Not Why? but What?

Sometimes the news can really start the mind to thinking. The recent arrest of a prominent pediatrician for pedophilia and the destruction of Haiti, among other stories, prompt the question “why”? Philosophers, poets and preachers have offered many explanations. Ultimately all we can do is hazard our best guess and yield to what we perceive through the eyes of faith.

Still there are some things that we can say with certainty. First and foremost is that pain and suffering are never the will of God. Humans have throughout our existence had a tendency to pin our troubles on God; believing that weal and woe always come from a Divine personal intention. People of faith have considered this concept and usually rejected it. Indeed, the book of Job is an extended contemplation of why bad things happen to good people. It is not surprising then that this question was put to Jesus himself in the beginning of the thirteenth chapter of Luke. Jesus eschews any connection to the sinfulness of any victim of tragedy and encourages his followers to focus instead on the larger picture of living more fully into relationship with God. Saint Paul echoes this in the eighth chapter of his letter to the Romans.

I am convinced that when tragedy and disaster strike we are called to cast our eyes and energy into another direction, commended to us by Christ. Consistently, throughout all of the Gospels, Jesus shows a clear preference to the poor, the sick and the suffering. By far, the most consistent miraculous sign he offers his followers is that of healing. So as followers of Christ, we are called to reflect the light that has come into the world, striving to help and bring healing wherever we can. This is why Outreach is a crucial and substantial part of our annual budget here at Saint Peter’s. This is why we send our youth on Mission trips to develop a broader awareness of the vast needs in our world and to help them learn how to respond and make a difference. This is why we pray for those who are sick and in need, hoping that God will open up our lives and use as God’s hands and feet, bringing God nearer. This is why when we lose someone we love we can still make our praise, “Alleluia, Alleluia, Alleluia!”

So then, when we are confronted by the random events of life, the question to ask is not “Why?” but rather “What?” What CAN I do? What WILL I do? The response to this question must first begin with prayer, as we seek to push aside our own perspective and gain a glimpse of God’s. Prayer helps us break through the illusion of control; that the world unfolds according to our plan. Through prayer, our imaginations and hearts are stirred and we can perceive a wider perspective of opportunities to respond. In the wake of the earthquake in Haiti, this could mean abstaining from spending for personal pleasure in one area in order to give it to those who are in need. In the case of the arrested doctor, it could mean making sure that all of the children in our life know safe-touching and make sure that they know they can trust us if someone does something that feels inappropriate. These are good beginning points and there are many others. By continuing to pray about these and other situations, the Holy Spirit can open up our eyes to reveal other ways to respond. And so I ask all of us to PRAY and to let our prayers lead us into more active responses in our world. We need not be afraid or lost in a sea of doubt. God is GOOD—All the time God is good and will show up! The question is, will we?
Over the last few weeks we have been using this prayer from the New Zealand Book of Common Prayer after the Prayers of the People and I commend it to you for your own devotions:

God of peace, let us your people know, that at the heart of turbulence there is an inner calm that comes from faith in you. Keep us from being content with things as they are, that from this central peace there may come a creative compassion, a thirst for justice, and a willingness to give of ourselves in the spirit of Christ. Amen.

As always, I ask for your prayers and hope you know that you are daily in mine.

Peace,

Jeffrey+

What if it was you?
A sermon preached at Saint Peter's on Rose Sunday in Advent, 2007

What if it was you?
You’ve grown up all your life, being told that you were beloved by your parents and an answer to prayer; That you were chosen by God to do something very special; That you were to be a prophet for you kinsman, to herald his ministry in the world; That you were the living fulfillment of the words of the prophets in Holy Scripture.

What if it was you?
You grew strong in spirit and lived in the wilderness, eating locusts and honey and dressed in camel’s hair. You grow popular with the people, because you see through all gile, and see people as they really are, both sinful and beloved of God. You call them to repent and cleanse them in a micvah of the waters of the Jordon River. There are so many people, drawn to you, drawn to hear your words and to rediscover the constancy of God’s love. You know that this is only a small part. You tell them, every one of them, that there is an even greater one to come, one who you are not worthy to undue the thongs of his sandals. You wait, as every day you wash more people to prepare the way of the Lord.

What if it was you?
After a long morning of so many people, so many sins, such lavish forgiveness from God, you look up and you see him standing before you. You know that he is the one you have waited for, that the time has come at last for God’s chosen one to be revealed to the world. He asks you to wash him in the river, to baptize him and you refuse. Yet he persists and you can not deny him. As he comes up from the water you know that things will never be the same. You embrace and you wait for what is to come next.

What if it was you?
Things suddenly change and not the way you expected. You are taken away by force. Not everyone has appreciated your message and you are thrown into darkness. Days and weeks pass till you lose track of time. Water is defiled with filth and the food is bitter and rancid. You are beaten down and abused. You feel weak, worn down and you don’t think you will last long. You wonder, in your loneliness, as the demons of despair pray upon you. You wonder if you really did the right thing and you begin to doubt. With death around the corner, your desperate to know your life has at least met its purpose. You send friends to your kinsman, to inquire: was it worth it? Are you really the one? The Word comes back and the signs are all there…the blind see, the lame walk, the leapers are clean and the deaf hear, the dead are raised and there is Good News for all the poor. The prophecy is fulfilled and you have lived to see the signs. Death will lose its hold and have no meaning now. All will be won.

What if it is you?
It is you know. You are that special child, beloved of God, cherished and special. You are the harbinger and herald. You have been washed in the waters of new life and sent out to proclaim the coming of our brother Christ. So many look to you, to know if they are worthy of love, if your God is real and loves them too. If you can look at them and forgive them, then surely they know that God will as well. And you see the Christ, you look at every person who comes and wades into your life each day and you see HIM in their faces—you see the promised Christ in friend and stranger, in mighty and meek, young and old…in all conditions of humanity, you look again and again and you see HIM!

And it is still you! Even when darkness comes and life deals you harsh blows. When you feel doubt and fear; and taste the bitterness of life--you are still the beloved of God…you ask friends to remind you of the signs and you open your eyes and see them. You know that darkness is never the end, but only the beginning…the dawn before the light. And Advent happens again and the signs show that all has been won, is won, will always be won by the Incarnate Son of God.

He is coming! Your hope drives you on to take the next right step towards God. And it is you who shall prepare the way and show the signs that Christ is truly near. It is you! It is you! It is you. Amen.

Of webs and walls--a sermon preached at Saint Columba's Church on the Isle of Skye on Saint Columba's day--June 9, 2007
(for Natalie, the patient and persistent!)

During World War II, the story is told of a fighter pilot who was forced to eject from his plane while flying behind enemy lines. While he landed safely, he knew that he would be most certainly be spotted and sought by the Nazi forces. He eagerly looked for a place to hide and could only find a very shallow cave. Being a faithful man, he prayed for God to keep him safe. As he opened his eyes after his prayer, he noticed that a spider had begun to weave a web over the opening to the cave. He was disheartened that he would soon be found and imprisoned. Sure enough, in short order he perceived the advance of the enemy soldiers who were seeking him. When they came to cave, the pilot heard one soldier say to the other that they did not need to search the cave, because the spider web covering entrance clearly indicated that no one could have recently entered. The pilot breathed a sigh of relief as he realized that God had indeed answered his prayer and kept him safe.

I share this story with you this morning as we contemplate the Gospel reading from Luke because it reminds us of the human tendency to sometimes miss what is right before our eyes. We can see, without really seeing what is important. Just as the soldier saw only one way for his prayer to be answered, so the seventy in the Gospel could only focus on their own expectations and in so doing missed what Jesus was trying to teach them.

In the Gospel, the seventy have returned after Jesus has sent them out. They are amazed at what they have been able to accomplish and the power that Jesus’ name has over demons. They are overly impressed with this tangible display of might—but have missed the real power before them.

You see, from Jesus’ perspective, they are missing the point. He tries to set for them a larger context and open them to a fuller spiritual reality. He reminds them he has seen even greater things accomplished in the Glory of God’s Creation. What is more important; what is worth rejoicing about is to have your name written in heaven—that is to be in relationship with God.

Today we also remember the great Celtic Saint, Columba. In the sixth century, it seems that Columba was involved in a scheme to posses a rare copy of a book. Somehow, one of his closest friends in the monastery lost his life in the process and Columba willingly went into exile. Yet his exile was also a pilgrimage—a journey undertaken for the stated purpose of drawing closer to God. This was the foundation of his ministry and it would be the goal that would occupy the rest of his life.

He chose to come with his twelve companions to the coast of Scotland and while he was not the first Irish missionary to arrive on these shores, he was the most successful of all of his predecessors. Columba used a different approach that had eluded his predecessors. He established his ministry by building relationships with the indigenous Picts. He traded with them, ate with them, lived with them day in and day out. In time, he came to carry not only the Good News of Jesus Christ, but also their trust. They came into his community because of the web of relationships and connections he had built with them and they received the Gospel.

Columba understood the power of relationship. He grasped the message that Jesus was trying to convey to the seventy—it is not so much about what you are able to do, it is more about how you can connect—to God in Jesus Christ; and to each other as the body of Christ. In our pilgrimage through life, we also are on a journey of drawing nearer to God. We may go many places and see many wonderful things: we may go out into the unknown or fall behind enemy lines; we may set off and find only the routines of daily life—yet it is not about the things we do—it is about how we find and see Christ in each other and build relationships and connections. God will always provide what we need—and we may still miss it sometimes—but that is never the end of the story. We must strive always to rest in the love of God as we pray and seek the webs of connection to God in heaven above, and to each other as the Body of Christ.

The Eve of Saint Francis

This evening, we included a liturgy for the blessing of the animals during our regular Wednesday Evening Eucharist. During the sermon, I shared an essay written as part of the This I Believe series on NPR. Here it is:

Teaching a Bad Dog New Tricks
by David Buetow

Weekend Edition Sunday, September 16, 2007 ·
I believe in my dog. I believe in the way he lives his life, and I try to emulate him. I strive to gain his level of happiness in the simplest of things. Like the way he approaches each meal with endless appreciation and even joy. While I struggle to decide what to eat from full cupboards and lament what I don't have, he circles the floor, excitedly anticipating the very same meal, in the very same portion, at the very same time every day.

I believe in how he lives in the present. As my day fills with stress, crowded commutes and endless deadlines, I think of Duncan home alone. His day was probably boring, but he's ready to move right past it once we're together.

I believe in his egalitarian treatment of everyone despite race, creed or appearance. He never pre-judges. Before I had him, I considered myself "street smart," avoiding eye contact with people I didn't know or didn't think I wanted to know. Running through Chicago neighborhoods with Duncan has changed all that. Now when people smile at us, I smile back, and if Duncan stops to say hello I stop and greet them, too.

I never had a dog before; I got Duncan at the urging of a friend who had probably grown as tired of my bachelor behavior as I had. My long work nights and weekends always ended with a lonely run, a bourbon or two, or a phone call to someone I didn't really listen to. All I talked about was me and what was wrong with my life. My friends stopped asking me out because I was always either at work or talking about work.

I had dates with women who would mistakenly think I was loyal to them but I never returned their calls or thanked them for the cookies they left on my doorstep. I was what some people would call "a dog" — a bad dog. Not one person depended on me, nor I upon them. One Sunday I woke up at noon, and I suddenly noticed how silent my house and my life was. I realized I couldn't expect any valued relationship until I created one first. So I got Duncan.

All of a sudden, where no one depended on me, he did. It was extreme detox from selfishness: Let me out. Feed me. Clean up after me. Watch me sleep. I found that I actually liked being relied upon. When I realized that I could meet his needs, I also realized he met mine.

I believe in the nobility of Duncan's loyalty, and his enthusiasm. Every time I come in the door, he's waiting to greet me with glee. Now, when my girlfriend comes over, I get up and run to the door to greet her like I learned to do from my dog.

This essay seemed parituclarly appropriate this evening because the lessons that Duncan taught David where the same lessons that Saint Francis tried to teach his community. Francis was born to a priveledged life, yet he gave it all up to live more fully into God's Kingdom. He moved beyond living a life focused only on himself and strived to focus on God. Animals and all of Creation bore witness to Francis of the joy and beauty of all that God had made.

An alternate reading for Saint Francis day comes from the Sermon on the Mount in Matthew's Gospel in the sixth chapter (NRSV).

Jesus Said “Therefore I tell you, do not worry about your life, what you will eat or what you will drink, or about your body, what you will wear. Is not life more than food, and the body more than clothing? Look at the birds of the air; they neither sow nor reap nor gather into barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not of more value than they? And can any of you by worrying add a single hour to your span of life? And why do you worry about clothing? Consider the lilies of the field, how they grow; they neither toil nor spin, yet I tell you, even Solomon in all his glory was not clothed like one of these. But if God so clothes the grass of the field, which is alive today and tomorrow is thrown into the oven, will he not much more clothe you—you of little faith? Therefore do not worry, saying, ‘What will we eat?’ or ‘What will we drink?’ or ‘What will we wear?’ For it is the Gentiles who strive for all these things; and indeed your heavenly Father knows that you need all these things. But strive first for the kingdom of God and his righteousness, and all these things will be given to you as well.

Thank God for our pets! They bear witness against a life of anxiety: worrying about what to wear, eat or drink; or the trouble that lie around the corner. Rather they live in the moment and they freely share their love with us--even when we may fall short. In the same way, Francis rejected the life of anxiety and strived to live into the Kingdom of God: basking in the unconditional love of God, prasing God for Grace and Glory and endeavoring to reflect the love of God into the lives of others.

As we give thanks to God for all our blessings and especially for the gift of all our pets, may we follow Francis' example. May we also rededicate ourselves to living more into God's Kingdom and rejecting selfish anxiety. We can begin by striving to live within the prayer attributed to this great Saint:


Lord, make us instruments of your peace.
Where there is hatred, let us sow love; where there is injury, pardon;
where there is discord, union; where there is doubt, faith;
where there is despair, hope; where there is darkness, light;
where there is sadness, joy.
Grant that we may not so much seek to be consoled as to console;
to be understood as to understand; to be loved as to love.
For it is in giving that we receive; it is in pardoning that we are pardoned;
and it is in dying that we are born to eternal life. Amen.

peace!

Foolish Notions

This Sunday's Scripture lessons contain some of the ways human beings can get off track with God and each other. The Psalm (14) begins with the words, "The fool says in his heart, 'There is no God" It is this kind of thinking that summoned the prophet Jeremiah to speak out against the people of Judah. Doubtless some of them had lost their faith in God, thinking that they could do as they pleased. Some found new gods, including selfishness. Others may have thought that they were good enough in their observance of the law, failing to realize that the observance of the laws was a means for God to get into their hearts, not a checklist to gain God's favor.

Such foolish notions, continue even today. Somehow humans continue to repeat the same patterns and get lost along the way. Much like in the reading from First Timothy describes how Paul was consumed with his own zeal and then got blinded to what God was doing through the Incarnation. A Damascus road experience helped change his ignorance and selfishness so that he could offer true service for God.

The Gospel reading from Luke offers two (of a total of three) images of God seeking out the lost, as God has always be known to do in the Bible. From Genesis forward, God perseveres and calls humanity back into faithful relationship and Covenant. In their zeal to observe all of the law, the Pharisees have lost the heart to care for those who fall short. They upbraid Jesus for his association with tax collectors and sinners and Jesus reminds them that God cares for lost and by extension that includes even the Pharisees.

I ran across this Jewish parable in a commentary on these Sunday Lections. In his reflections on the gospel of Luke in The New Interpreter’s Bible (1995), R. Alan Culpepper tells a Jewish story centered on the good fortune of a hardworking farmer. The Lord appeared to this farmer and granted him three wishes, but the catch was that whatever the Lord did for the farmer would be given double to his neighbor. The farmer was thrilled, and wished for a hundred cattle. Immediately the wish was granted, and the farmer was ecstatic until he saw that his neighbor had 200. So he wished for a hundred acres of land, and again he was overjoyed until he saw that his neighbor had 200. Rather than celebrating God’s goodness, the farmer could not escape feeling jealous and cheated because his neighbor had received more than he had. Finally, he stated his third wish: that God would strike him blind in one eye. And God wept.

Luke 15 reminds us that God aways seeks out the lost. Like the Good Shepherd he finds us and gathers us up. Like a woman with the lost coin, God is relentless in his pursuit. Like a loving father, we find warmth and embrace. The Pharisees in the Gospel and the Farmer in the story are blind to this reality. They believe that God's grace is finate and reserved for only those who match a set criteria. Like the farmer, they are jealous and resent others receiving what they believes belongs to them.

The Church must set aside these foolish notions. We must remember that the Church exists to help the lost be found. Each of us has been lost at some time. We have found our way to this place and found Grace. But we cannot be like Farmer and the Pharisees and begrudge the blessings that God gives to others. The way to stave off such foolish notions is to keep it simple: remember that we all have strayed like sheep at some point or another.

I recently ran across a independant music group called The Colbalt Season. I don't know much about them, but I do enjoy their music and lyrics. In surfing the web, I found out that they are associated with a Church in San Francisco called SEVEN. Their website offers a mantra which is the basis of their common life in Christ--seven guiding covenants:

SEVEN Mantra
To Creator, obedience
To creation, service
To each other, community

In all things, love
In all things, love

For life, prayer
With possessions, simplicity
In our world, creativity

In all things, love
In all things, love

That's the law that the Pharisees and Farmer forgot: the Law of Love. Four little words that are the next step in keeping all foolish notions at bay: In all things, love. In all things, love.