[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.
Sunday, November 30, 2008
Saturday, November 22, 2008
"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.
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.
Saturday, November 15, 2008
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.
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.
Friday, November 14, 2008
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.
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.
Tuesday, November 11, 2008
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.
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.
Sunday, November 9, 2008
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.]
Thursday, November 6, 2008
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.
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.
Sunday, November 2, 2008
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.
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.
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