Message Archive

Isaiah 64:1-9 1 Corinthians 1:3-9 Mark 13:24-37 Psalm 80:1-7, 16-18

I pray that your Thanksgiving was joyful though it may have been non-typical this year.  As is true in most years, this Sunday following Thanksgiving Day begins our new Church year – the season of Advent, a time when our themes are keeping alert, being prepared, waiting with anticipation for the coming of Christ at the Nativity and the coming of Christ at the end of time.

On Thanksgiving Day of 1945, my father waited with anticipation on a cold street corner in Sanford, North Carolina.  Tugging his wool jacket a little closer and pulling his Army cap down over his head against the chill, he had no idea how long he would have to wait.  Yet, the length of his wait was not a source of distress.  He was prepared to wait as long as was necessary.

He had seen London leveled by German bombings; he had slogged through the mud of northern France; he had spent long dark nights on the snow-covered ground of Belgium; he had witnessed the remains of one of humanity’s most horrendous atrocities as he moved through the liberated death camps of western Germany.  All he could ever say about that was, “so many bodies, so many bodies.”

Throughout it all, it was his imaginings of this day – the anticipation of this day – this day that had now come, this day that had kept hope alive, warmed his soul, and kept him fighting the good fight toward the goal of a better world for future generations.

And, there were good times; there were the cozy haylofts offered by hospitable French dairy farmers; there were hot meals offered by grateful European countrymen and women; there were faithful friends and loyal troop mates and strong devoted leaders.  There had even been times in the previous summer when he could offer his agricultural expertise in helping families reclaim their bombed-out fields and begin again growing crops to feed their families.

But, throughout it all, it was this day for which he had prepared his heart – this chilly November day somewhere in the future that was the focus of his dreams – that gave him the energy to find joy in his day and bring joy to others.

Finally, the day had come, and he waited, alert to the approaching traffic.  In the distance, at long last, the little Ford coupe approached the intersection as the light changed to red, and my mother obediently stopped, interrupting the reunion for one more brief moment – one more brief moment to give thanks to God for safe arrival home and a new beginning.  The future was quite uncertain, but nothing mattered except that the war was over and he had returned safely.

The 13^th Chapter of Mark’s Gospel, from which we have heard Jesus’ predictions of the End Times, is considered the Little Apocalypse.  Jesus speaks of the time of arrival for which we are to be prepared when the Son of Man will come with great power and glory; our perception of the times often strikes fear in us weak humans.  We are not to know the time; the time is God’s time; the time is in God’s hands.

Yet, we are to remain alert with great anticipation regardless of the duration of the waiting; we are to prepare for the time by living into the kingdom that is here and now, praying that God’s will will be done on earth as it is in heaven, praying that God’s kingdom will come to earth.  We are to trust in the promise of everlasting life and not be afraid.

With faith in the promise, we anticipate this day with joy.  In times of distress and in times of gladness, and even in the face of uncertainty, our peace lies in the assurance of everlasting life, gathered from the ends of the earth to the ends of heaven, in the hands of our loving Father God, our Creator.  For the faithful, nothing about the hardships really matters when compared to the Eternal joy of the true day of thanksgiving that is to come – that in the last day, when he shall come again in his glorious majesty to judge both the living and the dead, we may rise to the life immortal.

Isaiah 45:1-7 Psalm 96:1-9, (10-13) 1 Thessalonians 1:1-10 Matthew 22:15-22

Ascribe to the Lord the honor due his Name;
bring offerings and come into his courts.  Psalm 96:8

Our Gospel lesson continues with another of Jesus’ confrontations with the Pharisees and Roman sympathizers in the Temple in Jerusalem during the last week of his life. The tension continues to build toward what we know will culminate in Jesus’ Crucifixion.   Time and again, the Jewish leaders will try to entrap Jesus.  Or, as the King James Version says, “entangle him in his talk” – to find something in his words that would lead to a legitimate charge to justify removing Jesus from their midst.

Aligned with the Roman followers of King Herod, the Pharisees’ scheme in our lesson this morning is a crafty one.  “Is it lawful to pay taxes to the emperor, or not?”  In other words, “Is it in accordance with the Jewish law of Moses to pay tax to the pagan oppressors of the Jews?  It is a loaded question… Obviously, a Jew in Roman-controlled Palestine who advocated non-payment of taxes to the government would be subject to charges of inciting a rebellion.  Yet, this tax on the harvest and personal property of the oppressed Jewish population was a great burden to these impoverished Jews living in Palestine.  The monies collected supported the army and the government of the pagan Roman oppressors that occupied their homeland.  It was a tax levied by the Romans but administered by the Jewish authorities.

A “No” to the question of paying the Roman tax would bring the rightful charge of sedition; a “Yes” would alienate the desperately oppressed Jews looking to Jesus to be their advocate for their relief from suffering.

What would Jesus do?

Jesus requests to see the coin necessary for paying the tax.  The coin bears the image of Tiberius Caesar; a pagan icon – its very existence violated the Commandment against graven images; being in the possession of such a coin in the Temple was a serious breach of Jewish Law.  Yet, from one of these conspirators, the coin was produced.  Jesus, taking in hand the coin and looking at it closely, noted the image of Tiberius Caesar and the inscription proclaiming Caesar as the divine high priest.

Jesus presses his audience to distinguish for themselves the obligation due to Caesar and the obligation due to God.  “Give therefore to the emperor the things that are the emperor’s, and to God the things that are God’s.” A more accurate translation of the original Greek is “give back” – “Give back to Caesar those things that are Caesar’s.  Give back to God those things that are God’s.”  More specifically, “Give back to Caesar those things bearing the image of Caesar; give back to God those things bearing the image of God.”

 “All things come of thee, O Lord, and of thine own have we given thee.”

As we have become accustomed, Jesus turns the tables on his questioners, and puts the ball back in the court of his adversaries.

It is true always of God’s nature of redemption to take what is Evil in the world and weave it into His plan for Good.  In our account this morning, Jesus takes the evil of the cruel and malicious actions of the Pharisees and Herodians and weaves them into an important message for God’s people:  All things come from God.

Similarly, in our Old Testament lesson from Isaiah, God converts the Persian King Cyrus into a vessel of freedom from bondage for the people of Israel.  The prophet Isaiah tells us that the Lord has grasped the right hand of Cyrus, that doors would be opened, gates never closed; that King Cyrus would know that there is no other God.  After defeating the Babylonians who had so long held the Israelites in exile, the Persian Cyrus would honor God over any earthly authority and listen to God’s call to “give back” the people of Israel – freeing them to return to their lives as faithful people created in the image of God.

In our culture of separation of Church and State, we tend to understand relatively well, “Give to Caesar the things that are Caesar’s.”  Figuratively and ideally, those things that bear the image of earthly civil government should be justly and proportionately returned to the government for, we assume, the good of all.  Jesus does not discount the requirement of paying the Roman tax within justifiable limits, but he essentially dismisses its importance in comparison to the infinite that we owe to God.

Jesus’ words are not for the simple purpose of justifying taxation by our civil governments.  More toward his primary point, Jesus’ purpose is to draw our attention to that that bears the image of God?  The key word is image.  Should not that that bears the image of God be returned to God?

So, how do we define the image of God?  What of that that bears the image of God?  That which bears the image of God remains ambiguous and infinite.

Unlike the Roman coinage bearing Tiberius Caesar’s image, we are created in the image of God.  And, by virtue of our baptism we are marked as Christ’s own forever.   Thus, we are rendered to God who is both our source and our destination.

Imago Dei, the image of God, we are created in the image of God.  It is through us that God accomplishes his plans and purposes.   In contrast to the coin bearing the image of Tiberius Caesar, perhaps this other coin would be a shiny disc in which we see our own image reflected, a reflection of the image of God.  Perhaps when others look at us, they see the image of God.

We are created in the image of God.  All that we have – all that we are is from God.  God accomplishes his plans and purposes through us as we take God into our hearts and live fully into that image.

We are of God; we are called to give back to God the things that are God’s.

1 Thessalonians 5:1-11 Matthew 25:14-30

“For to all those who have, more will be given, and they will have an abundance; 

but from those who have nothing, even what they have will be taken away.”

Jesus continues his conversation with his closest disciples in the waning days of his earthly ministry.  There is an urgency to prepare these followers to become the carriers of the mission as Jesus is well aware that his time on earth is drawing to a close.  These disciples have received much in terms of personal experiences as learners at Jesus’ knee.  In each one, we find human weaknesses alongside significant qualities that would be needed to assure that the mission of Jesus Christ would not end with his earthly death.  Thus, much has been given these disciples; soon, much will be expected, even to their deaths; nearly all of the original disciples would lose their lives for their faith in Jesus Christ and their commitment to his ministry.  Yet, the investment of their talents would mean the mission of Jesus Christ would spread to the ends of the earth and endure until the end of time.

The theme of God’s judgment permeates these latter-day discussions that are the focus of our Gospel lessons for these closing weeks of our Church year.  As confirmed in today’s Gospel lesson, we will be called to account for our stewardship of God’s bountiful blessings upon us in our earthly lives.  How will we invest our talents?  To us, much has been given; from us, much is expected.

The Parable of the Talents depicts a master who knew well the particular talents and virtues of each of his slaves. To those most trustworthy and ambitious, he wisely entrusts much of his wealth; to the one most antagonistic and distrusting, he delegates the least, well aware that that small amount would be hidden and non-productive.  Each slave seems to have lived up to the master’s expectation.

God knows our talents; God seeks, quite mysteriously, to direct us to invest our ambitious energies to carry out his will on earth.  Think of Jacob who blackmailed his older brother Esau and deceived his father Isaac in order to acquire the birthright and the blessing that made him the heir and patriarch rather than Esau, the rightful heir.  God knew Jacob’s savvy street smarts and converted them into the leadership qualities needed by Jacob to become Father Israel, the father of the twelve sons, the leader of God’s people – the people of Israel who preserved and handed down for all time the word of God and have endured in spite of brutal odds even until today.

Think of Moses, centuries later, who grew so angry with the brutal treatment of his enslaved fellow Hebrews that he murdered their Egyptian overseer.  God selected Moses and capitalized on this courage and passion that would be necessary to lead the Hebrews out of slavery in Egypt.

Think of the Saul of Tarsus who was the most zealous persecutor of the followers of Jesus Christ.  With all his energy, Saul plotted to stamp out the Christian movement known as “The Way.”  This Saul, God chose, specifically, for his relentless zeal and commitment to mission; God converted Saul of Tarsus to the Apostle Paul, and converted these essential qualities to produce the most well-known and prolific Christian missionary of all time.

Similarly, as we have said, the master of Jesus’ parable knew the capabilities of his slaves; he trusted those most capable with great quantities of his wealth, and the master was rewarded according to his expectations.  In turn, the master has the harshest accusations and the most frightful threats toward the one slave who dismisses the blessing granted him, crippled by his unfounded fears of his master’s character.

Thus, Jesus is seeking to warn his followers, and Jesus is seeking to warn us that those who discount their blessings and wrongfully depict God as a god of wrath and punishment will find themselves in the outer darkness.  God’s judgment ­is real, and God’s harshest judgment is toward those who exploit their power and talents granted them as representatives of God.   Outer darkness is the destination for those who are looked upon for guidance toward God, yet who, for self-serving reasons, misinterpret and portray God as an unjust god who is to be obeyed only out of a sense of guilt or fear of his wrath and punishment.  We, the Church, have been guilty of this mis-investment of our talents.

God’s judgment is real; “For to all those who have, more will be given, and they will have an abundance; but from those who have nothing, even what they have will be taken away.”

As we look on in horror at the fate of the people of Honduras who are suffering the fate of Hurricane Eta, it is too easy to blame God and question if these words apply to them.  Hondurans in remote mountain areas have so little in the way of human comforts.  As we would say of Europeans in the Middle Ages, life is hard and then you die.  Living in dwellings less secure than a cardboard box, typically along riverbanks that provide easy access to water, rivers overflowing at such magnanimous rates strip away everything except the clothes on their backs.  For those who survive, human suffering is beyond our imagination – cold, wet, homeless, starving, lost.  Even so, there is their faith in God, their awareness of their total dependence, not on earthly comfort, but on God alone.  This faith, the Honduran people have in abundance, even in the face of death.  This faith will be rewarded in abundance regardless of the ravages of earthly tragedy.

“For to all those who have, more will be given, and they will have an abundance.”  These are significant words for our call to stewardship.  We can each bury our talents; we can hold back on our financial and physical pledge to the mission and ministry of Jesus Christ through the Church of the Advent.  We can stand by as our ministries are neglected and our churches stand empty.  Or, we can invest that talent; we can feed and clothe disadvantaged families through our food pantry and clothes closet; we can assure a safe and comfortable environment for those so dependent upon the support of Alcoholics Anonymous and the young people receiving the nurturance of the Boy Scouts of America; we can contribute to the ongoing study of God’s word and the worship and praise of God that is expected of God’s people as we come together as the Body of Christ in support of one another.  And, we can take seriously our mission, bringing the peace and irresistible warmth of Jesus Christ to those who have been hurt or displaced by the Church.  This is our call.

“For to all those who have, more will be given, and they will have an abundance.”  

All things come of God, and it is from this abundance that we give back to God, investing our God-given talents toward the furtherance of his Kingdom; and, in turn multiplying the abundance of these blessings again and again.  This is our call as people of God in Jesus Christ.

Nothing is as strong as true gentleness, and nothing is as gentle as real strength.

Francis DeSales

Yesterday morning, we awakened to the news of the death of James Bond – Sean Connery, at age 90.   He died in his sleep, which seems appropriate; had he been awake, surely, he would have figured a way out as he always did in the movies.  I’m not a huge fan; I don’t seek out James Bond movies, but when I think of Sean Connery in that role, I see him bound, in water up to his chin, seemingly hopeless, facing sure death, yet remaining calm, allowing his expertise and clear mindedness to consider the most feasible means of escape, which viewers can be assured will come, no matter how unbelievable.  In life, whether faced with the crisis of a shootout or a high-speed chase, even a woman’s wiles, James Bond maintains that non-anxious gentlemanly presence, with his strength prevailing again and again.

The late 16^th/early 17^th century French mystic Francis DeSales, beatified by the Church in 1661, was well-known for his gentleness and patience; known so well, in fact, that he is often referenced as the “Gentleman Saint.”  He offered great counsel in spiritual direction and is often quoted in these circles.

A DeSales quote that relates so well to our celebration of All Saints and our lessons for today [and maybe even to James Bond] is this: “Nothing is as strong as true gentleness, and nothing is as gentle as real strength.”

If, as our collect for All Saints’ Day exhorts us, we are to follow, by God’s grace, our blessed saints in all virtuous and godly living, that will be accomplished in gentleness – nothing is as strong as true gentleness.  The champions of our Beatitudes from our Gospel lesson are not victims seeking rescue, but humble servants seeking virtuous and godly living maintained in gentleness of spirit.  Each beatitude addresses a virtue that is encompassed within the strengths of our faith journey as gentle people of God.

Blessed are the poor in spirit.  In gentleness and humility, we recognize the poverty of our spirits, our human weakness, placing our souls fully within God’s guidance that we might inherit the kingdom of heaven, now and yet to come.

Blessed are those who mourn.  With sincere compassion, we mourn for the world, that we might be intentional, though gentle, vehicles of God’s comfort.

Blessed are the meek, for they shall inherit the earth, not by brute force, but through the strength of their gentleness.

Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness.  We seek righteousness to assuage our hunger and thirst.  It is not our frenzied desperate efforts to gather the comforts of our world that fill us with the peace of God; but it is in the gentleness of walking with intention in the ways of God that we are at peace.

Blessed are the merciful.  Mercy comes to us when we are capable of showing mercy to others; lack of mercy is a powerful tool of our own destruction.

Blessed are the pure in heart.  The hearts of those who seek mindfully to walk in the ways of God are pure; their nature testifies to the strength of gentleness.

Blessed are the peacemakers.  God’s presence sustains us in peace in the light of the day and in the dark of the night.  The children of God are peacemakers – those who from their own sense of calm actively seek to bring calm to our chaotic world.  Our words from John’s first letter affirm us as those children of God.  “See what love the Father has given us, that we should be called children of God.”  As children of God, we are called to bring about peace throughout our world; we do so gently, for nothing is as strong as true gentleness, and nothing is as gentle as real strength.

Blessed are those who are persecuted for righteousness’ sake.  John, in the portion of his Revelation that we have read today, tells us that those white-robed who stand before the throne and before the Lamb have come through the great ordeal; they have been made white by the blood of the Lamb; they have been persecuted for righteousness sake, reviled and falsely accused.  Their gentle acceptance of persecution and death for righteousness’ sake has left behind a brightly blazing torch of strength for those who would be tempted by the trials of this world to forsake their belief in Jesus Christ as Lord and Savior.  What greater strength, what greater reward could exist than the gentle peace of God in the kingdom of heaven.

During his time of earth, our Lord could have pursued positions of worldly strength.  Surely, he could have been the most forceful military leader, the wealthiest and most powerful emperor of the Roman Empire, the most highly sought-after magician and faith healer.  But no, he came in the gentleness and quietude of a cattle stall and went meekly to the Cross – all for our salvation.

The white robed martyrs standing before the throne and the Lamb in John’s heavenly revelation did not receive their reward as the result of their earthly strength, but in the true gentleness and patience that came to them through their earthly acceptance of total dependence on God alone.

The book of Revelations is one that is very often held in fear, and there are portions that are truly perplexing and fearful.  But, more important are these portions that assure us of our everlasting reward before the throne and the Lamb; these are the verses we read so often as part of the burial rite; these are the portions of John’s revelation that bring us comfort and peace – gentleness as we face our earthly death and the death of those we love.  We would all desire gentle death.

In closing: No doubt, this week will bring challenges to our pledge toward gentleness.  As children of God, each of us passionate about our political opinions, there are other children of God, equally passionate, who have completely opposite though well-informed opinions.  Our individual hopes for our country are widely divided; whatever the outcome of the election, our patience and gentleness are sure to be challenged.  So, for the duration until and following the decisions of the election, let us be gentle with ourselves and our neighbor.  May we have to grace to follow the blessed saints of God in virtuous and godly living.  Let us each pray diligently for safety and peace and the ongoing well-being of our nation, for all who make this their home, and all who look toward this great country as the beacon of strength and goodness throughout the world.  And, from our Lord Jesus Christ who blessed the poor and the meek and the hungry, let us remember that nothing is as strong as true gentleness, and nothing is as gentle as real strength.

Leviticus 19:1-2,15-18 Psalm 1 1 Thessalonians 2:1-8 Matthew 22:34-46

The LORD spoke to Moses, saying:  

Speak to all the congregation of the people of Israel and say to them: “You shall be holy, for I the LORD your God am holy…”

In last week’s Gospel lesson, we were reminded that we are created in the image of God, and, thus, are intended to be reflections of God.  This week’s lessons exhort us, yet again, as creations of God to be reflections of God’s holiness; our interactions with one another are to be holy; our everyday lives are to be lived in holiness.  We shall be holy because the LORD our God is holy.

These words come from the book of Leviticus.  There are more than six-hundred laws, some very nick-picky and specific, that were set down by the Israelites in the book of Leviticus.  Too many of these very specific laws have been cherry-picked to be used unjustly as weapons by self-seeking religious leaders over the centuries.  Leviticus gets a bad reputation and is seldom included in our lectionary.

Yet, the words we read today: “You shall be holy, for I the LORD your God am holy…” are considered the theological foundation – the basic reasoning on which and the Law of God is founded.  You shall be holy, for I the LORD your God am holy.  “The holiness of God demands to be reflected in human beings.”  [Professor Christopher Hays, Feasting on the Word, Year A, Volume 4, p. 195]

Our lesson from Leviticus comes from the section entitled the “Holiness Code” thought to have been recorded here by the priestly scribes of the Jerusalem Temple.  The Levitical chapters within the Holiness Code contain God’s laws – God’s guidance toward taking the holiness experience of our worship of God, which in this case generates from the Temple in Jerusalem, and expanding this holiness experience into our everyday lives.  We come together for worship and praise so that we can carry the holiness of this experience into the world; this is the emphasis of God’s laws expressed in the Holiness Code.

From today’s Gospel lesson, it is clear that by the time of Jesus’ earthly ministry, the gift of God’s Law had become convoluted by some misdirected leaders into a vehicle for exerting power and meting out punishment, rather than guiding God’s chosen people in their relationships with one another – in living out their love for one another.  Of course, sadly, the convolution continues in our times.

It is this convolution that Jesus is confronting in his testy exchanges with the Pharisees in the Temple.  If you have been following our Gospel lessons over the past weeks, you note that these exchanges are increasingly tense as the wise Pharisees grow more and more desperate in their intentional efforts to discredit or, hopefully, incriminate Jesus with his answers to their crafty questions.  In this exchange, Jesus shows them that the foundation of their Jewish faith lives in him as well by quoting the second portion of the Shema – the daily prayer of all faithful Jews – “love the Lord you God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all you mind.” This commandment, Jesus says, is the greatest commandment.  But, then, Jesus adds the command to love you neighbor as the second commandment.  This second commandment is not equal, but not separate, and Jesus makes us all aware that both are essential and that one command cannot be followed faithfully without the other.

Just exactly how one is to love God and love one another is left to the lifelong discernment of those in Jesus’ audience, including us, as Jesus moves on to another basic essential.  Becoming, now, the questioner of the Pharisees, Jesus challenges them to explore their understanding of the term “LORD.”  “What do you think of the Messiah?  Whose son is he?”  Yes, the Messiah is identified as the Son of David, but, most importantly, Jesus establishes that the Messiah is the Son of God; and the Messiah is the LORD.  Here, the conversation ends.  We are told that no one dared ask him any more questions.

Coming back to the words that the LORD spoke to Moses: I am the LORD; you shall be holy because I your God am holy.  Again, the words repeat God’s law to the people, “I am the LORD,” this time followed by the specific command.  “You shall not hate in your heart anyone of your kin.”

Of all the millions of man-made laws throughout the world, our nation, our state, and local municipalities, there is not one single earthly law that can control the hatred in our hearts.  We can be fined, silenced, and ostracized for hate speech; we can be imprisoned for hateful actions, but there is no human law that has the power to eliminate hate from our hearts.  Only God’s law speaks to the hateful thoughts that become words that become actions that become our character.  Only in seeking the holiness of God can we snuff out the fertile seeds of hate that too easily take root and sprout within the human heart.

As we live into the love of God, making that love of God the foundation of our everyday lives, we begin, more and more, to understand what it is to live into loving our neighbor.

“I am the LORD; you shall be holy because I your God am holy.”  To repeat Professor Hays’ quote, “The holiness of God demands to be reflected in human beings.”  I cannot not tell you exactly how we are to live up to that demand, except to emphasize that we must first understand that we are loved by God.  But, I leave you with these words of the psalmist speaking of those who delight in the law of the LORD:

They are like trees

            planted by streams of water,

which yield their fruit in its season,

            and their leaves do not wither.

In all that they do, they prosper. 

…for the LORD watches over the way of the righteous,

            but the way of the wicked will perish.   [Psalm 1:3,6]

“I am the LORD; you shall be holy because I your God am holy.”

Psalm 23 Philippians 4:1-9 Matthew 22:1-14

If you are one for whom the image of God is one of disapproval and rejection, you might interpret this Gospel message as one that affirms that misconception.  If you are one for whom the image of God is one of graciousness, mercy, and all-inclusiveness, you find this parable disconcerting.

It is clear that Jesus is targeting the religious leaders in his audience.  Jesus is speaking to the people in the Temple during this last week of his earthly life.  This parable is the vehicle through which he condemns the religious leaders of his faith – condemning those who have denied the gift of God’s grace and mercy in their denial of faith in Jesus Christ – condemning religious leaders of today who deny, for their own self-serving motives, the reality of God’s grace and mercy freely offered to all; all are worthy in God’s sight.

These religious leaders should have been the first to accept their invitation to the sacred feast, yet they had snubbed that invitation; in fact, they would murder the one who came to deliver the invitation.  Thus, that invitation to the wedding feast – the invitation to salvation through faith in Jesus Christ would be extended and readily accepted by those assumed the last to be considered worthy of salvation.  All would be invited.  This invitation to all is not surprising to us; we are among those who have accepted that invitation and experienced God’s grace and mercy.

But, then, the parable of today’s Gospel lesson takes a dark turn.  The inappropriately garbed invitee to the wedding feast is rejected – there’s that disapproving castigating god again!!

But no, it is important to understand a bit about first-century Jewish culture in order to better interpret Jesus’ message in this Parable of the Wedding Feast.   in Jesus’ day there was the expectation of being properly prepared when attending a wedding feast.  If someone arrived without the suitable wedding attire, it was made available.  For someone to reject this readily available accommodation of the proper attire was equivalent to thumbing his nose at the accepted social standards of the day.  When in Israel earlier this year, visiting a mosque in Hebron, we women were required to don the full-length hooded capes made available to us by our gracious guides, covering ourselves from head to toe; to refuse would have been scandalous and insensitive to our Muslim hosts.

To interpret the message of the parable more clearly, we must discern that the rejection of the wedding robe by the wedding guest is equivalent to our rejecting the gift of God’s grace so freely offered – the gift of our salvation through our faith in Jesus Christ, the gift so significant that Jesus died and rose again to make it available to us, the gift that is our only necessary attire for life everlasting.  Choosing to reject that gift so readily offered would be to find ourselves in outer darkness – tossed there by our own accord in spite of God’s fervent plea to accept the gift so freely offered.

There is a wonderful book that I have recommended in this month’s newsletter, and I adjure you once again to take time to read and digest.  Life of the Beloved is authored by Henri Nouwen.  The book centers on the four-fold action of our “wedding feast” – the Holy Eucharist.  If you follow closely as we move through the words of Institution of our Holy Feast, you will note these four actions that enact Jesus’ actions at the Last Supper:  Take, bless, break, share.  Jesus “takes” the bread; Jesus gives thanks and, thus, blesses the bread; Jesus breaks the bread; Jesus shares the bread.

Nouwen applies those four actions to our lives as God’s chosen and beloved children.  The first action of being “taken” in Nouwen’s understanding is more accurately described as our being chosen by God – chosen from the time even long before our conception in our mother’s womb.  Each one of us, unique in all creation, is beloved by our Creator; each of us is chosen to be God’s child, chosen and beloved.  Why else would God have created us?

This understanding of being beloved is formed from the earliest of our conscious understanding of our being the beloved of our earthly caregivers.  Our understanding of the concept of being worthy of being beloved is shaped or misshaped by those who care for us from infancy onward.  When that concept of being worthy and beloved is misshaped, we struggle through life, too often teetering on the edge of outer darkness – not because God places us there, but because our earliest caregivers implant that sense of unworthiness.  Again, and again, we adults are to be reminded that we must not underestimate the impact of our words and actions on the lives of the children who look up to us.  We are creating their image of God.  Is God gracious and merciful to all – all who are chosen, worthy, and beloved?  Or, is God a god of disapproval and rejection, too eager to declare us unworthy?

Why did God create us if God did not intend for us to be beloved?

Euodia and Syntyche were significant leaders of the first century Church in Philippi.  They were dependent upon the skilled guidance of the Apostle Paul as they sought to gather more and more Christians of greatly diverse backgrounds into this circle.  As is characteristic of all human relationships, there were differences of opinions amongst these earliest Christians, disgruntlement between leaders, and grumblings of followers.

In his letter to the first Christians of Philippi from which comes these beautiful words of our epistle lesson, the Apostle Paul is chiding them to garb themselves in the proper attire of the beloved people of God: gentleness, gratitude, peace – those garments that are the fruits of the spirit of those who have accepted the gift of God’s grace.

Take, bless, break, share.  Know that you have been taken by God as God’s beloved; accept that you are worthy of God’s blessing; be broken as Christ’s Body is broken for us so that you might go forth to share in inviting others into the Body of Christ – clothing yourselves in the garment of Jesus Christ, our host, as you take your place at the great Wedding Feast that is now and yet to come; and the God of peace will be with you – you, the beloved.

Ezekiel 18:1-4,25-32 Psalm 25:1-8 Philippians 2:1-13 Matthew 21:23-32

“I have no pleasure in the death of anyone,” says the Lord God.  “Turn, then, and live.”

[Ezekiel 18:32]

The prophet Ezekiel is speaking to the exiled people of Israel.  We can imagine that having been conquered by invading armies, having their homes and Temple destroyed, being carried from their homeland, and held in exile in a foreign land would prompt discussion of God’s justice and fairness.  They say, “The way of the Lord is unfair.”

No doubt, we, too, would all be trying to decide who was to blame.  Was it the poor judgment of our parents?  Was it the poor leadership of our rulers?  Or, is God just brazenly unfair?  Yet, none of that energy devoted to blaming someone for our state of affairs is going to get us back home to Israel.

Prosperity Gospel preachers will use these words from Ezekiel’s prophecy to validate their belief in God’s system of scorecards assigned to each of us.  God is looking over those pledge envelopes in that alms basin and assigning blessings accordingly.  Regretfully, that sermon is being preached in far too many places of worship even today.  Using isolated passages from the Bible so irresponsibly does not bring life.  Rather, the Bible becomes a weapon that brings death to the spirit of those who are seeking, and God takes no pleasure in death.

And, so, we turn, then, and live.  The people of Israel would eventually heed the word of the Lord; they would accept the responsibility for their own actions and their own faithfulness; with God’s help, they would renew their hearts and spirits [v. 31]; they would turn and live; they would be restored to their homeland and their life of faithfulness to the Lord.

The account of the life of North Korean born Yeonmi Park is one of choosing to live.   Portions of Park’s story have been disputed; there are some inconsistencies, many due to language barriers and confusing childhood memories.  What we do know is that Park was born in 1993 into the brutal dictatorship of North Korea.  Her father spoke openly with his family of the inhumanity of life under Kim Jong-il and Kim Jong-un and was subsequently arrested and imprisoned for black market trading, which he had undertaken as the only means of feeding his family during the economic collapse of the 1990’s.

Left on their own for the years to come, Park and her mother and siblings suffered poverty and near starvation.  Being close enough to the border of China to view the night lights there, Park and her mother vowed to escape.  At the age of thirteen, mother and daughter set out across the frozen river under the constant threat of heavily armed border guards and ongoing uncertainty of survival.

Arriving in China, there were even more horrors to be encountered.  Mother and daughter were sold into slavery.  Park reports that because she was such a young virgin her price of purchase was $200.  However, it seems that as part of her sex slave contract, her owner agreed to arrange for the purchase of her mother and the release of her father, whose health after so many years of torture and hard labor was quite poor; her father survived only a short while beyond the reunion with wife and daughter.

There was much more unimaginable hardship to come.  Finally, her plight came to the attention of Christian missionaries who smuggled them to the Mongolian border from where they crossed the Gobi Desert in midwinter with the stars as their compass, finally arriving at the plane that would fly them to South Korea and freedom in 2009, and eventually, to new life in the United States.

Park confesses that there were times throughout the ordeal that she considered suicide as her only means of escape.  But, Park was surely bolstered by the lifeblood of her father’s spirit of survival – a father who dreamed of freedom but would never know what it would be to live in freedom.  Park kept close to her heart her father’s dying words as he implored her never to consider killing herself because “Life,” he said, “is a gift you should never give up.”  The message of turn, then, and live would remain Park’s impetus for perseverance.

“Turn, then, and live” was God’s message to the people of Israel being held in captivity.

“Turn, then, and live” is Jesus’ message to the tax collectors and prostitutes of our Gospel lesson who have, thus far, spent their lives making decisions that have brought death into their lives, but have now turned to follow Jesus and live.  In the Temple, in the last days prior to the Crucifixion, tension between Jesus and the religious leaders is at the breaking point.  Without answering their ill-proposed questions that were designed to catch him in blasphemy, Jesus challenges the chief priests with a parable that serves as their own self-incrimination, contrasting the authenticity of the belated coming to the faith of known sinners with the lifelong superficiality of the chief priests and elders – the designated representatives of God.

“Which of the two did the will of his father?” Jesus asked.  They said, “The first.”

The tax collectors and the prostitutes, redeemed from their life of sinfulness, believed.  They turned and took up the work of the vineyard.

Conversely, the chief priests had verbally committed themselves to the work of the vineyard, but had only pursued that commitment half-heartedly, believing they were entitled to God’s blessings by virtue of their birth and position; too many had used and would continue to use their priestly positions as weapons of death, spreading hopelessness among the very people of God to whom they were called to bring life.  It would be the tax collectors and the prostitutes who, so belatedly had accepted God’s grace, would precede them in the Kingdom.   There is nothing unfair about God’s grace.  We turn to God’s grace and we live.

What are the obstacles in your life that bring death – distractions that leave you feeling empty, separated from God, and your neighbor or family member hurt by your actions?  How have we, the Church, brought death to the spirit of those who are seeking to know and serve God, yet are turned away by our elitist pharisaic attitude.

Daily, we are called to reflect on our thoughts and words and actions that bring death.  Daily, we are called to turn, and live.

Jonah 3:10-4:11 Psalm 145:1-8 Philippians 1:21-30 Matthew 20:1-16

Our Old Testament lesson this morning is from the book of Jonah; the book of Jonah is included among the subcategory of minor prophets.  Like so many Biblical characters, Jonah, even though a prophet of God, was flawed; Jonah was slow to acknowledge God’s divine providence over all creation; Jonah was resistant to God’s call to mission.  Jonah is a very human character given in to the pitfalls of human nature; we can relate to Jonah.

Since we were children, we’ve delighted in Jonah’s story of being scoffed up by the whale.  It almost seems odd to focus on Jonah in a serious religious setting.  Yet, we are wise to do so; it is Jonah who points out so many of our critical pitfalls as self-assumed faithful people of God.

Jonah, a prophet of God, was called to carry God’s message to the people of Nineveh.  Jonah was not happy about the mission; he held the people of Nineveh in great fear and disdain.  Certainly, they were not worthy of his risking his life to carry them the message of God’s call for redemption!  With the intention of circumventing God’s direction, Jonah boarded a ship to Tarshish rather than set out on a journey to Nineveh.  To Jonah’s frustration, once the ship was underway, a great storm arose.  With cargo discharged overboard and all lives in grave danger, Jonah finally suspected God’s purpose in the storm and implored his shipmates to toss him overboard to avoid their own demise.  Thus, Jonah became fish bait, which prompted his fervent prayers to God resulting in his being coughed up on the shore three days later, no doubt causing a good bit of gastric distress for the whale.  From here, Jonah received the word of God more willingly and began his belated journey to Nineveh.

Even after this horrendous culmination of events, Jonah was slow if ever to consider his adventurous journey as being so directly guided by God – God who continued to pursue and protect Jonah with mercy and grace, guiding Jonah toward his designated mission, even using a whale to capture and redirect Jonah rather than chew him to bits or let him drown.

This beloved childhood Bible story, in actuality, has a very serious glaring message for Jonah, as it does to us.  These messages always come when we need to hear them the most.  God had been unquestionably present with Jonah, awarding Jonah with his mercy and grace.  Yet, still, Jonah was not willing to accept that very same mercy and grace of God for the people of Nineveh – his perceived enemies.  Jonah continued to be unaccepting of God’s power over his creation.  Jonah was angry with God for destroying the bush that God had sent specifically for Jonah’s comfort.  At the same time, Jonah was confused and disgruntled with God for withholding the destruction of the people of Nineveh who, by the way, thanks to Jonah’s prophecy, had repented and turned from their evil ways in the face of that destruction.

How many of us found within ourselves a bit of that same disgruntlement and confusion at the thought of these laborers in our Gospel parable who came so late to the vineyard receiving the same wages as those who had worked all day?  If you are an employer, you know not to allow employees to compare each other’s wages.

We are human like Jonah.  Countless times we have found ourselves disgruntled when we consider someone who received the same reward though, in our eyes, is far less deserving.  Countless times we have stood among the jealous and resentful as someone from the “other side” was awarded the prize.  It’s just not fair.  In our eyes, they are undeserving.  I’m guilty – Year after year, as the mother of perfectly obedient and well-behaved children [J], I sat through awards ceremonies where that good behavior was unacknowledged while the one child who had continuously disrupted the class had rallied during the last three weeks of school to receive the award for the “most improved.”

But, our Gospel message is not the message of rewards for human works.  Our Gospel message is the message of the mercy and grace of God – the message of our justification by grace through our faith in Jesus Christ.  God’s grace is abundant and equally gifted to all – even to those who come late to the faith – even to the Prodigal Son and the one lamb among the ninety-nine who was lost and finally found, even this wayward child for whom perhaps this acknowledgement of eleventh-hour improved behavior inspired redirection toward a healthier path.

God’s grace is freely and equally offered to all, we cannot earn that grace through our earthly works.  We cannot direct God’s grace; grace is fully within God’s realm to provide.

Whether we come early or late, God’s grace is the same.  Perhaps we identify ourselves with those laborers who worked all day in the heat.  Let’s think of that day as the time of our lives spent with the knowledge of the presence of Christ.   God’s grace is the same at the end of time, but what of our time spent on earth here and now in the knowledge of Christ – in the work of the vineyard.  Is that not itself our special gift?  Are we not rewarded every day that we spend in the Body of Christ doing the work God has given us to do?  Did not my well-behaved children reap the benefits of healthy learning throughout the school year?

We know no more of Jonah.  The account of his saga ends with the verses we read today.  In these final verses of the book of Jonah, God confronts Jonah as he pouts about the destroyed bush: “You are concerned about the bush, for which you did not labor and which you did not grow.”  God leaves Jonah with the question – the question that we should expand for our own reflection on God’s divine providence over all creation – “Should I, [the God of all creation], not be concerned about Nineveh, that great city, in which there are more than a hundred and twenty thousand persons who do not know their right hand from their left?”

Should God not be concerned about Nineveh?  Should God not be concerned equally about those who come late as those who come early?  Isn’t God calling you to Nineveh?  Isn’t God calling you to reach out to those left standing in the market place?  Think about it, and remember there are whales along the way.

Genesis 50:15-21 Psalm 103:(1-7), 8-13 Romans 14:1-12 Matthew 18:21-35

 [The Lord] has not dealt with us according to our sins,
nor rewarded us according to our wickedness.

For as the heavens are high above the earth,
so is his mercy great upon those who fear him.  [Psalm 103:10-11]

Debt and punishment, forgiveness and mercy are carried to the extreme in this parable of the unforgiving slave.   The parable calls us to consider God’s immeasurable mercy toward us; in the words of the Psalmist, we have been spared the wrath that we deserve according to our sinfulness.   In turn, the parable calls us to consider the consequences of withholding mercy from those who have wronged us.

In this parable, we are told that the kingdom of heaven can be compared to the king whose slave owes him ten thousand talents.  For perspective, let us consider that one talent was worth six to ten thousand denarii, one denarius being a day’s pay.  Ten thousand talents, then, could amount to as much as ten thousand denarii times ten thousand days equaling 100 million days of work, which figures out to roughly 274,000 years of labor.  Thus, we are assured that it is an inestimable amount and, certainly, a debt that is humanly impossible to satisfy.

We learn, though, in our story from Matthew’s Gospel, that the king takes pity on the slave and his family and forgives the massive debt.  Again, we experience the extreme when we register the enormity of the debt forgiven.  Only then, can we see the true greatness of the king’s mercy.  The debt is beyond our human comprehension; the king’s mercy is immeasurable.

Sadly, however, we read that the slave, released of the life-threatening debt, goes his merry way and, upon encountering his fellow slave who is indebted to him, finds no pity for this former cohort – tossing him into prison for his inability to pay him the debt he owes.  And, when the word of this merciless injustice reaches the king (or lord, as he is referenced in the later verses of our lesson), the king hands the ungrateful and unforgiving slave over to be tortured until the fathomless debt is paid – thus, tortured for eternity.

Forgiveness, it seems, is conditional.  We are forgiven of our debts as we forgive our debtors.  Sound familiar?  Forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against.  Does God punish us for our lack of willingness to forgive those who hurt us as this king or lord calls for the eternal torture of this ungrateful slave?  No, the reality for us is that it is our lack of willingness to forgive that tortures us, eating us from the inside like acid eats its own container.

Our simple theological understanding of forgiveness is to “let go.”  Letting go doesn’t mean we forget; letting go doesn’t mean we don’t learn from our mistakes; letting go doesn’t mean we continue to subject ourselves to helplessly toxic relationships that drain our spirit.  Letting go means not allowing that negativism to define us.  When we let go, we load that negative cargo on a boat and watch it sail away down the river, all while we reclaim the strength that had been lost under the weight of the negative cargo.

Fr Richard Rohr captures this sense of the eternal torture of unwillingness to forgive others in his articles from his audio version of The Art of Letting Go: Living the Wisdom of Saint Francis.
Quoting Fr. Richard, “If that story line has become your identity, if you are choosing to live in a victim state, an abused consciousness, it gives you a false kind of power and makes you feel morally superior to others.  But let me tell you, it will also destroy you.  It will make you smaller and smaller as you get older.  You will find that you have fewer and fewer people you can trust, fewer and fewer people, if any, that you can love.  Life itself becomes a threat.”  Fr. Richard alerts us to the reality that our ongoing and, in our eyes, non-reconcilable woundedness might bring us a perceived sense of power, wielding our demand for retribution from those who have hurt us.  Yet, in truth, it is our bitter destruction.

The debt of the slave in our parable – 100 million days of work, is immeasurable; our debt, which our Lord Jesus Christ paid for us, is beyond immeasurable.  Jesus came willingly to pay that debt, clearly a debt we could never pay.  We are simply asked to extend that same sense of mercy to those who have hurt us.

There are few better examples of human forgiveness than the saga of Joseph, which takes a significantly different outcome than our parable.  Joseph’s jealous and vindictive brothers had sold him into slavery; Joseph was, thus, carried off to Egypt and assumed gone forever by his brothers.  But, as always is God’s way, the evil deed of the brothers was converted to good.  Years later when the people of Israel were starving and the brothers were sent to Egypt to beg for grain, it was their long-lost brother Joseph they encountered.  Under God’s providence, Joseph had risen to prominence in Egypt and now, ironically, was keeper of the grain.

Revenge, they say, is sweet; but Joseph had no desire for revenge.   As the brothers humbled themselves with great fear in the face of their enormously evil deed, we read that Joseph said to them, “Do not be afraid!  Am I in the place of God?  Even though you intended to do harm to me, God intended it for good, in order to preserve a numerous people, as he is doing today.  So have no fear; I myself will provide for you and your little ones.” [Genesis 50:20]   Their debt was immeasurable, yet Joseph forgave the debt.  The brothers’ relationship was restored; their request for food was granted; and the remnant of God’s people of Israel was preserved.

Our debt to our Lord Jesus Christ is immeasurable; and, yet, we are set free of our debt, forgiven of our evil ways and ongoing sins, and granted prosperity in this life and in eternity.  In turn, we are called to forgive immeasurably – seventy times seven.  Jesus demonstrated this immeasurable forgiveness from the cross, “Father, forgive them, for they no not what they do.”

The foundation of our faith is that we are forgiven and redeemed by God through our Lord Jesus Christ.  Certainly, it is to our benefit that we are forgiven by our neighbors.  But, equally important is our call to forgive.  That doesn’t mean we forget the hurt; it means we let it go, sailing off down the river – carrying with it the bitterness that would otherwise lead to our own destruction.

Returning to the words of Richard Rohr: “Thankfully, God has given us a way to not let the disappointments, hurts, betrayals, and rejections of life destroy us.  It is the art of letting go.  If we can forgive and let go, if we don’t hold our hurts against history and against one another, we will indeed be following Jesus.”