two dogs

There is no such thing as a free lunch. Not anymore.

Two dogs got away with it.

Bummer and Lazarus lived in Old San Francisco, before the Great Earthquake and Fire.

Lazarus got hit by a freight truck but he lived to wag his tail. Bummer - was the king of the moochers. He was always bumming a meal. And his friend Lazarus tagged along.

They went from bar to bar in the old Barbary Coast. And there was a free lunch.

The idea of the barkeepers was to lay out a spread - or maybe pickled eggs and franks - so that folks would come in and buy a drink. Mostly it worked.

Unless you were a dog - and a teetotaller.




* * *

Isaiah says, come and eat. Come and get it. Your money isn’t good here. There is no price. Come and eat and drink to your heart’s content. Receive the fullness of God’s grace.

His mercy is without limit or fee. You cannot pay for it. You could not afford it.

* * *

Jesus went off by himself for a while. Seeking a little peace, perhaps. He went to a deserted place. But the people followed him. Moved with compassion he went among them, healing. They were a hungry crowd, hungry for grace, hungry – for dinner. And they were in a deserted place.

His disciples saw a lack of resources. Send them away – so they can fend for themselves. They can go buy something in a village somewhere.

They don’t need to go away, Jesus responds. You give them something. Here.

You have something to give.

And it will be enough for them. It will more than satisfy. It will be an abundance of good food, the stuff of life.

But we only have this here, here in the desert, enough for ourselves.

Nonsense. Bring them here, here to me, in God’s presence.

Here and now.

What Jesus gave them was an experience of the bountiful goodness of God.

When have we been like the crowd? Hungering, in need of compassion? Thirsting for what only God can give?

When have we been like the disciples when they were lost in a sense of their own limitation and need?

When have we been like the disciples when they take the bread and give it to the people?

May we take the bread from heaven and make it bread for the world.

* * *

Jesus gave them an experience of the bountiful good ness of God.

He did not shame them, or say, “What! That’s all you got?? What good is that to me?”

No – he took the offering, and he gave thanks to God.

One true God who created all things: blessed are you – your reign is eternal. You bring forth bread from the earth.

He broke it and shared it out.

The bread they offered, the bread that came from God, bread from heaven, became bread for the world.

All are welcome at the Lord’s Table, and receive abundance there.

For his grace takes what we offer, and makes of it a miracle, a sign of God’s everlasting faithfulness and steadfast love.

The staff of life, in the hands of the source of life, is made a gift that transforms those who give it.

Once small in faith and doubting they now in faith step forward and take the bread and give it out.

Growing in confidence, they see God’s hand at work in the world through them! Through the gift they had made – from five loaves and two fishes.

All they had, they gave. God shows, in this moment, that his love is more than enough.

Humankind lives not by bread alone but by the Word of God. The Word of God – he who is before them, honoring them in the Gift.

What they gave is not wasted. It is gathered up in its abundance.

When have we been hungry, seeking, reaching out for healing and compassion?

Surely at first this was the disciples’ state too. We all need that comfort, that compassion, and that love.

When have we been like the disciples, uncertain of our offering, of its adequacy?

When have we been like the disciples, astounded by what God does with what we bring to the table?

And perhaps, rejoicing by now, we take the transformed offering and share it out.

Bread from heaven indeed – now bread for the world.

* * *

May we take the bread from heaven, the manna in the wilderness, that is the true word of true God, from whom all things depend, and make of it a gift, of holy sustenance, bread for the world.

May we not stint, but share it out in confidence, knowing that he is faithful who called us to the task. He is loving, who gave his own life that we might live. He is the foundation of our hope. He who was raised and is glorified and remembered, may we remember him, every time in the breaking of the bread. Amen.

APentecost7, Proper 13, Isaiah 55:1-5, Psalm 145: 8-9, 15-22, Romans 9:1-5, Matthew 14:13-21



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the anticipation of things not seen

When our nephew was four years old, his parents announced the family was going to Disneyland during spring break. One night, in the middle of the night, about three o’clock in the morning, his mother awoke to the sound of little feet in footie pajamas padding lightly down the hall to the kitchen.

What are you doing?

I want to see the b’wochure about Dizzlieland!

He was so excited he could not wait until morning.

That is what hope does for us. It is the anticipation of things not seen, not know. For hope in what is seen is not hope – we hope for what we do not see.

And with faith growing in us we wait for it with patience.

With patience: because we trust in the Lord, we are able to wait – though we get all excited about it.

We wait for what is emerging – for that which is coming into being – which we do not yet see.

That is what “emergent” means – something that is becoming real, coming into our lives, that cannot be altogether explained by what we already know

We have to wait for it – and see. That is where trust comes in – and conquers fear.

Trust in God; do not be afraid. That is the message of the angel so many times when God’s messenger announces that something new is coming into being in the world.

And we can respond not only with trust, with hope, but without fear.

Remember the angel that appeared to Zechariah, John the Baptist’s father, before John was born. Your wife Elizabeth will bear a son and he will bring to Israel the good news of the coming of the Messiah.

And remember Mary – hail to thee, full of grace, the Lord is with thee, the Angel proclaimed. Something new is coming, some One new is coming into being – and you are called to be the bearer, the God-bearer indeed, mother of the Anointed, God’s only begotten Son: Jesus.

Be with me as you say, Mary replies, in obedience and faithful response. And so a new order of the ages begins, with the Word, the Son of God, come into the world.

May it be with me as you say…

Paul in the Epistle to the Romans that we hear this morning continues the proclamation.

All who are led by the Spirit of God are his children. We did not receive a spirit of slavery – we are not automatons bound to obey a remorseless will. We have been adopted as sons and daughters, freely embraced and freely embracing God as loving parent. We are children, heirs; joint heirs with Christ.

And the whole of creation leans into this promise, groans with birth pangs, as it were, to bring forth the glory of God in this world.

Birth pangs: for the glory does not come without suffering. Jesus himself suffered as he waited in the garden anticipating death – but he trusted, and obeyed, and received the gift he now shares with us: the resurrection hope, the freedom from bondage to decay – the completion of life that is beyond death – because we know in the hope of the resurrection that Christ is alive – eternally present to the Father and we will be caught up in that glory as well.

Death does not get the final word. And even now coming into being in this world God’s kingdom comes – with our own hands, our feet, our hearts, our voices.

Working in us is the hope of glory – know that what is emerging in this world is not an emergency to panic us or make us fearful. We may not know what it will look like, what the future will hold for us – but we know that, as God reassures us through the words of the prophet Jeremiah, “I know the plans I have for you,” says the Lord, “plans for your good and not for evil, that you may have a future with hope.”

That you, who have the first fruits of the Spirit, will show in your lives the hope that you have.

That all may be well, that trusting in God, who is faithful and steadfast to love us, we shall see faith fulfilled in love, and hope completed in glory, and we in our lives will show that we are free to worship him without fear, witnessing with our words and our deeds to the glory of the presence of the Lord.

Teach me your way, O Lord, and I will walk in your truth; knit my heart to you that I may hold your name in awe and wonder. I will thank you, O Lord my God, with all my heart and glorify your name forever more.

Amen.

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Isaiah 44:6-8
Psalm 86:11-17

Romans 8:12-25
Matthew 13:24-30, 36-43

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3 strangers

Three strangers came to the tent. Abraham and Sarah had journeyed far – from northern Iraq, across Syria and down through Canaan and on into Egypt (where they had many adventures) and then back to Canaan.

Here they were: their flocks and herds around them. They pitched their tent under the oak trees. Strangers came – and were welcomed.

Stay with us Lord and rest your feet. Sit in the shade under this tree. Let me bring you something to drink. Quick! Prepare a meal, a fine feast

The guests, receiving hospitality, now offer their hosts a gift: a promise of a future with hope. You will have a son.

Sarah cannot believe it – she laughs to herself behind the flap of the tent – and she is afraid when they catch her out: “O but you did laugh.”

When the promise comes true, how does she feel?

It was a happy meeting. They name the child Isaac (Laughter).

Remembering and celebrating a promise fulfilled, the beginning of a hopeful future – with descendants that would outnumber the stars – all God’s doing – but God can raise up sons to Abraham from these stones.

It was faith that singled Abraham out. In faith he received the promise – and his true legacy is faith.

His true descendants and heirs are those who are heirs through hope – of the promise of God – and that hope is found in Jesus Christ.

It is through him, through Christ, that the basis of faith, of hope, and of love is revealed.

The gospel from Matthew today is the conclusion of his last chapter, a chapter that began with women going to the tomb of Jesus about the break of day.

“He has been raised,” they were told, “from the dead and is going on before you into Galilee; there you will see him.” They got the message and spread the news.

And the disciples did go to Galilee – they made their way to a mountain and Jesus met them there. They greet him, believers and doubters alike, shoulder to shoulder; they greet him as the holy one of God: they worship him. And now in a few quick words the risen Lord Jesus say so much.

“All authority has been given me on heaven and on earth.” He is the only Son of the Father, the one true living God who created all things. There is no other.

And this Jesus, now risen Lord, has a message for his disciples. A big task lies ahead. His earthly mission has ended.

The mission of the church now begins. So – he commissions them, and he empowers them.

He sends them forth to build his church, to proclaim the good news of the kingdom of God, and to bring its reality into the midst of the earth and all its peoples.

“Make all people my disciples; baptize them everywhere in the name of God, Father, Son and Holy Spirit; teach them to do all I have commanded you to do.”

As you have learned from me so go and teach. As I have made you disciples, disciple them. From here on the legacy now passes from one to another, from generation to generation. What I have given you – all that you have received, you must now pass on.

You will not be alone. For Emmanuel, God-with-us, says: I am with you always, to the end of the age.

Past, present, and future come together in this moment at the foundation of the Church.

On this mountain Jesus brings forth something beyond what Moses received on Sinai. He brings forth the living presence of God to accompany his messengers throughout the earth.

Worship, go, evangelize – and remember. Remember the promise given to Abraham and Sarah. Remember that their true descendants are the people of faith.

And remember Alban’s testimony to the one true living God who created all things.

Alban was living in a Roman town north of London when he found faith – or it found him. It came to his door in the person of a priest, fugitive in a time of persecution.

He sheltered the priest, welcomed him, gave him hospitality and safety, learned from him about ‘the one true living God who made all things’, and came to believe – so that he stood in the place of the priest and gave his life.

Hospitality, courage, and faith.

For his witness, for his faithfulness, he was executed, and won a crown in glory.

His faith we count as righteousness. It was his steadfast trust and witness that brought home to the people of the town the truth of the faith of the one true God.

What Alban did, living in his place in his time, was create a legacy of lasting witness.

People go there still, to the place where he was martyred, on pilgrimage, to the place so many now have gone before, where Alban simply stood the test of faith.

We may not be called to die by the sword but we may be called to simple witness to the truth of Christ, the promise of God, the faithful future, as heirs of hope that we like sons of Abraham may be raised up, may growth as heirs of hope and forebears of faith.

Courage, compassion, generosity, and hospitality – these gifts of faith are Alban’s legacy.

Fearless in the face of danger, Alban would not give up his faith. He testified to God’s truth.

Courage, compassion, and generosity; hospitality, bold truth telling, and unswerving faith, Alban in simple words led the way, a way so many pilgrims follow.

He followed the way of Christ through the Cross to Resurrection, through acceptance of Jesus’ gift on their behalf – and yes, its necessity – to a new life, a new way of living.

His allegiance was no longer to the gods of Rome, the gods of empire, the gods of greed, wealth, envy, instant gratification, the flash beauty of surface appearance, power, or hate.

Jesus calls all people to himself through all his people

All authority on earth and in heaven has been given to me; go – spread the good news.

Spread it to all nations and all generations – let this be your legacy, the living truth of the living God. He is Lord indeed.


O God, our Father, who gave to your servant Alban the gifts of faith, hospitality, compassion, generosity and courage, and sent people forth across the world to carry the word of your gospel to every creature, grant, we pray, a like spirit to your church, even at this present time. Further in all things the purpose of our community, that hidden things may be revealed to us, and new ways found to touch the hearts of all. May we preserve with each other sincere charity and peace, and, if it be your holy will, grant that this church, a place of your abiding, continue still to be a sanctuary and a light. Through Jesus Christ our Lord.

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Lamentations 6

Everything is in its place,
    yet the room is empty.
Boxes are neatly tagged,
shelves arranged,
things stored away,
    yet all is in chaos.
The calendar is open
    to an empty page.
Up to a point, it is all there:
    appointments,
    birthdays, anniversaries,
    things to do;
and then – blank.
    It comes to a stop.
The refrigerator is stocked with years’ worth of vitamins.
    The bills are paid, and filed.
    The sheets are changed, and the bed is made.
No one is there.

In a far country, across a border, I hear nothing.
    “Does your cellphone work in Canada?”
the last email reads.
    I’ll check. No.
Instead I am in a class the next day,
    on “the pastor as shepherd” no less.
A message from the office: Paul calls me over.
    You need to phone your mother.
I go downstairs to the telephone booth,
    dig out some change,
    get a credit card ready.
It is ready;
    I prepare myself for the worst I can imagine.
It is worse.
    “Bill shot and killed himself.”

The last coherent sentence,
    for some days,
    from my mother.
I am on a plane, a bus, in a car.
She is beside herself and cannot sign the papers,
    release the body to the funeral home. Not yet.
“I need to read the forms again.”
My sister-in-law says,
    “He will not come unless he is invited.”
“Well, I am here and I need you. I am inviting you.”
    They come. Long drive. Next day.
With many explanations and few tears,
    we coax her into signing the page.
A fax to Maryland –
    soon we will follow from California.


My bishop calls – he understands – words of comfort.
    The nearest parish will take care of my brother – and me.
Others don’t get it – “don’t say it” – I plead inside:
    They do. Insensitive to the point of stupidity.
   
But, then, talk about stupid.
    What was the point?

A set-up it seems – nearest kin being the youngest,
    the oblivious younger brother.
Neighbor tried to call him, didn’t make much sense.
    He hung up on her.
They called – not 911 – my mother, in California,
    a continent away. She had to make the call to 911.

When we finally get to the apartment days later,
    it has been cleaned up, some (crime scene cleaners).
The A/C is off.
    All is still.

All his photos are neat in plastic boxes centered on the kitchen table.
    One snap propped on top:
He is coming out of a movie, nieces and nephews with him.
    Above, the marquee: Kill Bill II.
I bury it among the others,
    until now.

We cannot believe how many people come to the funeral.
The little white chapel at the crossroads, once country,
    cannot hold them all.
Fifty people are left standing in the summer rain.

I have brought my last album of photographs.
    One I think to prop against – oh, those are his ashes.
I do not.
    I keep it back.
It is of Bill, from the back, running on the beach,
    hands outstretched to embrace
        wind
        sand
        surf
and     
        sky.

And hope?

I hope,
    against hope.

There is sadness even in this gesture, now poignant,
    perhaps a last prayer
                   (of sorts – to an unknown God)
    on his last visit home.

What is this silence, Lord?
    Why this desolation?
The inconsolate weeping of the widow,
    once again bereft,
disturbs the night,
    once again.

John R. Leech
June 18, 2011. 

changes

"Things change. Some of them disappear from our lives. Sometimes we see it coming and sometimes we don't. Sometimes we cause the change ourselves and sometimes it is visited upon us. Some change is temporary and some is permanent ... All the changes we see, those we welcome and those we resist with everything in us, are earthly..."


The Geranium Farm - Barbara Cawthorne Crafton
www.geraniumfarm.org

(from today's eMo)

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memories...

"To the extent that we are psychologically healthy, our identities will consist largely in our free responses to our memories, not just in the memories themselves. Moreover, are we not also what we hope for in the future? It is true, the past can rob us of the future, just as it can rob us of the present. But here again the psychologically healthy persons' dreams for the future cannot be mere forward projections of her memories, for then she would be cemented in her past, of which her future would be only the boring and oppressive extension. A person with a healthy sense of identity living in freedom and security will let the future draw her out of the past and the prsent and will play with new possibilities and embark on new paths."

--Miroslav Volf, The End of Memory (Grand Rapids, Mich.: Wm. B. Eerdmans, 2006) 25.

http://divinity.yale.edu/volf

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Pentecost 2011

The lessons on Pentecost all encourage new openness, openness to the spirit and to ways of being the church, the people of God in the world.

There are many ways of being church. As there are many gifts but one spirit, for individuals, so for congregations, there is one spirit expressed through many collective gifts or charisms - ways of being church, of manifesting the grace of God in the ministry of the church.

Diana Butler Bass, in her book, Christianity for the Rest of Us: How the Neighborhood Church is Transforming the Faith (Harper San Francisco, September 2006) described her research into the many ways local churches manifest the work of the spirit.

Hospitality, discernment, healing, contemplation, testimony, diversity, justice, worship, reflection, beauty: these are aspects or charisms of ten particular neighborhood churches - Lutheran, Episcopal, and others - that have found in finding and celebrating the gifts God has given them, new ways to be transformed in the renewing of their minds and the refreshing of their faith.

Congregations find ways of being church that are theirs - and yet are gifts to the neighborhoods around them. All the different ways of doing church have a similarity. They are ways of being church in openness to the Spirit and in obedience to the word of God.

Make disciples among all the peoples of the earth, our Lord commanded: baptize them and teach them all Jesus taught the disciples, and remember him - remember him in the breaking of the bread and in the prayers. Be open to God’s leading, leading into new life.

What we find in the lessons of Pentecost, the lessons for today, are invitations, exhortations, and examples, of how to be open to the Spirit.

Open your selves to the spirit’s presence.

Open your self to the experience of God to be had in welcoming the stranger, visiting the sick or the prisoner, feeding the hungry, clothing the naked, giving water to those who thirst.

Open your selves to the continuing work of the Creator, doing a new thing now in the midst of the earth.

Open your hearts to receive God’s love.
Open your hands to give that love on to others.

Open your lips and proclaim God’s praise.

Open the shades and let light stream in.
Open the windows and let the Spirit blow through stale corridors.
Open the doors and go forth to love and serve the Lord.

***

The breath of God that moved across the face of the waters on the first day of creation is still moving, moving where it will. Through the open doors of our souls and churches a fresh breeze is blowing - it is the Spirit, enlivening us, enlightening us, and filling us with the light of Christ.

In the first lesson we hear today Eldad and Medad are prophesying in the camp. Moses, tell them to stop! Joshua says. But Moses says: Are you jealous on my account? Would that all God’s people would prophesy.

When a portion of the spirit that had been given to Moses was taken and distributed to seventy, the gift was not diminished. It is not a limited quantity. There is no scarcity of the grace of God; there is no limit to the power of God.

The gift of the Spirit is a gift that grows in the giving; it is a flame that grows as it touches on each of us.

It grows in blessing God’s people.

And the people of God, gathered all in one place on the day of Pentecost, awaited the coming of the Spirit. All began speaking one message, with many voices, in many languages - so it was for those who heard the word of God, the proclamation of God’s mighty deeds.

Each heard the good news in the language of their own heart. That is the real miracle. Each of them heard the word in the way that reached them, that touched their souls.

The people of God were proclaiming God’s sovereignty, the coming of the reign of God, and to all people. For, as Joel said, everyone who calls on the name of the Lord shall be saved.

This is the birth of the Church, in the experience of the Spirit, a gift that grows in the giving.

What it tells us is that we live in a world ruled by a generous God, a life-giving, hope-renewing, boundless God. And the gifts of the spirit are all given for one reason: mission.

The gifts of the Spirit are not an end in themselves, and certainly not an excuse for wallowing in self-importance.

(You are significant, for one and the same reason: you are precious in the sight of God, the God who made you, the God who redeems you in the death and life and resurrection of Jesus Christ, the God who loves you. You are significant because you are God’s child and his Beloved ones.)

The gifts of the Spirit are not a privilege for a select few, but a gift that grows in the giving. They are gifts for the whole church, and for the whole world.

Even in the Gospel story, when wind and fire are hushed and quiet, Jesus comes into the room where they are all gathered and says, Peace. Peace be among you. And receive holy Breath.

He sends them into mission - and he gives the Spirit to carry out the mission.

They were gathered, locked together in fear, but they became open to a new possibility - the new possibility that the continuing presence of Christ brings.

Receive holy breath. Open your souls to the holy One, the one who, through wind and flame, and peaceful presence, comes to you, empowers you, and sends you forth, renewed, to spread the good news - to be the good news - and to bring others into the celebration.

In the spirit’s power. Amen.

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