Gospel

Proper 21, Year A, 2005

/ Sarah / Leave a comment

My best friend in college was a woman named Carissa. She was raised in Houston and Singapore in a family in the oil business. I was raised overseas, too, but by two teachers. While my family cleaned up okay, elegance was never our greatest strength.

Carissa got married right after college and, as one of her readers, I was invited to the casual barbeque rehearsal dinner—I believe the dinner was actually described as a pig-pickin’. Since the dinner was casual, I dressed the part—a plain blue t-shirt and a pair of khaki pants. When I arrived at the party, all the other women were wearing silk dresses and pearls. You see, I had missed two important social clues. First, the party was thrown by Texans and Texas casual, it turns out, is not so casual. Secondly, the party was being held at the Virginia Country Club. Now, being southern, all the guests were very kind to me. . .even the ones who thought I must be on staff and kept asking me where the bathrooms were.

I was much luckier than the poor underdressed guest at the wedding in our gospel reading today. I was not cast into outer darkness and I did not once gnash my teeth. As you might imagine, however, I have a great deal of sympathy for this poor character. Why was he punished for wearing the wrong outfit?

The parable we read today about the wedding banquet is the last in three parables commonly known as the vineyard parables. These parables are Jesus’ response to the Pharisees challenging his authority—we heard the other two the last two Sundays. First, the parable about the owner of the vineyard asking his two sons to work, second, the parable about the tenants killing the landowners son, and now this parable about the wedding feast.

In our parable today, a King is giving a wedding banquet for his son. He invites the usual fancyguests, but all of them refuse to come. After punishing them thoroughly, he invites poor people off the streets.

So far, this parable makes a lot of sense. God has initiated a party for his son Jesus, the religious establishment of the day rejects the party, so God extends his invitation to prostitutes, tax collectors, and the like.

Now, however, we come to the poor unfortunate guest who is not wearing a wedding garment. The King does not show him an OUNCE of Southern hospitality, in fact he throws him out on his ear, to eternal weeping and gnashing of teeth.

Phew!

Here’s my question. How many poor, off the street people do you know that own silk dresses or tuxedos.

Not too many, right? But in the world of this parable, no one else is getting berated for wearing the wrong clothes, but all the guests came off the street. So, where did the other guests get their wedding garments?I wonder if the King actually provided clothing for his guests.

And if the King DID provide clothes for his guest, and this particular guest insulted him by rejecting the gift, the King’s reaction makes a little more sense.

At the risk of piling metaphor upon parable and confusing us all mercilessly, imagine this garmentless guy as the kind of person who never really invests in anything, but always likes to hover around and see what is going on. He wanted to be at the wedding party, but he did not necessarily want to be associated with the King.

He’s the nosy neighborhood woman who takes a sharp intake of breath (tssss) when you give your kid a snack before dinner, but would stand idly by if your kid was running into traffic. He’s the guy not even assigned to your project at work who always has some negative comment to say about your ideas, but never offers to pitch in and help. He is, if I may be so bold, the kind of guy who comes to church to see and be seen, but is not particularly interested in God or his own spiritual journey.

Our friend is the kind of guy who is always detached, never passionate, never a “joiner”, but always has an opinion.

There’s a great scene in “O Brother Where Art Thou” in which one character has recently been baptized and another has sold his soul to the Devil. George Clooney’s character looks back and forth between the two and says, “I guess I’m the only one here that remains unaffiliated.”

Our parable today indicates that not affiliating with God is dangerous behavior. This kind of wishy washy behavior is the kind of behavior that gets a person tossed into outer darkness.Yikes!

You see, aligning ourselves to God is not a passive act, aligning ourselves to God—like William’s parents are choosing today—is a choice, a commitment for something.>

When Jesus told the Pharisees this parable, he was on the long, bloody road to the cross. Jesus knew the cost he was going to have to pay to be obedient to God and you can understand his impatience with people who would not commit to being on God’s team.

As the King offered to change the identity of this wedding guest with the wedding garment, God wants to change our identity. He wants us to wear outward and visible signs of our commitment to him, not in the form of crosses around our neck or Christian T-shirts, but in the form of our lives.

Our God is a passionate God, who is passionately jealous. He does not want us running around dating money or power or sex as our other Gods. He wants us to choose him, to align ourselves with him in worship, our prayer life, and the choices we make throughout the day.

There is no joy in a relationship in which one member is detached. No marriage is satisfying unless both partners are completely engaged. God is completely committed to us. He has shown that through Jesus’ birth, life, death and resurrection. Through our parable today, he reminds us that he wants our utter commitment to him. He longs for our energy, time, and love.

Being a half-way Christian is not enough. God can handle our doubts and questions and fears, what he does not want is for us to hold back. Better to engage, argue, even berate God, then to say, “Eh. I’ll pray tomorrow.” God offers us more than a wedding garment to accept, he offers himself.

Amen.

Proper 15, Year A, 2005

/ Sarah / Leave a comment

God is immutable.  God doesn’t change.  Christians have pretty much believed this since Thomas Aquinas, one of our most brilliant theologians, argued this one point in five different ways.  (reading from Aquinas?) We can take comfort in God’s changelessness-he is steady, consistent, we know what to expect.

God’s immutability, God’s changelessness is easy to accept.  Until, that is, you read the Bible. 

See the problem with the idea of God’s immutability, is that theologians like Aquinas were taking a Platonic idea, a Greek idea, and imposing it on the Hebrew God.  Most of the time in the Bible, God does seem changeless, but every once in awhile, there is a story in the Bible that makes you wonder about what the changelessness of God really means.

Today’s Gospel lesson of the Caananite woman is one of these stories.

In this story, Jesus is confronted with a woman who is an outsider.  So far, Jesus’ ministry had been confined to those of Jewish descent.  Our heroine was decidedly NOT Jewish-she was from an outlying region called Syro-Phonecia.  Jesus was putting himself in a vulnerable position even being in Tyre and Sidon so it is no wonder he is a little tense when this Caananite woman approaches him.  Still, keep in mind that Jesus has been hounded by hundreds of people, and in every story recorded before this, he has responded to people in need incredibly graciously.  When this woman starts begging him to help her daughter, however, Jesus is rude.  Rude!  Jesus! 

Now, I’ve read a lot of commentaries about this passage, and many of them think Jesus was toying with the woman, teasing her to test her faith.  But he called her a DOG!  A DOG!  That’s not nice.  That’s not a Jesus-y thing to say.  If one of you called because your daughter was sick and you wanted Chuck or I to visit you in the hospital, and we called you a dog, you would not say, “Oh, isn’t that sweet. They are testing my faith.”  Even if Jesus was “teasing”, he was not teasing in a kind way.

What is so fabulous about this story is that instead of bowing down in respect or shame and running away, the Caananite woman fights back!  This woman will not let go.  She uses Jesus’ own argument-that he was sent only to the people of Israel, not other “dogs”-and twists the argument in her favor.  She is so convinced of Jesus’ ability to heal her daughter, that she does not need him to be gracious, she does not need him to actually come to her daughter, all she wants is crumbs. 

Jesus may not know that he is sent to more than just the people of Israel, but this woman sure does.  All that she has heard about Jesus convinces her that he is the kind of man who would heal even a Caananite woman’s daughter.  She is so driven by love for her child, desperation for her well being, that she will take on GOD, and figuratively arm-wrestle him until he submits.

When Jesus finally realizes what is happening, he is not angry or confused-he is delighted!  Something about this woman’s persistence, doggedness, (If you’ll allow me) makes him go “Aha!”  Something about this no-good, foreign “dog” makes him realize that part of his God-ness is to love, heal and redeem ALL people, not just the people of Israel.  Something about this very human woman’s pain makes Jesus grow.

Sure, you’re thinking, but Jesus was also human, so maybe it was his humanness that grew. . .Well, there are plenty of stories in the Old Testament in which God seems to change his mind, when he seems bent on destroying Israel until some faithful Israelite intercedes. 

While there is something comforting about having a God that never changes, I wonder if the concept of God’s immutability is something humans have developed out of our need to define God.  God is so massive and abstract and powerful and elusive and we are so. . .orderly.  I guarantee you, Thomas Aquinas was an off the charts “J” on the Meyers-Briggs-there is something incredibly satisfying about being able to say, “God is like this.”  And, because of the gift of Scripture-of the history of God’s interactions with God’s people-we CAN describe God.  What we can’t do is pin God down. 

Any of you who have a prayer life know this.  As SOON as you think you know what God is doing in your life-BOOM!-suddenly he surprises you with something you never could have imagined.  I do not mean that God is tricky or capricious.  Clearly, over the course of history, God has shown many consistent traits:  God is loving. God is just.  God is merciful.  What I do mean, is that God is not stagnant. 

So, we may not be able to pin God down, but what our passage from Matthew shows us today is that we sure can argue with him.  We can demand that God act like God and show our loved ones the mercy and love that we know he is capable of.  We can demand that God heal us and those around us.  Our prayers do not have to come from a bended knee and a meek heart.  We can raise our fists to God and say, “Hey, if you’re God, why don’t you start acting like it!”

We all go through different spiritual stages in our lives and sometimes it really feels like God is snubbing us, like God isn’t interested in even offering us crumbs of hope, crumbs of faith. 

But if Jesus is willing to heal the daughter of a pushy outcast, he’s surely willing to heal us.  That healing may not look like we expect, but the experience of healing will come out of or even in the midst of this latching onto God, of this deep engagement with the one who created us and redeems us.  There is a time to peacefully accept the lot life has given us, and there is a time to furiously object and to beg for justice and healing.  The key is to stay in prayer, to take time to listen to your heart and listen to God.  When we stay engaged with God, whether meekly or violently, we give God the space to speak to us, to change our hearts, to bring us more in alignment with his vision for our lives. 

Remember, if the Caananite woman had just walked away from Jesus, both she and Jesus would have been denied a life-changing encounter. 

Amen.

Proper 12, Year A, 2005

/ Sarah / Leave a comment

So, what is the Kingdom of God?  If this were an easy question to answer, Jesus probably would not have had to use parables!  The Kingdom of God is a place, but not a place.  It is the present, but won’t be completed until the future.  The Kingdom of God is a way of living, but none of us are equipped to live in a Kingdom way by our own power.  Elusive, isn’t it?  It helps me to think of the Kingdom of God as how things will be after Jesus comes a second time. 

In each of our parables today, we see that the Kingdom of God is incredibly surprising.  The images are almost comically abundant-the woman uses ten gallons of flour, the man finds treasure in an ordinary field, the merchant finds an incredibly valuable pearl, the fishermen pulls in a net full of every kind of fish imaginable-but what makes the Kingdom of God so surprising?  With a little detective Bible study, this is something we can discover.

The lectionary is a wonderful thing, but the lectionary did not fall down from the sky one day with God’s voice booming, “This is how I want you to read the Bible.”  No, actual people-Biblical and Liturgical scholars, priests and lay people got together to decide how the Bible would be divided up for Sunday readings.  Now, a lot of the time I really agree with their choices, but you’ll find out every once in awhile they make a decision that drives me insane. 

Not only does the lectionary leave out dozens of fabulous Old Testament stories, but the lectionary also tends to edit out troubling bits of scripture.  Not always, but every once in awhile you’ll notice an ellipse (dot, dot, dot) in the middle of your Gospel reading.  Look in your bulletin.  Notice that ellipse, about halfway down?  Do you ever wonder what didn’t make the cut?  Today we’re going to find out.

Now, don’t worry, I’m not turning Presbyterian or Baptist, but I would like you to pull your pew Bibles out of their shelves and open them to page ___.  On this page you’ll find Matthew 13.  Our gospel reading today began at verse 33.  You’ll notice that the section missing in today’s lesson is the lesson that was read last week-the explanation of the parable of the wheat and the weeds.  You’ll also notice that the lectionary cuts off the final parable a little early.  Verse 49 does not actually end, “So it will be at the end of the age.”  It actually ends, “So it will be at the end of the age. The angels will come out and separate the evil from the righteous and throw them into the furnace of fire, where there will be weeping and gnashing of teeth.” That has a little bit of a different ring to it, doesn’t it?

Now, I can understand by the creators of the lectionary wanted to edit the darker pieces out from the rest of the parables.  Parables are nice.  These parables about the Kingdom of God are really beautiful images and can certainly stand alone.  However, the author of the Gospel of Matthew intended the Kingdom of God parables to be read alongside the darker weeds and wheat parable, and I think it is important that we read them that way. I believe the Kingdom parables lose some of their power when not matched with the weeds and wheat parable. 

To refesh your memory from last week’s reading, Jesus describes a field in which wheat and weeds have been sown together.  The Greek word for weed here, describes a particular kind of weed that actually looked just like wheat, so there was no way to separate them until harvest time.  The wheat represents the children of God, the weeds the children of the Evil one.  Ultimately, the wheat gets reaped and used for food and the weeds get reaped and used for fuel for a fire.

So, what makes the Kingdom of God so wonderful, what makes the Kingdom of God so surprising-is that there will be no evil in it.  No terrorist bombings, no unjust political structures, no deception, no abuse.  I don’t know about you, but I had a very strange reaction to the London Bombings a few weeks ago.  Instead of being horrified, I thought, “Well, 52 victims isn’t so bad. . .”  I’ve gotten so used to horrible news stories, that I expect to hear horrible news. In this world, stories of death and violence are just par for the course, rather than the shocking events they should be.  What is wonderful is that this world is not the final destination for us. As children of the Kingdom of God, we belong to a place that knows no evil, no violence. 

What makes me nervous about this weeds and wheat parable is this thought:  What if I’M a weed???  I don’t wanna be a weed!  I wanna be wheat! 

While it’s easy to point out a terrorist as an evil person, I can’t help but wonder how an 18, 19 year old British Pakistani kid gets to a point in his life where he is willing to lose his life and kill others for a cause.  Was he born a sociopath?  Or maybe a lifetime of discrimination and mocking due to his ethnicity finally got to him?  Or maybe some smooth talking terrorist cell leader persuaded him violence was the holy road to take.  In any case, those bombers’ stories were probably long and complicated.  I imagine they had mothers and siblings and friends who loved them, just like we do.

And if a regular guy can turn into someone who participates in an evil activity, does that mean we have the potential to somehow participate knowingly or unknowingly in evil?  What if I am going to be held accountable to how my behavior affects the poor or the environment?  What if some of my clothing was made by child laborers?  What if one night I have too much to drink, drive home, and I end up hurting someone? 

I know, I know, I think too much.  My point, though, is that none of us are completely innocent, so this image of purely good people and purely evil people makes me uncomfortable.  It becomes far too easy to develop an “us” and “them” mentality in which we absolve ourselves of any responsibility.

Remember, the weeds look just like the wheat-there is no easy way to distinguish them.  We cannot assume that the weeds are “out there” somewhere, distant and distinct from us. 

As Christians, we are called not only to assume that we are wheat, but to live like we are wheat.  We are called to live like we are God’s children, like we are on this earth on borrowed time, and our call is to spread Christ’s light in every direction.  We have confidence in being saved by grace, and in response we boldly live lives of integrity and goodness. 

When Chuck talks about the Emmanuel Way, this way of life that involves hospitality, kindness, generosity, I think he’s getting at this idea of us being Kingdom people, wheaty people, if you will.  This way of life is not about having it all together, being perfect, or even being nice.  None of us can be all of those things all of the time.  Being Kingdom people is about knowing who we belong to, and acting accordingly. 

We live in a liminal space-We know that at the end of the story, God wins, but in the meantime, we live in the midst of a weedy world.  Our call is to show the world that death and destruction is not the end of the story.  Our call is to wait eagerly for the Kingdom of God and for its wonderful, abundant surprises.  Our call is to look for signs of the Kingdom of God here on earth.  Our call is to BE the signs of the Kingdom of God here on earth.  Amen.

Proper 9, Year A, 2005

/ Sarah / Leave a comment

Today’s Gospel reading has got me thinking a lot about yokes.  Being a city girl, I had to go to the dictionary to find out exactly what a yoke is.  I knew a yoke was wooden and heavy and went around an animal’s neck.  What I did not realize, is that a yoke is used to join two animals together, so they can work together to pull or push something heavy. 

So, what does Jesus mean when he encourages us to take his yoke upon us? 

The invitation Jesus issues, “Come to me, all you that are weary and are carrying heavy burdens. . .” is right out of parts of the Old Testament known as Wisdom literature.  In Wisdom Literature, such as the books of Proverbs and Ecclesiastes, the reader is invited to take on the yoke of wisdom as a way of living his or her life well. 

In Wisdom literature, wise behavior is behavior that is obedient to Jewish law.  To yoke yourself to wisdom is to yoke yourself to the law.  When Jesus invites us to yoke ourselves to him, he’s describing himself as a new kind of law, a law that is gentle and gives rest.

Now, not too many of us at Emmanuel are observant followers of Jewish law, so how is Jesus’ yoke good news for us?

I believe, without our even fully realizing it, our society has asked us to buy into a kind of Wisdom that is just as oppressive as the strictest Jewish law, without any of the spiritual benefits. 

We can see the tenets of our society’s Wisdom when we watch commercials on television.  If they were written into proverbs, they might sound something like this:

Foolish is the man whose financial advisor is not his best friend.

 Wise is the woman who injects her face with poison so she can look 25.

 Happy is the couple with expensive furniture and really good lighting.

 Blessed are the children who make straight As, score 1500 on their SATs, and play varsity sports.

You get the idea.  My favorite new commercials are the ones for L’Oreal men’s products.    For a long time it was only us women who were constantly warned about the dangers of  (gasp) wrinkles.  I am happy to report that you men are now supposed to exfoliate, and wear moisturizers and sunscreens.  Now maybe you’ll understand why it takes us so long to get ready!

Our society wants us yoked to an ideal version of ourselves that is impossible to live up to.  It is no wonder there are also so many ads for anti-depressants and anti-anxiety medication. 

No amount of money will ever satisfy our deepest longings.  No amount of exercising, dieting, moisturizing or make-up will ever shape us into the kind of person who is content and at peace.  And no matter how programmed and brilliant our children are, there is no way we can protect them from having their hearts broken. 

So Jesus says to us, “Come to me, all you who are weary and are carrying heavy burdens, and I will give you rest.  Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me; for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls.  For my yoke is easy and my burden is light.”

Life is hard.  Life is full of imperfection, challenge, disappointment.  The wisdom our society offers us will never change that.  Our society says that we have to carry the burden ourselves.  Our society says, the yoke is our responsibility-and we’re not pulling hard enough.  Our society says, not only do we have to accept this yoke, but we have to look young and beautiful while we do it.

Jesus offers us a radical alternative.  Jesus slips into the extra hole of our yoke and starts pulling the weight for us.  He says, “Hey, forget about being perfect. It is not going to happen.  Why don’t you quit trying for awhile and just let me take a turn.” 

That is a refreshing invitation, isn’t it?

Here’s the thing-even if Jesus were to literally walk in here and offer to carry our yokes for us, 80% of us would say, “Oh, thanks, Jesus, that’s really nice.  But I’ve got it.”  We are so conditioned to being independent that we don’t really know what to do when Jesus, or the church, offers to help us. 

We have so bought into the perfection mythology of our culture that we are afraid to look weak or vulnerable.  We would rather present the image of a perfect family than to confess there are problems at home.  We would rather smile and be polite in church than weep because we feel so out of control.  We’re afraid to take time to be alone to pray or journal, because we don’t really want to be in touch with our inner life. 

Letting Jesus take the yoke is an act of radical courage, not weakness.  Letting Jesus take the yoke is a bold statement that we believe our salvation truly belongs to God, not to our own efforts. 

The beauty of this act of faith, of allowing Jesus to come alongside of us, is that it frees us to be who we truly are-in all our beautiful fragility. 

I leave you with Jesus’ invitation one last time.  I invite you to live with this as a prayer, let it sink into your heart: “Come to me, all you who are weary and are carrying heavy burdens, and I will give you rest.  Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me; for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls.  For my yoke is easy and my burden is light”

 

 

Proper 7, Year A, 2005

/ Sarah / Leave a comment

Imagine my position.  I am preparing my first sermon to be preached here at Emmanuel.  The first sermon my parents and sister have ever heard me preach.  I turn to the lectionary in eager anticipation-what will today’s Gospel be?  Some lovely parable like the Good Shepherd?  A healing story?  A resurrection story?   I open my bible to Matthew 10:16-33 and instead of some “nice” Gospel lesson, I find this passage that talks about Beelzebul and families rising up against each other.  Faaaantastic.  No matter how hard I tried, this passage would just not be manipulated into being a happy one. This Gospel reading is dark and full of fearful imagery.  

As you may have guessed when you heard the Gospel read, this tenth chapter of Matthew is one of those passages that was written for the early, persecuted Church.    Jesus is sending his disciples forth into the world and is warning them that not everyone is going to be thrilled with the good news the disciples bring with them.  While their journeys may be filled with success and joy, they will also be filled with rejection, fear, even violence. As I meditated on today’s strange lesson, it occurred to me that this complexity, this mixture of joy and fear, light and darkness is an appropriate topic for today’s Christian life. 

For years I thought that to be a Christian meant I had a responsibility to be happy all the time.  I also thought being a Christian meant I had to wear dresses with puffy sleeves and lace collars-but that’s a topic for another time.  As I discovered, and as I’m sure you have, being a Christian did not mean an end to unhappiness and it certainly did not make me any nicer.  While we seek to grow to be more like Christ, and while we find joy in God and in community, we continue to face death, pain, and our own limitations.

From the very beginning of our journeys as Christians-our baptism-dark and light imagery has been linked together.  Baptism is meant to represent our death with Christ and then our new, resurrected life with him.  In the early church, and in some churches today, a person being baptized would shed his clothes, be led into a deep pool or river and then his whole body would be shoved under the water, and then pulled out of the water three times.  Baptism is not just about getting wet–baptism is about drowning-about experiencing a taste of Christ’s death and then experiencing the shock of the resurrection.  Now, we are not going to drown sweet Spencer today, don’t worry!  But as Chuck pours water over his head, Spencer will join Christ in his death and resurrection-dark and light bound together. 

Scott and Casey, Spencer’s parents, know something about the ways in which the darkness of life intertwine with the light.  This happy, healthy baby was born nearly two months early.  Scott and Casey waited anxiously at the hospital for weeks, watching their baby boy struggle to learn to breathe, suckle and swallow on his own.  Their joy was bound up with their fear. 

They are not the only parents who have experienced fear in the midst of the birth of a child.  Even the birth of a healthy baby can be a fear and awe inspiring moment.  In honor of Father’s day, I asked some of my friends who are fathers, what went through their minds at the birth of their children.

My friend Scott, who has two children, wrote this poignant response about the birth of his younger child: 

I think you know that we had Kate at home.  She dropped into my hands, and the measure of fear was horror…along with an unimaginable joy.  I didn’t see it coming at all.  In a moment I knew that my own happiness would be forever bound up with hers.  It was like her life flashed before my eyes.  Who knows what contributed to making this one just such a moment.  . . .  I just knew in a frightening way in that moment that I would always be vulnerable because I was crazy about her.  Something in this showed me how the things that are really most frightening are another side of the things most precious to us. 

Scott hits the nail on the head, doesn’t he?  Being a father, or mother, or child or spouse or friend immediately puts us at risk of utter vulnerability.  When we love, we risk rejection, death, change.  We open ourselves to feel pain.  And as Christians, we are called not only to love our friends and family, but we’re called to love the world. 

Today when we affirm our baptismal vows, Chuck will ask us two questions that relate to this invitation to love the world.  First he will ask us:  Will you seek and serve Christ in all persons, loving your neighbor as yourself?
 Next he will ask:   Will you strive for justice and peace among all people, and respect the dignity of every human being?


No pressure, right?  I have a hard enough time respecting the dignity of people who insist on going 40 miles per hour on the stretch of 250 between Crozet and Charlottesville. 

In all seriousness, these questions invite us to experience the pain and darkness of the world.  If we are called to seek justice and peace, that means we are called to learn about those who experience war and injustice.  We are called to be in communion with those who are neglected, abused, unloved.  I have a double confession to make:  First, I subscribe to Oprah Winfrey’s monthly O magazine.  Second, though the magazine often has hair-raising stories about the way women around the world suffer, I often skip over these articles and rush to read the feelgood articles about books or makeovers.  I find it too painful to enter into the stories of suffering women.  I would rather keep a safe distance. 

I imagine I am not alone in this aversion to the world’s pain.  How many days did it take you, before you couldn’t bear to watch any more coverage of the Tsunami victims.  How many of us avoid looking a homeless person in the eye?  How many of us are going to rush out to buy any of the spate of books being published about the genocide in Rwanda?

Encountering these situations makes us feel overwhelmed, uncomfortable, guilty. 

Thankfully, we are not called to be in communion with those in pain alone.  Today, after Chuck asks us the questions about loving the world, our response will be, “I will, with God’s help.”  The same God who transforms death into life, The same God who knows no darkness, will help us.  Through prayer, we will remember that our responsibility is not to solve the world’s problems, simply to open ourselves to them. 

When we become a little more comfortable with pain and darkness-our own and the world’s-we become more open to the awareness of the fullness of God’s love for us and for the world.  God loves humanity, loves us, at our poorest, most violent, most victimized, most wretched state.  This knowledge of God’s overwhelming, intense, unreasonable love for us is what can give us the courage to face darkness in the world.

For we know, because of God’s love, darkness is never the end of the story.    God is in the business of spreading light into every dark corner.  As we open the dark places in ourselves to God, we will be transformed.  Who knows-perhaps one day soon God will even use us to bear light in someone else’s dark corner. . .

Amen