Monday, July 4, 2016

The Seventh Sunday after Pentecost, Proper 9, 3 July 2016

PREACHING AT SAINT MARK'S CHURCH
Berkeley, California

The Seventh Sunday after Pentecost,
Proper 9,
3 July 2016

The Rev. Fr. Michael T. Hiller


“Failure and Rejection”

Isaiah 66:10-14
Psalm 66:1-8
Galatians 6: [1-6] 7-16
Saint Luke 10:1-11, 16-20

INI

This morning we are greeted with what seems to be two almost divergent themes, and one wonders whether the framers of the lectionary haven’t treated us to the text from the last of the Isaiahs to ameliorate the possible hurdles in the Gospel. The Isaiah text is beautiful, and directed to a people who have seen so much difficulty. The images are comforting and satisfying. What we are met with here is the abundance of a mother’s love, the plenty of a mother’s providing. This is this Isaiah’s image of Jerusalem, the city of return. These satisfactions greet the exile that comes back, returning from the foreign land and foreign gods. So they are greeted as hungry children.

There are discordant notes in this reverie over Jerusalem as well. “Rejoice with Jerusalem and be glad for her, all you who love her; rejoice with her in joy, all you who mourn over her – that you may nurse and be satisfied from her consoling breast.” In the midst of joy we may yet mourn, or is it that our mourning is moderated by the joy that God promises to us? What an appropriate theme for the people of God at Saint Mark’s. For some of you the last months have seemed like an exile, torn away from the church of your expectations and hopes. In the past weeks, in our parish forum, and in small groups meeting about what it means to communicate with one another, you have begun to talk with one another about your sense of grief, loss, and frustration. The journey has been difficult and taxing. Some of you have given to it beyond your means. In a way we are only beginning to understand and apply Saint Paul’s lesson for us, “Bear one another’s burdens, and in this way you will fulfill the law of Christ.”

I think, however, that I am rushing ahead to a conclusion that is not taking into account Good News. I think that there is more Scripture with which we need to wrestle and be aware. Last Sunday we met a Jesus who had set his face toward Jerusalem, in spite of what it will mean for him. There is a determination to face all things. There is an urgency that wants to be on the way to Jerusalem. Will this Jerusalem be the mother of the Isaiahs, the Jerusalem that feeds and satisfies, and the Jerusalem that comforts the one who returns to her? No. And in spite of Jesus’ determination and urgency, there are other lessons to be learned by those who wish to follow him and learn from him.

There is a sense of abundance here, much like the picture that Isaiah paints for us in the first lesson, “the harvest is plentiful, but the laborers are few.” It is the present situation of both abundance and need that Jesus wishes to address before he continues on the road. Thus he appoints seventy others to precede him as he continues on his way. In a way they have the same mission, as did the Baptist. They go before Jesus and announce his presence to all who might listen and hear. Unlike the Baptist, who attracted the people to himself and the Jordan, these emissaries are sent out into “every town and place where he himself intended to go.”

It is here where the instruction and the situation become very interesting. It is here that the words become Good News for us at Saint Mark’s. Jesus warns them to strip down for the task, and to be ready for adversity.  They are made aware that they will be welcome in some places, and rejected in others.  The peace they offer will either be accepted or returned.  The reaction of others to them will reflect what the others think of Jesus.

Someone can help us at this point, and that is Father Dwight Zscheile, Episcopal priest and professor at Luther Seminary in St. Paul, Minnesota. His book, The Agile Church – Spirit-Led Innovation in an Uncertain Age, can teach us to deal with what we might see as failure, or what is actually failure. He writes, “The central challenge facing churches today is rediscovering who they are in a society that has in many ways rejected Christianity.”[1] This is news that Jesus seems to have warned us about and that we have forgotten. The lesson, however, is not the primary one that Fr. Zscheile teaches us. Perhaps a little background can help us to understand his message. He was born in Silicon Valley, where he watched his father work with technology and innovation. He observed how companies had failure after failure before finally finding the solution or the product that would make their way in the world. He began to understand that it was the iterative process of failures and successes that made the innovations of the valley work – and his goal is to get the Church to see the Spirit active in this endeavor.

Now we come back to Saint Mark’s and our experiences with success and failure. Many have expressed their feelings to me, and now to others, about their sense that what the parish has gone through is failure. Perhaps it was. But we need to ask the question, “Failure to what end?” Jesus wants us to expect rejection along with acceptance, failures along with successes. Do the failures need forgiveness, or do they just need a healthy look again at what caused them. I’m afraid that I’m going to quote Yoda, “There is no try, only do.”

Jesus sends out the seventy to experience how the world receives Jesus’ message of the Kingdom of Heaven. That ought to be our aim here as well – first to ourselves so that we understand how God has accepted us, and then to others so that we might share that Good News. It must be done over and over again regardless of the results. It is inherently risky, and it will challenge us. What did we learn over the last few years? What can we learn as we pick ourselves up in forgiveness and joy to try something else – something new?

Isaiah’s mother, giving food to her children, is a wonderful image of the church. What we need to see, however, is that we are all the mother, giving acceptance and forgiveness to one another as the Body of Christ. There may yet be mourning and grief amongst us. If that is shared so that we bear one another up, there will be joy amidst the mourning, and that is Good News.

SDG





[1]Zscheile, D. (2014), The Agile Church: Spirit-Led Innovation in an Uncertain Age, Church Publishing, Inc. New York, Kindle Location 240.

The Fifth Sunday after Pentecost, Proper 7, 19 June 2016













This is a sermon preached by the Rev. Fr. Stephen Trever, Assistant Rector at Saint Mark's Episcopal Church in Berkeley, California, on his last Sunday there.

“What is your name?”

Galatians 3:23-29
Luke 8:26-39

INI

That is a seemingly innocuous question.  It is so commonplace that the question may easily go unnoticed, as it appears nestled into this fantastic story of demons being driven from a man to a herd of swine the swine. For the fortunate majority this question is asked so often in the course of living, that we may never even notice how amazing it is in this context. 

But in this case, it seems quite remarkable because I imagine that for this man, referred to as the Garasene Demoniac, I suspect that it is a question that is rarely if ever asked.  Indeed, this man is treated more like a wild animal than a human. He lives in the shadows of society naked amongst the tombs. If he is engaged with at all, it is only to be tied down.  And as he sees Jesus approaching he begs Jesus not to torment him. 

I am reminded of a dog that we had when I was a child.  We had acquired her from the humane society and she would wince whenever anyone would make any fast sweeping hand gesture!  It was a sad testimony to the history of abuse that she must have experienced in her former home.  Likewise this plea not to be tormented tells us much about how this man has come to expect to be treated by those who even engage with him at all.

But Jesus does not torment him.  Instead Jesus asks this seemingly mundane question.  “What is your name?”  In this context, this question is hardly an invitation to small talk, but it cuts deep.

For a name is a complex and powerful thing.  When we acknowledge someone by name we engage with the absolute particularity and uniqueness of that individual.  A name signifies that no matter how similar or dissimilar we might be to anyone else, there is something irreducibly unique. 

And when we begin to dig deeper into the complexity of the individual, we find that each unique story is so deeply interwoven with the stories of others that we might all rightly be called “Legion.”  Our identity, though singular, is complex. It consists of a multitude of identities.  We share elements of our story with others according to some common identity markers.  For instance I am a Caucasian, heterosexual, American, episcopal priest, father, and husband of pan-European descent with political leanings that lead me to broadly identify with one party more than the other.  Which one doesn’t even matter, because the point is that all of us have a similar list of categories that speak to some extent to our identity.  And yet, none of those terms are sufficient to express the fullness of our unique and unrepeatable story.  The closest we can come to doing that in words is through our name.

By asking this man his name, Jesus acknowledges that he is much more than a “demoniac” but that he is a person.  He is a person whose value and worth is intrinsic to his being and not determined by whatever the legion of voices might have him or us believe.  In short, this question signifies Jesus’ recognition that this man who has been exiled to the tombs and abandoned by everyone else is a child of God, and as such is beloved.

In that seemingly mundane question, we find the profound depth of God’s love!

For God's Love penetrates to the heart of our being.  Whereas we seem to continuously evaluate ourselves and one another according to culturally inherited scripts, God sees us for who we truly are - as uniquely beloved Sons and Daughters of the Living God.  This is what I believe Paul means when he insists that in Christ there is no Jew or Greek, Slave or Free, Male and Female.  Not that those distinctions are erased, but that our true identity can never be reduced to any of those markers.  They do not dictate the intensity of God's love for us. Nor do they constitute a barrier for our love of one another.

And as disciples of Christ we are invited to let this same Spirit of love take hold of us. That the mind of Christ be in us, so that we might begin to see and relate to one another according to this same depth of love which does not bind us according to any label, but sets us free to love and be loved as unique expressions of God's creative Spirit.

But this Love does come with a price!  It is quite telling that when the townsfolk see what Jesus has done, they do not embrace him, but they instead ask him to leave! At first this might seem counterintuitive.  Why wouldn't they be overjoyed and celebrate what Jesus has done?  But if we stop for a moment to reflect on what it is we will see, if we actually acknowledge one another as brothers and sisters, I don't think it is all that difficult to see why that is upsetting. 

Because if we actually let this love take hold of us, not simply in intellectual platitudes, but in the depth of our being, our hearts are going to break!  They will break as we come to recognize just how deeply broken our world is.  They will break as we come to recognize the true depths of systemic injustice that implicates us all.  Our hearts will break as we recognize that hunger pains of those starving are not simply "their problem," but our problem.  Our hearts will break when we begin to feel as our own, the pain of those who grieve the loss of their sons, daughters, brothers, and sisters who lives were tragically cut short in Orlando.  

If we allow God's love to dwell in us, our hearts will break!

And in the face of that overwhelming heartache, it may seem easier to rationalize away that brokenness as an unfortunate but inevitable fact rather than to allow for the possibility of another world.

But the very Good News of the Gospel is that not only is another world possible, but it is inevitable.  In the Resurrection, God reveals his Life to be stronger than death.  In the Resurrection, God reveals his love to be stronger than doubt, stronger than despair, stronger than fear, and stronger than hatred. 

The Resurrection assures us that the pain of the heartbreak is not the end. In fact, it is the other side of the Holy Spirit, who like a refining fire is already at work burning Her law into our hearts so that we might at long last come to our right mind and reject all of the dehumanizing rhetoric of fear that seeks to keep us divided and cut off from our common humanity so that we might meet one another, not by labels, but by Name.  And in doing so, we might lay claim to our Divine birthright as heirs of God's Kingdom--Children of God.