Sunday, November 11, 2012

Proper 27 B - Nov 11, 2012

Holy Cross Monastery, West Park, NY
Br. Julian Mizelle, OHC
Proper 27 B - Sunday, November 11, 2012

Ruth 3: 1-5; 4:13-17
1 Kings 17:8-16
Psalm 146
Hebrews 9:24-28
Mark 12:38-44

The Public Face of God’s Purpose

Ruth gleaning in the fields of Boaz
In the past I have been quick to note my puzzlement over the choices of scripture readings our Lectionary makes, but this week I marvel at how they collide with our news headlines. As Americans elected not only a President for a new term, but men and women for Congress, Senators, and officials at every level of our government, scripture speaks prophetically to the Church. Psalm 146, our appointed Psalm for today, (which we chanted at Matins this morning) says “Do not put your trust in princes, in mortals, in whom there is no help. When their breath departs, they return to the earth; on that very day their plans perish.” I think it very wise for us to remember, on this first Sunday after a national election, that in the entire canon of scripture there is only one reference to God laughing. In Psalm 2:4 God laughs at the pretensions of political power. 

I would like to share with you Walter Brueggemann’s poem titled “Post Election Day.”

You creator God
who has ordered us
in families and communities,
in clans and tribes,
in states and nations.

You creator God
who enacts your governance
in ways overt and
in ways hidden.
You exercise your will for
peace and for justice and for freedom.

We give you thanks for the peaceable order of
our nation and for the chance of choosing—
all the manipulative money notwithstanding.

We pray now for new governance
that your will and purpose may prevail,
that our leaders may have a sense
of justice and goodness,
that we as citizens may care about the
public face of your purpose.

We pray in the name of Jesus who was executed
by the authorities.

I proudly joined with my Brothers this past Tuesday in making a pilgrimage to our local poll to exercise the great freedom of casting my vote. And in doing so I give thanks to all of those who have answered a Godly vocational call to public service; from local school boards to Capital Hill I stand with them all in prayer. But I am also reminded by the Apostle Paul that as a Christian we each hold dual citizenship: we are citizens of this world and we are citizens of heaven. Our very Baptismal Covenant calls us to unconditional allegiance to the Gospel. And in the political arena this calls us to stand for what Walter Brueggemann calls “the public face of God’s purpose.” Our Lectionary readings this morning point us to just that public face of God’s purpose.

Psalm 146 continues in telling us “the Maker of heaven and earth” is biased on behalf of the oppressed: He feeds the hungry, frees prisoners, and heals the blind. He lifts up those who are weighed down, he defends foreigners (and I read that as immigrants), protects the orphans, and sustains the widow. Seven categories of people who each face very different challenges yet hold one thing in common. They each are vulnerable to forces beyond their control. 

If we include today’s assigned reading from 1 Kings (our alternate reading from the OT) our lectionary readings tell the stories of 5 widows. 

The book of Ruth is a story of 3 widows -- the Israelite Naomi who fled Israel to Moab to escape famine and her two immigrant daughters-in-law, Orpah and Ruth. After ten years in Moab, and despite Naomi’s protests, Ruth returned with her to Israel. In Bethlehem, Ruth was the foreigner from an enemy country. She was childless. She was widowed from a mixed marriage. In her culture she was one who had run out of options. Yet she vowed to cling to Naomi, to Naomi’s Hebrew people, and to their God. Ruth secured an economic livelihood for Naomi by gleaning fields among the hired hands. She ingratiated herself to Boaz, the owner of those fields she gleaned. In spite of her status as an “outcast immigrant” all of Bethlehem knew this foreign widow as a “woman of excellence.” 

Our optional reading from 1 Kings tells the story the widow Zarephath who lived at a pivotal juncture in Israel’s history. In Daniel Berrigan’s book, The Kings and Their Gods, he interprets the OT books of 1st and 2nd Kings as self-serving imperial records that portray Israel’s kings as they saw themselves and as they wanted others to see them. The unifying theme running through 1st and 2nd Kings is God favors my regime over your and God hates my enemies. To this end the Kings employ “many pathological means of political retaliation with absolute impunity, military might, revisionist history, manipulation of memory and time, grandiose agendas, economic exploitation, virulent nationalism, sanctioning it all with divine approval, legitimation by religious sycophants.” Sound familiar?

The prophet Elijah was the dissenting voice to this imperial power. But the tactic employed to dissenting voices was to silence them as unpatriotic and seditious. But that didn’t stop Elijah from facing down the political powers of his day. Elijah’s story begins with the widow Zarephath who, at great personal sacrifice, cares for him during a severe drought. This narrative of an alien widow and a Hebrew prophet offering each other mutual care accross nationalistic boundaries assumed such sacred importance in Israel’s story-telling that Jesus Himself repeated the story a 1000 years later. This story occurs in Luke’s gospel but this is the important part--the reaction of the people in the synagogue was one of outrage and furious anger. 

That God cares for widows, and that God’s people should too, is one of the most prominent themes throughout the Bible. The Greek word for widow occurs about 25 times in the New Testament alone. 

The widow in today’s Gospel reading from Mark is nameless. She dared to give an offering to the temple treasury that amounted to a fraction of a penny in the presence of many wealthy benefactors making large donations. But whereas the rich gave out of their convenience and surplus, Jesus said this poor widow has given more than all the others. Can’t Jesus add? Doesn’t Jesus know the value of two copper coins? He absolutely does. But he saw her heart and knew she had given out of her poverty. She put in all she had to live on. It was her grocery money, her rent, her gas money, her little bit of security for all of the necessities of life.

I must be honest with you in that this Gospel story has always caused me to struggle. Every time I read it, its most fundamental message seems to be saying if you really love God, if you have really given your life to God, if you are serious about being a Christ follower you will give up all financial security. I’ve never gone to Church and emptied my bank account. I never put an entire paycheck into the offering plate as it went by trusting that somehow God would work everything out. And since I find the notion of doing so just too fearful this story has always left me feeling that my righteousness is not good enough, my piety falls short. It left me feeling inadequate as a Christian. And herein lies the danger of this text.

So I’m asking some hard questions--does Jesus point to the poor widow who gives her last two coins to the temple as a model for how we should give? Or does Jesus point to her because she is a tragic example of how religious institutions can suck the life out of people? There is also a bit of irony here. If we were to keep reading the narrative of the Gospel of Mark we would read that Jesus walks out of this temple with His disciples and almost immediately tells them that this temple is about to be destroyed. “Not one stone will be left.” This poor widow has given her last cent to a doomed religious institution. The larger narrative of Mark puts Jesus at constant odds with Scribes and Pharisees, with all of temple leadership. And here He condemns them for “devouring widows houses.” The institution of the Jerusalem temple had become perverted. While the leadership leads privileged lives, widows, the poor and vulnerable go unprotected. The teachable moment between Jesus and His disciples is that when the widow dropped her last two coins in the treasury box, temple leaders should have run over and taken those two coins and given them back. Then they should have reached in for a larger sum and said “here, you need this. Let us help you out!” 

It is completely true that the widow gave from her heart. Her gift was far greater than a gift of just two copper coins. She gave the whole of her life. And I beleive that Mark uses the story of this poor widow to point us theologically to the Cross, where Jesus is heading and where He will give the whole of His life. It is also true that the Jerusalem temple represents an unjust system that harmed the very people they were called to serve. Today, this Gospel text calls to you and to me to give the whole of our lives to facing down unjust social, political and economic systems. We are called to give the whole of our lives to stand with the oppressed, the hungry, the homeless, the blind, prisoners, immigrants, and widows. The national election has finally ended but our call to put the public face of God’s purpose on this world has only just begun. 

Amen!

Sunday, November 4, 2012

Proper 26 B - Nov 4, 2012

Holy Cross Monastery, West Park, NY
Br. Bernard Jean Delcourt, OHC
Proper 26 B – Sunday, November 4, 2012


Ruth 1:1-18

Hebrews 9:11-14
Mark 12:28-34

George Cattermole (1800-1868), The Scribe
Today, Mark the Evangelist tells us about a pivot time in the ministry of Jesus to his people.

In earlier pages of this gospel, Jesus and his opponents have been exchanging volleys of challenge and riposte, debating in the Temple at Jerusalem. The challengers have been Pharisees and Herodians, Sadducees and scribes.

In response to the challenges, Jesus has exposed the deceitfulness of his adversaries. They have been publicly humiliated, losing honor to the benefit of Jesus.

Jesus has demonstrated authentic authority. In the process, he has accumulated so much honor that soon, no one will dare challenge him verbally any more.

In further pages of this gospel, Jesus, using this authority and honor, will move to the verbal offensive. His enemies will eventually resort to institutional and physical violence to silence him.

*****

But just for now, there is a truce. There is this episode of mutual appreciation between Jesus and a holder of religious privilege, a scribe.

In answering the Scribe's question about “Which commandment is the first of all,” Jesus deftly uses his people's tradition. And he makes that tradition take a leap by combining two commandments in a way that very much make them one. In our Christian tradition, we call it the Great Commandment.

*****

Although this passage appears in all 3 synoptic gospels, Mark is the only one who has Jesus quote the two verses of Deuteronomy (6:4&5) that start the Shema, one of Judaism's most important prayers.

“SHEMA, O Israel: the Lord our God, the Lord is one; you shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your mind, and with all your strength.”

Shema means “Hear” in Hebrew. To a Benedictine it resonates with the “Listen” that begins the Rule of Saint Benedict. It says “Prick up your ears. Pay attention.”

*****

Today, we will walk our way through this Great Commandment step by step. First, “the Lord is one.”

We may think that that introduction is no longer needed in our days of dominant monotheism, but I claim we need it just as much as Jesus' listeners who lived surrounded by dominant polytheism.

I put it to you that even we, in this room, still adore more than one God.

Do we not put most of our time and energy into participating in the cults of money, control, appearance and seduction?

Do we not believe more readily in the precepts of science and economics than in the deepest aspirations and insights of our souls?

There are many deities around, even today.

Also, I put it to you that we still believe that our own religion, if not our own church, is the only valid one. Yet the Lord is One. How could this One God wish us to be divided and dividisive? Instead, shouldn't we be mutually accepting and appreciative of one another's perspectives?

All of humanity is still struggling mightily to love but One God and to believe in the radical oneness of all.

*****
Next in the Great Commandment comes, “You shall love the Lord your God.”

This not an admonishment to right belief or straight religious practice. It is a prescription to act. And to act in the most complete fashion possible to humans; “with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind and with all your strength.”

Does this prescription leave anything out to not participate in the love of God? It is the whole human being and the whole human existence that is bidden to the love of God.

Nothing that you are, and nothing that you do, or don't do, are irrelevant to your love of God.

This is a tall agenda. But then this is the tallest love we can ever aspire to.

*****
And then Jesus adds another commandment to the first and he conjoins the two. This second commandment hails from Leviticus (19:18b).

“You shall love your neighbor as yourself.”

This commandment assumes you love yourself enough to care for your essential safety and needs.

The original context of this commandment, in the book of Leviticus, would have led to a restrictive interpretation of who our neighbor is. It would have meant a kinsman or a fellow member of one's tribe.

But the full context of Jesus' predication lets us know that no one remains out of his description of our neighbor.

The canonical gospels leave us no place for exclusion.

The Evangelist John recounts what we call the New Commandment: “Love one another as I have loved you.” This takes care by the way of those who'd argue they don't love themselves to start with.

The Evangelist Luke gives us the parable of the Good Samaritan right after his own account of the Great Commandment.

And for good measure, in Matthew, Jesus extends love of the neighbor to include our enemies.

More radical inclusion you will not find.

*****

Finally, the scribe who discourses with Jesus concurs with him. The scribe even goes on to add that Jesus' combined commandment is more important than all Temple sacrifices. That is a portentous statement coming from someone who sees the Temple as his workplace, his avocation and the purpose of his life.

While our liturgies are great offerings to God and neighbor; while our liturgies are offered at personal cost of effort and time; they do not exonerate us from loving, not even monks.
Jesus enjoins us to the daily work of loving the One, and loving every one, and loving oneself, with no restriction or exception.

*****

“You are not far from the Kingdom of God” compliments Jesus. “Not far” yet not fully inside that Kingdom. “Close, but no cigar!”

So how long does the scribe have to journey in order to cross the threshold and to step into the Kingdom?

As the proverb goes: “The longest journey a human must take is the distance from his head to his heart.” And this proverb assumes the heart is the right engine to move us into action.

Intellectual assent and emotional assent to Jesus' prescription do help. “Love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your mind and with all your soul” starts the commandment.

But then it adds “and with all your strength.” We are talking about action here.

Jesus asks for our love of God and neighbor as an action, not simply as a wish or even a longing.

This love we are invited to is an active verb not a conceptual noun.

*****

So I challenge myself, and you, to examine our heart and mind and soul and strength.

Where am I fully engaged in loving God and neighbor?

And where do I need to stretch?

Whom and how do I not love enough?

Where do I judge, rather than love?

Where is my prejudice hiding (or maybe friends can tell me it's in full sight)?

What would help me to remove my own impediments to love?

What do I learn in listening to my answering these questions?

*****

Don't ask me for the answers, I'm still looking. But keep looking, and grow in loving.

You are not far from the Kingdom of God. The Kingdom of God is close at hand.

Let love take the journey from your head to your heart and from your heart to your hands.

If necessary, let your actions start building the Kingdom, while heart and mind catch up with them. Whichever way brings you to loving God and loving neighbor as yourself, explore it.

Bon voyage! Feel free to send this neighbor a postcard.

Amen.

Thursday, November 1, 2012

All Saints - Nov 1, 2012

Holy Cross Monastery, West Park, NY
Br. Adam D. McCoy, OHC
All Saints Day - Year B - Thursday, November 1, 2012


Wisdom of Solomon 3:1-9
Revelation 21:1-6a
John 11:32-44

Fra Angelico.  The Forerunners of Christ with Saints and Martyrs.
About 1423-24. 
Tempera on wood.  National Gallery, London.
There are three very different pictures of holiness in our scripture readings this morning.


From Wisdom: The souls of the righteous are in the hand of God.  Surely this is the traditional understanding of the reward awaiting those who keep the Law, the reward of those who are just and upright and loving.  The reward of personal holiness, of keeping the Law and walking in the steps of God’s goodness.  But there is a certain passivity to this holiness: it is in death that God’s approval is made certain.  No hand can touch them now.  They are safe.  They are at peace.
From Revelation: I saw a new heaven and a new earth: the new Jerusalem, coming down from heaven adorned as a bride for her husband.  Death, mourning, pain are no more, for the first things have passed away.  This is active holiness, the victory of God, the goal of a religion concerned with the collective entirety of the human race, the joint hope of justice and vindication for all God’s elect.  This apocalyptic vision is of a social order restored, and it is beautiful!
But at what a huge cost: the destruction of so many people, the unimaginably vivid images not only of harmony restored, but of the battle required to win that restoration.  Revelation rightly raises questions about how the kingdom is to be restored.  Are its destructive and bloody visions really congruent with the life, the ministry and the message of Jesus?  Holiness is achieved, but may one wonder at the blood lust in this picture of holiness?
These are two clear, conventional images, traditional tableaus of the rewards and triumph of holiness.  But they are not the only images. 
Our gospel lesson today is neither passive nor violent, but combines both the individual and collective contexts of holiness in a new way: Two sisters grieving for their dead brother, calling in desperation on their friend to bring him back to them, who does so, revealing the power of God in mercy and pity, in the restoration of life lost.   

Two things to notice, perhaps:

1) The personal, family, domestic atmosphere: Mary and Martha and Lazarus are Jesus’ friends.  He stays with them when he visits Jerusalem.  This is not anonymous, general.  The dead man has a name, is their brother, is also Jesus’ friend.  Jesus must know what his death will mean to these women, widows perhaps, or unmarried, left unprotected in their social context.  This little group is a community which invites Jesus into its midst, more intimate than his fellowship with the disciples.  It is, perhaps, a picture of the early church, meeting together in homes, calling Jesus into their midst.
2) Who are the saints in this picture, besides Jesus?  It is an ordinary scene, even if filled with the drama of loss and death.  This is not a souls-in-the-hand-of-God story, comforting Mary and Martha with the consolation that their brother is with God now.  But neither is it the new Jerusalem, coming down out of heaven.  It is stark and raw.  Mary and Martha are portrayed in other places as getting on each others’ nerves, their home not a place of absolute tranquility.  It is in this very real, very human context that Jesus brings Lazarus back from the dead, back to the gritty reality of human life as it is actually lived.  If they are saints, they aren’t perfect yet.
So what might be the message for us here?  What does this Gospel story say about saints, about holiness?
I would venture two thoughts:

1) The human, believing community is the place where the miracle of the renewal of life takes place.  Not alone in solitary, individual righteousness, and not in spectacular, destructive glory.  It is this little community which, powerless in itself, calls Jesus into their presence, asks for his help.  And it is into this little community’s care that Jesus gives in trust the now-living Lazarus.   Weak as it is, life can be restored when the community is centered on Jesus and trusts in his power, and to this community Jesus entrusts the care of this new life: unbind him and set him free.  That is our charge as community: To seek new life in each other, to remove the winding sheets of death and set each other free.  
2) The life given back to Lazarus is not a reward for his goodness.  We know nothing about his character at all. Rather, it is the gift of God through Jesus Christ, given because Jesus loved him.  Lazarus’ new life is from Christ, in Christ.  If there is a theological point to this story – and isn’t there always a theological point to these stories? – it may be that somehow, in the community of the faithful, in the communion of saints, as it were, lives that are headed toward oblivion, the oblivion of death itself, and perhaps toward other kinds of oblivion as well. Those lives, can be called back, can be restored because, simply put, Jesus loves us.  Think of how many great saints were headed down one track and suddenly turned to start a new path: Teresa of Avila, Ignatius Loyola, Francis of Assisi, Benedict, Martin of Tours, Pachomius, Anthony, Augustine of Hippo, Thomas Becket, John Donne, George Herbert, and so many others, mostly unknown to us, but not unknown to God.  The greatest of them is St. Paul himself, who describes what this experience was to him, and who gives us the words to describe the holiness which Christ gives us when he becomes our life: “I have been crucified with Christ; and it is no longer I who live, but it is Christ who lives in me.” (Gal 2:19-20)
May it be so with us as well. 
May we be a community like the family of Lazarus, calling Jesus into our midst in our need, as our friend, asking him for the life the community cannot itself give but which can only come from God. 
May we know that the life we receive is in the hands of God and under His protection. 
May we know that the life we receive is the foretaste of the glory of the new heaven and the new earth, and that in that life we are called to be citizens of the new Jerusalem. 
And most of all, may we know that the life we live is not our own life, lived on our own terms and for our own purposes, but the life of Christ who lives in us.