although i will be away from St Andrew's, I have been promised these

Another of Father Gage's sermons

Water and A Rose

Matt. 10:40-42

7/2/17

         

          You and I make sacrifices every day, for our children, spouse, parents, etc. It is important that we see those sacrifices in the context of Christ’s sacrifice for us, and that we ask Him to bless and sanctify those sacrifices. It is also important to find our lives by losing them, to obtain by giving away. That means stretching, reaching out, and trying new things in the name of Christ Jesus. We sometimes call those actions “intentional random acts of kindness.” The seeming triteness of the phrase should not mask the profundity and seriousness behind it.

          At the end of the passage in Matthew in which Jesus speaks of the conflicts that we have as a result of our faith and of following Him, and as a result of taking up our crosses, we have today’s lectionary passage, which is mercifully short. “Whoever welcomes you welcomes me, and whoever welcomes me welcomes the one who sent me. Whoever welcomes a prophet in the name of a prophet will receive a prophet’s reward; and whoever welcomes a righteous person in the name of a righteous person will receive the reward of the righteous; and whoever gives a cup of cold water to one of these little ones in the name of a disciple - truly I tell you, none of these will lose their reward.” (Matt. 10:40-42)

          Jesus is using the ripple effect metaphor, or we might say the DNA metaphor. There is a connectedness to things. Jesus plays upon that observation in life. He is claiming His Sonship as one sent from God. To honor Jesus is to honor God, just as honoring a prophet places one within the circle of a prophet. The reward which one receives is that of being part of the circle of believers who follow a prophet and who acknowledge a revelation from God. To give water to those who thirst is an act of compassion and mercy (charity) and places one within the circle of the merciful and hence in the embrace of God’s mercy. Behind this passage there are the connotations of Jesus as a prophet and water as the revelation and spirit for which everyone thirsts, who thirsts for mercy and righteousness.

          You and I are asked to place ourselves in the paths of the disciples and to seek to proclaim the Gospel in our lives and through our affiliation with the Church, the body of Christ. That, of course, is what we do when we come here on Sundays and participate in the liturgy and in the Eucharist. Life necessitates forms and structures, schools and traditions. Creeds are important, doctrine is important and denominational distinctions are important. We have to work with mores and folkways. But things are not always clear. Throughout history there have been schisms within the Church, rivalries and wars. Within the United States there have been times of religious intolerance (Roger Williams had to flee the Puritans and go to Rhode Island and be a Baptist). The Roman Catholics founded Maryland and Georgia as places where they could practice their faith. Right now the Anglican Communion is having dialogue and discussion. The break-away conservatives protest. One side claims the TRUTH and the other side “sees through a glass but darkly.” Oddly enough those doctrinal conundrums, problems, serve as metaphors for how difficult it is often to know what to do and what is the right thing. Often it is the smallest act, the simple instinctive act of compassion and charity that is a vehicle for the Holy Spirit to act and to care for one. Often it is not the strategic plans and mission statements, but how we treat one another in the name of Christ (we used to call it “charity”) that brings us closer to our reward of  “living in Him and He in us.”

`        Now I am going to tell you one of my favorite stories. It is a favorite not because it builds me up, but because it brought such a feeling of humility that it practically bowelled me over. For twenty years I made daily calls at Stamford Hospital. Now I go intermittently. I have looked at the various questions that confront medical ethics and at the policies and procedures for counseling and helping those who are sick or injured. Each case is so complex that it is daunting even to try to deal with it. Sometimes I just sit and cry. Other times I act on instinct and pray that my faith and the Holy Spirit will help, because I am really “an earthen vessel.” But, in the last analysis, so are we all. As we act and sacrifice and live out our faith we have to reach out in trust for the hidden hand of God and pray that we not cause harm but do the right thing.

Here is the story:

          She was black, and I was white.           She was a woman, and I was a man.           She was twenty-five and I was sixty-five.

I was stopped by the head nurse. “Would you please go in and see the young woman in the next room? She is a recovering drug addict, was pregnant, and has just lost her baby.”

I thought, “Good Lord, deliver me.”

          The young woman’s gaze met mine as I entered the room. Her eyes were filled with anger. Not apprehension, just plain rage. I introduced my self as a priest from a local parish. After a moment or so, I told her that I was very sorry about her loss. I sat with her for a few minutes, while she glared at me. Words failed me. What could I possibly say?

          She was poor, and I was well off.

          She was an addict, and I was not.

          She worked the streets, and I had a nice office.

          She was uneducated, and I had three university degrees.

          She was at the bottom of the social order, and I was way up.

          She was marginalized, and I represented “the system.”

          She was “girl,” and I was “the man.”

          She had lost her baby, and I had two healthy adult sons. 

          The gulf between us was huge. I realized that in spite of my education, training, and experience, there was nothing I could say.

          The hostility in her eyes was unrelenting. Finally she rolled over and faced the wall. I left.    That afternoon, evening, night and the next morning I thought and prayed about that young woman. I knew I must stop in and see her when I made my rounds, but I hadn’t a clue as what to do or say.          The next day on impulse, as I entered Stamford Hospital, I went into the gift shop and made a purchase. Then I walked up to the young woman’s room, knocked and entered. She looked up. There was less anger now but a lot of apprehension. I walked over to her and said, “Here. This is for you.” She reached out, and I handed her one, long stemmed red rose. She nodded and I left.

          One week later, through the chaplain’s office, I received a letter. There was one sentence. It simply said, “No one ever gave me a flower before.” Jesus said, “And whosoever gives to one of these little ones even a cup of cold water because he is a disciple, truly, I say to you, he shall not lose his reward.” (Matt.10:42 RSV). I wondered, “Does a rose count?”

          Bear your cross. Sacrifice. Be diligent. Tithe. But also try a random act of intentional kindness. It just might be in God’s eyes a cup of water.

–Amen- Fr. Gage

         

what else was on my mind - another sermon

The sermon has been on my mind since Sunday, so a bit of a prefaces is needed...
I grew up an only child, with a room of my own and was very possessive about it,
but there was something always in the back of my mind (or heart) that it was all only temporary.
I loved to build sandcastles for that reason.
Why?
I do not have an answer, but as an adult, thing were very different and i shared my space continually,
well because i live in a Christian community and we hold all things together
and more so i felt that what i have is so i can share.
Now the sermon tells a still stronger story and i look forward to a day that i can have my own space....to the sermon

ROOMS

Easter 5

Mother’s Day

John 14:1-14

          Jesus Christ assures you and me of a room. Our destiny is guaranteed. We don’t have to phone ahead or take out a mortgage.

          Some time ago my wife looked up one Sunday afternoon and proclaimed, “I want a room of my own!” This was not a dainty suggestion or a reflective whimper. This was straight from her gut and reached right back to when women kicked aside the bones in the cave she shared with her Neanderthal husband and pet brontosaurs.

          Haven’t you ever felt that way? Have you not known an instinctive claim of entitlement for your own space, your own abiding place, your own spot? Parents sometimes forget this need for a room. When their son or daughter goes off to college they want to rush in and rake out their offspring’s room, hose it down, and truck in a dumpster to take away all the “junk” their kid acquired. Woe to the parent who doth such heinous deed” Kids know that a clean desk is the sign of a sick mind. If cleanliness and godliness are connected, then they will opt for ungodliness. Their room embodies their way of life. Here they tell the truth to themselves, and discover the truth about themselves. Here they have their being and find their life. Wasn’t that true for you? It may not have been your bedroom. It may have been a corner of the cellar or the garage, or a seat near a window or your side of the bed. It was your spot (Almost as hallowed as the spot in the pew where you sit every Sunday, and which you staked out eons ago). It was your spot, your room. You defined your room and your room defined you.

          Isn’t that true even now for you? My wife has her spot at her desk in the middle of the family room. But her real “abiding place”, her room, is the right-hand side of our king-sized bed, to which she retires and religiously reads for an hour 356 days of the year, as she has for 56 years. Women, I think, have a greater sense of an abiding place than do men. Although, I would literally go crazy if I did not have my own study and office, where I can physically as well as mentally deal with the way I am and what is true and false and what it is that is in regard to life.

          As you have probably guessed by now, this sermon is about rooms, women (mothers especially), and Jesus. The woman I want to talk about for a few minutes is not my wife, but my mother. For in thinking about today’s lectionary Gospel, I kept thinking about my mother, and I realized that whenever I think about her I visualize her in the context of a room. And in a sense there was a room, which identified or defined, each stage of her life.

          The earliest stories she used to tell me about herself were of her playing as a child high up in the turret of a large Victorian house in Rockford, Illinois. For hours on end she would play with her china dolls, some from Germany and some from Cathay. She would act out the routines of the lives of the aristocrats of the city, mimicking their ways, learning the truths of how people interacted, pantomiming the dance of life. Hers was the childhood of a widow’s only daughter, who looked out over the treetops and wondered about life. Surely not so unusual from moments that you and I had as a child.

          My earliest memories of my mother are of her sitting on her rocker in a corner of the bedroom, doing her sewing, mending our clothes, or darning a sweater, stitching together her thoughts as she kept vigil during my father’s long illness. Often it was a place where I would crawl onto her lap to hear a story. More often than not, it was a place where she wrestled with her private demons.

          In later years, when she was in her forties and early fifties, her room was a classroom, where she taught social studies, first at Glen Ellyn Junior High and later at Sunset Hill private girls’ school in Kansas City. There she imparted a way of life and of inquiry to her students, helped them discover the rudimentary truths of knowledge, and opened the doors of life to eager and indolent minds alike. In her late fifties and up into her seventies, her room was not in her home, but at her business, which she started. It was there that she made her decisions, melded truth with integrity and really came alive. Her business became her way of life. Her office was her absolute domain. It was the lair of a lioness. One entered it very carefully.

          She went almost directly from her office to Greenwich Hospital and then to Putnam Weaver Nursing Home. She had returned to a room of her own – one room, where she could look out over the treetops and where she sorted through her memories, and dreams, and the ways and truths of her life. Her journey from room to room, was it so unlike that of someone you know? Is it much different from that of many of us?

          At her funeral, the priest read one of the Gospel passages appointed for that service and one, which I have used at burial services over and over again:

          Jesus said to his followers, “Let not your hearts be troubled. Believe in God, Believe also in me. In my Fathers house there are many rooms. If it were not so, would I have told you that I go to prepare a place for you? And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come again and will take you to myself, so that where I am, there you may be also. And you know the way to the place where I am going. Thomas said to him, “Lord we do not know where you are going. How can we know the way?” Jesus said to him, “I am the way and the truth, and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me. If you know me, you will know my Father also. From now on you do know him and have seen him.”

          Jesus, who was born in a stable because there was no room in the inn, who celebrated the Last Supper in a borrowed upper room, knew the importance of having a room of your own, a space of your own. For he assures us that at the end of our mortal lives there awaits for us our own special abiding place, our own room. Our journey from the time of conception and the room of the womb is a journey with a destiny. Its destination is a room in the household of God, where we have our own place with those who have gone before, those whom we call the saints of God. Our destiny is not isolation, but a special dwelling place where we can join in the fellowship and communion of the saints with God.

          Is Jesus’ promise of a room of our own in heaven really so implausible? In these last few years I have become firmly convinced of life after death and a place in heaven. We don’t need to engage in fantastic graphics of the imagination and picture various realms of heaven as did the Gnostics and the apocryphal writers. They had levels of heaven, where there were cosmic motels on the highway of heaven, with Hell a Super 6 in Gary, Indiana, and the Heavenly Rest the Trump Plaza. That is sheer fantasy. But let’s face it, Jesus speaks to very real sense, which we all have. This is a sense of place, a sense of habitation where our identity, our way of life is defined. This where we deal with questions of appearance and reality (or Truth), and where we are in touch with the vital juices, or that positive creativity, which is the heart of life. From this way of thinking, cannot even the most doubtful unbeliever begin to make the segue from a room in this life to one which awaits us in the next?

          As Christians, you and I have, I think, a greater intimation of immortality. In our lives and in our rooms we catch glimpses of our place in heaven. For as members of the Church we have already through baptism begun to enter into the life of Christ and in the communion of the saints now and later on. Here in this present fellowship of the church, we confess Jesus Christ as the way, the truth, and the life. In so doing we make room for Him in our room. By so confessing we come to understand Him as the authentic way of life, and as the authenticity of truth and life. We gain this sense of Jesus as the way the truth and the life through reflection upon His life as gospel and as revelation of God, and through participation in the sacraments.

          There are, of course, moral implications to having a room of our own, where we discover and know the way, the truth, and life. First of all, respect your own space and that of others. Privacy and affirmation are important nutrients on our lives. Secondly, share your abiding place, your room with your neighbor. This helps you to move along the way and to gain insights into truth and life. And thirdly, help create a room or space for someone else. This not only means encouraging our children or friends to value themselves and to make a place for themselves. It also means literally working to solve the problem of adequate housing for the poor and the homeless. This is a seemingly impossible task. But our own room is false if we have not sought to prepare a similar place for someone else.

          Jesus said, “In my Father’s house there are many rooms…I go to prepare a place for you.” This blessed assurance, similar to one given by a mother to a child, frees us to deal with the space of our lives. For we know that we are not alone, but are really worth something, loved, and awaited with great expectation by none other than god Himself. What a really great Easter promise for Mother’s Day! Thanks be to God. Alleluia. Alleluia. Alleluia. 

Father Gage again: the Easter Message

THE EMPTY TOMB

EASTER EVE

          Tonight is the defining moment of Christendom. Tonight we meet the empty tomb. In so doing, you and I confront Christ’s resurrection, which marks His victory, His triumph, over evil, sin and death. By the resurrection of Christ, God shows us that hope overcomes despair, that righteousness overcomes injustice, that mercy overcomes oppression and that love overcomes terror and hatred.

          It is the doctrine of the resurrection that sets Christians, you and me, apart from other religions and interpretations regarding the meaning of life. By His resurrection Jesus is more than just a holy man, more than a prophet, more than a teacher-rabbi, more than a miracle worker-healer. Christ’s resurrection affirms Jesus as the Son of God, the Messiah, the guarantor of eternal life. Christ’s resurrection changed history and redefined the meaning of life for millions.

          Now I am going to tell you three stories. You have heard them before. The first story: Years ago, I met the Easter Bunny. It wasn’t really the Easter Bunny; it was a person in a white rabbit suit out in the day care playground. She was having a great time with the kids. In my imagination I asked, “What are you doing?” “ “Oh, I’m having fun with the children. I guess I am trying to remind folk of joy and peace and new birth.” “ Funny, I replied, that is my job too. Hop along,” I said, and she did.

          Imagination transports us through the spectrum of time, enables us to participate in various dimensions of reality and to grasp truths that often seem ephemeral. One of which is the story of the resurrection. It is the story of hope. It is the assurance of eternal life with a loving God. The story of the Easter Bunny moves us to that direction. It is good. The secular world is but a reflection of the eternal world. It prepares us for truths too deep for tears, too joyous for laughter.

          For many Easter is simply the seasonal celebration of spring and new birth, a reflection of the life cycle. But for Christians, Easter is more than the religion of nature; it is the statement that through the revelation of Jesus Christ each one of us receives the promise of eternal life with the source of all life and all beauty and all love, God Himself.

          Now for my second story: Jesus was a Jew. You cannot understand Easter without knowing about the prophecies in Isaiah, Jeremiah and the Psalms. Israel longed for, hungered for, a messiah. Jesus fulfilled that expectation and hunger. The Old Testament is the foundation for Christianity. Our Easter event is the demarcation of Christianity from Judaism.

          The third story: It is part of a much longer story, which is one of my favorites. Some years ago I had a call at 10:30 p.m. from Bouton and Reynolds Funeral Home. “Father Gage, this is Michelle. I have a special request of you. Could you do a Jewish funeral tomorrow at 11:00 a.m.? I cannot get a rabbi. The family had decided they would not have a funeral, but at the last minute felt that they had to have some kind of service. They are more or less non-practicing Jews. When I was unable to get a rabbi, I told them that I knew a really nice Episcopal priest, who would try to help them. It will be just a small family gathering. Can you help me out?” “Sure, Michelle, I’ll do what I can,” I replied. After I hung up and told my wife, Faye, about this, she replied, “Are you out of your mind?”

          Apparently I was. I got up early the next morning and went down to my office. I have some books on funerals, and I thought I would find something in them. Nothing. “Oh, well, I thought, I’ll just take the burial service in The Book of Common Prayer and delete any references to Jesus.” Wrong. The burial service opens with, “I am the resurrection and the life, saith the Lord; he that believeth in me, though he were dead, yet shall he live; and whosoever liveth and believeth in me shall never die.” (BCP p.469)

          The whole burial service is loaded with Easter and resurrection theology. So I put together a service of an opening statement, a prayer, a psalm, a reading from Ecclesiastes, a prayer, a psalm, a eulogy and a closing prayer.

          When I got to the funeral home, the “small family gathering” was of 80, 60 men and 20 women dressed in black. I told them that I was honored to be with them in their time of grief and loss and that my job as a minister was to tend to the needs of all people in the heart of Stamford. They were relieved and the service went well.

          My point is that it is the Easter story of the resurrection that is the lynchpin of our Christian religion. Judaism is wonderful and we are deeply indebted to it for our Judeo-Christian heritage. But we part company in our narrative, in our history, in our imagination, in our expectations and in our philosophic/theological worldview as a result of the Church’s experience, of your and my experience, of the empty tomb.

          My third story is more of a reflection. On Tuesday of the following week, I gave the homily at the funeral of a woman I had known for 25 years. She was the same age as I am and we shared the same tart sense of the absurdity of life. We also shared a deeply felt reliance upon God and thankfulness for the salvation, which we found in Jesus as the resurrected Christ. We will meet in heaven someday and have a great time comparing our observations and experiences. Following her funeral, I had two other funerals in the upcoming weeks. One woman I’d known for 45 years. The other woman I knew not at all.

          In each of these funerals, my job was to articulate the Easter message of the resurrection. It was to affirm that in the crucifixion and resurrection of Jesus Christ you and I have a personal promise that says that life is purposeful, is meaningful, is positive, creative, recreative and full of redemption and hope. It is the message of the resurrection. The Easter event that you and I celebrate is the affirmation of that which is mysterious and imponderable. It speaks to our own hunger for victory and triumph in life. It speaks to our own instincts and consciences, to the image of God within us, which recognizes the truth of an unimaginable triumphant act of a miracle – of the resurrection event, which is the focus and pulsating signal of our life and our hope.   

          Brothers and sisters, the old Book of Common Prayer has it nailed when it proclaims, “I am the resurrection and the life, saith the Lord; he that believeth in me, though he were dead, yet shall he live; and whosoever liveth and believeth in me shall never die.

          I know that my Redeemer liveth, and he shall stand at the latter day upon the earth; and though this body be destroyed, yet shall I see God; whom I shall see for myself and mine eyes shall behold, and not as a stranger.” BCP     

          Tonight you and I celebrate the victory of love over cruelty, mortality and despair. We celebrate that triumph because it speaks to us collectively and individually and because it also speaks for us. You and I exalt in the triumph of Jesus Christ over evil, sin and death. And that’s an amazing victory and triumph! That brothers and sisters, is our triumph. Jesus Christ is risen. Brothers and sisters, let me hear it; Christ is risen. The Lord is risen in deed. Alleluia. Alleluia. Alleluia. Amen. – Fr. Gage

he never took a course on preaching...yet

that is the priest at the small episcopal church i attend and yet each Sunday and when he speaks at a Wednesday service - what he shares is strong...

THE HEART OF THE MATTER (A)

Matt. 4:1-11

3/5/17

Lent I

          The story of the temptation of Christ touches the heart of the matter of our relationship to God. It touches the point at which we are the most real, the most engaged.

          You know the story. Jesus is fasting in the dessert and tempted by the devil to 1) turn stones to bread, 2) jump off a high place and let the angels catch him and 3) seize power over all the kingdoms of the world. Jesus replies 1) “One does not live by bread alone, but by every word that comes from the mouth of God,” 2) “Do not put the Lord your God to the test,” and 3) “Worship the Lord your God, and serve only him.”

          In the Gospel of Mark we are only told that Jesus was tempted. It is in the Gospels of Luke and Matthew that we have the temptations elaborated. This is a type of story seldom found in the Gospels. It is apocalyptic and fanciful. The story lacks the usual down to earth plodding of the parables or the Birth or Passion narratives where bits of everyday life stick out from a manger or the road. Whereas most of the stories in the Gospels are not of a form found much in other literature, this story would fit right in with an Arabian tale or even a Hindu story. Hence it is tempting to say that the story is not “real.”

          There is, however, a sense in which the story has a high degree of “realism.”  If you saw the film, “The Last Temptation of Christ,” you saw a film that strove for grainy realism. It was filmed in Morocco. Jesus walked grubby narrow streets and the Palm Sunday march looked like a Cub Scout parade. Because of the diminution of scale and the attempt for “naturalism” the film failed to convey that what was happening was of extraordinary importance. It changed the world. Big events require appropriate big tellings. You can’t say, “The Patriots won the supper bowl!!” in a whisper and have it make sense. You have to say it boldly.

          So it seems to me that the conversation in the wilderness between the devil and Jesus is quite real in its dramatic presentation. In Jesus God meets mankind right where it hurts, right at the point of temptation. Ever since Adam and Eve there has been the desire to “want to do things my way,” to see ourselves as the center of the universe and to measure all things over against our own needs. It is this tension, this conflict, that has dogged mankind, the Jewish people and people like you and me today. 

          This tension between being homeocentric and theocentric, self-centered or God centered, was dramatically spelled out in The Book of Job. Many of us are familiar with that story from Archibald MacLeish’s play J.B., which I’ve seen several times. Historically the story of Job arose out of the Deuteronomic theory in the Old Testament that if a person were devout and morally good, then he would prosper. If a nation obeyed God, then it would prosper. Hence prosperity was seen as a sign of God’s favor. Wisdom literature, of which Job is a part, on the other hand, said that unfortunately the good often suffer and bad people prosper. Why then do the good suffer? Why does God let good people suffer? Job is tempted to “curse God and die.” Job goes through horrendous loses and pain but refuses to curse God. The resolution of this conflict appears to be the answer that the nature of God in the universe and in life is to a large extent unknowable - beyond our comprehension. What we do know is that we continue to survive and to find new life and new beginnings and new hope. Part of the profundity of God, of the mysterium tremendum, is love. His never giving up on us and our renewal is a sign of God’s love. The love that we have for one another, for husband and wife, parent and child, for friends, although inexplicable, is a sign of the love God has for us. In the end, as MacLeish tells it, the answer is that there is incomprehensible, irrefutable love. The story of Job tells us that while you and I are tempted to renounce God, God does not renounce you or me.

          So temptation is the issue that touches us right on the psychic nerve. Now, I want to tell you a story. Twenty-some years ago I was celebrating the Eucharist at Courtland Gardens nursing home. Thirty patients were lined up in front of me in their wheel chairs and their walkers. They were in decrepit condition. Most slumped, some slept and a few gazed vacantly around the room. When it came time for my homily I discovered that the Gospel passage was about temptation. “How am I ever going to make the issue of temptation real to these old people?” In a moment of inspiration I remembered that during the early 1940s there was a song called, “Temptation.”  Hoping to use that as a way of getting into various areas of temptation in life, I started singing. “You came. I was alone. I should have known…” At that moment thirty patients snapped bolt upright and with gesture completed the refrain with, “YOU WERE TEMPTATION.” I was stunned. I tried to talk about temptation, but they all flopped over back to sleep or whatever catatonic state they were previously in.

          Upon reflection I realized that when I sang that song I brought them back to the 1940’s. That was when they were the most active, most engaged and most alive. Now they were in their late 70’s and 80’s. But back when they were in their 20’s, 30’s, 40’s and 50’s there were lots of temptations. Obviously there were the temptations of the appetites. There was the desire for gratification. Food or bread is of course one of those means of gratification. There is also the desire to feed the appetites of others. Surely that can be seen as a good thing. A chicken in every pot may be the slogan for a politician, but it is also the dream of millions of people worldwide. In our youth there are the temptations to do the impossible – to be a rock star, to be famous, to find the cure for various dysfunctions, to set a record in sports, academics or business. All of us dream of doing things that would test the ingenuity of angels. Most insidiously there are the temptations for power. Simply put, we all like to control things. In each of us there is an “I want to do it myself” DNA computer chip. You and I like to fix things. Sometimes we even want to fix others!

          The truth of the matter is that temptation greets us at all stages of life. We are tempted to feel sorry for our selves, to feel jealousy and resentment, to nourish grudges and hurts, to control our lives by being mean to others. When my mother-in- law was in Courtland Gardens, I used to watch the dynamics of the old ladies at the dinner table, as they would cajole, maneuver and bully one another. It was subtle, but clear and often cruel. The devil and temptation were very much at the table.

          Where there are the sparks of life and of choice, where there are those basic elements that constitute life in us, that is where the essence of our individual life resides. It is there, at the heart of the matter of life, the life of our lives, that the conflict with temptation exists.

          On the one hand, the story of the temptation of Christ tells us that Jesus was both human and divine. It is illuminated by our knowledge of the Passion and Resurrection stories. It continues the tradition of Job in which the most faithful servant of God is tempted and refuses to give in. At the same time the story goes beyond the theology of Job and points to a unique messiahship, which eventually includes the Kingdom of God and eternal life. By stating that man is sustained not only by bread but also by the word of God, Jesus reminds His audience that life is more than material possessions and earthly appetites. Moreover, by refusing to allow Himself to be born by angels after a jump into space, Jesus maintains that toying with God for magical relief violates the importance of faith. To seek spectacular, wondrous acts is to appeal to “do it yourself” magic and quick fix gimmicks. Finally, by refusing to seize power over the kingdoms of this world, Jesus rejects the dream of a messianic kingship and a new kingdom of bricks, mortar, blood and conquest. So on the one hand, the story of the temptation tells us that Jesus was both human and divine.

          On the other hand, the story tells us something else. It tells us that in Jesus Christ God has entered into the heart of the matter. He has entered into that place where there is the struggle in our hearts between choice and fatalism, where there is the tension between doing things  homeocentrically or theocentrically – man and woman centered or God centered. By being tempted and refusing, Jesus breaks the power of the Tempter. You and I are not doomed always to choose bread over the word of God, to choose the material over the spiritual. By God’s acting in Jesus, the spell is broken. The power of the extravagant exhibitionism of narcissism is stifled. It is by resisting the earthly crown of control, the desire to make small kingdoms in life and big kingdoms in the world, that the influence and appeal of earthly power is diminished and shown to be hollow.       

          The story of the temptation of Christ in the end shows us a God who speaks to the heart of the matter, to the heart of our hearts, and reveals Himself as one who enters right into the area where things are determined to be done and left undone. The story foreshadows the Passion and Resurrection narratives. Here we see Christ’ victory over self-centeredness (being homeocentric,) over materialism, over grandiosity, over narcissism and over the seductive power of control. Having defeated those temptations, Christ achieved victory for you and me over the stifling power of the temptations of self-centeredness, materialism, grandiosity and control. This story is a prelude. Later in the gospel story Jesus by His death and resurrection will break the grip of and emerge victorious over sin, evil and death.

          This lent do not despair. Do not feel captive to the temptations of self-centeredness, materialism, grandiosity and control. Their grip has been broken. You and I are called to work with God, valuing things spiritual as well as earthly, engaging in dreams and visions without tempting or mocking God, and enjoying the freedom found in being loved and in loving. In Christ you and I are offered the liberty of feeling safe and assured of meaning and purpose in the cosmos, in the world, in life and in our lives. This Lent be both honest with yourself and thorough in your self-examination. At the same time, relax. Like the old ladies in the chapel at Courtland Gardens, push your temptations to the past and sing, “You came. I was alone. I should have known. You were temptation.” The difference is, of course that you are not alone. Your old battles with temptation have already been won by Jesus Christ. Reach out and take God’s hand. Better yet, reach out and allow God to take your hand. Amen. – Fr. Gage-         

this one i needed to hear

Jungle Gyms and Mulch

Epiphany 2

Jn. 1:29-42

          Do you remember the last time you stopped for a few moments and took some time to reflect on things? It probably was not too long ago. Perhaps you got a clearer impression of things, or at least a better look at them. You may have followed an insight and gone on a journey of the imagination. Often times you and I find ourselves on spiritual journeys or pilgrimages that have odd stops along the way. During this season of Epiphany you and I are invited to reflect on God’s showing forth of Himself in Jesus, the Babe in the manger. We are asked to consider this Jesus whom we will come to know even better during this new liturgical year as the Christ and the Son of God.

          Some time ago I had a little time for reflecting and looking at things. My wife and I were in Fairfax, Virginia. We went down there to baby sit Faye’s twin grandnieces, Kayleigh and Madeline. One warm and sunny day we walked the twins down to the park, where there is an extensive play area. The play area is a marked off section of solid Virginia clay and subsoil. It is carpeted with cedar-bark mulch over which sit monkey bars, jungle gyms and slides, all elaborately interconnected. The equipment is an updated and reconfigured version of what I played on over sand at the Forest Glen Elementary School in Glen Ellen, Illinois in the 1940’s. Kayleigh and Madeline’s park has good, sturdy, childproof stuff. As the twins played, they were joined by eight other children between the ages of two and four, who were accompanied by a woman in her late forties. She was the overseer of the children and was sort of a combination prophet and shepherdess. With a semi-prophetic voice she would guide, cajole, form and reform the behavior of her flock. For about an hour and a half I sat and observed this scene. Periodically this Deborah-Naomi figure would intone, “NO THROWING OF THE MULCH. You can shape it, sift it, and form it. But there is to be NO THROWING OF THE MULCH.” Apparently that is the number one rule of the playground. “Not a bad rule in life,” I said to myself as Faye and I left with Kayleigh and Madeline.

          Now, when I looked at the first part of today’s gospel lesson from The Gospel of Saint John, I was impressed that John the Baptist didn’t “throw the mulch.” There was no chatter, no ³”f¹s,” “and’s,” “but’s,” or “or’s.” He did not talk about “turf” or “process” or Robert’s Rules of Order. John gracefully made the transition from his leadership and baptizing ministry to that of Jesus’. History owes John the Baptist a huge debt of gratitude. John did not put up a protest or barriers for his disciples to move on and to follow Jesus as the Christ. John the Baptist didn’t “throw the mulch.” He was content to serve as the prophet-herald-precursor to Jesus the Messiah.

          Continuing to read more of the passage this week I got intrigued. So I went back and read it in the Greek. Two things emerged that caught my attention. First of all, the passage is loaded with major Christological titles. They are as follows: “Son of God,” “Lamb of God,” “Messiah” as well as the term “Holy Spirit.” Each of those titles, or terms, conveys major theological concepts: incarnation, sacrifice, salvation and the presence of the power of God. These titles and concepts are not new. Although they are found in The Old Testament, they are reformed and reworked in the New Testament gospels and epistles. Those titles and concepts have become the major tenets of our faith. The titles and concepts are grounded in Israel¹s history, experience and thought. What John the Baptist is doing is reworking Israel¹s history and tradition and reshaping a future understanding of what incarnation, sacrifice, salvation and the Holy Spirit will mean over against the life of Jesus. From this point on, the writers of the gospels will be the major sources of interpretation and the touchstones for authenticity. The Church will pound, stretch, shape, form and reform, and plunge the depths of the terms “Son of God,” “Lamb of God,” “Messiah” and the “Holy Spirit” as she seeks to understand the meaning of those concepts and tenets.

                   The second thing that caught my attention in my re-reading of the passage is that it is dominated by two words. They are “see” and “follow.” In the context of linear time and history, the followers of Jesus (unlike the Essenes and others) are to be seekers and believers actively seeing and following in the here and now. Both John the Baptist and John the Evangelist are saying that this is a special time. This is a time to follow and to explore how God has been revealed. Right now the disciples are to look at and to follow the concepts/titles of “Son of God,” “Lamb of God,” “Messiah” and the “Holy Spirit.” For the disciples, now is the time for epiphany, the time of revelation and reflection. How those disciples saw and followed the titles/concepts contained in today’s passage in the Gospel of John shaped history and much of Western and world thought.

          In the life of the Church each season of the liturgical year focuses upon one of the above titles/concepts/tenets. Christmas is the time for thinking about incarnation (Son of God). Lent is the time for thinking about the Lamb of God (sacrifice). Easter is the time for thinking about the Messiah (salvation) and Pentecost is the season for concentrating on the Holy Spirit (the power and presence of God in Christ). Epiphany is in a sense an introductory season for thinking about the manifestation of God in all of those titles/concepts before they are broken down into specific seasons.

          Now to return to where we began. During these weeks of Epiphany you and I are called to “see” and to “follow.” We are called to look at the theological concepts/titles/tenets embedded in the life of Jesus Christ and to get familiar with them as a group. Climb on them. Push and pull. Shake them; let your mind slide up and down them. Each of us is an amateur theologian. There are systematic theologian that methodically and logically work out each concept and title. I, on the other hand, am a “random abstract” and am not systematic. I am an experiential theologian. I live with an idea, constantly working it through my experiences and observations. I constantly embrace and wrestle with the significance and life of the orthodox tenets of our faith. You can take these ideas, concepts and titles and work on them anyway you want. They are the pillars of our faith and will stand. They are firmly planted in the ground that God has created, which is the life of salvation history — the life of the Church. Moreover, since the life of the Church is the body of Christ, (changing metaphors for a moment) then the tenets of our faith are firmly grounded in the life of Jesus Christ. They have endured and will continue to endure.

          Do whatever works for you as long as you “see” and “follow.” Let Jesus Christ be manifested to you and allow epiphanic moments of revelation to rise up and to guide you on your faith pilgrimage. Some, like Martin Luther King, have been inspired by the tenets of our faith and have made incredible changes in the lives of millions. Others like Luther and Mother Theresa have changed both the world of thought and the lives of others. Many of you allow the tenets of our faith to inspire, comfort, guide and sustain you as you deal with the burdens of responsibility, tragedy, loss and personal struggles. To pull, climb and slide down the meanings of salvation, sacrifice, incarnation and the presence of the Holy Spirit is what you and I are called to do not only during the season of Epiphany but also throughout all the seasons of our lives. Those tenets are planted deep in the soil and subsoil of God’s will, creation and salvation history. They stand over a defined area and a covering of the ideas, needs, concerns and demands of our religious personal and social lives. As Christians you and I are constantly called to be active in the playground of our faith, sifting and shaping our needs and ideas while climbing about on our tenets of faith. So be active in the playground of your faith. Do it with gusto and imagination, without extremism, prejudice, judgementalism and condemnation. Remember these words of caution, “No throwing of the mulch.”

Amen. - Fr. Gage.

This sermon is deep

WHO CARES?

The Beatitudes

Matt. 5:1-12

Like many of you, I am a Great Depression baby – born right in the midst of the worst economic catastrophe of the 20^th century. There have been countless recessions in our life times, and we have just dug out of the Great Recession. There have been seven major wars in our life times. We are just winding down one of them – a 10-year war. There have been countless natural disasters. My wife was born right before the hurricane of ’38 and remembers many hurricanes that touched Old Saybrook, where her grandfather built a summer cottage. You and I weathered hurricane Irene and hurricane Sandy. How many of you can remember other major disasters – if not here, then in your country of origin? For me the first really big disaster was the flooding of Kansas City in 1950 when half of the city was wiped out.

Mankind is resilient and endures, as the author, John Steinbeck, pointed out. Oddly enough, our society has always had a civic religion that is formed by optimism and the common heritage of the Judeo-Christian tradition. When things have been tough, troubadours and songsters have tried to lift our hearts. This past weekend out of the reservoir of my memory  the song by Vincent Youmans keeps ringing in my head.

“When you’re down and out, lift up your head and shout, there’s going to be a great day. Angels in the sky promise that by and by there’s going to be a great day.” I thought of those lyrics, when I read the Beatitudes from St. Matthew’s account of the Sermon on the Mount. It is strange how we make connections.

The Beatitudes really are an outrageous statement of faith and hope. They also carry serious ethical implications. In the Beatitudes, Jesus presents a timeless message to a timely audience: the poor, the hungry, the grieving, and the outcast, as well as to the rich, the satisfied, and the admired. The Gospel of Matthew moves from the literal perspective of the Gospel of Mark. Mark speaks of literal poverty. Matthew broadens the meaning of poverty, “poor in spirit,” and places our lives in the experience of the Church. Even so Matthew is never far from the literal meaning of “poor”, “hunger”, and “mourning.”

          To be a priest is to confront and receive pain. For years I have been confronted by the poor, the homeless, the grief stricken, and the outcast. Their plight cuts me to the quick. My discretionary fund is always empty. Affordable housing is scarce; unemployment is high; the vagrants are ashamed; the bereaved hurt. Last year in Connecticut 16,000 people lost their homes and had to stay in shelters. Thousands more were forced to sleep outside or in their cars. Last year in Connecticut 3,000 children were homeless. What can I possibly say to people? “You should have planned better?” “You didn’t try hard enough?” "That's life?" "Things are tough all over?"

          Now, I want to tell you a story of faith of one of "those who mourn". Mary was elderly, arthritic, bird-like, fiercely independent, proud of her $2 a week pledge. Poor, she was in the shadows of the congregation of the faithful. For years Mary cared for her husband, tending him as she had her children who died years before. When her husband died, I put my arms around Mary and told her how very sorry I was for her. She knew that Joe was with God and with her children. She could recite, "Blessed are the poor; blessed are those who mourn." Mary was spent and heart broken. She certainly did not feel blessed, but within time she accepted Joe’s death and rejoiced in the Lord. Mary's faith was deep and a lamp by which she found her way and warmed her self.

          At her funeral I quoted a passage from Ecclesiastes. I am sure you know it.

          "For everything there is a season, and a time for every matter under heaven; a time to be born, and a time to die; a time to plant, and a time to pluck up what is planted; a time to kill, and a time to heal; a time to break down, and a time to build up; a time to weep and a time to laugh; a time to mourn, and a time to dance; a time to cast away stones, and a time to gather stones together; a time to embrace, and a time to refrain from embracing; a time to seek, and a time to lose; a time to keep, and a time to cast away; a time to rend, and a time to sew; a time to keep silence, and a time to speak; a time to love, and a time to hate; a time for war, and a time for peace." (3:1-19)

          This passage speaks of the rhythms of life and is somewhat comforting. It assures us that there is some balance, some order, and that life goes on. Whereas Prophetic literature tells us that God is known through dramatic revelations, Wisdom literature, such as Ecclesiastes, reminds us that God is also known through reason, understanding, and the order we see in nature and the universe.

          Although Wisdom literature is very old, it probably articulates the faith of most believers and nonbelievers today. We say, "Life goes on." "These things happen." "You still got your health."

          This view of life was familiar to the poor, the homeless, the grieving and the despised who came to Jesus to hear Him preach and to be healed. They were familiar with the Torah, the law, rewards and punishments, and the common sense aphorisms of Proverbs and Ecclesiastes.

          So what did Jesus say? Did he say, "Tomorrow’s another day."  "One day at a time". "Wait until next year". NO! He said: "Blessed are you who are poor, who are hungry, who weep, who are despised."

          Jesus is saying, “You have a special closeness to God. God is not far from you. You have value. You are not forgotten. You are appreciated right now -- in bad times and in good. You do not have to wait for the rhythms of nature and of history. You do not have to depend on the winds of change, nor on a series of reincarnations. God, the essence of all being, moans and groans with you in your travail. God offers His creative being, His presence, His love in the midst of your life.” This is the healing message of Jesus. Jesus speaks of the love of God, of His bounteous mercy and generosity, of the abundant joy and reward there is when one participates in God's presence, the Kingdom of God, the Kingdom of Heaven.

          It is such an outrageous statement! To the poor Jesus says, "You are blessed". To the hungry, "You are blessed". To the grieving and to the despised, "You are blessed". This message is a reversal of our values; it flies in the face of contemporary wisdom. This message is an affront! And yet it is the message for which Jesus died. It is the message of healing then and now. It is a message we tend to deprecate, depreciate, and discount. It is a message that for 2,000 years has fed the soul and brought joy to the heart.

          It is the message I repeated to Mary in her grief. “You are not alone. You are not abandoned. God is close to you. God knows and feels and shares your pain. God holds you close. God cares. You count. You are supported. You are loved. You have value.”

          And isn't this the real fear and agony of the hungry, the homeless, the shunned, the bereaved -- the fact that they feel despair, abandoned, devalued, depreciated, that their lives are meaningless, that they are insignificant and don’t count?

          Who among us is in one sense or another hungry? Raise a finger. Who feels a physical, emotional, or spiritual hunger? Who among us is to an extent poor? Raise another finger. Who feels a poverty of money, of talent, of love, of hope? Who mourns? Raise yet another finger. Who among us feels a profound sense of loss or grief for a loved one, a career, a dream, a series of missed opportunities? Who among us suffers disapproval, scorn, censure? Raise a finger. Who from time to time feels an outsider, insignificant, unappreciated, forgotten, overlooked, unimportant?

          By now, you like me, have all your fingers raised. And when they are raised you and I have hands that are open and reaching out to one another and to God.

          In our poverty, hunger, grief, outcast state, you and I are affirmed. For to be blessed is just another way of saying that we are affirmed. God in Christ counts you and me to be of value, proclaims His love, and reaches out for our hands so that we can walk with Him. That walking, that taking of God's hand is called faith. Its products are hope and charity.

          This outrageous message of blessedness, of faith and hope, in the Beatitudes does not trash the importance of material necessities, hardships, or rewards. Jesus is not a transcendental Gnostic new age spiritualist. He heals. He goes to weddings. He parties. He feeds the hungry. But above all He reverses the high priority of the values of the world, with its materialism, stoicism, and hedonism. This is the ethical side to the Beatitudes, and it makes us cringe. You and I are warm and dry and live better than many in Calcutta, Haiti, or Africa. You and I laugh while others weep. You and I are full in relation to those who suffer malnutrition. You and I appreciate our status and kudos of approval. The Beatitudes censor our urge to trust in ourselves, to feel entitled, to be self-centered, to hide our poverty, our hunger, our grief, our worthlessness.

          Yes, the Beatitudes are outrageous. They do not magically give money to the poor, food to the hungry, home to the homeless, life to the dead, nor honor to the shunned. Rather, the cutting edge of the guilt they induce remind us that it is our job to deal with those literal, basic, righteous, human needs.

          The Beatitudes proclaim the outrageous message that in our weaknesses -- at our most vulnerable points - God is present. God reaches out and takes each of our fingers of poverty, of hunger, of grief, of insignificance, of desperate need into His loving and sustaining hand. The Beatitudes lead you and me to the triumph of the cross, the triumph of good over evil, hope over despair, eternal life over death, a heavenly banquet over our hunger for love and righteousness. They point to “a great day,” to Gabriel and his trumpet, to our blessed life with God in Christ.

          I suspect each of you knows all this in your own secret way. That is why you come to church Sunday after Sunday to share the bread and wine in the Eucharist of Christ's body and blood. As I stand at the altar and hold up the pain and sorrow, hunger and hopes of us all, you and I sense the gift of God's nearness, God's blessedness. We reach out our hands to be fed and blessed in the heavenly banquet at the altar.

          It is the Gospel’s message of faith, hope and love that you and I affirm each Sunday here at St. Andrew’s and that we should share through our presence and actions with one another, and with the world. So, maybe we can be a little outrageous today and with a smile and a little humor, sing, “When you’re down and out, lift up your head and shout, there’s going to be a great day. Angels in the sky promise that by and by, there’s going to be a great day. Gabriel will warn you, some early morn you will hear his horn. It’s not far away, lift up your heads and say, it’s going to be a great day.”* Hallelujah and Amen.    –Fr. Gage-

*Lyrics words and music by Edward Eliscu, Billy Rose and Vincent Youmans.

These always inspire me

LIVES OF THANKFULNESS

10/9/16

Luke 17:11-19

          “THANK GOD FOR JESUS! THANK GOD FOR JESUS!” This sermon is about living lives of thankfulness. In 1952 my Dad was working at his desk in our house in Kansas City. Through the house came the words, “Thank God for Jesus!” Dad poked his head around the corner and crept into the kitchen to find Classie scorching her way through one of his white shirts. Both my parents worked and Classie was the cleaning lady, cum laundress. She weighed in at about two thirty and could bench press a complete load of wet laundry with ease. “Are you okay, Classie?” Dad asked? “I sure am! Thank God for Jesus!” “Why do you say that?” “Because He keeps me going!” Dad slunk back to his office while Classie helped herself to what was left in the refrigerator.

          When Dad told the story at dinner that night, we started to laugh. He cautioned us, “Classie is a sincere and devout Christian. She loves her family and she loves Jesus. She reminds us how important it is to be thankful in all parts of our lives.”

          When I read the Gospel story for today, I remembered Classie and her full-blown, free wheeling thankfulness for Jesus. Her life was hard and monetarily she certainly didn’t have much for which to be thankful. She was, however, blessed with faith and a spiritual community in which she could nurture her thankfulness and her faith. She had her church.

          Now the more closely I look at the Gospel passage from St. Luke the more I am struck by the fact that this relatively short story has a very high Christology. By that I mean that both implied and articulated in this story is a very complex and sophisticated concept of the nature of Jesus. He is more than a simple traveling rabbi/faith healer. First of all he is “Master” or “Lord.” He merits respect and obedience. Secondly, Jesus tells the lepers to go show themselves to the priests (that is in accordance with the liturgical laws of ritual cleanliness following a healing). But one fellow turns back and presents himself to Jesus. Jesus, then, is his priest. The man praises God for what He has done in Jesus and thereby in the formerly leprous man. This leper is a Samaritan. Thirdly, Jesus assumes authority to break boundaries and goes to the outcasts. Furthermore, fourthly, by acts of healing Jesus fulfills one of the many signs of messianic expectation, given in the prophets (the blind see, the lame walk, the sick are healed and the dead raised). All of this takes place on Jesus’ journey towards Jerusalem, and the cross, where he will be a sacrifice for the sins of the world. So when Jesus tells the man, “Your faith has made you well,” there is a lot of implicit theology in the text. To cap it off, the term “healed” is the same term used for the word “saved.” We already know the man is healed (as are the other nine), but this man has faith, therefore he is “saved.” He has found salvation.

          All of the implicit and explicit theology that is found in this passage of the healing of the lepers is part of the theology of the Church into which you and I were baptized. It is this theology that gives meaning and purpose to our lives as we seek to do meaningful work and cease doing the things that get in the way of our proclaiming the Gospel fully and joyously. This theology is also the basis for our living “thankful lives.” We have much for which to be thankful: We are saved. We are forgiven. We are offered healing. We are assured of eternal life. We are given hope and eternal love. We have lots of reasons to shout, “Thank God for Jesus!”

          St. Luke and the Church may have a “high Christology” and a sophisticated theology, but I have a “low anthropology.” I seem to get along better with animals than I do with humans. I think we share some basic instincts and urges that are God given. “Thankfulness” or “gratitude” seems to be one of them. Last year I was in Old Saybrook at our summer house. Old Saybrook is a dog walker’s paradise. You could see how thankful the owners were to have their companion animals. But more importantly, you could see how thankful some of the dogs were to be alive. I would go for a walk and meet some of the dogs. I had a wonderful five minute conversation with a yellow lab one Monday and then again on Wednesday with another yellow lab, “Russell.” He is ten years old and lives at the hardware store. We thoroughly enjoyed being with each other. We shared our gladness at being alive.

          When I read the story of Jesus’ healing the lepers, I could not help but think of the number of times when I have seen little children, who are loved and adored by their parents, sent out to play. The children burst into the yard full of energy. The mother or father stands in the doorway and watches them. One of the little ones stop, turns around and rushes back to the parent and throws her arms around the knees of the parent and tightly hugs the parent. “I love you.” The child says. “I love you too,” replies the parent. The child is so thankful for the love and security of the parent that she lets out a yelp and runs back to the others. Haven’t you seen that? Haven’t you experienced that? The child is bursting with gratitude and love, with thankfulness and joy. On the most basic level, that is what this Gospel passage is appealing to. We want to give thanks. We want to praise. We want to be grateful. We want to love.

          Unfortunately, it is hard to live thankful lives. We are acultured out of it early on. The child learns not to run back to the parent. The child learns to pick up the cues of the pack and the folkways of society and culture. We learn to focus on our needs, which are legion. We seek to deal with insolvable problems: sickness, employment, care of aged parents, the fear of war or homelessness. We find refuge in alcohol or drugs. The instinct to give thanks, to be grateful, is pushed down over and over. We fear being thankful because maybe it will bring bad luck. Maybe we will lose what we have. Maybe we will be rebuffed or hurt. To express gratitude is to acknowledge our vulnerability; it is to leave us open to manipulation or rejection by others. Not having been able to say “thank you” in the way we live our lives as we grow up yields adults who fear genuine intimacy and are emotionally stunted. Not too long ago I thanked a priest for saving my life. He replied, “Well, well. How good to see you. Hope all is going well.” That was distancing and off putting. He should have said, “Thank you. I am glad you told me that and are doing well.”

          It is the function of the Church, its worship and its liturgy to help people give thanks. To give thanks is “healing.” To give thanks and praise is “saving.” It is part of the process of salvation. We do not whoop and holler like the Baptists or Pentecostals, or like Classie’s church. After all, we are Episcopalians- those who are burdened by impeccably stifling good taste. Our Book of Common Prayer calls our Mass, the service of Holy Communion, “The Great Thanksgiving” and yet, sometimes it is read like a train schedule. No whooping and hollering here! There are times when the  “alleluias” are squeezed out through clenched teeth. Some parishes eliminate the Doxology “Praise God from whom all blessings flow…” probably because it is sung as a dirge.

          There is, however, in our Book of Common Prayer a prayer of thanksgiving that is glorious. It is found in the service of Morning Prayer.

          “Almighty God, Father of all mercies, we thine unworthy servants do give thee most humble and hearty thanks for all thy goodness and loving-kindness to us and to all men. We bless thee for our creation, preservation, and all the blessings of this life; but above all for thine inestimable love in the redemption of the world by our Lord Jesus Christ, for the means of grace, and for the hope of glory.

          And we beseech thee, give us that due sense of all thy mercies, that our hearts may be unfeignedly thankful; and that we show forth thy praise, not only with our lips, but in our lives, by giving up our selves to thy service, and by walking before thee in holiness and righteousness all our days; through Jesus Christ our Lord, to whom, with thee and the Holy Ghost, be all honor and glory, world without end. Amen” BCP pp. 58-59.

          This is an example of the Church at its best, responding to our God given desire to give thanks by articulating our thanks and praise. Brothers and sisters, allow yourself to say “thank you.” Allow yourself to express your gratitude to others and to God in a free, but appropriate, manner. Allow yourself to let the Church and the liturgy move you along and lift you up, as it can when done well, so that you can break from the pack, run with joy and throw your arms around the knees of Jesus, and say, “Thank you. I love you.” Allow Jesus in the Mass to say to you, “Thank you. I love you too.” Then, just maybe then, in a moment of joyful reflection, you and I can say, “Thank God for Jesus! He keeps me going.” – Amen- Fr. Gage.

Father Gage - Humiliity

STANDINGS

Luke 14:7-14

8/28/16

          “It’s a me, it’s a me, it’s a me Oh Lord, standing in the need of prayer. Not my brother, it’s a me Oh Lord, not my sister, it’s a me Oh Lord, standing in the need of prayer.” A great old song from when as a youth I sang in a gospel quartet.

          Now the truth of the matter is that sometimes, where you sit, sometimes depends upon where you stand.

          Every so often my brother, who is six years older than I, would come to visit. Often as not, when we sat at the dining room table, he would automatically sit at the head of my table, in my chair. He did this with complete grace and aplomb, assuming the position of host and dominant personage. Being kind and charitable, I didn't let this bother me much, but have from time to time I considered putting Ipecac in his coffee or loosening the legs of the chair. My brother-in-law has also taken the chair at the head of the table and assumed the role of host. Even though he is bigger than I, I have somehow managed to convey to him that since I pay the mortgage, the head chair belongs to me.

          There is a protocol, sometimes spoken and sometimes unspoken, about seating arrangements. Where you sit often defines or reflects your standing in the community or family. Try figuring out where to sit people at a wedding dinner, and you’ll see what I mean. We have gotten fairly casual in society now days, but newspapers still run Miss Manners' columns to help us with protocol, etiquette and seating arrangements.

          Moreover, social scientists have discovered that it is possible to change the dynamics of a group by changing the seating arrangements. Something happens to the flow of conversation, to the pecking order, and to group dynamics. In fact, during the peace negotiations with the Vietcong in the 60's a lot of time was spent negotiating the shape of the table. Like King Arthur's Court, a table was chosen which did not imply a hierarchy of importance among the participants.

          For thousands of years individuals, societies, and cultures have grappled with the problems of the ranking of places of honor at the table based upon standing within the community. Where one sits often depends upon where one stands. This is a basic human dynamic.

          Now many of the parables and stories of Jesus deal with basic human dynamics. This is one of the reasons why the stories were remembered, told and retold. Such is the case with today's Gospel lesson from St. Luke. Luke tells us that on one occasion Jesus dined on the Sabbath at the house of a leader of the Pharisees. When Jesus saw how people were seated He told a parable to the effect that one should not presume to sit at the head of the table, but rather take a lower one so that the host may move him higher. All who exalt themselves shall be humbled and those who humble themselves shall be exalted. Likewise, Jesus continued, when you give a banquet you should invite not only your relatives and friends but also the poor, crippled, lame and blind.

          You and I need to remember that Jesus was a teacher, a rabbi. It was assumed that He would give a teaching in various situations. Seated with the Pharisees, it was appropriate to make comments and to enter into debate. Jesus seizes the occasion to push the implications of the meal. His teaching that those who humble themselves shall be exalted is right out of Proverbs (25:6-7). Proverbs, as you know is part of Wisdom literature, and assumes that common sense observations reflect not only the natural happenings of nature and society but also reflect God's intention. One can sometimes deduce the will of God from common sense observations on life. So it is that Jesus re-presents the saying from Proverbs. But Jesus does not stop there. Rather, He goes on to push the symbolic nature of host, guests and meal and says that the dispossessed should be invited and given the places of friends and relatives.

          Jesus is not dictating economic or social policy. The meal, particularly the Sabbath meal, is a symbol of the heavenly banquet where all will have a place with God at the end of time. Jesus is saying that social standing does not dictate where one will sit with God. Rather God recognizes the humble and those who are shorn of pretense and self-importance. When you and I stand before God in utter vulnerability, utter openness, in utter humility, without pretense, then we are open to God and respond to God appropriately.

          By reaching beyond Wisdom literature's observations of the world, and by standing conventional values and behavior on their head, Jesus is defining how you and I should worship God. Jesus is defining ethical and religious behavior. This in turn defines who Jesus is. Part of the messianic hope is that the blind would see and the lame walk. Jesus is reaching out to man's sick and unadorned condition. He is saying that God asks you and me to join Him in humility. And Jesus, as we know, goes on to be revealed as the messiah by Himself being stripped of all honor and dignity. It is through His degradation on the cross that Jesus is exalted and raised from the dead.

          So by talking about where you and I sit at the table, Jesus defines our proper relationship to one another and to God. Moreover, Jesus goes on to be defined by His own humiliation. 

          In summary, you and I are reminded by today’s lectionary passage from Luke of three things. First of all when we stand before God, our proper stance is one of complete humility. When you and I let it all go, when we say, “it’s me, Oh Lord”, when we stand before the ultimate and eternal power of all existence, our status, our trappings, our social distinctions are really pathetic. I have been present so many times when people have died to know most profoundly that in the last analysis wealth and status don't count. The only viable posture is humility.

          Secondly, when you and I stand before God in humility, then we stand not alone but with others in humility. Yes, we have positions and relationships and pecking orders. But when we realize that they are superficial and don't truly define who we are, then we can stand with the lame, the halt, the poor and the blind. We stand not in contempt, not in condescension, but in humility, which the precondition for love.

          Thirdly, the meal, which defines our lives, which defines our relationship to God, the meal at which you and I sit with Jesus is the meal of the Eucharist. This is the meal, which has been prepared for us by Christ's total dedication, humiliation and sacrifice. It is in the Eucharistic meal that you and I participate in God's presence in the body and blood of Christ. The only stance at the Lord's Table is one of self-surrender and humility. When you and I join with our brothers and sisters in faith and humility, we are privileged and exalted in a new and special way because we receive the love of God, the forgiveness of sins, and the promise of eternal life. “Standing in the need of prayer”, standing in faith and humility, you and I are assured by Christ Jesus of a seat at the table of the communion of saints in God's eternal kingdom. Amen. - Fr. Gage-

more from Father Gage

More Than Possessions

(The role of Wisdom Literature in the time of Christ)

Luke 12:13-21

7/31/16

          “For one’s life does not consist in the abundance of possessions.” Lk.12: 15.

When Jesus makes this statement, He is following the tradition of Wisdom Literature. Wisdom Literature consists of observations on life. It is “sage” comments about the created world, which is seen as offering clues as to patterns of behavior both of man and of God. There was in the time of Jesus no concept of “nature.” Even so, everyday life is seen as worth observing, for it yields things that help us to understand others and ourselves.

          Israel in the time of Jesus was not all of one piece. It was a crazy patchwork quilt of cultures, people, tribes, ideas and religions. It was a diverse and pluralistic society. As a center of trade and agriculture it was constantly exposed to various patterns of life, which left their imprints upon the Palestinian area that we call Israel. Empires and nations poured their soldiers, people and ideas into Israel. The influence of the Greeks under Alexander gave rise to what we call Hellenistic Judaism, in which the Greek way of thinking about things merged with the Semitic way of thinking of things. Judaism, the synagogues and the temple had to interpret and live with a madly changing world. The traditions of the Law and the prophets co-existed with other world views (remember the Magi from the “East” who came to Bethlehem?)

          Wisdom literature, the observation of the sages (rabbis and wise men) helped bridge the cultures of the Greco-Roman world and the Hebraic Semitic world. We have an example of Wisdom Literature in today’s Old Testament passage from Ecclesiastes. (Ecclesiastes, Proverbs, parts of the Psalms and Job make up the canon of Wisdom Literature in the Bible, although pithy sayings and aphorisms are scattered throughout both the Old and New Testaments.) The speaker in today’s passage is a king who ruled over much and sought by the use of wisdom to consider the events, lives and accomplishments of his realm. He built houses, planted vineyards, had slaves and children, tasted the good things and had good times, but all was vanity. He asks, “What do mortals get from all the toil and strain with which they toil under the sun? For all their days are full of pain, and their work is a vexation; even at night their minds do not rest. This also is vanity.”

          Obviously this guy needs a “happiness pill.” He reminds me of my mother-in-law, Gladys, who greeted each new event with the remark, “Well, you just never know.”  The example of the “teacher” in today’s quote from Ecclesiastes is one end of the spectrum of observations on life. There is a sense of despair; all is “vanity.” Now the term that is translated “vanity” means “passing,” “transient,” “amorphous.” But the word “vanity” works well, too. My mother had a dressing table when I was a small boy that she called a “vanity.” It had several mirrors attached to it. The vanity was a reflection of what passed before it. Wisdom literature, like a mirror, reflects what passes before it. It focuses on the moment. A lot can be learned from studying what is in front of oneself, but there are limits. The limits can lead to fatalism and despair. If all you can see is the here and now, life can seem pretty grim and the only way to keep going is to just “tough things out.” Semitic Wisdom had its counterpart in Greek Stoicism.

          So Wisdom literature helped the Hebrews bridge the culture gap to the Greco-roman world of thought. It worked as a cultural bridge. But it also did something else. It served as a counter balance to the unbridled fantasies of escapism and denial found in apocalyticism. If you don’t like the way things are relabel them. “This is not war, it is a police action.” Or if denial doesn’t work flights of fancy can make things better. The books of Revelation and of Daniel use flights of imagination to convey truths. Gnostic literature is full of spiraling cosmologies in which the heavens and the other world look like a DNA string of emanations. Such flights of fancy invite magic and witchcraft into religion and every day life.

          Finally, when you have considerable attention paid to observations on the patterns of life, you are using inductive and deductive reasoning. Reason becomes important. While the Greeks exalted Reason, the Hebrews exalted Wisdom. Wisdom was something that existed from which we could take a bite. Wisdom was “out there,” sort of like a Platonic form. It informed people and was a good thing to have. Wisdom was not quite worshiped, but almost. Wisdom is the predecessor of the concept of the Holy Spirit. Because the Jewish Christians were familiar with the concept of Wisdom, they were able to embrace the concept of the Holy Spirit. (Note that the term “concept” is not quite right, but it is the best we have at the moment.) Likewise, the use of the term “The Word” in the Gospel of John owes its heritage to that of the concept of Wisdom.

          The genius of the Hebrews was that they not only valued the created world and Wisdom, they also valued the intense religious experience, the encounter that some had with the Holy Other. Moses and the prophets experienced profound insights into the meaning of existence. Those experiences were real and part of the created world. They led to monotheism and were testimonies to a transcendent God who shaped history and revealed Himself in the Law and the prophets. The Jews believed that God’s footprints were all over creation and that they were going somewhere. While Wisdom literature was a counter weight to flights of escapism and unbridled fancy, the Law and the prophets were a counter weight to the one dimensionalism of Wisdom literature and to the despair to which sole concentration on oneself and one’s existence can lead (as seen in today’s Old Testament passage from Ecclesiastes.)

          When Jesus answers the man who wants part of his brother’s inheritance, Jesus accuses him of greed. He then tells the parable of the rich man who had everything and stuffed his barns, thinking that he could eat, drink and be merry. The Jews who heard this parable, heard echoes of the patriarchs and of Joseph who went to Egypt and served as steward over the harvests of Pharaoh. Just as Pharaoh missed out on the fullness of life, so too the man in the story missed out on the fullness of life, which includes the reality of a God who governs and reveals Himself in history. In effect Jesus is saying that concentration only upon the good things of this life misses part of the inheritance – that part being the Law and the Prophets. When Jesus says, “be on your guard against all kinds of greed; for one’s life does not consist in the abundance of possessions,” He borrows from the tradition of Wisdom literature. Jesus is unique in that He joins observation from Wisdom with the heritage of the Law and the Prophets by concluding with, “So it is with those who store up treasures for themselves but are not rich toward God.”     

          You and I live in a diverse and pluralistic society. Some in the sciences glorify reason and wisdom. Many in business only want to possess more and more. The role of Wisdom literature in the Judaic Christian tradition while reminding us that creation is good and to be valued, also reminds us of the vanity of focusing solely on ourselves.

          The genius of Christianity, the miracle of Jesus Christ, is that creation is affirmed by the incarnation (God becoming man) while at the same time attesting to the importance of a transcendent God who reveals Himself in the Law (reinterpreted by Jesus in the Law and the Beatitudes) and the manifestation of God as seen in the prophets. In Jesus Wisdom, Law and the Prophets merge.

          You and I live in a rich community of faith. As you and I live in Christ through our faith, charity and participation in sacraments, you and I live with a full inheritance, for we live not trying to keep our tradition for ourselves but seeking to share our inheritance with one another and with the world. “For one’s life does not consist in the abundance of possessions.” Amen. -Fr.Gage-