"Here Am I"

[Our readings were 2 Samuel 7:1-11, 16; Canticle 15; Romans 16: 25-27; and Luke 1:26-38.]

Can you imagine how this all sounded to Mary?

She is a young woman of an obscure, but presumably respectable family. Her family has made a good marriage for her with a respectable carpenter which will put her in the tiny middle class of her country. She is probably expecting a quiet life, some children, a degree of security. While she plans to follow God’s will for her life, she assumes it’s the usual stuff—keep the Commandments, obey the Law, that sort of thing.

Then, here comes the angel Gabriel telling her that God has other plans for her life. These plans are unexpected, dangerous, painful, and scandalous. They can change everything.

A Presbyterian minister, Frederick Buechner, wrote in his book Peculiar Treasures that

“She struck the angel Gabriel as hardly old enough to have a child at all, let alone this child, but he’d been entrusted with a message to give her and he gave it. He told her what the child was to be named, and who he was to be, and something about the mystery that was to come upon her. ‘You mustn’t be afraid, Mary,’ he said. And as he said it, he only hoped she wouldn’t notice that beneath the great, golden wings, he himself was trembling with fear to think that the whole future of creation hung now on the answer of a girl.”

What would Mary say? Would she do it? Gabriel and all the angels knew that God acts by freely allowing people to answer “yes” when He asks.

God is like that. God allows us to make our own choices, good or bad. God respects our freedom. He lets us do the wrong things, make the wrong choices, always waiting for the answer to be “Yes!”

We know what Mary answered: “Here am I, the servant of the Lord. Let it be with me according to your word.”

During Advent, we hear about Advent’s gifts to us. Advent is a time for self-examination, a time for repentance, for turning away from things and people and ways of life and behavior that keep us from drawing close to the God who is always looking to meet us, whether we acknowledge Him or not. Today’s Advent gift is the gift of commitment, the gift of turning toward God and making the commitment to offer ourselves as the servants of God, saying, along with Mary, our own “yes”: “Here am I, the servant of the Lord.” These words will change everything.

Others have said “Yes” to God—Noah, Abram, Samuel, and Jesus himself, in the Garden of Gethsemane. That doesn’t mean that the road became smooth and straight for them, nor will it be so for us when we say, “Here I am.”

God calls us constantly, always seeking us, waiting to hear those words from us that Mary spoke and changed all of creation: “Here am I, the servant of the Lord.” When we say them, the effect on human history probably won’t be so profound as when Mary said them. But the effect on us will be.

Saying “Yes” frees us from asking, “What’s in it for me?” and “What do I get out of it?”

Saying “Yes” to God frees us from trying to be self-important and self-serving, and frees us for service, for purpose, for meaning in our lives.

Like Mary, we have plans for our families and for our lives. As Advent ends, we need to remember that God has plans for us. We need to remember that it has been those times in our lives when things did not go as we had planned, when we thought things had gone wrong, that God was the most present.

When we say “Here I am” to God, we give up the absolute authority of our own plans. We agree to listen, and to let God say “No”, even to our best plans for ourselves, even to our best plans for God. That’s what happened to David when he planned a house for God.

Planning for the future is very important. We are expected to use the freedom God gave us responsibly. That includes making plans and decisions and carrying them out. There was nothing wrong with David’s plans, or with Mary’s. Christmas reminds us that God’s plans quite often are different from ours.

When, like Mary, we are open to hearing what it is God asks of us, we will find ourselves free to perform acts of caring and love, both small and large. We will make ourselves available for what God has in store for us, for what God needs us to do, and for what God has created us to do. And God needs you and me and every one of us to do it.

Don’t think the angels aren’t all holding their breath to hear your answer when God approaches you with a task. Don’t think that all the heavenly hosts don’t sing, “Alleluia!” when you say, freely, “yes.”

You don’t need to find new words. These words of Mary will do just fine: “Here am I, the servant of the Lord. Let it be with me according to your word.”

Tidings of Comfort and Joy

[Our lessons were Isaiah 40:1-11, Psalm 85:1-2, 8-13, 2 Peter 3:8-15a, and Mark 1:1-8.]

Comfort, O comfort my people,
says your God.
Speak tenderly to Jerusalem,
and cry to her
that she has served her term,
that her penalty is paid,
that she has received from the LORD’s hand
double for all her sins.

With these words, the “second Isaiah” brings good news to the people of Israel of God’s comfort and God’s redemption from their exile of 150 years. There is an end to God’s judgment and wrath because the God who punishes is also like a shepherd who leads his flock down the highway through the desert which leads to Jerusalem and home.

Now the word “comfort” here has a very specific meaning. “Comfort” doesn’t mean to put at ease or make comfortable. “Comfort” here means to “make strong” or to fortify. Take Heart! Be encouraged! Be prepared for the better days to come.

A voice tells us to be ready, to “prepare the way of the Lord”, to “make straight in the desert a highway for our God.” To this abandoned community who supposed that God had left them, Second Isaiah announces the God is approaching on this highway they are preparing.

People may wither and fade, like the grass and the flowers, but the word of God stands forever. God will come with might and gentleness as a shepherd cares for his flock.

Our Epistle reading was probably written in Peter’s name sometime after his death, probably about the end of the first century, but perhaps as late as the middle of the second century. Like 2 Timothy, this letter was written by a follower of the apostle, using the apostle’s name to give the letter greater weight.

The letter deals with a theme of Advent: waiting. Why has Christ taken so long to return? It’s probably a good thing that the writer didn’t know we could ask the same question in the twenty-first century. Waiting is based on two concerns: expectation (“will it be worth the wait?”) and response (“What shall I do in the meantime?”).

First, we are reminded that God’s time is not our time, that “one day is like a thousand years, and a thousand years are like one day.” What is “soon” to God may not seem “soon” to us. (This sounds something like the way “Christmas is coming soon” doesn’t seem to mean the same thing to a parent and a child.)

God isn’t being slow about his promise for “slowness’ sake”. What looks like tardiness is really mercy. God is wanting everyone to have a chance to repent and be redeemed. God doesn’t want anyone to be damned. But, since we won’t know when that day will finally come—it will come without warning “like a thief”—don’t wait to repent, because you might not count time as God does and you might get it wrong!

Finally, we begin the Gospel of Mark by proclaiming “the good news of Jesus Christ, the Son of God.” But, we don’t talk about Jesus in this reading.

In our culture, people seem to have to take lead, to be seen as the person in charge. Our political and business leaders don’t say, “It wasn’t all about me. There was a messenger who came before me, and in fact prepared the way.” But that is how the story of Jesus begins.

Even as the Jews of the time of Second Isaiah were in foreign exile in Babylon, the Jews of the First Century were under foreign occupation by Rome. So Mark looks back to the words of Second Isaiah to “Prepare the way of the Lord, make his paths straight.” He also quotes from the prophet Malachi, who warned Israel of God’s judgment. If we look for God to deliver us from our enemies, we must first examine ourselves to see whether we are fit to stand before God.

Our lessons today thus tell us to be strong, because God will redeem his people. We should not lose heart because the day of redemption seems delayed, because God wants everyone to be redeemed. And we prepare for that redemption by joining with John in confessing our sins and looking to the mightier one who is to come. In the words of the Christmas carol, “tidings of comfort and joy”, indeed!

Waiting

[Our lessons were Isaiah 64:1-9, Psalm 80:1-7, 16-18, 1 Corinthians 1:3-9 and Mark 13:24-37.]

Advent is a season of waiting as we prepare to look back, recalling Jesus’ birth two thousand years ago and look forward to the time Jesus returns in glory. But we are not just concerned with the past and future; Advent also calls for us to be watching for Christ’s presence among us today.

As a culture, we don’t like waiting. We all have horror stories of waiting at airports or in line at the license tag office—a recent experience of mine! But we must recall that waiting is sometimes essential. The best food sometimes isn’t fast food; waiting is required. A couple waiting for the birth of their child—either in Palestine 2,000 years ago or in Georgia today—must wait about nine months for the baby to be born.

When we have to wait for something, we realize that we are not in control. Having to wait reminds us that we can’t make everything happen at our command. Waiting helps us watch for the needs of others rather than our own.

During Advent, we are called to be attentive and watchful for Jesus’ presence and for the chance to serve him. During Advent, our song is, “Maranatha, Come Lord Jesus.”

Outside, in the world, it is Christmas time already, in fact it has been for some time now. But the Church calls us instead to a season of preparation, taking stock, and being ready for the coming of the Christ child. Our focus isn’t on buying presents and parties and stuffing turkeys. Advent is God’s time, when we get ready for the return of the Light. It is time to listen to the Prophets reminding God’s people that they have strayed from God’s plan, and it is time for sincere and prayerful change. They are calling us back from the darkness of winter.

Let us make time in this Advent season for reading the prophecies and praying for the birth of the child again, making ready in our hearts and homes a place for that child who comes again in power and great glory. Look clearly into the darkness and the cold out there and pray and work for a decent and warm and orderly place for the baby to come into. Make ready in our hearts and minds a place for the Christ Child to come once again. The prophets are right: we must be ready, and time is short!

In the Gospel reading today, Jesus tells us of a man who leaves his home in the care of his servants, each with a task to perform. And there is a warning: don’t be asleep when the master returns. Be watchful, be ready, because you don’t know when the master will return.

We are called to be awake in this middle time, the time between his first coming as a child and his second coming in power and great glory. The reason Jesus told his disciples to be alert, to stay awake, was because he couldn’t tell them exactly when he was going to come again—that secret was known only by the Father alone. If he’d known, why tell them to stay awake and be on the watch? He could have said, “I’ll return on November 30, 2008. So just relax until then.” But Jesus tells us that he didn’t know when he was going to come again to judge the world, only that he was going to come again. Be alert, keep awake.

There is a story that John Wesley—who was a founder of the Church here in Georgia—was once asked, “What would you do if you knew the Lord was going to return tomorrow afternoon?” He said, “I would tonight sleep soundly, and rise at my accustomed hour to greet the day with prayer; then I should visit any of my congregation who are sick, and spend the rest of my time at my desk composing my sermon for next Sunday: for I would want the Lord to find me at the work he has given me to do, and not in idleness. He has given me many days to serve him; and I would serve him as well on the last as on the first.”

Jesus may come tomorrow. He may come next month; he may come a million years from now. When he will come isn’t for us to know. That he will come is the core of our faith. We can be prepared for his return by recognizing that he is still among us in every person we serve and honor in his name. Because we have faith, not only that he will come, but to do the work he gives us to do, we are called to be awake and at work in this long middle night of the world. We are to keep awake, be alert, do God’s will, because we do not know when the king will return in glory. May we be awake and doing his will when that day comes.

"The Least of These"

[Our lessons today were Ezekiel 34:11-16, 20-24, Psalm 100, Ephesians 1:15-23, and Matthew 25:31-46.]

We end the Pentecost season and the church year this weekend with the Feast of Christ the King. We remind ourselves that while we are citizens of an earthly country, Jesus, the King of kings and Lord of lords, is the one, as St. Paul says, under whose feet all things are put in subjection.

As was true the last two weeks, our Gospel reading looks toward the Second Coming. Immediately after Jesus tells the parable of the talents that we heard last week, he continues with a story of God’s judgment. But those who are rewarded are not the heroes and martyrs. The reward goes to people who did the ordinary things: they fed the hungry, gave the thirsty something to drink, welcomed the stranger, clothed the naked, cared for the sick and visited the prisoners.

And those whom God judges as guilty are those who failed to do those things. They gave no food to the hungry nor drink to the thirsty, they shunned the stranger, gave the naked nothing to wear, didn’t care for the sick or visit the prisoner.

Why are these things so important? It’s because when we choose to serve or reject people—all of whom are created in God’s image—we are choosing to serve or reject Jesus himself! As he warns us, “Just as you did it to one of the least of these who are members of my family, you did it to me.”

Usually when we think of Jesus, we have a particular mental picture. When we think of a king, we have our own thought of what a king should look like. The story is told that some years ago, an American soldier on a bus in Sweden told the man sitting next to him, “America is the most democratic country in the world. Ordinary citizens may go to the White House to see the President and discuss things with him.” The man said, “That's nothing. In Sweden, the King and the people travel on the same bus.” When the man got off the bus at the next stop, the American was told by other passengers that he had been sitting next to King Gustav Adolf VI. Sometimes, appearances are deceiving.

When we think of what our King should look like, do we get it all wrong? When we see (and pass on by) a hungry person who is homeless, do we say, “That isn’t the king; a king would wear a crown.” When we see someone cold and shivering from wearing inadequate clothing, do we say, “That isn’t the king; a king would have warm robes.” When we hear of someone who is sick and alone, do we say, “That isn’t the king; a king would have his court to serve him.” When we see a stranger, a person different from us, do we say, “That isn’t the king; a king would look like us.” When we hear of a prisoner, do we say, “That isn’t the king; a king would never be a criminal who is sent to prison.”

What does our King really look like? He look likes a man—hungry and thirsty; a woman—who has no home; a child—sick and abandoned. What can we do for him, for the “least of these”?

At St. Christopher’s, some of the things we do at the end of the year are for the “least of these.” When we, in our shoebox ministry, create Christmas presents for battered women and children who have been forced to flee their homes, we are doing that to Jesus. When, through Perry Volunteer Outreach, we collect cans of green beans for the hungry, we are feeding Jesus. When we support the Appleton Family Ministries as they provide an after-school program for at-risk children and a mentoring program for their parents, we are doing that to Jesus.

A few years ago, I read a book, The Least of These: Fair Taxes and the Moral Duty of Christians, by Susan Pace Hamill, a law professor at my alma mater, Alabama, who looked at the tax system in Alabama from the perspective of how it serve the “least of these.” Her conclusion was that a tax structure was unjust if either the burden for paying taxes oppressively falls on the poor or if it fails to raise adequate revenues to provide everyone in the community, especially the poor, minimum safety nets and a minimum opportunity to improve their lives.

Our responsibility toward the “least of these” isn’t satisfied only in our church. We are called upon to support these values in our public life as well. If we, through our church, make shoeboxes to bring light to the lives of a few women and children, but oppose policies which help protect women and children in our state and nation, are we doing enough? If we, through our church, provide green beans to feed the poor in Perry, but oppose policies designed to reduce extreme poverty worldwide, are we doing enough? If we, through our church, support at risk children in middle Georgia, but oppose policies designed to improve educational opportunities for all, are we doing enough?

God doesn’t call us to do more than He has equipped us to do. But He does require us to do as much as He has equipped us to do.

Using Our Talents

[Our lessons were Zephaniah 1:7, 12-18, Psalm 90, 1 Thessalonians 5:1-11, and Matthew 25:14-30.]

Even as we are coming to the end of the Church’s Year—the Feast of Christ the King next week is the last Sunday of the year—we are considering the End of All Things, just as we did last week.

In his letter to the church in Thessalonica, Paul answers the question the Christians have asked for nearly two thousand years: When will Jesus come again? As Jesus himself said, that day will come like a thief in the night. When everything seems peaceful and secure, then the judgment will come suddenly and woe to anyone who hasn’t prepared. Zephaniah warns us of a bitter day where the warrior cries aloud, a day of wrath, distress and anguish, ruin and devastation, darkness and gloom, clouds and thick darkness. The wicked shall be in such distress that they will walk like the blind.

While this is doom for the wicked and the apathetic—those who say the Lord will not do good, nor will he do harm—those who are prepared won’t be surprised and will not be in darkness. For them, the Day of Judgment will be a day of acquittal, not condemnation, a day of redemption and release, not a day of wrath.

Jesus has given us all that we need to be ready for him. Lamps (from last week) trimmed and filled with the oil of hope. As Paul says this week, we also have a breastplate of faith and love and a helmet of the hope of salvation.

The theme of this week’s parable is that the master has given each servant something and the good and trustworthy servant puts it to use and makes something out of it.

But the third servant has done nothing for his master. Out of fear, he has buried his talent in the ground and failed to put it to work. That fear is the opposite of hope, and those who live their lives in fear will find that their fears will be realized. But those who live their lives in hope will find their hope is rewarded.

We all have talents. We all have the ability to advance the coming of the Kingdom of God. Some have more, some have less, but all have enough. As Paul says, we are children of light who need not fear the darkness. We are called to use the talents God has given us, not just be content to hold them or to bury them. God wants us to act to do his work; that is why we have those talents.

As one of my favorite writers, Tobias Haller writes

our faith is not meant to lull us into the sleep of complacency; our hope is not meant to be treated like an insurance policy tucked away in a drawer; and our love—if we do not express it to our neighbors as to ourselves—if it bears no fruit, it will convict and condemn us on the last day. God gives us these things to put them to use: our faith, our hope, and above all, our love. He gives us these things on loan to be used for his purposes, not ours. God gives us talents and skills, all of us differently, but each of us valued in the sight of God for what we can do for him and for his kingdom, and for our brothers and sisters. The Lord has given us all of this, and he wants a return on his investment. … Let us not, like the lazy servant, be found only able to give back what he gave with nothing more to show. Let us rather use what God has given us—our faith, our hope, and our love—to increase his kingdom here on earth, that when he comes again in power and great glory, we may be with him forever in heaven.

Happy Birthday to Me!

On November 14, 1955, at the Base Hospital at Wright-Patterson Air Force Base, outside Dayton, Ohio, I made my entry into the world. Over the next 53 years, I moved from Ohio to Florida to Texas to Illinois to Alabama to Oklahoma to Alabama (again!) to Texas (again!) and finally to Georgia. (Whew!) I grew up (for the most part), married, raised two children (who have turned out pretty well so far) and worked as a government attorney.

All in all, my 53rd year has been a tough one.

In February, my father died, just three days short of his 87th birthday. Although he had been quite ill and in and out of the hospital for about two years, his death was sudden and unexpected and a shock. In fact, when I got there, on the desk was the birthday card I had mailed to him the day before he died. It was a painful trip to Springfield, Illinois, for his funeral and occasionally I can still hear him chuckle if I mutter something to myself about the mild escapades my children get into ("I knew your turn would come.")

I am very glad that I had decided to go to Springfield for a few days in July, 2007. I hadn't been there for many years and it was strange seeing the neighborhood with mature trees--it was a new subdivision when we moved there in 1970. My sister had warned me that Dad had lost a lot of weight and I was shocked at his appearance. He was frail but his mind was clear, which it remained until the end. I remember thinking that the next trip would likely be for his funeral, but I expected that would be a few years away, not seven months.

From a few months' perspective, I don't think my thoughts and feelings have changed too much. I recognized then and still do, that his death was a release from two years of illness that had drained his strength, ended his ability to do a job he enjoyed, prevented him from traveling with my stepmother, and virtually confined him to his house. That's not to say he wanted to die; I don't think he did. But it helped me realize that sometimes healing from illness isn't curing, it can be release. I miss Dad and I always will, but I am comforted by the knowledge that we had no unresolved issues between us and the faith that this wasn't truly the end.

Two months later, in April, I had my own health crisis when I suffered a mild heart attack and, through angioplasty, had two stents inserted in my right coronary artery. I was touched by the kindness of co-workers and members of my church. I was grateful for modern medicine and health insurance. I didn't have a real chance to worry about death while this was going on, because it didn't realize what exactly was happening to me and by the time I knew I had suffered a heart attack, it was over and I was out of danger. (But, a few months, later, the sudden death of Tim Russert from a heart attack reminded me the borderline between my result and his was not so large. If you believe in the science fiction concept of alternate universes, perhaps somewhere I didn't survive and my wife became a widow at 52. A sobering thought.)

But I got a second chance. I changed my diet, took (and still take) lots of meds and have dropped about 35 pounds. There are a few foods I miss, but there are some I've picked up--broccoli isn't that bad! I guess in some ways, it was a positive experience.

Other things have happened: we've elected a new President, the rector of my church retired, the Crimson Tide are undefeated and #1 as of now. The economy has gone south (as far as Antarctica, I think!). But I'm still here. My beloved wife is still here, too. We added a puppy, not long after I got out of the hospital.

All in all, not a bad year, I guess.

Veterans' Day

"A Veterans Day Reflection”by the Rev. Dr. George Clifford, U.S. Navy Chaplain, Captain (Retired)

Veterans Day is quickly becoming simply another public holiday, an opportunity for people to sleep late, stay home from school, or get a head start on Christmas shopping. Today, many see joining the military as a way out of rural communities or urban poverty; military recruiters emphasize educational opportunities and career bonuses. These perceptions, per se, are not bad. However, when the draft ended in 1973 and the U.S. military became an all volunteer force, any remaining sense of military service as an obligation that citizens owed to their nation disappeared. Similarly, aspiring politicians no longer consider military service an essential, if unofficial, prerequisite to elective office. Many U.S. citizens do not know anyone in the military and have little awareness of what military life is like.

In the last four decades, the U.S. has increasingly frequently turned to the military as the instrument of choice for implementing foreign policy. The U.S. conducted military operations in Grenada, Panama, Haiti, Somalia, Ethiopia, Bosnia, Iraq, Afghanistan, and numerous, less well know places. Regardless of whether one regards an operation as morally right, each operation took a toll on our military personnel. They repeatedly went into harm’s way, sometimes were killed or wounded, sometimes sacrificing important time and relationships at home, and always answering duty’s call to serve their country.

In other words, while reliance on the military to execute foreign policy has increased the American public feels less connected and less of a debt to its men and women in uniform. Veterans Day is an opportunity to change that. We need to remember that the military only implements policies formulated and adopted by our nation’s elected officials. Because we live in a democracy in which government is of and by the people, if we do not like our nation’s policies, then we have only ourselves to blame. Blaming military personnel for policies one believes immoral or failed, as happened during the Vietnam War, is wrong. Active political participation, seeking to influence public policy to match more closely our Christian convictions, is the most important way in which citizens can support their troops. Other significant ways to support our troops include regularly praying for their safety, communicating our support to them through correspondence, caring for families and loved ones during separations, and helping returned warriors transition back to civilian life.

The time has come to make Veterans Day more than parades, wreath laying, flags in cemeteries, and patriotic slogans. This Veterans Day, support our troops.

Be Ready!

[Our lessons today were Amos 5:18-24, Wisdom 6:17-20, 1 Thessalonians 4:13-18 and Matthew 25:1-13.]

As we approach the end of our church year and the season of Advent, our readings take on a new emphasis. We are beginning to focus on the parousia, the time when God’s purpose will be fulfilled.

Our reading this time from Matthew is about a wedding in which five bridesmaids are ready and five are not. Since the unready bridesmaids are away when the delayed bridegroom arrives, the party starts without them.

I’ve noticed that, usually, when we talk about this party, we seem to make it something to be feared. We have had a series of books (and movies and games) of the Left Behind genre. They have a fairly brutal Jesus (one writer calls this version the “Christ-inator” after the robot Terminator) who seems to glory in bloody battles and lack any trace of human compassion.

That isn’t the Jesus of the Gospels. The Jesus we know is compassionate, a teacher and a healer. Why should we think it will be any different when he returns?

And, by the way, when will that be? Over the nearly two thousand years of the Christian church, one of the greatest wastes of time and energy has been the trying to decode Biblical clues and fix the date. People then go into caves and onto mountain tops and wait… and then sheepishly come out and come down and go back to their calculations to try again. People try to line up events in the Middle East against words in Revelation which were actually meant to refer to events of that time. They all forget Jesus’ words from Matthew, just a little ahead of today’s reading: “But about that day and hour no one knows, neither the angels in heaven, nor the Son, but only the Father.” If Jesus doesn’t know, how presumptuous is it for us to try to figure it out?

Also, in our reading from the letter to the church in Thessalonica are some words that have led some people to imagine that a Rapture will occur with people disappearing.

For the Lord himself, with a cry of command, with the archangel’s call and with the sound of God’s trumpet, will descend from heaven, and the dead in Christ will rise first. Then we who are alive, who are left, will be caught up in the clouds together with them to meet the Lord in the air; and so we will be with the Lord forever.

I suggest that what this describes is the “reception committee” when Jesus arrives for the equivalent of the Roman triumph. Jesus’ believers will meet him and escort him in triumph, not leave earth behind.

How do we make ourselves ready as the five bridesmaids clearly failed to do? Our reading from the prophet Amos gives us a clue: “Let justice roll down like waters, and righteousness like an everflowing stream.” Amos saw wealthy merchants trampling over the poor and defenseless. He saw public leaders living in luxury, unconcerned over the plight of their people. Their religious ceremonies were meaningless, trying to appease God rather than please Him. In their new-found prosperity they had forgotten their past. But, Amos reminded them, called to be God’s chosen people, they were also called to greater responsibility, not special privilege. Amos’ main purpose was to call these people back to God, to urge their repentance and restoration as a people of God, so that on the day when Israel was to be crowned with glory and honor, it would truly be a day of light and not a day of darkness and gloom, as Amos predicted would happen if they persisted in their current ways. God was not interested in their empty rituals and offerings; the only offering he sought was the offering of themselves. Then, truly, justice and righteousness would rain down upon them. With a real sense of urgency, he called his people to change because tomorrow might be too late.

Even as Amos was trying to warn the people of Israel to do what was needed to return them to the Lord’s favor, we can prepare for the parousia by working to bring God’s kingdom into being. How do we do that? We can see one way when we consider the Millennium Development Goals:

• Eradicate extreme poverty and hunger
• Achieve universal primary education
• Promote gender equality and empower women
• Reduce child mortality
• Improve maternal health
• Combat HIV/AIDS, malaria, and other diseases
• Care for God’s Creation
• Bring people together around the world to do justice

When we do these things we are getting ready and making sure that our lamps have oil for when the bridegroom comes.

[The picture with the words that Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., took from Amos is the Civil Rights Memorial at the Southern Poverty Law Center in Montgomery, Alabama.]

Election Aftermath

I voted for Senator McCain (and not against Senator Obama), but it was impossible not to be deeply moved by the transcendent joy felt by so many African-Americans at an election they understandably thought would never come.

My hope is that the Republican party can transform itself into a responsible opposition party which doesn't seem to hate large parts of the electorate--never a strategy for success.

My daughter was excited to vote for Obama and was understandably upset when people who knew her choice said cruel things to her, like she had stabbed the military in the back. (I told her that her father, a retired officer, didn't think that way. Besides, I bet most of the people who said that never were in the military themselves.) For my part, I've told her I know she voted different from me, but I raised her to think for herself.

I don't understand that way of thinking. I think we were fortunate at this time to have two decent, intelligent men from which to choose. I chose John McCain because I thought he would be better, but I don't fear Barack Obama. I know I won't agree with everything he says and does, but he was able to persuade a majority of the voters to give him the chance and he won fair and square. Good luck to him and to us all.

She and her husband are going to DC on Jan 20th. I have told her to dress warmly.

Remembrance: All Saints' Day

On this day, we gather to remember all those who have gone before us, all those who in some way contributed to the life we live and the world we live in. All those who know, better than we can ever know, the meaning of St. Paul’s words: “If we live we live to the Lord, and if we die we die to the Lord; so then, whether we live or whether we die, we are the Lord’s.”

We pray for the saints or martyrs because they lived as lives already in God’s eternal presence. “Martyr” means witness. Their lives are a witness to us of the nature of eternity itself, and how knowing the nature and shape of eternity can shape the way we live our lives as a witness to the power of Christ in our lives here and now! So it is that Jesus offers a glimpse of what eternal life is like in the Beatitudes. Notice the present tense, for the poor—the kingdom IS theirs. It is theirs now—not later. Christianity is not a religion about the “ever after.”

We also remember today those who are not known in the wider fellowship of the faithful, but are remembered in the more intimate circles of family and friends. These parents, siblings, spouses, children, friends are the ones we remember today.

Our Gospel today is the Beatitudes, which proclaim the great reversal destined for all who hunger while others rejoice. These passages are troubling reminders that we live in an unjust world where those who cry out for justice are often mocked and dismissed as unrealistic or trouble makers. Sainthood is not just for “nice” people, it is for those who have labored for justice and peace for all people, often with ridicule being their only earthly reward. The saints seek to serve their God who demands justice and righteousness between all people of the world.

Saints are courageous because they insist on not letting hatred and evil gain control of them. Saints are faithful because they know without trust in God they are weak and subject to whatever befalls them. Today the Church exists because they persevered, and the Church invites each of us to join their joyful company.

Today is a day to recall people who have gone before us, patriarchs, prophets, and pilgrims, who were disciples in their own times. Some we know by name, others remain known only to God. Even so, as the author of Ecclesiasticus reminds us, “Their posterity will continue forever, and their glory will not be blotted out”.

Saints are people who know something profound about love, that suffering is connected with it. They learn the path of sainthood is not one of accolades but accusations. They demand change because they want people to know more about God than others can stand to have revealed. They challenge governments and leaders who exploit others. They work to bring justice to those who are ground down by injustice. And in their dedicated work, they are jailed, beaten, maligned, and sometimes murdered.

On this day we celebrate them all, knowing that God adds to their number all the time.

This is why we pray for the dead—all the dead. They all know the truth of eternity. They knew it in this life and lived accordingly. They are those people who lived and cried for eternity before the grave. They did this for themselves and, most importantly, on behalf of others.

And as we pray for the dead, may we remember that they are living still. And that our prayers for the dead are, at the end of the day, prayers for ourselves as well. Prayers that we will remember who we are and whose we are and live our lives accordingly.

So today, as we join in the celebration of the saints, give thanks to God who calls them throughout the world. Rejoice in naming them and honoring those whom we know not by name. Most of all, pray that God may instill in each of us a measure of their glory and goodness and ask that, God helping, we might be one too.

Priests are frequently asked the question, “Why do we pray for the dead? They’re dead, so why do they need our prayers?”

Of course the most direct and simple answer to that question is that they are not dead. We are the people who believe in the truth of the resurrection and that life is changed not ended. Those who go on before us are even now living a life in the total presence of the God who sends us here and one day will call us home to gather us with all our ancestors who have gone before us. So we continue to pray for those for whom life has not ended, but has been changed. They are living still and we pray for their ongoing witness in a life lived in God’s eternal presence.

We also pray for them because praying for the dead is another way of praying for ourselves. Today we pray for the dead so that we can remember what it means to be baptized: to live our lives in God’s eternal presence, and like Jesus who calls us to walk in God’s eternal presence, we are to bring this eternal life to others.

Today, as we remember those who have gone on before us to meet with Jesus, may we also remember who it is God calls us to be: unique witnesses for the Lord in this place. For whether we live or whether we die, we are the Lord’s. The One from whom we come and the One to whom we shall return. Amen.

To Love Your Neighbor as Yourself

[Our lessons were Leviticus 19:1-2,15-18, Psalm 1, 1 Thessalonians 2:1-8, and Matthew 22:34-46.]

In the Gospel today, we hear Jesus say what we often call the Great Commandment. In Mark’s version, which scholars now believe was written first, the question is posed by a scribe who seems to really want to know the answer. Here in Matthew’s version, the question by the Pharisees is intended to test Jesus and is asked by a lawyer—imagine that! [Remember, as a lawyer, I get to make remarks about lawyers.]

This is an important question: What matters most to God? This apparently was not an unusual question in Judaism of that time. The Talmud reports that a Gentile asked two of the best-known teachers to teach him the whole of Torah—the first five books of the Hebrew Scriptures—while standing on one foot. One of the teachers, Hillel told him, “What is hateful to you, do not do to your neighbor. That is the whole Torah, while the rest is commentary thereon; go and learn it.”

In answering, Jesus quotes two passages from the Torah. From Deuteronomy, he cites the classic Jewish affirmation of faith and loyalty to God: “Hear, O Israel: The Lord our God is the only Lord. Love the Lord your God with all your heart, with all your soul, with all your mind, and with all your strength.” He then quotes from Leviticus: “You shall love your neighbor as yourself” and adds “There is no other commandment greater than these.”

Jesus basically says that we must treat everyone around us as if they were members of our own family, deserving of equal honor and special care.

In our culture, we normally think of “love” as a description of how we feel. But in the culture of Israel two thousand years ago, “love” wasn’t just a vague warm, mushy, feeling towards someone. “Love” meant attachment to a person backed up with action.

As James wrote in his letter, using “faith” and “love” synonymously:

What good is it, my brothers and sisters, if you say you have faith but do not have works? Can faith save you? If a brother or sister is naked and lacks daily food, and one of you says to them, ‘Go in peace; keep warm and eat your fill’, and yet you do not supply their bodily needs, what is the good of that? So faith by itself, if it has no works, is dead. But someone will say, ‘You have faith and I have works.’ Show me your faith without works, and I by my works will show you my faith.

Faith and love both are matters of relationship backed up with consistent action, of acting compassionately, not just feeling that way.

These two commandments call on us to use all of our abilities, all of our selves, to help our neighbors. And remember from the parable of the Good Samaritan that everyone, even—perhaps especially—our enemies, is our neighbor.

And, as Paul’s letter to the church in Rome tells us, “‘if your enemies are hungry, feed them; if they are thirsty, give them something to drink; for by doing this you will heap burning coals on their heads.’ Do not be overcome by evil, but overcome evil with good.” There is no better way to overcome the agenda of those who hate us. And in serving our neighbors around the world as we would ourselves, we will act that love, not just feel it.

Some words from my day job...

In real life (or sort of real life), I'm a civilian attorney for the Air Force who advises people on ethics rules and fiscal law. Part of the ethics rules are the standards, found mainly in the Hatch Act, dealing with government employees and political activities. Last week, a reporter for the Macon Telegraph, the main local newspaper, interviewed me and this story ran last Saturday:

Robins workers walk fine line during elections
By Gene Rector - grector@macon.com

ROBINS AIR FORCE BASE -- As you cruise down the main thoroughfares, back roads and housing areas of Robins Air Force Base, you will see nothing that reminds you of the hotly contested political races on the outside.

No Barack Obama or John McCain posters. No signs pushing Saxby Chambliss or Jim Martin [U.S. Senate candidates]. No reminders for Jim Marshall or Rick Goddard {U.S. House candidates]. No workers wearing politically oriented T-shirts or hats or campaign buttons. No one standing on a street corner waving a placard and encouraging you to vote for their candidate.

That's the way Robins and Defense Department officials want it. It's also what the law demands.

Military members fall under Defense Department directives. Civilian employees must comply with the Hatch Act. Both require federal workers-military and civilian-to walk a very narrow course as the elections unfold.

The rules are most restrictive for the military. "We want the military to be above politics," said Paul Davison, a lawyer in the base legal office at Robins. "However, for the most part, the civilian employee restrictions apply only when they're doing their jobs."

In general, military and civilian workers may do nothing that supports or opposes a political candidate while on duty, while wearing a government uniform or operating a government vehicle.

Supervisors are additionally restricted from using their position to influence an election. Neither may federal workers solicit or receive political contributions either on or off duty or run for office in partisan elections.

Desks, offices or work cubicles must be free of political references. E-mails supporting or opposing candidates may not be sent while on duty or at any time using government systems.

Although the rules are exacting, they also are protective, Davison said. "No administration-Democrat or Republican-can push us to contribute or work on campaigns," he said. "One of the reasons the Hatch Act was passed years ago was to prevent things like that. There is also the effect of letting the taxpayer know that political activity is not what we're spending our time doing."

Military and civilian workers may express their private opinions about candidates and issues, attach bumper stickers to their vehicles and post signs at their off-base homes. They may also contribute money to political candidates and attend fundraising events when not in uniform.

Civilians may attend political rallies and meetings. Military members also may attend, but only as an observer and in civilian clothing. All may join a political party or club but the military cannot serve in any official capacity.

Only civilian employees may campaign for or against candidates in partisan elections-but not on base, not on duty and without identifying themselves as government employees.

Both military and civilian workers may sign nominating petitions and campaign for or against referendum questions and constitutional amendments.

Civilian employees and military enlisted members may run in nonpartisan elections.

"They can run," Davison noted, "but they cannot campaign while they're on the job."

The prohibition against military officers is a historic one. "A military officer is considered to already hold an office of the United States," he said. "There is an old statute that says a person holding an office under the U.S. cannot hold a second government office."

There is one political activity the Defense Department encourages, the Robins attorney emphasized. "We certainly want everyone to vote," he said. "For a long time, military officers felt it was somewhat inappropriate to vote, but we try to discourage people from thinking that way. It's very important for people to vote."

Give to God the Things That Are God’s

[Our readings this week are Isaiah 45:1-7, Psalm 96:1-9, (10-13), 1 Thessalonians 1:1-10, and Matthew 22:15-22.]

Our Gospel reading today continues Matthew’s description of Jesus’ activities during Holy Week. Today, we hear one of the most misunderstood statements Jesus made.

This is on Tuesday of Holy Week. Remember that Jesus has already disrupted the money changers in the Temple. Now the Pharisees and the Herodians approach him together in the Temple. The Pharisees are devout Jews, scrupulous in their observance of the Law. The Herodians, as their name indicates, supported the family of Herod, the puppet king appointed by Rome. It appears they were seen by most people, including the Pharisees, as Roman collaborators. That they appear to be working together is ominous.

Jesus was probably already on his guard as they approached, but, if he hadn’t been, their attempt to butter him up—“we know that you are sincere, and teach the way of God in accordance with truth, and show deference to no one; for you do not regard people with partiality”—would certainly have made him suspicious. In modern day language, this is when you check to make sure your wallet is still there.

Of course, this is a trap. When the Pharisees ask him, “Is it lawful”—does it comply with Torah—“to pay taxes to the emperor?” they think they have caught Jesus no matter how he answers. If, in front of the crowd, he says that it is lawful, then he will be seen as siding with the collaborators. If, on the other hand, he says that Jews shouldn’t pay taxes, then he can be arrested for treason and sedition.

Jesus’ response is simple but brilliant. He never answers the question (a frequent habit of Jesus). He asks them to show the coin used for the tax. They produce a denarius, a coin worth about a day’s wages for a laborer which had the image of the emperor, probably Tiberius, and a Latin inscription which translates “Tiberius Caesar, Son of the Divine Augustus.” To a good Jew, this description of the emperor as divine was scandalous.

And here we have the people who are trying to trap Jesus, themselves carrying a coin with this “graven image” into the Temple! You can be sure that the crowd would have noticed that.

It is here that Jesus says the famous words: “Give to the emperor the things that are the emperor’s and give to God, the things that are God’s.”

It is important to understand that Jesus was not trying to set up a separation of church and state, but avoiding a trap. Unfortunately, this is how this sentence has often been interpreted—that there is this compartment for the church over here and a compartment for the government over there and particularly, that the church should stay in its own box. Clearly, Jesus must be telling bishops and preachers to mind their own business.

This idea has been used to support some pretty awful concepts of loyalty to the state, including the loyalty of many German Christians to Hitler, although of course there were exceptions whose light will shine forever. Whenever someone tries to justify that obedience to the state overrides our obedience to God, you can be sure that this interpretation is at the bottom of it.

Instead of focusing on what is the emperor’s, let’s focus on what belongs to God. To an observant Jew like Jesus, the answer is simple—Everything!

As we hear in Isaiah today: “I am the LORD, and there is no other. I form light and create darkness, I make weal and create woe: I the LORD do all these things.”

Everything comes from God and God has a claim on all of life and we are made in His image. Remember that when Jesus asked whose image was on the coin? The emperor’s image is only on a coin; God’s image is on every human life.

Even though the state—even a relatively gentle state as ours—seems to have a claim on much of our life, nothing belongs to the state. Everything belongs to God.

We are citizens of a kingdom, the Kingdom of Heaven, even while we are citizens of an earthly country. When the obligations of our two citizenships conflict, which do we honor first?

Jesus calls us to our true, ultimate and permanent citizenship. Our true citizenship will be at the heavenly banquet. As one writer has noted, the seating arrangements should be interesting. It is quite possible that a French Huguenot murdered in the St. Bartholomew’s Day Massacre will be seated next to a Roman Catholic who may have been the murderer. It is quite possible that a Roman Catholic who was executed in England may be seated across the table from one of our Anglican forebears responsible for the execution. Most of the soldiers who slaughtered each other in our Civil War were Christians. Most of the Russians, Germans, Austrian, Serbs, Italians, French, English, and North Americans who slaughtered each other in World Wars I and II were Christian and undoubtedly will be gathered at the heavenly banquet. We are all citizens of that kingdom.

And if we really take seriously the claim that God is rightful Lord of the earth and all that is in it, over what is the emperor lord? Nothing.

When we say “Jesus is Lord”, we make a radical, liberating claim that nobody and nothing else gets to make. So when it comes to all worldly powers who would be Lord, whether it’s the flag of a nation, a cause, respectability and achievement, or a person who wants to take God’s place as Lord of our lives, understand that they have no rightful claim at all.

Dressing for the Wedding

[Our Lessons today were Isaiah 25:1-9, Psalm 23, Philippians 4:1-9 and Matthew 22:1-14.]

We continue today with the series of parables in Matthew’s Gospel where Jesus is responding to the questions of the Chief Priests and Pharisees at the beginning of Holy Week. We heard first of the parable of the two sons where Jesus identified the Jewish authorities as those who spoke the right words but did not really do what God wants. Then came the parable of the vineyard where Jesus said the kingdom of God would be taken from the religious authorities who oppressed the people and given to a people who produce the fruits of the kingdom. Today’s parable throws us a curve.

For his parables, Jesus used common images which would be instantly familiar to his audiences. Now he specifically identifies the kingdom of Heaven as being as a wedding feast. Wedding feasts were big deals in that culture. Here the king—clearly God the Father—is holding a wedding feast for his son—just as clearly Jesus. Just as in last week’s vineyard parable, the king’s messengers—the prophets—are mistreated by those invited guests. Many of the invited guests don’t bother to show up, even though the feast has “the rich food filled with marrow” and “well-aged wines strained clear” in the words from Isaiah describing the heavenly banquet. So the king tells his servants to invite “everyone you find” to the feast—not just those originally invited. This sounds like the Gentiles.

Now comes the curve: the king finds a guest not wearing a wedding robe! He asks the guest how he got in without a wedding robe and receives no reply. (Our translation says that the guest was “speechless” but some translators believe the better sense of the Greek text is that the guest chose not to reply.) In an act that seems totally bizarre to us, the king tells his servants to bind the guest hand and foot and to “throw him into the outer darkness, where there will be weeping and gnashing of teeth.” When you hear about “weeping and gnashing” in the Scriptures, you can be pretty sure you are seeing a reference to God’s judgment.

And this is a story of God’s judgment and Jesus will return to that theme later in Holy Week when he speaks of God’s judgment as the separating of the sheep and the goats. We'll here this reading next month at the feast of Christ the King. Those who took care of the least will be placed on one side and those who didn’t feed the hungry, give drink to the thirsty, clothe the naked, and so forth, will go on the other. Judgment will fall on them.

In our story today of the wedding feast, no one has to earn an invitation. God invites everyone—the Jew and the Gentile, the good and the bad, the rich and the poor.

As for the unfortunate guest without a wedding robe, guests did not provide their own robes; they received them on entering the hall. If a guest is willing to put on the wedding robe—perhaps the white robe the newly baptized put on to symbolize their being washed clean—they can enter. They have faced God’s judgment.

And it is God’s judgment, not ours. We should not enjoy the idea that anyone will not be chosen and we absolutely must never hope that someone—anyone—won’t be chosen. I commentator I read says that we should hope that no one is in hell and leave to God the decision as to whether anyone is. I think one of the most important concepts that we often forget is that we will be judged by God by the measure which we use to judge others. Our problem is that, like Jonah last week, we don’t trust God’s judgment to be as rigorous as our own.

We mustn’t be smug or self-righteous at the wedding feast because we haven’t earned a place there. No one has. We should be humble in that knowledge, but we in this country sometimes feel we are better than those who are less well off.

Right now, the entire world is going through difficult economic times. Businesses are failing, jobs are being lost. I read that $2 trillion—two thousand billion—in retirement savings have evaporated. I read about obscene—there is no other word for it—displays of wealth and arrogance by leaders of financial institutions. In many cases, peoples’ lives have been drastically altered. People are afraid.

I don’t have gentle platitudes to offer. I can’t say that if you come to church, you won’t have problems or that if you don’t you will. That might help attendance, but it wouldn’t be true. I can offer this promise: God wants to help you get through. If you let Him, you will find that you are given strength necessary to endure these times and come through them.

The Archbishop of Canterbury said recently that “the causes of poverty are many. Setting aside the lazy but persistent mythology that blames all poor people for their poverty, the majority of people … who experience deprivation and disadvantage are caught in events beyond their control—and this is manifestly true of children.”

We are all linked to each other and we are all affected by the pain these times bring to our fellow children of God around the world.

Father, we pray for your Church, that we may be a compassionate community, ready to stand alongside those who suffer the burden of debt. We pray for those who work in government, finance and the law, that they may work towards practical solutions for the problems caused by debt. We pray for those individuals who, because of their debts, feel they have nowhere to turn: that they may know your presence, guidance and peace. We pray for those countries affected by the enormous burden of international debt: for a just and lasting solution to the problems they face. We pray for ourselves, that through our choices, actions and words we may daily live out our faith, and bear witness to you, the source of all good things, through your Son Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.

The Vineyard

[Our lessons were Isaiah 5:1-7, Psalm 80:7-14, Philippians 3:4b-14, and Matthew 21:33-46.]

We hear first today this beautiful story of God’s vineyard from Isaiah. The vision of a terraced vineyard built into a hillside would have been familiar to the people of Israel. The best location, a fertile hill, was chosen. It has been dug out and the stones cleared. A watchtower is raised and all is in readiness for the grapes. There’s even a vat in the center for winemaking.

Imagine the landowner’s disappointment when instead, all that comes are wild grapes, sour to the taste and perhaps with large seeds. In the words of Isaiah, “he expected justice, but saw bloodshed; righteousness, but heard a cry!” What will God do? Remove the walls and let it be trampled. The judgment of the Lord that Isaiah foretold did come when the Babylonians and Assyrians conquered Israel.

In our reading from Matthew, we are continuing the events of Holy Week. On Tuesday of Holy Week, immediately after challenging the Temple authorities with the parable of the two sons, Jesus tells a new parable of a vineyard, re-presenting the vineyard of Isaiah.

It’s pretty obvious that God is the landowner and Jesus is the heir that the tenants kill. It’s very tempting to assume that the tenants are the Jews and for centuries this has been the accepted view by many. This has been used to claim that Christianity is the completion of Judaism or the replacement of the people of Israel as God’s chosen people.

But, I want to suggest a different meaning. Remember the context—the week in Jerusalem before Jesus is crucified. Jesus has already had a stormy encounter with the Pharisees and the chief priests. Remember about the words at the end of our reading: “When the chief priests and Pharisees heard his parables”—this one and the parable of the two sons we heard last week—“they realized that he was speaking against them.” The chief priests and the Pharisees were the greedy tenants who killed the prophets sent by God and who would, in three days’ time, kill the son. The vineyard belongs to God, not the powerful and wealthy at the top of the domination system that Jesus spoke out against.

But this isn’t how the story ends, of course. The death of the Son is not the end. But Jesus expresses this death through a new image: “The stone which the builders rejected has become the cornerstone...” From the Son’s death springs life, a new vineyard. Christ himself became the vine, and this vine always bears good fruit: the presence of his love for us which is indestructible.

In fact, the stories—God’s story and our own—never end. There is always time to change. While it isn’t a fairy tale with an ending of “they lived happily ever after”, there are always future chapters to be written, and that can be comforting.

Comforting, because our current chapter isn’t a happy one. The financial news of the last week and the predictions of the future are dire. People’s jobs and retirement savings are at risk, prices are rising, and homes are being lost. There are clearly tough times ahead.

That is why we are grateful that this isn’t the final chapter. There is still time for the Kingdom of God to come. As the Body of Christ here, we are called to do what we can to lift up the lowly, feed the sick, and show justice, mercy and love to all.

In our version of the parable, when the landowner returns, let Him find us working for the welfare of all people and not, like the chief priests and the Pharisees of our Gospel reading, working for our own welfare at the expense of others.

The Financial Crisis

I am not a Roman Catholic and I certainly don't agree with all the positions of the Roman Catholic Church. But when they get one right, I'll be happy to say it, and I think this letter from Bishop William Murphy, chairman of the United States Conference of Catholic Bishops' Committee on Domestic Justice and Human Development to the Treasury Secretary and the Congressional leadership says the right things. My thanks to the Daily Episcopalian for posting it!

September 26, 2008

Dear Secretary Paulson, Majority Leader Reid, Minority Leader McConnell, Speaker Pelosi and Minority Leader Boehner:

The economic crisis facing our nation is both terribly disturbing and enormously complicated. I write to offer the prayers of the U.S. Catholic Bishops and express the concerns of our Conference as you face difficult choices on how to limit the damage and move forward with prudence and justice. As pastors and teachers, my brother bishops and I do not bring technical expertise to these complicated matters. However, we believe our faith and moral principles can help guide the search for just and effective responses to the economic turmoil threatening our people.

• Human and Moral Dimensions: This crisis involves far more than just economic or technical matters, but has enormous human impact and clear ethical dimensions which should be at the center of debate and decisions on how to move forward. Families are losing their homes. Retirement savings are at risk. People are losing jobs and benefits. Economic arrangements, structures and remedies should have as a fundamental purpose safeguarding human life and dignity. The scandalous search for excessive economic rewards even to the point of dangerous speculation that exacerbates the pain and losses of the more vulnerable are egregious examples of an economic ethic that places economic gain above all other values. This ignores the impact of economic decisions on the lives of real people as well as the ethical dimension of the choices we make and the moral responsibility we have for their effect on people.
• Responsibility and Accountability: Clearly, effective measures are required which address and alter the behaviors, practices and misjudgments that led to this crisis. Sadly, greed, speculation, exploitation of vulnerable people and dishonest practices helped to bring about this serious situation. Many blameless and vulnerable people have been and will be harmed. Those who directly contributed to this crisis or profited from it should not be rewarded or escape accountability for the harm they have done. Any response of government ought to seek greater responsibility, accountability and transparency in both economic and public life.
• Advantages and Limitations of the Market: Pope John Paul II pointed out that "the free market is the most efficient instrument for utilizing resources and effectively responding to needs." But there are many human needs which find no place on the market. It is a strict duty of justice and truth not to allow fundamental human needs to remain unsatisfied. Both public and private institutions have failed in responding to fundamental human needs. A new sense of responsibility on the part of all should include a renewal of instruments of monitoring and correction within economic institutions and the financial industry as well as effective public regulation and protection to the extent this may be clearly necessary.
• Solidarity and the Common Good: The principle of solidarity reminds us that we are in this together and warns us that concern for narrow interests alone can make things worse. The principle of solidarity commits us to the pursuit of the common good, not the search for partisan gain or economic advantage. Protection of the vulnerable “workers, business owners, homeowners, renters, and stockholders" must be included in the commitment to protect economic institutions. As Church leaders we ask that you give proper priority to the poor and the most vulnerable.
• Subsidiarity: Subsidiarity places a responsibility on the private actors and institutions to accept their own obligations. If they do not do so, then the larger entities, including the government, will have to step in to do what private institutions will have failed to do.

This is a challenging time for our nation. Everyone who carries responsibility should exercise it according to their respective roles and with a great sensitivity to reforming practices and setting forth new guidelines that will serve all people, all institutions of the economy and the common good of the people as a nation. This includes not just the leaders of the economic life of our country. It means the political leaders and all those whose own expertise can contribute to a resolution of the current situation.

Our Catholic tradition calls for a "society of work, enterprise and participation" which "is not directed against the market, but demands that the market be appropriately controlled by the forces of society and by the state to assure that the basic needs of the whole society are satisfied" (Centesimus Annus). These words of John Paul II should be adopted as a standard for all those who carry this responsibility for our nation, the world and the common good of all.

Sincerely,
Most Reverend William F. Murphy
Bishop of Rockville Centre
Chairman, Committee on Domestic Justice and Human Development

I have heard some conservative commentators talking in the last few days about the "market" and how "the market must be allowed to work its will". I suggest that such worship of the market system is idolatry. We should leave God as our only object of worship.

"A New Heart and a New Spirit"

[Our lessons today were Ezekiel 18:1-4, 25-32, Psalm 25:1-8, Philippians 2:1-13, and Matthew 21:23-32.]

Ezekiel was a prophet of the Babylonian exile in the Sixth Century B.C.E., and he speaks in a time of change for the people of Israel. The Temple in Jerusalem—where God lived—has been destroyed and the people scattered, with some of the elite taken away to Babylon. When they are forced to worship without having the Temple and in a place far from God’s Promised Land, major changes in their thinking result.

Until now, Israel, like other Middle Eastern cultures of the time, believed in tribal responsibility for wrongdoing. This concept of holding all members of the tribe personally responsible for the acts of its members is exemplified by the proverb quoted here: “The parents have eaten sour grapes, and the children’s teeth are set on edge.”

Ezekiel, speaking for God, establishes a new principle: because all life belongs to God, it is unfair to punish others for one person’s wrongdoing. This principle of personal responsibility for one’s actions leads to a statement of the importance of repentance. If you are being held responsible for the sins of others, your personal repentance of sin isn’t too useful. However, God says through Ezekiel that if you turn from your transgressions and get “a new heart and a new spirit”, you will live.

We aren’t very big on personal responsibility these days. “It’s not my fault; it’s because of where I was born or my social status or something that takes the responsibility for my actions off my hands.” I read a column this week about the proposed bailout of the financial system, where the author said that he wanted the bankers and others who lost this money to simply say “I’m sorry” and mean it, because their recklessness has had a horrible cost. They were horrified at the very idea—one even said to him, “I guess you want us to grovel”—of accepting any degree of responsibility for their actions.

Our Gospel lesson from Matthew could stand some context. This takes place during Holy Week. Jesus has already attacked the moneychangers and sellers of animals in the courtyard of the Temple, not, by the way, because the moneychangers and sellers were bad per se. The moneychangers were necessary to convert the Roman coins with the emperor’s likeness on them to more acceptable Jewish coins. The animals needed to be sold to serve as sacrifices in the Temple worship. Jesus wanted to stop the moneychangers and sellers to stop the Temple worship as a protest against the way that the Temple authorities had become a part of the domination system and had become a “den of thieves.” When the chief priests and the elders ask by what authority Jesus is doing “these things,” they are referring to his actions in Holy Week.

Jesus tells this parable of two sons (which is found only in Matthew’s Gospel). The father asks his two sons to go work in the vineyard. One says he won’t, but then changes his mind and goes to work. The other says he will, but doesn’t. The Pharisees correctly say that the first son is doing his father’s will, but they obviously missed how the parable applies to them.

When Jesus says that the tax collectors and prostitutes will go to heaven before them, it isn’t because their answer to Jesus’ question is wrong. It is because they are saying the right things, but not doing them. When God, speaking through John the Baptist, asked the Pharisees to do His work, they might have said they were, but they clearly didn’t do it. They were like the second son. The tax collectors and the prostitutes, like the first son, changed and got themselves “a new heart and a new spirit”. The Pharisees instead remained focused on the laws that secured their own power.

What about us? Are we giving God the right answers with our mouths, but not living up to what we say? Do we say one thing here in Church on Sunday and live some other way outside? A critical point to take away from this parable is that truly being a follower of Christ is not about we say, it is about what we do and how we live. As Paul tells us in his letter to the church in Philippi, we are called to be of the same mind as Jesus—a mind of love, humility, and reconciliation.

We often hear that if we posted the Ten Commandments in public places or had public prayer in schools, things would be better and people would change because of it. But, isn’t that relying on what we say to cause change? Rather than saying prayers in schools or seeing the Commandments on the wall, let’s try living the Greatest Commandment—to love our neighbor as we do ourselves.

Fairness

[Our readings today are Jonah 3:10-4:11, Psalm 145:1-8, Philippians 1:21-30, and Matthew 20:1-16.]

Anyone who has more than one child or anyone who wasn’t an only child has more than a passing relationship with “fairness.” My mother used to tell a story of how, after my younger sister was born, my sister and I didn’t always see eye-to-eye, to say the least. At her wits’ end, my mother went to our pediatrician and asked what was wrong with us. His reply surprised her: “Mrs. Davison, you were an only child, weren’t you?” And, of course, she was!

We are very concerned with “fairness” and “justice” in life, especially when we feel that we have gotten the short end of the stick. Most people don’t raise issues of fairness when they are favored. I heard a story about a poster that had three fish on it—a large fish, a medium fish and a small fish. The large fish is thinking, “There is justice in the world!” as it’s about to eat the medium fish. The medium fish is thinking, “There is some justice in the world!” as it’s about to eat the small fish. The small fish is thinking, “There is no justice in the world!” I guess it’s all a matter of perspective.

In the parable we read today, the landowner pays the same daily wage to everyone whether they came at the beginning and worked all day or came at the end of the day. How outrageous! How unfair! Shouldn’t the ones who work longest and hardest get more as they clearly deserve? Don’t we say “the early bird gets the worm” and “God helps those who help themselves”?

But God isn’t “fair,” at least not by our standards. As a priest said about this text, “I am so glad that God isn’t fair. If God were fair and gave me what I truly deserve, I would be tortured slowly before being consigned to hell forever.”

In Charles Dickens’ wonderful story, A Christmas Carol, the Ghost of Christmas Past takes Scrooge back to a Christmas party thrown by his employer in his younger days, Mr. Fezziwig. The Ghost notes Scrooge’s pleasure at the festivity, and comments, “A small matter to make these silly folks so full of gratitude.” When Scrooge protests that it isn’t small, the Ghost reminds him, “Why! Is it not! He has spent but a few pounds of your mortal money: three or four perhaps. Is that so much that he deserves this praise?” Scrooge responds, more like his former self than the cold mean thing he has become, “The happiness he gives is quite as great as if it cost a fortune.” And even as he says the words, he realizes how much he has changed since those happy days, before money became an idol to worship.

Our landowner is a man very much like Mr. Fezziwig—eager to employ people, but also generous even to those employed only for a fraction of the day. He never claimed to be fair; he says he is generous. Generosity isn’t about giving someone what he or she deserves; it’s about the freedom of the giver to give out of his abundance to whomever he chooses—not because he is paying a debt, but because he wishes to freely give.

God’s generosity was also shown in the reading from Jonah. Jonah is angry with God because God didn’t act “fairly” towards the wicked people of Nineveh. God has forgiven them, when Jonah wants God to be tough and judgmental—towards them, of course, like the early workers want the landowner to be towards the latecomers.

God is fair; he doesn’t give us what we deserve. None of us deserve salvation; God doesn’t owe it to us. But He gives it to us anyway. He treats us infinitely better than we deserve. God is like the landowner who pays the daily wage to all the workers and like Mr. Fezziwig who brings joy without counting the cost.

And what is that daily wage? Entry into the Kingdom of Heaven.

Once there was a man who died and came to the pearly gates where Saint Peter greeted him. Peter, in addition in to carrying the keys, had a clipboard in hand. He said to the man, “Before we let you into heaven there are a few questions you have to answer and I have to fill out this form. We work on a point system here in heaven—maybe you’ve heard something about it. You tell me all the good things you’ve done and I’ll score your points—and when you reach a hundred points I’ll let you into heaven. OK?” The man thought for minute and then began to recite all his good deeds. “Well, I was married for over 50 years and I never cheated on my wife all that time; I never even looked at another woman with lust in my heart.” Saint Peter said, “Very good; better than most, in fact; that’s worth three points.” The man was a little surprised at the score, but continued, “I was very active in my church—I went every Sunday and I was a longtime member of the men’s group.” Peter said, “Excellent; that’s another point!” Exasperated, the man said, “My goodness, at this rate I’ll never get into heaven based on what I’ve done. I can only throw myself on God’s mercy.” And Peter said, “Oh, that’s a hundred points right there. Welcome to heaven.”

We get there on God’s mercy; not what we have done ourselves.

God’s economy doesn’t work as we seem to wish it would, rewarding those who work harder. Instead, God’s economy values us far more than our worth. Shouldn’t we try to follow His example?

Forgiveness

[Our readings today are Genesis 50:15-21, Psalm 103, Romans 14:1-12, and Matthew 18:21-35.]


We often have the wrong idea about forgiveness.

In our Gospel lesson, Jesus tells a parable of forgiveness. The parable is set in the Kingdom of Heaven, which is not the afterlife, but it is a time and place, here on earth, where God’s justice is truly done. When the King’s servant, who owed 10,000 talents—a huge sum, like millions of dollars, could not pay his debt and asked for more time, the King forgave the debt completely! But then, the servant was himself owed a hundred denarii—just a few dollars in today’s money—and refused to forgive the debt! The King, learning of this, handed the servant over to be tortured until the entire debt was paid!

Such are the consequences of failing to forgive. When asked by Peter how many times we should forgive, Jesus says seventy-seven times. This is an idiomatic way of saying as many times as we need to. We are always called upon to forgive.

We often act as if we can only forgive someone who has wronged us if they have repented in some way. Forgiveness isn’t easy, because we have been truly wronged and it hurts. Isn’t our hurt, our pain, righteous and just?

This week, we remembered the seventh anniversary of a great wrong—the evil attacks of September 11, 2001. We remembered the victims: those who died, those who were maimed in body or spirit or both, and those whose lives were changed forever by the loss of loved ones.

But we need to remember September 11, 2001, as an event that challenges us to forgive. We aren’t called to forgive for the benefit of the perpetrators of those awful deeds, but for our own.
We pray for this in every service of our church in the Lord’s Prayer: “Forgive us our sins, as we forgive those who sin against us.” Our sins, our debts, are forgiven, only to the extent that we forgive others. Remember the servant, who was forgiven his great debt only as he was willing to forgive a small one.

While it is a good thing when someone who hurts us asks our forgiveness, what if they don’t? Do we hold on to our anger, our pain and say we can’t forgive unless they apologize?

There are many stories of people who will not let anger go, especially when their cause is just. What have they gained with their anger? Sorrow, bitterness, loneliness, physical and mental pain. We believe that when we are hurt we must be compensated. We say, “Don’t get mad, get even!” Sometimes we claim the role of God, who said “Vengeance is mine”—that is God’s—“I will repay.”

After September 11, some felt that we need to take action in reprisal and, to some extent we did, when we invaded Afghanistan. In many ways, that could be justified as removing from power an evil regime that supported the perpetrators. But many of us saw our role as avengers, that we were punishing evil, forgetting that vengeance is God’s role. But, some of bitterness and pain we felt over 9/11 caused us to do things which we can not justify. How do we square some of the things we have done as a nation over the last seven years with the promise in our Baptismal Covenant to “respect the dignity of every person”? Might not some of these misdeeds of our own been avoided had we been willing to forgive?

Does forgiveness mean forgetting what has happened? No. Even when we forgive, we may not forget and perhaps should not forget. But when we begin the healing process—the process of reconciliation—by forgiving, we are reminded that we have already been forgiven ourselves. We need to remember the importance of forgiveness in our lives and not the least, here in St. Christopher’s.

Many years ago, I had the opportunity to see a concrete example of forgiveness that should inspire us. On November 14, 1940, the medieval cathedral in Coventry, England, was destroyed by the German Air Force in a raid that did horrible damage to the city and took many lives. When a new cathedral was built, part of the shell of the old cathedral was left standing. Behind the altar, on the ruined wall was placed the words: “Father Forgive”. If out of the pain and grief of that war, those people could forgive that debt of 10,000 talents, how can we do less and not forgive that debt of a hundred denarii?

9/11

The events of seven years ago today are still very strong in my mind. I remember how that Tuesday morning was beautiful bright and clear here in Georgia, as it would be in New York, Pennsylvania, and Washington. I was walking down the hallway of the Headquarters building at Robins Air Force Base (where I worked and still do) when one of the young captains said that a plane had flown into the World Trade Center in New York. Several of us watched on a small portable TV with bad reception as the horrors of that morning unfolded.

Its hard to understate the fear that many felt that morning. Rumors spread of additional bombs and dangers. Our base was put on lockdown status with buildings locked up and workers confined to offices, even though at the time, I rather doubted Al Quida was much concerned with a base in rural central Georgia.

I truly can't imagine what the victims of 9/11 felt as they realized that this was no adventure movie and only death awaited them. The stories we would learn of fortitude and sacrifice enoble us all, yet I can't help wondering whether I would react well in such a time. I am grateful that, so far, this cup has not been presented to me. Nor can I imagine the grief and emptiness that faced the victim's families, who simply said goodbye to their loved ones as they did every day, not knowing that this would be goodbye for this lifetime. I have tried every morning to make my last words to my wife as I leave for work assurances of my love, so that if something awful happened, she might at least have that consolation.

We need to remember that the acts of 9/11 were the evil of men, not God, and that on that morning, God's will was emphatically not done.

Cost

[Our lessons were Exodus 3:1-15, Psalm 105:1-6, 23-26, 45c, Romans 12:9-21, and Matthew 16:21-28.]


Last week, we got to hear about the Confession of Peter that Jesus is the Messiah and Jesus’ statement that Peter was the rock upon which he would build the church. Today, we continue the story and Jesus tells the disciples just what being the Messiah and following the Messiah would cost.

And Peter, in his usual way, follows up his great revelation with a tremendous clanger: “God forbid it, Lord! This must never happen to you!”

There are several problems with Peter’s exclamation. First, it is based upon a serious misunderstanding of what Jesus being the Messiah really meant. To Jews of that time, the Messiah was to be a warrior king who would free the people of Israel from foreign domination. For the Messiah instead to suffer and be killed was unthinkable. Impossible! God simply would not allow that to happen!

Also, Peter’s objection overlooks the sacrifice that Jesus would have to make and the sacrifices that we ourselves are called to make. If Jesus’ sacrifices—suffering and death on the cross—are not made, there would be no resurrection!

Peter, like us, wants to avoid the cost—the pain, the unpleasantness, the rejection, the suffering, and ultimately, the death he himself would suffer in Rome. We ourselves want to remember Christmas and Easter and not think of Ash Wednesday and Good Friday. We are sort of like the story of the young man, eager to make it to the top, who went to a well-known millionaire businessman and asked him the first reason for his success. The businessman answered without hesitation, “Hard work.” After a lengthy pause the young man asked, “What is the SECOND reason?”

When Jesus delivers his crushing rebuke to Peter, “You are a stumbling block to me; for you are setting your mind not on divine things but on human things,” he is saying that is putting human ways of thinking—about the role of the Messiah, not wanting to pay the cost of discipleship—in the way of what God wanted.

We cannot do what Peter wanted, which was to take the cross out of Jesus’ life and death, because the cross is where God endured the greatest pain and suffering a human can endure. And because He did, he understands and shares in the pain of our mortal lives.


In his book, The Cost of Discipleship, Dietrich Bonheoffer asserted that there is a cost to following Jesus. We hope that we will not be called upon to pay the same cost that Bonheoffer did—a slow, gruesome hanging by the Nazis. There can be other kinds of costs, some petty, some large. We take up our crosses and we must be ready to endure what we must so that God’s work can be done. But we know that with God’s help, the cost will not be unendurable. [Note: in Westminster Abbey's Gallery of 20th Century Martyrs, Bonheoffer is on the right.]

But what we gain for that cost is beyond belief! If we are willing to give up our lives to save them, if we are willing to not hoard ourselves, we can have everything that truly matters. But, if on the other hand, we give up our eternal lives to gain worldly things, we will gain nothing of value.

In one of my favorite plays, A Man for All Seasons, the title character, Sir Thomas More has just heard Richard Rich give obviously false testimony which will condemn More to the block. When he is told that Rich has been appointed Attorney-General for Wales, he says, sadly, “For Wales? Why, Richard, it profits a man nothing to give his soul for the whole world . . . But for Wales!”


While Sir Thomas was executed by Henry VIII’s government, he has been honored for his integrity and courage and has been canonized by the Roman Catholic Church. On the other hand, Richard Rich, who eventually became Lord Chancellor as Lord Rich and was a Protestant under the Protestant King Edward VI and a Catholic under the Catholic Queen Mary, may have died in his bed, but he became infamous.

Like Richard Rich, we can sacrifice honor and integrity for personal gain. But, Jesus makes it clear that the little we gain will be dwarfed by what we will lose—our opportunity to be with God in his Kingdom.

Change

[Earlier this month, our rector at St. Christopher's, Father Bill Anderson, announced his retirement at the end of the month. Our lessons were Exodus 1:8-20, Psalm 124, Romans 12:1-8, and Matthew 16:13-20.]

I’ve always liked St. Peter. He could come up with the most incredible revelation one moment and follow it up with the most off-the-wall comment in the next. A couple of weeks ago, we read how he impetuously got out of the boat to follow Jesus across the water. I remember cartoons from my childhood, like the Roadrunner, where the Coyote can walk off a cliff and stay up until he realizes he’s not on solid ground and down he falls. Peter was like that; when he saw that he was on the water, his fears overcame him and he started to sink. It was Peter who impulsively wished to build three tabernacles on the mountain of the Transfiguration; it was Peter who, just before the crucifixion, three times denied knowing Jesus.

But it was also Peter who, after Pentecost, risked his life to do the Lord’s work, speaking boldly of his belief in Jesus. It was also Peter, the Rock, whose strength and courage helped the young Church in its questioning about the mission beyond the Jewish community. He was first opposed to the baptism of Gentiles. But he had the grace to change, and to baptize the Roman centurion Cornelius and his household. Finally, tradition holds that Peter fled from Rome during Nero’s persecution. On the Appian Way, he is supposed to have met Christ who was heading toward Rome. Jesus told Peter, “I am coming to be crucified again.” Peter thereupon returned to Rome, and was shortly thereafter crucified, head downwards at his insistence. He said, “I am not worthy to be crucified as my Lord was.”

With his stumbling and his failures, Peter reminds us that even the chief of the Apostles was just as human, just as fallible as you and I. Jesus did not come among us to save the strong and godly, but the weak and the sinful—us.

This statement of Peter: “You are the Messiah, the Son of the Living God!” is called the Confession of Peter. It even has its own date on our calendar—January 18. He is the first person to name Jesus as the hope of Israel. Before this, other than God, only demons had known who Jesus was.

Jesus’ response is famous: “I tell you, you are Peter, and on this rock I will build my church, and the gates of Hades will not prevail against it. I will give you the keys of the kingdom of heaven, and whatever you bind on earth will be bound in heaven, and whatever you loose on earth will be loosed in heaven.”

This raises all sorts of questions of authority and our Roman cousins cite this as the basis for the authority of Peter’s successor as the Bishop of Rome—the Pope. I remember in 1978 finding it a curious coincidence that the day after Cardinal Albino Luciani was elected Pope John Paul I, I went to my Episcopal church and heard this passage read.

Of course, as Anglicans, we don’t accept the Roman interpretation that this reading gives a universal authority to the Pope. But it is important to us even so.

First, Peter—Simon up to now—is given a new name. Until this point, there is no record of the word for “rock”—“Cephas” in Aramaic or etros” in Greek—being used as a person’s name. Throughout Scripture, the changing of a person’s name is significant—Abram to Abraham, Jacob to Israel, Saul to Paul—because in that culture, when your name changed, you were changed.

Peter is the rock upon which the Church is built by the Lord. The other Apostles, the Fathers of the Church (and the Mothers), and all the saints of God have built and are still building up the Church in love and faith. One commentator said that Peter is “Rocky I” and so, you are “Rocky 5 Billion” with the same director, the same plot and a larger cast. Even as Peter was called, so are we. Through us, Christ continues to be present to his world.

This Church is more than buildings, more than organizational structures like Dioceses and Provinces. It is more than a group of people sitting and worshipping with us today. It is a divine mystery greater than we can imagine reaching throughout space and time joining us all together—a Jewish fisherman in the First Century in Palestine and a lay preacher in Georgia in the 21st Century—in a continuity of faith, tradition, of doctrine, and of people.

That continuity is what we will refer to momentarily in the Creed when we say we belong to “one, holy, catholic and apostolic Church”. We claim a connection to the Apostles, most notably through our bishops, whose consecrations are traceable back in a nearly unbroken line to the Apostles. With each baptism, each new birth into the Church, Jesus makes us a new “Peter”, a new rock upon which the Church is built.

Fr. Herbert O’Driscoll uses a wonderful image for this. His idea is to look at all of the last 20 centuries as concentric circles of time. We are in the very outermost circle, farthest away from the center—and at the center is the Cross. We are brought into the circle, into the faith, in large part because somewhere, somehow, someone in the circle just before ours took us by the hand and said, “come,” and so drew us in. That is one very important reason why we are here. That person was able to do this for us because someone had taken him or her by the hand and had drawn that person in. And so on, through all the centuries, hands are held through all of those circles. Until we reach the place where a very few of those hands were held by hands touched by the mark of nails. So we hold hands touched by nails. In this way, Christ builds his church; such is the gift we have been given.

Remember what else Jesus says about His Church: “The Gates of Hades shall not prevail against it.” No matter what happens, for good or for evil, God’s Church will prevail; we have that promise. This doesn’t necessarily mean that a particular parish or denomination will survive and prevail, but that at its most fundamental level, the Church will never fail. I find that very comforting when I think of all the things we men and women do and have done on a daily basis to destroy it.

I spoke a few minutes ago about a change; a change in Simon’s name to Peter, a change of great importance in that culture. We at St. Christopher’s are about to begin a process of change ourselves. Next week, we will say goodbye to Bill and Jane Anderson as they end their ministries among us—but not as our friends—and begin the exciting and terrifying process of examining ourselves and finding the right man or woman to join us as we move this parish into its second 50 years. This is Change with a capital C!

We generally don’t like change. We have our comfort zones—our boats, as it were. Father Bill is a known commodity to us. I can assure you, from the position of someone who serves at the Altar, it’s a lot easier to serve a familiar friend. We don’t like change.

On a summer day in 1995, I listened to the radio in my office in San Antonio, Texas, as the Base Closure Commission voted to close the Air Force base I worked at. The place where I worked was going away! Change with a capital C! I could have moaned about how I hated change and what would we do and felt sorry for myself. I didn’t do that. Instead, I accepted that change would come and opened myself up to new possibilities, including a move to middle Georgia. My family and I have found a home that we love far more than our home in Texas; a community of which we feel so much more a part of than we did in San Antonio; a parish which has over the last nine years opened itself to us in good times and hard times, and which has given me opportunities to grow in new directions in ways I could never have imagined! All this because, when change was inevitable (and, by the way, it always is), I was open to the opportunities to grow that change presents.

Change is coming to St. Christopher’s. It always is, to be honest, but it’s more obvious today. It is critical that we look for ways to make that change positive. We will then find new opportunities to grow in faith that we cannot imagine today. And you know what? So will Bill and Jane Anderson!

On the wall of one of the classrooms in my Illinois high school so many years ago was a quote from the former UN Secretary General, Dag Hammarskjöld,

For all that has been — Thanks. For all that shall be — Yes.

Always say “Yes” to that which will come. For our Christian faith is a faith of change, not a conservative one. When we pray, “Your kingdom come,” we are praying for incredible, monumental change, so that we will be in a place where God’s redistributive justice is always done, the poor are raised up, the hungry are fed, and the captives are freed. The Resurrection is change, change to the previous finality of death. As Christians, we should welcome change; we should embrace change; we must work to bring change about.

Let us pray:

Almighty Father, who inspired Simon Peter, first among the apostles, to confess Jesus as Messiah and Son of the living God: Keep your Church steadfast upon the rock of this faith, so that in unity and peace we may proclaim the one truth and follow the one Lord, our Savior Jesus Christ; who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, now and for ever. Amen.