Lowell's Sermons

Fishermen

2012-01-21T14:09:00.000-08:00

Sermon preached by the Rev. Lowell E. Grisham, Rector

St. Paul's Episcopal Church, Fayetteville, Arkansas

January 22, 2012; 3 Epiphany, Year B

Episcopal Revised Common Lectionary

(Mark 1:4-20) – Now after John was arrested, Jesus came to Galilee, proclaiming the good news of God, and saying, "The time is fulfilled, and the kingdom of God has come near; repent, and believe in the good news."

As Jesus passed along the Sea of Galilee, he saw Simon and his brother Andrew casting a net into the sea-- for they were fishermen. And Jesus said to them, "Follow me and I will make you fish for people." And immediately they left their nets and followed him. As he went a little farther, he saw James son of Zebedee and his brother John, who were in their boat mending the nets. Immediately he called them; and they left their father Zebedee in the boat with the hired men, and followed him.

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[I ran out of time this week, and decided to re-run this sermon from 3 Epiphany, 2003]

Maybe there's a reason why the core of Jesus' followers were fishermen. Maybe there is something about fishermen that opens them naturally to hearing the good news of God that Jesus first proclaims publically in this passage from the early verses in Mark.

Most of what I know about fishermen I learned from books and movies, stories like The Old Man and the Sea or The Perfect Storm, the movie about the real story of the loss of the fishing vessel the Andrea Gayle. The literature about those who make their living from the sea reveals that fishermen have a deep acceptance of the conditions of their lives. There is a holy reverence for the givenness and power of weather and sky and sea. Fishermen are keenly observant of the signs of the times. But they accept their frail mortal limits with an almost primitive resignation to the powers of the cosmic stage. Fishermen simply accept the circumstances. Sometimes the fish bite; sometimes they don't. Sometimes it is fair; sometimes it storms.

There is another characteristic of fishermen that comes through the literature. They are remarkably brave. There is a fearlessness in the whalers of Moby Dick and the crew of the Andrea Gayle that allows them to cast their lives into the great deeps held afloat by inches of material in the midst of powers and unseen monsters who have the potency to make sport of their flimsy defenses.

Acceptance and courage are profound qualities. In fact, according to one of my favorite spiritual guides J. Neville Ward, they are the corresponding qualities to the two strongest blocks to a religious life. He says that resentments and fears are the strongest blocks to a religious life. (The Following Plough, p. 25) From the opening of Jesus’ ministry, his good news is a message of acceptance and trust: "The time is fulfilled, and the kingdom of God has come near" – look around you and see God's presence now; do not be resentful; “repent, and believe in the good news” – don’t be afraid; God is in charge; all is well; trust, and do good.

Jesus sees these fishermen and tells them they can take their wisdom of the sea into the earth. And, with the acceptance and trust of fishermen, they pick up and follow him.

I think I'd want to know a little more about what he had in mind, wouldn't you? You see, most of my life is not like a fisherman's. Most of my life has a bouncing quality to it, like a ship going back and forth from calm to rough waters, but I tend to meet those bounces more with resentment and anxiety than with acceptance and trust. Maybe you do too.

So many of us are trying to get some control over our lives. Things tend to get out of control. But, you say to yourself, if I work real hard, I can get things managed for the most part, and then I can be happy... For a while. Maybe. And that's what consumes so much of life. Working hard and hoping that you can manage the trick of having things straighten out for you. Then, when you can get your head above water and things work out like you hoped – that’s freedom, that's happiness. But then you get swamped again and it feels so hard to have to overcome what's been dished out – you can begin to feel desperate, even helplessness. Back and forth we go; happiness and helplessness. All posited on a need to control and fed by the energy of resentment and fear, or fear's more civilized expression, anxiety.

I have this fantasy. If I can clear off my desk and do all of those promises that each of those pieces of paper represents, and I can clear all my email and check off my to-do list, and I can visit with everyone on my prayer list, then everything in the church will be great. Now that's a little crazy, I know. But what's crazier, I take that same controlling insanity from my office to my life. I say to myself, "I'm not as happy as I need to be, so I need to change. I'm not functioning as well as I ought, so I need to be improved upon. So if I can just read the right book, adopt the right technique, work on myself a bit, I'll be able to straighten myself out." Anybody else ever have those thoughts? Well that's some of the craziness Jesus came to save us from with his refreshing word, "Repent."

But – and this is what's really crazy – most people hear that word "repent" and think Jesus is telling them that they need to work even harder to fix themselves. NO! Look at the fishermen. Jesus said to them quit trying to mend all those nets so nothing falls through the cracks. He’s telling them, You've already caught on. Just bring your acceptance and your trust and follow me. Everything's going to work out just fine. Watch! We'll catch people. What fun! And they dropped everything and followed him. What freedom.

Christianity really is counter-cultural. You go to school, watch TV, listen to the grownups and here's what they'll tell you. If you want to be a good person, if you want to have the good life, then you'll need to develop self-control, self-determination, self-direction, self-identity and self-confidence. That's the formula for the good life. "I am in control of my self."

But that's crazy. Who is the "I" that is going to control my "self"? You make your self into a thing, an object to be manipulated. You make your self, your life, into a project. We are not things; we are not a project; we are not objects to be fixed. We are mysteries, wonders. Stop mending those nets. Surrender. Repent.

How do you grab all of the dials and instruments of your life – and life itself – and operate all the controls when you don't even know who is driving or where you ultimately want to go, except you want everything to be right? Ah, that's the forbidden fruit, the tree of the knowledge of good and evil. The hunger to be right, to know the right, to win the argument. But no one has the truth in any absolute sense. We can only glimpse the greatness of God; we can only appreciate God's wonder as it is reflected in creation. Fishermen know that. That's why they observe the signs of earth and sky and sea, accept and respect their wonder, and never make the mistake of thinking the fisherman controls the weather. Neville Ward says, "to be united with Christ is to be making progress in seeing life as it is, not as the child within you wishes it to be, and receiving grace to love its real presence." (Ibid, p. 22) Maturity in spiritual life includes our abandonment of absolutism and perfectionism.

That's a message that can be freeing. You don't have to know everything. You don't have to be perfect. You don't have to control yourself or your circumstances. Relax. Repent can mean relax. Stop trying futilely to fix your self. Relax and be who you are. Sure some of your impulses need to be controlled, but that doesn't mean that you as a person have to be controlled, by yourself or anyone else. Relax and receive life as a gift. Don't be afraid. Trust. You are just fine. You are a mystery. God loves you extravagantly. There's nothing to be afraid of. Let God run the world. Relax and do the best you can. Sometimes the fish bite; sometimes they don't. Sometimes it's calm; sometimes it's stormy. "The time is fulfilled, and the kingdom of God has come near; repent, and believe in the good news."

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Some ideas and phrases in the sermon come from Gerald May, M.D., "Simply Sane" – simply a great book.

"Come and See"

2012-01-14T15:30:00.000-08:00

Sermon preached by the Rev. Lowell E. Grisham, Rector

January 15, 2012; 2nd Sunday after Epiphany, Year B

Episcopal Revised Common Lectionary

(John 1:43-51) B The next day Jesus decided to go to Galilee. He found Philip and said to him, "Follow me." Now Philip was from Bethsaida, the city of Andrew and Peter. Philip found Nathanael and said to him, "We have found him about whom Moses in the law and also the prophets wrote, Jesus son of Joseph from Nazareth." Nathanael said to him, "Can anything good come out of Nazareth?" Philip said to him, "Come and see." When Jesus saw Nathanael coming toward him, he said of him, "Here is truly an Israelite in whom there is no deceit!" Nathanael asked him, "Where did you get to know me?"

Jesus answered, "I saw you under the fig tree before Philip called you." Nathanael replied, "Rabbi, you are the Son of God! You are the King of Israel!" Jesus answered, "Do you believe because I told you that I saw you under the fig tree? You will see greater things than these." And he said to him, "Very truly, I tell you, you will see heaven opened and the angels of God ascending and descending upon the Son of Man."

All of us have prejudices. We learn many forms of cultural bias from childhood and throughout our life. Even when we have done a lot of conscious work to be fair and open-minded, we carry some implicit judgments with us, much of it below the level of our conscious chosen thoughts. Inevitably, all of us interpret and judge information based on implicit unconscious associations.

“Can anything good come out of Nazareth?" asks Nathanael. When Nathanael hears what town Jesus is from, Nathanael thinks he knows just about all he needs to know about Jesus. I remember getting similar vibes when I went to seminary in New York City. I could see the narrowing eyes silently wondering, "Can anything good come out of Mississippi?" (Tell me you’ve never thought that.)

Archeologist Charles Page argues that Jesus' hometown Nazareth was a small, somewhat isolated village. Nearly everyone living there was part of an extended family of the clan of David. He says it was likely that they were an ultra-conservative, orthodox, separatist sect of Judaism expecting the Messiah to come from among their own family line. That's the town Jesus comes from.

Philip, and presumably Nathanael, were from Bethsaida. Page says that Bethsaida was probably much like the nearby town of Capernaum where Jesus eventually settled for his active ministry. Those towns were fairly cosmopolitan, influenced by their proximity to the Via Maris, the primary highway connecting Egypt and Mesopotamia. Their synagogues were led by Rabbis from the School of Hillel, the more progressive version of Judaism from which today's Reform Rabbis trace their heritage.

So we’ve got a potential cultural clash when Philip tells Nathanael, We've found the one! Jesus; he's from Nazareth!

Right!? says Nathanael doubtfully, maybe sarcastically. “Can anything good come out of Nazareth?" And it seems okay with Nathanael if all Jesus knows about him is that he's from Bethsaida. They have some more conversation, and Nathanael asks Jesus, “Where did you get to know me?” A more literal translation of Nathanael’s question to Jesus is "from where do you know me (to be)?" -- something like, "what do you believe to be my hometown?"

Maybe that gives us a clue to the meaning of Jesus' comment, "I saw you under the fig tree before Philip called you." In many Old Testament passages, the fig tree is a metaphor for one's home. Maybe Jesus was saying, I saw you at your home. So, culturally speaking, Nathanael might assume that Jesus already knows all he needs to know about him. He's from Bethsaida. Bethsaida vs. Nazareth. Fayetteville vs. Springdale.

The significant thing for me is that Nathanael is able to set aside whatever he thinks about some prophet coming from that isolated backwash Nazareth, long enough to be willing to investigate a bit. He asks questions, and he listens to the answers. That takes some suspension of implicit associations. Then when he hears things that don't fit with his prior assumptions, Nathanael is willing to adjust and change his thinking. He's able to let some new truth in. His new observations and new experiences change some of his categories. This guy from Nazareth is not so bad. In fact, he's wonderful.

From now on, Nathanael will be doing a lot of mind expanding things. When he throws his lot with Jesus, he’ll find he's on a journey that will require him to change a lot of inherited categories. Over and over.^{^[1]}

That's what happens when people accept the invitations -- "Come and see." "Follow me." I'm particularly partial to the words, "Come and see." That's what we can say when we invite friends to visit here at St. Paul's. Come and see. This is a pretty cool place. There is good worship and ministry here. Come and see. See if it is a good fit for you.

Most people visit St. Paul's because a friend invited them. "Come and see." It's not that different from telling someone about a restaurant or a movie you’ve enjoyed. Saying, for instance, I really get a lot out of the worship and music at St. Paul's. Come and see. I've loved some of the speakers we've had at church, and some of the classes. There's something that sounds interesting at St. Paul's next Sunday. Come and see. You wouldn’t believe the scene at Community Meals each Monday and Wednesday when St. Paul's serves lunch to anyone who comes in. It touches my heart. Come and see.

Sometimes people come and some of their implicit assumptions get changed. I just thought the Episcopal Church was "Catholic-lite." I thought y'all were stuffy and puffed up; you’re really pretty nice. I didn't know there were so many kids at your church. Being here makes me realize, you folks really are trying to live out your faith. We hear those kinds of comments from people who come and see.

I think it's important for us to share with one another with a Philip-like openness. What is feeding your spiritual life now? What gives meaning or peace to you? Tell the Nathanaels in your life about that. Maybe you’ve started reading Morning Prayer, and it helps to begin your day in the scriptures and prayers. Maybe you’ve started using times when you are just waiting, to consciously recall your centeredness in God. Maybe you’ve started reading a meaningful book, and saying nighttime prayers, with a child or with your own adult self. Tell somebody about that. Tell them, "I think I’ve found something that makes a difference for me." It echoes Philip's words: "We have found him about whom Moses in the law and also the prophets wrote..." It might be you’ll get a dismissive response, like Philip did. But you never know what may follow.

We live in community. And we share with each other in community. Whenever we offer to each other the important things that are making a difference to us, Spirit is exchanged. And whenever Spirit is present, things tend to get shaken up a bit; they change for the good.

Without those Spirit-prompted exchanges, we'd all just live in our preconceived worlds, comfortable and somewhat blinded

by our implicit assumptions and our customary neighbors. When we are blind, we don't even see the Nathanaels out there sitting under their fig trees. Oh, that's just some guy from Bethsaida. He might as well be invisible.

Come and see also means for us to see the other, especially the other who is different from you. The other who might be easy to overlook or ignore.

Can anything good come out of St.Paul's? Who knows? That's all up to us, isn't it? Jesus invites us, like Philip, to follow him. So we have to take responsibility for our spiritual lives in order to walk in his way.

Whenever we discover things that bring meaning and coherence to our lives, then, like Philip, we can share them with the Nathanaels in our lives. We can tell about what we’ve experienced and invite others to "come and see." When we encounter something new that is contrary to our implicit assumptions, like Nathanael we can investigate a bit. We can ask questions and listen to answers. We can be willing to change when we learn things that don't fit our categories.

Live like that for a while, and there is no telling what you’ll see. Live like that for a while, and it may be that you too "will see heaven opened and the angels of God ascending and descending upon the Son of Man," as Jesus promised Nathanael.

"Speak. Lord, for your servant is listening."

^{^[1]}Thanks to Sarah Dylan Breuer for this train of thought. From her blog at sarahlaughed.net

Among You Stands One You Do Not Know

2011-12-10T13:52:00.000-08:00

Sermon preached by the Rev. Lowell E. Grisham, Rector

St. Paul's Episcopal Church, Fayetteville, Arkansas

December 11, 2011; 3 Advent, Year B

Episcopal Revised Common Lectionary

(John 1:6-8, 19-28) – There was a man sent from God, whose name was John. He came as a witness to testify to the light, so that all might believe through him. He himself was not the light, but he came to testify to the light.

This is the testimony given by John when the Jews sent priests and Levites from Jerusalem to ask him, "Who are you?" He confessed and did not deny it, but confessed, "I am not the Messiah." And they asked him, "What then? Are you Elijah?" He said, "I am not." "Are you the prophet?" He answered, "No." Then they said to him, "Who are you? Let us have an answer for those who sent us. What do you say about yourself?" He said, "I am the voice of one crying out in the wilderness, `Make straight the way of the Lord,'" as the prophet Isaiah said. Now they had been sent from the Pharisees. They asked him, "Why then are you baptizing if you are neither the Messiah, nor Elijah, nor the prophet?" John answered them, "I baptize with water. Among you stands one whom you do not know, the one who is coming after me; I am not worthy to untie the thong of his sandal." This took place in Bethany across the Jordan where John was baptizing.

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One of the traditional spiritual practices that we like to teach at St. Paul's is the ancient method of praying with scripture called Lectio Divina. The first thing we do when we practice Lectio is to read the scripture very slowly, and notice what jumps out at you as you listen deeply to the text. Here is a phrase that caught my attention this week from today's gospel: "Among you stands one whom you do not know."

Apparently Jesus was there in the background listening to John the Baptist, probably as one of his disciples. Just another face in the crowd. No reason that he would stand out. Jesus was there among them. An anonymous young man from Galilee. But John says to those gathered around him, "Among you stands one whom you do not know, the one who is coming after me; I am not worthy to untie the thong of his sandal."

I can imagine that John's words caused quite a stir. People started looking around. Who is it? Which one of us? I'll bet they started paying attention to one another with a new seriousness. Maybe more than a few of them entertained the possibility, “Could it be me?”

I like the notion that God is among us incognito. God is at work among us even when we don't notice. God is present in and through people that we may not recognize as godly. God works through you in such a quiet way that you may not even recognize it in yourself.

Part of what we anticipate and seek in this Advent season is the incarnation, the coming of God-with-us. The church asserts that Christ is always with us, among us, in us. But that's not something that we are always aware of; it’s not something that we always are conscious about. Some people think, “Oh, that kind of divine presence, that’s only for real religious types. Not me.”

Some people think of monks and nuns as people who have a serene and certain faith. We call monasteries religious communities. And indeed they are. But the monks and nuns who live in monasteries are human beings just like the rest of us. They have their own shadows and doubts.

Kathleen Norris's book The Cloister Walk narrates her observations as a guest of a Benedictine monastery. She tells of an anguished young Trappist monk who expressed some of his insecurities in a question toward the end of a retreat. "We have spoken of the loss of faith in American society," he said, "but what of loss of faith within the monastery itself?" He then courageously and vulnerably expressed some of his own profound doubts and his own faith-struggles in his life. At times, he said, he felt his life in the monastery was almost unbearable. The retreat leader calmly expressed no surprise. His answer to the young monk was practical and thoroughly monastic: "Of course we are weak, unable to cope. But if we can maintain faith, hope, and charity, it will radiate somehow. And people who come to us may find in us what we can no longer see in ourselves." [i]

There’s a scene in Georges Bernanos’ touching novel Diary of a Country Priest, where the young priest is summoned to care for a parishioner who has always been a thorn in his side. She has been among the most difficult and antagonistic of his parishioners. Now she is dying. The priest has mixed emotions as he approaches his call to her. Still, he goes through the motions. “Be at peace," he says routinely. To his surprise the woman kneels down before him and receives this peace profoundly. Her entire countenance changes before his eyes. The priest is overwhelmed as he watches her receive more peace than he himself had. "Oh, miracle," he says, "thus to be able to give what we ourselves do not possess, the sweet miracle of our empty hands." [ii]

I just returned from a visit with my son and his family in Taiwan. Kathy and I got to meet our new granddaughter, the most beautiful girl in the world. Although Gray had taken some time off for our visit, on several evenings he still had to go in to work. Naturally, we asked him how he was enjoying his teaching. It was good for the most part, he said, but there were days… And there were certain students who could push his button.

So he went to work one evening, a bit conflicted because he hated to leave his visit with us. But there was something about the joy of the energy of our time with him that had produced some ebullience in his mood. When we picked him up four hours later, he was bouncing and glad to see us. We asked him, "How did it go tonight?" He paused reflecting for a moment before answering. "I’ve noticed," he said, "that when I go to class feeling good, I tend to have a good session, and the kids respond, and they enjoy what they are learning. And when I go to class in a dark mood, I don’t teach so well, and they always get under my skin and bug me."

"Among you stands one whom you do not know." Inside each of us there is an audience, a crowd of observers, each with its own mood, personality, and interpretation. Our cynical self, and our hopeful self. Our confident self, and our insecure self. But always within us there stands the one whom we often do not know. The very presence of Christ within us.

Sometimes we are surprised when something unexpected and graceful occurs through us. "Oh, miracle, thus to be able to give what we ourselves do not possess, the sweet miracle of our empty hands."

How much more fruitful might we be if we nurtured an Advent awareness that Jesus is as fully within us as he was present as an anonymous Galilean within a crowd listening to John the Baptist.

Sometimes a good friend will point out to us our Christ-presence that we may not have recognized within ourselves. Like John the Baptist sometimes friends can recognize in us the potential that may otherwise seem obscure. Somewhere I've heard it said that our friends are those who show us God, and our enemies are those who allow us to become more godly, offering us the opportunity to practice compassion, forgiveness, and mercy. We need them both, our friends and our enemies.

I’ve told this story before, but it bears repeating. Once upon a time, there was a dying monastery. In sadness, the abbot went to visit his friend the rabbi who was taking a retreat nearby. They talked and prayed and wept together. Eventually the abbot asked the Rabbi, "Do you have any word for us and our monastery?" The Rabbi replied, "No, except that the Messiah might already be among you."

As the brothers began to consider what this might mean, they began to see each other differently. Yes, that one is a pain; but he's usually right, you know. Yes, this other brother is quiet and dull, but if there is ever any need, it seems that he's always there. They began to see each other differently, and themselves as well. Could that one be the Messiah? Oh, miracle. Might I be the Messiah? A new spirit emerged among the brothers, and before long others were attracted to them and to their community. And in a few years, a new generation had come among them and they were strong again. ^[iii]

Let your imagination open in wonder for a moment. Imagine.

John the Baptist looks out upon this congregation today and says, "Among you stands one whom you do not know." A Trappist retreat leader says, "Of course we are weak, unable to cope. But if we can maintain faith, hope, and charity, it will radiate somehow. And people who come to us may find in us what we can no longer see in ourselves." "Oh, miracle, thus to be able to give what we ourselves do not possess, the sweet miracle of our empty hands." "Rabbi, do you have any word for us and our congregation?" "No, except that the Messiah might already be among you."

[i] Kathleen Norris, The Cloister Walk, p. 363, cited in Tom Stegald’s blog The Messiah May Be Among Us, 12-08-2011, http://www.goodpreacher.com/tomsteagald/.

[ii] quoted by M. Craig Barnes, Shadyside Presbyterian Church, http://www.goodpreacher.com/backissuesread.php?file=7367

[iii] Remembered in Tom Stegald’s blog, http://www.goodpreacher.com/tomsteagald/

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The Parable of the Talents

2011-11-12T14:40:00.000-08:00

Sermon preached by the Rev. Lowell E. Grisham, Rector

St. Paul's Episcopal Church, Fayetteville, Arkansas

November 13, 2011; 22 Pentecost, Proper 28, Year A, Track 1

Episcopal Revised Common Lectionary

(Matthew 25:14-30) – Jesus said, "For it is as if a man, going on a journey, summoned his slaves and entrusted his property to them; to one he gave five talents, to another two, to another one, to each according to his ability. Then he went away. The one who had received the five talents went off at once and traded with them, and made five more talents. In the same way, the one who had the two talents made two more talents. But the one who had received the one talent went off and dug a hole in the ground and hid his master's money. After a long time the master of those slaves came and settled accounts with them. Then the one who had received the five talents came forward, bringing five more talents, saying, `Master, you handed over to me five talents; see, I have made five more talents.' His master said to him, `Well done, good and trustworthy slave; you have been trustworthy in a few things, I will put you in charge of many things; enter into the joy of your master.' And the one with the two talents also came forward, saying, `Master, you handed over to me two talents; see, I have made two more talents.' His master said to him, `Well done, good and trustworthy slave; you have been trustworthy in a few things, I will put you in charge of many things; enter into the joy of your master.' Then the one who had received the one talent also came forward, saying, `Master, I knew that you were a harsh man, reaping where you did not sow, and gathering where you did not scatter seed; so I was afraid, and I went and hid your talent in the ground. Here you have what is yours.' But his master replied, `You wicked and lazy slave! You knew, did you, that I reap where I did not sow, and gather where I did not scatter? Then you ought to have invested my money with the bankers, and on my return I would have received what was my own with interest. So take the talent from him, and give it to the one with the ten talents. For to all those who have, more will be given, and they will have an abundance; but from those who have nothing, even what they have will be taken away. As for this worthless slave, throw him into the outer darkness, where there will be weeping and gnashing of teeth.' "

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I want to preach two sermons today, two contrasting interpretations of this parable of the talents.

The first interpretation you might call Matthew’s sermon. It offers an object lesson about risking much for the sake of the kingdom of heaven. Matthew loved allegory. So many interpreters see Matthew’s version of this parable as an allegorical commentary on three communities of faith. All three communities have been invited into the rich work of the kingdom that Jesus brings to humanity. A talent is a large measure. One talent is equal to the day’s wage of six-thousand laborers. The man going on a journey entrusts great wealth to the three slaves, each slave an allegory for a community in Matthew’s world.

For Matthew the first community is Israel, God’s chosen people. Israel has been entrusted with the immeasurably rich gifts of the law and the prophets -- the immense gift and responsibility of five talents. Now, for Israel, everything has been fulfilled in Jesus, who is the culmination of all of the hopes articulated in the law and the prophets. The wise and faithful servant will now embrace the Jesus-movement as the new community of Israel. Matthew knows that it is costly and risky for contemporary Jews to respond in faith, to declare Jesus as Messiah and to join the new community, but he promises that it is a risk that will be amply rewarded.

Matthew’s second community is the Gentile world. Though less endowed with spiritual wealth than the Jewish people, Gentiles have also been given an abundant welcome into the joy of the master. Those Gentiles who take the generous gift of the two talents, and who embrace the new wisdom and community of the Jesus-movement, will also be richly rewarded.

The third community that Matthew addresses is the one-talent bunch – those who have been invited to the feast but who have not embraced the riches that Jesus extends to them. These did not have the wisdom or insight or courage necessary to welcome the new community of abundant, egalitarian, peace-making justice that comes to us in Jesus. Instead, they buried their gift in the ground. They stayed with what they knew. They held on to their traditions. They played it safe, unwilling to risk living in the new ethic of Jesus. A comment elsewhere in Matthew’s Gospel sheds light on this. Jesus declares, “Where your treasure is, there will your heart be also.” Dominic Crossan translates that, “You buried your heart where you hid your treasure.” [i]

So the sermon from Matthew goes something like this. God has richly blessed us, entrusting us with the riches of the heavenly kingdom. Therefore live freely, courageously and abundantly, using your gifts, willing to risk for the sake of God, and you will have great reward. Don’t play it safe. Don’t bury what you have been given. Use your talents for the glory of God.

That’s a fine message. And I hope you’ll think about your own life – your own gifts and talents – and think how you might embrace your potential with fearless energy. How can you invest yourself to become more fruitful for the sake of God’s kingdom? Seize the day! Know that your reward will be great.

Okay. Nice sermon. But I don’t think that’s what Jesus was getting at in the original parable. This is a story of a harsh master – an avaricious and dishonest elite.

The Jewish scripture, the Torah, forbade charging interest on money. We hear an echo of that in Jesus’ word, “Lend, expecting nothing in return. (Luke 6:35) A wealthy person going on a journey could not travel carrying all of his money. So it was common for people to leave their money with a trusted friend. It was called leaving the money “on deposit.” Christians in their worship had a prayer liturgy that pledged them to deal honestly with any money left with them on deposit. An honest friend would return the money to the penny when the traveler came back. [ii]

The only way someone could double money given to them “on deposit” would be through corrupt or unscrupulous business dealings. And there was a lot of that going on in first century Palestine. Much of it involved oppressing and victimizing peasants, the original hearers of Jesus’ parable. [iii]

So when this wealthy man returns and two of his retainers give to him twice as much money as he left with them, everyone knows what’s been happening. These retainers have behaved unscrupulously with his money. They’ve made a lot for themselves and then given him a 100% return on his money on top of that. The whole lot of them are blatantly and unashamedly greedy and dishonest. The rich man praises their rapacity.

Then the honest man approaches. He has done the right thing. The rabbis taught that if someone receives money on deposit and buries it in the ground and it is lost, that person is not liable for the loss. Burying money received on deposit was considered the right and prudent action. The honest man returns the deposit to the Master, the entire amount to the penny.

Then the honest man speaks and publicly exposes the immoral character of the powerful man. “I knew you were a harsh man, reaping where you did not sow, and gathering where you did not scatter seed.” The honest man declares, this rich aristocrat and his lackeys are exploiters, financiers living off the productive labor of others. They take the lion’s share of the harvest that others have sown; they gather in and monetize what others have reaped. The honest man names the Master as one who is cruel, harsh and merciless.
Then he shames the Master publicly with his honest return of the money given him on deposit. “Here, you have what is yours.” Unspoken is the implication: “You don’t have what is others’.”

Thanks to this servant’s upright and courageous action, at least one talent of this man’s money was buried where it could do no harm. The honest man unmasks the “joy of the master” for what it is, the bloody money of exploitation and excess.

The Master’s reaction is swift and merciless. “You wicked and lazy slave! …Throw him into the outer darkness, where there will be weeping and gnashing of teeth.” End of story.

So, there you have it. Two sermons in the space of one. A 100 percent return on your time, I might add.

It’s easy to draw a lesson from Matthew’s interpretation. Use your talents with courageous freedom; don’t bury them.

But what about this second sermon’s interpretation? That’s harder, isn’t it?

We also have instances of financial exploitation and of unscrupulous business dealings in our culture, don’t we? Sometimes whistleblowers risk much to expose those activities. We also see greed and abuses of power by some with great resources. How might we withdraw our talents from those financial activities? What word of honesty needs to be spoken to systems of exploitation? What might the honest slave say to these systems today?

Jesus tells a story of someone who opts out of participating in a destructive system, and does so at great cost to himself. There is something heroic about this slave who stands up to his Master and thus stops a small part of the cycle of oppression.

We can ask ourselves, how are we trapped into cooperating with destructive systems of power? How might we opt out of such entrapments? How might we bury our participation instead of using our resources wrongly?

[i] Harry T. Cook Findings II 11/7/11 http://archive.constantcontact.com/fs008/1101380377741/archive/1108352472816.html

[ii] Paul McCracken, Jerusalem Institute for Biblical Exploration, http://www.jibe-edu.org/clientimages/28237/lectionarynotes2011-2012/11-13-11.pdf

[iii] see William R. Herzog, II, Parables as Subversive Speech, chapter 9 on this parable. My sermon based on his study is at http://www.stpaulsfay.org/05-11-12WhenConscienceisMorePowerfulThanFear.pdf

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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 sermons are posted on our web site: www.stpaulsfay.org

Visit our web partners at www.explorefaith.org

To Be A Saint

2011-11-05T15:52:00.000-07:00

Sermon preached by the Rev. Lowell E. Grisham, Rector

St. Paul's Episcopal Church, Fayetteville, Arkansas

November 6, 2011;All Saints Sunday, Year A

Episcopal Revised Common Lectionary

(Matthew 5:1-12) – When Jesus saw the crowds, he went up the mountain; and after he sat down, his disciples came to him. Then he began to speak, and taught them, saying:

"Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.

"Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted.

"Blessed are the meek, for they will inherit the earth.

"Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, for they will be filled.

"Blessed are the merciful, for they will receive mercy.

"Blessed are the pure in heart, for they will see God.

"Blessed are the peacemakers, for they will be called children of God.

"Blessed are those who are persecuted for righteousness' sake, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.

"Blessed are you when people revile you and persecute you and utter all kinds of evil against you falsely on my account. Rejoice and be glad, for your reward is great in heaven, for in the same way they persecuted the prophets who were before you.”

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For those of you who read my Morning Reflections blog, some of this will be repetitive, because I’m going to stay with some thoughts I had Tuesday morning on All Saints Day. I woke up that morning with a children’s hymn in my mind: I sing a song of the saints of God. Some of you probably know most of the words.

The first verse ends this way:

And one was a doctor, and one was a queen,

and one was a shepherdess on the green:

they were all of them saints of God, and I mean,

God helping, to be one too.

(Hymn 293)

I can remember singing this hymn as a child and thinking enthusiastically with the naiveté of childhood, "Yes! I could be one too." Something deep inside me wanted to be good and noble, like the ones we read about in the heroes' biographies. A similar urge still moves inside of me today. I want to live a real and authentic life. I want to be open to whatever God may draw me toward, anything that might help God's work in the world.

Now, as I live in my sixtieth year, I certainly know a lot of my limits and many of my abiding faults, but I can also claim some of my gifts as well. Now that I am a grownup, I’ve read some of the more adult biographies than they gave us when we were kids, and I know that many of those heroes I thought to model myself by also had some significant limits and faults.

To be a saint doesn't seem quite as exotic as it used to. It seems to be more about being who I am. It seems more about trusting God in each present moment, and detaching myself from those habits and distractions that always seem to draw me away from simply being.

I think a lot of the saints that live among us often fly under the radar. I remember a woman named Frances, she belonged to my church in Jackson, Mississippi, St. Columb’s. She was there every Sunday, sitting in her pew, about halfway down from the front, two or three seats in from the center aisle. She was there just about every Sunday, but she wasn’t part of other things in the church, other fellowship groups and outreach things. St. Columb’s was a small church, compared to St. Paul’s, and I realized when Frances showed up for a book study some time in my fourth or fifth year there, I had never had a conversation with her beyond the greeting at the back door. I didn’t know her at all.

We were reading a little book by Louis Evely titled That Man is You. It is a devotional classic, written in a rather intensely personal style. For the first couple of sessions, Frances didn’t say much of anything. But somewhere around our third or fourth meeting, she said something that made my antenna go up. In a very humble, matter-of-fact way, she identified with something that the author had said about an intimate, abiding, personal sense of God’s presence with us, alive and real, tingling and manifest. Gently, almost like an aside she said, “Yes. I’ve always felt that.” She spoke it so naturally, I knew instinctively that it was true. Then I began to pay attention to her. She’s one of those “once born” people. People who have an intuitive, natural union with God. You don’t run across them too often. I started watching her. Really, I wanted to learn from her.

And what I saw was someone utterly comfortable in her own skin. So relaxed and at home with life that she didn’t bring any extra attention to herself. She just was. Calm. Pleasant. Peaceful. As comfortable to be with as an old pair of house-shoes.

As I started watching her, I began to see her – this woman who had been almost invisible in front of my eyes for five years. I learned that she ran all the errands for an elderly neighbor next door, and cooked for the neighbor. I learned she was raising two of her grandchildren, picking them up after school and caring for them each afternoon, because her daughter’s life had fallen apart. I learned that Francis’ husband was diagnosed with terminal cancer, and she nursed him at home. He was living mostly in his lounge-chair and his bed.

When I tried to speak words of sympathy to her about these things, a sadness filled her eyes, yet they retained their joyful spark. Her smile remained, briefly marked by an accepted grief. “Yes, it is sad,” she said. “But I am so glad I can do what I can do for them. Each of them brings me such joy.” She wasn’t putting on. She spoke sincerely from her own deep truth. Quiet awe is the only response one can muster in the presence of a saint.

What was it about her? She had a deep, almost untroubled acceptance of her reality. She wasted no energy complaining about the injustice of it all. She dwelt with a simple intuition that God is with us. She drew comfort from God’s present reality. She herself was so humble, that she almost wasn’t there. Yet she was fully alive, present, comfortable with herself and her situation. She lived with a kind, simple courage and humble being.

Toward the end of Graham Greene's novel The Power and the Glory the Whisky Priest sits in his prison cell, the gallows that will hang him on the morrow outside his window. His has been an ambiguous life. With some courage he had stayed behind to provide the sacrament to the people after the army arrived. Yet he had fathered an illegitimate child and drowned much of his fear in liquor.

Approaching his end, "He felt only an immense disappointment because he had to go to God empty-handed, with nothing done at all. It seemed to him at that moment that it would have been quite easy to have been a saint. It would only have needed a little self-restraint and a little courage. He felt like someone who has missed happiness by seconds at an appointed place. He knew now that at the end there was only one thing that counted -- to be a saint."

A little self-restraint and a little courage. Moment by moment. Trusting. You know, I think I can do that. I’ll be you can too. It doesn’t seem that hard, does it?

It’s going to take a little bit of tenderness though. Tenderness toward God. Tenderness toward others. Especially tenderness toward ourselves.

I know that when I think kindly of myself, I tend to relax enough to act more kindly toward others. When I can live in an atmosphere of acceptance, something good seems to grow in me. The acceptance takes a bit of trust however. Acceptance of the present moment -- after all, it is the only moment I have – acceptance of the present moment, regardless of its particular shape. Acceptance of ourselves, for God has accepted us in God's immense and infinite grace. If God has accepted us, we can relax and accept ourselves. We can be more gentle with ourselves. We can become comfortable in our own skins.

After all, underneath everything, it is all love. And life is good. Hard, but good.

So, we can relax. Simply be. A little self-restraint and a little courage is all it takes… to be a saint.

They lived not only in ages past,

there are hundreds of thousands still,

the world is bright with the joyous saints

who love to do Jesus' will.

You can meet them in school, or in lanes, or at sea,

in church, or in trains, or in shops or at tea,

for the saints of God are just folk like me,

and I mean to be one too.

Caesar's Coin

2011-10-15T15:06:00.000-07:00

Sermon preached by the Rev. Lowell E. Grisham, Rector

St. Paul's Episcopal Church, Fayetteville, Arkansas

October 16, 2011; 18 Pentecost, Proper 24, Year A, Track 1

Episcopal Revised Common Lectionary

(Matthew 22:15-22) – The Pharisees went and plotted to entrap Jesus in what he said. So they sent their disciples to him, along with the Herodians, saying, "Teacher, we know that you are sincere, and teach the way of God in accordance with truth, and show deference to no one; for you do not regard people with partiality. Tell us, then, what you think. Is it lawful to pay taxes to the emperor, or not?" But Jesus, aware of their malice, said, "Why are you putting me to the test, you hypocrites? Show me the coin used for the tax." And they brought him a denarius. Then he said to them, "Whose head is this, and whose title?" They answered, "The emperor's." Then he said to them, "Give therefore to the emperor the things that are the emperor's, and to God the things that are God's." When they heard this, they were amazed; and they left him and went away.

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We have a dramatic story today. Some of Jesus’ enemies try to trap him. First they flatter him, then they pull the trigger. “Tell us what you think. Is it lawful to pay taxes to the emperor, or not?” If Jesus says, “Yes,” then he falls in the eyes of so many who are drawn to him, who recognize how oppressive it is to pay taxes to fund their occupation by the pagan foreigners, the Romans. He loses allies. If he says, “No,” they can arrest him for sedition.

Jesus calls them hypocrites. “Show me the coin used for the tax.” A note about location. The place where rabbis like Jesus would take questions and answer them was the court of the Temple. It was against the Temple law for anyone to bring a graven image into this sacred ground. Yet, the questioners produce a coin used for the tax. “Whose head is this, and whose title?” asks Jesus. The word for “head” is “eikon.” It means “image.” The “eikon” is Caesar. And on the coin was Caesar’s title: “Tiberius Caesar, august son of the divine Augustus and high priest.” It was a title that claimed divinity. Tiberius, the son of the god, Augustus. It was a religious title also – “high priest.” So Jesus exposes the hypocrisy of these questioners. They have brought a graven image of blasphemy into the Temple.

Then Jesus answers them. “It’s Caesar’s coin. Give it back to him.” [Pause.] “And give to God the things that are God’s.”

His hearers know the scripture’s claim. “The earth is the LORD’s, and everything in it, the world, and all who live in it. (Psalms 24:1, NIV) Everything belongs to God. Our Psalm in today’s readings speaks of God’s sovereignty: “God reigns; let the people tremble; God is enthroned upon the cherubim; let the earth shake.” Who is supreme? Caesar or God? There is no doubt who is supreme in Jesus’ tradition.

But note Jesus’ question: “Whose ‘eikon,’ whose image is on the coin?” The answer, “Caesar.” The unasked question might be, “And where is the ‘eikon’ of God? Where do you find God’s image?” Jesus listeners know the answer to that question too. Humanity bears God’s image. When God created human beings, God created us in the image and likeness of God. Later Christian tradition will speak of Jesus as the “eikon/icon” of God.

It is interesting how political Jesus’ language and imagery is. Jesus sets up alternative jurisdictions, and God’s reign predominates. Over and over he speaks of the Kingdom of God, the Rule of God, the Reign of God. He claims that the Kingdom of God breaks into earth in him. And it was largely on the basis of that claim that he was executed in a political act as an enemy of the state.

Then the early church deliberately chose titles for Jesus that were the same titles that the Emperor claimed – “Divine. Son of God. God from God. Lord. Savior. Redeemer. Liberator.” All of these were Caesar’s titles, that the church deliberately appropriated for Jesus. No wonder Rome outlawed Christian practice and occasionally persecuted the church. In the early years, the church mostly hoped to fly under the radar of the state, but when it did not, martyrs bravely faced arrest, imprisonment, torture and death to proclaim Jesus as Lord.

Now I could stop this sermon there, and simply restate what Jesus has said. Therefore, “Give to God what is God’s.” And the implication – everything belongs to God. All authority is God’s. That would be enough.

Because Jesus leaves unaddressed the perplexing question, “What is our relationship with Caesar, with the state?” There is a long, complex history of Christians wrestling with that question. So, for the record, at this point in this sermon, I’m moving from preaching, to meddling. Which means, good people can and will disagree with me, and they will have solid arguments for doing so. I’m not preaching so much as I am thinking out loud, and opinionating. So I’ll accept the Pharisees and Herodians’ trap: “Tell us what you think.”

I believe that the teaching of Jesus is essentially corporate and social in its focus. In my opinion, traditional Christianity is not a religion of individualism. The New Testament says almost nothing about personal spirituality or personal salvation. Jesus didn’t come to be my “personal Lord and Savior.” Jesus came to save the world.

The emphasis of the New Testament in on the Body of Christ, the Kingdom of God, the New Creation and the New Humanity in Christ. New Testament symbolism is inherently corporate. The picture that we have of the community of Jesus and of the early church is a vision of a cooperative society, a community of equals. That requires us as Christians to have a social vision, not merely an individualistic one. That moves us into social and political realms.

For traditional Christianity, the Church’s work is not only spiritual, it is also materialistic. Archbishop William Temple famously said that Christianity is the most materialist of all religions. We value creation and rejoice in the physical. Through the sacraments we say that matter is a vehicle of the spirit. Bread and wine, water, hands, oil. And supremely, Jesus: the Word made flesh. God transforms stuff, including us and our money, into instruments of the divine. God uses the material stuff of creation to transform creation.

How do we know what God wants us to do with our stuff? When Jesus was taught what bottom line is for corporate judgment, the judgment of the nations, he taught that the criterion is what happens to the poor and vulnerable. Do you remember the parable of the sheep and the goats? Feed the hungry, give drink to the thirsty, welcome the stranger, clothe the naked, visit the imprisoned. That’s how the nations are to be judged. That’s a social and political agenda.

The Hebrew Scriptures are full of admonitions about how God cares for the fate of the alien, the orphan, and the widow. Today’s psalm like so many speaks of God as a “mighty Ruler” who is a “lover of justice.” In the Hebrew Scriptures, justice is almost always an economic term, as we see in today’s psalm, “O mighty Ruler, lover of justice, you have established equity.” Equity is an economic as well as a political term.

The Hebrew Scriptures condemn greed and express grave suspicion of wealth and of the wealthy. We see Jesus pick up that theme in many places, but particularly in the story of Lazarus, the poor beggar living outside the home of a wealthy man. The wealthy man knows poor Lazarus is there, but he does nothing to help him. In a story not unlike Dickens’ A Christmas Carol – the wealthy man, writhing in judgment, wants to send word back to his brothers so that they will change their behavior and be generous.

So, for me, when Jesus says “Give to the emperor the things that are the emperor’s, and to God the things that are God’s,” I sense a call from Jesus for us to embrace a different political and economic agenda. Like every other part of the material creation, Caesar’s coin needs to be saved. Redeemed. Transformed. Turned into sacrament. Caesar’s coin needs to become a vehicle for the spirit, a vehicle for justice. That’s what I want from my taxes.

I want Caesar’s coin to contribute to God’s desire for the material welfare of the least of these. I want to see society transformed into liberty and justice for all. I want the Kingdom of God and the New Humanity of Jesus. And I pray with the Psalmist, “O mighty Ruler, lover of justice, you have established equity; you have executed justice and righteousness.” O God, establish equity and execute justice. And transform our hearts that we may participate in the work of your kingdom.

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Thanks to Kenneth Leech and his book The Eye of the Storm, for some of the ideas and maybe some phrases expressed in the sermon.

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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 sermons are posted on our web site: www.stpaulsfay.org

Visit our web partners at www.explorefaith.org