Emmanuel Episcopal Church, Greenwood, Virginia
Proper 17, Year A
August 30, 2020
 
If Matthew’s gospel was made into a Netflix series, this week would be Season 3, Episode 2. 
 
The first season was short, but packed with imagery and foreshadowing included a little background of Jesus historical connection to King David, the oddly romantic, but hard to understand Joseph and Mary story, and a miraculous birth story.  Then, there is an exotic, international twist with sages coming from the far east to visit the infant whom they foretell will become great leader and shepherd of his people.  Herod plays the villain in season one, seeing this baby as a threat to his power, and the season closes with the holy family escaping to Egypt.
 
In season two, we meet Jesus as a grown man and we follow the beginning of his ministry.  We meet John the Baptist at the riverside.  We meet the disciples one by one as they are compelled to follow Jesus.  We then see Jesus laying down the foundations of proclaiming God’s power and presence even in this little, out of the way, occupied territory.  He encounters doubters and hecklers.  He runs afoul of the religious establishment, but never stops his encouragement of faith in higher and greater love that they have ever known.  He teaches not with erudite theology, but with earthly parables about seeds and soil.  He speaks of eternal treasure in simple things.  And as we near the end of the season, he finds his miraculous gift for feeding, helping, and physical healing.  In the last episode, Jesus walks on water, calms a storm, and then travels across physical, social, and religious boundaries, helping desperate young mother in healing her child.  His mission is expanding outside of his tight circle.
 
Now we come to Season 3.  There is an abrupt scene change as it opens in Caesarea Philippi.  Caesarea Philippi is a grand city, a resort kind of place, where idols to pagan gods enshrined and worshipped, alongside the Roman Emperor.  In that setting, Peter, who has become an attractive costar in the series, identifies Jesus as “Messiah.”  “Messiah” is a term his people have used for centuries of hopeful anticipation.  The Messiah is expected to come into history and reconcile the world to God, establish permanent rule over all people, and set everything to its rightful place in the divine creation.  In a moment of profound revelation, Jesus accepts that mantel, that role, that divine identity, as God made human.  He confirms what has been suspected ever since Season 1.
 
Today we come to Matthew’s Season 3, Episode 2.  We get a quick preview of last week’s big proclamation, but then the plot takes a major twist.  Jesus begins to explain that though he is the promised messiah, not all of the lore about what he will do is accurate.  He says his love will be met with resistance.  He tells them he will suffer.  He tells them that he will go to the cross and be executed.  Even when he says that will not be the end of the story, the disciples get more than very uneasy.  They signed on to follow this great leader.  They are planning to be in the inner circle of the new regime, wherein God will lay waste to their enemies and reward them greatly.  Their spokesperson, Peter, calls foul.  He tells Jesus that they will not let the authorities get their hands on him.
 
Whereas last week, Peter was the divine seer and the episode hero, this week is a different story.  Jesus rebukes his close friend.  Jesus talks of taking up the cross, and losing life as we would shape it, in order to gain new life, as God will make it.  This is a perplexing shocker.  He is reframing traditional expectations, redefining power over against the common perception that power that this world offers and embraces.  From now on, we are going to find out what God in human person will do to upend misaligned values, show radical and sacrificial love, and confound even death’s perceived finality.  There is much more to come this season.  Still, it is crucial to the story that we see the difference between God’s plan for us rather than our plans for God.  Sticking with Jesus will be more and more challenging as it gets personal.
 
This is a hard thing to hear, especially when we face difficult times.  We are divided and hurting.  We are not the first to suffer, to be challenged, or to be divided.  This has happened throughout history and is repeating itself of late. It is not that we lack resolve or that we lack passion, it is that we too often lose our way.  We buy into false narratives about goodness and greatness.  We fail to see of humanity as God sees us.  We become consumed with self-centeredness and the whole industry of self-actualization.  Like Peter, we like Jesus being there with and for us, but we resist his call to deeper love and service.  It is hard to know where to start.
 
If we look to politics to be the savior, we will be disappointed.  If we believe that a catchy slogan makes us right, or assign a label to what makes others wrong, we miss the point of being in communion with God and one another.  While we need to follow our conscience in advocating justice and equity, we do well to approach such things with humility and open hearts.
 
What we hear today is that the power that we need, the power that saves, the power that lasts is God’s.  All the rest is playing around the edges.  God’s love is our true north, our bedrock, our only salvation.  In this episode, we see that following Jesus leads us away from chaos, mess, and hatred that vexes our interconnectedness.  Our times are really challenging.  Our opportunity is to break the cycle of self- centered or self-actualized notions of power.  Our moment invites us to be together as a way of finding our way in God’s way.
 
The story is getting wild and interesting.  We need to be prepared for what is to come.  We have a part to play in God’s holy history.  As we tune in for the rest of the story, we do well to pray as St. Francis encouraged:
 
Lord, make us instruments of your peace
Where there is hatred, let us sow love
Where there is injury, pardon
Where there is doubt, faith
Where there is despair, hope
Where there is darkness, light
And where there is sadness, joy
O Divine Master, grant that we may
Not so much seek to be consoled as to console
To be understood, as to understand
To be loved, as to love
For it is in giving that we receive
And it's in pardoning that we are pardoned
And it's in dying that we are born to Eternal Life


This is what real power is, and it will save us all.
 
Amen

Emmanuel Episcopal Church, Greenwood, Virginia
Proper 16, Year A
August 23, 2020
 
“It is raining in the watershed!”  That one phrase brought such great joy and anticipation back when I was a whitewater raft guide and kayaker.  As the summer progressed, rain tended to be scarcer, and without rain, we were doomed to dragging rubber rafts across rocks, repairing the tears, and providing less of an exciting experience for our customers.  One August was so dry, we had to cancel our trips, meaning we did not get paid or tipped.  But when it rained, it was like sweet salvation.  The boats flowed freely and faster, the waves got bigger, and there was much more excitement for all of us.  “It is raining in the watershed!”  That proclamation is the whitewater enthusiast’s equivalent of “Alleluia.”
 
Rushing water has always been a sound of solace and comfort ever since my younger adult days.  The smells of wet moss, mountain laurel, and rhododendrons take me to the riverside.  I have been known to set out in the midst of a rainstorm to see the waters come alive.  Even when was little, my brother and I would go out and race sticks down the street gutters until they washed into the drains.
 
As I grew older and put myself in to river running boats, I did learn to be respectful of water’s momentous power.  As soon as I was able, I ran the entire Colorado River through the Grand Canyon, and saw how It shaped the land and moved enormous boulders in real time.  I learned to work with the current, to read the water, and find the safest passage. I learned always to watch downstream for dangerous ledges or strainers.  In raft guide training, we were taught that deep river knowledge meant respecting its power.  You never beat the river; you only work with it.
 
All of that power comes into being in the watershed.  While we were always focused on where we were and where we were going, there was that unseen dynamic upstream that made what we experienced happen.  I could go on about watershed protection as essential for the ecosystem, but these natural lessons, learned early in life, have translated into both practical and theological guideposts for much of my life.  As a teacher and parent of adolescent children, I was adamant and, possibly, annoying, insisting that they look downstream of their attitudes and actions, believing that small decisions can shape larger outcomes, impacting them, others, and the world they hope to help form.  And as a Christ follower, I have come to believe that the waters of baptism flow from the source, from Jesus, the ground of all love, health, and wholeness.
 
Where all of this is going is that the stories of God and God’s people that we tell today are, truly, watershed moments fin faith.  In Moses birth and life-saving story, we see the contrast between what everyone supposes is powerful, and what ends up being truly powerful.  The King of Egypt is afraid of the Israelites and out of that fear, he commands all of the newborn males to be killed.  As the King, his commands are absolute.  But compassion and love find another way.  The midwives cannot and will not bring themselves to carry out orders. In her own defiance, Moses’s mother hides him for three months, finally, putting him in a basket, to float him downstream to safety.  The King’s daughter finds the babe, which she should have reported, but her compassion leads her to name the child, and provide or his survival.  The king’s command may be law, but through these women, these life bringers, these life savers, the greater power of love prevails.  Thank God they did what they did, because downstream, that child, Moses, will lead the people out of slavery and into a future of promise.
 
Then we hear Matthew tell us of Jesus, going to Caesarea Philippi.  Caesarea Philippi is a sort of Roman retreat center, a place to the north at the base of Mount Hermon, at the headwaters of the Jordan river.  The geography of the place is no accident to its significance.  A sort of Las Vegas of the Greco-Roman world, it was a place where everything goes, where polytheistic pagan cults supported worship of Emperor Augustus, himself.  And this is the place where Jesus takes his disciples to see what secular power thinks of itself.
 
With all the idol statuary, and cultic craziness, Jesus asks his followers who people think he is in that setting.  They say that some think of him as a prophet, a sort of patriarch, or one of so many mystic characters from Israel’s history.  “But who do you say that I am” he asks.  And good ole Peter.  The first to speak and the last to measure his words, says the Jesus is the Messiah, the one sent to save the world.  This event is called the confession of Peter, it is the watershed of the church’s beginnings, and it is a turning point as to what God is doing in Christ.  If we know anything about Peter, we know that he stumbles upon this truth, not through his innate brightness, but as the divine speaks through him.
 
As a preacher and theologian, I tend to point at all of the biblical narrative as a vehicle through which we are shown who God is and told about what God does.  In doing so, I hold what we call a low anthropology, that is, a view of humanity that is at best a supporting role in the bigger picture.  Such as view is long on grace and suspicious of good works as a way of righteousness.
 
And yet, the players in the stories we tell today do have a substantial role.  While they may be responding to what has been revealed, or what is given them in creation, they are part of the watershed that enables the story to flow downstream. 
 
The theologian, Richard Rohr puts it this way:
 
“If you want to see the future of Christianity as a great spiritual migration, don’t look at a church building. Go look in the mirror and look at your neighbor. God’s message of love is sent into the world in human envelopes. If you want to see a great spiritual migration begin, then let it start right in your body. Let your life be a foothold of liberation.”
 
We find ourselves in a time of some tribulation.  You all know the deep divisions, the great challenges, and the helplessness we often face and feel.  But if our story tells us anything today, it is that we may not powerful, but we love and serve a God who is.  If we look at what is floating past us on the river, we are apt just to react and respond.  But if we want to seek the will of God, if we trust that God is not finished with us, if we are to be hope, help and be those human envelopes of God’s message, we need to look to the watershed: the person and work of Jesus.
 
So much of what consumes us is what is in front of us and what is downstream.  Will we be safe, healthy, prosperous and happy?  But what feeds that outcome, what informs our actions, what washes over us as baptized people, is the source, the ground, the being of God in and for us.  There is so much love upstream ready to flow through us.  It is raining in that watershed.  Alleluia.    
   

Emmanuel Episcopal Church, Greenwood, Virginia
Proper 15, Year A
August 16, 2020
 
These things happen.  It is nothing new.  It is not really that surprising because nobody is perfect.  Last week, Jerry Falwell, Junior posted a rather suggestive picture on Instagram.  He is now on an indefinite leave of absence from being Chancellor and President of Liberty University.  Those two facts were not connected in the announcement, but clearly, they are related.  That is big news in this region.
 
I drove by Liberty last week when taking my son back to college.  It looks like their mascot is the construction crane.  The place has grown and continues to grow tremendously.  They have some 15,000 students on campus and another 95,000 online.  Liberty was doing distance learning before distance learning was a necessity, and they have kept tuition reasonably low in comparison with other colleges and universities.  While I do not choose their particular take on Christianity, it is hard to doubt their commitment to service and ministry as integral in education, and admire their forward thinking model for making education accessible. 
 
Falwell has had a number of public gaffes, but this latest photo, mostly because if he were enrolled as a student at Liberty, he could have been fined, sanctioned, or expelled according to their published standards of conduct.  He is not the first leader to hold high standards only to fall short of them himself.  He is just one of the latest ones.  There is plenty of room for repentance and redemption in our faith.
 
Having grown up in Georgia, I always cringe when a wacky news story comes out of that state.  I feel the same way about particularly prominent professing Christians who reveal some sort of hypocrisy or dishonesty.  It is not a good look all of us – and ought to be a cautionary tale for all of us to remain humble and aware of our own shortcomings. 
 
The gospel for today pounds that point home with a one two punch.  The first section takes on the exceptionally strict Jewish purity laws.  Jesus disciples warn him that he is making the Pharisees mad, but he keeps at it, saying that following strict rules does not result in more authentic faith or righteousness.  As Garrison Keillor puts it a bit differently: “Going to church does not make me a Christian any more than sleeping in the garage makes me a car.”
 
After that, there is an immediate location change to Tyre and Sidon which is modern day Lebanon.  After dropping his criticism on the religious elites, Jesus makes a 40-mile journey to a region completely outside of their influence.  Word must have spread about Jesus because just as he arrives, a local woman chases after him, pleading with him to heal her daughter.  This is culturally wrong on so many levels.  The Jews of Israel look down on those folks, and those folks look down on Jews.  Their rivalry makes Virginia and Duke seem cordial.  As a woman in that time and place, she was never to speak publicly, especially to a man.  So, this woman is so out of bounds, so outside of cultural standards, so loud, and so persistent. 
Though they are particularly scruffy, even the disciples are shocked at her forward behavior, asking Jesus to send her away.  And at first, Jesus goes along.  But her response shocks even Jesus.  She settles down, she kneels and bows before him, and in complete, surrender of dignity and decorum, acknowledges his power and presence, and begs for healing on her daughter’s behalf.  Such desperation is something the parent of any sick child can understand easily.
 
This woman, this stranger, this outsider, this marginalized person shocks even Jesus.  Her humility and kindness shake his own very human assumptions.  Praising her pure humility in recognition of God’s very presence in him, Jesus grants her request for healing, immediately.  Matthew recounts this story right after Jesus encounter with the Pharisees as it is a groundbreaking shift in Jesus ministry and message.  God’s love and saving grace is not reserved for any particular group, sect, sex, heritage, class, or race.  Jesus comes to the world, revealing God - to and for - all creation.
 
The event is unsettling for the disciples.  It is scandalous for the Jewish authorities.  It ought to convict us as well.  While we may think of ourselves as open minded, tolerant, and accepting, there lurks in all of us some deep distrust, some enmity, some disdain for those whose ways, thoughts, traditions, or practices may be foreign to ours. We have labels for whole swaths of our fellow humans that we use to lump people into categories.  We call them illegal, alien, conservative, liberal, white, black, brown, gay, straight.  It is natural and to recognize difference, and it is appropriate to celebrate diversity, but Jesus challenges us to recognize sameness as much as difference.  The woman in our Gospel breaks through the barriers and boundaries as she is seen, heard, and loved: human, worthy, a child of God, like us.
 
Despite our particularly polarized perspectives, most people really want the same things: to love and be loved, to be safe, seen, heard, and valued, to be healthy, and to find joy.  While we may disagree on how to get there collectively, humans are not as different as we make them out to be.  Our faith challenges us be more creative than destructive, more together than separate, and more forgiving than aggrieved.  If we set ourselves up to be more righteous, more important, or more deserving of God’s love, we put ourselves farther from the heart of God, but never outside of God’s love.
 
If today’s Gospel does not make us a little uncomfortable and a little more self-aware, then we are not listening carefully.  The great circle of God’s grace is ever expanding.  As the poet, Edwin Markham, wrote:
 
“He drew a circle that shut me out-
Heretic, rebel, a thing to flout.
But love and I had the wit to win:
We drew a circle and took him In!”
 
We are all a work in progress, and perfection is not something we attain this side of heaven.  We have all been extended such grace through God in Christ.  We have not been done wrong in this life.  When we take the long view, we see that we have been done so right.  Thus, when we flop and fail, when we fall short and flounder in our humanity, God’s grace is sufficient to pick us up dust us off, and help us to extend that grace to others.  All of them are us.  Amen.

Emmanuel Episcopal Church, Greenwood, Virginia
Proper 14, Year A
August 9, 2020
 
Barbecue by the Pound, Ribs, and Chicken.  I pass that sign at Paulie’s Pig Out on my way up 151 to church just about every day.  It is quiet from Monday to Wednesday, but like clockwork, on Thursday morning, the sweet incense of the smokers wafts through the air, into my car, and reminds me that preparations for the weekend are underway.  It is the smell of optimism.
 
While many small businesses and restaurants are really struggling, Paulie’s Pig Out has the perfect set up for our times.  Everything, from barbecue to beans and taters to sweet tea is sold out the front plexiglass window in Styrofoam and plastic vessels.  From Thursday afternoon through Sunday, bikers, truckers, tourists, and locals draw near and feast.  I have been known to be in that congregation.
 
Barbecue is an amazing culinary phenomenon.  Just about every culture and region has its own version.  Some are partial to a vinegar and mustard base, others are into tomato and brown sugar.  Texans do brisket.  Easter Virginians and Carolinians argue about whether pulled or chopped pork is the appropriate preparation.  No matter, as long as someone who knows what they are doing, keeping the fire low and slow, and making sure somebody’s mama is out in the kitchen fixing up the sides, the best barbecue is a labor of love and the science of fire, smoke, and time.
 
The way we have measured time since last March has changed so dramatically.  With so many routines, rituals, and events cancelled, shrunk, or radically altered, spring and summer have been unusually disorienting.  Along with Barbecue, fireworks sales have been brisk since May, signaling that folks need to blow up something.  Pools opened late and some not at all.  But to be sure, when I smell Paulie’s sweet scent of the approaching weekend, this preacher knows that he had better be getting a sermon in shape and whatever preparations need to be made for Sunday worship.  Even in a pandemic, life continues to happen.
 
This business about the immediacy of life is a crucial point to which our bible lessons point this week.  As Saint Paul is writing to the Christ followers in Rome, he takes them to task, warning them against just waiting around for something big and holy to happen.  They are expecting a cosmic return of Jesus to set things right and welcome them as the righteous elect.  But Paul tells them not to hang out in that in between space.  He reminds them what Moses insisted: “The Word is near you, on your lips and in your heart.”  The Word, now being Jesus, Paul points to the fulfillment of all they have been taught.  The saving work has already been done in the resurrection, and it is available not just for observant Jews, but for everyone.  He tells them to get on with it: telling the story, living the love, and practicing God’s generosity.
 
Matthew takes us back to Jesus and his disciples at a crucial time when God shows up.  Jesus puts the disciples in a boat and goes off for some solitary prayer time.  In the night, a storm comes and batters the crowded boat as the wind drives them away from safety, but at the end of the night, Jesus walks to them on the water.  Naturally, they are frightened and weary, suspecting that the shadowy figure is a ghost, but he tells them who he is and not to be afraid.  Peter, always a man of action with little thought, asks to walk on water too, but soon he realizes his limits and begins to sink.  Jesus pulls Peter in, gets in the boat with all of the others, and the storm and wind cease.  Then, they get it, again.  This Jesus is showing them who God is.
 
People often ask where God is when things get tough.  The original language used to describe the storm carries a deeper meaning that just a weather event.  The word for storm connotes the darkness of evil and chaos – a place where God may seem absent.  In this story, we get one solid response to that question as we see what God does with the chaos.  God does not hang out at the fringes.  God shows up, coming through the storm, getting in it with us, urging faith, and eventually, bringing calm.
 
If we take this to an even more symbolic level, the boat is the Church.  It is where we stick together and shelter from the storm.  While Peter’s faith is admirable, and we could talk about moving outside what is safe and comfortable, the point is that Jesus comes to him, comes to them, and soothes their doubt, confusion, and exhaustion.
 
We can relate to the storm-tossed disciples for sure.  We are in our own storm of forces we cannot control with a virus we cannot predict.  The temptation is to sit on the sidelines and wait it out, and bury ourselves in isolation or paralyzed fear.  But the power and presence of Jesus is not far off or remote to tragedy.  Jesus, the Word, is very near, right here, right now.
 
Like many, I was moved to read John Lewis’s last words published as an editorial on the day of his funeral.  I was honored to meet him once as he was a guest preacher at my church in Atlanta.  Like so many, I was amazed by his calm and authentic presence with everyone he met.  It is fitting that his last words were words of faith, saying:
 
“When historians pick up their pens to write the story of the 21st century, let them say that it was your generation who laid down the heavy burdens of hate at last and that peace finally triumphed over violence, aggression and war. So, I say to you, walk with the wind, brothers and sisters, and let the spirit of peace and the power of everlasting love be your guide.”
 
No matter our political persuasion, we knew John Lewis as a man of authentic and deep faith.  He moved toward what he called “good trouble,” believing that God was with us, and for us, in striving for good.  He helped steer the boat for many years, even with substantial headwind.
 
In considering what Emmanuel Church might do in the face of all of the world’s challenges, our vestry and regathering committee opted to get back together in as safe a way as possible.  What we have learned about how this virus spreads informs how we get together, but we know, as I have said, in our knowing place, that we need to be together.  We need to see one another.  We need to celebrate our life.  We need to share joy and divide sorrow.  If you need to remain at home, you are still part of us and those who are able will gather for us and with you in spirit.
 
The winds of change are strong even though everything may seem out of kilter.  Life is so different than we evert expected or could predict.  School is a big question mark.  People are divided, scared, and many are angry.  And still, we must continue to live our common life with purpose, patience, and great care for all.  As sure as the rhythm of the days, weeks, and seasons, life is happening, and we have now to worship, pray, and praise.  To mark each Sunday, as the Church has done for centuries, we will celebrate the feast of God’s goodness, God’s saving power and presence among us.  And while we are at it, we will feast with a substantial lovingly prepared sides of joy.  Amen.