Saturday, September 19, 2015

Children Being Children

Children Being Children
Sermon preached by the Rev. Lowell E. Grisham, Rector
St. Paul's Episcopal Church, Fayetteville, Arkansas
September 20, 2015; 17 Pentecost, Proper 20, Year B, Track 2
Episcopal Revised Common Lectionary

James 3:13-4:3, 7-8a – Who is wise and understanding among you? Show by your good life that your works are done with gentleness born of wisdom. But if you have bitter envy and selfish ambition in your hearts, do not be boastful and false to the truth. Such wisdom does not come down from above, but is earthly, unspiritual, devilish. For where there is envy and selfish ambition, there will also be disorder and wickedness of every kind. But the wisdom from above is first pure, then peaceable, gentle, willing to yield, full of mercy and good fruits, without a trace of partiality or hypocrisy. And a harvest of righteousness is sown in peace for those who make peace.
Those conflicts and disputes among you, where do they come from? Do they not come from your cravings that are at war within you? You want something and do not have it; so you commit murder. And you covet something and cannot obtain it; so you engage in disputes and conflicts. You do not have, because you do not ask. You ask and do not receive, because you ask wrongly, in order to spend what you get on your pleasures.
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.

Mark 7:30-37 – Jesus and his disciples went on from there and passed through Galilee. He did not want anyone to know it; for he was teaching his disciples, saying to them, "The Son of Man is to be betrayed into human hands, and they will kill him, and three days after being killed, he will rise again." But they did not understand what he was saying and were afraid to ask him.
Then they came to Capernaum; and when he was in the house he asked them, "What were you arguing about on the way?" But they were silent, for on the way they had argued with one another who was the greatest. He sat down, called the twelve, and said to them, "Whoever wants to be first must be last of all and servant of all." Then 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."

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Who is wise and understanding among you? Show by your good life that your works are done with gentleness born of wisdom. James 3:13

Our story from Mark's gospel opens with Jesus doing the wise and hard work of accepting his inevitable death and preparing for it. That's a piece of work we all have to do.

Talk of death always gets some pushback. My grandfather's death convinced me to start thinking about death, preparing, and accepting it long before it nears, because it was the only flaw that I saw in his wonderful life. I've mentioned here before that one reason I can believe in a God who loves me with unqualified love is because I received that kind of love from my grandfather. He may have been the most influential person in my life.

Granddad was one of ten children, all of whom lived to full adulthood, a rare thing in his day. In fact, all of his siblings were alive until Granddad was well into his seventies. Then Uncle Joe fell into a well and died of complications from pneumonia. It was the first time Granddad let the notion that he might die truly enter his awareness. By then, it was a little too late. He didn't handle the end of life with the grace and humor that characterized the rest of it.

As Jesus pondered the inevitable, fatal trajectory of his life and expanded his lens of trust toward infinite hope, the disciples remained stuck in their narrow focus—the big competition—who is the greatest? It seems silly to us reading in the context of the great gospel story. But it is so human. So like us.

Watch this week and see if you can catch yourself. See if you find yourself measuring. Lining people up in a room. Who's more important than whom? Where do you stack up in the line-up? Maybe no one in this room does that… But just pay attention this week and see if you notice anything.

Jesus breaks up the "greatest game." He tells them the greatest is the servant. The lowest. Then he takes a child into his arms. Here's the image of real greatness: Jesus, the servant of all, willingly preparing to give his life; welcoming the child, embracing the child.

I think there are two ways for us to welcome the child; to embrace the child. Welcome the child in you. Welcome the child in all people. For we are all children; children of God.

You know how children are. Their hands are always open, ready to receive. Give a child a new toy and you will not hear any false modesty, "No, I don't deserve this." The child joyously cries, "Yes!" And maybe without a prompt, an added "Thank you."

A child is dependent and knows it. Children expect grownups to meet their needs.

When we grownups do our job—when trust is established—a child can be so open. "Daddy, what are we going to do today?" Nearly any answer will prompt a hearty, "Yay!" "We're going to the Farmer's Market today." "Yay!" "We're washing windows today!" "Yay!"

And children love to help, to be of service. Whenever I weed the flower garden, granddaughter Laura wants to help. And then she'll tell the next grownup see sees, "I helped Granddad weed the garden. I love to pull weeds." Last week she washed the windows with ecstatic joy. How different would our jobs be if we approached them with childish joy.

One more thing about children. They are unafraid to ask for love. "Could you hold me, Granddad?" The answer is always a loving, "Yes."

We are God's children. And God yearns to answer our plea, "Hold me, please." God longs to hold and nurture us with infinite, unqualified love. God wants to give us life, abundant life. If only we can have expectant, dependent eyes to see and accept God's gifts.

Whenever we can be in the present moment with childlike trust, we can receive the circumstances of the present moment as a gift to share with the divine, and then God washes windows with us, whatever window-washing presents itself as necessary in the present moment.

In a few moments, you will open your hands and you will be given God in the humble form of bread and wine. The gifts of God for the people of God. Like milk from the breast of a loving mother. Intimacy. Nurture. Communion. Love embodied in this holy place.

But out there, a lot of people and nations are still arguing about power. Who is the greatest? It is so easy to get hooked by the noise. Yet, these too are God's children, arguing like his own disciples did.

Sometimes, when I get frustrated, angry, or even outraged at someone in the news, I think about them as children—in their mother's arms, or on their father's shoulders; walking hand-in-hand with a proud grandparent. I try to remember that many disorders so often begin from early wounding, when we were young and vulnerable. When people are wounded and then become wounders, what they most need is security and love. If we are going to share in God's work of healing the world, we need to help extend God's security and love to all people, the wounded and the wounders.

Look at the disciples. What a mess! Jesus' little group included James and John, the "sons of thunder" who wanted to call down fire from heaven to destroy a Samaritan village that wouldn't welcome them; Peter, the impulsive and wrong-headed one; Matthew, a tax collector collaborating with the hated Romans to exploit an occupied people; Simon the Zealot, one of the fanatic nationalists employing guerrilla and terrorist tactics against the Romans; and the unfaithful, betraying treasurer, Judas.

Jesus' children were as messed up as any of us—any family, business, group or nation. Yet he gathered them to himself with kindness centered around the table. He fed them, healed them, forgave them, accepted them. He loved them and invited them to share his calling to serve through love. He tried to teach them to bear a willingness to die rather than to kill. Then, he gave his life for them.

One of our parishioners told me a story the other day. He teaches sixth and seventh graders. He's been particularly concerned about Jose, a student he's known for two years. It was obvious to the teacher that Jose was very feminine and very vulnerable. Jose's responses to writing tasks were always stories about wearing high heels and other girlie subjects.

Last week the student was called to the library to take a make-up test. The note from the office was for "Emily." "Is that your name now?" the teacher asked. "Yes," she nodded.[i]

After the child had left the room the teacher gathered the rest of the class, and in a serious tone, said he had to talk with them about something important. He reminded them of something they had discussed earlier when they read a story about a person who was brave, risking life for another. "Do you remember when I said that if the occasion ever presented itself, I hoped I would be brave enough to sacrifice to save another person? How I hoped I would be able run in front of a train to push a child to out of the way? Or brave enough to take a bullet in order to protect another person? Well I've got that chance today, and so do you." He told them about Jose-Emily. He said how he intends to stand up for Emily, to defend and protect her, even if it could be costly.

The kids challenged the teacher. "What do you mean about a bullet? There's no bullet here."

"Oh, yes, there could be. Transgender kids are often bullied, and the rate of suicide among trans youth is very high. What we can do to prevent that bullet is to step up and be a hero. Show your support for Emily and let the entire school know of your support. It is risky. You may have people tease or even threaten you. We need to stand together for her. Emily is going through something more difficult than any of us will ever face, and she needs us." He could see; there was buy-in from the class.

"Whoever welcomes one such child in my name welcomes me, and whoever welcomes me welcomes not me but the one who sent me."

It seems simple. All of us:  Children, taking care of other children.


[i] The names have been changed to protect privacy.

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The Mission of St. Paul's Episcopal Church is to explore and celebrate
God's infinite grace, acceptance and love.

For information about St. Paul's Episcopal Church and its life and mission, please contact us at
P.O. Box 1190, Fayetteville, AR 72702, or call 479/442-7373
More sermon texts are posted on our web site: www.stpaulsfay.org
Click the “Video Online” button to watch full services and sermons live-streamed or archived.

Saturday, September 05, 2015

Opening Collision

Opening Collision
Sermon preached by the Rev. Lowell E. Grisham, Rector
St. Paul's Episcopal Church, Fayetteville, Arkansas
September 10, 2015; 15 Pentecost, Proper 18, Year B, Track 2
Episcopal Revised Common Lectionary


Then he returned from the region of Tyre, and went by way of Sidon towards the Sea of Galilee, in the region of the Decapolis. They brought to him a deaf man who had an impediment in his speech; and they begged him to lay his hand on him. He took him aside in private, away from the crowd, and put his fingers into his ears, and he spat and touched his tongue. Then looking up to heaven, he sighed and said to him, "Ephphatha," that is, "Be opened." And immediately his ears were opened, his tongue was released, and he spoke plainly. Then Jesus ordered them to tell no one; but the more he ordered them, the more zealously they proclaimed it. They were astounded beyond measure, saying, "He has done everything well; he even makes the deaf to hear and the mute to speak."
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It is hard for us to internalize the degree of separation and distance between Jesus, a Jewish peasant from Galilee, and this Syrophoenician woman whose privileged child sleeps in a bed. In all probability, Jesus never slept in a bed in his entire life.

She comes from the sophisticated and wealthy coastal region of Tyre. Jesus is from Nazareth, an isolated village of extended family, probably part of a strict sect of Jewish orthodoxy that withdrew itself from the mainstream of Judaism.[i] The Nazarenes were a strange bunch, peculiar to other Jews like Nathanael.

And the Jews were arguably the strangest people in the Roman Empire. Alone among the Roman subjects they were excused from the patriotic observances of the civil religion that united many nations and tribes under the single Emperor.

But the Syrophoenician woman and Jesus shared some things in common as people of the Mediterranean culture. They shared a language for dismissing the other, for marginalizing an enemy.

On December 14, 2008, Iraqi broadcast journalist Muntadhar al-Zaidi committed an act of insult in the strongest terms imaginable. He shouted, "This is a farewell kiss from the Iraaqi people, you dog," and threw his shoes at President George W. Bush during a press conference.

Al-Zaidi used a traditional epithet found in the Bible and the Qur'an. When the Israelites sent an un-armored boy to fight the great Philistine warrior, Goliath screamed his insult, "Am I a dog, that you come to me with sticks?" (1 Sam. 17:43) When Saul's cousin Shimei taunted and insulted King David, the King's general asked, "Why should this dead dog curse my lord the king? Let me go over and take off his head." (2 Sam. 16:9) Proverbs advises, "Like a dog that returns to its vomit is a fool who reverts to his folly." (26:11)

Like every other child in his village, Jesus was taught that those Gentiles, the unclean people from outside their tribe, were all dogs. Everyone knows that. Matthew records Jesus' teaching, "Do not give what is holy to dogs." (7:6)

Jesus has just escaped from being dogged by Pharisees and others, fleeing eastward to Tyre where he hopes for a little breathing room. His cousin John the Baptizer had been executed recently by Herod. When Jesus tried to take his disciples to a deserted place to rest and grieve, a great crowd followed them and intercepted their retreat. The scripture says Jesus "had compassion for them, because they were like sheep without a shepherd." (Mark 6:34) So he taught them all day. As evening fell, Jesus took five loaves and two fish and fed that multitude of Jewish Galileans who had followed him so tenaciously. Day after day he continued to work and teach around the shores of Lake Galilee, hounded by critics who  fought him as we heard last week with explicitly Jewish challenges, "Why do your disciples not live according to the tradition of the elders, but eat with defiled hands?" (Mk. 7:5) How exhausting it all must have been.

So Jesus escaped, crossing the border into Tyre, on the Gentile coastlands. We read, "He entered a house and did not want anyone to know he was there. Yet he could not escape notice." (Mk. 7:24) The Syrophoenician woman. Rich, privileged, sophisticated. She barges uninvited into their retreat. You know how presumptuous the privileged can be. They think closed doors don't mean them. What can she know of the mission and calling of this young Jewish prophet? This clash of cultures could be ugly.

She begged the exhausted teacher to cast out the unclean spirit from her little daughter. Healthy people set healthy boundaries, don't they? This is beyond Jesus' sense of calling. This request is outside his understanding of his job description. So he speaks in the Biblical language of his people. "Let the children be fed first, for it is not fair to take the children's food and throw it to the dogs."

You know, you have to draw the line somewhere. We have a discretionary fund here at St. Paul's. Many of our guests at Community Meals know about that. They can wear us out with requests. Suzi our Administrator will say to me, "Lowell, don't come to your office on Monday or Wednesday, and if you do, keep your door closed and your light off." Even at that, some people ignore the dark office, the closed door, and just barge in.

Like the Syrophoenician woman. You assume she is behaving arrogantly, walking in where she has not been invited. But listen to her response to Jesus' challenge. "Sir," she begins. "Sir," or "Lord." It is the only time that Jesus is addressed that way in Mark's gospel. Later that would become the Christian title for the Risen Lord. "Sir, even the dogs under the table eat the children's crumbs." That's a statement that will catch your attention. Respectfully the wealthy woman of privilege, completely humble, asks the Jewish peasant for crumbs. Jesus looks again, and no longer sees a rich, pushy, foreigner, but a desperate mother who loves her daughter. Somewhere across town in that plush bed a child is healed. And something in Jesus radically changes.

His human inheritance as a child of the Jewish people and his sense of calling as a prophet sent to reform his own people suddenly expands. It is as if he hears personally the ancient calling of the suffering servant of Isaiah, "It is too light a think that you should be my servant to raise up the tribes of Jacob and to restore the survivors of Israel; I will give you as a light to the nations, that my salvation may reach to the end of the earth." (49:6) It is as though his vision has expanded. Now his word will expand as well.

Immediately he goes back west, but he doesn't stop in his home territory of Galilee. He keeps going to what they commonly called "the other side," to the Decapolis, a region of ten Gentile cities west of the Sea of Galilee, centers of Greek and Roman culture in a region that was otherwise Semitic, like Jesus. There he meets a man who is deaf and who cannot speak. Jesus acts and speaks, "Ephphatha" – "Be opened." Immediately the man can hear and can speak. Jesus gives to this other foreigner a form of the gift he was given by a Syrophoenician woman who spoke and opened his ears and his speech to those others.

The next story in Mark's Gospel is another story of the feeding of a multitude. This time it is a gathering of Gentiles. Jesus now gives to the Gentiles the same gifts of feeding and healing and the same loving teaching that he has been giving to his own people. "Ephphatha!" His ministry is opened.

I am like that Syrophoenician woman. Privilged, presumptuous. Can I, like her, refuse to be deflected by the walls and insults that infect our human cultures? I am like that anonymous Gentile. I am so deaf. I fail to hear things unfamiliar to my narrow ears. My speech is limited by my small context and lack of experience.

"Give us the crumbs," the humble voices cry. And the Apostle James' voice accuses us. "If a brother or sister is naked and lacks daily food, and one of you says to them, 'Go in peace: keep warm and eat your fill,' and yet you do not supply their bodily needs, what is the good of that?"

Jesus is our model. Whenever we hear a word of grace or love; whenever we hear a cry of need or suffering – especially when it comes from an unexpected source – we are to jettison immediately the shackles of our deafness, and be opened to the presence of God's grace that is abundant throughout creation. Then we can be privileged to share in the healing and feeding and reconciling work of Christ.


[i] Charles Page, Jesus and the Land, Abingdon Press, Nashville, 1995, p. 33-38.

__________________________________________

The Mission of St. Paul's Episcopal Church is to explore and celebrate
God's infinite grace, acceptance and love.

For information about St. Paul's Episcopal Church and its life and mission, please contact us at
P.O. Box 1190, Fayetteville, AR 72702, or call 479/442-7373
More sermon texts are posted on our web site: www.stpaulsfay.org
Click the “Video Online” button to watch full services and sermons live-streamed or archived.