October 9, 2005 At St. Mark Church in Norman, OK

Isaiah 25, 6-10 + Pilippians 4: 12-14, 19-20 + Matthew 22: 1-14

A guest called “friend” is discovered to have come to share the banquet

without being properly dressed.

This detail of the parable is unique and found only in Matthew’s version.

The parable sums up a series of story/instructions about fruitfulness in the vineyard and the responsibility of those called or given an opportunity

to bring in a harvest for the owner.

So this little detail is about far more than a fashion faux pas,

and Matthew makes it obvious from the beginning

that the parable is directed toward us, the people who are here for the banquet:

the church going, rule keeping folks

who make the effort to be here and keep the commitment to stay.

Picking up this parable without remembering what has gone before in chapter 21,

can leave us to wonder what norm had been breached.

We might even think it unfair and wrong to pick on someone who came when invited and then was thrown out because they didn’t look right.

Thinking that can raise an important issue that is part of this parable’s message. Those invited to the feast are held accountable to God’s standards for entry.

Those standards have been put before us all through Matthew’s Gospel:

doing God’s will

being righteous with a righteousness that exceeds the scribes and Pharisees

and producing the good fruits of the Kingdom.

These are considered the only adequate response to God’s gracious invitation;

these things will assure the believer’s place at the table.

It will not simply be a matter of just showing up.

Week after week, we “rehearse” the scene of this Gospel:

the final banquet, the complete “wedding”, the final union of God with His people.

It is, in a sense, a “dress rehearsal.”

For us, it is not a matter of who is here and who is missing.

For us because we are here, it is a matter of what we are going to wear,

or of how we shall appear.

Some of us have worked all our lives at this business of discipleship;

some have just come to the vineyard.

Yet, this is not the issue.

For us, it is a matter of the standards we find in Matthew’s Gospel,

and how we shall be accountable to God’s expectations.

Our casual attitude about the “rehearsal”

might be called into question by this parable.

Coming late for a dinner party

would be thought rude and thoughtless prompting an apology.

If it happened often, there might well be fewer invitations.

Jumping up and leaving early would probably have the same consequences.

But this parable is not about Sunday Mass.

It is about the coming Kingdom of God.

Yet attitudes and behavior displayed here

may reveal a lot about our readiness for what is to come.

We are nearing the end of Matthew’s Gospel. There are only six more weeks.

Since Advent a year ago, we have listened and explored the poetic images

that describe what is to come and we have studied what it takes to get there.

In the few weeks that remain, we shall be reminded

that “reserved seating” should not be assumed.

Taking for granted the gracious goodness of God and failing to recognize the invitations of God, in whatever manner and through whomever these may be extended is serious business that ought not be taken lightly nor casually.

We have all but lost the powerful symbol of food.

Fast food, frozen food, eating in our cars, and eating alone

have cost us the ability to grasp the metaphor set before us.

Breaking bread with another

has always been considered a sign of friendship and intimacy.

This is particularly true when we eat from a common plate.

It is a bond of friendship and intimacy.

About the only remaining symbol of this

is the experience of drinking from the same cup.

It says something about how close we are.

When we see people doing it we recognize their trust and love.

When we feel uncomfortable about it anywhere in public or in our homes,

we are beginning to get the point.

Eating and drinking together is a matter of trust.

It is a moment when we lower our guard.

Eating together confirms reconciliation of enemies, if only for the duration of the meal. This is what we have been invited to:

intimacy with God through intimacy and reconciliation with one another.

This is God’s will for us, that we would be one, that we would live in peace, that we would make forgiveness and reconciliation as common as daily bread,

and that we serve each other to make certain

that no one was left outside and hungry in a creation of such bounty.

To live this way is to wear a garment fit for the banquet.

October 2, 2005 at St Mark Church in Norman, OK

Isaiah 5:1-7 + Philippians 4: 6- + Matthew 21: 33-43

There is no sitting back and pointing the finger of blame and shame allowed here.

This Gospel is not about “them.” If this is the living Word of God, then it is as fresh today as it was on the lips of Jesus. He has just entered Jerusalem in triumph,

entered the temple and “purified” it. The blind and the lame come to him, and children are singing his praises. The comfortable, the secure, the people who have it made and want the status quo to be secure are enraged. Then, he tells a story of man with two sons which you heard last week followed by the one we hear today just in case they don’t get the point. Finally, as if this were not spoken plainly enough, wait till you hear next week’s parable!

It always interests me to notice the location, the place where things are said and done in the Gospels. I believe that an evangelist who goes to the trouble to indicate a place

does so because it is part of the message. This story and those before and after it are told within Jerusalem. Jesus has gone to the heart and center of these people’s lives. Now it is being spoken again, in this church. We are brought face to face with a challenge

to exceed the righteousness of the scribes and Pharisees, and we are facing it in here, together, around the Table of the Lord, just a week before another parable about guests at a wedding feast! We can’t afford to miss the point. Everything we are, and everything we have is at stake here. There is a sense of urgency here. We do not have the luxury of gloating over the plight of the original tenants.

Two weeks ago, we heard a call to get out of the marketplace and into the vineyard.

Those of us who have made the effort and the journey from one place to the other

now realize that we have something to do here, and the owner of the vineyard expects a portion of the harvest we produce. The trouble is too many think this vineyard is theirs,

that they’ve earned it, and have forgotten that God might expect a little more from us than the latest model car, and the biggest flat screen tv or I-pod. The young people who sit here might also pay attention to this parable and consider what it is they are dreaming of and working for in school: a higher paying job so they can have more stuff,

more pleasure, and more friends, more power? If that’s all life is about, we could learn a lesson from a Hurricane. All that stuff can be gone with the wind and the rain. Only those who have found something else in this vineyard survive such loss.

The question is: are we a people who produce the fruits of the kingdom? Good fruit as illustrated throughout the Gospel consists of radical obedience to God; sincere repentance that leads to changes in heart, in words, and in works. Good fruit comes from a willingness to be salt, light, and servant; to be an untiring champion of the poor, the marginalized, like Jesus in the Temple who paid no attention to those secure in their power while the blind and the lame crowded around and got the blessing of his attention. They had nothing to give him, but acknowledgement of his identity

from an awareness of who was in their midst.

He is still in our midst, and we still have time to get it right – at least we have this hour

and if God will be patient we will have another. If we understand Paul correctly today, this is not call to begin to worry and be anxious. It is an invitation to live true and honorably; justly and purely, graciously and in peace.

The other day I was watching the children on the playground at school. They have no worries and they anxious about nothing. We have not taught them that yet. They trust and believe that someone loves them, that someone will come for them at the end of the day, that there will be supper, clean clothes, and that they will be safe. Perhaps this is what he meant when Jesus suggested that we become like little children.

For those who are faithful in the vineyard, for those whose lives here produce something for the Kingdom of God, the prophet will sing again, and the choicest vines we have been given on this fertile hillside will produce not sour wild grapes,but the finest wine, saved till last for the wedding feast to come.

September 18, 2005 at St. Mark Church in Norman, OK

Isaiah 55:6-9 + Philippians 1:20-24 + Matthew 20: 1-16

There are a lot of things going on in this parable that is only found in Matthew’s Gospel; many more than a few moments this weekend would allow. I had the luxury of spending a week with it before standing here.

There are a couple of interesting elements I would propose for you.

Perhaps during this week, you might sit with them and listen to the Word.

I found it significant that God is calling people again and again from the marketplace to the vineyard. Think about that for awhile.

Calling people to work in the vineyard is a constant in the life of Jesus.

Calling them out of the marketplace and into the labor of the vineyard is such a wonderful thought as our faith continues to challenge the materialism of the marketplace with the duty of work in the vineyard.

What are we doing in the mall time after time when we could be here or at helping at Birth Choice or at the Food Pantry, or helping our neighbor or those waiting for our precious time in nursing homes?

No matter when you get to the vineyard, late or early, there will be a reward.

Then I sat for a day realizing that the kingdom of God isn’t really about things; it’s about people. And it isn’t about who gets the most and who gets the least; it’s about how you treat the people you live and work with; it’s about how you receive the stranger in your midst; it’s about how you accept amazing grace and what you do with all that you have been given.

One of the days while driving up the freeway to a meeting in Oklahoma City, I began to remember how often this same story is told in the New Testament. realizing that the repetition must mean it’s important.

There’s the story of Jonah who sat and pouted on a hill outside Nineveh when the people repented and God forgave them rather than destroy them.

Then there is that elder brother who resented his doting and foolish father for celebrating the return of the reckless, wasteful wild brother,

along with the story of that Pharisee who boated gratefully to God that he was not like the “rest of men” or the sinful publican

along with all the others who feel as though God owes them something for their right behavior. What kind of thinking is that?

The next day there was that big fuss raised over how people were using those FEMA credit cards and what they were buying! I read this Gospel again in the light of how others felt; those who workday in and day out for just barely enough to get by, contributing to a system that works this way. I went to bed pondering how radical grace is, and how offensive it is to those who slip into thinking there’s not enough to go around.

From there, I got up the next morning and read it again and sat thinking for a bit about the truth. We are all 11^th hour workers whose debts have been paid and whose freedom and forgiveness have been secured through the saving sacrifice of a loving Brother and Lord. I spent the day deeply grateful that God is generous to us and I forgot about grumbling against the grace shown to others.

Perhaps that’s where we ought to be this weekend. What will determine this parable’s potential to offend or to comfort will depend upon which of the laborers we choose to identify with. Many of us may feel disgruntled as the parable is read, perturbed that the daylong laborers, like us, there for the long haul, present in the pew week after week, generously supporting this church, always ready to do more get the same as those who come late to faith, late to church, late in fulfilling their duty, and always late in sharing the burden.

Perhaps we ought to simply count ourselves fortunate to be among God’s forgiven and grateful for the mercies of God that go beyond justice giving us cause for Joy.

This parable is not about justice but about generosity;

not about money but salvation;

not about comparison with others

but individual relationship with God.

A key to the parable’s secret is the owner’s question:

“Am I not allowed to do what I choose with my own money?”

If the workers had known Catholic Social Justice Teaching,

they would have replied:
“No matter how hard you worked for your money,

it is not only a personal benefit but a community trust, so it must be spent responsibly.

No one ever gains anything without the help of others.

The world’s bounty belongs to everyone.

A challenge to envy, this parable speaks to a human trait we see to often in ourselves.

We never complain about benefits to ourselves or even to others

as long as we end up getting the most.

In caution, this parable warns of envy in all its forms,

because envy is a denial of God’s generosity.

We can never see that generosity with a jealous eye.

Perhaps what God really did in this story was give to each one

exactly what they needed, not what they deserved.

It’s the best definition of Mercy, and the best way to recognize the hand of a forgiving God.

September 4, 2005 at Saint Mark Church in Norman, OK

Ezekiel 33:7-9 + Romans 13: 8-10 + Matthew 18:15-20

What is set forth in this Gospel is not merely a matter of charity, but an absolute ethic by which the community is bound to conduct itself. Before Moses, the law of retribution was wild and uncontrolled. I would call it the “law of rage”. If someone shot your dog, then you burned down their house and barn with all the livestock in it. We still find this system working these days in conduct called “road-rage”. Some folks have not gotten much past that age of human history. Then, Moses. In an effort to calm the desert passions of nomadic tribal peoples, he promulgated a code we called: “an eye for an eye, a tooth for tooth”. It was a brilliant move to limit the extent of damages and control rage. The violence of terrorists, and our response to them gives evidence that we have not even taken that code of conduct seriously. Then, Jesus of Nazareth, who completely abandoned an eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth and turned the relationship around. The Jesus of Matthew’s Gospel consistently cast in the image of a new Moses promulgates a new way by turning the relationship around. He introduced a different standard: as you relate yourselves to others, so God relates to you. Forgiveness is to forgive.

Therefore it follows that those who are forgiven by God are to forgive one another.

The church that gave rise to this Gospel, the church which focused on the issues raised chapter after chapter in Matthew’s Gospel is painfully revealed here.

It was not all sweet charity and kindness. It was a community facing conflict, change, disgrace, unfaithfulness, and the burden of free-riders. There was friction outside with the Roman and Jewish authorities. There was friction inside as the growing church sought it’s identity as belonging to Jesus distinct from but rooted in Judaism.

They fought it out. They argued. It is likely that they shouted and pointed, accused and excused. In an effort to aid and lead the church’s self awareness and realization,

Matthew puts forth an ethic and a vision to motivate behavior based not solely on the Law, but upon the person and the message of Jesus Christ.

Jesus was a seeker. The verses of today’s Gospel ought to be heard with the echo of the verses just before – in which he speaks of seeking and finding what is lost.

That seeking and passionate desire to be one, to be whole, to be united drives the human spirit touched by the Holy Spirit. We must be seekers if we will be part of Jesus Christ. The opposite of a seeker is a settler, and churches are full of them everywhere.

We have our share here at Saint Mark. They are pew warmers who settle in, who come to church with no passionate reason of their own. Sometimes because they inherited a certain church from their ancestors. Sometimes because it is the socially acceptable place to be seen. Sometimes people belong because they are afraid, and they settle down in church because they fear the great punishment, or because they long for the great reward.

But for people created in God’s image, it would seem more appropriate to be in church because they are in love. That kind of real love is only sustained and maintained by forgiveness.

I wonder if you’ve ever thought about the furniture in this place, about where you see this kind of seating. First of all, except for a few trendy restaurants, the only other place you see this seating arrangement and furniture is in a court room. Yet again, and even more powerfully, this kind of seating in long rows is found in airports and office waiting rooms. On this September weekend, our broken church glues itself back together again. It is imperfect because we are so. It has sometimes failed us, and each of us have failed the church. Yet in the midst of this mutual failure, we claim this church as our own, our home, our mother. We do not run away when we see through the cracks and find littleness and greatness, poverty and wealth. We ought to feel more fed and failed. But not everyone can say this, and so we are called to great sensitivity. We are still full of controversy and troubles without and within,

but an end of controversy will not mean success. As long as love prevails, there is nothing to fear in controversy. We must accept both the burden and the grace of being Church. By our assembly week after week, we begin again and again with a rite of forgiveness because that is what we are about. More and more those who venture in here should be called in love to join the seeking and the waiting. The simple truth of the matter is that we can do nothing on our own to get to heaven, but if we wait long enough, God will come and lift us up. And so, we wait, and we seek, and we watch for the day when living forgiveness leads us to find it.

August 21, 2005 At Saint Mark Church in Norman, OK

Isaiah 22:19-12 + Romans 11: 33-36 + Matthew 16:13-20

As many times as I have heard these verses and studied them,

something new always pops out when I sit still long enough to listen.

This time around, two things came to my attention:

only in Matthew’s Gospel is the word “Church” used with Peter’s confession,

making it perfectly clear that this is not about Peter, but about us.

The second thing that came to mind was that this business of the keys

is about authority not power.

The two are not the same.

The problem with the man in the first reading is that he confused the two.

He had authority, but he thought it was all about power,

so he used his authority to exercise power for himself,

and that was the end of him.

This year, and especially last week,

we are celebrating one hundred years of what Matthew speaks of in his Gospel.

We sit in this grand church made holy

by the sacrifices of those who put it here and our own to keep it here.

The men and women who were here one hundred years ago may well have imagined and hoped that we would be here, but I wonder if they thought it would look like this?

This celebration of our centennial is about more than looking back with wonder

at how they did it, how they got around, how they managed to survive on this inland sea of grass, and what they managed to build.

This celebration of our centennial eventually must lead us to look ahead at what it will take to have another celebration one hundred years from now.

The reason we are here with a past to celebrate is because those men and women were not part-time Catholics, and matters of convenience never entered their thinking when it came to their faith and how it was celebrated.

Closer to the early church and the ideal of Jesus Christ, there were free riders

because membership was expensive.

It offered sacrifice and stigma, but also significance and satisfaction.

In the past hundred years, we have accumulated a lot free riders

who slow things down and lessened the efficacy of the mission.

Calling oneself a Christian is not the same as calling oneself a disciple.

In this part of the world, being a “Christian” is expected and easy,

but becoming a true Disciple of Christ is something else again.

It means being part of the mission, digging into your pockets and into your calendar.

Believing in Christ is not what is required.

Believing Christ is.

Those old timers hitched up the team, loaded up the kids, and took off across streams and grasslands when they heard that Mass was going to happen somewhere.

I doubt that they cared one bit about how long it took, whether Father had an accent, or what kind of music there might be.

Christ built them into “church”, and that church is what we are.

Day by day we ought to worry about whether or not we are worthy of what we have inherited.

We feel proud of having built one big church.

They built ten times as many in two decades.

What those men and women had to pass on

was authority, not power. They had no power.

The trouble these days is that we do,

and then we get more interested in power than in authority.

When that happens, everything is more important than faith and church,

because we want more power.

And so, getting a better job and making more money

is more important than what we do with it.

We educate our children first so that they can make money, be secure and have stuff

if there is any time left, and it’s convenient, they can learn about church and faith.

Authority is not won by promotion, but by prayer and tears.

Authority is maintained by self-surrender and courageous sacrifice.

We recognize people with authority because they have suffered, sacrificed, and risen up with courage from challenge and defeat.

We recognize people with authority

because they are not interested in themselves first.

In the synagogue of his home town,

the people recognized authority in Jesus, not power.

They listened and some followed him because of it.

That is what Jesus would give to us,

and that is what church will be built upon for the future:

sacrifice, suffering, courage, and prayer.

These are the ingredients of authority,

exactly what Jesus has to offer those who recognize him as Peter did.

Take a look at the cross again. No hint of power there,

only authentic authority, against which nothing can prevail.

August 14, 2005 At Saint Mark Church in Norman, OK

Isaiah 56:1,6-7 + Romans 11: 13-15,29-32 + Matthew 15:21-28

In an age when fear tightens our boarders,

this Gospel comes with a challenge not to be ignored.

Fear is driving much of our policy, decisions, and attitudes as a nation.

Even as a church, issues of language, sexuality, culture, and life style

threaten to split us into insiders and outsiders.

Gates, Fences, Boundaries, and Borders are getting very important, to the point that some of us are beginning to wonder if they exist to keep us in or keep us out.

The lines between insiders and outsiders always prove to be problematic.

“You don’t belong here.” or “You can come in, but this is how we do things.”

are the sounds of a circle tightening,

and that tight circle may strangle the life out of us.

Exclusivity does not become us.

The privilege of the covenant does not bestow the right to judge and exclude.

It brings a duty to embrace, to welcome, to seek, and search:

the very divine quality that has embraced us in our faults and failures.

The best lesson and revelation of this story comes from an unlikely source.

The teacher today is not Jesus, nor is it the apostles.

The one who proclaims good news today is the woman

who knows more about God than those apostles.

She knows where to go in her need, and she knows how to get relief.

The power of her persistent plea;

the fact that what she asks is not for her alone;

and the humility with which she takes insult and dismissal

is in sharp contrast to the “in group” apostles who want her sent away.

Another challenge to our culture’s prevailing mood of privilege

comes out of Matthew today

giving us cause to think again about the gifts we have.

None of them were earned, no matter how we may try to fool ourselves with that idea.

They were not earned, because we did not choose where we were born nor when.

As a parent willing to endure anything for her child,

this woman is an image of God for us

revealing Divine qualities in this very human moment.

A woman from Canaan teaches us today about God, about prayer, and about humility.

An outsider, she sill believed, and because of it, she was promised,

“Your wish will come to pass.”

She found her place at the table.

Satisfied with crumbs, it is life she seeks.

Even crumbs are part of a loaf that nourishes and sustains.

At this table it is crumbs that sustain us, just a tiny piece broken from the whole.

At this table it is life we seek and life we receive.

August 7, 2005 At Saint Mark Church in Norman, OK

1 Kings 19:9, 11-13 + Romans 9:1-5 + Matthew 14:22-33

We do not hear anything to indicate that the storm is what frightened the disciples.

These are fishermen.

They are on the lake every day and every night.

They know it well.

They know its moods and its weather.

They know how to handle the boat.

There is no hint of fear in this story until they see Jesus walking on the water.

They thought they were seeing a ghost, and it scared them.

They were a people simpler than we are.

If we saw someone walking on the water, we would start to wonder how they did that.

We would suspect some techno – hologram at work, and the curious would get interested. The rest of us would just go back to work.

But, what if we saw someone we knew was dead walking toward us?

Now remember, this story is being told by a people who have experienced the death and resurrection of Jesus.

More than anything, this story at this point of Matthew’s Gospel is theophany story

in which the divinity of Jesus is revealed.

The evidence of that comes when Jesus speaks and says:

Get hold of yourselves. It is I.

In the original language of this Gospel, these are words straight out of the Book of Exodus – I AM WHO I AM says the voice from the burning bush.

So the first thing we get on an August Sunday from Matthew’s Gospel is an affirmation about the identity of Jesus Christ.

The next thing we get is a description of his function – what he is here to do.

This Divine Messiah is here to save humankind.

In chapter eight there is another boat story

about a sleeping Jesus and a violent storm that is sinking the boat.

In that story, no one gets out of the boat, while Jesus calms the storm.

It concludes with the apostles wondering:

What sort of man is this, that even the winds and the sea obey him?”

In this boat story, they get their answer.

He is none other than the “I AM” who spoke to Moses

and called for obedience.

In that story, staying in the boat even if it’s battered by storms

is the way to get to the other side.

It is a church – story about getting from here to there:

from here to the other side.

In both stories, the “little faith” of the disciples is the issue,

but the second story has it’s roots in the resurrection experience,

and so Peter is willing to step out when called.

Had he not taken that first step, he would never have learned the meaning of faith.

Thank God for Peter!

Bounding out of the boat, onto the water.

What an act of faith, and then the sinking, and the panic, and the cry or desperation.

And then the hand extended in a powerful combination,

a kind of incarnation blending of friendship

and salvation,

and encouragement

and life itself.

And then those wonderful words.

I’ve never thought they were spoken in rebuke or aloof scolding.

I prefer to think that they were spoken with admiration and tenderness.

I think they were whispered, intimate encouragement:

“Oh Little-Faith-One. Why did you doubt?

Little faith is a marvelous thing.

Just a little will get you out of the boat and onto the water;

and that’s the first step sometimes.

It’s what Elijah learned at that cave.

It’s not the big wind,

the earthquake,

nor the big fire that matters.

It’s the tiny whispering voice.

In a world that thinks bigger is better,

might is right, and that being tough and unbending is virtue,

this is a hard thing to get right.

God loves faith in every form, big and little,

and little faith grows into great faith.

July 24, 2005 At Saint Mark in Norman, OK

I Kings 3:5,7-12 + Romans 8:28-30 + Matthew 13:44=52

Three parables conclude the thirteenth chapter of Matthew’s Gospel.

The parables are about the Kingdom of Heaven.

To make sure we get it, Matthew says it three times:

“The Kingdom of Heaven is like……..”

And then he asks the question worth asking again and again:
“Do you understand?”

I think the question and the struggle for the answer is the issue with this Gospel

when we proclaim it in Norman, Oklahoma on a hot July weekend.

“Have you understood all this?” he asks after to speaking to them about treasures buried in fields, merchants searching for pearls, and nets that collect fish?

“Yep, we sure do.” they say, and then the evidence begins to pile up against them.

Because I know how it will go with them, I’m not so quick with my answer,

and I wonder about you.

I’m not so sure I do understand.

I’m caught between wanting to say that I do

in order to appear wise and knowledgeable,

and wanting to cry out:

“I don’t get it. Tell me again. Help me understand!”

Perhaps that was Solomon’s greatest gift:

knowing that he didn’t know it all,

and asking to have an understanding heart.

With that desire, we might take a second look at these parables

from another point of view.

There is another way to imagine these parables

that might lead to deeper understanding.

Something about our life style and the power–driven western world always pushes us to think that the parables are giving us instructions about what to do or telling us how to do something.

What if we switch from the active to the passive?

What if these are really parables that describe the Kingdom of Heaven?

What if these are parables that describe

how we shall be in this “now and not-yet existence we call “the present?”

It is, after all, our built in impatience with being in the “now and not yet”

that makes us want to do something

often at the cost of being something.

In the end, I think the reason we have

and have preserved these parables and words of Jesus

are to give us something to imagine and long for while we wait.

They actually tell us how to BE in this world

just as much as they tell us what to DO.

In fact, what we DO must flow from what we ARE.

So, instead of hearing these parables as instructions about what to do,

listen again and think about what else they have to tell us.

Perhaps these parables have something to say about God.

The Kingdom of Heaven is like the TREASURE.

That’s what the parable is about, not about the person.

It’s about being sought, being desired above all things,

about being wanted enough to sell everything in order to be possessed.

Then the Kingdom of Heaven is about the MERCHANT

who sells everything to get that pearl.

Finally, the Kingdom of Heaven is about the NET

that gathers every kind of fish!

With that said, suppose the first parable is about us:

the greatest treasure in God’s eyes.

Suppose the second parable is about God who sells or gives his only Son

in order to have us as God’s own.

Finally, suppose the third parable is about church,

the net of love that gathers us all and leaves no one behind.

“Do you understand this?”

Do any of us ever really understand that we are treasures

that God desires more than anything?

Do any of us ever really get it?

Do we ever grasp what a price has been paid for us and our salvation?

Are we ever going to see that all of us are in this net of love together?

Once we do,

the gift of wisdom and real understanding will be ours,

and the cry of Joy from the one who has found us

will echo through all creation

and once again it will be a beginning,

a Genesis,

and we and all creation shall be GOOD.

July 10, 2005 At Saint Mark Church in Norman,OK

Isaiah 55:10-11 + Romans 8:18-23 + Matthew 13: 1-23

This is a parable of promise, not a parable of judgment.

It is about what will come to be, not about the past.

We need no parables to tell us about that.

But because of the past in which we live minute by minute,

we do need to hear about will come,

what is God’s will, and how to accomplish that will.

And so Matthew gives us this parable on the lips of Jesus.

We begin to get the point as we listen to the prophet today

speaking of how certain and effective God’s Word has become.

As sure as rain, sun, and seed make harvest,

so it shall be with the Word of God.

It will bear fruit.

The seed Jesus sews will bear fruit,

but this harvest does not happen in the gospel narrative.

When Matthew’s Gospel concludes, disciples are sent out to all nations to continue scattering the seeds.

What we do get in the Gospel is the failure of the seed to flourish:

Fleeing disciples who are ashamed and afraid of Jesus;

betrayal by Peter whose name is “rock” by the way, and Judas;

a rich young man who has been given everything will give up nothing.

All of these failures are summed up in three images worth looking at and reflecting upon in the midst of summer.

Perhaps a glance at them today will give us some thought about how we might maker more certain that the promised harvest will happen in our lives.

The image of the well – worn path is powerful when we consider how it contributes to the failure of the harvest. Too busy, too stuck in the ruts and habits of our lives, the planted seed, the gifts we are given bear no fruit. Busy in the fast lane is the life of those who are here today and gone tomorrow. All that can be expected of these people so busy with their lives is that we can hope for nothing except more of the same.

The image of the rocky ground is just as powerful to express what happens when the Word of God is sown into a hardened heart. These hearts, as I spoke of last week, cannot change. No conversion, so response, just stone cold silence, stubbornness, and certitude that I am right and my way is the only way.  No harvest here.

The final image suggests a condition too common and pervasive in our culture: the shallow ground. These hearers have so many interests in life, so much to do, so many to please! Their priorities are all a jumble. Their prayer is shallow. The commitment is convenient, and when more is ask or expected, it is replaced by something or someone else.

But there is also the good ground, and the promise it holds.

So we tell the parable again

to encourage ourselves with the promise it proclaims,

to look at the conditions

into which this Word and Promise have been sewn,

and perhaps rejoice and receive the blessing we hear

from the lips of Jesus;

a blessing upon those who have eyes to see

and ears to hear.

July 3, 2005 At Saint Mark Church in Norman, OK

Zechariah 9:9-10 + Romans 8:9, 11-13 + Matthew 11:25-30

Since I am assuming no one arrived here this morning by horse or by colt the difference between the two modes of transportation has likely escaped us.

The prophet Zechariah proposes that the messiah, the “savior” will arrive on a donkey, not a horse, and for those of his time this is something unexpected.

This is news. For us, the story of Palm Sunday has dulled the impact of this message, especially so if the significance of the animal is not understood.

Historians tell us that in the ancient world, donkeys were symbols of peace,

as opposed to the horse, which was used for war.

Riders of donkeys in the Jewish scriptures

were regarded as distinguished and even majestic.

In his prophesy, Zechariah proposes that the rider of the donkey

will be a non violent peacemaker through whom

justice will be universally established.

The horse will be banished.

For the people of his time, this was unexpected news, and a whole new idea. Because of their recent oppression in exile,

they expected a messiah on a horse

that would violently destroy all enemies in the style of King David.

It was not to be.

The intelligent and the learned do not get it.

Something new has come, and they don’t want it.

They can’t understand it.

They didn’t think of it first, and they will have nothing to do with it,

so they ran the risk of missing the opportunity.

Jesus suggests that they are like children in the market place,

where they refused to dance with the flute and refused to morn with the dirge. Suspicious and unwilling, they will not give the Kingdom of God a chance.

It asks more of them than they can imagine, and so it passes them by.

Stories of missed opportunities abound in history.

Thomas Edison spent only three months in formal education

because a teacher thought he was dull.

So he started reading on his own discovering literature, philosophy, and science.

The “lights” went on and he literally changed the course of history,

but not because of the intelligent, the learned and the clever.

It was the same with Galileo who mastered

the grinding of lenses for glasses and telescopes.

He confirmed the earlier thought of Copernicus

that the sun was fixed and earth moved around it.

But the wise and the learned were threatened by new information

and silenced both Copernicus and Galileo.

This behavior continues to wear away at news of the Reign of God.

“These things” which are being revealed can be grasped by the mind of a child

while people of influence and power never get it.

“These things” refer to the mysteries of the Kingdom

and how the grace of the Father reaches down

through Jesus to hearts that are open and hungry for transformation.

Resistance to what is new, to these mysteries springs from fear

that worldviews must change and the landscape of one’s life must shift.

For the learned and the clever,

for those in power and those with all the answers, this is far too risky;

but not to the childlike who are open to the fresh air of the Divine Spirit

that was blowing in their midst.

The troubles Jesus had with proclaiming a new message

are the troubles Christ still has today.

Our sense of the Kingdom of God, I images for what it shall be like,

and our sense of how it shall come to be

are still not open enough to allow it to happen.

Extremism continues to push us apart into suspicious and mean spirited opponents

who can no longer imagine the unity of the human family.

A change of mind, of values, of opinions or of ideas is looked upon as a weakness

or flaw of character.

When in fact, openness to change, to conversion, or rethinking opinions in the face of facts is exactly what it takes for the Spirit to move us toward the Reign of God.

Issues of peace, violence, the death penalty, the dignity of life, capitalism, and even democracy are obvious issues where the Spirit can lead and call for change in some hearts that are closed and will not listen.

There are issues in our church as well

and sometimes they threaten the unity of parish communities.

Language, vesture, hymn books, (for heaven’s sake) translations, governance, posture, the integration and preservation of one’s rights and the exercise of one’s duties too often give evidence that the trouble Jesus had is still a trouble today.

Around this altar because of this Gospel and Matthew’s words, we might well look not at each other, but at ourselves and resistance with us that delays the coming the Kingdom of God. It isn’t a matter of time. It is a matter of will, of desire, and of faith.

What we wait for is not another day, another year, nor another generation;

but for our own hearts to change so that we might dance with the piper

and mourn with the dirge.

When the day comes that we desire to change ourselves

consistently and completely

into an unmistakable image of Christ,

we will finally know what it is to be meek and humble of heart

and the Spirit of God will dwell within us.