Mutual Love and Friendship: Proper 21 Year A

Last weekend, our vestry held a four hour working retreat. We were led by a colleague and friend, The Reverend Ron Pogue, Interim Rector of Good Shepherd in Lexington. We choose to have this retreat for one reason: we are still in transition. 

Our current vestry has been frozen for two years. In other words, there’s been no election of new vestry members during the search for a Rector. This means that some of our vestry members have served for four years. Their leadership was especially vital to the life of Trinity during the interim: ensuring the most basic aspects of our life together continued. Now, as they transition off the vestry, we do not want to lose their input. Now is the time to capture their knowledge, wisdom and discernment for the future of Trinity.

We began with the usual “getting to know you” games and then Ron asked us an interesting question: If Trinity’s doors were permanently locked, closed permanently, what would the community miss? Of course, we know what we would miss. The twist of the question is what the community would miss. Said another way: how does our community, Danville/Boyle County, know us? 

It’s an interesting question. For me, it evokes more questions. How do we, Trinity Church, want to be known? Who are we as a community? What inspires us to open our Red Doors, not only on Sundays? Who does God call us, Trinity Church, to be? 

My guess is that right now, today, if we passed out slips of paper to answer these questions, there would be many answers. And each one would be sufficient, satisfactory, accurate.  As the vestry sought to answer this question, we sought to be faithful: faithful to our Church and faithful to God.

I don’t usually preach on all three readings. It’s an intimidating task: drawing a connection between three readings written over a period of thousands of years. Yet, as I studied this week’s readings, I found at least one consistency. Together, our readings paint a portrait of God and call us deeper into Discipleship.

Let’s begin with Exodus. 

Over the last few weeks, the Book of Exodus has described Israel’s slavery and escape from Egypt. We witnessed Moses and the burning bush, the feast of the Passover and the parting of the Red Sea. 

Now, we hear the complaining of Israel. Last week, they were desperate for food. This week they want water. We may laugh or chuckle at their whining, but we can’t really blame them. How many times do we find ourselves in the same position? The irony is that God always provides exactly what the Israelites,

what we, need. God’s provisions may be unexpected: a light, flaky frostlike substance for food and water from a rock.  Nonetheless, the readings remind us: God is reliable; we can trust God for all our needs

Then there’s Paul’s letter to the Philippians. Like most, if not all, of Paul’s letter, the letter to the Philippians is a letter of support. Paul’s basic aim is to unite the belief and practices of each community he serves. 

For the people of Philippi, Paul focuses on the value of friendship.  This friendship is the bond we have with Christ. Our experience of Christ’s love, God’s grace, binds us to one another. This is not a new theme for Paul or for us. In his letter to the Philippians, though, friendship is where spreading the Gospel begins. This kind of friendship requires two things: love of Christ and love for one another. This love urges them to grow and be transformed by Christ. It also makes them a bold proclamation of the Gospel. The community, then, must have two core values: following Christ’s humility and living in mutual love. 

  

These core values are centered in the person of Christ. The hymn found in the middle of today’s passage is an ancient hymn, a song of the early church. It emphasizes Christ’s humility and obedience. The root words for the Greek word obedience mean to listen; it’s opposite is to be deaf.  Obedience, then, requires us to listen, to hear and follow God’s call.  The hymn makes it clear that Jesus is a humble leader.  He sets aside his desires and listens for God. He earnestly seeks to remove all the barriers, including humanity’s deafness, to follow God. Paul makes it clear that we must do the same. We must set our selves aside, our desires, setting aside every barrier in order to hear and follow God. This includes putting the needs of others before our own, living in service to one another. This is Discipleship: living in mutual love and friendship for the sake of Christ and the Gospel. 

We do this by the sharing of the Spirit and following Christ’s humble leadership. 

This brings me to the Gospel. Today we have another parable, another story of God’s kingdom.  It is the story of one son who says Yes and does nothing. The other says No, then changes his mind and goes. 

The parable is told in the context of Jesus’ confrontation with the Pharisees and the Scribes. (This portion is excluded in our reading today.) They, of course, are trying to entrap Him. And, He, in turn, entraps them. 

The Pharisees and Scribes question Jesus’ authority; He turns to the authority of John.  The Pharisees and Scribes, protecting their authority and power, will not answer Jesus.  And Jesus tells this parable.

The parable is rather easy to interpret. God calls each of us to participate in the work of God’s kingdom.  There are some who claim to participate; yet, they are deaf to God’s activity in the world. And there are others who, initially balk at the call, then something happens. They become witnesses to God in their midst and full participants in God’s work in the world. Jesus makes it clear: by their refusal to participate in His life, the Pharisees and scribes are aliens of God’s kingdom. Those who follow Christ, who are transformed by Discipleship, are bearers of God’s kingdom. 

Together, then, these three readings are guides for our community. Like the people of Israel, we must trust God. God has already given us all we need and this will not stop.  As we grow and are transformed, God will continue to give us all we need. 

Meanwhile, we must root ourselves in the humility and love of Christ. Our humility is a reflection of God’s grace known to us in the love of Christ. This love will transform us as we seek to serve others and make us bold as we proclaim the Gospel. Finally, the parable reminds us that even our “No” can be transformed. As we witness God’s work, our faith will grow and we will hear God’s call in our lives.     

The Vestry will be working over the next few months to make space for us to listen. They will work to ensure that our parish runs smoothly: consistent worship, budget and ministry. It is our hope that this consistency will remind us to rely on God and draw us closer to one another. From there, we hope that we will do more than hear the call into the vineyard. It is our hope that this work will call us deeper into God’s purpose and align us closer to God’s way. And we hope that you will join the Vestry in this work. I know some of you already have.  Maybe you’re called to serve in worship, serve on a committee or lead a fellowship event. There are many ways to share your faith and proclaim the Gospel.  And God calls us each to be full participants and witnesses to Christ’s love in our midst. 

Finally, it is Christ’s love that will care for us, bind us to one another and transform us.  It is Christ’s love that will guide us into the future.

Getting What We Deserve: Proper 20 Year A

At the edge of 6^th street and I-35 in Austin Texas there was a small, ramshackle building. From the outside, you might imagine it is a storage room. Instead, every night about fifty men call this place home or, at least, shelter for the night. 

In the morning, these men stood outside and waited. They are day laborers, men whose income depends on a daily work. They have no salary, no budget. They depend on the contractors who pick them up in the morning and their promise of a daily wage. 

The irony is many of these men use very little of their wages on themselves. Many of them have family living in other cities. They have come to Austin because the climate and economy promises the most work in a year. They save enough for meager meals and a bed.  Everything else is given away to those they love.

I came to know some of these men while I was in seminary. Every Friday a group of us would take homemade bean burritos, fruit and water down to the shelter.  We knew there was not much day labor over the weekend and, for some, this would be their only meal. We began to learn their names and share stories. 

We talked about our families and, of course, Jesus. By the time I graduated and left Austin, these men were imprinted on my life. And it is their faces I imagine when I hear Jesus’ parable of the laborers in the vineyard today.

They know, more than I, what it means to work for that daily wage. They know, more than I, the frustration of watching those who work less be paid the same amount.  They know, more than I, how it feels to live at the mercy of the landowner and his justice.

I wonder how they would respond to this parable. Would they, like me, find it shocking? Would the story offend or frustrate them? Would they identify with those who grumble or those who rejoice in the unexpected income? 

Which brings me to the question, who are we in this parable? Do we rejoice at God’s abundance or do we grumble about those who we deem unworthy?

A rich young man comes to Jesus and says, “Teacher, what good deed must I do to have eternal life?” 

Jesus says, “Why do you ask me about what is good?  There is only one who is good.  If you wish to enter into life, keep the commandments.” The rich young man gets frustrated. He has kept all the commandments and he wants more. He wants security. He wants to know for sure. He wants to be perfect. Jesus says, “…go, sell your possessions, and give the money to the poor, and you have will have treasure in heaven; then come, follow me.” And the rich young man leaves burdened by Jesus’ answer.

Interestingly, it is the disciples who are upset by Jesus’ teaching. Peter seems especially frustrated saying to Jesus,“Look, we have left everything and followed you.  What then will we have?” In this moment, Peter and the rich young man are the same. Peter wants security. Peter wants to know he’s reached perfection. 

And he wants his reward. He wants to know that all the sacrifices he has made are worth it.

 Unlike the rich young man, Peter can leave satisfied. Jesus promises all those who follow him heavenly glory. 

Yet, there is one hitch. Jesus says to Peter, “…many who are first will be last, and the last will be first.” 

And he tells the parable of the laborers in the vineyard.  

Peter has his promise, his reward. Yet, the reward is not only for him: one who has followed Jesus from the very beginning. The promise of eternal life, a life bound to God forever, is for anyone who follows.  Ultimately, it’s not about how good we are or reaching perfection. Indeed, there are some who never come close to perfection and receive the same heavenly glory.

I wonder how Peter felt hearing this story. Did he imagine himself as first and balk at the thought of being last?  Was the promise of his reward satisfaction enough? Or did he grumble at the thought of the rich young man sharing his heavenly glory? 

Which brings me to the question, how does this story make us feel?

Maybe we place ourselves at the front of the line. We work hard.  We try to be good. We know there are rewards for being good and working hard.  And this belief gets mixed up in our theology. In other words, we are tempted to believe we can earn God’s love.   We’re often tempted to believe all of our hard work and goodness pays off in a great heavenly reward.

Maybe we place ourselves last, at the back of the line. Maybe we are like the rich young man.  Overburdened by our possessions, we are unable to leave everything and follow Christ.  We know when we have failed. We know there are consequences when we are not good. We have a keen sense that we do not deserve any reward, earthly or heavenly. 

Those of us burdened by mistakes and failures are hindered by fear.   Our fear keeps us from taking opportunities that might align our lives with God. 

Those of us who see ourselves as good and righteous become self-righteous. We become dependent on our goodness and forget God’s goodness. 

And we are ALL quick to judge one another’s reward. 

There is one thread that binds us together. We all depend on God’s mercy.  The day laborers need a daily wage. Whether hired at morning or dusk, their life depends on the wage they are promised. We need God’s mercy. Whether our self-righteousness or anxiety threatens to overwhelm us, we depend on God’s promise. 

Jesus says to Peter, “…everyone who has left houses or brothers or sisters or father or mother or children or fields, for my name’s sake, will receive a hundredfold, and will inherit eternal life…” Everyone who chooses to follow Christ chooses a new way to live. It doesn’t matter when or how, the point is we receive a new life in Christ. This way of life binds us to God, no matter what. That’s a promise.

World Series: Game 2

Here's a short story made long...

Recently, a very close friend gave me the most wonderful, authentic compliment I've ever received.  She told me that I am a "gatherer of wisdom."  I spend my time reading, watching, listening, gathering because I believe that at some point it all weaves together; at some point, there is a revelation of God in the middle of our daily, ordinary lives.  For this reason, I never just read a book or watch a movie.  For me, at some point, I have to go deeper and contemplate, even if it's just a really good sandwich.

Last night, my husband and I watched the most wonderful baseball game.  (Here's where the story gets long...)  I want to tell you how we ended up there, sitting on the couch at 11 o'clock at night watching baseball.

In December of 2009 (I said: short story - long), I decided to teach myself how to knit.  I discovered is that I needed some background noise, especially when unknotting the yarn (grrr...).  At the time, football seemed to do the trick; however, all football fans know that there is an empty space left in our lives when the National Championship is over.  That's when I discovered The Texas Rangers, not basesball, The Rangers.  To be honest, it wasn't even really the sport; it was the commentator who hooked me.  I loved listening to his voice and stories.  Meanwhile, my husband started playing the guitar.

So, here we were sitting in our living room, baseball on the tv, me in my chair knitting, him on the couch playing guitar.  And something happened.  I don't know how to describe it other than: the moments of God's grace in our marriage became more frequent.

Fast forward to the fall of 2010.  Some dear friends of ours shared some of their season tickets with us.  And one warm evening, we found ourselves sitting six rows behind first base in Ranger stadium.  No guitar.  No knitting.  Just some hot dogs, popcorn, beer, baseball and us.  Talk about grace.  It was wonderful.  Fast forward to the ALCS PostSeason 2010.  We found ourselves sitting in those very same seats as Texas won the ALCS!  I don't think either one of us will forget it; it will always be a highlight of our life together.

A lot has happened in our lives since then.  We moved to Kentucky in the Spring of 2011, far away from Ranger Stadium and, more than that, an incredible community of friends.  The move, itself, is a revelation of God's grace for us and we are happy here.  We miss our friends and we know this is where God calls us to be.  AND: we had no tv.  What I mean is: we had the actual television and no cable, not even an antenna.  This was just one piece of this huge change in our lives and over the last six months we've made that particular adjustment fairly well.  Despite this change, I followed The Rangers from afar and could see they were having a good, perhaps great, season.

AND THEN...THEY DID IT AGAIN!  PostSeason ALCS Champions 2011!  And we got cable: just so we could watch the world series.

Game 1 was a disappointment, perhaps it was because I was so excited.  We let the kids stay up and watch the first inning.  And this time there was no knitting (there was a little bit of guitar).  Our attention, though, was on the game.  And I was grumpy that we lost.

When I awoke Thursday, I made a deal with myself: I would only watch half of the game.  I was tired and had 5 miles to run on Friday.  We got half-way through the fourth inning and I couldn't leave.  My husband pulled out the guitar.  Every once in a while he would cheer his cheer: Go Baseball!  Then, there was that fifth inning play: Kinsler and Andrus, doing their thing, and making a beautiful, beautiful play.  And we needed runs.  The score was 0-0.  And then St. Louis scored.  And I almost went to bed.

Now, let me tell you something about my day.  I had had an exhausting day.  I was tired.  My emotions were thin.  I was upset about some critique I received first thing in the morning.  I was upset because my learning curve in my career right now is so steep.  I was frustrated because I cannot MAKE something happen.  And I felt as if I was watching my day play out on the baseball field.  At that moment, I felt like The Rangers would lose and that was not good.

And then...they won!  They won because they played like a team.  They worked together: each one offering his particular gifts and skills to the game.

This brings me to my point: in that moment, they were a living image of Church, community working together by authentically offering their gifts to something larger than themselves.  This is why I gather; this is why I listen; this is why I watch: because at some point, God's wisdom is revealed and, for a brief moment, I understand.  We go eight innings offering our very best, which still seems inadequate, and, then, something happens.  It's unexplainable, unknowable; it is a mystery.  Yet, this "something" is the thing that unites us, gives us hope and reminds that there is always one more inning.

Maybe it is just baseball.  Maybe I wouldn't feel this way if they hadn't won.  Perhaps my St. Louis friends disagree with me because their team didn't win.  Except, St. Louis played an incredible game last night.  I saw it in them too: offering their best, which may have felt inadequate, yet they still had those moments when the team worked together.  I know, I know: the analogy breaks down eventually.

 And, I wanted to say, out loud, to God: Thank you.  I get it.  I understand: it's not about me.  It's about us, working together, offering ourselves back to God with the hope that something will happen.  And that "thing", that mystery, will draw us closer to one another and, most of all, to God.  Thanks be to God!

Peace be with you,
Amy