​The Cone of Shame
Emmanuel Episcopal Church, Greenwood, Virginia
August 25, 2019
Proper 16, Year C
The Rev. John Taliaferro Thomas
 
Calvin was not himself, and needed pastoral care.  Calvin is our nine-month old Golden Retriever and he had undergone some scheduled minor surgery.  The whole procedure went perfectly, and the vet reported that he was one of the most agreeable surgical candidates she had ever seen.  Maybe she says that to every pet owner, but really, he is a pretty great dog – along with his eight-year old big brother, Gus. 
 
At first it was comedic.  He was still a little woozy from the anesthesia.  And to keep him from chewing at his stitches, he had been fitted with an Elizabethan style collar.  If you have seen the movie Up you know it as the “Cone of Shame,” and it is a dog’s worst nightmare.  He banged his way up the steps and into the house.  He was thirsty, but could not get his head in the water bowl.  When he tried to move around, he ran into walls and furniture.  It was hard not to laugh.
 
What started out comedic became pitiful.  When he walked around he could not see from side to side and he kept his head down, as if in shame, and finally, he just stood completely still.  He did not move.  He did not sit.  He did not lie down.  No matter how much we coaxed him, Calvin just stood there, for almost an hour.  Finally, we could not stand it.  We vowed to watch him carefully and removed the “Cone of Shame.”  And being a puppy, he acted as if he had been granted complete clemency from all fears, woes, and concerns.  He padded around the house joyfully, picked up toys, drank water, and snuggled with us, and his brother, Gus.  And if he even made a move to lick his wound, all we had to do was pick up the “Cone of Shame,” and show it to him, and he stopped immediately.  He was supposed to wear the cone for two weeks.  He wore it for less than two hours, and that was enough.
 
People can learn a lot from dogs.  They are so able to love unconditionally, forgive so readily, and find joy in the smallest of delights.  Yes, they are messy and slobbery and sometimes demanding, but so are most people I know, in one way or another.  But the up side of their love and loyalty is so amazing and instructive as to how we might live in present joy.  It is no wonder that people who live with pets report that they are happier, and studies show that those same people live longer and healthier lives.[1]  Not only do pets keep us more active and meaningfully connected, even the microscopic dirt they bring into the house helps boost our immune system.
 
While this not a symposium on human longevity, faithful people are all about being fully and completely alive in the Spirit of our Creator.  And this is a central theme Jesus presses on all of his followers again and again in his Gospel life.  While the world and all of its challenges are real, Jesus shows us how to label and eschew that with stands in the way of joy and lively growth.
 
As he taught in the synagogue on the sabbath, he encountered a woman who was all hunched over and unable to stand up straight.  And Jesus laid hands on her and proclaimed her well.  Immediately, the text tells us, “she stood up straight and began praising God.”  Jesus’ miracles can be problematic if we get wrapped around the technical details.  I am not sure the point is that Jesus uniformly cures osteoporosis.  More to the point is that, with Jesus, the woman is brought from only looking down and left and right, to being able to see up and out.  For the first time in eighteen years, she can look her friends in the eyes, she can see the sky, and see her world anew.  Unlike many of the stories of healing and help, this woman does not beg or even ask Jesus for anything, she simply shows up and in the presence of the life giver, and the miracle happens.
 
There is a lot in here for us.  We might consider how our own vision and perspective is limited, crippled through fear, anger, blame, or guilt.  There are so many matters about which we perseverate, and on which we ruminate.  If others would just do what we want them to do and see things as we see them, we believe the world would be more to our liking.  We play that “if only” game with ourselves: if only I had this much more money, if only this person were not so difficult at work, if only my children or parents were more like me… you can fill in those “if only” blanks and lose a lot of sleep and peace.  The movement of this story invites us to drop our self-limited look at things, stand up a little straighter, and see up and out. 
 
The woman, healed, immediately praises God, and her praise is a form of realizing her blessings.  Gratitude is a good start to seeing things anew. We might be grateful that we have financial resources.  We might be grateful that we have work.  We might be grateful for family and friends even when being in those relationships require us to let go and grow differently.
 
Of course, Jesus has his naysayers.  The leader of the synagogue is unhappy, (clearly, he never owned a dog), and he is bent around the particulars of rigid religiosity.  He rebukes Jesus for healing the woman on the sabbath because he sees what Jesus did as work.  But Jesus will have none of it.  He appeals to the bigger picture of what God wants for all of us.  And, as the story goes, the entire crowd rejoices in the wonder of it all.
 
Wider bigger and faithful vision will meet resistance.  While we spin around in the “if onlys,” others may give us the “yes, but…” beat down. As in:  Yes, but we never did things that way, yes, but what will other people think, or yes, but you cannot risk failure of looking weak.  These temporal ‘what other people think’ matters are wrapped up in insecurity, codependence, and the preservation of personal power.
 
What Jesus shows, and the Gospel invites us to accept, is that none of the perceived power we purport to martial is ever ours to wield in the first place.  The self to which we cling is not all that important in the context of belonging with God.
 
When we are stuck, bent over, looking down, saying “if only,” or hearing “yes, but,” Jesus tells us to stand up straight, to lose the cone of shame, sin, and self-centeredness to be God’s people of possibility.  And to make a right start, we do well to praise God and rejoice in all God is doing in our lives – to love unconditionally, forgive readily, and find joy in the smallest of delights – not unlike our dogs.  Amen.


[1] https://www.nature.com/articles/s41598-017-16118-6
 

​If Jesus Came to my House
Emmanuel Episcopal Church, Greenwood, Virginia
August 18, 2019
Proper 15, Year C
The Rev. John Taliaferro Thomas
 
One of the joys and hazards of moving is finding things you never remembered that you had.  As relatively mobile empty nesters, we have been fierce ‘weeder outers’ of clutter and all manner of items for which we no longer have use.  Apparently, there is a whole self-help movement happening out there, coaching materially laden people to let go and lighten the load, only keeping that which brings joy.
 
Being an avid reader, a constant student, and the child of an academic historian, I have had to come to terms with how to handle books.  In the end, downsized space, frequent moves, and waning back strength have helped motivate me to retain a small proportion of all the books that have passed before my eyes.  I was proud to bring only two boxes of books (albeit two large boxes) to my Emmanuel office, but lo, there are spacious bookshelves in there, and they will be filled in no time.
 
Most of the volumes I brought are Bibles, prayer books, and reference books, but sandwiched between the Oxford Dictionary of the Christian Church and the United Methodist Hymnal, I discovered a worn children’s book: If Jesus Came to my House.  It is inscribed as a gift to me from my mother when I was a very little boy, and apparently, it has been in my traveling library for many years. 
 
According to my mother, If Jesus Came to my House was part of my early theological instruction.  It features a young boy imagining Jesus coming over to play, including how he would behave and what they would do together.  Clearly the protagonist is British, not only because he is illustrated wearing plaid shorts, a red shirt, and what look to be Mary Janes with no socks, but also because he entertains Jesus for tea and takes him flower picking in his garden.  Nevertheless, the story’s denouement comes when boy accepts that that Jesus may not come, in person, to play like he imagines, but still, he can be kind and good and generous to other friends as he would be to the boy Christ.  And so the last stanza reads:
 
And though he may not visit me
as I have wished he would,
yet even so He’ll bless my house
if I am kind and good.
 
Now my sainted mother, one who very keen on a God of grace, and one who is appropriately wary of a theology of works righteousness, edited the last line to say not: “IF I am kind and good,” but, instead, to say “WHEN I am kind and good.”  Apparently, I grew up with an expectation of holiness and righteousness that was not optional, thus I am that much more grateful for the unlimited mercy of God.
 
All childhood memories aside, the central question of the children’s book is not a bad one to consider.  What if Jesus – in person -- came to our house, to our lives… to our Church?  Would it change our behavior, what we do, how we speak, and how we act?  Given his penchant for loving children, the outcast, and the poor, would he challenge our stewardship of things and of all of our considerable resources?  Given that he possessed almost nothing and changed the world radically, how might he challenge us to seek and hold fast to what matters most?
 
To be sure, human culture has grown more and more material with its focus on what we have, how we look, what we can produce, acquire, and leverage for our own status and privilege.  Legions of books and websites focus on self-actualization and improvement, replacing what is perceived as outmoded religion, with highly marketed products yielding wholeness through spiritual (but not religious) wellness.  Of course, none of this is working out for us as anxiety and depression are more prevalent than ever, and the culture of busyness has become a competitive measure of value and worth. And then, religion itself is coopted at times as so-called right belief becomes a litmus test for righteousness, and when paired with political machinations, such pseudo-faith can become its own form of idolatry.
 
In a number of ways ways, both gentle and, as we see today, not so gentle, the disciples of Luke’s Gospel are warned not to see or affirm themselves as the source of righteousness.  Jesus reminds them that their desire to be in the know -- to be the “in-crowd,” --  to appear closer to Jesus and thus, holier than the rest of everyone else, dulls their compassion, clouds their vision, and dilutes the radical nature of what Jesus comes to proclaim.  When we hear that loving Jesus might bring division even into our own family, it is chilling and challenging.   When I hear this as the Word of the Lord, I am less apt to say, “Thanks be to God” than I am to say, “Wait. What?”
 
Today’s segment of this Gospel is not a sweet story of redemption or an attractive parable of the imminent Kingdom of God.  Instead, it reveals the business end of our Shepherd’s staff, nudging us to wake up, pay attention, and remember that we fall short of the glory of God just like everyone else.  Further it tells us that accepting and embracing Jesus’ Way may well threaten our status quo and our own personal comfort.  There are times and places when standing with Jesus means standing against others, even those closest to us, when the cause of love is at stake.  Coming to terms with societal and personal sinfulness means breaking with societal norms even if that means going along to get along is no longer a tenable position.  Sometimes, greater peace only comes at the cost of a lesser one.
 
Today, we are brought to into a very real tension in balancing the fact that we are all beloved children of a merciful God, and owning the fact that we, as my children say, are not “all that and a bag of chips.”  While I would like to believe that I am a reasonably faithful person who committed to the Church and its ministry, I am just as capable as anyone of being pretty rotten, clay footed, and self-centered.  You all need to know that about me right up front.  And I am not unique in that capacity.
 
To live in this tension is to be honest as well as faithful.  And to return to the book my mother read to me as a child, a reasonable devotional thought is to imagine Jesus coming into our lives, living, working and playing with us, asking how we ought to respond, behave, or even, change.   And here is where her little theological tweak has legs.  Perhaps it is best not to imagine IF Jesus came to our house, but to know that WHEN Jesus comes into our lives, we are the best version of our selves, being and becoming what God is growing us to be.  All of the other stuff of life is just baggage.  And with Jesus, present and alive in our house, really, we are at home.  Amen.

​Do Not Be Afraid
Emmanuel Episcopal Church, Greenwood, Virginia
August 11, 2019
Proper 14, Year C
The Rev. John Taliaferro Thomas
 
When we made our first stop, we were about four miles into our 214-mile journey.  We had embarked from a place a called Lee’s Ferry we would spend the next week and a half rafting on the Colorado River all the way through the Grand Canyon.  Our guide was a guy named Duffy and he looked the old man river part with a graying beard, leathery skin, and experienced, calloused hands.  We pulled into an eddy and got off the raft to hike up to a beautiful waterfall, but before we took off, Duffy delivered the following speech:
 
“Just remember, there will be no cell phone service for at least a week.  Our satellite phone only works for a few hours a day.  We are at least 100 miles from medical care at all times.  It is at least a ten-mile, uphill hike to the canyon rim… if we are near a trail.  It will be 8 days until we get to a place where a helicopter might be able to land.  There are poisonous snakes, swift moving water, and slippery rocks…. So, what could possibly go wrong?  But do not be afraid, because nervous people are more accident prone.”
 
We got the point and we made it through that journey safely because we were careful.
 
When somebody tells me not to be afraid, I tend to worry about why they have to say that in the first place, and then I run through all of the disaster scenarios that could befall me or my family or whoever is being told not to be afraid.  It is like when you get blood drawn and they say it will be a little stick… it is only little for the person doing the sticking. I tend to want someone to tell me it just might hurt.
 
“Do not be afraid,” God tells Abraham in our first lesson.  God chooses this man to leave the security of everything he knows and set off on a journey of unknown origin.  But Abraham is really old and he and his wife, Sarah, are childless. A childless old person in the ancient world is like one with no retirement, no social security, and no healthcare.  And yet, God promises to be with him and give him descendants: as numerous as the stars.   Abraham has plenty to fear as he takes off across the desert, but on the strength of a God’s promise and a holy hope he goes anyway.  That is faith.  
 
As for the rest of the story, Sarah gives birth to a son at age ninety-nine, and that son will marry and have children and so on and so forth, and through them, God begets a whole holy hoard of descendants of his faith.  Abraham and Sarah name that son Isaac, which means ‘laughter’ because that’s what they did when they found out they were expecting.  Lots of things could have gone wrong, and there were perils along the way, but God gathered their faith for good.
 
Fast-forward about a couple of millennia and God’s people gather around the person and work of Jesus Christ.  They have seen him love and heal and welcome all comers.  A rag tag group of followers have left their fishing nets and tax collecting practices to follow him because this man is more than a man for them.  He is the embodiment of God. But they are wavering with doubts and questions.  They want to be part of a revolution to overthrow the oppressors and set things right for God’s people, but things are not going as they expect or hope.  Those in powerful positions are finding Jesus to be threatening, and those who follow him might well get caught up in their wrath.  The followers are not sure where Jesus is leading them.
 
“Do not be afraid,” Jesus tells them.  He says it here in Luke’s gospel, and he says it in lots of other encounters with them.  He asks them to be like Abraham and make this journey in faith.  They may not know how exactly God will act, or how it will all happen, but Jesus urges them to believe, to follow, and to see God at work in the world.  Lots of things could go wrong.  Indeed lots of things do, but in the end, God wins – only not like they expect.
 
Fast forward a few decades and Jesus followers are still gathering, remembering his unexpected victory the oppressors and their death-dealing sentence.  They have seen and experienced the resurrected Jesus as a presence and a force among them, but they are wavering with doubts and questions.  The Romans continue to oppress them, taking their property, harassing them, imprisoning some who profess belief in the risen Christ.  They are afraid for their future, and rightly so.
 
This is where we hear the words of the Epistle to the Hebrews which is some of the most elegant prose on the subject of belief in the entire Bible.  Reminding them of the Abraham story, and the presence of a living Christ, the letter says “faith is the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen.”  In other words, it tells them (and us) that we may not ever know what God is doing in God’s way and time, but that the promise of God’s blessing and love remain.  The letter urges us to look backward at our holy history as a way of looking forward and expecting God to be at work in our lives.  Lots can go wrong, and some things do, but through the long arc of history, the Word of God continues to take hold and the faith is alive in people like us.  God’s love overpowers despair and darkness and, even, death.  We have seen it happen.  We dare expect it to continue to be so.
 
As we look at all of our lessons for today, there is a pattern and a consistent story to be told.  God is a gathering God.  God works in ways we do not understand or expect.  Faith is, simply, hope with a track record.
 
Being invited and encouraged not to be afraid is not about some sort of holy denial, some sort of whistling in the dark theology that means we just wait around and let God do all of the working there is to do in the world.  Faith is not  a passive thing.  It is a verb.  Having faith urges us to action, living in stark contrast to darkness and despair, becoming God’s hands and feet to serve our community, nation, and world.  As that great theologian, Snoopy, once said in Peanuts cartoon: “Hope is hearing the music of the future.  Faith is dancing to it.”
 
Being afraid all of the time is a paralyzing trap.  If we consider all that can go wrong, we might not ever leave home. Hurt and fearful people hurt people and engender fear.  We see that played out in the news over and over.  God’s Word, our faith, and Jesus’ call to us asks us to be different: to be faithful. 
 
While we may believe the world is going to hell and things are about as bad as they have ever been, we need only look back at the challenges so many others have faced and overcome.  God’s story is one of possibility and promise.  Jesus tells us today that leaning into that world-view is worth whatever we have to leave behind to go there.  The world needs us: believing, faithful, Jesus people to hold up holy hope – to proclaim our core story as one based in love and grace, rather than fear and blame.  It is a story lodged in the basement of time and it continues today.
 
Do not be afraid.  Even and especially when things go wrong, God is at work and God will use us to heal and help.  And God is good… for all time. Promise.  Amen. 

Getting Rich
Emmanuel Episcopal Church, Greenwood, Virginia
August 4, 2019
Proper 13, Year C
The Rev. John Taliaferro Thomas


Thursday, my first day as Rector at Emmanuel, was also my birthday.  People were really nice about that, and I loved the poster-sized card many of you signed and left on my new office door.  When I was growing up, having a birthday that falls in the dog days of summer meant that not many folks were around to celebrate.  Often we were at the beach and when you are at the beach, every day feels like your birthday.
 
I do not have too many memories of big birthdays as a child, except of course for when I turned sixteen and went on that very day to the State Patrol’s office and got my drivers license, which meant that I could finally do legally what I had been doing for a long time anyway… but that is another story.
 
My first experience driving happened when I was three years old.  You hear that correctly: three years old.  While my father was clipping the holly bushes around the side of the house, I climbed into the front seat of our new and only family car: a lemon yellow Ford Fairlane 500 station wagon.  It had black vinyl bench seats, lots of push buttons on the dash, and a gearshift on the steering column. It still had that new car smell.
​
Once in the front seat, I played like I was driving, reaching forward and pulling down the gear lever so that I got it into neutral.  Did I mention that our driveway had a slight incline?  It did.  So, I went from playing like I was driving… to rolling backwards and driving for real.  I sat down hard, grabbed the wheel, and held on as I gathered speed.  My father’s concerned face came into view of the windshield and he had charged around the side of the house to give chase.  But it was too late.  I had gained enough speed to roll all the way down the driveway,  across Westview drive, and had come to rest tailgate down and hood up in a deep Georgia red-clay ditch. I sat there in Mercury Astronaut pose, awaiting my fate, as my father came to get me, his second son, who had just wrecked his new and only car.  I felt sure that wrath would come.  I had been warned not to play in the car.  I began to wail.  Mightily.
 
My father tore open the door and grabbed me.  He pulled me out of the seat.  And then… he hugged me close, he checked me out from head to toe, and wiped my tears with his shirt.  And to my utter shock, he turned around, left our new car in the ditch, and carried me into the house for a Popsicle and proper nose blow.
 
To this day, I do not know how or when the car was hauled out of the ditch, where it got fixed, or how much it cost.  It is not part of the family lore.  The only thing we remember is the comedy of my three year old driving experience that arose from potential tragedy.  And I count myself fortunate and blessed and in some awe that early on in life, I learned an important lesson about the immense value of love and humanity over against material things.
That very lesson is one that Jesus pounds home in the gospel lesson for today.  As Jesus traveled around and embodied the love of God in his person and work, people come to him with all kinds of oddball tests and requests.  Today, we hear of a man asks Jesus to intervene in a family inheritance squabble.  Jesus will not go there, rather, he uses the encounter to shift the focus from insignificant material things to a generosity and abundance of faith, imploring those listening to consider what it means to be to be rich toward God.  And he leaves us with that as question and challenge.
 
Like I said, I just began my role as Rector at Emmanuel on Thursday.  Friday, we celebrated the life of Elizabeth Pinkerton Scott: a 104-year-old matriarch and pillar of this parish.  Talk about hitting the ground running!  But then, why not start there?  Mrs. Scott was legendary church person here: bright, prayerful, loving, hospitable, and generous.  She was all about being rich toward God and everything I learned about her made me that much more glad to be among you.  If that is the kind of person you see as leader, friend, and pillar, Emmanuel has a solid legacy, sound priorities, and a giving spirit.  You all know what it is to be rich toward God.  I know this because you celebrated that on Friday and you are back here today to do so again.
 
Throughout the process of discernment, and in starting this new role in this new place, people have asked what I plan to do, what I plan to accomplish, and where I will lead the parish.  And today, (as it will every day) the Gospel of Jesus establishes and controls that narrative.  We will be rich toward God. 
 
In the midst of a world that has skewed and varied priorities, we will put love and compassion first.  In a world that too often measures people by what they have and what they do, we will focus on who we are.  In a world that desperately needs to hear of forgiveness and grace, we will practice the presence of a living God among us.  Emmanuel means: God with us.  And that is not a conditional statement: may God be with us… it is a fact:  God is with us.
 
And contrary to the ways of spin, sales, labeling, and the branding of things, we will not get rich quick just because we follow some three point plan, nor will we grow in richness toward God because we are inherently neat or industrious.  We will grow in richness toward God through abiding relationship with The Generous One who gathers us for good.
 
I started as your Rector on my birthday.  You were all very kind.  My mom sent me pictures of me as a little boy to remind me of my life.  My children drove many hours to surprise me and come see our new home.  We feasted and laughed and reconnected.  I can say honestly that I felt born again with new energy and a new adventure for me and us.  It is good when you find your people and they find you.
 
So let’s be born again and again and again together in the life and ministry of Emmanuel.  Let’s get rich slowly.  And for God’s sake, let’s have a good time.  Amen.