Sermon: Twenty-First Sunday after Pentecost

Justin Yawn, Seminarian

Holy Trinity Parish, Decatur, Georgia

Today we hear a story about the 12 disciples, specifically James and John, in our Gospel lesson. It is a story unique to the Synoptic Gospels of Matthew, Mark and Luke. In the story we first see James and John make a pretty demanding request of Jesus. Secondly, Jesus responds to their question with questions that are affirmed by James and John. Then, the other disciples are taught a lesson about discipleship. Is anyone having a hard time following the chain of events in the story today? Because I know I was the first time I read it. However, despite the chain of events I think something radical is at work in this text that has real meaning for us today. The main question that I wrestled with after reading this text is what does it mean to be a disciple today? In order to answer this question we are going to have to embark on a journey, a journey into the core of this passage, ending in Jesus’ words to his disciples.

James and John are not just any two disciples. Earlier in the Gospel story we find out that Jesus calls them straight out of a fishing boat and tells them that now they are going to be fishers of men. They are considered the most zealous of all the disciples earning them the name “Sons of thunder”. These were not just any two of the twelve and later in the Gospel story we know that they will be with Jesus in the Garden of Gethsemane. So, these two disciples ask Jesus what seems to be a bold question. “Teacher, we want you to do for us whatever we ask of you?” I can only imagine, although it is not in the text, that Jesus had to have raised an eyebrow to that question, after all he is the one who called these guys in the first place and he is their teacher, but he responds by saying “what can I do for you?” And they quickly ask…. (Read verse 37 here). Wow, is the first word that came to mind when I read that question. What gives these two the right to make such a demanding request? If we follow Mark’s portrayal of the disciples as dense and clueless, then we are presented with one way of understanding their question. In their denseness they have missed the point of Jesus’ passion prediction which just preceded this question. However, that is only one interpretation and I am not sure if that really justifies such a bold question. Another way to look at this problematic question is through the lens of uncertainty. I think that James and John are expressing uncertainty about the future which is probably a product of what Jesus has predicted three times. They believe that Jesus is going to Jerusalem to establish his Kingdom and they want to be certain that they have a place in it. They are not as focused on the present ministry that lies ahead.

This question is probably not too far from our minds this morning, especially in a world that is filled with anxiety about the future and a number of issues, the least of which is the economy. I am sure many of us sitting here this morning would like to change the question slightly and ask Jesus, “Can you make sure that I don’t get laid off this week?” Or “Can you make sure that my small business stays open through this economic decline?” or “Can you make sure that my family can keep their house?” Or even outside the walls of our little church home people around the world might be asking “Can you make sure I have something to eat tomorrow?” or “Can you make sure my children our safe walking to school?” Or “Can you make sure that my family has clean water tomorrow?” Not one of these questions is greater than another because they all are products of our anxiety and very real concerns for us. Just like James and John, we are seeking to bring some certainty to our future.

Jesus provides an interesting answer that does not deal directly with the future anxiety. He says that they will drink the cup that he will drink, that they will be baptized in the same way he is, but it is out his authority to grant them their request to sit at his right hand and left hand because it is for those whom it has been prepared for. What a radical response!! Probably not what James and John were hoping to hear. I am sure they were hoping that Jesus would say, sure James and John!! Which one of you wants to sit on my right and which one on my left? However, this is not the case. Instead Jesus gives an answer that is assures them that they have a place with him in the future, but the right and left hands are not just reserved for two people but for many. It is a unique answer. Not to mention Jesus does not come across as angry or agitated by their question, but the other disciples are angry. Possibly the other ten felt like they had been “one upped” by James and John, or that James and John were trying to take advantage of their beloved teacher. Whatever the case Jesus is quick to turn the situation into a lesson and this is, I believe, is the radical message in the Gospel today.

Jesus tells them that “whoever wishes to become great among you must be your servant, and whoever wishes to be first among you must be slave of all. For the Son of Man came not to be served but to serve, and to give his life a ransom for many.” What a radical new way to view discipleship. Jesus has shifted the whole role of a disciple into that of a servant. Not just one who proclaims the good news but one that is to live out the message they are spreading. Now I think it is important to make the connection between James and John’s original question and Jesus’ response. Essentially, Jesus has told James, John, and the disciples that in Christ we are reborn and called into the fold at baptism, have access to salvation through the cup/ death and resurrection of Christ, and because of this we should follow Christ’s example and be servants in the world. Jesus, in one way, addresses the future aspect of their question but decides to pull their attention back to the present task. The action that the disciples are to undertake then and there as well as the action we should take now in our lives. My brothers and Sisters through James and John’s question we are brought on a journey that unfolds the true meaning of Christian charity enacted in discipleship. Our love of God and recognition of Christ’s action in our lives leads us not to worry about the future glory that exists for us, but to focus on the present as disciples spreading this message of hope and love in the world not only by word but through action.

Jesus has transformed the way the 12 should think of their ministry and how we should think of our ministry as disciples today. Jesus came to save us and give his life a ransom for many: for us here today and for all of humanity. So, as Disciples of Christ, how are we going to be servants today and spread the love Christ has shown us? What does it mean to live into this life of servant hood or as faithful stewards of ourselves and resources? Yes, stewardship has a prominent place in this language of servant hood. It is not something to be frightened of. Discipleship calls us to be good stewards of what we have and through servant ministry we are able to share what God has blessed us with to those around us.

A modern day example of this stewardship and servant hood is found in the life and teachings of Mother Teresa. She believed that she was called to be a servant to the poorest of the poor, but that did not always mean the destitute. She believed that we should just simply share a smile to those around us because that is an example of the love of God residing in us. She challenges us to view the world in a new way focusing on those who have not been shown the love of Christ. She and her Sisters of Charity were truly servants.

Let’s just think back to my earlier questions I proposed and see how our parish family has responded. We as a community of servants have filled the need of clean water for many people living in Haiti. We have provided food through the Heifer Project to villages in Africa. Through our good stewardship we continue to provide food and other resources to those living in our own community through the ministry of DEAM. But, what about those other questions perhaps the more pressing questions for us here today?

Unfortunately, I am not able to stand before you with all the answers to those other questions. What I can stand before you and say is that we as disciples and servants are called to look around and find those in need just as Mother Teresa did. Think how we can transform the world we live in if we just stop and ask those in need around us “How can I help you today?” What if we find our neighbor who was just laid off and ask “How can I help you today? What if we ask that person on the side of the street in need of food, clothing and shelter “How can I help you today?” All of a sudden, through servant hood, charity and love, we begin to address the anxiety surrounding those questions. It is a radical message: Jesus is calling the disciples to act in faith and not just proclaim their faith.

This radical call to discipleship has to begin inside each one of us. The first step of this is, as our mission statement proudly proclaims, “Open our hearts to God”. This is something we have to decide to do on our own. It is the one part of discipleship, servant hood, and stewardship that cannot be done for us. It is an individual commitment to begin to live our life aligned with Christ and in accord with Christ recognizing that Christ is with us, provided us with our blessings, and calls us to a life of servant hood. Christ was the ultimate example of this radical servant hood when he gave his life on the cross as a ransom for us. As disciples, servants and stewards in God’s kingdom think how we can transform the world we live in if we just stop look around and tend, in whatever way we can, to those in need around us. Just think what you have accomplished in this community by being faithful servants and good stewards of your resources. My brothers and sisters what a wonderful world it would be if we all lived a life of charity and love of neighbor!! Amen.

Sermon: Nineteenth Sunday after Pentecost

The Very Rev. William Thomas Deneke, rector

Today we are presented with one of the difficult sayings of Jesus. Difficult, that is, if we are rich, and by world standards, we are. So it is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than for us to enter the kingdom of God.

That may put us in the position of comedian W.C. Fields. In failing health and near the end of his notoriously irreverent and indulgent life, Fields was found by his doctor propped up in his sick bed, reading the Bible. His doctor said, "W.C., what are you doing with a Bible?" Fields replied with his wit, "Well, my boy, I'm lookin' for loopholes."

We may be tempted to look for loopholes around being faithful stewards. Loopholes, though, are like mirages: they promise more than they give. That's because shortcuts in matters of faith and commitment lead us away from the kingdom of God.

But the gospel isn't just warning us about loopholes. It is describing what our evangelical friends might call the struggle between control and surrender.

As long as we have the resources to shape our destinies, we are going to be tempted to avoid surrendering our lives to God. That's because we tell ourselves that we don't really, really need God. We can take care of ourselves and taking care of ourselves is the most important thing we can do.

Most of us have been brought up to believe that. If our parents didn't teach us that, then our culture did. And it seems to work, so in return for our self-dependency, we may be charitable and sometimes even generous with our resources.

So Jesus could not possibly be talking to us.

As a child growing up in the 50's, I remember going with my mother to eat at Luby's Cafeteria in San Antonio. Cafeterias were sort of big things in the 50's. You would go through the line and choose what you wanted. There were lots of choices. As a kid I was always drawn toward fish and tartar sauce.

The cafeteria was quite different from a boarding house where I sometimes ate when I was in college. There you ate what was put on the table and you had to serve yourself quickly before it was gone. The choice was more eating or not eating than what to eat.

The cafeteria model was probably what the rich man in the gospel was used to. Maybe not so much in his eating habits, but in his decision-making. His resources allowed him to live with choices. And Jesus knew that the same resources that gave him choices could get him into trouble with his soul and his neighbor. Paradoxically, the choices that promised freedom and favor, could bind him to their domain.

Here's the good news: Our money will not save us. Money can do a lot for us and for others but it will never open the gates to the kingdom of God. Those gates are opened by grace, mercy and compassion. And we do well to use our money to facilitate our being open to those gifts of God. That's why Jesus told the rich man to give his money to the poor. In so doing the man might have discovered the true source of wealth.

It is unlikely that banks are going to print on our statements, Money is for glorifying God and not for salvation. But if we want to share in the kingdom of God, we might want to think about it.

The kingdom proclaimed by and revealed in Jesus was a way of living that turned ordinary values upside down. It could not be bought; there were no privileged memberships. It was a realm defined by the Beatitudes, a kingdom where the last was first and the first last.

And that's hard for us to contend with. But at the end of the day our place in the kingdom will be secured not so much by what we believe but by God's mercy. Through the love of God, we can make changes in our lives that seem as unlikely as a camel passing through the eye of a needle.

This afternoon we will honor St. Francis of Assisi by blessing animals on the parish lawn. Francis is a good example of how God transformed a person of wealth into a servant of grace. In him we are presented with a vision of God's realm and a story of a rich, young man who did not turn away from Jesus' invitation.

What kind of invitation is Jesus offering us? And how do we respond? In the gospel story the rich man went away grieving. But at least he got it. He experienced the invitation, took it seriously and responded intentionally. He could have blown it off.

I think that is the greater danger we face. Becoming so defended by our resources or status or beliefs or even debt that we are no longer vulnerable enough to really hear Jesus' invitation.

But life conspires against our defenses. And there are many invitations from God. Invitations to put our trust in mercy and compassion. Invitations to be a blessing to God and a neighbor to others. Invitations to be a faithful steward, trusting the abundance of grace that is redeeming us even now.

As God's stewards, all of us are invited to see money through the eyes of God's kingdom. As with the rich man in the gospel, that may sometimes challenge us. But how much richer we are when our eyes and hearts are opened by the One who loves us more than we can even imagine. The One whose love is such that it enables even a camel to go through the eye of a needle.

Sermon: Eighteenth Sunday after Pentecost

“Stewardship Sunday”

Holy Trinity Episcopal Church, Decatur, GA

The Rev. Pamela Cooper-White, Ph.D.

Texts adapted for Stewardship Sunday from Proper 20C and Proper 22B: Gen. 1:26-31, Ps. 104: 24-30, Heb. 1:1-4, 2:5-8, and Luke 16:1-13

Today’s Gospel is about something more private than our love lives, our deepest regrets, or how we brush our teeth. It is even more private than our prayer life. Today’s Gospel touches on what may be, in our North American culture, the most private and carefully guarded dimension of our lives: money.

Nearly everyone in our culture is extremely private about at least some aspects of our finances. Nothing breaks up an office friendship faster than finding out about an inequity in pay. Being laid off from a job is tantamount to being de-valued as a person, even if the reasons have nothing to do with performance and everything to do with budgetary constraints. There are those of us who are afraid that if anybody, including close friends and relatives, knew what we earn, they would look down on us—it wouldn’t be prestigious enough. Or, on the other hand, there are those of us who are afraid that if anybody knew what we earned, they would try to take advantage of us because we had more money than they. When we think about the emotions that are tied to money, particularly our own money (or the lack of it), we tap into envy, fear, guilt, and even shame—that haunting, pervasive feeling that we are somehow bad or insufficient people. We can feel shame if we enjoy our money, and we can feel shame if we don’t have enough to enjoy.

Practicing Christians may be even more funny about money than the general population. We tend to think of money as “filthy lucre” (from the King James translation of I Timothy). “Money is the root of all evil,” we repeat to ourselves, usually guiltily. “Money isn’t spiritual.” So we get ourselves into a terrible double bind: We feel miserable when we have enough money, or more than enough just to live simply and well, because that doesn’t feel “spiritual” enough; and yet we also know that we feel miserable when we truly don’t have enough. We either experience lack ourselves, or we witness directly every day the misery of the poor who never chose to be poor, both in this city and around the world. We know that there is nothing intrinsically spiritual about being cold, sick, hungry, sleep-deprived because there is no safe place to sleep, and dirty because there is simply no place to get washed up. No one financial condition, then, rich or poor or in between, guarantees a greater sense of spiritual well-being, and our souls’ longing for God and for the deeper meanings of life continue to go unmet regardless of our economic situation.

But there is no evidence that Jesus himself felt that money itself was evil, or dirty, or even un-spiritual!

Now you will surely protest that right in today’s Gospel Jesus says “You cannot serve (both) God and wealth,” and didn’t Jesus also say that money is the root of all evil?” (Actually, no, that quote is from I Timothy, and the exact quote is that the love of money is the root of all evil.)

I read these statements of Jesus in Luke today not as diatribes against money per se. Rather, I see them as statements against idolatry. Whom, or what, do you worship? Whom do you serve? Literally, in the words of the gospel, even, to whom or to what are you enslaved (as the text literally translates)? Where is your preoccupation, your time, your energy really invested? Jesus did say, “Where your treasure is, there will your heart be also.” (Matt. 6:21). If money becomes our preoccupation, it may very well become our god. And Jesus was always very concerned with the false values of those who, like the Pharisees, seemed to worship their own wealth, or status, or power, or even their rules, rather than simply worshipping God—which would have been evidenced not by acts of ritual purity, but by acts of kindness, mercy, and justice.

As Christians, then, we tend to fall into a trap: the trap of spiritualization. Spiritualization means splitting off earth from heaven, body from mind, the visible from the invisible, and the material from the ethereal. We have inherited from Greek philosophy a system of thought called the “mind-body split,” in which the matters of mind and spirit are held to be separate from, and higher, better than, the matters of the body and the heart. We have been taught to prefer rationality over emotionality, logic over intuition, and an image of a Sky God “up there” somewhere, as opposed to an Earthy God, immediate, immanent, “down here,” close at hand. But we can’t spiritualize everything. For example, our bodies are earthy, fleshy things. We can’t become vapors just wafting around, no matter how ascetic our spiritual practices. Food and money and material things are all down-here kinds of things, down to earth.

What happens when we subscribe to a mind-body split way of thinking—and feeling—about the world, is that we end up having to devalue and belittle anything that belongs down here. So our bodies, our feelings, our material possessions, and yes, our money, all start feeling less-than, even dirty or shameful. Even evil. “Filthy lucre.”

Carry these ideas around inside long enough, and it’s easy to begin adopting a stance of scarcity about our material possessions. We learn from an early age that it is better to be skinny, to be stoic about our feelings and not show them, to hide away earthy functions—for example, to give birth and to die in sterile, impersonal hospital rooms rather than in warm, homey rooms surrounded by loved ones—and to be secretive about money because if there isn’t enough to go around, then we’d better hoard what we need. We are ashamed of the things that are not the “things of above,” and we impose on ourselves a spirituality of scarcity and guilt.

Jesus, on the other hand, taught a spirituality of abundance: “I came that they might have life, and have it more abundantly.” (John 10:10) So while Jesus never meant for us to worship money and material things, neither did he urge us to view the material as evil or dirty. When Mary of Bethany poured an extremely expensive perfumed ointment on his feet, the disciples asked him to rebuke her. In fact, according to John’s gospel, it was Judas himself who said, “Why was this perfume not sold for 300 denarii and the money given to the poor?”) (In a spoof called the “Politically Correct Bible,” Jesus replies, “Of course, what was I thinking? Here, maybe we can still scoop some of it up!”) But no, Jesus knew that money, and costly things, have many purposes, and at that moment, Mary’s purpose of the heart—and in all but Luke’s Gospel, her prophecy of his death—were more deeply right than any other purpose.

How could Jesus believe that? Because Jesus didn’t believe in a spirituality of scarcity. Jesus didn’t apparently believe that that was the only wealth that would ever be available, or the only opportunity to serve the poor, or even that the cost of the perfume was all that important in that moment. Jesus believed, it seems, that there was abundance enough for all holy purposes to be served.

Today is Stewardship Sunday here at Holy Trinity. Fall is the harvest time—an appropriate time for us to reflect on this abundant life, and how we give thanks for our time, talents, and treasures, and offer them to the church and the world.

Douglas John Hall, in a little book called The Steward: A Biblical Symbol Come of Age, also urges us to do away with this mind-body split in our thinking—both about talents and treasures. He writes:

The life of the world is where the theology of stewardship must seek its real foundation, and if this foundation is missing then no amount of beating the drum for God and money will make the least difference. If this world is not indeed the first object of Christian concern…then stewardship of this world is…just an addendum.

But if this world matters, and if the secret of its mattering is felt in the very depths and center of the gospel, then Christian stewardship of this beloved world is of the essence of our belief, and every attempt to shove it off to the side is a form of apostasy and blasphemy.

And so, back to that confusing, rather strange parable in today’s Gospel. Jesus almost seems to be commending the unjust steward or “manager” for his cleverness and his shrewdness, which may have a negative, crafty connotation. But let’s look at the word that gets translated as “shrewdness.” In the original Greek text, the word is phronimos – which simply means using practical wisdom, or even, based on related words in the New Testament, using care. Nothing pejorative about it. Isn’t it possible that when we read this text we identify too much, as Christians, as the [quote] “children of light,” spiritualized beings who can’t allow ourselves to think in savvy and bold ways about money or material things of this world, because we don’t allow ourselves to think about money at all? Yet Jesus is quoted as saying “Make friends for yourselves by means of this Mammon of unrighteousness—so that when it is gone, they may welcome you into the eternal homes.” A confusing passage, to be sure, but I think what Jesus is really being quoted as saying here is, “Use money, don’t shrink from it, go ahead and use it to befriend holy purposes.”

In closing, I want to share a little oddity I came across in my readings on today’s texts. Do you know where the English word “stewardship” comes from? It’s related to the word for “sty,” or “pigsty.” The steward was the “sty-ward,” the warden--the guardian, or caretaker of the sty! Far from being some lofty, pious manager of resources who keeps money and the material world separate from the supposedly “spiritual” things that really matter, the steward is somebody who gets right down there in the mud and mucks around with the rest of the piggies! There couldn’t be a more earthy message than that! Maybe we need to supplement the beloved metaphorical command of Jesus to “tend my sheep,” which conjures up images of fluffy, clean, heavenly little postcard lambs with a different command, which conjures up a very different picture: “Tend my pigs!” And of course, we are all pigs in it together.

So get out your rake and your knee-high boots, and revel in the work that is to be done as stewards in God’s muddy, wallowy, oozy dark earth.

God is as much in the muddy earth as in the sky; in the body and the heart as in the mind; and God is just as much in how we use our material possessions, and yes, even our money, as God is in our meditation practices and our prayerbook and our hymnal.

And so I would exhort those of you who are on the Stewardship Commitee : Get down there, roll up your sleeves, get out your pitchfork if you need it, and practice boldly saying, “We need your heart, and your hands, and your time, and your talent—and we very much need your money. How much can we count on from you?” Get in front of the mirror if you need to, and say the word until it loses its charge of shame and fear: “MONEY. MONEY. MONEY!”

And to those of you who will receive these visitors:

Enjoy your money! Revel in a theology of abundance, not scarcity! Whether you have a lot or a little, you don’t need to live in fear, or shame, or envy, or embarrassment. Give freely of your time and talent—and give freely of what money you have. When we truly believe that we don’t need to fear, that there will be enough, and that loving God will lead us to the abundant life, then we will also give freely, and that abundance will overflow into justice and dignity for everyone—including ourselves—not just in the next world, but right here on God’s glorious, muddy earth!

Amen.

Sermon: Seventeenth Sunday after Pentecost

The Rev. Allan Sandlin, associate rector

For several years, my wife, Gretchen, taught Sunday School to a group of children, mostly girls as I recall.

She didn’t have a curriculum to teach by, so together with her friend, Sue, she designed the classes and planned each lesson. Gretchen and Sue were less concerned with learning Bible verses by heart, though that’s a very good thing to do, and more interested in trying to open windows of possibility for the children, windows through which they could know something of God’s love.

One year, when the children were 8 or 9 years old, the two teachers set out to look for women in the Bible whose stories they might share with the class. They found Deborah and Mary Magdalene, Sarah and Rachel, Lydia and I hope they encountered the Syrophoenician woman, the one who helped Jesus change his mind in the gospel lesson a couple of weeks ago.

Of course, Ruth and Naomi were there—they spent several weeks on Ruth and Naomi.

And then there was Esther. One of two women in the Bible to have a book named after them. You’ll find the Book of Esther in the Old Testament, tucked in between Nehemiah and Job. The story of Esther is short enough that you could easily read it in one sitting, like a good Flannery O’Conner short story.

And it’s full of intrigue, fascinating characters capable of great evil and brave, bold action.

They took several Sunday mornings to tell Esther’s story.

On Esther’s final Sunday with them, the students had a great time dressing up in quasi- 5th century BCE Persian clothing, using lots of scarves.

They acted out the entire saga of Esther, who begins as an orphaned young girl, powerless; she’s a young girl and she’s also a Jew living in a Gentile world.
The children had listened in awe the previous weeks to the story of the wicked Haman and his plot to destroy all the Jewish people, simply because one Jew, Mordecai, refused to bow down to him.

They laughed at King Ahasureus and his antics in the court, his gullibility and how easily manipulated he was.

They nodded their heads with satisfaction when Mordecai told his cousin, Esther, of Haman’s plan. How Haman whispered half-truths about the Jews into the king’s ears (“they are not like us, they have strange religious practices that are foreign to us, they don’t keep the king’s laws”).

When Mordecai learned of the plan to “destroy, kill and annihilate all Jews”, he approached Esther with a plan of his own. Esther would go to her husband, the king, and plead for mercy for her people, the Jews.

Mordecai reminds Esther that she and he will not be safe from destruction simply because they reside in the king’s palace.

And then in chapter 4 of the book of Esther, he says these unforgettable words to her: “Who knows? Perhaps you have come to royal dignity for just such a time as this.”


Now, I wasn’t there but I’d guess the Sunday School teachers may opted not to tell their young students everything that biblical scholars have noticed about this story. For instance, there’s nothing overtly religious or theological in this book of the Bible, no mention of prayers or sacrifices.

And, while Esther and Mordecai are both Jews, there is nothing to indicate that either of them followed Jewish law. Esther is, of course, married to a Gentile king, and for all appearances, she is totally assimilated into his world. That’s all a bit surprising.

But most striking and strange is that in the book of Esther, God is not mentioned at all.

Yet, God’s providence, God’s concern for the Jewish people underlies the story. God remains off-stage in this story, unseen, but working through human beings to bring about the salvation of God’s people, the people of Israel.
And so when Mordecai suggests to Esther “Who knows? Perhaps you have come to royal dignity for just such a time as this” he is challenging her to break the silence, to act boldly on behalf of her own people.

Esther listens to her cousin’s counsel, allows those words to sink in and after a few days of fasting, makes up her mind to act.

Now, she knows that there’s a law in the kingdom that forbids anyone to approach the king in his court without first being summoned.

And that even as the queen, to do so will put her life in jeopardy. And yet, she says “I will go to the king, though it is against the law; and if I perish, I perish.”

That sets the stage for the scene in today’s reading—the moment of truth when Esther invites King Ahasuerus and Haman to a banquet and once she has the king’s full attention, Esther exposes Haman’s treachery.

And by doing this, in a male-dominated, patriarchal society, Esther reverses all expectations and saves her people.

I’m glad those children met Esther, spent a few Sunday mornings listening to her story, thinking about how courageous she was. I hope that something of Esther has stayed with them, especially now that they are all teenagers.

I hope they remember something of Esther, who broke the silence of oppression and fear, and claimed her place as a brave, courageous, bold risk-taker and perhaps a God-bearer, a good news bearer.

Biblical scholar Sidnie White Crawford writes that it’s possible “Esther became queen just to fulfill God’s purpose, but humans cannot know that.”

I believe it’s risky at best and possibly dangerous for queens or presidents or clergy or Sunday School teachers to claim that they are acting on God’s behalf, directed by God.

All we can do is act, in the hope that our action corresponds to the plan and purpose of God.

So it doesn’t much bother me that God’s name isn’t mentioned in Esther’s story. I don’t need proof that she was acting according to God’s purpose because God’s fingerprints are over this story, all over Esther’s life.

Maybe you can close your eyes and call someone to mind who acted courageously, leaving behind traces of the divine, someone who has been a model of bravery and boldness for you. Who have been those models for you? When I think about people who, like Esther, have inspired me, who have encouraged me and given me hope… people through whom I have seen glimpses of God… this morning, four women here at Holy Trinity come to my mind. They are four women in the middle of their lives, all of them happen to be married with children.

And all of them have or have had breast cancer.

These four people are, in the first place, deeply connected with one another and have been offering support and encouragement to each other at the various points along the path. And I suspect there are other women here who are their companions.

But they are not afraid to talk about their experiences; they are finding their voices to share with the rest of us bits and pieces of their stories.

I hear in the voices of these women echoes of Esther, connected in a deep way with God’s dream for us all. Their story has to do specifically with cancer.

But I wonder how their courage, their willingness to be open and vulnerable, how might they inspire me and you? How is their model of courage inviting you to pay attention to the question “Where is God calling you to act boldly, to act courageously?”

Another way of saying that: maybe God is calling you to lead a life that has some salt in it.

Did you hear Jesus saying that to his disciples in the gospel lesson this morning? Don’t let all the flavor, all the zest seep out of your life!

I think Esther was a person with a considerable amount of salt. She didn’t follow the rules and in a time when women were viewed as property and could be dismissed easily, even put to death simply for showing up at the wrong time in the wrong place, she moved with grace and confidence to save her people.

Yesterday here at Holy Trinity we said goodbye to a woman who I think looked a lot like Esther.

Myree Wells Maas was salty and in her grandson’s homily at her funeral we were reminded of her inquisitive mind, her inquiring heart, her willingness to act in ways that women of her generation weren’t supposed to act.

She was, after all, a Southern lady from Decatur who grew up in the Baptist Church, but became weary of singing “Just as I am”. She went to college, worked as a purchaser for Davidson’s, made business trips to New York all by herself, met a Jewish man named Joe Maas who worked for her at Davidson’s, married him and then she became an Episcopalian.

She was a member of this parish for 50 years.

I have a hunch Myree would have held Esther in high esteem, though she might have questioned some of her tactics.

This morning we remember all of these women and we can be thankful for the seasoning they add to our lives of faith.

Whether you are our guest here this morning, or whether you’ve been coming to this parish for more than 50 years… there is work to be done.

We have stories to tell, songs to sing, and suffering, wounded souls to shelter.

Who knows?

Perhaps you have come to Holy Trinity for just such a time as this.

Sermon: Seventeenth Sunday after Pentecost - Camp Mikell

Tommy Lowndes
Parish Family Weekend
Camp Mikell
09/27/09


Once again I am honored to be given the opportunity to be here with you, share in the worship and reflect with you on the good news and our place in the word.

Thanks to Father Deneke and to all of you for allowing me this chance over these 5 years or so.

I mentioned a couple of years ago that there are so many half composed sermons working in my mind. They're mostly general topics that could be used anytime that, oh say, the planned preacher for the day had minor car trouble or perhaps a minor cold. (Nothing bad of course, just a little tickle in the back of the throat.)

I have a good one working that will be named "The Gospel According to Go Dog, Go," but it is not ready. However, after reading today's Gospel selection in preparation for this morning, I realized that today would be a chance work in one of the partials. So as we consider the good news we heard this morning and I am going to sprinkle in parts of my sermon with the working title of "The Gospel According to the Y's." That's the letter Y. Yoda from Star Wars and Yogi Berra. Both are known for their sayings. One sayings of wisdom and the other for mixed up sayings.

It is good for us to come on these weekends. We get away from our everyday hum drum, our routines and I, even as a born worrier, even get away from my worries.

As normal human beings we need this sort of break. And the fact that we can share it as a family is only all the better. Let's explore for a moment how a weekend like this and going to church on Sunday relates to our calling from God to love and serve the world. Bryant wright, an Atlanta preacher that presents a daily inspirational thought each morning on the radio station that I listen to, recently brought up a Billy Graham quote that applies to our experience this weekend and what we heard today. Billy Graham said, "being in church no more makes you a Christian than being in a garage makes you a car."

It can be easy to fall into the mindset that if we go to church and do things at the church that we are living out our Christian calling. Throughout the Gospel, not just today, we are called over and over to be out in the world spreading the word. Further, over and over we are told that the best way to spread the word is through action.

You may have recognized the sequence hymn that we used today as the one that Father Sandlin introduced to the congregation on Rally Day. This is a call to action song through and through. But, the first stanza really got my attention that morning.

As a fire is meant for burning with a bright and warming flame
So the church is meant for mission Giving glory to God's name.

Not to preach our creeds or customs, but to build a bridge of care
We join hands across the nations, finding neighbors everywhere.

Can you hear the call to action? To imagine joining hands is a much more comforting image than an image of merely talking to, or worse, at one another.

It is important to come here, and to go to church. It is in our gathering together that we gain the strength to go into the world and do the work that Jesus is telling us in today's Gospel passage to go and do.

Up here we have been enjoying each other's company, we have laughed, played, joked and worshiped. In a few minutes we will celebrate the gift of the eucharist with each other. We will dine together one more time, and then,... we go home. I know that often when I leave Camp Mikell, I am almost always recharged in the spirit and ready to go back to the "real world" and try to do the work that I know we are commanded to do. Mainly to love the Lord God with all our hearts, all our souls and all our minds and also love our neighbors as ourselves.

Did you hear the word "try" in my words. The character Yoda from Star Wars has some guidance for us here. He says "do or do not. There is no try."

This morning Jesus didn't say try to proclaim and live in the power of his name. Quite the opposite, he is very graphic about what lengths one should go to in order to not interfere with his work in the world.

If you interfere, he says, "it would be better for you if a great millstone were hung around your neck and you were thrown into the sea.

I've been thinking a lot about a point that Father Deneke made in a sermon about 4 weeks or so ago. He reminded us that evil is not some thing or force that is out there somewhere looking for us. Evil comes from within us. And like Father Deneke, Yoda has a similar thought on the topic for us. "Anger, fear, aggression. The dark side are they. Once you start down the dark path forever it will dominate your destiny."

Yoda, and Father Deneke make good points that we must pay attention to. However, there is good news in the Gospel and from ("wait for it")... Yogi Berra. Jesus tells us today that "no one who does a deed of power in my name will be able to soon afterward speak evil of me." Yogi once said, "if you come to a fork in the road, take it."

As I ponder the Yogi quote, I realize that there really should be only one choice when presented with the opportunity to help others. Take it!

The recent floods in our neighborhood, like many other neighborhoods around town demonstrated to me the caring that people tend to have for one another. I experienced, and saw, at house after house, neighbors dropping their own clean up and recovery efforts to help those near them with greater need. I believe that this is the kind of personal charity that we should leave this place or any worship service charged up and seeking to give.

Through the gift of the Holy Spirit, given to us at baptism, the life of Christ is within us. Again, not some outside thing or force. Good is within us. But it takes effort on our part to bring good into the world. Come to church, fire up your spirit and then cary that spiritual fire inside out and light the world with your actions.

I'd like to close my thoughts with a look at the last verse of today's Gospel reading. (I have to admit that for just this moment I wish was preaching in a Baptist church. It would be so cool to ask everyone to join me in reading and hear all of the floppy bibles opening up out there.)

"For everyone will be salted with fire. Salt is good; but if salt has lost its saltiness, how can you season it? Have salt in yourselves, and be at peace with one another."

Salted with fire! I don't know why exactly but that phrase just gives me tingles. Not just salted, but salted with fire. So if salt is good, salted with fire must be better. But we are warned that the salt may loose its saltiness.

In reality, salt doesn't really ever loose its saltiness. What may look like salt to us may have become contaminated with sand or other minerals reducing the effect of the salt.

Like the contents of the salt shaker, our hearts are born in the spirit of pure salt at baptism. But also from within us the sands of fear, anger, hate, waste and the other forces of the dark side contaminate our salt and reduce our saltiness.

We have to put these contaminates behind us and seek to draw out of ourselves the pure salt.

We come together on weekends like this and then every Sunday to recharge. To give our salt a chance to be purified again. Consider the purification process. The Spirit talks to our heart through the Word. Our hearts are excited (I hope) through song. We receive absolution if we are willing to confess our sins. And then we truly make Jesus one with our bodies and souls. The purification of all of our salt is has been underway this whole weekend and I hope that you feel the crest of the wave of purification rising morning.

We will leave here.

But, as we do, it is my prayer that we will all be able to go back down the mountain and let our salt flavor the world.

Sermon: Sixteenth Sunday after Pentecost

The Very Rev. William Thomas Deneke, rector

Have you ever been in a long line of cars stalled on the highway when someone races by you driving on the shoulder of the road, and you want to shout, Get back in line and wait your turn? Or have you ever been in a line at a restaurant when someone slips in ahead of you? These are common examples of an attitude of privilege. An attitude that believes I should be able to get what I want, when I want it, and regardless of how it affects others. I am an exception to the rules.

We encounter this kind of narcissistic behavior frequently and sometimes in ourselves. It is no surprise then to hear that the disciples, the bedrock fellows of our faith, were arguing over who among them was the greatest.

There is something about us that wants to be special. Something that wants to hang onto privilege. While passing cars on the shoulder is dangerous, it is only a symptom of something that can get much uglier. Mark points to that in today’s gospel. He quotes Jesus’ saying, The Son of Man is to be betrayed into human hands and they will kill him.

How do we get from cutting in line at the grocery store to killing Jesus? There are some big steps in between but privilege is a common theme. The threat of losing one’s privilege can lead us to do whatever is necessary to protect our perceived loss of power.

If you watch much television or visit shopping malls, you quickly get the message that you are special and deserve to spend a lot of money on yourself. In fact the average American is exposed to over 5000 advertising expressions daily. Little wonder that we may think it’s all about me.

Now, we hear that even the disciples argued about who was the greatest. And the Roman officials along with some Jewish authorities in cahoots with them plotted to kill Jesus. Privilege, privilege, privilege. It’s all about me!

What was so threatening about Jesus? Listen to what he said: “Whoever wants to be first must be last of all and servant of all.” Jesus was proclaiming a realm that turned upside down the privileged based political system of his time. And a realm that brings into question many of our own economic and social tendencies. In the kingdom of God, who deserves access to healthcare?

Once we are lured onto the path of privilege, our perspectives change. The wisdom readings we heard this morning as well as the gospel see this as dangerous. And that is because privilege can easily transform hope into fear. Privilege by definition separates us from others. Hope, as defined by the gospel, is empowering for many and not only a few. Some times we want to hold on to privilege and resist change even when it will serve the greater good. The Wisdom of Solomon named it and so must we in our own time. For this sort of cynicism and bitterness will destroy what is hopeful without batting an eye.

Hope is not centered on entitlement the way privilege is. Hope comes from faith and trust in God’s mercy and compassion. Hope empowers us to be servant ministers, to be free to serve God.

When Jesus took a little child in his arms and said, “Whoever welcomes one such child in my name welcomes me, and whoever welcomes me welcomes not me but the one who sent me,” he was commiting a subversive act. Only the most privileged could represent God. Caesar, himself, was the definitive model of divinity. A child, with no privileges in the Roman world, could not possibly be equated with God. Jesus, in making such a reckless and ridiculous statement, was turning social values upside down.

When we are in a position of privilege, we are likely to find some resistance within ourselves to having social values turned upside down. But that is always what Jesus is doing. Always challenging us to see others and even ourselves through the lens of God’s Kingdom. As those baptized into the death and resurrection of Jesus, we are not free to be privileged. We are free to serve in the realm where whoever wants to be first must be last of all and servant of all.

That is more than challenging! Does it go against human nature? Only if we believe humanity is destined to be a servant of greed, narcissism, and privilege. The gospel proclaims a new humanity in Christ. And we are here today to affirm that God is transforming the world into the kingdom of grace.

I know many people here at Holy Trinity who are having their hearts changed by the power of the Spirit. People who are ceasing to think only of themselves and are identifying with the servant ministry of Jesus. People who are growing more and more compassionate and being freed of the blinders of privilege. People who are using their resources less for self-enhancement and more in service to the Kingdom of God.

The power of the Spirit presents us with another way of looking at power. What offers power in our culture is not necessarily what promises power in the gospel. Culture’s power of privilege is not the gospel’s power to serve. A big part of our life in Christ is learning the difference between the power of self-service and the power of serving others.

I hope households in our parish are discussing and praying about how to use the power of their resources for the Kingdom of God. I hope we are teaching our children about the joy of servant ministry. They will not learn this from the shopping channel, and we will never embrace servant ministry as long as we are set on protecting our perceived interests at the expense of others.

We have been empowered by the Holy Spirit to make a difference in the world. And that we can do by focusing not on ourselves but on the One who came so that all may have life and have it abundantly.

One more thing. I said earlier that there is something about us that wants to be special. Indeed, we are made special by the love of God. But that is a gift and not something we gain by privilege. Each and every one of us is special in God’s eyes, not because we’re rich or poor, black or white, Democrat or Republican, male or female, young or old, or have any particular sexual orientation. We are made special because God loves people. And that is something we can never afford to forget and never fail to teach our children.

Sermon: Fifteenth Sunday after Pentecost

The Reverend Robin Neville

This is the time of year when, for many of us, our thoughts begin to turn towards school, towards that familiar rhythm of teaching and learning. Perhaps you’ve noticed the shiny new book bags and notebooks and pens and crayons, all lined up obediently on the store shelves, as they have been for weeks. Perhaps you’ve detected the cool and slightly metallic taste of Fall weather, encroaching on the lazy humidity of the afternoon. The fireflies have all gone wherever the fireflies go when the summer is over. The school buses now make their slow crawl, like heavy yellow caterpillars, through the neighborhood.

There is something about teaching and learning in our Bible readings today. Today’s readings speak of wisdom and foolishness. They speak of insight, on the one hand, of recognition and illumination – yet on the other hand, they speak of darkness, of misunderstanding and ignorance.

Just listen to our reading from the Hebrew Bible, from the book of Proverbs. God’s Widsom – in Hebrew, hokma – is personified as an intelligent woman, and she’s ticked off. Divine Wisdom is not happy. She’s running through the streets, calling the people out: “How long,” she cries, “How long will you hate knowledge? How long will you love being ‘simple’?” Here, when Wisdom says “simple,” she really means “foolish.” In fact, she names three types of foolish people: those who are simple or foolish, those who scoff or who are scornful, and those who are just kind of silly. The words in Hebrew are very telling of what, exactly, makes Wisdom so angry.

When Wisdom says, “How long will you love being simple,” she uses the Hebrew word, peth-ee, which comes from a root meaning, “to be deceived easily” or “to be easily won over.” So Wisdom is angry because her people are not thinking critically - - they are easily won over by simple and uncomplicated and emotional discourse.

When Wisdom says, “How long will scoffers delight in their scoffing,” she uses the Hebrew word, lootz, which comes from a root meaning, “to make faces at” or “to make fun of.” So Wisdom is angry because her people are dismissing her, they are making fun of Wisdom through their disdain of her.

When Wisdom says, “How long will fools hate knowledge,” she uses the Hebrew word, keh-seel, from a root meaning, “to be soft.” So Wisdom is angry because her people have gone soft – they’ve gotten lazy, they no longer think for themselves. They let someone else do the thinking for them.

Wisdom is angry because her people have put away active learning and discovery. The people no longer want to learn about God or discover new and wonderful ways to know God. Wisdom’s people have become dull and foolish and distracted. They are like students in a classroom who have let their minds wander, but here the situation is so much more dire than that, because here the people have let their minds wander away from God. Wisdom knows that if the mind of the people wanders away from God, then ruin will be their reward. Wisdom will abandon the people to their own self-made disasters. The people will be lost and confused. They will feel as though they do not know goodness, as though they have been abandoned. Wisdom reminds us all in this reading to be careful students of God’s ways, to be attentive listeners to God’s teachings.

In our reading from James, we also hear of teachers and students. This time, the message isn’t about the foolishness of the people, but of the responsibility of teachers. Teachers especially must be wise and disciplined in what they say, for “the tongue is a fire” that can either burn down the hearts of students, as a wildfire tears through young saplings, or it can gently enkindle hope and delight in the process of learning.

But James isn’t just speaking to professional teachers here, or to Sunday School teachers – rather, he’s speaking to all of us. Each one of us functions as a teacher to someone. Maybe you’re not even aware of it, but someone, at home or at work or at play, someone in your life is learning from you. Are we teaching wisdom, are we speaking with wisdom, or are we speaking with foolishness, and thus setting in motion great destructive fires in the lives of those around us – sometimes only with a single word?

In our Gospel reading from Mark, we see Jesus functioning as a teacher. He asks his students, his disciples, a question – “Who do people say that I am?” And the students obediently answer, “Well, some people say you’re a prophet, some people say you’re even one of our special prophets, come back to save us – Elijah, maybe.” Then Jesus the teacher says, “Okay, now who do you say that I am?” And then the star pupil, Peter, raises his hand and says, “You are the Messiah!”

It seems to me that Jesus the teacher and God’s Wisdom have a lot in common. Both Jesus and divine hokma from our first reading have the same goal. They both want to open the eyes and the hearts of God’s people to encounter the living presence of God. They want God’s people to be attentive students, filled with the delight and the excitement of learning about God and knowing God. Jesus teaches through his own example; he leads by example, even pointing to his own suffering as an example of how far he will go to get us back to God. Divine Wisdom teaches through words – she teaches by speaking words of life, and she is frustrated when the people do not listen.

That’s the catch, isn’t it? It’s fine to have these amazing teachers, but if we don’t listen – if we choose to be foolish or dull or distracted – then we lose out. Because, ultimately, it is our loss if we don’t hear the voice of Wisdom. It’s our loss if we can’t learn from the example of Jesus.

I want you to take a moment and imagine with me. Just sit back, put away any distractions, and use your imagination – an important tool in learning. Imagine a church where we talk about our faith, not only in emotional terms, but also in rational terms. Imagine if people wanted to come to church with us, not just because they were impressed with our emotional attachment to church, but also because we had a deep and living knowledge of what it means to know God and love God. Imagine if we were so attentive to the voice of God and so well-versed in holy Scripture that we could easily and knowledgably give an account of our faith and our common life. Can you picture a church where the people are all close companions of divine Wisdom? Can you picture a church where the people follow the teachings and the example of Jesus, not just on Sundays, but in every moment of their lives – so much so that their lives become like lessons in goodness and charity for the people around them?

What would that look like? Holy Trinity, I want to tell you, I see what you’re doing as a community and I’m impressed. I love that you’re following Christ by reaching out to the poor, as you are indeed doing. I love that you’re reaching out into your community by being a safe place for children and young people, as you are indeed doing. I love that you are leading your community, by creating a photovoltaic panel to generate your own green energy, as you are indeed doing.

And today, I want to challenge you just a little bit. I want to challenge you to rethink the ways in which you hear and respond to the voice of divine Wisdom. I want to challenge you to think about new and exciting ways that you are teaching and reaching out with Wisdom and care to the people around you. I’m not asking you to take on one more class, or one more project, because I know that you are already doing so much here already. Instead, I’m encouraging you to listen. Listen to the voice of God. Listen to God’s Wisdom. Be open, be willing, to be taught by God. Be willing to be an attentive student of God.

May God give us all the grace to put aside our own ignorance, and to take great delight in discovering and learning about the God who loves us, the God who teaches us through the Word and the Sacraments – the God who teaches us through Wisdom and example.

Amen.