Sin, So Tedious; Love So Enduring – Br. Curtis Almquist

Luke 7:36-50

Most of us, most of the time, do not need anyone else’s help for us to judge ourselves poorly. We are well apprised of how we have missed the mark, perjured ourselves, once more done or said those things we have ought not to have done or said, and not done or said those things we should have. Momentarily we will be invited to make a personal, corporate confession of our sin. We will just plough ahead with this. What is so pathetic is we need not be asked for a show of hands, whether time for confession would be helpful. The ancient liturgy of the church – without benefit of having personally surveyed either you or me – presumes the state of things in our soul, and that, yet again, our personal confession of sin would be both helpful and necessary for most all of us. The distinctive quality of confessions, in my experience, is that they are so tedious and boring.

Jesus judges this woman about whom we hear in today’s Gospel lesson. Jesus judges her. Jesus puts a face to God’s judgment, and it is a judgment of love. It is not a judgment of ridicule, or rejection, or hopelessness, or boredom, or eternal condemnation, but rather a judgment of love.

This woman is a known person. It’s her again. We can presume that Jesus is also a known person. It’s him again. She did not pick Jesus at random. She knows something about him, most likely has heard him teaching, seen him healing before. What she is doing, down on her knees, is making her confession with alabaster oil and tears. It’s an extravagant confession, as is her known sin. No words from her are recorded. What’s to say? It’s her again. Most significant in this Gospel story is not whether Jesus bears God’s love, nor whether Jesus bears God’s love for this woman. Jesus has said that before, and she has heard it. The question – her question – is whether Jesus still loves her? Yes, he still loves her. He still loves us.

The Parable of the Unforgiving Servant – Br. David Vryhof

Matthew 18:21-35

Poet and author Elizabeth Barrett Browning is probably best known for the words she wrote in a letter to her future husband: “How do I love thee?  Let me count the ways.”  Her father, Edward, was a controlling man who forbid any of his twelve children to marry, and when Elizabeth defied her father’s wishes to marry Robert Browning, her father never spoke to her again.

Elizabeth wrote weekly letters to her father in the hope that they might be reconciled, but for ten years there was no response.  Then one day, after a decade of silence, a box arrived in the mail from her father.  Her excitement quickly turned to anguish, however, when she opened it and found that it contained all of her letters – unopened.  Edward Barrett’s heart was so hardened towards his daughter that he didn’t open a single one of the hundreds of letters she wrote to him.

Unforgiveness does that.  It hardens the heart.  It magnifies the perceived offense to the point where we can no longer appreciate a person’s value because all we see is how they have grieved us.  If forgiveness is one of the most powerful forces for redemption in the Christian faith, unforgiveness is one of the most powerful forces for destruction.  In today’s gospel lesson, Jesus gives us a parable that speaks to us about forgiveness and unforgiveness.[i] Read More

Wash Us – Br. Luke Ditewig

Isaiah 1:2-4, 16-20
Psalm 50:7-15, 22-24

Much of the snow here melted last week, changing our perspective. The grounds and gardens came back into view. As soon as the river thawed, rowers went back out in their sculls. We see what was hidden: water, plants, and paths along with trash and twigs. Lent invites revealing, attending to what has been hidden, and reordering our lives. It may include gathering the trash and raking up the twigs within our souls, what we can see is out of place.

God says through the prophet Isaiah in tonight’s scripture: “I reared children and brought them up, but they have rebelled against me. … Wash yourselves; make yourselves clean; remove evil … cease to do evil.” It is more than lawns or riverbanks and more than simply tidying up. Wash yourself from evil. From denying goodness in each other. From denying goodness in ourselves and in the world. From all our little to large words and actions and inaction—including allowing others and systems to act on our behalf—all that degrades, oppresses, shames, and enslaves.[i]

Particularly in Lent, we are called to realize, name, and turn from our sin. As we will sing: “Lenten gifts invite us, searching deep within, claiming our desires, naming all our sin.”[ii] Not in order to beat ourselves up. Not because God wants revenge. Rather, surrender by acknowledging our need and receive grace. God comes wanting to save. Read More

God Loves Humans – Br. David Vryhof

Isaiah 58:1-12;
Matthew 6:1-6,16-21  

All of us have secrets: secret thoughts, secret feelings, secret fears, hopes and desires.  All of us know more about ourselves than we care to share with others.  We allow others to think we have pure hearts, but we know that we harbor impure thoughts.  We hope others will notice how unselfish we are, yet we know that selfishness still resides in us.  We want people to see us as strong and courageous, but we know that often we are weak and afraid.

We live with secrets, all of us.  We’re sometimes shocked when we learn something about a person that we never would have guessed, something that had been hidden from us.  But the truth is that we will never fully know even the closest of our friends and companions.  We are mysteries to each other, like icebergs of which we can see only the tip.  And we are mysteries to ourselves.  We will never fully understand why we think and act in the ways we do.  Only God knows the secrets of our hearts.

Jesus often exposed the secrets of others.  He perceived the hypocrisy of the Pharisees.  He discerned the true motives of the crowds that followed him.  He saw into the hearts of his disciples.  He knows our secrets.  He knows that what we do on the outside does not always match up with what is going on within us.  We may appear to be seeking God and trying to do what is right, and yet inwardly we are preoccupied with the impression we are making on other people.  We may give the appearance of serving God, but it may not actually be God’s approval that we are seeking, or God’s purposes that we are trying to advance. Read More

An Uncontainable Kingdom – Br. Keith Nelson

Br. Keith Nelson

2 Samuel 11:1-17 & Mark 4:26-34

I am haunted by a vivid memory: a lush, green vine consuming a tractor, an abandoned car, a telephone pole, and even a small house. The vine is kudzu, a species innocently introduced to the southern U.S. in the late 1800’s from Japan. Now known as “the vine that ate the south,” kudzu is an aggressively invasive species, often growing a foot in a single day. My vivid memory stems from seeing this vine for the first time at age nine, when my family relocated to Alabama from New Jersey. On one stretch of highway, I gawked at the shape of a tractor, an abandoned car, a telephone pole, and then a small house clearly visible beneath the lush foliage. I silently wondered if our new house would eventually suffer the same fate. 

Sin is not unlike kudzu on an untended stretch of highway. In the second book of Samuel, we encounter a passage that is notoriously timeless in its relevance. A simple stroll and a lingering glance in the direction of the unknowing, innocent Bathsheba prove fatal. So much harm grown from a single, tragically misguided decision, to act on his tempting thoughts in flagrant abuse of his power as king. David’s sin rapidly multiplies in a sequence of events leading to worse and worse consequences. An innocent woman’s life is changed forever, and a good man is put to death by the king whose interests he was fighting to defend. 

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No Stumbling Blocks! – Br. David Vryhof

Br. David VryhofMark 9:38-50
(for contextual notes about this passage in the arc of Mark’s Gospel, see the end of this sermon)

Picture this: Jesus and his disciples are traveling on a hot and dusty road from Galilee – the territory in the north where he was raised and where he has been teaching and healing – to Jerusalem, the holy city in the south that is the center of Jewish faith and practice.  He has deliberately set out to go there, “setting his face towards Jerusalem,” knowing full well its dangers, and the opposition he is certain to face there.

Along the way, he has revealed to his disciples that he must suffer and be put to death by his enemies, but that God will raise him to life again.  These words confuse and frighten them and they repeatedly demonstrate their failure to understand not only the meaning of this prediction, but also who he is and what he has been teaching them.  They seem not to have grasped at all the concept of the “kingdom” of which he has been speaking – an “upside-down kingdom” in which the first are last and the last are first, in which to lose one’s life is to gain it, and in which the greatest is the servant of all.

Just now they have been arguing amongst themselves over who will be the greatest in the kingdom which they are sure he will establish once he arrives in Jerusalem and defeats his foes.  Jesus corrects them and tells them plainly that in God’s kingdom “whoever wants to be first must be last of all and servant of all.”  Then, we are told, “he took a little child and put it among them; and taking it in his arms, he said to them, ‘Whoever welcomes one such child in my name welcomes me, and whoever welcomes me welcomes not me but the one who sent me’” (Mk 9:35-37).  For Jesus, children are a sacrament of God’s presence and of his presence and are therefore to be protected and loved. Read More

Salvation: From What? To What – Br. David Vryhof

Br. David Vryhof

This afternoon marks the conclusion of our four-part Advent preaching series, entitled “Salvation Revisited,” in which we have been exploring the meaning of “salvation,” a concept that is at the heart of the Good News that Christian faith offers and proclaims. If you’ve missed any of the three previous sermons in the series – by Brothers Curtis Almquist, Geoffrey Tristram, and Mark Brown – you can read or listen to those sermons on our community’s website, www.ssje.org.  This afternoon, our focus is once again on the meaning of salvation, this time asking the question: “Salvation: From What? To What?”

The very notion of “salvation” rests on the assumption that there is something wrong that needs to be put right; if all is well, there is no need for a savior. What is it, then, in the view of Christianity, that is wrong and needs to be put right?  Frederick Buechner summarizes it when he writes:

I think it is possible to say that in spite of all its extraordinary variety, the Bible is held together by having a single plot. It is one that can be simply stated: God creates the world; the world gets lost; God seeks to restore the world to the glory for which God created it.[i] Read More

Longing for the Judgement of Christ – Br. Geoffrey Tristram

Matthew 25:31-end

One of my favorite buildings in all the world is the Chartres Cathedral in North France.  I had the privilege of living in France for a year near Chartres and I used to love visiting and getting to know the amazing work of art.

I especially loved the stunning west front of the cathedral and those incredible stone carvings of Adam and Eve, the prophets, apostles, saints and martyrs.  But at the very center, that favorite scene of all: the Last Judgment.  And it was illustrated by that favorite symbol – the weighing scales.  Each poor soul would in turn, stand before the terrifying judge of all, as his good works were put into one side of the scales, and his evil deeds into the other.  Would he be a sheep or a goat?  If his evil deeds outweighed his good, down he would go into the fires of hell.  But if on balance he had done enough good works, up he would go to join the heavenly host.  And what a host!  You’ve never seen such smug, self-satisfied faces as those in heaven!  And we may sympathize with the view that if they are the ones going to heaven, I might prefer the other place! Read More

Thank God I’m Not Like Them – Br. David Vryhof

Br. David VryhofLuke 18:9-14

When I was a boy I looked down on my Episcopalian neighbors – mostly because they played outside and watched television on Sunday and we didn’t.  They didn’t go to church nearly as often as we did – and sometimes there was beer in their refrigerator.  Their boys received a quarter every time they rehearsed or sang with the children’s choir at their church; we did it for free.  They went to public schools; we went to Christian schools. Yes, there was a lot to be proud of, plenty of evidence that we were a notch above them on God’s scale.

But even as a boy I could see myself in this parable.  The contrast between the Pharisee and the Tax Collector is so stark and so dramatic that even children have a hard time missing the point.  I knew my feelings of religious superiority were wrong.

Obviously, at some point I must have dropped my bias against Episcopalians. But new biases arose and the pattern repeated itself.  Today the temptation is to look with contempt at biblical fundamentalists, or at the hierarchy of the Roman Catholic Church, or at those who count themselves as “spiritual but not religious.”  Being a Pharisee doesn’t go away easily.  I tremble a bit when I read the words that introduce this story: “He told this parable to some who trusted in themselves that they were righteous and regarded others with contempt.”  I have to ask myself, who are the others I regard with contempt?

Obviously this was a problem in Jesus’ day, too – hence this parable. Jesus addressed the issue more than once.

In his Sermon on the Mount he instructed his disciples not to sound the trumpets when they gave alms so that they could be seen by others, but to give secretly without drawing attention to themselves (Mt 6:2-4).

He told them not to stand and pray in conspicuous places, but to go to their rooms and shut the door and pray to the Father in secret (Mt 6:5-8).

He said, Don’t disfigure your faces when you fast so that people will notice your piety; put oil on your head and wash your face and act normally so that only God will see and know your practice (Mt 6:16-18).  Spiritual disciplines lose their power when they’re done in order to draw attention to ourselves.

“Beware of practicing your piety before others in order to be seen by them,” Jesus says, “for then you have no reward from your Father in heaven” (Mt 6:1).  Don’t consider yourselves better than others or more righteous.  “Judge not, so that you may not be judged.  For with the judgment you make you will be judged” (Mt 7:1-2)

And we get it, don’t we? And yet arrogance, conceit and self-centered pride creep in, again and again and again.  We find ourselves thinking, if not actually saying, “Thank God I’m not like them.”

How does it happen? How does the enemy so easily ensnare us? St Ignatius of Loyola, the 16thcentury Spanish saint and founder of the Jesuits, has an answer. It’s like this, he says:

First, we recognize that we have riches– wealth or success or physical beauty or popularity or some special talent or a spotless reputation or a good family.

Because of these riches we receive honorfrom others.  They praise us, look up to us, consider us special – and we believe them.

This, says Ignatius, is what leads to arrogant pride– the pride of the Pharisee in Jesus’ story.  We deem ourselves to be special, unlike others, worthy of praise and honor from others, separate from them, higher and better.  Riches, Honor and Pride – that’s the progression, says Ignatius.

And it’s not just something that happens to us as individuals.  It happens to groups of people, to nations, for example, and to religious groups, and to ethnic or racial groups.  We long for “riches,” those things that are most valued in the world – popularity or fame, a certain lifestyle, financial security, social status, worldwide power and influence.  These are the things that bring us honor and respect (or maybe fear) in the eyes of other people.   And these riches and honors cause us to swell with pride. We see ourselves as better, more righteous, more deserving.  And we consider with contempt those less righteous, less gifted, less influential and less worthy than ourselves.

Dean Brackley, author of the book The Call to Discernment in Troubled Times, quotes a letter which a friend of his received from a leading credit card company, inviting him to apply for a new credit card – (he doesn’t say what card it is – I’ll call it the Gold Card, just for now).

Dear _________,

Recently I invited you to apply for the GoldCard…. I believe you’ve earned this invitation.  You’ve worked hard and have been recognized for your efforts.  And nothing is more satisfying than achieving your own personal goals.

Now it’s time for you to carry the card that symbolizes your achievement – the GoldCard.

Only a select group will ever carry the GoldCard.  So it instantly identifies you as someone special – one who expects an added measure of courtesy and personal attention.  And with the GoldCard, you enjoy an impressive degree of convenience, financial flexibility and service….

TheG­oldCard says more about you than anything you can buy with it.  I think it’s time you joined the select group who carry it.

Sincerely,                                              

                                                                        [Brackley, pp.90-91]

Here’s the message: You’re special.  A cut above. Worthy of “an added measure of courtesy and personal attention.”  You deserve the honor and respect of others. You’re special.  The fact that you have the GoldCard puts you in a special class of people (a modern day version of the Pharisee).

These are the ways of a world gone wrong – a world infected by covetousness and greed.  A world that climbs and pushes its way to the top of the ladder, often stepping over others in the process.  A world that grasps after the symbols of power and success. A world of competition, a world of upward mobility….

It’s a world that creates outcasts, that values or devalues people based on their social and economic status, their gender, their sexual orientation, their race and class.  At the top are the glamorous movie stars, the well-paid athletes, the successful CEOs, the rich bankers.  At the bottom are the mentally ill, homosexuals, prostitutes, people with AIDS, homeless alcoholics – the people it is easiest to despise.

“Whenever one group of human beings is treated as inferior to another,” says Archbishop Emeritus Desmond Tutu, “hatred and intolerance will triumph.”

[quoted in The Washington Post, Sunday, October 23, 2010 in an article by Navanethem Pillay entitled “How We Can Fight Back Against Homophobia”]

Jesus shows us a better way. He tells us to humble ourselves, to stoop low so that we can listen and learn from the marginalized and the poor, to be indifferent to honors, to drop out of the race for social status, to put ourselves in solidarity with the needy, to cooperate rather than compete, to give rather than take.  His way is a downward way, a way of service and self-offering; it is the way of humility rather than pride.  “[Jesus] emptied himself,” the Scriptures tell us, “taking the form of a slave, being born in human likeness” (Phil. 2:7).  He came not to be served but to serve.  He counted prostitutes and tax collectors and sinners as his friends, and ate and drank with them.

And we are to have the same mind.  “Let each of you look not to your own interests,” St Paul writes to the Philippians, “but to the interests of others.  Let the same mind be in you that was in Christ Jesus” (Phil. 2:4-5)

There’s no room in the kingdom of God for arrogance and pride.  Everyone’s equal there.  There are no outcasts, no persecuted minorities, no inferior peoples.

“He told this parable to some who trusted in themselves that they were righteous and regarded others with contempt.”  Let’s learn the lesson well.  The world will be a better place.

Easter Innocence – Br. Curtis Almquist

John 20:1-18

We have this old phrase, “misery loves company.” Peter and the Beloved Disciple were keeping company in their misery, but not for the same reasons. The Beloved Disciple was grief stricken over the horrendous crucifixion of his dearest friend, Jesus, with whom he had stayed until it was finished. Peter, on the other hand, was frightened and appalled by his own betrayal of Jesus, whom he had denied and abandoned from the bitter outset. The two disciples were together but in very different places when they hear the news from Mary Magdalene that Jesus’ body is gone. They run towards the tomb independently, no surprise. The Beloved Disciple would be ecstatic, remembering Jesus’ promise that if he were killed, he would come back to life; he would be resurrected. Peter, on the other hand, would be in agony. He, too, had heard Jesus’ prediction about his resurrection. But Jesus’ resurrection for Peter would be so very, very difficult because of his having to face Jesus. Peter would need to ask Jesus’ forgiveness… again. Not that Jesus would not forgive Peter, but that he would, as Jesus had undoubtedly forgiven him so many times before. How many times had Jesus forgiven Peter already? More than Peter could imagine.[i] You may recall Jesus had renamed Peter “his rock,” not just because he was so strong, but because he was so hard-headed.[ii] Peter here is running in very familiar territory as he races to Jesus’ tomb, only this time it’s much worse. This time, Peter has crossed a line; he now is more a follower of Judas and than Jesus.

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