Following Jesus to the Cross

Sermon

Maundy Thursday-April 5, 2012

Following Jesus to the Cross

John 13:1-17, 31b-35

A friend of mine told me the other day that he had 582 Facebook friends. A few weeks ago a young teen who I am counseling reported that she had sent 14,346 text messages in the previous month. The last time I was at McCarren airport, I overheard a businessman telling his traveling partner that he no longer needed anything but his iPad. “It has eliminated my need for a computer, a television, and a phone,” he declared. At the doctor’s office last Thursday, there were 14 people in the waiting room; 11 had electronic devices on which they were communicating to some other electronic device. Of those 11 people, 6 wore earbuds, listening, I presume, to some piece of music downloaded from iTunes.

Intrigued by the effect of the growing Internet phenomenon, I decided to “jump onto” the Internet myself. I settled in at my desk and developed a series of Google searches that focused on questions such as “What is the Internet doing to our society?”

After reading several boring and quite a few absolutely fascinating articles, it became clear to me that the rapidly expanding universe of information to be found on the Internet, and its proliferation of social media opportunities for individuals of all ages, has resulted in many of us turning to the Internet for answers to life’s questions, and for companionship.

I then wondered, “What is the Internet doing to church attendance.” I did not find many serious answers to that question. However, I did come upon an article that appeared in the November 8, 2011 edition of Episcopal News Service - “Episcopal Church membership shows some regional growth; overall decline,” authored by Mary Frances Schjonberg.

Schjonberg wrote, “While membership in 16 of the Episcopal Church's domestic dioceses and eight of its non-domestic ones grew in 2010, recently released data shows that overall membership has declined. The decrease is part of a trend that has seen membership decline by just more than 16 percent since 2000.”

Further into the article, Schjonberg quotes Bishop Stacey Sauls, the Episcopal Church’s chief operating officer. Bishop Sauls responded to the release of this data by saying, "These statistics reveal something very important about the challenges we face as a church," One of those is that we cannot allow statistics like this to make us anxious about our survival. Earthly survival is not of much value to the Gospel. Striving for the kingdom and righteousness of God is. Concentrating on the latter is likely to yield more abundant life than the former (Mt. 6:31-33)."

Sauls said that the statistics also show that "we cannot continue to pretend we are the church of the establishment entitled to the power, prestige and privilege that comes with that."

"Right now, I think the cross calls us to die to those trappings of our old establishment life, and that means turning our attention single-mindedly to God's mission and our participation in it, which means that we are going to have to restructure and reform ourselves accordingly," he said. "Churches that turn inward will die. Churches that turn outward will not only live, but thrive. The numbers call us to strengthen our commitment to turn outward."

Wondering about the decline in church attendance versus the increase in Internet usage I performed yet another Google search and found that in 1990 only 2% of the population used the Internet. By 2011 that number had increased to 79.3%. That is an increase of over 77% - a great many people; especially considering that during that same period of time the population in the United States also increased – by approximately 10 million people.

Episcopal Church attendance down 16% despite a population increase of 10 million people; Internet usage up 77%; and, a mandate from the national church to “restructure and reform ourselves… to turn outward.”

Critical thoughts for us to ponder today -  Maundy Thursday.  Derived from the Latin word mandatum, meaning "commandment," Maundy refers to the commands Jesus gave his disciples at the Last Supper: to love with humility by serving one another and to follow him to the cross.

Before the Passover meal, Jesus demonstrated his humility and his love for the disciples through the ritual of footwashing:

 “Now before the festival of the Passover, Jesus knew that his hour had come to depart from this world and go to the Father. Having loved his own who were in the world, he loved them to the end…he got up from the table and took off his outer robe and tied a towel around himself. Then he poured water into a basin and began to wash the disciple’s feet and to wipe them with the towel that was around him.”

By performing this lowly act of service, Jesus showed his disciples the full extent of his love. By his example, Jesus demonstrated how Christians are to love one another through humble service. Jesus tells the disciples: “For I have set you an example, that you should also do as I have done to you.”

A bit later in the evening, Jesus says to the disciples:

“Little children… I give you a new commandment, that you love one another. Just as I have loved you, you also should love one another. By this everyone will know that you are my disciples, if you have love for one another.”

Our teacher, our loved one has told us that he is leaving. He gives us final instructions – simple ones: be humble, serve God only, and love one another. Through his actions Jesus shows us how these commandments should be carried out – by washing feet - the lowliest of tasks performed only by gentile slaves,  and by being crucified – by giving his life to God..

Jesus intentionally and indiscriminately loved us, and he intentionally and passionately journeyed to a place in which he knew he would sacrifice his life for his God. Filled with God’s passion for the Kingdom of God, Jesus offered himself up as a gift to God. His love flowed outward.

It is quite easy on this emotional evening for us to end with tears and silence, exiting into the dark evening, painfully anticipating Jesus’ torture, his suffering, and his death. We experience a dreadful emptiness – Jesus is no longer with us.

It is also quite easy to sooth ourselves by remembering that Easter is only a matter of hours away. Jesus will return. He will be raised from the dead in all his glory; he will become Christ our Savior.

That’s the easy way to experience this painful evening - the easy way out.

But, I would like to ask you to think about and to experience this evening in a different way. I would like to ask you to experience this evening in the context of our society here in Nevada in the year 2012, and in the context of Bishop Saul’s observation that “the cross calls us to die to those trappings of our old establishment life, and that means turning our attention single-mindedly to God's mission and our participation in it, which means that we are going to have to restructure and reform ourselves accordingly… The numbers call us to strengthen our commitment to turn outward.""

These are simple words that convey extremely complex concepts – “die to the trappings of our old establishment life; restructure and reform ourselves accordingly; strengthen our commitment to turn outward.”

What do these words mean, in general? What do they mean for us here at Grace? Can we, like the Internet entrepreneurs, turn our numbers around by going into the community and witnessing God’s love through thought, word, and deed? Can we attract crowds by providing healing through acts of mercy and social justice just as Jesus did as he journeyed from Galilee to Jerusalem? Can we renew and reinvigorate God’s community in the world? If so…HOW?

Tonight as we exit Grace in the Desert and return home to good food, comfortable beds, and, yes - the Internet, will we be mourning the loss of Jesus, or will we be racking our brains in an effort to figure out what our cross looks like?

Are we satisfied to keep Christ alive only for ourselves here at Grace – is that what it means for us to “take up our cross” and follow him in 2012? Or, do we feel a sense of urgency to reverse those foreboding statistics – 16% decline in Episcopal Church attendance?

To follow Jesus is not to mourn his suffering and death this evening; but rather it is, with singleness of heart and courage, to take up his challenge of servanthood and love, and to offer ourselves to the cross with a passionate love of God, and as disciples of Christ, now and for eve.

Whose Servant Am I?

Sermon

Whose Servant Am I?

Sunday, March 25, 2012

John 12:20-33 

I had just settled into a comfortable seat in a real restaurant. The lights were dim; there was no muzak, just a live piano player who was amazingly sensitive to one’s need to think, talk and be heard; my glass of pinot grigio had arrived and was just perfect. After an incredibly long and complex week I was settling in for a quiet evening all by myself – just me, my wine, my grilled salmon, and then onto a soft, cozy bed. What could be better!

 I glanced at my phone and decided to check for any last minute emails that might need answering. A final detail I wanted out of the way. As I logged onto Gmail, my waiter approached and said, “I like your cross.”

 With a distinct “please go away” tone in my voice, my eyes somewhere between my phone and the waiter’s face, I said, “So do I. I wear it every day.” (I hoped this was gently rude enough to deter him. I wanted to get back to my wine and my Gmail).

 No such luck, the waiter continued speaking. He clearly wanted to share a story that demanded my attention – full on. With a sigh, I turned my phone off; put it down, looked him straight in the eye, and began listening.

 The waiter told me that he now wears a cross too – under his shirt. He went on to explain that until recently his life had consisted of work only. He left home six days a week to come to work, and then return home to watch TV and sleep. His son, now grown, lives far away; his wife died many years ago. Recently, while driving to work he noticed St. Anne’s Catholic Church. He drove in, parked and discovered that the chapel door was open – he went into the chapel and sat there for fifteen minutes before resuming his journey to work.

 “You know,” he said, “They leave the chapel door open from 8 AM to 5 PM every day of the week; sometimes the church is open too. Anyone can go in. It’s a wonderful thing. I go in four or five times and week. I look at all the beauty around me; I listen for God; and, I pray. Each day that I go into that chapel I just feel all my troubles fall away; it’s really amazing”

 “Wow,” I said to myself; and, I wanted to drink wine and read email instead of listening to this man who wanted to share his story; his story of the peace that Christ has brought to him through disciplined reflection and worship. “Wow. Whose servant am I anyway?”

 Several weeks ago on Ash Wednesday we began the holy season of Lent. The Church has, from very early on, called its people to a time of fasting to prepare for the paschal feast at Easter. Over time this fast became fixed at forty days. We begin this forty-day season of Lent on Ash Wednesday; it draws to an end with our Holy Week celebrations.

Fasting and penitence have always been Christian practices intended, not as a means of punishment, but as a means of drawing us into a deeper knowledge of the life-changing meaning of the paschal mystery: Christ’s life, ministry, death, and resurrection. The forty days of Lent give us a time and an opportunity to vary and rethink the rhythm of our daily individual and weekly common life. It gives us a time in which we can discover new dimensions of our relationships with God, one another, and the world. It gives us a time in which we can see and understand more clearly the life we have been given by God in Christ; the life of a servant.

Today’s Good News in all of our readings is loud and clear: The road to glory is servanthood: Servanthood to God; not servanthood to this life.

In Psalm 119 the psalmist expresses so beautifully his servanthood to God when he says, “I have taken greater delight in the way of your decrees than in all manner of riches. I will meditate on your commandments and give attention to your ways. My delight is in your statutes; I will not forget your word.”

In the Letter to the Hebrews, an anonymous sermon written to encourage an early Christian community to continued faith and hope in the face of hardship, we are told: In the days of his flesh, Jesus offered up prayers and supplications with loud cries and tears, to the one who was able to save him from death, and he was heard because of his reverent submission. Although he was a Son, he learned obedience through what he suffered; and having been made perfect, he became the source of eternal salvation for all who obey him…”

Finally, in John’s Gospel Jesus tells his followers, “Those who love their life will lose it, and those who hate their life in this world will keep it for eternal life. Whoever serves me must follow me, and where I am, there will my servant be also. Whoever serves me, the Father will honor.”

As we draw to the close of this Lenten season, perhaps it is more important than ever to recall the reflections, meditations, conversations, and other activities in which we have engaged over this brief forty day period, and to focus our hearts and our minds on our call to “repent and return” to the way of the Lord by losing our life.

When Christ says to his disciples, “Now is the judgment of this world; now the ruler will be driven out. And I, when I am lifted up from the earth, will draw all people to myself…”  When Jesus utters these words, he is calling us to be his servants; he is calling us to follow him to the cross and beyond; he is calling us to take up his cross. He is calling us to put down our cell phones, and to seek and serve the Christ in others.

Dietrich Bonheoffer in the Cost of Discipleship wrote, “When Christ calls a man, He bids him come and die. It may be a death like that of the first disciples who had to leave home and work to follow him, or it may be a death like Luther’s, who had to leave the monastery and go out into the world. But it is the same death every time – death in Jesus Christ…”

The Apostle Paul wrote, “Your attitude should be the same as that of Christ Jesus: Who being in very nature God, did not consider equality with God something to be grasped, but made himself nothing, taking the very nature of a servant, being made in human likeness. And being found in appearance as a man, he humbled himself and became obedient to death--even death on a cross!”

Now, as we are just days away from Palm Sunday and Holy Week, now is the time to think hard about the ways in which we, each one of us, must die in order to become our Lord’s servant; in order to take up Christ’s cross and to lift it high so that those who are lonely and lost can enter into God’s heavenly Kingdom here on earth and beyond.

Now is the time to ask ourselves: Whose servant am I?

The Voice of Authority and The Red Door

Sermon

The Voice of Authority and The Red Door

Sunday, January 29, 2012

Mark 1: 21-28

The year 1995 was not a good year for me. Professionally, I was burned out; personally I was confused. After years of cruising along thinking, “Life is great – I know just where I am going and how I am going to get there,” I had reached a cliff. It was a cliff that abruptly dropped off into a big black hole - a big, black hole that, seemingly, had no bottom.

My road of life so confidently embarked upon in my early twenties, had now, it seemed, ended abruptly at age 53.  It didn’t gently branch off into two different paths; it didn’t helpfully offer road signs pointing to “most success,” moderate success,” “happiness,” “sorrow,” “danger; or, no trespassing.” My road didn’t even have the courtesy to say,” Dead end;” it just stopped; abruptly and without warning.

As you might imagine, I felt quite sorry for myself. I shed copious amounts of tears. I uttered an unending litany of “how could this happen to me?” statements. And, after several weeks, I finally, I decided to drop everything, except my little dog, and head off to Portland, Maine to spend some time with my daughter and her husband.

I arrived in Portland; leased an apartment; walked my dog incessantly; and cried a lot. A word of advice – if you ever find yourself in those same shoes – don’t drop everything and go to live near your daughter, who is married, with only a dog for a companion, in a town where you know no one and where the snow drifts over your line of vision in the wintertime.

The situation was bleak – really bleak.

Then one day, walking down State Street, I passed the Cathedral Church of St. Luke. It wasn’t snowing that day. In fact, the sun was shining and there was a hint of spring in the air. Without giving it any thought, as I passed the church I looked at its huge red doors that were tightly shut. I remember saying to myself, “The church is probably locked.” At that same moment, I heard a voice. Yes, I heard a voice, a voice with authority. The voice said; “Come in.”

The voice that I heard was without question a voice of authority. It was a voice of authority, and a voice that astounded me.

In today’s Gospel reading we hear about others many years ago who heard that same voice of authority and who were, as was I, astounded.

“They went to Capernaum; and when the Sabbath came, he entered the synagogue and taught. They were astounded at his teaching, for he taught them as one having authority, and not as the scribes. (Mark 1: 21-23)

Jesus’ early ministry was based in his home town of Capernaum, a small town on the northern coast of the Sea of Galilee. Jesus grew up in Capernaum. His first disciples, Peter and Andrew, were also from Capernaum. Jesus had been teaching and praying regularly at his local synagogue in Capernaum for many years; he was not a newcomer. In short, it is quite likely that everyone in the little local synagogue knew Jesus quite well and had heard him teach many times before.

However, for some reason on this particular day the gathered group of worshippers saw and heard him with new eyes and with new ears. They saw and heard him as someone with power; someone with authority.

Somehow, on this day, Jesus’ teaching - the way in which he spoke - was very different. Jesus was not just interpreting Torah; he was not simply mouthing doctrinal statements based on his interpretation of Jewish Law. No, today, Jesus was speaking as God’s son. His teaching, his words and the way in which he spoke them, came directly from God. He spoke with authority – the authority given him by God the Father.

I heard a voice, a voice with authority that said; “Come in.”

When the scribes and all the others in the synagogue heard Jesus command the unclean spirit to “Be silent, and come out of him,” they heard a voice of authority, and they were amazed. They kept asking one another, “What is this – a new teaching – with authority! He commands even the unclean spirits, and they obey him.”

I was amazed when I heard the voice with authority say, “Come in.” I said to myself, “What is this; should I obey this command?”

 Across the years, from Mark’s time right up until today, Jesus still speaks to us with authority. When we are overwhelmed with difficulties - grief, addiction, illness  - whatever the situation - if we listen with the ears of our heart, if we listen carefully, we will hear Jesus saying with authority, “Come in.”

What does this mean for us today – what is the good news that we can take from this voice of authority that will sustain us and point the way to salvation; to eternal peace in God’s Kingdom?

The good news is that when Christ speaks to us with authority – through Scripture – through our baptism – through the bread and the wine that together we receive each week – through our prayers – through the kindness that we show each other – through tightly shut red doors - when Christ speaks to us with authority; Christ ACTS.

When we hear his voice, if we accept his invitation to “come in,” and give our lives – our hearts, our souls, and our minds - to Christ, he becomes the Lord of our life. He becomes present and becomes the road that leads us through the tangled maze of our everyday struggles here on earth into the eternal Kingdom of Heaven. When Christ speaks to us, if we listen, the tightly shut red door is opened. We find our way and our lives are transformed.

Back in Maine, I went through the red doors of the Cathedral and entered a cold and darkened church. Afraid, yet drawn forward, I sat in a pew near the sanctuary, sank onto a beautiful needlepoint kneeling cushion, and immediately began to cry. A priest silently appeared out of nowhere and without a word sat down next to me. The road for the rest of my life re-appeared.

I am sure that many among you have had a similar experience. You have heard that same voice of authority. A voice of authority saying, “Come in;” and you have accepted that same invitation; an invitation to “come in;” to enter the tightly shut red doors. And, in doing so, your cliff to nowhere disappeared; you discovered a new road; a new way of being in Christ, with Christ, and through Christ.

There is another piece to this story, however; a piece that we must never forget. When Christ speaks to us with authority; when he invites us to open the tightly shut red doors; he saves us; we are with him and he is with us. But that is not all that is implicit in Christ’s invitation to us.

Once we have been welcomed and feel at home on the other side of the red doors, we are called to become a shepherd to those who hear the voice of authority, enter the cold and darkened church through the red doors, and sit down and cry. We are called to welcome others.

In John’s Gospel Jesus reveals himself to us as the Son of God through seven “I am” statements.

I AM the bread of life.

            I AM the light of the world.

I AM the door.

I AM the good shepherd.

I AM the resurrection and the life.

I AM the way, the truth and the life.

I AM the true vine.

After his death and resurrection, Jesus revealed his intention for the disciples. He commissioned them to carry his voice of authority throughout the world, when he said:

“All authority in heaven and on earth has been given to me. ¹⁹ Therefore go and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, ²⁰ and teaching them to obey everything I have commanded you. And surely I am with you always, to the very end of the age.”(Mark 28:16-20)

We who have heard and responded to the voice of authority are blessed with God’s grace in lives made right through faith. Are we ready for the next step? Are we ready to silently approach the stranger in our midst who enters with fear, crying for help, and sit gently beside him or her as they listen to Christ enter their lives? Are we ready to help them know that Christ is with us always, to the very end of the age?

The Light

Sermon

The Light

Sunday, December 11, 2011

John 1:6-8, 19-28

In preparing for this sermon, I mentioned to my husband, Devin, that I planned to include a discussion of the rose candle that we traditionally light on the third Sunday in Advent. In his customary direct and, usually, very “right on” way he replied, “Why only the rose candle? Why not all of them? I don’t understand what any of them are about.”

Well, I don’t know if that’s true of everyone here – I am thinking that many of you know exactly what each of the Advent candles represent. Nevertheless, I took Devin’s comment to heart, remembering that the basis of our faith is communal worship – reading Scripture, praying and breaking bread together. Together being the instrumental word here. And, if we are to be together, it goes without saying, that we should share a common understanding of what we are “together” on.

Today, as we observe the lighting of the advent candles in our Advent wreath; as we offer prayers of praise, thanksgiving and repentance; as we await the birth of the baby Jesus in a Bethlehem manger, let us pray that together we can in some small way understand the true wonder of what it is that we are awaiting – the Good News.

The word Advent means "coming" or "arrival." The focus of our activities here at Grace in the Desert, and in other Christian communities throughout the world, during this Advent season is to prepare for the celebration of the arrival, or birth, of Jesus. We are preparing to celebrate the incarnation of God in the baby Jesus. We are preparing for the birth of a child through whom all of creation will be reconciled to God.

Scripture readings for Advent reflect on the gift that we are about to receive. They also alert us to our expected participation in receiving this gift through a life of repentance, faithfulness, stewardship, mission and the hope of eternal life.

Paul in his first letter to the Thessalonians says:

Rejoice always, ¹⁷pray without ceasing, ¹⁸give thanks in all circumstances; for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus for you. ¹⁹Do not quench the Spirit. ²⁰Do not despise the words of prophets, ²¹but test everything; hold fast to what is good; ²²abstain from every form of evil. ²³May the God of peace himself sanctify you entirely; and may your spirit and soul and body be kept sound and blameless at the coming of our Lord Jesus Christ. ²⁴The one who calls you is faithful, and he will do this. (1 Thes. 5:16-24)

Advent is also the time for a reflective journey that helps us to focus our spiritual lives as members of the Grace in the Desert community. As we anticipate God’s arrival in the Incarnation, we take on the responsibility of understanding our role as a community commissioned to "love the Lord your God with all your heart" and to "love your neighbor as yourself," remembering the prophet Isaiah’s incredibly powerful words:

“The spirit of the Lord God is upon me, because the Lord has anointed me; he has sent me to bring good news to the oppressed, to bind up the brokenhearted, to proclaim liberty to the captives and to release the prisoners; to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor, and the day of vengeance for our God; to comfort all who mourn in Zion – to give them a garland instead of ashes, the oil of gladness instead of mourning, the mantle of praise instead of a faint spirit.”(Isaiah 61:1-4)

Advent is also a time to reflect on the amazing gift that we receive through the Incarnation. Dietrich Bonhoeffer offers a powerful image of this incredible birth story in one of his Advent reflections:

“What is going on here, where Mary becomes the mother of God, where God comes into the world in the lowliness of a manger? World judgment and world redemption – that is what is happening here. And it is the Christ child in the manger himself who holds world judgment and world redemption. He pushes back the high and mighty; he overturns the thrones of the powerful; he humbles the haughty; his arm exercises power over all the high and the mighty; he lifts what is lowly, and makes it great and glorious in his mercy. (Bonhoeffer, D., God is in the Manger; p. 42)

A second Bonhoeffer quote, this time from a Christmas sermon that he delivered in 1940, completes his thoughts on the arrival of the Christ-child:

“This is about the birth of a child, not the astonishing work of a strong man, not the bold discovery of a wise man, not the pious work of a saint. It really is beyond all our understanding: the birth of a child shall bring about the great change, shall bring to all mankind salvation and deliverance.”(“The Government upon the Shoulders of a Child, Christmas 1940)

John’s Gospel also describes the arrival of Jesus into our lives just as powerfully, and makes clear that this child was sent from God, and that this child is God.

“There was a man sent from God, whose name was John. He came as a witness to testify to the light, so that all might believe through him. He himself was not the light, but he came to testify to the light…He said, ‘I am a voice crying out in the wilderness, Make straight the way of the Lord.’” (John 1:6-8, 23)

John was sent by God to point people to Jesus; to point people to the light; to “Make straight the way of the Lord.”  Jesus is the Light. To see Jesus – to see the light - is to believe; to have faith; to be redeemed; to be reconciled to God.

In preparing for the birth of Jesus we must understand that like John the Baptist we are anointed through our baptismal vows to carry on the work of John; to point people to Jesus; to point people to the light.

I believe I have now arrived back where I started – or, at least I hope so. We are back to the candles – the light.

At the beginning of Advent we decorate the church with evergreen wreaths, boughs, or trees that help to symbolize the new and everlasting life brought through Jesus the Christ. The Advent wreath is a symbol of the beginning of the Church year. It is a circular evergreen wreath with five candles, four around the wreath and one in the center.

The circle of the wreath reminds us of God Himself, His eternity and endless mercy, which has no beginning or end. The green of the wreath speaks of the hope that we have in God, the hope of newness, of renewal, of eternal life. The candles symbolize the light of God coming into the world through the birth of His son.

The four outer candles represent the period of waiting during the four Sundays of Advent, which themselves symbolize the four centuries of waiting between the prophet Malachi and the birth of Christ.

The colors of the candles vary with different traditions, but there are usually three purple or blue candles, corresponding to the sanctuary colors of Advent, and one pink or rose candle. One of the blue candles is lighted the first Sunday of Advent, and a prayer offered. On subsequent Sundays, previous candles are re-lighted with an additional one lighted. The pink candle is usually lighted on the third Sunday of Advent. The pink symbolizes relief from the long wait for the advent of the Christ child will soon be over. The joy of his birth will soon be upon us.

The center candle is white and is called the Christ Candle. It is traditionally lighted on Christmas Eve or Christmas Day. The central location of the Christ Candle reminds us that the incarnation is the heart of the season, giving light to the world

The light of the candles itself becomes an important symbol of the season. The light reminds us that Jesus is the light of the world that comes into the darkness of our lives to bring newness, life, and hope. It also reminds us that we are called to be a light to the world as we reflect the light of God's grace to others (Isa 42:6).

The progression in the lighting of the candles symbolizes the various aspects of our waiting experience. As the candles are lighted over the four week period, it also symbolizes the darkness of fear and hopelessness receding and the shadows of sin falling away as more and more light is shed into the world. The flame of each new candle reminds us that something is happening, and that more is yet to come. Finally, the light that has come into the world is plainly visible as the Christ Candle is lighted at Christmas, and worshippers rejoice over the fact that the hope and promise of long ago have been realized.

“There was a man sent from God, whose name was John. He came as a witness to testify to the light, so that all might believe through him. He himself was not the light, but he came to testify to the light…He said, ‘I am a voice crying out in the wilderness, Make straight the way of the Lord.’” (John 1:6-8, 25)

AMEN

More Light and More Water, Please

Sermon
November 20, 2011

More Light and More Water, Please
Matthew 25:31-46

When I first arrived in Nevada four years ago, one of the first things that I did was to buy one of those cute little cactus groupings that are arranged in colorful bowls filled with sand and rocks.

I was quite proud of the one I found. It had several small round cacti that were bright orange, red, and green. It also had a rather spectacular tall green cactus with very long and very sharp spikes. The bowl itself was a multi-colored ceramic affair that fit perfectly on a small table near one of the sofas in our living room.

I was totally happy. I had become a true Nevadan complete with cactus and a couple of dream catchers.

However, my husband was quite annoying in his nagging me about the care of my cherished cactus. Time after time he said, “It needs more light, and you need to water it every once in a while.” I being my stubborn self, would reply, “It has plenty of light, and it’s a cactus, it doesn’t need water.”

The cactus remained on the table, pretty far from any natural light, and I watered it only once every couple of months and even then with just a little bit of water. After all, it really didn’t need any water – right?

Wrong - Very wrong.

About eight months after I purchased this poor little set of plants, I happened to look across the room and saw, much to my dismay, that the proudly tall green and very spiky cactus was limply hanging over the edge of the brightly colored bowl, and a milky fluid was leaking from its side - leaking all over my landlady’s fairly expensive beige wall-to-wall carpet.

My beautiful cactus was dead.

What in the world you might ask does my ignorance how about to care for a few little cactus plants have to do with today’s readings.

A great deal really. The words that we have just heard spoken in Ezekiel’s prophesy; Paul’s exhortations in his Letter To The Ephesians; and Jesus’ teachings in Matthew’s Gospel are all about caring. Caring about God’s creation and caring about God’s children; caring in a way that will make the world a better place; caring in a way that drives us to live as Jesus would have us live – watching out for and over people, places and things in need, and helping where we can.

Caring enough to give light and water.

In the Old Testament lesson, Yahweh calls Ezekiel to prophesy against the shepherds of Israel – their leaders. He is to condemn them for feeding themselves and not their sheep. They have failed to heal the sick and to see the lost. They have ruled harshly, and as a result the sheep have become scattered and become food for wild animals.

Yahweh pronounces judgment: “Behold, I am against the shepherds…I will deliver my sheep from their mouth, that they may not be food for them…I will bring them out of the peoples, and gather them from the countries, and will bring them into their own land…I will feed them with good pastures…I will seek that which was lost…I will feed them in justice.”

In Matthew’s Parable of the Sheep and the Goats deeds of mercy, meeting the specific needs of people, especially those who may go unseen and unheard, such as those suffering from persecution throughout the world, are the way to righteousness; the way to eternal life.

Jesus’ words are emphatic. We need to be mindful of the poor and the needy throughout the world. We need to care for all Christians - persecuted Christians in particular; and we need to support those who proclaim the Gospel and those whom they serve.

“Truly I tell you, just as you did not do it to one of the least of these, you did not do it to me. And these will go away into eternal punishment, but the righteous into eternal life.”

We are left with no ambiguity with regard to our duty. Christ will bless those who show mercy to “the least of these;” to those who watch for opportunities to minister to needy people throughout the world.

Paul in his Letter to the Ephesians could not be clearer. He writes,

“I pray that the God of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of glory, may give you a spirit of wisdom and revelation as you come to know him, so that, with the eyes of your heart enlightened, you may know what is the hope to which he has called you, what are the riches of his glorious inheritance among the saints,  and what is the immeasurable greatness of his power for us who believe, according to the working of his great power.”

Paul prays that, in our hearts – with the eyes of our hearts enlightened, we will see the gift of salvation that Jesus gave us through his death on the cross. Paul prays that we will become good shepherds of that gift and that through it we will come to know the joys of eternal life both now and in the world to come.

Paul prays that in seeing the gifts that God has given us, we will understand the incredible gift that we have to give others, and that we will engage in the giving of that gift – in caring for the sick, the needy and the lonely.

Now, you are going to ask me how does all that relate to the story about my cactus and to life, in general?  Well, pretty simple – I was not a good shepherd. I failed to recognize the gift of my little plant. I failed to understand that my little plant needed light and water and in so doing – I killed it. Pure and simple – it died for lack of care.

Now I am going to take a big leap from my cactus plant to our church, Grace in the Desert. 

That, quote/unquote, nagging that you are hearing this month from various members of the vestry and clergy, that nagging phrase that says, “Without your support we won’t be able to do the things that God is asking us to do here at Grace,” is a nagging that we all need to pay attention to. 

Grace in the Desert is our gift; it is is our church and it has a mission – a mission in Christ to serve our community and to care for the sick, the needy and the poor – to care for God’s sheep. Our gift of Grace has made us shepherds.

Our jobs as shepherds cannot be carried out with insufficient light and water.

Most assuredly without abundant support Grace, and our work at Grace, will die just like my cactus; just like any plant or human being will die if left uncared for; just like sheep who stray will die and be food for wild animals.

As members of the Grace in the Desert community we are the shepherds of our Church. Our membership at Grace is a symbol, an outward manifestation of our membership in God’s Kingdom. As members of God’s Kingdom, we need to tend our sheep. We need to hear the nagging. We need to move the plant, and water it! We need to respond with action; not complacency.

Grace in the Desert can be a great light in a troubled community and a troubled world. Grace in the Desert can heal many, many people. Grace in the Desert can bring us all closer to the eternal life that we all seek.

These are profoundly important goals. They cannot be reached without light and without water.