Lift Up Your Hearts

Charlotte Collins Reed
Christ Episcopal Church
August 30, 2015

17 Proper B

When Don and I were first married, we lived in Nashville, Tennessee where there is a plethora of Episcopal Churches from which to choose.  We sampled Anglo-Catholic, Anglo-Baptist, historic downtown broad church, friendly churches, less friendly churches,  and everything in between.  One Sunday we made our way to one of the smaller churches in Nashville, one we really didn't know anything about.  The service was a standard Rite 2 Holy Eucharist, so nothing unfamiliar to us.  But when we went to the altar rail to receive communion, before placing the bread in our hands, the priest looked us in the eye and said, not "The body of Christ the bread of heaven," but "Have you been confirmed?"  Now, before the current prayer book, adopted in January of 1979, the official teaching of the Episcopal Church was that confirmation was admission to communion.  The idea was that a person needed to have made a mature affirmation of faith before receiving the Eucharist.  But the current prayer book understands that baptism is full initiation into the life of the church and that includes receiving communion.  So I was stunned-not only by the priest's question but at the nerve to ask the question at the altar rail of someone with their hands outstretched waiting to receive Christ in the bread and the wine.  There was no question in my mind that had the answer been "no," we would have been refused.  We had been called out for being strangers and possibly unfit for the sacred meal.  I felt judged, even though I met the requirements.

I wonder how Jesus' disciples felt when they were called out by the religious authorities for eating with defiled hands.  On the one hand, Mark does not portray the disciples as the brightest lights in the building.  They are forever misunderstanding Jesus.  In fact, just prior to the story we heard this morning, we were told that the disciples did not understand the feeding of the 5000, because their hearts were hardened.  But on the other hand, the disciples have given up everything and followed Jesus.  Earlier in Mark's gospel, we are told that the disciples had successfully cast our demons and anointed the sick with oil and cured them.  How many of us can claim success like that?  Had I been one of those disciples, I might have been a tad bit offended when called out for not living according to the tradition of the elders and keeping my hands clean.

On a first reading of the gospel lesson, we might think that Jesus is criticizing the tradition of the elders in favor of good works. Jesus quotes Isaiah who says "This people honors me with their lips, but their hearts are far from me; in vain do they worship me, teaching human precepts as doctrines."  Then Jesus teaches the crowd that evil comes from within; that there is nothing outside a person that by going in can defile the human heart.

The reading from James teaches likewise.  We hear these words: "Be doers of the word and not merely hearers."  Like Jesus' quote from the prophet Isaiah, the emphasis seems to be on works.  James writes "Religion that is pure and undefiled before God is this: to care of orphans and widows in their distress and to keep oneself unstained by the world."  Merely hearing the word is not sufficient.  Right action is what is required.

So, what does Jesus want?  The intent of the Jewish ritual was to make all of life holy so what a person ate or drank, or how a person kept clean, or what a person did on the Sabbath, or how a person worshiped mattered. All of life was to be holy and pleasing to God.  But on the other hand, Jesus was clearly concerned with the commandments of God that have to do with our relationships with our fellow human beings.  Everything in Jesus' list of evils has to do with harming other people.  Which does Jesus want?

What Jesus wants is our heart.  Jesus wants ritual that forms our hearts so that the actions that come from our hearts honor God and each other.  Jesus is not an either/or sort of Savior.  Jesus is a both/and Savior. If we come to this place for beautiful worship, and our hearts are not formed to do gospel work, then Jesus has some harsh things to say and our worship is empty.  If we toil and sweat out on the parking lot at the Neighborhood Fair, and we do not see Jesus in the people we serve, then our actions are empty, too.  I have learned all too well how easily my heart can be hardened and become numb as we see people day after day at the door of Hollenbeck House who have more needs than I can imagine or we can begin to meet.  I imagine some of you experience that as well, both here at Christ Church in our many ministries or in your ministries in the world.  Gathering here to worship, to sing great hymns, pray the ancient prayers of the church, hear the sacred story, break bread, connect with God and each other, then hear the words of the dismissal "Go in peace to love and serve the Lord" opens our hearts and sends us out into the world to encounter God.   Then our hearts are more open and patient as we hear people's stories and try to figure out how we can help, or who can help, or what part of the need we can meet, or, if nothing else, at least treat people with kindness and respect.  Those encounters drive us back here to worship, pray, and connect.  Which sends us back into the world in an endless cycle of ritual or worship, and works.  Jesus tells us that neither worship nor works are complete without the other because both are needed to form our hearts as people of God. And our hearts are what matter to Jesus.

Amen.

Practice

Charlotte Collins Reed
Christ Episcopal Church
August 23, 2015

15 Proper B

When I was a young child in early elementary school, my family lived in a bedroom community outside New York City.  This was the mid-1960's, so in the middle of the Cold War.  In addition to the monthly fire drills, which I assume are still  a feature of elementary school, we also had air raid drills in case the cold war heated up and there was an attack on New York City.  Unlike fire drills where we got to go outside, during an air raid drill everyone went to the cafeteria where there were no windows, and sat facing the wall with our heads down and covered by our arms.  What real protection that might offer in case of an enemy attack, I had no clue.  But we practiced the drill over and over again, which at least made us feel safer whether that was the reality or not.  With both fire drills and air raid drills, the point of the practice was so that we would be prepared in the event of disaster and would not have to think about how to respond.  We would know.  When I was in 6th grade we moved to Arkansas, and our days of air raid drills were over.  I don't think anyone was too worried about an enemy attack on Little Rock in 1970.

There are countless examples of all the things we practice in order to be prepared.  Here at Christ Church, acolytes practice, as they will today.  The choir practices.  Anyone who works with the Food Pantry will tell you that each time we open, we are practicing for the next time, which is true of many of our ministries here.  We practice over and over again in many aspects of our lives so that we are well prepared to do whatever we undertake.

The glorious worship described in the reading from 1 Kings this morning as the Temple in Jerusalem is dedicated looks like anything but practice.  The year was likely around 960 BC.  Solomon has built this temple as a house for God.  The temple is large and ornate-a fitting home for the God who led the people out of slavery in Egypt, through the wilderness, and into the Promised Land.  We watch as the priests of the temple place the Ark of the Covenant in the inner sanctuary, the most holy place in the Temple.  The Ark of the Covenant contains the tablets on which the 10 commandments are written, and they are thought to contain the very presence of God.  Once the priests come out of the inner sanctuary, the whole temple fills with a cloud as the glory of God fills the temple. A pillar of cloud led the Israelites through the wilderness and protected them as they entered the promised land.  That cloud signified the presence of God with them.  Now that same cloud fills the Temple.  Finally, Solomon prays that God will hear the prayers of all people who pray in the Temple, so that all people might know God and fear God.

But even in the midst of the dedication of this great temple, Solomon asks "But will God indeed dwell on the earth?  Even heaven and the highest heaven cannot contain you, much less this house I have built."  Even as Solomon dedicates the elaborate, ornate Temple, he knows that God will not actually live there.  The God who has wandered with God's people is not likely to be confined in a temple.

But will God indeed dwell on the earth?  John's gospel, from which we hear this morning, tells us that, in Jesus, the very God who wandered through the wilderness with God's people and led them into the Promised Land  has chosen to dwell among us, wander with us, if you will,  on earth.  The gospel begins with the words "In the beginning was the Word and the Word was with God and the Word was God."  A few verses later we are told that "the Word became flesh and dwelled among us, full of grace and truth."  This morning, we hear Jesus say "Those who eat my flesh and drink my blood abide in me and I in them."  The Word has not only become flesh, the Word invites us to abide or dwell in him and he in us.  And many of his disciples understandably say "This teaching is difficult; who can accept it?"

What does this have to do with practice?  We come to this holy place to be in Christian community as we experience God, worship, learn, and serve, not because we believe that this is the only place we can find God, but precisely because we know that God is also to be found in the world around us, wandering among all people and in all places.  We come here to practice recognizing and experiencing God so we can recognize God and experience God in the world.  We come here to practice living as people of faith with each other so we can live as people of faith with all people.  We come here to experience Jesus in the bread and wine , so that we recognize and experience Jesus where ever we break bread.  When the disciples say "This teaching is difficult, who can accept it?" Jesus doesn't say "No, it's not."  He says "Does this offend you?"  Jesus' teaching is hard, and being followers of the One who came to dwell among us and invites us to dwell in him is hard, which is why we have to practice.

Jesus answers Solomon's question "But will God indeed dwell on earth?" with the words "Abide in me and I in you."  We respond to Jesus' difficult teaching with the words of our baptismal covenant as we promise to "Seek and serve Christ in all people."  And when we say "This is hard!" Jesus does not disagree.  He gives us infinite opportunities to practice.

Amen.

Eternal Life

Charlotte Collins Reed
Christ Episcopal Church
August 16, 2015

15 Proper B

Every year on Maundy Thursday, we gather for worship in the Parish Hall.  The tables have been set by the children with great care.  The lights are dimmed and the candles glow as we enter the room in relative silence for a service of prayer, song, scripture, and a simple meal.  Through the scripture readings, we see the angel of death pass over the Israelites in Egypt.  We watch as Jesus washes the feet of the disciples.  And we remember that, on the night before he died,  Jesus took bread and wine, blessed them and gave them to his disciples and said "Take, eat.  This is my body which is given for you.  Do this in remembrance of me."  In response to Jesus command, we pass the bread and wine of communion to each other around our tables. Then, as we sing a hymn, we process upstairs into this space for the stripping of the altar. The sacrament of bread and wine is clearly and deeply connected to the death of Jesus.

In three of the four gospels, at the Last Supper, Jesus takes bread and wine and says "This is my body...this is my blood...do this in remembrance of me."  Jesus knows he is going to die and gives this meal to his disciples as a physical way to remember him.  But John's gospel tells the story differently.  In John's gospel, from which we hear today, there is no meal involved on the night  Jesus is arrested. Instead, as Jesus gathers with his disciples, he washes their feet.   The passages we have heard over the last four weeks about the bread of life all come in early in John's gospel, right after the feeding of the 5000.  In the middle of Jesus' life, after he has fed the multitudes with a few loaves and fish, Jesus says "I am the living bread that came down from heaven."

What if the living bread is more about living in the midst of the  messiness of human life than the bliss of eternal life after we die?  For an example of the messiness of human life, we need look no further than our reading from I Kings. In that story, God seems to be suffering from an acute case of amnesia.  We hear that Solomon loved the Lord, and God clearly thinks highly of Solomon since God appears to Solomon in a dream, which puts Solomon in the good company of Abraham and Sarah, Isaac and Rebekah,  Jacob and his wives, and Joseph.  The only problem with this is that in the two verses prior to our reading, which the lectionary conveniently leaves out, Solomon makes a marriage alliance with Pharaoh, the King of Egypt, and he marries Pharaoh's daughter.  Solomon finishes building his own house before he finishes building God's house, the temple, so the people had to make their sacrifices at the high places, the places of pagan worship.  We are told in our reading this morning that Solomon himself sacrificed at the high places. These actions are despicable to God, but God not only asks Solomon what God should give him, but then gives Solomon such riches and honor that no king can compare with Solomon.  Solomon is a mess, and God loves Solomon anyway.  Likewise, God seems to have forgotten everything we have heard about David over the past few weeks.  God says "If you walk in my ways, keeping my statutes and commandments as your father David walked, I will lengthen your life." Has God forgotten David's affair with Bathsheba, and the way David tried to trick Uriah, Bathsheba's husband, so Uriah would appear to be the father of Bathsheba's unborn child?  Has God forgotten how David had Uriah killed in battle, and how angry God was with David? After all that, now we hear God declare that David kept God's commandments and statutes?

Actually, I don't think God has forgotten the actions of David and Solomon as much as God has chosen to remember their love for God.  David and Solomon both loved God, even in the midst of their mistakes, and even in the messiness of their lives, God loved them.  God worked through them, despite their many flaws, to bring about good things for the people of Israel.  Their actions still had consequences, and God was certainly not always happy with them.  But God never failed to love them or to appreciate their love for God.

In the 7 verses of our gospel reading this morning, the word "life" or "living" occurs 8 times.  "I am the living bread." "Whoever eats of this bread will live forever." "Just as the living Father sent me, and I live because of the Father, so whoever eats me will live because of me."  Jesus is not using the future tense when he says "those who eat my flesh and drink my blood abide in me and I in them."  Jesus is using the present tense.  Eternal life is a gift that extends beyond the grave, but Jesus wants to be clear eternal life does not begin at the grave.  Eternal life means abiding in Jesus in the middle of the messiness of this life, and loving God even when we make a huge mess of our own lives.

Loving God won't make us perfect people any more than loving God made David or Solomon perfect.  In the middle of his life, Jesus offers himself as living bread for the life of the world so that in the midst of our own lives, we are defined not by our failures or our successes, but, like David and Solomon, are defined by our love for God and God's love for us.

Amen.

The Bread of Life

Charlotte Collins Reed
Christ Episcopal Church
August 2, 2015

13 Proper B

When my Aunt Em died in 1987 in south Alabama, our family made one of our last pilgrimages to Headland, Alabama the small town where my mother was raised and where my aunt had lived all of her 83 years.  The funeral took place in the local Methodist church, then we made the long trek the short distance to the family plot in the Baptist cemetery.  Not only do cars pull over and stop for a funeral procession in Headland, Alabama, there are signs all along the funeral route that say "Funeral procession.  Silence please."  In a small town, everyone is drawn into the solemnity of the day, whether they know the deceased or not.  But the party after the burial was anything but solemn.  Platters of fried chicken arrived at my aunt's house where family and friends had gathered.  Bowls of potato salad and green beans, along with baskets of cornbread and no small amount of chocolate cake arrived to nourish our bodies and souls after a long morning.  People who knew either my mother or my aunt dropped by the house to gather at the table and share both food and stories.  The power of a shared meal to both nourish our bodies and souls and bring people together is a well known phenomena.  We know that power here, certainly at the altar, but also  we also know that power through our meals together at the Parish Picnic, or an all parish breakfast, or a welcome dinner, or even at coffee hour.

I wonder if the people who were present at the Feeding of the 5000 had the same sort of experience.  We heard that story in the gospel reading last week, where Jesus fed 5000 people with 5 barley loaves and two fish, offered by a little boy. Imagine the excited chatter as Jesus distributed the abundance among the people.  Perhaps people had Jesus stories to tell about previous encounters with him.  No doubt they shared their amazement at how such a small amount of food could feed so many people, with leftovers even.  In my imagination at least, the people left feeling some sense of being bound together by a common miraculous meal.

But a few hours later, they, like all of us after a good meal, were hungry again.  While food has the ability to bring people together, I think hunger has an equal ability to isolate.  At our Food Pantry, as much as we try very hard to treat each person with the dignity and respect they deserve, to have a little bit of conversation that connects us with each other, and to offer homemade cookies as people wait in line, there is still a sense that we have the food that our clients need.  And the pain of hunger can isolate people who feel like they have to compete for limited resources, or who have to swallow their pride in order to ask for help.  Last month, one of our clients said to me that he likes coming to our Food Pantry not just because we give a lot of food, which we do, but because we treat people well.  While those words made my heart swell with pride for the work we do, I was also saddened by his description of, in his words, sucking up his pride to come to a Food Pantry.

This morning we hear Jesus say "I am the bread of life.  Whoever comes to me will never be hungry and whoever believes in me will never thirst."  With these words, I think Jesus reflects on both the power of food to unite and the power of hunger to isolate.  The crowds hunt for Jesus this morning, not because they want to connect with Jesus and get to know him better, but because they want more food to feed their bellies.  Jesus tells them not to work for food that perishes but for the food that endures for eternal life.  In other words, Jesus tells them to long for the food that will nourish them forever, not just until the next meal, food that will connect them with the source of eternal life, which is not the local baker, but Jesus.

Our story from 2 Samuel reminds us what happens when we become isolated from God and from each other and take actions to satisfy only our own desires, our own hungers.  Last week, we heard the story of David and Bathsheba, in which David has an affair with Bathsheba, who is married to Uriah, who is off at battle.  When David finds out that Bathsheba is pregnant, he tries to make it look like Uriah is the father.  But Uriah is far too ethical a person to sleep with his wife when his soldiers are out in the field.  So, in order to protect himself, David has Uriah deliberately killed in battle, then takes Bathsheba as his own wife.  This morning, we hear God's fury and God's hurt.  David's actions will have consequences that will extend for generations to come and David will be publicly shamed before all Israel.  What David thought he did in isolation to satisfy his own desires ends up having consequences that will hurt many.  We are all connected and when we live like we are isolated from each other, working to satisfy our own desires at the expense of others, people get hurt.  We are all connected.

While David may be an example of what happens when we live like we are isolated from each other, the reading from Ephesians describes what a life worthy of God looks like.  The writer of Ephesians calls us to live "with all humility and gentleness, with patience, bearing with one another in love, making every effort to maintain the unity of the Spirit in the bond of peace."  Nothing could be further from the actions attributed to David.  The writer goes on to say "But speaking the truth in love, we must grow up in every way into him who is the head, into Christ, from whom the whole body, joined and knit together by every ligament with which it is equipped, as each part is working properly, promotes the body's growth in building itself up in love."  The gospel calls us to live as one body, people who are bound together to work together.  Only when we each offer our gifts is the body whole and can do the work we have been given to do as followers of Jesus.

But living as people who are connected, who know that, for good or ill, our actions affect others, and living as people who are connected to the source of life, is hard.  Jesus knows that.   In that peculiar gospel logic, the only way we have the courage and strength to live as people who are connected to each other is by living as people who are connected to each other and God.  And so, Jesus feeds us.  We gather at this table with Jesus, the bread of life, to be nourished in body and soul, and to be connected so that spiritual hunger and thirst do not isolate us from each other.  What Jesus does by offering his body as bread for the life of the world is to connect us to God and each other in a way that does not perish.  Then Jesus sends us out with hearts ready to connect with those who experience the isolation of physical hunger and thirst, and to do that work in such a way that both their bodies and souls and ours are fed.
Amen.