Mustard Seed Ministries: Tiny Christ-like Acts

Sermon preached at St. John's Glenbrook, Nevada, Sunday, June 17, 2012

Jesus is not trying to make a botanical statement of fact when he said the kingdom of God is like a mustard seed.  He is using proverbial and metaphorical language common in the parables of the New Testament.  When we hear Jesus say the mustard seed is like, I underscore like, we know he is trying to make a point but not a fact.  The Kingdom of God is like a mustard seed that is small and becomes something much bigger then we would expect.  Today I want to reflect on the way we are mustard seeds that build up the earthly kingdom of God.

Let’s begin with evaluation of the success of God’s kingdom on earth.  In a recent report by The Pew Forum on Religion and Public Life it was reported that the number of Christians has quadrupled in the last 100 years from about 600 million in 1910 to 2 billion. The major shift that has taken place is from Europe and the Americas being the center of Christianity in 1910 to Africa and Asia now as the center.  Though Christianity began in the Middle East and North Africa, today that region has the lowest concentration of Christians.  90% of Christians live in countries where Christians are in the majority. Only about 10% of Christians worldwide live as minorities.  The Kingdom of God has grown far and wide with proportionality changes along the way.

With the Pew Forum’s statistical analysis we are easily misled to exclusively associate God’s kingdom with the number of Christians in the world.  At one point in our Anglican history we were exclusively about making the entire world Christian.  The kingdom of God was equivalent to the British Empire and the Church of England who through its missionary efforts brought their religion to the entire empire in Britain’s foreign parts including America.

In our postcolonial society the kingdom of God is not exclusively equivalent to the size of the Christian Church.  The Church is a part of the kingdom of God, but it is not the kingdom.  Some theologians would disagree with me.  Roman Catholic theologians, particularly, the more orthodox, Vatican centered ones understand the church as the fulfillment of the kingdom of God.  They see equivalence between church and kingdom. 

Anglicans of which we participate through our Episcopal tradition tend to see the church more often as a means but not as an exclusive end.  Anglicans have an incarnational theology.  Incarnational is the way we participate in the life of Christ in our day-to-day life in the world in real, fleshy and earthy ways.  It is lovely that we all have roles in the worship life of The Episcopal Church as priest, deacon, acolyte, lector and more.  Our incarnational roles do not stop with our service in the church but reach out through our working lives in the world.

It is in this sense that I want to explore with you the way we are each a reflection of the kingdom of God.  Each of us are in some sense the tiny mustard seeds.  How do we live as Christ centered seeds in the world and reflect the love of the kingdom of God in our lives?

As I thought and prayed over this question this past week I began to think of mind maps.  A mind map is a tool to help people draw on paper their big ideas into smaller elements.  Through mind mapping people write words, draw symbols and pictures on a page in a random way.  The graphics are meant to flow freely in a non-narrative manner, so that thinkers visualize the abundance of ideas in their mind to make connections to see the bigger picture.  I have seen scholars write huge mind maps that literally cover an entire lecture hall.

I see value in the use of a mind map to reflect on the impact of our Christian lives.  In baptism we come into the Christian life, blessed with a Christian vocation and invited to sprout into new forms of life.  If any one of us drew a mind map of all the people and places where we have ever touched people with a Christian sense of love we would literally run out of paper. 

So often I hear people tell me in spiritual direction that they cannot find their ministry.  Once a man with two adopted retarded children told me he was looking for his ministry.  I was like seriously?  Don’t you see your role as a father to these children as your ministry?  Is not every father and mother a minister to their own household and family?

Who are the ministers of the Church?  Open your prayer book to page 855 for the answer.  The ministers of the Church are laypersons, bishops, priests and deacons.  The order in the Prayer Book answer is very intentional.  If you were to read the same question in the Roman Catholic catechism bishops and priests would be listed first. Laypersons are ministers in God’s Church. 

If you continue to read the answers to the ministry of the laity, bishop, priest and deacon, you will see we all share a common ministry. Our primary ministry the Prayer Book instructs us is “to represent Christ and God’s Church” in that order.  We represent when we embody and our Christ-like to others.

It is through our representation of Christ that we minister in the world.  We represent Christ even when we are not sure what specific ministry we are called to. The way we live in the world is the way we represent Christ and minister on a deeply human level through our everyday encounters.  I will never forget one of my first dates with Stefani, my dearly beloved.  We went to one of my favorite restaurants in Pasadena, California.  The owner of the restaurant could not wait to meet Stefani.  Finally the big day arrived.  It was New Years’s eve and there was a lot of glassware on the table.  Our lovely big crystal goblets were just filled with fresh cold water!  The owner came over to the table to joyously greet Stefani and his French cuff just did not quite clear the water goblet.  The cold water dumped right into Stefani’s lap soaking her and her beautiful dress. 

Stefani laughed!  She laughed! 

Stefani’s spontaneous response still brings tears to my eyes.  Stefani did not swear at the owner or call him some nasty name.  She laughed! In that instance, just two months after we had first met, I immediately knew that one day I was going to ask Stefani to marry me.  I was like wow this woman is truly full of grace. In that moment I knew she was different from all the other women I had ever dated. 

I have observed that same grace of Stefani’s in an affluent Boston parish, working class Manchester, England and now here in Reno.  Stefani is the same loving, gracious person with even people who would annoy most of us.  Her way of being is her particular gift, her unique way that she represents Christ in the world.  Jesus laughed! 

We all have unique gifts that help us represent Christ in the world.

What is your unique gift and how do you use that gift to represent Christ in the world? 

I told Damian, your senior warden this past week that I can’t wait to learn about the history of St. John’s Church Glenbrook.  I know that when I read your parish’s history I will see the ways this little church has reached far and wide, well beyond the Lake Tahoe shores. Our worship in this gem of a building is just the tiny seed that nurtures our being Christ’s hands in the world to incarnate Christ’s love to all.  It might be fun one day to draw your own map of the impact of the people of this parish on the world!

If you are like most Christians you miss or diminish the good you do. The Good News of today’s Gospel is that through the tiny seeds of what we each bring to the world we are able to leave Christ’s loving mark on the world.  We leave our Christ mark in many ways including a loving countenance and compassionate touch on all people in this world, especially the poor and marginalized. 

The world often forgets the poor and the marginalized but Jesus’ ministry always begins with the poor, marginalized and other outcasts of our society. Each of our Christ marks are left everywhere we go.  In this way our ministries reach far and wide with an abundance of fruit that few of us will ever have the privilege to harvest all of it. The Christian Church is the community of all of us who represent Christ in the world.  Tiny seeds produce an amazing abundance of fruit. 

The kingdom of God within each of us is like the tiny mustard that produces abundant life throughout the whole earth.  Even if we were never to travel beyond Glenbrook, the people we touch in a Christ-like manner will reach out like the wild, far-reaching branches of the mustard tree shrub.  In this way the kingdom of God is more widespread than the Pew report described the expansion of global Christianity. The earthly kingdom of God, Christian love cannot be quantified. Christ’s love is deeply felt, remembered in ways that transform our world into the earthly kingdom that Jesus envisioned.

Church: More Than Keeping The Lights On

Sermon preached on Second Sunday After Pentecost: 2Cor 4:13-5:1 and Mark 3: 20-35 at St. John's in the Wilderness, Glenbrook, Nevada

I was the priest that led St. Stephen’s Church in Reno, Nevada through a yearlong discernment process that led the vestry and congregation to decide to close.  St. Stephen’s Reno was a grace-filled close.  There was no element of the death of a parish, but rather a true celebration of life. My ministry with the people of St. Stephen’s was my most exhilarating experience as a priest.  I had the privilege to witness the raw vulnerability, faith, grief, courage and love of the people of St. Stephen’s. I had the privilege to see a congregation discover life in new forms.

One of St. Stephen’s greatest successes as a total ministry congregation was that their members were involved in many ministries throughout Reno-Sparks, Nevada.  Not a single one of their ministries was dependent on having a church building!  This alone is an extraordinary accomplishment for any congregation. All of St. Stephen’s ministries continue uninterrupted now two years later. 

During the year of discernment with St. Stephen’s we all felt that we were going through it alone. At the time we looked for resources like checklists to make sure we were doing everything we could to make responsible decisions.  We had to create everything ourselves including a statement of congregational dissolution for the Standing Committee.  There were no examples available in the Canons of The Episcopal Church. Nor could we find checklists on the manner in which to handle church furnishings and other assets.  We got through it, but it was a challenge.

After St. Stephen’s closed I discovered that thirty Episcopal parishes had closed that year.   One parish church in Northern California closed the same day that St. Stephen’s closed. Thirty Episcopal congregations had closed each year for five years.  I also discovered that the number of parish closings were likely to double and possibly even triple over the next five years.

In his state of the diocese address this year Bishop Bennison in the Diocese of Pennsylvania said 60 of the 141 churches are soon to become non-traditional parishes; that is, unable to sustain a traditional ministry with a full-time priest, property and program.  Bishop Bennison preached that, “having fewer parish buildings will not diminish, our efforts to fulfill the Gospel, but rather free us up for ministry.”  The Diocese of Pennsylvania is not alone.

My experience with St. Stephen’s gave me a heart for Episcopal congregations in transition.  I particularly have a heart and empathy for the people in congregations that often face these challenges alone with little support from the national church or local dioceses.  Don’t get me wrong, there is a lot of good work being done by organizations like the Episcopal Church Building Fund (ECBF) as they help at risk congregations recast their building assets for congregational vitality and viability, but more congregations are left to struggle alone.  If every congregation that could leverage ECBF called them they would not have adequate people resources to match the huge congregational needs across the country. 

Today it is all too easy for the people and congregations to fall off the radar in dioceses as they struggle alone.  Among the St. Stephen’s members 95% were shepherded to one of three area Episcopal churches due in large part to the generous welcome of these area rectors and their vestries.

The part of the transformational change needed is through neighboring congregations. In Reno-Sparks, Trinity, St. Paul’s and St. Catherine’s churches are each moving away from the dominant Episcopal culture where parishes compete against one another for members.  The rectors of these three Episcopal Churches collegially work together.  People freely attend worship in all three congregations from time to time and participate in the fullness of the three parishes’ offerings and their opportunities to gather.

I am writing a book for dioceses and at risk congregations of The Episcopal Church because I want Episcopalians to know that they are not alone and that there is abundant hope.  Review drafts will be ready in a few weeks in time for General Convention.  Later this summer I will self-publish the first edition. The idea behind the book is to offer to congregations at risk resources to help them become more vital and viable. 

In the last few months I have learned so much about congregational vitality and viability.  One of the things I have learned is that very few of our church’s bishops, clergy or laypersons welcome open, transparent, engaged and passionate conversations about viability.  There is much fear, shame and denial about at risk congregations.  Who among us is not more pleased to talk about life than death? It is far too easy for us to lean on our Episcopal polity and let congregations make even unhealthy decisions. Yet as Christians death brings the hope of resurrection and for at risk congregations the possibility of new forms of life.

I am working to connect vitality to viability to help congregations discover new life in Christ and reenergize their baptismal ministries.  In some cases congregations’ only choice will be to close, but I hope that when and if they do that they will close in the transparent and grace-filled ways that St. St. Stephen’s closed.  St. Stephen’s closing led to new life for all.

Today in the second reading we heard, “We have a building from God, a house not made with hands, eternal in the heavens.”  This house referred to in the second reading is the Church.  The church is the people of God.  The church is where two or three are gathered.  All of us have come to more often associate church with place, such as with this beautiful building overlooking Lake Tahoe. 

Looking back over the history of Christ’s public ministry, the church was mobile and fluid.  The church was dispersed and moved from place to place.  So the second reading reminds us to hold our treasure of Episcopal Church buildings more lightly so that our energy and passion is directed to the eternal church that is always vital and viable due to Christ’s gift to us.  We are Christ’s own forever. We are not beloved on a conditional basis while we are members of a vital and viable local church. 

Many Episcopal congregations throughout the nation are discovering their identity as a dispersed church.  Even here in the Diocese of Nevada two congregations meet in other than their own church buildings.  In both these cases these congregations want their own church building.  In other dioceses throughout the country, some congregations that meet in alternate space have absolutely no desire for their own building.  These congregations celebrate the privilege of using their pledge resources exclusively for mission.

In the Gospel we heard, “If a house is divided against itself, that house will not be able to stand.” In the research I have conducted for the book I am writing I have learned the primary cause for congregations in decline.  The primary cause is not what you might think.  It is not the cause I would have first named.  Of course there are old buildings to maintain.  Some parishes are in decline due to declining pledges not matching operating costs.  Other parishes where fewer people come to church cause it to be in decline.

These are all reasons that contribute to churches in decline, but the primary reason is unresolved conflict in congregations.  Grudges held against one another that are never addressed in ways that lead to deep reconciliation.  Unresolved conflict is the most difficult challenge any congregation faces and often congregations refuse to do the work.  The cost is high, as when conflict is not openly addressed, congregations inevitably close.

We also heard in the Gospel, "Who are my mother and my brothers?" Jesus said, "Here are my mother and my brothers! Whoever does the will of God is my brother and sister and mother." 

These Gospel words invite us to reflect on our identity as an Episcopal congregation before God.  As we reflect on what it means to be the church, the Gospel reminds us to place our focus on the mission of God.  Our primary work is to focus on doing the will of God, the ministries of God.  Remember the words of Micah – Do justice, love mercy and walk humbly with your God.  The Good News today is that we the people of God are freed to be church through our lives of Micah-like ministries. 

By freed I mean that there are no liens or prerequisites for being or doing church.  Last week at Yale Divinity School there was a meeting to share some new congregational findings about parishes throughout The Episcopal Church.  The researchers found that the vitality of Episcopal congregations is directly related to the spiritual maturity of its individual members. 

Spiritual maturity begins with a prayer life and participation in the liturgy of the church, but there is more. 

Spiritual maturity is the way we encounter conflict and passionately pursue reconciliation. 

Spiritual maturity is the way we do church and live out our baptismal promises. 

This morning around the nation some Episcopalians are doing church in gem churches such as this one and others are in very nontraditional spaces.  Where we gather really is far less important than what we do between the Sundays we meet.  We are all held together through our faith, baptism, common worship and commitment to be ministers in the world through our day-to-day lives. 
In this way today’s readings return all the congregations of The Episcopal Church’s focus to the fundamentals of being church.  These readings bring welcomed humility and grace to free up Episcopal congregations for the work of God increasingly unburdened by the temporal responsibilities of keeping the lights on. 

The Episcopal Church is alive! 

We need only find our way from anxiously doing all to keep the lights on to passionately serve as ministers of Word and sacrament in our communities every day.

Laying Bare Our Stories as Earth-Makers, Pain-Bearers and Life-Givers

Trinity Sunday, preached at St. John's Glenbrook, Nevada, June 3, 2012

I cannot think of too many places more wonderful than St. John’s Glenbrook to celebrate Trinity Sunday. As I look out your beautiful window overlooking Lake Tahoe I am reminded of the beauty of God’s creation and our role in it. The New Zealand Prayer book’s expression of the trinity as expressed in their contemporary version of the prayer, the Our Father forms the basis of my sermon.

Earth-Maker, Pain-bearer, Life-giver, 

source of all that is and that shall be, 

Father and Mother of us all. 

Loving God, in whom is heaven. 

The hallowing of your name 

echoes through the universe.

Here in this place we have the privilege to experience every Sunday the beauty of God’s creation, fed by Word and sacrament to go out into the world to be earth-makers, pain-bearers and life-givers as we enact and embody our Trinitarian faith.  

Storm Swain, an Episcopal priest who teaches in Philadelphia comes to The Episcopal Church from New Zealand.  Storm wrote a wonderful book called Trauma and Transformation at Ground Zero.  In her book Storm uses the New Zealand Trinitarian lens to help us to see the trinity as a means to understanding the way God manifested God’s self at ground zero.  Her book is a collection of stories about the men and women who served as chaplains at ground zero as bodies were recovered, blessed and returned to families for a proper burial. 

Storm’s book is an amazing collection of the stories of chaplains who worked in the recovery process over a period of nine months.  I found myself skipping over Storm’s theological arguments to read the next chaplain’s account. 

Storm suggests that the ground zero chaplains function in the shadows of the creator as earth-maker holding the other and their story in eternity. Pain-bearer is the chaplain’s willingness to take on the pain and suffering of the other.  Life-giver transforms the suffering through affirmation of the mortuary and emergency service workers.  

Storm’s stories of chaplains at ground zero give us a firsthand ability to touch the garment of Jesus’ healing ministry and to participate in the collective power of the trinity overcoming even the horror of 9/11. I want to read a few excerpts to you verbatim:

In the following excerpt we have a glimpse of the everlasting power of the earth-maker as experienced by one chaplain:

“I saw that within every part, whether it be a body part or a whole body, you really have the fullness of God’s creation in any one part.  The cell structure and the wonder of the wholeness and to remind the people there that our wholeness will, on this earth, will only be kept in the mind of God. Because eventually we will all be dust or parts or particles. And so I think theological awareness always made me stand with a sense of awe and mystery and wonder of God’s creativity and God’s promise and capacity for restoration.”

In the following excerpt we have a glimpse of the compassion of the pain-bearer as experienced by another chaplain:

“The best I can do with this is to allow things to be what they are. Everything has trade-offs. There are no more, there are no less, they are.  You deal with them the way they are and fully and completely present.  Insofar as you’ll repress the moment, you’ll pick that up later. So that is when on a couple of occasions when I’ve gone to Big Sur on retreat, there would be times I lay on the floor and have people touch me and sob. Not crying over a particular thing but just being able to, in a moment of safety, be entirely vulnerable without having to explain. Now, that’s much better in Big Sur than in the pit of ground zero. And it is not that one is real and the other isn’t. Both are real. Both are authentic.”

In the final excerpt we have a glimpse of the transforming presence of life-giver as experienced by one chaplain.

“I think the first time we saw a recovery of somebody that was pretty much intact, almost complete, there was just a moment of realization.  A moment of connection with that person, with God, and with all the other people around, how we had in that small place, in that small moment, this full circle of life and death and living and dying and finishing something and moving on. And that was very powerful.”

How do we each invite the earth-maker, pain-bearer and life-giver to be channeled through our lives? 

What stories might the people of this congregation tell about earth-maker, pain-bearer and life-giver? 

Earth-maker and life-giver is easy and often visible to see in our lives particularly as we look out grand windows like these on to God’s beautiful creation.  Our painful stories are typically more hidden and invisible behind a veil we only remove to our closest friends, the ones we trust.  At ground zero there was no privileged veil as all was exposed, the good, the bad, the blessing, the horror of evil, all was laid bare.

Yet even when our stories are veiled we need to remember that through the Trinitarian lens creation, suffering and transformation always coexist in our Christian lives.  Our entire Christian tradition is seen through this Trinitarian lens of the creation of the world in the OT, the pain-bearing of the public ministry and passion of Christ and the life-giver of the resurrection and Pentecost.  The doctrine of the trinity brings all of these salvific actions together. 

We enact the trinity through our lives of awe in God’s creation, holding painful stories for each other and sharing hope in eternal life.  There is no Easter Sunday without Good Friday.  There is no Pentecost without Easter Sunday.  The trinity brings all of these liturgical seasons together in a mystical dance to which we are all invited and none are left out.  This mystical dance is not the high school dances some of us recall! In the Trinitarian dance all are invited.  None are excluded.  Each of us as part of God’s creation and we are all necessary in telling the story of God’s love.

You will soon discover that one of the distinctive characteristics of my preaching is my willingness to appropriately share my story as we companion with each other to discover Christ in the Gospels. Storm offers a means to see blessing through vulnerability in the extraordinary circumstances of ground zero. We have our lives.  To share our stories involves trust and some risk.  No degree of trust is possible without increasing degrees of risk in which we are willing to go with each other beyond the normal pleasantries of our every day life.

It is my custom when I preach and preside for the first time in a parish to acknowledge the tremor you will likely see in my hands as I raise the bread and chalice or distribute Holy Communion to you.  I have had this tremor since my birth.  At its worst the tremor was a source of embarrassment when I was younger.  In more recent years, the tremor is a blessing.  My tremor helps me see with awe the diversity of God’s creation.  My tremor has taught me to bear the pain of differences of others.  My tremor helps me experience the power of healing transformation that some have experienced through my trembling hands that participate in another’s suffering making them feel less isolated and less abandoned by their humanity.  I have made sense of my tremor through the gift of the trinity in a similar but different way that the ground zero chaplains reflected and made sense of their experiences. 

How do you as a congregation or persons in this congregation experience your life through the gift of the trinity?

Carol Gallagher, an Episcopal bishop has written, “No one can guess what the story of your church community is, and if they guess, they will probably guess wrong. It takes a whole group of people sharing their experiences for the full story to come to light, with depth, color, and the vibrancy of a living tradition – your tradition, your story.  The power of story can be seen as the light of the Gospel story permeating and saturating the living mission of your congregation.” 

What stories might you tell each other about St. John’s Glenbrook? 

The good news today is that the trinity is a gift that invites us to join an eternal dance with God as we express awe with the earth-maker, share in pain-bearing responsibilities and offer life-giving transformation to those in need of the Spirit’s sacred balm.  It is through our story and the stories of others that we find our strength and courage to stay in the Trinitarian dance.

As St. John’s looks for its next priest and continues with its life as a congregation, now would be a good time for you to recall your stories of participation in the Trinitarian ministries of the earth-maker, pain-bearer and life-giver. 

Whatever human story, the transforming power of the trinity for all of us is that it lays bear our vulnerabilities that we otherwise keep veiled, masked and invisible beyond public reach and surely out of reach of one and another’s touch. 

God bless us in our bold and courageous efforts that lay bare our individual and congregational stories as earth-makers, pain-bearers and life-givers that we may lay bare God’s love for all.

My Challenge to Non-Anxiously Abide in God

Preached at Trinity Church Reno, Nevada on Sunday, May 6, 2012

“I am the vine and you are the branches…abide in me as I abide in you.” 

The Gospel message appears to be so simple.  God is the source of all creation, being and all love. We as creatures of God are nurtured and nourished when we abide in God and let God’s Word abide in us.

This coming week The Episcopal Church will celebrate the feast day of Julian of Norwich.  Julian heard the Lord speaking to her through prayer one day: “I can make all things well; I will make all things well; I shall make all things well; and thou canst see for thyself that all manner of things shall be well.” These words to Julian amplify the words of today’s Gospel.  I have had a very hard time believing in the words to Julian.  Indeed, I have been known by those close to me to laugh at these words.  All will be well.  Yeah, right! 

I still hear my dad saying to me, “God helps those who help themselves and you will reap what you plant.”  I grew up doubting that unless I worked hard, all would not be well. I learned that my efforts would be rewarded. Those who lacked just did not try hard enough.  Although I grew up in an Irish Catholic family, we had a pretty strong Protestant work ethic. 

In case either the Gospel words or the words to Julian still seem simple to you, I want to share the words of Ignatius of Loyola’s prayer of generosity.

Take, Lord, and receive all my liberty, my memory, my understanding, and my entire will, all that I have and possess.  Thou hast given all to me. To thee O Lord, I return it. All is thine, dispose of it wholly according to thy will.  Give me thy love and they grace, for this is sufficient for me.  Your love and your grace is sufficient for me.”

As a young Jesuit I realized that I could not live these words.  I left the Society of Jesus in 1986 under the foolish impression that I could put these words behind me.  I had convinced myself that to live these words one needs to be called to a very special vocation. 

In the last eight months of living apart from Stefani as I worked as a trauma chaplain in North Philadelphia, the words of the Gospel, the words to Julian and the prayer of Ignatius all came back to me.  During these last few months I have come to the stark realization that it is not easy to live into the invitation of today’s Gospel. 

All of us here, by virtue of being here in this place, desire to live into the words, “Abide in me as I abide in you”.  But what is the impact or if you will the cost of our choice to abide in Christ?  Do we live with the firm conviction that all will be well?  If so, do we have the spiritual freedom to say with all our heart, “Give me only your love and your grace”?  To live in these ways is to make real the Gospel’s words, Abide in me as I abide in you.

The economy makes the message of today’s Gospel very difficult to believe and live into with our complete freedom.  After 146 job rejections in twenty months I am less sure than ever before of the efficacy that I will reap what I plant. I thought 146 rejections were a lot and once felt sorry for myself until I met people who have had several hundred rejections in fewer months.  Even more startling, did you know that 50% of the class of 2012 college graduates will not have a job or will be underemployed?

Some people are privileged to have a job, but their portfolio is half or a quarter what it was five years ago. Some cannot afford to retire. Those retired fear that they will not have enough to meet their most basic needs. Some have more than enough money, but still search for meaning. More and more of us live with some sort of quiet anxiety that saps our spiritual energy.  For whatever reason all of us hunger for the words of today’s Gospel to become real. And yet we often struggle to non-anxious abide in God.

My anxiety is often expressed in this prayer:  Thank you God for the gifts of liberty, understanding, memory and will.  These gifts are mine.  I will guard these gifts with my life. If you love me God, you will give me more and more of these gifts.  I am grateful for your love, but your grace is not sufficient for me.  Let’s get real God. Your grace will be sufficient when…you put in your own contingencies.  We all have our own pet contingencies that delay our full response to today’s Gospel invitation.

The last eight months in North Philadelphia re-schooled my heart’s priorities. African-American matriarchs reminded me of my anchor in God. These women functioned as the firm anchor in their turbulent families and neighborhoods. These women embodied the words of the Gospel and pointed to their anchor. Nothing seemed to test the rock solid faith of these women. 

I had the privilege to witness and stand beside a few of these women when their faith was tested.  Their faith-filled responses brought my lack of faith up short.  The remarkable discovery for me was to see that God was never far from their grief.  In the midst of personal storms of loss, these women said with all their might, your grace is sufficient for me.  They did believe with conviction that all would be well.  They abided in God beyond all else. They were not owned by anything or anybody but their sole trust in God.

One Saturday night I was called to the ER at 11pm.  A man in his mid forties had a heart attack.  He was a loving spouse and father of five children, ages 5-12. All 5 children sat in their pajamas in the ER waiting room only to hear that their father died. Anger and rage ripped through older members of the family and extended family that had gathered. 

In the chaos of grief the matriarch of the family was solid, firm in her unshakeable faith. When she visited with me the body of her dead son in the medical suite, she vigorously wept. As she wept she also praised God and asked that she not forget the God who fed her soul at the moment of this horrific loss. 

I remember one of the dead man’s brothers came to the ER and he was threatening to hurt the doctor.  For a split second he thought I was the doctor.  The matriarch moved in and just looked at her son with a loving, empathetic glance that made this very strong, potentially violent man pull back.  He was still in rage, but he was calmer. 

The matriarch walked closer to him finally just touching his chest ever so lightly with her fingers bringing him an immediate inner calm. He fell into her arms like a little child and wept.  I will never forget the power of the mother’s silence as well as her empathetic and loving touch that restored her son to his source. A few hours later this man supported others in their grief.  I saw this kind of matriarchal transformation every night I was on-call in the ER. 

Of course stories such as these are not unique to African-American matriarchs.  Other people have unshakeable faith too. Yet for me it was the stark contrast of the poorest of the poor who had nothing, who lost their loved ones that brought my faith up short and redirected my priorities. The young man who died played an important role in the family as the sole bread winner, but God was the anchor for this family that would keep them going. 

How do we shed the shackles of our anxious distrust and live with the radical abandonment necessary to say with all our heart, your grace is sufficient for me, and all will be well as I abide in you?  These are the kind of questions we must ask ourselves if we are to prepare ourselves to accept God’s invitation to abide in God’s love.  I don’t have any quick answers. I am still learning to trust in God that all will be well when I non-anxiously abide in God.

At the same time I have abundant hope that I am not alone in my anxieties and struggles.  Many throughout our city and nation are beginning to ask fundamental spiritual questions about where they place their trust. The good news is that none of us do this spiritual cleansing work alone.  We are strengthened through the Eucharist, our relationships in community and our ministries that place alternative claim on our gifts. There is no shame in asking these questions.  The shame is when we trust that the world will satisfy the insatiable yearning of our hearts.  The simple message and good news of today’s Gospel is that our hearts will not rest until they rest in you oh God.

Perfection Is Overrated: Joyous Lives Lead to Generous Service

Sermon preached on Sunday, June 5, 2011 at Trinity Church, Reno, Nevada

“Be one as we are one”. Is the Gospel writer serious? Do these words really mean that we are we to live with one another as God lives with Jesus and the Holy Spirit in their Trinitarian love? Be one as we are one. Augustine of Hippo taught that we are to become what we touch. Are we really to become what we worship as the Body of Christ? Such an interpretation leads to idolatry.

It is thoroughly amazing to me how long this literal interpretation of today’s Gospel has been sustained through the centuries by Christian churches. This interpretation has been sustained by lofty theology. A short sermon is not the time to explore the theological specifics. The words, “Be one, as we are one” sets us up for impossible possibilities and constant disappointment.

Today’s scriptural text introduces an interpretative conflict between perfection that places our primary focus on ourselves versus shifting our focus to the needs of others through service. The conflict emerges from these two different ways of reading today’s Gospel.

Let us not miss the other words of today’s Gospel. The Gospel also says that as Jesus returns to God, we remain. The Gospel just says that we remain, but if we follow the story we are left to be Christ’s witnesses of the glory of resurrection. We are authorized to be ministers of Easter joy in the world.

“Be one as we are one”, this idyllic relationship also surfaces in other unexpected and even unrecognized ways. Too often in spiritual direction or other pastoral counseling meetings I hear good people express their self-doubts about their adequacy. Good people feel so less than perfect that they cannot even possibly think about service or ministry. Good people who are performing wonderful ministries are even caught up in this dilemma of faith, as they doubt themselves.

Several years ago I was having an early morning breakfast with my friend John. John asked if I would help him reflect on the ministry that God might be calling him. John and I had been friends for some time through All Saints Church in Pasadena, but still I did not know much about his personal life. He spent a good bit of time telling me about the routine nature of his work, his self-doubts and struggles living the joy he feels on Sunday.

Much of what he shared with me I had known, but I knew little about his family life. He told me that when he was in Africa many years ago that he adopted two children, each with severe handicaps. He went on to tell me about the cost of medical care, the racism his children experienced in the US and his struggles to provide adequate care.

Our time over breakfast passed and we both had to get to work. Before we said good-bye to each other, I asked my friend, do you not see your passionate vision to adopt and humble commitment to care as ministry. My friend is a well-educated man with a very important job, but somehow he did not see his life as ministry.

Through the messiness of all his struggles John did not see the way God had empowered him with special gifts, graces and blessings to be a father for special needs children. I reframed for John his self-doubts and lack of purpose into a richly, blessed, courageous and generous life. He was doing it, he just did not recognize it nor was he able to name it.

Have you ever felt like John? Do you see the connection between the way you feel fed by this congregation’s weekly worship on Sunday and the way you feed others through your life and work during the week? Theology makes a difference for the answers you have to these questions.

We are not in the world to suffer, but rather to flourish. God wants us to flourish! As Episcopalians we have been freed up from the pursuit of perfection. The Episcopal Church’s roots in its Anglican history through the Church of England are quite different than many other historical Christian churches. The English reformers who established the Church of England sought to change the Roman Catholic understanding of the church as perfect and unstained. Churches distracted by perfection are focused on perfect unity. Individuals are distracted by their desires to be perfect.

John Jewel one of earliest English reformers was so passionate on this point that he wrote a long essay on the broadness of the church not only with space for heretics but also for the papists. In Jewel’s context it was a generous accommodation to include papists. In those days much like today, religious conflicts were over the bounds of God’s love. The English reformers aspired to create a church that was as generously open as God’s heart.

It is our Anglican tradition as Episcopalians to appreciate that as baptized persons and as a church we are not called to perfection. Spiritually mature people resist the anxieties associated with perfection. The pursuit of perfection serves as a scrupulous distraction to our baptismal vocations. The pursuit of perfection isolates us and keeps us self-centered on our own needs rather than on the needs of others.

Rather than perfection, The Episcopal Church is called to humility and passionate service. Humility is simply about listening. When we exercise humility we step back from our exclusively self-centered desires in order to listen. Passionate people are energized by a compelling vision. Passionate people press forward with their vision.

It is very easy for humble and passionate people to be in conflict or worse to ignore each other. In our Anglican traditions these back and forth moves happen simultaneously. As a result our conversations are not always comfortable, but they are rich. There is a necessary tension between humility and passion. We are called to humbly listen and passionately move forward. These actions are not sequential, but rather simultaneous.

What holds humility and passion in creative tension is our commitment to stay in relationship with one another. Staying in relationship with one another is an ancient Anglican practice that goes back to the earliest English reformers. Several years ago after the controversy over Gene Robinson’s election and consecration as a bishop, Archbishop Rowan Williams called for a worldwide listening process.

The purpose of the listening process was for opposing sides and positions around the world to listen to one another. Unfortunately through the listening process and the more recent Anglican covenant being discussed by the churches of the Anglican Communion a notion of consensus has crept in. Consensus and unity as forms of perfection are wonderful aspirations, but they are not necessities of our Anglican tradition.

We have a far greater challenge as Episcopal Anglicans as we are called to stay in relationship and conversation with those with whom we disagree. In this way we have to resist common perfectionist expectations that listening necessarily leads to the achievement of common ground. Listening necessarily leads to reconciliation. Listening necessarily leads to unity.

Anglican relationships honor listening and passionate urgency without false correction that leads to perfect unity. False corrections are anxious efforts to force premature unity that we are not prepared to live into. As Episcopalians in an Anglican tradition we have been freed up from all of this pious individual and corporate baggage associated with the pursuit of all kinds of perfection. We have been given the gift of this freedom so that we may dedicate all of our energies to living lives of generous service. What matters the most is not what happens between these four walls of this church building, but the difference we each make in the world.

I love what we do here at Trinity Church. We are blessed with great liturgy, beautiful music, compassionate pastoral care, people with good humor and so much more; but it all really has one purpose. The purpose is for all of us to be sent forth into generous service. Service goes well beyond church sponsored activities and ministries. The primary thrust of our service is the way we live our lives between Sundays. Service is about the choices and decisions we make every day.

Episcopal laypersons and clergy freed from the worries and anxieties of perfection are empowered to heal the world through their choices, values and commitments. My friend John adopted two handicapped children, but he did not recognize his choice and commitment as his vocation, call and primary service.

Do we connect the good we have do as ministry?

If you see yourself in the story of my friend John or wonder about your value between Sundays, then I have a challenge for you. I invite you to choose a life freed from crippling self-doubts or perfectionist tendencies. Freed of perfectionist self-doubts I assure you that you will be freed up for generous service to live and love as Christ’s witnesses.

The good news of today’s Gospel as we anticipate the gift of the Holy Spirit is that we have been authorized for generous service. The Spirit of Pentecost will equip us for bold and generous service.

Simply remember Jesus’ other words, “My yoke is easy, my burden is light.”

The Journey: From Emmaus Piety to Emmaus Party

Sermon delivered by the Rev. Dr. Joseph Duggan at Trinity Church, Reno, Nevada on Sunday, May 9, 2011. Gospel: Luke 24: 13-35

If I were to title my sermon I would want to call it, “The Journey From Emmaus Piety to Emmaus Party”. The proposed sermon title sets the bar very high. Just to manage your expectations I may not be able to get you all the way there. As I said to friends recently I think the most frivolous thing I have ever done in my whole life was watch the Royal Wedding live from 1am to 5am, drink black tea, eat cream topped English scones and have a splash of scotch at 3am! I readily admit that I missed the rituals of staying up all night as a teen-ager!

Yet as we listened to the glorious music from Westminster coupled with daylong parties I had a vision of the spirit of Jesus’ hospitality at Cana and Emmaus. To really catch Jesus’ party spirit requires unpacking the piety that has become associated with the Emmaus story. After all the Emmaus story is simply a story about the journey of two disciples and the way they came to recognize Jesus. The Royal Wedding ironically reminded me that piety and party sometimes coexist. I think piety and party coexisted for Jesus and alas we have only remembered the piety.

It is understandable the way that the Emmaus story so easily leads to literal interpretations. As a former Roman Catholic I remember the way the Emmaus story was used as a proof text to substantiate and legitimize the Roman Catholic doctrine of transubstantiation. Roman Catholic doctrine teaches that Holy Communion is not merely a reminder of Jesus’ presence long ago, but rather the actual fleshy body and blood of the living Christ.

In this way of reading the Emmaus story the exclusive focus is on seeing Jesus in the breaking of the bread. All liturgical Christians such as Episcopalians can certainly resonate with the power of Holy Communion, though we have different beliefs than Roman Catholics. Holy Communion is certainly one of the very special ways liturgical Christians recognize Jesus.

However, if we are not careful we can read the Emmaus text in an exclusively literal way such that we only see Jesus in the breaking of the bread. I think the Emmaus story invites us to recognize Jesus in not just the breaking of the bread as in the Eucharist and Holy Communion but also in the simplicity of two friends walking on a path from one place to another as the disciples were on their way to Emmaus. The disciples’ hearts were burning before they recognized Jesus in the breaking of the bread.

The Emmaus story like last week’s doubting Thomas story can be read in a kind of an I have gotcha tone of criticizing the way the disciples missed recognition of Jesus in their midst. Such a reading leads to a missed opportunity to connect with Jesus in new and different ways than through traditional piety. The experience of the A Lot of Good Men has taught many men in this congregation that out of the simplicity and the ordinariness of sharing a meal we are over and over surprised by what we see in each other and the new ways we see life in community as members of Trinity Church.

I think the point of the Emmaus story is to recognize Jesus’ presence in every aspect of our lives together and apart. Sometimes though if we are not careful the Eucharistic ritual and celebration of Holy Communion can too easily become the only place that we recognize Jesus. When we fall into this trap then Holy Communion becomes an idol rather than the blessed gift of God’s abundance that leads to more joy filled lives.

Like the miracle at Cana where Jesus made more wine for all to drink, similarly the miracle of Emmaus is that we enjoy the abundant presence of Jesus. Sometimes though like the disciples were distracted, other people, institutions or even our selves will impede our recognition of Jesus’ abundant presence in our lives.

When my mom was in the final stages of Alzheimer’s Disease, she was denied Holy Communion by a Roman Catholic priest who felt she was no longer able to recognize the presence of Jesus in Holy Communion. Like children who cannot receive the age of reason this priest followed the same logic at end of life. On her behalf I wrote to the Archbishop of New York and reminded him of the Emmaus story and implored him to have a priest bring Holy Communion to my mom.

The Archbishop was willing to make an exception, in what he described in a letter to me, as a ministerial accommodation for my mother. The Archbishop also instructed me that I should not make his accommodation public for fear that his gesture would give scandal to the faithful. Shortly after our correspondence my mother received Holy Communion.

Now as I look back on those days through my Protestant eyes I smile as I see that my mom experienced the deeper meaning of the Emmaus story even in her end stage Alzheimer’s. By the way at my mom’s funeral many spoke of the way she loved to have parties and at the same time she was a very religious woman.

No doubt it is why throughout her 11-year journey of Alzheimer’s she had experienced the abundant gift of recognizing Jesus in many forms beyond the Holy Communion distributed and so narrowly controlled by her beloved church. In the last three years of her life my mom laid in a nursing home bed and spent most of her day just staring at a fifty-year old crucifix on the wall that hung in every home my parents shared since their wedding day.

My Mom’s loving steady gaze gave her sons and daughters every indication that she recognized Jesus in the form of that cherished crucifix. Most of all as my mom forgot all of her children’s names and even lost the power of speech, she seem to be comforted by just sitting with us and holding our hands. I am confident in those last years that my mom recognized Jesus’ presence and warmth through holding her sons’ and daughters’ hands.

Like other marginalized people the person who suffers from Alzheimer’s has often been abandoned by their body, mind and even most friends and sometimes by even family. Jesus remains and continues to be recognized by the person with Alzheimer’s who often looks to us as just an empty shell of their former selves. As Jesus makes himself available to be recognized he reverences us even in our diminished humanity.

I tell you this story not just to say that we have the privilege to recognize Jesus even in end stage Alzheimer’s, but to show the way Jesus stays present to us beyond every impediment to our visible recognition. Jesus made a meal for the disciples for he knew in sharing a festive meal his disciples would recognize him. Jesus’ gesture was a gesture of friendship and joyful celebration. If we read the Emmaus story as only one of Holy Communion we will miss the communion also found in and through life’s ordinary celebrations at our many tables.
I don’t think that the Emmaus story is a proof text for Eucharist or Holy Communion. The Emmaus story simply offers us the occasion to celebrate the abundant presence of Jesus. The call of Emmaus is to live with open eyes and generous hearts that recognize Jesus. Both the doubting Thomas and Emmaus stories are about Jesus’ generous availability to us.

Jesus let Thomas touch his wounds and took the time for the disciples at Emmaus to recognize him. Likewise the Emmaus story calls us to live with the same kind of generosity that Jesus shows us by taking the time to let others recognize who we are.

The reason A Lot of Good Men have met for two years without an agenda of any kind is to remove the pious clutter that sometimes otherwise impedes our availability to be surprised like the disciples were at Emmaus by the presence of their friend Jesus.

As we all make an effort to remove all the unnecessary clutter from our lives we will be increasingly surprised to see that Jesus had been with us all along in forms most familiar to us. Let us share this Good News and the miracle at Emmaus with all we meet. The miracle of Emmaus has the potential to transform the world into joyous people who celebrate life just as Jesus did at Cana and at Emmaus. Than in this way our piety will lead to party and not end in idle/idol worship without joyful transformation.

"None of Us Are Blind, Are We?"

Trinity Church, Reno, Nevada

Fourth Sunday in Lent (Year A)

John 9:1-41

Few of us will ever be literally blind. How then do we make sense of this Gospel and make it work for our spiritual development and hear the Good News? One way is to see the mud that Jesus rubs in the man’s eyes as our own dirt. How might the mud and dirt of our lives let us see? As we proceed, it will be helpful to recall the line, “remove the plank from your own eye before you attempt to remove the speck from another.”

In today’s Gospel Jesus says, “I came into this world for judgment so that those who do not see may see, and those who do see may become blind”. For years I read this Gospel and saw blindness as the struggle or curse and sight as the gift or blessing. It is a bit murkier than this stark simplistic contrast between good and bad. I now see that blindness can also be a gift and sight, particularly self-righteous sight a curse. The disarming invitation of today’s Gospel is our free choice to be blind for a purpose.

To choose blindness we must be willing to be judged. Might we like Jesus be willing to say that we have come into the world for judgment so that others may see? Judgment in this sense is our willingness to put our faith on the line. It is so much easier to remain silent.

I remember several years ago being with a friend at dinner. He told a racist joke. I said nothing. In my head I was trying to figure out what to say, how to say it, if I had the right to say anything, could I say it charitably or would I just make matters worse. After the joke I probably did not hear a thing my friend said all night as I was trying to figure out what to say. I have often wondered how might I have acted differently. I have judged my silence as complicit in the act of telling the joke as I let it stand unchallenged.

Recently I was with Phil, another friend who is a shopkeeper. Phil was telling me a story of a man we will call Sam who had worked for him. In the first few days of his employment Sam would make very racist remarks about people as they passed the shop. A pregnant woman of color passed and Sam said one bullet is all it would take to get rid of those two.

Each day Sam mouthed off another shocking racist remark about people as they passed by Phil’s store. When Phil had heard enough, he said, “Get out of here, you are fired!” Phil told Sam that he was offended by his beliefs and that his customers deserved better. The two parted ways. I was so impressed with Phil’s actions. I immediately thought wow Phil is a much better man than I am. I was silent when a racist joke was told. Phil spoke up and he was willing to be judged.

A few minutes later, Phil said to me, “Say what do you think of all these crazy Muslims who want to build mosques in our country?” “Don’t you think we should make building mosques in America a criminal act?” The shift in Phil’s tone convinced me that he was pulling my leg. I thought he was mocking himself and other types of hypocrisy. I cautiously laughed. Phil was serious.

Somehow Phil could not see the connection between his stance against Muslims and Sam’s stance against people of color. My example this morning is racism, but who among us has not been inconsistent in some way when it comes to consistent living out of our values? Even more so who among us consistently lives in the way Jesus taught that embraces all humanity as beloved?

Phil’s words, “don’t you think, don’t you agree” brought me up short.
Again, I had a choice to be silent. This time I chose otherwise. I told Phil I disagreed with him. I said you know there is understandably alot of fear in this country after 9/11. I fully agree that we need to hold those who took those terrible actions accountable and bring them to justice. However, it is not all right to make all Muslims into terrorists.

I told Phil that as informed citizens we have the responsibility to learn about Islam. We need enough education on Islam to be able to discern who are the Muslims who follow the faith of Islam and those Muslims who interpret the Quran for their self-righteous political aims. Without specific knowledge of Islam it is far too easy to say there is no such thing as a good Muslim and refuse their right to worship in a mosque.

Phil was silent. He never remarked if he agreed or disagreed with me. He quickly changed the topic of our conversation. I self-righteously wanted to make the connection for Phil between Sam and himself, but that seem to be a bit harsher than was necessary. Phil like all of us is flawed with his blatant inconsistencies. He clearly was blind to his own inability to see in accordance with his own stated values.

Initially I was awestruck by Phil’s inconsistency. Later that evening I felt empathy for Phil. Days later I was more empathetic with myself. OK this time I was not silent, but I still felt like I had not said enough. Was my discretion polite or simply my lack of willingness to be judged by my faith? Should I have been more dramatic as Phil in his correction of Sam?

To speak up and charitably correct another is very messy work. I still do not feel thoroughly equipped to challenge others. As I continue to develop skill in the charitable correction of others, my encounter with Phil opened up an even deeper set of questions. Like the Pharisees in today’s Gospel I know where I see and even where and under what conditions I have the courage to speak. Like the Pharisees my blindness terrifies me. The space between terror over my blindness and the Pharisees self-righteous determination of sight is a very short distance. To work against our self-righteous sight it takes courage and enormous grace to ask, where we are inconsistent and act like hypocrites?

Hypocrite is a derogatory term. We don’t go around calling each other hypocrites. Hypocrite is not in our common parlance. The term may make you uncomfortable. So pick a different term. How about vulnerable or humble or fallible? My point is that we all have been inconsistent at one time or another. We are fallible. None of us live like Jesus yet!

The question is do we really want to know. I think we each face the same temptation that the Pharisees did when they said to Jesus, “surely we are not blind, are we?” If we do wish to know, then the Pharisees story may be an occasion to see our blindness in the various forms it takes. Racism is only one of an infinite number of ways we can be blind. It is our Pharisaic refusal to recognize our blindness that keeps us firmly planted in self-righteous patterns that harm right relation with other people.

Self-righteousness lets our energy be invested in being better than another rather than in our kinship with others. On Wednesday evening this past week Stefani and I heard Fr. Greg Boyle speak. Fr. Boyle is a Jesuit priest and founder of an anti-gang prevention center in Los Angeles. For 90 minutes he told one story after another of redemption.

Fr. Boyle said that by giving to one another we do not just fill needs, but we have an opportunity to see ourselves in another. It is seeing ourselves in the temptations and weaknesses of others that we develop empathy and kinship with each other. Fr. Boyle said that time and time again he has witnessed hardened gang enemies work together and become friends.

We like these gang members do this through our willingness to claim our blindness as the first step towards true sight. Do we have the courage to be led through our blindness through all the muck and mud of our lives so as to be led into a place of Christ-like sight? The Good News is if we say yes, then we may have the privilege to experience the freedom of true sight. True sight frees us up from all our self-righteous petty distractions. True sight turns our attention away from our outrage and condemnation of others and produces a space so we see our own blindness. True sight in this sense leads to non-violent communities where we cherish each other and share communion with God.