The Last Word

Charlotte Collins Reed
Christ Episcopal Church
April 3, 2016

The Last Word

First, thank you for a wonderful celebration of our ministry together last night.  Thank you for your kind words, the many cards that we will cherish reading-both those that have come in the mail and email over the last weeks and those that we received last night, the lovely and generous gifts, the great food, the presence of so many of you in body and so many more of you in spirit.

The important thing to remember this morning as we celebrate our life together is that I am not the main character in your life, as grateful as I am for the opportunity to be your rector these last 15+ years.  I am proud to hold the record for the longest serving rector at Christ Church.  Nor are you the main character in my life, even though you have played a huge role in my life and the life of my family.  I doubt there are more than a handful of priests in the church today, if that, who had the honor of being the rector of the congregation that sponsored them for ordination and sent them to seminary. Some of you who are here today were on my discernment committee some 23 years ago.  I think I was 14 at the time.

The important thing to remember this morning is that the main character in all of our lives is the Risen Christ and that will never change.  Our gospel lesson this morning is a great example of how the story changes when we remember who the main character is.  This morning, we hear about Doubting Thomas as we do on the Sunday after Easter every year.  In this story, the Risen Christ appears to the disciples, but Thomas is not with them at the time.  When the disciples tell Thomas that they have seen the Lord, Thomas refuses to believe unless he sees Jesus, too. So, Jesus obliges and appears again a week later so Thomas can know that Jesus has risen.

My problem with this story has always been that Thomas comes off like a demanding child, demanding what the other have.  Jesus comes off as an indulgent parent, giving Thomas what he wants. And we are left feeling about ½ inch tall, remembering all the times we have doubted and questioned our faith.  Don't be like Thomas is the message, except that Thomas does get what he wants.  So then, what is the message?

But when we let the Risen Christ be the main character, we hear the story differently.  We hear Jesus say "As the Father has sent me, so I send you...Receive the Holy Spirit."  How did the Father send Jesus?  God sent Jesus to be in the world, to be the Word made flesh and dwell among us.  Jesus is sending the disciples out into the world to be the Word made flesh and dwell with the people.  The only problem is that a week later when Jesus shows back up, where are the disciples?  In the same room behind the same closed doors.  In my imagination, Jesus says to the disciples "What are you doing here?"  No wonder Thomas did not believe them!  I wonder what difference it would have made if the disciples had been out in the world, showing the world the difference an experience of the Risen Christ had made in their lives.  I wonder if Thomas would have believed because he saw that difference and not demanded his own private viewing of Jesus' wounds.  When the Risen Christ is the main character, we hear the story differently.

We have experienced the Risen Christ together in many ways, and just as in Scripture, a lot of those ways seem to involve food.  In Luke's gospel, the Risen Christ appears to two unnamed disciples on the road to Emmaus and they recognize him when he breaks bread with them.  Later in John's gospel, the disciples recognize the Risen Christ as he grills fish on the beach for their breakfast. At Christ Church, we meet the Risen Christ at this table, but also at the Neighborhood Fair, the Food Pantry, Interfaith Hospitality Network, and the Rainbow Table in addition to Parish events like the parish picnic, Lenten series dinners, and events like last night.  Last night, several of the speakers mentioned specific food items that we have enjoyed together-notably Reed brownies, other chocolate confections, and spicy mac and cheese.  Coincidentally, I had already prepared my gift for you that I had saved for this morning, a gift that I hope will remind you of the way the Risen Christ is experienced through table hospitality.  For each of you, I have a recipe book with some of our favorite family recipes, which includes mostly recipes that have appeared either at parish events or in sermons. In a minute, I will ask Canon Jack Koepke, who is here this morning to represent the Bishop and who is a close personal friend of mine, to bless these recipe books.  But remember, the Risen Christ is the main character, and when we meet the Risen Christ here, he sends us out there.

Amen.

Do Not Be Afraid, Little Flock

Charlotte Collins Reed
Christ Episcopal Church
March 27, 2016

Easter Day

When I was a child, Easter meant two things: New dresses and lots of chocolate.  The new dresses actually bore witness to something of the Easter message.  In my new dress, usually a white dress with blue trim to match my sister's white dress with red trim, I felt like a new little girl.  The dress might have been scratchy, and the hat  bit annoying, but dressed up in beautiful new clothes made me feel like all things were possible.  New clothes marked a new beginning of sorts, even for a 5 year old.  Lots of chocolate simply meant that I had been good enough for the Easter bunny to notice and bring chocolate instead of jelly beans.  I'm not sure that has a tie in to the Easter message.  In fact, since Easter has nothing to do with our being good, the chocolate simply bore witness to the fact that I was loved, which is, of course at the heart of the Easter message. Chocolate wins, again!

This morning, the women are probably not dressed in their finest clothes as they make their way to the tomb to anoint the dead body of Jesus.  They are probably not feeling particularly loved that morning, nor are they thinking about new beginnings as they make their way to the tomb of their friend.  My guess is that they are tired, grieving, confused, and determined to do the sad work they have been given to do.  And when they arrive at the tomb and find the stone removed and two men in dazzling clothes there to greet them, they are terrified.

Terrified.  While the men in dazzling clothes do not say to the women "Do not be afraid," the men do ask the women why they look for the living among the dead.  The implication of the message is that the women should not be afraid.  From the very beginning of Luke's gospel, faithful people are told not to be afraid.  When the angel appears to Mary to announce to her that she will bear the Son of God, the angel says "Do not be afraid."  When the angel of the Lord appears to the shepherds in the field, and the glory of the Lord shines around them, they are terrified.  The angel says to them "Do not be afraid" and then tells them the good news of the birth of the savior.  When Jesus is told that the daughter of Jairus has died, Jesus says "Do not fear, only believe and she will be saved." In a section of Luke's gospel that confronts the persecution many of Luke's original readers were facing, Jesus says "Do not fear those who kill the body and can do nothing more....Are not five sparrows sold for two pennies?  Yet not one of them is forgotten in God's sight...do not be afraid, you are of more value than many sparrows."  And finally, in that same section of the gospel, written to people who were very afraid for their lives, Jesus says "Do not be afraid, little flock, for it is your Father's good pleasure to give you the kingdom."

So we come to the story of the empty tomb this morning and the story that began with the angel's words to Mary "Do not be afraid" ends with similar words.  We meet the women, who have already swallowed a large amount of fear just to show up with spices to anoint Jesus' body.  But when they find the stone moved, Jesus' body gone, and two men in dazzling clothes, their resolve melts and they are terrified.  As most of us do when we are terrified, they forget everything Jesus ever said about not being afraid, or anything else he ever said, for that matter.  But the two men gently remind them: "Why do you look for the living among the dead? Remember how Jesus told you, while he was still in Galilee, that the Son of Man must be handed over to sinners, and be crucified, and on the third day rise again?"  Now the women remember, their fear is turned to joy and they return to tell the disciples what they have seen and heard.

When the women left the tomb to tell the disciples what two men at the tomb had said, the women had no idea what would happen next in their lives.  They had no idea how their lives would be changed by the empty tomb and they really had no idea what the resurrection means.  Easter morning pulled them into a new and uncharted future.  They were pulled into the new thing God was doing, but Easter morning did not give them a road map for the journey.  On Easter, we, too, find the stone rolled away and the tomb empty.  We, too, hear the words of the men in dazzling clothes that tell us Jesus has died and has risen.  And we, too, are pulled into a new future, into a new thing that God is doing.  But we do not get a road map, either.  Like the women, the eleven, and all the rest, Easter calls us to walk boldly into the future as resurrection people, not bound by the limits of a road map, but following the Risen Christ who will take us places we cannot begin to imagine.  In a world where Christ is risen, all things really are possible!

Amen.

The Powers of Darkness

Charlotte Collins Reed
Christ Episcopal Church
March 25, 2016

Good Friday

Tuesday morning I received a text message from a friend whose son had spent his junior year of high school in Brussels just two years ago.  The son had flown in and out of the Brussels airport a number of times that year and had gone through the Maalbeek subway station multiple times a day.  On the one hand, everyone his son knew in Brussels was safe.  On the other hand, the powers of darkness had struck once again, and shockingly close to home.

Tonight, we heard John's account of the passion of Jesus.  Near the beginning of John's gospel, we hear the words "The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness did not overcome it."  On this Good Friday, as we wait and watch with the dead body of Jesus, as we live in a world where terrorists, violence, fear and suspicion, seem to win way more often than not, how are we to live as followers of Christ and bear witness to the story in which the light ultimately triumphs?

I am sometimes asked what it means it means to be a Christian.  While being a Christian does mean patterning our lives after the life of Jesus, that is not the primary meaning.  There are many great people after whom we can pattern our lives.  Being a Christian is fundamentally different from simply trying to live like someone we admire.  At the most primary level, being a Christian means that I am not defined by the sum total of my successes or my failures, or my successes minus my failures.  I am not defined by the powers of darkness around me, nor by fear, or hate.  As Christians, we are defined by the death and resurrection of Jesus.  Our baptismal liturgy tells us that, in baptism, we are joined with Christ in his death and resurrection.  We are people who follow a crucified and risen Lord.  On Good Friday, our liturgy makes that very clear to us.  Even on Good Friday, our liturgy holds together death and resurrection.  Listen to the words we will say in a few minutes: "We glory in your cross, O Lord, and praise and glorify your holy resurrection; for by virtue of your cross, joy has come into the world."  On this holy and somber night, when the powers of death and hell have taken their best shot, we hold fast to the belief that the darkness cannot overcome the light.  The death of Jesus is real.  When Jesus gave up his spirit, he gave up his spirit.  Evil is named, not denied.  But even on Good Friday as we stand before the cross and witness the power of evil at work, and the pain and horror evil causes, we praise and glorify the resurrection.

On Good Friday, Jesus gave himself over to the powers of darkness so we can live as the people God calls us to be.  Good Friday calls us to live as people who can look evil in the eye without living in the shadow of fear or denying the reality of evil.   Good Friday calls us to live as people of the light and not be suspicious of anyone different from ourselves.  Good Friday calls us to embrace the hope that brings us together rather than the fear that divides.  In John's gospel, Jesus also said "And I, when I am lifted up from the earth, will draw all people to myself."  Our very identity as Christians is to live as people who have been claimed by the crucifixion and resurrection of the One who died this night to draw all the world to himself.  

Amen.

Remember God's Promise

Charlotte Collins Reed
Christ Episcopal Church
March 20, 2016

Palm Sunday C

Some mornings when I walk into the church, I can still feel the energy in the building from a particularly joyful event the day before.  Sometimes when I walk in the building, I can simply smell the lasagna that was baked the night before.  But many times I have walked into this space and felt the energy from a worship service or a concert or an outreach ministry that was particularly Spirit filled.  The stones that make up this building have absorbed the prayers of the faithful people who have worshiped here for about 140 years.  The stones have witnessed our vows, held our joy and our sorrow, and try as we might, they have not budged even with the most joyful of song.  I wonder if this is what Jesus meant about the stones when he said to the Pharisees, who wanted Jesus followers to halt their joyful song, "If these were silent, the very stones would shout out."

The story of Jesus' entry into Jerusalem is basically the same in Matthew, Mark, and Luke, but Luke's version of the story is my favorite. Jesus sends two disciples into the village to find a colt that has never been ridden.  If anyone asks why the disciples are taking the colt, they are to say "The Lord needs it."  All goes according to plan and Jesus enters Jerusalem on the back of the colt, with people singing.  There are, by the way, no palms or leafy branches in Luke's version of the story.  Matthew gives us leafy branches.  Mark and John give us palms.  Luke simply gives us a picture of people spreading cloaks along the path.  Luke is my favorite, in part, because we can all spread what we have before Jesus.  But the real reason Luke tells my favorite version of the entry into Jerusalem is because of  the stones.

The Hebrew Scriptures are filled with images of stones that would have come to mind for the Pharisees, who were well versed in Scripture, when they heard Jesus' words .  First, stones are a sign of an experience of God.  In the book of Genesis (28), Jacob takes a stone for a pillow and dreams about angels ascending and descending on a ladder.  In that dream, God says to Jacob "I am the Lord, the God of Abraham and Isaac; the land on which you lie I will give to you and your offspring; and your offspring shall be like the dust of the earth, and you shall spread abroad to the east and to the west, to the north and to the south."  Then God says "Know that I am with you and will keep you where ever you go, and will bring you back to this land; for I will not leave you until I have done what I have promised."  Jacob recognized that God was in that place, and set up the stone as a pillar, and poured oil over the stone to be a house for God, and Jacob promises to return to God one tenth of all he was given. In a perhaps more familiar story, there is the stone that the young and small David used to kill the giant, Goliath, which was also a sign of God's presence with David.

Stones are also signs of the covenant relationship with God.  At the end of the book of Joshua (24:27), after the Hebrew people have entered the Promised Land, a large stone is the sign of the people's promise to serve God and God alone.  Stones in the Hebrew Scriptures can also reflect the emotion of God.  The prophet Habakkuk (2:11) tells the people that if they go astray from God, "the very stones of the temple will cry out from the wall and the plaster will cry out from the woodwork."

So, in the Hebrew Scriptures, stones are a symbol of blessing and the presence of God.  On the other hand, we cannot ignore the fact that stoning was also a form of capital punishment in the Old Testament.  According to the laws of the Old Testament, offenses such as adultery, breaking Sabbath, or even rebelling against one's parents are crimes punishable by stoning.  The reality is that stoning according to the law, as opposed to mob violence, is quite rare in the Old Testament. The Law might allow for stoning, but the practice of stoning rarely happened and was highly regulated.  But, at least in theory if not often in practice, stoning was considered to reflect the judgement of God.

So, with all of these images swirling around in their heads, what would the people have thought when Jesus said "I tell you, if these were silent, the very stones would shout out?"

Perhaps the people would have heard God's promise to Jacob that God would be with Jacob and his descendants where ever they go.  Perhaps they would have been reminded of the holiness of their covenant with God and the consequences of breaking that covenant.  The stones were not mere inanimate objects holding the path together.  The stones were signs of the presence of God in their midst, and Jesus reminds the people that the stones would keep the covenant with God even if the people did not.

And so, on Palm Sunday as we sing the hosannas and process the palms with great and genuine joy, then move abruptly from that joy to the depths of the Passion gospel, we, too, are called to remember God's promise to be with us always.  We are called to remember that promise as we begin our journey with Jesus to the events of his last supper with the disciples, his arrest and trial, and his crucifixion.  We are called to watch for God's presence among us as the dead body of Jesus is placed in a tomb which is sealed with nothing other than a stone. And  we are called to prepare for that moment when the women arrive at the tomb on Easter morning, and the stone has been replaced by the Risen Christ.

Amen.

Remember and Watch

Charlotte Collins Reed
Christ Episcopal Church
March 13, 2016

5 Lent C

Many years ago, in 2001, I think, a group of people at Christ Church came together to plan our first neighborhood fair.  We wanted to engage our neighborhood in a way that was fun for the neighbors and would help us begin to build relationships.  The goal was huge.  We needed enough people, food, games, prizes and entertainment to serve around 200 people.  Now, 15 Neighborhood Fairs later, we are known in the neighborhood as the church with the street fair. But the Fair is still a huge undertaking as the Fair has grown and changed over the years and each year we still wonder if we will have enough people, enough food, enough energy, and somehow, we always do.

In 2009, we were approached by the Dayton Gay Men's Chorus about hosing their Christmas concert as their first ever concert outside of Dayton.  We could not host in 2009 because we had two conflicts with the date they needed.  First, we were celebrating our 175th anniversary, another glorious event that involved the whole congregation and took lots of planning.  Secondly, we were getting ready to tear the roof off this building and put on a new slate roof, another huge undertaking in the midst of the recession.  But the vestry took a leap of faith and committed to hosting the Chorus in 2010 and set about preparing the congregation for that event.  Many, many people stepped forward to help, and rather than tear us apart, which is what people outside of this congregation warned me would happen, hosting the Dayton Gay Men's Chorus brought us more closely together as we welcomed people into this space for an evening that was electric with energy and with the gratitude of many people who told me that night that they had never felt welcome in a church before.

Last story-although I could tell you dozens more.  In 2010, I was invited to be part of an effort to bring Reading Camp to the Diocese of Southern Ohio.  The plan was to host an overnight camp at Procter, which we did, then have spin-offs in local congregations the next summer.  We held the camp at Procter and children from Horace Mann Elementary attended. But Christ Church was the only parish to move forward with hosting our own reading camp, and I was told quite pointedly that one congregation could not host a Reading Camp on their own.  Challenge accepted! The whole parish helped in one way or another, whether by planning the curriculum and teaching, or shopping for supplies, or leading field trips, or making meals and snacks, or providing funds, or decorating, or praying for us, or any of the countless things that were needed for a successful reading camp.  And Reading Camp did happen.  The children had an amazing week where they learned to love reading, their reading scores improved, and they had a fabulous time.  We had a fabulous, if exhausting time, as we pulled together as the body of Christ and experienced the Spirit working among us so we could do something far greater than one could reasonably expect.

In our reading from Isaiah this morning, we hear God say something very confusing.  God says "Do not remember the former things or consider the things of old."  What on earth does God mean by that?  Are we to forget all that God has done for us in the past and focus only on what new thing God might do in the future?  I think to forget the past would actually be a misreading of this passage.  The passage begins by recalling the past. "Thus says the Lord, who makes a way in the sea, a path in the mighty waters, who brings out chariot and horse, army and warrior; they lie down, they cannot rise, they are extinguished, quenched like a wick." That is a clear reference to the Exodus, which the Hebrew people remember and God recalls over and over again in the Hebrew scriptures.  The people hold on to the story of the Exodus because the story reminds them of the powerful way God acted in the past.  In the Psalm, the people remember when God restored the fortunes of Zion so that they have hope that their fortunes will be restored as they sit in exile in Babylon.  Does God really want the people to forget all that God has done for them?

The short answer is "No."  God does not want the people to forget what God has done for them.  But God does not want the people to hold on so tightly to the stories of the past that they do not see what God is doing in the present.  God does not want any of us to hold onto the past and think that however God acted then is the only way God acts.  God is always about to do a new thing, and God calls us to remember the past so that we can see what God is doing in the present.  Remember the Exodus so that God's action in the present can be known.  Remember the Fair, or the Dayton Gay Men's Chorus, or our 175th anniversary, or Reading Camp, or the new roof, not because that is the only way God has acted among us, but so that we can see what new thing God is doing in our midst.

When Mary anoints Jesus' feet with a pound of costly perfume made of pure nard, Judas objects because her action is not practical.  Judas cannot see that God could be acting through Mary's action to point to the new thing God will soon do in their midst. Mary has no idea that her tender care of Jesus will point to the new thing God is about to do.  When Jesus says "You always have the poor with you, but you do not always have me," he sounds rather self absorbed.  Judas comes off as the one concerned about the poor, which, we are told, is a far cry from the truth. Jesus is not self-absorbed and he is not saying that serving the poor is a bad thing. What Jesus is saying is that we also have to open our eyes to see what new thing God is doing in our midst.    Mary's action in anointing Jesus' feet is bold, loving, and costly.  God calls us to be bold, loving, and stretch ourselves when the world sometimes tells us to be practical and safe.   God calls us to remember the stories of our past so we can see what new thing God is doing in our midst, today.

Amen.

Broken No More

Charlotte Collins Reed
Christ Episcopal Church
March 6, 2016

4 Lent C

Several weeks ago, our younger son Caldwell was home from upstate New York for the weekend.  Slocomb, our older son, and his wife Leslie were free that Saturday night so we all met at a restaurant part way between Springfield and Cincinnati where Slocomb and Leslie live.  We had a lovely dinner, good conversation, heard stories from the past and plans for the future, did lots of laughing, and just enjoyed each other's company.  When the children were small, no one told me how much fun grown children would be, nor did they tell me how rarely we would all be together.  While neither of my sons are prodigal or lost, as a mother of two sons I can certainly relate to the father's absolute joy in Jesus' parable when his younger son returns home.  I am a happy mama when we can all be around a table together.  In the case of Jesus' parable, what was lost has been found, and the father now has his two sons home with him.  In my case, those who have simply been separated by distance were together again.  In both cases, there was great joy and deep gratitude at the reunion.

While I am the mother of two sons, I am also an oldest child with two younger siblings.  The oldest child in me does not like our parable this morning nearly as much as the mother in me does.  I understand the fury of the older son when the younger son squanders his entire inheritance in dissolute living, returns home in shame, only to have a great banquet thrown for him either as if nothing had ever happen, or worse, in spite of everything that happened.  Seriously?  What is the father thinking???  As an oldest child, I am a bit skeptical of the whole idea that the younger son actually repented of his errant ways.  In the parable, the younger son comes to his senses, not because he realizes he has done wrong and repented, but because he is famished.  He is trying to find a way to avoid starvation when he says "'How many of my father's hired hands have bread enough and to spare, but here I am dying of hunger! I will get up and go to my father, and I will say to him, "Father, I have sinned against heaven and before you; I am no longer worthy to be called your son; treat me like one of your hired hands."  The son just wants some food!

While my skepticism that repentance is involved in the younger son's return may be my inner  eldest child speaking, I also believe that Jesus' original audience would have been suspicious of the idea that the younger son actually repented.*  Jesus' hearers were steeped in the stories of Genesis and Exodus.  When the younger son says "I will get up and go to my father and I will say to him ‘Father, I have sinned against heaven and before you," Jesus' audience was reminded of another story.  They would likely have remembered similar words from the story of the Exodus. After the Egyptians experience the plague of blood, the plague of frogs, the plague of gnats, the plague of flies, the plague on all the Egyptian livestock, the plague of boils, and the plague of thunder and hail, Pharaoh says "This time I have sinned; the Lord is in the right, and I and my people are in the wrong. Pray to the Lord! Enough of God's thunder and hail! I will let you go; you need stay no longer."  Has Pharaoh repented or does he simply want Moses to call off the plaques?  My guess is the later, since his heart is then hardened and he will not let the Hebrew people leave Egypt after all.

Our parable this morning is the last in a set of three parables in Luke's gospel about the lost being found.  In the parable of the lost sheep, the shepherd leaves 99 sheep in the wilderness to go looking for the one who is found, which seems like rather poor judgement in my opinion, since he could return to find 99 sheep missing. But the parable has a happy ending as the shepherd finds the lost sheep, and his 100 sheep are back together.  The shepherd says "Rejoice with me, for I have found my sheep that was lost." What was broken is now whole.  In the parable of the lost coin, the woman takes her house apart to find the one of her 10 silver coins that is missing.  When she finds the coin, she calls her friends and says  "Rejoice with me, for I have found the coin that I had lost."  Neither a coin nor a sheep are capable of repentance, so these parable are about the lost being found, not repentance.  And what does the father say to the servants when his younger son returns? "Let us eat and celebrate; for this son of mine was dead and is alive again; he was lost and is found!"   And what does the father say when his eldest son objects to all the frivolity over the return of his younger brother? "Son, you are always with me, and all that is mine is yours. But we had to celebrate and rejoice, because this brother of yours was dead and has come to life; he was lost and has been found."  There is no mention of repentance.  But there is abundant evidence oft  joy when the lost is found.

As a priest, I am duty-bound to tell you that repentance is a good thing, and that the season of Lent calls us to that discipline.  But this parable is not about repentance.  This parable is about God's overwhelming gratitude and joy when the lost is found and the broken is made whole.  What is broken is not just the individual person, or the lost sheep or coin.  What is broken when something or someone is missing is the whole body.

This parable calls us to the disciple of gratitude.  We don't know how either of the sons in the parable responded to their father's joy.  We don't know if the younger son mended his ways or whether the older son came around to rejoicing that his brother was home.  We just don't know.  What we do know is that the father rejoiced that the lost was found. I believe that the father's deep desire is that both sons will be transformed by his gratitude that they are all together again.  God's hope for us is that we, too, are transformed by the knowledge of God's great delight and deep gratitude when the lost are found and the broken is made whole, because we have all come home.  
Amen.

*My thanks to Amy-Jill Levine for this idea about Pharaoh and the younger son's "repentance."  http://www.christiancentury.org/article/2014-08/parable-and-its-baggage

"No"

Charlotte Collins Reed
Christ Episcopal Church
February 28, 2016

3 Lent C

Last April 25, a massive earthquake struck Nepal, killing over 8800 people and leaving hundreds of thousands of people homeless.  Do you think that because these people suffered in this way, they were worse sinners than other people?  Last December, 14 people lost their lives in a shooting at a Christmas party in San Bernadino.  Do you think that because these people suffered in this way, they were worse sinners than other people?  And just this week, seven people were killed when tornadoes ripped through the southeast United States.  Do you think that because these people suffered in this way, they were worse sinners than other people?

Jesus is asked these very questions this morning when he is approached by some people who tell him about the Galileans whose blood Pilate mingled with their sacrifices.  Jesus himself raises the issue of the 18 people who were killed when the tower of Siloam fell on them.  While there is no historical evidence that either of these events actually occurred, nonetheless they raise the issue of why bad things happen to good people, which is a very common question.  In fact, Jesus assumes that is the people's question.  "Do you think that because these Galileans suffered in this way they were worse sinners than everyone else?"  Jesus' answer to his own question is a bit unsettling.  "No, I tell you, but unless you repent, you will all perish as they did."

If Jesus has just stopped with "No, I tell you," that would have been an incomplete, but satisfactory answer.  While the answer would not tell us why bad things happen to innocent people, at least we would know that the sin of the victims was not responsible for the disaster.  But Jesus does not stop there.  He goes on to say "but unless you repent, you will all perish as they did."  How do those ominous words answer the question of who is to blame for such disasters?

To further complicate matters, Jesus then tells the people a parable about a fig tree that does not produce fruit.  The absentee owner of the fig tree wants to cut it down.  Land is precious, and should not be wasted on trees that do not produce.  But the gardener wants to fertilize the tree and give it one more chance to grow and produce fruit.  What does the fig tree have to do with the people's perceived question about whether the Galileans suffered because they were worse sinners than anyone else?  Will God really chop us down if we do not produce the fruit we are called to bear?

Jesus' talk about repenting, perishing and cutting down fig trees is harsh.  But what happens if we hear the gospel reading through the lens of the reading from Exodus?  In that story, Moses is beyond the wilderness when he encounters God in a burning bush. What does God say to Moses?  God does not say "See the suffering of my people in Egypt?  Such suffering is punishment for their sins."  No, God says "I have observed the misery of my people who are in Egypt; I have heard their cry on account of their taskmasters. Indeed, I know their sufferings, and I have come down to deliver them from the Egyptians, and to bring them up out of that land to a good and broad land, a land flowing with milk and honey."  God has heard the cries of those who suffer and has compassion on them.  God is going to bring them to a land flowing with milk and honey.  Does this sound like a God who would cause towers to fall on people, or earthquakes to destroy their lives?

When we hear the parable of the fig tree through the lens of the story from Exodus, we hear not judgement but compassion and second chances.  The fig tree was not cut down after one year of bearing no fruit, nor after two years.  Only after three years, was cutting down the tree even being considered.  Who would have held out hope for three years that a barren tree would all of a sudden start producing fruit? Even then, the gardener wants to dig around it and give it more fertilizer, giving the tree every possible chance to produce.  The Hebrew Scriptures are full of images of God as the gardener-from Genesis 2 where God plants a garden in Eden, to references to God planting the Hebrew people in the Promised land in the book of Exodus, God is often the One doing the gardening. The God who heard the cries of the people in Egypt and led them through the wilderness and into the land of milk and honey is a God who tries and tries to get us to bear fruit, who, when others would completely give up,  provides more nurture and more fertilizer before finally calling a dead tree and dead tree.

Jesus' one word answer to the question of whether the victims of such tragedies are worse sinners that others is the word "no."  Our God is a god of grace and mercy whose desire for us is a land of milk and honey.  Lent begins on Ash Wednesday with the clear message that life is short and fragile as we are anointed with ashes and the words "Remember that you are dust and to dust you shall return."  Jesus' call to repent is the call to make right our relationship with God and our relationships with other people and not procrastinate in doing so. The parable of the fig tree tells us that God provides us with nurture and care to help us bear the fruit we are called to bear.  When taken together, Jesus calls us to repent of those things that prevent us from being nurtured and bearing fruit and to believe in the God who calls us to fullness of life.

Amen.

A Steel Cut Oats Kind of God

Charlotte Collins Reed
Christ Episcopal Church
February 21, 2016

2 Lent C

In our pantry at home, we have several different kinds of oats.  We have steel cut oats, which take about 30 minutes to cook, which seems like forever in the morning.  So, steel cut oats rarely happen.  Then we have Old Fashioned oats.  We like the thicker, less processed kind, so they take about 10 minutes to cook.  Sometimes we have quick oats, which require bringing water to a boil and cooking for one minute.  The only reason we ever have those is because I have a great chocolate cookie recipe that calls for quick oats.  Then, in the embarrassingly lazy department, I actually have some frozen oatmeal from Trader Joe for our son Caldwell when he is home.  That oatmeal just has to be microwaved.  If I look on the grocery store shelves, I can find all kinds of oatmeal bars that supposedly pack all the goodness of oats into a foil packet I could eat on the run, or single serve containers of oats so that I don't have to involve a bowl in my morning instant oat ritual, but can pour the hot water right into the container.  There are any number of shortcuts to a healthy breakfast in the cereal aisle.

While I am picking on oats, I am sure any of us could come up with countless examples of offers for immediate relief from whatever we want or need: instant meals, overnight delivery, shortcuts for cleaning, instant messaging, or 24 hour access to our money, all of which reflect our desire for a shortcut to whatever we might need.

The Pharisees offer Jesus a short cut this morning.  The Pharisees say to Jesus "Get away from here for Herod wants to kill you."  Whether or not the Pharisees are genuine in their concern for Jesus is a matter of debate.  While the Pharisees are usually portrayed in the gospels as enemies of Jesus, in Luke's gospel they are portrayed with more sympathy. Whether or not the Pharisees are actually concerned about Jesus, Herod probably does want to see Jesus dead.  Herod has already beheaded John the Baptist, and when Herod hears about Jesus' ministry, he is perplexed and wants to see Jesus.  Herod could be merely curious, in theory, but more likely his motive is sinister.  In all fairness, at the end of the gospel, when Herod does get to meet Jesus, Herod will find him innocent.  For now, however, the Pharisees warn Jesus to get out before Herod gets him.

Abram would also like a shortcut this morning.  Abram would like a shortcut to acquiring an heir.   At the moment, a slave born in Abram's household will likely be Abram's heir.  Back in chapter 12 of Genesis, three chapters ago, God promised Abram land and descendants.  Over the following three chapters and countless miles, God has repeated the promise several times.  Thus far, nothing has happened. Abram and Sarah are getting older.  The promise is rather preposterous.  Abram is getting a bit impatient and no doubt a little weary, to say nothing of older. So Abram asks God for a sign.  God complies with what seems to us a very bizarre ritual involving a heifer, a female goat, and a ram, all three years old, a turtle dove and a young pigeon, which are sacrificed.  Then Abram falls into a deep and terrifying sleep.  Strange though this ritual may seem to our 21st century ears, this acts seals the covenant between God and Abram, and Abram trusts that somehow, in God's good time, he will have land and descendants.

For Jesus, also, there are no shortcuts.  Jesus has set his face toward Jerusalem and he has places to go and things to do along the way.  Indeed, Jesus has just told the disciples, in the verse immediately before our gospel lesson begins, that "Some are last who will be first, and some are first who will be last."  Herod would be in the second category and Jesus has no time for him.  "Go and tell that fox for me, ‘Listen, I am casting out demons and performing cures today and tomorrow, and on the third day I must finish my work.  Yet today, tomorrow, and the next day I must be on my way, because it is impossible for a prophet to be killed outside Jerusalem.'"  Jesus sounds like someone with a calendar to keep.  He has today, tomorrow, and the third day all planned out.  If we have been listening carefully to Luke's gospel, we hear echoes of Jesus' passion prediction in chapter 9: "The Son of Man must undergo great suffering, and be rejected by the elders, chief priests, and scribes, and be killed, and on the third day be raised." Jesus is on his way to Jerusalem, and the only twists and turns he will allow on the way are the work he has been given to do: casting out demons and performing cures.  As Jesus moves toward the end of his earthly ministry, he seeks no distractions from this work and no relief from the events that await him in Jerusalem.

Lent is our journey to Jerusalem with Jesus.  We remember the voice of God that claimed Jesus at his baptism and again at the Transfiguration with the words "This is my Son, my chosen one."  We remember when Jesus read from the prophet Isaiah in the synagogue: "The Spirit of the Lord is upon me, because he has anointed me to bring good news to the poor.  He has sent me to proclaim release to the captives and recovery of sight to the blind, to let the oppressed go free, to proclaim the year of the Lord's favor.'" And then we heard Jesus say "Today, these words have been fulfilled in your hearing."    We remember all miracles Jesus has done.  And we are tempted to say with the Pharisees "Get away from here, for Herod wants to kill you."  We would rather Jesus avoid the pain and suffering he will endure.  The reality is that we all have times in our lives when we are on a journey to Jerusalem and we would rather avoid the suffering as well.  We want a short cut to health, or happiness, or healed relationships, or to the end of whatever our challenge might be.  Our readings this morning remind us that our God is not an instant oatmeal kind of God.  Our God is with us for the long haul, more of a steel cut oats kind of God, and while there are often no short cuts to our destination or quick fixes for our problems, we do not travel alone.  The same Jesus who assured the Pharisees that he would be casting out demons and performing cures today and tomorrow, walks with us in our todays and tomorrows.  And the same Jesus who pointed to the resurrection with the words "and on the third day I finish my work" reminds us that no matter how long or dark our path may be, the journey to Jerusalem is ultimately a journey in which death is overcome and life has the final word.  The promise of Lent, and the journey to Jerusalem, is not a quick fix.  The promise of Lent is that we are not alone, and life, not death, will have the final say.

Amen.

Savor Lent

Charlotte Collins Reed
Christ Episcopal Church
February 14, 2016

1 Lent C

Our 5 o'clock Ash Wednesday service is a special service designed for our children and their families.  The chairs in the chapel are set in a circle around a large round table from the nursery.  We all enter the chapel quietly together, having gathered in the hallway and removed our shoes.  The table in the center is set with candles, water, rocks, crosses, and the ashes, all symbols of our faith.  We spend the first part of the service taking about the items on the table, what they represent, and how they are connected to Ash Wednesday. This service is familiar to most of our children and youth, and we always have a good conversation.  Since many of our kids have been coming to this service for as many years as we have been offering it, I decided to add some new items to the table this year. So last Wednesday when everyone entered the chapel, in addition to the items that are always on the table, there were suckers, grapes, and cheese.

What, you might reasonably wonder, do suckers, grapes, and cheese have to do with Ash Wednesday, much less Lent, especially when we hear this morning that Jesus spent 40 days in the wilderness where he was tempted by the devil and ate nothing at all.

In the reading from Deuteronomy, we hear Moses tell the people what they are to do once they have entered into the Promised Land and settled there.  The people are to make an offering of the first fruits of their harvest in thanksgiving for all that God has done for them.  The people are to be thankful, not in general, but for something very specific.  They are to give thanks with these specific words ""A wandering Aramean was my ancestor; he went down into Egypt and lived there as an alien, few in number, and there he became a great nation, mighty and populous. When the Egyptians treated us harshly and afflicted us, by imposing hard labor on us, we cried to the Lord, the God of our ancestors; the Lord heard our voice and saw our affliction, our toil, and our oppression. The Lord brought us out of Egypt with a mighty hand and an outstretched arm, with a terrifying display of power, and with signs and wonders; and he brought us into this place and gave us this land, a land flowing with milk and honey."  The people are to recount the story of their escape from Egypt in some detail as they make their offering of thanksgiving to God.  The story of the Exodus will sustain God's people in good times and hard times.  In good times, they will tell the story of the Exodus and celebrate the wonders God has done in their lives.  In hard times, they will tell the story of the Exodus and remember what God has done for them in the past so they can see what God is doing in the present.  In both good times and hard times, telling the story of the Exodus is the occasion of great thanksgiving.

When Jesus is famished and being tempted by the devil, he, too reaches back into Scripture for sustenance.  When Jesus says "One does not live by bread alone," he is quoting Deuteronomy 8 which says "One does not live by bread alone, but by every word that comes from the mouth of God."  When Jesus says "Worship the Lord your God and serve him only," he is quoting Deuteronomy 6 "Fear the Lord your God and serve him only."  And when Jesus says "Do not put the Lord your God to the test," he is again quoting Deuteronomy 6 which says exactly that.  And why does Deuteronomy command these things?  Because they are the appropriate and grateful response to the God who led them out of slavery in Egypt, through the wilderness and into the Promised Land.
So, what do suckers, grapes, and cheese have to do with any of this? At the appropriate time in the Ash Wednesday service, I invited each person to take a sucker, and if a sucker wasn't appropriate for some reason, to take a grape or a piece of cheese.  I asked them to look at the sucker or the grape or the cheese, and just think about the way it looks.  What color is it? What shape?  What texture?  Then I asked those with suckers to remove the wrappers and we listened as the wrappers crinkled.  Then we looked at the suckers again.  Finally, after it seemed that we had exhausted all visual possibilities, they could put their sucker, grape, or cheese in their mouth.  But they couldn't chew it until they experienced what the food felt like in their mouths, what it tasted like, and what it reminded them of.  Then, finally, they could eat.

My point was for everyone to savor the item they choose. I wanted them to fully experience the sucker, or the grape, or the cheese.  I wanted them to do that, not as a point of etiquette, but because I think that God wants us to savor Lent rather than seeing Lent as a means to Easter.  Lent can be a time to savor our own stories, to savor our story together, and to savor the story of Scripture much the way the Hebrew people have savored the story of the Exodus year after year after year.   The story of the Exodus has sustained the Hebrew people in good times and hard times, and has given and continues to give the Hebrew people the opportunity for deep gratitude.  Savoring our stories, the story of our life together, and the story of God's people will also sustain us and can become an opportunity for the same gratitude.  Lent is not about giving something up in order to get that thing back on Easter.  Lent is about deepening our appreciation and understanding of all that God has done for us, through out history and in our own lives, so that our hearts are ready for Easter.

Today is our Annual Meeting Sunday, so I am supposed to reflect on our life together and our goals for the next year.  At the vestry meeting on February 1, the vestry and I actually talked about the difference it would make at Christ Church if we more deeply and actively appreciated each other.  Rather than just think about how grateful we are to our Sunday School teachers, or our Altar Guild Members, or the people who coordinate our outreach ministries or serve coffee hour, what would life be like at Christ Church if we behaved toward each other with such gratitude?  What might that look like?  On the first Sunday of Lent each year, we hear that the devil tempted Jesus in order to derail his ministry.  Our greatest temptation, and one which could certainly derail our ministry together,  may well be to take each other for granted.  So, as we mark a new year on this Annual Meeting Sunday, one which will bring new experiences and new challenges to all of us, as we embark on our Lenten journey together, I suggest that we savor Lent, savor our stories, the story of our life together, and the story of Scripture, and make living with gratitude our Lenten discipline.  If we actually live as truly thankful people, we will arrive at Easter refreshed and prepared for all that lies ahead.

Amen.

Listen!

Charlotte Collins Reed
Christ Episcopal Church
February 7, 2016

Last Epiphany

Camp Mitchell sits on the side of a cliff on Petit Jean Mountain in the Diocese of Arkansas.  The cliff offers a spectacular view of the valley below and I often imagined that standing on the cliff we could see the valley much the way God sees, taking in the entire scene at once.  On the one hand, Camp Mitchell was a safe place for children and youth to come for retreats and camp.  We were miles away from the cares and concerns of our young lives, both literally and figuratively and had a safe place to wrestle with whatever life had thrown us.  On the other hand, the mountain was a place where we were often confronted with the truth about our young selves.  On the mountain, we faced both our accomplishments and our failures, our greatest hopes and our deepest fears.  I experienced God on that mountain in many ways, but especially in the friendships I formed there and in the music we sang in worship.  Camp Mitchell was, and I assume still is, a very special place for many people.  But Camp Mitchell was never a place intended for people to live.  The old World War 2 army barracks that were our cabins make that perfectly clear!  We always had to go back down the mountain, into the valley, and back to our regular lives.  But we always went home changed by our experience.  Sometimes I went home just plain tired.  But usually I went home having tasted the glory of God and ready to live my normal life again.

This morning, Moses, and Peter, James, and John all get a mountain top taste of the glory of God.  Moses has already been up the mountain once, received the 10 commandments, come down the mountain, found the people worshiping a golden calf, smashed the tablets with the 10 commandments, and had words with God about the people God led out of Egypt.  Now Moses returns to the mountain for a new set of 10 commandment tablets. At this point, given his recent experience with the golden calf, I imagine Moses would just as soon stay up on the mountain with God indefinitely.  But the point of the 10 commandments is to take them to the people so the people have something to live by.  Living by the 10 commandments will show the world what it means to be God's chosen people.  But when Moses comes down from the mountain his face is shining so brightly that his brother Aaron and the rest of the people are afraid to come near him.  In response to the people's fear, Moses would veil his face when he talked with them, then would remove the veil when he went up on the mountain to talk with God.  While our reading from 2 Corinthians gives a most unfortunate account of that veiling that has more to do with the 1st century tensions between Jews and Christians than with the glory of God, the writer does remind us of the transformative power of the glory of God. In the Exodus story, Moses experiences that power and that power sends him back down the mountain to the people God has called him to lead.

Also this morning, Jesus takes Peter and James and John and goes up on the mountain to pray.  And while Jesus is praying, the appearance of his face changes, his clothes become dazzling white, and Moses and Elijah appear with Jesus and speak of Jesus' departure which he is about to accomplish at Jerusalem.  Peter is ready to make this mountain his permanent address and he offers to build three booths, one for Jesus, one for Moses, and one for Elijah.  Confusion turns to terror as a cloud overshadows all of them and the voice from the cloud says "This is my Son, my Chosen; listen to him."  Peter, James, and John have beheld the glory of God and what the glory of God says is "This is my Son, my Chosen, listen to him."

What are we to hear?  Just a few paragraphs before Jesus takes Peter, James, and John up on the mountain to pray, Jesus says to his disciples "The Son of Man must undergo great suffering, and be rejected by the elders, chief priests, and scribes, and be killed, and on the third day be raised."  Then Jesus goes on to say to them "If any want to become my followers, let them deny themselves and take up their cross daily and follow me.  For those who want to save their life will lose it, and those who lose their life for my sake will save it."   No wonder Peter wants to build booths on the mountain for Jesus, Moses, and Elijah and stay there  permanently.  The disciples may not have understood what was happening on that mountain, or the reference to Jerusalem, but being in the presence of Jesus, Moses, and Elijah is certainly preferable to listening to Jesus talk about the Son of Man undergoing suffering, rejection and death.  However, God commands the disciples to listen to Jesus, and Jesus has told them that he is headed to Jerusalem and the cross.  So Jesus and the disciples come down from the mountain, back to the valley, where they immediately encounter a child in need of healing.

Today, we sing the great alleluia hymns and bury the alleluias as our way of experiencing something of the glory of God before we, too, move down the mountain toward Jerusalem and Jesus' departure.  Every year, I too, would like to build a booth and dwell right here and keep singing these hymns rather than head down the mountain to Lent.  But the mountain is not a permanent address and God calls us to come off the mountain and follow Jesus.  A few verses after today's reading from 2 Corinthians, the writer says "For God, who said, "Let light shine out of darkness," made his light shine in our hearts to give us the light of the knowledge of God's glory displayed in the face of Christ."  God sends us down the mountain to follow Jesus where ever Jesus leads, not alone, but equipped with each other to walk with, with the glory of God to sustain us, and with Jesus to guide us.  

Amen.

Hoarding

Charlotte Collins Reed
Christ Episcopal Church
January 31, 2016

4 Epiphany C

Just before Lent last year, I saw a Lenten discipline on Facebook called "40 bags in 40 days."  The idea was to clean out one drawer, or closet, or under a bed or any other hiding place for clutter and collect one bag each day and give that bag away.  This discipline sounded like a great idea on so many levels.  I would get rid of some unnecessary clutter in the house, and that sounded a whole lot better than giving up chocolate!  Letting go of stuff turned out to be much more of a spiritual discipline than I ever imagined, and about half way through Lent, I asked Don to remind me to just give up the chocolate next year.  I didn't throw away much-I'm pretty good about throwing away what needs to be pitched on an ongoing basis. I was letting go of things-giving things away-that I no longer used, or in some cases had never used.  Now, I do not consider myself a hoarder.  I just keep things in case I need them again sometimes.  However, the likelihood that I will ever find what I am looking for in 10 years worth of stacks of Time magazine is slim.  The likelihood that I will ever fit into clothes I wore 20 years ago is non-existent.  Giving away things was not always easy, but it was liberating.  Forty bags later, I found myself wondering why had I kept all those things to begin with.  Do I find security in having lots of stuff?  I wonder if those of us with plenty tend to hold onto things because, despite all evidence to the contrary, we cannot trust that we will always have what we need.
This morning, both Jeremiah and Jesus will infuriate people who are trying to hold onto or hoard something far more valuable than anything we have in our closets.  In different ways, both Jeremiah's audience and Jesus' audience want to hoard their status as God's beloved chosen people.  We only hear about Jeremiah's call in our first reading this morning.  First God says "Today, I appoint you over nations and over kingdoms."  I wonder how the rulers of those nations and those kingdoms are going to feel about that!  Then God sends Jeremiah to pluck up and pull down, to destroy and overthrown, to build and to plant.  That is 4 verbs about destruction and 2 verbs about building up.  Somehow I don't think this is going to go very well for Jeremiah.  Jeremiah will tell the people that worshiping idols, neglecting the poor, and believing false prophets are not what God had in mind for God's people.  Their status as God's people is not permission do whatever they like.  The people are furious with Jeremiah, and for the prophet's efforts, he will attacked by his own brothers, beaten and put in stocks, imprisoned by the king, thrown in a cistern and threatened with death.  Clearly the people were unwilling to let go of their understanding of their identity as God's chosen people.

Jesus also infuriates the people in his hometown synagogue.  Last week we heard Jesus read from the prophet Isaiah "The Spirit of the Lord is upon me, because he has anointed me to bring good news to the poor.  He has sent me to proclaim release to the captives and recovery of sight to the blind, to let the oppressed go free, to proclaim the year of the Lord's favor."  Today we hear Jesus say "Today, this scripture has been fulfilled in your hearing."  All the people in the synagogue are amazed at the words coming from Jesus' mouth.  They marvel that this is Joseph's son.  If Jesus had just stopped there, he could have gone to coffee hour and gone home in peace.  But, good rabbi that Jesus was, he wanted the people to understand the words he had just spoken.  The long awaited Messiah was not coming just for them.  The chosen people were not the only people God chose.  Jesus reminded the people in the synagogue of two Biblical stories in which the love of God touched Gentiles: the story in which Elijah, the foremost prophet of God, was sent to the widow of Zarephath during a severe famine to provide a miracle of food for the widow and her son, and the story of Naaman the Syrian, who was not just a Gentile, but an enemy of the Israelites, and who was the only leper cleansed.  The people in the temple, who just a moment ago were speaking well of Jesus, are now furious  and try to throw him off the cliff because Jesus is telling them they are not God's only beloved people.

Why are the people so angry?  Neither Jesus nor Jeremiah are telling the people that they are not loved by God, even though that is what the people hear.  Both Jesus and Jeremiah are challenging a people who want to hoard the love of God and define that love on their own terms.  Jeremiah speaks to people who want the love of God to allow them to behave as they like with no consequences because they are Gods's chosen people.   Jesus speaks to people in the synagogue who want to believe they have an exclusive claim on God's love.  Both speak to people who are furious because they can not, or will not, hear God challenge them to understand the love of God in more expansive ways.  Both speak to people who are afraid because they are being challenged to let go of their perceived hold on God's love.

By partnering the stories about Jesus and Jeremiah with the reading from I Corinthians, we are reminded that the most basic commandment of God is to love God and each other.   When asked about the greatest commandment, Jesus will quote the book of Deuteronomy and say "Love the Lord your God with all your heart, soul, mind and strength, and love your neighbor as yourself."  Paul writes "Love is patient; love is kind; love is not envious or boastful or arrogant or rude.  Love does not insist on its own way; it is not irritable or resentful; it does not rejoice in wrongdoing, but rejoices in the truth."  That reading reminds us that there is more than enough of God's love to go around, and no need to hoard something that is infinite.

In this season when so much seeks to divide us, whether in politics or in the workplace or in church on anywhere else, we can easily jump from "I disagree with you" to "you are wrong" to "God only loves those who think like we do."  We move from hoarding the truth, which is a problem in itself, to hoarding God's love.  God may not like some, or a lot, of the things we humans do.  But the overwhelming evidence of Scripture is that God has more than enough love to go around.  And when we can love our neighbor with the love Paul describes, whether we agree with or even like that neighbor, we participate in the abundance of God's love.  The great theologian Fred Rogers, also known simply as "Mister Rogers" said it like this: "I believe that appreciation is a holy thing--that when we look for what's best in a person we happen to be with at the moment, we are doing what God does all the time.  So, in loving and appreciating our neighbor, we're participating in something sacred."

Amen.

Homecoming

Charlotte Collins Reed
Christ Episcopal Church
January 24, 2016

3 Epiphany C

Some years ago, I went back to Little Rock for the funeral of a close friend.  My family moved to Little Rock the summer before I started 6th grade, and I stayed in the area through college, so going to Little Rock has the feel of going home for me.  People came from all over the country for this funeral, traveling from places like Seattle, and Arizona, to mourn the loss of this dear friend, hear the powerful words of scripture, to pray the prayers of the burial office together, and pour our grief into the familiar liturgy.  We also came to be together as none of us could bare to do this difficult work alone.  We needed to be together to hear the challenge in both scripture and our burial service to live like people who believe that death does not have the final say.  The funeral and the reception afterwards were a homecoming for all of us, a reminder to live into our identity as Easter people, and a joyful occasion in the midst of deep sorrow.

We hear about two homecomings in today's readings from Scripture.  In the reading from Nehemiah, some of the Hebrew people have returned to their homeland, the Promised Land, from their exile in Babylon. All the people may have gathered at the gate to the city in our passage this morning, but all of the people did not agree about who was among the faithful and who was not, who should govern, how and if the temple should be rebuilt, and who they are as God's chosen people.  They are squabbling, much like the people in the church in Corinth to which Paul writes are squabbling, and in both cases, the very survival of the community is at stake.  When the people gather at the gate this morning, their future is in jeopardy, in part because they cannot agree how to move forward and in part because they are under military attack from their enemies.  The people ask to hear the familiar words of the Torah, the law of Moses, read out loud for them, and to have those words explained.  Over and over again, we hear that all the people stood, all the people said "Amen, Amen," and all the people understood.  And all the people were moved to worship the Lord with their faces to the ground, apparently weeping and mourning.  They heard the challenge of the words of scripture, recognized the ways they were failing to live into their identity as God's people, and realized that their return to the Promised Land was nothing less than a gift from God who loves them and made them God's own.  And so they are able to rise up, rejoice, and make sure anyone who could not be at the gate could rejoice as well.

In the gospel reading, we have yet another homecoming.  Jesus returns to Nazareth, where he had been brought up, and goes to the synagogue, as was his custom. The synagogue was the place where the faithful gathered on the Sabbath to hear the word of God proclaimed, much as the Hebrew people had gathered at the gate in the reading from Nehemiah.  Jesus is in the midst of his own people when he reads from the prophet Isaiah, and outlines what he understands to be his work in the world.  "The Spirit of the Lord is upon me, because he has anointed me to bring good news to the poor. He has sent me to proclaim release to the captives and recovery of sight to the blind, to let the oppressed go free, to proclaim the year of the Lord's favor."  Then Jesus says to the people, his people, "Today, this scripture has been fulfilled in your hearing."  Next week, we will hear the end of the story, which begins with these words "All spoke well of him and were amazed at the gracious words that came from his mouth."  And then the people will realize what Jesus' words require of them, which is to change and to recognize that Jesus' words are not just for them, and they are furious, but that is a story for next week.  Today, Jesus' people are proud of their hometown boy.  They are all amazed and probably all take a bit of credit for the person Jesus has become.

So, we have two homecoming stories.  Both involve the reading of Scripture.  Both have all the people responding as one.  Both have "feel good" endings, as the people in the reading from Nehemiah rise up, eat and drink, and celebrate God's goodness, and the people in the synagogue with Jesus hear that the words of Isaiah are fulfilled in their midst.

However, both stories also call the people to hear the challenge of scripture and to change.  The gathering of God's people to hear God's word is sometimes meant to comfort, but those words are also meant to challenge.  The Hebrew people who have returned from Babylon are likely trying to make sense of what has happened to them as a people.  They are not getting along the way they should be.  They want to hear God's word read and explained.  When they do, they mourn and weep because they realize how they have failed to live as God's people.  They hear the call to change.  Only by realizing the extent to which they have failed can they repent and live more faithfully.

On the other hand, the people in the synagogue who hear Jesus read from Isaiah this morning only hear words of comfort.  They do not yet understand that the words of Isaiah are words of challenge that call them to change and be part of the change for those who are poor, blind, captive, or oppressed.  Next week, we will hear the people's reaction when they realize that Jesus is telling them that the good news is not just for them.  They are God's chosen people, not set apart for special privilege, but to be a light to all the nations.  The people are furious and try to throw Jesus off a cliff.  They definitely understand what Jesus is saying. They just do not like what they hear.

There is a sense in which our gathering in this place every Sunday is a homecoming where we come back together after doing our work in the world, hear the word of God proclaimed, share a meal together, and are reminded of our identity as the body of Christ. We are one body with many members, as Paul reminds us in 1 Corinthians this morning.  And yes, part of the reason we come together is for comfort and strength.  But if we forget that we come together to be challenged, changed, and held accountable for living as the Body of Christ, we are not listening carefully to scripture or the words of our liturgy.  We come together  because being challenged, changed and held accountable is far too difficult and too scary to do on our own if we are taking the matter seriously.  Paul reminds us of our identity as the one body of Christ and the way we are to live and treat each other in the reading from 1 Corinthians.  The only way we can live faithfully, to allow ourselves to be challenged, changed, and held accountable in the way that living faithfully as being the Body of Christ requires, is to do that work together.

Amen.

Abundance Happens

Charlotte Collins Reed
Christ Episcopal Church
January 17, 2016

2 Epiphany C

A few thousand pounds of food were delivered to Christ Church last Wednesday as we prepare for Food Pantry this coming Wednesday.  Now, our offices look like a food storage facility, with cases of food stacked along every available downstairs wall. There are packages of toilet paper stacked almost to the ceiling, thanks to your generosity.  We had our largest turn out ever of folks to help unload the trucks and unwrap the cases of food, and that was on a 2 degree morning!  Next Tuesday, a crew will come in to take the brown paper sacks and double bag them so they don't tear when filled.  When Kelly and I come in on Wednesday morning, what was left of floor space downstairs and an entire room upstairs will be filled with open paper bags, waiting for food. Then another few thousand pounds of food will appear, along with, over the course of the day, some 25 or 30 more people to help serve the 150+ people who will stand in line to receive food for the families.

This is what abundance looks like at Christ Church.  Abundance does not mean too much food or too many people.  Abundance means more than we could possibly expect or deserve on our own.  We see such an abundance in the story of the wedding at Cana this morning.  Jesus takes 6 stone water jars, each holding 20 or 30 gallons of water, and transforms the water into the equivalent of 200 or so cases of the best wine of the wedding feast.  We are told that the miracle at Cana is the first of Jesus' signs,  revealed his glory, and his disciples believed in him.

There is a sense in which the whole of John's gospel, in which we find the story of the wedding at Cana, is about abundance*.  In the opening paragraphs of John's gospel, we hear these words "And the Word became flesh and lived among us, and we have seen his glory, the glory as of a father's only son, full of grace and truth...From his fullness we have all received, grace upon grace.  The law indeed was given through Moses.  Grace and truth came through Jesus Christ."  The introduction to John's gospel sets a stage on which the abundance of grace will be played out for all of us to watch.  And the very first action of Jesus in this gospel is to change an enormous amount of water into a great abundance of wine.  Inaugural actions have meaning, and this inaugural action is about abundance.  Later in the gospel, Jesus will say "I have come that you may have life, and have it abundantly" (John 10:10).  In the story of the wedding at Cana, Jesus' glory is revealed, not because he saved the week-long wedding party from the shame of running out of wine, or just because he was able to transform some water into wine.  Jesus' glory was revealed through abundance.

But what is abundance?  We humans can easily fall into the trap of "I have a lot.  I want more."  On our bad days, abundance can look a lot like greed.  Martin Luther King, Jr., whose life the nation celebrates this weekend, preached this about abundance in one of his sermons (Quote) "When we look at modern man, we have to face the fact...that modern man suffers from a kind of poverty of the spirit, which stands in glaring contrast to his scientific and technological abundance; We've learned to fly the air like birds, we've learned to swim the seas like fish, and yet we haven't learned to walk the Earth as brothers and sisters..."  Martin Luther King points to the sad reality that abundance often divides rather than unites.  Abundance that divides is greed, not abundance.  Real abundance is meant to be given away and brings us together to walk the earth together as brothers and sisters.

Paul's words to the Corinthians this morning are similar to King's words about abundance.  The church in Corinth is divided because the Christians there are arguing over who has the greater spiritual gifts.  The abundance of spiritual gifts the church has been given has become the cause of division rather than unity, and is tearing apart the Body of Christ rather than building up the Body.  Into that situation, Paul writes "Now there are varieties of gifts, but the same Spirit; and there are varieties of services, but the same Lord; and there are varieties of activities, but it is the same God who activates all of them in everyone."  No one gift is better than another because they all come from and are activated by the same God.  No one gift is complete in and of itself.  The church needs all of the gifts working together to experience the true abundance that is the Body of Christ.  Paul also writes "To each is given the manifestation of the Spirit for the common good."  The gifts of the Spirit are given, not for our own private use and enjoyment, but for the common good.  When those gifts are used together for the common good, real abundance happens.

The prophetic call join arms with all of our brothers and sisters and use all of our gifts for the common good, regardless of race, religion, resources, or sexual orientation, is not always well received and often has a cost. Certainly Martin Luther King paid the ultimate cost for his prophetic witness.  You many have seen or heard in the news this week that the Episcopal Church is paying a cost in the Anglican Communion for our witness to practicing full inclusion and walking hand in hand with all of our brothers and sisters regardless of sexual orientation.  That cost, while deeply painful to many, is not ultimate, nor is it unexpected.  Much has been written about the events and the outcome of the Primates' meeting in Canterbury, some of which is accurate and some is not, and I commend to your reading the actual document which is on the ushers' tables along with a couple of helpful responses.

Abundance that divides is actually fear of scarcity, whether a fear of a lack of material resources, or a lack of good will, or anything else of which there could be scarcity.  This sort of abundance is otherwise known as hoarding.  In Luke's gospel, Jesus says "Foxes have dens and birds have nests, bu the Son of Man has no place to lay his head." In the same gospel Jesus says to his disciples as he is sending them out "Take nothing for the journey. No staff, no bag, no bread, no money, no extra shirt."  Jesus is clearly not interested in hoarding.  Jesus turns an enormous amount of water into an abundance of excellent wine so that the wine can be given away.  Paul calls us to use our gifts together to work for the common good.  God's abundance brings people together to make the world, or some part of it, a better place. When we walk together as brothers and sisters, and work for the common good, God's abundance happens and Jesus' glory is revealed.

Amen.

*Thank you to Karoline Lewis at www.workingpreacher.org for this insight into the role abundance plays in John's gospel.

I Have Called You by Name

Charlotte Collins Reed
Christ Episcopal Church
January 10, 2016

The Baptism of Jesus

For many years after my grandparents died, I could still hear the way their voices called my name.  I was blessed to have a grandfather and three grandmothers, one of which was technically a step-grandmother, well into my adulthood.  I had the luxury of countless visits with each of them over the years, so I knew them well.  My Alabama grandmother had the lovely and distinctive accent of southeast Alabama.  My only grandfather had a deep voice that conveyed the twinkle in his eye.  His wife, who he had married 10 years before I was born, had the unmistakable accent of a South Carolinian.  And my Arkansas grandmother had a more raspy southern accent.  Hearing their voices speak my name when they were alive always made me feel special and loved.  Remembering that sound after they died not only reminded me of the impact they had on my life, but also, who I am and where I come from.

I am reminded of the sound of their voices this morning when I hear the words of Isaiah.  The Israelites are in exile in Babylon. Their life in the Promised Land has come to a screeching halt.  The land has been devastated and the Temple has been destroyed.  Their identity as God's chosen people was tied to that land and that Temple.  They are wondering whether or not they are actually God's chosen people when God speaks to them through the prophet Isaiah with the words we hear this morning.  "Do not fear, for I have redeemed you.  I have called you by name. You are mine.  When you pass through the waters, I will be with you; and through the rivers, they shall not overwhelm you.  When you walk through the fire, you shall not be burned; the flame shall not consume you."  God is telling God's exiled, desolate people that they are not alone in Babylon.  God has called them by name and they belong to God, where ever mess they have made of their lives, whatever water or flame they might walk through.

Today is the Feast of the Baptism of Jesus. Today we see the heavens open, and the Holy Spirit descend on Jesus in bodily form like a dove.  Then we hear the voice of God say to Jesus "You are my Son, the beloved.  With you I am well pleased."  In recent weeks, we have heard the story of Gabriel's appearance to Mary with the announcement that she will carry Jesus.  We have watched Mary and Joseph make their way to Bethlehem to be counted in the census.  We have heard the angels sing at the birth of Jesus.  Just last week, the Magi arrived bearing gifts for a king.  These stories have given us a pretty good idea of who Jesus is.  But now we hear God's own voice claim Jesus as God's own beloved son.

The people who witnessed Jesus' baptism and heard the voice from God are likely pretty confused.  John the Baptist had told them that one was coming who would show up with a winnowing fork, clear the threshing floor, separate the wheat from the chaff, and burn the chaff with unquenchable fire. Jesus shows up and gets in line to be baptized in the river with all the people who are hoping for another chance at life and a new beginning.  After everyone else is baptized, they are going home to start trying to live a different life to avoid that winnowing hook.  After Jesus is baptized, the heavens open, the Holy Spirit descends, and the voice of God speaks.  Could this possibly be the same person John was talking about?

John was right that one was coming who is mightier than he, who would baptize with the Holy Spirit and with fire.  But John had the details wrong about how the coming one would do that.  God claimed Jesus as God's own beloved son at Jesus' baptism and God sent Jesus to reclaim humanity as God's own beloved children.  At the end of the reading from Isaiah, we heard these words: "Do not fear, for I am with you.  I will bring your offspring from the east; from the west I will gather you.....Bring my sons from far away and my daughters from the ends of the earth.  Everyone who is called by my name, whom I created for my glory, whom I formed and made."  The first two chapters of Genesis tells us that God formed and made all of humankind in God' image and for God's glory.  Jesus came, not to separate the wheat from the chaff, but to gather us all together.  In the gospel of John, Jesus says "And I, when I am lifted up, will draw the whole world to myself."  Jesus came to reconcile all of humankind with God, so that we would all know in our hearts that God calls us each by name and that we are God's beloved children.

Baptism is the moment in our lives when the heavens open a bit and God reaches down to claim us as God's own forever.  In the words of the baptismal liturgy, we are "sealed by the Holy Spirit in baptism and marked as Christ's own forever."  Baptism does not mean that we will never find ourselves walking through floods or passing through flames, metaphorical or literal.  Baptism certainly did not promise Jesus that he would never walk through raging water or the fires of hell.  But in baptism, we, like Jesus, are promised that we will never face fire or water alone.  And just as Jesus left the river and began his ministry ushering in the Kingdom of God,  we called to follow Jesus into the world as people claimed by God and continue that same work.  The prophets, including Isaiah, had harsh words for people who thought their status as the chosen people marked them for special privilege and status rather than sharing in God's work of making the Kingdom of God a more present reality on earth.

Our baptismal covenant, which we renew at every baptism and on baptismal feast days like today, reminds us of both God's claim on our lives and what that claim means.  Being claimed by God means that we will never walk alone as we do the challenging gospel work of being faithful in worship, of repenting and returning to God when we sin, of proclaiming the good news with word and deed, of seeking and serving Christ in all people, and in working for justice and peace among all people.  That work is only possible when we walk together and God walks with us.

"I have called you by name.  You are mine."  As Christians, we are called to hear the voice of God call our name and know in our hearts that we are created in the image of God, made one with God in Christ, and called through the water of baptism and the fire of the Holy Spirit to follow Jesus out into the world, knowing that God promises to be with us.

Amen.

By What Route?

Charlotte Collins Reed
Christ Episcopal Church
January 3, 2016

Epiphany Sunday

When my sister and I were little girls, one of the great delights of our childhood was spending the night with our grandparents.  Our grandparents understood that their chief responsibility as grandparents was to spoil their granddaughters and shower them with unconditional love.  That responsibility was taken seriously.  They lived out in the country, in a small house with a huge yard that was bordered in the back by a creek, on the front by a field where a helicopter could land, on one side by woods, and on the other side by a family with a daughter our age.  There was no end to the adventures we could have outside. Inside the house....well, neither of my grandparents put much value on a clean or orderly house, so pretty much anything our young imaginations could come up with would create order rather than chaos.  This was heaven for two little girls and our visits to our grandparents would sustain us through chores, homework, and rules during the week.

But even better than being at our grandparents house was getting there.  Our grandfather would pick us up in his car, which, even at our young age, we realized was not a very reliable means of transportation.  But before we even pulled out of the driveway, we got to decide which route to take.  Would we take the route that was longer but took less time? Or the route that was shorter but took more time?  Our young minds had a hard time understanding how those choices were even possible.  Another attractive option was to go the middle way, through town, which had the added benefit of passing by a toy store.  Add to the choice of route the ever present adventure of a flat tire or running out of gas, and the journey to their house was an experience in itself.

The Magi are on a journey this morning, and while camels or whatever their means of transportation, don't get flat tires or run out of gas, the journey of the Magi is also an adventure.  They traveled some distance from the East to Jerusalem, following a star that beckoned them to the newly born King of the Jews.  Their friends back home must have questioned their judgement!  The Magi make a strategic error when they stop to consult Herod, the current King of the Jews, for advice on where to find the newborn and unrelated King of the Jews.  The Magi apparently underestimated the depth of Herod's insecurity and jealousy. Then they travel to Bethlehem, guided again by the star, until the star stopped over the house where Mary and the child were.  Overcome with joy, they enter the house and moved to kneel before the child, pay him homage, and deliver the gifts they had carried with them on their journey.  Afterward, they must have gotten some sleep because they are warned in a dream not to go back to Jerusalem, but to return home by a different route.

Which part of the story is journey and which part is destination?  The feast of Epiphany celebrates the arrival of the Magi to visit the baby Jesus and proclaims that the Christ Child is a gift for all people.  The feast of Epiphany also brings the Christmas season to a close.   We, like the Magi, have now been to the manger and can get back to normal life.  Today, we even unhang the greens and deliver the poinsettias to homebound parishioners.  By all appearances, Christmas is over.  By next week, the baby Jesus will be a grown man being baptized in the Jordan River.

At the end of the story of the Magi, we are told that the Magi were warned in a dream not to return to Herod, so they left for their own country by another road.  While, on the one hand, this seems to be a matter of geography in order to avoid Herod, on the other hand, I wonder if the change of route was not also a spiritual matter, showing that the Magi had been changed by their journey.  The trip to meet the Christ Child was not simply an out and back experience to drop off some gifts and be on their way.  Perhaps after the journey to meet the Christ Child and pay homage to a king who was not their king, they arrived home changed by the experience.  We have no way to know as the story of the Magi ends here.  But people who are willing to be guided by a star, to bring gifts to an unknown King who is not their sovereign, and abide by the directions of a dream are likely to be open to being changed by their journey.

Likewise, our trip to the manger is not an out and back trip to drop off a casserole, or in our case jars of baby food, for the new baby and his parents..  However we got to the manger, some journey or other brought us here.  If we have engaged the Christ Child, the story of God who became human in the person of Jesus, if we have brought him the gift of ourselves in addition to whatever other gift we might have brought, we may not go home by the same route as we arrived.  We will have been changed in some way, large or small, by the experience.   Perhaps we experienced a moment of grace in the glow of the candle light, or felt God's presence in the many voices lifted in song, or perhaps we heard some bit of the Christmas story in a new way.  Or perhaps, in the encounter with family, friends, or even a stranger, we met the Christ child.  Our visit to the manger each year is not a destination, but another point on a journey-a journey that may involve flat tires and running out of gas, but will also involve great joy, adventure, and unconditional love and can change the way we experience the world.  Christmas is only over if we think of the manger as a destination.  By what route will we go home?                                                                                              

Amen