Good Intentions: Sermon for 5th Sunday after Epiphany A (And Scouting Sunday)

One of my all-time favorite movies is Mel Brooks’ Young Frankenstein, a spoof on the horror movie genre of the 30s and 40s, the era of Lon Cheney and Bela Lugosi. Brooks takes the granddaddy of all horror stories to poke fun at, Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein, strips it of everything but the idea of the struggle between monster and creator, and gets down to work, aided by a brilliant cast that includes Gene Wilder, Marty Feldman, Cloris Leachman, Madeleine Kahn, and Peter Boyle.

One of the scenes depicts young Viktor Frankenstein, who has become convinced that his grandfather's work reanimating dead bodies is actually possible, being led by his assistant Igor into the local cemetery to get a suitable body for his experiment. They've decided on someone very, very large, to make regenerating the nerves easier. Just their luck, a local criminal has been hanged who's nearly seven feet tall. So they sneak into the cemetery, and begin to dig up the body. With ominous music, the coffin is shown rising up from the depths. Deep in a hole they have dug around the coffin, both Viktor and his assistant Igor appear, and spit out mouthfuls of dirt, fully aware of how disgusting their situation is.

“What a filthy job!” Viktor says to Igor, as they are 5 feet deep in the hole.

“Could be worse,” says Igor, sunnily.

“HOW?” pouts Viktor.

“Could be raining,” Igor replies,-- and just then lightning flashes across the sky. Viktor and Igor look at each other, and five seconds later an absolute deluge arrives. Viktor looks sourly at Igor, who put on a brave face and blinks rapidly as they immediately get soaked to the skin. (1)

I imagine a few of our Scouting families have experienced the same thing on some of their outdoor adventures. Even when everything has gone wrong at a campsite, just remember—it could be worse—it could be raining.

You know, attitude, perspective, and a sense of proportion really are everything in life. To quote another great childhood movie hero of mine, Mary Poppins, drudge work really IS better when you are singing a song as you go along, a spoon full of sugar does make the medicine go down in the most delightful way.

Our readings today are all centered on instruction for life, on having the correct attitudes in doing what we do. Each of the communities being addressed in each reading is in turmoil or transition of some kind, which can create the worst kind of stress. Jesus is in the middle of his first big series of lessons in Matthew’s gospel, the Sermon on the Mount. He is taking a group of people who have been following him around looking for miracles and trying to change their perception of themselves. When he talks about his listeners being salt, light, and a city on a hill, he is telling them that rather than waiting for miracles to be performed in front of them by Jesus, that they themselves ARE the miracles that can change the world, if they allow God’s vision of human flourishing to root in their hearts and change their own understanding of responsibility. In his teaching, Jesus is forming them from a ragtag set of individuals into a COMMUNITY that works for the benefits of the world—just like Scouting.

The members of the church in Corinth that Paul is talking to are split into factions based on wealth, power, and claims of holiness, and this division prevents them from growing in faith. How many of us have experienced that kind of division? Maybe a better question would be: when have we NOT experienced that kind of division? But it doesn’t have to be that way.

The people being addressed by the prophet Isaiah have returned from exile under the protection of the Persian Empire, and have rebuilt their temple. And yet, their return to worship has not led them to a deeper spirituality. Instead, everything has become performative—about making a show and making worship all about themselves, rather than about God and allowing God to reshape their lives. They think they’re in charge, and that they can manipulate God by doing the right rituals the right way, but without their heart in it. Worship has become a hypocritical way of showing off, a piece of performance, rather than an act that shapes their outer lives.

In each case, the people are being urged to reorient their attitudes from merely going through the motions selfishly, but instead being true believers who put their principles into action, to be people of abundance, to become a community of the faithful who work to bring about empathy, justice and shalom into a world that desperately needs it—to shift from an inward, consumerist focus to an outward looking, unified force for good, even if that requires naming the part they play in the systems of injustice that surround them, if only by their silence.

The reading from Isaiah 59 questions empty observance of ritual without allowing true repentance to take root in our hearts. This passage addresses the problem of empty worship—worship that makes the worshiper feel good, or that makes the worshiper look good in the eyes of his or her neighbors, but ultimately is an empty gesture because it does not lead to a conversion of the heart and the soul.

How important is it to put your heart into what you do? Or is it more important to simply follow the rules and checklists of our “to-do” lists? It depends upon what we are doing— if you’re paying your property taxes, no one really expects you to be filled with joy as you do your duty—unless, and I am not kidding here, you can envision your money going to making sure children go through the school day fed as well as educated, you can envision to smooth roads you travel upon as being paid for by those tax dollars, or you can imagine your taxes supporting the EMTs who just saved your neighbor’s life and got them to the hospital. Because guess what? That is EXACTLY what your taxes do—and more. 

Likewise, in worshipping God, attitude is everything and the value of worship is made visible not in whether you feel you were entertained, but in how you are then empowered to act for good in the world beyond these doors. Worship is not a series of actions. Worship IS an attitude, just as love is. Worship is made holy by holy intention.

Specifically, Isaiah points out that fasting is actually an easier sacrifice than addressing issues of systematic injustice and oppression—and we all know Isaiah is correct. That’s why systematic oppression and injustice continues even in communities where a vast majority of people claim to be people of faith. In the Talmud, which is a collection of commentary on Jewish scripture that has been collected over the centuries, the rabbis make it clear that how one acts in their regular lives is more important than how one worships.

Rabbi Elazar said: One who performs acts of charity is greater than one who sacrifices all types of offerings, as it is stated: “To perform charity and justice is more acceptable to the Lord than an offering” (Proverbs 21:3), including all types of offerings. And Rabbi Elazar said: Acts of kindness, assisting someone in need, are greater than charity, as it is stated: “Sow to yourselves according to charity, and reap according to kindness” (Hosea 10:12)…. And Rabbi Elazar said: Anyone who performs charity and justice is considered as though he filled the whole world in its entirety with kindness, as it is stated: “He loves charity and justice; the earth is full of the kindness of the Lord” (Psalms 33:5). (2)

And actually, as I was reading their commentary, I was reminded of the Scout Oath and the Scout Law, which seek to orient Scouts as to how to live their lives even outside of Scout meetings, and even when they have become adults.

Jesus spends a huge amount of his time reminding us of God’s abundance, of God’s generous love and gift of grace, probably because we live most of our lives being told to see everyone around us as competition for scarce resources, and see strangers as potential “takers of our stuff.” But if we see ourselves as salt, without which life is not possible, or light, without which vision isn’t possible, suddenly we understand that we are called to take what has already been given to us, which is a miracle in and of itself, and DO something with it for the sake of the worl, not just for our own benefit.

In Scouting, life principles are taught through learning new things, and changing Scouts’ perceptions of themselves, their roles in their communities, and even their roles in nature, right? For instance, when camping, there’s the principle of “Leave No Trace.” That is broken down in a variety of ways: pack it in, pack it out. Leave what you find. Stay on established paths for the sake of vegetation, especially if your group is large. Only make a fire as large as you need. Observe wildlife without disturbing it. And these rules you practice at, say, Philmont, will also do you good in the wilds of New York City—especially the bit about not disturbing the local wildlife. The point is being taught consideration and respect for your surroundings and the people in them, whether you are in a tent or not. They're also meant to shape your lifelong intentions to those of being caring, careful, and attentive to consequences.

Through Isaiah’s words, God continues offering practical advice for those who want to LIVE as children of God in word, name, and example. Ultimately God further clarifies the point of sacrifices: they are meant to give us the blessing of being holy, of being part of something larger than ourselves. Sacrifices are meant to give us the blessing of living without fear.

And what is the result of following these kinds of sacrifices—the kind that make the person doing these kinds of sacrifices holy, blameless, and even blessed in the sight of God and for the good of the world around us? Isaiah tells us that by being generous and openhearted in our own lives, God will pour out abundance within our hearts, making us joyful and even fearless in all we do in the name of God. Isaiah also promises that by offering our true fast to God, “Our lights will shine out for all to see.” Just as Jesus assures his followers in our gospel today.

In our daily lives, our religious lives, and in our Scouting lives, there certainly are times when our actions seem outwardly correct, but lack a conviction of the heart. This is also a common theme in scripture. Thus Isaiah reorients the term “fast” here in an unusual way—turning the concept of sacrifice on its head. Basically God is saying this: Don’t fast to me out of fear—offer your best to me and those around you out of love. Be fearless in giving to others. Be fearless in fighting wrong, even if it costs you. Don’t make a show of doing without if, after you end your fast, you continue to engage in activities that ignore the plight of the suffering, or even adds to that suffering.

Do you want to make a sacrifice that pleases me? God asks. Fight injustice and oppression. Feed the hungry and bring the poor into your home just as eagerly as you would an honored guest—which was a very serious obligation in the Mediterranean culture of that time. Clothe those who are naked. Help your family members rather than try to hide from those who need help. And do it all not out of fear, but out of love. Be fearless in living out of love, and your light will shine out for all to see.

Amen.

Preached at the 10:30 am Holy Eucharist on February 5, 2023 at St. Martin's Episcopal Church, Ellisville, MO.

Readings:

• Isaiah 58:1-9a, [9b-12]
• 1 Corinthians 2:1-12, [13-16]
• Matthew 5:13-20
• Psalm 112:1-9, (10)

Citations:

1) Mel Brooks, Young Frankenstein,-- video of the scene found at https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mC4VflOayBw 

2) Sukkah 49b, the William Davidson Talmud, found at https://www.sefaria.org/Sukkah.49b.13?lang=bi&with=all&lang2=en

3) "The Principles of 'Leave No Trace'" at Boy Scouts of America, https://www.scouting.org/programs/scouts-bsa/troop-resources/leave-no-trace/teaching-leave-no-trace/064-principles/

Looking for a Bargain: Speaking to the Soul, October 7, 2021

Mark 10:17-31

This Sunday’s collect reads as follows: Lord, we pray that your grace may always precede and follow us, that we may continually be given to good works; through Jesus Christ our Lord, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, now and for ever. Amen.

Despite this collect, this Sunday’s lectionary readings are about how one cannot gain faith by good works alone. Grace, as the first part of the collect reminds, is required. God always makes the first move in salvation. God takes the initiative. Something inside a person responds to that pull from God, even if we are unaware of God’s invitation as such.

The gospel story includes Mark’s version of the “rich young man” who approaches Jesus to find out how he can “inherit” eternal life. This young man means well, and is humble enough to be a seeker after this wandering teacher, instead of attempting to summon Jesus to him, as a person of privilege might do. Jesus at first inquires as to his following of the commandments, and the young man affirms his commitment to them. What is interesting is that the gospel states that Jesus looks at him at this point, and “loved him.” Mark doesn’t usually talk about Jesus’s feelings of love in this way, so this is a significant statement. But somehow, this young man also thinks that he can earn salvation without some cost to himself. When Jesus tells him he should give up his wealth in service to the poor, he goes away, not just sad, but “shocked and grieving,” because he has great wealth.

This passage thus brings us once again to a word that causes so many of us to shudder: sacrifice. Passages like this one make us associate sacrifice with deprivation, with pain, with loss. But the most literal meaning of sacrifice is “something that makes one holy.” This young man, who has probably never been excluded from anything in his life due to his wealth and the privilege wealth brings, hesitates to give that up. Even for “eternal life.” He is looking for a bargain, for a lever with which to move God—always a foolish presumption.

The young man remains inwardly focused, seeing the relationship with God as, ultimately transactional: I will do X and then God will reward me with Y. He is doing what we all do: trying to bargain with God and get the best deal according to a human calculus of value and loss. But that subverts the point of faith, which is to look outside our own concerns to the needs of the community, to the needs of others. To celebrate our common bonds with our neighbors and with creation. To look beyond our delusion that we can earn God’s grace at bargain-basement prices to ourselves and our delusions of autonomy.

In God’s kingdom values, people are not “in” or “out” by accident of birth—where they are born, or who their parents are, or the color of their skin or the language they speak or whether they are outwardly good at following rules while inwardly cruel and hard-hearted. At some point in your life, you are responsible to choose whether to follow God and God’s expansive vision of community or not.

We see it a lot in our society right now, across those parts of the globe formerly known as “Christendom.” There are people who were born into Christian homes, and brought up with going to Church. They even absorbed knowledge of Bible stories and perhaps can quote the Lord’s prayer and the 23rd Psalm. They’re “culturally Christian”—nominally fluent in the language and rituals of the Christian religion. But unless anyone decides for themselves to walk in the Way of Jesus, no matter how imperfectly, their knowledge doesn’t translate into faith.

Luckily, if we can hear aright Christ’s loving message of radical generosity and inclusion, it means that as we embark on our journey of faith, we are assured that we are not only never outsiders, we are never alone. We not only have Jesus. We have each other. We are called to deny the forces of the world that seek to exclude, to divide, and instead to embrace those we encounter, especially those who call out for help.

We ourselves have received astounding grace and mercy, whether we have deserved it or not. Jesus calls us to demonstrate that same grace to the world around us—especially when everything around us tries to make us hard-hearted and afraid. That’s how the light of Christ will shine, even in this time of fear and darkness. It will shine from inside us, once we embrace each other in true charity and empathy. No bargains necessary.

This was first published at Episcopal Cafe's Speaking to the Soul, October 7, 2021.

Prayer, day 2846: For Veterans' Day

Creator of All Light,

Giver of Wisdom,
Protector of the Helpless,
bring us to peace in our time, O God.

Bring us to unity and justice
in fulfillment of your will for our common life:
bring us to peace in our time, O God.

Turn us from the embrace of violence and strife,
and move us instead to embrace light and love.
Bring us to peace in our time, O God.

For You, O God, are our rock and stronghold:
our very present help and hope.
Bring us to peace in our time, O God.

Extend the shield of your mercy and comfort
over all who cry out to you, Lord Christ.

Amen.

Walking the Way: Homily for Palm/Passion Sunday

Wow.

It’s not often you get such a wide swing of emotion in one Sunday’s readings. I want you to think about it: at the start of this service, we were rejoicing and shouting Hosanna and hailing Jesus as our king. It was easy to imagine ourselves to be walking in the way of Jesus. Twenty minutes later, we are shouting, “Crucify him!”

That’s right—“We” are shouting those things.

The immediacy of scripture is that we imagine ourselves within the stories, as one does with all great literature, whether fictional or non-fictional.

But there’s a danger in that, too. If we forget the contexts in which our gospels were written, if we forget that each one of them was written for a specific audience that was very different from us, we run the risk of getting sideways in our understanding of what actually is going on. Worse, we commit the mistake of “anachronism,” in which we place our modern context as a bracket or even a straitjacket over scripture, and we end up once again trying to “tame” Jesus and “tame” the gospel to fit our own preferences and understandings.

As I wrote in my priest’s reflection in the Beacon this week, the liturgical decision to combine observation of the joyous Palm Sunday service with the pathos and despair of the Passion Narrative into one service stems partly from the suspicion that many worshipers might not hear the Passion narrative at all if it was not observed the week before Easter. There is an assumption that a sizeable proportion of Episcopalians do not attend Holy Week and in particular Good Friday services—and honestly, that might be true.

I am hoping, however, that all of you will decide to fully observe Holy Week as much as you can—beginning with Palm/Passion Sunday today—(see? You’re off to a great start!). Then we have a kind of pause at the beginning of the week, and I urge you to spend each day with a special devotion, to contemplate the enormity of Christ’s death for us on the cross. I will provide links for those devotions on Facebook, Twitter, and Instagram during the week from the “Journey to the Cross” section of the website d365.org, a collaboration between the Episcopal, Presbyterian, and Cooperative Baptist Fellowship.

And then, please come for Maundy Thursday, with its commemoration of the birth of the Eucharist; Good Friday, recounting Jesus’s trial and execution and our meditations before our Stations of the Cross; and the Great Vigil of Easter, the holiest commemoration in our calendar (even more holy than Easter Sunday, in fact).

So you all are hopefully going to bust that myth wide open, and you’re going to experience the beauty of the Triduum—that fancy word that means “three days”—Maundy Thursday, Good Friday, and then the silence of Saturday until the Great Vigil helps us proclaim resurrection and reconciliation for all creation. 

I was oh, so tempted to let this Passion Narrative stand on its own—because really, what else but this story emphasizes exactly the cost of love that God is willing to bear for us? And then, this week, came the news from my home state of a woman who attempted to terrorize Jews and other targeted groups with vandalism, painting swastikas and slurs all over public spaces in central Oklahoma—including churches.

So there is one thing that has to be said. Although we didn't hear it in our dramatic version read together today, in the Bible, the Passion Narratives include language that blames “the Jews” for the death of Jesus-- over and over again. At the time of the gospels’ composition, those hearing this narrative were themselves likely Jews, and they understood this to be shorthand for “the authorities.” Those authorities at the time of Jesus’s execution were both Roman and Jewish. BOTH.

And yet the Romans do not get blamed. Against all other historical evidence we have—and there is evidence—Pilate was not some befuddled coward who was afraid of the crowd. He had absolutely no problem being ruthless in executing people without cause and did so plenty of times. The fact is that it was in the best interest of the early Jewish Christian communities to go easy on the Roman culpability in order to save their necks.

Because by the time the Gospels were written, the Romans had just gotten finished crushing a Jewish uprising in 70 AD. The cherry on top was their utter destruction of the Temple—after desecrating it first. And the gospel writers had some bitterness against the Jewish authorities in Jerusalem, who had urged against the uprising to begin with, not to mention their religious quarrel with followers of “The Way” over who Jesus was accepted to be.

That’s the context we have to remember: when the gospels say “the Jews,” what they mean is “the leaders.” But we don’t get that context. And so, over centuries, these gospels led to marginalization and prejudice against out Jewish brothers and sisters. 

As Jewish New Testament scholar Amy-Jill Levine noted, it’s vital to point out how much passages like these have been used through history to demonize Jewish people, to call them “Christ-killers,” to justify pogroms and hatred and violence against our Jewish brethren time and time and time again—or even to claim that Christianity is “better” than Judaism.

So come for all the Holy Week services—especially the Easter Vigil, where we will the salvation story starting with the creation of the universe through the story of the Exodus, through the prophets to the amazing discovery by Mary Magdalene and the other women who never abandoned Jesus even at the tomb.

Hearing those readings help us remember that the salvation of humanity begins from the beginning of time. God is ever making the heavens and the earth, and calling us back from the foolishness of Adam in thinking he could decide things himself. Remember when THAT all went wrong, the first thing Adam and Eve did was to hide. To think they could hide from their disobedience and the consequences of it. Just like we all do.

Yet Jesus, who is a new Adam, is not hiding from anyone. Instead, he boldly walks out to those looking to seize him. Instead of rebellion, Jesus acts out of perfect obedience, love, and unity with God. Instead of Adam choosing sin in opposition to love, this new Adam, Jesus of Nazareth, chooses to act in love in opposition to sin.

Once again, God knows his love will be met with rejection. This Adam is truly God’s son. Once again, we find the one who wants to give us everything, and we react with doubt, rejection, and fear. Those who come to arrest Jesus are seeking a rebel; but instead they find God in the shape of Jesus.

Yet we still refuse to recognize God as God. Instead WE rebel. WE want to be in charge. Yet Jesus will go willingly into custody for a crime he has not committed, and place himself in the hands of evil, of fear and sin, so that he may show that the love of God always wins out over evil, over fear, and over sin. We need to remember to hear “the people” instead of "the Jews" in the reading of the gospel passage today, because this passage in particular has been used throughout the centuries to justify anti-Semitism, and that is completely wrong.

WE are the ones-- all of us-- who put Jesus on the cross. We are there as Jesus is being questioned and condemned, and we are there as Jesus is executed although not guilty of any crime.

We are Adam and Eve, and we are also the disciples, we are the chief priests and the crowd, and we are Pilate and the soldiers. Each one of those groups represents something about us.

WE are Adam and Eve: We are the ones who run away and hide from the ones we love, and then wonder why we are alone. We are the ones who want God to be powerful enough to grant our wishes, yet weak enough to do our bidding.

WE are the disciples: We are the ones who ask to sit at the place of honor and but shun the shame of Calvary.

WE are Judas: We reject those we’ve pledged to love, betraying them when they won’t do what WE want.

WE are the chief priests and Pharisees: We are the ones for whom a thousand signs are never enough proof.

WE are Pilate: We are the ones who choose inaction in the face of wrong.

WE are the crowd: We are the ones who blindly follow our leaders, even to cheering the slaughter of innocents.

WE are the soldiers: We are the ones who take part in a thousand cruelties, both small and enormous, in the names of doing our jobs.

And all these sins add up. These sins are what put Jesus on the cross.

We want to believe that terrible events like crucifixion and injustice are the work of people who are evil. Yet the line between good and evil doesn’t run between us, it runs within us. It starts with how we respond to fear. So many of the people involved in the Passion narrative are filled with fear born out of mistrust. And this applies to us as well. We have created a society where we have elevated distrust, doubt, and betrayal to art forms, after all. When we lash out at those we love, when we destroy relationships out of dread that we could get hurt, we choose the way of anxiety rather than the way of trust—not to mention we ironically get the very thing we feared. Jesus calls us to a different way.

The Way of Jesus is the Way of trust, the Way of wonder, the Way of kinship with all people and all creation, the Way of the strong standing up for the weak, the Way of forgiveness, the Way of healing. That’s why these stories mean something to us—and this one today is the greatest story ever told.

But these stories also contain a challenge-- to be like Jesus. The challenge is to give up the way of fear. Jesus’s passion narrative as we hear it in today and always shows us not the way to die, but the way to live. Walking the Way of Jesus, in the name of love.

Amen.

Readings:

Preached at the 505, 8:00 and 10:15 services at St. Martin's Episcopal Church for Palm/Passion Sunday, April 14, 2019.