"YES and NO" (given on "YES and NO" (preached on September 28)

          Have you heard about the dear sister who came to her pastor for counseling?

          "Reverend, something has to be done about my Willie. He no longer comes home at night to me and our eight kids. Instead, he's all over town

drinking, gambling, and running around with wild women."

          "You have my deepest sympathy, Mary." replied the preacher. "Your husband is a miserable sinner."

          "Sinner, yes; miserable, no. He's having the time of his life."

          Jesus must have been quite a puzzle-- and more than a little bit of an embarrassment to the Scribes and Pharisees. After all, those miserable and not-so miserable sinners and  drunks and beggars and hookers and peasants and other assorted riff-raff were listening to Him. They were following Him. Worse yet, they were actually being healed and finding their lives changed because of this Jesus! The truth of it was, this Jesus actually  somehow or other, seemed to be from God.

          And yet, the priests and rich Pharisees and lawyers who had been so piously studying in their nice quiet synagogues while the common herd was out there living and sinning in that noisy, dirty world-- were being ignored by Jesus.  And the crowd, the ones who were too busy working and eating and laughing and crying and raising families-- were the ones getting all of Jesus' attention!  And this was not an oversight on Jesus' part.  It wasn't ignorance on Jesus' part.  He was deliberately ignoring the Scribes and Pharisees and High Priests.

          He even told them so!  He told them He had come for the sinners-- not for them. He told them He had come-- not for those who said yes to the Laws of Moses-- but for those who were too poor, too trapped, too beaten down, too busy surviving in the world to say anything else but no. The religious establishment must have been more than just envious-- they must have been furious at Jesus.        So one day they confronted Him.

          "What is the source of these teachings of yours? By what authority do you say these things and perform these healings?"

          But Jesus was too smart for them. He saw their trap. So, Jesus turned the question around on them. He asked them if they knew from whence had come the authority for the baptisms of his cousin, John—from God or from humanity. 

          Recognizing the trap Jesus had laid for them, the Scribes and Pharisees and Priests refused to answer.  So Jesus in turn, refused to speak of the source of His authority.  Instead, He told them this crazy parable about the son who said YES and did NO, and the son who said NO and did YES.

          And then Jesus asked the Scribes and Pharisees and priests the 64,000 drachma question. Which son did as the father wished? The answer was obvious. They all knew what the father wanted. Maybe they didn't exactly get what Jesus meant with this saying NO stuff. But if this was intended to be a comparison to them, that was okay.

          They knew they had followed the laws of Moses.  They prayed five timnes a day. They kept the Sabbath. They worshiped daily. They spent their days studying the Laws. They kept kosher. They kept themselves ritually clean.  They weren’t sinners.  They were righteous. They were the holy ones. 

          So they were fairly comfortable in their answer. The second son, the son who went and worked in the vineyard after all, did the father's will.  And that was them.  They were the ones who did the will of the Heavenly Parent.

          And then Jesus threw his zinger.

          "You aren't that son at all! You aren’t doing God's will! You aren't working in the vineyard. Those very tax collectors and prostitutes who you so freely condemn heard the teachings of John the Baptizer and were converted. They repented. They changed their lives.

          They gave up embezzling taxes. They gave up unwholesome and exploitive sexual practices. They gave up grudge holding and anger and hate and apathy and jealousy and snobbery. They gave up their sins. 

          And now they will enter into God's Holy Realm ahead of you.  Those who said NO once, and then changed their minds and repented. They began to live lives of YES and are holier than you who say YES and continue to live out lives of NO."

          It would be fairly easy for me to preach the rest of this sermon on the sins of hypocrisy and self-righteousness. It would be easy and even kind of fun for me to stand here and point my finger at those in God's house who don't get involved-- the pew sitters-- those who pray the prayers and sing the hymns on Sunday without giving any more than the same amount Sunday after Sunday, year afdter year, without volunteering, without changing their lives on Monday through Saturday.

          As I was preparing this sermon, I was indeed tempted to preach on that very note. I was tempted to rant and rave about the way some folks say YES to God with our mouths and NO with our lives.  Hypocrites are always an easy target for a sermon.

          They're almost as easy a target for preachers as they are for people who claim they stay away from church because “it’s full of all those hypocrites ".  Anyone ever tell you that? Next time they do, tell them it's okay, they can come in anyway. There's always room for one more.

          But then I got to thinking. If hypocrites in the church are the modern day equivalent of that first son, who is the other son--the son who first said No,  and then went out and lived a YES? Who are the modern-day drunks and hookers and publicans who will enter the Divine Realm?  Who in our world says NO, and yet does YES?

          And then I realized I was missing the point about the other son in the parable. Both sons had been raised and nurtured by the father. Both had seen the father's example in their own lives. Both knew what the father expected of them. Both heard the call. Both struggled with a response.

          Both responded--one YES--one NO. The one son's response was just words--no care, no commitment, no sharing with the father. Just a face- saving lie and a quick exit--stage left. The other son's response was an insult to the father. The best you could say was that he was honest about it.  Frankly, neither are particularly praiseworthy.

          But-- and here's the heart of the passage for me-- "He changed his mind and went" Two sons-- one YES that really meant NO-- and one NO that turned into YES. Why? Because he changed his mind. And that's when I figured out who the second son is-- and who the first son is, as well.  I realized that both sons are one in the same. They're both in you and they're both in me.

          We're all called to the vineyard in this life. It may be the call to serve as a nurse, or a teacher, or a missionary. It may the call to support God' church with our gifts. It may be the call to parent-- or to foster-parent.  It maybe the call to witness in our neighborhood. It may the call to get involved in reform politics, or to teach school, or sing in the choir, or volunteer at a hospital, a pantry, or tithe, or teach Sunday school, or be a church officer, or organize a prayer chain, or enter the ordained ministry, or to serve the world in some other way.  It may be a call to go back to school, or change careers, or go on a mission trip, or transform our relationships with others.         

          Regardless of the particular nature of our personal call, it's always a call to change-- to leave behind our old self-centered, sinful life of greed or indulgence or anger, or self-pity or lust or self-righteousness or whatever is eating us up inside. It’s always a call to new life-- inside and out. It’s always a call to respond-- YES or NO.

          We all have a call. And we all can hear it. We may deny it, or try to drown it out, or pretend we don't hear it-- but it's there. Just like the father in the parable called his sons into the vineyard-- you and I are being called by our Heavenly Parent into the vineyard of this world.  We are called to make it a gentler and more holy place—beginning in our own tiny corner of it. We are called to re-make ourselves into better and more godly people—beginning with what we like least about ourselves..          

          We are called to bring forth fruits. We are called lives of personal responsibility and integrity We are called to strive for the coming of Christ's realm of Salaam and Shalom in this sad and sin-sick world-- and in our own lives as well-- now-- in our lives at this present moment.

          Too often, we are the son or daughter who says YES, but lives out NO. But sometimes we become yet a third child-- a child who flat says NO and continues to live out a NO.  Too often we fail to even profess our faith.  We get caught up and tied down by circumstances, by other people, by our current and past sins, by addiction or anger, by our flat-out refusal to even acknowledge that we are saying NO.  When that happens, we end up worse than both of the sons in the parable.

          And yet, like the second son, we can change our minds--even then. We can repent, profess faith, and start living that faith out—fully with faithfulness and joy. We can change our lives. We can match up our intentions with our actions. We can hear God's call and respond.    

          We can say YES and live out YES as well.  YES to God-- YES to this world— this community— this life situation— in the midst of these relationships  where God has planted us-- YES to life-- YES to ourselves. That's the note of hope in this parable. That's the message of the parable-- and of Jesus' whole life.

          There is One who showed us that change is always possible. There is one who lived a life of total YES. There is One who showed us how. There is One who did it. And in order to do it-- he made a far greater change than any one of us will ever be called upon to make. Paul writes in Philippians 2:

          He had equal status with God, but didn’t think so much of himself that he had to cling to the advantage of that status no matter what. Not at all.  When the time came, he set aside the privileges of deity and took on the status of a slave, became human! . Having become human, he stayed human. It was an incredibly humbling process. He didn’t claim special privileges. Instead, he lived a selfless, obedient life and then died a selfless obedient death. The worst kind of death at that: a crucifixion.

          Paul is telling us that precisely because Jesus so freely said YES, and so fully lived out that YES--  to life-- to the world-- to God-- He was utterly free to change-- to become something new and whole and beautiful and present-- to change from God to human being. And yet, Jesus still remained of God and from God.

          That is what we mean when we say Jesus Christ was truly God and truly man. That was the source of His Authority. That was why the prostitutes and the tax-collectors and the drunks and even the ordinary folks who had sought John's baptism came to follow Jesus.  That's why Jesus hung around with them.

          They had been despised by the religious establishment. They had been told by those in power and authority that they were sinners, damned, outside the Law.  They were barely surviving economically-- they did well to keep their children from starving.  And yet the leaders of their religion told them that unless they essentially became Scribes or rich Pharisees themselves, they were lost, outside their own historic faith.

          And then John, and then Jesus came along and freed them.  They told them that true holiness before God is not linked to public piety or blind, unthinking worship of rules for their own sakes. They told them that prosperity was not necessarily a sign of blessedness. They told them that the Ten Commandments posted on the wall doesn’t mean a thing-- unless those commandments are engraved in our heats and lived out in our lives.

          Just as John had before him, Jesus told these folks that they could lead new lives, that they could change, that they could say YES to life-- and to God. And all those miserable and not so miserable prostitutes and tax collectors and more run of the mill sinners came to see that their life situation was not hopeless.  They were not automatically damned. They were not locked into a life that would only allow them to be either victims or villains.

          In John and in Jesus, they were able to see themselves as worthwhile people, loved by their Creator, and capable of growing and changing and doing GREAT things.  They were able to repent, able to change their minds and say YES to the authority of Jesus and to the new life that HE was offering. They were able to believe that if He could do it, they could live out that YES as well.  And in believing in that YES, and in their own possibility to live it out, they were in fact empowered live it out.

          You and I can change our minds, and change our lives as well.  If, like the crowds who flocked to Him, we can see in Jesus hope and possibility, then we can begin to let go of all the sin and self-centered-ness that we cling to. We will be enabled to say YES to change, YES to hope, YES to new life,  YES to generosity, YES to compassion, YES to integrity, YES to the call of God in our lives-- now—here-- in this present moment. 

          And if we do that, we will find ourselves eager and empowered to begin to live out that YES in this world,  now, here, in this vineyard God has called us to labor in, and eventually inherit.  Praise God! Amen.

"Do You Begrudge?" given September 21, 2014

Nelson Mandela (R.I.P.)

Living in Spite House/ How Many Times? given 9/14/14

Living in Spite House

A number of years ago I read the story of a millionaire who somehow acquired a lot in a very exclusive neighborhood in one of our cities.  The lot presented something of a unique problem. It was only a couple of yards wide, but nearly a hundred feet long. What do you do with a piece of property so oddly shaped? The obvious thing of course, is to sell it to one or the other of the neighbors on either side. So the man approached the neighbor on the East, asking if he was interested in buying. The neighbor said,

          "Well, only as a favor." Then he offered a ridiculously low price.

          "That's not even a tenth of it's worth!" cried the owner, and after some harsh words, offered the lot to the neighbor on the West.

          She, however, only upped the offer by a couple of hundred dollars.

          "Look," she said smugly, "I've got you over a barrel. You can't sell that lot to anybody else, and you can't build on it. There's my offer, take it or leave it."

          Beside himself with rage, the owner of the lot went to the office of the most expensive architect in town. He had her design one of the strangest houses ever built. When it was completed, it was only five feet wide. It ran the entire ninety-odd feet of the length of the property.  You can imagine the inside of the house was nothing more than a row of tiny rooms, each one barely wide enough for a single piece of furniture.

          The neighbors of course, complained to the city. They claimed that this bizarre structure was a blight on the neighborhood and decreased the value of their expensive  homes. But the city building inspectors could find absolutely nothing in the building code that would allow them to disallow the house.

          When it was finished, the millionaire proceeded to move into this uncomfortable and impractical house. Believe it or not, he lived there for the rest of his life! The house was nicknamed "Spite House" in the neighborhood. And it's supposed to still be standing-- a monument to human hate and anger.

                    Do you think he was happy living there?

                    Do you think his neighbors were happy?

                    Who do you think was more unhappy?

         

F.A.S.T.

          "And Peter asked Jesus, 'How many times must I forgive someone who has wronged me? As many as seven times?' And Jesus replied,

          'Not seven, I tell you, but as many as seventy times seven.'"

          I wonder how seriously most of us take our Lord's teaching. Many people in this world act as if they’ve never heard those words. Far too many people are living out their lives inside Spite House.

          "Lord, how many times must I forgive?"  Unhappy marriages certainly produce a great number of Spite Houses. Even after a divorce, many couples still can't let go of their bitterness. They may marry someone else, start a new family, but they still stay angry at that previous spouse. One of the most devastating jibes I've ever heard was when the late Congresswoman Pat Schroeder characterized one of her political adversaries as being the kind of guy who reminds most women of their first husband.

          One study showed that forty-one percent of divorced, remarried women are still angry at their ex-husband as long as a decade later. Thirty-one percent of men felt the same way.

          But bitter rivalry and angry grudge-keeping aren’t found only in the relationship of marriage. Rancor and resentment can flourish in classrooms and schoolyards, factories and offices, even in churches. Some people would say especially in churches.

          And that’s all too true. Paul devotes half of I Corinthians 1 to chastising that congregation for breaking up into a bunch of competitive cliques. In Philippians 4, he pleads with Euodia and Synthche--- two feuding church ladies-- to make peace with one another and directs their pastor to offer mediation between these two squabbling pillars of the  local congregation. How would any of us feel if we only got our name in the Bible because we were in a church fight?

          Some professors of Church Administration like to compare the small church to a family. Some members of some small churches really do feel that way. And there are many similarities. But, just as there are dysfunctional families, there are also dysfunctional congregations.  A colleague  of mine used to describe the small church she pastored as holding full-body contact Administrative Board meetings.  

           Even blood related families are not immune to the destructive power of malice and acrimony. You and I have all seen families-- sisters and brothers who carry on childhood patterns of sibling rivalry and one-upmanship into adulthood-- even to old age.  All too often it comes out in disagreements around Mom and Dad’s estate.  And is there anything sadder than an adult child who has been estranged from his or her parents for years-- even decades?

          A tremendous number of us are living in Spite House. How do we learn to let go? How can we keep our anger and our resentment--however justified-- from destroying us? How can we learn to make peace with others-- and make peace with our own selves? Forgive, Accept, Surrender, Thanksgiving-- it's an on-going spiritual process, not just a single emotional act. Some people say that “to understand is to forgive”. Personally I would rather call it a good start.

          When Simon Peter asked Jesus how many times he was supposed to forgive, he was asking for all of us as well. The question strikes to the heart of our lives. Shall I submit to the abuse of someone else in order to maintain a relationship? Keep my job? Get that contract? For how long?  How much do I have to take? Can I forgive and still walk away? How? FAST. Forgive, Accept, Surrender, Thanksgiving-- its the only way.

          And when someone has wronged me, why should I bother to forgive? Men and women have been asking that question for ever. And we are asking it today-- in North Korea, in Syria, in the Holy Land, in Afghanistan, in Irag and Iran, and even in our own cities, our own communities, our own families.

          Forgive seventy times seven, Jesus? That seems like too much. Most of us are ready enough to give someone the benefit of the doubt, or another chance, or even one last chance. That seems charitable enough.  But seventy times seven? That's impossible, isn't it Jesus? Why should we even try  to do that?  Why bother?  Why not just wash our hands of them and walk away?

          If you're trapped in a destructive or abusive personal relationship, it may well be necessary to wash your hands of the other person and walk away. But even as we do so, we still need to forgive. Why? Ultimately, it's necessary for us to forgive in order for us to be at peace with our own selves.

          When we forgive someone, it's not really for their sake--it's for our own sake.  You or I  can sit around and lick our wounds, feed our resentment if we want to.  But if we do that, sure as all get out we'll look around one day and discover that while we're home sulking in our five-foot wide spite house, the person we're so ticked off at, is out on the town dancing.

          We may say, "Well, I'll forgive, but I won't forget." That's only kidding ourselves.  To say that is to hold on to resentment as if we somehow think it hurts the other person. It’s like sitting on a bumble bee and refusing to get up because we figure it hurts him worse than it hurts  us.  But the truth is, it doesn't.

          It only hurts us. It burns holes in our stomachs and gives us ulcers. It throbs in our chests and causes heart attacks. It simmers in our heads and gives us migraines. Deep down, I suspect we all know that the only person nurtured resentment ever really hurts is the person who nurtures it. How do we forgive?  Forgive, Accept, Surrender, Thanksgiving—FAST.

          Lord, how many times did you say I had to forgive? Seven? Seventy- seven? Seventy times seven? Seven to the seventy-seventh power? That seems more than hard-- impossible. But it's necessary.  We need to learn to let the past be past. Regret is a destructive emotion that never gives anyone in this world a single moment of peace or joy.

          What profit is it for us to spend time and emotion dwelling on the way things used to be? The past is gone. Much of it may be worth remembering, but we can't live there.  Why allow it to ruin the present and block the future God has in store for us? The foundations of Spite House are always built in the past. 

          The past can complicate our lives beyond imagination. You and I can become immobilized by unfinished business, un-grieved  losses,  unresolved guilt,  unhealed wounds, unsettled grudges, and unforgiven wrongs done to us— or that we have done to others. And sooner or later we’ll  find ourselves with nowhere to turn-- burdened with the crushing weight of days gone by.              

          "Forgive seventy times seven" Jesus replied. Let it go. Forget it. FAST. It’s only when you and I are able to walk away from all that baggage— only when we've learned to truly forgive and know that we have been forgiven— that we can relegate the past to its’ proper place in our lives. 

          It’s only then we can be truly free. Only then can we be reborn into the new and abundant life that Jesus talked about. Only then can we begin to live in, and fully enjoy the present.

          Part of the miracle of forgiveness is the promise of a new beginning. We forgive because after all, the past is past. Only today and tomorrow really count. You and I are called to sow all the good that we possibly can, today. FAST.

          "Lord, how many times should I forgive? As many as seven?" In order to answer Peter's question, Jesus told them the parable of the servant whose employer forgave millions of dollars owed him. But the servant in turn, refused to forgive a relatively minor debt owed him by another servant. Hearing this, the boss was furious. This wicked underling had been forgiven a debt equivalent to more than many lifetime's wages. Yet he would not forgive someone else of a debt that was less than a single day's wage.

          Jesus' point was clear. We are all desperately in need of forgiveness. We are to forgive others. How many times? As many times as it takes. Why? Not only because we need it—but also because our God has so lavishly forgiven us.

Every time you and I pray the Lord’s Prayer we pray for it. “Forgive us—as we forgive others.” Debts, Trespasses, Sins, they’re all covered.

          Have you heard about the man who after being alienated from the church from childhood on, was finally nagged into attending? He walked in the middle of the service at a high Anglican church. The congregation was on their knees praying aloud in the classic prayer of confession, "We have done those things we ought not to have done, and we have left undone those things we ought to have done." "Hey, this is my kind of crowd!" the man declared excitedly.

          And here’s the good news.  It’s not just that we ought to forgive-- it's that we can forgive! The story points to two marvelous gifts that you and I have received from our God. The first is that we are forgiven. And the second is that we are able—you and I have the power-- to forgive!

          When we talk about the Divine Grace that flow down upon us through the Holy Spirit of God, most us  tend to think about being saved from Sin. Or we think about the spiritual gifts of Pentecost-- speaking in tongues, healing, prophesy, etc. Or we think about the birth and teachings and healings and Passion and Resurrection of Jesus-- big, flashy, noisy, dramatic gifts.  But many times we overlook that other time, that quiet moment with his followers and friends when, gently as a summer breeze,  Jesus told them, told us

          “You can forgive.  I give you that power.  You can absolve, you can banish guilt, you can loosen bonds, you can set free. You can forgive in my name, and it will be so.”   Forgive, Accept, Surrender, Thanksgiving—FAST.

          "Lord, how many times should I forgive? As many as seven?" At the time he asked that question, Peter probably didn't think of himself as needing forgiveness. He must have been feeling pretty good about his own spiritual life to have asked Jesus such a question.  Despite his own high opinion of himself, it wasn't to be too terribly long before Peter would find himself denying his Lord not once, but three times.

          "Forgive seventy times seven." I wonder if Peter recalled those blessed  words on that first Good Friday? Imagine the comfort Jesus' words might have been to Peter that cold morning outside the High Priest's house when he heard the rooster crow for the third time.

          Peter was already forgiven for denying his Master at that moment. Now all he had to do was forgive himself!  That took a while—Read Acts 10 for the story. But it happened! How could Peter not--from that moment on—accept every person lovingly, graciously forgive every slight, every wrong, every sin against him?

          Of course, if you and I are so sure that we’ll never hurt or wrong another person, even inadvertently--  if we’re so dead certain that the tables could never possibly turn, if we’re so sure that we’ll never be the ones on our knees, pleading for forgiveness, than maybe we don’t need to forgive anyone ever again.  But just as long as you and I stand in need of forgiveness-- just as long must we be willing to forgive those we name enemies. How many times? As many as it takes!

          Our God can give us the power to let go of those feelings of anger and resentment, today. Our God will empower us to forgive others with full and gracious hearts. Our God will forgive us, even at those times when we can’t even forgive ourselves. We need only ask. And start forgiving!  Let us pray,

          In your love, O Christ, is the wholeness and strength that we need in order to learn to forgive. In your forgiveness, O God, is given us the vision to know that forgiveness and reconciliation is a way of life that can fill us and make us whole. In your presence, Holy Spirit, is the peace that we seek. Help us to forgive, as we have been forgiven.                                                                              Amen.

A Feast of Salvation given 9/7/14

          All of our kids have been raised on Sesame Street. Of course they deny that now. But I remember. The show came on the air just as our oldest daughter Jenny was hitting the right age to enjoy it—and she adored it.  When Gwyneth was little, she used to watch it sitting on the floor, cuddled up to our Irish Wolfhound. I think a little part of her actually believed that if he watched it enough, the dog might learn to read—or at least talk.

When Gregory was in preschool, we used to watch it on PBS in the morning over breakfast, before he left the house. Finally though, we came to the point when he informed us that Sesame Street is too babyish for him. So then we began to watch the Magic School Bus in pretty much the same way. 

          Quite a few years ago, we were surprised to see a different version of Sesame Street. It was Passover week, and PBS was showing the Israeli version of the show-- which  switches back and forth from Hebrew and English during the same show.  Bert and Ernie and many of the same Muppets and films are featured, but Big Bird is replaced for some reason by a giant hedgehog--or maybe he was a porcupine, I never got that straight.

          Just as in the version you and I are familiar with, the Israeli show features some very funny live action skits, featuring big name TV and Movie stars in cameos. I guess we shouldn’t have been surprised that almost all of those entertainers were mostly U.S. comedians of Jewish extraction.

          One skit that still sticks with me today featured Anne Meara (if you’re younger than me --she’s Ben Stiller’s mom). She played a confused Hebrew housewife in Egypt being evicted from her hovel and sent on her way to the Exodus, by Pharaoh's guards.

          "Whattya mean we gotta leave? You can’t evict us, our family’s been living in this hovel for 400 years. Where are we s’posed to go? To Canaan? Where's that? Across the desert? Who's going?  All of us? Wait, I better put some bread in the oven; we'll need something to knosh on the way.

          So who's going to lead us to this Canaan wherever it is?  Moses? Moses who?  What kind of name is that for a good Hebrew boy? That's him over there? Funny, he doesn't look Jewish."

          "Wait, I can't leave yet," she cried as they literally pulled her out the door. "you rushed me so much I forgot to put the yeast in the bread-- it'll be flat as a pancake."

That pretty much captures the spirit of this morning's reading from the Hebrew Scriptures.  The God of Israel-- through a spokesman who looks and talks like one of their oppressors-- is telling a Technicolor bunch of people, who aren't really a community and are united only by their common servitude and maybe by some shared stories of their distant ancestors--that they are going to become one.

          They are going to become one religion and one ethnic group and one community.  This God who many of them know by different names is going to make out of these many groups and tribes and families-- a nation.  This process of community building will begin with this ritual, a Feast of Salvation as a prelude to a wilderness journey to a land many of them only know in legend.

          But they've gotta leave right now.  They don’t even have time to leaven their bread dough and make it rise. They must slaughter the Paschal Lamb, mark their doorposts, roast and eat the meal on the run, rushed, with shoes on and staff in hand. Pharaoh will let the people go, but their window of escape is very narrow.  This sense of urgency is an important part of the story.

          The escape of the Hebrew people set in motion their epic pilgrimage through the wilderness—a generation-long folk migration that would transform these disparate group of families and small clans into a nation and lead them into the Promised Land, From that day forward, the Jewish people have annually celebrated the Passover that had launched their escape from bondage in Egypt—with this:”Feast of Unleavened Bread”.

          The meal is known as the "Seder" --which means "order"-- for the order of events recalled.  It is a meal filled with ritual”, says Rabbi Amy Katz “from the food you eat, to how you eat, to how you sit.”

At this meal—served in individual family homes, symbolic foods are served a various intervals to commemorate various aspects of the story. The youngest child begins the ritual, asking four traditional questions

                        Why is this night different from the other nights?

On all other nights, we eat leavened or unleavened bread. 
On this night we eat only unleavened bread.

On all other nights we eat all kinds of herbs.  
On this night we eat bitter herbs.

On all other nights we don’t dip even once.  
On this night we dip twice.

On all other nights we eat either seated or reclining. 
On this night we eat reclining.

The head of the household answers the questions, recalling once again the story of oppression, salvation from the power of death, liberation from slavery, exodus and freedom and hope.

                        We eat only unleavened bread tonight because there was no time in our rush to freedom to allow our bread dough to rise.  “So the people took us their dough before it was leavened, binding their kneading troughs in their clothes and placing them on their shoulders” (Exodus 12:33).

                    We eat especially bitter herbs tonight to taste again the bitterness of slavery.  “Egypt made the children of Israel to slave oppressively by making their lives bitter with hard work fashioning clay bricks and with all kinds of work in the field” (Exodus 1:13)

                              We dip our food twice this evening, once into saltwater to recall the tears shed in cruel slavery and bitter bondage, and we dip the harsh-        tasting horseradish into the sweet Charoset to remind us to keep our faith in God who changes our cries of sorrow into shouts of joy.

We recline about the table this evening to recall that while the Holy Temple stood in Jerusalem, everyone reclined on couches at the Passover supper to express their joy of being set free on this night.  If the Holy One had not brought our ancestors out of Egypt, then we and our children and our children’s children would still be slaves to a Pharaoh in Egypt.

Therefore, if we possessed all wisdom, and all understanding of the Sacred Scriptures, it would still be commanded of us to recount the events of our departure from Egypt.  And whoever recalls the most details about our Exodus from Egypt is the most worthy of all our praise.

 “[The Passover Seder] is the time when we remember, as recorded in the Book of Exodus, how we cried out to God when we were slaves and how God heard our cries and took us out of Egypt.’ Says Rabbi Amy Katz. “That’s a big story. It’s also the defining story of how we were born as a people, The purpose of the Seder is to make this story accessible to make this story accessible to everyone at the table in any way we can. They’ve got to get it, because it is our most important story.”

The promise of the Seder is reflected in a line from one of the traditional songs sung during the evening. It comes from the Mishnah and it says that in every generation, the Jewish people should see themselves as if they were slaves in Egypt. “You start out as a slave,” adds Rabbi Katz, “and at the end of the evening you are free.”

The closing of the Passover Seder is highlighted by a theme of

redemption, and humility, as well as a reminder that the joyous festival

is to be shared with the less fortunate.  The Prophet Elijah, symbol of the

humble wayfarer, is invited to enter the home through the symbolic opening

of a door to the house. The Cup of Elijah, filled with wine, is confirmation of

the hope of Elijah's arrival into the house. The Passover then ends with drinking

of the wine.

Everything said and done and eaten at the Seder carries a significant

symbolic meaning on the participants' mind and heart.  The re-telling of

the story and its rituals serve to remind each person of his/her importance,

enabling that person to adopt an attitude of profound gratitude. And, just

as importantly, the meal will widen the compassion and perspective of

each as a person in relationship to his/her fellow human beings.

The rabbis tell a story around the Passover. As the angels in heaven are singing and celebrating the drowning of Pharaoh’s army at the Sea of Reeds, they notice that God is not rejoicing, but in fact is weeping. When the heavenly host ask why the Creator sorrows, God reminds then that “the Egyptians are my children as well'.

          If you see parallels between Passover and our Christian Sacrament of Holy Communion-- it is no accident.  The two feasts are tied together. The Gospels make it clear that the Last Supper was a Seder.

          It's an oddity of history and language that only in the English speaking world is the liturgical celebration of Christ's Resurrection known by the old Anglo-Saxon name of "Easter".  Everywhere else in the world, that Season of the Church's year is known as "The Christian Passover". And the traditional method for calculation of the date of Easter each year is based of the date of Passover.

Certainly there are significant differences between the two feasts. But both Passover and the Sacrament are liturgical remembering--reliving of saving events that defeat death and hold the promise of new and Abundant life. 

These rememberings are so profound that we who take part in them do not simply recall the salvation of our ancestors-- like a student in a classroom. 

Nor do we relive our salvation-- like Civil War re-enactors. Those are events spoken of the past tense.  No, at the Seder and at the Table, you and I are invited by our Creator to participate (present tense!) once more in our own Salvation. It’s literally Salvation now.

Here at Christ's Altar, you and I are offered hope, offered strength, offered life, offered salvation, offered Christ's own Redeeming Presence--Now. Here, united in time and space with all faithful believers, the power of death passes over us, shielded as we are, by the blood of Jesus, our Paschal Lamb—Now.

Sisters and Brothers when you come to the Table this moving, and every morning, let come as our Jewish sisters and brothers come to their Table of Salvation. Let us come with our eyes open and eager to perceive the hand of God at work not only in our lives—but also in the world. Let us come--not only to the Table for solace--- but also for strength, not only for pardon—but also for renewal. And as we rise from the table, let us strive to live our whole lives in faith, in gratitude, in humility, in hope, with hearts and doors open to the wayfarer-- in prayer and concern—even for our enemy.  Amen.

Holy Ground given 8/31/14

and God said go

and i said who me?

and God said yes you

and i said

but i'm not ready yet

and an important meeting is coming up

and i can't leave my work right now

and you know there's no one to take my place

and God said you're stalling

again God said go

and i said i don't want to

and God said i didn't ask if you wanted to

and i said

listen, i'm not the kind of person to get involved in controversy

and besides my family wouldn't like it

and what would the neighbors think

and God said baloney

and yet again God said go

and i said do i have to?

and God said do you love me?

and i said i'm scared

people are going to hate me

and cut me into little pieces

and i can't take it all by myself

and God said where do you think i'll be?

and i said here i am! send me!  (from Virginia Theological Seminary)

          Poor Moses. He must have thought he'd left all that behind him. Once, he'd been a prince of Egypt. But now he was a fugitive, wanted for killing an overseer who'd been beating a Hebrew slave.

          Until that day, Moses might well have never even thought of himself as a Hebrew. But he'd seen an injustice done, and something inside him had compelled him to act. Without counting possible cost, he had, as the Book of Exodus puts it, "risen up and slain the oppressor".

          Now Moses was paying for that rash moment by his exile. But, be honest, it probably wasn't all that bad. Moses seemed to ended up cozily ensconced in a whole new way of life. He had a loving wife, prosperous and welcoming in-laws, flocks to tend in a peaceful, solitary wilderness. Granted, it was a long way from Pharaoh's palace. But all in all, it couldn't have been too bad of a life.

          What was it about Moses? Even in the desert, even in exile, there must have been something special about him. The average person passing by that day would probably have thought to herself, "Gee whiz, look at that tree on fire." And then gone about their business.

          Whatever made Moses stop and look at that burning bush? Curiosity? Boredom? An impulse? Whatever it was, the story of Exodus tells us that Moses turned aside and looked. And to his astonishment, Moses realized that the bush was not being reduced to ashes by the fire. It was burning-- but not being burned. That's mysterious-- deeply and profoundly mysterious. Not Agatha Christie mysterious--  mysterious in the same way that our God is mysterious.

          Out of the deepest moments of mystery and wonder comes all philosophy, all art, all science, all religion. "Why?" we ask. And in that eternal Why, the mind and soul of humanity is born. Something inside Moses made him turn aside. Something made him want to know, to understand, to experience something new, special, different.

          "Take off your shoes Moses. You're standing on Holy Ground."  And Moses took his shoes off his feet. When we approach that Ultimate Reality which we call "God",  we too must shuck off our shoes of ego, of pretension, of worldly pride, of rigid perception that have shielded us so long from honest awareness of God's judgment and call.

          We must hush our talking, put away our excuses and begin to listen-- simply listen to the voice of the One who knows us, and judges us, and accepts us and miracle of miracles, still loves us. We must take off the shoes of self and listen to the call of the One who is Eternal Love.

          Take off your shoes, you're standing on Holy Ground. What makes a particular piece of dirt holy? Sometimes you can sense it. Times, places, things and people can all be holy. And when they are, they usually aren't too hard to recognize. Holiness occurs when we sense that somehow or other, sometime or other, God has used a place, or a time, or a thing, or a person to bring forth Manifest Divine love into this sad and broken world.

          Nostalgia can give us a sense of tenderness. Expensive ornamentation can give us a sense of precious-ness. Aesthetic lines and graceful form can give us a sense of beauty. Music and architecture and lighting can move us. Emotion can give us a sense of special-ness.  But only the hand of God can give us a true sense of the holy.

          Take off your shoes. Even today, Moslems-- who also call Moses a prophet, still remove their shoes before prayer. An odd gesture. But in the deserts of the Middle East the direct rays of the sun can cause healthy men and women to collapse in a matter of minutes. In such a land, it would seem a safer gesture of reverence to remove your shoes than your head covering.

          Rites that seem simple and beautiful and suitable in one land and culture can become strained and artificial in another. So you and I pray with our heads bare and bowed and with our hands folded. I still can recall how odd it seemed at to pray facing the Wailing Wall in Jerusalem, wearing my "Indiana Jones" hat.

          Take off your shoes, you're standing on Holy Ground.  The sense of the holy, the mingling of awe and wonder and reverence is ultimately what distinguishes religion from mere morality. The hunger for it is what brings us to this place on Sunday morning-- this Altar. The idea, the sense of the holy—what theologians call the mysterium tremendium-- that which is totally other. The presence of God.

          Depending on who we are, in such a moment we might fall on our faces, or kick off our sandals, or kneel, or cover our heads, or uncover our heads, or sing, or pray, or dance, or laugh, or perhaps even speak in tongues. It is an almost instinctive response of our bodies to moments of lofty mystery which we feel deeply in our spirits-- even though we only partly comprehend them in our minds.

          There are simply some elements in religion that can't be totally explained -- only named. There is a point where rationalism stops. At that moment, faith and experience must begin. At that point, spirituality is born. These moments, these elements simply cannot be contained in any purely human intellectual system. Nor can they be wholly exhausted in practice and conduct.       

          We can only faintly suggest these moments we call holy through symbol and sacrament. We can only celebrate them. At that moment, worship comes into being.   At that moment our interior, ultimate journey begins. At that moment we know the touch of the hand of God.  When does God touch us?

          A better question for us to ask might be, why should the Creator of the Universes bother to touch us in the midst of our humdrum, everyday lives on this third planet from a rather minor sun, located out on the edge of the galactic boondocks? Why should such a God touch us? There's only one possible answer-- out of love. Why love us so? Not because of who or what we are. But rather, because of who God is—God’s very nature is love

          The corollary question is: how does the Mind of the Universe touch us? With nurture. With power. With forgiveness. With acceptance. With growth, With a call.Joseph Campbell points to that moment and names it  “the call to adventure.”

          Read the Hebrew Bible. Read the Kabbalah, Study the commentaries of the Rabbis. Read the New Testament.  Study Christian Theology-- Orthodox, Catholic, and Protestant .  Read about the lives of the saints. Read the mystics. Learn about the Reformers.

Study the other great religions of the world—Islam, Buddhism, Ba’hai. Read about the lives of Mohammed, Ghandi, the Buddha. Read the Tao-Tse-Ching. Learn about Native American and African religions. Read the prayer-poetry of Rumi.

          Whenever you read about the truest experiences of interaction between God and humanity, when you and I experience our deepest spiritual experiences, our own holiest moments, you'll find that they are all moments of call.

          "Moses, I'm sending you. Go tell Pharaoh to let my people go." And Moses said,

          "Who, me?  Who am I to free the people?  How?  When?  Where?  Me?" And God said,

          "I will be with you."

          Take off your shoes, you're standing on holy ground. Some of the  ancients believed that certain places in the world were holy because they were literally closer to heaven than others. Others thought certain places were the center of the world-- or the universe. Be you and I know. The holiest ground are the places where men and women have faithfully responded, despite their doubts and frailties, in hope and commitment.

          "Take off your shoes, you're standing on holy ground. Go, free my people."

          Go start an adult Sunday School class. Go take a foster child into your home. Go tutor after-school. Go organize a hunger walk. Go volunteer at our pantry. Go volunteer at our new children’s library at Trinity. Go volunteer at your local neighborhood school. Go take a church office. Go join the choir. Go volunteer at Daybreak . Go volunteer at a nursing home.  Go start a homeless shelter. Go on a mission trip. Go build a handicapped ramp for your neighbor. Go tithe Go become a missionary half-way across the world. 

Go back to school. Go mend your broken relationships. Go teach the children about the love of God. Go learn from the children how to love.

          "Who am I to do this?'

          "I will be with you-- that is who you are. That is all you need. That is your call. This is your moment of holiness. I will be with you."

          Our God still calls men and women in our world. The truest test of a moment of holiness is whether or not it leads us to grow-- whether or not it leads us to acts of charity and outreach-- whether or not it leads us to respect for the ground and the experiences others have found sacred.  There are many places in this world that are holy. Some are places we all know about-- others are unknown except to those who have been touched and called in them.

          Our world is full of need. Many people and places and issues remain in desperate need of the work and witness that committed believers can bring. Many need to hear the good news of liberation and hope. Many are in dire need-- the hungry, the homeless, the grieving, the enslaved, the institutionalized and the oppressed.

          There are so many areas where you and I can be in ministry-- through our prayers, our gifts, our service. There are many issues the world must resolve-- the Ecological crisis, the International Debt crisis, AIDS and other killing diseases, the economic crises, the winds of freedom blowing around the world, the struggle for economic and political justice, (which is the only true answer to the threat of terror and war), the struggle against racism, the needs of the exploited in our own land, the personal battles of men and women against addiction, confusion, racism, homophobia, hatred, and sin.

          Few people are ever called to such a great and holy task as Moses.

But all of us are called to love our God, to serve our neighbors, to witness, to share, to pray, to work, to do justice, love kindness and walk humbly with our God-- within our own tiny corner of the world.   Who are we to do such things?

          "I will go with you. That is who you are, that is al you need to know”  says the One who made us.