Life is what happens....

Ever feel like your plans for the day keep getting interrupted? One of my mentors in the ministry told me that he didn’t even make plans for his day. He just prayed in the morning – “well Lord, here I am. How do you want to use me today? I’m game for whatever you have in mind!” When he recommended this to me, I found it difficult to imagine – offensive actually. I love my calendar, and planning, in my mind, is a Godly activity.

But the more time I have in the ministry, the more I have come to see the wisdom of this older clergy’s approach. I’m sure, he too, at one time, had loved his calendar. After all, before he was a priest, he was a military officer! But now I think he was experienced enough with our Lord to know this basic truth – when someone is suffering or in need, God rather casually sweeps our plans aside so that we can be instruments of hospitality and healing.

If Jesus is a clear window to God, given what we see Jesus doing throughout his lifetime, it is pretty clear that God is interested in relieving suffering far more than he is in our plans and time lines.

In last week’s gospel, Jesus crossed the sea – it was a stormy crossings – as crossings usually are when you are reaching out to others who are not within your own circle. On the other side of that storm, he healed a man who’d been so destructive and disorderly that his neighbors had chained him up a good long distance from town. When Jesus spoke to him and healed him, he was thrilled, but his neighbors were not. Upset would be a good word for how they took it. “Go away”. They said. “Go back to where you came from. This is too much for us.” So he did.

He crossed the sea again. And suffering met him as soon as he set foot on shore. In that way – the people on both sides of the sea were alike. In this way, all people are alike. In the need to be included, held and healed – it doesn’t matter whether you live in Salinas, California or in Kerala, India, or in Jalalabad, Iraq.

“Come help me. My daughter is dying.”

And if you or I are going to respond to that kind of plea, - whether it is from a neighbor, or a family member, or a community far away, it most likely means that we are going to interrupt some other plans that we might have had. It most likely means that we are going to change the way we spend our money and our time. It might mean that we are going to change the way that people see us.

Jairus’ interrupted his life and laid his reputation and status and future on the line on behalf of his daughter. For us, who will go to any lengths for our children, it is almost impossible for us to grasp how much he risked.

First of all, he was a member of the elite - the same elite who harassed and ridiculed Jesus at virtually every turn. His friends included him in their scorn when he arrived home with Jesus in tow.

Secondly, he acted against common sense. In his time, it was not unusual for a child to die. In many parts of the world, it is still the case that many children die before adulthood. And it is still the case in some parts of the world that a girl child is less valuable than a boy child.

Thirdly, being around an almost dead girl child, would have bordered on unclean and it certainly would have negated his credentials to lead the community.

But Jairus – whose name means Enlightened in Greek - was a father first and foremost.

He was a father who loved his little girl – beyond all measure of what was appropriate or wise or in his own best interest. And so, he interrupted his entire life and future to kneel in the dust at the feet of this itinerant rabbi to plead for her life.

And Jesus was a healer first and foremost. He lived and breathed hospitality and healing and wherever he went, he bent himself towards the relief of suffering. He allowed himself to be continually interrupted in order to respond to someone else’s need. In fact, this happened on his way to the little girl’s bedside.

An older woman, sick for the same length of time that little girl had been alive – 12 years, had been isolated and held at arm’s length for so long that she had forgotten what it was like to have someone protect her or touch her or love her. It required tremendous courage or total desperation or both to reach out and touch this man – even anonymously.

But once she reached out, she didn’t stay anonymous for long. Jesus called out. “Who touched me?” And in that moment her isolation and her illness were completely disrupted. Because when she came away from the crowd, and stood on her own, she had no way of knowing what would happen to her. She had violated all propriety and law. Stoning could easily have been the result.

But in response to her faith, Jesus’ immediately reached out in hospitality and healing to cover her with compassion and to include her in his family. He protected her and he acknowledged her. “Daughter,” he said. “Daughter. You are well.”
My mother and I were at the Salinas Farmer’s Market yesterday morning, and stopped by the Health Awareness booth. My mom was immediately put to work – she sat in a chair and helped prop up a sign for health care reform. I met Santos, who is a nurse at the hospital. He and his wife and his 20 year old daughter had interrupted their normal Saturday routine to talk with people about health care issues and offer blood pressure checks. A young couple came by, obviously pregnant. While the daughter and I chatted about her college, Santos sat with the couple to check in with how she was doing, and to check her blood pressure. Before they left, they had signed up to receive ongoing support.

Like Jesus, Santos and his family were willing to let their lives be interrupted in order to practice hospitality and healing.

And it is a practice.

Because hospitality and healing don’t come naturally. It doesn’t come naturally to practice the hospitality to stop what you’re doing and get down at eye level with your child and give him your full and wholehearted attention – especially when it means interrupting your other plans.

It doesn’t come naturally to make a priority of listening with the ears of your heart – it takes work and it takes practice.

It doesn’t come naturally to deep down understand and agree that your time and your resources and your relationships essentially belong to God – not to you.

But it is the truth. Our lives belong to God. And growing into that takes daily practice. It means living with your calendar held a bit more lightly and praying each and every morning, “Lord, what do you have in mind today? Because here I am, ready to go where you need me.” Amen.

Get in the Boat!

Good morning? Are you ready? Well, get in the boat! Cause we’re going to the other side!

It might be that you’re ready for a rest – it took a lot of work to make this transition – and you did it beautifully! The Transition Team deserves a round of applause. And I personally, want to open my arms wide, and say it loud – you are awesome! I have felt cared for since my first contact with you, and especially since you called me to come be your priest. The Transition team was never intrusive – but always thoughtful, sincerely wanting to know how they could help out. Thank you!

It might be that you’re ready for a rest – it took a lot of work to keep the parish active, up and running, vibrant and alive, without a full time priest. Or, I don’t know, maybe it made it easier! I know Wendy and Cynthia did magnificent work of keeping you spiritually fed throughout this time – I also know that a lot of you stepped mightily up to the plate – and learned to run the ship. And this will stand us all in good stead as we head out into new waters. At my interview, one of the reasons I knew I wanted to come here – was that on the Sunday following the interview, you were going to hold an eco-faith fair. A major undertaking and outreach, all under your own direction! I’m climbing on board with experienced sailors, and I love it!

You might be ready for a rest – the economy is still in the doldrums. Stocks are still bouncing around. Layoffs are happening at an alarming rate - while kids still need shoes and after school lessons, and there are bills and mortgages to pay.

The disciples must have been ready for a rest! Doing crowd control while Jesus taught and healed – they had been on their feet, literally on their feet, outside, day after day - they must have been ready for a rest.

But towards evening, Jesus said, “we’re going to the other side.” So into the boats they went, experienced sailors and tax collectors, who probably weren’t all that much help on the water – off they all went, just as the sun was setting. A flotilla of boats – crossing the sea at dusk.

Why? Why did Jesus get the disciples to cross the sea? Right! To get to the other side.

What was on the other side? Gentiles. People who had not yet heard the Word spoken by God in Jesus.

People who had not yet experienced the full and radical inclusiveness of God’s embrace.

People who had not yet felt the full force of the word of healing and new creation spoken by God through Jesus.

In other words, people that Jesus cared about.

Are you in the boat? Ready to push off and start our own crossing to the other side?

Because the truth is, the Word cannot be contained in a small and cozy space. The Word in us is nurtured here. The Word in us is fed here. The Word is heard here – heard in a way that grows us up, that transforms us, that changes us – and that Word that we hear pushes us to go beyond ourselves.

That Word commands us to expand the reach of our handshake of peace to those who have yet to know peace – and usually precisely at the moment when we think we’re ready for a rest! When we think, “ok the work is done, now we can sit back and rest a bit,” Jesus comes along and invites us to another adventure.

Ah – what adventures Jesus invites. At least some of those disciples no doubt could read the warning signs – storm on the way. But they were also sufficiently in awe of Jesus that if he said go, that’s what they did.

The truth is, the Gospel of Mark was written to a community that was in very troubled waters – storms of violence were raging between the Jewish people and the Romans. The enormous and beautiful Jerusalem temple – the center point of the Jewish religion and culture and state - had just been utterly destroyed because of the war. Relations between temple Jews and these fledgling Jewish Christians had grown rancorous and troubling. There were persecutions. Jesus had not returned, the way they had thought would happen. The tiny ship of the church was in danger of being swamped and overturned and the personal lives of this community to whom Mark writes were in trouble.

"Lord, don’t you care that we are perishing?" The question must have risen often in their minds. And if you’re anything like me, you know that you have uttered that question more than once as well – when the inevitable storms of life just about had you swamped - "Where are you? Don’t you care, Lord?" In our time, we face the potential environmental collapse of very frightening proportions. "Where are you God? We are perishing!"

Jesus slept peacefully on the pillow someone had thoughtfully provided – a first century Transition Team perhaps!??!

Sleep, of course, is another word for death. The dear crucified Lord, asleep in the nave of the ship. You sit in the nave of the church! That’s the architectural and liturgical term for the body of the church - where you are. That’s where Jesus is. In the nave. And this is a resurrection story. Because the crucified Jesus wakes up – rises up – and speaks his powerful word of calm. He rebukes the forces of destruction and death and chaos. He restores their confidence. .

But then the disciples are filled with an even greater fear than before! At least they understood the storm. It might kill them – but it is within their comprehension.

But the power of this man – whom even death cannot hold - This shakes them to their very core. Who is this asleep and then rising in our very midst. Who is this in the nave of our ship, the church? Who is this who rebukes all forces bent on destruction, and they obey. Who is this who can cast out the demons of fear and cowardice and restlessness and restore order and calm and peace and joy and patience and courage under hardship and tribulation and disaster? Who is this quietly asleep on his pillow, in their midst?

It is Jesus, of course. With us this very day.

Jesus heard his terrified friends, got up, reprimanded the wind and said to the waves, “Peace! Be still!” And the Bible tells us the wind died down and peace came. His friends cried to him and he listened, and he moved and spoke to the storm and said, “Be still.”

Can the same thing happen inside of you and me? Like the storm, can our hearts also hear and be calmed, and somehow rest in his peace? I’ve seen it happen. I’ve known men and women in the darkest moments of their lives, whose families were in peril, whose children were being sucked down some dark hole, or folks who experienced devastating financial loss, but who in the middle of the crisis were heard to say, “God is carrying me. I can’t explain it. I know it sounds crazy, but I have peace!”

A friend of mine is now in her second bout of breast cancer. In the midst of painful and debilitating treatments that may or may not stem the tide of this cancer, she radiates beauty and peace. Why? She says it is entirely due to the prayers of the church. She is not a normally non-anxious person, I can verify this! But she testifies that God is present in some new kind of way with her – so that she faces these treatments and her possible death with a kind of peace that she had not thought possible.

Jesus is able to calm the storms in your life. And whether the storms abate or not, he is able to give you peace and courage and confidence in scary times.

Jesus is able to take the helm of the boat of Good Shepherd, and steer it safely to the other side. He is able to inspire us with the words and the actions that relay the message of his peace and power to those who need that peace and power.

As we offer the handshake of peace to each other this morning, let us pray that we, in some small way, this week, can cross over whatever troubled waters someone else might be in – job loss, family troubles, sickness, general malaise - to offer them God’s peace and God’s power.

Let us pray.

Christ sleeps in the deepest selves of all of us, and whatever we do in whatever time we have left, wherever we go, may we in whatever way we can call on him as the fishermen did in their boat to come awake within us and to give us courage, to give us hope, to show us, each one, our way. May he be with us especially when the winds go mad and the waves run wild, as they will for all of us before we're done, so that even in their midst we may find peace...we may find Christ. Amen.

* Prayer from Frederick Buechner

The Story of Pentecost

The Story of Pentecost
Last Sunday at St. Alban's Episcopal Church
May 31, 2009

“When the day of Pentecost had come, they were all together in one place.”

It doesn’t matter whether they were a large group or a small one. As it happens they were small. Gathered, waiting, praying, just as Jesus had told them to do, directly before he left them to return to his Father in heaven. Many of them, like Peter, still shamed by the fact that they had deserted their dearest friend at the very moment that he most needed them. In their fear of also being tortured and killed, they had run away, and left him to face death alone. Still, Jesus had risen from the dead, had breathed his peace into them, and had told them to wait and to pray – which is exactly what they were doing

"When suddenly from heaven there came a sound like the rush of a violent wind, and it filled the entire house where they were sitting. (Jack plays flute)

The Hebrew word for Spirit is Ruah – breath. It was the Ruah of God that swept over the primal chaos, over the first waters – the Ruah of God that created life.

That same Ruah creates and sustains you now. Take a deep breath in, and out. Feel the Spirit breathing you. Breathe into this space. This time. This place. Whenever you are troubled or feel like things are falling apart, breathe. Let the Ruah of God, the breath of God fill you and still you, and help you know what to do next.

This Ruah that filled the entire house where they were sitting was like a violent wind – lifting their hearts, lifting their spirits, filling them with enthusiasm and expectation. What was happening? What was God about to do? Send fire!

“Divided tongues, as of fire, appeared among them, and a tongue rested on each of them. (Jack plays drum) All of them were filled with the Holy Spirit and began to speak in other languages, as the Spirit gave them ability.”

Fire. Tongues. Praise.

This is my last Sunday with you. So I can do anything, right? I want you all to stand up and praise God! Share something that you are really and truly thankful for. You can tell your neighbor. You can tell God. You can keep it to yourself if you want. But stand up. God is here and God is good and God is everlastingly faithful and remembers your every need, your every desire – and has your good continually in mind. If this is your first Sunday here, don’t worry. We do not normally do things like this.

So, what are you thankful for? What are you thankful for in the church? In the world? In creation? In your life? “A tongue rested on each of them and they began to speak …..”

“Now there were devout Jews from every nation under heaven living in Jerusalem.”

Pentecost was a Jewish festival – celebrated fifty days after the first barley harvest. That’s why there were Jews from many different nations gathered in Jerusalem. To celebrate the harvest.

“When they heard the sound, a crowd gathered and they were bewildered because each one heard them speaking in the native language of each. 7Amazed and astonished, they asked, “Are not all these who are speaking Galileans? 8And how is it that we hear, each of us, in our own native language? They were amazed and perplexed. Some of them wondered what it meant. 13But others sneered and said, “They are filled with new wine.””

What do you do when something happens that you don’t understand? Something that you don’t immediately like? If you’re like me, there are several things you do.

One is, you simply ignore it as not relevant. We screen out all kinds of data that doesn’t fit with our world view. It may cause a blip on our screen – but after that it becomes background and quickly disappears.

OR, You create an explanation for it. You create a story about it, leap to a conclusion. My kids will tell you that I’m especially adept at this. I can see two people on the street in an argument – and I can create the background story and the outcome – all from one little snippet of information. And the truth is, I’m creating it out of whole cloth- it has no correspondence to actual reality.

OR, you can be curious and wonder – with an open and non-judging mind.

“Everyone was amazed and perplexed.” Some of them stayed in their curious mind, open and wondering – I wonder what this means? Others of them leaped immediately to their judging mind – Well, it means that they are drunk.

I don’t know about you – but I aim to stay more and more in my curious, wondering, Godly Play sort of mind - simply observe what’s going on around me and stay open to it, without leaping to conclusions.

I urge you to do this as well – especially during this time when the Search Committee and Vestry are working so hard to call a Rector. When you don’t understand – be curious – and ask wondering questions. When you don’t agree – say so, and enter into respectful conversation. But try to steer clear of sneering and making up stories.

“Peter raised his voice and spoke out loud to the whole wondering, sneering crowd. What happened to the man who ran away? He was transformed into a new man – a leader now. And he spoke on behalf of the whole group -

“You that are Israelites, listen to what I have to say: Jesus of Nazareth, a man attested to you by God with deeds of power, wonders, and signs that God did through him among you, as you yourselves know— 23this man, handed over to you according to the definite plan and foreknowledge of God, you crucified and killed by the hands of those outside the law. 24But God raised him up, having freed him from death, because it was impossible for him to be held in its power.”

There are a lot of sermons in the book of Acts – and their purpose was not to be intellectually brilliant. It was to have an effect. The apostles preached in order to transform. Their words were intended to be a vehicle for the Spirit of God to reach peoples’ hearts -

“37Now when they heard this, they were cut to the heart and said to Peter and to the other apostles, “Brothers, what should we do?” 38Peter said to them, “Repent, and be baptized every one of you in the name of Jesus Christ so that your sins may be forgiven; and you will receive the gift of the Holy Spirit. 39For the promise is for you, for your children, and for all who are far away, everyone whom the Lord our God calls to him.””

These people were not really looking for Jesus. These were people who God called to him. Peter wasn’t telling these people – save yourselves. He was saying – let yourselves be saved. Let God in. Let this new life happen to you. Salvation – or healing – as the root of the word is –is not about earnest striving, about human effort to learn each new meditation technique and yoga pose – good as those are.
This primal healing that Peter is talking about is God’s doing – it comes from outside. It is a gift. And you can ask for it. God wants to heal you. Wants your salvation. Wants you to experience being fully alive.

“What shall we do?”

Repent – leave your small mind and enter into the large mind of God.

And be baptized – learn a new way of living. A way of life that you enter into, that you learn day by day. Not a difficult way with lots of do’s and don’ts. A way of life that brings joy and connection to all creation.

And so they did. “42They devoted themselves to the apostles’ teaching and fellowship, to the breaking of bread and the prayers. 43Awe came upon everyone, because many wonders and signs were being done by the apostles.”

The church doesn’t try to resuscitate emotional highs week after week. It doesn’t drift from emotion to emotion. But it devotes itself to teaching what it’s all about. The church experiences fellowship – koinonia. This is far more than warm hearted brotherly and sisterly feeling – it’s a fellowship that produces signs and wonders. It’s a muscular kind of fellowship – things happen because these people have come together. The church breaks bread together. Deep friendships across race and class lines are formed. And the church prays.

Teaching.
Fellowship.
The deep friendship of the sacraments, of breaking bread together.
And praying.

These are the essentials of being church together. Everything else is icing.
So, where are you in this Pentecost story? Wherever you find yourself – come to this Table this morning, with a glad and generous heart – praising God for his never failing goodness.

Friends

Easter 6, Year B

Acts 11: 19 – 30, 1 John 4: 7 – 21, John 15: 9 – 17

Friends of Jesus

When I went to college in the mid-70's, the Vietnam War was still raging. As a freshman, I went to my first anti-war demonstration in the streets of San Diego. A friend said he thought I would enjoy worshiping with the Quakers, who are known as "peace lovers". So, having no car, and it being a time when such things were still done, I hitchhiked down the hill from UC San Diego to the La Jolla Quaker meetinghouse in downtown La Jolla.

It was a simple white wooden building with green trim. Inside there was no altar, no pews, no pictures, no candles, no vestments, no stained glass …. None of the beauty to which we Episcopalians are accustomed. Instead, there were simple wooden chairs, in rows that faced each other. Light streamed in through the clear windows. There was nothing to distract one’s attention. I sat down and waited. And spent the next hour waiting. I’d never been a part of anything like this before. About fifty people simply sitting together in silence. Every now and then, someone would stand to speak a few sentences – I don’t remember now what anyone said. But I felt God in the spaciousness, resting graciously among us. I was moved to tears.

There was a library in their fellowship hall, and I checked out books and read all that I could on this particular way of being Christian. What I found out was that Quakers started in the early 1700’s as a protest against some of the offenses they perceived in the in the Church of England. I didn’t know anything at the time about the Church of England, but I became absorbed in the stories of early Quaker martyrs – who were flogged and had their property taken from them, as well as a few who were tarred and feathered and killed in the American colonies. The cause of most of the problems stemmed from their stand against being forced to tithe to the established church – as well as their radical stance towards equality between people of all social ranks, in a day and age where hierarchy was strictly enforced.

But at the heart of early Quakerism was their worship life – which consisted of expectantly waiting upon God’s Holy Spirit. Of course, they measured their inward promptings of the Spirit against the standards of Scripture and the wisdom of the community. They trusted that God would tell them what to do and then would enable them to do it. Since I was naturally drawn to contemplation and like most young people, wanted to connect what I believed with what I did, I came often to worship with them.

After meeting for worship, this group went to stand in vigil at the docks. They stood in silent prayer for the well being of the world and for the end of the Vietnam War. They continued to do this every week until the end of the war. Their consistency and their faithfulness to listening and then doing what they felt God calling them to do won me over. I became a Quaker, and stayed so for many years. Today, some of my closest friends are still Quakers.

One of the things I found so enchanting, and continue to love about this group is their formal name: The Religious Society of Friends. "Quaker" was actually a nickname that was intended to be derisive - the early Quakers were known for their trembling when they stood to speak in their worship services, being "under the influence" of the Holy Spirit. Being good peacemakers they took this taunting with good humor and became known by this nickname. But their formal name - the Religious Society of Friends - was drawn directly from this morning’s gospel passage. “I do not call you servants any longer, because the servant does not know what the master is doing; but I have called you friends, because I have made known to you everything that I have heard from my Father.”

I have called you friends. Isn’t that the most lovely name you could be given? To have as your identity - Jesus’ friend.

Obviously, I am no longer a Quaker. As my friendship with Jesus matured, I longed to worship sacramentally – that is, not only in silence, but in art and language and music, with water and oil and fire and bread and wine. I wanted worship that engaged me not only as a soul but as a body. I love that the bread that will hold the real presence of Christ is grown from the earth, watered by the rain, harvested by human hands, and offered up in thanksgiving to the God who created us and who continually offers himself to us for our healing and our nurture.

I found that because sacramental worship involves the created world, it leads progressively towards friendship with the natural world and with the poor. As well as being the Sixth Sunday of Easter, it is also Rogation Sunday. Rogation is from the Latin word for asking – and what is traditionally asked for at this time of the year is protection of crops – the production of food. On this Sunday, some churches process around the neighborhood, asking for protection of all people, plants and animals within the boundaries. In a mission church I served, a bagpiper led the way as we prayed at each of the four directions for God’s blessing and protection. Today, on this Rogation Sunday, we are especially remembering not only newly planted gardens and crops, but our calling to be caretakers of the whole of the creation – and especially – in partnership with the Greater Richmond Interfaith Housing Project – we are asking for care and protection for those who are in need of shelter and affordable housing.

So friendship with Jesus leads us to ask on behalf of others. But our friendship with Jesus includes more than asking.

Jesus said, “You are my friends if you do what I command you.” With Jesus, friendship is a verb. It is about what we do. It’s about how we live in the world. It’s about the decisions we make. It’s about the seeds of compassion growing up and bearing real fruit in our lives and in the lives of others. This was what I began learning among the Religious Society of Friends, and what I continue to learn as we Episcopalians connect our sacramental worship with the hungers and thirsts of those outside our doors.

So – our friendship with Jesus is about asking on behalf of others – for all of creation and especially those who are vulnerable. It is about doing – connecting our words with our actions.

But first – First – it is about receiving.

Several years ago, a colleague of mine was the Director of the Catholic Charities Family Support Center, in Santa Rosa. This is the shelter for homeless families and children. There was a young woman with three young children who came in. Mary was homeless and looking to make a change in her life. She had grown up in a family of drug addicts and abuse. She spoke sincerely about how much she wanted help in getting out of that culture and making a different life for herself and her children. She talked like this, until her welfare check arrived. And then she was gone. No word from her. The staff was disappointed but moved on. Three months later, she came back, full of apologies and wanting very much to make amends and get real help in turning her life around. She sounded sincerely contrite and the staff took her back into the shelter and began again to invest time and energy and resources in supporting her. Until the welfare check arrived again. And she was gone. About six months later, my colleague was in a staff meeting, and he could sense that there was tension in the air. Finally, towards the end of the meeting, someone said … “mmm, there’s one more thing. Mary’s back.” “What!” My colleague nearly shouted. “Who let her back in? It isn’t fair to our other clients. It’s not even fair to her. We can’t just let people flagrantly take advantage of us.” There were four other staff members at the meeting, and they all said – “No, we’ve talked to her. We think she’s really ready this time. We think she can finally receive what we have to offer.” They couldn’t point to any evidence of this, but to a one, they held firm. “Mary’s ready,” they said. What could he do? Four against one. Mary stayed. And sure enough, she was ready. She stayed and worked, and slowly but surely turned her life around. My colleague humbly thanked his staff for loving her beyond the point of patience and reason.

Being a friend to Jesus means loving others. We know that, don’t we! We hear it Sunday after Sunday. But first, it means being like Mary. It means falling down and getting back up again. Falling down and getting back up again. Until you are finally able to really and truly let God in – Finally able let God- really - deeply - to the core of your being - love you.

The truth is, accepting love maybe even harder than loving. But it comes first.

To be a friend of Jesus, one has to first accept his friendship. His love. Jesus said, “As the Father has loved me, so I have loved you. Abide in my love.” This is what my friends the Quakers do in their silent worship – they seek to abide in love. To Rest in love. This is what we Episcopalians do as we break bread together and eat with Christ and one another. We love by first receiving love.

If you have not already, I urge you today to receive Christ as your dearest and sweetest friend.

Amen.

A New Call

Church of the Good Shepherd is oaks, rabbits, children, old fashioned swings, creekbed, pre-school, refugees from New York and San Francisco, locals from Salinas and the Monterey Peninsula, a community of people knowing Christ and making Christ known.... I'm their new Priest in Charge .... and I couldn't be happier. Here's a picture of the tire swing, swings, and creek. Come and visit!

Quite a Week

Easter 4B
Acts 4:5 - 12, Psalm 23, 1 John 3: 16 - 24, John 10: 11 - 18
Following the good Shepherd

This has been quite an eventful week – at least for me. Last Sunday, at 6 AM I was on a plane to Washington DC with three other clergy of this Diocese to attend a nation wide Mobilization to End Poverty. There were over 1000 Christians in the nation’s capital from Evangelicals and Pentecostals to Baptists, Lutherans, Episcopalians and Catholics.

I kept pinching myself to believe it was true – all these people who follow Jesus had come together to follow Jesus – to plead the case for the poorest of the poor – the little ones of God who have no voice, no lobbyists, no presence of their own in the halls of Congress. What we found were representatives of the highest offices of the land – from the President to Senators to Representatives who were receptive to what we had to say – and who were certainly impressed to see and hear from such a large representation of the body of Christ – speaking as one voice of our intention to create a movement to half the poverty rate in ten years, to fully fund foreign assistance, and to reform health care.

It is the considered opinion of Christian public policy makers that these three items are not only doable but that they are an imperative of our faith – to halve the poverty rate in 10 years, to fully fund the foreign assistance that provides things like AIDS medicines, malaria nets, clean water to the poorest of the world’s poor, and to reform the health care system that in it’s present form is at the root of so many bankruptcies and so much poverty.

Every time I am in Washington DC, I come away with a renewed sense of the utter and unique privilege we have as Americans who live in a democracy in which regular people like you and me can walk into Congress and have a voice. Granted, it’s a small voice when you don’t have a lot of money backing you up - but joined with a lot of voices, you can be heard – and speaking out loud makes a difference.

I am not the kind of Christian that wraps the Bible and the Flag together as though they were one – they are not. Following Jesus, the Good Shepherd, means that we do not follow other voices – the voices of empire and money – that we choose his voice first and foremost beyond the din of a thousand other siren voices calling out to us - but in a democracy –it does mean that we follow Jesus into the voting booth,(I came home and filled out my mail in ballot for the May 19th election!) It means that we follow Jesus into letter writing, into speaking out for children and elderly and widows and orphans and the little ones – the ones that Jesus very specifically invited into his arms. In our country, we can speak in the name of our Good Shepherd usually without going to jail - a privilege that many in the world don't have – and it seems to me to be a Christian duty to do so.

Thank you for allowing me to accept the invitation of this Diocese to go to Washington DC and speak up in Jesus’ name, with thousands of other Christians.

Back at home – it has been an eventful week. The parish profile went public last week, and applications for permanent rector are now being received. They will be received through May 26th. Then the Search Committee will prayerfully read and review all the applications, sorting and discerning. They will conduct phone interviews and narrow down to applicants that they will visit with and interview in person. After that, they will present between two to four names to the Vestry for their consideration. The Vestry will conduct their own interviews – and finally issue a call – an invitation to come to St. Alban’s as the Rector.

How can you trust this time consuming process? You can trust this process because at every step of the way, the entire community will be praying and trusting that the Good Shepherd is leading the flock. That the Good Shepherd has nothing but good planned and provided for his people. That the Good Shepherd is indeed Good and a Shepherd – and will not abandon nor neglect nor forget his people, but lead you all skillfully and attentively through desert and into green pastures and still waters. So that's your first job. Pray!

AND your second job is to remember that there is a connection between the guidance of the Good Shepherd and following his voice. And his voice will almost inevitably lead you into concern for his other sheep – his most fragile and vulnerable lambs. As you follow his voice and reach out in care and concern for others, that is when you are the most secure and the most protected and the most guided.

You have been reaching out in care and concern for many years through the partnership with GRIP, the Greater Richmond Interfaith Project. For many, many years, you have made sandwiches, boiled eggs, brought bananas, and love and care to the homeless and the hungry. The newly formed Outreach Committee has committed itself to helping you all deepen and extend this connection. On it’s part, GRIP is working to extend it’s relationship with churches and with the community. They are looking at not only feeding and housing people – but beginning to address some of the root causes as to why people are hungry and homeless. One of those reasons is because of the high cost of housing and the interest rates of loans that have forced many into foreclosure. GRIP is asking churches to devote Sunday, May 17th to praying for and educating ourselves about housing – shelter. We are joining with other churches – from Evangelical to Pentecostal to Lutheran, Episcopalian and Catholic – in this May 17th effort to educate ourselves and to advocate for policies that help keep people housed. This is one way that we follow Jesus, the Good Shepherd – not only in word but in deed.

By making these kinds of efforts to follow Jesus – not just as a fan of Jesus – but as a follower of Jesus – you can lean further and further into his arms and trust this process of calling a new permanent rector. The Good Shepherd will guide you and will protect you.

I too have been in the search process – and by now most of you should have received either an email or a phone call with my own news. If you haven’t I apologize that this may be the first time you are hearing the news that I have been called to lead a church named Church of the Good Shepherd! Good Shepherd is located about half way between Salinas and Monterey. It’s in a rural location of horse farms and winery estates – oak trees and jack rabbits and it is very beautiful. One of the many ministries of the church is a preschool that serves over 100 children. I will most likely be living in Monterey or Pacific Grove and will, of course, love to have visitors! So, consider yourselves invited and wanted. One other important detail – this is all happening very quickly – and so my last Sunday will be Pentecost on May 31st.

Transitions are both exciting and hard. There is a whole mix of feelings and emotions – regrets and anticipations. I find myself all smiles one minute and tears the next. The whole range of feelings happen at times of transition - I have all of those feelings – and I imagine you might as well. And that's ok - it's ok to feel contradictory feelings all at the same time!

But the key to our Christian walk, wherever it takes us, I truly and humbly believe, is contained in our scripture readings this morning. “I am….” Jesus said. “I am your Shepherd.” Utterly trustworthy. Utterly enchanting. Utterly protective. Utterly responsible. “Follow me – and I will lead you in green pastures, beside still waters, through the valleys, and seat you at table where goodness and mercy shall overflow all the days of your lives.”

Amen.

How long the Cross?

2nd Sunday of Lent, 2009
“Deny yourself. Take up your cross and follow me.”

I’ve got a question for you – how long did Jesus carry the cross? All his life?
I’ve been to the place where most likely Jesus was condemned, and most likely to the place Jesus was crucified. It’s maybe a mile – at the very most – two.

Another question - How long did Jesus hang on the cross?
About 3 hours – according to the Gospels.

One more question – how long have you carried your cross? How long have you hung on your cross?

It’s a trick question of course – and not really very fair –

For many of us – we describe chronic pain of one kind or another as the cross that we carry. It could be recurring physical illness. It could be a troubled relationship with a partner or maybe our son or daughter. It could be lack of success - not having enough money to give to God, to save, to pay bills, and then be able to go to a movie every once in awhile. It could be a persistent interior voice that is convinced we are less than….beautiful, or loveable, or wise. It could be judgment that we carry – maybe you haven’t kept those 10 commandments that we read earlier, and believe that you are not good human beings. Maybe none of these describe you and you wonder how anyone could even think these things and you’re glad that you’ve escaped troubles.

But maybe you have picked up the heavy cross beams and nailed yourself – and others – and the inevitable troubles of life to the cross bars - and hung there for how long? Maybe years. Maybe a life time.

Certainly, many of us have been trained to do this, to submit to difficulties, to soldier on – especially we women have been trained to do this – even now – after all these years of feminism.

But what I’ve learned over many years as a Christian woman – a follower of Jesus - is that when we define life’s difficulties as crosses to bear we significantly narrow down our ability to respond to tragedy in creative and life giving ways. My guess is that if you pay attention to what happens in your body – when you think of “bearing your cross” - your stomach gets tight, your heart rate increases, your breath shortens - and anxiety or depression are not far behind. What happens when you try to be good and shoulder your burdens is that a whole range of creative possibilities for healing and for reconciliation and for change are lost because they cannot even be imagined. There’s no physical room for imagination to blossom.

This is Not what Jesus had in mind. He hated the cross. He abhorred this instrument of torture and death for the thousands who were crucified along Roman roadways. For Jesus, the cross was not a good to be grasped as proof of saintliness or Godliness or goodness. The cross was splintery hard wood with rusty iron spikes – and it was designed to asphyxiate – to choke out breath. It was designed as a public teaching tool to keep people knuckled under and fearfully assenting to their own poverty and powerlessness. We might glorify the cross – but Jesus did not. He would have done anything to avoid it – think about him in the Garden – pleading to the point of sweating blood. He would have done anything to avoid the cross - except deny who he was and who God is and who creation is meant to be. Who you and I are meant to be. Not bent over nailed down struggling to make a buck beating our chest about our unworthiness men and women – but straight up beloved glorious energetic beings – stewards of creation – and fully, wholly dependent upon the Lord the giver of Life. We are meant to be friends of God. Jesus would have done anything to avoid the cross except not tell the truth. And not live wholly and fully and directly in the truth.

What truth? The truth that underlies the entire creation – Love that is not wrapped up in itself but pours outward through creation continuously. Love that is always available - that breathes in and through us and sustains us whether we are aware of it or not. Jesus was not about trying to act good. He wasn’t about mentally understanding certain principles. He was about Recognizing this Sustaining Love.

He was about healing and life. Everywhere he went people crowded around him hungry to touch him, to bring into their own bodies and spirits the magnificent power of healing and life and clear vision that flowed through him. They hung on his words. They didn’t understand them, for the most part – but they knew that he taught them so truly that they could trust him in a way that they had never ever trusted before.

So the cross that Jesus had in mind was not the cross of chronic suffering. He came to heal those things that ravage and destroy our lives. Professionals, prayer, community discernment – all of these are ways that the Spirit can pour healing into your life. And the truth is – sometimes suffering is not lifted – sometimes it continues – and the community of Christ is called upon to help spread the weight of it around. That’s why we have lay Eucharistic visitors and pastoral care teams and prayer chains.

The cross that Jesus talked about what was the very particular suffering that arises when you re-align your allegiance to a new way of life in which God is at the center – and not country, not family, not church, not liturgical styles, not organists or priests, not ego. This new life is not about abandoning your country, your family, your church, your ego – it’s about those things taking their proper place.

Follow me. Jesus said. It will cost you everything. It will liberate you completely.

What does that look like?

It looks like Ma Khin Khin Lee – whose picture is on the front of the bulletin and whose name might sound familiar to you, because we have written many letters through Amnesty International on her behalf. She was arrested, along with her three year old daughter, in 1999, for helping to plan a pro-democracy march in her native Myanmar. A young teacher, with a bright future – Ma Khin Khin Lee and her husband shouldered the cross – paying a heavy price as they worked for basic freedoms for their fellow countrymen. The wonderful news is that she, along with 23 other prisoners of conscience, were just freed this past February 24th – after 10 years in prison.

It looks like Jenni Williams and the other women of Zimbabwe, who put their lives on the line for social justice and fair and free elections. She leads a women’s movement for justice that has been nurtured in church sanctuaries – Catholic, Anglican, Baptist, Methodist, and Apostolic. These women confess to raw fear – Jenni has been jailed over 33 times and severely beaten – but she says that she calms her fear and the jack hammering of her heart by breathing deeply and remembering that she is following Jesus on behalf of her children and all the children of her county. And so, Jenni and the Christian women of Zimbabwe take up their crosses and follow Jesus, with their own bodies on the line.

It looks like Jonathon Daniels, one of the martyrs of the Episcopal church. A priest in training, Jonathan Daniels answered the call of The Reverend Dr. Martin Luther King and went to Alabama, along with other clergy and laity, to help with the fledgling civil rights movement. After being released from jail, he was with a group of other Christians who’d also been jailed. The day was hot and they bought a soft drink from a small town grocery store. An unpaid deputy met them on the porch and aimed his gun at a black teen age girl named Ruby Sales. Jonathan pushed her to the ground and took the full blast of the gun. His death shocked the Episcopal Church into putting civil rights onto the top of it’s agenda. Jonathan and the thousands upon thousands of unnamed people took up their cross and followed Jesus must be dancing in heaven to see this day when the President of the United States is African American.

Deny yourself. Pick up your cross and follow me. Most of the time this is not dramatic – as in the stories I’ve just told you. Most of the time it’s much more quiet. It’s prayer – “wasting time – not “doing” anything of substance – but spending time with God. It’s letter writing – as we’ve done with Amnesty International and Bread for the World, and as many of you do day in and day out, whether you see the results of your efforts or not. It’s going the extra mile for your student – or for some stranger who needs help. It’s releasing your grip on having things your own way – and asking above all else – for the desire to walk with Jesus, whether it’s to the mountain top or to the cross.

Come and See

Epiphany 2B
Come and See

To understand the homily today, you need to recall that I am from the desert – the low desert, the land of sand and dust devils and heat mirages, the land of crickets and cockroaches and sun that bleaches your clothes as you’re wearing them.

One summer, we went on a driving vacation. We drove across the desert with the windows wide open because there was no air conditioning. We drove across the state border and into Arizona. We drove past cactus and jack rabbits, and sand dunes and then through the cities of Yuma and Phoenix – and we drove and drove clear up into the White Mountains – and the air got cooler and it smelled different. And then, there were streams of water that went crashing down hill over rocks that were slippery wet with moss and there were trees – pine and quaking aspen – with leaves that were already turning golden yellow. And we stopped and got out and I could barely breathe it was so beautiful. I wanted to call all of my friends back home and tell them that they must come to the White mountains of Arizona and see the water and the trees and the color. “Come and see!” I fell in love when I was ten years old with quaking aspen - an almost mystical love that continues to this day. I can close my eyes and breathe in that clear cold mountain smell, and feel refreshed and energized

To understand the story, you need to understand that I am from the desert – the low desert, the land of sand and dust devils and heat mirages, the land of crickets and cockroaches and sun that bleaches your clothes as you’re wearing them.

A second parable - this past November, I was privileged to travel to an international conference held in Nazareth and Jerusalem. On that trip, our group traveled through the desert outside Jerusalem to Jericho, which is really only 17 miles! It’s amazing to think about, because it seemed like a much longer bus trip than seventeen miles. The desert we drove through was barren – really, no plants I could discern from the bus. There were washes where summer rains flooded down, and there were field workers and there were crops growing by the miracles of irrigation. When we arrived, I was not well, and so as the rest of the group traveled to Ramallah, I stayed in Jericho at a very nice hotel – that got almost no tourists. When I felt better, I went out for a walk, and ended up walking through the streets of a small farm village – that looked for all the world, like the small town I grew up in. The desert was the same. The irrigation methods were the same. Even the pink gold light of a desert sunset was the same …. I could hardly stand it. I needed to call my dad and tell him. “You’ve got to come and see!” I found out what it would cost to bring my entire family to this hotel in the outskirts of Jericho – for a family vacation! I wanted them to be there, in that place, on the other side of the world, in the place where Jesus had walked, in an environment that was so like the environment in which my family has lived.

Come and see! It’s really important, isn’t it? Remember making that phone call – “Mom, Dad, the baby’s born! You’ve got to come and see your new grandchild. This is the most beautiful baby ever! This baby will capture your heart.” All of us want the people who are important to us to come and see what’s important in our lives. “Come see our new house.” “Come and see my roses!” “Come and see our new Prius.” “Come and see the mural we painted in baby Ella’s bedroom.”

We also say, “come and see” when we have met someone who is incredibly unusual. I would like to share with you three examples of this.

Sometime last year, Louise invited me to come and see a family friend – a young woman named Anna Balzer “You must come and see her,” Louise said. Even when that meant being at Albany High School at 7:30 AM, to sit in those high school desks at the back of a social studies classroom. “Come and see.” So I did. I heard a young 26 year old Jewish woman who went to Israel when she graduated from the School of Journalism at Columbia – and that trip changed the course of her life. She now documents human rights abuses and works closely with the International Womens’ Peace Service. I was thoroughly unprepared for meeting this dynamic, articulate woman whose heart had been so captured by the people of the Holy Land. I was changed.. I wept because I heard stories I hadn’t heard before, and I saw pictures that I hadn’t seen before – and Anna said to the entire class – “don’t believe me – go and see.” And my heart was captured by Anna, and so I did. I traveled to Israel and to Palestine to see for myself what checkpoints and separation barriers and settlements mean for the people living there, and the people I met have captured my heart and changed the course of my life. Louise invited me to come and see Anna, and Anna invited me to come and see the people of the Holy Land. I am profoundly glad that I said yes to Louise and yes to Anna.

Another story. I was at Diocesan Convention, and a clergy friend of mine said that he had invited a Catholic doctor who did healing prayer to come to his church down on the peninsula, Church of the Transfiguration – and would I come to this prayer meeting and see this man, Dr. Issam Nemeh. Dr. Nemeh had done healing prayer for his wife, who suffered terribly from vertigo and had not found any remedies that worked – and now, she was well. So, I said yes. I will come and see. And I invited a friend to come and see with me. I don’t know much about Dr. Nemeh, I said. I only know that my friend invited me – and so will you come too? And so we did. We went and saw – and both of us experienced the healing power of prayer in a new and profound way – and our hearts were captured all over again by the overwhelming love and grace of Jesus. My friend and I are both profoundly glad that we said yes to this invitation to come and see.

Third story. This weekend, we celebrate the person and legacy of Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. Martin Luther King, Jr., and on Tuesday, a man who is a part of Dr. King’s legacy, Barack Obama, will be sworn in to the presidency. Dr. King was born into a family of preachers. He went to college and then a seminary in Pennsylvania where he was elected Senior Class president by a student body composed mostly of white men. Martin attended Boston University where he received his doctorate. The new Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. began his first parish in Montgomery, Alabama in 1954 and by 1957 he was in the thick of the civil rights movement. For the next eleven years, he traveled more than six million miles and gave 2,500 speeches for justice in any town, village or city that needed his spiritual and moral leadership. Dr. King was named Man of the Year by Time magazine in 1963 and was awarded the Nobel Peace Prize in 1964 when he was only thirty-five years old. He was the youngest person to ever receive the Peace prize. He was awarded $54,000 for the Peace Prize and he gave that hefty sum to the civil rights movement. 250,000 people converged on Washington, D.C. to hear his "I Have A Dream" speech. So many people said, "You have to come and see. You have to come and see and hear this man. You will be amazed. Your heart will be captured when you see and hear him."
I know that my heart has been captured by the Spirit of Jesus and his peace and justice living within the heart of Dr. King.

Just was we are swept off our feet by the magnificent beauty of the mountains, and the simple miracles of irrigation and water in the desert, so we are often swept off our feet by the good hearts and faith of people that we meet. People like Anna Baltzer and Dr. Issah Nemeh and Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.. The hearts of Anna Baltzer and Dr. Nemeh and Dr. King had been captured by the dream of God’s reign on earth. Our hearts are captured when we see the greatness of God living in such people.

It is with these images that we approach the gospel story for today.

Today’s story is one of five “come and see” stories. There is only one “come and see” story in the text for today so I am going to tell you all five “come and see” stories from the first chapter of the Gospel of John.

The story goes like this.

John the Baptist was out in the wilderness. Jesus came to be baptized by John the Baptist. As John baptized Jesus, the Spirit of God came down on Jesus in a special way. I’m not sure exactly what happened – but I do know that the heart of John the Baptist was captured by Jesus. And what did John the Baptist do? John the Baptist went and found his own disciples and said, “Come and see. Come and see.”

One of those disciples was named Andrew. Andrew spent the whole night talking with Jesus – and something happened. Andrew encountered this spiritual giant, this immeasurably wonderful person and Andrew's heart was captured that night by Jesus of Nazareth.

The next morning, at the crack of dawn according to the text, Andrew went and found his older brother. Andrew said to his older brother who was named Simon Peter, “Simon Peter, you’ve got to come and see. You’ve got to meet this Jesus.” So Simon Peter came and met Jesus. We know that Peter’s heart was captured and transformed.

Peter then went to Phillip and said, “Phillip, you’ve come to come and see.” Phillip did. Phillip’s heart was transformed. His heart was captured.

Phillip went and found his co-worker, Nathaniel. He said, “Nathaniel, you’ve got to come and meet this Jesus of Nazareth.”

Nathaniel came and saw and Jesus said to Nathaniel. “Nathaniel. I saw you sitting under your fig tree yesterday.” Nathaniel said, “How did you see that?” Jesus said, “I know your heart.” Nathaniel recognized him as the son of God.

In all of these stories, there were hearts that had been captured by Jesus Christ. Those people then went out to their friends and said, “Come and see.”

I would like to talk about your heart being captured, my heart being captured. Not captured not like a robber who gets caught and put in jail. But captured like a woman’s heart is captured by a man’s. Or captured like a grandfather’s heart is captured by a grandchild. Like my heart was captured by the beauty of the quaking aspen and the Jericho sunset and the greatness and goodness of Anna Balzer and Dr. Nemeh and Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.

Some of you know Lillian Coons from when she was able to come to church, which was before my time here – and George, Lillian’s husband, still comes to church. But Lillian now lives in a convalescent home – and when I first went with George to visit Lillian, I was near tears to see how he held her hand, how he whispered to her, how he told her he loved her – even though she may well have not heard anything he said. George was even kind of mushy with Lillian. That is real affection. It’ even kind of mushy! And when you see George and Lillian together, even now, you know that George’s heart has been captured by Lillian – and I suspect vice versa as well.

Like a man’s heart has been captured by a woman’s, like a grandmother’s heart has been captured by a grandchild, like a girl’s heart was captured by the beauty of the mountain trees, the hearts of these disciples had been captured by the beauty and magnificence of Jesus Christ. Their hearts had been captured by his life, his love, his kindness, his knowledge of God, his way of life and loving.

What I am suggesting to you this morning is that the very essence of evangelism is that people’s hearts have been captured by Jesus Christ and you go and say to your friends and family, “Come and see. You have got to come and see what difference this man has made in my life.”

This is one of the reasons that I have had people throughout the last two years offer their own stories about the difference that Jesus makes in their lives – the difference that belonging to the community of Jesus followers makes in their lives – the difference that God makes in their lives. Because these stories are a way of saying to each other and of practicing being able to say to someone else – come and see. You’ve got to come and see.”

This is at the heart of what draws us together. It’s behind the invitation to sit on Vestry, or to be part of a working small group, or to arrange the flowers behind the Altar. But we don’t often say that out loud. We don’t often say – "will you consider Vestry because I want you to come and see the power and goodness of Jesus at work in our lives?" Because it’s easy to get confused and to think that Vestry or one of the committees is about making sure that the church continues to function well. If that is all that it is – you are going to burn out and get discouraged when things don’t go well, or when there are major disappointments. But when the gospel – the good news of Jesus is placed squarely in the center of the circle – and everything we do is an invitation to come and see and taste the goodness of God at work - then there is a boundless spring of energy. That is why I have insisted on praying together and have attempted to insist on reading scripture together at each these meetings – because the true work is not fixing the windows or the sidewalk or making sure that there are Sunday School teachers. The true work is the invitation to every one of us to come and see Jesus – and to let your heart be captured by the same dream that captured his heart – the dream of the Kingdom of God.

You and I are hungry for that. People outside the church are hungry for that. For hope and goodness and healing and change from the inside out. We are hungry to have our hearts captured by the greatness and goodness of God, expressed in the life and love of Jesus. We are not particularly hungry for more work that is disconnected from the Spirit.

So, when and if you decide that you would like to check out the life of the church by taking part in one of the many opportunities for work and relationship that is offered on the insert – I will help you organize the life of those committees around meeting the Christ – in prayer and in scripture. Your work will flow easier. Your decisions will be guided. And your hearts will be captured and energized. Come and see!