Sermon Proper 15, Year A, Matthew 15:10-18, 20 August 2017

Who has God created me to be? That is a question the gospel opens for us this morning in two seemingly unrelated passages.

We begin this morning’s gospel with Jesus turning inside out any ideas about what is clean and what is not. In Jesus’ time part of daily life, because it was part of religious observance, was to stay clean, to be pure. Part of this purity, this staying clean, was to avoid touching those things and people considered unclean: outsiders, foreigners, those who had been touched themselves by something unclean.

Surprisingly, Jesus describes purity as coming from within, rather than from without. No doubt he shocked and dismayed his listeners. If purity comes from within instead of by ritual observances everyone can see, how does one maintain purity?

Once Jesus has explained the kind of purity God desires, the gospel shifts. Suddenly the abstract instruction about what things are pure and what are impure becomes real. Purity would not have included the person in the second part of this morning’s gospel: a woman so unclean herself that her daughter has been tormented by a demon. She is an unclean Canaanite woman, an enemy, and an outsider. One would have nothing to do with these persons to avoid the risk of becoming unclean oneself.

 And, this woman, this unclean Canaanite woman, demands Jesus’ mercy to heal her daughter. At first, Jesus does not answer her. When pressed, he explains he was sent only to those who are concerned about purity, the pure themselves. Sure, they may be “the lost sheep of Israel” but they are God’s chosen sheep. There seems to be an edge to his response, no matter what translation you look at, no matter in what language.

There are a host of explanations for Jesus’ behavior. Jesus reflected the disciples’ behavior by demonstrating how they didn’t listen to him. Jesus called the woman a dog affectionately, not angrily. Jesus wanted the disciples to see how persistence would get you what you wanted. I don’t believe these explanations are particularly compelling or even helpful.

Suppose instead we focus on who God created Jesus to be. Jesus was divine, but he was also human. Jesus had all the human feelings with which we are endowed: anger, grief, hope, joy, love. If you doubt this, read the gospels. Jesus got angry. Jesus got frustrated. Jesus wept. Jesus got irritated. Jesus got hungry. Jesus got thirsty. So while we may not like it much, to deny Jesus’ irritation with the Gentile woman is to deny his humanity.

But what is the focus of Jesus’ irritation? I find in this story the focus of my own irritation when I fail to live out who God calls me to be. Could it be that this very human experience is what is going on with Jesus?

Jesus has spent his ministry demonstrating to the disciples and to the crowds that God calls all of us. And in particular, God calls all of us to minister to the least of his kingdom: the children, the poor, the unclean, the insane, the different, the disabled, the imprisoned. God calls us to minister to everyone who is not part of the ruling class, to minister to everyone who is nowhere near the top of the heap and those not even in the heap.

         Is it possible Jesus is caught up in his own “stuff?” That he is tired, and tired of people? That he decides he only has enough energy left for the Children of Israel? Is it possible that our Gentile woman has a job to do with Jesus? Does she show us that even Jesus – precisely because he is human – has those moments when he does not live up to who he’s called to be?

         Yet Jesus allowed himself to be instructed with humor. The woman said to him, “Sir, even the dogs under the table eat the children’s crumbs.” She points out to Jesus that while she may be the lowest of the low, she’s still part of God’s creation. She may be a Canaanite, but even Canaanite dogs under the table are part of God’s creation.

It’s as if she’s saying, “Okay Jesus, fine. I know you’re rejecting me. You think you’re reserved only for certain folks. Even so, I’ll settle for the tiniest crumb of you. For someone like me, that’s plenty!”

         And what does Jesus’ do? He acts. He becomes once again who he is called to be. The woman reminds Jesus he has acted outside his calling. He himself has not only said, but also demonstrated that he is called to all, not just to Israel. Yet in his tiredness, in his irritation, in his humanness, he has forgotten who he is. He has forgotten that everyone is in and no one is out. He has forgotten that he has taught and spoken and acted as though everyone has a seat at the table. This woman begging for mercy has reminded Jesus to act the way God made him to be!

         The struggle Jesus entered with this woman reminded Jesus who God created him to be. Jesus emerged from his encounter with this woman stronger, wiser, tempered by the fire of the God he touched when she reminded him who God created him to be.

This is good news for us. It is good news especially in reflecting on the recent events in Charlottesville. We have forgotten who we are created to be. We have erred and strayed from the ways in which God has created us to act. We have moved away from peace and inclusion to violence and divisiveness. We have failed to speak out and to act.

Let this Canaanite woman this morning be our prophet of what is to come. Let us become who we are created to be. Let us turn toward those things of peace and inclusion. Let us fill our hearts with the Jesus we fell in love with in the beginning of our days. Let us embrace the Jesus we knew before we even knew his name. Let us emerge stronger, wiser, tempered by the fire of God. Let us speak as God calls us to speak, and act as God calls us to act. AMEN.

The Rev Nicolette Papanek

©2017

Sermon Proper 12 (Baptism), Year A, Romans 8:26-39, Matthew 13:31-33, 44-52

The Gospel you just heard might be one of the times Jesus revealed himself as a subversive. Six times today we hear the phrase, “the kingdom of heaven.” Does it sound like nagging? Do you think Jesus might be making a point here?

These six descriptions of the kingdom of heaven in Matthew’s Gospel might indeed be nagging. It’s possible Jesus’ nagging could be described like this, “Nagging is the repetition of unpalatable truths.” Those unpalatable truths are subversive statements about the kingdom of heaven. They turn inside out what we think we know about the kingdom of heaven and about God.

         We’re about to do something else this morning that is subversive. Some other words we might use to describe why we baptize are words like this. When we are baptized we receive our calling to become a troublemaker, a dissident, an agitator, a revolutionary, a renegade, even a rebel for the kingdom of heaven. Baptism is probably the most subversive or revolutionary thing we do in the church. It puts us squarely in that place between the kingdom of self and the kingdom of God. Baptism makes us subversives for the kingdom of heaven.”[1] 

So what is this subversion called Christianity? And why are we inviting Noah to be a part of this subversive place? By the grace of God, we are called to step ever more fully into whom God calls us to be. And, by the grace of God, we are called to continue recognizing and nurturing the kingdom of God already among us.

This is not something we only do on Sundays or alternate Sundays, or Sunday once a month when things line up for us. If we treated our cars like that we’d run out of fuel more than we’d run our car on the road. And if we treat our spiritual lives like that we will run out of spiritual fuel. Is that what we want? To find we are stranded along the spiritual roadside waiting for Jesus to come by with the fuel truck?

Worshiping together, in all our joys and all our sorrows, refuels us to set aside the kingdom of self and become ministers of Christ in the kingdom of God. Hearing the word, eating the bread and drinking the wine remind us powerfully week after week of who we are and whose we are. This is what we are doing here today for and with Noah. We gather to baptize and welcome Noah into this subversive faith. We repeat our own vows that call us to be a subversive force in the world, to move from the kingdom of self to the kingdom of God. And, as we make that move, we will know at the very core of our being what Paul wrote in his Letter to the Romans:

“For I am convinced that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor rulers, nor things present, nor things to come, nor powers, nor height, nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord.”[2]

It is Jesus Christ, the first subversive, who fuels our subversion. AMEN.

The Rev Nicolette Papanek

©2017

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[1] http://www.christianitytoday.com/pastors/books/contemplativepastor/ldlib17-4.html

[2] Romans 8:38-39

Sermon Proper 11, Year A, Genesis 28:10-19a, 23 July 2017

         In our Hebrew Scripture or Old Testament story this morning, Jacob is on the run. He is fleeing from his Brother Esau. In an earlier reading from Genesis, Jacob and his mother Rebekah tricked Esau out of the blessing of his birthright. This is a blessing that rightfully belonged to Esau.as the eldest son. Now Esau is so angry he is ready to kill his brother. Jacob, although ostensibly traveling to find a wife, is really fleeing from his brother’s anger.

Once the sun goes down, Jacob stops for the night. Fleeing danger, weary and fearful, Jacob falls deeply asleep. God speaks to Jacob in a dream.

Two weeks ago we heard the story of Abraham and the near-sacrifice of Isaac. That entire event must have seemed like a frightful dream to Abraham. Yet fearful, and planning to kill his son, God spoke to Abraham as he grasped the knife. In this week’s story, God speaks to a fearful, fleeing Jacob, in danger from his brother, in the midst of his sleep.

God spoke to both Abraham and Jacob in the midst of their fear, a fear that had persuaded them both to idolatry. Their fear persuaded both of them to worship something other than God. Abraham idolized or worshiped his son, rather than the God who gave Isaac to him. Jacob idolized or worshiped the blessing of the eldest enough to steal it for himself, rather than worshiping and trusting God, the Giver of all Blessings.

What could these two stories say to us at St Alban, at this moment? Some people have idolized, let us not say worshiped, the previous Rector, or Associate Priest, or other Priests who have served here. Admittedly, a change in leadership can be a fearful time; in some of the same ways fear came to Abraham and to Jacob. It can be a time when the temptation is most powerful to be fearful because the future seems uncertain. And, when we are fearful, we can allow our fear to make idols.

It’s perilously easy to make idols in the church. We can make them of our clergy, of one another, of the building, of the particular programs or ministries, the way we do things, really, of anything. And, when we make those things idols we forget with whom we have to deal. We forget the God who blesses us and guides us and stays with us even in our fear. We forget the God, who is always with us, the God who continues to love us, even when we are in continuing danger of worshiping something or someone else and have forgotten the God who loves us.

God blessed Abraham by giving him back his son. But more importantly, Abraham refocused his attention back on the God who was the Giver of All Blessings.

God blessed Jacob with the vision of a ladder connecting heaven and earth, on which angels moved up and down. But more importantly, Jacob refocused his attention back to God, the Giver of all Blessing. Jacob heard God’s promise once more, “Know that I am with you and will keep you wherever you go, and will bring you back to this land; for I will not leave you until I have done what I promised you.”[1] And in his fearful, fleeing time, Jacob awoke to the presence of God and responded, “Surely the Lord is in this place – and I did not know it!”[2]

God did not remove Jacob’s fear, nor promise there would be no fear in the future. Instead, Jacob, with his awareness of God’s presence, transformed his fear into belief and awe in God. “And he (Jacob) was afraid, and said, ‘How awesome is this place! This is none other than the house of God, and this is the gate of heaven.’”[3]

So today, and in the weeks to come, whether you are relieved, or glad, or apprehensive (or all of those things or others), about the change in leadership that will come some time next year, let me suggest something to you. Instead of focusing on fear, focus on God being in this place. Find the things here that give the most joy. Those are the things we will talk about when we begin our parish gatherings to collect information about St Alban’s and the people here. Of course we will pay attention also to those things we would like to do better or more of, but we will focus our attention on who God is calling us to become and that is a joyful process.

Most of all, during this time of transition: avoid idolatry. Focus on the blessings. Focus on the connections made between heaven and earth, the ladder of God that binds us to one another through heavenly things. Focus on the presence of God within this place and outside these walls. Do this, because what you focus on becomes your reality.[4]

I invite us all to model Abraham and Jacob and become aware of the presence of God. Transform any fears or anxieties or apprehensions into awareness of the presence of God. For God is speaking to us all in this time of transition. God is calling us ever deeper into God’s presence. God is reminding us, “Know that I am with you and will keep you wherever you go, and will bring you back to this land; for I will not leave you until I have done what I promised you.”[5] AMEN.

The Rev Nicolette Papanek

©2017              

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[1] Genesis 28:15 (NRSV)

[2] Genesis 28:16b (NRSV)

[3] Genesis 28:17 (NRSV)

[4] A key principle of Appreciative Inquiry. For further information see www.appreciativeway.com

[5] Genesis 28:15 (NRSV)

Sermon Proper 10, Year A, Matthew 13:1-9, 18-23, 16 July 2017

We live in an uncertain world. If I asked you, I’m sure each of you could come up with a personal list of uncertainties in your life. I’m honestly not sure how much good that would do, however. But suppose for a few moments at least we concentrate on something that is certain. Maybe we could start with today’s gospel.

The second half of our Gospel reading today gives us an interpretation of the parable so perhaps that might be certain. We can tell ourselves we know what it means. We can concentrate on the soil since that is what the interpretation does. We’re told what seed sown on the path means, what seed sown on rocky ground means, and so forth. It might be helpful to know though, that recent biblical scholarship suggests that the interpretation of this parable was most likely added much later, and probably to the similar parable in Mark’s Gospel and then picked up by Matthew.[1] Knowing that, perhaps the interpretation isn’t as certain as we originally thought.

Instead of looking at the soil, suppose we look at the sower, the farmer, instead for our certainty. The parable does beg the question: What kind of farmer would pay no attention to the soil or conditions?

Even those of you who don’t garden probably know enough to know your chances of success are pretty slim if you dig a hole in the middle of your yard in mid-summer, poke in a seed and walk away. I did that once and I can tell you nothing happens! So what kind of sower pays no attention to conditions, no attention to preparing the land, no attention to the weather or the water or the wisdom of how others have planted before?

In today’s parable it’s a sower who has so much seed, who has so much to plant it doesn’t matter whether the ground is a hard path, or rocky, or choked with weeds. It’s a sower who loves planting so much it doesn’t matter that much of the seed may be wasted. It’s a sower who knows even if some seed doesn’t sprout, the yield will be much greater than anyone expects. It’s a sower who knows sowing is everything and everywhere.

         You might know this sower is God. And you might know already that God is far more generous than we can even imagine. The generosity of God is extended to us and to the world in spite of uncertainty, in spite of violence, in spite of death. Perhaps this is precisely why God scatters seed with such abandon. Knowing the possibilities that human beings have for failure, God simply keeps sowing seed. Knowing the yield will be far greater than we can imagine, God simply keeps sowing seed. Knowing the uncertainty of life for us, when we look to God for certainty, God simply keeps sowing seed. Always the sower, always the broadcaster of a generosity we are just beginning to know, always simply, generously, abundantly, sowing seed.

Despite war or violence or terrorism, God sows seed among us. Despite death, a baby is born. Despite lack of funding for schools and lack of money on the part of the parents, a child learns to read. Despite over-scheduling and over-consuming and not enough focus on faith, people repair homes and feed the poor. Despite self-involvement and coming to church for our own needs and staying long enough to get fed and then leaving quickly (guilty as charged!), newcomers are welcomed. Despite some folks thinking the poor are responsible for their own poverty, people open their hearts to the needy. Despite pinched church budgets and scarcity thinking, bills get paid and doors stay open.

Suffering and death are brought to their knees because God just keeps sowing seed. Poverty and want and loneliness are assuaged because God just keeps sowing seed. And we can be part of the sowing, if only we will listen. Let those who have ears to hear, listen!

If you want to hear God sow seeds you have to listen. You have to get quiet enough to hear. You have to open your mind and your heart to the sower. Let those who have ears to hear, listen!

         I’m going to ask you to do something for just a minute. I know you can do it. Get really quiet and listen. Just for a minute. I know a minute is a long time. I know some of you are really active people who might get a little impatient. I know you’re going to wonder when it’s over. I know you’re going to hear some rustling and some shuffling and some sniffling and maybe a child or two. But each time you do, just listen. Listen to this sound. (I poured seed from bowl to basket.) Do you hear that? That’s the sound of seed, an unlimited amount of seed. That’s the sound of God forgetting about the soil, or the weather, or the birds. That’s the sound of God sowing seed. Listen... Listen...[2] (I waited one full minute and during that minute poured the seeds from the bowl to the basket and back. Then concluded.) Let those who have ears to hear, listen! AMEN.

The Rev Nicolette Papanek

©2017

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[1] Mark 13:13-20

[2] This sermon draws its seed from a concept developed by Carl Gregg from Thomas Merton’s book, New Seeds of Contemplation. I knew I wanted to illustrate the sound of the seed; reading Carl Gregg’s thoughtful posting solidified the concept for which I am deeply grateful. To read Carl Gregg’s excellent posting, please see: http://www.patheos.com/community/carlgregg/2011/06/30/jesus%E2%80%99-seed-parable-and-merton%E2%80%99s-%E2%80%9Cnew-seeds-of-contemplation%E2%80%9D-a-progressive-christian-lectionary-commentary-for-sunday-july-10-2011/