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Emmanuel Episcopal Church, Greenwood, Virginia
Proper 21, Year A
September 27, 2020

“You shall know the truth, and it shall make you odd.”
-Flannery O’Conner

A giant among preachers and theological authors, Frederick Buechner, was once asked to preach at the 200th anniversary of a Congregational Church in Rupert, Vermont, his childhood hometown. As Buechner was preparing for the occasion, he reviewed the history of the church to get a sense of the place and its people. And in his sermon, he zeroed in on one strange and entertaining feature of their story. Apparently, in 1823, they raised enough money to build a steeple for a bell tower, and upon its completion, one member, a man named Lyman Woodard, was so delighted and excited that he went up in the steeple and stood on his head. Buechner went on to say that Woodard’s act was a practical, theological, and faith filled—because he wanted to see the world anew.

James Anton Rowland, you are here to be baptized today. And I have to tell you that you are joining a particularly odd fellowship of faith. I am not making a commentary about Emmanuel Episcopal Church in particular, rather about the big “C” Church: that body of all faithful people who look to God as revealed in Jesus to shape our lives, interpret our stories, and guide our actions. You see, we do not see the world as it may be presented most often: a world where might makes right, winning is everything, and money makes for power. What we are telling you, and reminding ourselves in the process, is that God give us a world turned upside down.

It all started in the beginning when God spoke creation into being. God spoke and things happened. It continued as God came to people and invited them to love God and love one another. It continued through the rise and fall of empires with some great leaders and some lousy leaders, and all of them imperfect. Then came perfection: God became one of us in Jesus. He wandered the earth for a time showing and telling who God is and what God does. But human power brokers were stuck in their view of the world, and could not handle Jesus kind of perfection, mostly, because he claimed and established a deeper authority than their notions of power. He changed the story. He flipped the narrative. He challenged shallow assumptions. Through love and deep listening, he changed hearts and minds. He still does.

As we listen to the Gospel for today, it has two movements. In the first he challenges worldly assumptions and assertions about power. In the second, he tells a story that ends with his statement that the least, the last, and the lost are headed for the Kingdom of God ahead of those who think they have it all figured out. This is the kind of stuff that got him in trouble, because Jesus is an includer, a welcomer, a blesser, and a healer – of all, not just a select or like-minded group.

In Jesus’ way, losing becomes finding, crying becomes laughing, the last become first, and the weak are really strong. In the end, life always overcomes death. As the Church, we live this out. We take care of each other. We pray for each other. Sometimes we cry together and sometimes we laugh together, and sometimes we must just learn to let each other alone. In short, we ground ourselves in loving each other. And because we follow the includer, the welcomer, the blesser, and the healer, we do the same for folks who may not be part of our local branch of the Jesus Movement, but are part of us because of our common humanity in sharing this world.

James, in a moment we will recite the baptismal covenant. It is a summary of all that I am telling you we strive to do, and we will not get it all right all of the time, but it is the place where we start, and it is where we look for guidance and a gentle reminder that we live up-side down in this world.

Old Lyman Woodard had it right. With our feet planted in heaven and our head down here on earth, we are called to be peculiar, odd, and unique children of God. James, thank you for being here today, for reminding us that God is not finished with this world because in every child, hope is reborn, creation is made new, and you present us with the need and the cause to care and love without condition. Today, you give us a chance to remember our story, to see our world anew, and hold fast to the odd truth that God’s love is the only power that matters. Welcome home. Amen.

Emmanuel Episcopal Church, Greenwood, Virginia
Proper 20, Year A
September 20, 2020

Of course, you remember the line-up. It happened at recess, in P.E. classes, or in neighborhood pick-up games. Someone, usually the alpha big kid, declares two captains, and each takes turns choosing who they want on their team. The gifted athletes go in the first rounds, then the middling ones, then they are down to the last ones: the youngest, the slowest, the shortest, and less inclined to be in the line in the first place.

The ritual of such sorting has been around forever, and early on, at least in my growing up, it established a pecking order that hung around even through high school. The captains tended to be the quarterbacks, the guys with flashy Nike or Adidas tennis shoes; the guys who had weight rooms in their basements, and knew every Atlanta Brave’s batting average.

There was potential for movement in this social order. One summer, a kid in my carpool went through a phenomenal growth spurt. He went from the middle to the top of the picking order, especially in basketball. When that happened, his social popularity soared, even though we knew he was a lunkhead like the rest of us.

Those picked last rarely, if ever, moved up, though. Some of them quit coming out to play, or go out for sports, choosing instead to do their homework, to read, draw, paint, practice music, or act in plays. These are the ones who moved on to find their people in a less Darwinian fashion, and became well-adjusted owing to the fact that they didn’t always win early or often. Failure can be a great teacher. There are always exceptions, but many of the alpha kids from the playground are stuck on past glory, and still hanging around together. Their children are now competing against each other. It may not be best to peak in middle or high school.

As a teacher and chaplain of hundreds of kids through the years, I have observed that many of last picked kids grew up to be great citizens: creative, entrepreneurial, reasonably happy, and successful by most measures. One such student of mine won a Tony Award a few years back for writing a smash Broadway musical. He struggled through adolescence, but boy, did he find his people.

Humans do this whole sorting thing in all kinds of ways. The playground pick-up game is where it starts, but we have developed all kinds of other ways to sort through gender, politics, race, religion, education, and familial heritage, not to mention standards of beauty or physical fitness. What we seek is to be comfortable in our own skin and too often, we look to outside measures to cover for an inside desire. Belonging is a critical need, but as the old country songs says that too often: “we’re looking for love in all the wrong places.”

This is the baggage and template we bring to Jesus gospel parable today. The disciples have been angling for a place of privilege, and assurance that they will be made great in the vast economy of God, so he tells them a story. It doesn’t seem fair or smart. The landowner sends his manager out early and hires a few day laborers to pick his grapes. He sends the guy out three more times as there is plenty of work still to be done. And finally, he sends him out near the end of a long work day to hire even more people. But when it comes time to settle up, he pays every single laborer a full day’s wage. The ones who went out early grumble, complain, and resent those who were hired later, but the landowner reminds them that he can do what he wants with what he has. It is a gut punching reminder that God’s generosity and grace are not limited quantities, and God wants all to be made whole.

Remember, these are day laborers, meaning they live hand to mouth. A day’s wage was enough to feed yourself and your family. With no mechanized food production or storage, if the laborer did not work, the laborer did not eat. And think about the line-up. When the manager goes out to get workers – if he is a competent manager -- he is going to pick the most able, likely, the young and strong looking ones. Later, he takes the middling able bodies, leaving the older, weaker ones in a difficult place. Finally, he takes the last ones who may not be able to work a full day anyway. And in the end, nobody gets a better wage than anyone else.

It is a message of leveling. It is a message of care. It is a warning to those who think themselves better, stronger, faster, or more entitled for any categorical favor. If we look at the whole world and consider our relative privilege, it is astonishing. We did not do anything wrong, being born into a class, society, geography, or race. But what this says is that we didn’t do anything right either. Our stance in the face of God’s grace and generosity should be stunned, awed, grateful, and compassionate.

Aside from a national pandemic, we now have wildfires and hurricanes ravaging whole regions of our nation. Those things do not discriminate between who or what deserves destruction. I have lived through hurricanes hitting two of my homes and communities, and I remember their amazing power to fling stuff everywhere. Trees, cars, boats, power lines and poles, roofs, street signs, everything – even the stuff that is nailed down. I also know that without power safe water, and decent shelter, people are pretty fragile, no matter where they fall in the pecking order.

Nevertheless, I have seen some pretty amazing things in those situations. I have seen people wandering around with chainsaws getting trees off of other people’s houses. I have seen people feeding each other with whatever they had to throw on the grill. When I think about sharing the gifts of God for the people of God, I have seen the Eucharist happen in some pretty devastated places.

The rhetoric of the world seeks to sort, separate, and stratify as much as possible. We start that young and play it out to our own detriment. That rhetoric is based on the great fear that somebody else may get or have a better gig that we do. That rhetoric is founded in the fear of scarcity. But the Word of God defies the rhetoric of the world. When it is heard and practiced, it is inspiring.

Today, we are able at long last, to break the bread and share a small but great sign of God’s abundance. What we hear and practice today is that there is no shortage of grace, forgiveness, or love. Those are renewed resources meant for us to see, feel, and know we are all picked to belong in this wild and wacky family. And while we are at it, we hold your brother and sister humans close, especially now. And especially, look out for the more vulnerable, the lost, the lonely, and the devastated.

Remember that people thought Jesus was a big loser. He came a nowhere place with staggering poverty, disease, and despair. Many of his followers would have been the last picked They arrested him, tried him, and crucified him. But look what happened. Jesus rose through all of that, and it he that we remember and glorify. Love won. In God’s economy, it always will. Amen.

Emmanuel Episcopal Church, Greenwood, Virginia
Proper 19, Year A
September 13, 2020

It is wonderfully comforting and inspiring to be part of something really big and positive.

As many of you know, I grew up in Athens, Georgia, the son of a professor at the University of Georgia. Athens is a lot, like Charlottesville, except it is bigger. Whereas UVA has 21 thousand students, Georgia has 38 thousand. When school is in session, the town is electric.

Then, there is football season. On seven fall Saturdays a year, it seems like the whole world comes to Athens. Georgians are rabid about their football fandom. They call themselves the Bulldog Nation. The stadium seats more than 93 thousand fans and there are an equal number of folks are tailgating out on lawns and in parking lots within a mile or so of the stadium. Everyone cheers for the dogs. Everyone wears red and black. Everyone shares a language and speaks in a common voice: “Go dogs.” Depending on your provenance, you can spell dogs normally, or with a w in there, and for emphasis you can add a “woof, woof.”

“Go dogs” is not just a cheer. It is a statement of belonging, of hope, and of commitment. One speaks it as a greeting. One speaks it as a farewell. It is intoned on the streets as greeting among intimate friends and hospitality for complete strangers. It is spoken in the school carpool line, in the check-out line, and, even, at the end of prayer.

All are welcome in the Bulldog Nation. All you have to do is proclaim that you belong and you are in. I did not attend the University of Georgia, but it is no matter, I pull for the dogs and that is the only passport needed.

Being in the stadium on gameday is a nothing else like it experience. There is ritual, tradition, pageantry, special music, and lots of full-throated screaming. Go dogs. C’mon dogs. Sic ‘em dogs. Hold ‘em dogs. How ‘bout them dawgs. I know of few places where people gather from countless ethnic backgrounds, divergent perspectives, the broad swath of political persuasions, and people of all ages and stages in life, united around one event, pulling in the same direction.   It is a modern sociological miracle.

I will leave the arguments about the massive amounts of money involved, the really expensive single use facilities, and the distractions from true academic pursuits to others.   What we experience on gameday is rare, needed, and fulsome unity. And that is in short supply these days. The experience is a lot like church – or really, a spirit filled revival in a massive outdoor cathedral.

The metaphor between fandom and faith is not exact, and both can be idolatrous when taken to extremes, but it is not a bad lens for the world Jesus seeks to build through today’s gospel.

Once again Peter plays the straight man, asking how many times he should forgive a fellow member of the church. This is a big statement as the church is a new idea and membership is wide open to all who follow, so really, Peter is asking about how much we should accept and allow from others. He lobs up a big number: “seven times?” And Jesus says nope, seventy times that – really a number beyond counting. Then, he tells a completely hyperbolic tale of a king who forgives a slave of an enormous debt that he could never pay in a thousand lifetimes. Afterall, he is a slave. But the slave goes and demands repayment from someone who owes him a relatively small sum: a few hundred bucks. And he will not let it go. The king is outraged. How could one who was forgiven of so much, not, out of sheer gratitude, forgive as he has been forgiven. It does not end well for the slave.

It is an unusual and fantastical story told to drive home an essential message. We are all beneficiaries of a generous, loving, creative, and forgiving God. We are not perfect. We fall short. We are capable of so much destruction and division, but we are capable of so much love as we lean into belonging with God.

Forgiveness is difficult, especially when wounds fester and memories of being done wrong linger. Resentments are hard to carry and they are heavy burdens for the one who is harmed. In AA, it is said that a carrying resentment is like drinking poison and expecting the other person to die. The story Jesus tells gives us perspective. It gives us direction. It gives us a way forward. Rather than hanging on to when and how we have been done wrong, we can pivot completely and focus on where we are done right, which is large.

Jesus shows us and tells us that we are beloved. We belong to the immensity of God. We are beautiful, and capable, and plenty enough for this world. So often we are clear about what we are against, and that gives us fellowship with like minds or experiences. But the pivot we need is to come together on what we are for. What Jesus asks is that we suit up, show up, and pull for Team God. We have ritual, tradition, pageantry, stories, songs, prayers. More importantly, we have the power of the Holy Spirit to draw us together, across all man-made divides, to heal our resentments, and to show us exactly who and what we are for: the love of God in Jesus Christ.

It is wonderfully comforting and inspiring to be part of something that big and that positive.   The good news is that are all on the same team. It is gameday. Everyday. Go God!

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