks quite sterile, boring even, a closer look along with a little imagination tells a richer story and raises questions about those who came before us. For starters, our family is not very creative about names. On my dad’s side, there are generations of Charlottes, Sarahs, and Richards, the latter two being my siblings. My mother’s side is dominated by Franks, Emilys, and Anns. Don and I may seem to have broken with tradition when we named our children Slocomb and Caldwell, but the reality is that we just recycled last names rather than first names. When we dig deeper, we see families with lots of children and families with no children. Did those families decide to have lots of children or remain childless, or is that just the way life happened? We find people from the early 20^th century who were born in New England but died in North Carolina. Why did they move? We found people who lost their lives serving their country in a variety of wars, people who lived to a ripe old age, those who died young, and those who were probably shot stealing horses. While all of this is still fairly generic-most family trees look similar in this regard- the tree does give us some clue where we came from and reminds us that we did not arrive at this point in history out of the blue. We are grounded in a history that goes back much farther than our own selves.

If our gospel lesson this morning began at the very beginning of Matthew’s gospel rather than starting with the story of Jesus’ birth, we would have heard an account of the genealogy of Jesus. Matthew takes pains to trace Jesus’ human lineage all the way back to Abraham, through David, the Babylonian exile, and to Joseph. Like most genealogies, this is not gripping reading. The last verse of the genealogy, the one immediately preceding our gospel lesson, is this: "So all the generations from Abraham to David are 14 generations; and from David to the deportation to Babylon, 14 generations, and for the deportation to Babylon to the Messiah, 14 generations." I think there is some funny math at work here, but the point is to use a few words to put Jesus in the context of the story of God’s people through out time.

So we come to the birth of the Messiah. The story of God’s people is the story of the longing of God’s people for a Messiah, as we heard in the reading from Isaiah, a reading that has captured the hopes and imaginations of God’s people for centuries. We hear of Mary’s unplanned pregnancy, we see Joseph wrestle with what to do, and we listen to the angel speak to Joseph and tell him that the child Mary carries is from the Holy Spirit. Then we hear the angel give Joseph the very words we heard from Isaiah this morning "Look. The virgin shall conceive and bear a son, and they shall name him Emmanuel," which means "God with us."

The story of God’s people, from the time of Abraham until the present day, is the story of our longing to know God is with us. When the Israelites fled Egypt and wandered around in the wilderness looking for the Promised Land, they knew God was present with them through the pillar of fire that led them by night and the pillar of cloud that led them by day. When God’s people were exiled in Babylon, their great fear and heartbreak was that God had abandoned them. When the people were allowed to return to Jerusalem after 50 years in captivity, their first priority was to rebuild their temple so they could know God’s presence among them. The Messiah for whom they long, and for whose birth we await in just a few more days, the one who was conceived by the Holy Spirit and born of the Virgin Mary, is the most concrete expression possible of God’s abiding presence with us.

Later this morning/in a few minutes we have the joy of baptizing Logan, Blake, and Bryce. Our bishop likes to remind us that we baptize babies who cannot make promises for themselves to remind us that baptism is all God’s action. The promises we make in baptism are not made in order to get God to do something for us. The promises are not the price of admission into the Church or the Kingdom of God. Our promises are our response to God’s promise that God will always be with us. There is nothing about baptism or Christmas for that matter that promises that life will always be easy. The story of God’s people though out all generations from Abraham until now bears that out. The promise of baptism and the promise of the Messiah are one in the same: Emmanuel. God with us. That promise is summed up in the great words of the apostle Paul: "Neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor rulers, nor things present nor things to come, nor powers, nor height, nor depth, nor anything in all creation can separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus." There is nothing we must do or face alone. The promise of baptism and the promise of Christmas are one and the same: Emmanuel. God with us.

Amen.

3 Advent A

Charlotte Collins Reed
Christ Episcopal Church
December 15, 2013

3 Advent A

Yesterday, while listening to the news coming out of Arapahoe High School in Colorado, people all over the country and perhaps the world, marked the one year anniversary of the shootings in Newtown, Connecticut that left 20 first graders, 6 educators, the gunman and his mother all dead. I remember listening with horror as the media began to cover the shooting, numb to the reality that such a tragedy could happen again. We watched as the children and their teachers were laid to rest, and as a small community came to grips with deep grief and made decisions about how to move forward and live the new life they had been handed. And we hugged our own loved ones a little bit closer having learned, yet again, about the fragility of life. In the face of such overwhelming tragedy, so close to Christmas, the John the Baptist’s question to Jesus echoes in my ears and perhaps yours: "Are you the one who is to come, or shall we wait for another."

Six years ago, my dear friend and mentor of about 35 years was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer. Life expectancy for someone with that diagnosis is short. Peggy’s many friends all over the country prayed without ceasing for her healing in the face of really bad odds. Her husband kept a blog so that those of us who were far away could be part of the day to day roller coaster of medical treatments, emotions, hopes, and challenges. Some days there really seemed to be hope for a good long remission if not a cure. Most days, we could hardly imagine that our beloved friend might die. For 13 months, thousands of people, many of whom had never met, road this roller coaster together. But after 13 months, all medical options had been exhausted, the cancer had spread, and despite all our prayers and the belief that God could heal, our loved one died leaving behind a devastated congregation, husband and four children, and thousands of grief stricken friends. And we asked Jesus "Are you the one who is to come, or shall we wait for another?"

When John the Baptist sends his disciples to question Jesus, John is in prison for telling King Herod that Herod should not be taking his brothers’ wife as his own. Given that last week John the Baptist was calling the people " a brood of vipers" and telling them that they would burn with unquenchable fire, we can imagine that the conversation John the Baptist had with Herod was perhaps a little short on tact. Now John is held in prison without bail or much hope of being declared innocent.

John had firm convictions about the Messiah. John believed with all his heart that the Messiah would separate the wheat from the chaff and the chaff would be burned. John’s call was to prepare the way and he gave his life to that call, not just preaching repentance, but embodying a life of repentance as he lived in the wilderness wearing clothing of camel’s hair and eating locusts and wild honey. Now everything John believed and had staked his life on was being called into question. Where is that ax that will cut down the trees that do not bear good fruit? Where is that winnowing fork? Was John’s life’s effort for naught?

When John’s disciples find Jesus and ask "Are you the one who is to come, or are we to wait for another," Jesus reply is not yes, or no. Jesus sends John’s disciples to tell John what they see and hear. And what the disciples see and hear is that "the blind receive their sight, the lame walk, the lepers are cleansed, the deaf hear, the dead are raised, and the poor have good news brought to them." These words echo the words we heard from Isaiah this morning that point to the coming of the Messiah. John should not believe that Jesus is the Messiah simply because random miracles are happening. John should believe that Jesus is the Messiah because the very prophecies John believed in were coming to fulfillment in Jesus. John’s work was not for naught. John is the messenger sent by God to prepare the way. John is the greatest of among those born of women, according to Jesus. But John was unsure about Jesus because John expected Jesus to be someone else. Several weeks ago, in another reading from Isaiah, we heard God say "Behold, I am about to do a new thing." Jesus is the new thing God is doing.

Like John the Baptist, we have expectations of the Messiah. We want Jesus to prevent tragedy, or bring healing, or reconcile relationships. We believe Jesus can do this, and when tragedy happens or loved ones die, our faith can be called into question just like John’s was. When we say to Jesus "Are you the one who is to come or shall we wait for another," Jesus does not give us a yes or no answer, either. Instead, Jesus says "Look."

I read an article about the Newtown tragedy online last week, and Jesus might as well have been saying to me "Look. In the face of great tragedy, lives are being rebuilt. Forgiveness is triumphing over hate. Life is overcoming death." The people of Newtown are clear that life is painful. A lot of healing still needs to happen, and that there are tensions in their community about how to honor the past and move into a new future. But the article also quoted a city official who said "We are emerging from that darkness with some skills and some confidence that is born of fire from that awful event." Organizations have been formed to help prevent future violence. Over 270,000 people have signed a pledge to "choose love, belief, and hope instead of anger." One father of a child who survived said that he "doesn’t want his child to go through life expecting to be handed teddy bears and complimentary tickets to sporting events. He wants to move on." If we look, we see signs of the work of the Messiah in the midst of deep grief and great loss.

Likewise, in the months after my friend’s death, when we asked Jesus "Are you the one who is to come or shall we wait for another," the answer was also "Look." Those months were filled with renewed relationships, the grace of a community that was spread all over the world but united in prayer, the gift of knowing a person with the strength to meet the challenges of a deadly disease with faith and patience, her ability to live fully in the face of death, and her deep knowledge that nothing can separate us from the love of God.

In both cases, Newtown and Peggy, we wanted a God who would prevent bad things from happening or at least heal the bad things that did happen. We believe God can do that. But when we, like John the Baptist, wonder if Jesus is really the Messiah or if we should look for someone else, Jesus says "Look. See what new, unexpected thing I am doing." Seeing what Jesus is doing is not always easy or obvious. Seeing what Jesus is doing does not take the pain away, nor does Jesus’ presence glorify the pain. But when we can look at see what God is doing in our midst, where there is life in the midst of death or hope in the midst of loss, we can see that Jesus is the one who is to come, and we can show others as well.                                                                  

                                                                                                  Amen.

2 Advent A

Charlotte Collins Reed
Christ Episcopal Church
December 8, 2013

2 Advent A

My favorite Nelson Mandela quote is one I found when working on my sermon for the 10^th anniversary of 9/11. The quote is "Resentment is like drinking poison and expecting the other person to die." At the time, I was thinking about the horrible crime committed against this country on 9/11, remembering the shock and panic we felt, and how out of control life felt on a grand scale. Certainly, Jesus calls us to love those who hate us, turn the other cheek, and pray for our enemies. That’s how Jesus lived and that is how we are to live as followers of Jesus. But Mandela’s quote about drinking poison brought me up short and got my attention in a new way. We can hardly expect to experience healing ourselves when we drink the poison of resentment, nor can we expect to experience reconciliation while waiting for the other person to suffer. Nelson Mandela had every right to be resentful. For 27 years Mandela suffered the indignities of prison-27 years of his life and all the potential that life held were taken from him for taking a strong stand against injustice and oppression. He missed out on the things we value most-being part of his children’s childhoods, growing into maturity with his wife, what would seem to have been the prime years of his career and earning potential, and on and on. Surely resentment would be justified, just as we felt justified in our resentments and fears after 9/11. And yet Mandela refused to drink the poison.

Despite all that had happened to him and been taken from him, Mandela stood before us and spoke the truth about our lives as human beings. "Resentment is like drinking poison and waiting for the other person to die." This morning, we see John the Baptist stand before us and speak the truth about our lives as well. "Repent," says John the Baptist. "For the Kingdom of Heaven has come near." And "Bear fruit worthy of repentance." And "but one who is more powerful than I is coming after me." Unlike Nelson Mandela, however, whose wisdom we embrace and whose death the world mourns, John the Baptist tends to make me want to join the Pharisees and Sadducees and flee from the wrath to come. Why, on the Advent path to the Christ Child, as we await the one described in the beautiful words of Isaiah, must we be called a brood of vipers? John the Baptist does not seem to be delivering good or helpful news at all

And yet, if we listen carefully, John the Baptist does speak good news at the same time that he speaks the truth about our lives as human beings. First, John the Baptist says "Repent. For the Kingdom of Heaven has come near." We get caught up in the annoying, but necessary, call to repent and miss the reason for that repentance. The Kingdom of Heaven has come near. That is good news, and the call to repent is the call to turn from those things that keep us from knowing the Kingdom of Heaven in our midst. What prevents us from experiencing God in our midst? Resentment? Fear? Worry? The need to be in control? Repent, and know the Kingdom of Heaven in our midst.

Secondly, no one likes to be called a brood of vipers. If John the Baptist came from a good, Southern family, he would know at least 6 ways to say the exact same thing in a less offensive manner. But John does have our attention now. And if we listen, we hear John tell the vipers to bear fruit worthy of repentance. So, apparently, even vipers can repent and bear fruit worthy of that repentance. If vipers can do that, I imagine you and I can do that also. The Kingdom of Heaven is out of no one’s reach.

Thirdly, John is clear that he does not have the final word. John says "one who is more powerful than I is coming after me; I am not worthy to carry his sandals. He will baptize you with the Holy Spirit and with fire." Next week, we will hear John’s perplexity about Jesus when John asks from prison "Are you the one who is to come, or shall we wait for another." Jesus isn’t quite who John thought he would be. Jesus was less about fire and brimstone, and more about giving sight to the blind, raising the dead, and healing the lame. John has the basic message right-the kingdom of heaven has come near and everyone has the opportunity to repent and draw near to that Kingdom. The Kingdom turns out to be bit more like Isaiah’s description and a bit less like John’s, but nonetheless, John stood before us and told the truth about our lives as human beings.

Advent is the season of joyful anticipation of the Christ Child. Our church is adorned in beautiful blue vestments and we sing hymns of hope and longing. But for even the most joyful events in our lives, we prepare. We prepare for baptisms and weddings, the birth of children, new jobs or homes or schools, joyful reunions with loved ones, birthdays or anniversaries. We prepare both our exterior lives with new clothes or school supplies or invitations or whatever is needed. And, when we are at our best, we prepare our interior lives by repairing relationships that have been damaged, or letting go of our resentments, or looking carefully at what skills we bring to the a new task and what we have yet to learn. During Advent, we prepare for the coming of the Christ Child, not just with cooking, shopping, decorating, and all the other activities associated with the season. We also prepare our hearts for the birth of the Christ Child in our midst by listening to the likes of John the Baptist, who speaks the truth about our lives as human beings so that we can know the joy of the Kingdom of Heaven and the wonder of the Christ Child. Amen.

1 Advent A

Charlotte Collins Reed
Christ Episcopal Church
December 1, 2013

1 Advent A

When our sons, Slocomb and Caldwell, were little boys, they had Advent calendars given to them by my aunt. The calendars had small doors cut into them, one door for each day until Christmas, and behind each door was a small piece of chocolate. Each night in December, they got to open one of the doors and mark off one more day until Christmas by eating a piece of chocolate. So far as Slocomb and Caldwell were concerned, all time moved toward Christmas and the only time that mattered was the number of days left until Christmas. Advent was a season, not so much of waiting, as of marking time. How many days left until Christmas? The theology here is simple: when the chocolate is gone, Jesus is here.

While that theology of Advent is perhaps a bit shallow, I have to say that I like that version of Advent better than what I hear in the gospel lesson this morning. On this first Sunday of Advent, when we might hope to hear something about the coming birth of the Christ child, something that will inspire us for this time of waiting, instead we hear Jesus compare his return with high level security, the preparation, or lack thereof, for the Great Flood, and a woman being taken up from her work grinding wheat. Where is that Advent calendar with the little pieces of chocolate??? I have to say that neither the image of preparation for a flood, nor being taken up from my daily work, nor being in a state of lock-down to prevent a thief from breaking into my house make me long for the coming of the Son of Man. Besides, aren’t we supposed to welcome Jesus rather than lock him out? I much prefer Isaiah’s vision of people beating their swords into plowshares, and their spears into pruning hooks, and nations not lifting up sword against nation, and no one learning war anymore. Isaiah calls us to wait for this day by walking in the light of the Lord. Jesus calls us to prepare for his return as if we were expecting a thief to break into our home.

Whose image of the coming of the Messiah is correct? Isaiah’s or Jesus’? In true Anglican fashion, the answer, of course, is "yes." While Isaiah gives us a vision of the world coming together in peaceful unity, Jesus reminds us that we have no calendar, chocolate or otherwise, to tell us when that will happen. Jesus’ message is not that his return will be a flood, a kidnaping or a theft, but that God will break in among us while we are going about our every day work, living our everyday lives, with no advance notice, so we need to be prepared. According to Jesus, just as there were no signs that the great flood was coming, just as two women will be about their daily work grinding meal when one will be taken, just as a thief breaks in without warning, so will Jesus come. There will be no 4 weeks of Advent to prepare. We will have to be ready because the call to the holy mountain, to gather in peace as God’s people, will come without warning.

How are we to be ready? I am reminded of the way that people and whole cities, states, and countries for that matter, prepare for hurricane season. Tremendous energy and resources are used to board up houses, fill sandbags, stock groceries, water and other necessities, and move to higher ground, because the people’s lives depend on being ready for the wind and rains to come. But is disaster preparedness really the metaphor we want when we think about being prepared for Jesus?

Preparation for anything involves practice. If we want to be prepared for a recital, we practice. If we want to be prepared to host a dinner party, we practice our recipes on our family. If we want to be prepared for the test, we practice. And, because Jesus himself talks about floods and kidnapings, if we want to be prepared for disaster, we practice. So, if we want to recognize the Christ child when he is born, we practice recognizing those places where he is born among us now. How do we practice that? The apostle Paul gives us some idea of how we practice in the letter to the Romans. In the passage just before our reading from Romans this morning, Paul tells us to love one another, for the one who loves another has fulfilled the law. This morning we hear Paul tell us to lay aside works of darkness and put on the armor of light. Practice being people of light. We are to practice living fully, fulfilling all the law simply by loving one another and living honorably, and doing this with all the intensity and energy we would put into preparing for a flood, kidnaping, or a theft.

Advent calls us to a season of practice by calling us to live as if the Christ child will be born in our midst this very minute to usher in the Reign of God. The irony is that, if we live as Paul and Jesus call us to, we will be doing our part to make the future peaceful kingdom that Isaiah describes a more present reality in this world in our lifetime. Jesus told us that no one knows the hour, the place, or the manner in which he will return, this is true. But Jesus also proclaimed that the Kingdom of God has arrived, and told us that the Kingdom of God is like a mustard seed, growing among us until sometime in the future when the Kingdom will appear in all its fullness. Jesus calls us to prepare for his coming by living as if that for which we wait has already arrived.

So we wait and we practice. Advent is so much more than just counting down the days until Christmas. Advent is the call to be prepared, not by stockpiling necessities or by locking all our doors, but by living in the light, looking for those places where the Christ Child is born in our midst now. And when we live into Advent, Isaiah’s vision of the peaceful city will come just a little bit closer.

Amen.

Christ the King

Charlotte Collins Reed
Christ Episcopal Church
November 23, 2013

Christ the King

Last Wednesday evening, we were privileged to host one of the events surrounding the 125^th anniversary of the Bushnell home, now known as the Richards, Raff, and Dunbar Funeral Home. The home, which is just down the street from Christ Church, is a stunning piece of late 19^th century architecture. The original owners of the home, Asa and Ellen Bushnell, were long time parishioners of this parish and once owned what we now call Hollenbeck House. So we were asked to host the event because of our historic ties to the Bushnells. Rather than use our worship space, which would seat more people, we used the Parish Hall. The Parish Hall building, which actually includes the Guild Room and kitchen on the same level with the Parish Hall, what was once a gymnasium and is now Christian Education space underneath the Parish Hall, and the choir room and sacristy on this level, was given by Ellen Bushnell in memory of her husband in 1906.

When Ellen Bushnell gave Christ Church a Parish Hall, she actually, although perhaps unintentionally, changed the identity of this parish. Christ Church had been founded in 1834 as a place for Christians to worship as Episcopalians-that is, with the customs and styles of the Church of England, minus any loyalty to the monarchy. The church started off in a small, frame building, then built a larger building, then in early 1870's build this glorious space. People gathered in this space to worship for about 30 years before there was a Parish Hall. But once there was a parish hall, people could gather here in new ways. Now the church could be a gathering place for education, meals, and other fellowship activities both for parishioners and for the community. A few of our parishioners remember when Christ Church used the Parish Hall to hosted an annual Christmas dinner for the Masonic Home, and in the great flu epidemic of the early 20^th century the Parish Hall served as an infirmary for the sick. The gymnasium beneath the Parish Hall hosted scout troops and other activities. In the boom of the 1960's, there was need for even more space to gather people so the Education hallway was further developed and we gathered more intentionally for Christian Education. Eventually we would use the rooms in that hallway to host Interfaith Hospitality Network and gather people who were without homes or jobs to give them a place to sleep and food to eat. Once the East Entrance was added in 1989, people of all levels of physical ability could gather here for worship, fellowship, education, a support group, or whatever ministry was happening in the building. The practice of using Christ Church as a place to gather for more than worship began with Ellen Bushnell’s gift of the Parish Hall.

Today is Christ the King Sunday, the last Sunday before Advent begins. Christ the King Sunday is also our patronal feast day since we hold the name "Christ Church." We have no record that I know of that tells us why the name "Christ Church" was chosen, although we do know that the original name was "The Parish of All Souls." Names are important. They give us our identity as people and they give us our identity as institutions. What is the significance of carrying the name of the crucified and risen One?

Our reading from Jeremiah begins with the words "Woe to the shepherds who scatter and destroy the sheep of my pasture!," says the Lord." The passage ends with God’s promise of a king who will serve with justice and righteousness, who will bring together what has been scattered and heal what has been destroyed. As Christians, we believe Jesus is that promised king. When we read the gospels, we hear story after story in which Jesus gathered together those who had been scattered. The poor, the blind, the lame, the sick, all those that society scattered to the margins, Jesus brought to the center. Jesus ate with tax collectors and sinners, those despised by the world around them. Jesus told parables in which the people invited to the party could not make time to come, so people off the streets, the homeless and hungry, were gathered in their place. Jesus’ work did not earn him a popularity prize, as we hear in the gospel reading. For his efforts, we find Jesus on the cross this morning with a criminal on either side of him.

Even on the cross, Jesus is about the work of bringing the scattered together. The first words we hear from Jesus are "Father, forgive them; for they do not know what they are doing." Forgiveness is the deepest form of gathering the scattered. Through forgiveness we are reconciled with those who are scattered from our lives. The last thing we hear Jesus say, to the criminal being crucified next to him, is "Truly I tell you, today you will be with me in Paradise." Not even death can destroy Jesus’ work of gathering together the scattered. In John’s gospel, from which we do not hear this morning, Jesus says to the crowds "And I, when I am lifted up from the earth, will draw all people to myself." The work of Jesus and the work of the Risen Christ is to gather.

And so, as Christ Church, we gather. We gather to worship each week. We gather people every Wednesday at the Food Pantry. People who are working hard to break the bonds of addiction gather here on Saturday night. People gather here to listen to lectures, hear great music, be nurtured and fed, to grieve losses and celebrate joys. But gathering is about more than simply opening our doors. Jesus did not simply sit in a tent with a sign that said welcome. Jesus gathered by showing up in the places where people gathered-in the synagogue or at the Temple, by the lake, at a wedding, in a locked room in the midst of frightened disciples or along a dusty road. Jesus was out and about doing the active work of gathering.

Christ the King Sunday challenges us to live as a church that carries on the gospel work of gathering. Christ the King Sunday challenges us to be not only a welcoming and inclusive place for people to gather, but to actually do the work of gathering, bringing together all sorts and conditions of people to hear the Good News, know Jesus, and be fed together. Jesus challenges us to gather those who have been scattered, whether those who have given up on faith because they have experienced church as judgmental or exclusive, or those who have been scattered because the world has given up on them. When we are shepherds who work to gather people together, the Paradise Jesus promised the thief who was gathered with him on the cross comes just a little bit closer.

Amen.

28 Proper C

Charlotte Collins Reed
Christ Episcopal Church
November 17, 2013

28 Proper C

Some four or five years ago, a small group of 6-8 Christ Church folk set off on a path to bring Reading Camp to Christ Church. Reading Camp would be a new ministry that fit with our core values of outreach, education, hospitality, and worship. The process of learning, developing, and planning for this new ministry took about two years, and in 2011 we offered a free one week Reading Camp to children who had finished third grade and were about a year behind in their reading. Reading Camp was an amazing experience of the Body of Christ at work at Christ Church. Different people used their skills to shop, plan and make meals, organize field trips and recruit chaperones, plan the curriculum for the reading stations, recruit children, decorate, and create a library. For two summers, we gave a small group of children a fabulous week that enhanced their reading skills and taught them to love reading. We were justifiably proud of this program which made a real difference in the lives of the children we served. Last year, however, the Ohio legislature passed the Third Grade guarantee, which requires children to pass the third grade reading portion of the Ohio Achievement Assessment before going on to 4^th grade. Since a very large number of Springfield children were at risk of failing, Springfield City Schools developed a summer program to benefit the exact population we had served. So, we let go of Reading Camp, at least for the time being.

At about the same time as we launched our Reading Camp at Christ Church, we were also invited to host the Dayton Gay Men’s Chorus for their first concert outside of Dayton. To make a long story short, this parish, you, rallied around this opportunity and many people worked to offer both Springfield and the Chorus the finest possible hospitality. People offered to usher, greet, organize a reception, bake cookies and make appetizers, set up, clean up, and all the things involved in welcoming 200 people into this space. We were energized by that work, which was a significant ministry of outreach and hospitality. Our Sunday attendance went up significantly, not so much because new people began to come, but because we were excited and proud of what we were doing at Christ Church and we came to church more often. After three highly successful years, we have literally worked ourselves out of a job. The Chorus would like a larger venue so this year we will co-host with Faith United Methodist Church in their facility.

Over the past 4 years, these two events have been a part of who we are at Christ Church as we lived into what we value. Now, through no fault or failure of our own, indeed in one case because of our success, we no longer host either of these ministries. With ears open to what new thing God might be calling us to, we hear God say this morning "For I am about to create new heavens and a new earth; the former things shall not be remembered or come to mind. But be glad and rejoice forever in what I am creating." These soaring words are spoken to a people in great distress. God’s people have returned from exile in Babylon and are trying to rebuild their lives in what was once the prosperous Promised Land. Now, however, infant mortality is high, food and housing are scarce, employment is in short supply. God promises a time when there will be a new beginning for everyone. The people’s transgressions will be forgotten and Jerusalem will be restored like a new Eden. "No more shall there be in Jerusalem an infant that lives but a few days, or an old person who does not live out a lifetime....they shall build houses and inhabit them; they shall plant vineyards and eat their fruit...." says God. God calls the people to expect that time when God will make all things new.

Jesus is also concerned with the end time this morning. Jesus tells the disciples that the time will come when not one of the Temple stones will be left upon another. All will be thrown down. Jesus is talking about that same end time that we heard about in the reading from Isaiah. The people are still waiting for God to come and make all things new. So the disciples ask Jesus with great expectation-when will this be and what will be the sign that this is about to take place? Jesus answer is not exactly reassuring. There will be wars and earthquakes, famines and plagues, dreadful portents and great signs from heavens. I much prefer Isaiah’s version, myself! But the promise is still the same-neither war, nor earthquake, nor famine, nor plagues, nor any other disaster will have the final word. God’s promise will have the final word in God’s good time.

Well, God’s people have been waiting for a few thousand years now. The Church still believes that time moves toward an end when all creation will be reconciled with God. Every week in the Nicene Creed we say "He will come again in glory to judge the living and the dead, and his kingdom will have no end." And despite any individual skepticism we might have, the Church holds fast to this promise.

But the reading from 2 Thessalonians cautions us against believing that God will only do a new thing at the end of time. Some of the Thessalonians are sitting idly as they wait for God to act at the end time, and they are chastised for their idleness. The words from Isaiah that we said/sang in place of the psalm this morning tell us clearly that God acts in the present. "Surely it is God who saves me. I will trust in God and not be afraid. For the Lord is my stronghold and my sure defense...." All in the present tense. God and Scripture both call us to see where God is at work in the present, making a new heaven and a new earth, metaphorically if not literally. Our task as a congregation over the next months will be to discern where God is at work in our midst now, and how God is calling us to be part of a new creation, where, as we hear in Isaiah, everyone lives out a full life, food and housing are plentiful, employment opportunities are available, and peace shall reign. As many of you have already heard, during the early spring beginning February 10, I will be on sabbatical. Part of the reason for a sabbatical is for refreshment and renewal, but part of the reason is also to take time away to get a better view of the big picture and what new work God might be calling us to as a congregation. But the sabbatical is not just about my being away. The sabbatical is also a time of renewal for the congregation as you have the opportunity to do that same work of praying, reflecting, and discerning as you think about what we do well as a congregation, what we might do better, what we need to let go of, and what new thing God might be doing in our midst. The vestry is in the process of calling the Rev. John Johanssen, one of the best sabbatical interims in the church, to be at Christ Church while I am away. John has been a parish priest for many years in churches small, medium, and large. John loves congregations and loves the work of congregational development, particularly for churches that are healthy and not in crisis. Most importantly, John is someone I trust to be your priest while I am away. And I trust that when I return on the Sunday after Easter, between us we will have many new ideas for the future and renewed energy to bring those ideas to fruition.

Every week we proclaim together "Christ has died. Christ is Risen. Christ will come again." Our readings this morning point us both to that time when Christ will return in glory, and to way in which Christ dwells among us now, pointing us to God’s new creation in our midst. Christ will come again. And again. And again. And again. The real question is not when. The question is where. Where will we meet the Risen Christ and what work will we do together?

Amen.

27 Proper C

Charlotte Collins Reed
Christ Episcopal Church
November 10, 2013

27 Proper C

As I drive around Springfield, I typically bounce back and forth between two very different radio stations. In the morning and late afternoon, I listen to National Public Radio for the news. Mid-day, I listen to a country station out of Dayton. The two stations offer two different perspectives on life, for sure. The country station plays songs with great names like "God is great, beer is good, people are crazy." Some days I think that, if I could cross stitch, I would cross stitch that phrase to put on the wall in my office, even though I don’t drink beer! For the most part, however, the theme of many if not most country songs seems to be nostalgia for the past. The songs are full of longing for what was, whether a relationship, or the time when the children were young, or a time of more financial stability, or when mama was alive or whatever. The news shows on National Public Radio, and most media outlets for that matter, seem to focus on the future, specifically on anxieties about the future. What will the stock market do? Where will the storm hit? Who will be hit by the next terrorist attack? What will happen if the tax levy fails? And on and on. When I get tired of the news, I switch to the country station, and when I get tired of nostalgia for the past, I switch to the news. And when I am tired of both, I turned the radio off.

Today, the reading from Haggai is our dose of nostalgia for the past. Haggai’s people have returned from exile in Babylon to the devastated land of Judah. During the 50 years of the Babylonian exile, pretty much everyone who lived in Judah before the exile had died. The only memories of the great temple in Jerusalem came from the stories handed down through the five decades of captivity. Now, those who returned to Jerusalem had the daunting task of rebuilding their lives and their temple. The land had was a barren wasteland. The infrastructure was in ruins. Morale was low as the people pondered the somewhat pitiful replacement temple they were able to build. The people longed for the time when God’s people dwelled in the promised land in prosperity and worshiped in a temple fit for God.

On the other hand, the letter to the Thessalonians is full of anxiety for the future. The earliest Christians believed that Jesus would return quite soon, and they shaped their lives around that belief. Everything they did and every decision they made was their response to the question "How do we live in a world where Jesus has been raised from the dead and will return to take us with him?" Now, 20 plus years have passed and Jesus has not returned. Faithful Christians began to worry that Jesus actually had returned, but they had missed him. If that is true, everything they have believed was for naught. There is great anxiety among the Thessalonians about what the future might, or might not, hold.

The response to the people who have returned to Jerusalem and long for the past is the same the response to the Thessalonians who are anxious about the future. Haggai says to the people of Jerusalem "Take courage, all you people of the land says the Lord; work, for I am with you, says the Lord of hosts, according to the promise that I made you when you came out of Egypt. My spirit abides among you, do not fear." Haggai reminds the people of the way God brought them out of Egypt, not so they will have even greater longing for the past, but to remind them of the way God dwells among them now. Haggai calls them to remember the way God acted in the past so that they can see God at work in the present, in the midst of the destruction and chaos of their lives. Watch, for God is about to shake the heavens and the earth, the sea and the dry land. Look and see where God is at work now.

Likewise, in the letter to the Thessalonians, in the midst of their anxiety about the future, the Christians are called to stand firm and hold fast to the traditions they were given. The passage ends with a prayer for the Thessalonians. "Now may our Lord Jesus Christ himself and God our Father, who loved us and through grace gave us eternal comfort and good hope, comfort your hearts and strengthen them in every good work and word." God, the Thessalonians are told, is at work in their lives now, comforting them and strengthening them in every good work. In the midst of their anxiety about the future, they are to pay attention to what God is doing in the present and what the good work might be that God is calling them to in the present.

Nostalgia for the good old days and anxiety about the future are easy traps to fall into. We do this as a church when we long for the days when the culture was more church friendly, or families were larger, or the roof did not leak. We do this when we get anxious about the future, whether something might change, or how the bills will be paid or whether the roof will leak. We do this as individuals when we long for the time when the children were young, or our finances were more stable, or our loved ones were still alive. Or we get anxious about whether or not we will still have a job or health insurance, or have our health, or our retirement fund will be adequate. All of these are good memories and reasonable causes for concern. But God calls us to look to the past as a reminder of the way God worked in our lives then so we can better see God at work now. And when we open our eyes to what God is doing in our midst now, we know that God will work in our futures whatever they may hold and we need not be anxious. What is God doing in our midst now? How is God acting in our lives as individuals and in our life as a church? As Christians, we are called to neither nostalgia for the past nor anxiety about the future. We are called to answer the question "What is God doing in our midst now" and then we are called to proclaim the answer for all the world to see.

Amen.

All Saints Sunday

Charlotte Collins Reed
Christ Episcopal Church
November 3, 2013

All Saints Sunday

Miss Minnie Lee was my grandmother’s closest and dearest friend. Her real name was Minnie Lee Brantley, and she was married to Mr. Ben. Miss Minnie Lee, Mr. Ben, my grandmother and their assorted and various friends and neighbors lived in Headland, Alabama. There, along with most of the rest of the south, the custom was for children to call the adults friends of their parents and grandparents by their first name, prefixed by Miss or Mister.

The friendship between Miss Minnie Lee and my grandmother spanned some 6 decades. They were the best of friends, except when they weren’t, which was about once a week according to my mother. Whatever the cause of their periodic arguments, they always made up and day after day, week in and week out, they shared celebrations, heartaches, meals, and pretty much everything else.

When Miss Minnie Lee was well into her 80's, or maybe her 90's, she crocheted an afghan for me. The afghan is navy blue, tightly crocheted, in a pattern that looks something like a net, but with larger, tight knots much closer together than a real net. I know nothing about crochet, other than to enjoy the warmth of a well crocheted afghan, so describing the piece in more detail is a bit like trying to speak a foreign language. The afghan is a treasure not only because my grandmother’s best friend made it for me, but because Miss Minnie Lee was completely blind when she crocheted the piece. She had totally lost her sight when she made this queen size, perfectly and intricately hooked, afghan.

How on earth could Miss Minnie Lee crochet without sight?

After pondering this great mystery for many years, finally the answer dawned on me. After she lost her sight, Miss Minnie Lee could still crochet simply because she had crocheted her entire life. Her hands knew exactly what to do, how the yarn felt, how the hooks moved. Of course, sight was a plus, but really her brain and her hands were doing the work, not her eyes. She had practiced over and over again, over the course of many decades, until she got to the point where she really did not have to see in order to create beauty.

Today is All Saints Sunday, a major and favorite feast day of the church. The hymns are some of the most beloved hymns in the hymnal. The candles stir up powerful memories and emotions. The sound of the names of our loved ones bypasses our brains and goes straight to our hearts. So, you might think that the story of Miss Minnie Lee and her afghan is the story of an ordinary saint, an ordinary person, overcoming disability to do something creative and beautiful. And you would be partially correct. But only partially. The story of Miss Minnie Lee is really the story about a woman who practiced and practiced a skill over and over again, over years and decades, until when the time came that she could no longer see, she had embodied the skill and could continue on without her sight. The saints of God practiced their faith in the exact same way. They practiced Bible study, prayer, worship, Christian fellowship, generosity, hospitality, and acts of mercy over and over again through the course of their lives. My guess is that sometimes that work was joyful and sometimes that work was tedious, boring even. But when put to the test, as the saints of God all were, their faith had become so embodied within them through the constant practice, that they were able to live that faith to respond to the darkness they encountered. The scripture they needed for strength was imprinted on their minds. Their relationship with God which had been strengthened by years and years of prayer, sustained them. Perhaps even a great hymn or two dwelled within them to give them hope and courage. The saints of God were able to stand up to injustice, care for the poor and the sick, or proclaim the gospel in the face of persecution. The saints could be the light that shines in the darkness because their lives embodied the faith they had practiced.

This morning, we hear Jesus say "Blessed are you who are poor, for yours is the Kingdom of God. Blessed are you who are hungry now, for you will be filled. Blessed are you who weep now, for you will laugh." What makes the poor, the hungry, and those who weep blessed? And why would Jesus call woe upon the rich, the full, and those who laugh? I do not think Jesus is talking about blessings and woes in the next life. I think Jesus is talking about blessings and woes now. What the poor, the hungry, and those who weep know, that sometimes I forget, is that we cannot make it in this world alone. We are all dependent on each other and on the goodness of others in order to survive. The poor know that we are all connected. Those of us who are neither poor nor hungry tend to think that our success is our own and we forget that we are all connected. On All Saints Day, we do not celebrate the achievements of individual Saints. On All Saints Day, we celebrate that great body we call the communion of Saints. In the opening collect, we prayed "Almighty God, you have knit together the elect in one communion and fellowship in the mystical body of Jesus Christ, our Lord." All Saints Day celebrates the connection of all saints, past, present, and future. We sing and pray in the midst of the fellowship of all those who have practiced the faith, day in and day out, until that faith is embodied within us.

As we remember those who have gone before us, their deep faith and their impact on our own lives, All Saints Day calls us to practice our faith the way Miss Minnie Lee practiced her crochet-over and over again until, when the light was gone, she could crochet in the darkness. All Saints calls us to be as connected to each other as we feel this day towards those who have gone before us, because faith is first practiced in community. And, in the midst of the candles, our prayers, the music and emotion of this day, All Saints calls us to go out into the world as people who embody our faith and be the light that shines in the darkness.

Amen.

24 Proper C

Charlotte Collins Reed
Christ Episcopal Church
October 17, 2010

24 Proper C

My hunch is that most of us, young or less young have some experience with persistence. We learn from a young age that to get whatever we want in life, we have to keep trying. As a very young child, we learn that, the longer we pester Mom or Dad for what we want, the better the chance we will succeed. We learn that we have to be persistent in study, or work, or practice, in order to succeed. . Many times, but not always, our persistence pays off. If we study hard enough, we’ll probably pass the test. If we work hard enough, we may well get the raise or promotion. If we practice the piano long enough, we’ll be able to play the music we like. If the stewardship ministry team works long and hard enough, the church will have the pledges we need for the work we are given to do. When we do not succeed, we often wonder whether we should have tried just a little harder. We know that persistence pays off more often than not, so when we fail to reach our goal, we can easily think that our lack of persistence was the problem. But in my experience, and perhaps yours, prayer is the one area where persistence just does not always seem to reap the results I ask for. Did my loved one die because I was not persistent enough in prayer. Do I believe that if I had just prayed a little harder, or gotten just a few more people to pray, she would have lived? I don’t think so, but today’s gospel lesson certainly seems to tell us that if we pray hard enough, we will get whatever we want from God.

In Jesus’ parable this morning, the widow wants the judge to grant her justice against her opponent. In Jesus’ time, judges were entrusted with protecting the poor, the widows and the orphans. Widows had no way to support themselves and they were totally dependent on God and the justice of the judge for their survival. This judge ignores the widow’s request, and, because the widow is not willing to take "no" for an answer, she repeats it. This cycle occurs over and over again, until finally worn down, the judge grants the widow justice so that she will go away. At the end of the parable, Jesus says "Listen to what the unjust judge says. And will not God grant justice to his chosen ones who cry to him day and night? Will he delay long in helping them? I tell you, he will quickly grant justice to them." Jesus seems to be telling us that if we pray long enough and hard enough, if we are persistent enough and if we refuse to take "no" for an answer, eventually we will wear God down and get what we want.

How can we understand this parable when the teaching seems so contrary to our experience and seems to cast us in the roll of spoiled children?

The reading from 2 Timothy reminds us that all Scripture is given to us for our learning. We tend to shy away from such passages because we wonder if God really wants us to stone our children when they talk back to us, as Deuteronomy 21 suggests, or refrain from wearing blended fabric Leviticus 19 and Deuteronomy 22 suggest, or hate our mother and father, brothers and sisters, or even life itself as Jesus suggests in the gospels of Matthew and Luke. But the writer of 2 Timothy is not talking about every individual verse of Scripture, nor is 2 Timothy talking about taking one verse of Scripture and using that single verse to interpret all of Scripture. 2 Timothy is telling us that the whole of Scripture is inspired by God and given to us for our learning. God invites us to use the fullness of Scripture to understand a single difficult passage, so that we don’t have to rely on just our own experience and the words of a single passage of Scripture to figure out what God is calling us to do and be.

So, in this morning’s parable, we have a widow and an unjust judge. When we think about all of Scripture, we remember that over and over again in the gospels, especially Luke’s gospel, we see Jesus identify himself with the poor and the outcast, the widows and the orphans. In Matthew’s gospel, we hear Jesus say that whenever we minister to the hungry and the thirsty, to those on the margins of society, we minister to him. We watch Jesus care for those who have been cast aside, which would certainly include the widows of Jesus’ time. We hear Jesus say in the Book of Revelation "Behold, I stand at the door and knock." And in the Hebrew Scriptures, the one who cares passionately about justice is God. And, through out Scripture, typically the ones who act unjustly and exploit other people, are people, not God. In the parables, typically, the bad king, the rude guest, the corrupt manager, or the stingy farmer represent people, not God. So, in the context of all of Scripture, perhaps there is different way to understand the parable of the unjust judge. Perhaps God is the one knocking so persistently, demanding justice, and perhaps WE are the judge. Perhaps the persistence in this parable is God’s persistence, the knocking that will not stop until justice has been served. And in this parable, suppose that we are the judge, the ones empowered by God to bring about justice, to care for the poor and the oppressed, the outcasts and the victims of injustice. The persistent knocking is knocking on the door of our hearts so that we may see and hear and feel the injustice of the world and be inspired by God to do something about it. Perhaps prayer is not about continually pestering God to do something about all that is wrong with our lives and the world until God gives in just so we will go away. Perhaps prayer is, at least in part, our listening for God to tell us all that is broken in this world and how we are to work on God’s behalf to bring about justice, healing, and peace.

God says through the prophet Jeremiah "I will put my law within them, and I will write it on their hearts, and I will be their God and they will be my people." These words do not describe a relationship with God in which we badger God until we get what we want, nor does this passage describe a God who wants us to stop the pestering and go away.. These words describe a relationship with God in which our hearts are transformed.

In the end, the story of Scripture, and the parable of the unjust judge, is not the story of human persistence at all. The story of Scripture, including our parable this morning, is the story of the persistence of God and our response to God’s persistent knocking.

Amen.

23 Proper C

Charlotte Collins Reed

Christ Episcopal Church

October 13, 2013

 23 Proper C

 This summer, we celebrated the life of Helen Myers, mourned her death, and committed her eternal life to God.  Helen was a member of this parish, although only a few of us had the privilege of knowing her as she was homebound for the last many years.  Helen was born in 1916 and grew up on the south side of Springfield attending the small Presbyterian Church on South Limestone which became South Side Mennonite Church.  She grew up poor, even before the Great Depression when almost everyone in Springfield was poor.  She married her high school sweetheart, Charles, who grew up at Christ Church and sang in the choir here as a young boy, then they moved to Pennsylvania and Connecticut and other places before returning to retire in Springfield some 25 years ago.  Charles died suddenly shortly after retiring and at some point thereafter Helen became a member of Christ Church, coming to the Wednesday Eucharist when she could, sending out reminder cards for our various ministries for many years, and consuming every issue of the Clarion as soon as the newsletter came out.  Helen knew everything that was going on at Christ Church and had half of Oakwood Village saving pennies for our Mile of Pennies program, even though the only time she was able to come to church in the time I have been here was for an organ recital in 2003 or 2004.

Even though most of us never knew Helen, we have all been impacted by her life.  While at the time she would never allow us to tell of her generosity, the truth is that she was the major donor that made the new slate roof possible in 2008.   She was the major contributor to the organ project in 2003.  And in the late 1990’s, Helen was the one who made the gift that air-conditioned both this building and Hollenbeck House.  When I or anyone else would thank Helen for her generosity, her response was always the same “To whom much is given, much is expected.”  End of conversation. 

One interesting fact about Helen’s generosity was that neither I nor my predecessors ever asked her for anything.  She told Bob and Ruth Partlow, the rectors in the 1990’s, that the church needed to be air conditioned and she wanted to make that happen.  In 2003, she called me to come visit her.  She knew we were going to have some work done on the organ and she wanted that work done right and as much of the organ restored as possible, and gave a major gift to make that happened.  And in 2008, she called again and asked me to come see her.  I thought that was odd since I had just gone to see her the week before, but Helen was an absolute delight to visit, so we set up a time and I went.  Helen had a substantial amount of money in an account where it was not being used.  She considered that to be wasteful and asked what major projects we had going on that needed funding.  When I mentioned the slate roof, she was delighted.  Her husband was an engineer and loved sound buildings.  She would make the lead gift to make that possible.  Helen saw a need, recognized potential, and had the ability to make something amazing happen.  We never asked for a thing, and Helen would never let us tell the story of her generosity until now.

The question is: “What inspired such love for Christ Church in a woman who really never attended church here?” 

About 90 years ago, when her husband Charles was a young boy growing up at Christ Church, his father died.  His mother worked hard to raise Charles, but times were difficult financially and life was a struggle for them.  The people of Christ Church stepped in and made sure Charles stayed in school and the family had what they needed.  Those folks mentored Charles, encouraged him, and saw that he had what he needed to finish high school.  When Charles finished high school, the general expectation of family and friends was that Charles would get a job and support his mother.  But the people of Christ Church stepped in and prevailed.  They saw potential in Charles and made sure he went to college and reached his goal to become an engineer.  When he finished college and had a job, he and Helen married after having dated for about 8 years, and they moved from Springfield.  Charles’ career as an engineer was long and quite lucrative.

To her dying breath, Helen was extraordinarily grateful for what Christ Church has done for her husband, and thus her family, some 90 years ago.  Helen  considered her generosity to be simply an expression of her gratitude to a church that transformed the life and the potential of one child and that child’s future family.  Her deep love for Christ Church was born of that gratitude.  Her generosity was gratitude in action. 

This morning, we hear the story of Jesus and the 10 lepers.  How easily we can walk off from all that God has done for us and not return to give thanks!  While the 10^th leper’s act of gratitude may be a little demonstrative for us reserved Episcopalians, obviously the point is that the healed man understood the magnitude of what had been done for him and returned to give thanks.  The parallel between the story of the healed man and Helen’s story is clear.  Helen also understood the magnitude of the difference God, through Christ Church, had made in her husband’s life and in her own, and she acted on that gratitude. 

Gratitude and generosity are both commendable and well worth imitating as we think about our own offerings to this parish.  But I think there is a challenge here that runs even deeper than the challenge to think about how our own lives reflect our gratitude for all God has done for us. 

Helen’s gratitude in the last decades of her life was for what this parish had done for her husband 80 or 90 years ago.  What are we doing as a parish, both as individuals within a parish and as a parish as a whole, that 90 years from now will cause someone to look back with the kind of gratitude Helen had for Christ Church?  How are we working to be a community of faith that will inspire that kind of gratitude?  Obviously no one is around now who was an adult in the 1920’s influencing a young man to pursue his education and helping to make that possible.  But my hunch is that there was no vestry resolution to do so, no sermon from the rector, and no committee or Ministry Team got involved.  My guess is that some folks got together, saw a need and recognized potential, and made something happen that transformed a life.  In the story of the 10 lepers, Jesus saw a need, had the ability, recognized potential and made something happen, too.  Where do we see need, recognize potential, and have the ability to make something happen?  The reading from Jeremiah reminds us that we are called to take action now, where we are presently located, in the current circumstances of our lives, and not wait until our life situation changes to something more suitable for doing the work of God.  Jesus calls us to see need, recognize potential, and use our abilities to make amazing things happen now.  Our response to that call will transform both our lives and the lives of others.  Like Christ Church and their care of a young man, like Helen Myers and her great generosity, our response to Jesus’ call to see need, to recognize potential, and to be generous with our abilities is the stewardship of our lives in action.                                                                             

Amen.

22 Proper C

Charlotte Collins Reed
Christ Episcopal Church
October 6, 2013

22 Proper C

When I was a sophomore in college, I took the standard intro to Bible class. The class was fascinating. I had never thought much about the authorship of Biblical texts, so I was unshaken to learn that the first 5 books of the Bible evolved over centuries, and were not written by Moses himself. The idea that stories were passed down orally from generation to generation before they were ever written down made the stories all the more dynamic to me. Of course I knew the story of Moses and the Exodus, but the Babylonian exile was completely new information. We read the Old Testament prophets who predicted gloom and destruction to God’s people, who had strayed far from the path God had set for them. We heard the prophets tell the people that if they did not repent, God would punish them with the loss of the promised land to foreigners. We watched as those threats became real when the Assyrians invaded in 722 BC and destroyed the Northern Kingdom. We heard more prophets warn the southern kingdom that the same would happen to them if they did not repent and mend their ways, and indeed, in 586 BC, the Babylonians invaded, carried the chosen people into exile, and destroyed the Promised Land. Both today’s reading from Lamentation and the psalm come from the time when the people were exiled in Babylon, trying to figure out how to worship God with no temple and no promised land. How could they sing the Lord’s song in a foreign land? And while I wondered whether God would actually punish the chosen people so harshly, or if that might just be their understanding of the events, rather than reality, I found that to be largely an intellectual exercise rather than a challenge to my faith.

Until we read Psalm 137, and I was stopped in my tracks. Psalm 137 is appalling. Here, in Scripture, we find not only a psalm of heartbreak as the chosen people of God mourn the loss of the Promised Land, but also a psalm of sheer human vengeance. "O Daughter of Babylon, doomed to destruction, happy the one who pays you back for what you have done to us! Happy shall he be who takes your little ones and dashes them against the rock!" I was horrified by those words, and the fact that these words of vengeance are part of holy scripture troubled me deeply.

Scripture, as I was to learn, does not just contain a record of God’s mighty acts and the faithful response of God’s people to those mighty acts. Scripture is unabashedly honest about recognizing and naming human brokenness and failure while at the same time being clear not to commend that failure. I knew that, on a certain level, having read in Genesis that Cain killed his brother Abel, and that Noah got drunk after the flood, neither of which are commendable but both are stories told in Scripture. What would cause my anger to echo that of Psalm 137? Gross injustice or an act of violence against someone I love? The loss of everything and everyone I hold dear? Utter inertia on the part of those in authority to protect and defend the vulnerable? Psalm 137 has preserved that raw human emotion for all to witness and plenty of other places in Scripture call us to a life that does not act on that anger.

In the gospel lesson this morning, we hear the disciples say to Jesus "Increase our faith!" Immediately prior to this request, Jesus has given the disciples two admonitions. First, Jesus tells them that it would be better to have a millstone hung around their necks and be cast into the sea than to be an obstacle to someone else’s faith. Secondly, he tells them that if another disciple sins, they are to confront the offender and if the offender repents, they are to forgive. These are overwhelming admonitions and the disciples respond to them by saying to Jesus "Increase our faith!" If only they had enough faith, they might be able to live up to Jesus’ high expectations. We know from all these weeks of hearing the words of Jeremiah and from this morning’s psalm that the Hebrew people have a collective memory of what happens to God’s chosen people when they do not live up to God’s expectations for them, and there is a collective memory of a time when such faith seemed impossible. In response to the disciples’ request, Jesus tells the disciples that if his followers had faith the size of a mustard seed, they could uproot a mulberry tree and plant it in the sea.

The truth is, many of us have at some time or another, felt the depth of despair reflected in the words of Psalm 137, and we have also wished we had the faith to do the impossible. When life is overwhelming beyond imagination, whatever the cause, we want the faith to be able to make things whole again. We want to know that it is not our lack of faith that is preventing a solution. On the surface, Jesus’ words are not very helpful here. When we crave a deeper faith, a faith that will allow us to make right the wrongs of the world, we hear Jesus say "If you had even the most minute amount of faith, you could uproot a tree," and we figure our faith must be terribly lacking.

Jesus, however, is not telling the disciples that they do not have enough faith. Jesus is telling the disciples, and us, that we need to understand faith differently. Faith is not about having a quantity sufficient to do spectacular tricks like toss a tree into the sea. Nor is faith about living a life good enough to keep God from getting mad at us. Jesus uses the impossible scenario of tossing a tree into the sea to show the disciples that faith is not about what we can do ourselves. Faith is about opening ourselves to allow God to do spectacular things through us. Jesus was not telling the disciples that their current faith was too small to do great things. Jesus was assuring the disciples that God can do great things through them. Jesus turns the disciples’ understanding of faith upside down and inside out. Faith is not about us. Faith is about God and letting God work through us to accomplish what seems impossible.

Eventually, after 50 years in captivity in Babylon, the Hebrew people will be allowed to return home to the Promised Land. Their time in exile will have increased their faith and they will have a new understanding of the way God works in their lives, apart from any particular piece of land or place of worship. In not too many more chapters of Luke’s gospel, the disciples will witness the horror of the crucifixion and the joy of the resurrection. They will experience God working through them in ways they could never imagine and with a faith they, themselves, could never produce. The message of the scripture is not that we humans will always be faithful, but that God will always be faithful. When times are tough and life is overwhelming, Jesus calls us not to summon up a faith that will allow us to do great things ourselves, but to believe that, in the midst of whatever suffering we find ourselves, God will do great things through us.

Amen.

21 Proper C

Charlotte Collins Reed
Christ Episcopal Church
September 29, 2013

21 Proper C

This past Tuesday, I had the joy of delivering packages of socks and underwear to elementary schools around Springfield. Our Christmas in July offering yielded 6 full bags of socks and 6 full bags of packages of underwear this year, so we had enough for delivery to 6 local elementary schools. Over 60% of the children in each of those 6 elementary schools live in poverty, and we know from the people who work in those schools that there is no money in some of those families for even basic necessities. There is just nothing quite like walking into the office of an elementary school with two sacks stuffed with socks and underwear and handing them to an unsuspecting school secretary. We have been doing this long enough at Christ Church that there are not actually a lot of unsuspecting school secretaries out there. Most of the time, they are very grateful for the delivery but no longer surprised. One time I walked into an office and was greeted with the words "Oh, I wish you had come 20 minutes ago!" I’ll spare you the details, but needless to say our gifts were needed. Sometimes a relatively new employee will say "Now I know where those come from" when I hand the bags across the counter. This year I got no surprised looks, but lots of gratitude. The reaction I will always remember is the reaction of the community connector, or social worker, at one of the school the very first year we delivered socks and underwear. She was near tears when she said "No one realizes how much our children need these things."

This morning, in the passage from Jeremiah, we hear Jeremiah make what appears on the surface to be a run of the mill real estate agreement. The details of the agreement are a bit foreign to us-Jeremiah has the right of redemption by purchase to the land being sold by his cousin Hanamel. The right of redemption is something like first right of refusal, although in the case of right of redemption the land stays in the family. We are given every little detail of the transaction, so between those details and the fact that God told Jeremiah this transaction would take place, we are led to believe that this real estate agreement is in Jeremiah’s best interest. The only problem is that this is a very bad piece of real estate and Jeremiah is actually in prison. Jeremiah has told the people of Judah, his own people, that God is using the Babylonians, the enemy, to punish the people of Judah for their sins. Those sins were things like worshiping foreign gods, and ignoring the poor in their midst. In times of war, telling the government that God is using the enemy to punish the current leadership and the people will land a person in jail. The real estate is a bad investment because the Babylonians will soon invade Judah and completely destroy Jerusalem. Jeremiah’s property will be destroyed, abandoned, and worthless. But God tells Jeremiah to put the deeds to the land in an earthenware jar where they will last a long time. For thus says the Lord of hosts, the God of Israel: "Houses and fields and vineyards shall again be bought in this land." Despite all evidence to the contrary, and in the midst of impending disaster, God calls Jeremiah and the people to hope in a future that is better than their current situation or than the immediate future.

In the gospel reading, Jesus tells the story of Lazarus and the rich man. Lazarus spent his days lying at the gate of the rich man’s house, covered with sores, hungry and humiliated. The rich man spent his days dressed in purple and fine linen and feasting sumptuously. When they both die, the roles are reversed and Lazarus has the far better life in Hades than does the rich man, who wants Lazarus to wait on him. When the rich man can get no relief for his misery, he asks Abraham to send Lazarus to his father’s house to warn his five brothers of their fate. But Abraham says no. "If they do not listen to Moses and the prophets, neither will they be convinced even if someone rises from the dead." The rich man’s sin was that he ignored Lazarus lying at his gate, if he ever really saw him to begin with. Moses and the prophets have a good bit to say about how the poor are to be treated. The book of Deuteronomy makes numerous provisions for the poor, and the Psalms are full of references to the way God will lift up the poor and crush the oppressor. Lazarus may have been invisible to the rich man, but Lazarus was not invisible to God.

What do Jeremiah’s real estate transaction, and Lazarus and the rich man have to do with delivering socks and underwear to elementary schools in Springfield? In the story of Lazarus and the rich man, and through out the gospels, Jesus calls us to see those whom the world ignores or simply does not see. Jesus calls us to open our eyes to see the need around us. Sometimes that need is obvious, like a man lying at the gate, covered with flies and having his wounds licked by wild dogs seeking blood. Other times it is less obvious and far easier to ignore. Jeremiah’s real estate transaction reminds us that God sees hope where we see disaster. Just as God saw hope in Jeremiah’s purchase of land that would soon be destroyed, God calls us to see hope where the world sees failure and would give up. We deliver socks and underwear to children who don’t have the things we take for granted as a sign to them and to us that they are not forgotten and we will not give up on them. We deliver socks and underwear, and cook meals, and sack groceries, and provide housing, and tutor children because God calls us to see hope where the world only sees need, and to see need where the world sees nothing. But what are we missing? Who do we not see because we are afraid to look? Today we hear God call us to open our eyes and look carefully at the world around us. God challenges us to open our eyes so that we can see those that God sees but the world does not, and to invest in God’s hope for a future where no one goes unnoticed. Who are we not seeing?

Amen.

20 Proper C

Charlotte Collins Reed
Christ Episcopal Church
September 22, 2013

20 Proper C

Two weeks ago, Jesus was handing out common sense advice and saying things like "For which of you, intending to build a tower, does not first sit down and estimate the cost to see whether you have enough to complete it?" That Sunday, Jesus also said "Or what king, going out to wage war against another king, will not sit down first and consider whether he is able with then thousand to oppose the one who comes against him with twenty-thousand." When Jesus comes at us with common sense advice, there is usually a trick up his sleeve, since he is the one who usually says things like "the last will be first and the first will be last," and "turn the other check," and "blessed are the poor," and "those who save their life will lose it and those who lose their life for my sake will save it." But while we have to wonder what Jesus is up to when he is dispensing common sense, this week Jesus makes no sense at all. Jesus seems to be commending the very traits we warn our children against: cheating, dishonesty, and laziness for starters. Once Jesus has commended these dubious character traits, he says "Whoever is faithful in a very little, is faithful also in much. And whoever is dishonest in a very little is dishonest in very much." That part, at least, makes sense. As I used to tell my children when they were little "If you are going to eat like that when you are at home, how can I possibly think you will have good table manners anywhere else." This parable should have a warning label that reads "Do not attempt to imitate this parable at home."

Here is a thought. The rich man fires the manager for squandering his property. So far, so good. If the manager has, indeed, been squandering the rich man’s property, he deserves to be fired. Now that we know that the manager is a person of dubious integrity, we are not surprised that the manager would act in his own self-interest and cut the debt owed to the rich man by that man’s customers. By cutting the debt, the man wins friends and will have a place to stay once he no longer has a paycheck. So far, the story makes sense. But just at the point when the manager should be thrown in prison, the master commends the manager for acting shrewdly. The manager has squandered the master’s property, taken 50 or 80 cents on the dollar as payment for debt owed the master, and the manager is now told that he will be welcomed into the eternal homes.

But, what if the manager has so badly squandered the master’s property that getting back 50 or 80 percent of what is owed to the master is actually a great bargain? Instead of looking at a total loss, the rich man is actually getting back 50-80% of what he is owed. Given that the manager has squandered the rich man’s property, now we have a win-win. The master is happy to get something back. The manager is happy because now he has friends to stay with. The clients are happy because their debt load is now lower. Jesus follows the parable by saying "Whoever is faithful in a very little is faithful in very much; and whoever is dishonest in a very little is dishonest also in much." In some bizarre way, the manager has been faithful in a very little and will be welcomed into the eternal homes.

Jesus is using this strange parable to teach us something about our relationship to the Kingdom of God. On the one hand, if we live with the values of the Kingdom now, if we can be faithful with what we are given now, God will know that we can be faithful with the abundance of eternal life later. If we are not faithful with what we have now, then God has no reason to think we will be faithful with the abundance of eternal life. The problem with this line of reasoning is that it leads us to believe that we earn eternal life by being faithful with what we have now. While that might make for a powerful stewardship sermon, and we could have competitive pledging to see who is the most faithful and who is clearly the most likely to get into heaven, the idea that we earn our way to heaven is simply not the gospel. The message of the gospel is that life, now and forever, is a gift secured for us through the death and resurrection of Jesus.

And that, I believe, is the point of the parable. Life-all of life, this life and the next, the eternal life that actually begins with our baptism is a gift. We have done nothing to earn or deserve this gift. Jesus is calling us to be faithful with that gift and not squander what we have been given. We are faithful with the gift of life when we use all that we have and all that we are to make the Kingdom of God a present reality for those around us. We squander the gift when we are selfish and believe that what God has given us-whether the resources of time or talent or material things-God has given us for our use alone. We know from the rest of the Gospel that the Kingdom of God is in our midst when the poor and the outcasts are raised up, the sick are healed, and justice and peace guide our lives. What would the world around us look like if we used our lives to give God an 80% return, or even a 50% return, on the investment God has in us? Perhaps God would commend us for our shrewdness and the world around us would look a little more like the Kingdom of God.

Amen.