One of the more important, if not entertaining, lessons parents teach their youngsters is the difference between eating food, and everything else they might be interested in putting into their mouths. In a world of antiseptic wipes, gels, and coughs that must now be stifled in the crux of one’s arm, we take great care to teach about and model for them everything we ingest.
We do so because what we take into our bodies can change everything.
Taking something into our bodies is the most profound way there is of accepting it. Not just in the kitchen, but in the bedroom. While the mind ascents and the soul becomes stirred, it is the body that gives us the most tangible expression of what we mean to say, do, and accept.
Accepting the reign of Christ is at the center of Sunday’s Gospel – when Jesus tells us about a landowner who rents out his vineyard to some hoodlums who refuse to accept his authority. They don’t recognize who’s boss and, as a result, pay the price.
Accepting Jesus’ authority has gotten no easier. We still want to have things our way, take all the credit, and ignore the landlord. This is why Christians go to great lengths to ascent to God’s reign, not just with mind and soul – but, through the Sacrament of bread and wine that Jesus commended – we accept God’s reign through our bodies as well.
So if we are what we eat, could Communion make us anything better?
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Reading
Not Your Parent’s Offering Plate – J Clif Christopher
Matthew – Donald Hagner
Living in the Village – Ryan C. Mack
During the first week of my first position as a priest, a sweet,
innocent looking 13-year-old boy named Vinnie came to my office with a
question. Little did I know that Vinnie was the Dennis the Menace of
the parish when he took me to a nearby stairwell where, underneath,
sat an old decrepit safe. Vinnie said the safe used to be in the main
office but no one had the combination and he wanted to see what was
inside. So he asked my permission to open it. Envisioning Vinnie
would come prepared with white gloves, a stethoscope, and loads of
patience (he was such a clean cut boy after all), I gave him
permission.
That Sunday after services, as a crowd gathered for coffee in the
Fellowship Hall, few people paid attention to the muffled din of
hammering and banging emanating from the nearby stairwell until a
concerned parishioner came up to me and said, ‘Vinnie is tearing apart
that old church safe with a crowbar and hammer, he says you told him
it was OK.’
Questions of authority have been with the Church since the beginning.
Who gives us permission? How do we know where the buck stops? By what
authority do we say and do? This last question comes up in this
Sunday’s Gospel as Jesus is confronted by the religious establishment
of His day. These religious leaders were looking to answer
essentially the same question you and I have asked: how does God want
us to live? What code or guideline do we follow? Where does authority
lie?
For those in the Anglican tradition, we approach these questions of
authority seeking to be informed by three sources, Scripture,
Tradition and Reason. The ‘three-legged stool,’ if you will, upholds
our ethical conversations as we seek first to hear the Bible’s take,
then those of our fore bearers, then that of human intellect. Sure,
other Christians may align these differently, or even add a leg or
two, but when you and I are presented with difficult questions, the
Anglican tripos has served us well.
Not long ago the WWJD bracelet was all the rage and reminded us that
the mind of Christ comes to us nearly always through Scripture,
Tradition and Reason. So in the week ahead, as we run across
important questions regarding politics, war, economics, and even
personal issues child-rearing and medical challenges, let us engage in
a wider conversation of discernment through these ancient, yet
relevant partners.
11 years ago traveling through airports was easier, meeting people of Arab decent was less cautionary, and more of us thought that everybody loved the United States.
9/11 changed all that. And now, as we mark its tenth anniversary, we reflect on how things have changed and must change for us to move farther along the road of healing, to avoid anything like that again, and to importantly, consider what God is up to in all of this.
Of course, we can’t stop twisted people from doing twisted things. We cannot change others, we can only change ourselves, and looking more closely at our own place in the world is a good place to start.
The fact that most Americans self-identify as Christians yet cannot name all four Gospels is well documented. North American Christianity is historically, and notoriously, an inch deep and a mile wide. Reacting, then to a religiously motivated act with shallow roots in our own religion, not surprisingly yields a less than satisfactory response – of which there have been many. The solution to bad religion then, is not more bad religion, or no religion, but good religion.
In this Sunday’s Gospel, we are reminded that ‘good religion’ is about forgiveness and reconciliation. It is about turning the other cheek and forgiving 7 times 70. It is about cherishing peace above retribution and humility over vengeance. Our world desperately needs ‘good religion’ – and we are all called to spread it. So may we mark this dark anniversary with a renewed pledge to reach for the light – to get more serious about our work of reconciliation, humility, and love. Ten years later there are still evil people planning evil things – so let the good people plan good things.
Reading
Rambam’s Ladder – Julie Soloman
At the Still Point – Sarah Arthur
The Thank You Economy – Gary Vanyerchuk
image by Noel Sikes, Conyers, GA
image by Noel Sikes, Conyers, GA
When Nora Gallagher, a talented writer and devout Episcopalian, decided to write about one of Christianity's most nourishing practices, I had to get the book. (Thankfully, the folks at Booksneeze were kind enough to offer one for free in exchange for this review.) What Nora brings to this project, as she does to most everything she writes, is an authentic voice that recounts her struggles, triumphs, questions, and mysteries. It's not so much a book as it is a coffee shop chat with a close friend about one of the most formative practices in her life.
One of the book's memorable quotes (especially for those of us who regularly receive the Sacrament) is that Communion is something we do over and over again but is never the same. Eucharist can surprise, inspire, open and reveal. How ironic that something that changes so little has the capacity change us so much.
Communion is mainly something we do together, which has ramifications of its own. When we do it successfully we don't dictate who comes, the Holy Spirit does. I've heard it said that the health of a congregation is signaled by the number of unlikely friendships it nourishes. And when Communion does what it should, it binds us in the love of Christ, wrapping us up in the warmth and joy of God.
When we participate in The Sacred Meal, then it binds us to God and to one another, reminding us about the pinnacle truth of human life: we will not be exalted for what we earn, what we own, or what we accomplish, but how much we love. And placing ourselves into a community where sacrificial love is at the center gives us a better shot at becoming who we want to be. "It helps us free ourselves from everything that keeps us from loving and being loved, from competition, constraint, self-pity, and self importance - all the things that stand between us and love."
Recommended for those who are new to the faith as well as for those who have been sitting in the pews a while.
Years ago I confided in a close friend about my feelings toward another mutual friend. My comments were expressly confidential – so you can imagine my anger when I learned that my close friend had spilled the beans, and told our mutual friend everything I’d said. I was irritated and embarrassed - furious that my confidence had been betrayed. I wanted to write my close friend off – and I did, for quite some time. Has this ever happened to you?
As we know, forgiveness and reconciliation are at the heart of Christianity. And many times this is the hard work of the Gospel – this is what Jesus means by ‘carrying the cross’ and ‘turning the other cheek.’ In this Sunday’s gospel we will hear Jesus give advice about how we’re supposed to handle disagreements like this – that we’re to confront the issue, not let it slide, that we’re supposed to ask others to help, if need be, and we’re to realize that this is God’s work – the healing of the world starts when you and I work to heal the brokenness that’s right around us. How can we pray for world peace when we’re holding a grudge, refusing to own up to our parts in disordered relationships, and not allowing peace to rule in our lives?
So we ask ourselves these really tough questions: with whom, at the present moment, might we have an egregious disagreement – who are we mad at – what brokenness around us needs our attention - and where is the Gospel calling us to make peace, for our good, and for the good of the world?
Reading
The Thank You Economy – Gary Vanyerchuk
At the Still Point – Sarah Arthur
Pigs in Heaven – Barbara Kingsolver
Years ago, in college, I was moderating a Trivia contest – and I asked the two competing teams this question: When is Flashlight Safety Day? My good friend John was on one team and, after a brief pause he blurted out ‘December 21.’ Correct. Everyone was impressed. After the match I asked him how he knew this. He said he didn’t, but he figured the shortest day of the year, the winter solstice, might be a good time to test one’s flashlight.
How quick I wish I was, not just to answer life’s most trivial questions, but life’s most important ones as well. What might that be for you and me today? What are our most pressing questions? How are my investments doing? Will I be a good parent? Do I have cancer? Will I get married? Where will I go to college? Or even more importantly, Jesus’ famous question we’ve all heard before, when He asked St. Peter: “Who do you say that I am?”
This is often called Life’s Most Important Question because everything we do hinges on what we set up as the focal point, the purpose, the ultimate concern, of our lives. For Christians, that’s Jesus – and when we respond like St. Peter, calling Jesus Lord and Messiah, we’re doing more than simply answering a question.
As we know, the early followers of Jesus were called ‘Christians’ – this means ‘little Christs’ – because their goal, and ours, is to say and do what Jesus said and did. It is to surrender to the boundless presence of Love. Which means giving ourselves away for others. Calling Jesus Lord, then, means walking with Him to the cross, knowing that we too will be raised up by God – and that our trivial questions, no matter how they get answered, won’t matter a lick when compared with life’s most important question. And since we’ve answered that, we can’t help but ask ourselves why we are worried about anything else?
Reading
Beginners Grace – Kate Braestrup
Poke the Box – Seth Godin
Matthew – NT Wright
Ever drive down the freeway and approach a highway that goes to some faraway place, and just want to take it? Maybe we’ve just come from a disastrous business meeting, a breakup with a girlfriend, or a blow-up with a best-friend – and we just want to ditch it all and get away.
No doubt the mom we meet in this Sunday’s gospel felt the same way. Her daughter was gravely ill, and she had nowhere to turn. But she didn’t run away from the problem, she ran to the solution.
At first Jesus didn’t pay any attention to this woman because she was all wrong – wrong gender, religion, race, and ethnicity – but she was determined. She knew Jesus could fix it. She knew that life trumps death, hope trumps despair, healing trumps illness, and Jesus overcomes it all.
“Ditching it all” only ever gives a fleeting moment of relief – it doesn’t ultimately help. She had to persevere, she had to be determined, she had to stay on the highway no matter how difficult and troublesome.
Every day you and I are tempted to take the easy route. That exit ramp to evasion is an enticement we often can’t resist. In our world of short attention spans, quick rewards, and the avoidance of anything painful, it makes doing the hard work of staying the course toward what’s good and right, even tougher.
But this is where the reward is – and we know it.
Each one of us have been given a project, an attitude, a relationship, a commitment, to which the completion will bring glory to God. But the road gets tough. We want to take the exit ramp, any exit ramp. Jesus’ message to us is that it pays to stick to it. There is a reward for ambition, determination, and perseverance.
What places in our lives are demanding this? Are we quitting too soon? Are we avoiding what we ought to be up to? What do we need to do to quit running away from the problem, and run toward the solution?
Reading
Matthew for Everyone – NT Wright
Not Your Parent’s Offering Plate – J. Clif Christopher
Beginner’s Grace – Kate Braestrup
Cut the apron strings.
Toss the training wheels.
Ditch the boat.
What are our deepest passions? What are our most important pursuits? It's following Jesus – with all our heart, soul, mind, body, and strength, which we do with our prayers, our checkbooks, our patience, and every time we do something for someone else. Yes, we’ve given up everything to follow Jesus.
Yet there He is – calling you and me to get out of the boat - to come closer. Can the chaos of the raging sea be conquered? Can the mirage of self-destiny be put into perspective? Can we consider the notion that Jesus often calls us to difficult places without easy answers? Can we take that step toward Him that we really want to take?
Of course we can!
We were created to grow, to change, to risk, and to flourish! We can move beyond the safe confines. We’ve done it before, we can do it again. That’s what we were called into being to do!
And the best thing about it is that when we take that step, moving out of our safe-zones, tracking toward that place where we’re being called, before we even begin to slip - there is a hand to catch us. There is Someone there to break the fall. No matter where we go, or what we do, we are being held.
So what does ‘getting out of the boat’ look like to us? Where are we being challenged to go to draw closer to Christ? To that place of deeper generosity with our time, our money, or a emboldened quest to pursue our dreams?
Is it time to ditch the boat?
Reading:
God is Back Micklethwaite and Wooldridge
The Open Secret – Lesslie Newbegin
The Continuing Conversion of the Church – Darrell Guder
God is absolutely obsessed with us. God spends all day and all night thinking about us. There is not one moment in God’s day in which God is not 100% focused on us. God spends every waking moment contemplating what we’re doing and where we’re going.
And God’s awareness of our ups and downs has given us some of the most profound stories about how God, and the world, works. We call them parables.
This Sunday we’ll hear 5 of them. They’re anecdotes taken from everyday life that tell us how God’s deepest desire - to walk and talk with us – actually fulfills our deepest desires. Jesus’ story – about His desperate love for the world – is a story He longs to tell and re-tell through the average, the everyday, and the mundane.
What would our lives be like if we thought about God as much as God thinks about us? Or what would they be like if we looked at the everyday things all around us and let God talk to us through them? What would it be like if we understood that every arrival, departure, conversation, and interaction had a message?
Jesus found deep insight into God simply by looking around Him and letting God talk. I bet we can too.
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Reading
Radical – David Platt
God is Back – Micklethwaite and Wooldridge
A Place Called Freedom – Ken Follett
Why doesn’t God do something?
Whether it’s about dictators who slaughter innocents, politicians who can’t find budget compromises, or media folk who condone dishonest newsgathering to pad the bottom line. Is the Almighty paying any attention? What is God waiting for?
We get some insight this Sunday when we hear Jesus tell a parable. It’s about God planting seeds during the day, then an enemy sneaking around at night and planting weeds on top of them. When the sabotage is discovered, we hear that the Lord doesn’t pull up all the plants, but allows the good plants and the weeds to grow side by side until the harvest. Judgment is not immediate. Harsh transgression is not met with instant chastisement. And that can really bother us.
How many of us yearn to see the backstabber at the office found out - and that sleazy acquaintance who’s sleeping around, finally discovered? And when it doesn’t happen we get angry, discouraged, and frustrated. But while Jesus may not offer a detailed explanation, He makes it clear that this won’t go on forever. There will be an end, a judgment, a reward for those who live for God.
To live for God, then, is to understand that God’s time is not our time. It is to be patient, faithful, and ever-mindful of the reality of God right beside us, right now. God is doing something. God is not absent. God is not missing. God waits. Can we?
Reading
Climb Higher – Kristine Miller
Beginner’s Grace – Kate Braestrup
A Place Called Freedom – Ken Follett
Acre after acre of knee-high cornstalks, line up in attention like white crosses at Arlington, reaching for nutrients they know they will get. Both above and beneath, the soil-water-sunshine combo will nurture the genetically modified seed whose corporate inventor still reaps the royalties, at least that’s what that Monsanto sign up front probably means.
Massive wheeled watering systems will tentacle out over the plains to sprinkle just the right amount of water at just the right time, all according to the bioengineering department’s calculations. Meanwhile the multi-million dollar fleet of combines perches like lions behind coliseum gates, ready to pounce with precision on a fairly predictable abundance.
Modern agriculture has every reason to scoff at a biblical image of a Sower whose farming techniques lack such precision - a fist-full of precious seeds on the rocks, another on the hard path, how about some in the thorn patch? But the Sower cares not about the sowing, all that matters is the reaping! ‘Be good soil!’ goes the message, ‘Be one who hears, understands, and yields 30, 60, even 100 fold, for the fickle, worldly-minded, and easily distracted yield nothing.’
Cultivate the ‘good soil’ in ourselves is the message. But how do we do that? We suspect that raking out the hard path, clearing the rocks and removing thorns are what’s needed. It may mean dealing with the bitterness, laziness, and restlessness and lifting up a mindfulness, prayerfulness, and farmer’s work ethic that enrich and revitalize.
So in these quieter summer months, how might we cultivate good soil? What does good soil look like? What needs to be cleared away, what needs to be added? What do we need to hear and understand to yield 30, 60, even 100 fold?
Reading
God is Back – Micklethwait and Wooldridge
The Third Twin – Ken Follett
How to Build an Engaged Congregation - Winesman


