Saturday, January 30, 2021

The Benefits of Confession

HOMILY, ST. PAUL’S, FOLEY – 3 EPIPHANY, YEAR B

JANUARY 24, 2021

 

TEXT:                        Jonah 3:1-5, 10

 

 

            One of the great figures of church history is Augustine of Hippo. He lived in North Africa, in modern-day Algeria.  He is, arguably, the most influential theologian in Christian history.

 

            He is known for two famous written works – one being, City of God.  The other book is appropriately named – Confessions.  He had much to write about.

 

            Augustine was like many of us – he had a profligate youth.  But his was truly over the top.  He was very wealthy. He had led a cushy life, getting the finest education. He devoted himself to secular studies and became an adherent to the Manichean religion. And he had concubines – women whose tasks in life were to give him pleasure.

 

            Confessions was written in 13 books in the late fourth Christian century. The first nine books were autobiographical.  He had much to write about, writing them as he did when he was about 40 years old. It seems hindsight is 20-20.

 

            In his 30s, Augustine discovered God in the scriptures.  As he sat quietly in a garden – alone – he heard a child chant, “Tolle lege… tolle lege”… “Take up and read… take up and read.” He reached out and took up the scroll of Paul’s Letter to the Romans.  He absorbed it and was soon baptized by the famous bishop, Ambrose of Milan. The first words of his book are these: "For Thou hast made us for Thyself and our hearts are restless till they rest in Thee."

 

            But, in the middle of all this don’t lose sight of the essence of Augustine’s journey: confession.  It was his repentance – his turning about, his releasing of his old ways -- that led to the new life and freedom he found.  After his confession, he became the person he was created to be. He was liberated from old burdens and obsessions.

 

            My conversion was not as dramatic and certainly not as substantive as Augustine’s.  But it changed my life forever.  A heart that is ruled by insecurity, anger and ambition is not one that serves the Higher Purpose.

 

            That is what Jonah discovered in the first lesson today.  The people of Nineveh were on a destructive course – until they heard what Jonah had to say.  The rest of the Book of Jonah tells us that Jonah was somewhat disappointed that God did not rain fire on the city.

 

            That was because the people of Nineveh confronted their failings and found liberation from division, ambition and rebelliousness, and turned about. They found the truth in these words: "For Thou hast made us for Thyself and our hearts are restless till they rest in Thee."

 

  

Monday, January 18, 2021

A Listening Heart

 HOMILY, ST. PAUL’S, FOLEY – 2 EPIPHANY, YEAR B

JANUARY 17, 2021

 

TEXT:                        1 Samuel 3:1-20

 

 

            The story of the boy Samuel hearing God’s call – though originally mistaking it for the voice of his master, Eli – is famous.  Thanks to the calm guidance of Eli, Samuel went back to his sleeping mat and heard the message God was seeking to convey to him.  The story of the mysterious voice calling, “Samuel, Samuel” is well-known.

 

            But less well-known is what that divine message was.  Less well-known is Samuel’s honesty in delivering it.  And less well-known is the elderly Eli’s response to that message.

 

            It was not good news.  In fact, for Eli, the news was very bad.  Calamity would strike his house and his sons.  His lineage would become like the dust of the desert – lost forever in the sands of time.

 

            But once the boy Samuel had received it, he conveyed it.  And once the elderly Eli had heard it, he accepted it.

 

            The news was that Eli’s sons had been blaspheming God and Eli had not corrected them.  We are to assume that they were godless and corrupt, taking advantage of their father’s position in society.  And he had not reproved them.

 

            The message was not what either Samuel or Eli had expected.  It was contrary to the way they saw things.  It did not fit into their world view.

 

            But isn’t that the way God can be?  In my days at Camp Bratton-Green in Mississippi, one of my favorite campfire songs included these words: “Surprise! Surprise! God is a surprise! Right before your eyes! It’s baffling to the wise! Surprise! Surprise! God is a surprise! Open up your eyes and see.”

 

            God does not fit into our preconceived notions.  He does not bear the same grudges, have the same political views, or dislike the same people. It is not automatic that God agrees with you or your thoughts about another person’s actions or attitudes.

 

            The challenge is for us to open our spirits and hearts – to truly hear what God is seeking to tell us.  It will not be what we expect.  It will not confirm our own prejudices.  It will call us into new relationships with him and one another. We should be humble in our preconceived expectations.

 

            It is a truly rare person who knows all that God is seeking to tell us. In fact, so rare that I don’t think that person has yet existed.  Even Jesus learned as he walked the roads of his earthly life.

 

            Can we expect to do less?

Monday, January 11, 2021

Our Sacred Duty

 HOMILY, ST. PAUL’S, FOLEY – 1 EPIPHANY, YEAR B, THE BAPTISM OF OUR LORD

JANUARY 10, 2021

 

TEXT:                        Mark 1:4-11

 

 

            I recall the heated and portentous days of the early 1960s and the rise of the Civil Rights Struggle in my hometown of Meridian, Mississippi.  There were shootings, bombings and murders in our area. A book published many years later was accurately named “Attack on Terror.”

 

            I grew up a Methodist.  Our pastor, facing the heat of those days, chose to flee to Indiana.  My father, steadfast in his courage, could not bring himself to forgive him.  He saw it as an act of cowardice.

 

            Two-hundred-forty-five years ago, the patriot Thomas Paine published his small book, “The American Crisis.”  The opening words were, “These are the times that try men's souls. The summer soldier and the sunshine patriot will, in this crisis, shrink from the service of their country; but he that stands by it now, deserves the love and thanks of man and woman. Tyranny, like hell, is not easily conquered; yet we have this consolation with us, that the harder the conflict, the more glorious the triumph. What we obtain too cheap, we esteem too lightly: it is dearness only that gives everything its value.”

 

            Indeed.

 

            Something over 2,000 years ago, Jesus began his ministry after his baptism in the River Jordan – an occasion we commemorate today.  He, too, would face tumult, resistance, and ultimately, murder.  But he did not shrink from the task before him. And from his steadfastness, as Gospel according to John notes, “We have all received grace upon grace.”

 

            Nor should we avoid the task at hand.  Martin Luther King, the leader of that movement from which my pastor fled, said these words: “Darkness cannot drive out darkness and hate cannot drive out hate. Only the light can drive out darkness and only love can drive out hate.” That is the wisdom our presiding bishop, Michael Curry, has emphasized: “If it is not about love, it is not about God.”

 

            Over 3,000 years ago, scripture tells us that Moses spoke to the wandering Hebrew people.  His words have relevance to us today: 30:19 I call heaven and earth to witness against you today that I have set before you life and death, blessings and curses. Choose life so that you and your descendants may live, 20 loving the Lord your God, obeying him, and holding fast to him; for that means life to you and length of days, so that you may live in the land that the Lord swore to give to your ancestors, to Abraham, to Isaac, and to Jacob.”

 

            So many of these words and examples are relevant to us today.

Reality Beyond the Obvious

 HOMILY, ST. PAUL’S, FOLEY – SECOND SUNDAY AFTER CHRISTMAS, YEAR B

JANUARY 3, 2021

 

TEXT:                        Matthew 2:13-15,19-23

 

 

            The columnist George Will is one of my favorite writers.  He brings insight and perspective to very complex issues.  His ability to turn a phrase is unmatched.

 

            He did so this week in one of his Washington Post columns. The chilling nature of that column – which minimizes the exception we perceive 2020 to be, while bracing for what will come in 2021 or later – reminds us that we are not masters of our fate. We are, all of us, sojourners on this journey. Temporary visitors to this creation.  And, I would add from my perspective, we are all cradled as citizens in a realm that is not of this world. 

 

            That truth was simply illustrated in the story of the Holy Family’s flight into Egypt today.

 

            We all have felt the sting of the past year and the impact of the COVID pandemic.  George Will reminds us that such a traumatic experience is not unique in our world.  He details the ravages of the Spanish Flu early in the 20th Century in which killed 50 to 100 million people worldwide.  And the Bubonic Plague of the 14th Century, which killed 10 percent of the world’s population and one-third of all people in Europe.

 

            And he did not stop there.  Yellowstone Park, one of the most beautiful places on earth, was ground zero of a volcanic eruption 630,000 years ago and coated half the continent with ash. Other, more catastrophic eruptions have taken place in the last 200 years.

 

            His point is this:  We are not masters of our fate.  The world we live in will not end well – either with terminal cold, or incinerating heat.  We are sojourners – visitors to this place; refugees, if you will.

 

            As was the Holy Family. Mary, Joseph and baby Jesus fled Herod’s wrath into Egypt.  They found solace and safety there.

 

            In the 18th Chapter of John’s Gospel, Jesus tells Pontius Pilate, “My kingdom is not of this world.”  That is true.  The Gospel – literally, the good news – is not terracentric… it is not earth-bound, limited to this creation.  The love of God and his redeeming power is transcendent – over, under, around and through all of creation. It is a parallel reality to what we know as reality – but more pervasive.  It escapes our notice, except in those moments of here and there, now and again. It is like smoke in our hands, but more abiding that the world we know around us.

 

             It is not dependent on our place in this world, or our citizenship in an earthly realm.

 

The Continuing Movement of God

 HOMILY, ST. PAUL’S, FOLEY – CHRISTMAS EVE, YEAR B

DECEMBER 24, 2020 

 

TEXT:                        Luke 2:1-20

 

 

            The accumulation of years wears down the mystery of this sacred night.

 

            In many, many ways our children are closer to the wonder that is Christmas.

 

            I yearn to recapture the awe that I felt as a child.  Not just the anticipation of presents which would come, but the numinous feeling I felt as I awaited my grandparents’ arrival on Christmas Eve, and as I sat on the front porch with my father, gazing up into the clear, crisp, cold, dark night sky.  Which star was it, I wondered?

 

            Yes, years bring accretions… layer upon layer… of human experience.  Our senses are dulled by the anesthesia of life. Things seldom amaze us or touch us deeply.  A child is so much closer to the source. Young eyes are open to the wonder. Their eyes are unclouded by the cataracts of years.

 

            We tend to focus on a child in a crib.  It is, indeed, that – but so much more.  The birth of that child in a stable in the small village of Bethlehem – surrounded by farm animals and shepherds – was not the beginning… and it certainly was not the end.

 

            It was another chapter in God’s story.  It was not a plot twist which the Divine One had inserted into faith history. It was a continuation – part of the endless fabric of God’s movement in the world.

 

            It continued…

 

            It continued from the majestic act of creation, which brought all worlds, all elements, all matter into creation.

 

            It continued the divine promise that God made to Abraham on that starlit desert night.

 

            It continued the voice of the one who proclaimed “I am who I am” to Moses from the burning bush which was not consumed.

 

            It continued the echoed voices of the prophets, who called for peace, righteousness and justice.

 

            And it would continue beyond that stable on that night of new life.

 

            It would continue as the baby, born that night, became a man and taught, healed, and ministered throughout a small patch of Middle East land.

 

            It would continue on a cross, on a rocky hill, outside of Jerusalem’s walls.

 

            It would continue with an empty tomb – left vacant by a risen Lord.

 

            And it would continue in the tongues of flame dancing on the heads of the apostles on that first Christian Pentecost.

 

            The point is this:  The mystery of that first Christmas night preceded and followed it, with God’s wonderful works throughout time.  And it continues today… and from this day forward. It is with us this night.