Matthew – Page 2 – Word In Process

Advent, take three

Third Sunday of Advent – December 15, 2019 – Matthew 11:2-11 – Trinity, Winchester

John clearly has his doubts about Jesus. Even from prison he sends his disciples to ask, “Are you the Messiah, or should we wait for another?” In other words, “Tell us, Jesus, is there someone else coming whose sandals you are not fit to untie?”

The question is, where does John’s doubt come from? [1] Wasn’t he the one who told us that Jesus was the real deal in the first place?

Wasn’t he the one who told the crowds, “I baptize you with water for repentance, but one who is more powerful than I is coming after me . . . He will baptize you with the Holy Spirit and fire.”

Wasn’t he the one who said to Jesus, “I need to be baptized by you, and do you come to me?” Surely this is the same John. Why does he doubt now?

Perhaps his doubts arise from present circumstance. He who was once a prisoner of hope, is now a prisoner of Herod. Time spent locked away may have taken a toll on his prophetic spirit.

Or perhaps his doubts are caused, ironically, by his knowledge of Bible. John knows well that the prophets say that the Messiah will bring a fiery brand of judgement and uproot disobedient nations.

John doesn’t see Jesus of Nazareth living up to those expectations. [2] Jesus is not destroying delinquent nations. Instead, Jesus is walking around preaching to poor people. What a letdown, right? Maybe he’s not the one after all.

John’s doubts reveal that he doesn’t quite understand the scandalous nature of Jesus’ ministry. At least, not yet. Fortunately, Jesus clears things up. He says to John’s disciples, “Go and tell John what you hear and see: the blind receive their sight, the lame walk, the lepers are cleansed, the deaf hear, the dead are raised, and the poor have good news brought to them.”

These words not only describe Jesus’ ministry, they point us to the very nature of God. [3] God is not a God of wrath and judgement in the conventional sense.

God’s judgement is mediated through loving acts of grace. These people don’t have enough food. Feed them. These people can’t stay warm. Clothe them. These people are sick. Heal them. These people wander in darkness. Tell them the Gospel Truth.

Talk about uprooting the nations and exercising judgment! Jesus’ ministry embodies a radical opposition to the status quo. The difference is, it doesn’t demand our attention in the way we are accustomed to.

We like shiny objects and elaborate productions, but that’s not the way Jesus works. If you ask me, John takes all that stuff about fire and destruction too literally. Sure, God is a destroyer, but not because he lays waste to erring nations. God is a destroyer because he destroys death and brings about life.

Jesus embodies the role of the Messiah because he heals the sick, restores the weak, and saves the lost. The fire he kindles is not the fire of fury, but the Spirit of God, which burns away the remnants of sin and death.

We hear echos of this Messianic role in today’s Collect. “Stir up your power, O Lord, and with great might come among us . . . let your bountiful grace and mercy speedily help and deliver us.”

This is not a prayer to a God who punishes brutally. This is a prayer to a God who saves mightily. That divine might may not always look like we expect to, but nevertheless it is present in the One who tells us to turn the other cheek instead of hitting back.

Proof that the Kingdom of God has arrived does not come in the grandiose actions of a savior du jour, but in the constant presence of the savior of eternity.

That said, it’s hard to recognize God’s presence in the world, and that makes it easy to doubt God’s power. We have heard the voices of God’s prophets drowned out by gunfire. We have known patriarchs to edit our history books before they go to print. We have tasted the bitterness of hasty words that rinse the flavor of grace from our mouths.

We have even willingly chosen to ignore God’s work in the world, patting our pockets and saying, “I’m sorry, Sir, I don’t have any cash on me today.”

Whether we overlook it, or whether we refuse to see it, Jesus is among us, quietly embodying salvation. Jesus is among us, reciting the names of the dead as they are welcomed into heaven. Jesus is among us, recording the history of the oppressed in permanent ink. Jesus is among, forgiving our trespasses and helping us muster up the courage to forgive those who trespass against us.

For the most part this is quiet, behind-the-scenes work. We so crave attention-grabbing theatrics that we tend to ignore the real nation-uprooting, judgment-exercising, status-quo-challenging work of God happening all around us. When we don’t see it, we assume it isn’t there. Like John, we begin to wonder who we’re really waiting for, all the while forgetting that Jesus has already come, not with trumpet fanfare, but with an infant’s cry in the still, dark silence of the night.

Notes:

[1] Thomas G. Long, Matthew, Westminster Bible Companion (WJK: Louisville, 1997), 125.

[2] Ibid.

[3] Ibid.

Sermons

Faithful response to God

Wednesday in Proper 6C – June 19, 2019 – Matthew 6:1-6,16-18 – St. Mary’s Convent, Sewanee

It’s been almost a week since I last saw you, and we’re still hearing from the “Sermon on the Mount.” Today Jesus instructs us not to practice our piety before others. He gives us three examples of what not to do, and three tips that can lead to healthier and more reverent practices.

“Whenever you give alms, do not sound a trumpet before you . . . But when you give alms, do not let your left hand know what your right hand is doing.”

“Whenever you pray, do not . . . stand and pray in the synagogues and at the street corners, so that [you] may be seen by others . . . But whenever you pray, go into your room and shut the door.”

“Whenever you fast, do not look dismal . . . But when you fast, put oil on your head and wash your face.”

It never fails. Every time I hear this passage I think about stewardship and evangelism. In my own naïveté, I tend to hear Jesus’ teaching as counter to everything I have learned about sharing my faith with others and tithing 10% of my income to the church.

Jesus’ instructions about almsgiving tell us that discretion is best. He tells us not to let people see us give money. But don’t we want people to be a part of a culture of giving? If people see others give, won’t that encourage them to give, too?

Jesus also warns us against praying in public places were we will make ourselves a spectacle. But, what about not hiding our light under a bushel basket and all that? Aren’t we supposed to make our faith known?

Jesus urges us to keep our fast in a way that does not draw too much attention. But what about Ash Wednesday? Does that mean no more ashes on my forehead? Do I need to go straight home and wash them off?

No, none of that is quite right. Jesus isn’t telling us never to give, or pray, or fast in public. He’s using public examples to tell us not to do these things for the wrong reasons.

Jesus is specifically taking to task those who lord their piety over others. To hear, “Don’t do these things in public . . .” is to miss half the message. It’s more like, “Don’t do these things in public . . . for the sake of impressing other people.”

We give, pray, and fast because these things are part of a genuine, faithful response to God’s presence in our lives. Attending church only because it’s good for business is very disingenuous.

However, setting an example of responsible tithing for friends and neighbors who don’t quite understand it yet can be a very responsible Christian witness. Likewise, thanking God for your food, even in a restaurant or school cafeteria, can be a very sincere way to recognize God’s abundant grace. And fasting, no matter what the appearance of your face, can be a very meaningful and appropriate way to respond to a merciful God.

Sometimes important things need to be explained clearly. Thank God for a sermon! The Sermon on that Mount, that is, in which Jesus teaches us not to give, and pray, and fast in order to impress others, but in grateful response to God’s presence in our lives.

But wait, doing such things in response to God’s presence in our lives requires us to be aware of God’s presence in our lives in the first place. Well then, perhaps that’s where we’ll end today, at the beginning of this whole process—step one: Look for God’s activity in the world, and when you see it, name it.

Then you can be grateful and respond.

Sermons

… and be grateful

42309044_235514037130229_6190254780821012480_n Ember Day – September 22, 2018 – Exodus 19:3-8; 1 Peter 4:7-11; Matthew 16:24-27 – St. Mary’s Convent

I was delighted to preside at the Eucharist at St. Mary’s Convent in Sewanee this morning. Below is my sermon. To learn more about the Community of Saint Mary visit their website here.

Today’s lessons come with a lot of instructions. In each of them God tells his people what they should do.

In Exodus, God gives Moses a message for the Israelites. “Tell my people that if they obey my voice and keep my covenant, then they shall be my treasured possession out of all the peoples. The whole earth is mine, but you shall be for me a priestly kingdom and a holy nation.” If you obey me then you will be my people.

The author of 1 Peter gives us some suggestions about community living. “Therefore be serious and discipline yourselves for the sake of your prayers. Maintain constant love for one another. Be hospitable to one another (without complaining). Use your God-given gifts to serve one another.”

And in Matthew’s account Jesus himself tells his disciples, “If any want to become my followers, take up your cross and follow me.”

It’s a lot to take in on a Saturday morning. Obey me. Keep my covenant. Love each other. Be hospitable. Serve. Pray. Take up your cross. Follow me.

These things can read like a to-do list, and that makes me a little uncomfortable. We are Episcopalians, products—whether we like it or not—of a blessed reformation. A reformation that told us, it’s not about what we do; it’s about what is done for us on the cross and the promise of resurrection.

So why all these instructions? Can God just not help himself?

Maybe God, like my own father, in an effort to show me how much he cares about me, and how much he loves me ends up…sometimes…kinda sorta…telling me how to live my life.

Sometimes it feels like my father’s well-intentioned advice, is his way of piling on to my work load. “You might consider calling your mother more.” “When was the last time you talked to you grandfather.” “Have you mailed those insurance papers yet?”

My husband does it, too. “That was really nice of them; you should write a thank-you note.” “Have you considered inviting her for coffee.”

OK. Whatever. Great. Wonderful. All good ideas, but I’m a little busy here.

“Well, I’m not trying to make your more difficult,” they say, “I’m just trying to help!”

And then it dawns on me! Obey my commandments. See my covenant for instructions. Love each other. Be hospitable. Serve each other. Pray. Take up your cross. God’s just trying to help.

God doesn’t make lists of tasks for us because God needs us to prove something. God provides examples so we don’t have to figure it out all by ourselves. God knows exactly what he’s doing. I’m the one turning it into a to-do list.

All of these things: love, service, hospitality, scripture reading, and prayer are appropriate ways not to earn our salvation, but to respond to it with gratitude.

Isn’t that liberating? You don’t have to do anything to earn God’s favor. So cross it all off your to-do list, and be grateful.

Sermons

The rhythm of prayer

Thursday in the First Week of Lent – February 22, 2018 – Matthew 7:7-12

It is a joy to be asked to preach for the students, faculty, staff, and families of my alma mater. Thank you to the recording crew at the Chapel of the Apostles for this audio.

Ask. Search. Knock.

Ask— and it will be given you; search— and you will find; knock— and the door will be opened for you.

Everyone who asks receives, everyone who searches finds, and everyone who knocks finds an open door.

Ask. Search. Knock. — Receive. Find. Open.

Jesus’ words sound out for us the rhythm of prayer like the beat—beat—beat of a drum. [1]

Ask. Search. Knock.

This is the pattern of our prayer.

In prayer we ask God for things. We know—or think we know—what we want from God so we name our needs and our desires. We ask. [2]

Bless us, O Lord. Deliver us, O Lord. Save us, O Lord.

“Dear God, Grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference.”

“Dear God, Give me a little brother for Christmas.”

“Dear God, Keep my little brother safe.”

“Dear God, Make my little brother disappear.”

When we don’t know what to ask, we search. We randomly name our thoughts before God. [3] Like in the space between the light switch and the bed, we grope around in the dark—having forgotten where even the most familiar things are.

As seekers we go to prayer not knowing what we want but relying on God to point it out.

“I’m unhappy, in a bad mood, I don’t know what I want. Mad at myself, Mad at you. Show me the way, Jesus. Show me the way.”

And sometimes no words come. All we find is a door. In that case, we can only knock. Sometimes we knock softly and patiently, opening the prayer book and reciting its well-worn words. Other times we pound erratically, shouting so loud that we expect our sorrow to separate the clouds and God to reach down and pick us up.

Sometimes all we can do is knock. “For we do not know how to pray as we ought, but that very Spirit intercedes with sighs too deep for words.”

Ask. Search. Knock.—These are the beats in the rhythm of our prayer.

In drought we pray for rain. In war we pray for peace. In frustration we pray for guidance. In turmoil we cry out.

Jesus taught us the rhythm of prayer. But he didn’t just use his words; he also used his life.

“And he withdrew to a quiet place to pray.”

“And he withdrew to a mountain to pray.”

“And he left them there and went up to pray.”

Jesus shows us constantly to punctuate our life with prayer. We are not strangers to this rhythm.

Morning Prayer, Noonday Prayer, Evening Prayer, Compline. And that’s just a minimum!

For centuries there have been monastic prayer offices: Matins, Lauds, Prime, Terce, Sext, Nones, Vespers, Compline. Such is the rhythm of Christian life.

The daily office offers time to sink into the psalms, whisper familiar collects, and bid our personal petitions to God.

“We pray for Michael our Presiding Bishop, John our Chancellor, and for all our bishops.”

This is what we do as Christians. We pray.

Even right now we are engaged common prayer. The red book gives us the slow and steady beat of our lives. Even the prayers within the rites of the Prayer Book have standard rhythms.

The the collects, for example. They are fashioned—mostly—according to a pattern:

Address. Attribution. Petition. Reason. Doxology.

Address—Dear God

Attribution—Almighty and ever-living father

Petition—Give us strength

Reason—So that we may more perfectly serve you

Doxology—In the name of your son Jesus Christ, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, forever and ever. Amen.

The rhythm pulsates inside of us; it becomes part of who we are. We pray when we are thankful—before meals and when we gather with old friends.

When we are nervous—while the professor is passing out the midterm or just before we meet our beloved’s parents for the first time. When we have work to do—at board meetings and bible studies. When we are at the bedside—for healing or for a peaceful death.

Jesus taught us to pattern our lives with prayer. And so we do.

It’s a simple concept, easy to understand. But you don’t always do it very well. And I don’t always do it very well. I doubt, I wander, I fidget.

If you’re like me, sometimes the rhythm of your prayer is interrupted because you get distracted. What is appropriate to include? [4]

The things I need? The things I want? The things I think others need?

No matter what I have to offer, it seems inadequate. “Please God, I need to pass this exam.” Nope, too self-serving.

“I pray that I am not like them, Lord.” Hmmm…seems judgmental.

“Please God, Cure my flu.” But other people have it, too.

“I thank you Lord, that the sermon was a success.” Way too self-congratulatory!

In the silence at the daily office I list names of friends and family rapid fire, only to find myself worrying about who I did not name.

“Oh no! I prayed for Susan this morning, but I just talked to her. Nanette probably needed it more. And then there’s Diego. And my grandma! How could I forget her again??”

Do you do that? Edit your prayers?

“No, I won’t ask God for anything this evening. I’ve been asking for too much lately.”

I sure do.

Do your prayers feel inadequate sometimes?

“How many more child must die?”

“How many more women must be groped?”

I cannot stand the feeling of failing in prayer. But here’s the conclusion I’ve come to: There’s no reason to censor your prayer. I think a lot of us spend a great deal of time and energy trying to perfect the rhythm of our prayers, but that is not the point.

Jesus tells us to pray to God however we need to—by asking or searching or knocking. Maybe it’s all those things at once.

As long as you are praying you are participating in God’s rhythm for your life.

We pray to communicate with God. We do not have to be in touch with God. God already knows us better than we know ourselves, but we talk to God because we have a relationship with God, and that’s what you do when you’re in a relationship—you talk.

You talk to each other. It’s not always perfect, but it’s part of the rhythm of life together.

“Hi, Honey, how was your day?”

“Oh fine, and yours?”

“Not bad.”

“That’s all?

Why don’t you ever tell me anything anymore?”

“I’m not telling you every detail of every day.

I’m tired!

I just got home from work!”

What we say is rarely perfect, but we have the conversations because they are important to us, and they are important to God.

God understands when you don’t understand. God handles the onslaught of your disorganized thoughts even better than our professors!

God doesn’t require you to cite any sources or tag any friends. God just wants to hear from you.

I think it must be a most pleasing sound—the rhythm of God’s people in prayer. There is no better time than Lent to settle into a new discipline—a new rhythm—of prayer.

If you do, you might be surprised by what happens.

You will not be surprised because your attitude changes, or because you feel peaceful, or because you are more connected, or because you’re called to action.

No—I think you can anticipate all of that.

But if you settle into a rhythm of prayer I think you will be surprised to find that you are not the one in control. [5]

And that’s okay.

You didn’t start the beat; it belongs to the one from whom all blessings flow.

So…feel the divine rhythm.

Snap you fingers, clap your hands, tap your toes…

And pray.

—–

[1] Thomas G. Long, Matthew, Westminster Bible Companion (Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox Press, 1997), 79.

[2] Ibid, 80.

[3] Ibid.

[4] cf. Long, 80.

[5] Ibid.

Sermons

There is a promise

The 17th Sunday After Pentecost – October 1, 2017 – Matthew 21:23-32

I preached this sermon at St. John’s parish in Decatur, AL where I am doing field work in preparation for graduation and ordination. You can listen to me preach this sermon by clicking here.

Today’s gospel comes from the beginning of the Holy Week narrative. Jesus rides into Jerusalem on a donkey, throws the money changers out of the temple, and struggles to convince the chief persist and elders that his authority comes from God.

“What do you think? he asks, “A man had two sons; he went to the first and said, ‘Son, go and work in the vineyard today.’ He answered, ‘I will not’; but later he changed his mind and went. The father went to the second and said the same; and he answered, ‘I go, sir’; but he did not go. Which of the two did the will of his father?” His audience answers, “The first.”

The answer is obvious. That’s the only thing they can say. The first son doesn’t want to work, but he changes his mind and does what his father asks. The other son just flat out lied. It’s not quite that simple, is it?

We really want to root for the first son, but we tend to overlook is that his words matter, too. A story about a son who said no to his father would have shocked Jesus’ listeners. Even if he did change his mind! It simply was not done.

The priests and elders are in a bind. Jesus asks them a rather simple question for which there was no easy answer. Neither son did the will of his father. One says no—a big slap in the face! The other says yes, but he lies. Both sons disobey their father.

We all understand this. Once my father asked my sister to cut the grass. She said, “No.” That did not go well for her. (But let me tell you, the grass got cut.) Once I lied to my dad about feeding the dog. He found out. (And let me tell you, the dog got fed.) Sometimes we screw up because we give the wrong response. Sometimes we screw up because we lie.

Many people through the centuries have read this parable as an allegory describing God’s chosen people. The first son represents the Gentiles—those in Israel who came to believe in the Messiah though they did not at first. The second son represents the Jews—those who knew they should believe, but don’t.

It’s not hard to see why it would be read that way. Instead of hearing this story as an allegory let’s hear it more strait-forwardly as a parable.

It is not about which group we fall into. It is not about prejudicing one group over the other. It is about realizing that everyone gets it wrong sometimes—no matter who they are or what group they belong to.

On a recent trip to the Holy Land I learned about the political strife of the Israeli territory. Some Israeli citizens forcibly annex Palestinian land because they believe it belongs to them. Their actions are often violent and illegal. Some unfairly treated Palestinians retaliate by killing Israeli soldiers. Soldiers who in turn gun down Palestinian teenagers in the street. None of this is okay.

There is right and wrong in the world, and as Christians we are called to name it. It is our Christian duty to denounce hate, injustice, and oppression whether it’s in Charlottesville or Sewanee or Decatur.

It’s just easier when other people are doing it. But what happens when sin creeps a little closer to home?

What about those things we do in our daily lives that contribute to the tragedy of the world? What about the pounds and pounds of food we waste every week? What about the recyclables we throw away? What about the clothing we buy that was made by children in sweat shops?

What happens when we find ourselves getting angry when we listen to the evening news? Sometimes I hear stories about neo-Nazis and wonder if I haven’t become one myself. I’ve even said stupid things like, “They should all just be taken out back and shot.” We all get it wrong sometimes.

It’s easy to think others are in need of grace, but it’s harder to admit when we are. But there’s hope. Listen closely to Jesus. “Truly I tell you, the tax collectors and the prostitutes are going into the kingdom of God ahead of you.”

This is not damnation. This is a wake-up call.

Jesus does not say that the tax collectors and prostitutes will go instead of you. He says they will go before you. They will be there when you get there. And they will stay there alongside of you.

In this parable Jesus challenges us to understand that there is hope for all who sin, including you, including me.

Friends, it’s hard to fathom. If you are the one in the wrong, is there a chance for you? A chance?! There’s a promise for you! If you are the one in the right, is there a chance for the one who wronged you? A chance? There is a promise.

This is hard for us because we have been conditioned to believe that for us to be included somebody else has to be excluded. We expect that there are some who are too far removed to ever be included. Sometimes we might even feel that we are the one who is too far gone.

Let’s get really clear about what Jesus said. “Truly, I tell you, those who repent of their violent and illegal actions will go into the Kingdom of God ahead of you.”

“Truly, I tell you, those who repent of their desire to condemn others will go into the Kingdom of God ahead of you.”

“Truly, I tell you, those who repent of their wasteful and unethical habits will go into the Kingdom of God ahead of you.”

There was a young woman who was away at college. She fell on hard times, dropped out,and started selling her body just to survive. She was drug addicted and living in the gutter. You don’t even want to know what her parents thought when they found out. You don’t even want to know the words that came out of their mouths. I bet you can guess.

They said, “You are never welcome in our house. You are never welcome at our table. We do not even know you.”

The good news is that God knows her. The good news is that God knows her parents. The good news is that God knows you and God knows me.

There is a table for her. There is a table for her parents. There is a table for you. There is a table for me.

Thank God there is a table for all.