Date: Christmas; December 25, 2015
A sermon preached by Bret Chandler, Youth Minister
Nov. 22, 2015
The Romans were very interested in earthly kingdoms. First of all, they established the largest geographical empire in history. But, second of all, they did it by maintaining a variety of earthly vassal kingdoms: kingdoms that paid tribute to Rome and were a part of the Roman Empire, but could run themselves without direct Roman control.
King Herod, for instance, was a vassal puppet king. He could run Galilee as he wished so long as he gave tribute to Rome and acknowledged Roman superiority.
Rome dwelled on earthly kingdoms, and we see this as we read our Gospel lesson where Jesus stands before Pilate, the Roman governor of Judea.
Now according to the Gospel of John, the Jewish leadership had handed Jesus over to Pilate claiming that he should be put to death because he is a criminal. So you would think that Pilate’s first questions to Jesus would be about his accused crimes. But instead Pilate’s first question to Jesus is, “Are you King of the Jews?” Like a good Roman, Pilate emphasizes what interests Romans most: earthly kingdoms.
So Jesus answers him with a question,
“Do you ask this on your own, or did others tell you about me?” And Pilate responds,
“Your own nation and the chief priests have handed you over to me. What have you done?”
Only after Pilate references the Jewish nation, who live under Roman power, does he finally ask Jesus, “What have you done?”
So Jesus at last has the opportunity to reply to those who have accused him of being a criminal. Finally, he can reply to the all-important question, “What have you done?” Jesus ironically answers, “My kingdom is not from this world. If my kingdom were from this world, my followers would be fighting to keep me from being handed over to the Jews. But as it is, my kingdom is not from here.”
Jesus does not answer Pilate’s question. Instead of seizing the opportunity to requite himself of any wrongdoing, Jesus seemingly entertains Pilate’s fascination with kingdoms,
And hearing the magic word, Pilate responds to Jesus, “So you are a king?”
Jesus answers, “You say that I am a king. For this I was born, and for this I came into the world, to testify to the truth. Everyone who belongs to the truth listens to my voice.” Notice that Jesus testifies to the Truth not to Pilate.
Now our Gospel lesson cuts off from there, but we know how it ends. Even though Jesus told Pilate that he was not a King of this world and that he had no threatening army, Pilate still had Jesus condemned and crucified as King of the Jews.
Pilate was never able to fully grasp what it means for Jesus’s Kingdom to be of a different world, and looking around the world today, we can see that not much has changed since Pilate’s time. The expanding threat of terrorist groups like ISIS, for instance, show that despite their pretense for heavenly glory, they are interested only in making earthly kingdoms.
But this Gospel lesson is only partly about those with political power who focus on earthly kingdoms. More importantly this passage is an invitation. See Pilate may not have been a follower of Jesus, but when Jesus was telling him that his kingdom was not of this world, Jesus was extending an invitation to Pilate—his enemy—to join that Kingdom, to be a part of the Kingdom to come and put his worldly resources to that end.
And even though we may be followers of Jesus, we still have the same invitation as Pilate: to serve the kingdom to come, not the institution that is, or the building we have, or the programs we run. What Jesus invites us to is not about what is, but what is to come. Everything we have as a church, as a community who follows Christ, as individual believers, are to be for paving the way for what has not yet been realized. We are a community of “not yet.” We are an Advent community.
And this matters for how we live our lives. For instance, in order to get our bearings as Christians in moral dilemmas it has become popular to ask, “What would Jesus do in this situation?” But the invitation of the Gospel tells us that to ask ourselves is not quite appropriate. It gives too much power to the situation. Rather the Gospel invites us to ask something more radical. Not, “What would Jesus do?” But rather, “What action, in this situation, points to the New Kingdom?” “How is the Spirit calling me or us to transform this situation of today so as to offer hope for the Kingdom of tomorrow?”
So I ask this question, as we worship today, as we engage in ministry, and as we prepare our church for the future: How are we a community of people of the world to come? How does what we do as a church transform what is so as to give hope for the glory that Jesus says is coming?
In a world of now, now, now! We are a community of “not yet!” And it can make the church seem like a big tease. When I was a kid, I remember how difficult it was for me to go to sleep when I was excited for what to come the next day. Christmas Eve was the same, I could never fall asleep—Either that or I would wake up way too early, and end up just waiting hours to open presents. One year I woke up at 2 in the morning and went downstairs and ended up helping my mom finish wrapping the presents. She was certainly in a moment of “not yet!” But the funny thing is, looking back at those times, I remember my excitement more than the actual event or material things I was excited about.
In this world, our excitement comes and it goes upon realization—it passes. New things become old. But that’s the power of Jesus’s invitation: the New Kingdom, the Kingdom to come never gets old—it continually refreshes what is.
When we feed somebody in the name of Christ, we fill their bodies but we also give them hope and expectation for when we all will be filled eternally. When we accept somebody who is rejected in the name of Christ, the love they experience is filled with the joy of that eternal comfort all will know when Christ comes again. When we see Christ in others, even in our enemies, we acknowledge that we all belong to the same God and that we all will be made new.
We are invited to participate in the transformative Kingdom that continually makes us anew and inspires hope for what is to come. It is an exciting invitation. It is our invitation. Are you coming?
Preached at St. Gregory’s Episcopal Church
on the occasion of the baptism of Miller Ryan McLaughlin
Texts: 1 Kings 17: 8-16
Mark 12: 38-44
Preacher: Meredith Woods Potter
It’s that time of year. The leaves are falling from the trees; the days are getting shorter; the furnace is kicking on during the night; and churches are talking about “stewardship.” And although we tend to associate the word “stewardship” with the annual pledge campaign, I really began to understand the true meaning of stewardship from my children and grandchildren. After a particular eighth grade science class, my older boys came home from school and announced that our family had to become “better stewards of the environment.” And so we all sat down at the dinner table that evening to decide what changes we could make in our household spending and consumption. We all agreed the first thing to go was buying colored tissue for the bathroom because the dye was killing fish. This was soon followed by a family decision to conserve electricity and gas by turning off lights each time we left a room, foregoing outside Christmas decorations, and lowering the thermostat five degrees in winter. I readily agreed with all the suggestions my sons had brought home from school, but when Jamie suggested we could save water by bathing less frequently and shared bath water, then I put my foot down!
But as our family decided to change its consumption habits, I “seized the moment” to explore with my children how saving the environment was really part of God’s covenant with humankind. And so we began to read Genesis together, and we were reminded that God had given humankind dominion over every fish and every bird and every living thing, every plant - every wheat and corn field in Illinois. God was “extravagantly generous” in giving humankind all of creation for our use, and in response we were to be “stewards” of God’s creation. And if we were to be faithful stewards of what God had given us, then we needed to exercise our own extravagant generosity to others - especially to those in need. That’s what our family came to understand faithful stewardship as being all about: participating with God in extravagant generosity.
Five years ago Warren Buffett teamed up with Bill and Melinda Gates to launch the “Giving Pledge” –a commitment to donate at least half of their fortunes to charities and philanthropic causes and to convince America’s wealthiest individuals to do likewise. Today, 130 couples and individuals from 14 countries have signed on, including: CNN founder Ted Turner, movie director George Lucas, and Facebook founder, Mark Zuckerberg. One of the most recent billionaires who has signed the Giving Pledge is Hamdi Ulukaya, a native of Turkey who started the Greek yogurt company Chobani after immigrating to the US in 1994. In a public statement Ulukaya said that he took the pledge “to help refugees and help bring an end to this global humanitarian crisis.” Another recent billionaire to sign the pledge is the women’s stretchware Spanx founder Sara Blakely, who has pledged to invest in women because she believes women offer one of the greatest returns on investment.
Reporters have labeled the Giving Pledge “extravagant generosity.” These billionaires are sincere about exercising good stewardship of their wealth, and thousands of people benefit every year from their generosity. But true extravagant generosity, as this morning’s Gospel suggests, comes not from giving out of one’s abundance – from parting with one’s “leftovers,” but from giving out of one’s poverty – from giving what one can’t reasonably afford to give. And so it was not Bill Gates nor Warren Buffet but rather the poor widow who gave the only two coins that she had, who was extravagantly generous.
One summer my granddaughter went with her youth group on a mission trip to a very poor mountain town in Mexico. The youth worked hard to earn the money to make the trip possible (they apparently didn’t think of a pumpkin patch.) It was also a very demanding trip: it was hot; the conditions were very primitive. And yet the youth managed to help build an addition to the little church, two houses, and teach Bible study every day to the village children. And like many such mission trips, it was a life-changing experience for my granddaughter and her friends. But the parents discovered an unexpected ending to that mission trip. When the group of young people returned, their parents were surprised to discover that the youth had returned with no money and no luggage; no sleeping bags or parkas; no CD players or radios or designer jeans. Even favorite t-shirts and sneakers had all been left behind. My granddaughter explained: “We realized that we had so much and those children had so little. We knew we couldn’t begin to meet all their needs, but we decided that at least we could give them everything that we had.” Those teenagers choseextravagant generosity toward their new Mexican friends.
In today’s lesson from the Book of Kings we are given another example of a widow who exhibited extravagant generosity in the face of abject poverty – a widow who gave away the last of her resources. Elijah, the prophet, was a pretty desperate man on the run. He had gotten himself into quite a jam when he prophesied to the people of Israel that there would be neither dew nor rain because of their idolatry. That didn’t sit well with the King nor the people, and Elijah was forced to get out of town in a hurry. At first he sought refuge at a small oasis in the desert (the Cherith wadi). But when the ravens disappeared and the wadi went dry, Elijah began to panic, and he began to question whether he could count on God after all. Today’s reading begins with God telling Elijah to go down the road to Zarephath, where he will find a widow with whom he can stay.
Elizah decides to continue to trust God, but when he reaches the widow’s humble dwelling, he discovers that she and her son are literally one meal from starvation. Yet somehow Elijah trusts that God has sent him to the right place and the woman also decides to trust Elijah and Elijah’s God. And God provides the miracle. Now in reality, the woman had nothing to lose - she was facing death anyway. But in another sense she had nothing to lose because even that last bit of meal, that last jar of oil wasn’t hers. The little she had belonged to God. That’s the whole point of the story; and that’s the starting point of theextravagant generosity of stewardship. To be an extravagantly generous steward is to recognize that we are only caretakers of what belongs to God. And only when we are willing to give up our claim of personal ownership, will there always be enough to go around! That’s the miracle of true stewardship; that’s the point of extravagant generosity.
In just a few minutes we will be receiving a new member into our Christian community through the Sacrament of Holy Baptism. As we hear Miller Ryan McLaughlin being “marked as Christ’s own forever” we are being reminded that is an example of God’s extravagant generosity to his parents and grandparents. And yet Miller does not belong to them. He belongs to God. I know that Sharon and Dan as grandparents want to shower on their grandson every material blessing that they can. And Miller’s parents, Danielle and Blair, want the very best for their son as well and will make sacrifices for him as he grows up. But one of the most important gift that his parents and grandparents- and we as his new community of faith - can give to Miller is to model for him what it means to be a steward of God’s creation, and to teach and guide him into entering his own covenant of extravagant generosity with God.
Title: Tearing Down the Fences
Preacher: Meredith Woods Potter
Texts: Numbers 11: 4-6, 10-16, 24-29
Mark 9: 38-43, 45, 47-48
When I lived in Evanston, my back deck looked out onto a golf course. I would enjoy my morning cup of coffee as I watched a family of ducks take a morning stroll toward the water hazard, and on summer weekends I would watch the golfers. It was a beautiful golf course, but in all the years I lived there, I never actually set foot on it. There was a tall, green chain-link fence along the back of my property separating my backyard from the adjacent fairway. The golf course was for members only, and so the exclusive club constructed a chain link fence to make sure that those of us who lived along Princeton Avenue would be excluded.
The words exclusive and exclude both have the same root meaning: prohibiting outsiders. And both of today’s Scripture readings have to do with people of God who tried to establish exclusive clubs in order to exclude from their self- defined “inner circles” those whom they considered to be outsiders – those whom they thought should be excluded
During Moses' time God had given the people of Israel ten simple guidelines for living in relationship with each other and with their God. But instead of just living faithfully and enjoying God and God’s blessings, the Israelites soon became consumed with creating more and more rules and structures in an attempt to define and determine who deserved to be blessed. And those rules and structures became human fences that effectively excluded many from access to God.
This morning's lesson from the Book of Numbers is an example of an exclusive club at work. It all began as the Israelites forgot what captivity in Egypt had really been like, and they became absorbed with their nostalgic but somewhat tainted remembrance of Egyptian food. And so they began to complain and whine to Moses, and in turn Moses complained and whined to God. But with divine patience God told Moses to gather together seventy elders for a meeting. God then promised to empower the chosen elders to help Moses lead the people. An exclusive club was about to be formed.
Sixty-eight of the elders gathered at the Tent of Meeting to receive their commission and God’s divine Spirit. But two of the chosen elders, Eldad and Medad, failed to show up. This led the elders who had been at the Tent of Meeting to decide that since those two had not been present, they could not possibly have received God’s divine Spirit. What a surprise for the elders to return to camp and discover Eldad and Medad prophesying. How dare those who had now been excluded exhibit prophetic powers when they hadn’t been at the Tent of Meeting! The 68 elders attempted to erect a fence to exclude those whom they deemed unqualified and undeserving. What a surprise for them to discover that God has no regard for human fences. God’s Divine Spirit was not to be restricted by human objections.
You would think that the disciples would have known the story of Eldad and Medab and the elders’ attempt to form an exclusive “inner circle.” Yet in today’s Gospel the disciples seem to have forgotten that story. When a local exorcist began to cast out demons in Jesus’ name, the disciples begged Jesus to make the man stop. After all, the exorcist wasn’t one of the disciples; he wasn’t a member of Jesus’ “inner circle” - he wasn’t a member of their club! But Jesus tore down the fence the disciples were trying to erect. Jesus told the disciples that God empowers whom God wills. The Kingdom of God was not to be restricted by human criteria.
Since the time of Jesus, Churches and Christian institutions too often have continued to act like exclusive clubs, erecting fences that say, “members only.” When I was growing up, this altar rail seemed like a chain-link fence that said to me "keep out, only male priests and boy acolytes are permitted in the sanctuary." In fact it was only after I began to study church history in seminary that I learned that altar rails had been first erected in the Middle Ages to keep wandering animals away from the altar. But even after cows were no longer a problem in most churches, the rails stayed. And so for many generations those altar rails were a symbol to many women like me that leadership in the Episcopal Church was an exclusive “men’s club” governed quite literally by “man-made” rules.
Fortunately, the Church has systematically been tearing down those fences throughout my lifetime. Gender and sexuality are no longer fences that impose restrictions on leadership or ministry. Churches are trying harder to accommodate the disables, and in many churches worship is offered in another language to welcome immigrants. We have finally begun to learn that we are all meant to live in God’s Kingdom; we are all called to do God’s work in the world. The problem is that we haven’t done a very good job of telling that good news to our neighbors! Even though we have a sign that says, “The Episcopal Church Welcomes You,” each of us needs to become more intentional about extending that welcome. Inclusivity begins with opening one’s doors, but it only becomes a reality when we invite others to come through those doors! (I know that even if the Evanston golf course had torn down its fence, I wouldn’t have presumed that I was welcome, unless a member had crossed into my yard on a golf cart, and invited me: “Hop in. Would you like to play a round of golf? I’ve even got a spare set of clubs.”)
We had a grand turnout last Sunday for Evensong; the potluck was fun and the service itself was a truly joyous and spiritual experience. But we did it for us. We missed the opportunity to invite friends and neighbors to experience that worship and fellowship with us. Perhaps if we were to plan another Evensong or similar event in the future, we might be more intentional about advertising the event to our friends and neighbors. We might appeal to our neighbors if we were to plan a similar evening in which we planned to gather with friends and neighbors to pray for peace or for the unemployed or for the safety of all children.
Fortunately, God gives us many, many chances and there is another opportunity on the horizon. Two thousand pumpkins will soon beckon our neighbors into our midst. What an opportunity for us to share with those who come to buy a pumpkin, not only about our youth programs, but about all of our activities and ministries. When we hand people a pumpkin we might say, we might say to them, “You know, we here at St. Gregory’s have been invited to live in God’s kingdom – but so have you! We’d like to invite you to join us!!
In the September 13, 2015 sermon, Reverend David Jones challenges us to ask "Who are you?" This sermon is 10 minutes long.
Mourning Into Joy
The Second Sunday after Christmas
January 4, 2015
Dcn Scott Elliott
From the Prophesy to Jeremiah, chapter 31, verse 13:
I will turn their mourning into joy,
I will comfort them, and give them gladness for sorrow.
In the name of the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Spirit. Amen.
Today is the Second Sunday After Christmas. It's not every year that we have a Second Sunday after Christmas. It's easy to see why, from the song: Dah dah dahdah dah dah dah / My true love gave to me….
If there are Twelve Days of Christmas – and there are, no matter what the stores with their "after Christmas" sales say; and if there are seven days to the week – and I think there still are: then there will always be a First Sunday after Christmas, but there will only be a Second Sunday if Christmas is on a Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, or Saturday. And Christmas was on a Thursday this year, so today, it's Pipers Piping.
Now, you will recall that there are four Gospels – Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John. And you will recall that the Gospels are all the same, in that they tell the story of Jesus, and what happened next; but also that they are all different, in that they were each written by their own separate communities, and each community wrotefrom their own separate experience of Jesus, and each wrote for their own different experience of Jesus, and each wrote for their own distinct purposes.
These differences become clearest, perhaps, in the four Gospels' different accounts of the Birth of Jesus.
The Gospel of John's birth account isn't a story at all – it is a hymn: a restatement, and a recapitulation of the story of Creation in Genesis: In the Beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God.
And the Gospel of Mark doesn't even have a birth story! To the community which gathered around Mark, it just wasn't important. Maybe that group gave rise to the Jehovah's Witnesses.
So really, all our traditions having to do with Jesus's birth come from only two of the Gospels: Matthew, and Luke.
It is in Luke, and only in Luke – which was written by and for a primarily non-Jewishcommunity – that we get the story of
a decree going out from Emperor Augustus that all the world should be registered,
and only in Luke are there
Angels we have heard on high,
and only in Luke do
Shepherds watch their flocks by night
and only in Luke is Jesus
Away in a Manger / no Crib for a Bed.
It is from Matthew, and only from Matthew – which was written by and for a primarily Jewish community of believers – that we get the tradition of a star rising and resting over Bethlehem, and that star being followed
by Three Kings from Orient Are.
Except that they weren't kings – they were priests and astrologers, and there weren't three of them. Oh well.
And in none of the Gospels do we find that
Snow had fallen / snow on snow.
It doesn't snow in Palestine.
In Luke, we find the Emperor Augustus, of Rome; In Matthew, we find King Herod the Great, of Palestine: a Jewish stooge king for the Romans, an ambitious local politician who got in bed with the Emperor, who propped him up as 'King of the Jews," although he was condemned for his brutality by the rulers of the Temple, the Sanhedrin.
He was a horrible person, who would murder his own family, and who would stop at nothing to preserve his tenuous, weakening grip on power, itself derived entirely from the foreign, imperial, hostile power of Rome. He would stop at nothing,
The astrologers visiting from the East paid a courtesy call on his court, and asked about this miraculous birth they had come to celebrate: the birth of – the King of the Jews. This visit, and the title the astrologers used to refer to Jesus, made the insecure, ruthless Herod feel a little more insecure and in response, he became a little more ruthless. He asked them to find this little baby, and then come back and tell him where he might find him.
But the astrologers really were wise men, and weren't born yesterday: they found Jesus all right, but then they went back home by a different route. This made Herod even more insecure, and so he became even more ruthless, and in order to eliminate this infant rival he had all the little babies in the region of Bethlehem murdered.
Let me say that again: The puppet King, who owed his power to the hated, foreign Empire, and feeling like his power was threatened, murdered all the little Jewish babies.
In the church Calendar,
- on December 25, we remember the birth of Jesus;
- on December 26, we remember the life, death, and witness of the first deacon and the first martyr, Stephen;
- on December 27, we remember the life and witness of the Evangelist John, the 'disciple whom Jesus loved;'
- on December 28, we remember the lives and deaths of these Holy Innocents, who died, protecting Our Lord from the ruler of this world; these children murdered by and for those in political power; and with them, all children murdered by or for those in political power.
And on December 29, we remember St Thomas Becket, an archbishop murdered in his own cathedral at the behest of his sometime friend, the King, who thought he was a threat to his political power.
It is not by accident that we have this monumental week of joy and sadness; not by accident that the holy and the damned, are brought together in such startling juxtaposition; not by accident that our noses are rubbed in the worst of the world that Jesus came to save.
The Hopes and Fears of All the Years.
But as we heard in the Gospel snippet today, the angels tipped Joseph off to Herod's plans, and he took his little family to another kingdom, to safety. He took them to Egypt.
This is not the first time Egypt has figured prominently in Jewish-Christian-Islamic history. It was in Egypt that another Joseph, the son of Jacob, the son of Israel, found refuge from his brothers' attempt to kill him.
It was in Egypt that all the children of Israel found food during the famine, thanks to the political connections Joseph had made with the King, the Pharoah.
In response, it was to Egypt that the whole house of Israel moved, following Joseph – and that's pretty much the last several chapters of the Book of Genesis.
And in Egypt, Israel became strong, and numerous, and the King, began to feel they were a threat to his political power, enslaved them; then he ordered that all the male Israelite babies were to be killed at birth.
But Moses was born among the babies of Israel, and Moses's mother snookered the Pharoah's daughter into adopting him, and letting her, his mother, raise him as his nurse. And eventually, after the Passover, when all the babies of Egypt were killed by the angel of the Lord, the King of Egypt finally Let those People Go, and that's pretty much the story of the Book of Exodus.
So you can see that, when Joseph took his family into Egypt, when Joseph's son Jesus was saved from the hands of the king, and when the family returned from Egypt and settled again in Palestine, that Matthew's Gospel has Jesus recapitulating Israel's Passover-and-Exodus experience.
And more than anything else, the Passover -and-Exodus experience, when Israel is released from the bondage of slavery in Egypt, when Israel is given the Law by Moses at Sinai, when Israel is fed by quails send by God, and manna given by God, when Israel wanders in the wilderness for an entire generation, when Israel is restored to the lands promised to them – the land of milk and honey, the land of farms and fruit trees:
The Passover-Exodus experience is the one which has most deeply formed the Jewish understanding of themselves and their relationships with God, with themselves, and with others.
So it is with us.
It becomes easy to see that, just as Jesus is the new Adam, who comes to free us all from the consequences of the Fall, so also Jesus is the new Moses, who comes to free us from the bondage we have created for ourselves, and the bondage others create for us.
There is no human experience: no shame, no fear; no anxiety, no loss; no alienness, no rejection, no pain; that Jesus does not share, even from his infancy, as a political refugee. Perhaps that is why he has so little patience for those who inflict those wounds. Our wounds are his; and because of that, it can be as it must be, that his wounds are ours.
And so another year begins: and we can look forward with crazy hope. We can look forward to the day:
- when Jesus can walk down the street at night wearing a hoodie and not be shot by vigilantes;
- when Jesus can talk on his cell in a toy store or play with his toys in the park and not be shot by the cops;
- when Jesus can sit with his partner in their police car and not be shot by some loony;
- when Jesus can walk North to safety from chaos in Mexico and Central America, and not be hounded by howling mobs who come out as though he were a thief or a bandit;
- when little babies won't be murdered, by Herod or Caesar, or even by other little babies.
We can look forward to the day that we can sing with Jeremiah:
That the Lord has ransomed Jacob,
and has redeemed us from hands too strong for us.
And we shall come and sing aloud on the height of Zion,
and we shall be radiant over the goodness of the Lord,
And shall our young women rejoice in the dance,
and our young men and the old shall be merry.
And God turns our mourning into joy,
and comforts us, and give us gladness for sorrow.
(So let us give) Glory to God, whose power, working in us, can do infinitely more than we can ask or imagine; Glory to God from generation to generation in the church, and in Christ Jesus, for ever and ever. Amen.
10:00 AM Holy Eucharist with music