God's Party

Charlotte Collins Reed
Christ Episcopal Church
December 24, 2014

Christmas Eve 

When I was a child, one of the best things about Christmas was that our family traditions were the same every year.  Every year, the same friends hosted a party on Christmas Eve, and Santa came to the party and brought each child a gift.  My gift was always thank you note cards, which was a bummer but Santa got points for consistency.  Every year, my grandmother would give my sister and me each a velvet dress.  My sister's was red and mine was blue.  Every year, my mom prepared the same food: roast beef, Yorkshire pudding, and wild rice casserole, and essentially the same people were gathered around the table.  Every year my dad bought the tree and we decorated it with red glass balls, lots of tinsel, and lights.  And every year, we tried to leave something interesting out for Santa Claus.  Those traditions all began when we lived in New Jersey, and the year we moved to Arkansas, we took great comfort in carrying many of those traditions with us.  While all the world around us seemed to have changed, the Christmas tree had the same red glass balls, tinsel, and lights on it, my mom made roast beef and Yorkshire pudding and wild rice casserole, and even though the people gathered around the table were different, the festive atmosphere was still the same.  Part of the magic of Christmas was its sameness from year to year, which makes sense given that we celebrate the same Christmas story year after year.

While our traditions brought me a sense of comfort and security as a child, they also left me with the distinct but confused notion that we have control over Christmas. Christmas belongs to us.  Christmas comes when the decorations are in place and the food is prepared.  Santa comes because we have been good and because we left really amazing goodies for him.  Jesus is in the manger because we put him there.  Christmas is our party.  

Obviously, my adult self knows that nothing could be further from the truth.  For starters, Christmas~the birth of the Christ child~ is hardly under the power of family traditions.  Secondly, the comforting and sustaining traditions, are the way we celebrate what God has done for us.  Despite all the human activity that goes on around Christmas~the shopping, decorating, wrapping, cooking, cleaning, delivering, and as joyful as all that activity may be, Christmas is God's party, not ours.

The Good News, however, is that God invites us to enter the Christmas story and make it our own.  The story we heard this night, the beloved story of Jesus' birth, offers us three concrete ways to celebrate a birth that happened longer ago than any of us can imagine, and to celebrate not as outsiders looking in, but as insiders looking out.

First, Mary and Joseph are willing to allow God to act through their lives.  Last Sunday, on the 4th Sunday of Advent, we heard Gabriel say to Mary "Greetings, favored one!  The Lord is with you....you will conceive and bear a son, and you will name him Jesus."  After some initial, understandable questioning, Mary says "Here I am, the servant of the Lord.  Let it be with me according to your word."  While Joseph plays no active role in Luke's version of the story, in Matthew's account of the birth of Jesus, the angel appears to Joseph in a dream and tells him that the child Mary has conceived is from the Holy Spirit, and that she will bear a son and Joseph will name him Jesus.  Both Mary and Joseph are willing to allow God to act through them to bring Good News to the world, even when doing so is more than inconvenient.

Secondly, the shepherds, who are minding their own business and tending their flocks when the angel of the Lord shows up, are willing put away their fear and hear the angel's message.  Sometimes, when we are going about our everyday lives, the strangest things do happen.  But most importantly, the shepherds were willing to leave their sheep, travel to Bethlehem, and believe the angel's message that the tiny baby lying in a manger, born of poor parents with no place to stay, was indeed the Messiah, the Lord.

Thirdly, the angel announces the good news of Jesus' birth with no guarantee that anyone will listen.  The angel had no way of knowing how the shepherds would respond, and in fact the shepherds were the least likely  people to first to hear the good news of Jesus' birth, and the least likely to be believed once they began to tell the story.  The natural response of the shepherds would be  to act on their fear and flee further into the fields with their sheep.  But the angel's job was to proclaim the good news that the Messiah has been born in the city of David, without any guarantee that the shepherds would listen, and indeed, the angel delivers the message.

The Christmas story invites us into the celebration of Jesus' birth. We are invited to travel with Mary and Joseph to Bethlehem by allowing God to act through us, even when it is mightily inconvenient to do so.  We are invited to stand with the shepherds and recognize the Christ child in the most unlikely of places.  And we are invited to sing with the angels the joyful news of the birth of our savior and not worry about whether anyone will listen.  We are invited into this celebration tonight, and always.  God invites us to bring our traditions, our decorations and wild rice casserole, our hymns and candles, our Christmas trees and festivities and join in God's party as insiders...a party that celebrates the birth of the Christ Child and the claim of the Christ Child on our own lives, just as that child claimed the lives of Mary and Joseph, the shepherds, and the angel on that first Christmas night.                          
                                     
                                                                                            Amen.

Outrageous Promises

Charlotte Collins Reed
Christ Episcopal Church
December 21, 2014

4 Advent B

Our two sons were backseat theologians at a young age.  One Sunday morning twenty-plus years ago as we were driving to church, a voice from the back seat offered this bit of information about God.  "God has large hands."  "Really," I responded.  "Why does God have large hands?"  The answer: "To give the children lots of candy."  The truth of the matter was that our priest at the time, Bob Partlow, was six foot five, did have large hands, and enjoyed giving candy to the children when they visited the office.  So, God must do the same thing.  Another Sunday morning, one of the kids wondered what kind of pajamas God wears.  "What makes you think God wears pajamas?" came the reply from the front seat.  And from the back seat "I wear pajamas.  I am made in the image of God.  So, God must wear pajamas, too.  I wonder what color they are."  The good news is that apparently our kids understood that they were made in the image of God.  The less good news is that somehow that understanding made God like them rather than vice versa.

But our budding 2 and 5 years old theologians are in good company this morning because King David is doing exactly the same thing.  David is now the King of Israel.  He is settled in a lovely house of cedar, which he is no doubt enjoying, when he realizes that while he, a human even if a king, lives in a house, the ark of God stays in a tent.  David certainly prefers his house to a tent, so wouldn't God also prefer a more permanent dwelling?  Surely what David likes, God would like, too.  And a permanent home sure beats wandering.

And while David will eventually build God a very fine house, for now, God tells David that God's very identity is in being with the people.  God says "I have not lived in a house since the day I brought up the people of Israel from Egypt to this day, but I have been moving about in a tent and a tabernacle."  God is the God of outrageous promises for God's people.  God promised to create a great nation from the then- childless Abraham and Sarah.  God promised to free those very people from slavery in Egypt. And God promised to establish the people in the Promised Land.  Through out the Israelite's long sojourn out of Egypt, through the wilderness and to the Promised Land, God has always been one step ahead, leading them with a pillar of cloud by day and a pillar of fire by night, to make good on God's promises.  God has always been willing to go first into those outrageous promises.  How can God possibly go first if God is contained in a house?

This story was not written while the Israelites were enjoying peace and prosperity under David's rule.  2 Samuel was written while the Israelites were in exile in Babylon several centuries later and God seemed profoundly absent.  The people needed to be reminded that God was not contained in the Temple, which had been destroyed, but by God's very nature, God was out among the people, dreaming grand dreams, one step ahead of them bringing them closer and closer to the time when they could return home.  In 2 Samuel, David is not prevented from building God a temple because David has committed murder as is the case when the story is told in 1 Kings. David is prevented from building a temple for God because God will build David a house-a house not of cedar but a house and a kingdom that will last forever.  When the life the Israelite people know in the Promised Land has come to an end, their temple has been destroyed and they have been deported from the land God gave them, they are reminded both of God's presence with them and God's promise that, despite the current circumstances, God will establish a house of David that will last forever. God has made good on outrageous promises before. God can be trusted to make good on equally outrageous promises now.

This morning, we hear that God's outrageous promise to David will come to pass through Mary.  If we hear this story with new ears, as if we have never heard the words of the angel before, we will hear a bold and absurd plan being presented to Mary.  She will conceive and bear a son who will be the Son of God.  Mary's first and logical response to this radical change in the direction of her life is a quite understandable "How can this be?"  But once the angel explains what God has in mind, Mary says "Here I am, the servant of the Lord. Let it be with me according to your word."

In her response to the angel, and thus to God, Mary is held up for us as the model of faithfulness.  Luke's gospel describes Mary as favored and yet perplexed, thoughtful, and afraid.  So, we, too, can be perplexed, thoughtful, and afraid in the midst of God's outrageous promises.  The words Luke uses to describe Mary remind me of the prayer we will pray for little Reese (later this morning/in a few minutes) after she is baptized.  We will pray that she has an inquiring and discerning heart, the courage to will and to persevere, a spirit to know and love God, and the gift of joy and wonder in all God's works.  Those words also describe Mary in our story this morning as she is told that she will bear the Son of God.  In baptism we, like Mary, are  harnessed to the God of outrageous promises who always has a new plan, a new idea, who is always on the move ahead of us.  In baptism we are joined with the God who always goes first into God's outrageous promise.  And in baptism and in Advent, we are reminded that God did not become human in the person of Jesus so that God could be more like us.  God became human in the person of Jesus so we could be more like God.

Amen.

"Of Alarm systems and Guard Dogs"

Charlotte Collins Reed
Christ Episcopal Church
December 7, 2014

2 Advent B

When our son Slocomb was a little boy and we lived in Lexington, Kentucky, he and I spent many afternoons at the airport watching the planes take off and land.  Slocomb was fascinated by this activity, and I was fascinated and delighted by his ability to sit still and focus on the sky. We were not sitting in the car in the parking lot watching the planes.  We walked right inside the airport, down the hallway and to the gate at the end of the building where we could see pretty much any aircraft coming in and stay as long as we liked.  Those were the good old days, before airport security became a new industry and we learned to wear slip on shoes to the airport, to put our liquids in 3 oz bottles, our belts, shoes, and jewelry in the plastic bin, and walk through the body scanner.  From our playful measures at Christ Church to provide security through the ministry of Sheriff Woody to trying to get through security at the airport before the plane departs, our lives seem to focus more and more on security measures to keep ourselves and our homes safe from all who would harm us.

So, I am troubled by the image of the day of the Lord, or Jesus, coming as a thief.  And our reading from 2 Peter this morning is not the first time we have heard scripture tell us to prepare for Jesus the way we would prepare for a thief.  Today we hear "but the day of the Lord will come like a thief."  Back in November, we heard the apostle Paul say in 1Thessalonians "For you yourselves know very well that the Day of the Lord will come like a thief in the night."  In Matthew's gospel, Jesus says "But know this: if the owner of the house had known in what part of the night the thief was coming, he would have stayed awake and would not have let his house be broken into."  And in the book of Revelation, Jesus says "Look, I come like a thief!"  We try to keep thieves out of our homes and our lives.  In Advent, we are supposed to watch for Jesus, to prepare for Jesus, to welcome him, not keep him out.  So why all the language about thieves?

Whether in the first century or the 21st century, the best way to protect from thieves is to be ready.  Whether with alarm systems, a guard dog, or by staying awake, if we are prepared, then we are less likely to have our homes broken into.  We put a lot of thought into how to keep our homes secure.  We go to a good bit of trouble and expense to protect our property and ourselves.  I wonder if what scripture calls us to is to be as intentional and intense about preparing for Jesus as we are about our physical security.  Jesus is not a thief, and I am not sure Jesus actually comes without warning.  But in order to recognize  the signs, Scripture calls us to be prepared.

If alarm systems, locks, guard doges, and staying awake 24/7 are not the way to prepare for Jesus, then what is the way to prepare?  John the Baptist came to prepare the people for the Messiah, and so he went into the wilderness where he dined on locusts and wild honey and proclaimed a baptism of repentance for the forgiveness of sins.  With his odd behavior, John did two things.  First, he worked to prepare people by calling them to let go of all the things they trusted for false security.  Secondly,  he told them to watch for Jesus. "The one who is more powerful than I is coming after me; I am not worthy to stoop down and untie the thong of his sandals."  Let go of false security, repent and turn from false gods,  and you will be able to see the one who brings true security, says John.

We can trust John the Baptist for two reasons.  First, his message is consistent with the message of the prophets.  In Isaiah, we hear God promise someone who will prepare the way of the Lord and make straight a highway in the desert for God.  John comes in fulfillment of God's promise to send someone to prepare the way.  Secondly, the God of which Isaiah and John speak is the God who will feed his flocks like a shepherd, who will gather the lambs in his arms, who will carry them in his bosom and gently lead the mother sheep.  This is a God we can trust, who sent a messenger to prepare the people, so that they would recognize Jesus.  This is not a God trying to trick people by sending a thief in the night.  This is a God who wants us to be prepared and ready.

In the book of Revelation, Jesus says "Behold, I stand at the door and knock.  If you hear my voice and open the door, I will come in to you and eat with you and you with me."  Jesus does not say "Behold, I crawl in through an unsecured ground floor window in the middle of the night."  Jesus calls us to prepare for his coming by being able to recognize him, to open the door so Jesus can come in and eat with us.  Jesus calls us to prepare to let him in with all the intensity we would prepare to keep a thief out.  We prepare by recognizing those places where we think we gain false security so that we recognize real security.  We prepare so intentionally that the table is set and ready when Jesus knocks on the door, even though we do not know when to expect him.  And, rather than see everyone as a potential thief,  we practice seeing something of Jesus in everyone who comes to the door.  Then, when the Christ Child comes or the Risen Christ returns, we will be ready to invite him to come inside and dine with us.
Amen.

"Not Christmas Yet"

Charlotte Collins Reed
Christ Episcopal Church
November 30, 2014

1 Advent 

When I was a child, Thanksgiving began the season perhaps most accurately called "Not Christmas yet."  The season of "Not Christmas Yet" was not Advent, since we had never heard of Advent, and yet had some things in common with the holy season we begin today.  The season of "Not Christmas yet" was certainly a season of preparation.  Preparation for Christmas at our house began in earnest on the day after Thanksgiving and for the three of us children mostly involved making lists of all the things we wanted for Christmas.  There was some decorating involved and a lot of cooking and cleaning as we prepared for relatives and friends to arrive.  This is where I learned that real preparation for Christmas involves butter, real vanilla, and good chocolate.

Secondly, the season of "Not Christmas yet" was a season of anticipation.  In the case of "Not Christmas yet,"our anticipation began as soon as the Thanksgiving turkey was cold and usually peaked with a meltdown or two by December 3.  We would have done anything to make Christmas come right this minute.  The season of "Not Christmas yet" was a season of restless counting of days-my mother savoring every day we were still in school before the holidays and the three of us children counting the days until we could do nothing but anticipate Christmas.

Finally, the season of "not Christmas yet" became a season of patience.  After an early meltdown or two, we children figured out how to wait.  Some things in life just cannot be forced to come more quickly and we could be miserable for the remaining three weeks until Christmas or we could try to be patient.  Miserable got old fast and did not make the time pass any more quickly .  So we figured out better things to do with our time.

As we begin the season of Advent today, we are called to a season of anticipation, preparation, and patience even if those activities look a little different in Advent than in the season of "Not Christmas yet."  But whatever our practice of Advent might be, however we might understand anticipation, preparation, and patience to get us ready for the birth of the Christ child, we probably came to church this morning expecting to hear something a little more Christmasy from Scripture.  This morning we hear nothing about a baby, nothing about angels or shepherds or even prophecy about the birth of the messiah.  What we get instead is a lament from the Hebrew people calling God to come down here right now and do something, words of encouragement from Paul about the last times, and a grim description of Jesus' return.  How on earth are these readings supposed to help us begin our Advent journey?

What our readings have to do with Advent is that they all call us to God's version of anticipation, preparation, and patience.  In the reading from Isaiah, the people anticipate the action of God that will put an end to the injustice and hardships they experience as they work to resettle the Promised Land. The people are not naive about their own complicity in their problems-they admit that they have sinned and made God angry.  But they also know that they are nothing but damp clay without God.  The people are waiting for God to act, but know that, in preparation for God to act,  they must act as well. They must prepare for the time when God will act by living as if God is acting now.  They must live as the people God created them to be.  When we look at the injustices in the world today, at the places where people would call upon God to come down here and do something right now-whether in Ferguson, Missouri, or in Syria where Christians face unimaginable persecution, or in Liberia where Ebola has ravaged the country, or the countless other places where people feel helpless in the face of adversity, we hear people make the same lament to God.  Get down here and do something now the way you have done something in the past.  And we hear the prophetic voices reminding us that we are called to act as the people God created us to be-not acting as damp, unformed clay in the face of injustice but being the vessels God created us to be. Being patient means believing that God will act and God's action will be worth the wait.  But patience does not mean passivity, and while we wait, God calls us to act.

Paul is less about patience, as he believes until his dying breath that Jesus will come any time now.  Paul, unlike Isaiah or Jesus, tells the people that they are prepared-that the grace of God given to them in Christ Jesus has given them the strength and the spiritual gifts they need to be ready when Jesus returns. Paul lives in deep anticipation of the day when Jesus returns and he encourages the Christians in Corinth to do likewise.  If we live like Jesus will return any moment, then our lives will make the world look a little more like the world Jesus came to redeem.

And then there is Jesus.  In the passage just before our gospel reading this morning, Jesus has described the suffering and persecution his followers will endure.  They will be handed over to councils and beaten in synagogues.  Brother will betray brother to death and a father his child.  Children will rise against parents and all will be hated because of the name of Jesus.  Then the sun will darken and the moon will not give light and the Son of Man will come in the clouds.

The truth is that, just as the Hebrew people were experiencing fearsome times in the reading from Isaiah, so the faithful to whom Mark was written were experiencing fearsome times.  Jesus' followers were being handed over to councils.  Families were divided.  People were being put to death.  God did need to come down and do something. Now.  And Jesus promises the people that God will act.  God will act by sending Jesus again to gather the faithful.  The people can anticipate a time when there will be no more terror and trials, when Jesus will gather them up.  But they must be prepared.  They must stay awake to watch for Jesus.  They must be patient for no one knows the day or the hour. Only God knows when these things will occur.

The promise of Advent and the promise of Scripture is that God will act.    God will act whether we are ready or not.  But God wants us to be ready.  God calls us to anticipate God's action by wanting that action so badly that we will do anything to make that action a reality.  God calls us to prepare with such deliberation that God's presence is real to those around us. Now.  And God calls us to be patient, but not passive.  God will act in God's good time, but in the meantime, God calls us not be formless lumps of damp clay passively waiting, but the vessels of justice and peace God made us to be.  Then we and the world will be ready.
Amen.

Christ the King

Charlotte Collins Reed
Christ Episcopal Church
November 23, 2014

Christ the King

My friend Sue picks up hitchikers.  Sue is about my size, 10 years younger, and obviously way more adventuresome than I.  When she told me about picking up hitchhikers, my pastoral response was "Sue, you are an idiot."  Sue's reply was "What if the person is really Jesus and this is a test?  I don't want to fail."  My concerned response was "What if it's not Jesus?"

Of course, theologically, Sue is more correct than I.  Two weeks ago when Bishop Tom was here, in the baptismal covenant he asked us if we will seek and serve Christ in all people.  And we said "We will, with God's help."  We believe that Christ is in all people.  Period.  Christ may be more obviously present in some people than others, or more obscure in some people than others.  But Christ is there.  Today is Christ the King Sunday and we are Christ Episcopal Church.  Today is our feast day and on this day we are especially called to think about our identity as people who seek and serve Christ in all people, no matter how obscure Christ might be.

Our belief that we are called to seek and serve Christ in all people comes straight out of Jesus' words this morning.  This morning, we watch as Jesus separates the sheep from the goats.  The sheep are those who have fed, clothed, visited, and cared for Jesus.  The goats are those who have not.  When the sheep are surprised to find that they have served Jesus, Jesus tells them that whenever they have served the least of these who are members of his family, they have served Jesus.  When the goats are surprised, shocked even, to learn that they have failed to serve Jesus, they are told that when they failed to serve the least of these, they failed to serve Jesus.

Countless times over the years I have thought and preached about the way we serve Jesus at the food pantry, at the door of Hollenbeck House, at the Rainbow Table, or any of the many other places we serve those in some kind of need.  I don't know about you, but I know that I respond differently when I remind myself that when I serve the person standing before me, I serve Jesus.  I want to serve Jesus well, and remembering that I serve Jesus also reminds me that I am connected to the person I am with, no matter how different we might appear to be.

But here's the catch: In our parable this morning, the sheep had fed the hungry and visited the sick without knowing that they were serving Jesus.  They were as surprised as anyone when Jesus said "Come you that are blessed by my Father, inherit the kingdom prepared for you from the foundations of the world."  They were not serving the hungry and the sick because they thought they were serving Jesus or in order to earn their way into the Kingdom, or to pass a test for that matter.  They were serving for some other reason.

The idea that people of faith should serve others is hardly something new with Jesus.  Matthew's gospel was written to a largely Jewish audience.  The Hebrew scriptures are full of admonitions to live with mercy and kindness, not just to people of like faith, but to all people.  Over and over again in Exodus, Numbers, and Deuteronomy, we hear the command to show love to foreigners for the Hebrew people were once strangers in the land of Egypt.  The Hebrew people and the stranger were connected by the common experience of being in a foreign land.  The prophet Micah sums up the Hebrew teaching with the words "What does the Lord require? That you do justice, love mercy, and walk humbly with your God."  In the reading from Ezekiel, we hear God model the very behavior God expects of God's faithful people.  "I will seek the lost and I will bring back the strayed.  I will bind up the injured and I will strengthen the weak."  Acts of mercy and kindness are part of the identity of the Hebrew people because they are the people of the God of mercy and kindness.

The sheep we hear about this morning are sheep because they live as the people of God they were created to be.  Acts of mercy and kindness were part of the identity of the sheep because they belong to the God of mercy and kindness.  The sheep were completely surprised to find that they had served Jesus.   Jesus says in Matthew's gospel "I have come not to abolish the law but to fulfill it" so for Christians, belonging to God through Christ means living out the same acts of mercy and kindness.  Matthew is not the least bit interested in a debate over whether we are saved by works or by grace alone. Matthew is interested in faithful living.  Ironically, for Matthew, faithful living is not about serving others lest we neglect to serve Jesus and fail the test.  Faithful living is about living as people of God redeemed in Christ.  Then, to our surprise, we recognize Jesus.

At Christ Church, outreach is what we do simply because we belong to God.  In living out that identity, we do meet Jesus.  In meeting Jesus, we realize that we are connected to the whole human family.  My friend Sue is correct, even if her judgement might be a bit questionable.  The hitchhiker is Jesus.  But there is no test we are trying to pass to earn our way into the Kingdom.  We are already there.  And God assumes we will live like the Kingdom people we are and find a way to respond to the hitchhiker which may or may not involve giving that person a ride.  The challenge of Christ the King Sunday is to live into our identity as children of God by the way we live our lives and allow ourselves to be surprised by the many ways we encounter Jesus along the way.

Amen.

Thin Places

Charlotte Collins Reed
Christ Episcopal Church
November 2, 2014

All Saints Sunday

In the Celtic tradition a "thin place" is a place where earth and heaven draw close.  I encountered such a thin place when my colleague Anne Reed and I were in England last spring.  We spent a day on Holy Island where an ancient monastery was located and where the ruins still stand.  Part of the outside wall of the monastery is still intact, and there are markers to show where the monks prayed, worked, ate, and slept on the inside.  The construction of the monastery in the 13th or 14th century was an epic engineering feat as even the ruins show the skeleton of a magnificent stone edifice.  The part of the English reformation that we would prefer to forget is the part where the monasteries were ransacked, often for the lead in the roofs to be used for weapons, and the stone walls left to be re-purposed by whoever could haul away the rocks.  As we walked through the areas where the monks lived and prayed hundreds of years ago, in a space that was now destroyed, we realized that there was still a sense of deep peace there.  The ground that had soaked up the prayers of the faithful all those years ago still held those prayers.  The reformers could destroy the building, but they could not take the prayers of the faithful from the soil.  Between the howling of the wind and the ruins of what was once a great house of faith, we were reminded both of the words of Ash Wednesday "Remember that you are dust, and to dust you shall return" and the powerful presence of God in the midst of the dust.  Heaven and earth came close for us that day.

All Saints Day is another thin place as we remember the lives of our loved ones and the great saints of the church.  In our music, our prayers, the candles and our memories, heaven and earth come close as we hold in our hearts those we love but see no longer.  We remember their love, their impact on our lives, and are hearts  fill with joy and sadness at the same time.   Heaven and earth come close for me right here in this place every time we sing the great hymns of the church with great joy and gladness.  A thin place is a place where the glory of God comes so close we can almost touch it, right here on earth.

As we remember those we love today, we might expect, or even hope, for Jesus to say something about love this morning.  We remember our loved ones, or we remember the great love of the saints for God and the church.  Something from John's gospel, perhaps, would be appropriate as we remember our own loved ones such as "By this the world will know that you are my disciples, by your love for each other."  Or as we remember the saints of the church who endured much for the sake of the gospel, these words from a just a few verses later in Matthew's gospel would be appropriate: "Love your enemies and pray for those who hurt you."  But instead, we hear Jesus say "Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven." And "Blessed are the meek, for they will inherit the earth."  What do those words have to do with All Saints Day?

In the beatitudes, Jesus is not telling us that we should be meek so we can inherit the earth, or that we should be merciful, even though we should, so that we will receive mercy.  Jesus is telling us something of what the kingdom of heaven looks like.  Our world tells us things like "Blessed are those who have resources for they will have more," or "Blessed are the educated, for they will get ahead," or "Blessed are those who have health care, for they will live longer." Education, resources, and health care are all good things and the beatitudes do not glorify poverty, illiteracy, or poor health.  But Jesus is describing a different reality, similar to the one we heard about in the reading from Revelation. "For they will hunger no more, and thirst no more; the sun will not strike them, nor any scorching heat; for the lamb at the center of the throne will be their shepherd and will guide them to the springs of the water of life."  In this new reality, the poor in spirit, the meek, those who mourn, those who hunger and thirst for righteousness will be satisfied.  Because they will be blessed in God's new reality, they are blessed now.

If Jesus is correct about the Kingdom of Heaven, and I suspect he is, then I believe we also experience thin places where earth and heaven come close in unlikely places.  Also while on sabbatical, I participated in a foot washing at our Cathedral on Maundy Thursday.  This was not a sanitized quick foot washing of people we knew.  This was a real live honest to God smelly dirty foot washing for people who live on the streets of Cincinnati.  People could come in, have their feet washed, receive a couple of clean pair of socks and leave with a sandwich.  A soak, socks, and a sandwich.  And I tell you the truth when I tell you some of those folks had not washed their feet in a very long time.  I watched as folks from the Cathedral greeted their guests, made them comfortable, both physically and emotionally, and washed their feet.  And I watched as the guests bared their dirty, smelly feet and propped them up for a stranger to wash in an act of great vulnerability.  And once feet were washed and dried, I watched as the two people hugged and said good bye.  Who was blessed in that encounter?  Hopefully the person who had his or her feet washed.  But even more so, the parishioner who washed the feet, who encountered someone willing to make him or herself so vulnerable as to allow a stranger to wash their feet..  Heaven and earth came close that day in an unexpected way.

Likewise, after many years of participating in the Neighborhood Fair by saying "Would you like sour cream or salsa on your taco?" this year we opened Charlotte's prayer parlor and tatoo booth.  Credit for the tatoo part goes to Amy Alduino who quickly realized my booth needed a hook of some sort and I do hope my prayers stuck better than my tatoos did.  But out in the parking lot, I prayed with lots of folks, many of them children.  Some wanted to say their own prayers.  Others prayed for me after I prayed for them.  Out there in our parking lot, a little piece of heaven came close.  As we welcome people to the Neighborhood Fair who look a lot like some of the people Jesus describes this morning, we are blessed by their presence as earth and heaven come close.

All Saints Day is a thin place in which heaven and earth draw close as we remember our loved ones who have gone before us and dwell for a moment in our memories and in their eternal love.  But All Saints is not just about the past.  All Saints also calls us to be open to the thin places where heaven and earth draw close in places we least expect and our lives are blessed by those who are blessed by God.                                                                  

Amen.

Rejoice!

Charlotte Collins Reed
Christ Episcopal Church
October 12, 2014

23 Proper A

I have a new appreciation for parables about wedding banquets now that one of our sons has married.  While I may deal with weddings fairly regularly on a professional level, I deal with marriage preparation, not wedding preparation.  I had no idea what goes into all the preparation for a wedding banquet-choosing flowers, coordinating colors, tasting all sorts and conditions of food, deciding on the cake, icing and filling flavors, how many layers and what shape the cake should be, what food should be served, how the room should be decorated, what kind of flooring is needed for the dancing and on and on and on.  Then, of course, I had to figure out what I was going to wear.  The mother of the bride said she would wear something she would wear to church.  The mother of the groom did not find this a helpful option.

When the big day finally arrived, all the planning and preparation came together to say to all the guests "Come, rejoice with us."  Come, enter into the feasting, the toasting, the laughing and the tears, and the dancing.  The hard work of preparation was done so that everyone who came could enter fully into the joy of the occasion.

This morning we hear about a king who throws a wedding banquet for his son.  But once the king, or more likely the king's servants, had made all the preparations made for the wedding banquet and the great day arrived, no one showed up.  Not one single guest.  Perhaps the guests did not understand that the feast was ready and the food was getting cold, so the king sent more servants to repeat the invitation.  But the guests still did not come.  The situation escalates when the guests who were not too busy with their farming or business took the time to seize the slaves, mistreat them and kill them.  That is a rather drastic way to send back an RSVP with regrets!  In a further escalation, the king sent his troops, destroyed the murderers, and burned down the whole city.  By now the banquet must be either stone cold, or burned to a crisp.  But the king is determined to throw a wedding banquet for his son.  So the king sends the servants to bring people in off the streets to feast at the wedding banquet and soon the hall was filled with guests.

If the parable just ended there, we would have a bizarre parable with a clear message.  If we don't come to the table when God calls, God will call someone else.   We would have a fairly happy ending to a rather violent story since the story would end with the wedding hall filled with guests.  But the parable does not end there.  The hall is finally filled with guests, who have put down whatever they were doing and come at the very last minute.  The king can finally relax and enjoy his son's wedding banquet, even though the son does not have so much as a cameo appearance in the parable.  But instead, the king confronts the one poor soul who somehow got into the wedding hall without wearing a wedding robe.  "Friend, how did you get in here without a wedding robe?" The poor guy is speechless. The under dressed guest had just come in off the street and is probably stunned by the inquisition.  So the king says to his attendants "Bind him hand and foot, and throw him into the outer darkness, where there is weeping and gnashing of teeth.' There is no pleasing this king!

Moses has to deal with another party this morning that does not go much better than the king's wedding banquet.  When Moses is on the mountain with God longer than the people expected, the people think Moses has disappeared forever and they need a new plan.  They convince Aaron, Moses' brother, to make them a god they can actually see.  So Aaron takes makes a golden calf for them out of their jewelry.   Once the calf has been completed, Aaron calls a festival for the Lord and the people spend a whole day offering burnt offerings and sacrifices of well-being to the calf, and the people sat down to eat and drink, and rose up to revel.

God's anger in the story of the golden calf rivals the anger of the king in the parable of the wedding banquet.  God tells Moses to step aside so that God's wrath may burn hot against the people and God can consume them.  In the case of the Hebrew people, Moses is able to intervene on their behalf and God relents, but the party is over.

God is angry because the Hebrew people have made and worshiped a golden calf, when they are to have no other gods but the God who brought them out of bondage in Egypt.  That anger makes sense.  But the king in the parable burns with anger because a wedding guest is not wearing the proper clothes.  That anger does not make sense since the guest had no time to prepare for the occasion.  But a proper wedding garment would likely have been offered to the guest before entering the banquet hall.  By failing to wear the appropriate wedding garment,  the wedding guest has failed to enter fully into the king's joy at the marriage of the king's son.  The wedding guest has not surrendered himself to the sheer joy of the occasion.  The Hebrew people have incurred God's wrath by rejoicing in their own creation.  The wedding guest has incurred the wrath of the king by failing to enter into the joy of the king.

The apostle Paul says "Rejoice in the Lord always.  Again, I say, rejoice." Paul is stating a requirement, not offering a suggestion.  God calls us to rejoice with God, not because life is always pleasant, but even when life is hard, because God is always with us.  God calls us to rejoice, not just when all our work is done and rejoicing is convenient, but in all time and in all places.  God calls us to rejoice, not half-heartedly like the under dressed guest in the parable, but with our whole selves.  When we fully surrender ourselves to rejoice in the God who created us, the apostle Paul tells us that we will know the peace of God which passes all understanding.

Amen.

Crazy with Love

Charlotte Collins Reed
Christ Episcopal Church
October 5, 2014

22 Proper A

As a teenager, I came to the Episcopal Church and stayed because my local Episcopal Church both proclaimed and lived the love of God.  Not only did the very small parish include all sorts and conditions of people, all of whom were loved, but the church also used one half of their very small budget to reach out into the community.  The building itself was truly one of the ugliest church buildings I have ever seen.  The building had been a pool hall in a former life and not a lot had changed.  But in that pool hall turned church, the love of God was proclaimed, week in an week out, then the people went out into the world to live as people who knew they were loved.

In the Episcopal Church we understand that we do God's work in the world out of gratitude for God's love rather than out of fear of God's wrath.  Our principle act of worship is the Eucharist, which is the Greek word for Thanksgiving.  We do not fear for our eternal life, which is a gift we receive in baptism and nothing we can earn, but work to make this world look a bit more like heaven.  And we do that work, not because we fear that God will smite us if we are lazy but because we are called to seek and serve Christ in all people in grateful response to the love of God shown to us in Jesus.

The proof of God's love for us comes not out of our imaginations, or out of any psychology that wants us to feel good about ourselves, or out of our desire to avoid talk about judgement.  The proof of God's love for us comes straight from Scripture.  This morning, Jesus tells us a parable that is essentially a love song, which reminds us of a passage from the prophet Isaiah. When Jesus said "There was a landowner who planted a vineyard, put a fence around it, dug a wine press in it and built a watchtower," we are reminded of similar words from the prophet Isaiah "Let me sing for my beloved a love song concerning his vineyard.  My beloved had a vineyard on a very fertile hill.  He dug it and cleared it of stones, and planted it with choice vines; he built a watchtower in the midst of it, and planted it with choice vines, and he hewed out a wine vat in it."

At first, Jesus' parable does not appear to be telling us anything Isaiah has not already said.  But in the passage from Isaiah, God's lovesong turns very ugly, very quickly.  God's vineyard fails to yield anything but wild grapes, and so God is going to destroy the vineyard and make it a waste.  God expected justice from God's people, but saw bloodshed, and God expected righteousness, but heard a cry.  Isaiah warns the people that they have strayed far from being the people God called them to be, and the consequences will be disastrous.

When those gathered around Jesus heard him say "There was a landowner who planted a vineyard" they thought they knew what was coming.  Disaster.  After all, Jesus was talking to the chief priests and elders of the people, with whom he was not exactly seeing eye to eye, but who did know their Bible.  Instead, what they get is a story about a landowner who is so in love with the tenants that the landowner is down right irrational.  Listen to what the landowner does.  When the harvest comes, the landowner sends slaves to the tenants to collect his produce. But the tenants beat, stone, and kill the slaves.  A rational person would call the police.  But the landowner sends more slaves, thinking that the second set will be treated better.  The landowner must be crazy with love to think that makes any kind of sense at all.  And, indeed, the tenants treat the second group of slaves just as badly as they did the first group.  No big surprise there.  At this point, the landowner needs to hire an attorney.  But in an action that completely defies common sense, the landowner sends his son, thinking the tenants will respect the son.  Seriously? And what happens? The tenants say "This is the heir.  Come let us kill him and get his inheritance."  Now, no one is thinking straight.  The landowner, willing to go to any lengths to win over the tenants, sends his son. The tenants think that the prize for murder is the inheritance.

At the end of the parable, after the tenants have killed the Son,  Jesus asks "Now when the owner of the vineyard comes, what will he do to the tenants?"  The chief priests and elders display the first bit of logic in the passage and their knowledge Scripture when they answer "He will put those wretches to a miserable death, and lease the vineyard to other tenants who will give him the produce at harvest time."  However,  Jesus says to them "Have you never read in the scriptures: "The stone that the builders rejected has become the cornerstone; this was the Lord's doing, and it is amazing in our eyes?"  When the landowner comes, it will not be to destroy, but to create.  Where the tenants have created death and destruction, the landowner will build something new.

Does God love us so much, then, that we can do whatever we like?  Clearly not, as we hear in the reading of the 10 commandments from the book of Exodus this morning.  God gives the people the 10 commandments so they, and we, will know the kind of behavior that is expected of them, and us.  But the 10 commandments are much more than a list of laws.  Listen to what God says first: "I am the Lord your God who brought you out of the land of Egypt, out of the house of slavery."  God begins by telling the people, and us, who God is.  God is the One who brought the people out of bondage in Egypt.  God's identity for the people cannot be separated from what God did for the people.   Then God goes on to tell the people who they are by telling them how they are to live.  Their identity as people of God cannot be separated from their actions either.  The 10 commandments are about identity more than rules.  This way of life sets God's people apart from other people and reminds the people continually that they are the people of the God who led them out of bondage.  They live out the commandments because they are God's people, not to appease God or get God to do something for them.

When Jesus says "the Kingdom of God will be taken away from you and given to a people that produces the fruits of the kingdom" Jesus is saying that our lives are to bear the fruits of the kingdom-not because we are afraid of God, but because we are grateful for all that God has done for us.  We are not to live like the tenants in the vineyard who thought that, somehow, the fruit of the vineyard was theirs to do with as they liked.  The fruit of the vineyard belongs to God, and that fruit, the prophet Isaiah tells us, is justice and righteousness.  When Jesus was crucified, when the Son of the vineyard owner was killed, God's answer was not to kill and destroy God's people.  God's answer was resurrection and new life.  God calls us to lives our lives in response to that love, producing the fruit of the kingdom, not out of fear, but out of gratitude.  By our lives of gratitude, we will know that we belong to God, who loves us with crazy, irrational love.

                                                                    Amen.

Does Complaining Work or Not?

Charlotte Collins Reed
Christ Episcopal Church
September 21, 2014

20 Proper A

The grumbling Israelites and the annoyed vineyard workers leave us with a profound theological question this morning: "Does complaining work, or not?"  The Israelites sing their own version of "I'm starving, you are mean, why don't you just leave me alone" that perhaps many of us have heard or sung ourselves.  God's chosen people have left slavery in Egypt, where, apparently, they had plenty of good food to eat.  The people are quite sure that God will let them starve, despite the fact that God has already both led them through the Red Sea on dry land and provided water for them when they were sure they would die of thirst.  And, the story tells us, God heard the complaint of the people and provided them with quail and manna to eat.  So, complaining works.

On the other hand, however, the laborers who have worked all day in the hot sun complain when the laborers who worked just one single, solitary hour, after the sun had broken, by the way, got a full day's pay.  Their song also has three verses: "It's not fair," " You love them more than me," and "Can I work just one hour and get a full day's pay, too?"  Maybe some of us have heard or sung this song, too.  But in the case of the vineyard workers, their complaints are not heeded and the landowner, who we presume to be God, says "Am I not allowed to do what I choose with what belongs to me?  Or are you envious because I am generous?"  The landowner's response is the response given to many complaints: "Get over it."  Clearly, complaining does not work.

So, does complaining to God work, or not?  We all have times when we complain, or, in Biblical parlance, make lament to God.  Disaster strikes, loved ones are ill, jobs are frustrating or lost, or we just seem to be experiencing a bout of bad karma and life is not fair.  If we are people of prayer, we take our complaints to God.  God, I believe, does take all our complaints, our laments, into God's heart.  If God did not bear our complaints, a large percentage of the Psalms would be unnecessary.  But based on the story from Exodus this morning, and Jesus' parable about the landowner, however, our complaints seem to have about a 50/50 chance of getting us what we want or need.

However, I believe the question of whether or not complaining works is the wrong question to ask these stories to answer.  While people complain in both stories, complaining is only one thing that holds the two stories together.  The real point of these stories has nothing to do with the efficacy of complaining, or the unfairness of life.  The real point of these stories is God's abundant generosity.  When the Israelites are in the wilderness with nothing to eat, God provides abundantly for them, giving them quail in the evening and bread in the morning.  God does that, not because the Israelites complained, but because God is, by nature, generous.  When all the workers come in from the field to be paid, and the landowner gives each a full day's wage regardless of how long the worker toiled, the landowner is not being unfair.  The landowner is being generous.

In the letter to the Philippians, Paul encourages the Christians in Philippi to live their lives in a manner worthy of the gospel.  If these new Christians live in a manner worthy of the gospel, Paul will know that they are united, standing firm in one spirit.  In the story from Exodus, complaining divides: the people are separated from their leaders, Moses and Aaron, who they hold somewhat responsible for their hunger and misery.  The story begins "The whole congregation of the Israelites complained against Moses and Aaron in the wilderness."  In the parable, clearly the workers who labored all day have hard feelings against those who worked one hour and received a full day's pay.  The workers in the vineyard, who, of course, represent all who labor in God's vineyard, including us, are divided by their complaint over God's equal treatment of everyone no matter how long or hard some worked and how little others worked.  Complaining divides the vineyard.

Our complaints to God are real and often come from very real distress in our lives.  Scripture is clear that God hears our complaints and holds them in God's heart.   But the question of whether or not complaining works to get God to do what we want God to do is another matter. The stories of Scripture are unclear on the answer to that question. What scripture does make clear is that we are called to live, not like the first laborers who thought they had been cheated, but like the last laborers who understood the generosity of the landowner.  The lives we live in deep gratitude for that generosity will be lives worthy of the gospel of Christ.

Amen.

Forgiveness

Charlotte Collins Reed
Christ Episcopal Church
September 14, 2014

19 Proper A

This week, as we marked the 13th anniversary of 9/11, I am reminded of a quote from the short, furry, philosopher in the two Star Wars trilogies. In Star Wars Episode 1: The Phantom Menace, Yoda says to young Anakin Skywalker "Fear leads to anger; anger leads to hate; hate leads to suffering."  Those days from 13 years ago were days of fear that left us feeling  powerless in the face of evil. Too often, that fear did become anger, the anger too often became hate, and the hate certainly led to suffering.  As I read and hear about the atrocious acts of violence around the world today and in our country today, along with the stories of Ebola in West Africa and other instances of grave human suffering, I may not feel that same fear, but I can see the fear on the faces of those whose lives or the lives of their loved ones are in grave danger.  And I feel that sense of powerlessness-that there is nothing I as one person or even we as one church can do in the face of such atrocities.  Powerlessness may lead to fear, but powerlessness can also lead to inertia, because it seems like there is nothing one person can do or we throw up our hands in despair and wait for God to act.

In the story from Exodus, after all, God does seem to take matters into God's own hands.  The Israelites finally have Pharaoh's permission to leave Egypt, after God has taken the first born of every Egyptian family and spared the Hebrew families.  The Israelites depart quickly before Pharaoh changes his mind and sends the Egyptian army after them.  God protects the Israelites as they flee with a pillar of cloud by day and a pillar of fire by night, preventing the Egyptians from getting too close.  When the Israelites finally reach the sea, Moses stretches out his arms and God drives the waters back so the Israelites can cross on dry land.  Then God closes the sea to drown the Egyptian army.  While part of me is appalled at a God who could not think of a more creative way to save the Hebrews than to drown their enemy, another part of me wishes God would act so decisively in the face of all that threatens innocent people now.  If God could take care of the Hebrew people then, surely God could protect suffering innocent people now.

What I can easily forget, is that God did not act alone.  While in this particular bit of the story, God does all the heavy lifting, if we look back, God called Moses from the burning bush and God told Moses to deliver the people from the Egyptians and lead them to a land of milk and honey.  Moses offers lots of good reasons why he, Moses, is not the person for the job-no one will believe him, for starters.  And Moses is not eloquent, and Moses killed a man in Egypt, so going back to Egypt is a really bad idea.  God responds to each of Moses's excuses with a counter argument, then says to Moses "I will be with you" and sends Moses on his way back to Egypt to bring God's people out of slavery.

When I wonder what one person or one church can do in the face of overwhelming adversity, I think about Moses and about what I, myself, have said over and over again.  If everyone thinks that their one little bit cannot do any good, then nothing will happen.  But if everyone contributes their one person worth, then together, we can make a difference.  If everyone says "what good can my one prayer for peace do" and no one prays for peace, then peace does not have a chance.  If everyone says "what good can my few dollars do to help relief agencies get supplies into isolated areas," no relief efforts will happen.  If everyone says "there is nothing I can do to stop racial violence" then nothing will happen.  God hears each of our excuses, reminds us that we are the Body of Christ, tells us that we have been sent the Holy Spirit to be with us, and sends us on our way to make a difference.  Inertia is not an option.

But what do we do with those very real feelings of fear, anger, and even hatred?  Another favorite quote of mine is from Nelson Mandela, who spent 27 years of his life in prison during apartheid and had every reason to be angry and bitter.  Mandela is quoted as saying "Resentment is like drinking poison, then hoping it will kill your enemies."  This morning, we hear Jesus tell a parable about forgiveness.  In the parable, the slave who was forgiven his great debt proceeded to refuse to forgive the debt of his fellow slave.  The forgiven slave has his fellow slave thrown in jail until that slave can pay his debt, despite the forgiveness he himself has received.  When the lord finds out about the actions of the forgiven slave, he hands the forgiven slave over to be tortured until he can pay his entire debt.  Because he could not forgive his fellow slave, the once forgiven slave will now be bound to his debt forever.

 If we think that forgiveness is about condoning evil and pretending that atrocious events never happened, I think it is safe to say that forgiveness will never happen, whether we are talking about terrorism, abuse, violent crime, betrayal, or any of the many human acts that cause pain in our lives.  God does not want us to condone evil or act like atrocities never happened.  But God also does not want us to let our anger and bitterness bind us to those harmful actions as the slave in the parable was bound to his debt.  The way to break the cycle of fear, anger, hate, and suffering that Yoda describes, with the accompanying resentment Mandela spoke of, is the forgiveness Jesus describes.  Just as forgiveness could have freed the slave in the parable, forgiveness frees us to make a difference as Moses did, not bound to fear, anger, hate, or suffering.  The forgiveness Jesus describes leads to peace. Peace leads to freedom.  Freedom leads to action.

Amen.

Accessibility

Charlotte Collins Reed
Christ Episcopal Church
September 7, 2014

Accessibility

When Don and I came to Christ Church for the first time in June, 25 years ago, we came in the High Street entrance and we saw a large sheet of visqueen hanging next to the pulpit.  The East Entrance was still under construction and, quite frankly, the entire building was a mystery to me.  We managed to find the nursery for our then 2 year old son, Slocomb, but I tell you the truth when I tell you that I was elected to the vestry before we ever found the Parish Hall.  The addition of the East Entrance certainly did not solve the problem of the maze that is Christ Church, but the East Entrance does provide us a wonderful gathering spot to welcome our guests and each other and makes Christ Church physically accessible to all people.

As we celebrate the 25th anniversary of the East Entrance today, interestingly we hear about doorways in our reading from Exodus.  In a passage that seems to flow between remembering a past event, the event itself, and celebrating that event in the future, we hear God tell the Hebrew people to take some of the blood of the lamb they have slaughtered and put it on the two doorposts and the lintel of the house in which they eat it.  At the end of the passage, God tells the people that the blood will be a sign and when God sees the blood, God will pass over the houses of the Hebrew people when the plague of death strikes the Egyptians.

The story of the Passover raises lots of questions.  Does God not love for the Egyptians as part of the whole human family, whether they know it or not?  What kind of God kills innocent children?  Should innocent families suffer because of the stubbornness of Pharaoh who will not let the Hebrew people go? I do not have answers to all of these questions.  The Scriptures are full of violence, whether we like it or not, just as human life is full of violence, as we know all too well.  Just like in present day life, we can't explain the violence or make it understandable, nor should we use scripture to justify violence.  What we do know about the story from Exodus is that the blood of the lamb on the doorposts of the Hebrews marks the Hebrew people as belonging to God.  In the Passover story, this identity means that God will pass over the houses of the Hebrew people in this final of the 10 plagues.  Later, the Hebrew people will hang a mezuzah on their doorway. The mezuzha is a small box that contains these words from the book of Deuteronomy: "Hear O Israel, the Lord is our God, the Lord alone.  You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and will all your might.  Keep these words that I am commanding you today in your heart.  Recite them to your children and talk about them when you are at home and when you are way, when you lie down and when you rise. Bind them as a sign on your hand, fix them as an emblem on your forehead, and write them on the doorposts of your house and on your gates."  These words are called the Shema and are a reminder to the people who live in the house that they belong to God and are called to live as people of God.  Whether the blood of the lamb that marks the Passover, or the beautiful words of the Shema hanging on the door to a home, the message is that this house and the occupants belong to God.

As we celebrate 25 years of being a physically accessible church, we, too, are called to remember that this church and her occupants belong to God.  While our doorposts are not marked with the great words from Deuteronomy, this is the place where we gather each week to remember that God is God and we are not, that if we love, we fulfill all the commandments, and that we are called to both teach our children and learn from them about the faith.  If this house, this church, and all her people belong to God, obviously the house should be accessible to all people.  The East Entrance was built to provide access from the entrance up to this space or down to the Parish Hall level for all people, regardless of ability.  But there is more to being accessible than having a building that can be navigated without stairs.

Access is also about hospitality.  If this house and her occupants, that's us, belong to God, then the hospitality of this place should be God's hospitality.  Paul's words to the Romans this morning sum up the commandments for us in a way similar to the way the words from Deuteronomy do as they hang on the doorposts of Jewish homes.  Paul tells us that the one who loves another has fulfilled the law.  Paul tells us to "put on the Lord Jesus Christ."  Offering genuine access is treating all who enter this place with the welcome Jesus would have for them.

The Scriptures acknowledge that loving with the love of Jesus is not always easy.  Sometimes the work is hard.  We get cross with each other, or we disagree, or we hurt each other.  We hear Jesus tell his disciples what to do if one member of the church sins against another, and casting people out into the utter darkness is not one of the options. Dialogue, concern, and respect are the options.  If the offender refuses to listen to the whole church, Jesus tells the disciples to treat such a person as a Gentile and a tax collector.  That seems simple and to the point.  But  how did Jesus treat Gentiles and tax collectors?  In short, he called them to be his disciples and he dined with them.  Earlier in Matthew's gospel, Jesus was scorned by the religious leaders of the day for being a friend of tax collectors and sinners.  Jesus is not saying that we have to endure offensive behavior, or continue in unhealthy relationships, or look the other way when someone acts in ways that are detrimental to the body of Christ.  What Jesus is saying is that we don't get to decide who is in and who is out of the Kingdom of Heaven.  We are to offer hospitality and make the Kingdom of Heaven accessible to all people.

The question of accessibility before us today is not the question of physical accessibility.  Today, as we give thanks for the people whose vision made this building physically accessible to all people, we are reminded that there are a lot of people who do not find the Christian faith accessible, for a variety of reasons.  Perhaps they have been hurt by the church, shunned or rejected because of sexual orientation, or life circumstances, or a limitation other than physical.  Perhaps they are busy families who cannot see putting one more thing on the calendar and church looks a lot like one more activity.  Perhaps they have not heard of a place that lives by love, not judgement, where we don't all have to think alike and questions are valued, and where children and youth are valued and active members.  The question before us as we move into the next 25 years is how to be an accessible community of faith in a new way.  We are called to offer the hospitality of God to all who come through these doors and to make the faith of the Church as accessible to others as we have made our building.

Amen.

The God of Imperfect People

Charlotte Collins Reed
Christ Episcopal Church
August 31, 2014

17 Proper A

"Alexander and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Really Bad Day" is one of my favorite children's books.  Alexander wakes up with gum in his hair, and the day gets worse from there.  He trips on a skateboard getting out of be. There is no prize in his cereal box that morning. He doesn't get to sit by the window in the car on the way to school.  His teacher does not like his picture of an invisible castle which looks a lot like a blank piece of paper, and there is no dessert in his lunch bag.  His day gets increasingly worse until finally his mom makes lima beans for supper and there is kissing on TV.

The book and Alexander's day end with Alexander's mother assuring the little boy that everyone has bad days.  We all need to hear that message, as I am guessing we have all had terrible, horrible, no good, really bad days.  Peter is certainly having one this morning.  Last week, Peter was the golden disciple.  Peter correctly identified Jesus as the Messiah, the son of the living God.  In return, Jesus proclaimed that Peter was the rock on which he would build the church, and he gave Peter the keys to the Kingdom of Heaven.  Peter must be riding high.  But today, when Jesus tells the disciples that he will suffer, die, and be raised, Peter objects.  "God forbid it Lord!  This must never happen to you!"  The events Jesus describes cannot happen to the Messiah.  Messiahs do not suffer and are not killed, especially at the hands of elders, chief priests and scribes.  Jesus takes Peter down with the words "Get behind me, Satan!  You are a stumbling block to me; for you are setting your mind not on divine things but on human things."  The disciple who was given the name Peter, or Rock, last week is now called Satan.  How can Peter possibly be of any use to Jesus when he has so totally misunderstood the Messiah.  Peter is having a terrible, awful, no good really bad day.

On the other hand, Moses seems to be having a lovely, if confusing day.  He is off beyond the wilderness where he encounters the living God who speaks to him from a burning bush and gives him specific instructions for what God wants Moses to do with his life.  Wouldn't we all love that kind of clarity?  However, Moses is not out beyond the wilderness on a personal retreat in order to have a deeper experience of God.  Last week, we heard the story of Moses' birth.  This week, we hear God's call to Moses.  But in between, Moses killed an Egyptian who was beating a Hebrew.  Moses is on the run from the Egyptians, who want his life.  Moses had his terrible, awful, no good really bad day, and that day sent him off into the wilderness where he encountered God, despite himself.  Out beyond the wilderness, knowing full well what Moses has done, God calls Moses to lead God's people out of slavery in Egypt and into the land of milk and honey.

Moses is understandably curious about who this God is who is calling him.  Twice in this passage, God says "I am the God of your ancestors, the God of Abraham, the God of Isaac, and the God of Jacob."  This God is the god of the great heros of the faith, the God who promised Abraham descendants that would number the stars in the sky.  The only problem is that the descendants are now in slavery in Egypt, where they are suffering under great oppression. So, in order for God to make a great nation out of the descendants of Abraham, there must be some kind of intervention to get them out of slavery.  And that is God's plan for Moses.

The God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob evokes memories of the great stories of the book of Genesis, like the promise of God to Abraham, the near sacrifice of Isaac, and the great love stories of Isaac and Rebekah, and Jacob and Rachel.  But the equally true reality is that the God of Abraham is the God of the guy who passed his wife Sarah off as his sister, had a child with one of his servants when his wife Sarah could not conceive, and almost sacrificed his child on an altar.  There is not too much dirt on Isaac-his life was rather tame in comparison with his father and his son, but he did have trouble telling his sons apart.  The God of Jacob is the God of the guy who stole his slightly older brother's birthright.

The God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob who is also the God of Moses and Peter and us is not the God of perfect people by any means.  This is the God of infinite patience and creativity, who takes us as we are, with our gifts and our mistakes and shortcomings and uses us as God used Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, Moses, Peter, and countless other men and women with countless other shortcomings to do God's work in the world.

On this Labor Day weekend, we ask God's blessing upon our work.  We ask God's blessing not so that everything we do is perfect, because that is not likely to happen.  We all have terrible, awful, no good, really bad days.  We ask God's blessing on our work, on our hands, so that our work is God's work in the world and a blessing to others, particularly when they are having a terrible, awful, no good, really bad day.  Just as God used Abraham and Sarah, Isaac and Rebekah, Jacob and Rachel and Leah, Moses, and Peter to accomplish God's work in the world and to be a blessing to others, God will use us as we offer our lives and labor to God.
Amen.

Not a Problem to be Solved, but a Life to be Lived

Charlotte Collins Reed
Christ Episcopal Church
August 24, 2014

16 Proper A

Calculus was not the best way to start my college career.  My apologies in advance to those of you who are mathematicians; the story is not pretty.  My high school transcript, test scores, and advisors all indicated that I was ready for Calculus.  They were all wrong.  The class started off alright.  I followed along well enough, learned how to work the problems, and survived the first test.  As the term progressed, however, I often wondered if we were all speaking the same language.  The situation was not helped by the fact that we were in a windowless basement room at 8 o'clock in the morning, but I am quite sure the material would have been equally unintelligible under more favorable conditions.

By the time we got to the final, let's just say that I really needed to do well on that particular test.  Our  textbook had the answers to the odd numbered problems in the back of the book, so I worked every odd numbered problem we had covered that term to prepare.  Every last one of them.  I was determined to conquer this exam.

When I looked at the exam on the day of the final, I honestly wondered if I was in the right place. Or maybe I had been given the exam for a different class by mistake.  The questions on the exam looked nothing like the problems I had worked.  The questions had more to do with theory than working problems.  I knew how to work the problems, not how the problems worked.  My heart sank.  The result was not pretty.

The disciples are given an equally baffling test this morning.  Their quiz starts out with a beginning of the term question:  "Who do people say that the Son of Man is?"  Jesus wants to know what other people are saying about him.  That is easy.  "Some say John the Baptist, but others Elijah, and still others Jeremiah or one of the prophets."  So far, so good.  The disciples can work this problem.  But then, there is the follow up question.  Jesus asks the disciples "Who do you say that I am?"

My guess is that a very long silence followed that question.  The disciples stared at their feet, examined their fingernails, and got very interested in something on the ground, hoping that someone else would speak up.  But finally, Simon looks Jesus in the eye and says "You are the Christ, the Son of the Living God!"  Bingo!  The prize for having answered the question correctly is nothing other than a new name, the keys to the kingdom of heaven, and the assurance that the gates of Hades will not prevail.  Along with the keys, Jesus tells Peter that whatever he binds on earth will be bound in heaven and whatever he loosens on earth will be loosed in heaven.   That is a considerable amount of power, and the church has been arguing about that power ever since.

Shiphrah and Puah have a different kind of power this morning as we hear the story of the birth of Moses.  The situation of the Hebrew people has changed dramatically since we last checked in on them last week.  Last week, Joseph, the son of Jacob, grandson of Isaac, great grandson of Abraham, was ruler of Egypt.  Now Joseph's people are held in oppressive and brutal slavery in that very same land.  The King of Egypt is afraid that the Hebrew people will multiply, and in the event of war, join Egypt's enemies, and escape from Egypt.  But the more brutal the Egyptians made the lives of the Hebrews, the faster the Hebrews multiplied. So the King orders that all Hebrew baby boys be killed.  This morning, the Hebrew midwives, Shiphrah and Puah, use their power as midwives and refuse to let the Pharaoh cause the damage and destruction he desires.  These two women were hardly likely candidates to stand up to power and prevent the powers of hell from prevailing.  They were not politicians, royalty, or military leaders.  The two midwives are two ordinary women going about the work they have been called to do, delivering babies.  In the course of that very normal work, they are given the opportunity to stand up to evil, to close the gates of hell as it were, and make the kingdom of heaven a more present reality on earth.

When Jesus asks "Who do you say that I am?" I think Jesus cares just as much about the answer we give with our lives as he does the answer we give with our lips.  Interestingly, as we have done the work of discerning the work God is calling us to in the next couple of years, we have found energy around our formation as Christians and around possible new outreach initiatives, shaping the answer we give to Jesus' question with our lips and with our lives.  The apostle Paul calls us this morning to be transformed by the renewing of our minds, but that does not mean that our faith is a purely mental exercise.  Paul tells us to be transformed by the renewing of our minds so that we can discern the will of God- that which is good and acceptable and perfect, and present our bodies as a living sacrifice.  How are we called to use our power to close the gates of hell and make the kingdom of heaven a more present reality on earth?  How do we use our lives to answer Jesus' question "Who do you say that I am?" when confronted with the evil in Iraq and Syria, Ferguson, Beavercreek, and right here in Springfield?  Do we change the channel or close the webpage as I have caught myself doing time and time again when I could bear to hear no more?  Or do we, like Shiphrah and Puah, find a way to use our lives, our power, to make a difference in difficult conversations about race or religion or unequal access to opportunity?

Jesus calls us to answer the question "Who do you say that I am?" not only with our lips, saying the right words, but with our lives so that our lives work to make the kingdom of heaven more present here on earth.  The Christian life is not a problem to be solved correctly, but a life to be lived faithfully.  The Messiah, the Son of the Living God, expected that of Peter and the disciples and he expects that of us.

Amen.

Humble, Persistent, and Bold

Charlotte Collins Reed
Christ Episcopal Church
August 17, 2014

15 Proper A

Some years ago, I ran into a former grade school teacher of one of our sons.  We were both at a reception following a funeral when we had one of those "Don't I know you from somewhere" moments.  About 15 years had elapsed since this teacher had taught our son, but during the year that our son was in her classroom, the teacher and I had an unfortunate disagreement over the way a particular situation had been handled.  If the teacher had 30 students a year, and 15 years had passed since we last encountered each other, then some 450 students and no doubt several disagreeable parents had passed through her classroom since we last met.  So, hopefully the teacher had forgotten our unpleasant encounter.  However, word to the wise-if you don't want your children's teachers to remember them, do not give them names like Slocomb and Caldwell!  And indeed, 15 years later, the teacher did remember our son.  Whether or not she remembered our disagreement, I will never know because if she did, she was gracious enough not to mention it.  Nonetheless, I felt a bit awkward to say the least.

Awkward probably does not begin to describe what Joseph's brothers are feeling this morning when they find out that the powerful ruler standing before them is actually the brother they sold into slavery.  While selling one's brother into slavery is not to be commended, little brother Joseph was a bit of a brat and a tattle tale, and was adored by his father.  Now, many years have passed and a famine has come upon the land.  Because Joseph had understood one of Pharaoh's dreams to mean that there would be seven years of abundance, followed by seven years of famine, Egypt had planned for the famine.  During the 7 plenteous years, one-fifth of the harvest was put in reserve for the famine to come.  When the famine arrived, Egypt was ready.  Not only that, but the Pharaoh had made Joseph ruler over Egypt.  When we catch up with Joseph and his brothers this morning, Joseph's brothers stand before him, unaware of his identity, in dire need of food to purchase and take home to their father and families.  While Joseph looks like the model of forgiveness and reconciliation in our lovely but somewhat gushy reading this morning, what the lectionary leaves out is the way Joseph treated his brothers the previous time they came for food.  The first time they came, Joseph, who is now in a position of great power, accuses his brothers of spying and has them thrown in jail for three days. Joseph holds his brother Simeon captive while the other brothers return home to their father and instructs his brothers to return with Benjamin, the beloved son since Joseph's disappearance.  Joseph has the money his brothers paid for the grain put back in their bags before they leave for home, and when they find it, they are terrified that they will be accused of stealing.  Joseph is in a position of great power which he does not mind abusing, and his brothers have no clue who he is. When Joseph reveals his identity to his brothers this morning, they are understandably mortified.  But Joseph explains that God has worked through their misdeeds so that now their family can be kept alive. And manipulative, bratty, tattletale Joseph demonstrates the mercy of God to his brothers.

Jesus is not at his best this morning, either.  Jesus is flat out rude to the woman seeking help for her daughter, not to mention arrogant and prejudiced.  The Canaanite woman cries out to him "Have mercy on me, Lord, Son of David; my daughter is tormented by a demon."  She clearly recognizes Jesus' great power, a power that can cure her daughter.  But in response to the woman's plea, Jesus completely ignores her.  When the disciples encourage Jesus to send her away so she will quit shouting at them, Jesus says "I was sent only to the lost sheep of the house of Israel."  In Matthew's gospel, Jesus clearly understands his ministry as first to the house of Israel.  Only after the resurrection do we hear Jesus send the disciples out to make disciples of all nations.  The Canaanite woman is not of the house of Israel.  She is one of "them" and not one of "us," so she is not worthy of Jesus' attention.  This is not the Jesus we know, who's work we try to do, the Jesus who feeds the hungry and heals the sick, casts out demons, and works for justice and mercy for the poor and marginalized.

At the end of the story, Jesus says to the Canaanite woman, the very woman to whom he had just been so very rude, "Woman, great is your faith!  Let it be done for you as you wish."  Last week, we heard Jesus say to Peter, his own disciple, "Oh you of little faith.  Why did you doubt?"  Whatever Jesus' problem with the Canaanite woman might be, in the end, she is held up for us as a model of great faith, while Peter is left as a person of little faith.  So, perhaps it would behoove us to forget about Jesus' behavior for a moment and focus on the faith of the Canaanite woman.  What about her faith is commendable?

First, unlike Peter, who last week essentially said to Jesus "IF you are the Son of God, command me to walk out to you on the water," the Canaanite woman says "Have mercy on me, Lord, Son of David; my daughter is tormented by a demon."  The Canaanite woman, a  pagan and not a Jew, living in Gentile territory, recognizes Jesus and calls him by a title that is surprising.  How does she know Jesus is the Lord, the Son of David?  However, she came to have this knowledge, she is led to ask Jesus for mercy, for the unearned favor of God.  She recognizes Jesus' power and is humble before that power.

Secondly, her faith is persistent.  When the disciples want Jesus to send the woman away, she keeps shouting.  When Jesus makes the claim that he was sent only to the lost sheep of the house of Israel, she doesn't take "no" for an answer.  Her faith leads her to kneel before Jesus and say "Lord, help me."  Her faith is humble, but it is also persistent.  She keep after Jesus until he gives her the response she needs; she doesn't just give up and go away when Jesus ignores her.

Thirdly, her faith is bold.  When Jesus seems to be just flat out rude and says "It is not fair to take the children's food and throw it to the dogs," she is undaunted and dares to come back at Jesus with "Yes, Lord, yet even the dogs eat the crumbs that fall from their masters' table."  She is willing to argue with Jesus.  Her bold reply leads Jesus to respond "Woman, great is your faith!  Let it be done for you as you wish."  And her daughter was healed instantly.

While both Jesus and Joseph have power that they are not willing to use immediately to bring about healing and relief, the Canaanite woman and Joseph's brothers have a faith that is surprising.  Both are in great need, but know that they deserve nothing.  Both are persistent, coming back when either they need more food, or don't have the need for healing met immediately.  Both are bold.  Guts are required to return to the brother who has already accused you of spying and locked you in prison, and guts are required for anyone, much less a Canaanite, to approach the Son of David.  Perhaps the point of these stories is to hold up unlikely models of faith that call us to a faith that is humble, persistent, and bold.

  Amen.

The God of Abundance

Charlotte Collins Reed
Christ Episcopal Church
August 3, 2014

The God of Abundance: 13 Proper A

By 8:30 on Wednesday morning, I had fielded four phone calls from people asking if our Food Pantry would be open that afternoon.  At 9 o'clock, a growing stream of volunteers began bringing case after case of food into the building and by 11 o'clock people were lined up well into the parking lot waiting for the pantry to begin serving.  Our volunteers are infinitely kind and patient, sitting with each client to get the necessary information, helping the clients pick out what they need when there are choices, and handing out the bags of groceries with a smile and a thoughtful word.  The workers are also hoping that the food will hold out until the last person is served so that no one leaves empty handed.  The vast majority of weeks, there is plenty of food and everyone is served.  But once in a great while, we run out.

So, when I hear the story of the Feeding of the 5000, my thoughts naturally turn to the Food Pantry.  We hear Jesus say "You give them something to eat" and we do.  Like the disciples, we know that the food we distribute does not belong to us. The food belongs to God and the people, and we are God's distribution mechanism.  We try to have faith that there will be enough food, even when we feel overwhelmed by the need, and generally there is enough.  Rarely is the equivalent of 12 baskets full leftover, but there is always more for the next week.  We can easily and understandably hear Jesus calling us to have a little more faith, work a little harder, and feed a few more people.

But to hear this story only as a call to have faith and feed people is to hear the story far too narrowly, both in terms of the Gospel story and in terms of our story at Christ Church.  Last February, while I was away, you began talking about ministry at Christ Church, ways to grow our ministry, and the direction you would like to see this church take in the next few years.  Conversations and surveys showed interest in new outreach ministries, more adult formation experiences, and more opportunities for fellowship.  Since May, we have had focused conversations about Adult Formation and Outreach.  As I have listened and watched this summer, I have heard a deep commitment to serving our community either by expanding and bolstering current outreach ministry, or developing new outreach initiatives.  Outreach is in our DNA here, and the desire to do more and serve better is a driving force.  But I have also heard a deep longing for more time outside Sunday morning for prayer, Bible study, conversation and reflection about our life of faith.  Turn out for some new experiences like Flash Mob Compline at City Hall plaza and a spontaneous gathering for lunch at National Trail Commons has been great.  Talk about developing Pub Theology for adults is animated, and energy around gathering for fellowship as the Body of Christ is high.  We know we are called to serve the community.  We long for a deeper understanding of how and why we do that as people of faith.

The story of the Feeding of the 5000 begins with these words "Jesus withdrew in a boat to a deserted place by himself."  Jesus has been hard at work teaching and healing, and he has just heard that his cousin, John the Baptist, has been beheaded by King Herod.  Only when Jesus had finished his time alone did he go ashore where the crowds were waiting for him.  The crowds had apparently gathered around Jesus so that Jesus could cure their sick, not so that Jesus would feed them. Jesus fed them because at the end of a long day, the people were hungry and there was no place to buy food.  The people were probably not without resources, just without food at hand.  The Feeding of the 5000 is less a story about curing physical hunger and more a story about Jesus taking time away, then re- engaging his work of healing and teaching through which the people encounter the God of Abundance.

This morning, we also hear about Jacob's encounter with God.  Jacob has sent his two wives, 2 maids and 11 children on ahead of him, in different directions.  What we don't hear this morning is that Jacob is waiting to encounter Esau, his brother who he cheated out of the elder brother's birth right some 20 years ago.  Last Jacob heard, 20 years ago, Esau was furious with Jacob and wanted to kill him. Jacob can only imagine that Esau's fury has multiplied with time, and Jacob is petrified.  He has sent his wives and children ahead with mixed motives: to protect them and to send Esau off Jacob's trail.  Jacob has also sent an abundance of gifts ahead for Esau, hoping to appease him and lessen his anger.  The Jacob who we find alone today is not the cocky, trickster Jacob.  This Jacob is terrified of meeting his brother, and he is alone in his terror when he wrestles with God.  As a result of that encounter with God, Jacob is changed.  Jacob limps away from his encounter with God, changed from the Jacob who would deceive his brother into the Jacob who will follow in Abraham and Isaac's footsteps.  Jacob is changed by his encounter with God, as I imagine the disciples and the crowds were changed by their encounter with God in the Feeding of the 5000.

When I sent out the Newsnote this week with the photo from our compline in front of City Hall, Bob Partlow, our former rector, emailed back to ask if a) we had really prayed compline, and b) if anyone had participated.  I emailed back and said that a)yes, we really did pray compline, and b) while all of us who attended participated, those who passed by participated primarily by staring.   Bob's response was that lives will be changed by our prayer, and my response to Bob was that the lives that will be changed may well be our own.

The gospel gives us permission to satisfy our longing for more time for prayer, Bible study, conversation and reflection even as we look at ways to better serve our community.  Jesus withdrew to a deserted place, and Jesus calls us to do the same.  Jesus then re-engaged his ministry to the crowds.  Jesus calls us to do the same.  Like Jacob, we will be transformed when we encounter the God of Abundance in worship, outreach, and reflection.  When we take the time to withdraw as Jesus did, our life together and with God will be enriched and our ministry to the world will grow deeper.

Amen.