It's not about us.

The reading from the prophet Haggai reminded me of an old joke for which there are several punch lines.

Question:  How many Episcopalians does it take to change a light bulb?

A:  Seven: Five people to form a committee, one to mix the martinis, and one to call the electrician.

B:  Whaddya mean change the light bulb – my grandmother gave that light bulb!

C:  None…we just sit around and reminisce about how wonderful the old light bulb used to be.

In 520 BCE, the exiles have returned from Babylon, thanks to Cyrus, the emperor’s, decree.  Now they are attempting to restore the temple to its former glory with the blessing of the new emperor Darius.  Things aren’t going so well.  There are several reasons:

A: The priority of faith is lost to the priority of personal security and comfort.  A spiritual center is no longer the focus of the people’s lives.

B: Those who have some institutional memory of the first temple (even though they probably never saw it) sit watching the work and reminding the community of all they’ve done in the past to keep the faith and that the young people will never measure up.

C: The rest just want the same church they’re parents had without having to make a commitment toward its restoration.

That’s when the light bulb went on over my head:  the more things change, the more they stay the same!  The call of the prophet Haggai to the people of ancient Judah bidding them to reconstruct the Temple is our call as well.

The Episcopal Church, as a denomination, and the Diocese of Southern Ohio are both undertaking projects to re-imagine and restructure the church as we know it.  I believe both are at the stage we find the Jerusalem community in Haggai’s time.  We search through the rubble and charred ruins of what was once loved trying to find something to resuscitate.  We have no doubt that the way we are doing business needs to change if we’re to be in relationship with people today.  It’s just that we want it to change for other people and not ourselves; we think it is someone else’s job; or, we’d rather just cocoon ourselves into our safe abodes and forget about the rest of the world. 

We are going to spend time, talent, and treasure to eventually face what is already a foregone conclusion: The rational, scientific, overworked, overcommitted, world the church lives in thinks we’re boring, irrelevant, and optional.  The problem is that in doing so, we’re looking backwards.

Our theme for the month of November is “What God has been and done, God will be and do.”  This is not a statement of the past – it is a proclamation for the future.  And while it never hurts for an organization or institution to examine its structures and work to improve how it operates, we so often forget that we’re really not about the institution. 

We forget that this isn’t about us.

I was reminded of this on Wednesday at the noon Eucharist when we remembered William Temple, the Archbishop of Canterbury in the early-1940s.  Temple wasn’t remembered so much for being an archbishop as he was for encouraging and empowering the laity to take their place in the ministry of the church. He also understood that the church was not an extension of the nearest country club or the private religious home of the perfect. Temple didn’t believe that the church existed for the people in the pews at all!

He is oft quoted as saying “The church is the only social society that exists for those who aren’t here yet.”  His work challenged the status quo within the institutional church as well as of the balance of profit and service to the community. 

It was interesting to hear our keynote speaker at convention talk about the role of the deacon in the church. She talked about the ministry of deacons in the context of the baptismal covenant in order to remind us that we are all in ministry together.  She said at one point that one role that deacons play is to help goad the church into exile.  INTO, not out of….exile.  At the time it seemed like such a contrast to this lesson.  Or is it?

When the people of Israel were in exile, they had to trust God.  When they were in the wilderness with Moses, they had to trust God.  Now that they have returned from exile, God has taken a back seat to security and privilege.  Having returned from exile, it was now all about them. 

It’s not about them and it’s not about us, and it isn’t about the institutional church. It’s more than balancing a budget or growing attendance. 

Ultimately, it all comes down to how much we’re willing to trust God and work toward the reign of God in our lifetime.  Ultimately, that’s what Advent is about.  We know things are a mess. We know the ‘good old days’ are gone.  But, do we remember that God is with us?

God’s encouragement rings through the voices of the prophets.  “Take courage.” “I am with you.” “My spirit abides with you.”  “Do not fear.”   

Each time we courageously step out to do a new ministry as individuals or as community, we are making a choice for the reign of God.  Each time we say “no more” to a ministry we’ve done but it doesn’t work anymore, we are saying “we trust God” with the future.  When we stop thinking about ministry as “we” helping “them” and begin understanding it as “us” helping “each other,” the shackles of racism, misogyny, homophobia, and prejudice will begin to rust and crumble. As we become aware of the presence of God in every aspect of our lives, we will discover that people around us will get caught up in the Spirit’s transformative power and we all will be changed for the better.

God has been for God’s people a constant source of glory and confidence.  God will be this source no matter what new things might signal God’s presence. 

God has always and will always do great things for God’s people.  However, God requires that we have courage, remember that it’s not about us, and work for justice.   We too are called to rebuild – not a temple made of stone, but a temple of commitment to our relationship with God.  Remember that as we begin our Advent season. 

Amen.

Pharisee or Tax Collector?

The way we usually try to explore a parable is to place ourselves in the story, maybe imagine ourselves as one of the characters.  It’s especially true for parables like the Good Samaritan or the Prodigal Son. When you hear the story of the Pharisee and the tax collector, what do you like to do?  Are you the Pharisee? Are you the tax collector?  Are you Jesus telling the story? 

However you’ve imagined this parable in the past, today I’d like you to think about it in today’s context. Perhaps, it might sound something like this - -

Jesus told this parable to those who trust in themselves that they were righteous and regarded others with contempt:  “Two Episcopalians went up to the church to pray. The cradle Episcopalian stayed in the back pew, where cradle Episcopalians always sit, and prayed thus, ‘God, I thank thee that I am not like other Christians: Methodists, Roman Catholics, Presbyterians, Bible literalists, or that thieving corporate executive over there. I know the difference between a dinner fork and a salad fork; I serve on many committees; I give a tenth of my income. Well, okay, I lied a little there – but hey, I make a pledge, I’m a good person.” 

But the Episcopalian convert would not even look up to heaven, but knelt at the altar and said, “God, forgive me. I didn’t want to lay those people off. But, it was them or me and I have a family to take care of.  I feel horrible.  Please have mercy on me and on them.”

And Jesus said to the crowds, “You are neither the Pharisee nor the tax collector.  You are both.” 

Yes, both. Both Episcopalians are dealing with being shamed before God.  Of course, it’s easier to see in the bombastic Episcopalian, but the humble Episcopalian is dealing with it too.  Both are fallen souls who have lost their balance with regard to their relationship with God. We are Pharisee and we are tax collector; we take too much pride in our own abilities and we make our confessions, truly sorry, but without any intent to change our behavior. While we might prescribe a good dose of attitude adjustment for the Pharisee, what’s really needed is reconciliation with God.  While we might suggest to the tax collector a change in professions along with a change of lifestyle, what’s really needed is reconciliation with God.  We need to be in right relationship with the one without whom we cannot even draw breath.

Being in a right relationship with God doesn’t necessarily mean you’re happy with God. Even our least favorite teachers provide wisdom if we’re willing to hear it.  Many years ago, one supervisor, for which I had little respect, told me that the measure of a person’s character wasn’t so much that they excelled in what they enjoyed as much as it was that they strove to excel at those things they didn’t enjoy.  And one of my least favorite seminary professors always warned us to “confess our own sins.”  That’s something the Pharisee hasn’t quite caught on to and the tax collector has figured out.

Understanding our need of reconciliation is difficult in our culture.  We’re taught early to cover our back sides so that no one can hold us accountable for whatever might come to pass.  (And, yet, the first thing we cry out for in a crisis is to demand the discovery of who is to blame!)  We are caught between what we must do to survive and what we believe we ought to do as believers in Jesus. We believe that we have to put on a different persona for work and for home and for school and for church. We’re afraid to be who God made us to be. After a while, the imbalance bends us over – and in some circumstances, breaks us.  We forget that God’s grace has our back. We forget that God’s love surrounds us even in our darkest moments.  We lose our center – our friendship with God goes awry.

God doesn’t abandon us, however.  God is always more ready to hear than we are to pray. We need only be willing to know and take our place in the scheme of things. When we pause to acknowledge that we’ve hurt others to benefit ourselves and drop the self-righteous proclamations, then we are open to the Spirit’s cleansing breath.  Then, we are open to do the same for and with others.

There is a reason that we usually follow the prayers of the people with a general confession.  By getting our own souls washed up and purified, we can then turn to our family and friends and offer them the peace of Christ.  There is something quite comforting about hearing those words of absolution.

But, you know what?  It’s a lot more comforting if you really put some thought into those words and what parts of your life are behind what you are saying.  It’s too tempting, in a general confession, to stay on the surface, confessing the equivalent of getting your hand caught in the cookie jar.   Those are the easy sins to confess.  If you go a little deeper, what spiritual flotsam and jetsam gets stirred up and sent to the surface?  What are those things you have done that you shouldn’t have done. What are those things that you didn’t do that you should have?  What is the evil that enslaves you? What is the evil done on your behalf?  What lies were told? What bad things have been said? What ideal hasn’t been upheld?

Before you begin the confession, take a little bit of time to think about these questions. It will help you make a new beginning by turning things around and letting God be the center of your life.  

Be humble and you shall find yourselves exalted.

Amen.

Excuses, excuses

(c) 2013 C. B. Park, all rights reserved

I was about to despair of having anything to say this morning when the phone rang.  “It’s your gym,” Steve said, handing me the receiver.  I knew what this was about.  I’d just left a less than pleasant note in the door of the gym.  For the second time that week, no one was there to open at the published business hours.  The place is closing and it’s been a hot mess for the last 3 months. 

The first thing the owner did was pronounce my name wrong. Strike one. 
Then, she prefaced her “apology” with “you have no idea what I’ve been going through.” Strike two. 
“Yes, I do, actually.  I owned my own business and I shut it down,” I said.  Well, that set her off on a tirade.  “I guess I’m not perfect like you.  I guess you do everything right.  blah….blah….blah…”  All the while I was thinking – all you should have done was apologize and assure me that my refund would be ready on Monday morning.  That’s it.  That’s all.  I’m the customer. I’m the one paying for you to provide these services.  I don’t want to hear your excuses. Strike three – I’m out.

I don’t want to hear your excuses.

“I’m only a boy,” Jeremiah said.  “I’m slow of speech,” Moses opined.  “I don’t want to go to Ninevah,” pouted Jonah. “She gave me the fruit,” whined Adam. “You’re not following the rules,” beseeched the leader of the synagogue.

Excuses, excuses.  The only thing as old as humankind has been our ability to make excuses. The fact that we can manufacture these annoying things does not give us permission to employ them.  They’re called excuses for a good reason: we want to be excused from our behavior or failing or lack of compassion.  We want to be comfortable in our mischief or mistake.  We want to push the blame off to the other. Unfortunately, that won’t work with God. Just ask Jeremiah, or Moses, or the leader of the synagogue.  God doesn’t work that way.

We, the people of God, forget that we are not the customer here.  We are not the ones who are paying for things. God is the customer in this world of faith.  God has paid the price for us.  Jesus – the incarnation of God’s love – suffered and died in witness to the incredible love God has for us.  The Hebrew scripture is bursting with stories and psalms that remind us that our gift of free will costs God on a daily basis. 
God’s people spurn the one who loves them into being, who treats them like a bridegroom treats his bride.  God laments over Israel. Jesus cries for Jerusalem. We have all of this and we disregard it.  Then we make our excuses.  Jesus continues to weep.

There was a link circulating a while back on Facebook about the phenomenon called “church shopping.”  Some people acknowledge the phenomenon as a given, a sign of the times.  People go place to place deciding whether or not they can ‘buy in’ to the services offered by the institution. Others, myself included, felt very uncomfortable with this notion.  Why?  Because when it comes to faith, we can’t approach decisions like a consumer.  We have to approach them by discernment.

Discernment isn’t about buying in.  It isn’t about getting what you pay for.  Discernment is about where God wants you to be and trusting God to provide the ways and means to live into it.  It’s true for individuals.  It’s true for faith communities like churches. 
Frankly, the consumer avenue is a lot easier and cheaper in the short run.  There’s also that whole instant-gratification-thing for consumers that discerners just don’t have.  That’s what makes it so much more appealing than discernment. 

The Facebook article’s author wrote, “Wouldn’t it be wonderful if people joined a congregation because they discerned that God was leading them there.”  What a difference that is from ‘I think I’ll attend here because they have a great choir’.  It doesn’t make the choir less great, but it shifts our perspective from what we get out of a community to what God wants us to be as a community.

Discernment’s other difficulty is that God might just ask you to go where you don’t particularly feel qualified or just flat out don’t want to go.  Actually, you can pretty much guarantee that.  Just look at the prophets, the apostles, the martyrs.  When I think about it, the one person who threw caution to the wind and just accepted God’s call without hesitation was an unmarried teenager in backwater Galilee.  Becoming the mother of Jesus certainly was not a smooth road, but where would we be if Mary had said to the angel Gabriel, “Honey, you can’t pay me enough to do that.” 

Discernment requires trusting your relationship with God with every fiber of your being, knowing that it’s not always going to be pleasant.  No relationship is sunshine and rainbows all the time.  Sometimes, as prophet and singer Pink would say, you’re gonna get burned…but you gotta get up and try, try, try.

I ask you to think about why you are here.  The reason may be intensely personal or it may be that you liked what you saw.  Regardless of why you came, God had a hand in it.  So, now it is time to discern what God may be calling you to be and do here.  As you chew on that over the next few days, take note of those ideas that you might be shying away from because you don’t feel qualified.  Remember, Jeremiah was only a boy.  Moses was slow of speech. The leader of the synagogue was trapped in what had always been.  God makes God’s self known in weakness. That’s what Christmas is all about! It’s why Jesus healed the bent-over woman. God also provides what is needed to fulfill God’s purposes.

Our job is to listen, trust, and take leaps of faith.  Remember – God is the customer here.  Excuses should be left at the door.      Amen.

(c) 2013 C. B. Park, all rights reserved

What I did this Summer.

School is beginning this week in several central Ohio school districts.  Everyone else starts next week.  Parents are happy, for the most part. Kids are sad, for the most part.  I was one of those kids who was happy.  I loved school.  Summer for me was an awful boring time when Mom and Dad made me play outside when I just wanted to stay in and read my books.

Summer now looks a lot like the rest of the year.  I tend to take time off in the spring and fall in order to avoid peak travel costs.  The parish begins to ramp up for Vacation Bible School just as the program year is ending.  We exhale for a little while in late July and early August.  So, mostly, I worked.

There have been some bright spots.  Some of the programming that was born previous to this summer actually took root and started to grow.  "St. Arbucks," the coffee house ministry I've been attending to for a little over 2 years now, has a core faithful.  We've begun to do a book study along with fellowship time.  Those who gather are getting closer and more trusting of each other.  "Divine + Wine" has gone from a sure 4 people to "at least 6 and sometimes more."  From the outside it may look like people having dinner together. At the table, we check in with each other and support each other in our faith journey.

The Celtic Evening Prayer service has been the most surprising of all.  Based in parishioners homes, those attending offer prayer, study scripture and other spiritual texts, chant a little, and spend time in quiet contemplation.  The group has become quite close and we may expand it out this fall. 

It's been a good summer.  Just think - fall and a new program year are just around the corner.  How exciting is that!

Skinned Knees

(c) 2013 C. B. Park, all rights reserved

Skinned knees: One of those childhood experiences.  We’re running away from someone in a game of Hide and Seek or we think we’ve gotten the hang of those roller skates.  Then WHAM! we’re flat out on the ground and it’s no fun anymore.  If we’re lucky, the weather’s a little cool and we have a layer of denim between us and the pavement.  It may not save us from the injury completely, but at least one layer of skin may escape.  Then again, a completely skinned knee might be the better option from picking blue thread out of your tender epidermis.

Skinned knees are probably our first experience of healing.  They’re different from a cold or the flu.  You can actually watch the healing process work.  Right after you fall, the body reacts by inflaming the wound.  Blood vessels contract to stop the bleeding and then they expand so that antibodies, white blood cells, enzymes and nutrients can get to the wound.  While you are screaming “mommy” and running for the house, neutrophils and macrophages are mounting an attack on any bacteria hovering around.

After this initial reaction, the body settles into the rebuilding stage.  Collagen-rich tissue and new blood vessels form a granulation layer over the wound.  Eventually this closes the wound, the epithelial cells resurface the area with skin, and all manner of swelling and tenderness subsides.  Of course, the amount of time this takes depends a great deal on how much you pick at it.  Scabs are such interesting science experiments.

So, as I reminisced upon the many and various skinned knees suffered in my childhood (and beyond), I realized that this universal experience is a great metaphor for what healing can be for us.

Our woundedness comes from many sources.  Injuries of the flesh are only one type of hurt we suffer in our lifetimes.  Mental or spiritual pain is as real as physical.  These injuries can be self-inflicted and self-aggravated.  They can be inflicted by others intentionally or unintentionally. But, all of this is secondary to the fact that we just hurt.

Our wounds may be inflamed by others good intentions, attempts at comfort that may staunch the bleeding but do nothing to ease the immediate pain.  Inflammation comes quickly when the injury is completely unexpected and our emotions rise to counterattack.  We believers run to our Beloved Parent for solace and for healing.  Healing is always there with God.  And, thanks to God’s gift of calling women and men to healing professions, the easing of pain is possible as well.

As time passes, we begin the rebuilding stage.  Healing is a process.  It is ongoing.  The initial pain subsides, we experience relief from the inflammation, and we begin to feel like everything’s going to be okay.  But, deep down, we are still tender.  It doesn’t take much to re-injure ourselves; our newly formed skin is so susceptible to being torn anew.  This tenderness may take a lifetime to heal.  Anniversaries, vivid memories, or just the wrong thing said at the wrong time, often put us back in that cycle of pain that we thought we’d left behind. 
Of course, we may simply keep picking at that wound, keeping it open and vulnerable.

I believe that my ultimate healing will be when I am in God’s nearer presence.  But until that day comes, I know that God is with me in my hurting.  God hurts along side us God hurts with us.  The One who still bears the scars from wounds inflicted by the world’s hate is our companion in suffering. We can run to Jesus who will wrap his strong arms around us and hold us through the pain.

As my friend Julian of Norwich wrote:
In the time of our pain and our woe,
                (Christ) shows us the face of His Passion and of His cross,
                helping us to bear it by His own blessed strength.
…whether in falling or in rising
we are ever preciously protected in one love.

Whatever brings you here tonight…pain or injury…doubt…illness…fear…know that you can with confidence ask for God’s healing grace.  Let it begin with you tonight.  Let it continue with you tonight.

All shall be well.  All manner of things shall be well.
Amen.

(c) 2013 C. B. Park, all rights reserved

The Hokey Pokey really is what it's all about.

(c) 2013 C. B. Park, all rights reserved

 

Bumper Sticker Theology: A pithy saying that makes you shake your head and groan or actually think about something differently.  Today’s Bumper Sticker Theology topic is “The Hokey Pokey: What if it really is what it’s all about?”

I give thanks to God that it’s the Hokey Pokey and that it’s not the Chicken Dance.  I’d hate to think that it’s all about flapping your arms and saying “bock bock bock.”  Similarly, I’m glad it’s not all about Locomotion.  All that jumping up and down hanging on to someone’s waist gets tiresome.  Party Rock – it’s not in the house tonight.  At my age, I’m not that into shuffling.  However, given my conversations and contemplations this week about today’s gospel on the baptism of Jesus, the Hokey Pokey Bumper Sticker Theology isn’t too far off base. 

Really.  Stick with me, people.  This is going to make sense.

Let’s review the steps of this traditional and ridiculous American wedding dance. (You put your right hand in….)  This is repeated with the left hand, the right leg, the left leg, until finally you put your whole self in and take your whole self out and put your whole self in again.

I think, in many ways, the Hokey Pokey is a great metaphor for our journey in faith.  We take one move at a time, some prescribed for us, and some where we step out on our own.  We shake off what we don’t like or just shake to test whether or not something is strong enough to keep.  The goal, eventually, is to put our whole selves into sacramental life, not to get something for ourselves, but to immerse ourselves in the mystery and give ourselves up to the experience, letting it shape us and how we live.

As a sacramental church, we use ritual to make holy time and space.  Our Prayer Book provides language that we use to sanctify the hours of the day, certain days of the year, and significant times of our lives.  One of those significant times is baptism.  As this is the Feast of the Baptism of Our Lord, I’m going to stick to this one particular sacrament.  I think, though, that you’ll be able to see the parallels in the others.

First of all, let’s be clear about Jesus’ baptism.   It wasn’t about his getting to heaven, nor was it done in the name of the Trinity.  This baptism was about repentance – making a new start – turning one’s life in a new direction.  In all honesty, John didn’t really think Jesus needed to be baptized for that either. 

In hindsight, we can interpret Jesus’ subsequential trip to the wilderness, initiated by the Holy Spirit, as Our Savior’s new direction.  However, I don’t think that this was the point either.

In his baptism, Jesus became a part of the community that was surrounding him.  He wasn’t signing off on all of the statements of a creed. He wasn’t testifying to any specific doctrine.  He was putting his whole self in community with the confused, damaged, and broken people who knew that they needed God.

As he prays, the voice from heaven proclaims him to be the Beloved, one in whom God is well pleased.  In essence, nothing is changed. Jesus has always been God’s Beloved, before time and forever.  God has always been in solidarity with the downtrodden.  The act of baptism, though, made it visible to the world around Jesus.  No longer was the divine presence something ethereal; now it was obviously real, in the flesh, not just to his parents or to traveling royalty but to the hoi polloi, the folks at the river who waded into the water to be cleansed from the impurity of their lives in hopes of starting over.  What had always been was now made holy.

The reality of sacramental living is that whether it is blessings or baptisms, communion or confirmation, anointing or ordination, liturgy gives words and signs and actions to Divine Activities that are already taking place. Christ is already present with the community before bread is broken; a child is already loved by God before they are baptized; healing is already taking place before oil and prayers meet the forehead of someone who is sick. The sacraments signal to the community gathered that God is here, now, forever, and we are given the opportunity to see the divine desire in the eyes and hearts of the people next to us.

It is no accident that the sacraments cannot be administered in the Episcopal Church without the community present.  If we are asking people to put their whole selves into this community, through baptism or the Eucharist or any of the others, we need to be there to support them in the transformation of life that will undoubtedly come.  And, we need to be there to hold each other accountable in that transformed life.

Accountability is the gift of the sacraments of the church. The sacraments allow those over whom the Holy Spirit hovers to be accountable not only to God but to the entire community of believers and vice versa.

The sacraments require that we make a commitment of our whole selves to the community in which we now find ourselves.  We witness baptismal promises in a context that includes our own promise to them – to support them, to pray for them, to love them as the beloved children of God that they are.  We are all God’s Beloved.  With us God is well pleased.  If you have any doubt of that, return to the passage of Isaiah that we read earlier.  Read it to yourself and insert your name where it says Jacob and Israel. 

But now thus says the Lord,

he who created you, O __

he who formed you, O __

Do not fear, for I have redeemed you;

I have called you by name, you are mine.

Is there anything that we cannot do, knowing that we are loved by God so deeply?  How can we stay rooted in our pews when others equally beloved by God are in need?   Why would we want to distance ourselves from the Spirit that creates and sustains this community?  I can’t imagine: Unless you’ve taken your whole self out.

So, put your whole self in – into community, into faith, into the Divine Desire for you.  That’s what it’s all about.  Amen.