Homily Transcript: April 1, 2012; The Sunday of the Passion; Rev. R. Allan McCaslin
Readings: Isaiah 50:4-9a; Psalm 31:9-16; Philippians 2:5-11; Mark 12:28-34a
From Mark’s gospel, “The scribe said, ‘Teacher…to love (God) … and to love one’s neighbor as oneself’ … is much more important than all … burnt-offerings and sacrifices.’” I speak to you in the Name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit. Amen.
Earlier this week, our Bishop reflected on his sadness at the pictures of Christians kneeling in prayer on the steps of the Supreme Court building in Washington, D.C. It’s not their praying that saddened him, but rather, that they were asking for God to intervene and overturn the law regarding health care insurance. Regardless of where you might stand on the issue of universal healthcare, like our Bishop, I wonder if such a picture truly demonstrates our promise to seek and serve Christ in every human being; our call to understand that loving God means loving and caring for each other.
The reality is that, somehow, many Christians today have lost sight of their responsibility to each other. They have lost sight of the transformative power of Christ that should move our focus and mission beyond our own selves. Instead, they have recreated and reshaped our faith into a simple personal relationship with God and, in the process, seem to have turned their backs on everyone else. Is it any wonder then that when you tell people you are a Christian, many bristle and make negative comments? Diana Butler Bass, in her recent book, “Christianity after Religion ” – a surprisingly insightful and well-researched book – noted that many people outside the church and even within it describe religion (especially Christianity) as “cold, rigid, hurtful, narrow, controlling, embarrassing, and mean.” (Bass, p. 70) Is this an accurate picture of what our faith really is?
In today’s reading from Isaiah, we hear words about teaching and hearing, using words in ways that will sustain the weary and build them up; not beat them down. Our reading from Philippians speaks about Christ’s humility in emptying himself and becoming obedient to God in all things. I suggest that if we are truly Christ-like; truly like him whom we say has redeemed us, then we, too, should be known by our humility, obedience, and willingness to empty ourselves of all pretense in order that God might work in and through our lives.
Sermon transcript: October 9, 2011, The 17th Sunday after Pentecost The Rev. R. Allan McCaslin
Readings: Exodus 32:1-14; Psalm 106:1-6, 19-23; Philippians 4:1-9; Matthew 22:1-14
From this morning’s Old Testament reading, “And the Lord changed his mind.” I speak to you in the Name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit. Amen.
As much as I am a fan of Matthew’s Gospel, what troubles and irritates me about Matthew is his propensity for seeing everything in terms of black and white: You are either righteous or evil; you are either perfect or grossly offensive; you either show up when invited (and wear the right clothing), or you are thrown into hell. There is no middle ground. Everything is either or. As for God? Well, for Matthew, God is gracious and vengeful: to be feared and respected; a being that you had better not cross or else! I find it difficult to respect someone of whom I am terrified and even that much harder to love.
But a scary and vengeful God seems preeminent in today’s readings from Matthew and Exodus. Matthew tells Jesus’ parable of a king who has invited people to attend his son’s wedding feast. It is assumed that, having received an invitation some time ago, each guest promised to attend this great celebration on the appointed day. But that day has come and Matthew tells us that none of the guests showed up. So, the king sent his messengers to announce that the table is set, the meal is waiting, and to urge the invited guests, the chosen ones, the friends and family of the king to attend. But they scoff at these messengers and go so far as to kill them rather than come to the feast. The king is enraged at having been rebuffed. He musters his armies and they invade and burn the city killing everyone in their path. There’s Matthew with that vengeful and wrathful God again. (No wonder no one wanted to come to the king’s party!) Matthew offers a terrifying picture.
Theologians and scholars agree that this parable of Jesus depicts how the people of Israel, having at one time accepted God’s invitation and entered into a covenant relationship with God, had the nasty habit of killing God’s prophets. Matthew uses this parable to foretell that Israel will soon turn God’s own son over to the political authorities for execution and then they will slaughter the Christian apostles and prophets who will come afterwards. This helps Matthew explain why the Roman army in 69 AD, like the king in today’s story, descended upon the holy city of Jerusalem and burned it to the ground. For many, this parable is about Israel’s past, present and future, and Matthew seems delighted that Israel will finally get her just reward for rejecting Jesus Christ as the Messiah. This interpretation of Matthew might have merit but, then there’s the rest of the story. Besides, Exodus, like so many books of the Bible, tells us that God can change his mind. God is always willing to pour out mercy and grace even in the face of disobedience.
Sermon Transcript: October 2, 2011, The 16th Sunday afterPentecost The Rev. R. Allan McCaslin
Readings: Exodus 20:1-4, 7-9, 12-20; Psalm 19; Philippians 3:4b-14; Matthew 21:33-36
From this morning’s gospel, (Jesus said) “Therefore I tell you, the kingdom of God will be taken away from you and given to a people that produces the fruits of the kingdom.” I speak to you in the Name of the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit. Amen.
Growing up in a conservative evangelical household, my sisters and I learned at a very young age that we’d better be careful to follow all Ten of God’s Commandments as described in today’s reading from Exodus, or else God would curse us with hardships and, at the very worst, throw us out of God’s kingdom into the fires of Hell. It should not surprise you that I grew up believing that God was like Santa Claus keeping a list and checking twice, keeping track of who’s been naughty and nice. I feared God and especially feared breaking the Ten Commandments.
So, you can imagine my surprise the first time I heard some Jewish friends refer to the Ten Commandments as “God’s gift to us.” God’s gift? I didn’t think so. But, my Jewish friends were right. A careful reading of Exodus shows that the Ten Commandments are not about judgment or curses, but rather, they offer clear guidelines for how we should live in relationship with God and with each other. In many ways, they are a gift because they give shape and structure to society so that we do not live in total chaos. The reality is that there is less crime and more order, respect, mercy, grace and justice in places where the Ten Commandments are held up as the standard for daily living. How sad it is in this country that the Ten Commandments are being removed from the public sphere: our courts, our city halls, and especially our schools. We have replaced them with our own ethical standards and, in the process, have set ourselves up in the place of God.
The gift of the Ten Commandments is that they offer a path towards life and health. That being said, we need to understand them more fully because they are more than a list of do’s and don’ts, and they apply to a myriad of issues that we confront each day. Certainly, most of us here have not sought to murder anyone and most have not committed adultery or stolen or born false witness, although Jesus says that to have even thought about doing so is to violate the Commandments and that should give us pause. We might also claim to worship no other god but the God of Israel revealed to us as Father, Son and Holy Spirit, and yet, how often have we been tempted to use God’s name as a weapon against those who are different from us. Or, we have suddenly prayed for God to protect us from a particular danger as if God is a good luck charm while we merrily live any way we choose to live. The Ten Commandments teach us to be loyal to God who seeks a relationship with humanity and that we are not to worship any other god, nor misuse God’s name or our relationship with God to the detriment of someone else.
Sermon Transcript: Sept 25, 2011, The 15th Sunday after Pentecost The Rev. R. Allan McCaslin
Readings: Exodus 17:1-7; Psalm 78: 1-4, 12-16; Philippians 2:1-13; Matthew 21:23-32
From this morning’s gospel, “(The chief priests and elders of the people) answered Jesus (saying), ‘We do not know.’” I speak to you in the Name of the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit. Amen.
I think that one thing people have in common regardless of gender, race, economic standing or any other difference is simply this: When confronted with something we should have, or should not have done, we think that we can be absolved from responsibility by saying “I didn’t know”or, as the chief priests and elders offered in today’s Gospel reading, “We don’t know.” It seems that by claiming ignorance of a law or ethical standard we will somehow be off the hook for any wrongs committed. But the courts tell us that ignorance of the law is no defense. When pulled over for speeding and the officer tells us that we were going 80 in 55 mph zone, and we say that we didn’t know the speed limit or how fast we were going, we are still held accountable.
Now suggesting, “We don’t know” can be a viable answer on occasion. After all, we are finite human beings and do not fully understand the universe, or science, or even everything about God. But, in today’s reading from Matthew’s Gospel, saying “We don’t know” is an unacceptable response. Jesus has repeatedly asked his followers the question each of us must answer at some point in our lives: “Who do you say that I am?” The sad thing about today’s Gospel lesson is that the religious leaders, those who, of all people, should have known better, could not even answer a question about John the Baptizer. Instead, they answered, “We don’t know.”
So Jesus offers a parable about two sons and clearly, it is the first son who, even though he initially refused his father’s request, thought better of it later on and did the will of his father; he is the righteous son. Jesus reveals to the religious leaders that for all their learning and praying and posturing and adhering to the rules and regulations of their faith tradition, they could not recognize God’s presence when they saw it. But, the tax collectors and prostitutes, the outcasts of society who had, at one time, rejected any moral and religious understanding, did see God in the person of Jesus Christ and their lives were forever changed. They are the ones, Jesus says, who enter the kingdom of God ahead of everyone else. Yet, even today, when confronted by the teachings of Jesus that should urge us to live differently, people still think that saying “We don’t know” is okay and they fool themselves. At some point, we have to decide who Jesus is.
Sermon Transcript: Sept 18, 2011, The 14th Sunday after Pentecost The Rev. R. Allan McCaslin
Readings: Exodus 16:2-15; Psalm 105: 1-6, 37-45; Philippians 1:21-30; Matthew 20:1-16
From this morning’s gospel, “(The landowner said), “Am I not allowed to do what I choose with what belongs to me? Or are you envious because I am generous?” I speak to you in the Name of the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit. Amen.
One of the lessons I have learned over the years is that when it comes to philanthropy, there are two kinds of people: Those who rejoice at what has been given regardless of the amount and those who will complain that it’s not enough. When a multi-million dollar gift is awarded to an organization, someone, somewhere, will either complain about the donor suggesting that she or he should have given more, or they will complain about the recipient of those funds and suggest that some other needy person or cause would have been a better choice. We have a tendency to consider ourselves to be more highly valued than someone else and, therefore, we think that our causes, our work should receive a larger share of gifts, praise, and especially, any financial reward. And we tend to speak ill of others when we don’t get what we want or think we deserve.
Some time ago a mill burned to the ground in Massachusetts displacing hundreds of workers. The owner of that company continued to pay his employees their full salary, health insurance and benefits even though there was no work for them to do. Everyone thought this was wonderful until a year later when the money ran out and the owner, facing bankruptcy, had no choice but to lay people off. Suddenly he was called unfair and greedy. We tend to resent those who are wealthier or earn more than us. We believe we are worth more than others; that we should receive special treatment; that we deserve more than our fair share.
In today’s reading from Matthew’s Gospel, the landowner cuts to the heart of such complaints. After clarifying that no one has been cheated and everyone has received what they agreed to be paid, he asks, “…Are you envious because I am generous?” That really is the crux of the matter. It’s not that the workers were cheated or not paid, but rather, they felt they should have received more than those who arrived later. We might side with those who put in a full day of hard labor, but this parable really isn’t about work. It is a description of the kingdom of God. In God’s kingdom, regardless of when we enter the gates: regardless of when we are welcomed home; we each receive the same measure of grace as everyone else. Such is the way of God and, as our landowner really asks, “Is not God allowed to do what God chooses with what belongs to God?” God can and will do what God wants to do. Frankly, as someone who came late to Christ, I rejoice that I received the same grace as those who came before me and will come after me: that like you, I am an equal member of God’s family.
Homily Transcript: Palm Sunday April 17, 2011 The Rev. R. Allan McCaslin
Readings: Isaiah 50:4-9a; Psalm 31:9-16; Philippians 2:5-11; Matthew 21:12-17
From this morning’s Gospel, “Jesus said to them, ‘My house shall be called a house of prayer’; but you are making it a den of robbers.’” I speak to you in the Name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit, Amen.
Growing up in a small evangelical church, it was common to hold sales and fund raising events within the confines of the parish hall or “fellowship hall” as it was called. But, it was absolutely forbidden for anyone to sell anything or set up a table of goods in the Church Narthex (foyer). Our church leadership cited today’s Gospel as God’s injunction against buying and selling within a sacred space. I always thought it odd that we couldn’t sell something in one place but it was okay to do so just a few feet away. Worship space is sacred but I think today’s Gospel has nothing to do with buying and selling on sacred ground.
In order to grasp the point of today’s Gospel reading, we need to understand the role of the Temple in Hebrew culture and society. The Temple at Jerusalem was a massive complex that Archeologists believe covered 36,000 acres of land. At its center stood the Holy of Holies which housed the Ark of the Covenant: the symbol of God’s everlasting relationship and presence in the midst of the people. The Temple was more than a building. It stood as a reminder that God’s people are called to live differently than others. God’s people seek to live in holiness and reverent prayer, and walk humbly with God. Like Isaiah says in today’s Old Testament lesson, God’s people speak God’s words and listen for, and focus on, God’s voice. The Temple at Jerusalem was more than God’s house: It was the very heart of the nation.
|
RSS Feed