Speaking against Proposition A - a message from the Provost

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On Saturday, October 23 and Tuesday, October 26, I will be speaking at rallies against Proposition A, which would pave the way for the potential elimination of the 1% earnings tax for those who live and work in the City of St. Louis. I encourage you to read the official ballot language and an excellent summary of the arguments for and against the measure at Ballotpedia. More information about those rallies is at the end of this piece.

I'm writing here for four reasons:

*To clarify the ability of clergy and the church to take public positions on political issues.

*To clarify my thought process in taking a public stand as provost of Christ Church Cathedral.

*To explain why I have chosen to accept these invitations to speak against Proposition A.

*To describe my hopes for us as a community with diverse political and theological views.

This is a little lengthy, but only because I think it is critically important that I be clear on each of these points and I want this to be a resource. Mostly, I want you to come to me face-to-face so we can have a loving, civil conversation about this or any issue.

The Church and Political Advocacy

Christian churches have a long and proud history of political activism ... back to Jesus himself. There is a lot of misinformation and fear about our ability to be political advocates because of our nonprofit status. In simplest terms, churches and church employees can publicly advocate for or against any political position or ballot initiative. Churches and church employees (in their capacity representing the church) cannot campaign for or provide real or in-kind assistance to any candidate for office. When I was executive director of Episcopalians for Global Reconciliation, I wrote a two-page summary of the "can's and cant's" of advocacy for religious organizations. If you have questions, I encourage you to read it here ... and also to go to the EGR advocacy page and the Episcopal Public Policy Network for more resources (and I hope you will join EPPN ... it is an excellent and incredibly well-run organization).

Speaking as Provost

Only the Dean is authorized to speak for Christ Church Cathedral. This creates a challenging situation for me as provost. I am very clear that I am not the Dean of Christ Church Cathedral. At the same time, I -- through agreement of the Bishop and Chapter -- carry the title Very Rev. and function in much of the capacity as Dean (including serving as Vice President of Chapter and chairing meetings in the absence of the president of Chapter, Bishop Smith).

I have wrestled with this issue and have come to a place that I am mostly, though not entirely comfortable with. But I'm also convinced it's the best I can do.

If we come to a point that we believe God means for us to be together as Dean and Cathedral, part of that will mean you believe that I am the person you want to speak for the Cathedral in the public square. That piece of discernment is incomplete so it would be wrong of me to assume that mantle.

That said, I believe all baptized Christians have a responsibility to speak out when they believe the Gospel compels them to. I also believe that part of the role of being Provost of the Cathedral is nurturing relationships of solidarity with other churches and like-missioned organizations in the City of St. Louis. I also believe that for you as the people of Christ Church Cathedral, hearing my voice and knowing my views will be an important part of the discernment of whether or not I should be your dean.

The balance I have come to is this. As provost, I will not seek out the press, write letters to the editor under the title "Provost, Christ Church Cathedral" or do anything proactive to attach my opinions on political issues to the name of Christ Church Cathedral. I will, however, accept invitations from organizations, and allow myself to be interviewed on political issues when the press requests. I will also accept the request of Bishop Smith to speak as a representative of the Episcopal Diocese of Missouri on his behalf (as is the case with the rally at which I will be speaking on Tuesday afternoon at Keiner Plaza). Because I know the public will perceive me as speaking for Christ Church Cathedral and will not get the provost/dean nuance, I will only do this in cases where I feel the issue at stake has a clear Gospel imperative ... as I did when I was invited last year to speak in favor of health care reform. I will always be willing and eager to have the theological conversation with you.

Should I become Dean, you can expect that I will be more proactive in taking stands on issues in the public square. But you will also know that I will have not just a personal and political but most important, a theological rationale for these positions that I believe is consonant with the theology and mission of the Episcopal Church and Christ Church Cathedral. That does not mean everyone will always agree with me. It does mean that I will always listen and strive to hold the experience of the whole people of God at Christ Church Cathedral in my heart and mind as I speak. More on that in a bit.

Why speak against Proposition A?

I was invited by two different groups, St. Louis Area Jobs with Justice (Rally at 10 am Saturday in Tower Grove Park) and Metropolitan Congregations United (Rally at 5:30 pm on Tuesday at Kiener Plaza). In the case of MCU, both the Bishop and I were invited and the Bishop asked me to speak on his behalf. Both of these organizations are reputable and have good histories of partnering with Episcopal congregations in St. Louis, including Christ Church Cathedral.

I was once in favor of eliminating the earnings tax. I saw it as short-sighted and a barrier to attracting business to the City of St. Louis ... and I still acknowledge that it might be such a barrier (though, as the Post-Dispatch has reported, "St. Louis's tax is neither high nor uncommon. Cincinnati and Cleveland have 2 percent taxes, as do Louisville and Lexington, Ky. New York City's can reach higher than 3.5 percent; Philadelphia's, can go to nearly 4 percent.").

I have been turned around on this issue and see it as a fundamental theological choice for or against loving our neighbor as Christ loved us.

The city earnings tax funds 39.2% of the city's revenues. That is revenue that could not be recouped by any other means short of a huge tax increase in other areas ... most probably a large, regressive increase in the city sales tax. And even in that case, it would result in a massive gutting of city services. While this initiative would not in itself repeal the city earnings tax, it would open that door and require the spending of millions of dollars to fight off an attack against eliminating something that, simply put, the city needs to survive.

The mission of the church is to "restore all people to unity with God and each other in Christ." It is a mission of reconciliation. St. Louis needs reconciliation and the last thing we need is more division. We are an incredibly divided city, with divisions of city/county, race, economic class and more. The earnings tax, though burdensome to some, is one tangible way we care for one another ... and particularly where those with means provide basic services for those without. The spirit behind the move to repeal the earnings tax is a spirit of hoarding and scarcity. A spirit of keeping for ourselves instead of giving for the common good. It is a spirit not of increased reconciliation but of increased division antithetical to the Gospel of Jesus Christ. That is why I have accepted the invitations to speak out against it.

What if you disagree? How do we live together as a diversely believing community?

In Philippians 2:12, Paul exhorts the people:

Therefore, my beloved, just as you have always obeyed me, not only in my presence, but much more now in my absence, work out your own salvation with fear and trembling; ¹³for it is God who is at work in you, enabling you both to will and to work for his good pleasure.

We are all working out our salvation with fear and trembling, trusting that the God who humbled the divine self into human form in Christ is with us and that it is God's wisdom we are all most imperfectly seeking. Put another way, it means we all can be wrong. And we need to cultivate in our community the humility that allows each and all of us to be challenged lovingly.

The great beauty of Anglicanism is that it is about a process of doing theology (a study of scripture through the lenses of tradition and reason) not about a determined outcome. We have plenty of experiences of faithful people coming to different conclusions about issues. But we also cannot allow ourselves to be paralyzed into silence by our lack of complete certainty ... just able to stay in conversation, stay in prayer, stay gathered around Christ's table as we proclaim the Gospel the best we can and work out that salvation with fear and trembling.

So if I or any member of this Cathedral community -- clergy or lay -- speak out in a way you disagree with, here's what you do:

*Say your prayers. Prayerfully consider what they have said and see if God's wisdom might be speaking to you through it. Pray for them as they sort out their salvation with fear and trembling.

*Talk with them. Lovingly ... not angrily, but lovingly and face-to-face (not in an email, please!) share your concerns or your differing view. And while you should try to make your position known as well, take a page from St. Francis and strive "not so much to be understood as to understand."

*If you feel called, use your voice just as that other person or people have used theirs. As you consider what that looks like, consider Christ's call to love one another as Christ loves us, and let that be your guide.

*Keep coming to the table. Christ's table is the great equalizer. It is where we all lay our lives down in realization that we all are broken and fall short but that in Christ, together, we are one.

I will strive to live by these guidelines with you and I pray you will live by them with each other and with me. I think you will see in them an extension of the Rules for Respect to which we have all pledged. Most of all, I want you to know it is OK to disagree with me ... and I hope you will do it lovingly and to my face. Because that's how I learn and grow. Because I do make mistakes. And because I'm working out my salvation with fear and trembling, too ... and we all need each other to get to the promised land.

in Christ's love,

Mike+

The Very Rev. Michael D. Kinman
Provost, Christ Church Cathedral


The rally on Saturday sponsored by Missouri Jobs with Justice will begin at 10 am at the Turkish Pavilion in Tower Grove Park. Here is a map of Tower Grove Park. Please see the inset map that shows where the Turkish Pavilion is on Center Cross Dr. off of Arsenal. More information is at their Facebook event page here.


The rally on Tuesday afternoon sponsored by Metropolitan Congregations United will be at 5:30 pm at Kiener Plaza. 

19th Sunday After Pentecost

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Preached by the Very Rev. Mike Kinman at Christ Church Cathedral on Sunday, Oct. 3, 2010  


The apostles said to the Lord, "Increase our faith!" The Lord replied, "If you had faith the size of a mustard seed, you could say to this mulberry tree, `Be uprooted and planted in the sea,' and it would obey you.

"Who among you would say to your slave who has just come in from plowing or tending sheep in the field, `Come here at once and take your place at the table'? Would you not rather say to him, `Prepare supper for me, put on your apron and serve me while I eat and drink; later you may eat and drink'? Do you thank the slave for doing what was commanded? So you also, when you have done all that you were ordered to do, say, `We are worthless slaves; we have done only what we ought to have done!'"

If I’m going to be honest with you, my first reaction to this Gospel reading was to get really annoyed. I don't need this. I don't think you need this. We don't need to be told that we don’t have enough faith. We don't need to be told that we are only worthless slaves. We don't need to work our tails off and try to be the best people we can and turn to Jesus and have him say "What do you want, a medal?" And that’s what this Gospel felt like when I first read it. Like Jesus was berating me and beating me up. And I just wasn’t in the mood.

And then I looked a little closer at the reading, and I noticed a couple things. The first is the Greek word that is translated as “worthless” doesn’t really mean that. It doesn’t mean “having no value” but rather “those to whom nothing is owed.” Now that’s a big difference. Jesus isn’t saying we should view ourselves as worthless … but as not being owed anything. We shouldn’t have a sense of entitlement because of our status or our accomplishments.

You might not know it because the lectionary skipped over it, but this reading follows closely on the heels of the parable of the Prodigal Son … and there is no more poignant story in all of scripture of God’s boundless love for us no matter what we do. We’re not worthless. We are infinitely valuable … but we shouldn’t feel like God or the universe or anybody owes us anything. We shouldn’t think of ourselves as better than anyone else.

In fact if there’s a theme that runs through this section of Luke it’s just that … that God’s love for us is infinite and that it doesn’t fit into human categories. We are the lost coin that the woman searches for, the lost sheep that the shepherd leaves the 99 to go after. We are the prodigal son who told his father “I wish you were dead” and for whom his dad still killed the fatted calf. But lest we think we have any special place because of who we are, what position we held, what family we were born into or where we went to high school, Jesus lets us know in no uncertain terms the answer is no. He does this by embracing and eating with and loving those whom the world rejects the most, the poor, the weak, the sick and the lame.

In Luke, Jesus draws a distinction between how he sees us and how the world sees us. The world measures us by race and class and job and talent. By how successful we are or how productive we are or how much we can contribute. Jesus looks on us and sees only the image of God, infinitely beautiful but also infinitely gifted because the love that is the heart of being the image of God is the most powerful force in the universe. Jesus looks on each one of us and sees someone who really could uproot a mulberry tree or move mountains … if only we could for even a second see ourselves as Christ sees us. If only we could have faith.

And that’s the second thing I noticed … that word, faith. It’s not about believing something up here. The better translation of the word is trust. And so what’s really happening here is that Jesus, who looks at each one of us and sees deep beauty and amazing power, is really just saying, “Trust me.” Trust that the way I see you is who you really are. Trust that you can let go of all the other ways you have of defining yourself. Trust that you can let go of all the labels that other people use to define you. Trust that you can believe you are lovable just for who you are and not for what you produce. Trust me, Jesus says.

And it’s so true. When we trust Jesus just a little bit. When we believe we are the person Christ sees us as and not the box the world tries to cram us into, the possibilities are literally endless. But that “little bit of faith,” that “little bit of trust” is so incredibly difficult. And we’re so afraid to do it.

My friend John Ohmer’s favorite story is of a woman who was out for a hike in the mountains. She slipped, and fell off the path, and started to tumble down a cliffside but at the last second was able to grab onto the root of a tree. She was hanging there swinging back and forth … a couple hundred yards below her jagged rocks, everything above her smooth rock face, no way to climb back up. She didn’t consider herself particularly religious, but she was in a terrible spot, so she looks up to heaven and says, “IS ANYONE UP THERE?”

Much to her surprise, the clouds part and she hears a voice say, “It is I, the Lord God of the Universe, the God of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob, the God and Father of the Lord Jesus Christ. You are my beloved child; have no fear. You need only to let go.”

She looks back down at the rocks, looks back up to heaven and says, “Is anyone ELSE up there?”

I don’t care whether you’re 8 years old or 80. We’ve all been shaped by powerful messages that tell us that our worth is tied up in how much we produce or how beautiful we are or what color our skin is or how much money we make or what gender we’re attracted to or, yes, where we went to high school. We all had the music teacher who told us we couldn’t sing or the coach who told us we couldn’t play or the boy or girl who wouldn’t go out with us if we were the last person on earth. And those messages – good and bad – defined us and in many ways became self-fulfilling prophecies. We became who they said we were. Because we believed them, we trusted them. And because we’ve spent our whole life trusting those voices, we are convinced they are all there is. And that if we let go of them, if we stop listening to them, we will be rejected and ridiculed and bullied and all those things that we have been carefully trying to avoid all our lives that make those jagged rocks at the bottom of the cliff seem like a pit full of feather pillows.

And yet in this place, in this community, we hear another voice. We hear the voice of Jesus, who sees us as God sees us … as not owed anything, as not any better or worse than anyone else, but also as infinitely worthy, infinitely lovable, and infinitely capable. And that voice says, “Trust me!” “If you could trust me even this much …. If you could see yourself even this much as I see you … if you could let go even a little bit of those other voices that have shaped you and of which you live in such deep fear … if you could do that, you would not believe what amazing things you could do.”

That is the community we get to be for each other. A community that looks at each other as God sees us. Who sees the extraordinary and the beautiful that the world cannot or maybe simply just will not see. A community that knows the truth of what our friend Becca Stevens says, that the love that is in each one of us is the most powerful source for social change in the world, but more than that, that love heals … and that we are not called to change the world. We’re just given the gift of the chance to love it.

What message are you holding onto that is holding you back from letting God love you and letting you love the world? How can you turn to the person next to you and help them see themselves as God sees them, as amazing and beautiful and gifted? How can we together have the courage to trust that the only social category that matters is child of God, and that because that’s what we all are, there is no limit to the wonders that we can do.
AMEN.

18th Sunday after Pentecost

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Preached by the Ven. Mark Sluss at Christ Church Cathedral on Sunday, September 26, 2010 

17th Sunday After Pentecost

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Preached by the Rev Canon Amy Chambers Cortright at Christ Church Cathedral on Sunday, September 19, 2010 

Gnaw on This ... The Gospel for This Sunday

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The Gospel isn't just to be gulped down on Sunday morning, but gnawed on throughout the week so it really becomes a part of us. Here's the Gospel for this Sunday (and some notes and more "food for thought"). You can click here to find all the readings for this Sunday.

 

Sixteenth Sunday After Pentecost - Luke 15:1-10

All the tax collectors and sinners were coming near to listen to Jesus. And the Pharisees and the scribes were grumbling and saying, "This fellow welcomes sinners and eats with them."
 
So he told them this parable: "Which one of you, having a hundred sheep and losing one of them, does not leave the ninety-nine in the wilderness and go after the one that is lost until he finds it? When he has found it, he lays it on his shoulders and rejoices. And when he comes home, he calls together his friends and neighbors, saying to them, `Rejoice with me, for I have found my sheep that was lost.' Just so, I tell you, there will be more joy in heaven over one sinner who repents than over ninety-nine righteous persons who need no repentance.

"Or what woman having ten silver coins, if she loses one of them, does not light a lamp, sweep the house, and search carefully until she finds it? When she has found it, she calls together her friends and neighbors, saying, `Rejoice with me, for I have found the coin that I had lost.' Just so, I tell you, there is joy in the presence of the angels of God over one sinner who repents."

What's the Backstory?

These parables are part of a set of three (the third being the Prodigal Son, Luke:15:11-32) about redemption -- being lost and found. The image of the people as lost sheep cared for by God the shepherd is in several places in the Gospel and would also be familiar from the Hebrew scripture (e.g., Ezekiel 34:1-15).

 

It's notable that the immediate context of these parables are teachings about our relationship with wealth and power (the stories we've read the past 2 weeks from Luke 14 and the stories of the dishonest manager and the rich man and Lazarus in Luke 16), and the trigger for Jesus telling the stories is his association with people whose sin is associated with wealth (tax collectors). In addition, the central image of these three parables is of a lost coin. Jesus is drawing a clear connection between our relationship with wealth and power and our state of relationship with God (a connection that is dramatized even more in the parable of the prodigal son).

 

Something to chew on:

*Where am I lost? Where is God passionately searching for me? This is the first question these parables beg of us. We tend to think of our relationship with God as a hide-and-seek with us being the seeker (we even use that word ... seeker). Jesus tells us that we are the hidden, and God is the seeker. How does that feel? Is that hard to believe? Remembering that Jesus was telling this story in the context of our relationship with wealth and power, how does your wealth and power -- or desire for the same -- keep God from finding you? How do you use your wealth and power to help God find you?

*Who are the "other lost?" What is our attitude toward them? How are we part of God's seeking? This is the second question of these parables. The history of Christianity is littered with theological or political opponents of Christians being labeled as enemies and demons. But Jesus is saying something different. The lost are not supposed to be demonized or destroyed, but lovingly searched for ... and rejoiced in and with when they are found. Nelson Mandela says was able to help transform South Africa because he never saw people as enemies -- even when they were beating him and imprisoning him -- but instead saw them as future friends, beloved by God. Where are you living this in our lives? Where could you live it better?

 

Try this...

One of the things I find is missing in most of our lives is a deep sense that God rejoices in us before we DO anything or HAVE anything. We experience God as a judge or a parent figure we have to impress, instead of a passionate lover who pines for us. And yet, God as passionate lover pining for us, delighting in us, rejoicing in us is the epic image of God that echoes throughout the story of scripture. This week, take 5 minutes each morning when you get up and sit or take a walk in the fall morning air ... and just rest with the thought that God is searching for you, that God rejoices in you. Think of someone you love simply because your heart can't help it. What does it feel like to think of God loving you like that ... and more?

13th Sunday After Pentecost

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Preached by the Very Rev. Mike Kinman at Christ Church Cathedral on Sunday, August 22, 2010 

The Word of the Lord came to me saying, “Before I formed you in the womb I knew you, and before you were born I consecrated you;”

I spent some time with God’s words to Jeremiah this week, and at moments they almost moved me to tears, they are so powerful.

Before I formed you in the womb, I knew you. Before you were even born I consecrated you.

The only language we have to talk and think about God is human language based on human experience … that’s probably why some of our best expressions of the divine are not in words but through art and music. The Irish poet John O’Donohue says “music is what language would love to be if it could” and that’s why he felt songs of God were always more profound than his poems of God.

But because we are bounded by human expression, we tend to think of and experience God through the filter of human concepts, particularly our human relationships. And the truth is, even the best of those have limits to their intimacy.

No matter how deeply you love, no matter how much you want to be intimate with someone, there is only so tightly you can embrace someone, only so deeply you can dive into your friend or lover or child’s or parents or sisters or brother’s eyes and they into yours. Even when someone through living and observing and experiencing us in some ways knows us better than we know ourselves, there are still these places inside us that no one else can touch. We can try to tell someone about them or maybe even sing or draw or sculpt or play to try to express them, but no other person will ever fully know them, we know all too well that we will never be fully understood.

And yet we've got this love/hate, approach/avoidance thing going on with that, too. Because part of us craves being fully known, fully understood, but another part of us fears that so deeply and so intensely. Because the other thing about our human relationships is that for all of us from the moment of birth in addition to those wonderful moments of embrace and acceptance there have been so many moments of rejection and condemnation and somehow those are so often the easier ones for us to believe. And the deeper we let someone in to who we really are, yes, the greater the joy will be if the response is knowing and loving and blessing, but the more unbearable the pain will be if the response is that’s bad, or that’s stupid, or that’s ugly. And we’re just too afraid of that.

And so we build walls and hide inside, and maybe we let some people in, but its usually not without a lot of fear and trepidation. We don’t start out that way, we’re born trusting. But we’re such fast learners. We learn to be guarded. We learn not to share ourselves. We learn not to trust. And we teach each other to do it, too. We’ve all seen it happen. Probably most of us have helped do it to others. And certainly all of us have felt it ourselves. Being told we’re not good enough or not lovable on a profound level because we’re too loud or too fat or can’t draw or can’t sing or our skin isn’t the right shade or we’re not attracted to the right people or we don’t dress right or we’re not smart enough or have enough money or hang with the right friends or any number of things we aren’t that we should be or are that we shouldn’t. And each one of those messages strengthens our resolve not to trust, not to let anyone see who we really are, not to know us too deeply. And as we build those walls, sometimes we add spikes on the outside to hurt others before they can get too close to hurt us.

And yet into this world in which we live comes the words of God to Jeremiah. “Before I formed you in the womb I knew you. And before you were born, I consecrated you.”

What amazing, powerful, and liberating words. That first part, “before I formed you in the womb I knew you.” St. Augustine had this phrase – and it’s so beautiful in the Latin – “Deus intimior intimo meo” “Deus intimior intimo meo” – “God is more intimate to me than I am to myself.” God doesn’t need to reach around the spikes and break through the walls, because God is already there, in the deepest parts of us … and has always been there. We pray this every Sunday “Almighty God to whom all hearts are open, all desires known and from whom no secrets are hid.” God really does know us better than we know ourselves because God has known us more deeply and longer than we have known ourselves.

And we can feel in ourselves what Jeremiah must have felt hearing these words. At once the incredible joy of being that deeply known. The joy of “God actually KNOWS me.” And then almost immediately the terror. “Oh no, God actually KNOWS ME" Which is why God immediately follows “before I formed you in the womb I knew you.” With “and before you were born I consecrated you.” I not only knew you, God says, I looked at you and said this is good. I blessed you. And I set you aside for something uniquely wonderful, suitable for the unique wonder that is you.

Before I formed you in the womb, I knew you. And before you were born I consecrated you. These are some of the most powerful words of God in all of scripture, and God says them to Jeremiah because God has an extraordinary job for Jeremiah. God wants Jeremiah to take a message to the people of Israel that they are not going to want to hear. And they are going to try to tear him down and make him doubt himself and think he is lower than dirt and who are you to even tell us what you think much less claim to speak for God. And so God knows Jeremiah needs to hear these words, because God knows Jeremiah is already full of all those messages of self-doubt and rejection and condemnation that he has heard already through his life just by virtue of him living the same human life we do. And so God says to Jeremiah:

Before I formed you in the womb I knew you. And before you were born I consecrated you.

You are good. God says. You are worthy. You are lovable. And, God says, I oughta know. Deus intimior intimo meo. Because I am more intimate to you than you are to yourself.

In this morning’s Gospel reading, Jesus comes across a woman “with a spirit that had crippled her for eighteen years.” Luke says, “She was bent over and was quite unable to stand up straight.” What a powerful image. Her body has literally been contorted as one who is carrying a giant burden on her back … she is physically bent over. It is the posture of Jesus carrying the cross through the streets of Jerusalem. Its interesting that Luke doesn’t refer to an illness that is besetting her but that she is crippled by a spirit.

This story comes in the middle of a series of stories about how God didn’t just consecrate people like Jeremiah but that God has consecrated all of us to be unique and wonderful vehicles for bringing in the Kingdom of God. For showing the world the joyful, life-changing, trust-building, fear-destroying power of God’s love.

And yet something is keeping this woman from doing this. And as I pictured her bent over in pain, I found myself seeing not an old, grizzled woman, but a woman of about 18 years old. And the spirit that had been crippling her her whole life was the same spirit that cripples all of us, the same spirit that was crippling Jeremiah that caused him to say, “God, are you sure you dialed the right number, because I can’t possibly do this.” The spirit of rejection and condemnation and you’re bad and unlovable and not nearly good enough that builds in each of us and presses down on us more and more as we go through our lives.

As I was thinking of preaching this, I thought about bringing someone up here and putting a backpack on them and one by one loading that backpack with bricks representing all those rejections and condemnations we carry around … and then watch how the person gradually stoops down under the weight. I’ve gotta admit what mostly scared me off of that was worrying about actually hurting someone’s back doing this. But I’ll bet even in describing that, thinking of all those things that are burdening you, you can feel that weight. You can feel your shoulders being pushed down and your spine being bent.

And it was to this woman that Jesus came and said not “you are cured” but “you are set free.” You are liberated. You are free. With a touch, just as God had done with God’s words to Jeremiah, the burden was lifted. She was not whom she had been told she was and wasn’t, but she was once more what she was before the beginning, what God always knew she really was. And what could the woman do now? Do what she was born to do. What she had been consecrated since before birth to do. Stand up straight and praise God.

The late second century bishop and theologian Irenaeus said, “the glory of God is the human being fully alive.” What God did to Jeremiah and what Jesus did to that woman was to make present the glory of God, to bring them fully alive. By knowing them more intimately than they knew themselves and by reminding them of the truth of creation. That even before we were created, God looked at each of us and said, “you are very, very good.”

And Jeremiah went out and proclaimed God’s message to the people. And the woman stood up and praised God. And some people in the synagogue got afraid. But more than that the entire crowd rejoiced, because ultimately that’s all you can do when you are confronted by the glory of God, by a human being fully alive … rejoice and marvel and wonder and praise that same God who has done this marvelous thing.

My friends, this is who we get to be for each other. This is who we get to be for the world. What are the burdens that have you stooped over? What is preventing you and us from standing up straight and praising God? What is preventing all of us from being fully alive? In these stories, God is asking us to trust. To trust that not only does God know us more intimately than we know ourselves but that that is nothing to fear, because we are blessed and consecrated and forgiven and redeemed and above all, loved and very, very, very good. And that each and all of us has a part in revealing the glory of God.

What are the burdens that have you stooped over. What is preventing you and us from standing up straight and praising God? What is preventing all of us from being fully alive? And how can we be like the woman, hearing Jesus call and actually letting him touch her? How can we be like Jesus, seeing one another as the God of Deus intimior intimo meo sees us? How can we be like the crowd … fearlessly rejoicing as we gaze on each other and on a world becoming more fully alive.

AMEN.

"Formed of Fire" -- Twelfth Sunday After Pentecost

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Preached by Ms. Shug Goodlow at Christ Church Cathedral on Sunday, August 15, 2010 


O Lord, my strength and my redeemer, I ask that you hide me so that only your Word is glorified. “ Take our minds and think through them. Take our mouths and speak through them. Take our hearts and set them on fire!” Amen.

“Do you think I have come to bring peace to the earth? No, I tell you, but rather division! From now on five in one household will be divided, three against two and two against three; they will be divided.”

These are pretty harsh words coming from The Prince of Peace aren’t they? I was at first happy to accept Mike’s invitation to preach this morning – until I realized what the Gospel reading was for today. I mean come on, what is a poor lay preacher like me supposed to do with this? This is like drawing the short straw! I’ve never even seen this gospel text on a refrigerator magnet.

My first thought was to run and my second thought was to preach on one of the other lessons. Then I thought, I’ll play it safe; I’ll talk about Luke. Finally, I realized there’s no escaping it. I’ll have to talk about this Jesus because we need to understand just who we think he is so we can come to know why today’s Gospel is so unsettling for us.

Obviously, there are differing ideas about who Jesus is. George Carlin, the late comedian and noted “religious authority” has offered the opinion that we have created God in our own image and likeness. In this morning’s Gospel, we find a rather unsettling portrayal of Jesus; Jesus as a disturber of the peace. “Do you think I have come to bring peace to the earth? No, I tell you, but rather division!” OK, who are you and what have you done with my Jesus? This is not the Jesus we know. This is not the Jesus we Episcopalians want to know. We want the other Jesus. We want the Prince of Peace. We want the compassionate Jesus. We want the one we sing about in O Holy Night, the one we put out on our lawns at Christmas. You know, we want the Jesus in the velvet paintings next to the ones of Elvis and the dogs playing poker.

This is not Jesus meek and mild. He’s just doesn’t sound very nice here. If this is the good Jesus, Lord I don’t want to be around when the other one shows up! Let’s face it, this Jesus doesn’t sound too happy with us. We don’t want this Jesus!

But what does that say about us? We want it nice and easy don’t we? Everybody wants to go to Heaven but nobody wants to die. We don’t want to do the hard work. We just want to come to church, listen to the pretty music, drop a few dollars in the plate and have a cup of coffee before heading off to the Cardinals game. Not that there’s anything wrong with that. It’s our nature to want things to be peaceful. We don’t want any drama. In the words of Rodney King, “Can’t we all just get along?”

The truth, of course, is that we are called to do more than just go through the motions if we are truly followers of Jesus. In today’s gospel lesson Jesus is telling us that following him means that we will have to make some hard choices at times. We might not always be able to do the fun thing or the easy thing. We might not always be able be with people we want to be with. We’re gonna have to do some work!

Jesus flat out warns us that there will be division if we follow him. “ From now on five in one household will be divided, three against two and two against three; they will be divided.” Talk about your family feuds!

I’ve learned first-hand that discipleship is not for the faint of heart. Why do you think there were only twelve of them? Jesus doesn’t want part time disciples. He could have millions of those. Discipleship can bring alienation from our friends, family and co-workers. It can illicit scorn from people that don’t even know us. That is what we risk if we take up with this fellow we call Jesus.

Again, Jesus said, “I came to bring fire to the earth. How I wish it were already kindled.” My God, the passion. This is powerful imagery for me. At first my impulse was to see fire as a thing to fear; as a destructive force. But then I came to see it differently. There are lots of images associated with fire in Scripture. Moses heard God’s voice in a burning bush. A chariot of fire carried Isaiah up to Heaven.

Some of you know that Doris and I are jewelry and glass artists. Much of what we create is formed by fire. Many of the delicate glass vessels we make are carefully shaped and placed in a kiln of 1400 degrees or more until we achieve the desired result. The hotter the fire, the more brilliant the color. On the other end of the spectrum, think about the work of the blacksmith. He creates by banging away at a piece of metal and repeatedly thrusting it into a hot fire and quenching it in water until he gets it into the shape he wants. Aren’t we like that? Some of us have been gently and carefully shaped as on the potter’s wheel. Lovingly caressed and shaped by gentle hands into a thing of beauty.

But others of us have been banged into a thing of utility by repeated striking and thrusting into the fire more times than you might imagine. If you haven’t been struck upon the anvil of life it might be hard for you to understand how some of us have been shaped in this way.

I have friend named Sandy Smith who is an inspector for the Los Angeles City Fire Department. She has fought a great many fires from inner city Los Angeles to Malibu. Some of you may be aware that most of Malibu burns just about every year; homes, businesses, vegetation. The insurance companies refuse to insure the homes anymore but they’ve got more money than God in Malibu so they keep rebuilding it. One year in particular I lamented the loss of so many homes, especially the vegetation and Sandy wanted to comfort me so she told me something very interesting.

She said that trees in the forest need to be exposed to fire to make new growth possible and that suppressing the fire would actually be detrimental because the dead trees and other debris create a tinderbox effect and destroy any new growth. The heat from the fire actually opens the cones on cone-bearing trees and releases the seeds. The seeds germinate and re-grow the forest. What a radical concept; life formed of fire!

Isn’t this what our gospel reading is about today? This fire that Jesus brings is filled with chaos and promises to bring division. But if fire can make new life possible what do we need to set fire to in our own lives in order to re-grow it?

We live in a time of situational ethics. What attitude, what behavior, what habits do we need to change? One of my favorite images of fire in the Bible happens after the resurrection. Jesus is walking along the road to Emmaus with two of the disciples. The disciples don’t recognize him until they break bread that evening. When they realize they had been in Jesus’ presence they said to each other, “Weren’t our hearts burning within us while he was talking to us on the road!”

To burn with the fire of Christ! The thought of it is both wonderful and terrifying. My grandmother used to tell me that the very thing that’s a blessing can also be a curse. To have our hearts burn within us is to be assured of kinship with God. To have our hearts burn within us is to desire to seek a closer relationship with God. Do any of you remember that Chaka Khan song from the 80s called “Through the Fire?” Here’s a little of the refrain.

Through the fire, to the limit, to the wall
For a chance to be with you
I'd gladly risk it all
Through the fire
Through whatever, come what may

Powerful! Now, as we move on to verses 54-56 Jesus gives the crowd what for. “You hypocrites! You know how to interpret the appearance of earth and sky, but why do you not know how to interpret the present time?” I think what he’s really saying is “I’ve had it with you people. You just don’t get it. I’ve told you and showed you that I am on fire for God. Silly me, I thought you would be too!

You think all you have to do is sing a few songs about peace on earth and send out a few cards at Christmas. Can’t you see that following me can separate you from the rest of the world? Can’t you see that following me can separate you from your family? No wonder Jesus is upset with us; we can’t see the forest for the trees.

Doris and I were having lunch one Sunday after church and overheard one woman telling another that she had called her pastor out on the carpet that day about his sermon. Her friend asked her what the problem was and she went on to say that she told him she was tired of hearing about those poor people and that she thought it was inappropriate for him to keep bringing them up in his sermons. Her friend looked stunned. We were so stunned we stopped eating. She then went on to say that they should just go out and get jobs then there wouldn’t be any more poor people and she wouldn’t have to hear about it. She said “That’s not why I go to church.” Lord, some of us don’t want our gospel adulterated by…uhhh…the gospel.

If we were all the same, if there were only one kind of Christian, if we had no differences, if we were never challenged, if we were never confronted with things we don’t want to see, how would we ever grow in our faith?

Why can’t we see what really matters? Are we armor bearers for Christ or not? Are we bearing witness to His presence in the world today? What are we afraid of? I mean, would we understand what Jesus wants from us better if he had a blog? We come to church every Sunday yet we have trouble seeing the signs of Jesus’ presence within and among us. We profess our Christianity but seem to be confused about so many things. We confuse pity with compassion, privilege with entitlement, biology with family, age with maturity, being straight with a reason to hate, and being white with being right and being black with having to step back.

We mistake kindness for weakness, being poor for being irrelevant, being wealthy with being superior, lack of education with lack of intelligence, and the ability to write a big check with being a good Christian.

We confuse this place we call church with being a country club for saints, the bringing of war with the making of peace, and perhaps worst of all – we confuse legalism with justice. And we won’t even talk about all the isms…sexism, adultism, ageism, racism.

Author Juan Carlos Ortiz says that most Christians fail to read what he calls the Fifth Gospel. He says, “Open your bible and look at the verses you have circled, highlighted and underlined…the verses like “For God so loved the world” and “I am with you always” and “Nothing can ever separate you from God.” It’s all right there in the four Gospels, Ortiz says.

But the verses you do not underline, the ones you do not circle or highlight or memorize; those are the Fifth Gospel. Verses like Luke 3:11, “If you want to be my disciple, whoever has two coats must give one to the person who has none and the same with food.”

Jesus ministered during a time called the Pax Romana – the Roman Peace. As long as you didn’t make waves you were pretty much left alone. Now I haven’t sat across the porch from God and spoken with him to know exactly what he meant when he talked about interpreting the present time but I think it’s safe for us to guess that he doesn’t want us to just go along with the status quo. He wants our eyes wide open. He wants us to see. Jesus wants us to stand with him. He wants us to burn with passion for him and for our faith. He wants us to upset the apple cart, especially our own. This may mean sacrifice, it may mean a change of direction, it may even mean loss of relationships.

Some sermons are meant to comfort the disturbed; this isn’t one of them. This one is meant to disturb the comfortable including myself. In fact, I must confess, I’m probably preaching more to myself than to you. I think this gospel is so hard for us to hear today because it calls us out, it makes us accountable; to have the courage of our convictions.

Do we really welcome everybody? Are we really willing to serve everybody? Do we really love everybody? Do we really stand with Christ?

My friends, I know you probably don’t think there is any good news today but here it is - God is not ever going to leave us alone. Every Sunday the Eucharistic bread is broken so that we may take it in and be made whole. And we drink Eucharistic wine that has been poured out for us so that we can be filled. So I ask you, what in our lives needs to be broken so that it can be made whole again? What changes do we need to make? I know there are some things I need to change.

At the end of the day, we can’t ignore that Fifth Gospel that Ortiz talks about. God’s work is our work. He is asking us to be committed to the mission of the church but He is not asking us to go it alone. He is asking us to do it in community; he is asking us to do it with him.

Jesus said, “I come to bring fire to the earth.” May he set our hearts on fire. Amen