Sermons - The Episcopal Church of the Trinity

Self-Righteous Anger

2010-06-28T22:44:00.002-04:00

By The Rev. Sherry Crompton

March 7, 2010

Read: Luke 13:1-9

Rodney Clapp speaks of self-righteous anger. We all know it. If emotions were cuisine, this would be the piece de resistance, the dish we love to linger over and return to, time and time again. Anger by itself does not taste so good. It is bitter and leaves an aftertaste. On the other hand self-righteousness—there is the seasoning that makes plain old hamburger anger irresistible. Self-righteous anger goes down smoothly. It makes us feel superior. It elevates us above lesser mortals, not to mention our enemies. So long as we have it on our plates, the consuming grayness of the wearisome world goes away. It is bracingly, refreshingly clear that we are the good guys and those others are the bad guys. If all this weren’t enough, self-righteous anger also reheats wonderfully; it tastes almost as fine the second or fifth or fiftieth time out of the oven.

However this is Lent, and in the Christian tradition Lent has long been a season that messes with our menus. That is certainly the case with today’s gospel reading. Jesus is hanging out with his fellow Galileans, his home folk, his people. In these neighborly circumstances, they serve up some self-righteous anger. They tell him “about the Galileans whose blood Pilate had mingled with their sacrifices.”.

Now, make no mistake about it, this would be something to be angry about. It was bad enough to be occupied by Pilate and his Roman minions when they did not commit atrocities, but here was an occasion—have you heard?—when he sent soldiers into the sacred precincts of the temple and had men—our countrymen!—cut down like lambs to the slaughter. No, not simply like lambs to the slaughter, but alongside sacrificial, slaughtered lambs, so that the blood of the holy sacrifices and patriots ran together into one. What could possibly be more violent, more reprehensible, more deserving of condemnation? What could more clearly set us apart from wickedness?

So Jesus is expected to hear this story and join in heated moral superiority very much against the outsider Romans, those inhuman forces of evil. However, Jesus will not go along. He does not focus on Pilate or the Romans or their cruelty. Instead, he turns the attention back on his inquirers, his countrymen. These Galileans that you say suffered at Pilate’s hand, do you think “they were worse sinners than all other Galileans?” What about those from among us who were innocently building a tower at Siloam, and died when it crashed? Were they any worse than others who were not crushed?

Jesus responds to these rhetorical questions unequivocally: “No, I tell you; but unless you repent, you will all perish just as they did”.

Jesus does not tell his countrymen that the occupying Romans are the epitome of goodness, or that their oppression is anything other than oppression. However he will not have himself or his inquirers defined by their enemies. He will not partake of self-righteous anger with his fellow Galileans. As happens often in the Gospel of Luke, he confronts those who trusted in themselves that they are righteous and regard others with contempt. When it comes to judging sin, it is best to look for the log in your own eye before searching for the speck in your neighbor’s.

We live in a day—not so unlike that of our gospel reading—when people want to blame everyone else for the ills of the world. Christians blame Muslims and Muslims blame Christians. Fundamentalists blame Hollywood, the ACLU, and homosexuals. Liberals blame fundamentalists, militarists, and pharmaceutical companies. Amid the din, Jesus says, “Hold on!” Think about a homely old fig tree. One that has not borne much fruit for a long time. The farm owner says, “Cut that darn tree down”. His head gardener says, “First, let me aerate the soil around it and throw some manure on the poor thing. After that give the tree one more year, and if it does not produce, chop it to the ground.”

So, just when we begin to stir up flattering, heroic images of ourselves in full battle dress, ready to wipe evil off the face of the earth, Jesus knocks us off our moral high horses. He brings us down to earth and back to ourselves, with talk of fertilizer and a scruffy tree. He says, “Ask yourself if you are like that fig tree. Are you bearing fruit or just taking up space? It is enough to ruin our appetite for self-righteous anger. It is Lent though, and Lent does mess with the menu.

On the one hand, tragedy sometimes strikes randomly as it did in the case of the Galileans and the eighteen Jerusalemites. In such cases, it has nothing to do with guilt. The tornado that destroys a nightclub also destroys a church. However, our repentance stands us in good stead when we experience unavoidable tragedy. It prepares us to live victoriously in the face of tragedy, and it also prepares us for death.

On the other hand, sin sometimes leads to tragedy. Drunk drivers kill innocent people. Abusive people injure their spouses and children. Not all tragedy is the result of sin, but some is. Perhaps the best way to visualize this is a small circle inside a large circle. The large circle is all tragedy. The small circle is tragedy caused by our sin. We cannot prevent random tragedy -- that which lies outside the small circle -- but Christ calls us to repent so that we might avoid the self-imposed tragedy of the small circle.

Thankfully, what we hear in today’s gospel is that our God is a God of second chances. There is a poem entitled “Rosebush” by Valerie Worth that reads:

In summer it
Blooms out fat
And sweet as milk;
In winter it
Thins to a bitter
Tangle of bones;
And who can say
Which is the
True rosebush?

The poem’s last question echoes the gospel. Which is the true rosebush: the blooming one in summer or the dead-looking one in winter? Which is the true fig tree: the fruitful one or the barren one? Finally, for human beings, which is the true self: the happy, vigorous, productive one? Or the tired, depressed, unproductive one? Jesus’ parable seems to welcome both.

I’d like to close with a little guided meditation from Living the Good News.

I invite you to close your eyes.

In today’s gospel, Jesus invites us to turn from sin and know God’s forgiveness.

Think silently about what that might mean for you this week. (pause)

Unforgiven, holding tightly to sin, we’re like a closed rosebud. The world around you waits for you, but fear and guilt keep you closed. (pause)

Then you begin to admit your sins, one by one, to God. And, petal by petal, you begin to open up. (pause)

It is good to absorb the warm sun, see the blue sky, feel the rain, move in the wind. You admit to a moment of cruelty, and another petal opens. You confess a time you ignored your little brother…or cheated on a test, whatever you feel needs to be acknowledged with God….and each time, other petals open. You grow bigger, stronger, more of what you were meant to be. (pause)

At last, forgiven, free of guilt, you’re a magnificent rose—huge, colorful, richly fragrant, a celebration of life and God’s goodness. (pause)

Open your eyes….

Thankfully, our God is a God of second chances and he sent his only Son to die for our sins and for our salvation. Amen.

The Prodigal Son

2010-03-14T09:30:00.000-04:00

By The Rev. Sherry Crompton

March 14, 2010

Read: Luke 15:1-3,11b-32

Jesus used parables to give us insight into His Father. We learn about the Father’s feelings in regard to our human condition in one parable in particular: the Prodigal Son. The title is a bit misleading though. It is also a parable about the other son and the forgiving Father, a Father who demonstrates extravagant love.

Let’s go through the parable.

Then Jesus said, “There was a man who had two sons. The younger of them said to his father, ‘Father, give me the share of the property that will belong to me’. So he divided his property between them. A few days later the younger son gathered all he had and traveled to a distant country, and there he squandered his property in dissolute living. When he had spent everything, a severe famine took place throughout that country, and he began to be in need. So he went and hired himself out to one of the citizens of that country, who sent him to his fields to feed the pigs. He would gladly have filled himself with the pods that the pigs were eating; and no one gave him anything.” We’ll pause here.

The younger son was self-centered. And, it is typical of our human condition to be self-centered. It is really a sin of pride…to think we can make it on our own, all by ourselves. And now, think about the Father’s extravagant love. In handing over the younger son’s portion of the inheritance, the father allows himself to be metaphorically killed. The younger son lived as if his father were dead.

Let’s go on. Luke 15:17-24

“But when he came to himself he said, ‘How many of my father’s hired hands have bread enough and to spare, but here I am dying of hunger! I will get up and go to my father, and I will say to him, “Father, I have sinned against heaven and before you; I am no longer worthy to be called your son; treat me like one of your hired hands.” So he set off and went to his father. But while he was still far off, his father saw him and was filled with compassion; he ran and put his arms around him and kissed him. Then the son said to him, ‘Father I have sinned against heaven and before you; I am no longer worthy to be called your son’. But the father said to his slaves, ‘Quickly, bring out a robe—the best one—and put it on him; put a ring on his finger and sandals on his feet. And get the fatted calf and kill it, and let us eat and celebrate; for this son of mine was dead and is alive again; he was lost and is found!’ And they began to celebrate.”

The younger son “came to himself”. When reality set in, and he was as low as he could be, and his pride got a good hard kick in the pants, he humbled himself and took the first steps on the road back home. We can learn from our mistakes and rise above them.

But, the younger son failed to realize his father’s own mercy. The father ran out to greet him. At that time it would have been highly unusual for a man of wealth and position to run in public, yet the father did. The father’s extravagant love is like God’s love for us. Our God is a forgiving God. Think about this illustration of forgiveness: When we turn toward God, God walks toward us. When we walk toward God, God runs toward us. When we run toward God, God flies toward us. This is an image of a God who requires only the slightest movement on our part to come to us with his forgiveness.

What extravagant love. The moment we decide, I will leave this place or this condition and go to my Father, He receives us back.

The parable continues….

Luke 15:25-30. “Now his elder son was in the field; and when he came and approached the house, he heard music and dancing. He called one of the slaves and asked what was going on. He replied, ‘Your brother has come, and your father has killed the fatted calf, because he has got him back safe and sound.’ Then he became angry and refused to go in. His father came out and began to plead with him. But he answered his father, ‘Listen! For all these years I have been working like a slave for you, and I have never disobeyed your command; yet you have never given me even a young goat so that I might celebrate with my friend. But when this son of yours came back, who has devoured your property with prostitutes, you killed the fatted calf for him!’

Now, don’t we all have the older son in us somewhere. Can’t you feel his indignation, his jealousy, his anger. His father’s grace is a crisis for the older brother who thought that he had earned a place in his father’s house by his obedience. It was radically unfair that this younger brother of his could be welcomed back and welcomed back with a party! But by arguing with his father and refusing to go into the party, the break between the father and the older son is nearly as radical as the break between the father and the younger son at the beginning of the story. The older brother couldn’t stand a love that transcends right and wrong. By our standards.
We must not make the mistake of assuming that God’s ways with us are based on our own understanding of what is right and good. Isaiah 55:8-9 says: “For my thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways, says the Lord. For as the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my ways higher than your ways, and my thoughts higher than your thoughts.”

The parable concludes:

Luke 15:30-32 Then the father said to him, ‘Son you are always with me, and all that is mine is yours. But we had to celebrate and rejoice, because this brother of yours was dead and has come to life; he was lost and has been found’.”
With both brothers, the father, God, goes out to meet each one and asks him to come inside. Isn’t there a little of both brothers in each of us? Like the younger brother, we sometimes wonder if we’ve gone too far away to ever be invited back in---and like the older brother we sometimes wonder if we’ve done enough to earn forgiveness.

There is a song by Sarah McLaughlin entitled “Fallen” that touches on these thoughts: “Heaven bend to take my hand and lead me through the fire Be the long awaiting answer To a long and painful fight Truth be told I tried my best But somewhere long the way I got caught up in all there was to offer But the cost was so much more than I could bear. Though I’ve tried I’ve fallen. Heaven bend to take my hand”.

Heaven bend to take my hand. Our God is a forgiving God. A merciful God. The Father loves both sons, not according to what they deserve. He just loves them, more because of who He is than because of who they are. God invites us in to the banquet and into relationship with God and with each other. Notice that the story ends with the older brother still standing outside, listening to the party going on inside. Jesus leaves it that way, I think, because it is up to each one of us to finish the story. It is up to each one of us to decide whether we will stand outside all alone, being right, or give up our rights and go inside and take our place at the table. Amen.

Jerusalem as the City that Kills the Prophets

2010-02-28T09:30:00.000-05:00

By The Rev. Sherry Crompton

2 Lent – February 28, 2010

Read: Luke 13:31-35

Jesus’ opening words in today’s gospel reveal facets of his character often unseen. He’s usually not a name-caller, but when he calls Herod a fox, we hear the weariness in his voice. His speech is direct; he refuses to act from fear. He points to the concrete evidence of his good work: how could anyone object to curing the sick? He’s probably also suspicious: why do the Pharisees who have long opposed him suddenly provide him with thoughtful warnings? Do they have a more selfish motive for running him out of town? There’s bitter irony in his words: Herod mustn’t kill him; that privilege belongs to the religious establishment of Jerusalem.

“Jerusalem, Jerusalem, the city that kills the prophets and stones those who are sent to it! It was the temple, more than anything else in Jerusalem, that gave the Jewish people their unique identity. The identity of the Jews was as God's Chosen People, and the temple was regarded as God's special dwelling place. It was here that the people came to offer sacrifices and prayers. It was here that the priests sought God's will for the people of Israel. It was here that Jews from all over the world came to celebrate the great feasts of their faith and to recall the acts of God on behalf of their ancestors. In short, it was at the temple in Jerusalem that God's presence was most keenly perceived.

But the picture that Jesus presents of Jerusalem in today's passage is something quite different. He does not regard it as a place of refuge or a place where God's presence is especially made known. Jesus identifies Jerusalem as the city that kills the prophets and stones those sent to it.

My friend shares his story about the movie, the Red Violin. Not much hype about it, but an interesting story. Instead of following someone’s journey through their life as many movies do, in this story we follow the life of a violin as it passes through generations of owners during its 250 year history. Its birth begins in a famous violinmaker’s shop in Europe. Just as the violinmaker prepares to varnish his life’s masterpiece, a servant bursts into the shop, "Come quick! It’s your wife!" His wife is in labor with a breach baby and neither survives. The violinmaker is so grief-stricken that he puts the final coat on his masterpiece and then ends his own life. However, it is but the beginning of the violin’s life.

The story takes us up into a secluded, impoverished orphanage where the violin provides years of enjoyment to young boys in an orphanage. A tragedy at the orphanage frees the violin to one owner after another. On one occasion the violin falls into the hands of a spirited gypsy girl and its minor rousing music provides her comrades hours of respite. A man passes by and hears the violin’s deep, clear tones and once in the hands of this virtuoso, the violin performs before royalty and masses of subjects. Even serfs and servants drink in its deep, somber tones. Yet, a bullet tears deeply into the violin and separates it from its owner.

Years pass, maybe a century, before the violin turns up again. This time it turns up not in Europe but in San Francisco at an old antique shop. A Chinese woman happens by and buys the tattered old violin for her daughter to practice. A generation later the violin lies hidden under the floorboards of this daughter who has grown up and returned to China and has joined the Chinese Communist Party. At this very time the Party decides to purge every trace of Western music and instruments. To be caught with the violin is to have it publicly burned and the owner to be condemned to life imprisonment or death.

How the violin survives the Chinese purge or what ultimately happens to the red violin I’ll leave to your imagination. But what’s interesting about the story is that it takes many lifetimes to keep up with the violin. Each owner has a small chapter to tell about the violin, but no one is capable of possibly knowing all of the entire story or destiny of the red violin, because the violin outlives everyone.

What can we learn from this strange story? First, God is timeless and ageless, so we can boldly trust our aging lives to God. Scripture reminds us, "what is your life? It is a vapor, like morning fog—ashes to ashes, dust to dust. It’s true that any of us are but a stroke away, an unseen stop sign away, a slip on the ladder, an illness away from eternity. We’re the temporary owners of our life—just like that red violin. We are stewards of a borrowed life. But the Covenant means that God took our limitations of sin, suffering, and weakness upon himself. And in exchange, God placed us into Christ. This morning, right now, our sins are forgiven—in Christ. We are set free—in Christ. We will live forever with God—in Christ.

Jesus was correct in identifying Jerusalem as a city that kills prophets. And still he went there. Why? Did he have some sort of death wish? Was it an act of sheer suicide? Not at all. His motivation is made clear in our text today. No sooner does he denounce Jerusalem as a prophet-killer than he adds, "How often have I desired to gather your children together as a hen gathers her brood under her wings, but you were not willing!"

These are words of compassion, not judgment. They are words of mourning, not anger. It may be intentional that fox and hen are used as the images in this story. Recall Jesus’ name calling – Herod is a fox. The fox and the hen. A hen is essentially defenseless against a fox but will do anything to protect her chicks, her children.

A farmer tells a story about the day that the hen house burned down on his grandpa's place just down the road. Ike arrived just in time to help put out the last of the fire. As he and his grandfather sorted through the wreckage, they came upon one hen lying dead near what had been the door of the hen house. Her top feathers were singed brown by the fire's heat, her neck limp. Ike bent down to pick up the dead hen. But as he did so, he felt movement. The hen's four chicks came scurrying out from beneath her burnt body. The chicks survived because they were insulated by the shelter of the hen’s wings, protected and saved even as she died to protect and save them.

"How often would I have gathered your children together as a hen gathers her brood under her wings..."

This morning, once again, Jesus Christ calls you and me. He calls us to the shelter of his protecting wings. He calls you and me to the safety of his arms stretched out for us on the cross. He calls us to trust him, no matter what our fears, hurts, or troubles; to trust that his outstretched arms are strong enough, his wings broad enough to keep us safe.

And in the shadow of those wings we are saved. AMEN

Lessons from Frog and Toad

2010-02-16T19:30:00.000-05:00

By The Rev. Sherry Crompton

Ash Wednesday – February 16, 2010

Read: Matthew 6:1-6, 16-21

“Beware of practicing your piety before others..” Jesus tells us. And we hear the word hypocrite more than once. What do we make of that?

One of the reasons why masks are a part of the Mardi Gras celebration has to do with this. We tend to present ourselves one way to others – in other words, put on a mask – while deep down inside we know someone who is just a little different. The taking off of the Mardi Gras mask marks the intention to enter into a Holy Lent: A season where we intentionally focus on our personal relationship with Christ, with God. A 40 day period of self-examination and reflection, where we do our best to look deep inside ourselves; at the parts of us we don’t like so well; those thoughts and feelings that are kind of ugly. Those parts that we try to cover up with a mask. The season is about acknowledging their existence and turning it over to God so that we may be renewed and changed by the experience. To be self-reflective requires real prayer.

About one hundred seventy-five years ago James Montgomery wrote:

Prayer is the soul's sincere desire, unuttered or expressed, the motion of a hidden fire that trembles in the breast . Prayer is the burden of a sigh, the falling of a tear, the upward glancing of an eye, when none but God is near.

God looks upon the heart and acknowledges sincerity, or authenticity.

There is a helpful illustration of an authentic act that comes from a children’s book called The Frog and Toad Treasury, by Arnold Lobel.

Frog and Toad are good friends. In chapter after chapter, Lobel describes ways they pass time together, explore the world together, and support one another. One chapter is titled “The Surprise.” The action in it takes place in October. The leaves are falling. Frog decides to go to Toad’s house, secretly, and rake his leaves for him.

“ I will rake all the leaves that have fallen on his lawn. Toad will be surprised.” Toad has the same idea. Both manage to arrive at the home of the other unseen, ascertain that no one is home, rake the leaves, and return to their own houses unnoticed. On their respective ways home, however, a wind comes. The wind blows and blows. The piles of leaves do too, so that the leaves are scattered everywhere. At the end of the day, neither Frog nor Toad realizes what the other has done, because both return home to leaves strewn across their yards. Both pledge to rake their own leaves the next day.

When Frog got home, he said, ‘I will clean up the leaves that are all over my own lawn. How surprised Toad must be!” Toad echoed Frog. “That night Frog and Toad were both happy when they each turned out the light and went to bed.”

The sense of purpose each derived from his acts of love and service was not dependent on a public response or acknowledgment; it was not, in the end, even dependent on the accomplishment (given the wind). The acts were, in a word authentic.

Ashes remind us of our humanity and our sinfulness: that we are dust and to dust we shall return. I invite you once again into a Holy Lent.

Peter and His Companions Were Weighed Down With Sleep

2010-02-14T09:30:00.001-05:00

By The Rev. Sherry Crompton

February 14, 2010

Read: Luke 9:28-43a

Today we stand as onlookers with Peter and John and James on a special experience - a mysterious experience.

Jesus and three of his disciples had gone to a mountain to pray. The weary disciples at some point fall asleep - but Jesus continues in prayer, he continues to prepare himself for the events that lie just before him, his trip up the road to Jerusalem, his trip towards the cross that he has told his disciples awaits him in the Holy City.

As Jesus prays something we cannot explain happens to him - his face and even the robe he is wearing, begins to glow until it is a dazzling white. As the disciples struggle back to consciousness they see Jesus shining, and with him they see two men - Moses the law-giver, and Elijah the prophet - talking with him, and they are full of fright, full of awe, full of joy at what they see.

Peter tries to capture the moment - "Master," he says, "It is good for us to be here, let us make three dwellings for you and for Moses and Elijah - three tents..." but even as he says this a heavy cloud sweeps over the mountain, obscuring his view - and the view of the other disciples - and plunging them into fear once more.

And in this cloud - in the midst of this roiling obscurity, this damp and forbidding darkness, Peter and James and John hear a voice; a voice as clear as the light that had just moments before filled the mountain top; a voice as awesome as the thunder that shook Sinai when Moses went to receive the Torah: "This is my Son, my Chosen, listen to him."

And then the moment is over. The cloud vanishes. The sun shines. The birds sing. Jesus stands alone - near to them. The valley below where the other disciples are waiting for them is once more visible...

The scriptures record that the disciples - that James and John and Peter - are told by Jesus not to speak of this experience until after he has been raised from the dead - and presumably they did not.

But the experience that they witnessed, the experience that they were part of, remained with them, until eventually it was recorded in three of the four gospels. It remained with them - and it shaped them - and it became part of them, part of their testimony -part of their witness to who Christ was - to who Christ is.

In the Second Letter of Peter - Peter writes these words:

We did not follow cleverly devised myths when we made known to you the power and coming of our Lord Jesus Christ. We have been eyewitnesses of his majesty. For he received honour and glory from God the Father when that voice was conveyed to him by the Majestic Glory saying, "This is my Son, my beloved, with whom I am well pleased." We ourselves heard this voice come from heaven while we were with him on the holy mountain. So we have the prophetic message more fully confirmed. You will do well to be attentive to this as to a lamp shining in a dark place - until the day dawns and the morning star rises in your hearts."

So, here we stand today, witnessing this mysterious event through the power of the scripture. What do we make of it? Notice that Luke writes, ‘Now Peter and his companions were weighed down with sleep; but since they had stayed awake, they saw his glory...” Barbara Crafton has this to say:

Well, which was it? Were they asleep or awake? It sounds like the writer isn't quite sure. Maybe Peter and his companions weren't absolutely certain, either. Visions are like that -- when they have departed, we are not sure just what they were. In my dream last night, for instance, I was mightily concerned about Denny because Bruce had just died. I sought to comfort him, wondered what would happen to him now, wondered how I might be of help to him. It was some few minutes after awakening that I remembered the truth: it is Denny who has died, not Bruce. And it was twelve years ago, not recently. Both of them are fine now, each in his own way. How strange, I thought as I lay there, returning by degrees to the world we call "real." The one in my dream was real, too, real to me, anyway -- and the ancients would have said that it contained a message from God. I am not disposed to think that it does not: dreams are rich with hidden things, things the reasonable light of day does not reveal. Pondering them has often yielded me a treasure. This one will, too: at the very least, it will prompt a phone call to Bruce to see how he's doing.

Things like the Transfiguration confound those who are unfortunate enough to believe that what we see before us is all there is: that a dream is just a dream, never "real;" that a vision is a fraud, and can contain nothing of value; that a sign is at best a coincidence and at worst a delusion. For them, the knowable world is quite small, a box that must fit into the cramped quarters of the human cranium and derive its validity solely from what can be found there.

The truth is far more complex: there are dreams and visions and signs, and they have information to offer us. And there is reason and sense, and they have information for us as well. Human ways of knowing, and of expressing truth, arise from many quarters, and sometimes they collide - if it seems that they do not, it is only because we've overlooked something. A certain amount of confusion is an important part of the spiritual life, not a sign of its absence. It spurs us to observe, ponder and pray. Life in Christ is always more productive of further wonder than of answers. Notice that the very next thing that happens, after the Transfiguration party comes down from the mountain, is a healing. It's a boy possessed by a demon, the first century's understanding of a serious seizure disorder. No firm answers are given us -- or them -- about exactly what happened on that mountain.

When one sees what is real, but what is not obvious for anyone else to see, there is a kind of strength that comes with it – a kind of power. Jesus came down from the mountain into the ordinary events of human life. He is with us in our everyday struggles. He is desiring for us to connect and find the strength that comes from a relationship with Christ. He desires for us to “transfigure” our reality. Do we see that of Christ in our neighbor? do we see God’s footprint in our world? Do we transfigure the vision in front of us? On this Valentine’s Day can we reach out to transfigure a relationship – to reconnect or make stronger a relationship in our life?

Once, there was a poor man who had a dream. And his dream was his vision. And his vision was his dream. And his dream was of a heavenly city where everything was perfect. Growing very weary of his living, he decided to go in search of his heavenly city of his dreams. Gathering what few belongings he had, he started on his journey and he walked. All day long he walked. And as he walked, he had but one thought: the heavenly city of his dreams - how perfect it was going to be when he arrived. All day long he walked with this one thought and it was evening time. He had not yet come to the heavenly city of his dreams. He decided to make camp right where he was. Taking out his crust of bread, he gave thanks to the god of the universe and he ate his crust of bread. And then just before he went to sleep, he took off his shoes and he put them in the path facing them in the direction that he would continue his journey the next day. And, then, the man went to sleep.

Little did he know that in the middle of the night, trickster came along, picked up his shoes and turned them around, facing them back in the direction from which he had come. Early the next morning, the man awoke. Taking out his crust of bread, he gave thanks to the god of the universe, ate his crust of bread, and then he walked to the path, and he slipped on his shoes. And he began to walk in the direction that his shoes were facing. All day long he walked, and as he walked, he had but one thought: the heavenly city of his dreams and how perfect it was going to be when he arrived. He walked until it was almost evening.

He looked off in the distance and he saw it! The heavenly city of his dreams! It wasn't as large as he thought it was going to be, and it looked strangely familiar. The poor man walked until he found a strangely familiar street, and he turned down the strangely familiar street, and he walked until he found a strangely familiar house. And he knocked on the door, and when the door was opened, he was greeted by a strangely familiar family. The poor man went inside and lived happily ever after in the heavenly city of his dreams.

A new awareness, a new appreciation, a new power. Any time our consciousness is raised to the next level, it is a born-again experience, and we become like children once more. "Whoever does not receive the kingdom of God as a little child," said Jesus, "will never enter it." Heaven is not a place, a geographical location. It is not coming with signs to be observed so one can say, "There it is!" in the parking lot or on the street corner. Rather, heaven is in the midst of you.

With our newborn curiosity (our transfigured curiosity), everything becomes a new experience and we become as fascinated with the box as with what's inside. The right hemisphere of our brain is open to accept the unexplainable, the unexpected and the unpredictable.

Thank God for the mystery of God’s divine love in our lives. Amen.

Love is Patient, Love is Kind

2010-01-31T09:30:00.000-05:00

By The Very Rev. Sherry Crompton

January 31, 2010

Read: Luke:21-30 & 1 Corinthians 13:1-13

Today we hear that well-known piece of the scripture where Jesus says that “no prophet is accepted in the prophet’s hometown.” We understand that on a surface level, but there is so much more going in this story. Jesus had just read from the book of Isaiah and is giving us the pronouncement that today that scripture has been fulfilled. The Isaiah reading proclaimed good news to the poor, release to the captives, recovery of sight to the blind, freedom for the oppressed, and the year of the Lord's favor.

Given the history of Israel up to Jesus' day, it's not a stretch to assume that the hearers in the synagogue considered themselves to be the poor, the captive, the blind, the oppressed, etc, and were pleased to hear this 'local boy done good' announce that good times were ahead. But then Jesus goes on to suggest that the poor and oppressed include those outside the inner circle--Gentiles no less!--and that THEY were the ones who could now look forward to good times ahead.

You see, in the examples Jesus gave, of the widow Elijah was sent to (they would have been familiar with this story) – that widow was a Gentile who was from Sidon of all places. Sidon oppressed the Israelites, and the Israelites were God's people! No wonder they were mad; why would God save their oppressor rather than his own people? The same goes for Naaman. Naaman was a Baal worshiper who had a Hebrew slave (and who sent for Elisha for healing). Why would God let his own people suffer with leprosy and choose to save someone who didn't even believe in him? Perhaps at least part of the reason people react so strongly (and even meanly) is that they have felt betrayed by one who "should know better." The reason they attack the messenger is that they feel that they have already been attacked. In their minds, they are simply responding in kind.

To broaden the image a bit, it's bad enough to be an enemy. But the worst thing possible is to be a traitor. You are "supposed to know better," you are supposed to have the same expectations, the same experiences, the same outlook, the same devotion. To come out and say publically that you don't, is incomprehensible, especially to those with whom you grew up, worked, trained, etc.

In the people's minds that day in Nazareth, Jesus betrayed them.

Here’s modern day story:

Years ago a young man from a tight-knit community found himself headed for Harvard Medical School. The whole community was so excited. There was a small hospital that served this community, and they just knew that this young man, upon completing his studies, would come back home to set up practice. As it turns out, he did not come back. After completing medical school and an extensive internship in infectious diseases, the young man joined Doctors without Borders and devoted his life to serving the poorest of the poor. He gave up the opportunity to have a lucrative medical career among family and friends and chose instead to live on a very basic salary with people he did not know.

You would think that someone who gave his life to serve the most desperately needy people in the world would garner respect and admiration from people who knew him. But that is not what happened. On a visit to family one Christmas, the young doctor was in the local grocery store with his mother. On more than one occasion, he was accosted by people who knew him and his family with one or more versions of this criticism: "So you think you are too good for us. Because you are sacrificing yourself for others, you think you are better than us."

The young doctor was baffled by the response. What he did not know or understand is that people can move quickly from admiration and even adulation to anger when their expectations are not met. Under different circumstances the townspeople may have been proud of his decision to serve the poor. But they had decided in advance that he should live among his friends and relatives to take care of them.

Now, going back to Jesus’ story. His hometown had expections, we all have expectations, and their expectations were not met. What does it mean for Jesus to be “for us”? Does it mean that we receive preferential treatment, privilege? If we have presumptions about being an insider, about getting something special, then perhaps we’re mistaken. In today’s passage, Jesus is talking about the “other”. Jesus is talking about God radical grace and mercy. It is a profound expansion of God’s grace and mercy. There is a saying about drawing lines. That anytime we draw a line for who’s in and who’s out, you’ll find God on the other side.

So who do we imagine Jesus NOT being for today? Who would be the outsiders? Who do you imagine Jesus NOT being for in our world today? Take a moment to think about that. Where do you draw that line?

Barbara Brown Taylor tells the story of a weekend retreat she attended. The opening exercise was to "tell a story about someone who had been Christ for us in our lives." People shared stories "about a friend who stayed put through a long illness while everyone else deserted, and another one about a neighbor who took the place of a father who self-destructed." There were a lot of warm fuzzy stories being shared about comfort, compassion, and rescue. Until one woman said, "Well, the first thing I thought about when I tried to think who had been Christ to me was, 'Who in my life has told me the truth so clearly that I wanted to kill him for it?'"

That's what Jesus did and what happened to him because of it. He told his hometown people something they didn't want to hear. He challenged their ideas about who was "in" and who was "out," about who was deserving of what, about who you could be prejudiced against.

And they wanted to kill him for it. Ouch. Let’s have the ears to hear today and understand that what Jesus is saying is good news. That God’s radical mercy and grace extend to all of us. God loves us deeply.

In the little book called "Pocketful of Miracles", which is a daily devotional and spiritual growth guide, the author (Joan Borysenko) under January 31st, writes:

Shakespeare said, "Pretend a virtue if you have it not". Most of us are still locked up in the petty, self-centred concerns of our egos. Nonetheless we feel the ancient longing of our soul to move beyond ego to union with the divine. It doesn't matter if our motivation for Divine Union falters, or if selfish concerns predominate. If we just pretend the virtue of longing for God and being of service to others, eventually those virtues will arise spontaneously. As my husband puts it, "Fake it till you make it."

So looking at our Corinthians reading for today about love. Here is how we might think about a call to action:

If you don't feel loving
do the caring thing anyway;
If you don't feel like being kind
say something nice about the person who is being rude to us anyway;
If you don't think that someone else's plan will work and that your idea is better
let them do it regardless;
Don't think you can possibly do what God is calling you to do
start doing it anyway.

Fake it till you make it; or as Paul puts it earnestly strive for the greater gifts - the greatest of which is love.

Listen - this is about you - close your eyes as I read the passage about what love is like to you.

Love is patient. Love is kind..... I am patient. I am kind.
I am not envious or boastful, arrogant or rude.
I do not insist on my own way.
I am not irritable or resentful.
I do not rejoice in wrongdoing but rejoice in the truth.
I bear all things
I believe all things.
I hope all things.
I endure all things.
Amen.

We Shall Overcome

2010-01-24T09:30:00.001-05:00

By The Very Rev. Sherry Crompton

January 24, 2010

Read: 1 Corinthians 12:12-31a

"I would have made a good evangelist," said Sally to Linus. "You know that kid who sits behind me at school? I convinced him that my religion is better than his religion." "How'd you do that?" asked Linus. "I hit him with my lunch box."

Somewhere inside all of us there is a longing to hit each other with our lunch boxes. We tend to shy away from diversity, and love conformity. In particular, we love conformity to our standards. In other words, we want other people to behave like us, to believe like us, and to be like us.

This seems particularly true in the church. After all, we are supposed to be one big happy family, right? Shouldn't we all behave the same way, believe the same way, and agree—at least about spiritual matters?

But this kind of thinking goes directly against the grain of the scriptures. In First Corinthians, chapter 12, Paul addresses the problem of unity amidst diversity. And he does not say that unity demands conformity. He does not say that all the Christians should look alike.

But unity does not equal conformity. Paul says,
Just as the body is one and has many members,
and all the members of the body, though many, are one body,
so it is with Christ.

We are one body. But a body has many parts. Paul goes on to point out that the eye and the ear and the hand all need each other to make the one body. They may not do the same things, but put them all together, and they make a rather nice body. This piece of scripture is probably a familiar one, used often in the church community. There’s a reason for that. We need to hear it over and over again. We need to be reminded. Paul knew that it wasn’t easy to be in community, to find a sense of unity amidst our differences.

The real challenge of this text is to celebrate difference that is possible because of the radical claim of Christian unity. To celebrate difference finds its necessity in the history of human existence. How we reject, negotiate, and accept difference has been a constant of our collective experience.

There is a yoga instructor whose mantra is: "Let go of all judgment, competition, and expectation." It is a first step in accepting ourselves as we are and then, in turn, being able to accept others as they are. None of us is perfect. And I’m not sure about you, but I don’t want to be held to that standard. And guess what? I will let you down if that’s your expectation of me – I’m not perfect. And guess what else? None of us is perfect. It is my brokenness and your brokenness coming together that can make our experience “whole.”

We know that, as a church community, there are differing ideas, styles, solutions, desires, the list goes on. If we can let go of needing the outcome to be “my way”, but instead strive for an outcome that benefits the larger community in ways that none of us individually could have envisioned, then we are on our way toward the “greater gifts” that Paul’s words end with today. More to follow next week.

Neither power-struggles nor even church-hopping take seriously the biblical solution of living in community, the solution of love.

-Love calls us to give up competing with each other.
-Love calls us to accept our diversity, to know and profit from each other's gifts.
-Love calls us to talk with each other when we disagree and to listen when we are disagreed with.
-Sometimes it calls us to compromise for the good of the other.
-Sometimes it calls for us to accept a limitation on our gift, so that the other person can exercise his or her gift.

Once upon a time, the inhabitants of a small village built a tower. All the groups brought stones from their yards to build it—the town council, the potter's guild, the teachers, the cooks, the farmers, the seamstresses, and all the others worked hard to build the tower.

But almost as soon as it was done, they started fighting among themselves.
-The town council wanted to use the tower to hold political meetings.
-The potters wanted to use it for guild meetings.
-The farmers wanted to have agricultural forums.
-Some groups wanted artistic and cultural events.

And on and on it went.

Finally, all the groups got mad, and stone by stone, they dismantled the tower. And the people took their rocks home. But one old man remained, sitting by the foundation of the decimated tower. Someone passed by and said, "Old man, take your stone and go home." The old man replied, "From the top of that tower, I could see the ocean."

We are not here merely to exercise our own gifts. We are here to use those gifts to worship God, to love God, and to serve each other. God called us together, with all our diversity, so that we can see beyond the horizon—so that we can get a glimpse of eternity.

I have been so moved by the outpouring of support for the people of Haiti. I watched the special “Hope for Haiti” on Friday night which was the result of many actors and musicians coming together to raise money for our Haitian brothers and sisters. And there are so many other events and organizations actively doing what they can to support, to show that we do indeed understand that a part of our body is hurting. We’ve come together to help heal a part of our body. Our differences put aside for the time being. You and I both know it’s not perfect, there are problems, there will be problems when we come together as individuals - but WOW, if we focus on the positive in the coming together, in spite of our differences, we can see the miracle. We are getting a glimpse of eternity. We can see the power of Spirit working in us and through us. One of my favorite quotes from scripture is in Ephesians 3:20-21: Glory to God whose power working in us, can do infinitely more than we can ask or imagine. Glory to him from generation to generation in the Church, and in Christ Jesus for ever and ever. Amen.

May we all be like the old man who remains by the foundation of the tower with our stones, knowing deep inside, that if we continue to share our gifts, to strive to love each other, we shall overcome some day! I ask that we all sign together the words of the great spiritual, We Shall Overcome Some Day. It’s in LEVAS # 227

We shall overcome,
We shall overcome,
We shall overcome, some day.

Oh, deep in my heart,
I do believe
We shall overcome, some day.

We’ll walk hand in hand,
We’ll walk hand in hand,
We’ll walk hand in hand, some day.

Oh, deep in my heart,

We shall live in peace,
We shall live in peace,
We shall live in peace, some day.

Oh, deep in my heart,

We shall all be free,
We shall all be free,
We shall all be free, some day.

Oh, deep in my heart,

We are not afraid,
We are not afraid,
We are not afraid, TODAY

Oh, deep in my heart,

We shall overcome,
We shall overcome,
We shall overcome, some day.

Oh, deep in my heart,
I do believe
We shall overcome, some day

Our Lives are Changed by Baptism

2010-01-10T09:30:00.000-05:00

By The Very Rev. Sherry Crompton

January 10, 2010

Read: Isaiah 43:1-7 and Luke 3:5-17 21-22

I don’t know where to begin with today’s scripture readings. Today we celebrate the Baptism of our Lord. Jesus went to be baptized by John the Baptist. And after he and the crowd were baptized he prayed, the heaven was opened, and the Holy Spirit descended upon him in bodily form like a dove. And a voice came from heaven saying, “You are my Son, the beloved; with you I am well pleased.”

In some circles we ask “why was Jesus baptized”? The church fathers said that the significant thing about this is that this is the first time that God is revealed to the world as he really is, Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. The Trinity. Matthew answers the question of why was Jesus baptized by saying that John protested that he should not baptize Jesus, but that Jesus should baptize him. Jesus takes charge and says, "Let it be so to fulfill all righteousness", and John baptizes Jesus. In John's Gospel, the purpose of John's baptism is to discover and reveal Christ to the
world. "I myself did not know Him, but He who sent me to baptize with water said to me, 'He on whom you see the Spirit descend and remain, this is He who baptizes with the Holy Spirit.'

Perhaps the better question is “What difference does it make in my life that Jesus was baptized?”

For some people, baptism is “just joining the Jesus club.” Everyone knows what it means to join a club such as Brownies, Boy Scouts, Kiwanis, the Elks, the Rotary, and others. We have all joined clubs and every club has its rules and regulations. Baptism is joining the ‘Jesus club” and we now have to follow the “Jesus rules” as suggested by this particular congregation.

For others, baptism is like “hell insurance.” I’ll never forget Grandma Prudence insisting that her grand daughter was baptized because the family was going on a trip. Grandma didn’t want to have that baby in an accident and go to hell. Baptism is like hell insurance.

For others, they want to wait until they are older to be baptized. They want to let the child grow up until they are old enough to “make a decision for themselves.”

But God’s love between us is stronger than our differences of Biblical interpretation. In fact, the Book of Acts details several different versions of just how the Holy Spirit comes to us. Which may mean that God reaches us in different ways because we are different kinds of people. Not a new biblical thought.

So, as Isaiah tells us, God says to her and says to you and to me as well:

When you pass through the waters, I will be with you.
When you pass through the rivers, they shall not overwhelm you.
When you walk through the fire, the flames shall not consume you.
I have called you by name, and you are mine.

Yes, our Baptismal liturgy is entrance into the church, it does tie together forgiveness of sins with baptism and the receiving of the Holy Spirit. But more deeply and strongly is the claim to identity that comes with baptism. It is not a once and done thing, it is a profound moment of claiming our identity as a child of God. It is an empowerment that is with us all the days of our lives. To watch an infant being baptized is to recall that we also were “sealed and marked as Christ’s own forever”. It is to remember whose we are. That baby is part of what we all do together – our baptisms have moved us toward being a worker in the kingdom. Bringing the kingdom to the world. How do we see ourselves as participants? Baptism is actually somewhat scandalous - in other words - can you tell me how this baby’s life is changed because of the baptism. Or even adult baptisms – I know this person – how can you tell me that his or or her life is changed.

Well, as Christians, we say YES, the life is changed because we have been baptized and sealed and marked as Christ’s own forever. Baptism says that not only are we named but that we are owned by God. God keeps what God purchases and on the cross an awesome price was paid. In times of great doubt,, Martin Luther would sometimes touch his forehead and say to himself, "Martin, be calm, be calm Martin; you are baptized." In those times of our greatest trials, confusion, spiritual dryness, and hopelessness, we might do well to touch our foreheads and remind ourselves who and whose we really are.

It is easy in the confusion of this life to forget who you are and more importantly, whose you are. So the Church is here to remind you, we are here, all of us, to remind each other that we have been named and claimed. That someone greater than John the Baptist has claimed us and loves us with a love that will never give up on us. Remember your baptism and be thankful, for this is who you are.

There’s an old legend that predates the story of the princess and the frog. It has a simple but sound theological allegory: The ballad tells of how a handsome knight found coiling around a tree in a dismal forest, a loathsome serpent-like-dragon, breathing out poison; and how, undeterred by its hideousness and foulness, the knight cast his arms around it and kissed it on the mouth. The thing resisted him fiercely, but the knight persisted, and finally the beast changed into a fair lady, and he won his bride. “He who has ears to hear, let him hear”. Being loved when you don’t deserve it is the most transforming thing in the world.

We are chosen by God. That means we are seen by God in our preciousness, in our individuality. We are seen as precious in God's eyes.

In God's mystery, being chosen, though, doesn't mean excluding anyone. In fact, the more we know we are chosen, that we are seen in our preciousness, the more we will realize that our friends and all people are seen in their preciousness.

Henri Nouwen, a great spiritual writer, spent time living in the L’Arche community. And he writes, “The people I live with sometimes have a very hard time believing they are chosen. They suffer, not so much from their mental handicap, but from the feeling of being not wanted, not desired. They have lost touch with the truth that they are chosen. It is hard for them to be in touch with that, precisely because often the people around them have said, "I don't want you around. I don't want you to be here. Why don't you go away?"

The life of the beloved starts by trusting that we are chosen in our uniqueness, that we are unique in God's eyes, precious.

The second aspect of the quality of the life of the beloved is that we are blessed. It is so important that you and I experience that we are blessed. The word benediction means blessing. Literally, bene means good and diction means saying. To bless someone means to say good things about them. "You are good." We need to know that good things are being said of us. We really have to trust that, otherwise we cannot bless other people. So many people don't feel blessed.

Nouwen continues….I would like to tell you a little story about our community. There is one of my friends there who is quite handicapped but a wonderful, wonderful lady. She said to me, "Henri, can you bless me?" I remember walking up to her and giving her a little cross on her forehead. She said, "Henri, it doesn't work. No, that is not what I mean." I was embarrassed and said, "I gave you a blessing." She said, "No, I want to be blessed." I kept thinking, "What does she mean?"

We had a little service and all these people were sitting there. After the service I said, "Janet wants a blessing." I had an alb on and a long robe with long sleeves. Janet walked up to me and said, "I want to be blessed." She put her head against my chest and I spontaneously put my arms around her, held her, and looked right into her eyes and said, "Blessed are you, Janet. You know how much we love you. You know how important you are. You know what a good woman you are."

She looked at me and said, "Yes, yes, yes, I know. I suddenly saw all sorts of energy coming back to her. She seemed to be relieved from the feeling of depression because suddenly she realized again that she was blessed. She went back to her place and immediately other people said, "I want that kind of blessing, too."

The people kept walking up to me and I suddenly found myself embracing people. I remember that after that, one of the people in our community who assists the handicapped, a strong guy, a football player, said, "Henri, can I have a blessing, too?" I remember our standing there in front of each other and I said, "John," and I put my hand on his shoulder, "you are blessed. You are a good person. God loves you. We love you. You are important." Can you claim that and live as the blessed one?

I think it is very important that when we are in touch with our blessedness that we can then bless other people. People need our blessing; people need to know that their father, mother, brothers and sisters bless them.

But what I would like to say is that the spiritual life is a life in which you gradually learn to listen to a voice that says "You are the beloved and on you my favor rests."

Jesus heard that voice. He heard that voice when He came out of the Jordan River. I want you to hear that voice, too. It is a very important voice that says, "You are my beloved son; you are my beloved daughter. I love you with an everlasting love. I have molded you together in the depths of the earth. I have knitted you in your mother's womb. I've written your name in the palm of my hand and I hold you safe in the shade of my embrace. I hold you. You belong to Me and I belong to you. You are safe where I am. Don't be afraid. Trust that you are the beloved. That is who you truly are."

I want you to hear that voice. It is not a very loud voice because it is an intimate voice. It comes from a very deep place. It is soft and gentle. I want you to gradually hear that voice. We both have to hear that voice and to claim for ourselves that that voice speaks the truth, our truth. It tells us who we are. That is where the spiritual life starts -- by claiming the voice that calls us the beloved. Amen.

Look Where Miracles Happen

2010-01-03T09:30:00.001-05:00

By The Very Rev. Sherry Crompton

January 3, 2010 - Epiphany

Read: Matthew 2:1-12

We are celebrating Epiphany today because it is a church holiday that is rich in meaning. Epiphany is actually January 6th – marking the 12th day after Christmas. In many parts of the world, Epiphany is a bigger holiday than Christmas, with rituals of gift giving tied to treasure-bearing wise men instead of a jolly fat man in a red suit. In some places, children leave shoes filled with hay outside their homes. The hay is for the camels of the wise men, who leave gifts for the children in the shoes as thanks before resuming their journey to Bethlehem.

As you know, Epiphany means “manifestation”, a “revelation”, a “showing forth”, a “display”. We often use the term “I experienced an epiphany” to refer to a sudden manifestation of the essence or meaning of something. A sudden perception of reality that changes the way we see ourselves and the life around us.

The story of the magi is the story of how God was manifested in the form of a human being – a baby by the name of Jesus. God made man. The incarnation. And the glory of this story is that God is making Godself known to all of the world. If the Magi – those who engaged in occult arts and whose occupations covered a wide range of astrologers, fortune tellers, and magicians of various plausibility.” (Raymond Brown)

If God is willing to reveal Himself to the “other” and change their lives, then surely God is willing to reveal Himself to you and me. The beauty in this story is in the contrast. The wise men ponder the mysteries in the sky. They discern God is up to something, yet remain uncertain where it might be happening. They need the scriptures to clarify and confirm their search. The chief priests and scribes have the ancient scrolls at their disposal, but they are removed from the experience of awe that the Wise Men can claim.

The Wise Men, in their own way, share the awe of the shepherds in our Christmas Eve story. They have not been beckoned by an angelic voice. In no way do they represent the dispossessed or the poor of Israel. They are Gentiles, outsiders in every way. Yet they are strangely attracted to the Christ child, and they travel at great cost to find him. The magi’s search begins with a star that only God could have put into the sky. During the journey, the inference is that they are protected by divine providence. Even after they find the One for whom they were looking, God warns them in a dream to avoid Herod and go home by another road.

Even though they were outsiders to the promises and stories of Israel, God found a way to include them.

Some years ago, Wayne Robinson visited Israel in the company of the evangelist Oral Roberts. They were granted an audience with David Ben-Gurion, the Prime Minister of Israel.

As they gathered, Oral Roberts handed his Bible to Ben-Gurion and invited him to read his favorite scripture verse. Ben-Gurion smiled and began turning pages to find the verse he wanted. Then he read these words: "So God created man in his own image, in the image of God he created him; male and female he created them."

Wayne Robinson was just an observer -- just watching and listening -- but he thought that Ben-Gurion had picked a pretty dumb verse. Robinson could think of better verses from the Psalms and elsewhere. His disappointment was compounded when he saw that a cameraman was recording the scene. He wished that Ben-Gurion had quoted a more earthshaking quotation to be recorded on the film.

But then Ben-Gurion explained. He said: "Before we were Americans or Russians, Israelis or Egyptians, before we were Christians or Muslims, Hindus or Jews, before we were any of the things that divide us today, we were men and women created by God. And that is the message of the great religions." To which Oral Roberts replied, "Amen!"

And that is the message of this story -- the story of the Wise Men and Jesus. They came from afar -- from some other country. They were Gentiles -- outsiders -- part of the great unwashed masses, according to the Jewish thought of the day. But God brought them into the very beginning of Jesus' story to remind us that God's love knows no bounds. He loves us, but he also loves those who might seem very unattractive to us. Accept that as Good News. If there are people on the other side of the fence whom you don't find very attractive, you can be sure that there are people on the other side of the fence who don't find you very attractive either. But God isn't one of those. There is no "other side of the fence" with God. And that is Good News!

A famous poem by John Donne goes like this:

No man is an island,
Entire of itself.
Each is a piece of the continent,
A part of the main.
If a clod be washed away by the sea,
Europe is the less....
Each man's death diminishes me,
For I am involved in mankind.
Therefore, send not to know
For whom the bell tolls,
It tolls for thee.

In his book, The Hungering Dark, Frederick Buechner wrote of humanity as forming an "enormous spider web, so that if you touch it anywhere you set the whole thing trembling."

Epiphany is a festival of dreamers—of wise men who dreamt that God could lead them by the brightness of a star, of Christians throughout the ages who trusted in God’s dream for creation, people like Martin Luther King, Jr. whose “I Have a Dream” speech continues to echo in our hearts and minds.

We, also, are called to ask what dream God beckons us to follow. Where is our bright star? Where do we look for God? Where do we find our road to follow? Where is our Epiphany? Where is it?

Where? Is a question of the ages. In Matthew, the magi come looking for the "child born king of the Jews" and the first word they speak is, "Where?" It is the first word of human characters in the book of Matthew. It is also King Herod's first question. Where? Where is God showing up in that world and in this one?

We prefer to be in control and to keep our world just as it is, with us on top and everything the way we expect it to be, so it is still possible to miss God by nine miles or more. We still ask, where?

Christianity is a faith of many paradoxes. One of them is that the only way we can live freely is to turn control over to God—to let God be God. As the magi journeyed to worship the Christ child, we, also, begin every journey of faith in worship, finding the freedom to enter life so that we might fully participate in God’s dream to heal and restore the world.

Yes, the journey of the wise men is surprising. But even more surprising is the journey of God. God comes the distance—from heaven to earth—to bring salvation and new life.

We can go home by another road. So, where is the One who came to redeem the world, to save us from our sins? Where can we find that bright light today?

You could look where miracles happen. According to Mary Rose O'Reilley, it is "on the edges of time zones, on the border of the woods, in the void between perch and free fall." They happen in small towns and small churches and even outside them. They happen when people who are apart, come together: clueless but obedient and hopeful magi, and even a scheming and violent king under a star. The beautiful, fancy word for this space is liminal, the Latin word for `threshold.' (The Love of Impermanent Things, 154). The wise ones stepped across the threshold of a stable and came into the presence of God. Thank God. Amen.

The Light of Hope Shines on Us

2009-12-24T10:30:00.000-05:00

By The Very Rev. Sherry Crompton

December 24, 2009 - Christmas Eve

A student at The University of Georgia got a job as a disc jockey at a little radio station in commerce, Georgia. He also got a room at a hotel in town and commuted to school, which was not far away. Sometimes at night, he would crawl out of his window and sit on the roof of the hotel. He would look out over that little town. One night when he was up there, he wrote a song called “City Lights”. The rest is country music history. His name was Bill Anderson.

An Episcopalian minister in Boston worked himself to near exhaustion. He was on the verge of a complete breakdown. He was greatly depressed and almost gave up in despair. But, he took some time off and went away on a trip. He traveled to a place where he had never been before. He saw the lights of a small town, walked along its streets, and in those lights he found hope again. He wrote a song which has in it these words:

O little town of Bethlehem, how still we see thee lie;
Above thy deep and dreamless sleep the silent stars go by.
Yet in thy dark streets shineth the everlasting light;
The hopes and fears of all the years are met in thee tonight.

The rest is church history. His name was Phillips Brooks.

The light of Bethlehem still shines. The child that was born to us, Jesus Christ, is the true light of the world. It is tonight, Christmas Eve, that we are so strongly reminded of the gift of Jesus in our lives – the gift that is born in us over and over and over again. It is a season that has no end, if only we could keep ourselves open to seeing the wonder of the light that shines in our midst each and every day. Every ordinary day.

Our scripture tonight from the book of Isaiah was written during a dark and dangerous time. During a period of 150 years, both the northern and southern kingdoms were threatened by their enemies. Both kingdoms fell and the people suffered the worst kind of defeat and agony. Eventually, even Jerusalem was overrun, the walls torn down, and the temple destroyed, but in the midst of those years of darkness, even before the worst had come, the people were offered hope. A singer, a preacher, gave them words of hope. Here are the words he gave them:

The people who walked in darkness have seen a great light; those who dwelt in a land of deep darkness, on them light has shined.

The rest is Bible history. His name was Isaiah.

The people who heard those words of God from that preacher needed to hear them because there was darkness all around them. Powerful enemies had been trying to destroy them for centuries, and they were on the verge of destruction, but in the darkness of despair, words of hope came to them.

We can still relate to the concept of darkness in our world today. We can relate to feelings of despair, hopelessness, hostility, etc. But the light shines on. The light of hope still shines on us all. The light of hope shines brightest in despair. It really does not take much light to shine in the darkness. A little light goes a long way.

A friend relates an Army story. When he was in night training they stood on a little hill there in the darkness, looking far down into the valley below. Suddenly, a person out there struck a match. They could see clearly that little light shining far away in the darkness.

Whatever is facing you, and whatever darkness surrounds you, there is a light that shines in the darkness, and that light shines on you. That light enables you to find your way.

Virginia Law told of her experience as a missionary in the Congo. She said that at their mission station, there were men who served as night sentries. They carried oil lanterns. One night, one of them brought her a message. She noticed his lantern and said, “That lamp doesn’t give much light does it?” He replied, “No. It doesn’t. But, it shines as far as I can step.”

We can find our way, as far as we can step, to wherever we need to go, in the light of hope which shines on us.

And we can share the light of the hope, and increase joy, and break yokes of despair. We can be a witness of this light by living the meaning of it, by being a person of hope, by reflecting the light of Christ, by sharing the warmth of it in our daily lives.

Brita Gill-Austern, a professor at Andover Newton Theological School tells this story:

One Sunday I was on my way to church in the subway in Philadelphia reading and editing my sermon that I was to give that morning. I was wrapped up in my world, my worry, my self-preoccupation about how it would go. Yet I was forced to look up from my manuscript when a man walked in the subway at the next stop. He was very grubby, dirty, and had at least a three-day-old beard and generally the appearance of one you hoped would sit elsewhere. As he entered he said, “Good morning, Sally and John. Good morning.” People gave him a quick glance, but no one spoke to him. At the next stop as people got on, he called out again in a most cheerful voice, “Hi, Robert and Janne, Peter and Diane.” Still, no one looked. At the next stop, same thing. Again silence. Then all of a sudden he plopped himself down in front of me and said, “I recognize everybody, but no one recognizes me.”

Finally, I got it, and I put my sermon down to turn to this man and began by asking him his name. “Bernie” he said. “What’s yours?”

“Brita”. “Brita”, he said, “do you know what?” “What, Bernie?” I said.
“Do you know that you and I are twins? Yes, you and I are twins.” A bit taken back I said, “Twins?” I did not exactly see that there was a great similarity between us and obviously had been more tuned to the difference than similarity. Then he looked at me and said with a big smile, “Yes, twins. You see both have two eyes, two ears, and a mouth. That makes us twins.”

Brita concludes, “Bernie was the one who shifted the perception for me to see that only those who see their unity with all, truly see. It is hard for me now to meet any stranger, to be in the face of otherness, and not see Bernie’s face reflected there.”

And so, tonight, we creep up to the manger at Bethlehem, peering over the edge, anxiously wondering what is born among us, and there we see, to our never-ending surprise and eternal delight, the Friend. "I know you and you know me," (Barth) we hear the little one say as we come face to face. His face is our face and the future is His—and so the hope is ours. Amen.

Not Safe, But Good

2009-12-13T09:30:00.002-05:00

By The Very Rev. Sherry Crompton

December 13, 2009

Read: Luke 3:7-18

John has some harsh words to say this morning. First he addresses the crowd – those people who went out of their way to travel into the wilderness to see him and hear him – by calling them a “brood of vipers”. How would you like to be called a viper? And notice it is a brood – in other words, children. Children of snakes he says. And don’t begin to say to yourself, well…Abraham is my ancestor, so it’s all ok. Forget it.

And then John gets out the ax. The ax is lying at the root of the tree and every tree that does not bear good fruit will be cut down and thrown into the fire. Not so warm and fuzzy. And so, the crowd asks John. “What then should we do?” It’s a great question.

In C. S. Lewis’ Chronicles of Narnia books—also now produced as movies—the central character is a powerful and mysterious lion named Aslan. Clearly Aslan is intended to be a Christ figure.

Four human siblings are magically transported from earth to the kingdom of Narnia, where Aslan rules. One by one, the four children are invited and challenged to follow Aslan. Early on, two of them become Aslan’s followers. The others aren’t so sure about it all, and one of them asks a sibling, ”Why should we follow Aslan? Is he safe?”

And the reply comes, “No, Aslan’s not safe—but he’s good!”

Doesn’t the preaching of John the Baptist tell us the same thing about Jesus—he’s not safe—but he is good!”

Is that what we are expecting this Advent? Are we expecting Jesus? Are we just expecting Jesus to wave a magic wand and make everything right? Or are we expecting Jesus to shake things up—to change the world, maybe even change you and me?

John makes it clear that Jesus is going to make some changes—and those changes will begin with us. Because, like Aslan, Jesus is good—but he’s not safe! Especially for those who are complacent, those who rest on our laurels, those do not take seriously the call to repentance—Jesus is NOT safe!

“What should we do?” the people plead with John, after he announces it’s time to repent.

And here’s where it gets dangerous: “You might have to change your lives!” John responds. Share with others. Treat others fairly. Don’t exploit them. Don’t take advantage of them. Be content with what you have.

Not safe—but good. (Rev. Rick Thompson’s phrase)

Good, because it’s a change that will make goodness possible in us. God is doing something new, and it will be good—but the old has to go!

In the old movie The High and the Mighty, a plane is over the ocean when the pilot announces, “There is a problem. We cannot correct it. We are not going to make it. I want you to know, so you can prepare for the inevitable.”

An elegantly dressed woman begins to remove the diamond broach from her neck, and a large, expensive right from her finger. She peels off her false eyelashes, and takes off her make-up—revealing an old scar on her forehead, previously hidden by the make-up. She is preparing herself for the end, and will go there as she really is.

Unexpectedly — but, of course, this is a movie — the flight is saved, and lands at the airport. But the woman has changed. She had an opportunity to be honest about herself, and she took it.

That’s how it is with repentance. That’s how it is when we expect Jesus to come. We’re invited to be honest about ourselves. We’re warned that he comes in judgment. But we’re also told that his ultimate purpose is to forgive our sins, to save us, and to heal the creation.

No, he’s not safe. But, yes, Jesus is good!

That’s why preacher and Bible scholar Fred Craddock says of John’s preaching, “When repentance and forgiveness are available, judgment is good news.

What is it that God wants from us? There is a story from the Middle Ages about a young woman who was expelled from heaven. She was told she could return when she could bring back to God the one thing that God valued most. So she searched the world for what God might want most.

She collected coins given by a destitute widow for the poor. She brought back dust from the shoes of missionaries who had spread the gospel to distant lands. She even brought back drops of blood from a dying martyr. Yet every gift she brought to God was turned back.

One day she watched a small boy playing in a fountain. A man rode up on horseback to take a drink. When he saw the boy playing in the fountain, the man remembered his own childhood innocence. Then he looked into the water and saw the reflection of his hardened face. He was overcome by the sin of his life. At that moment he wept tears of repentance. The young woman caught one of those tears and brought it back to heaven. She was received by the angels with joy.

Preacher and author Walt Wangerin tells the story of a dream he once had.

“In my dream, a friend was coming to see me, and I was excited! I didn’t know who the friend was...but the anticipation and certainty of my friend’s coming occupied me.

“As the time of arrival drew nearer and nearer, my excitement increased. I felt more and more like a child….Laughter fell from me like rain. I wanted to stand on the porch and bellow to the neighborhood, ‘My friend is coming!’ Joy became a sort of swelling in my chest, and all my flesh began to tingle.

“A wild kind of music attended my waiting. And the closer my friend came, the more exquisite grew the music—high violins rising higher by the sweetest, tightest, most piercing dissonance, reaching for, weeping for, the final resolve of his appearing.

“And when the music had ascended to nearly impossible chords of wailing little noises…and when excitement had squeezed the breath from my lungs, I started to cry.

“And my friend came….then I put my hands to my cheeks and cried and laughed at once.

“He was looking directly at me, with affection—and I grew so strong within his gaze. And I knew at once who it was.

“It was Jesus.” (Wangerin, Walter in Eifrig, ed., “Waiting for a Friend to Arrive,” Measuring the Days: Daily Reflections with Walter Wanterin, Jr., pp. 326-7. )

As Eugene Peterson wisely says: Repentance is not an emotion. It is not feeling sorry for your sins. It is a decision. It is deciding that you have been wrong in supposing that you could manage your own life and be your own god . . . Repentance is a decision to follow Jesus Christ and become his pilgrim in the path of peace.

The person who will endure is the one who has made himself or herself ready. Preparing for Christ’s return calls for soul-searching and repentance, two of the great, but often-forgotten, themes of this time of year. God is pleased with the gift of our sincere repentance – a seeing of our sins, a sadness over our sins, a willingness to try, with God’s help, to amend our living, a turning back to God, a turning things around. A willingness to try.

Jesus Christ is our Savior. He rescues us from our broken relationship with God and offers us a new relationship under God’s kingdom rule, which completely reorders creation and the human community. And this is good news. Not safe, but good! Thank God! Amen.

Prepare the Way of the Lord

2009-12-06T09:30:00.002-05:00

By The Very Rev. Sherry Crompton

December 6, 2009

Read: Baruch 5:1-9 and Luke 3:1-6

From Baruch: “For God has ordered that every high mountain and the everlasting hills be made low and the valleys filled up, to make level ground, so that Israel may walk safely in the glory of God”. From Luke’s gospel: “The voice of one crying out in the wilderness: ‘Prepare the way of the Lord, make his paths straight. Every valley shall be filled, and every mountain and hill shall be made low, and the crooked shall be made straight, and the rough ways made smooth; and all flesh shall see the salvation of God.” All flesh shall see the salvation of God.

Such hope filled words. Hope. Hope in a time of great difficulty. Baruch was the secretary to the prophet Jeremiah and this book is addressed to a people in dispersion. They wanted to go home. He also writes of repentance, similar to John the Baptist’s message of a baptism of repentance for the forgiveness of sins. At the Jordan, the entrance to the promised land where the exodus generation had been “baptized” by crossing the river to show their commitment to live as the covenant community, John proclaims a baptism that signifies repentance and results in forgiveness. It signifies a break from earlier life.

So, we have a lot here today: repentance, forgiveness of sins, restoration, salvation.

Where to begin? Well Luke begins his account of John’s preaching, and therefore, the beginning of Jesus’ ministry, firmly in the context of world history. John is rooted in history - a specific time and place into which God spoke and came...God still speaks and comes to people rooted in specific times and places. To you here in 21st Century Coatesville God comes.

The Word of God is unfolding...the word of God is revealed in and is tested by time. In our Philippians reading when Paul suggests that the people who have worked hard for the "harvest of righteousness" will be rewarded – perhaps this reward will be the awareness that the Kingdom of God has been 'unfolding' slowly through the work of their hands and the making straight crooked paths.

In the feel-good times of getting ready for Christmas, today’s readings are a wake-up call. But a wonderfully hopeful wake-up call. What are we doing with our life?
In the words of a newly popular song by Bon Jovi, entitled, “We Weren’t Born to Follow,” he sings:

This one goes out to the man who mines for miracles
This one goes out the ones in need
This one goes out to the sinner and the cynical
This ain't about no apology
This road was paved by the hopeless and the hungry
This road was paved by the winds of change
Walking beside the guilty and the innocent
How will you raise your hand when they call your name?
We Weren’t born to follow
Come on and get up off your knees
When life is a bitter pill to swallow
You gotta hold on to what you believe
Believe that the sun will shine tomorrow
And that your saints and sinners bleed
We weren’t born to follow
You gotta stand up for what you believe

Someone who stood up for what he believed had these words to say:
“I have a dream today. I have a dream that one day every valley shall be exalted, every hill and mountain shall be made low, the rough places will be made plains, and the crooked places will be made straight, and the glory of the Lord shall be revealed, and all flesh shall see it together. This is our hope. This is the faith with which I return to the South. With this faith we will be able to hew out of the mountain of despair a stone of hope. With this faith we will be able to transform the jangling discords of our nation into a beautiful symphony of brotherhood. With this faith we will be able to work together, to pray together, to struggle together, to go to jail together, to stand up for freedom together, knowing that we will be free one day.”

Martin Luther King, Jr. also had this to say: “Forgiveness is not an occasional act; it is a permanent attitude.” Which leads me to another man’s story.

My son now plays Rugby and is interested in seeing a new film about to be released on December 11, Invictus. The film tells the inspiring true story of how Nelson Mandela, after the fall of apartheid in South Africa, and during his first term as president, campaigned to host the 1995 Rugby World Cup event as an opportunity to unite his countrymen. Newly elected President Mandela knows his nation remains racially and economically divided in the wake of apartheid. Believing he can bring his people together through the universal language of sport, Mandela rallies South Africa's underdog rugby team as they make an unlikely run to the 1995 World Cup Championship match. The title, Invinctus, comes from the fact that Mandela had the poem written on a scrap of paper on his prison cell wall. The poem, written from William Ernest Henley’s hospital bed ends with:

It matters not how strait the gate,
How charged with punishments the scroll,
I am the master of my fate;
I am the captain of my soul.

Now as many of you know, Mandela spent 27 years in prison for opposing apartheid. After he was released and elected as South Africa’s first black president, he preached reconciliation. He preached reconciliation. When he decided to support the country’s rugby team—long a symbol of white oppression—his countrymen were stunned. And Mandela had this to say to the crowd: “Forgiveness liberates the soul…that’s why it’s such a powerful weapon.”

In today’s Parade magazine interview, Matt Damon, as the white rugby captain Francois Pienaar wonders to his wife, “how can you spend 30 years in a tiny cell and come out ready to forgive the people who put you there.” “It makes you consider your own place in the world and your behavior to other people”.

Those are truly powerful words, if explored. “It makes you consider your own place in the world and your behavior to other people.” John the Baptist’s message was one of repentance leading to the forgiveness of sins. Repentance is a somewhat inadequate translation of the Greek word, metanoia, which describes the more basic change of mind and heart and attitude demanded by personal conversion. Conversion or repentance calls for a re-forming of our self- and our life- by turning toward God and away from the evil forces that dominate our world. It is a life-long challenge-- do you hear that? a life-long challenge-- to order ourselves and our world according to the vision and values of Jesus and to live that out in whatever way we can. God comes to the ordinary – look at Zechariah, Mary, John the Baptist, David, so many– who were all very ordinary people who heard God’s call and followed. The captain of our soul is Jesus. We were born to follow Jesus.

There is a spiritual exercise called the Examen written by St. Ignatius of Loyola. It can be done at the close of every day and involves a review of our day. There are five points to the method. We give thanks for all the blessings. We ask for the help of the Spirit to enlighten us so that we might see with the light of God’s grace. Going back over the events of the day, we look at where God has been present and where we may have kept God out. Express sorrow and ask for God’s forgiving love to heal and strengthen. And then pray for the grace to be more totally available to God who loves us so totally.

I’d like to close with Benedicto written by Edward Abbey:

Benedicto: May your trails be crooked, winding, lonesome, dangerous, leading to the most amazing view. May your mountains rise into and above the clouds. May your rivers flow without end, meandering through pastoral valleys tinkling with bells, past temples and castles and poets towers into a dark primeval forest where tigers belch and monkeys howl, through miasmal and mysterious swamps and down into a desert of red rock, blue mesas, domes and pinnacles and grottos of endless stone, and down again into a deep vast ancient unknown chasm where bars of sunlight blaze on profiled cliffs, where deer walk across the white sand beaches, where storms come and go as lightning clangs upon the high crags, where something strange and more beautiful and more full of wonder than your deepest dreams waits for you -- beyond that next turning of the canyon walls."

Amen.

Our Own Soul Song

2009-11-22T09:30:00.000-05:00

By The Very Rev. Sherry Crompton

November 22, 2009 (Christ the King Sunday)

Read: John 18:33-37; Revelation 1:4b-8

Well, it’s the last Sunday in the season of Pentecost and next week we begin the season of Advent. Advent is the beginning of the church calendar year. Today is a Sunday of endings and new beginnings. Today is also traditionally known as Christ the King Sunday. Christ the King – another contrast. A contrast between what we tend to view as an exalted position – that of king; and the reality of who Jesus was and is. It is a Sunday that calls us to reflect on our own identity as well as just who we say and know Jesus to be.

In John’s gospel Pilate asks Jesus, “Are you the King of the Jews?” and Jesus answers: “Do you ask this on your own, or did others tell you about me?” And later Pilate asks him again, “So you are a king?” and Jesus responds “You say that I am a king”.

Here is a similar, brief story that might help shed more light.

An Amish man was once asked by an enthusiastic young evangelist whether he had been saved, and whether he had accepted Jesus Christ as his Lord and Savior?
The gentleman replied, "Why do you ask me such a thing? I could tell you anything. Here are the names of my banker, my grocer, and my farm hands. Ask them if I've been saved."

Or this: Say a non-Christian asks, "What is truth?" We can say anything, but if our lives do not reflect our belief then our words are empty. Do we smile at those in desperate situations and say, "God loves you", then walk away and leave them to figure out what the heck that means? Or do we use our resources to express that love in a tangible way so they can experience the kingdom of truth?

Jesus could tell Pilate anything. What is important is what Pilate believes. Jesus continues: “For this I was born, and for this I came into the world, to testify to the truth. Everyone who belongs to the truth listens to my voice.”

Truth. Jesus came into this world to testify to the truth. Everyone who belongs to the truth listens to Jesus’ voice.

In this conversation with Pilate, Jesus was attempting to get Pilate to listen to that truth that was deep within him. Pilate already sensed that Jesus shouldn’t be crucified, yet in the end, he did turn Jesus over. His actions expressed his fear that if he didn’t do this, he would lose his power, his control. Pilate didn’t trust that knowledge, that truth, that was already deep inside him. And often, we don’t either.

There is an interesting story about Soul Songs in Africa. Something to think about when we consider our relationship with God, Jesus and each other – the power of a relationship bound in respect for others and love for fellow human beings. Soul Songs.

“When a woman in a certain African tribe knows she is pregnant, she goes out into the wilderness with a few women friends and together they pray and meditate until they hear the song of the child. They recognize that every soul has its own vibration that expresses its unique flavor and purpose. When the women attune to the song, they sing it out loud. Then they return to the tribe and teach it to everyone else.

When the child is born, the community gathers and sings the child’s song to him or her. Later, when the child enters education, the village gathers and chants the child’s song. When the child passes through the initiation to adulthood, the people again come together and sing. At the time of marriage, the person hears his or her song. Finally, when the soul is about to pass from this world, the family and friends gather at the person’s bed, just as they did at their birth, and they sing the person to the next life.

In the African tribe, there is one other occasion upon which the villagers sing to the child. If at any time during his or her life, the person commits a crime or aberrant social act, the individual is called to the center of the village and the people in the community form a circle around them. Then they sing their song to them. The tribe recognizes that the correction for antisocial behavior is not punishment, it is LOVE, and the remembrance of identity. When you recognize your own song, you have no desire or need to do anything that would hurt another.

That soul song is our truth, it is our identity which is grounded in the knowledge and love of God. It is our connection with Christ the King who is the Alpha and the Omega (the beginning and the end); the One who is and who was and who is to come, the Almighty.

Are we willing to stand up for what we believe is the Truth—that love and life are stronger than might and death?

Do we believe that?

Do we believe that enough to remain passionately loyal to Jesus?

Do we believe that enough to follow Jesus—the One who went to his death, knowing the final outcome would be life: his own life, and life for all the world—including you and me?

A friend is someone who knows our song and sings it to us when we have forgotten it.

May God grant us the grace to hear our own soul song, to hear our truth, to know THE Truth, Jesus. Amen.

Our Contributions Change the World

2009-11-08T09:30:00.003-05:00

By The Very Rev. Sherry Crompton

November 8, 2009

Read: Mark 12:38-44 and Ruth 3:1-5; 4:13-17

Widows are prominent in today’s readings from scripture. Both Naomi and Ruth were widowed and lived a difficult life until Ruth found a partner in Boaz. As widows, they were subjected to the oppression of their times.

And in Mark we hear about the scribes who ‘devour widows’ houses’ – more oppression – and then the example of the poor widow who puts two small copper coins worth only a penny into the synagogue’s treasury. Jesus compares her contribution, out of her poverty, to the contributions of the wealthy who gave comfortably out of their wealth.

This time when I read and reflected on these scriptures, I see that the social-political-religious system matters. And it’s not so different today. This poor widow's house is being devoured by the social-religious system she is compelled to live under. It is with sadness that Jesus points to her. The scribes care about social status whereas God cares about social justice. God cares for the widow and social-religious systems probably should as well.

Jesus is pointing out the difference in motives for giving in this story. The amount is not so important. The scribes were concerned with looking good to others. The widow, on the other hand, was giving because she knew she needed to give. It wasn’t a matter of the people around her noticing her gift or even the needs of the temple treasury. It was her own recognition of a spiritual and emotional need to give something away.

This reminds me of a story of a church building project another pastor was involved in. One of the wealthier members of the congregation wanted to donate a significant sum for the project and that’s wonderful– but he wanted his family’s name put into the stained glass windows in acknowledgment.

The pastor responded by pointing out an older woman – whose name he no longer remembered. “For over forty years, this woman has brought a quarter to church every week. It’s her quarters that built the foundation of this church, and without her gift, there would be no place for your windows. I won’t put your name on the windows because her name doesn’t appear on the foundation walls.”

Some years ago, I heard a children’s story about the animals in the forest who were arguing over how much a snowflake weighs. No one seemed to know. So they thought it must weigh nothing. But the wise old owl pointed out a branch nearby. It was full of snow. But one snowflake would eventually land on it and cause the limb to break. A snowflake by itself doesn’t weigh much. But when it combines with other snowflakes it makes an incredible difference.

Like the widow’s mites, our gift alone can do nothing. But combined with the gifts of many, many others, our contributions change the world.

But it can’t happen that way if our focus is on what people will see us do. No one who tries to become a hero in battle helps win the battle, but those who work hardest to win the battle become the heroes.

A rabbi was asked, "Which act of charity is higher--giving out of obligation or giving from the heart?" What do you think?

All in the class were inclined to respond that giving from the heart had something more in it, but they knew the rabbi was going to say just the opposite, because in spiritual teaching nothing seems logical. And they were not disappointed

"Giving from the heart is a wonderful thing," the rabbi said, "It is a very high act and should never be demeaned. But there is something much more important that happens when somebody gives charity out of obligation.

"Consider who is doing the giving. When somebody gives from the heart, there is a clear sense of oneself doing something; in other words, heartfelt charity involves ego gratification.

"However, when we give out of obligation, when we give at a moment that every part of us is yelling “NO!” for one reason or another--perhaps the beneficiary is disgusting, or it is too much money, or we’re not sure what purpose our money will be used for, or any of thousands of reasons we use to avoid giving charity--then we are confronting our own egos, and giving nonetheless. Why? Because we are supposed to. And what this means is that it is not us doing the giving, rather we are vehicles through which God gives...[ David A. Cooper, Entering the Sacred Mountain: A Mystical Odyssey (Bell Tower, 1994] Hmm. The widow’s mite?

Jesus says, “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...You shall love your neighbor as yourself. There is no other commandment greater than these."

During the course of earning her master's degree, a woman found it necessary to commute several times a week from Victory, Vermont to the state university in Burlington, a good hundred miles away. Coming home late at night, she would see an old man sitting by the side of her road. He was always there, in sub zero temperatures, in stormy weather, no matter how late she returned. He made no acknowledgment of her passing. The snow settled on his cap and shoulders as if he were merely another gnarled old tree. She often wondered what brought him to that same spot every evening. Perhaps it was a stubborn habit, private grief or a mental disorder.

Finally, she asked a neighbor of hers, "Have you ever seen an old man who sits by the road late at night?" "Oh, yes," said her neighbor, "many times." "Is he a little touched upstairs? Does he ever go home?" The neighbor laughed and said, "He's no more touched than you or me. And he goes home right after you do. You see, he doesn't like the idea of you driving by yourself, out late, all alone on these back roads, so every night he walks out to wait for you. When he sees your taillights disappear around the bend, and he knows you're okay, he goes home to bed." (From Garret Keizer, "Watchers in the night," Christian Century, April 5, 2000)

Remember, a snowflake by itself doesn’t weigh much. But when it combines with other snowflakes it makes an incredible difference.

Our psalm today says, “Unless the Lord builds the house, their labor is in vain who build it. Unless the Lord watches over the city, in vain the watchman keeps his vigil.” Trust in the Lord. The Lord’s mercy and goodness shall last forever. Amen.

Losing Someone We Care About

2009-11-01T09:30:00.001-05:00

By The Very Rev. Sherry Crompton

November 1, 2009 (All Saints Sunday)

Read: John 11:32-44; Revelation 21:1-6a and Isaiah 25:6-9

Most of us know what it’s like to lose someone we care about. And in today’s gospel story we hear about Lazarus, who had died. We hear about tears. There are tears in our reading from Isaiah, there are tears in our reading from Revelation where God wipes away the tears…and there are lots of tears in John’s gospel.

In John's gospel, Jesus weeps along with Mary and all the gathered mourners before he demonstrates his power over death. As Barbara Crafton writes, “People looking on were shaken, it seems, by Jesus' display of emotion. Perhaps it made him look weak in their eyes. The Gospel of John is an odd place for this glimpse of a Jesus overcome with sorrow -- the rest of the book depicts him striding through the events of his life and death like Superman, so godlike that his humanity doesn't look much like ours at all. But in the 11th chapter of John, Jesus weeps because his friend has died.

If he was truly human, he was truly mixed. We don't like our mixed nature -- we want people to be good or bad, either strong or weak. We try our best to categorize ourselves and one another, so that we will know always know to proceed. But people aren't just one thing or another; we're each a blend of warring strengths and weaknesses. We can be highly intelligent and still do something really stupid. We are both rational and irrational. We are capable of both nobility and moral shabbiness. We may be strong, but sometimes our strength fails us.

When he enters our world, Christ enters our weakness. The Greeks have a fine word for this: ekenosen, literally, "he emptied himself." He pours out his power. All power comes into this world of no power. Strength chooses to be bound by the weakness that binds us. Why? Why does God choose to live as we live, here where the people you love all die, where you die?”

Barbara continues, “I remember two men I knew years ago when I was on the waterfront. They had known each other from childhood; they were from the same tiny Calabrian town, and they were cabin mates. One was a steward, a head waiter, and the other a wiper in the engine room. Ordinarily, a wiper might be a young person working his way up in the engine department, but this man -- shy, silent, developmentally disabled, I always thought -- had been a wiper for years and, clearly, would never be anything else.

The cabin they shared was tiny and supremely uncomfortable, and the steward had a chance to take a better one for the rest of his contract. He refused it, though, choosing to stay with his friend. He had promised the man's mother to take care of him, he explained, and another cabinmate might not understand the vulnerability of his friend -- or worse, might understand it all too well and capitalize on it. So he stayed in a hard, narrow bunk in a cabin scarcely bigger than a closet, when he could have had his own cabin.

It was a small thing, I suppose -- but a seafarer is on board for months at a time. It's a hard life, and one pretty low on perks. It would have been nice to have a private space befitting his superior rank. For the sake of love, though, he bound himself with the same chains that bound his friend.

Why is there a Jesus? So God can be with us and we can be with God, even now, and so we can know it. So we can know we're not alone, no matter what happens. So we can know that we are understood. God not only loves us and our world into being, but then chooses to know our world as we learn to know it: from experience”.

Most of know of Helen Keller, she’s just one of the extraordinary blind women of history. Frazier Hunt writes in a Redbook magazine: “One July afternoon at our ranch in the Canadian Rockies I rode toward Helen Keller's cabin. Along the wagon trail that ran through a lovely wood we had stretched a wire, to guide Helen when she walked there alone, and as I turned down the trail I saw her coming.

I sat motionless while this woman who was doomed to live forever in a black and silent prison made her way briskly down the path, her face radiant. She stepped out of the woods into a sunlit open space directly in front of me and stopped by a clump of wolf willows. Gathering a handful, she breathed their strange fragrance: her sightless eyes looked up squarely into the sun, and her lips, so magically trained, pronounced the single word "Beautiful!" Then, still smiling, she walked past me.

I brushed the tears from my own inadequate eyes. For to me none of this exquisite highland had seemed beautiful. I had felt only bitter discouragement over the rejection of a piece of writing. I had eyes to see all the wonders of woods, sky and mountains, ears to hear the rushing stream and the song of the wind in the treetops. It took the sightless eyes and sealed ears of this extraordinary woman to show me beauty, and bravery.

Dating back to the third century, the church in all her wisdom has celebrated All Saints Day. This Sunday we honor the tradition as we remember and give thanks for all the beloved baptized in Christ, those among us and those who have gone before us. Today our tender hearts remember loved ones who have died, we will, at communion time have the opportunity to take a carnation and place it on the baptismal font in memory of a loved one.

In our worship we reach out across time to hold hands with Mary and Martha in their encounter with death, and at the same time we grasp the hands of one another as God continues to knit us together in the one beautiful body of Christ Jesus. And what better day than All Saints Day to baptize Evan Michael and Ryan Matthew into the community of faith. Because today, we celebrate those who have gone before us and we also celebrate all of us present here today. We are connected. It’s as if there is a long, long rope filled with knots. All different type of knots. The knots represent each of us as we habitate this earthly realm and as we pass on, the knots unfold and are not as visible; yet, they remain a part of that rope; in communion with us. As our opening hymn this morning states: ‘yet all are one in thee, for all are thine’.

And so with clasped hands, we, like Lazarus and his sisters, are called out from the shadow of death and tears into resurrection life.

Jesus calls us to this tomb to make it clear to us that death has indeed been swallowed up. It is not the end of the road. There is something more…death is the end of one form of existence and the beginning of something new and different. Jesus said, “I am the Alpha and the Omega, the beginning and the end.” It is the Alpha and Omega sign that covers the bottom of our baptismal bowl.

Jesus calls us to the tomb so that we might join him when he says “Unwrap him and let him go.” Out of the shadows, out of the darkness, light shines. In the midst of death is life.

The light shines through in the strangest ways and places. Unbind the death cloths that keep you from living. Open your spiritual eyes. Believe and look around you for the glory of God. Listen and hear Jesus calling your name inviting you to live life with him. Amen.

The Emptiness of Success

2009-10-11T09:30:00.001-04:00

By The Very Rev. Sherry Crompton

October 11, 2009

Read: Job 23:1-9, 16-17 and Mark 10:17-31

Today’s readings are centered on our relationship with our Creator God. We hear from Job in his distress because he cannot sense the presence of God. The psalm is that one we also hear in Lent, “my God, my God, why have you forsaken me”. Again the sense of hidden, absent God. In our gospel reading from Mark we hear how difficult it is for us to enter the kingdom of God. There is an example of a man who comes to Jesus seeking eternal life, but he is asked to give up his possessions and he turns away shocked and grieving.

Let’s dig a little deeper into the gospel story. First of all, we need to understand that at the time Jesus spoke these words, the idea was that if you lived an obedient life, God would reward you, or bless you, with material possessions, with wealth. A sign of wealth, was a sign of a well lived life. So think about the shock that would be very real, if everything you ever learned about how to live, was turned upside down.

I want to take us back to Job for a minute, because the point of the Job story (I invite you to read the entire book of Job – it’s not that long) is to show that things happen in life that are beyond our control. In other words, “crap happens”, regardless of how carefully we have tried to live according to the commandments.

So, back to our wealthy man and Jesus. Here was a man who had found the emptiness of success. Yes, I said the emptiness of success. He had the very things that most of us think will bring us happiness. Most of us yearn all our lives for the very things this man enjoyed. First of all, he had a lot of money. That one gets most all of us. Our idle dreams of being rich and famous fuel the spate of lotteries springing up in almost every state of the union. We sit around trying to figure out how we would spend our millions if we could just win the lottery.

But here is a man who had all that, and his life was still empty. How many times is that story repeated? We could point to countless individuals like Elvis Presley, Michael Jackson, who had all the money imaginable, but were miserable all the same.

This young man also knows success in religious circles. He proves that even obedience to the law leaves life empty and meaningless. He has kept all the commandments from his youth, but he still has not found eternal life.

Most of us think that wealth and obedience will bring us happiness because we don't have either one. But here is a man with both, and he has found the emptiness of such efforts. He is still searching, so he comes to Jesus looking for answers and for real meaning in life.

That's when Mark gives us a touching picture of Jesus, who really understands this man. "Jesus, looking at him, loved him."

Perhaps, the opposite of rich is not poor. The opposite of rich is free. He was not free to take the hand of Jesus because his hand was too full of his things and his love of things. He might as well have had a ball and chain around his leg. He was not free to follow Jesus.

In fact, the meaning of "rich" may have less to do with how much money someone has as it does with what our attitude is about the money that we have. Some people have a lot of money but they are not enslaved by it; others have very little but they cling to it with desperation.

I read in a book some time ago something about the art of trapping monkeys in India. One technique is to drill a hole in a coconut and place rice in the coconut. A monkey will come along and stick a paw into the coconut, grab a fistful of rice, and then be unable to pull its paw back from the coconut. He is trapped by his greed. All he would have to do is turn loose of the rice, his hand would be free, and he could draw it out. The problem is that he places greater value on the rice that he is holding than he does on his freedom (Raymond Bailey, "Do You Want To Be Healed," Best Sermons 3, Harper & Row, p. 6).

And Jesus uses the example of a camel going through the eye of a needle. Why is it so hard for a camel to pass through the eye of a needle? Think of the image of a camel. Perhaps, because the hump gets stuck. The hump is where all the extra stuff is stored, the fatty tissue that makes the camel self-sufficient enough to make it on its own through the arid places. The young man's money was his hump, it was what he relied on to get him through his own desert, and once it was gone he would have to rely on God instead and he would be streamlined enough to slide right through the eye, with no hump to hang up on the way.

Jesus’ point is that we need to give up whatever it is that keeps us from a closer relationship to God. We need to let go and rely on God, trust in God, instead of in our own strength. And, it’s not an easy thing to do. As Jesus says, “For mortals it is impossible, but not for God; for God all things are possible”.

A dear friend of mine recently took a camping trip, something he does regularly. But on this particular trip he shares a profound and deeply moving experience, he writes:

“My canoe trip north this year was wet and cold. It rained hard for the first two days, and then the temperature dropped and hovered around freezing. It began to snow on the evening of the third day. As I lay in my tent that night with waves crashing on the beach only thirty feet away, the howling wind was so loud that I couldn’t hear the waves. The cloud cover alternated between grey and dark grey. Much of the trip could be described as damp, cold, alone, discouraged.

The trip also had its profound, beautiful moments, including one I’d like to share. After miles of paddling, interspersed with muddy, hilly portages, I sat down beside a large lake for an hour or so and watched big whitecaps race across the lake toward me. In order to reach the campsite I had in mind, I would have had to paddle a bay about three quarters of a mile across. That was not feasible. As far as I could tell, I was the only person on that fairly remote lake. The waves crashing on the shore, the dark cloudy sky and the wild fury of nature combined to create a surreal scene in which my insignificance was contrasted with the vast power and dark beauty of the unfolding weather.

Years ago, a guide said to me that wilderness trips are a great equalizer. The strong, the confident, get cut down to size. The forces of nature are infinitely more powerful than the strongest among us. If you don’t respect them, adapt to them, they can destroy you. At the same time, the weak build strength on these trips. They discover inner strength, and they discover that the ability to think things through, to maintain perspective, is more important than physical strength”. (from Heron Dance website – Rod MacIver’s October 9, 2009 Pause for Beauty)

My friend came through his camping trip with a new insight. He emerged from the ordeal a slightly different man. Jesus says, “But many who are first will be last, and the last will be first.” Upside down is a theme. Remember Job and his suffering. Job emerged from his ordeal transformed – read the book. There is no indication that he ever discovered the reason for his affliction, yet he seems satisfied. He had been treated insensitively by his visitors, yet without a word he intercedes for them in their need. Here is a man who has risen above egocentric inclinations. He understood his relationship with his Creator God.

May God help us to remember Job as we enter our own times of orientation, disorientation, reorientations when the traditional wisdom just doesn’t work. Doesn’t make sense. And may we also, like Job, draw from a deep place in our soul, when we don’t have all the answers and God is seemingly hidden, and have the courage to say, “yet shall I trust him.” Jesus, looking at us, loves us. Amen.

Running Through a Field of Thorns - Marriage and Divorce

2009-10-04T09:30:00.001-04:00

By The Very Rev. Sherry Crompton

October 4, 2009

Read: Mark 10:2-16

Wow! Preaching about divorce and marriage is like running through a field of thorns, as my colleague Charles says. Why? Because any congregation today is likely to contain people who are married, people who are divorced, people who are divorced and remarried, people who may get divorced at some future time, people who have been treated shabbily by churches due to their marital difficulties, people whose lives and families and friends have been hurt by the pain of divorce. It's everybody's issue, indirectly or directly. And so, preaching about it looks like running through a field of thorns, and listening to a sermon on marriage and divorce can, no doubt, seem the same way: one misstep and we just add to the hurting. A divorce may be necessary, I can especially think of abusive relationships, but it's never a triumph. It's always made of heartbreak. Just ask anybody who's lived through one.

So let’s journey together carefully into the thorny field, in the hope that amidst the briars we can find together the good news of God in Christ, for a world that's broken and in pain.

The discussion gets started because some of the Pharisees are out to get Jesus. They want to trap him in his words, and so destroy his credibility. The issue they raise is a controversial one at that time, in first-century Palestine: whether it is lawful for a man to divorce his wife. Authorities differ on this question. Some allow divorce only in instances of adultery. Others allow divorce for the slightest of reasons. But note how the issue is framed: Is it lawful for a man to divorce his wife? No consideration is given to the possibility of a wife divorcing her husband. That is out of the question. Here, in first century Palestine, men have all the power.

Jesus knows this question is not an honest inquiry. He knows the Pharisees are not interested in learning his opinion, but in testing him, in defeating him. He responds to the question with a question: What did Moses command you? In other words, how does the Law of Moses read, the law you hold in such high regard?

Of course, Jesus knows the answer, and so does everyone within hearing distance. It's what we call today a no-brainer. And so the Pharisees shoot back the correct reference: Moses allows a man to write a certificate of dismissal and to divorce her.

The reference here is to Deuteronomy, chapter 24. It's arguable, to say the least, that Moses is giving permission to divorce. What he does instead is to recognize that divorce happens and to set forth norms regarding certain types of remarriage. Like the canon law of the Episcopal Church, Moses acknowledges that divorce happens here in this world outside the Garden of Eden.

Jesus pushes behind Deut 24 to Gen.1-2, Jesus pushes behind the stipulation of the law to the story of Creation, behind the legality of divorce to the intent of marriage.

It is as though he thumps a finger against the chest of each of those Pharisees and says: Don't you get it? Your hearts are hard! If human hearts were not hard, then marriages would always work, and Moses wouldn't have written about what happens when they don't!

Jesus addresses each one of us and says the same thing. Don't you get it? Your hearts are hard! But please note this, and note it well. He's not just challenging the divorced among us. He's challenging every last one of us, even if we have been married happily for six decades. The divorced are not to be regarded as some pariah class different from the rest of us. The problem of the hard heart is not limited to divorced people, but is common to us all. In some it becomes manifest in a marital break-up. In others it shows itself in a marriage that remains together but is lifeless. In still others hardness of heart appears in a failure to forgive our friends, in a judgmental spirit toward our children or parents, or any of the other forms of sin in which we humans become trapped. The divorced are not worse and not better than the rest. We all find ourselves in the same place: outside the gates of Eden.

But then Jesus stops talking about hard hearts. Instead, he takes us by both hands and looks at us with an expression of compassion, hope, and remembrance. He calls us back to a time before the invention of power games, whether it’s the sexism of his own period when men called the shots about marriage and divorce, or today's equal-opportunity destructiveness where either partner can damage the other. Jesus, looking at us with that expression of compassion, hope, and remembrance, calls us back to a time before time, back to when our home was the garden, back to the intention of God at creation. God made them male and female. Delightfully different. Wonderfully equal. Intended to be one flesh. No hardness of heart. No games, no secrets, but naked and unashamed.

(Rev. Charles Hoffacker)

The heart of Jesus’ message is about relationships – and Jesus reminds us of the ideal that we can all strive for in our marriages and in all of our relationships.

The late newspaper columnist Lewis Grizzard wrote articles filled with offbeat, southern humor. But underneath the laughter, there was a sadness—a life of personal suffering and loss. Some of Grizzard’s pain came from his troubled relationship with his alcoholic father, who had abandoned the family when Lewis was a boy. Later in life, Lewis reconciled with his father.

As the old man lay in his final illness, Lewis repeatedly pleaded with him. “What’s wrong, Daddy? Why can’t you stay sober? What can be so bad that you can’t talk about it?”

His father refused to answer. Even when Lewis assured him that it didn’t matter what it was, that he loved him whatever was the awful truth, his father would only sob and weep and sputter, “I’ve made a bad mistake.”

Lewis never learned what his father so secretly and deeply regretted. “But,” he wrote, “it doesn’t matter. Whatever his sin, whatever his secret, I loved him and love him still.”

And that’s what Jesus does. He loves us with a love stronger than sin, a love that is there no matter what. In fact, it’s the love of Jesus that makes our loving possible. In Christ, by the power of his love and forgiveness, we can live in the kind of relationship that God desires for us: relationships that are lasting, life-giving, and loving!

It’s the love of God that melts the hardness in our heart and produces great relationships.

On the night He was betrayed Jesus took a loaf of bread, and after blessing it, he broke it, gave it to the disciples, and said, “Take eat; this is my body.” Then he took a cup, and after giving thanks he gave it to them saying, “Drink from it, all of you; for this is my blood of the new covenant.” As Christians we are called to a table that celebrates the equal creation of all God’s people. We are called to drink deeply from the cup of forgiveness for the healing of all our relationships. In Christ we become one body and it is in the love of Christ that all love is sustained. Amen.

I Believe We Have Met Before

2009-09-27T09:30:00.000-04:00

By The Very Rev. Sherry Crompton

September 27, 2009

Read: Mark 9:38-50

“Whoever is not against us is for us”, Jesus tells us. Mark’s gospel then goes on to talk about what it means for us to be stumbling blocks to new believers. And the cutting off of a foot, the tearing out of an eye. Even though we are quite sure Jesus did not mean this literally, the words remain uncomfortable. And our gospel reading today ends with fire and salt. Fire and salt. Fire can purify, salt can preserve. Salt can also add some savor.

The phrase, “unlimited possibilities” might be a theme of today’s readings. We hear d a portion of the great story of Esther , in which it would seem unlikely that Esther could manage what she did, that Mordecai would be saved from death and that her Jewish people would be saved. But it happened.

And Jesus’ vision is broad where he sees the holiness in human deeds, whether or not they occur in church or are labeled religious. He tells us that “whoever gives you a cup of water to drink because you bear the name of Christ will by no means lose the reward”. Jesus’ vision is broad and inclusive. Whoever is not against us is for us.

So what does that mean? Well, perhaps we end the arbitrary distinctions between “secular” and “sacred” and instead see all of life as holy and whole. We might better answer the criticism of young people that the churches are so bent on internal bickering that they have neglected the needs of the larger world. We might forget our silly distinctions and get on with the important business of bringing water to the thirsty, food to the hungry, attention to the lonely.

Myron Augsburger (Dr. Myron Augsburger is President of Inter-Church and Professor of Theology at Eastern Mennonite Seminary, Harrisonburg, Virginia) shares a story:
Herman Riemple's father was Aaron Riemple. He lived in Gnadenfeldt, Russia. He had a large estate, was a very wealthy Mennonite farmer. He was so well known that the Czar of Russia would come and go hunting on his estate. In the early teens of this century, when the Red and White Armies were battling, they raged back and forth across Gnadenfeldt. One evening Riemple was coming home from the market where he had gotten some things for his wife, and he came by a railroad siding and here was a box car full of people to be shipped off to Siberia, and a man called out and said, "Sir, we're so hungry. We've been in here all day with nothing to eat. Can you help us?"
And Riemple, out of the goodness of his own spirit and heart, went over and shoved his bolognas and his bread and cheese through the slats and the man said, "Thank you."
And Riemple said, "God bless you." And he went on home.

Sometime later the Red Army overran the whole territory. They took a lot of these Mennonite farmers and put them in box cars and shipped them off to Siberia. Now Riemple had lost his estate. He went from wealth to poverty, but he still had his own ingenuity and he was quite an entrepreneur, and in Siberia he began getting tea imported from China, and he was selling tea. But this was contrary to the pattern of the new regime, and he was accused of a kind of capitalism in the midst of the new Marxist pattern of life, and he was brought to trial.

In the trial, of course, the witness was given against him and he was guilty of this capitalism. The Commissar asked him to step forward to be sentenced, and Riemple stepped forward, expecting this to mean his death. The Commissar looked at him and said, "I believe we have met before."

Mr. Riemple said, "Your Honor, I think not."

"Yes," he said, "I think we have. Have you been in Gnadenfeldt?"

"Yes," he said, "I lived in Gnadenfeldt."

The Commissar asked him, "Do you remember one evening when a man called you from a box car and said, `Sir, we've been in here all day with nothing to eat. Would you help us?'"

"Ah, yes," he said, "I remember."

"And what did you do?"

"Why I went over and shoved my bolognas and bread and cheese through the slats."

"And what did you say?"

I said, "God bless you."

The Commissar said, "We have met before. I was that man." He said, "I'm not going to sentence you. If you would like, I will sign papers and you and your family can emigrate."

And Riemple said, "Sir, if you will sign those papers for all Riemples, I've got brothers here with their families." And this whole family immigrated to California. Now little did Aaron Riemple know when he shoved that cheese, bread and bologna through the slats, what would happen in the future, but he did it out of the character of his being, and so I challenge us today to be God's people in truth, to put into practice the quality of the Christian life, to overcome evil by good.”

And he tells another story:

I was walking down the street one day and I met a man sitting on a bench and I stopped to chat with him, and suddenly he said, "Are you a preacher?"
I said, "Well, matter of fact I am."

And then he almost sneered. He said, "Tell me, what difference does it make in my life that Jesus Christ died on a cross two thousand years ago?"

I could have talked to him about some theories of the atonement out of theology, but instead I looked at him and asked, "Do you have some friends?"

"Yes," he said, "I have friends."

I said, "Suppose one gets in trouble."

He said, "You hang in with him."

I said, "It gets really severe."

He said, "You still hang in."

I said, "It gets really rough. When can you cop out?"

He looked at me in amazement and he said, "Man, if he's your friend you never cop out."

Then I smiled and said, "And God came to us in Jesus as our friend, and we're in trouble and He hung in. Our trouble got really difficult, and He hung in. When could Jesus cop out?"

The man looked at me and it was almost as though lights went on in his eyes. He smiled. He said, "You mean that is why Jesus had to die?"

I said, "That's one reason. He came and said, `Your problem is now my problem.'"
He got up from where he was sitting, squared his shoulders and nodded his head and turned and walked down the sidewalk. I watched him go and I said to myself, "Man, you don't know it but you have been evangelized." Once you know a God who says, "Your problem is now my problem," you can never be the same.

And Jesus said, “have salt in yourselves and be at peace with one another.” Amen.

Keep your Dragon in the Snow

2009-09-13T09:30:00.000-04:00

By The Very Rev. Sherry Crompton

September 13, 2009

Read: Mark 8:27-38

“But who do you say that I am?” Jesus asks his disciples as they make their way to another village. “But who do you say that I am?”.

When strangers meet, there is a fairly standard ritual followed as they seek to get acquainted. It begins with names, of course. Then follow the questions: where do you live? Are you married and do you have a family? Where did you grow up? What is your job? Where did you go to school? What are you hobbies? A stranger turns into an acquaintance and we get a sense of who the other person is when we gain a context.

But if the relationship develops, there are other insights to be gained: the values that shape behavior and decisions; the vision of success that provides the sense of direction; the awareness of whether the other is trustworthy, whether the other has integrity, whether the other treats people with dignity and compassion. Then an acquaintance turns into a friend. And with further experience, a friend may turn into a life companion.

But there are limits to how much we can know about another person. It seems in everyone there are secrets of the heart that will not be revealed or that cannot be discerned. Even two people who have lived together in a wonderfully shared marriage for half a century and more will find there are surprises in the other, and ever new insights to be gained. It is the wonder of life in human community that people are endlessly fascinating as they express in attitude and in word and deed who they are.

Jesus has been in relationship with his disciples for a while. And now, on the road he asks about what other people are saying and then turns the question on the disciples. “who do you say that I am?”

Peter sees Jesus for who he truly is as he says, “you are the Messiah”. Peter sees. But when Jesus begins to talk about his upcoming suffering and death, Peter is overwhelmed with his own feelings and takes Jesus aside and rebukes him. Jesus, in front of the other disciples, rebukes Peter and says, “get behind me Satan! For you are setting your mind not on divine things but on human things.”

Peter’s great confession and denial both come from the same tongue, the same heart, the same man. In all of us, there is that capacity for both divine things and human things. Peter’s confession and denial both come from the same tongue, the same heart, the same man. We all have the capacity for doing both good and evil. It is the self-discipline of desiring to live a faithful life that helps us keep the lower part of ourselves under control.

There is a fable entitled “Keep your Dragon in the Snow”:

A self-styled dragon hunter went into the mountains to trap a dragon. He searched all over the mountains and at last discovered the frozen body of an enormous dragon in a cave high up on one of the tallest peaks. The hunter brought the body to Baghdad. He claimed that he had slaughtered it single-handedly and exhibited it on the bank of the Euphrates.

Thousands of people turned out to see the dragon. The heat of the Baghdad sun started to warm up the dragon’s frozen body, and it began to stir, slowly awakening from its winter hibernation. People screamed and stampeded, and many were killed. The hunter stood frozen in terror and the dragon devoured him in a single gulp.

Your lower self is like that dragon, a savage tyrant. Never believe it’s dead, it’s only frozen. Always keep your dragon in the snow of self-discipline. Never carry it into the heat of the Baghdad sun. Let that dragon of yours stay always dormant. If it’s freed it will devour you in one gulp.

Thankfully, in Jesus’ wisdom we find the path open to ourselves and to the strength and courage that helps us keep the dragon in the snow. When Jesus spoke to the disciples about his upcoming suffering and death, Peter became afraid. He was afraid of losing Jesus, he was fearful for his own life. That is simply human and normal. He let the dragon temporarily warm up until Jesus called him on it. “Get behind me, Satan”. Jesus was speaking of the selfish words that were spoken out loud.

Jesus suffered and was killed on a cross. It was a death that opened the door for forgiveness and release of our sins. If we take up our cross and follow Jesus, it doesn’t mean a bed of roses for us. It doesn’t mean life will be easy. It means that we can be assured of God’s mercy and lovingkindness toward us. It means that Jesus is with us every step of the way, no matter what. It means that God fully understands any pain and suffering we might endure during this lifetime. It means that God loves us deeply. With an everylasting love.

Thomas Dorsey lost both his wife and newborn son in childbirth. In his grief, he wrote “Precious Lord, Take My Hand”. As I read the lyrics, think about what Dorsey says about hanging on when life gets tough. And how does Dorsey answer the question Jesus put to Peter, “who do you say that I am?”

Precious Lord, take my hand
Lead me on, let me stand
I am tired, I am weak, I am worn
Through the storm, through the night
Lead me on to the light
Take my hand precious Lord, lead me home
When my way grows drear
Precious Lord linger near
When my light is almost gone
Hear my cry, hear my call
Hold my hand lest I fall
Take my hand precious Lord, lead me home
When the darkness appears
And the night draws near
And the day is past and gone
At the river I stand
Guide my feet, hold my hand
Take my hand precious Lord, lead me home
Precious Lord, take my hand
Lead me on, let me stand
I am tired, I am weak, I am worn
Through the storm, through the night
Lead me on to the light
Take my hand precious Lord, lead me home.

And Jesus asks each and every one of us, “But who do you say that I am?”
May we all experience the leading and guidance of our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ. Amen.

Turn to LEVAS 106 and sing together Dorsey’s truly inspired music.

Allow Time for Breathing Space

2009-09-06T09:30:00.001-04:00

By The Very Rev. Sherry Crompton

September 6, 2009

Read: Mark 7:24-37 and James 2:1-17

The story of the Syrophoenician woman is one of my favorites. I appreciate her “hutzpah,” her courage, in speaking boldly to Jesus. And this story is one that has no easy answers when it comes to interpreting the meaning. It involves assumptions about different cultural experiences, socio-economic experiences, etc. We aren’t sure if this was an instance of Jesus caught without compassion when he rudely calls the woman a dog, or if there may have been a smile on his face and he and the woman knowingly bantered for the sake of opening closed minds. We just don’t know for sure.

But, what is evident is that there is communication between representatives of two very different groups of people. Jesus, a male and a Jew and this Gentile, who was also a woman. You may know that a Gentile woman was not permitted to speak openly to a Jewish man. And so there was a breaking down of boundaries that allowed for healing and wholeness to occur. And the deaf man with a speech impediment, who was not able to communicate in the customary way with Jesus, managed to communicate through other people. This was a breaking down of a boundary.

And did you catch the irony in the fact that Jesus heals the man of speech impediment and then tells him not to talk. But they boldly speak of Jesus’ healing.

This morning I want to focus on the ‘breathing space’ in our story. Jesus is confronted with a woman who is outside of the usual circle he moves in. He listens to what she has to say. There is breathing space in the story which gives time for Jesus to fully understand her perspective, her point of view in life. Jesus changed his mind.

The current Archbishop of Canterbury, Rowan Williams, was in Manhattan on September 11, 2001. He was two blocks from the World Trade Center at Trinity Church preparing to record a program on Spirituality when the towers came down. As the awful events of that morning unfolded, the people at Trinity Church found themselves trapped by the choking cloud of dust and debris. Rowan Williams wrote a small book entitled, Writing in the Dust, as a reflection in the days after September 11. He speaks of having some breathing space in our relationships, in our dealings, with other people, other countries, other cultures. We often assume things about others, that may or may not be truth.

And whether we want to admit it or not, our perception of things is what makes them real for us. Some very simple examples:

When I got my first pair of glasses, I was sure that everyone was staring at me. No one could change my mind.
When we perceive that the room is cold, then it doesn’t matter what anyone else says, we believe it’s cold.
When I begin to think I’m the only person at home who takes out the garbage, I only notice when I take it out. Even if Ronda takes it out twice as much as I do, what I perceive is the only reality I know.

And, our perceptions define our realities. The problem for many of us, I think, is that we don’t often question our own perceptions. Sometimes the only way we can see things differently is through the eyes of an outsider. An expert, perhaps, who comes from out of town to help us do what we already know how to do. Those “on the outside” can see things we can no longer see. Only a visitor to our church, for instance, can tell us how friendly we are to visitors.

Jesus tries to get away by going to a foreign land. An outsider reminds him of the truth he already knows: no one is outside of God’s love. And once he is reminded, he never forgets. The very next story, in fact, is of another outsider who Jesus sees and hears and heals.

The Syrophoenician woman knew that she had everything she needed to take the next step. Her perspective was a perspective of abundance, not scarcity, and with the courage and fortitude of knowing she had SOMETHING going for her, she stepped out in faith and asked Jesus—insisted to Jesus—that he heal her daughter.

Now back to September 11 and Writing in the Dust with Rowan Williams. On page 59 of his reflection he writes:

“The trauma can offer a breathing space; and in that space there is the possibility of recognizing that we have had an experience that is not just a nightmarish insult to us but a door into the suffering of countless other innocents, a suffering that is more or less routine for them in their less regularly protected environments.

And in the face of extreme dread, we may become conscious, as people often do, of two very fundamental choices. We can cling harder and harder to the rock of our threatened identity—a choice, finally for self-delusion over truth; or we can accept that we shall have no ultimate choice but to let go, and in that letting go, give room to what’s there around us—to the sheer impression of the moment, to the need of the person next to you, to the fear that needs to be looked at, acknowledged and calmed (not denied). If that happens, the heart has room for many strangers near and far. There is a global hospitality possible too in the presence of death.”

“Breathing space: if the cross is what we say it is, it requires that kind of hesitation, that kind of silence.”

And Williams also shares: There is the story of the woman taken in adultery which is preserved in John 8. When the accusation is made, Jesus at first makes no reply but writes with his finger on the ground. So, what on earth is he doing? Commentators have had plenty of suggestions, but there is one meaning that seems to me to be obvious in the light of what I think we learned that morning. He hesitates. He does not draw a line, fix an interpretation, tell the woman who she is and what her fate should be. He allows a moment, a longish moment, in which people are given time to see themselves differently precisely because he refuses to make the sense they want. When he lifts his head, there is both judgment and release.

There is breathing space, time. Time for our demons to walk away.

Thiessen has this to say about the Syrophoenician woman:

There is a miracle in the overcoming of a divisive distance: “ the prejudice-based distance between nations and cultures, in which the divisive prejudices are not simply malicious gossip, but have a real basis in the social, economic, and political relationships between two neighboring peoples. The Syrophoenician woman accomplishes something that for us today seems at least as marvelous as the miracle itself: she takes a cynical image and “restructures” it in such a way that it permits a new view of the situation and breaks through walls that divide people, walls that are strengthened by prejudice. ”

Breathing spaces: if the cross is what we say it is, it requires that kind of hesitation, that kind of silence. Time to breathe, time for our demons to walk away.
Amen.

Blessed are the Pure in Heart

2009-08-30T09:30:00.001-04:00

By The Very Rev. Sherry Crompton

August 30, 2009

Read: Mark 7:1-8,14-15,21-23 and James 1:17-27

So, this morning we hear Jesus calling the Pharisees and the scribes hypocrites. The word hypocrite originally comes from ancient Greek theatre. It meant to act a part in a play, to pretend, to display a mask. A good definition of a hypocrite is a person who is not, on the inside, what he or she is showing on the outside. In other words the person is incongruent. There's a noticeable inconsistency between what's on the inside and what people see on the outside. Jesus is calling the Pharisees and the scribes hypocrites. It seems a bit harsh, because they were serious about keeping or upholding the law. And it was God’s law – written in Leviticus. The point of being a Pharisee was to be faithful, as faithful as possible to the law of Moses. That wasn't a bad goal; it was a good one. So what’s up with Jesus? What is he saying?

Perhaps Jesus is saying that faith begins to die when it becomes nothing more than a set of rules. A faith that focuses only on rules gets in the way of the relationship that the rules were designed to protect; we can't hear God speaking to us in the present, because we are so absorbed in our efforts to embody perfectly what God has said to us in the past.

Jesus goes on to say that it is the “inside” of us that matters. That what comes from within us is the real problem, or perhaps is the real solution. To be congruent, or authentic, is what is important to living a life of faith, to being in relationship with others, to being in community. Mother Teresa has said that if you judge people, you have no time to love them. And there is that wisdom about point a finger at our brother or sister. When you point that finger, there are three others pointing right back you. Jesus is calling us all to self-reflection, self-observation. Jesus is calling us to be exactly who we are at this point in time. It is recognizing and accepting who we are as a human being that is the beginning of true life.

So let’s go back to that definition of hypocrisy – presenting ourselves one way to the rest of the world, while covering up who we really are and what is really going on in our life.

Suze Orman, financial planner and author of "The Courage to be Rich", tells of her successful career that went through a period when it was unsuccessful. During that time she struggled to save face, to maintain an image of success. She continued to entertain her friends at fine restaurants, and to drive her luxury car to keep up the image of a successful professional. The truth was that every dinner, every car payment, every tank of gas was taking her deeper into debt. When she developed the courage to talk about the harm that trying to maintain an image caused, she began to truly help other people and create success for herself and others.

And another, older example….On one occasion Stephen Douglas sneeringly referred to the fact that he once saw Abraham Lincoln retailing whiskey. "Yes," replied Lincoln, "it is true that the first time I saw Judge Douglas I was selling whiskey by the drink. I was on the inside of the bar, and the judge was on the outside; I busy selling, he busy buying."

The story is told of an old man who said, "When I was young, I wanted to change the world. I found I could not do that, so I tried to change my community. I found I could not do that, so I tried to change my family. I found I could not do that, so I decided to let God change me." The strange thing is, God did change that man, and as a result, the world was changed. It became a better place.

Jesus is offering us a deeper relationship with him. Jesus wants us to be who God created us to be. Jesus is changing hearts today, at the price of his cross. He waits for us there.

A young rabbi went to serve his first synagogue, and he noticed that on the first Sabbath, when he said the prayers, the congregation on the left side of the synagogue stood at the beginning of the prayers, and the congregation on the right side remained seated. The young rabbi thought this was a little odd, but continued to say the prayers. After the first couple of petitions, he noticed a murmuring, which intensified as he continued the prayers. Finally, it got loud enough that he was able to make out some of the words.

The murmuring in the congregation was a disagreement between the two halves of the congregation; the left half was saying that in this synagogue the tradition was that the congregation stood during the prayers, and the right half was saying that in this congregation the tradition was that they sat during the prayers.

As the prayers continued, the voices got louder, until finally the rabbi stopped because he was sure that God was the only one who could hear him anymore.

Hoping that this event was due to having a new rabbi (and attempting to influence him), the young rabbi did not discuss it with anyone, but the next Sabbath, it happened again. The argument once again got so loud that the young rabbi stopped before he had finished his prayers - people were actually yelling at each other. The tone had gotten rancorous, and each side of the congregation started to engage in accusations of heresy and other name-calling.

The young rabbi looked up the elderly rabbi who had served this congregation for years, and told him what was going on. The question he asked at the end of his story was, "So is it the tradition of the congregation to stand during the prayers?"

The older rabbi stroked his beard and replied, "No, that has never been the tradition of that congregation."

"So the tradition is that they remain sitting during the prayers?"

The older rabbi looked off into the distance, as if remembering the good years serving God as a rabbi and said, "No, that was never the tradition of that congregation either."

The young rabbi threw his hands in the air in exasperation, and said, "There must be some solution to this! The way things are now, they just end up screaming at each other during the prayers."

The old rabbi's face lit up in a smile as he lifted an admonishing finger to the sky and said, "Yes! That was our tradition!"

God is more concerned with who we are on the inside than the outward ceremonies we observe. You can pray standing up or you can pray sitting down and still never really pray. You can wash your hands a thousand times and still have sin in your heart. You can sing every song in any hymnal and still not know God. You can worship on red carpet all your life and never really experience holy ground. It's not the outward form of the tradition that matters; it's what lies in our hearts that counts. It’s the Why are you doing it question. The Bible tells us that God's concern is with the inward self, not the outward appearance. If you look up the word "heart" in a concordance, you'll find passages like these: "Man looks on the outward appearance, but the Lord looks on the heart." "He knows the secrets of our hearts." "Create in me a clean heart, O God, and renew a right spirit within me." "Blessed are the pure in heart." And so on.

God wants to do a new thing today, and we need to be open to it. What worked yesterday may not have power for today. We live in a new day with new challenges, and we need to hear the word of the Lord for today. Let’s be open to the newness of God’s mercy, grace, love.

Paul said in Philippians 3:13, "Forgetting those things which are behind and reaching forward to what lies ahead, I press on toward the goal for the prize of the upward call of God in Christ Jesus."

Let's be open for God to do a new thing in our lives. Amen.

The Whole Armor of God

2009-08-23T09:30:00.000-04:00

By The Very Rev. Sherry Crompton

August 23, 2009

Read: Ephesians 6:10-20 and John 6:56-69

Once again we hear Jesus speaking about eating his flesh and blood, which we understand in a spiritual sense. In today’s gospel, Jesus says that the words he has spoken are spirit and life. Spirit and life. Key words to living a life that is truly alive in Christ.

We also hear today in Ephesians, Paul giving us an example of what it might look like to prepare or pray or be in relationship with God in a way that helps us to live that Christian life. Paul says, “be strong in the Lord and in the strength of his power. Put on the whole armor of God, so that you may be able to stand against the wiles of the devil.”

I’m the first to admit that I don’t particularly like war language, or thinking of the Spirit, the Word of God, as a sword. When I hear this language it makes me think of all the holy wars of the past as well as the holy wars that are still being waged by major religions today. Holy wars can be one of the biggest arguments against organized religion. Finding a passage that could be and probably has been used to justify them is not what I am looking for in the Bible. So, I have to ask, is that what this passage is doing? Is that what God intended us to understand? Because whether or not I like it, I have to deal with this stuff if I am a serious follower of Christ.

You may not be surprised to hear me conclude that I don't think it is. In fact I think it is an anti-violence passage. It is the armor of God we are to wear instead of the armor of human institutions. This passage was not written to a military superpower. It was written largely to the persecuted of Paul’s time. It was written to those without much human power letting them know that they had an even greater power than did their foes. It was written during a time of great human violence. People could relate to this language.

Let’s also remember that this passage instructs us that our enemies are not those of flesh and blood. That is not whom we are to fight. Instead, we are to recognize a cosmic struggle of the heavenly powers and principalities. In this struggle, it is our moral choices, our willingness to speak truth and our telling of the way of peace that will matter. It is our realization that God has saved us from a pointless existence of violence and meanness and called us to the beauty of love that will give us the strength to endure and not become consumed by the evil around us.
But Paul’s real focus in this passage in Ephesians is not actually the identity or nature of the opposition, it is on how we should prepare ourselves so that we will be able to hold our ground in the struggle. And this is where the rubber really hits the road for us. We all know that the easiest way to live is to just conform with the norms and expectations of the society we live in. The more we try to model our lives on Jesus Christ, the more we are going to be seriously out of step and it is going to be tough. Just holding our ground is going to come at a cost, let alone making significant progress. In a world where deception, negativity, meanness, stepping on someone else to get ahead, I could go on…when those seem to be the norm, it can be tough and downright painful to stand firm in kindness, gentleness, truth, justice, righteousness, all of those attributes of a spiritual life.

So, the image Paul uses to describe how we should prepare ourselves is the image of a patrol of peacekeepers getting dressed and armed for dangerous duty. He says we are going to need all the arms God gives us, but the armor and weapons he describes are truth, justice and righteousness, a passion for peace, faith, salvation, and a knowledge of the Word of God.

Paul describes each of them in turn, but then he says that the most important part of our preparation is prayer. It is no use having all the armory if you’ve never been in training and have no idea how to use it. You’ll just panic at the first outbreak of trouble and turn and run. And you may not have noticed, but Paul didn’t describe any protection for your back. If you turn to run, you’ll be totally defenseless. Like Jesus himself, we are called to be Christ-like while remaining engaged with the world, not to run away and create a Utopia in isolation from the world. So pray. Pray long and pray hard, because when all hell breaks loose, nothing else will enable you to stand firm.

Kobutsu, from The Engaged Zen Foundation (Heron Dance Interview (Issue 13, February 1997) had this to say about “practice”, as in practicing a spiritual life, in an interview.

“Practice has been described by a Tibetan teacher as the wearing out of a old pair of shoes. Wearing the soles thin. Wearing through ego and delusion. You may approach Zen thinking that you are going to become enlightened, become a great teacher and have fantastic powers that people will respect. Doing the practice, you come to realize that you don’t give a damn whether people respect you or not. You really don’t want to be a great teacher. What you want is to be helpful. To be of assistance – a benevolent entity.”

I love that – a benevolent entity. It is what Paul is describing in putting on the whole armor of God. Finding the power and strength of God’s Spirit, through prayer, to keep us alive in our spiritual lives - in our journey toward God.

Benevolent people stand firm in their Christian identity. There is a difference between being stubborn and standing firm. Paul is not asking us to be stubborn, wedded to an opinion, rooted in prejudice, or close-minded. But he is asking us to stand in something that is not transient, something that is transcendent and renewing. This means being willing to be humble and to risk being unpopular. A stubborn person will not listen to ideas that differ from her own. A stubborn posture rejects alternatives out of hand and refuses, regardless of the situation, to change one’s position. Stubbornness is not self-or-other discerning – it is not benevolent. It is not informed and it does not grow. It is enshrined in a closed circle of certainty and becomes fearful, boisterous and one-dimensional. The stubborn heart and mind are impervious to reason and may constitute one way to hide insecurity.

Standing firm is different. Standing firm means that one is willing to debate, listen, and consider alternatives in order to reach a beneficial goal, while at the same time not sacrificing basic principles. Martin Luther King, Jr. stood firm on nonviolence. Margaret Sanger, the twentieth-century suffragette, stood firm on women’s rights. Nelson Mandela stood firm and resolute against apartheid. Robert Sobukwe stood firm as he faced the evils of imprisonment under apartheid. All stood firm against injustice.

Standing firm gives the struggle purpose and us meaning. So, in the midst of controversy we might ask, “is the price to be paid worth the struggle?” Sometimes, in the midst of struggle and fatigue, we may find our strength renewed. We may find ourselves assessing and reassessing our situations and coming to new resolve. Surely, during the twenty-seven years of his imprisonment, Nelson Mandela became discouraged. But he found strength to hope. He stood firm in his convictions. Such spiritual struggle requires discipline. Preparing ourselves inwardly and prayerfully for the outer struggle. The outer struggle, the struggle against the principalities and powers will test our inner resolve again and again . So, dear friends, let’s put on the whole armor of God and live a life that is alive in the spirit of Christ.

M23 U.S. Army Cartridge Belt - $100.00
Bullet proof vest - $399.00
Ballistic Entry Shield - $424.99
Combat Assault Helmet - $399.00
Seal Combat Knife - $161.95
The Whole Armor of God – Priceless.

The good news is that God never ceases to offer fresh opportunities to assess our situation, to grow and deepen our spiritual lives. Amen.

The Spiritual Life is a Process

2009-08-16T09:30:00.000-04:00

By The Very Rev. Sherry Crompton

August 16, 2009

Read: John 6:51-48 and Ephesians 5:15-20

Our gospel reading from John for today is a little disturbing. And it’s meant to be. The idea of eating Jesus’ flesh and blood conjures up thoughts of cannibalism. His words would have been equally offensive to the Jewish people that he was addressing at the time. So, we can be relatively sure that Jesus’ intent was to disturb us, to cause us to think much more deeply about the meaning of his words.

We can surmise now that Jesus was speaking metaphorically about his death, about the sacrifice of his very life for all the world. He was speaking about the spiritual nature of his life and his death and his glorious resurrection. And what that means for all of us.

There is an ancient legend of a man with a scarred face who, in trying to hide his scars, had a mask made to cover his face. The mask appeared as a saint. He winds up falling in love in the legend. Years later his past is revealed, and in an attempt to reveal what he really looked his mask was ripped away. What they saw was a face, his face that had taken on the form of the saint's face.

We become what we habitually imitate. We become what we make ours just as the bread we eat. The thoughts that fill our minds, the loves that fill our souls--these are creating who we are. If we fill our hearts and minds with the trivial, the faddish, the debase, we're making ourselves a smaller person. That is why it's so important what role models we choose for ourselves and our children. We will become the patterns by which we live. If we fill our hearts and minds with God's Word and attempt to love as he loves and to care as he cares, we are creating a soul for eternity. We are becoming imitators of God.

There is the old story of the farmer and his mule. In order to save money, he tried mixing in sawdust with oats. About one-fourth seemed to work. Then he tried half. That seemed to work, so then he tried three-quarters, which seemingly had no effect. The farmer went to all sawdust. Two days later the mule died. The farmer commented, "That mule ate himself to death."

We must be cautious on what is filling our lives. At first it may not seem to matter, but what we are filled with will be what we are.

Jesus is offering his life to fill our souls. His bread, his body, his blood, his drink. And the one who eats this bread from heaven will live forever.

I have a friend, Rod, who loves to paddle down rivers in his canoe. And he recently wrote about how the currents in wild rivers are similar to the currents in our spiritual lives, in our creative lives, in our relationships. The currents are often stronger than we are, we cannot outpower them. All we can do is tune in to them and exercise leverage at the crucial points on the journey.

He writes, “There is usually more than one water path through a rapids, but usually one is deeper than others and requires fewer turns. Streams of water move through rapids at different speeds. Rocks, the bend of the river, the different depths across the breadth of a river, all affect the speeds of the water paths. If part of the canoe is in one water path, and part in another, the current will exert conflicting pressures on the canoe’s hull. In harmony with the river’s flow, the paddler uses the differing currents as part of the turning strokes. Out of harmony, the river turns the paddler. That’s rarely good”.

It’s rarely good when we make a choice to fill our lives with sawdust. We all have scars that we wish we could hide. We need the true bread of life that God offers us through Jesus Christ.

We are welcoming Aiden Palmer Brown into the community of faith today through baptism. We will give thanks for the gift of water and all that that water represents – the promise of new life. And we will renew our own Baptismal Convenant. Seeking the choice to look for God in our lives. Seeking choices that fill our souls with the bread of heaven. Seeking choices that heal our wounds. Seeking choices that contribute positively to the world in which we live.

My friend also writes, “to connect with the currents moving through your life, or with the currents moving through a rapids, you need to move slower than the energy flows. There are just too many haphazard rocks around to move faster than the current. If you go with the flow and leave your speed up to the river, the river will determine where your canoe goes and it will go into rocks. In life too, I don’t want circumstances to determine my path. I want to get a lot out of life, and that takes vision, effort and courage.”

We are faced with choices every day. May we be granted the grace to put our paddles into the deep water path that is the force and movement of God in this world. May we tap into that strength and stand firm knowing that a decision made for the Kingdom of God, is a decision that we will not regret. May we continue to feed on the bread from heaven that keeps us strong and sure of our current in life. May we make that melody referred to in Ephesians, that melody to the Lord in our hearts, giving thanks to God the Father at all times and for everything in the name of our Lord Jesus Christ.

The spiritual life is a process, not an event. It takes time and love and help and care. It takes our patient presence. It takes our energy and commitment.

God loves us so deeply, so completely, that he gave his Son, Jesus Christ to the world. Thank God! Amen.

Remember Whose Child You Are

2009-08-09T09:30:00.002-04:00

By The Very Rev. Sherry Crompton

August 9, 2009

Read: John 6:34, 41-51

Jesus says, “I am the bread of life. Whoever comes to me will never be hungry, and whoever believes in me will never be thirsty”. Bread and water. The basics for sustaining life – physical life. But we know that Jesus is referring to something deeper than a physical life, he is referring to our spiritual lives. That to taste of Jesus is to know life – true life – vibrant life.

He says this about himself, “I am the bread that came down from heaven” and what happens? They began to complain. The Israelites were famous complainers, but they are hardly alone. We are all tempted to feel abandoned when life becomes difficult -- and to challenge the scriptures and historical Christian beliefs when they run counter to popular culture -- and to complain, to complain, when God fails to meet our expectations. When life becomes difficult, we complain.

In his book, Growing Spiritually, E. Stanley Jones tells of a guide taking his group through a grand cavern. There were many beautiful stalactites hanging from the roof and stalagmites growing up from the floor. The stalactites and stalagmites are formed by water dripping from the ceiling. Each drop of water, having percolated through layers of rock, had a tiny amount of minerals dissolved within. As those drops of water dripped from the stalactites (the ones that hang from the roof), each one deposited a molecule or two of mineral on the stalactite or the stalagmite. Over the years, those little bits of dissolved mineral formed those beautiful stalactites and stalagmites -- some of them many feet in length.

But the guide told them that the water traveled through the center of the stalactites -- not on the outer surface. He said that when that channel becomes clogged, that stalactite stops growing.

Stanley Jones commented that we are like that. Many people "are spiritual stalactites with channels clogged." He went on to say, "We need perpetually to get rid of the things that clog mind and spirit."

Our center, the bread and water that feeds our center, comes from God. Jesus is the bread of life and whoever believes in him will never by thirsty.

The influence that this food can have on us appears in a Chinese story originally told by Linda Fang. [She presented this story at the Smithsonian Arthur M. Sackler Gallery, Washington, D.C., March 19, 1988.]

At the foot of a great mountain in China lived a father and his three sons. They were a simple and loving family. The father noticed that travelers came from afar eager to climb the dangerous mountain. But not one of them ever returned!

The three sons heard stories about the mountain, how it was made all of gold and silver at the top. Despite their father's warnings, they could not resist venturing up the mountain.

Along the way, under a tree, sat a beggar, but the sons did not speak to him or give him anything. They ignored him.

One by one, the sons disappeared up the mountain, the first to a house of rich food, the second to a house of fine wine, the third to a house of gambling. Each became a slave to his desire and forgot his home. Meanwhile, their father became heartsick. He missed them terribly. "Danger aside," he said, "I must find my sons."

Once he scaled the mountain, the father found that indeed the rocks were gold, the streams silver. But he hardly noticed. He only wanted to reach his sons, to help them remember the life of love they once knew. On the way down, having failed to find them, the father noticed the beggar under the tree and asked for his advice.

"The mountain will give your sons back," said the beggar, "only if you bring something from home to cause them to remember the love of their family."

The father raced home, brought back a bowl full of rice, and gave the beggar some as a thank-you for his wisdom. He then found his sons, one at a time, and carefully placed a grain of rice on the tongue of each of them. At that moment, the sons recognized their foolhardiness. Their real life was now apparent to them. They returned home with their father, and as one loving family lived happily ever after.

Today we gather in this church to receive a reminder of home, a taste of food that will help us remember who we are. I mean the bread of life, our Father's gift to us. This is the food of God's kingdom, and reminds us that this kingdom is our true home.

We need this reminder of heaven because we are like the sons in the story. We have left home to climb a fascinating mountain. We are unwilling -- or unable -- to return home. And so our Father grieves for us. Our absence fills his heart with sadness.

What is the mountain we have climbed? It is the mountain of illusion. We know that many have lost their way there, yet we insist on exploring it.

Jesus finds us where we are, and places on our tongue a particle of that food from home. We recognize our foolishness, how we have left home and come to a lifeless place. At the same time, we remember our true home. Once again we can smell it, taste it, see it.

The heavenly bread we receive in the Eucharist helps us come to our senses. We recognize both our disorientation and our Father's invitation to return home.

It would seem like a nice ending if we then left the mountain and went to live forever in a loving family. But while we still draw breath, the time to do so has not yet come.

What happens instead is that we realize our Father is with us right here on the mountain. Because he is present, we are home already. No longer is this mountain simply a place of darkness and danger. Once we eat what he gives us and open our eyes, we discover that even this mountain shimmers with the light of heaven.

Home is where the Father is, and since he is with us, we are home already. Again and again we eat the bread of life, lest our eyes grow dim and we fail to see his splendor, lest our minds grow dark and we forget the joys of home.

The kingdom of heaven is here and now. What does that mean?

Thich Nhat Hahn writes - Many years ago, I met a young American named Jim Forest. Jim is an intelligent man, and he asked me to teach him about the practice of mindfulness. One time when we were together, I offered him a tangerine. Jim accepted the tangerine, but continued talking about the many projects he was involved in -- his work for peace, social justice, and so on. He was eating, but, at the same time, he was thinking and talking. I was there with him. I was really there; that is why I was aware of what was going on. He peeled the tangerine and tossed the sections of it into his mouth, quickly chewing and swallowing.

I said to him, "Jim, stop!" He looked at me, and I said, "Eat your tangerine." He understood. So he stopped talking, and began to eat much more slowly and mindfully. He separated each of the remaining sections of the tangerine carefully, smelled their beautiful fragrance, put one section at a time into his mouth, and felt the juices surrounding his tongue. Tasting and eating the tangerine that way took several minutes, but he knew that we had time for that. We he finished eating, I said, "Good." I knew that the tangerine had become real, the eater of the tangerine had become real, and life also had become real at that moment. What is the purpose of eating a tangerine? It is just for eating the tangerine. During the time you eat a tangerine, eating the tangerine is the most important thing in your life.

The next time you have a tangerine to eat, please put it in the palm of your hand and look at it in a way that makes the tangerine real. "You do not need a lot of time to do it, just two or three seconds. Looking at it, you can see a beautiful blossom with sunshine and rain, and the transformation of the baby fruit into the fully developed tangerine in your hand. You can see the color change from green to orange, and you can see the tangerine sweetening. Looking at the tangerine in this way, you will see that everything in the cosmos is in it: sunshine, rain, clouds, trees, leaves -- everything. Peeling the tangerine, smelling it, and tasting it, you can be very happy....

One day, an American scholar told me, "Don't waste your time gardening, growing lettuce. Write more poems instead. Not many people can write poems the way you do, but anyone can grow lettuce." That is not my way of thinking. I know very well that, if I do not grow lettuce, I cannot write poems. For me, eating a tangerine, washing dishes, and growing lettuce in mindfulness are essential to writing poetry. The way someone washes the dishes reveals the quality of his or her poetry. - Thich Nhat Hanh, Mindfulness and Meaningful Work: Explorations of Right Livelihood

Jesus is the bread of life. Remember whose child you are. You belong to God and God loves you so deeply that He sent his Son so that we might have life and not just life, but abundant life. Amen.

Do Not Be Afraid

2009-07-26T09:30:00.000-04:00

By The Very Rev. Sherry Crompton

July 26, 2009

Read: Ephesians 3:14-21 and John 6:1-21

Miracles. Today we hear of two of Jesus’ miracles stories. The feeding of the 5000 and walking on water. The feeding of the 5000 is the only one of Jesus’ miracle stories that makes it into all four gospels – Matthew, Mark, Luke and John. That is significant. So what is the message or messages in this story. What do you think of?

Oh, this story reminds me of so many things. You see, I'm always amazed how God takes whatever little we have and does a great thing with it, over and over again. The Bible is full of stories like that. Do you remember Moses holding only a shepherd's staff and God asking him, "Moses, what do you have?" "Only a stick, Lord." And in the service of God, a mere shepherd’s staff did a mighty thing. Oh, the Bible is full of stories about God taking something very little and doing a mighty thing. Like little boy David with only a slingshot and a pebble and at the service of God, that pebble felled a mighty giant.

It is the power of God that fills people with what they need and sees that there is plenty left over. In a world where we are told repeatedly that there is not enough to go around, God gives face to the lie by feeding a large crowd with what appears to be a meager amount. What would a world grounded in an understanding of abundance look like in comparison with one based on fears of scarcity?

Fear. We hear today Jesus saying, “It is I; do not be afraid.” The most frequent saying of Jesus in the New Testament is, "Do not be afraid." Jesus walks over a sea that has risen up because of a strong wind. In John's Gospel, Jesus does not calm these rough seas—instead, he walks over them, accompanying and comforting those who are frightened in the boat.

“It is I; do not be afraid.” In Ephesians we hear a prayer asking that we all know what is the “breadth and length and height and depth, and to know the love of Christ that surpasses knowledge, so that we may be filled with all the fullness of God. And that we, by the power at work within us, are able to accomplish abundantly far more than all we can ask or imagine.” Abundance. Not scarcity – abundance. Far more than we can ask or imagine.

There is enough. In fact, there is more than enough. Jesus knows this, but nobody else seems to. Why would they? They can count—five loaves and two fish versus all those people. So it's just Jesus and the little boy against all the voices of common sense.

There is a tension in our life between responsibility and vision. Understanding what has been and holding on to that which seems to have worked and a new vision for the future. A future, that by definition, is unknowable. Where do we obtain the courage to step out in faith?

Through a radical trust in our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ. Through trusting that he will be with us through it all, storm-tossed or not. We will Wade in that Water of life, knowing that God’s love is abundant. We will open our hearts to let Jesus in. We will open our eyes to see the extraordinary in our ordinary lives. It is there. It is present.

Gerda Weissman Klein spent six years in a Nazi death camp. Hollywood made a documentary film – “One Survivor Remembers” – of her experience. The film won an Oscar for best documentary.

Gerda had this to say about those years. She said:

“Most people think the Holocaust camps were like snake pits—that people stepped on each other for survival. It wasn’t like that at all. There was kindness, support, understanding.” She continued: “I often talk about a childhood friend of mine, Ilse. She once found a raspberry in the camp and carried it in her pocket all day to present to me that night on a leaf. Imagine a world in which your entire possession is one raspberry, and you give it to a friend. Those are the moments I want to remember. People behaved nobly under unspeakable circumstances.”

There is something of worship or prayer in laying down an offering at someone’s feet and then going away quickly. The nicest gifts are those left, nameless and quiet, unburdened with love, or vanity, or the desire for attention.

Writer Anne Lamott tells of her profound experience of Christ indwelling in her. She was unmarried, pregnant, and decided to have an abortion. She coped with the pain in her usual way, by smoking dope and getting drunk. When she started hemorrhaging a week later, she sobered up fast.

It was that night she became aware of someone in the room with her. She writes, “the feeling was so strong that I actually turned on the light for a moment to make sure no one was there—of course, there wasn’t. But after a while, in the dark again, I knew beyond any doubt that it was Jesus.” What she felt was appalled. In her circle of family and friends, nobody was a Christian. They were all like the Ephesians: worldly, sophisticated, and in need of no one but themselves. But Jesus remained in the corner, ‘watching me with patience and love, and I squinched my eyes shut, but that didn’t help because that’s not what I was seeing him with.”

She had been going to church for some Sundays, drawn in to a funky little church mostly by the music. The next Sunday she went back. She could not escape the feelings. “It was as if the people were singing in between the notes, weeping and joyful at the same time, and I felt like their voices or something was rocking me in its bosom, holding me like a scared kid, and I opened up to that feeling—and it washed over me.”

When she got home to her houseboat, she opened the door, hung her head and said to Jesus, “F--- it: I quit.” She actually said this out loud: “All right, you can come in.”

Anne let Jesus into her heart.

We seem to be immersed in a culture that has all but lost the capacity to wonder. A people grown skeptical about the extraordinary is likely to miss the extraordinary that lies within the ordinary. Elizabeth Barrett Browning said this:

Earth’s crammed with heaven,
And every common bush afire with God;
And only he who sees takes off his shoes----

Truth is, we have closets packed with thousands of excuses why our boats are too small to sail in the big, deep side of the ocean called life. So often we opt for the safer floating along in the shallow end of the predictable, taking no risks, never going outside our comfort zone, never befriending anybody who does not look like us and think like us and believe like we do. But the real and deeper Truth is that Jesus is with us on that deep side of the ocean called life. And he is saying to each and every one of us, “It is I; Do not be afraid”. Trust that God’s power at work within us is able to accomplish abundantly far more than all we can ask or imagine. Offer Jesus whatever you have, no matter how small or insignificant you believe it is. God can work miracles. To Him be glory forever and ever. So, wade in the water, children. Wade in the water. Amen.