"10,000 Hours, We are the 100% and God Wants All of Us." - A sermon for the 18th Sunday after Pentecost

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Preached by the Very Rev. Mike Kinman at 10 am at Christ Church Cathedral on Sunday, October 16, 2011 

And Jesus said, “Give therefore to the emperor the things that are the emperor's, and to God the things that are God's.” When they heard this they were amazed and they left him and went away.

The Pharisees were amazed. And then they left him and went away.

We read the Gospel every Sunday. Many of us have done this our whole lives. We hear Jesus in little snippets and stories and they have become so familiar. There’s comfort in that. But when was the last time we were amazed by the Gospel. I mean open-mouth, head shaking, heart-stopping amazed? Because Matthew tells us that’s what happened here. The Pharisees were amazed. And then they left and went away. That’s how amazed they were … they just couldn’t take it, they had to get out of there. Well, I look around and we’re all still here and nobody has called any paramedics yet, so I’ve gotta believe the Pharisees are hearing something we’re missing. Something that would stop us in our tracks and rock our world. Something truly amazing.

What could it be?

The Pharisees are coming to Jesus trying to trap him with this question about taxes. If Jesus says taxes should be paid then it looks like he’s in with Rome and he loses his street cred as a prophet. If Jesus says taxes shouldn’t be paid, then he’s a criminal and they can have him arrested. They’re thinking Jesus is the one who is going to be amazed at their cleverness and go away.

But Jesus does the amazing here. And not just because he was clever enough to avoid the trap. Jesus takes a coin and uses it to say that whatever image is on something tells us who it belongs to. The coin has Caesar’s image on it so it belongs to Caesar. Let Caesar have his own. No big deal there. But Jesus doesn’t stop there.

Jesus said, “Give to Caesar the things that are Caesar’s and to God the things that are God’s.”

Well what is God’s? What bears God’s image? That’s what makes what Jesus says amazing. Because the answer is … us.

We are made in God’s image. We bear the image of God. And God will have God’s own. The implications of this are staggering. And if they don’t amaze us, then we are not paying close enough attention. What does it mean to give to God what is God’s? It means three things that can be summed up in one sentence:

God wants all of us.

First, God wants all of us.

A few years back, Malcolm Gladwell wrote a book called “Outliers,” which looks at what makes exceptionally successful people exceptionally successful. He found that, yes, there is a certain level of innate giftedness but even more than that it is about opportunity. And the most important opportunity is the opportunity to practice. And he tells this story about a boy named Billy.

Billy grew up in suburban Seattle in the late 1960s. Now every year, the Mother’s Club at Billy’s school did a rummage sale to raise money for something for the school. One year they decided to use the money to do something that was really weird for a middle school in 1968 … they used it to buy a computer terminal. What that meant is that at a time when most colleges didn’t have public computer terminals, Billy was able to do real-time programming as an eighth grader.

And he loved it. Billy lived in the computer room for hours and hours and even days and days. And so when the University of Washington was looking for people to work on some software in exchange for even more computer time, he jumped at it. At age 15, Billy was logging 20-30 hours of programming time a week, even sneaking out of his house in the middle of the night to take advantage of the 3 am to 6 am slack period when the computer at the university wasn’t in demand.

By now you may have guessed that Billy … is Bill Gates. And Gladwell’s point is not that Gates doesn’t have real talent but that what made him one of the world’s great masters of computer technology was not so much a superabundance of talent but this unique, ahead of his time opportunity to practice. Because here’s the thing: If you look at people across cultures who are world-class masters in something – anything – from figure skating to fiction writing, from being a master craftsman to being a master criminal , they invariably have one thing in common – they have at least 10,000 hours of practice. Ten thousand hours. That is the universal threshold for mastery.

10,000 hours. That’s 8 hours a day, seven days a week for nearly three and a half years without a break. That is giving your life to something. But if we are to become masters … at anything … that’s what research shows that it takes.

Give to God’s what is God’s.

10,000 hours. Giving our life to something. That’s what God wants. God wants all of us. God wants us to know God like Bill Gates knows computer code. God wants us to know God like Albert Pujols knows the spin on a split-fingered fastball. God wants us to know God like Pat Partridge knows the organ! And the only way we do that is to give our lives to God. Not just an hour a week or a little bit here and there. But 10,000 hours. Minimum. That means 10,000 hours of prayer at home and worship here. It means daily reading of the Bible. It means every month, every week, every day, giving ourselves to God in service of loving those most different from us and challenging to us. It means practicing giving of our money, of opening not just our hearts but our wallets and over and over and over again giving until we learn that money is not our master but just another way of giving glory to the God who gives us all.

Give to God what is God’s. And that is all of us. 10,000 hours. Minimum. And just ask Bill Gates, just ask Pat Partridge, there are no short cuts. God wants all of us.

But it doesn’t stop there. Because God doesn’t just want all of us. God wants all of us.

Our former Bishop, Hays Rockwell used to say, “The image of God is on every single person … only on some it is in deep … deep … disguise.”

I know many of us have been following the Occupy Wall Street protests in New York and some of us have been involved in the Occupy St. Louis protest at Keiner Plaza. I spent part of a morning there this week listening and learning. One of the priests in my colleague group, Daniel Simons, works at Trinity Wall Street in New York and wrote the best piece I have seen on the protests and I want to share a bit of it here:

Daniel writes:

“One of the taglines most seen and heard on the street is “We are the 99 percent.” It has an unintended double-entendre. It points to the supermajority who are suffering the systemic manipulation by ruthless profiteers, but it also points to the fact that we are all complicit in creating (and resolving) what ails us. And from my perspective it doesn’t go far enough: We are the 100 percent.


“I write and preach regularly that in God’s economy there is only an “us,” and whenever we fall back to us-and-them thinking, we are contributing to a powerful but failed system that Jesus came to tip into collapse. Jesus in his Resurrection, steps beyond death and creates a new dimension. There is no retribution for his killers, how could there be? – he has just stepped into larger life where the only message can be: ‘Come on, join in the party.’ Any act of scapegoating - it’s their fault; this one is to blame - feeds the old death-bound beast. Making something new is making something together - receiving something together from a God who gives all.”

Give to God what is God’s. And God doesn’t just want all of us. God wants all of us. And there is no them. We are not the 99%. If we are in Christ we have to be the 100%. Because the image of God is not just on some of us, it is on all of us. It sounds great. It sounds great when we sing of ourselves as a fully inclusive Cathedral. But the truth is it’s incredibly hard.

And that’s why Daniel goes on to say:

“Pretty as it sounds, it’s never smooth; there is huge upheaval and conflict along the way to larger life; there are huge risks and uncertainties, and there’s always the underbelly of human fear and insecurity that all of us strive to overcome. Fortunately, Jesus is pretty patient, since it’s taking us awhile to get it.”

“We are the 100%.” No scapegoating. No exclusiong. Only “Come on, join in the party.” When we call ourselves an Oasis congregation that is what we are saying, but it can’t just stop at the water’s edge of sexual orientation. God wants all of us. I hope if someone came here and said, “You know, no offense, but I really don’t want to be around gay and lesbian people and ‘their culture.’ So sure they can be in the room, but they just need to go over there and not bother us.” I hope that if someone came in here and said that, that nobody in this room would have any problem saying “I’m sorry, that might fly in other places, but it’s not OK here. Because Christ Church Cathedral is for everyone.” And having said that say, “Come on in, join the party.”

But here's the thing. If that’s going to be our answer for that, it has to be our answer for everything. It has to be our answer when someone says, “You know, I really don’t want to sing those African-American spirituals … can’t they just do that at the Black History Month potluck and leave us out of it.” Or “You know, I’m really not interested in being around children – why do we have to worry about whether they are connecting with our liturgy.” God wants all of us and God gives all of us to each other. And we get to receive those great gifts! And we’re all invited not just to join in the party but to join Jesus in throwing the party together. We are the 100%. Poor and rich. Young and old. Liberal and conservative. Gay, straight and everything else. White, black, brown and more. And it’s hard work seeing that image of God on each other. It’s hard work letting the people most challenging to us have an equal voice in shaping things that are so dear to us. But this is the party Jesus is throwing with us. But that’s the path to the kingdom of God. Because God wants all of us.

Are we beginning to see why the Pharisees were amazed and went away. God wants all of us. God wants all of us. 10,000 hours. Fully embracing the people who make us the most uncomfortable. A party with lots of different music, some of which we’re not really sure about. It can feel like climbing Everest. Except there’s one more amazing thing … the most amazing thing of all.

Give to God’s what is God’s. Well we belong to God. God wants all of us. The greatest power, the deepest love in all the universe and God passionately wants each and all … of us! We begin every Eucharist with a prayer that starts “Almighty God, to Whom all hearts are open, all desires known, and from Whom no secrets are hid.” And like Jesus’ words to the Pharisees, I think if we ever truly got what we were saying we would scream and fall over unconscious.

Because what we’re saying is God WANTS ALL of US. That God knows us intimately, better than we know ourselves. God knows us in ways that if we stopped to think about it would scare the pants off us. If it takes 10,000 hours to master something, God has not only a master’s degree in each of us but a Ph.D and 15 post doctoral degrees. That God knows us that much and wants us more than we can possibly imagine. More than Bill Gates wanted to be at that computer. Enough to live for us and die for us.

The life we are called into together is amazing. And if we’re not amazed we need to look and listen again. The life we are called together to embrace is challenging and rewarding beyond measure. It will take 10,000 hours and more and there are no shortcuts. It will take rejecting the world’s us vs. them thinking and not settling for anything less than “We are the 100%.” It will take the security of loving each other into believing that God knows us more deeply than we are comfortable anyone knowing us and loves us more faithfully and powerfully than we can believe possible.

But we can do it. Together.

Together, we can give our lives to God, 10,000 hours and more.

Together, we can face the incredibly challenging quest to be not the 80% or even the 99% but the 100%.

Together, we can love each other through any conflict and slay any giant. And together with Jesus we can throw the blowout party of all time.

Together, we can do all these things and more because what we all have in common is each of us and all of us are loved beyond bounds by a God who will let no barrier keep God from us. We are loved by a God who wants us more deeply than we can imagine wanting anything. And who will walk with us every step of the way. AMEN.

"Ripple Effects" - A sermon for the 13th Sunday after Pentecost

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Preached by the Very Rev. Mike Kinman at 10 am at Christ Church Cathedral on Sunday, Sept. 11, 2011  

Peter came and said to Jesus, "Lord, if another member of the church sins against me, how often should I forgive? As many as seven times?" Jesus said to him, "Not seven times, but, I tell you, seventy-seven times.”

John Donne, one of the most brilliant preachers the Anglican Church has ever known is most remembered for this part of a sermon he preached

No man is an island entire of itself; every man
is a piece of the continent, a part of the main;

Put another way, we are all waves in the same ocean. And every action, every event, … has ripple effects in that ocean that spread out in every direction. Ripple effects that change who we are and shape not just our lives but life itself.

Ripple effects.

Nelson Mandela knew all about ripple effects.

Mandela spent 27 years in Robben Island prison for opposing apartheid in South Africa. Twenty seven years because he saw the world as it was and knew it not only should be different but that it could be different. But even from the depths of his prison cell,  Nelson Mandela knew that he could not do it alone. He knew he needed a whole nation united in purpose and dedicated as much to one another as they were to the idea of one South Africa. 

And so even though he was told he was in prison for life, he began building that nation from his cell. Because actions – all actions -- have ripple effects. And he did it by starting small. If the only way to bring down Apartheid without mass slaughter was for black and white South Africa to do it together, he would start right there, right in the prison where he had been sentenced even for trying to bring this about.

And so Mandela set out to learn about the Afrikaners, the descendants of the Dutch settlers who were the power of white South Africa. He learned their language and he built relationships with some of the white, pro-Apartheid, Afrikaner guards.  When Mandela and other prisoners set up schools in the prison to teach one another, he insisted that the guards who asked to be included be welcomed. And a funny thing happened. They found common values and common loves, including a common love for South Africa. And even though there were still many things about which they disagreed and even deep fears of one another, by looking each other in the eye day after day, by learning to speak each other’s languages, by uncovering and discovering the common humanity they shared, buried deep as it might have been, they not only stopped demonizing each other, they slowly became not an us and a them, but a we.

And these small actions, this new way of being … had ripple effects.

The first ripple effects were in Mandela himself. What had begun as an idea -- that we must always view enemies as future friends and treat them as if that day of friendship has already arrived – what had begun as just an idea became a conviction that would shape him and shape history. And that conviction had ripple effects, too. Ripple effects that burst the walls of that prison even before Mandela did. Ripple effects that led to a nearly bloodless revolution that nobody believed could ever happen. Ripple effects that led to an inauguration where his former jailers stood by him as Nelson Mandela ascended to the presidency of that one South Africa -- black and white. Once enemies that were now friends, because Mandela refused to wait to treat them any other way.

Ripple effects.

Peter came and said to Jesus, "Lord, if another member of the church sins against me, how often should I forgive? As many as seven times?" Jesus said to him, "Not seven times, but, I tell you, seventy-seven times.

It’s about ripple effects.

We have to look at this Sunday’s Gospel together with last Sunday’s, where Jesus laid out the widening circles for when someone sins against you in the church – first go to someone directly, then take one or two witnesses, then go to the whole church.

Why does Jesus say that? Why bring more and more people in, if necessary, expanding that circle like ripples in a pond? Because sin is never just about one person or two. Like everything else, sin has ripple effects.  John Donne was right. None of us is an island. What affects one affects all. And so if it takes the whole community to make it right, that’s OK, because whether we can see it or not, the action affects the whole community … and beyond.

The same thing is true this morning when we hear Peter ask about forgiveness. But here it gets even trickier. Forgiveness is not a get out of jail free card. It is a sacred bond that comes from looking deep into each other’s eyes and hearts and pledging ourselves again to beliefs and a way of life that we hold together. In the church, it is restoring that relationship of mutual, self-giving love that we pledge to each other and God in baptism. That means both parties – the one who has sinned and those sinned against – we look at each other and say, “OK, we’re all in. We messed up but we will try our best once more to love one another as Christ loves us.”

It’s what the exchange of the peace in our liturgy is all about. It’s not a greeting. It’s a sacred bond. A sacred bond of deep love and reconciliation. When we look at each other and say “the peace of Christ be with you” we are gazing deep into each other and saying whatever has come between us that is unloving – whatever we have just confessed in the confession – we renounce that.  And together, we reaffirm and embrace our commitment to loving each other because God loved us first. That’s why when it’s time for the peace, we should actively seek out those whom we have the most conflict with, and look them deeply in the eye and pledge once more together to try to love one another as Christ loves us.

And Jesus says in that case there is no limit to the number of times we should forgive and be forgiven. Why?

Well, first, we forgive without limits because we have been forgiven without limits. That is the depth of God’s love for us. But God's forgiveness is not "oh, its all right, it doesn't matter." Jesus is clear that our behavior does matter - for ourselves and for the community. God’s love is not conditional on our actions, we don’t have to earn God's love and we can’t lose God's love. But we also can't embrace God’s love if we do not live God's love. God loves us as we are but does not leave us as we are. Forgiveness is "go and sin no more." Forgiveness is “Go and love lots more.”

But we also forgive without limits because just as sin has ripple effects, forgiveness does, too. The smallest act of grace. The smallest act of forgiveness, deeply done, can change lives.

And so we are individuals and we are a people with a choice. Which ripple effects will we let spread out endlessly in all directions? Will it be the ripple effects of sin and death and hatred? Or will it be the ripple effects of love and forgiveness and grace?

Jesus knew this choice from the cross, which is why he said to God about the people who even at that moment were torturing and killing him, “Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do.” And it is that choice he gives us this morning and every morning, noon and night. An amazing opportunity to love and forgive because as we live this kind of love and forgiveness, the ripple effects will change our hearts, will change our families and our Cathedral community, the ripple effects will change the world.

Perhaps the choice before us has never been more clear than it is this morning.

John Donne begins, “No man is an island,” but he concludes just as famously.

Any man's death diminishes me,
because I am involved in mankind.

And therefore never send to know for whom
the bell tolls; it tolls for thee.

At 7:46 this morning, several of us climbed the steps of the bell tower and began to ring the great bell, the largest bell in the state of Missouri.

It was 10 years to the minute that American Airlines flight 11 smashed into the north tower of the World Trade Center.

For two minutes, the bell tolled.

It tolled for the women and men who died in New York, Washington and Pennsylvania that day. For everyone who lost a mother, father, sister, brother, lover and friend.

It tolled for the first responders who have since died from terrible diseases from working on the pile.

It tolled for the 7,500 coalition military women and men and for the estimated nearly one million civilians who have died in our wars in Iraq and Afghanistan, and for all those who have lost jobs and had needed services cut as in the wake of $1.3 trillion dollars spent on those wars -- wars the choices we made about how we would respond to that day 10 years ago.

It tolled for the lost innocence of all our children who now live in a world with color coded threat levels and having their shoes x-rayed for explosives at airports, for Muslims across our nation and around the world who for fear and ignorance have been made to feel as not only less than Americans but less than human.

It tolled for the wasted opportunity of Sept. 12, 2001 when the French newspaper Le Monde proclaimed “Today we are all Americans.”  For all those who embraced us then but deride us today. It tolled for you and it tolled for me. Ask not for whom the bell tolls, it tolls for thee. It tolls for we.

We have seen the ripple effects of this senseless act of blind hatred 10 years ago today. This week, in the media we have heard again many stories of love and sacrifice and grace that emerged in its wake, and the deep ripple effects they have had. But we are also so aware of the deep and wide ripple effects that meeting these attacks with vengeance and fear and hatred has wrought upon us all. We are all diminished by the human suffering that has rippled out from that day, because we are all involved in humanity.

But we have a choice. The choice Jesus made from the cross. The choice Nelson Mandela made sitting from his cell. We have a choice and it is a small choice, an everyday choice. A choice for you and for me and a choice we make as the community of Christ Church Cathedral.

Throughout our lives in this Fox News-MSNBC nation, will we choose to call those who differ from us enemies, or will we embrace each other as future friends.

Will we continue the cycle of bickering, demonizing and blame throwing between the city, downtown residents, the business community, New Life Evangelistic Center, nonprofits and faith communities. A cycle that has characterized decades of response to homelessness downtown. A cycle whose ripple effects have cemented a status quo that improves no ones lives and is beneath all our human dignity? Or will we learn each other’s languages, seek our common ground, build new friendships and partnerships whose ripple effects can actually help build a city that makes glad the heart of God?

Will we deal with the honest differences that come up in our own life as a Cathedral community by backbiting and turf-defending? Or will we continue to embrace the peace and this Table as the center of our life – where anything that might divide us pales before the unifying love God has for us as sisters and brothers in Jesus Christ.

In the words of our baptismal covenant, will we, whenever we fall into sin, repent and return to the Lord, look each other in the eye and ask for God’s forgiveness and each other’s. Will we, in the words of Gandhi, in our homes, in our lives and in this place, be the change we wish to see in the world?

This morning, while the world looks back at that day 10 years ago and all that has happened since, we have gathered together in this Cathedral to say with one voice that we have had enough of bells tolling. And we have had not nearly enough of dancing.  To say with one voice that we believe with Nelson Mandela and countless others before and since that there is a different and more excellent way. The way of Christ. Loving and forgiving 70 times seven and beyond. And that like in that jail cell, it begins small, right here, right now.

In our time together, I have seen us all come together and embraced God in each other in amazing ways … and I know you’ve seen it, too. We are looking honestly at the challenges we face, and we are seeking creative solutions and God’s wisdom together. We are learning one another’s languages and the vision of a new and wonderful undiscovered country before us is starting to come into view.

We have made the choice for life, for grace, for forgiveness and all we need to do is keep making it and the ripple effects of the Holy Spirit will take care of the rest.

So sisters and brothers, I have just one message for you this morning.

Keep it up.

And let’s watch ... and be what happens.

"Forgive, Forgive, Forgive" - A sermon for the 13th Sunday after Pentecost

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Preached by the Rev. Canon John Kilgore at 8 am at Christ Church Cathedral on Sunday, Sept. 11, 2011  

So my heavenly Father will also do to every one of you, if you do not forgive your brother or sister from your heart.

This gospel reading today begins with Peter coming to Jesus and asking, ‘Lord, if another member of the church sins against me, how often should I forgive?  Seven times?’  And Jesus answering ‘not seven but seventy-seven times!’  Wow! Are we really to be that forgiving?  That totally forgiving?

Today is the tenth anniversary of 9/11.  Every one of us here will remember where we were that day when we heard the report of a plane flying into the world trade center. Seeing the bodies falling from the twin towers.  Watching the video of the twin towers collapsing.  And the plane flying into the Pentagon. That day is emblazoned on our minds.  And will be for the rest of our lives.

Our world has seen a lot of change since that time.  Every report of a random shooting is followed by a question of ‘is it an act of terrorism?’ Suspicious packages are cordoned off and blown up.  White powders are suspected of being anthrax.  And of course there is the all too presence of security in our lives, whether it is entering the Cathedral here, a skyscraper business building, or passing through airport security.  Our world is different.

And actually, I suppose, that we are both the victims and the perpetrators of this nightmare.  We individually, we corporately, and we nationally, responded with anger and bile at the possibility that someone could attack us on our own soil and bring down two icons of American prowess, and change the skyline of our major city forever.  How could they do that to us?  How could that happen here?

And yes, we captured Saddam Hussein and Osama bin Laden.   And they are both dead.  We have our pound of flesh.  Our retribution.  But do we?  What has become of us in the process?  Are we any less angry?  Any more secure?  Any less tense?  Any more free?  Free from…?

Over three thousand people were killed on 9/11.  In the war since, in Iraq and Afghanistan over 919,000 people have been killed.  The majority of them civilians.  More people have died every month since 9/11, for ten years, than died on the one day of 9/11.  9/11 for us, the Madrid train bombings, the London subway bombings…  How do we react?  What do we do?

Jesus had a different approach.  Turn the other cheek he told us.  Forgive seventy seven times.  Wow!  What if we had done that?  There is a significant part of the world that probably still would hate us.  But perhaps not so many.  We would not have slaughtered so many innocent bystanders.  900,000 people dead.

In the Old Testament reading today from Exodus we have an account of God protecting the Israelites from the Egyptians as they crossed the Red Sea.  Many times God does protect groups and individuals.  And many times groups presume God’s protection, God’s being on their side, God’s authorship to substantiate their actions of aggression, war, and killing.  Think the Crusades, the driving of the Jews from Spain, modern day jihaad, the Arab-Israeli conflict.  How do we know if God is on our side?  In the Civil War, Abraham Lincoln was once asked if he thought God was on his side.  He responded that he didn’t know but he certainly hoped he was on God’s side.

In the New Testament reading today from Paul’s letter to the Romans we he hear of people doing all kinds of actions on account of their faith, eating anything, eating only vegetables, not eating; observing the Sabbath on one day versus another.  And it ends advising us not to judge one another.  Someone’s actions done in earnest for the Lord may be just as valid as ours done in earnest.  Perhaps!  But it is not up to us to decide that.  Contemporaneously we may consider the 7^th Day Adventist Church who admonish those of us who don’t worship on the seventh day, Saturday.   Or the Church of God who don’t use any musical instruments because of an islolated verse of scripture.  Are we all so sure we know the mind of God?

Our gospel reading today begins and ends with Jesus advising us to forgive not seven but seventy seven times, and reminding us that our heavenly Father will do to us as we do to others.  And we retaliate in the world? 

Is this gospel message a lofty ideal or Jesus’ tough gospel?  Can we live it or even begin to approach living it?  Retaliation does not seem to be a part of the gospel equation. 

A recent church billboard was circulated that read ‘Message from God: Governor Perry, that voice in your head is not God.  Go back on your meds!’  It is not heresy to admit that we don’t know the will of God.  In fact it maybe a better testimonial of faith to say that we do not know the mind of God.  H.L. Mencken, the famous early 20^th century journalist in Baltimore, wrote, ‘All great religions, in order to escape absurdity, have to admit a dilution of agnosticism.  It is only the savage, whether of the African bush or the American gospel tent, who pretends to know the will and intent of God exactly and completely…  The difference between religions is a difference in their relative content of agnosticism.  The most satisfying and ecstatic faith is almost purely agnostic.  It trusts absolutely without professing to know at all.”

It trusts absolutely without professing to know at all.  Using our faith, using our believed knowledge of God to harm others is always a dangerous supposition, a very slippery slope.   We would do well to truly turn the other cheek.  Give the benefit of the doubt to the other.  And truly forgive seventy seven times.  When we judge another’s intentions or actions or values, we are playing God.  When we say that another’s faith is wrong and ours is right, that we know God better, we are playing God.  When we forgive and just love we are being godly.  And are living Jesus’ radical gospel.  Concerned about retribution or justice or correcting evil? Those who have done the heinous acts are accountable to God.  That is between them and God, not up to us.  We are to forgive seventy seven times.  Regardless of the cost.  It is our gospel imperative.  Perhaps we really are to be that forgiving!

May God bless those who have died on 9/11 and since in the cause.  And may God bless each and every one of us as we live in His love and learn to forgive, forgive, forgive.

Amen.

A sermon for the 12th Sunday after Pentecost

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Preached by the Rev. John Good at Christ Church Cathedral on Sunday, Sept. 4, 2011 

The old adage says, "Nothing is certain but death and taxes." Those "old adagers" had a pretty dim view of what we can expect in life. Most of us don’t want to die, and we’re not too tickled about paying taxes. But have you ever considered that the "old adagers" who linked death with taxes may have unwittingly demonized taxes? I would agree that most of us dread death. But can the same be said about taxes? Supreme Court Justice Oliver Wendel Holmes famously said, "Taxes are what I pay for civilization." Without taxes we would not have the infrastructure of a civilized nation: schools, roads, airports, railroads, navigable rivers, power lines, clean water, waste disposal, street lighting, security, and many other shared benefits.

I have begun this sermon with a reflection on taxes because today I am joining a significant number of other preachers around Missouri and all over the country who are using this Sunday before Labor Day to bring the concerns of working people to the pulpit. This year organized labor in Missouri has asked us to focus on the morality of the Missouri Tax Structure. I want to be up front about this, because this is a political issue and I know some of you think politics has no place in the pulpit. But God is not apolitical. Today’s reading from the Hebrew scriptures is about how God became political to end the immorality of Pharaoh’s oppression of the Hebrews in Egypt. It is the beginning of the final chapter of Yahweh's political contest with Pharaoh to free his people from slavery. It is the story of the Passover in which God finally resorts to extremely violent methods to accomplish his victory.

I believe that when moral issues have political dimensions, God wants his people to get politically involved. The tax structure of any state always involves moral judgments because important values determine the rate at which the state will collect money from its citizens. Needless to say, Christian values are not always the values that inform and shape the taxation policies of the states, including Missouri.

As Paul says in our second lesson for today, the bottom-line-value of Christians is love. "Owe no one anything, except to love one another" he wrote; "for the one who loves another has fulfilled the law. The [ten] commandments…are summed up in this word, ‘Love your neighbor as yourself.’ Love does no wrong to a neighbor; therefore, love is the fulfilling of the law." When Paul defines love as not doing wrong to a neighbor he has identified justice as an important aspect of love. If we permit our government to do wrong to our neighbors, we have forsaken the value of love by being complacent about injustice. We have not kept our baptismal promise to "strive for justice and peace among all people, and respect the dignity of every human being."

Our country does wrong to our neighbors by not taxing ourselves enough. Taxes do not only pay for the infrastructure which benefits all of us, they also pay for human services like health care, unemployment benefits, food stamps, and other welfare programs that benefit the citizens who have been left out of the country’s prosperity. With the percent of people living below the poverty level increasing year by year during the current recession, low taxes cannot adequately fund the so-called "safety net" that these marginalized Americans need to survive.

Of the developed nations of the world, only four of them tax themselves less than the United States.1 We appropriate only about 27% of our nation’s gross domestic product in taxes. The average slice of gross domestic product collected in the other 30 economically developed countries is 36%, with most European nations collecting more than 40%. In our low tax nation, only five states tax their citizens less than Missouri, and only four states spend less per capita on all government programs.2 In trying to balance state budgets and reduce our nation's deficit, American politicians would rather find ways to reduce government spending than add more revenue through taxation. Forty-one U.S. Senators and 236 members of the House of Representatives have signed a pledge never to increase taxes in any way.

I think politicians who refuse to consider increasing taxes have become obedient to the chief idol of our nation—the American Dream. They believe the American Dream is achieved by individual effort and not by cooperative action, even though no one can possibly achieve the dream without help from the infrastructure provided by taxation. The idol inspires the belief that money belongs to the individual who acquires it and should be shielded from collection by the government, even though starving the government will make it less able to guarantee the liberty, security, and educational resources individuals need to make money. The idol emphasizes individual responsibility for taking care of oneself and condemns those who can't of being lazy, even though our economic system has failed to sustain enough jobs for all who want to work. Finally, and most important, the idol of the American Dream justifies selfishness at the expense of love of neighbor.

Instead of defining morality by America's idol, we who follow Jesus define it in terms of the kingdom of God, the community of the beloved and the loving. As Paul says, the commandment to love our neighbors means at least that we will do no harm to them, but even more than that, it calls us to care for them. Those who worship the idol argue that the state should not compel that kind of love, that it is up to individuals acting on their own to care for their neighbors. However, as Frank Schaeffer reveals in a recent book,3 for the last 1000 years Christian leaders have seen government as the medium through which Jesus' disciples work together for the common good. The Bible repeatedly emphasizes the government's responsibility to provide justice for those who are oppressed and exploited. Jesus, himself, criticized the Pharisees, the political elite of his time, for "[tying] up heavy burdens, hard to bear, and lay them on the shoulders of others; but they, themselves, are unwilling to lift a finger to move them" [Mt. 23.4]

While the din of the idol worshippers seems to be drowning out the voices of the kingdom at the present time, more and more of God's advocates are urging us to increase revenue through taxation instead of starving the government through spending cuts. They argue that the government needs resources to supply the basics of civilized societies and care for those who have been marginalized by our political, economic, and social systems. They understand that taxes are not the pariah the idol worshippers contend that they are, but the moral approach to making justice a key component of loving our neighbors.

+

1
The Tax Policy Briefing Book, Tax Policy Center of the Urban Institute and Brookings Institution, (taxpolicycenter. org)

2
"The Tax Tale: 50 State Comparison" in JSOnline: Milwaukee, Wisconsin Sentinal Journal, http://www.jsonline.com/news/wisconsin/89702927.html

3
Frank Schaeffer, Sex, Mom, and God, (Philadelphia, 2011)

"Sacred Ground" - a sermon for the 11th Sunday after Pentecost

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Preached by the Very Rev. Mike Kinman at Christ Church Cathedral on Sunday, August 28, 2011  
 
How many of you have ever been to the Grand Canyon?

I grew up in Arizona, but it wasn’t until I was in third grade that I made it there. And I was with my Mom and my grandma. And I remember so vividly the first time I stepped up to the edge of the South Rim and looked down. I think for the first time I felt awe. (not “awwwww” but “AWE.”) Awe is that mix of deep beauty and fear. Awe is what happens when you are confronted with something real and deep and big.

Experiences of awe like standing on the rim of the Grand Canyon astound and scare us. They fill us with wonder and fear. When we step up to big deep places, we feel a connection with those big, deep places inside of us.

And we want to be quiet, but we’re uncomfortable enough with the awe that we’re actually a little relieved when a car comes up or someone tells a joke. It returns life back to our illusion of control.

If you were here Thursday night you might have met two amazing women named Sheila and Katrina, who came with Becca Stevens from Nashville. They are graduates of the Magdalene program, and amazing series of communities that save the lives of women who have deep histories of abuse, prostitution, drug addiction and violence. The communities are the way God does the healing. And if you were here for the Making Disciples conference yesterday in Schuyler Hall, you heard them tell their stories.

Sheila was six when the first of a series of her mother’s boyfriends and husbands began abusing her. By age 14 she had run away from home and was using drugs and selling herself on the street. And from that came the seemingly endless cycle of arrest, jail and being back out on the streets. And then she heard about the Magdalene program and at first it just seemed like a way to cut short some jail time but when she got there she realized – and it was so hard to believe it – that this was about deep love being for her, deep love that could lead her through the hard, hard work of healing. Deep love that could save her life.

I saw her tell this story in front of more than 100 people in Schuyler. With trembling voice and lots of “ums.” She was scared because it was her story and it was full of so many things that we shame each other for – sex, drug use, imprisonment, running away. Yet the people in the room were gifted with the grace to be willing to receive and see and hear. To not be the people who bring the boom box to the Grand Canyon. And because of that we sat transfixed, in awe.

We were in awe of Sheila’s courage to be that vulnerable.

We were in awe because her story was so real. And we realized the deep beauty in it. And that the stuff that we are most afraid of revealing – the stuff we look at ourselves and count as failure and cringe in shame and bury deep so no one else will see or hear of it. That stuff was the heart of the beauty. Because that stuff, our cries, is the heart of our deepest beauty – when we have the courage to share and when others have the grace to receive.

Isn’t it ironic that what we fear most is our deepest beauty? That we hide our deepest beauty. Isn’t it tragic that our world takes that stuff of our deepest humanity, our deepest wounds, the stuff that could be our deepest beauty and shames us for it, tells us to bury it deep, tells us to believe that because it’s there we are each less than beloved by God?

We were in awe because Sheila’s story was so real and it touched our deep, real stories that we hardly ever take out for a walk to get some air. And the tears we shed were not pity for another, they were the truest tears, when deep beauty and deep pain meet and we feel the presence of God and something in us says “It’s OK. It’s safe enough. You can let go and let it out for a second.”

And Schuyler Hall became sacred ground. Because it was there we met beauty and pain within and without. It was there we felt the power of God.

I love this morning’s story from Exodus. Because it is so deeply true.

The first thing we notice is that Moses doesn’t have to take some special pilgrimage to find God. God was right there where he was. He just had to turn aside and stop and notice.

The second thing we notice is why God is present. God is not on a sightseeing trip. God is present because where our pain is, God is. Listen again:

Then the LORD said, "I have observed the misery of my people who are in Egypt; I have heard their cry on account of their taskmasters. Indeed, I know their sufferings, and I have come down to deliver them from the Egyptians, and to bring them up out of that land to a good and broad land, a land flowing with milk and honey, to the country of the Canaanites, the Hittites, the Amorites, the Perizzites, the Hivites, and the Jebusites. The cry of the Israelites has now come to me; I have also seen how the Egyptians oppress them. So come, I will send you to Pharaoh to bring my people, the Israelites, out of Egypt." But Moses said to God, "Who am I that I should go to Pharaoh, and bring the Israelites out of Egypt?" He said, "I will be with you; and this shall be the sign for you that it is I who sent you: when you have brought the people out of Egypt, you shall worship God on this mountain."

Listen to the verbs:
-I have heard their cry.
-I know their sufferings
-I have come down to deliver them
-I will send you
-I will be with you.

I have heard, I know, I have come down, I will send, I will be with you. That is God’s eternal chorus to us. All the stuff we hide. All the stuff we’re told to be ashamed of. God looks at it and says that is where I will be. That is what I will heal. I have heard. I know. I have come down. I will send. I will be with you.

And then our response, our acknowledgment that we know God is present and that we want not to wallow in our pain but to let God heal and deliver us out of it, is that we will worship. The sign is we shall worship God on this mountain.

God’s presence is where the cry of the people is. Where the reality of life’s rubber hits the road. Where we bring all that stuff that keeps us up nights, that ties our stomachs in knots, that makes our shoulders sag, and our heart afraid. All of those things that we think “Oh, if they found out they wouldn’t like me. If they only knew, they wouldn’t let me be in a place like this or sit at table with them.” Where that is, God is, and it is holy.

The third thing we notice is how God tells Moses to receive God’s presence. Take off your shoes. God has to tell Moses this because often that’s not our first reaction when we see the presence of God. Our first reaction is often fear and uncomfortability. The presence of God is a fearful thing so our first reaction is often to avoid or to try to make it go away. Moses hid his face out of fear. We have to be reminded, when God’s presence emerges, when we see the burning bush, DON’T GRAB THE FIRE EXTINGUISHER and don’t run away. Stay right there, and listen, and behold, and take off our shoes and tread gently. And be with God in that space. Just be.

And then together, we can follow God as God does the healing.

I will deliver
I will send
I will be with you.

The elements, those amazing verbs of the Exodus story are the same verbs that Sheila used to describe her life.

-God heard her cry.
-God knew her sufferings
-God came down to delivered her from the streets
-God sent her into a new life
-God has been and always will be with her.

And the same is true for all of us. God meets us as we are but does not leave us as we are . There is no wallowing in pain in the Exodus. And there is no endless wallowing in pain for us. God didn’t come down and stay with the people in Egypt but led them on a hard journey of looking honestly at where they are and looking honestly at how they got there and then helping them chart a course and walking with them into a new and better land. As Sheila says, you’ve got to deal to heal. We’ve got to deal with where we are and how we got there if we’re going to let God get us to that new and better land. You’ve got to deal to heal.

And that means we have to let the fire burn openly and honestly and know that we will not be consumed. Know that even though none of us can heal ourselves and none of us can heal each other, that we have a God who hears and knows and delivers and sends and is always with us. And that is all we need .

And that place where God meets us. Where God is revealed in the midst of your pain and mine. That is the church. That is who we can be for each other. That is who we can be for the world, one life at a time. We can be the place in our lives where we let that deep beauty, that deep stuff inside that we fear, where we start to let it out. But the only way we can be that place is if we remember. If we remember that what the world counts as shameful, God looks on with compassion. And to take our shoes off as we walk on the most sacred ground in creation. The ground of each other’s stories. The ground of each other’s lives.

If we remember that we can’t fix each other but together we can look for the God who hears, knows, delivers, sends and is with us, knowing that God can heal anything.

If we remember that we are not destined to stay in Egypt but that we are destined for a new and better and promised land. And that the journey of healing and deliverance will be long and hard but that God will guide us there together if we will follow. And though we, like the people of Israel, will stumble and fall and complain and chase after other gods, God will always be with us an urge us on the way.

And this will be the sign of our life together. That we will gather here, together, in honesty and fear and beauty and awe. That we will gather here each Sunday on this mountain and worship.

Amen.

"Bad Moon Rising? Bring. It. On." -- A sermon for the 8th Sunday after Pentecost

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Preached by the Very Rev. Mike Kinman at Christ Church Cathedral on Sunday, August 7, 2011  

Jesus made the disciples get into the boat and go on ahead to the other side… When evening came, he was there alone, but by this time the boat, battered by the waves, was far from the land, for the wind was against them. And the disciples turned to each other, and began to sing:



I see the bad moon arising.
I see trouble on the way.
I see earthquakes and lightnin'.
I see bad times today.


[Chorus:]
Don't go around tonight,
Well, it's bound to take your life,
There's a bad moon on the rise.


I hear hurricanes ablowing.
I know the end is coming soon.
I fear rivers over flowing.
I hear the voice of rage and ruin.


[Chorus]
All right!


Hope you got your things together.
Hope you are quite prepared to die.
Looks like we're in for nasty weather.
One eye is taken for an eye.


[Chorus]
[Chorus]
In the name of God, Father, Son and Holy Ghost. Amen

It’s all we hear these days. There’s a bad moon rising. The hurricanes are blowing. The end is coming soon.

We see it everyday. Big bad numbers are everywhere – a $14 Trillion dollar national debt. Unemployment hovering around 10%. The Dow falls 500 points in one day.

And everyone is looking for the magic answer … and everyone is so sure that they and they alone have the silver bullet that can save the day. Cut spending. Raise taxes. Cut taxes. Raise spending. Keep pulling different levers and pushing different buttons until we find the magic formula that is going to make it all right, that will calm the sea again, that will make America the mythical land of overflowing prosperity once again.

It’s easy for us to get frustrated at the people in Washington, but we’re doing the same thing ourselves.

Here at Christ Church Cathedral, we’re looking at a $55,000 deficit. And as I sit with Kris Reppert and the finance committee and Grace and Anne and the Chapter I know I want to find that silver bullet, too. I want to find that magic formula that’s going to make it all right, that will take away our fear, that will return us to the mythical glory days of Christ Church Cathedral. Cut the budget, raise more pledge income. Increase spending to try to increase attendance. The temptation is for us to pull the exact same levers and push the exact same buttons here.

And it's the same thing for each one of us. Every year it feels like we’re trying not just to do more with less but even to just try to break even with less, right? And so we’re all looking for the magic formula. How do we get more money, and cut expenses. How do we make it balance out. Mostly, as we watch the news and as we watch our own bills pile up and as many of our jobs become more and more tenuous, we want someone to snap their fingers and make it all OK, help us believe we can be confident and unafraid, that our children and grandchildren will enjoy the mythical epic prosperity that the rest of the world looks to America and aspires to.

This bad moon has been rising for awhile. The storm has been brewing and it is now starting to whip up real good. Although some of us have been feeling those winds and waves a lot longer than others of us. But now there aren’t a lot of people left who aren’t looking at the dark sky and feeling nervous. Who aren’t feeling tossed by the waves and worrying if the ship is going to make it.

There’s a bad moon rising. And it’s been rising for awhile. Because here’s the truth. The truth is the math hasn’t worked for a long, long time. Here in America, we are 5% of the world’s population and we’re responsible for 30% of the world’s consumption of resources. You just can’t keep that up indefinitely. It’s only a matter of time before the bills start coming due.

The truth is, our American lifestyle is not sustainable economically, it’s not sustainable environmentally and it is not sustainable morally. And here’s the thing… There is no silver bullet. There is no magic combination of levers pulled and buttons pushed that is going to bring a new day of superabundant material prosperity. Not for our nation. Not for Christ Church Cathedral. Not for your household or mine.

And let me tell you, we don’t want to hear that. The last major American politician who tried to even start to tell us the truth about this was Jimmy Carter and every politician since saw what happened to him and has said, "I'm not trying that again!"

And so we elect leaders who tell us what we want to hear. That this superabundance of wealth is our birthright as Americans and that it will return again. That it is absolutely sustainable if we swallow whatever magic economic policy pill they happen to be offering. That it is “those other people” who are the problem – they’re the ones. They’re the flies in the ointment and if we could just get rid of them we could all live in the land of plenty once more.

Some use soaring rhetoric that lifts our hearts and many, many more demonize and divide and tempt us to cower in fear, but none of them are telling us the truth.

And the truth is that we are 5% of the world’s population and we’re responsible for 30% of the world’s consumption. You do the math. So, be my guest. Cut taxes. Raise taxes. Cut spending. Raise spending. Knock yourself out. Unless we address our own addiction to consuming, our own addiction to a lifestyle that is unsustainable on every level, in the long run, none of it is going to matter.

And, at first blush, that’s really scary. It’s scary because for most of us, this lifestyle is all we’ve ever known. It’s how we judge our own worth. Our success and failure. We can’t imagine living any way that’s significantly different. Not only do we not have any easy answers, we’re not even sure what questions we should be asking. We don’t even know where to begin.

And so the voices that tell us they have the magic answer are really tempting to listen to. The voices that urge us to care only for ourselves and to build high walls around our houses, our incomes and our savings accounts no matter how great the need is elsewhere ... those voices are so tempting to listen to. The voices that tell us to be afraid and run away and stick our heads in the sand are so tempting to listen to.

But there is another voice. A voice not only older than the storm but older than the very sea this storm is tossing. A voice that knows as fierce as this storm is, it cannot touch the power of God. A voice that sees the sky darken, the waves roll and the winds blow and says just three words.

Bring. It. On.

And that brings us to this morning’s Gospel.

This morning’s Gospel finds the disciples just like we are. In a boat in a storm.

Now for these disciples, it isn’t 2011. There’s no GPS to guide them or coast guard to bail them out. Jesus, the guy who put them on that boat and sent them on this journey, is off on a mountain somewhere praying. As far as they can tell, they are all on their own. Which means if that boat capsizes, they are done for. It’s all over.

And morning begins to break, and Jesus walks toward them on the water and all they can think is “People don’t walk on water” so they grasp for any explanation that makes even a little bit of sense and they settle on “it must be a ghost!” And that scares them all the more.

And what does Jesus say to them? Do you remember?

Take heart. It is I. Do not be afraid.

Take heart. It is I. Do not be afraid.

So let’s press pause there and recap.

Like us, the disciples are in a boat in a storm and they’re scared. That’s OK. That’s natural. Storms are scary. And even when they see Jesus coming, their first reaction is not to recognize him and to be even more afraid. That’s OK, too. That’s natural. That’s human. Our fear doesn’t make us bad people. It makes us human people. It’s what we DO in the face of fear that makes all the difference.

And here’s what Jesus doesn't do in the face of fear – in the face of theirs and in the face of ours. What Jesus doesn’t do is immediately calm the storm. He doesn’t say the magic word, pull the lever or push the button and make it all OK. Instead he just stops and stands there, stands there on the place they fear the most – in the middle of the storm itself and he calls out to us, as we clutch to the sides of the boat:

Take heart. It is I. Do not be afraid.

And then Peter has one of his moments of incredible inspiration. Peter devises the perfect test to see if this really is Jesus. Because Peter knows the Jesus that looked at the 5,000 and said “you give them something to eat” wouldn’t just stand there in the storm, he would say, nuh-uh-uh-uh-uh … you’re coming out here with me. Jesus doesn’t tell them don’t be afraid because he’s going to protect them or help them run away from the scary stuff. Jesus says "Bring. It. On." He tells them “don’t be afraid” and then charges right into the teeth of the scariest stuff there is.

So Peter says, “Jesus, if that’s really you, yeah ... OK ... Bring. It. On. Command me to come out onto the water with you.”

And you’ve gotta believe Jesus was smiling right then. Peter, my man, my rock, you get it. Bring it on. And so he commands him to get out of the boat and Peter delivers. Peter does what to anyone else watching seemed crazy. He got out of that boat and started walking on the water toward Jesus.

We tend to remember this more as a story of Peter’s failure. We remember him taking his eyes off Jesus and fearing and starting to sink. And that’s a real shame. Because this isn’t a story of failure. This is a story of the power of "bring it on." The story of someone who believed even for a second that we have the power to face any fear, to do what seems impossible. Sure he faltered and fell, but man, he got out of the boat. The man walked on water! He proved what we are capable of when we keep our eyes on Christ.

Jesus meets us where we are but if we turn our lives over to him, he will never leave us as we are. If we, like Peter, ask him to, he will always invite us to look into the storm and join him in that chorus of Bring. It. On. He will always invite us step out of the boat and join him right in the midst of the stormy sea. He will always invite us to charge together into the teeth of our fear – so that we can truly discover that we can walk on water. That we don’t need the safety of the boat. And that even though the storms are blowing all around us that we can take heart and not be afraid.

We all see the bad moon rising. And if all we do as a Cathedral and all we do as individual followers of Jesus in our own homes is play the game the way everyone else is, then we are missing a once in a generation opportunity to live the Gospel and proclaim it to a nation that needs to know there is a different and better way.

Right now our nation is running scared. You see it on Wall Street. You see it everywhere. But we see Jesus in the middle of the storm, so we can link arms and step out of the boat that everyone else is clinging to in fear. Step out and run toward him, right into the heart of the storm. Because we believe Jesus is both our destiny and the one who has our backs, we can feel the wind and waves swell around us and we can say with one voice:

Bring. It. On.

It means that while we’re looking at our own budget we get to set our eyes on Christ, to read scripture deeply, pray deeply and listen deeply for his voice on one another’s lips. We get to look for new ways to be not just the church but new ways to be Americans. Ways that look Jesus full in the face and invite him to command us out onto the water. Ways that invite him to challenge even our most deeply held assumptions of what we need not only to be Christ Church Cathedral but to be members of this American society. And as long as I am your dean, that is the path we will seek. It is not the path of the quick fix or the easy answer, but we don't want those paths. those paths are not worthy of us. Those paths aren't worthy of a people who can walk on water.

I tell my kids that courage isn’t being unafraid. Courage is being afraid and doing it anyway. Courage is looking at moments of fear not as moments of personal weakness but as moments of opportunity to reach down deep and find out who we are and whose we are.

Beloved, I have no magic words, silver bullets or miracle cures for us. All I have is our trust that this moment is here to teach us that we are images of God and we belong to Christ. And that walking on water ain’t no thing. I can’t tell you how to walk on water and maybe before we get iit down, we'll start to sink a hundred times and a hundred times have Jesus lift us up and put us back in the boat and shake his head and smile and say “when are you going to get this?” But we’re going to keep stepping out of that boat. We're going to keep heading into the storm. And we're going to find a new way of living for ourselves and for the world.

We see a bad moon rising?

Well, Alleluia.

Bring. It. On.

Amen.

"...and Jesus said, 'Get over yourselves." -- A sermon for the First Sunday After Pentecost (Trinity Sunday)

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Preached by the Very Rev. Mike Kinman at Christ Church Cathedral on Sunday, June 19, 2011 

The eleven disciples went to Galilee, to the mountain to which Jesus had directed them. And Jesus came and said to them, 

“Get over yourselves.”

In the name of God, Father, Son and Holy Spirit, AMEN.

What did creation sound like?

Astronomers like my dad talk about “the Big Bang.” And then you get all those “if a tree falls in the forest questions about it.” Was it really a sound? The creation story we heard this morning doesn’t even mention sound at all. It’s all about the visual. Day by day passing. Light coming from darkness. Land from water. Gradually all that we know as creation appearing on the scene.

Well, I don’t know what creation itself sounded like, but if I had to guess what the moment before creation sounded like, it would be something like this:



Isn’t that a great sound??? It is the chaotic sound of potential … of anticipation. When you hear that cacophony of instruments tuning and then the baton tapping ... and the pregnant pause … you just know that something beautiful is about to be created. Because each instrument has finished focusing on itself. From now on they will be watching only the conductor and listening deeply to each other … because that’s the way the beauty of the symphony is created.

If there was a soundtrack to the creation story in Genesis, it would begin with that sound. And the music that followed would be the most brilliant and harmonious ever written.

Because that’s what our creation story is. It is a story of God bringing order, harmony and deep beauty out of chaos. And every step of the way, God echoes the refrain.

And God saw that it was good.

It was good.

It was good.

Until finally God is finished and steps back and says,

yes, Yes, YES! … that is VERY GOOD.

Every time I hear this story, I wish we could just push pause when the reader is finished. Because it all goes downhill from there. But at that moment, that precious fleeting moment, all is as it should be. It’s the “for one brief shining moment it was Camelot.”

God is at the center of all existence, and not only is all creation very good, all creation knows it is very good, in fact knows and believes it so much that it doesn’t worry if anyone else knows it, doesn’t worry about having to individually prove its goodness to itself or anyone else. And like that orchestra, with eyes trained on the maestro and listening deeply to each other, all that is left for all creation is to create beautiful music for all eternity.

The ultimate

…eternal

…jam.

But that’s not what happened, is it? Because we know the rest of the creation story. We know how sin entered in with that tempting serpent saying, “but you could be like God.” You could be at the center. You see, the fall isn’t about creation becoming evil. What God creates as very good is always very good. The fall is about us forgetting that.

The fall is about all humanity falling away from a God-centered harmony of believing in and celebrating our goodness -- to a self-centered insecurity of doubting our goodness, of fearfully needing to put ourselves at the center above God and all others. The fall is about the fall from resting in the strong, loving arms of the divine to huddling around the fragile, fearful shells of our own egos.

The problem isn’t that we became evil. The problem is we forgot that we are good.

But God didn’t forget us. God kept reminding us, and God kept urging us to remind each other. And God gave us a beautiful gift of a word. A word of remembrance.

The word … Bless.

Now the word “bless” doesn’t make something good any more than the fall made anything evil. The word bless literally means “to speak well of” … to say “this is good.”

The word bless is God’s gift of remembrance to us. So that whenever we see something that is very good, whenever we see something that reminds us that we are good, reminds us that we can live without fear, reminds us that all we have to do is keep our eyes on the maestro and listen deeply to each other and create amazing beauty. Whenever we see something like that we bless it. We say in the name of God, “this is very good.”

And the rest of the world looks at it and says “Ah … I remember…. That’s what that looks like. That’s what we all can be. Isn’t that beautiful. How can I be like that. How can I remember that I am good, too.”

It’s why we do house blessings. Not to bestow some magical spell of protection but to affirm the holy desire of the people who live there to open their home up in hospitality. And so we bless it and them and affirm, “this is good, this is very good.”

It’s why we bless animals every Feast of St. Francis. To point to the loving, faithful companionship they give and affirm “this is good, this is very god.”

It’s why at this Cathedral we bless unions of self-giving love between two people. To point to the Christlike laying down of lives for each other they are about and affirm, “this is good, this is very good.”

Someone asked me why we stood out there in the sea of 65,000 racers at Race for the Cure blessing them with holy water and I said because where there are people giving themselves up for the sake of love and healing, the church needs to be there saying “this is good, this very good”.

We forget that is our job sometime, but it is. Somewhere along the line someone got the idea that the church was here to turn bad people into good people. Not true. As the church, we are here to remind us that we are already good, and that we don’t need to lead these fearful, hoarding lives of those who doubt their own goodness.

It’s not hard. Here’s how we do it. Here’s how we do our work of blessing.

Get aspergelium and get out of the pulpit.

Who here gave an hour of their time this week to help others? -- You are blessed. You are good. (apserge with holy water)

Who here spent time yesterday playing with a child? - You are blessed. You are good. (apserge with holy water)

Who here did something you don’t like to do to show your spouse or partner you love them? You are blessed. You are good. (apserge with holy water)

Who here gave time or money or prayer to this church or someone in this community this week without thought of reward or recognition? You are blessed. You are good. (apserge with holy water)

Think for a second. What is blessed. What is good in your life? What is blessed. What is good in our lives. Have you blessed someone recently? Have you heard a blessing for yourself?

We are a blessed, beloved community but we are more than that. We are a community of remembrance. Of reminding each other that we are blessed and beloved. Of reminding each other that God made us good and that we don’t need to focus on ourselves but we can live fearless lives focusing on God and listening deeply to each other and creating beautiful, beautiful music together.
And that brings us to the Gospel reading for today. The eleven disciples are with Jesus on the mountain and in Matthew this is the first and only time they will see him after the resurrection so Jesus has to be brief and not pull any punches. And so here is what he says:

“Hey … Get over yourselves.”

Ok, so that’s a rough translation. But that’s really what he is saying. He says “All authority in heaven and on earth has been given to me. Go therefore and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, and teaching them to obey everything that I have commanded you. And remember, I am with you always, to the end of the age.”

All authority in heaven and earth has been given to me, Jesus says. The battle is over. Christ has risen from the dead. The goodness can’t be held down. You don’t need to worry about yourself anymore. Worrying about yourself is for people who doubt their goodness. Worrying about yourself is for people who doubt God’s love for them. Worrying about yourself is about people who are afraid they will be left without. Get over yourself. That’s not you. You are my beloved – now and to the end of the age. And I am reminding you now and always that you are good. That you are blessed. But that reminder isn’t just for you. As Dahn Gandell said last Sunday, “Transformation not shared is wasted. “

So Go. Get over yourselves and go and make disciples of all nations. Go remind everyone that they are good. You see, there is a whole world out there that lives in fear and that is crying in pain and that has forgotten that they are good. That has forgotten that they don’t have to concentrate on themselves, but that they can take their gaze off themselves and put it on God and listen deeply to each other and create beautiful, beautiful music.

One of the biggest mistakes the church ever made was taking this Great Commission and turning it into a fearful, self-righteous message of “convert or die.” That’s not what Jesus is telling us. He is looking at us with great love and saying, “Get over yourself.”

We’re not sent out with the message “convert or die” but “wake up and live.” We’re ready to play this song. All we have to do is remember that we are very good, and because we are we can set your eyes on Christ, listen deeply to each other and have our life be a symphony. Have our life be the ultimate, eternal, jam.

If there was a soundtrack for the mountain top that day. If there was a soundtrack for us as we prepare to head out from this place into the world, this would be the sound we hear.



Beloved, we are tuned and ready to play. We are very good. We know we are very good because God says we are very good. And because we remember that, we can keep our eyes on Christ, listen deeply to each other, and create incredible beauty together.

The baton is tapping.

What amazing music will flow through us next?

AMEN.