Prefering Christ One Bite at a Time!

‘Submit yourselves therefore to God. Resist the devil, and he will flee from you. Draw near to God, and he will draw near to you.” James 3:7-8a

Lent teaches us many things. One thing it teaches us is that there is often great truth children’s riddles. Like this one:

“How do you eat an elephant?”

“One bite at a time!”

Life is complicated and we yearn to make things simpler. But life still happens! All the things that life requires… from paying bills to getting a good night’s sleep, from work to relationships, from shopping to keeping up with family… don’t go away just because we are busy.

The modern drive towards being “productive” is nice but only takes one so far. In modern parlance, they became more “productive” …doing more in the same time slot… doesn’t always afford us more time to do the things we love. Instead we fill the time with more things…period. And so we feel tired, stressed and frazzled.

So what to do?

The starting place, for me, begins with an axiom that comes from the Rule of St. Benedict, in which he says to “prefer nothing to Christ.” Benedict’s instruction comes from the writings of Cyprian, third century bishop in North Africa, who followed the statement with these words: “for he has preferred nothing to us.”

The Rev. Jane Tomaine writes in her book The Benedictine Toolbox:

What a stunning truth—that Jesus has preferred nothing, that’s nothing, to each of us, unworthy though we are. Jesus revealed this in his Farewell Discourse when he said, “You did not choose me, but I chose you” (John 15:16a). Perhaps preferring Christ above all else is the only way that you and I can begin to fulfill the Gospel directive to love one another. In the Gospel of John Jesus tells us that those who love him will keep his word, and he and his Father will come and make a home with each of us (John 14:23). When we are a part of such a household we can turn outward and walk on the path of healing and reconciliation as did Jesus.

So, what does “preferring Christ” actually look like? Well, I am learning as I go here, but here is what I’ve observed so far:

First things first. Do the things that care for your health and your soul first. The first thing that tends to go out the window when we are busy is our time for prayer, however we structure it. The start of the day is a chance to align one’s thoughts, heart and body towards God. Maybe setting up a little prayer at the night table that we’ll see first thing on waking up or maybe on the door to the fridge or the bathroom mirror…some place where you already look might help. The same is true for exercise. Taking a little time to be in motion is also a great time to center your thoughts and pray. I have also learned (a little bit anyway) that the little moments that might make me feel impatient, like standing in line at a grocery store or being on hold or sitting in traffic, can become free moments of unplanned solitude; a moment to breathe a little, pray a little, look around a little.

Go gently. Don’t be so hard on yourself. In our society today, no matter how productive we might be there is always someone telling us to do more! Do what you do well. For me, this also means don’t over-promise, which manages to avoid disappointment from others and frustration with myself. One of the great joys of doing this work is that I don’t have to do it alone. I am learning once again for the first time how to share responsibilities in way that both relieves my load and, much more importantly, expands our capacity to minister. When I forget something or make a mistake, I learn from it, pray over it, listen to what it is teaching me and then move on.

Take yourself lightly. A few years ago, I went to my town’s local amphitheater to see four comedians perform at a community street fair. As I was sitting in the crowd, the mayor, who was emceeing the event, spotted me from the stage and said “Oh, hi Pastor!” My goose was cooked! I was fair game for three of the next four comics who performed! This was a useful lesson: don’t take yourself too seriously because if you can’t laugh at yourself then others surely will.

One bite at a time! This is where the child’s riddle comes in. My mother used to tell me, in an attempt to get me stop wolfing down my food at the table, to never try to gulp down anything bigger than your head. Segmenting problems into bite-sized chunks helps us not be overwhelmed by the size of the project or the number of obstacles.

Be Present. There’s an old Bill Mauldin cartoon from World War II where three muddy soldiers are marching along a road. Willy tells Joe, as they march behind the third soldier, “Poke ‘em will ya? He’s snoring!” When life is overwhelming it is easy to just fall into a rut and just put one foot in front of the other and lose consciousness. As Orthodox Archbishop and spiritual writer Anthony Bloom says, “If you cannot find God in this moment, you will never find him at all!”

Practice, practice, practice! 

There’s another old joke with great wisdom, about the tourist visiting New York who asks a musician “How do you get to Carnegie Hall?” The musician replies, “Practice! Practice! Practice!” 

It may surprise you to learn that from the time I was small, I have had this tendency to expect myself to be perfect at something on the very first attempt. Well, the only thing that teaches is how to give up!

For many years, I have been taking voice lessons, and my vocal coach has taught me not only about good practice, but about how to be present to myself. After doing an exercise or singing a piece, she will ask me “How does that feel?” Good practice increases self-awareness in a useful way.

I have learned that practice is about training, learning how something feels, and learning the steps towards a good performance. It is also about learning when and how to ask for help. Getting useful feedback and talking together about how something might work not only makes for a better performance but also builds community, confidence and collegiality.

None of this is particularly new. It shows up in Jesus’ Sermon on the Mount, in the Rule of St. Benedict, and all through the Psalms and in Proverbs. Both Buddhist stories and the Hassidic Tales from Judaism are filled with these lessons, too. What I am learning again is how to practically and usefully prefer Christ in all things.

Mother Tomaine sums it up this way:

When we prefer Christ we do anti-world things like loving one another for Christ’s sake. We “cut some slack” with one another, being patient and forgiving, recognizing that we also have growing edges. We ease up on being judgmental, we accept our sisters and brothers in the faith and beyond our faith, acknowledging our oneness in creation. We try to choose his way and not the way that may burn within us. 

As Joan Chittister says, “Benedictine spirituality is about caring for the people you live with and loving the people you don’t and loving God more than yourself.”

When we prefer Christ we choose him over another. We choose his way over other ways even when—especially when!—life is crazy busy! I am coming to learn that “preferring nothing but Christ” is looking for the holy in this moment; it is seeking Christ’s face in the people God sends us every day and to seek God’s presence in the ordinary things all around us. And, as Benedict says, “Always we begin again.”

How do we go about “preferring nothing to Christ?” Live one bite at a time!

Pray and work; activity and rest

There is an old joke about a man and woman dancing at a Catskills singles resort. “I’m only here for the weekend,” the man says. To which the woman responds, “I’m dancing as fast as I can!”  

Many of us can relate. We live in a time where we are expected to do as much as we can with as little as we can as quickly as we can. So here we see Jesus’ friend Martha dancing around her house as fast as she can, trying to get things ready for her honored guest, and trying, in her own way, to make the most of their time together.

My hunch is that Mary’s was not normally in the habit of entertaining visitors by sitting at their feet while her sister does all the work. Martha’s complaint to Jesus suggests that Mary’s behavior was not normal for her. It sounds to me as if Martha was saying to Mary by way of Jesus “snap out of it!”

We identify with Martha because she is in the business of activity… and anxiety: the two chief preoccupations of our age! People who call themselves “Marthas” often wear this title as a kind of badge of honor. And that is a good thing: it shows that they are interested in doing the right and good thing at the right and good time.

What’s different is that Mary apparently stopped what she was doing to attend to Jesus.  In speaking to Martha, Jesus does not deny the value of who Martha is, or of what she is doing. He does not placate her by saying everything is all right and that there is nothing to do or to worry about. Jesus’ solution to Martha’s anxiety is to offer a different way to approach the moment.

Jesus is not against activity or work or even going out of one’s way—otherwise he would not have told the story of the Samaritan who stopped to care for the injured stranger that we just heard last week, a story which comes right before this. What Jesus cares about the focus and center of our activity.

The anonymous 14th-century author of a spiritual discourse called The Cloud of Unknowing, speaks about Mary and Martha as repre­senting the Two Ways of Prayer. The author says:

“My friend, do you see that this whole incident concerning Jesus and the two sisters was intended as a lesson for active and contemplative persons of the Church in every age? Mary represents the contemplative life and all contemplative persons ought to model their lives on hers. Martha represents the active life and all active persons should take her as their guide.”

This is a very helpful commentary for me. Instead of pitting the two sisters against each other, the usual approach to this passage, we see the two sisters serving Jesus in two different kinds of prayer. One active and one restful, both serving Jesus. And this is the lesson the two sisters, these important followers of Jesus, gives us: in our walk with Christ, we all have periods of activity and rest.

The healthy Christian life depends on being active some of the time and having periods of renewal at other times.  That’s why we set aside a Sabbath Day…a day of rest, yes, but more important, a day of renewal that reminds us that we are God’s people animated by God’s spirit living in a world of God’s creation. In setting aside at least a day a week to focus on the worship of God, we take a break from the usual rat-race and we remind ourselves of who the center and source of our living, work and play is.

Have you ever noticed how Episcopalians and other Christian traditions divide up time? Our day (grounded in prayer—Morning Prayer, Noonday, Evening Prayer, and Compline), our week (grounded in the Sabbath… and organized around a daily and weekly calendar plus Saint’s Days) and our year (organized by the seasons of the Church year) are all built around prayer and work, or as the Benedictines say, ora et labora... prayer and work. Our Prayer Book way of organizing time teaches us that God’s time is a rhythm of activity and renewal. That means that to be balanced and healthy we will have Martha-time and Mary-time.

I call this the “do-be cycle.” Instead of saddling Martha with the guilt and shame of working through Jesus' visit, or secretly shaming Mary for abandoning her post, let’s look instead at the “do-be cycle.” We need to do. And we need to be. Doing without being is empty. Being without doing is wasteful. We need to both do and to be. Sing it with me.

Do-be to the left.

Do-be to the right.

Do-be, do-be, do-be with all your might!

Do-be, Do-be!

Society has forgotten both the tune and the rhythm! When so much is open or available 24/7, every day and every night is the same. Our world is one of endless media input and for many people a forty-hour week is a baseline for work not the limit!

Recently, I saw a New Yorker cartoon of two people in bar who are chatting and holding their drinks. The man, who is talking to a woman through one of those doggie cones you get at the vet, says “It keeps me from checking my phone every two seconds.”

The busiest shopping day in all those big box stores is…right now! Sunday morning! For many, Sunday becomes the free day to catch up…catch up on the chores, catch up on the laundry, catch up on the shopping, catch up on some sleep, catch up on some football—and that does not even count the work we bring home whether it is grading papers or checking our e-mail…because in our day and age, we are expected to be efficient and productive, all the time!  

Jesus and the author of The Cloud of Unknowing assume something quite radical. And that is everything we do can be (and is) prayer! Jesus enters our living, he feeds us, meets us where we need him the most and helps us rest.

Everything—or work or our rest—can be an offering so that in all things God may be glorified. Everything can reveal God’s love, power, presence, and grace to us and those around us. But for ora et labora, “Pray and work,” to function, for our work to truly become prayer, we must hold God at the center of all that we do, and we have to keep Christ at the heart of who we are.  We have to do and be!

If we are to make Christ the center of our work, we must take the time to let Christ be at the center of our renewal. Martha may be setting the table for Jesus, but the other part is when we, like Mary, take the moment to sit at Jesus’ feet and listen. Both are acts of service.

An ancient custom of hospitality in England holds that when a sovereign comes to your house, while in your home, it is no longer yours but hers. A sovereign becomes the host under any citizen’s roof.  So, remember that, should Queen Elizabeth ever pop over to your house for tea, your house literally becomes her house. Think about that. The idea shows up in a common table grace that many of us learned as children where we invited Jesus to be our guest, but if this ancient royal custom teaches us anything it is that when let Jesus sit at our table, we invite him to be our host and for us to be his guest!  We invite him to let him feed us. We invite him to care for us and our needs. We invite him to refresh us and teach us and treat us as the honored wayfarer, so we can continue the journey renewed, refreshed, and reoriented.

Let’s take that image a step further: in our baptisms, we invited Christ into our lives, into us. Jesus our guest is now Jesus the host: he enters our living, he feeds us, meets us where we need him the most and helps us rest. In our Eucharist, Christ sits at the head of the table. We allow him to nourish us in our common life, in our worship, in our times of quiet and prayer, in times of retreat, and even in a few minutes reading Forward Day by Day or saying the daily devotions found in the prayer book, and in how we order our schedule and our common life.

So, we need not choose between the image of, productive Martha or the prayerful Mary if we remember the Benedictine motto of “ora et labora”—pray and work, we can embrace both! When we daily recall that our work is our prayer, and our prayer is our work, then we will recover the balance required to sing (and live!) “do-be, do-be, do-be.” 

+ + +   + + +   + + +

Here is a link to the bulletin for the Sixth Sunday after Pentecost  at St. John's Episcopal Church, Clearwater

Here is a link to the Scripture readings.

Here is a link to a video of the sermon.

Here is a link to a video of the liturgy.

Change in plans

Updated

Now what was she going to do? Here Mary of Bethany, the sister of Lazarus, had a whole pound of this very expensive perfume… and she had no use for it! She dug into what money she had because it was the job for Mary and her sister, Martha, to care for their dead brother Lazarus. And this special work, which typically fell to women, would mean using this special kind of perfume.

She bought the perfume for one purpose, to anoint the dead; but now, thanks to Jesus, Lazarus was alive!

So, what was Mary going to do?

Today’s Gospel tells us what she did: Mary anoints Jesus’ feet with this very expensive perfume--and her tears--filling the whole house with its fragrance!

I was a kid when I first heard this story from the Gospel of John and my little ears couldn't make heads nor tails of it! Because what I heard was that Mary covered Jesus’ feet with lard—you know, the stuff in that can on the stove where my mother and grandmother used to pour off the bacon grease! Yuk!

Actually, Nard is a very expensive perfume that came all the way to Palestine from India, the Himalayas actually. And to use all of it on one person’s feet would be, to say the least, extravagant!

Now washing feet was an ordinary part of life in 1^st century Palestine. In all the better homes, one’s servant washed the feet of the guests of the household. Using a little ointment on the feet—often scented—was soothing to the person and a sign of hospitality, if not honor. Remember that in those days everyone walked, and even if they rode they still had to walk some, so everyone's feet got dirty. And in those better homes, a servant would do the washing. Mary’s family clearly had money. After all, they could afford a private tomb for her brother—but just as Martha did not relegate her meal-serving to a servant, neither did Mary leave her foot-washing to a servant.

Jesus himself would copy Mary’s example in the Upper Room at the Last Supper. Come to Church on Thursday of Holy Week and experience that yourself.

Remember, the purpose of Mary's perfume was not cosmetic, and it was not meant for dirty feet, but to help care for the dead. Remember that in John’s Gospel there were three reactions to Jesus raising Lazarus from the dead. First, it made Jesus a marked man because some people want to kill him because of this miracle. Another response was gratitude, which is what Martha and Mary with her perfume demonstrated. Lazarus’s healing—remember this was only a short-term resuscitation, Lazarus would eventually die a natural death like the rest of us, presumably now at an older age— anyway, his healing is a pre-figuring of Jesus’ resurrection and is the occasion for both gratitude and for fear.

John’s Gospel only has a few … maybe a half dozen… so when you are reading John and a miracle happens, your ears should perk up. The Gospel writer is telling us something! The raising of Lazarus from the dead reveals Jesus as messiah. And it is also the beginning of Jesus’ journey towards the cross. So the second thing that makes us go "aha" and "oh!" when Mary anoints Jesus’ feet, is the fact that hers in the ultimate act of discipleship.

You know what a disciple is, right? A disciple is a friend and an apprentice of Jesus Christ! 

Mary, Martha and Lazarus are certainly friends of Jesus, and we hear in the Gospel of John that they are apprentices, too. They are learning from Jesus. They are learning the art and craft of doing the work of Jesus. We are disciples, because we are also learning and doing the work of Jesus!

That sounds cool, except that Mary of Bethany seems to keep getting in trouble—or at least raising eyebrows—for how she is living out her apprenticeship, both when she sits at his feet to learn from him, and here, when she anoints his with the nard.

In both encounters we have in the Gospels between Mary of Bethany and Jesus, both times Mary (and Martha) are “serving” Jesus. “Serving” here is the same word in Greek as the word “deacon” When Mary anointed him. Jesus is being served and he is being readied to go to his final battle against death and evil.

Mary—and Martha! — by their service have joined with Jesus in that battle. She has undertaken in a deep way the life-changing, world-challenging, relationship to God in Christ that pushes back evil, returns dignity to the outcast, and restoration to the lost. Her life and Jesus’ work are one. The perfume was a gift that showed where her heart was.

Of course, what Mary does is not without controversy—which is the third response to Jesus’ healing of Lazarus.

Judas actually speaks for many of us when he scoffs at Mary’s action. He’s not wrong when he said that this gift of expensive stuff could have sold back and used to serve the poor. Judas is not being a chiseling cheapskate; he genuinely misunderstands both Mary’s gratitude and what is really going on for Jesus.

When someone in our congregation grumbles about how this or that could have been used to serve the poor, I have to wonder what going on really. When someone grumbles about why we spend money on the landscaping around the church, or on these gorgeous vestments, or on our music, or on whatever instead of giving it to the poor, I kind of wonder what’s really going on. As St. Benedict of Nursia points out in his monastic rule, the grumbling is almost never about what is being complained about. The resentment often points to something else, something deeper.

So, I don’t really think that Judas was really angry about the money. Despite the Gospel-writer’s dig about Judas being a thief, I think what really displeased him was the honor given to Jesus was not the honor Judas would have chosen. Maybe he might have preferred the stars of a general? Or the crown of a ruler? Whatever, it comes from an inability that we all often share with Judas: our failure to live in God’s time, our sense of urgency, and our need to manage God’s work for God… but we’ll leave that discussion for Holy Week.

But wait! There’s more! Did you notice how Jesus never said “Gee, that perfume would feel great right now.” Mary offers her gift freely and without expectation of reward. That’s another point that poor Judas missed.

Our gift giving tells us where our heart is. And only God and ourselves know what’s really in our hearts! How we use our stuff—how we spend our money, our time, our attention, creativity, intent, and talent—both leads us and communicates. How we use our gifts, time, and talent help us become deeper and better disciples of Jesus Christ. How we use what we have for God’s purposes both deepens our friendship with Jesus and shows us that we are also his valued apprentices, learning and doing his work right here, right now.

Just like Mary of Bethany, who took a gift set aside for death and turned it into a loving, grateful, affirmation of life.

+ + +   + + +   + + +

Here is a link to the bulletin for the Fifth Sunday in Lent, Year C, March 20, 2022.

Here is a link to a video of the liturgy at St. John's Episcopal Church, Clearwater

Here is a link to a video of the sermon.

+ + +   + + +   + + +

Here is other takes on the same text:

Here is a Sermon by Bishop Nicholas Knisely of the Episcopal Diocese of Rhode Island

Grafted into the Vine

One of my spiritual heroes is Pope John XXIII, and one my favorite stories about him involves a group of visitors to the Vatican who were being escorted by ‘The Good Pope’ on a tour of the “back office,” where, in addition to the wonderful artwork and beautiful architecture, the real work of the Curia takes place.

Marveling at the busyness of the place, one of the visitors asked the Pope how many people worked at the Vatican. To which he replied, “Oh, about half.”

In our day and age, we are used to thinking in terms of “productivity.” What is efficient and effective? ‘They’ (whoever ‘they’ are!) say that Americans are among the most productive people in the world.

We know what this means, right? We’ve all experienced it. Productivity usually means employing as few people as possible to do as much work in as little time as possible, where people are commodities and units of production, which can feel quite dehumanizing.

Ironically, one of the lessons of the pandemic appears to be that lots of people get more done working from home than in the traditional cubical farm. But we’ve also been reminded that we also depend on the toil of many low-wage workers who toil in farms, warehouses, stores, and health-care facilities, often at great risk with little reward.

Never was the collect found in our Prayer Book’s night-time prayers known as Compline more apt:

O God, your unfailing providence sustains the world we live in and the life we live: Watch over those, both night and day, who work while others sleep, and grant that we may never forget that our common life depends upon each other's toil; through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.

I am new to this faith community—and I am so glad to be among you!  Based on my experience in other places like this, I would venture to say that before the pandemic fully half, conservatively a third, of the people who would be in church or watching us on-line worshipping with us —those who want to be with us-- were not here because of job or life demands. They could be scheduled to work on Sunday or have brought work home. And it may be that they are so out-straight during the week, Sunday is the only time they have to shop, wash clothes, tend to their households, and be with their families.

God knew what God was about when a Sabbath was built into God’s time—and it was not so that we could do the laundry or go to Publix or Winn-Dixie! While this might be a change in routine, it is not sabbath rest.

St. Benedict understood this when he created his rule for monastic communities. The very busy life of a Benedictine monastic was routinely and deliberately interrupted several times a day (and night!) so that they could come together, pray, and, yes, recharge.

Without a time to rest, recharge, to tend to one’s basic needs and to tend to our inner lives, we are drawn away from the wholeness and fullness of life that God intends for us. Besides, without sufficient rest and sleep, we tend to go a little cuckoo.

There are many images of discipleship in the New Testament. Sometimes we are called “the body of Christ.” Other places we are known as “the Household of God.” Last week we were likened to a flock of sheep tended and cared for by an attentive, loving shepherd. Today we hear Jesus talk about us as being part of a vine.

In this image of the Church, we are described as being “fruitful,” which is first-century, lingo for “productive.” But not in the way you might think!

Jesus says, “I am the true vine, and my Father is the vine-grower. He removes every branch in me that bears no fruit. Every branch that bears fruit he prunes to make it bear more fruit.” If God is going to get rid of unproductive vines and prune fruitful ones, how do we know we are being fruitful? How does a Christian know that she or he is being effective?

Some Christians tell us that being fruitful is the same thing as multiplying our numbers. They look at today’s lesson from Acts and say “See? Philip was making a new convert!”

But look again. Philip initiated a new disciple, a new follower of Jesus. In their encounter, Philip met a spiritual hungry person who was also the very picture of an outsider—an Ethiopian (that means African…black), who was also a eunuch (involuntarily sexually mutilated and at the same time permanently barred from temple Judaism), and an official of a foreign court—and Phillip taught him, prepared him, and then baptized him.

The “fruit” here is not found on a ledger but in the changed life of a person who discovered God’s love and wanted to learn and do the work of Jesus. And here, just as the Gospel teaches, being fruitful is a sign that each branch abides—lives—in the vine.

What’s important here is the relationship we have to the vine. If the branch is detached from the vine, it not only is not producing fruit, it’s dead!

There are also branches that live connected to vine, and they may even produce wonderful leaves in their season, but they bear no fruit. These branches will either be pruned to come back to fruitfulness and maybe even cut away. This might be a warning to we Episcopalian and mainline Christians, who have been doing what we’ve been doing for decades on end, and have lovely leaves but maybe meager fruit.

What shows off the health of the vine is the fruit it produces in its branches.

John’s Gospel was the last of the Gospel’s to be completed, and this final edit probably happened in the early to mid-second century… about 75 years of so after Jesus’ ministry. This Gospel is filled with images that are meant to help us meet Jesus as if for the first time. It is also filled with instructions and images that tell us how to be the church. Today, we have an image of the church as a grapevine in a vineyard. It is an image of relationship.

I believe that St. John the Evangelist—for whom this congregation is named! —wanted his hearers to live as a healthy branches, deeply connected to Jesus the true vine, healthy, dynamic, and growing. Jesus is saying that a fruitful church is a community in relationship.

This image of the Church invites us to be interdependent, nourished and connected to Christ together, to care for each other for God’s purpose. So how do we know if we are being ‘productive’ or ‘effective’ in the way Jesus meant? Here a few clues:

Holy time: It’s not how busy we are that determines our worth; the quality of the fruit we bear depends on the quality of our relationship to God in Christ.

A rhythm or pattern of prayer: We are a praying people: we are taught, helped, and encouraged to pray more in community.

Generosity is a spiritual gift empowering us to use everything we have—our time, talent, and treasure—for God’s purpose.

Our care for the sick, the outcast, and the lonely.  Our life as Christian community is deepened as we actively share in the essential dignity of every person God has created and gives us,

When we do works of mercy and justice, we discover the face of Christ in those we serve.

Fruitful and profound worship grows out of the way, we, as a people, and as a community—a vine, if you will—are nurtured in relationship to Jesus Christ.

But we can’t do any of this without Rest. Why do we find it so difficult to rest? Why does it take us so long to disengage? Have you ever noticed that we are only really relaxed towards the end of vacation?

Saint Benedict of Nursia, in his famous monastic rule, tells the monastics that as soon as they hear the bell for prayer, they are to "close shop" right away! Why? It takes time and effort to move from the world of labora to the world of ora. Even in the monastery, leaving the field or workshop and going to the oratory took time, and so sitting in silence was necessary to center and prepare themselves before the abbot knocks on the choir stall to call them to stand together to pray.

And that is why I was taught by my parents, as many “cradle Episcopalians” were, to kneel in silent prayer as soon as one enters the Church. I am grateful that this act of getting re-connected to God was routinized by my parents because I, like many of us, find it a challenge to stop and rest!

Today’s Gospel reminds us that the Church is a living thing and that we baptized folk are "grafted onto the vine." We were not organically connected before, but in baptism were grafted and the connected into to the life-giving sap so that through our common, eucharistic life, now we are part and parcel of the vine-- the church, the life of Christ!

Being grafted into the vine is a nurturing, generative act. A friend of mine told me about how, growing up in Appalachia, his great-grandfather grafted onto one apple tree the shoots from four different apple trees to become the most amazing apple tree he ever saw! He said that it was like going to a fresh market on that one tree!

Think about St.John’s and the rest of the Church in light of what Jesus is saying here about inclusion. Here we are, this part of the Episcopal Branch of the Jesus Movement and what do we see? A rich assortment of vines and fruit. All colors, all genders. all languages and cultures. We branches are connected to Jesus by virtue of our baptisms, and we are fed through our eucharistic life, and together we witness to the risen Christ. We branches are watched over and tended to by God the vintner. In God’s vineyard, we are at once co-vintners with God and we are the vines producing fruit for God’s work and the benefit of humankind.

This is challenging work. It will call us all to new depths of open caring and genuine commitment. The poor we meet, the people we care for, and the students we support will change us, make no mistake! It will at times feel as if we are being pruned and tended. But that’s okay! It’s what vineyards are for.

When John XXIII opened the Second Vatican Council almost 60 years ago, his words recalled Jesus’ Gospel words when he said, “We are not on earth to guard a museum, but to cultivate a flourishing garden of life."

Here is a video of the Liturgy for the Fifth Sunday of Easter, May 2, 2021 at St. John's Episcopal Church, Clearwater. (YouTube)

Here is a video of the Sermon only. (Vimeo)

How to Survive This Election as a Christian

Last July…yes, July!...satirist Andy Borowicz declared that “the bar officially cannot be lowered.” 

He wrote in the New Yorker:

A group of scholars who have been monitoring the descent of the bar over the past few decades have concluded that the bar can no longer be lowered, the scholars announced on Friday.

The academics, led by Professor Davis Logsdon, of the University of Minnesota, published their conclusion after their research definitively found that the bar had finally dropped to its lowest possible position.

“For those who thought the bar still had room to be lowered, our findings resoundingly contradict that assumption,” Logsdon said. “The bar is now essentially flush with the ground.”

Since July, I am thinking that they must now be digging a ditch because the bar keeps descending to lower and lower depths!

2016 is, without a doubt, the strangest election season I have ever experienced. And it has tested my faith. Not just my faith in democracy or my faith in civic discourse, it has tested my faith as a Christian.

And I know I am not alone. As I talk to people around the parish, around my City of Easton, and even (on-line) from around the country, this whole season has been one massive test of faith. 

How can an everyday Christian survive this election season?

Brooke Perry, a seminarian at Western Seminary in Portland, Oregon points out that there are at least two things eating at the soul of our civic discourse, regardless of one’s political persuasion or affiliation: fear and opinions.

A narrative of fear has consumed this election season. Whether it’s rhetoric on the campaign trail or what we hear in the media, a narrative of fear has crept into our daily lives.

The election. 

Those two simple words drum up a great deal of anxiety, fear and opinions. And this isn’t wrong. But I am tired of reading a lot of things from a lot of people—a lot of Christians in particular—who are speaking out, but from a distance. It seems to me that much of what we do behind a keyboard is driven by fear.

One aspect of this is that we have lost the ability to talk to each other about our common civic life. We have forgotten that “politics” is not simply about whose party, which candidate, wins the horse race. The real work is how we as a society get done the things that need doing, and how we as a society are going to order the priorities of our common life.

In that context, disagreement, even debate, should be expected. But when the goal becomes “my side wins at all costs” and even worse, our argument should utterly destroy the opposition, not a lot is going to get done. And if we can’t disagree with civility, then we cannot compromise, and if we can’t compromise then we are frozen, and all we have left is our frustration and anger.

Christian witness in this atmosphere does not arise from mimicking or blindly aligning with the culture’s values. The Apostle Paul reminded the Christians in Rome that not being conformed to the world means allowing God’s Holy Spirit to transform our minds (Romans 12:2).

Jesus, who could at times be very hard on the ‘powers-that-be,’ based his ethic on love and said over and over again that God’s reign, God’s kingdom, is present and real right now! But it is we citizens of Christ’s kingdom through faith and baptism who both bring it about and represent Christ to the world. So how respond to this political season is very important.   

The first we can do in response to this crazy election season to the Kingdom to fruition is remain calm even when the air is filled with fear-fueled and cruel words. And to do that, we must pause.

Perry writes:

When you’re angry, pause.

When you’re scared, pause.

When you’re tempted to join the angry mobs of people who don’t quite know what to do with all of their valid emotions, pause.

Pause. Pray. Give yourself a little bit of space to invite the Holy Spirit into these very valid concerns that an election like this one will bring up in our hearts, and see what God would have us do….

Taking her thoughts a step further, when you are tempted to blast someone in person, or by e-mail, or on social media…pause.  When you are tempted to react to a wild story or rumor about a candidate by repeating it, re-posting it, or stewing about it…pause. I have found in these moments that www.snopes.com is my friend, not to mention sites like www.polticfact.com, to put the wilder stories and images in perspective.

When you are tempted to think that only one candidate is the “Christian candidate” and begin to think of Christianity as simply another interest group that lobbies, buys votes, and must be defended, then stop. Pause. Recall that Jesus reminded his followers that his kingdom was not the same as the human polis that we inhabit.

Archbishop Desmond Tutu and the Dalai Lama are, regardless of the different religions, the best of friends. Both have experienced actual political oppression, violence and exile. Together they have written a book called The Book of Joy and they havegood advice to us as we spiritually navigate the end of this very difficult political season.

Tutu says that “fear, anger, hatred exist in our own minds and hearts as well, it’s not just ‘out there.’ If we realize that, we can have compassion for what’s underneath the vitriol.’’ Tutu counsels us to cope with unpleasantness like dishwashers, not vacuum cleaners — take dirt and wash it off, don’t suck it up and retain it.

I have been helped by turning to the Ignatian Exercises to help guide me through this season of turmoil and vitriol.

First, realize that elections are important and that we have both a civic and Christian responsibility to take part. Politics is not win-lose, zero-sum game. It is an on-going process.

We must also remember that even if “our” candidate wins, they are not the Messiah. No human leader will ever solve all our problems, and they certainly can’t give us inner peace.

Having said that, here is the pattern I recommend:

Pray -> Listen -> Pray -> Discern -> Pray -> Act (i.e. Vote) -> Pray

[Rinse, Repeat]

Listen to not only what the candidates are saying and doing, but what is going on in our hearts and minds and what is going around us.

Discern what God’s values are. Discernment means listening with our heart, our ears, and our mind. It means listening with God’s heart as well. How are Scriptural values of justice, care for the poor and outcast, and respect for the dignity of all God’s people reflected in the candidate I am voting for?

Act on what we are called to. We live in faith that our choice is the faithful choice, while remembering that we are not God. We act as faithfully as we can to live out Christ’s love in the world. And we know that no matter who wins or loses, God is still in charge of creation and Christ is still establishing God’s kingdom.

Pray. Before, during, and after each step, pray. Give our hearts, minds, and senses to God. Make your decision a faithful offering to God in the same civic sphere in which Jesus walked, taught, and healed, and for which he died and rose again.

Finally, love. You may be surprised to discover this, but there are brothers and sisters in Christ who might actually disagree with you. Sometimes occasionally. Sometimes a lot. Our relationships are not defined merely by our politics, but by our common membership in Christ. That sister and brother in Christ who votes differently than you is first and foremost, a forgiven sinner and child of God, just like you.

Jesus calls us to love the world, the sick, the wounded, the outcast, the lost, and the least. That neither begins nor ends at the ballot box. It begins at the foot of the cross, gathers us around the font and the Eucharistic table, and sends us into the world in love.

On not being a robot

Lord, be thy word my rule;
in it may I rejoice;
thy glory be my aim,
thy holy will my choice;
thy promises my hope;
thy providence my guard;
thine arm my strong support;
thyself my great reward.

Christopher Wordsworth, 1807-1885

Hymn 626 in Hymnal, 1082

A few weeks ago, I was riding my bike and, on leaving the excellent bike trails around Easton, had to navigate for a time on the city streets. The driver of a one car did not see me riding lawfully with traffic along the right side of the road, with parked cars on my right and traffic on my left. This is, perhaps, the most dangerous kind of bike riding because if a door suddenly opens or a parked car turns out, it is trouble for the bicyclist. Anyway, the car did not give me the required four feet of space that Pennsylvania law requires and I had to dive for the curb to avoid getting smooshed.

As the car went by, I noticed that the driver must have seen me and reacted too late, because it swerved about a car-length after it passed me. Then I noticed that the car was festooned with cameras. It was a car from a certain ubiquitous web-search and software company driving around mapping the city. As I got back on my bike, I wondered if it was an automated car. I know that they are in Pittsburgh now, and these things are in the news. But I wondered, if this vehicle had been driven by computer would it have noticed the bicyclist it nearly creamed or if it was only a human that missed me.

I chuckled at the idea that if a computer car had smooshed me, at least it would have been following the rules!

Thinking about the coming technology of self-driving cars started me thinking about obedience; because when you train a computer to drive a car, you have to train it to obey traffic laws and the rules of the road. That would be easy. The hard part is training it to be attentive to the world around it. And sometimes it won't know what to pay attention to. Bicycles, squirrels, pedestrians, other drivers, the weather, and the time of day all have this way of randomly tossing us the unexpected.

I remember teaching my kids how to drive. They were so concerned about the pedestrians and squirrels, it was hard to get them to remember that that red sign meant stop, after which one much ‘go’ again!

But computers are backwards from people because they have to be taught every single thing that might possibly happen before you set them loose. The problem is that while we need to know the rules of the road, blind obedience to those rules can wreck your car or worse! They don’t call it artificial intelligence for nothing!

The life of faith does not lend itself to artificial intelligence. But we, like an automated car, have to learn to navigate both old and new roads in new ways. When we decide to become intentional about our Christian living, sooner or later we have to learn how to be obedient without causing wrecks. In the Rule of St. Benedict, obedience is not merely blind adherence to a set of rules. Instead our rule of life informs our living and our life of faith.

But when we think of the Ten Commandments or the Sacramental life or the Book of Common Prayer or the Rule of St. Benedict as nothing more than a series of religious traffic laws that tell us how to act, when to stand, who to hang around with, and so on, we make it impossible to deal with the unexpected. And know it or not, we start making silly procedural regulations that keep us in the letter of the law instead of keeping us attentive to where we are.

If we are not careful, we might feel as if we earned God’s wrath, or at least disapproval when these rules get broken. And this wears us down spiritually. It reinforces the idea that we are “not up to the task,” and that the task itself is beyond our reach. In our spiritual journey, it causes us to smoosh pedestrians and swerve too late.

One solution might be to get rid of the rules altogether. It is common these days for people to decide that since, in their view, all religion is regulation, that it is best to junk it altogether. They assume the posture of “spiritual but not religious.” That is, they seek the benefits of spiritual living—attentiveness, inner peace, creativity, compassion, and so on---without any of the regulation or dry dogma that they associate with religion.

Folks who make this choice often cite Jesus himself in telling me why they participate less and less in whatever church they are running away from.

But imagine our roads if there were no rules at all. Some say that we may as well be that way. When I was a kid in New England, my dad used to say that the dream of total global disarmament was impossible as long as Bostonians were allowed to keep their cars. But even there, as strange as it seems, there are unwritten practices that help people navigate the roads.

In other words, people come up with rules and ritual even if no one writes them down. In our culture we assume that every one of us has within themselves the resources to lead a full, happy life without any appeal to outside help. We think that we can Google our way to a deeper life, picking and choosing what appeals to us. The problem is that this cuts us off from the wisdom of people who have gone before us, so we don’t discover the lessons of the pitfalls and strengths of the rich traditions of the Church.

So without a rule of life…without obedience…we are all over the road when it comes to our spiritual living.

Another challenge for the person who chooses “spirituality without religion” has to do with accountability and transformation. One question I sometimes raise with folks who talk to me about their preference for a spirituality without religion is whether their approach has an impact on their ethical decision-making, their sense of justice, and their accountability to someone beyond themselves.

In other words, does your spirituality change you? Does it make you a better, more ethical person? Does is make you attentive to the people and world around you while, at the same time, it makes you more mature and capable? In short, besides blessing your existing habits and preferences, does your spiritual life give you a firm framework for your living?

In the rule of St. Benedict, the element of obedience balances and holds in tension the equal elements of “amendment of life” and “stability.” In other words, it helps stay put where we need to stay put; and it helps us to change what we need to change.

Everyone has something in them that they want or need to change. It might be an addiction, a habit, a tendency to repeat the same mistakes, a personal quality that gets in our own way, an unhealthy way of relating to others that needs to change, but we all have something. The leg of The Rule called “Amendment of Life” addresses our life long call to orient our life towards Christ, and that means change.

And everyone needs to be grounded. We need to not flit from new thing to new thing, or to be a chasing after the next spiritual fashionista. This is addressed in the part of The Rule dealing with “Stability,” which calls us to stay put.

What keeps from either becoming stuck, on the one hand, or from bouncing from thing to thing, on the other, is the third aspect of The Rule, “obedience.”

But obedient to what?

If you are an Episcopalian, then what we are obedient to is the structure and forms we have chosen to live apart of. In others words, the Book of Common Prayer: weekly Eucharist (at least), daily prayer both as a community and by ourselves, and the sacramental life starting with Baptism. It means we read a part of the Bible daily. It means that when are sick we call for a priest and ask for the sacrament of the sick. When we get married, or celebrate hallmarks of our lives, and when we die, these are all acts that happen in Christian community.

Obedience in our context means that we understand all of us…laity and clergy…to represent Christ in the world.

The Prayer Book teaches us that the main representative of Jesus to the world is the baptized person and that ordained orders exist to train, support, equip, and support the baptized as they live out their Christian vocation in their daily living.

Obedience teaches us to follow Christ. We may find the pattern of daily office, stopping to re-call the Saints of the Church, weekly Sunday Eucharist, regular giving of our means to care for the poor and to support the Church, to be strenuous, even at times out of reach, but in doing it we find that we learn something of the even bigger need to follow and obey Christ.

The idea of being almost run over by a robot-car reminded me that obedience is much more than following the rules. It is also about paying attention to the world around me, and applying those rules as safely, and as ethically as I can manage…it requires creativity and the occasional judgement call. I thank God that we are not robots merely programmed to go from place to place, but are growing people who seek change grounded in Jesus balanced by obedience. 

Meaningful change

Sometimes pop culture and religion come together in strange ways. Sometimes it is even good.

I noticed on the Facebook that Jesuit Father James Martin posted a photograph of a woman standing next to another priest with the comment “Yesterday my friend Fr. John Duffell met a graduate of the Convent of the Sacred Heart in New York.” The graduate was Lady Gaga, and the big news was that “Lady Gaga went to Mass!”

Given that she grew up Catholic, went to Catholic school, and routinely finds sneaky ways to insert scripture and Catholic references into her music, what’s the big deal?

Well, apparently some people are suspicious of Lady Gaga’s motives

.  

According to Crux, Becky Roach from Catholic-Link, wrote a post complaining that Lady Gaga went to Mass, posted that fact on Instagram, while still continuing to live as a Hollywood celebrity with all the trappings. I guess that to these folks that if Lady Gaga doesn’t suddenly become Amy Grant or the Medical Mission Sisters, then she is somehow not Catholic enough.

The Catholic world is not alone in this. When I was a teen-aged Baptist, and listened to a lot of Christian pop music, I remember similar things happening in the evangelical world when a big movie star or pop star would announce that they were “born-again.” It was cool to have a celebrity on “our team”…but when they didn’t start cutting Christian pop but did the music they always did, or continued to take parts in films that they had always taken, we were told that they had “fallen away.” Often they would misquote Mark 4:3-20, they had fallen on shallow soil. They weren’t somehow Christian enough.

Make no mistake, Christianity is a religion of conversion! But it is not a light switch. It takes time, and might follow a path we do not expect.

The rule of Saint Benedict has something to say about this.  In the rule, he talks about “Conversatio morum’” or (very) roughly translated “Conversion of Life.” When a monk takes on the vow of “conversion of life”, it is a promise to live a life of a continuous change of heart. It is promise to be open to a daily reshaping of the mind and heart according to God’s plan for us. 

We have often learned this concept exactly backwards, so it’s important to stop and listen.

We often think of repentance as a turning from something to something. Typically we think of this kind of change as, the Prayer Book says, “turning from the old life of sin into new and everlasting life.” Converatio morum is instead a turning with something. It is aligning our heart, mind, and spirit with God the Holy Spirit and turning with Him, toward Him, and beside Him. For Benedict, conversion of life is a radical re-orientation towards God in all things.

Sr. Joan Chittister, OSB, says:

Benedict did not demand of his followers great feats of prayer and mysticism based on an asceticism of perfection. He asked monastics to set out on a path to change their hearts. This conversatio morum, which is the profession we have made, relies on valuing community and connectedness in a world that prizes individualism and independence. We have the opportunity to demonstrate to the postmodern world that happiness is found in God and God is found in relationship with others—community.

Oddly enough, the Instagram post that Lady Gaga posted hits the mark. She says: “The Eucharist is not a prize for the perfect but the food that God gives us.” In short, she riffs a saying dating back to the Apostolic era that the Eucharist is medicine for sinners.

When we come to Christ, we don’t just wake up one day and find ourselves changed, perfect, and sinless. If that were the case, then all the babies we’ve ever baptized would be never be crabby, always patient; never self-centered but fully self-aware. No, instead, we baptize people knowing full well that the change Christ will bring takes time, practice, and patience. It will mean that God leaves room for us to try and fail—or even to not try and still fail!—and that eventually we will go the next step in our spiritual pilgrimage building on what we have learned before.

Br. David Vryhof of the Society of St. John the Evangelist writes:

Only God can transform us; only God can convert us.  Resolutions of our own making and determined attempts at self-discipline are not enough.  Strong desire and determination can help, but they won’t necessarily get us there.  Learning and believing the right beliefs will not transform our lives.  We cannot convert ourselves by our own doing; it is the work of the Spirit.

But we can open ourselves to the process by becoming conscious of and intentional about a deepening relationship with God.

This is what spiritual practice is all about. This is why we pray and fast and study. This is why we go to Church and partake of the sacraments and join ourselves to the Body of Christ.

We are already in relationship with God, but we grow in that relationship by being intentional about it and by paying attention to it.  And as we give ourselves over to this process of transformation, conversion happens.

What’s happening is not simply a halt to bad behavior but a gradual-yet-radical reorientation of our lives towards God. A conversion of the heart; a conversion of our living. So while this change is gradual, and often very subtle, it is not accidental. Like stability, the decision to stand still and be present; conversion of life is a decision to be open to change. These decisions may appear to be contradictory—do we stay or do we go?—they in fact represent the living breathing heart of the Christian life that the Rule of St. Benedict describes.

Change is at the heart of the Christian life. Christianity is all about conversion, but while at least some of us might start at the moment of conversion (variously described as being “born-again,” “baptized by the Holy Spirit,” or simply as “a-ha!”) it is in fact a life-long process. Since God is infinite in love, majesty, grace, and power, and since we are so limited, it makes sense that conversion of life is a continual, on-going, and intentional re-orientation towards God.

We wish for instant results, instant transformation, instant holiness, but what God seeks is a heart tuned towards God and that takes time.