Gospel of Life Sunday 27 March 2022

 

Text this week is the Gospel of Life, living in the present moment.

Reflection        Waiting for the BART yellow line to San Francisco, chill wind whipped hair into my eyes while the screaming thunder of the approaching train signaled my senses, “Be on guard.” Minding my posture as well as the gap, I settled into the welcome warmth of the less than half occupied car. Unwashed train windows were fitting backdrop for the long winded woman who joined us at the first stop.

It took me awhile to figure out that the wired woman was pontificating to London Breed, the mayor of San Francisco. Words were lost in the river of her emotion as she balanced her bulging backpack on the seat, leaving scarce room for her to sit while reaching into a tattered sack to retrieve a can of beer. I resumed my vigil surveilling fly by cardboard villages buried beneath overpasses and caravans of dilapidated vehicles parked nose to tail along their curbside home. Gazing through dirt stained windows tears caught my throat and blurred my vision.

Screeching to the next jarring halt, like a neglected proscenium the train doors part revealing a mammoth man squeezed and restrained in a wheelchair, a ghoulish red haired doll strapped to his shoulder as a disheveled caretaker bumps, bangs and locks the scene in place. Within a matter of seconds London Breed’s provocateur renews her protestations, the wheelchair man’s head falls forward and we dive to one hundred and thirty five feet below the San Francisco bay. 

Now staring straight into oblivion, the damn in my blurry eyes bursts as a fiery tong pierces my  heart. “Oh my God, such anguish and adversity, such misery and misfortune. And here I sit on my way to sip wine and slurp oysters. I am so blessed, so incredibly blessed. I could be barely surviving entombed beneath train tracks or restrained in a wheelchair with a diabolical doll strapped to my shoulder.” Then something broke open and it occurred to me. I am. 

I am not other than London Breed’s agent provocateur. I am not other than wheelchair man or the dispossessed box dwellers. 

When Moses asks God for God’s name, God answers, I AM. (Exodus 3.13) I AM is that which we all are, made in the image and likeness of the One, Holy and Living I AM.  We are One I AM.  When we allow ourselves to settle into the fullness and messiness, the wounds and the wonder of every stinking real life moment we not only find our selves, we also find God in the faces of every I AM. 

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Matthew 2:1-12        In the time of King Herod, after Jesus was born in Bethlehem of Judea, wise men from the East came to Jerusalem, asking, "Where is the child who has been born king of the Jews? For we observed his star at its rising, and have come to pay him homage." When King Herod heard this, he was frightened, and all Jerusalem with him; and calling together all the chief priests and scribes of the people, he inquired of them where the Messiah was to be born. They told him, "In Bethlehem of Judea; for so it has been written by the prophet:

`And you, Bethlehem, in the land of Judah,

are by no means least among the rulers of Judah;

for from you shall come a ruler

who is to shepherd my people Israel.'"

Then Herod secretly called for the wise men and learned from them the exact time when the star had appeared. Then he sent them to Bethlehem, saying, "Go and search diligently for the child; and when you have found him, bring me word so that I may also go and pay him homage." When they had heard the king, they set out; and there, ahead of them, went the star that they had seen at its rising, until it stopped over the place where the child was. When they saw that the star had stopped, they were overwhelmed with joy. On entering the house, they saw the child with Mary his mother; and they knelt down and paid him homage. Then, opening their treasure chests, they offered him gifts of gold, frankincense, and myrrh. And having been warned in a dream not to return to Herod, they left for their own country by another road.

Reflection        Walking south on Shattuck on the East Side of the bay in Berkeley, California, heading toward Church Divinity School of the Pacific I lost count of the number of homeless people over or around whom I had to step. It was my first day in seminary. Before I arrived at the chapel for Morning Prayer I had given away my lunch and cash. Following a week of this heart wrenching ritual I went to my faculty advisor, The Rev. Dr. Louis Weil, and asked, “What shall I do?”

After duly acknowledging the gravity of the situation Louis counseled, “Choose one person, make them your person and take care of them.” Now you might think this would be easy, but how, oh how could I possibly choose one person out of the hundreds in need? Every day I walked, scanned the sidewalks, curbs and benches silently asking, “Are you my person?” Every day until the late afternoon I saw a star shining in the eyes of a man sitting on the sidewalk, back against the street sign outside the corner Blockbuster franchise. (For those who may not know, once upon a time people actually walked into brick and mortar shops like Blockbuster to rent videos!) I will call “my person”  Zeke.

I have no idea how I knew that I knew that Zeke was “my person,” but that is what epiphany is about. It is recognizing the divine in the world around us, in the people we encounter. And the natural response is to offer our gifts. Most days for the next three years I made my way to Zeke’s corner, offered a gift of cash or lunch, conversation, or help getting an id card and access to human services. Each time I looked into Zeke’s pacific eyes I recognized divinity therein and realized, I needed Zeke more than he needed me.  You see, Zeke always had the last word, pausing after each utterance to articulate his benediction, “God….bless…. you.”

Epiphany celebrates the journey of the wise bringing gifts to honor the Incarnation, the enfleshed presence of Divinity. Which begs several questions. Are we recognizing the presence of the Christ in the people around us? Are we being deceived by the rich and worldly? Are we seeing the Christ in the least, the lost and the lonely? Are we celebrating the revelation of Christ present by offering our gifts unselfishly?

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Gospel text for Sunday 6 October 2019

Luke 17.5-10        The apostles said to the Lord, "Increase our faith!" The Lord replied, "If you had faith the size of a mustard seed, you could say to this mulberry tree, `Be uprooted and planted in the sea,' and it would obey you.

"Who among you would say to your slave who has just come in from plowing or tending sheep in the field, `Come here at once and take your place at the table'? Would you not rather say to him, `Prepare supper for me, put on your apron and serve me while I eat and drink; later you may eat and drink'? Do you thank the slave for doing what was commanded? So you also, when you have done all that you were ordered to do, say, `We are worthless slaves; we have done only what we ought to have done!’"

Reflection  Episcopalians never miss a beat with this familiar dialogue. “God is with you.” “And also with you.” But, what are we actually saying? I believe we are consenting to “with God” life. What that means is, we are consciously choosing to subordinate our personal self interest in order to advance Christ’s mission and ministry in the world. Essentially we are saying, “We are male or female servants, or slaves of Christ.” 

As “slaves” of Christ we are aligned in the will of God. This means, we are sincere when we pray, “Not my will, Your will be done.”  In this act of giving ourselves, our self interest away we are acknowledging that we are people who serve another. It does not matter if we are called disciples, apostles or pupils, attendants, devotees or servants, we are giving our selves over to God. We are essentially, the slaves of God.

Like our young sister Mary, we are asked to conceive of the utterly impossible; “uprooting and planting a mulberry tree in the sea,” lavishly give shelter to the homeless, food to the hungry, healing to the sick, wholeheartedly offer welcome to the stranger, freedom to the prisoner, love to the enemy, which all together add up to; unequivocally give birth to the presence of God with us. When we are asked to subordinate our personal self interest in order to advance Christ’s mission and ministry in the world, what is the first thing that comes to mind? “How can this be, since we are only human? The problems in our world are far beyond anything we can manage. This is too hard. There are too many homeless and hungry and sick, scores of strangers and prisoners and frightful enemies.” It is time to put down our protests and hear the words the Angel of God spoke to young Mary echoing in every cell and every space of our being, “For with God nothing will be impossible.”(Luke 1.37) With God. 

The little word “with” is rich with meaning in Biblical Greek. “Para” refers to something that proceeds from one's sphere of power, or from one's wealth. When we accept the Angel’s annunciation, “For with God nothing will be impossible,” we are affirming that with our will aligned in the will of God, all that proceeds through us is impregnated with the power and the wealth of God’s presence. With God, all things are possible. 

Without reluctance we confess, “We are worthless slaves; we have done only what we ought to have done,” because achreios, which in our text is translated ‘worthless,’ achreios is understood to be a hyperbolic reference to pious modesty. We humbly acknowledge that all the good that we do arises from the wealth and power of God’s presence with us. As slaves of Christ we call ourselves achreios, not deserving of merit, because we have done nothing more than what we ought to have done; lavishly give shelter to the homeless, food to the hungry, healing to the sick, wholeheartedly offer welcome to the stranger, freedom to the prisoner, love to the enemy, which all together add up to; unequivocally giving birth to the presence of God with us.  

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