The 2nd Sunday of Advent at St Mark the Evangelist Church in Norman, OK

December 8, 2002

Isaiah 40: 1-5, 9-11 + 2 Peter 3:8-14 + Mark 1: 1-8

Our guide Isaiah takes us to Babylon today. The glory of David’s Kingdom and its mighty capital with palace and temple are no more. The once proud and mighty Israel broken into two Kingdoms first by its own internal conflicts over religious right and privilege both are finally reduced to dim memories as the able bodied are marched away from home as slaves of the victors. There in Babylon, some scholars suggest, many were forced to work on the building of a Persian road through the desert east of the Jordan. This one whose words still have the power to inspire great music, lift the discouraged, and restore broken dreams speaks in this place today.

The one who speaks is not off in some distant place of security and comfort. He has worked the long day shoulder to shoulder with those whose struggle he shares. They are building a road in the desert with their bare hands. Rocks, sand, and boulders move when they push. Hills flatten only when they dig. The gift he shares with them is a way of seeing what they do as a way of preparing for God. The Babylonians were building a “Sacred Way” for the procession of their god “Marduk”. Isaiah’s suggestion is that Israel could find its present condition to be a way of preparing for God rather than leading them away from God. Some might consider the road to be for them; their way out. Others could look at this road as God’s route to them.

I suppose the first option assumes that they know where they are going. Knowing the direction, they think they know which way to build. The second option fits a bit more into truth of the matter. These people are lost. If they knew how to get out of the mess they were in, they wouldn’t be there. A long time ago, in Boy Scout Survival wilderness training, I learned that if lost, the best thing to do was to stay put and wait to be found. If not, the one lost would be in greater danger from injury and exhaustion, likely wandering in circles. It seems like sound advise that has some scriptural parallels. It seems to fit this season when we listen to the wisdom of our guide. We are not going to get ourselves out of this life, out of the slavery we find ourselves in because we have chased after other gods, or out of the lonely isolation of our polarized church and society by insisting we are right and others are wrong.

The words of Advent remind us firmly that we are not preparing to welcome “the baby Jesus” but rather the One who comes with Justice and whose power is for the oppressed. We may not use the Word of God to validate our way of life. We run a terrible risk here of hearing the Word of God as victors and achievers. The Word has nothing to say to them. Until we find in ourselves our sin, the things that enslave us, our helplessness, our alienation from one another, and how far we have come from Justice; this season has no meaning, and the Word has no power. The power of Isaiah’s words came from his identity with his own. The good news is not so much a message as it is a people whose glorious redemption manifests the divine. The glad tidings of this season are more than “Merry Christmas.”

The glad tidings of this season is a people who find hope, purpose, and a way to God in what they do. The glad tidings of this season can only be heard by those who know what it is to be lost by those who have been waiting for the Lord, and for those who long for Justice. There is no good news for those who think they have earned their place, their privilege and their rights. The mission of a prophetic people in Advent is to proclaim in word and deed that having been found by God, we are going home. It will best be done by gathering together, going back for, and looking around for any who have fallen or been left behind. These are the days when anything that separates or scatters us, when anything that lets us think we are different or better than another must go.

Nothing short of total transformation in the landscape of our lives will do. We build a road for Justice these days. On that road, Kindness and Truth shall meet. Justice and Peace shall kiss. Truth shall spring from the earth, while Justice will look down from heaven. This road will be best built by tenderness and compassion and faithfulness to the vision.

The 34th Sunday in Ordinary Time at St Mark the Evangelist Church in Norman, OK

November 24, 2002

Ezekiel 34:11-12 + 1 Corinthians 15:20-26 + Matthew 25:31-46

….and so ends the narrative portion of Matthew’s Gospel on this last Sunday of our present Liturgical year. With these final verses of Chapter 25 we conclude thirty fours Sundays of Matthew’s instruction, his companionship, and his vision of the Kingdom of God. As Matthew tells his story, the Passion now begins.

In fact, the scholars tell us that with all the Gospels, the Passion of Christ was written first, and then the earlier parts of the Gospel were written to set the scene and introduce the characters. That would suggest that we might imagine Matthew’s Gospel to be a great drama allowing us this kind of overview……

The Narrative of the Birth and Infancy of Jesus is a prelude before the curtain opens. While we are getting settled in our seats, the lights go down, the orchestra plays some of the themes that will be lead us through.

The genealogy, the annunciation to Joseph (which in Matthew gets more lines than Mary’s annunciation because of his connection to David’s lineage), a story of the visitors from the east, the reaction/introduction of Herod and his authorities. This Christmas story is all an introduction, and we ought to remember that at this time of the year as the greed of cash-registers and profits twist this event way out of proportion. Then, the curtain goes up. John the Baptist walks on, baptizes Jesus, and act one begins with a trip to the desert.

From then on a series of scenes unfolds one after another that some call “discourses” or “sermons” all leading to the final one given at the Temple in Jerusalem. That is the scene we have just concluded, and it is now time in the Gospel for the finale – the final grand act that resolves the conflict which in Matthew’s Gospel has been a conflict of Justice and Mercy, Law and Love.

Now we know what Advent is about, not Christmas, but the coming of the Son of Man. Our expectation and imagination of what this shall be like for us is shaken by this scene and the little drama within the big drama. The little drama is this story Jesus tells. It is a radical departure from the common idea of virtuous action bringing a reward. The usual understanding is that one is rewarded for good works done on earth. The idea that “Justice” will come because someone is keeping track of all things in a great “book of life” is shattered by this story. As Matthew sees it, there is no record that the righteous can point to when called before the King. Both the blessed and the condemned are unaware of what really matters. What does matters, it seems, is the stuff they never thought of. What determines their destiny and seals their fate are things to which they never assigned any significance. All that stuff they were doing to look good and win favor didn’t matter at all. In the end, it was something else entirely.

This whole idea flies in the face of what we think Justice is all about. We want it to be something clear-cut. We want to be sure that we’re right. We want to be certain that we are orthodox; that we have all the answers, and possess the truth, and of course, then we can call the shots. That is why this scene is so surprising. Both sides are astonished that the Son of Man does not share their notion of “Justice” and their idea of balancing the books. In fact, the Son of Man does not make the final judgment. He confirms the depth of their actions. He ratifies their behavior. The King, not necessarily the same person, calls and dispatches one group and then the other.

Matthew suggests here that inconsequential acts of human generosity and compassion that people do without thought of reward or of profit have profound significance for the future as well as for the present. It is not what we got out of it now or ever that matters. In fact, the things from which we get nothing seem to have the most potential. Spontaneous acts of reaching out to another human being make the most difference in this kind of justice, not those where the consequences are measured and chosen for the maximum benefit. In the world’s eyes, that kind of behavior is folly, but not so in this Gospel.

This is not a program of virtues that gains a reward. It suggests with some subtlety that the moment we decide what to do by what we get out of it, we’ve lost it. It suggests the spontaneous acts of human kindness which spring out of a heart tuned to the presence of Christ are the ones that matter. The message of this final scene is that whenever we give up our rights, our time, even our lives wasting ourselves for others, even for God, then we enter in the company of fools in the eyes of this world. Yet we know and discover perhaps only at the end that the leader of the fools is hidden among the unimportant ones of this world.

The 32nd Sunday in Ordinary Time at St Mark the Evangelist Church in Norman, OK

November 11, 2002

Wisdom 6:12-16 + 1 Thessalonians 4:13-18 + Matthew 25:1-13

In the next three weeks we proclaim the twenty-fifth chapter of Matthew. This chapter is the end of the public teaching of Jesus in Matthew’s Gospel, and it provides his final instruction about discipleship during this time before his return. It becomes an extended meditation on discipleship, and the church leads us in that meditation with some clues from the Old Testament that help with these verses today. Following that clue, the writer of our first reading today gives us the focus for reflecting on this Gospel. We are easily distracted by details of the story, and it is easy to be troubled by those who will not share what they seem to possess. Great sermons have been preached about staying awake, but all of them fall asleep. It is not the foolish ones who serve as model for disciples, but the others, called “Wise.” The oil they do not share may well be something they cannot share, and once we let go of the words literally, we are free to move into the Life this Word of God can give. The Life of a disciple of Jesus is filled with Wisdom, and the author insists that those who seek it will find it.

Biblical “Wisdom” is an attribute of God, and attribute that “Godly” people may possess if they find it. In behavior it shows itself as Prudence, which is the behavior often used to describe these wise “virgins” of the Gospel story. The Prudent are those who seek the best way of doing things. They are those who look ahead, who look around, who live for more than the moment. The point with Prudence is the doing. This is a quality of action, an element of decision, a way of life that is responsible and accountable. Those who lack Prudence are negligent, procrastinate, hesitant and inconsistent. They rationalize and blame and expect others to bail them out like those in the Gospel story whose lamps go out. They are left to live in the darkness. We will never learn from this story whether the foolish found any oil. What we do know is that when they returned, it was too late. Works of love and mercy cannot be shared. They are the results of Wisdom in a Prudent Life.

The Prudent are people of action; wise, accountable, and reasonable. They are disciples of Jesus Christ, and they know what to do with their lives while they wait for his return.

The 31st Sunday in Ordinary Time at St Mark the Evangelist Church in Norman, OK

November 03, 2002

Malachi 1:14-2:10 + 1 Thessalonians 2:7-13 + Matthew 23:1-12

The disputes are at an end. Jesus alone speaks, and now he speaks to his disciples: to you and to me. He is still in the Temple where he was confronted by first one group and then another. These groups: Pharisees, Scribes, Sadducees, are all part of the hierarchy that has too much to lose by his teaching. They have all been dismissed, and now, still in the Temple with all the authority the place itself can give, he speaks to his disciples, then at the end of this chapter he will leave the Temple. This is a kind of final instruction, a wrap up of all that has been said, and the last words of direction to set us on our mission.

As always, the focus and the issues reveal a great deal about the church of St. Matthew which was obviously beginning to struggle with internal disorder from what we would today call: “clericalism.” These words stand as a reminder to the church in every age that pride, privilege, and power are not tools for the building of the Kingdom, but tools of its destruction. There is danger in this text taken and clipped out of context as it is. It is the danger of standing back and thinking that it is all about them: all about those Scribes, Sadducees, and Pharisees, or all about that early church creeping into clericalism with abuses frequent enough that Matthew thought he should raise this warning. Buried in all the words and dimmed by the intensity of the moment, there is in these verses a piece of Matthew theology far more important than warnings about clericalism. There is a powerful reminder about who is the center of all faith and the source of all things: Christ Jesus.

As Matthew says, he is the only teacher, the only Rabbi, and father-like source of life. Verse eight in the passage ought to get the attention of everyone: “As for you….” he says. Suddenly it’s not about Scribes, Sadducees, and Pharisees; it is about us. It is not about titles and clothing it is about humility, the virtue found in the heart of every disciple of Christ Jesus. “The greatest among you will be the one who serves the rest. Whoever exalts himself shall be humbled, but whoever humbles himself shall be exalted.” Humility, not power is the only authority worthy of us. Humility is the only virtue that most clearly identifies us with Christ Jesus and gives us a share in the mystery of his power. That identity is the issue here.

Our likeness to Christ Jesus is the measure of our authority, not our power. That likeness comes from concern for the other, service, compassion, and commitment. That likeness comes from friendship with God, from the honest recognition that we are all children of God, made by God, called by God and redeemed by God. There is no one here who is better or worse, good or bad; this is the truth as humility sees it.

It springs out of the embracing love of God and the gift of Spirit that lets us see as God sees, and love as God loves. The true disciple imitates everything about the master. Disciples of Christ Jesus do nothing to call attention to themselves, but rather lose themselves in imitation of their master. They never address this world or any other person with the thought of what they can get for themselves, but only with wonder about what they can give. They have power that reduces every threat and fear to nothing. It is the power that comes from a humble heart, the power of kindness, the power of love, and the power of compassion. It is the power that quiets every rage, and stills all anger.

The humble have that power, for they are close to God, and they see as God sees. They see through the postures of offense and anger, through the costumes of pride and self-serving authority, through the arrogance of sin and presumptions of privilege. They know and they believe that the way of Jesus is the only way to peace, to the unity of the human family, and to a life of joy and holiness. This is what Jesus proposes there in the Temple that day, and it is how he suggests we find our way into the Kingdom.

The Solemnity of All Souls at St Mark the Evangelist Church in Norman, OK

November 2, 2002

Daniel 12:1-3 + Romans 6:3-9 + John 6:37-40

Roman Catholics often visit a church to be alone with God, and in a Protestant church they have a feeling of emptiness. I often look into open churches, and I do not remember a time I have ever seen anyone praying alone in a Protestant Church. It may be a coincidence of my timing; but I am not mistaken about my feelings. There is no sacrament reserved there, and that does affect my feelings about the space. This is not the experience of Byzantine Christians. When they enter a church they do not proceed to their private prayers at a central altar or tabernacle without first going round to visit the icons. They kiss them and light candles before them. They salute them and join in communion with them. The walls of their churches are covered with images of patriarch and prophets, preachers and teachers. They rub shoulders with local saints and national martyrs. Their family histories are filled with songs and hymns and legends to tell again and again in every generation, for in telling them, they recall the acts and blessings of God.

That is what we do here on this Feast of All Souls. Devotion to the saints and to the dead are really the same thing; the sense of unity with a common past that is so strong in the worship of the East. Those we remember today do not cease to exist because we cannot see them or know their presence through our senses. They live as always, but without this frame of flesh and blood with which they approached and held correspondence with us. The life they have now is present, not future, past, nor distant. It is not above the sky, it is not beyond the grave, it is now and here; the Kingdom of God among us.

John Henry Newman in a sermon left behind these thoughts to make sense of this day. “We are looking here for the coming of the day of God, when all this outward world, fair though it be, shall perish; when the heavens shall be burnt, and the earth melt away. We can bear the loss, for we know it will be but the removing of a veil. We know that to remove the world that is seen will be the manifestation of the world that is not seen. We know that what we see is like a screen that hides from us God and Christ, and the angels and the saints.”

We sit today in their presence. They surround us and bear us up as they always have and always will. We share with them a common beginning in mind and in the heart of God; and we shall share with them a common eternity in the arms of that God who calls us all his own.

The Solemnity of All Saints at St Mark the Evangelist Church in Norman, OK

November 1, 2002

Revelation 7:2-4, 9-14 + 1 John 3:1-3 + Matthew 5:1-12

It is Matthew who speaks to us today with his unique vision of the Kingdom of God shaped by the adversity his church experiences historically. Later, when another generation has passed and a wider experience of the community’s life allows, there is different focus to the words of Jesus we proclaim today. It even changes location in Luke. The mountain is leveled, and the prophetic parallel with Moses is no longer important in the Lukan vision of life for the citizens of the Kingdom and those who would be one with Christ Jesus.

The location from which these words of Jesus were spoken is the least of the differences however. Matthew’s additions and shift in emphasis says far more. Blest are you poor, the reign of God is yours, says Luke. Blessed are the poor in spirit, says Matthew. Blessed are you who hunger, you shall be filled, says Luke. Blessed are they who hunger and thirst for righteousness, says Matthew. A shift from the passive to the active is found in Matthew. He urges activism. Hunger and thirst become verbs. Matthew speaks of action: Don’t just be hungry – thirst for it – go after it, seek it! There is an ethical side of Matthew’s proclamation of these words of Jesus that urges the Blessed into action for the sake of the Kingdom of God. For these blessed, the kingdom of God is not just something they inherit because they are there and identified by the one who passes on the reward. Being blessed is a sign of God-given status not an affirmation of character. The Blessed for Matthew are not simply those who are hungry and wait without complaint; but rather they are the ones who, in a sense, chose to fast and discipline themselves for the sake of bringing justice for those who have no choice but be hungry.

This is what we call to mind on All Saints day; not just those who have been found blessed by reason of their place in time and the conditions of their lives, but those who take action for the sake of others, those who hunger, thirst, mourn, show mercy and make peace. This too is holiness, and for those have choices in life like you and me, the call to holiness is a call to action and service. If persecution leads one to reward, our persecution will have to come from what we have done not from the color of ethnic origins, economic condition, sexuality, and nationality. We will have to be persecuted for what we have done. We are not going to ride or slide into the Kingdom of God because of our helplessness. We will have to work our way there, and Matthew gives us the tools and points the way.

The 30th Sunday in Ordinary Time at St Mark the Evangelist Church in Norman, OK

October 27, 2002

Exodus 22:20-26 + 1 Thessalonians 1:5-10 + Matthew 22:34-40

We must consider Mark’s earlier use of this story to understand what Matthew may be doing with it. Matthew changes the questioner, because in Mark’s version, it is a scribe who asks the question and is impressed with the response. In Matthew there is no room for this friendly question and the compliments that arise from the conversation. In Matthew, a question asked earlier has dismissed the Sadducees, and these Pharisees have, in a sense, rolled up their sleeves and said: “We’re the “pros” at this. Let’s go after him.” As a contest of wits, it’s a draw. Jesus does not answer the question. They ask for one commandment, he gives them two.

In the end, what we inherit here and what we proclaim today is not about them, Pharisees, Sadducees, Scribes, or Jesus. It is about us, and it is about what is asked of us.

The story of this encounter reveals just how theology and ethics have integrated. When the Jesus of Matthew’s Gospel says that Love of God and Love of Neighbor are “like”, he reveals how much the relationship with God (call it “theology”) and the relationship with neighbor (call it “ethics”) have in common. The relationship of the divine creator and created is the stuff of theology, while the relationships between the created is the stuff of ethics. For followers of Jesus, these two relationships integrate into a balanced and focused way of life that is profoundly spiritual and consistently ethical as a consequence of their integration. The inter-relationship of these two commandments is an issue here. To enter into the mind of Jesus on this matter, think for a moment of how he treated the Sabbath Law. Remember how he insisted that human need took precedence over the legal requirement. That is the integration to be found in followers of Jesus. He did not come to replace the law, but to fulfill the law – a fulfillment to be found in the ethical behavior of his followers in their relationship to one another. Love for neighbor teaches us how to love God. Then Jesus goes a step further and radicalizes this love of neighbor to include enemies. It only makes sense to those whose love for God empowers them to imitate the generous, inclusive love God has for all creation.

But the story of this encounter also raises the question of commandments. If a commandment is the requirement or the prohibition of some kind of behavior, then we have to wonder if “love” can really be commanded. At this point, we must deal with the word that carries the idea. “L.O.V.E. in English is not a good tool to communicate what the Sacred Scriptures are revealing as God’s Will or God’s Command. That four letter word is simply inadequate. What is asked of us by God’s command has nothing to do with warm feelings either of gratitude toward God or of affection for others. In fact, the Biblical concept of Love bears little resemblance to romance, affection, and warm feelings of intimacy. It looks more bull-headedness, stubbornness, and unwavering commitment. It isn’t nearly as much fun, and when the Bible speaks of love, rather than violins playing, drums should be pounding.

Commitment, unwavering, immovable, unbending, teeth gritting, jaw set commitment is what this is all about. Nothing else, and commitment can be commanded. And so, commitment to God as a commandment means there will not be any other one, and no created thing nor any created person will take that God’s place before us. Such commitment is observed in obedient behavior and a determined effort to fulfill the will of God, as it is known. Commitment to neighbor, says Jesus, has nothing to do with liking the neighbor, nor with warm and affection feelings. For followers of Jesus Christ, love of neighbor means imitating God – which translated into human behavior means taking the neighbor’s needs seriously. It means seeing the needs of the neighbor as though they were one’s own. Where there is need for Justice, it is not someone else’ responsibility. Where there is hunger, homelessness, loneliness, or any other need, it becomes my need because that is how God sees it.

It is the risen Christ who speaks in this room today revealing as always what God asks of us. It is commitment. It is single hearted, pure intentioned loyalty. When commitment is given without condition, every other relationship is affected. What God takes seriously, we take seriously. What God plans, we plan. What God does, we do: from giving to forgiving, from finding to seeking, from suffering to dying, and from binding up to setting free.

There is reason to rejoice here today and throughout this week because a commandment is given – not as a burden or as a way to limit or restrain us, but to set us free to be ourselves in the image of our creator and to love without limit, without condition, and without end. That is the essence of the covenant we share and renew at this altar: bound to God and to each other we are here in holy communion.

The 28th Sunday in Ordinary Time at St Mark the Evangelist Church in Norman, OK

October 13, 2002

Isaiah 25:6-10 + Philippians 4:1-9 + Matthew 22:1-14

For Jesus it was a parable that left people wondering and asking questions of themselves. He jump-started their imaginations, and he left those who listened with questions about how the Kingdom of God might be like that for them. For Matthew it was an allegory that interpreted their own history in light of their relationship to God and what was revealed to them. For us it could be either, but if we choose to take the allegory, we run the risk of interpreting it to justify ourselves leaving things as they are.

The parable Jesus told probably ended with the banquet hall being filled. The scholars propose that Matthew added the visit of the King to the banquet hall and his inspection of the guests. Matthew was concerned with things eschatological – anticipating the end of time. So our best option is to take this a parable and include Matthew’s conclusion and have our imaginations stirred up and raise a few questions about the Kingdom of God might be like that for us.

The last verse is the point at which our wonder begins: “Many are called. Few are chosen.” In the context of the story, it begins to suggest that none of us can hide in the group, slide in on the coat tails of others, or escape some accounting for our own stewardship when the time comes for the King to enter the banquet to which we have been invited. This is not a saying intended to forecast the proportion of the saved to the lost, nor frighten us with the thought that the odds are against us, but simply encourage vigorous efforts to live in accord with the teaching of Jesus. The garment we put on is Christ Himself: clothed in mercy and compassion, kindness, love, and forgiveness. It is garment of generosity and gratitude that never allows the wearer to forget where they are and where they came from.

The call of God is not something we respond to once and then sit secure and confident until it’s all over. Each of us hears the call every day in the unique events that mark our individual lives, and the parable invites us to take a look at how we are dressed — at how we have put on Christ. Jesus knew that everything he had came from the Father. Expressing that truth was the heart of his prayer and the motive of his life. It made him servant and it made him obedient. It made him grateful and it made him faithful.

It’s autumn now. The days are growing darker; the last of the harvest is in the barns. The north winds and early nights speak to something deep within us about change and readiness for what is to come. The parable today leaves us to wonder about what we have put on for this feast of God’s Kingdom, and how we shall look on the Day of the Lord. There is some higher calling revealed in this Gospel. Just being here, taking up space in this church is not enough. Something more is required of those who come, and today is as good a day as any to ask what it might be.