Jesus

Proper 25, Year B, 2006

/ Sarah / Leave a comment

What does it mean to see?

The couple that led my high school youth group were an affectionate couple in their 40s who had been in love with each other since high school.  Their loving relationship spilled over to their relationships with their kids and even further to all of us in their youth group.  Deena, the wife, had always had blurred vision, but by the time I graduated from their program, her vision was becoming progressively worse.  Over the next four years, her vision became so bad that even corrective lenses could not fix the problem.  She saw double, and eventually triple, and was declared legally blind.  Despite not being allowed to drive or do many of the things she loved, Deena continued her life without complaint.  Friends of hers urged her speak with an eye surgeon in her congregation.  She felt guilty asking for the favor, but eventually did work up the courage to speak with him.  He referred her to another doctor, who immediately diagnosed her with juvenile cataracts-a condition completely treatable with an easy surgery.  Deena visited him in September and the surgery was scheduled for late November. 

Bartimaeus was also blind, and had been for a long time.  He could not work as a blind person, so made his living by begging.  He is one of many healed by Jesus in the Gospel of Mark and one of two blind men Jesus heals.  So what makes Bartimaeus special?

Bartimaeus’s healing story is the end of what Biblical scholars call an inclusio.  An inclusio is a literary devise wherein a writer tells a certain kind of story-say a healing, then goes on with the narrative, then tells a very similar kind of story.  These inclusios are meant to draw our attention to the similarities and differences between the stories and always teach us something about God. 

In the first healing of a blind man in the Gospel of Mark, Jesus is not able to heal the man the first time. The man can see a little bit better, but his vision is incredibly blurry.  To correct this, Jesus ends up having to spit in some dirt and smear it on the man’s eyes to heal him fully.  In the Bartimaeus story, by contrast, Jesus is able to heal Bartimaeus completely and perfectly the first time, without any need for a dirt compress.

Why the difference?  Before we go into that, let me tell you the rest of Deena’s story.  She and Jim spent the fall excitedly anticipating her surgery.  They day dreamed about her being able to drive again, to see his face perfectly again.  They also celebrated their 28th anniversary that fall.  On November 23rd of that year, a week before the surgery, Jim died suddenly of a heart attack.  Deena went ahead with the scheduled surgery, and could see perfectly, but now her vision was clouded by grief.  She’s come to understand that there are many kinds of seeing, not all of which involve the eyes.  She told me recently that it is just within the last couple of months, seven years after his death, that she has felt able to see the world through something other than her grief. 

Sight is not always about the eyes. . .The way we see the world can be influenced by grief, by misunderstanding, by hopefulness, by greed, by any number of things.

Jesus knew about these different ways of seeing.  Some scholars believe the difference in the blind healing stories points to a difference in the way the disciples, and we, see and understand Jesus.  Immediately after the first blind healing story, Jesus asks his disciples “Who do people say that I am?”  The disciples told him what they had overheard and the answers were all over the place.  Some people thought he was a prophet, others thought he was a reincarnated John the Baptist or Elijah.  Only Peter thought Jesus was the Christ.  Just like the first blind man, the disciples’ vision was blurred.  Although they spent every day with Jesus, they did not fully understand who Jesus was.  Like the first blind man, after the first part of his healing, they could only see and understand Jesus in a kind of blurry haze.

The second healing of a blind man takes place immediately before Jesus and the Disciples go to Jerusalem.  Soon, the disciples will learn exactly who Jesus is.  They will see him crucified and then rise again.  Their eyes will be open and they will fully understand that Jesus is God.  Like the healed blind man, their vision is totally clear.

We too, can wear filters that affect how we experience Jesus.  When I’m not careful, I can wear jaded, pessimistic filters.  I am very comfortable with a Jesus who suffers alongside us when we suffer, but less comfortable with a victorious Jesus who answers all our prayers.  You can imagine the shock my filters have had the last year as I have gotten to know Chuck.  Being around someone who is so optimistic and so convinced of Jesus and the Holy Spirit’s work in this world, has forced me to re-examine the way I see Jesus. 

Before I got to Emmanuel, my filters said, “Oh, here I go, embarking on the lonely single life of ministry.  I will work hard in a parish that won’t appreciate me and probably embark on a time of the spiritual desert.  I’m sure my boss will be unfair and mean and I’ll be a deeply lonely person, suffering for Jesus.”

(Deep sigh.)

Well, as you know I’ve had a wonderful experience of ministry and met and became engaged to the man of my dreams.  This does not square with my expectations about how the world and God works.  I have had to recalibrate my filters as I experience God as a loving, giving, generous God, rather than a suffering God who is helpless in this world.

How do you see Jesus?  What filters are you wearing?

Do you see Jesus as a prayer-order catalogue?  Whatever you want, you pray for, but don’t tend to pray otherwise?  Do you see Jesus as a tradition that’s nice, but not relevant?  Do you see Jesus only as the suffering Christ on the Cross?  Do you, like Will Farrell in Talledega Nights only like to think about the sweet baby Jesus? 

Just like in any relationship, Jesus longs to be known for who he really is.  Jesus wants us to see him as clearly as possible.  When we stop learning about Jesus, when we hold onto our Sunday School image of Jesus, we’re letting our vision be limited.

We can remove our filters and have our vision widened if we continue to engage with Jesus as adults.  We can learn about Jesus from the Bible, from books, from Adult Forum.  And we can encounter Jesus through prayer. 

One kind of vision Deena never lost, was her clear vision about God.  Through her blindness, through her grief, she knew that God loved her, was with her and was still worth worshipping.  The last line of her email to me was that every day she can still see God’s hands at work in her life.  May we be so blessed.

Proper 22, Year B, 2006

/ Sarah / Leave a comment

May the words of my mouth and the meditations of our hearts be acceptable unto you, O Lord, our rock and our redeemer, Amen.

I find the conversation between the Pharisees and Jesus about divorce to be unsatisfying.  Do you?

The Pharisees are trying to catch Jesus in a slip-up. Jesus has had the gall to teach people on the Pharisees’ turf-They were the authorities on law, not this young upstart–and they’ve long since stopped being amused by him.  The Pharisees ask Jesus this question about divorce, not out of their own trouble or grief, or out of some burning question members of their congregation have been asking them, or even out of a desire to seek holy living.  No, they just want to see how he’ll tiptoe around a difficult political question

(After all, the 6th chapter of Mark reminds us that Herod Antipas, leader of the Jews, was married to his brother’s wife.  They each had to get divorces in order to get married.  You’ll remember that John the Baptist was killed because of his condemnation of their relationship.) 

Well, Jesus is not about to be trapped by their maneuvering.  He asks the Pharisees to recall what Moses said about divorce in Deuteronomy.  When they give the answer-Moses allowed a man to write a certificate of dismissal to his wife-Jesus tells them that Moses created this exception because of their “hardness of heart”.  You see, this “certificate of dismissal” was originally meant as a measure of mercy for women.  It allowed them to remarry.  However, the certificate ended up being a way for men to divorce their wives easily.  In the Hillel tradition, a man could divorce his wife because “the bread was burned too badly!”  Jesus thinks this is a bad system.  Jesus turns their question around from politics to spirituality and refers the Pharisees to the earliest Jewish reference about marriage there is–the second chapter of Genesis–our Old Testament reading today. 

Now, the reason the Pharisees’ question is not satisfying is because they are not asking the question about divorce on behalf of those who have gone through the pain of divorce.  Their attitude disrespects those who have experienced divorce because of the manipulative way they ask the question.  At first glance, Jesus’ response is equally unsatisfying.  Sure, it’s nice that he doesn’t want women to get abused by a divorce system that is too easy, but it still leaves a lot of questions for us about modern divorce.  And then later, when the disciples have him alone, and ask him to clarify himself, he simply says, “Whoever divorces his wife and marries another commits adultery against her; and if she divorces her husband and marries another, she commits adultery.” 

We know through other stories that Jesus is a compassionate person, but his response does not seem to leave room for those people who sought divorces for what we would consider good reasons-to escape abuse, to protect one’s children, as a response to chronic infidelity or disrespect.  Jesus certainly couldn’t have known that his words would be used to excommunicate people, force people to stay in abusive marriages, or make people feel rejected by God. 

I wonder though, if Jesus was as unsatisfied with the question of the Pharisees as we are.  The Pharisees’ question about divorce was not a bad one in and of itself, but because they asked it with a motivation to trap Jesus, out of a “hardness of heart” rather than out of an “open heart” the question loses its credibility.

Clearly Jesus did not support divorce.  But what was his perspective on divorce?  Was there a reason for his strong reaction besides the Pharisees’ hypocrisy?  Let’s go back to the passage from Genesis that Jesus quotes to see why he chose to speak these words.

In the passage from Genesis, we read a lovely story in which God decides that Adam needs someone as a helper.   Now here helper is not a demeaning term.  In fact this particular word is used to describe God in several passages in the Old Testament.  I think we sometimes think of this word as helper in the sense of, “Honey, can you help me?  I want a beer but there are only three minutes left in the game and I don’t want to miss anything. . .”  Actually, when the word “helper” is used in the Old Testament it means rescuing a person, saving someone’s life. 

So, God was not interested in getting Adam housekeeping help.  God wanted to create someone who would be with Adam through thick and thin, on whom Adam could rely.  Now that God knows what he is looking for, he tries out several options.  Though Adam seemed duly impressed with all the cattle and birds God presented to him, he wasn’t ready to set up house with any of them. 

We all know what happens next. God puts Adam under some pretty heavy anesthesia, and takes out a rib. . .or does he? 

(Pause)

The word for rib is an interesting one.  Every other time it is mentioned in the Old Testament, the word refers to something architectural, most commonly a side chamber of a building.  So, when God was pulling out Adam’s rib to make his partner, he wasn’t pulling out a miscellaneous bone that Adam didn’t really need, he was pulling out his side, a fundamental part of Adam’s person, so that this helper really could be “bone of his bone and flesh of his flesh”.   This woman and Adam are going to be connected in the deepest way possible.  Alone, Adam was not enough.  To complete this human race God was creating, Adam needed a partner.

When he sees his partner for the first time, Adam is so struck by the presence of this new person that he speaks for the first time. He recognizes that this woman is truly a part of him and can’t help but proclaim that.  “I will name her woman, for she was taken out of man.” 

So, when Jesus was responding to these questions about divorce, maybe he wasn’t giving the answer that seems so harsh initially.  Maybe, on another level, Jesus was responding to the question the Pharisees didn’t ask.  Maybe Jesus was saying, “I wish you could remember.  I wish you could remember how it was at the beginning, when you were so thrilled to see another person that you stopped in your tracks.  I wish you could remember how magical it was to see a reflection of yourself in her.  I wish you could remember those first few moments, before you started bickering about who ate the apple and blaming each other.  I wish you could remember how we meant it to be when we created you.” 

Of course Jesus condemns divorce.  Who would want to worship a God who intended for marriages to fall apart?  For people to betray one another?  In our hearts, we wish divorce didn’t happen, too.  Who of us falls in love thinking, “Gosh, I’m glad there’s an escape clause in this one!” I’ve never met anyone who has gone through a divorce who has enjoyed it, even if their life after the divorce was healthier and safer than in marriage.  Divorce represents all of our deepest fears:  rejection, betrayal, being unloved, being alone. 

For Jesus to condemn divorce is not the same as Jesus condemning those who have had divorces.  We know Jesus-we know his compassion to the woman at the well, we know his love for those going through rough patches in their lives.  We know that if a heartbroken man or woman had asked the same question the Pharisees asked, Jesus’ response would have been full of love and compassion.

So, what do we do with Jesus’ response?  We know we can’t crawl back to Eden, back to the days before brokenness entered the world.

I think, in reminding us of our intimate connection with each other; in the way we share the same flesh and bone with all other humans, Jesus points us to what his ministry was all about.  He came into the world to take on all the brokenness that drowns us. If anyone had a right to be angry about divorce, Jesus did.  He earns the right because he was willing to do something about it.  He was willing to take all that pain, all that suffering on himself, so one day we could be free of it.  His death and resurrection are the second half of his answer about divorce. 

The reason we can survive the devastation divorce and other broken relationships bring is because we know, ultimately, through Jesus’ death and resurrection one day we will healed and whole and reconciled to ourselves, all others and God.  Although that can be hard to believe-or even want-in the midst of breakup, some small part of us recognizes that someday in our future we will live in a place where there are no divorces, where there is no heartbreak. 

The hope Jesus offers us is not only for a future heavenly kingdom, it is hope for the here and now.  No, Jesus does not offer us an easy escape from pain.  Being a Christian does not exempt anyone from the hard work of grief.  What God does offer us is a safe place to come with that grief.  Whether we use the image of God as strong rock or a sheltering wing, God gives us something steady to hold onto, gives us a safe place to fall.  Before God we can be completely honest.  We don’t have to pretend to be fine, hide our anger, stop our tears.  By allowing God to be part of our grief, we give Him room to be part of our healing.  Experiencing God’s love for us gives us courage to take steps toward relationship again, knowing that as capable of destruction as we are, we are also capable of the kind of love we were designed to give.  The love Adam felt as he watched, jaw dropped and eye opened as his life partner was made. 

Amen.  

 

 

Proper 15, Year B, 2006

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From our Gospel reading today:  Those who eat my flesh and drink my blood have eternal life, and I will raise them up on the last day.

What is eternal life?

Is eternal life what we see on TV?  Will we all float around on clouds, strumming harps, being careful to avoid the occasional filming of a commercial for Philadelphia Cream Cheese?

Is eternal life what we hear in jokes?  Will we have to prove our worthiness to St. Peter as we wait at the Pearly Gates in line behind a minister, a priest and a rabbi?

Is Mitch Albom, author of The Five People You Meet in Heaven correct when he portrays eternal life as one big therapy session?

Well, truthfully none of us know. 

The phrase eternal life is mentioned the gospels twenty five times, but almost always in terms of how to get eternal life.  Characters in the New Testament often ask Jesus, “What do I have to do to gain eternal life?”  In the Synoptic Gospels-that’s Mark, Matthew, and Luke-Jesus says eternal life is earned through keeping the commandments, leaving one’s family to follow Jesus, and of course, giving all your money to the poor. 

Not so easy, huh?

In John’s gospel, eternal life is given in exchange for believing in Jesus and, of course in eating Christ’s flesh and blood. 

But seriously, what is eternal life?

You’ll notice in all three of our cultural examples:  TV, jokes, and Mitch Albom’s book, eternal life begins at death.  Eternal life is something we strive for so we don’t have to die-so we can avoid the ultimate obliteration of our story, our selves.  After all, isn’t that how we envision eternal life?  We picture heaven, right?  Eternal life as a physical place we go as we transition from being alive to being dead.  Whether we imagine a garden or a heavenly city, we see eternal life both as a destination and a reprieve. 

But in our Gospel reading today, Jesus does not say, those who eat my body and blood will have eternal life.  He says, those who eat my body and blood have eternal life.  He uses the present tense.

So clearly, eternal life means more than life after death.  Somehow, we can experience eternal life right now.  In this life!

But we’re still left with the question, what is eternal life?  

Eternal life is not simply an extension of the life we already have.  Eternal life is not just an escape from death.  Rabindranath Tagore, an Indian Poet and Nobel Prize winner wrote,

“In our desire for eternal life we pray for an eternity of our habit and comfort, forgetting that immortality is in repeatedly transcending the definite forms of life in order to pursue the infinite truth of life.”

I think what he is saying, is that we are mistaken if we long for eternal life to be a continuation of the life we have now.  We tend to pray for eternal life that is a similar to this life, because we are afraid of death.  Even if our lives are rich and full of love, eternal life is a different quality of life from every day life-Eternal life is a life of connection to God. 

The one biblical definition of eternal life is found in John 17.  Jesus says,  “And this is eternal life, that they may know you, the only true God, and Jesus Christ whom you have sent”.

So, eternal life is a relationship, not a time frame or a place.  Eternal life is when we know God and know Jesus Christ.  When we are in relationship with the holy, whether it is now or after we have died, we are experiencing eternal life. 

Eternal life is the moment when God breaks into our dreary, daily routine and fills it with transcendence.  Eternal life gives us a glimpse of our true calling-as the beloved of God. 

The synoptic gospels, with all of their instructions of how to achieve eternal life, actually do describe what eternal life is.  After all, what are the commandments they ask us to follow?   To love God with all your heart and soul and strength, and to love your neighbor as yourself.  

So, it turns out even the instructions about how to gain eternal life are about relationship-It’s a little bit of circular logic-in order to gain eternal life, we must be in relationship with God and Jesus Christ; the reward for which will be eternal life which a relationship with God and Jesus Christ. 

Eternal life is clearly all about intense relationship.  So, why do we as a culture minimize the idea of eternal life to make it something cutesy and cloudy?  Perhaps the idea of being in direct relationship with the very creator of the universe is overwhelming for us.  Perhaps the idea of being bathed in the fullness of God’s love is too abstract and intimidating.

But as we share communion today, know you are sharing in a moment of eternity.  As we join with each other and with all the saints who have passed before us, we are opening ourselves to God’s presence.  We are opening ourselves to experience eternal life.

Proper 14, Year B, 2006

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Someone in your home is baking a loaf of bread.  For an hour now the warm fragrance has drifted around corners and under door frames and over tables to tease you with its inviting scent.  Despite Dr. Perricone’s warnings about the dangers of simple carbohydrates, you know that when the loaf of warm bread is ready to be sliced, you will be first in line to cut off a large piece, slather it in butter, and slowly savor the way it melts in your mouth.

As you put the bread in your mouth, digestive enzymes begin working, breaking the bread down into smaller, more manageable pieces.  As the bread travels through the stomach and intestines, it is further broken down and becomes fuel and nutrients. Much of the bread literally becomes part of you, providing the energy for your day and some nutrients to help your body function.  Once the bread passes through your mouth into your stomach, eating the bread shifts from a sensory experience to a primal, biological one.

We are disconnected from the nutritional importance of bread, but for many around the world, that piece of bread would literally give them life.  That piece of bread, with all of its nutrients and carbohydrates would fill their bodies with energy, boost their immune systems, and give them hope.

Thousands of years ago, wandering in the desert, God’s chosen people also needed bread.  They had been walking for years, without regular food and drink, and were exhausted.  To make sure they relied completely on him, the only food they received was directly from God.  When God did choose to provide food for the wandering Israelites, he first chose to shower them with manna, a mysterious, heavenly food that resembled, of course, bread.

This manna fed the wanderers, but did not ultimately satisfy them.  After a few hours of eating manna, they were starving again.  And when they became hungry again, God’s generosity completely slipped their mind and they began complaining almost instantly. But still, the manna sustained them for many years.

Finally, after 40 years of wandering and complaining, the Israelites entered the promised land.  The land was rich with food-fruit, vegetables, meat, and ingredients for all the bread they could bake.  The Israelites needed the manna no longer. 

Fifteen hundred years passed, and even though the Israelites complained about the manna while they were in the desert, as a people they never forgot about it.  Manna became a symbol of God’s faithfulness, and the importance of relying on God, rather than your own resources. 

Do you remember two weeks ago, when the gospel reading was about the feeding of the 5000? (Yes, yes you do.)  This is the passage in which Jesus miraculously turns a few fish and a loaf of bread into an abundant feast.  The people who experienced it were amazed, and told all their friends. 

Once Jesus gets off the mountain, people start following him, hoping for a repeat performance.  Maybe they are curious, maybe they are hungry, but they want to see the magic man make some bread!

Immediately before our passage today, Jesus makes a speech to them, explaining that they are looking for the wrong thing.

Very truly, I tell you, you are looking for me, not because you saw signs, but because you ate your fill of the loaves. Do not work for the food that perishes, but for the food that endures for eternal life, which the Son of Man will give you. For it is on him that God the Father has set his seal.

They go on to ask for a sign, for Jesus to prove that he is special. 

So they said to him, “What sign are you going to give us then, so that we may see it and believe you. What work are you performing?  Our ancestors ate the manna in the wilderness; as it is written, ‘He gave them bread from heaven to eat.'”  Then Jesus said to them, “Very truly, I tell you, it was not Moses who gave you the bread from heaven, but it is my Father who gives you the true bread from heaven. For the bread of God is that which comes down from heaven and gives life to the world.” They said to him, “Sir, give us this bread always.” Jesus said to them, “I am the bread of life. Whoever comes to me will never be hungry, and whoever believes in me will never be thirsty. But I said to you that you have seen me and yet do not believe.

Jesus is redirecting their curiosity and question.  He is saying to them-if you focus on the bread, you’re missing the whole point!  Neither the manna, nor the feeding of the 5000 are about bread, they are about God-about God’s abundance and faithfulness.  These miracles are about God’s love for his people and the way God looks after us and provides for us.

Jesus is the height of this provision and love.  Jesus is explaining that he has been sent as a new kind of bread-a bread that never runs out, that never will leave us, and that gives us not only life-but life eternal.

Manna and other kinds of physical bread, no matter how miraculous-or delicious–will never satisfy us, never fill up all the places in us that are broken, lonely or grieving. 

Physical bread cannot give our lives meaning, show us avenues of hope, or help keep us off our high horses. 

God sends Jesus to feed us, to be our fuel, to give us the nourishment we need to live lives that are pleasing to God. 

At the Eucharist, we consume the body and blood of Jesus.  Early Christians were accused of being cannibals because of this.  As Episcopalians, we believe that the bread and wine we eat and drink, doesn’t actually turn into flesh, but does contain the full presence of Christ.  When we consume them, we consume Christ.  Just as a warm slice of bread breaks down and becomes part of us, somehow at the Eucharist we consume Jesus, Jesus becomes part of us, becomes incorporated into our mind, and heart, and hands.  As he becomes part of us, we become part of him.

The Eucharist is more than ritual and tradition.  The Eucharist is more than remembering.  During the Eucharist, we take Christ in to our very being, not only our spirit, but into our flesh.  And so the Bread of Life lives on in us, and we in him.

Amen.

Proper 11, Year B, 2006

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Just a little rest.

That’s all Jesus and the disciples wanted: a little rest, a little quiet.  They had so much to say to each other.  So many days had passed since they had been together.  So much had happened. 

The disciples have been exercising their ministry for the first time.  Jesus sent them out two by two and they have been preaching, healing, and exorcising demons.  Jesus pushed them out of the nest and the disciples did not fail!-the disciples were so much braver than expected and the miracles actually worked!  With their own hands and God’s power the disciples were able to heal sick people!

In the meantime, Jesus had his own troubles to consider. His beloved friend and cousin, John, was brutally murdered by Herod.  Jesus wants to take time to mourn that loss and be together in a quiet place with his disciples.  Jesus and the disciples have been going at a breakneck pace-traveling, ministering, listening, teaching, healing.  . .they just need a little time to reconnect to each other.

So, Jesus and the disciples get in a boat and head to a deserted place. 

Before they can get there, though, followers of Jesus figure out where they are traveling and beat them there!

By the time Jesus and his friends get to the deserted place, it is already packed with people hungry for a little of Jesus’ teaching. 

Jesus has to make a decision.  Taking time out to pray and to rest is a very important part of Jesus ministry.  He knows he needs to reconnect with God and his disciples, but there are thousands of people clamoring for his attentions.  Jesus makes the decision, for the moment, to choose his followers over himself.

Jesus gives them the spiritual food they are looking for and begins to teach.  Before too long though, the crowd starts to get hungry.  The disciples get edgy, because they know it costs nine months salary to feed 5,000 men, and there were women and children there, too! 

We all know what happens next. Jesus uses bread and fish that the crowd already has and miraculously multiplies it to give it to his followers. 

The NRSV translation of the text we read today, says that Jesus gave the bread and fish to his disciples, but the NAU translation says that Jesus “kept giving” the loaves and fishes to his disciples.

Jesus “kept giving”.  What a powerful image.  Jesus was tired and sad, but instead of turning away from the crowd, he turned towards them.  Instead of giving them what they needed in one fell swoop, he gave to the crowd over and over and over again.

Jesus gives to us, too.

For whatever crisis we face, somewhere, deep inside us, we have all we need.  Just like the crowd already had a few fish and a couple loaves of bread, we have a small kernel of what we need already planted inside us. 

Whether we need strength to carry on in a difficult time in our lives, or courage to make a leap of faith, or creativity to work our way out of a corner, we already have what we need.

If we offer that kernel to Jesus, he will transform it through his love and give it back to us hundredfold.

I think about the local teacher who felt a desire in her heart to help disadvantaged kids experience farm life.  This woman continued to teach part time, and after much prayer and many conversations, started an after school program.  Children are brought to her farm in Ivy, where they are taught basic gardening, cooking, swimming and other skills.  This program, called Graceworks, has continued year after year, creating a generation of kids who have a set of rich experiences that will inform the rest of their lives.

What kills me about this lady, is that she has FIVE children of her own.  Five.  You know she wasn’t sitting around her house saying, “Man, am I bored.  I need a hobby.”  Her sense of call came despite the exhaustion that must come from working and having a house full of children. 

Rather than seeing herself as depleted from all this, she saw herself as enriched.  She already had all she needed:  a farm, a love for children, a background in education and an understanding family.  What Jesus gave her was the vision, energy and networks she needed to make her dream a reality.

What have you been longing for or dreaming of that seemed just too impossible? 

Do you want to go back to school as an adult?  Get out of an abusive relationship? Take better care of your health?  Start a new ministry? 

You already have what you need inside of you. 

All you need is to pray and be open to Jesus working in ways you might not expect.

The disciples could only see one solution to their problems:  to buy food.  This panicked them, because they knew they did not have the money they needed to provide for the thousands of people at their feet.  Jesus showed them another way, an unusual way, a miraculous way, and Jesus will show us those ways, too.  Like the director of Graceworks, Jesus will give us creativity and strength when there is no earthly reason why we should have them.

Our lesson today shows us that we can feel free to follow Jesus, and persistently ask for what we want.  We don’t always do this.

The world is in such a crisis right now, with wars and global warming and floods and drought, that sometimes we shy away from Jesus.  We want to give him space to deal with the big problems the world faces.  We don’t want to bother him with our petty prayers.

But remember that pushy crowd–Even though Jesus was facing a personal crisis, he did not send the crowd away. Jesus ministered to them. Jesus performed a miracle for them.

Yes, the world is in crisis-an awful crisis-but if we stop praying, then it will be harder for us to hear Jesus.  And the crisis is not going to resolve itself.  We are going to have to help resolve it, and Jesus will show us how through our prayers.  If we stop praying, the crisis will only get worse.  Like the disciples, we Christians continue the legacy of healing into the modern age. 

We don’t need to be afraid to bother Jesus, to interrupt him.  Jesus does an excellent job of taking care of himself.  The verse that follows the passage we read today tells us that after Jesus feeds the 5000, he gently dismisses the crowd, then takes time to go up the mountain to pray.  Jesus loves us passionately enough to pour his energies into feeding us, but he also knows when to refuel.

We resist Jesus for many reasons.  We resist the blessings that Jesus wants to continually give to us, to keep giving to us, but Jesus keeps inviting us to accept them, gently nudging us to trust him, to live into the joy he has prepared for us.

Who are we to reject such an invitation?

Easter 2, Year B, 2006

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You’re working hard alongside your twin brother, minding your own business, when this incredibly dynamic man, Jesus, persuades you to leave your steady job to become a homeless wanderer.  You’re a practical person, so this bold decision is at once thrilling and terrifying.  You are also a grown man, and frankly, not entirely comfortable with your new role as a follower.

While you love Jesus and the other disciples, you have also been driven crazy by this itinerant life you are living.  Also, and you would never admit this to anyone, you’re a little jealous that you’re not one of Jesus’ favorites.  He’s always taking Peter and James and John aside and having some deep conversation.  And Jesus never laughs as hard as when Peter says something completely impetuous and borderline inappropriate. 

Whenever you have spoken up, Jesus has always used it as a “teachable moment”, which made you feel like an idiot.  For instance, this one time, after days of being yanked around from one town to the next, and listening to Jesus’s words of wisdom, which frankly, didn’t always make sense, this one time you ask Jesus HOW we’re supposed to follow you if you don’t even know where you’re going and Jesus turns your question around and starts talking about how he is the way and the truth and the life, but never actually answers your question.

So, in short, you’re tired and a little irritated, but you love Jesus and you can tell there is something really special about him.  You’re waiting to see what happens.  You follow him to Jerusalem and before you know it, he has been arrested and killed. 

So much for this great leader, this man so close to the Lord he called God “my father”.  You’re so sick of listening to Peter and the other disciples process this tragedy that you head out on your own for awhile.  You need quiet.  You need to get your head together.  What are you going to do now?  Can you get your old job back?  What is your mother-in-law going to say?

When you get back to the room where the disciples have been camped out, it is in total chaos.  The women are chirping away, the men are laughing and talking a mile a minute.  For a brief moment you wonder if they have gotten into the wine left over from Thursday night, but the glow about them isn’t one of drunkenness.  When you finally get one of them quieted down enough to talk with you, he starts babbling on about having seen Jesus right here in this room.  Today!  Three days after his death.

Your stomach clenches.  The last few days, heck the last few years have been so weird, so intense, and this latest twist makes your head spin.  Your friends must be so upset they are having mass hallucinations.  That’s the only logical explanation, right? 

You figure they just need a good dose of reality.  So you say those famous words, “Unless I see the mark of the nails in his hands, and put my finger in the mark of the nails and my hand in his side, I will not believe.”  All you want is a little confirmation.  It is crazy to go around talking about some resurrected man if you don’t have any proof!  But still, there is something about the way Mary Magdalene clenches her jaw.  She just seems so sure.

Frankly, by about the third day of waiting around for this apparition of Jesus, the other disciples are starting to look at you nervously, as if perhaps they DID have some mass vision caused by wish fulfillment.  By the sixth day, your clenched stomach has softened into the dull ache of resignation.

On the seventh day, you are back in the house.  Frankly, you are considering whether to cut your losses and head home.  All of a sudden you feel a chill from the bottom of your spine to the back of your neck.  When you turn around, there he is.  In the flesh.  Well, kind of in the flesh.  There isn’t anything spectral about him, but he isn’t quite normal either.  He seems to be completely solid, but also. . .and you know this sounds crazy.  . .but it is as if the laws of nature do not apply to him.  When he comes in the house, for instance, he doesn’t open the door, he just. . .walks through it.  It is not as if he is making some kind of big showy statement, it is as if he just didn’t think about it.  Like those kind of human details are just minutiae.

And this time, Jesus does not turn to Peter, or John, or James, he turns right to YOU.  He looks at you with this mix of compassion and challenge and says, “Put your finger here and see my hands. Reach out your hand and put it in my side. Do not doubt but believe.” 

But at this moment, you know you don’t need to touch his wounds, to verify your experience. 

At this moment every experience you have ever had with Jesus starts whirling around your mind.  You have to sit down because all those opaque words start becoming crystal clear.  Jesus isn’t just a way, Jesus is THE way, THE life, THE truth.  Jesus isn’t just a holy man, he is Holiness itself.  Jesus wasn’t being cute when he referred to the Lord as his Father, the Lord really is. . .his Father. 

You start to shake as you realize that you have spent the last couple of years in the presence of God, but suddenly you feel a hand on your shoulder.  When you look up, you are looking into Jesus’ eyes.  And yes, they are vast and hold all the mysteries of the universe, but they are also utterly tender and full of compassion and affection.  And when you realize the enormity of Jesus’ love for you, God’s love for you, Jesus seems to nod a little bit.  He pats you on the shoulder and goes on to greet Mary Magdalene and the other disciples. 

Suddenly you realize, this experience with Jesus was not just a three year gig.  You somehow understand that the rest of your life will be devoted to telling people about Jesus, explaining this extraordinary experience of meeting God face to face.  And the even more extraordinary fact of God’s utter love for the human race.

Epiphany 7, Year B, 2006

/ Sarah / Leave a comment

I am about to do a new thing.

God declares this through Isaiah’s words and in Jesus’ actions in our lessons this morning.

Jesus had only been in active, public ministry for a few weeks, but word about him had spread throughout the region.  Jesus was teaching all sorts of incredible new ideas about God.  And not only that, Jesus was also doing incredible things.  He was sending demons flying and healing little old ladies.  Even though he wanted to maintain a low profile and asked those he healed not to tell others about him, those who had received his healings could not help but go on and on about Jesus to their friends and family. 

When friends of a paralytic heard about Jesus, they knew their friend needed to meet him.  We don’t get the whole story about this paralytic, but we do get a sense of the energy around him.  His friends were so committed to having him healed, they traveled to Capernaum, to the house where Jesus was staying.  Unfortunately, once they got there they could not get in the door, because so many people were crowding around Jesus, wanting healings. 

The paralytic’s friends were not to be denied.  They somehow climbed onto the roof, hauled the paralytic onto the roof, and began digging.  Rooves in towns like Capernaum were made of slats of wood, filled in with mud, rocks, and big flat leaves.  These friends tore through the outer layer, began shoveling mud and rocks out with their hands or small tools, and eventually broke through. 

I wonder if the people in side the house could hear the commotion they made.  Was it so crowded that Jesus could not hear what was going on?  Or, was Jesus amused by their efforts and simply waiting patiently for the paralytic’s arrival.

All we know is, when the friends finally broke through the roof and lowered their friend down in front of Jesus, everything stopped.  Whatever teaching or healing was going on was halted by this abrupt arrival of a man being lowered down on a pallet. 

Jesus took this opportunity, the faith of this man and his friends, to teach the crowd around him something new. 

The crowd had heard about Jesus’s ability to exorcise demons and to heal, but Jesus wanted to show them that he wasn’t just a miracle worker, he wasn’t just a showman, he was God. 

God says, I am doing a new thing.

Little did the friends of the paralytic know that their grit, their determination would be the background God would use to announce his presence on earth, and his intention to heal humanity, not just from physical infirmity, but from sin.

Now, after two thousand years hearing about how Jesus forgives us our sins, we start to take this information for granted and forgiveness loses some of the emotional power it once had. 

However, we must remember that when God came to earth in and through Jesus, the Jewish powers of the day were deeply into legalism -being a good Jew meant following all the rules, crossing all the Ts and dotting all the I’s.  Though in the past, God had tried to communicate that he was less interested in ritual sacrifice and ritual prayer than authentic worship and service to the poor and needy, the message had not gotten through to the people. 

The idea that a human being would claim to be able to forgive sins, was completely absurd-blasphemous even!  No human being could forgive sins.  Yet, here sits Jesus, calmly telling the paralytic that his sins are forgiven-and, by the way, that he can walk again. 

But really, when you think about it, the healing of the body and the forgiving of sin are more connected than one might think.  What is sin, but a kind of brokenness?  It makes perfect sense that the God who wants to heal us physically, also wants to heal our spirits.  Forgiveness is not just about divine, eternal consequences for our behavior.  Forgiveness is about restoring a right relationship with our creator and with our neighbor.

While humans are made in God’s image and have wonderful capacity to be creative and loving individuals, we also are fundamentally broken.  None of us loves perfectly, none of us is perfectly honest or good.  Despite the Jews of Jesus’ time having a list of 600 very specific rules to follow, no one seemed to be able to follow them all perfectly, no matter how hard they tried. 

In our culture today, we don’t’ have 600 religious laws, but we do have an image of perfection we try to follow subconsciously. Being competent, having the appearance of being “together” is incredibly important. 

But, what if God is doing a new thing?

This week, Chuck and I had the interesting experience of meeting with a local therapist who has a vision.  Over the years of his ministry, he has encountered individuals and couples who can admit their brokenness to him and to each other, but these same people continue to pretend to their friends and to their churches that everything about their life is together and perfect. 

This therapist believes that true healing occurs in community.  Therapy is a wonderful tool that can help people deepen relationships with each other, but this therapist would love his counseling sessions to be simply a beginning for his clients.  That like Henri Nouwen’s wounded healer, his clients could use their painful experiences and their experiences of forgiveness to propel them into community and into ministry.  This therapist envisions a ministry in which he counsels people in their church buildings, and that the community life of church and the private work of therapy ultimately partner together.

I think the image of the paralytic’s friend’s lowering him onto the mat is a wonderful example of this kind of community.  The paralytic was in a situation where his problem could not be hidden.  He obviously could not walk.  His friends did not hold back, ignoring his problem in order not to embarrass him.  No, they were engaged with him, and committed to his healing.  They were so committed they tore through a roof so he could see Jesus.

Now, I don’t know if this therapist’s ministry will be successful, but I know from personal experience that the combination of therapy and intentional community can be a powerful vehicle for the work of God.

From 1999 until 2002 I was part of a small group Bible study in Richmond.  About seven of us met weekly to study the bible and pray together.  In that way, we looked like any other bible study.  The difference was that four of us were in therapy, two were getting degrees in counseling and one was married to one of the counselors!  It was while I was in this group that I left the evangelical church to become an Episcopalian, experienced the death of my mother, and discerned a call to the priesthood.  Words cannot express the powerful ways God used this group as we each faced the brokenness in our lives and came together to support, challenge and pray for each other. This community held my brokenness tenderly, protecting and loving me, so I could grow into the person God wanted me to be.  We also had a ridiculous amount of fun together and became a true community, even outside of the Bible Study. 

At times the intimacy we achieved felt very risky, especially as my theological ideas were changing, but despite our theological differences, or perhaps because of them, we were able to each deepen our faith and learn about God.  For me, these six friends were my pallet carriers.  They brought me to Jesus, reminding me of his love and forgiveness for me over and over again.

Obviously therapy and small groups are not the only ways to live in deep community with one another.  However, we ARE called to be in deep community. Throughout history, God has called communities of faith, rather than individuals.  We gather together as a church every Sunday, because it is impossible for us to discern God’s call as individuals.  We need each other to fully realize our faith.  We need each other to carry each other when we cannot walk.  We need each other to express God’s forgiveness when we feel only guilt. 

So, maybe it’s God who needs US to do a new thing-to trust him and trust each other to live authentic lives in community.

Holy Name Day, Year B, 2006

/ Sarah / Leave a comment

What’s in a name? that which we call a rose
By any other name would smell as sweet;
So Romeo would, were he not Romeo call’d,
Retain that dear perfection which he owes
Without that title. Romeo, doff thy name,
And for that name which is no part of thee
Take all myself.

Pretty good, huh?  That’s the one piece of literature I was asked to memorize in high school and the girl’s still got it!  Most of us recognize this piece as part of Shakespeare’s Romeo and Juliet.  Juliet is lamenting that she cannot be with her true love because his name happens to be that of a family her father hates.

A name is a powerful thing.  A name can separate two lovers, prevent a person from getting a job, give a person access to family wealth and prestige. 

When a parent chooses a name for their child, they choose it with care.  Some of you have wonderful names, loaded with meaning.  Blake and Corin Hunter were named after literary figures-William Blake and the character Corin from Chronicles of Narnia.  Chuck and Leith’s names were chosen because they were family names.  Janice was supposed to be named Elaine, but her mother took one look at her and knew she was a Janice.  My sister and my names were carefully chosen from a baby book with the sole criteria that they could not be reduced to stupid or embarrassing nicknames. 

Do me a favor.  Take a moment and tell the person next to you how you got your name.  If you’re in the Witness Protection Program and some government agent gave you your new name, just invent a story. . .

(Pause)

Today we celebrate Holy Name day, the day when Mary obeyed the Angel Gabriel and named her son Jesus.  No one names anyone in the bible by accident, so we can learn a lot about a person by what he is named.  The word for Jesus can also be translated as Joshua.  If you were here Christmas morning, you heard Chuck talk about the connection between Jesus and the Old Testament figure of Joshua.  After the Israelites were liberated from the Pharaoh through Moses’ intervention, they wandered around the desert for forty years.  Joshua, who was a generation younger than Moses, ended up leading the Israelites into the Promised Land, the Land of Canaan.  So, when the Angel Gabriel tells Mary to name the baby Jesus, which literally means God Saves, you start to have a clue that big things are in store for this baby. 

The significance of names in the Bible did not begin with Jesus.  Adam was called on to name every animal and when Adam first sees his wife, he spontaneously names her in awe and wonder.  From that time on, the names people choose for their children, or even for themselves, in the Bible are careful, rich expressions of their circumstances.  For example, barren women in the Bible who end up becoming pregnant, often name their children in thanksgiving to God.  Hannah names her son Samuel, which means “name of God”, because she had prayed for his conception.

With this legacy behind us, we have the privilege of naming each other and using each other’s names. 

With that privilege comes power.  One of the most powerful ways you can demean a person, remove his humanity, is to alter or remove his name.  This begins in the playground, when kids will taunt one another with unpleasant variations of each other’s names. 

As adults we can do this insidiously.  I have an acquaintance who has some co workers who drive her crazy.  Instead of referring to them by name, she calls them “that black accountant” or “that Mexican girl in human resources”.  She manages to both negate their identity and demean their entire race in one fell swoop with just a handful of careless words.

Unnaming’s most terrible manifestation comes when people’s names are removed altogether, such as in concentration camps during world war II, when people’s names were replaced by a number.  Dehumanizing prisoners in this way, enabled the guards to treat them as people who were far less than fully human, worse even than a normal person would treat an animal

Names are precious.  They are a symbol of all we are and who we hope to become.  Just as Adam carefully chose the first names, and God chose Jesus’ name, we are called to be careful with the names of those around us, to use them tenderly, with respect.

How you speak a person’s name reveals so much about how much you value the person to whom you are speaking.  Listen to these differences:

Hello Chuck! (Say once with enthusiasm, once with boredom, once with disdain, etc.)

Depending on how I used his name, Chuck would immediately know whether I valued him as a person that particular day. 

We hold this power of naming and unnaming, not only over others, but also over ourself.  When I first moved to town, two thirteen year old girls came to my door selling magazines for a school fundraiser.  As I filled out the paperwork the girls started to bicker with each other, saying things like, “You are so stupid.  No you’re stupid!”  They stared at me blankly as I preached to them about the importance of self respect and using positive language.  One of them said to me, “Oh, no, you don’t understand.  It’s okay.  We’re best friends!” 

What these girls didn’t realize is that we become what we name ourselves.  If we allow others to call us stupid, we begin to call ourselves stupid.  If we begin to call ourselves stupid, then eventually we won’t see much need to respect ourselves and will begin limiting our opportunities or even putting ourselves in danger.

In contrast, if we call ourselves nice names, we’ll eventually live into them.  Working at Emmanuel has been disorienting for me, because I have never in my life been called the nice things that I have been since I’ve moved here.  Chuck in particular has a remarkable gift of naming.  If you’ve spent five minutes with him, all of a sudden you feel like you are a fabulous person who was solely responsible for hanging the moon.  My poor sister has the exhausting job of reminding me that I’m the same-old-Sarah and to not get too big of a head. Despite her best efforts, though, I actually find myself being nicer, doing better, because you all treat me like that is who I am. 

When you think of yourselves, what names to do use?  Despite all the lofty events of the last few weeks, I do not think of myself as Sarah-the-Priest nearly as often as I think of myself as “Sarah-who-has-gained-five-pounds-since-she-moved-here.”

Take another moment, this time silently, to think of the names that you use for yourself.

(Pause)

Hopefully, many of those names are positive, but if they aren’t I want to offer you hope. 

First, remember that the maker of the universe created you.  He calls you by name and sees who you truly are.  When the Father speaks your name, he speaks it with the greatest tenderness and affection. 

Jesus, whose name we celebrate today, also has some names for you.  Remember, this is the same Jesus who called the impulsive, flailing Simon, Peter, which means Rock.  He not only called Simon by name, but he added a new name full of hope and pride. 

If your head is full of names that are demeaning, think for a moment about Jesus’ primary names for you:  Friend, brother, and sister.  Jesus, who is all of God, sees you as a partner.  He knows who you are now and he sees who you can become.  He believes in your potential and is eager for you to believe in yourself.

And if your name is not enough for you to believe in, and it probably shouldn’t be, remember that you can cling to the name of the Lord and the name of Jesus-for by revealing these names to us, God declares his desire for intimacy with us and his determination to be in relationship with us forever.

Christmas Eve, Year B, 2005

/ Sarah / Leave a comment

And Mary pondered these things in her heart. 

Mary had a lot to ponder that night long ago.  The child that had grown within her so miraculously and then been carried so precariously through the long journey to Bethlehem had finally been born.  Instead of a quiet moment with her new baby in a safe and warm bed, she is surrounded by livestock and strangers. 

The word translated as “pondered” literally means, “thrown together”.  This pondering is not a quiet, meditative one, but a frantic scrambling to understand what is happening, to absorb all the new information and feelings Mary is experiencing. 

Mary experienced affirmation that her baby was from God throughout her pregnancy.  An angel spoke to her and then, thankfully, to her cousins Zechariah and Elizabeth. Her husband Joseph believed her, but the news of this incredible incarnation was still quiet and contained to a few family members.

This holy secret ends when a flock of shepherds bursts into Mary’s makeshift birthing room, still illuminated from the vision they have seen, talking over each other to tell the story of the angels and how they had visited what felt like every barn in Bethlehem until finally they found this one, with the baby wrapped in strips of cloth.

At this moment, as she holds the baby a little closer to her chest, Mary realizes, this is not “her” baby, not entirely.  In this moment of joy at his birth, there is also a little grief, as Mary realizes her child is a child she will have to share.  Not just with these eager shepherds, but with all people.

Usually in painted icons of Mary and the baby Jesus, Mary holds Jesus on her lap, close to her body.  However, there is one icon in which Mary faces the onlooker and holds Jesus away from her body, towards whoever is looking at the icon. 

This is the Mary who realizes her sacrifice will be to lose her son, not only to death, but also in life.  This baby will grow up to create a new family of misfits and criminals.  This baby will grow up to live a life of a wanderer, traveling from town to town.  He will never settle down or provide her with grandchildren. In this icon, Mary not only accepts this reality, but offers Jesus to us.

This baby who was born, was born of Mary, but was born for the world.  After all, we must remember that this tiny baby contains all of God.  All the powers that created the universe, pushed the stars into their rotations, created green grass and human flesh out of dust. 

One of our acolytes was helping to green the church last Sunday and observed that the baby Jesus in our nativity scene is about half the size of Mary.  He looks at least six years old.  I wonder if that was an intentional decision on the part of the artist.  Perhaps the artist got carried away as she meditated on the huge implications of the incarnation, of God choosing to limit himself in human flesh.  Maybe she thought no small baby could handle the enormity of God, so she made the baby a little bigger, to give God more room to wiggle around.

I wonder what it was like for God to suddenly also be completely human, to have his infiniteness constrained by skin, to suddenly have to turn his head to look behind him, to suffer the indignity of having to learn to walk?  Was there a part of being a baby Jesus really loved?  Did he love his own tiny fingers and toes the way we love the toes of our favorite babies? 

From the very start, just by being born, God began to redeem what it is to be human.  If Jesus can learn to walk, and read, and eat, then walking and reading and eating have the potential to be holy activities, not just human ones. 

If God chooses to be born in a dingy stable in the midst of chaos, then God redeems all those who suffer the indignities of poverty and chaotic lives.  God choose to came, not to a family that had it all together, but to an exhausted traveling couple who were just trying to find a dry place to lay their heads.  Mary and Joseph did not have the time or resources to prepare for a “proper” arrival for their son, so he came in the most awkward and uncomfortable of situations.

Yes, Mary’s sweet baby was no ordinary child. 

God came to earth as the Christ so we could know him in a deeper and more intimate way. He came embodied, in actual human flesh, not some divine ephemeral cloud.  He could taste and touch and feel.  He could get headaches and feel hunger pangs.  He came to face all our temptations and sorrows.  He came to know what it is to love and lose. He came not only to save us from our sins, but to redeem the very lives we live.

Know that whether you sorrow or feel deep joy at this moment, that Christ has compassion for you, knows what those emotions feel like, and loves you.  He offers you hope for redemption and continued joy. . .not just in the next life, but in this life.  There is no experience you can have that is outside the scope of Christ’s forgiveness, nothing you can do that, if repented, will prevent Christ’s embrace.

I’ll close with a poem by Madeleine L’Engle about Christ’ birth from Mary’s perspective.

O ORIENS, by Madeleine L’Engle

O come, O come Emmanuel

Within this fragile vessel here to dwell.
O Child conceived by heaven’s power
Give me thy strength: it is the hour.

O come, thou Wisdom from on high;

Like any babe at life you cry;

For me, like any mother, birth

Was hard, O light of earth.

O come, O come, thou Lord of might,

Whose birth came hastily at night,

Born in a stable, in blood and pain
Is this the king who comes to reign?

O come, thou Rod of Jesse’s stem,

The stars will be thy diadem.
How can the infinite finite be?

Why choose, child, to be born of me?

O come, thou key of David, come,

Open the door to my heart-home.
I cannot love thee as a king-

So fragile and so small a thing.

O come, thou Day-spring from on high:
I saw the signs that marked the sky.
I heard the beat of angels’ wings

I saw the shepherds and the kings.

O come, Desire of nations, be

Simply a human child to me.
Let me not weep that you are born.

The night is gone. Now gleams the morn.

Rejoice, rejoice, Emmanuel,

God’s Son, God’s Self, with us to dwell.

Advent 4, Year B, 2005

/ Sarah / Leave a comment

King David was a manly man.  He slayed giants. He slept with other men’s wives and killed their husbands.  He led the armies that secured Jerusalem.  He established a kingdom.  (He also danced through the streets naked, but that is another sermon.)

Sweet Mary, on the other hand, was by all accounts a nice girl from a good family.  She was open, receptive, non-confrontational.  She was even a virgin.

Somewhere, Gloria Steinem is pulling out her hair.  These descriptions are a feminist’s nightmare, right?  Manly men and wimpy women.  Women of my generation were told we could grow up to do anything, be anyone we want to be.  Women before me had fought for their rights to work alongside men in every field you could imagine, and I certainly reaped the benefits of their hard work.  After all, I was born the year after the first women priests were ordained. What women are not supposed to be is passive, waiting around for some man (or God) to fulfill our destiny.

So, what do we do with these images of David and Mary?  These contrasting images of aggressive and passive behavior.

The good news is, we don’t have to choose just one.  (Though I’d be careful which attributes of David you emulate.)  God uses both David and Mary in Jesus’ conception.  In the Lukan geneaology of Jesus, Joseph, Jesus’ father, was descended from the line of David.  We’ll never know how the genetics of the assumption work, whether Jesus inherited any of Joseph’s traits, but for all legal purposes, Jesus could trace his heritage back to David.  

Throughout Jesus’ life, his incredible faithfulness to his heavenly Father will be a powerful combination of both David’s aggression and Mary’s ability to yield to God.  We see David in Jesus when he stands up to the powers of the day, when Jesus throws over the tables in the Temple.  We see Mary’s quiet faithfulness when Jesus yields to God in prayer over and over again, especially when he must choose to follow the path that he knows will lead to his death.  And in this struggle, we learn that yielding to God, as Mary and Jesus do, can be the most courageous and frightening way of faithfulness possible.  Yielding to God is not wimpy.

Mary was a woman who knew where her life was going.  She was marrying a carpenter, and would have a lovely quiet married life in which she’d take care of her husband and raise their children.  All this is interrupted when the Angel Gabriel comes to her and tells her that she is the favored one of God.

When Mary accepts God’s unexpected plan for her life, she yields to a future she cannot predict.  She does not know whether Joseph will accept or reject her, whether her family will shun her.  She certainly cannot know that she will one day have to watch her son be brutally murdered. 

When Mary yields to God, she surrenders her very understanding of how the world operates.  She surrenders her understanding of how God intervenes in the world.  Mary is open to God behaving in a completely new and unanticipated manner. 

Yielding to God is no small thing.  When we acknowledge that we do not control our destinies, we face the terror that we cannot predict our future.  There is no way to ensure that we or our loved ones will be safe, secure, or happy. 

Still, the Angel Gabriel refers to Mary as “favored one”. This Greek word translated as favored-charitoo– means, “endowed with grace”.  God chooses Mary, not because she is perfect, but because he chooses to endow her with his grace, just as he chooses to endow humanity with grace through the life and death of Jesus.

So, where is the grace in this yielding to God? 

I’d like to think that the grace, for Mary, came from her relationship with her Son.  She had the privilege of watching this incredible man grow from the baby and young boy she had nurtured to the powerful, wise and self-giving man he would become.  She experienced the grace of knowing God first hand, for a longer period of time then anyone before her.  She lived with this incarnate God 24 hours a day for years.  I’d like to think somewhere inside of her was a Jewish mother who got a chuckle out of the thought of disciplining the Lord of the Universe.  Potty training God?

In the same way, the grace when we yield to God, is that we get to learn more about God, we get to sit in his presence for a bit, and get a tiny sense of who he really is.  Yielding to God is not always about doing the will of God, it can also be a emotional or psychological transaction.  For instance, if you have a hard time trusting the father figure in your life, that distrust probably plays out in your prayer life with God.  If your dad abandoned you, why shouldn’t God?  In that case, yielding to God might be a moment of epiphany when you realize that God loves you, that God is not going to abandon you.  In that moment, you feel your body relax, your defenses lower.  That is yielding to God. 

You might believe you don’t need God.  In that case, yielding to God may happen when you get hit with a major crisis.  In a moment, in a flash, you realize that you are finite, that you don’t have all the answers. 

When we yield to God, we become God’s favored ones.  Not because we earn the distinction, but because God longs to bestow his grace upon us. 

And it is only when we yield to God, that it becomes appropriate to have a more confrontational, aggressive faith like David.  When we have yielded in prayer to God and have a sense of God’s call in our lives, we can then live out the “masculine” side of our faith.

Some of us might be called to fight for justice-writing letters to legislators, or organizing protests.  Others of us might be called to bring bible studies into local prisons or to work with the Bread Fund. 

The Christian life is a dance of yielding and responding to call.  The Christian Life is a dance of prayer and action. 

We are called to be both Mary and David.

As Jesus came into life through David and Mary, we are called to bring Jesus to life in this world.

Amen.