idol worship

Bishop Mark Dyer says that every 500 hundred years the Church holds a giant rummage sale.

Phyllis Tickle (among others) says the classified ad space has been purchased, and the sale is ongoing.

The lessons for this Sunday say that it is and will be ok.

The OT lesson, the 10 Commandments, reminded me this morning of how often the Church makes idols of things; the Bible (KJV or otherwise), the Book of Common Prayer, collars, vesteture, narthex(es), altar rails, etc.  Because we associate this stuff with the worship of the LORD, it often finds its way into our "sacrosanct" category - the stuff we can't live without.

At some point, however, it becomes hard to discern what we are actually worshiping.  Is it stained glass windows, altar rails, and organ music or the LORD?  If you try to eliminate any of the first three, you'll quickly find that the last is just an innocent bystander.

Jesus turned over the tables in the Temple because the system had become an idol - they went through the motions to get their card punched, and plenty of people were willing to make some money helping others assuage their guilt.

What would Jesus thrash with a whip of cords in our day and time?  What has become an idol?  Who are our moneychangers?

the engine remains strong

Here's what I thought was key to our discussion of John 2.13-22 thig morning.

The engine remains strong

The body is either too big and bulky or rusted and falling apart

Will you allow God to rebuild a new thing around that finely tuned engine?

history is important

As an arrogant emergent, I am often accused of throwing out the baby with the bath water.  As a relative conservative, this makes me laugh.  As a theologian it makes me cry.

History is important to the faith.

The story of salvation is one of history - a story told and retold and re-retold over and over again.

Take, for example, the 10 Commandments.  The core of the covenant between God and the people of Isreal begins with history - I am the LORD your God, who brought you out of the land of Egypt, out of the house of slavery.  REMEMBER!?!?!?

The story of the past cannot be thrown out.  It is too rich.  It is too important.  It carries too much weight.  God created out of nothing.  God saved for no real reason.  God forgives.  God wants to restore.  We need to hear these things over and over again.  We need to be reminded of the story, the history, of the faith.  As NT Wright says, without a knowledge of the history, there is nothing to draw on to improv.

History is important

Readings for Lent 3B

Sermon for Lent 2b

This sermon goes by 1 of 2 titles:

The Great Fork in the Road

The Temptation Didn't End After 40 Days

Today's Gospel lesson makes me think of two of history's finest philosophers.  The first is Arnold Jackson, played by Gary Coleman on the classic television show, Diff'rent Strokes.  The second is former Yankee great Yogi Berra.  Two of the finest minds of the 20th century.

    The story itself reminds me of one of the situations in which Arnold and Willis would inevitably find themselves.  Jesus, the Willis of this story, begins to teach his disciples something brand new.  It wasn't until the disciples could name him as the Messiah that Jesus could share with them the whole story.  As the Messiah, Jesus had to be rejected by the religious authorities, handed over the the political powers-that-be, be killed, and on the third day rise again.  That's what being the Messiah meant.  It wasn't code for coup, it wasn't a secret plan hatched in the basement of Peter's Mother-in-law's house.  Instead, in the middle of Caesarville, where the revolution should have started, Jesus - the anointed one of God - made it clear that to be anointed meant to die at the hands of Rome.

    It is almost as if the disciples don't hear anything after, and be killed, the shock waves of that phrase were too strong; the ringing in their ears too loud, and so Peter, as the one who regularly speaks for the group, as the one who just called Jesus the Messiah steps up.  I picture Peter walking over to his beloved teacher, taking his friend aside, and asking in all seriousness, "What'chu talking about Willis?"

    What Jesus was talking about was mind-boggling to the disciples, and Peter had to let him know that.  They were raised with an understanding that the promised Messiah would bring about the triumph of Israel, the restoration of Jerusalem, the return of YHWH to his rightful place as King of kings and Lord of lords.  Suffering and death, sure, some who followed the Messiah, who fought the battles of the revolution, they might taste death, but not the Messiah, he was to sit on David's throne for ever.

    Which leads me to the Yankee catcher turned philosopher Yogi Berra.  While story might remind me of Diff'rent Strokes, the plot brings to mind Yogi's oft quoted Yogi-ism, "When you come to a fork in the road, take it."  We find Jesus and his disciples staring at a fork in the road, and Peter wants to take it.  Looking down the one road he sees crowns, and thrones, and sweet wine.  He sees positions of power for him and his friends, Roman soldiers carrying his bags.  He sees the good life where "Caeserville would once again be called the region of Naphtali near the city of Dan in the foothills of Mount Hermon - -names that pointed back to the glory days of freedom under Kings David and Solomon." (CEP)

    Down the other road he sees the dream of God.  The land that the prophet Isaiah promised.  "Righteousness will be [the Messiah's] belt and faithfulness the sash around his waist.  The wolf will live with the lamb, the leopard will lie down with the goat, and the calf and the lion and the yearling together; and a little child will lead them.  The cow will feed with the bear, their young will lie down together, and the lion will eat straw like the ox.  The infant will play near the hole of the cobra, and the young child put his hand into the vipers' nest.  They will neither harm nor destroy on all [God's] holy mountain, for the earth will be full of the knowledge of the LORD as the waters cover the sea.  In that day the Root of Jesse will stand as a banner for the peoples; the nations will rally to him, and his place of rest will be glorious." (11.1-10 NIV)

    Peter's sees two paths ahead; one of power and prestige and one of humility and God's glory, and he wants to take them both.  When faced with a fork in the road, Peter, on behalf of the disciples, wants to take it.

    And for a moment, it seems as though Jesus also wants to take them both.  Mark gives us that interesting little detail.  Jesus turned and looked at his disciples.  As if to, just for a moment, ponder if it were possible to go down both roads. I mean, he had just fed a crowd of 4,000 men, not to mention women and children who had come to hear him speak.  His popularity was growing, his message was being received, things were looking good for Jesus the revolutionary.  It seems as though the temptation didn't end after the 40 days in the wilderness.  The tempter was back, offering him power and prestige.  And maybe, for just a moment, Jesus the man, takes a second look.

    "Isn't it often the case that when we feel tempted by something, we give it a second look? You're sitting at the table in the restaurant and the waiter is holding the dessert tray. You glanced at that piece of seven layer chocolate volcano cake but decided to resist the temptation. "You sure?" the waiter says, even as he moves the tray just a wee bit in your direction. And so you give it another look." (CEP)

    Unlike me and the seven lay chocolate volcano cake, Jesus' temptation  only lasts a minute.  Jesus, the Son of God, sees that the Tempter is at work, even in the voice of a dear friend.  "Get behind me Satan!" he yells, for where temptation needles the devil is surely at play.  At this fork in the road, Jesus chooses to follow the will of God; the one that leads through suffering and ultimately arrives at redemption, restoration, and wholeness.  And then he invites each of us to follow him down that road.  The road that requires us to lose our lives.  "To lose our whole way of thinking about the world, to revalue the whole experience we know as life− trusting that our valuing of life may be the end result of the Tempter who is keeping us from knowing the whole story, from seeing the whole picture." (WP)

    This Second Sunday in Lent we stand at a fork in the road.  We know that we can't go both ways.  We know that one path looks easy, but winds up messy.  The other looks messy, but winds up glorious.  Which path will you choose?  Will you set your mind on divine things?  Will you take up your cross?  Will you lose your life?  Let's walk the path of Jesus together.  Amen.

Lent 1B Wednesday Homily

Have you ever tried to imagine what life was like before written language, before history was solidified, before science took on the task of explaining natural phenomenon?  I'm sure you have.  Remember as a child trying to come up with explanations for things?  When I was little we thought that thunder was the sound of God bowling, and I won't tell you what we thought rain was, but suffice it to say I still won't drink raindrops or eat snow.

What are some of the naturally occurring things that you found just amazing as a child?

For the ancient world, one thing that sat near the top of most lists was the rainbow.  Such a beautiful sight; its colors arching across the sky.  Across the ancient world the rainbow took on all sorts of meanings.

• In Greek mythology, the rainbow was considered to be a path made by the messenger, Iris, between Earth and Heaven. 
  
• In Chinese mythology, the rainbow was a slit in the sky sealed by Goddess Nüwa using stones of five different colors.
  
• In Hindu mythology, the rainbow is called "Indradhanush", meaning the bow of Indra, the God of lightning, thunder and rain.
  
• In Norse Mythology, a rainbow called the Bifröst Bridge connects the realms of Ásgard and Midgard, homes of the gods and humans, respectively.
  
• The Irish leprechaun's secret hiding place for his pot of gold is usually said to be at the end of the rainbow.
  

We even have some modern day thoughts about the rainbow.  

But for the precursors of our faith, the rainbow was, and is, something very unique.  It is a reminder FOR GOD of a promise he has made.  Let me repeat that - a reminder FOR GOD.  It isn't set in the clouds to remind us to follow the God who makes all things possible, it is a reminder FOR GOD that he promised to never again destroy the earth with a flood.

Can you imagine hearing that for the first time?  Imagine for a moment being Noah and his sons.  You have just recently stepped on dry ground for the first time in more than a year when God decides to make a pact, ""As for me, I am establishing my covenant with you and your descendants after you, and with every living creature that is with you, the birds, the domestic animals, and every animal of the earth with you, as many as came out of the ark. I establish my covenant with you, that never again shall all flesh be cut off by the waters of a flood, and never again shall there be a flood to destroy the earth."

Can you hear those two crickets chirping and Noah and his sons tried desperately to understand the words they are hearing?

So God continues, "This is the sign of the covenant that I make between me and you and every living creature that is with you, for all future generations: I have set my bow in the clouds, and it shall be a sign of the covenant between me and the earth. When I bring clouds over the earth and the bow is seen in the clouds, I will remember my covenant that is between me and you and every living creature of all flesh; and the waters shall never again become a flood to destroy all flesh. When the bow is in the clouds, I will see it and remember the everlasting covenant between God and every living creature of all flesh that is on the earth."

God is hanging up his bow, the battle between him and his creation is over, but just in case he gets angry again, he's keeping it there to remind him.  

Can you imagine?

To our 21st century ears this kind of covenant between God and humankind makes no sense.  Our God, we think, is one of grace and peace and love.  That's somebody else's God in Genesis chapters six through nine.

But what if we began to look at the rainbow the way our ancestors did?  Instead of seeing it as light refracting through millions of water droplets, instead of getting upset with a God who got angry, what if we looked up and saw the promise of God that he would forgive forever?  What if we saw in the rainbow the grace of God that he promised all those many years ago?

It would lead us, I think, to rejoicing.  It would recall for us that God fulfilled his promise and that the kingdom of God has come so that even in our various weaknesses, God forgives.  What if we saw forgiveness in rainbows?  What if?

Amen.

Name Change

As a guy who fancies himself postmodern, I get that names are important.  Words are important.   My faith that a rainbow is God's reminder to Himself of a covenant made for eternity is another man's myth.  I get it.   What we call things is important.

There are three important names in the lessons for Sunday (two explicit, one contextual).

Abram becomes Abraham - the exalted father of many nations

Sarai become Sarah - the princess mother of many kings

Napthali became Caeserea Philippi - Caeserville in the land promised to God's chosen people (the place where Peter calls Jesus "Messiah" and then tries to begin a revolution)

It is a little known (and less often used) historical fact that names can be changed at baptism and at ordination (there may be other times that I am not aware of).  Abraham and Sarah have their names changed by God because their relationship is changing.  So too can we have our names changed when the rules by which we choose to play change.

Stalingrad is once again St. Petersberg - the rules changed.  For Peter, Caeserea needed to return to Napthali, but Jesus knows that isn't going to happen because this rule change is much larger than revolution and political power.  This new set of rules is the installation of the kingdom of God.  Names may change, but it is the hearts that change that matter.

Abram wouldn't become Abraham without faith.  Sarai wouldn't become Sarah without faith.  And we don't become Christians without faith.

Name changes are important, but more important is why the change happened.

 

motivations

The old saying goes, "the road to hell is paved with good intentions."  Jesus himself seems to set us upon that road in the gospel for Sunday.

"If any want to become my followers, let them deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me. For those who want to save their life will lose it, and those who lose their life for my sake, and for the sake of the gospel, will save it."

It sounds like we should give up our lives becuase in doing so we can save it, but I'm not sure that's the motivaiton Jesus had in mind.  Do I do a good work just to do it, or do I do it to get credit?  Seems to me I should just do good because it is good, regardless of the reward.  Setting up a reward makes the motivations mixed, makes the intentions somewhat impure.

Do I deny myself and follow Jesus beacuse it is the dream of God, or, do I deny myself and follow Jesus to get my everlasting life card-punched?  Geez, tough one.  Getting my card-punched would be nice - it'd be great to be sure that I had done what is required of me, but maybe what is required is doing it just because it is God's dream.

choices

So much of the kingdom life comes down to choices.  So much so, that if pressed to answer when I was "saved" I'd say that I was "saved" 2000 years ago in the incarnation and resurrection, but most recenlty I was "saved" this morning when I chose to live for the kingdom instead of myself.  This Sunday's lessons reminded me of the importance of choices.

In the collect we ask God to bring us to the choice of embracing his way.

Abraham is asked to choose between the old way of Abram and the new way of God.

The Psalmist declares, "my soul shall live for him..."

Paul gives Abraham credit for choosing to be the father of many nations; which is, in Paul's eyes what made Abraham righteous.

Jesus calls his disciples throughout the generations to choose to walk behind him as followers not pushing him like a shopping cart down the candy aisle.

The choices we make are important.  Having been "saved" once-for-all by the life, death, and resurrection of God; I am left to choose that path of righteousness or play my luck on any other path.  Today, and thanks be to God for it, I chose his path.  Here's "hoping against hope" I make the same choice tomorrow.

cry out

In his new book, Jesus Wants to Save Christians, Rob Bell (with Don Golden) breaks down the story of salvation history into a series of four repeating events; oppression, crying out, redemption, triumphalism (my paraphrase). 

I am struck by the lectionary for Sunday and just how that four-fold cycle plays out over and over and over again.

Ps 22.23 - "For he does not despise nor abhor the poor in their poverty; neither does he hide his face from them; * but when they cry to him he hears them.

In the Collect, we cry out, "O God,... be gracious..."

Our poverty is not that of material things, despite what talking heads on CNN tell us.  Our poverty is that of Peter, we can't see the plan.  Our ways are not God's ways.  Our poverty is that we have gone astray, focused on our own devices and desires and now, in the midst of crisis, we cry out, "O God..."

Be assured, however, that God hears our cry.  Just as he heard the cry of Abram and made him the father of many nations, so too God hears our cry.  Our restoration won't necessarily look like we want it to.  It might mean 40 years in the desert, or 40 days in the wilderness, or 24 hours of a sham trial and death on a cross, but God will hear our cry.  So go ahead, cry out!

Readings for Lent 2B

Shrove Tuesday/Mardi Gras/Fasnacht Day

Tuesday evening was a time of transition as we marked the end of the Season of Epiphany and prepared for the new Season of Lent. Down here, in the shadow of Mobile, the birthplace of Mardi Gras in the US, the pancake supper concept that is so prevalent in the Northeast is a little lost. Yet, we were able to gather as a community of about 45 for A Shrove Tuesday pancake supper and prayers event at St. Paul's.

The evening began, as it should, with lots and lots of pancakes, made from scratch.I then did a quick teaching on the meaning of the day and our reason for giving up the word Alleluia for Lent.
We then processed the Alleluia banners into the Nave and buried them under the altar.Then we opened up time to engage the three prayer stations that marked the transition from light and Epiphany to ashes and Lent. HT to Anne for finding the inspiration.

The first was a station at the font; where, with the sign of the cross, we remembered that though our sins seem monumental, they have been washed clean in the waters of baptism.

The second was at the altar, where we used glow-sticks to write in a pile of ashes words of praise and thanskgiving; alleluia being one of them, knowing that for some people Lent comes just as they are ready to praise God again for the first time.


The third station was a reminder that for some the call to justice and peace is what has gone up in ashes. We took home a bag of ash with a small piece of palm to remind us of our call to work for justice for those who cannot, and that the King of kings has ensured our victory.


We then followed the Bapitsmal Candle outside where we burned palms and alleluias and watched the flames and smoke rise up with our words of praise to God.


Looking back, it should have been a little more joyful and a little less somber, but for a first attempt at marking this important transition, I think we did rather well.

The Awkward Pause

I am beginning to run into texts I've preached on before. Sometimes it reminds me of something I came across in research. Sometimes it makes me realize how much I've developed as a preacher. Sometimes it is just fun. The latter is the case this week as I got to re-read my favorite sermon that nobody got. Well, some people got it, I'm sure, but only the people who didn't get it said anything.

In researching for Lent 1B I came across an article by Robert Alter that told the story of awkward pauses in the Hebrew Bible. I found it fascinating, and I still think about it every time I read an Old Testament text with a conversation between the LORD and a human.

Here's the meat of that sermon from 3 years ago.

Today is the first Sunday in Lent; the first of seven awkward pauses in the season. As liturgical Christians we understand the idea of lent; it is a season of 40 days of penitence and self-reflection as we prepare ourselves for the recollection of God’s supreme act of love on Good Friday. What is interesting to me is that Sundays are not included in those 40 days. Sundays are an awkward pause. Our own Book of Common Prayer allows for this in the rubrics for Lent.

“The following days are observed by special acts of discipline and self-denial: Ash Wednesday and the other weekdays of Lent and of Holy Week, except the feast of the Annunciation.” (p. 17)

The six Sundays in Lent and the Feast of the Annunciation on March 25^th mark a period of rejoicing within a season of penitence. As Elton put so well last week, a lot can be learned through acts of fasting or the addition of a spiritual discipline during Lent. Much can also be learned in the awkward pauses and that which immediately follows.

The Old Testament lesson this morning has within it two awkward pauses. Old Testament Scholar Robert Alter notes that in verse 12 we see for the first time what will become a common convention in biblical narrative. When a speaker, in this case God, addresses someone and the formula for introducing speech is repeated with no response from the listener it generally means that the pause is significant, albeit awkward. As God addresses a flood-weary Noah in verses 8-11 God says some things that are hard for Noah to grasp.

God said, “I am establishing my covenant with you and your descendants after you, and with every living creature that is with you, the birds, the domestic animals, and every animal of the earth with you, as many as came out of the ark. I establish my covenant with you, that never again shall all flesh be cut off by the waters of a flood, and never again shall there be a flood to destroy the earth.”

awkward pause - count to 10

Noah is not convinced. Within the awkward pause there is much to discern. Noah recalls the days upon days that he had spent on the ark scared to death of what his fate and the fate of his family might be. God recalls the sweet aroma of the burnt offering that Noah prepared upon the newly dry land. Noah needs reassurance. God wants to reassure.

And God said, “This is the sign of the covenant that I make between me and you and every living creature that is with you, for all future generations: I have set my bow in the clouds, and it shall be a sign of the covenant between me and the earth. When I bring clouds over the earth and the bow is seen in the clouds, I will remember my covenant that is between me and you and every living creature of all flesh; and the waters shall never again become a flood to destroy all flesh. When the bow is in the clouds, I will see it and remember the everlasting covenant between God and every living creature of all flesh that is on the earth.”

awkward pause count to 15

Here again, Noah resists what God is telling him. God, who merely a year ago was set to destroy all flesh, is now ready to make a covenant between himself and all living creatures? This is at best an awesome word of God, and at worst a terrible trick. And even if Noah is able to comprehend God’s covenant, the sign God chooses would have surely tripped Noah up. “I have set my bow in the clouds.” In the ancient world the rainbow was viewed as a weapon of Divine wrath.[1] Noah no doubt saw a rainbow or two during the 40 continuous days of rain that flooded the whole Earth. He understood that it was through this rainbow that God shot lightening bolts of judgment to earth. God turns Noah’s understanding upside down by offering the rainbow as a “sign of God’s ongoing, deep commitment to the life of the creation…”[2] During the flood, God remembered Noah and his ark on the waters. God will, each time he sees a rainbow, remember his covenant with all living creatures. God is making a hefty promise while requiring no further action from his Creation. But Noah needs to hear it one more time.

And God said, "This is the sign of the covenant that I have established between me and all flesh that is on the earth."

This Lent God may turn you upside down. You may be struck by the power of God as you donate the money you would have spent at Starbucks to the Red Cross. You may come across a text of Scripture that you have never seen before and be challenged to learn more. God may pour down waters to flood your current five-year plan. Rest in the awkward pauses of Sunday, rejoice in the conversation with God Lent has afforded you, and reflect upon what God is saying. In the awkward pauses God will remember you, just as he remembered Noah and his companions on the ark. In the awkward pauses, God will remember the soothing scent of the offerings you have offered throughout Lent. Most importantly as you move from the awkward pause of Sunday back to penitential conversation of Lent, make sure you listen. Listen for what God is going to say next. Listen for the covenant of God. For God will reiterate, clear up, and move forward his covenant in conversation and in awkward silence.

---

[1] “Divine Approval” Synthesis (Lent 1, Year B, March 5, 2006).

[2] “Genesis” The New Interpreters Bible vol. 1, p. 400.

Hey! You remember Mark 1.9-15?

We've already heard most of this story. We heard the first half on the first Sunday after Epiphany - the Baptism. We heard the last verse with an expanded lesson on the third Sunday after Epiphany. This Sunday, the first in Lent, we combine them, and add a verse or two about Jesus' temptation in the desert.

Mark's version is so short it is almost comical.

"And the Spirit immediately drove him out into the wilderness. He was in the wilderness forty days, tempted by Satan; and he was with the wild beasts; and the angels waited on him."

Imagine being in Mark's church. Imagine hearing only this about the Temptation. It leaves us with a lot of questions, and very few answers.

• Why did the Spirit drive him to temptation?
• Why the "wilderness"?
• What did the temptations look like?
• What does it mean that he was with the wild beasts?
• How did the angels wait on him?
• What is going on?

As we prepare for our annual 40 day journey into the wilderness I think it is important to ask these questions. What role does the Spirit play in our own holy Lent? Where is our wilderness? Will angels wait on us? What is going on? Lent may not be "fun" but it most certainly can be life-changing; if we let it. Likewise, Jesus' 40 days, about which Mark gives us only 33 words, was life-changing, if not history-of-the-world-altering. Quite frankly, I'm looking forward to the journey.

Readings for Lent 1, Year B