The Conversion of St Paul the Apostle

Acts 26:9-21 

Galatians 1:11-24 

Matthew 10:16-22 

Psalm 67

“When they hand you over, do not worry about how you are to speak or what you are to say; for what you are to say will be given to you at that time; for it is not you who speak, but the Spirit of your Father speaking through you.” Matthew 10:19-20

I worry a lot about what the right thing to do or to say in any given situation is. This comes from a few different places; I have an anxiety disorder, and if I worry too much about that, it pops up; I’m a class jumper, first to attend college, let alone have a master’s degree in my family; I am also a religion swapper, no longer a Baptist but an Episcopalian; and I’m the Democratic ‘step-child’ in a family of Republicans and Libertarians. Talk about the American Dream that says, you can be anything you want.

What this means, in real life, is that I spend a lot of time in the borderlands, not completely comfortable in any of these situations. I spend a lot of time checking, where am I? what do we believe here? how do I fit in? 

Sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn’t. But I always say, an apology is worth a thousand mistakes.  Or I would, if I could be as clever on the fly as I am in writing. This doesn’t change the fact that it’s true. In Christianity we get thousands upon thousands of opportunities to apologize. It also means that we get thousands upon thousands of opportunities to get it wrong. And there are thousands upon thousands of opportunities to share forgiveness. 

This is the obvious secret of Christianity, and the sticking point, because it’s hard. It’s hard to be wrong, it’s hard to apologize, and it’s hard to forgive. And the message, yeah, so, get over it and get on with it, is the great message of Paul’s ministry. When we get wrapped up in the particulars of what his flock were wrong about, we lose the impossible simplicity of his message. 

Holding Out for a Hero

Third Sunday after Epiphany Year B

Jonah 3:1-5, 10Psalm 62: 6-141 Corinthians 7: 29-31Mark 1:14-20

I’ve known my husband a long time, and the whole time I’ve known him, he has collected life lessons. There are quite a few of them now, but the first one, from before we were even married is this, “the hero is the guy who just wants to finish his beer and go home.” 

I believe that this life lesson just might explain why Jonah is his favorite story in the bible. Because Jonah was a guy with a good job as a local prophet, when God called him out to do something extra ordinary. Something he really didn’t want to do. In fact, it took being vomited out of a fish for him to finally, grudgingly, do what God asked. 

So, being left with no choice, he proclaims destruction on Ninevah. 

You will note, Jonah does not preach repentance. He does not evangelize.  He couldn’t care less about the Ninevites, he is just trying to finish the job so he can go home. And yet, through Jonah, the kindgom of God draws near. The Ninevites believe God, they believe this cranky disgruntled prophet of God and their instinctive response is towards sackcloth and ashes. Towards repentance.  And what happened? “When God saw what they did, how they turned from their evil ways, God changed his mind about the calamity that he had said he would bring upon them; and he did not do it.”

I bet you didn’t know Jonah was a hero. Unless you’ve been cornered by my husband at coffee hour, you might never have considered a hero in quite that way. We tend to think of heroes as doers, as people in charge of a situation, people who get things done. People who solve problems. Heroes are people who know that “any minute now, I am going to be called to be more than I am.” Clark Kent, awkward reporter, Peter Parker, inept photographer. But at a moment’s notice, Superman. Spiderman. Hero.

The disciples are heroes of this sort. The sort that make mothers and fathers and spouses fear for their sanity. Jesus wanders along the shore of the Sea of Galilee, and I imagine he says this to everyone he meets. “Follow me and I will make you fish for people.” I have to wonder if the gossip got ahead of him. “Some crazy man is walking along the beach looking for help netting people. I sure hope my kids don’t get any dumb ideas.” 

What were Simon and Andrew thinking? Did Simon have a fight with his wife that morning? Was he already wondering, what if I just dropped this net and walked away? 

What did Zebedee say to James and John, when they jumped out of the boat? Did he call after them, reminding them that this was their inheritance they were walking away from?

How did Simon and Andrew and James and John know that this minute was the minute they were being called to be more than they were?

How did they know, that this call was the call, the one worth walking away from what they had, what they knew, what they were? Like those fishermen, we are always facing choices that are bigger than we can really grasp at the time. Do I take that job? The one in a different state? Will it be good for my family? Will it change the world? 

I believe we all want to change the world, we all want to do something that is bigger than ourselves, something that will leave a mark. That’s not the same as famous or popular or rich, although that is what it means for some people. I don’t want to be famous, but I’d still like to be a hero, even if I’m the only one who knows that I’ve done something heroic. 

As Christians, we want to leave the world a better place than we found it, create a place that looks a little closer to the kingdom of God than we understood it, for people we know and for places we will never go. That’s what those fishermen did, even thought they had no idea, not in the moment, how it was all going to turn out. Still, somehow, by some faith, they knew they were being called to change the world.

Jesus is calling heroes. God is making heroes whether they want to or not. Are you already a hero? Or is there something holding you back? Is it the fear that you might have to leave everything behind? Do you believe being a hero is only possible if you go on a long perilous journey against your will or if you abandon your family to follow a man in strappy sandals? 

Sometimes the most world changing thing we can do is stick around, to stay home, to keep on doing the right thing, the thing right in front of you, even if it’s boring, or frightening, or completely lacking in glamour and prestige. Sometimes staying in relationship with someone or something impossible is absolutely the most heroic thing anyone ever did. Sometimes, it’s letting someone go. 

Sometimes the most heroic thing anyone can do is look at the present situation as though it were, in fact, part of the kingdom of God. It’s easy to say the future is going to be better, (or worse), than the present. It’s easy to look at the past, and imagine it could have been something else, it could have been perfect. It is often really difficult to look at the present and say, this is what it is, this is where I am, this is where God is doing great things. Even if we can’t see anything heroic about it. 

This is what I think Jesus said to those fishermen. “Leave those fish for people who can only see fish. The kingdom of heaven has more than fish. I know you. I know you can see more than fish. Bring all that you are, all that you can see. It’s going to be more important and more useful than those fish.” 

Jesus wasn’t looking for fishermen, because he wasn’t looking to catch some fish. He was and is looking for some visionaries, for some heroes - the kind who want to stay home and the kind who want to fly. He is looking for some people who can see the kingdom of God, and who can show other people, right in this present moment, that the kingdom of God has drawn near. Repent. Believe in the Good News. For the kingdom of God is here. 

Margaret, Queen of Scotland, 1093

(another reflection for Peace Mass)

Deuteronomy 15:7–11 

Psalm 112:1-9

 2 John 1–9 

 Luke 4:16–22a 

The gospel for this day cuts off in mid-irony. You wouldn’t necessarily know this unless you were already familiar with this pericope (to use a fancy academic term, which just means section). As it stands, Jesus makes a bold statement and the people are amazed. Just the reaction we expect, just the reaction we wish we would have in the presence of the Messiah. But if you read just a little further, we hear the rationalization of the people. First there was amazement, then they reasoned it away. Jesus finally leaves town, muttering how prophets don’t get any respect in their home town.

This reading seems particularly applicable to Margaret. As the English bride of a Scottish king (a bit before the nation-state idea develops, but the animosity is in full flower already), she is remembered as a beloved saint to the Scottish people. Why would the Scots fondly remember an Englishwoman who wanted peace between the kingdoms? I think this might be for two reasons - one, she wasn’t speaking prophetically in her home town, so to speak. Two, she didn’t actually effect much lasting change. It was a sadness to her that she was unable end the hostilities between the Scots and English. Margaret dreamed of peace for these countries like the peace she had made in her own heart. Through Margaret, the Scots were able to love the dream of peace without doing the hard work themselves. As an outsider, Margaret didn’t challenge the self identity of the Scots in her dream of peace. 

I wonder if this is what Jesus is talking about? It’s hard to see the miracle right in front of you. When someone just like you does something, says something, miraculous, it is hard to take it seriously because then you might have to be miraculous, too.  I wonder, too, if it’s easier to believe in miracles that happen outside our own context, if it’s easier to control how seriously we take them, if it means not having to change except on our own terms. 

What are you afraid of?

Proper 28 - 

Zephaniah 1:7,12-18

Psalm 90:1-8(9-11), 12

1 Thessalonians 5:1-11

Matthew 25:14-30

I hate scheduling dental appointments. Sometimes, I skip prayer before bed and fall asleep with an episode of Star Trek Voyager instead.  I have been known to cheat on my budget by using my credit cards. 

What is it about knowing what we ought to do, then not actually doing it? Do you have some things that you know you ought to do, things that are even good for you, like exercising and eating more salad greens, that you just can’t seem to actually do?

 Sometimes, we know what we ought to do, but we don’t the resources or the energy to do it. Often, however, it’s not a matter of resources at all; it’s a matter of perception. Why is that? Why is it so hard to overcome perception so we can do those things we do have the resources and energy to do? Every one of those things I mentioned is something that I would actually benefit from. So, why am I so afraid to do the right thing? Because sometimes, the fear of the possibility of failure is greater than the consequences of failure itself. Let me say that again - The fear of the mere possibility of failure is greater than the actual consequences of failure. And I’m only talking about salad greens. 

Still, did any of you hear this mornings readings in this fearful way? Did you hear Zephaniah talking about days of wrath and the Psalmist talking about being consumed by wrath and Paul with his sudden destruction and Matthew’s weeping and gnashing of teeth in the outer darkness? I admit, that was what stood out for me when I first looked at these lessons. Stuff like this makes it really hard to trust God - makes it really hard not to worry too much about failure - makes it hard to trust that actual failure isn’t as scary as the possibility of failure. 

All that doom and fear does makes the servant with one talent from today’s gospel a lot more sympathetic. Believing his master to be “a harsh man, reaping where he did not sow and gathering where he did not scatter seed” he took his talent and hid it in the ground, rather than use it. For this servant, the fear of the possibility of failure was greater than anything else he could imagine. 

I think that the difference between this slave, with his one talent, and the other slaves with their two or five talents is an imagined scarcity. One doesn’t sound like a lot. One doesn’t sound very abundant. But I think that depends on what you have one of. 

The parable talks about talents. It is a trans-literation rather than a translation of the Greek word talanta. But where English uses the word talent to mean those things we have natural aptitude for and can enhance with skill and training, talanta is a monetary term for about 15 years worth of income for a day laborer. Life expectancy being what it was, this was the equivalent of a lifetimes worth of skill and talent and money. 

Think about that for a minute, a lifetime of labor. 

Jesus is using money as a metaphor in this parable but he’s talking about faithfulness. That one talent is no small thing.  We receive this parable at the very end of his earthly ministry, at is a time when he is investing heavily in the faithful relationships he has built with his disciples. If the in-breaking kingdom of God that his life and ministry have begun is going to continue, it is going to be in the context of human lifetimes, in the context of human faithfulness.

A lifetime of faith. It’s all we can do sometimes to take things one day at a time, but what might those days be if we considered our faith, our labor, in the wonder of a whole lifetime? And in this parable, some are given as many as 5 talents. What might that even look like?

I think it looks like us. It looks like liturgy. Within the context of our faith, we are handed from generation to generation, lifetimes worth of faith. Not just our own lifetime and it’s potential, but the work of the whole communion of saints. It’s in the Lord’s Prayer that we have directly from Jesus, it’s in the Creeds that connect us to the clarifying moments of the fourth century, it’s in the sacraments of baptism and eucharist, where inward grace is made explicit for the whole community. 

Does it change the size of your faith to know that it is composed of the investment of lifetimes of faithfulness? It changes mine. 

The lessons today were full of this trust and faithfulness. Zephaniah says we are consecrated guests of the Lord. The psalmist says God has been our dwelling place since before the earth was even formed. Paul says that we belong to the day, so awake or asleep we live in Christ. Two servants in this parable have entered into joy. 

So why is, then, that when I listen to Scripture, I hear so loudly the fear of the saints who have gone before? This because I have stopped listening to God and to Scripture in faithfulness and start listening in fearfulness. Sometimes it seems easier to hear the bad things that could happen than to hear the trust in the good things that do happen. 

If we believe that all there is to God is a master who demands much and offers little, who doesn’t have room for failure, then it’s not surprising if we don’t notice these parts. If we believe that we have only one talent, and don’t believe that talent is worth a whole lifetime of faithfulness, then it’s not surprising we are afraid to grow that faith.

But, I wonder, what might we be missing, because we are afraid of the possibility of failure, afraid of letting God down?

Because our lives matter. And because there are consequences to how we nurture and maintain the kingdom of God, there is a lot of fearful talk in the Scriptures. As so many parables remind us - the harvest is not complete, the kingdom is now and not yet, the first fruits have been resurrected but not the last.

The full abundance of our faith is not the work of ourselves in isolation. It is the heritage of the whole communion of saints. It is the faithfulness of those who have come before to enrich us, and it is our legacy to enrich those who come after. Our children and grandchildren, our neighbors and friends, people on the other side of the globe and people on the other side of the century. 

In truth, none of us who have even a mustard seed of faith have only one talent of faith. We have this abundant cornucopia of faith. And even if it were one talent, a lifetime is so much bigger than we can even imagine. 

I look around this space, at all of you, and I see this abundant faith. The results of New Consecration Sunday reinforced for all of us that we have abundant faith, abundant grace. Our one lives are bursting with the abundant talents that we bring, that we receive, that we share. Listen to the faithfulness and know that it matters.

Henry Martyn

Henry Martyn, Priest and Missionary to India, 1812

Isaiah 49:1-6

Psalm 56:8-12

Romans 1:8-15

John 4:22-26

Did you know that there were Christians in India before the British came in the 1700’s? When the British arrived, they discovered a Christian community in Malabar who are said to have been founded by the apostle Thomas. 

Henry Martyn is known as a founder of of the modern church in India. I would probably quibble with this, but Henry did establish parishes and schools in India, as well as translate the Book of Common Prayer into Hindi. He even learned Persian so he could translate the New Testament into that language and was studying Arabic when he died. 

What came to mind in studying about Henry, and in looking at the Gospel reading, is that the Spirit is the foundation. Last week at Peace Mass we had a great conversation about evangelism, in particular about how the Spirit acts before we arrive on the scene, and about evangelism as accompanying people on their journey towards God. 

In that sense, the work we do is second string, it’s the organizing and connective tissue of the work the Spirit has already begun. It’s the companionship along the way. The gospel today is the final exchange between the Samaritan woman at the well and Jesus. She tells Jesus about the Messiah that she is waiting for, and Jesus says, “I am he, the one you is speaking to you.” 

I wonder how our idea of evangelism changes when we consider even Jesus had the Spirit out in front? Does it become more possible or probable? How many people and places in our lives are already infused with Spirit, just waiting for us to provide the connective community. 

St Philip, Deacon and Evangelist

St. Philip, Deacon and Evangelist

Isaiah 53:7-11

Psalm 6

Matthew 28:18-20

Did you know that Steve Jobs used to speak of his sales associates as evangelists? I know when I have taken my MacBook in for service, or purchased a new iPod, I have encountered people with great enthusiasm and passion. I, too, am quite clear about the ways that my quality of life, and the life span of my electronics, has improved since I switched to Apple. 

Why is it so easy to talk to my friends and people in the check out line about Apple Computers but so hard to talk about Jesus and the church?  For me, it has to do with things unseen. While it is perfectly acceptable to talk about productivity with anyone in this culture, Jesus generally makes me less commercially viable. Because the fruits of the Spirit, which have a lot to do with being present to the here and now, stand in opposition to doing more, being more, making more, selling more. So, while there is certainly going to be enthusiasm and passion for the Gospel, what it means to evangelize the Good News is going to happen in a different way.  

Philip, named as a deacon and evangelist, is perhaps best known for being the evangelist to the Ethiopian eunuch. Holy Women, Holy Men says that on the way to Gaza, “he encountered an Ethiopian eunuch, a servant of the Ethiopian queen, reading the Isaiah text on the Suffering Servant. They traveled together, and in the course of their journey the Ethiopian was converted and baptized by Philip.”

The first thing I notice is that the Ethiopian was already struggling with the scriptures. From this, I take evangelism to be something that the Spirit is already doing in the lives of people. It’s less about us selling the Gospel, and more about noticing where it is already working. The second thing I notice is that they traveled together, which takes time. Having someone who will walk with you as you struggle, that is good news. That is the Good News. Matthew 28:20 says to “Remember, I am with you always, to the end of the age.” That’s hard to promise in a check out line. 

What ways and in what places are you walking with someone who is struggling? How do you notice God in those places? What fruits of the Spirit seem to accompany you? 

St Francis

(there are two reflections on St Francis here, one is for me and one is for Peace Mass, but I thought I would stash them together.)

St. Francis of Assisi

Jeremiah 22:13-16

Psalm 148:7-14

Matthew 11:25-30

St. Francis day was actually yesterday. So I am a day late, a dollar short as they say. Yet, I still have too many dollars to be a companion of St. Francis. In truth I have spent the last month with St. Francis, using one of those ‘spend a month with a saint’ guided meditations. I have started a new budget during this new time in the life of my family, and am helping with the stewardship campaign at church. And since I was feeling a bit poor to begin with, I thought Francis might be just the guy to help me with my perspective.  

It turns out, I was wrong about that. You see, Francis had something that I can admire, especially from afar. He walked the walk. Every day. And by choice, not by necessity. He was embracing a path to God, making a free choice of this, every day. Francis wasn’t just trying to feel better about his poverty; he wasn’t poor. 

Francis knew that joy was the key to poverty. The key to the kingdom as it were. And Francis spread joy so far and so wide and so infectiously, that he founded a whole monastic order, spun off a women’s auxiliary group and inspired Pope Gregory IX, a former patron, to build a great basilica to his honor. And all of these things caused Francis no end of grief. I expect that for whole swaths of time, his joy had a ‘fake it till you make it’ quality. 

 Holy Women, Holy Men has assigned Matthew 11:29-30 to Francis. “Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me; for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light.” I can never read this passage without thinking, this is some piece of used car salesman truth. And I wonder if Francis struggled with it as well; when people wanted to walk the path with him in over engineered high tops and carrying an extra coat for when the wind picked up. I wonder if our fascination with Francis is that he keep choosing poverty, long after we would have said, that’s a good show, but what about health care? Vision and dental? 

I don’t think that I will ever approach Francis’ commitment to follow Christ, and I expect that I will miss out on some of the joy that he knew in companionship with God. But I will miss out on those extreme highs and lows that he experienced as well. I think I can be ok with that. Because there are joys that I have been given, and they require me to make choices every day, opportunities to turn towards, rather than away, from God every day. Like Francis, I am being asked to bring myself before God, exactly who I am, and so are you. 

(second)

St. Francis of Assisi

Jeremiah 22:13-16

Psalm 148:7-14

Matthew 11:25-30

My daughter is named Francis, with the ‘i’ not the ‘e.’ I didn’t name her for a saint, I didn’t go to church then and I wasn’t raised in a church that acknowledges saints. But now that we do, she often received tokens from loved ones about St. Francis. We have several books about him and his life. Invariably, these books start with his boisterousness and generosity, then tell of his conversion in the road, coming face to face with a leper. They tell of his parents shame and embarrassment at the life of poverty that Francis chose after that fateful meeting. 

We probably know quite a lot about Francis in our family, thanks to all these wonderful gifts. But I wonder what everyone else knows about Francis. Why does he wear that brown robe? Why is he surrounded by all those birds? What’s the story with that wolf?What was it really like to choose poverty? 

The key, I think, to understanding Francis was his infectious joy. He did absurd things because he was blown away by the wonder of all creation. And for Francis, the way he chose to come close to God, and let God come close to him, was to embrace poverty. Many people were drawn to that joy and voluntarily joined Francis in his poverty, his generosity, his joy. 

The gospel for today comes from Matthew and ends with these words, “Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me; for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light.” (11:29-30). I wonder what it means to voluntarily embrace poverty? I wonder how these words might be an enticement or a comfort in that choice?