WDYSTIA Proper 16A

 WDYSTIA

John Shea, Catholic priest and enchanting storyteller, begins his book, The Challenge of Jesus, thusly: “The only excuse (a lame one at that) for another book on Jesus is that we are never quite through with him. When the last syllable of the last word about Jesus the Christ has been spoken, a small balding man who until now has been silent will say, ‘Just a moment, I….’ After two thousand years people still journey to Jesus. They bring a vaunting ego and last year’s scar, one unruly hope and several debilitating fears, an unwarranted joy and a hesitant heart – and ask Jesus what to make of it. We have only gradually become aware of the hook in Jesus’s promise, ‘I will be with you all days, even to the end of the world.’ This not only means he will not go away but that we cannot get rid of him. He continues to roll back the stone from the caves we entomb him in. It is only because Jesus insists on inserting himself into the thick of our plots that we insist on commenting on him. “

 

Jesus asks his closest followers, “Who do people say that I am?” [Matthew 16:13-20] It’s not a poll. He has been followed around by thousands of people. At this point in Matthew’s story of Jesus, he has fed crowds of 5,000 and 4,000, and restored the lives of many many more than that. He has done so much that the Pharisees and Sadducees, together, are trying to figure him out. It should be pointed out, those two groups NEVER do anything together, let alone interrogate someone together. They ask him for a sign at the beginning of chapter 16, which is their way of sounding like the Caterpillar asking Alice, “Who are you?” To which Jesus says, in essence, a sign? What more can I do that I have not already done?

 

Jesus is a small-town kid and has never anticipated this much attention. He wants to know what people are saying. The disciples respond: John the Baptist, who, by the way, had recently been beheaded by Herod Antipas, which would make Jesus a ghost. But to see Jesus as John is to see that something is moving in the world that is bigger than historical individuals, and which the Empire has no ability to control. Some say, say the disciples, that you are Jeremiah or one of the prophets. The prophets who spoke and acted God’s word as poetry. Jeremiah warning that unless people were to change their evil ways, we will all end up slaves in a new Empire, a new Egypt named Babylon. Or, Elijah, whom scripture suggests never died; who, in the same region in which we find Jesus, healed the son of a poor widow just as Jesus recently healed a Canaanite woman’s daughter; and whom the prophet Malachi says will return before the Day of the Lord, [Malachi 4:5-6].

 

The prophets throughout the centuries challenged God’s people to open their eyes and to see the realities of the present historical moment, and the realities of their responsibilities toward their neighbors. Which Jesus, always taking things a step further, commands that not only are we to love our neighbors, but to love and pray for our enemies as well. It is interesting, isn’t it, that different people among the thousands whose lives he touched all have different ideas of who he is. And that they tie him to the lives of those have gone before.

 

But this is now. And God is doing something new. Jesus knows this. Thus, he asks the pivotal question: Who Do You Say That I Am? WDYSTIA! Does not lend itself to fitting on a bracelet, but it is The question. Now, I served a total of nearly 23 years in churches named after St Peter, a central figure in today’s story, so that this story comes up two times every year to preach on, which means I have something like 46 sermons archived on just this story! Yet, one evening, I was sitting in the backyard getting a fire going in the Webber grill, reading the Sabbath Poetry of Wendell Berry, when out of nowhere it struck me! The answer to his question is in the question. I had never ever noticed that before, not in 46 iterations of this sermon! Even after I had preached on the numerous instances in John’s Story of Jesus and all of the “I Am” speeches: I am the Good Shepherd, I am the gate to the sheepfold, I am the bread from heaven, I am the true vine, etc. I had never noticed, the answer is in the question in the final two words: I Am. This Jesus is the one who spoke to Moses from the Burning Bush, who when asked by Moses, “Who are you?” replies, “I am who I am.”

 

Suddenly, out of the blue, Peter, bumbling Peter who lost his nerve and lost faith in himself out on the water, gets it: You are the Christ, God’s Anointed, the Messiah, “the Son of the Living God.” It’s the equivalent of saying, “You are ‘I am who I am’!” Those two words, “I am,” always, always, forever and ever are meant to point us back to the God of the burning bush. Who do you say that I am? Jesus is ‘I Am.’

 

Yet, there is an even more important truth implied in WDYSTIA! We and the disciples are meant to ask this pivotal question of ourselves. For when we are baptized into The Body of Christ, a cross is traced on our foreheads with oil blessed by our bishop, sealing us and marking us “Christ’s own forever. The Bond established in Holy Baptism is indissoluble.” [BCP 298] This suggests that all questions about Jesus are questions about us. About me. About you. About us. Who are we? Who are you? Who do people say that I am?  Can people see Jesus in all that I do and all that I say? Do I seek and serve the Christ in all persons, loving my neighbor as myself? Do I strive for Justice and Peace for All people, and respect the dignity of every human being?

 

The good news, perhaps even the Best News, is that to ponder just who Jesus is, is not that we will never be done with him, but that Jesus is not done with us! And our Risen Lord promises he will never be finished with us until that day and time when he reunites us with himself in his Father’s household of light, love and joy! For we are created, male and female, in God’s own image. I am who I am, says the Lord God of Israel. We are what we are. We are his, he is ours, we are what we are – creatures created to be stewards of God’s creation and lovers of all people and all creatures who are our neighbors in this best of all possible worlds. Amen.

Indigenous Gentile Women and The Good News Proper 15A

Indigenous Gentile Women and The Good News

I cannot help but think of this Canaanite woman, perhaps one of the most important figures in the Bible, while hearing about the underreported crisis of Missing and Murdered Indigenous Women and Girls (MMIWG), and the disproportionate rates of violence, abduction, human trafficking, and murder faced by Native American and Alaska Native women. Over 5,000 go missing per year, and it is estimated that 4 out of 5 indigenous American women experience violence sometime in their lives. The Canaanites were the indigenous people of the land before the time of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, of which our mother is just one such Canaanite mother. [Matthew 14:10-28] 

She is an unnamed woman in the Gospels, much like the Samaritan Woman at the well. And yet, both of these women have a transformational encounter with Jesus – only this time he is the one who is transformed. It’s a story that means to invite us all to be transformed, and to let go of long held beliefs that hinder and fracture relations between different communities of people. 

Curiouosly, just before this scene of a mother desperate to find help for her daughter, Jesus is debating the Pharisees, saying it is not what you eat, what you put into your mouth, that defiles a person. Rather, he says, it is what comes out of your mouth that defiles you. Then, inexplicably, he turns around and calls this Canaanite mother, her daughter, and all of “her people,” dogs. 

Now Jesus is travelling in majority gentile territory, the very same area to which God once sent Elijah to a widow and mother in need. Elijah heals her son. Jesus seeks a well-deserved rest when suddenly this woman shouts out, “Have mercy on me, Lord, haShem, Son of David; my daughter is tormented by a demon.” Actually, the Greek text says she “screams out,” giving us a deeper understanding of just how painful it is to watch her daughter suffer. We are meant to feel her desperation. Of note, she recognizes Jesus as Kyrios, “Lord,” which is the same as calling him haShem, the Hebrew circumlocution for God. And identifies him as “Son of David,” acknowledging him as Messiah, God’s anointed. This stranger, an outsider, seems to know more about who Jesus really is than the insiders like his disciples, as we will find out in the following scene in Caesarea Philippi: when Jesus asks them, “Who do you say that I am?” 

At first Jesus tries to ignore her. This alone seems cruel. Then the disciples beg him to dismiss her “because she is screaming after us!” Jesus also ignores their plea, but says, “I have been sent to find the lost sheep of Israel.” Not a promising sign for this gentile woman. But now she kneels  in front of him – blocking his advance on the road toward rest. “HaShem, help me!” she cries. This is when what comes out of his mouth sounds defiling. “It is not right to take the children’s bread and throw it to the dogs.” The children are the Israelites he believes are his one and only concern; she, her daughter and gentiles are “dogs”. Since she is blocking his way, Jesus is forced to address her. 

We may as well admit, many of us would either give up at his insult, or get angry. But this mother is strong, and is desperate to find relief for her daughter. Once again, she addresses him as Lord, as haShem, as God, with dignity and reverance. “Yes, but haShem, even the dogs are eat the crumbs that fall from the master’s table.” Imagine the disciples watching this gentile, Canaanite mother talk back to Jesus! This takes moxie, determination, presence of mind, and a commitment to securing her daughter’s future, her very life. And yet, it is like a lightning bolt has struck Jesus when she says this! 

She has not only stopped Jesus in his tracks, but she appears to be the first to remind Jesus to see the bigger picture, the greater mission that lies ahead of him: to rescue gentiles as well as Israelites! A vision long ago advanced by the prophet Isaiah. There are to be no “her people” and “our people.” “Maintain justice, and do what is right, for soon my salvation will come,” says Isaiah, ‘and my deliverance will be revealed… for my house shall be called a house of prayer for all peoples.” [Isaiah 56:1,6-8] All peoples. Not some. Not many. But all peoples. 

Suddenly, Jesus lets go of long held biases and beliefs that had hindered relations between his people and hers. Suddenly, he seems to remember the word that came to Isaiah that we are all to be one people in the House of the Lord. Jesus will eventually share this broader mission to all people to his disciples after he rises from the dead! He recognizes the depth of her faith and dispels the demon that possesses her daughter. It is a new life for her daughter. More importantly for all of us gentiles, it’s a new life for Jesus as well, and for all of us! 

So utterly unlike Peter who loses faith in himself and Jesus, and begins to sink into the surf, Jesus recognizes this Canaanite, this gentile, this woman has faith in herself and in the God of Israel. And once again, perseverance furthers! From that moment on, Jesus is changed even more significantly than anyone else in the story. Matthew foreshadows this experience all the way back in his genealogy of Jesus, which uniquely includes other gentile women: Tamar, who through trickery preserved the line of Judah and King David; Rahab the harlot who played a significant role in the battle of Jericho; Ruth, the immigrant Moabite who becomes the great-grandmother of David; and Bathsheba, wife of Uriah the Hittite. These women, according to Matthew, were crucial to the line that leads to Jesus. And now another indigenous woman plays a significant role to broaden the mission of Jesus to go beyond the boundaries of Israel! 

This mother retains her Canaanite and gentile identity. She does not need to ‘convert.’ She joins herself to the God of Israel, but remains forever a Canaanite. She also proves herself more faithful than the insiders like the disciples. She takes to the road to do whatever she needs to do to secure relief and safety for her family, even physically making herself an obstacle Jesus needs to get past; forcing him to address her directly. She changes the future direction of our Lord’s mission from being a parochial affair to a universal mission to all people everywhere! Jesus recognizes her as a model for us all – faithfulness is not what we say, or what we believe, but what we do on behalf of others – all others, no matter who they are or where they come from. 

Her daughter was healed that very hour. Isn’t that what we all want? To be freed from the demons that beset us and our society? Isn’t what our American indigenous communities desire during the crisis of Missing and Murdered Indigenous Women and Girls? How many faithful American indigenous women like this Canaanite mother have been lost without a trace? Aren’t we called to stand with her and other indigenous and immigrant women like Tamar, Rahab, and Ruth? Are we not called to live out the vision Isaiah proclaims: “Thus says the Lord: Maintain justice, and do what is right, for soon my salvation will come, and my deliverance be revealed. And the foreigners who join themselves to the Lord…these I will bring to my holy mountain, and make them joyful in my house of prayer.” To this we say, Amen; it is Truth; it is so! 

The Night-Sea Journey Proper 14A

 

The Night-Sea Journey

We are mistaken when tempted to think that this journey we call life is meant to be a time to find something – or, rather someone – or The SomeOne. That is to ignore a great cache of literature that seeks to direct us in a different way. Rather than a quest, they suggest, we are best to abandon all that we think we know and even that which we “think” we are. Such abandonment of “self” is often experienced as darkness, as aloneness, as stillness, but may result in being found.

 

The prophet Elijah, for instance, on the run for his life having challenged the Canaanite God Baal, and having slaughtered the prophets of Baal after a contest on Mt. Carmel, hides himself in the darkness of a cave on Mount Horeb – the only person in the Bible to have gone back there since Moses left after his encounter with YHWH several hundred years prior. [1 Kings 19:9-18] Jezebel, wife of king Ahab and worshipper of Baal, had set a price on Elijah’s head. In this darkest moment of his soul, it is the Lord God YHWH who comes to find him, and summons Elijah to come out as He promises to pass by. There is a great wind, splitting rocks, tossing trees and shrubs all around, but God was not in the wind; then an earthquake, but God was not in the earthquake; then fire, but God was not in the fire; finally, Elijah barely hears a still, small voice – the sound of sheer silence. It turns out that when things are bleakest, life is at its darkest, most precarious ebb, God comes to us. God seeks us out. God gives Elijah new “marching orders” and sends him back into the fray!

 

John Matthias, later known in sixteenth century Spain as Juan de la Cruz, Saint John of the cross, famously wrote, “Upon a gloomy night/With all my cares to loving ardors flushed/(O venture of delight!)/With nobody in sight/I went abroad when all my house was hushed.” For John, it was Elijah all over again. It was a “dark night of the soul,” having been jailed in a tiny cell by rival friars. This led him to discover that once he allowed himself to be “entirely burned away,” God came to him in the midst of the hushed darkness: “Oh night that was my guide!/Oh darkness dearer than the morning’s pride/Oh night that joined the lover/To the beloved bride/Transfiguring them each into the other.” John felt rescued from his despair by the “beloved bride,” the alive-again Christ, who had come to shine light upon John’s night of deep darkness.

 

In this season of renewed interest in Homer’s Odyssey, and directly related to our gospel for today, we are reminded of that other metaphor for spiritual growth and mystical experiences of God: the darkness and potential dangerous wildness of the “wine-dark sea.” There may be no other life as lonely as that of one of the prophets and those like John of the Cross than those who sail the often roiled and wild seas. The Seafarer, by an anonymous Anglo-Saxon poet describes life on the open sea while others on land spend nights in the mead-hall enjoying lavish banquets before a roaring fire:

 

“I can sing my own true story/of journeys through this world/ how often I was tried/by troubles. Bitterly scared/I would be sick with sorrow/on my night watch as I saw/so many times from the prow/terrible, tall waves/pitching close to cliffs./My feet were frozen stiff/seized and locked by frost/although my heart was hot/from a host of worries./A hunger from within/tore at my mind, sea-weary. But men on solid ground/know nothing of how a wretch/like me, in so much pain/could ever live a winter alone/exiled, on the ice-cold sea/where hail came down in sheets/and icicles hung from me/while friendly hall-companions/feasted far away./The crashing sea was all/I heard, the ice-cold wave.” [translated by Mary Jo Salter in The Word Exchange]

As the night-sea journey continues for our Anglo-Saxon poet, he is struck by just how “Terrible and great/is the Lord, and the very world/turns to him in awe….Blessed is he who lives in all/humility, what comes to him/in Heaven is forgiveness…” The Seafarer then concludes: “Let us ponder where our true/home is, and how to reach it./Let us labor to gain entry/into the eternal/ to find the blessedness/of belonging to the Lord/joyfully on high./Thanks be to God who loved us,/the endless Father/the Prince of Glory forever. Amen.”

 

Which certainly needs no analysis to lead us into a deeper look at what is the Second Night-Sea Journey in Matthew 14:22-26. Earlier, Jesus had invited others to join them in the boat, but who had other things to do before getting in [8:18-27]. This time, Jesus “made the disciples get in the boat and go on to the other side” while he took a very much needed time-out to recharge after healing and feeding thousands. Not for long, though. These men, among them fishermen, found themselves rowing against a mighty wind, with the boat in danger of foundering. It is dark. It is night. Waves batter the boat. The going is rough. The going is exhausting to be sure. We try to imagine what was going through their minds as they continued to fulfill their mission to get to the other side. When all of a sudden, a vision appears. They suppose it is a ghost. They cry out in fear! But immediately the vision speaks to them and said, “Take heart, it is I; do not be afraid.” Actually, it says, “Take heart, I am.” They would recognize “I am” as the voice of God to Moses from the bush that burns but is not consumed. Like our Anglo-Saxon poet, they recognize that in the darkness on the wind-blown sea they are in the presence of the Lord God, “I am who I am.”

 

This is where it gets a bit strange. Peter demands proof as their Lord stands upon the battering waves before them. He wants to be like Jesus, standing on the roiling sea. OK, says the Lord. Give it a try. So, Peter gets out of the boat, starts to walk toward Jesus when suddenly, he noticed the strong wind and begins to sink. He has been rowing against the strong wind all night. How is it just now that he notices the wind? Or, is he suddenly struck oblivious? Or, is he thinking only of himself and not the great “I Am” who stands before him? Or, is this really a ghost? A vision of overly exhausted rowers on the boat? Or, is this a resurrection appearance of Christ that Matthew has for some reason inserted back into the middle of the story? And if so, why?

 

So many questions, all of which are worth tracking down. Of important note, in any case, once again, in the dark of night, in the despair of near-drowning, it is the Lord who comes to us. For we are the disciples. He sends us off, thinking perhaps we now know what kingdom living is really like. And, when they finally get there, with Jesus in the boat, they get back to the work of healing all those in need. But in the darkest hours of the night-sea journey, they seem to have forgotten who they are and whose they are. Matthew seems to present this second night-sea journey as a step-along-the-way to fully knowing who God in Christ is.

 

Unlike John of the Cross, Peter has yet to have let go of all he thinks he is to allow Christ to gather him fully into the life of the kingdom. As it is for Peter, it is, no doubt, for all of us. We think we know the Christ, and perhaps we do, but we allow personal and social distractions to forget who we really are, and whose we are. We all experience “dark nights of the soul” – a night sea journey. Matthew offers this story so we might take the Seafarer’s lesson to heart: “Let us ponder where our true/home is, and how to reach it./Let us labor to gain entry/into the eternal/ to find the blessedness/of belonging to the Lord/joyfully on high./Thanks be to God who loved us,/the endless Father/the Prince of Glory forever. Amen.”

 

A Magic Loaf of Bread Proper 13A

 

A Magic Loaf of Bread

When you were four years old, I had a dream about you.

In the dream you had found a loaf of bread.

You worried for the poor of the world, and you decided to

feed everyone from your loaf. From one loaf of bread?

Yes. It was a magic loaf. And it was a dream.

Story by Jumana Emil Abboud, a Palestinian-Canadian artist and collector of folk tales, in the book Bread for the Living, Bread for the Dead, edited by Alexander Strecker 

I grew up across the street from an elementary school. Before I was in kindergarten, I had a lemonade stand at the corner for all the older kids on the way to school. I kept going into the kitchen to get more lemonade. My mother said, “You must be making a lot of money!” I replied, “Money? I’m giving it away to all my friends!” 

You may have noticed, from one end of the Bible to the other, the story is often about bread. When Father Abraham is in the middle of almost nowhere, the mysterious King of Salem, that is the King of Peace, arrives with bread and wine, which they share. Then the king  blesses Abraham, and off Melchizedek, Hebrew for King of Righteousness, goes never to be seen again. Except in the curious New Testament treatise called Hebrews which states categorically that Christ is a priest “after the order of Melchizedek”: Christ, the King of Peace, Christ the King of Righteousness. 

There is the manna in the wilderness, after the Great Escape from Pharaoh’s Egypt. It appears every morning. Everyone gets enough. No one gets too much, for if you try to hoard it, it sours and becomes infested with worms. Utterly unlike life in Egypt where the bread supply was controlled by the empire, this manna, this bread of life, is freely given by YHWH, the God of the Passover-Exodus journey to freedom. 

The prophet Isaiah remembers this as he poses the question: Why do you work 24/7 like slaves again for this new Empire’s bread which will never satisfy? Why don’t you return to the Lord’s bread, milk, and wine that is given freely, without price? The bread that has sustained God’s people, our people, for millennia? “Listen carefully to me, and eat what is good, and delight yourselves in rich food. Incline your ear, and come to me; listen, so that you may live,” says the Lord. 

Several hundred years later there is Jesus. The Christ. God’s anointed. God’s beloved. Who comes to dwell among us, as one of us, with a dream. Not just any dream, but the Dream of God. He calls it a new kind of kingdom – the Kingdom of God, or the Kingdom of Heaven. He says it is here. It has been here all along. Yet, we allow ourselves to become tenured ways of the Empire such that we no longer see that it is right here, at hand, here and now, available to those who share in God’s dream – a dream in which everyone gets enough, no one gets too much, or it begins to sour and spoil. The Empire’s bread will never satisfy nor sustain us. Jesus says, Follow me. Remember the challenge of Isaiah: Why do you spend your money for that which is not bread, and your labor for that which does not satisfy? I am the true bread that comes down from heaven, from the hand of God my Father. 

Matthew chapter 14 confronts the reader with two very different meals: Herod Antipas’s birthday and Jesus feeding a multitude of hungry, sick, and disabled people. Herod’s party devolves into a brutal act of revenge with the beheading of John the Baptizer who disapproved of Herod having made off with his brother’s wife, Herodias, amid a context of the Empire’s plenty with copious amounts of food and drink, more than the assembled party-goers could ever possibly consume. 

In the other corner, wearing the white trunks, one finds Jesus who has heard of John’s demise and seeks to get away from the brutality of the empire. A crowd of thousands seem to know where he is going, and get there first on foot. He sees them, and has compassion for them. He  gets out of his boat and immediately begins to heal and cure the sick and disabled. The disciples come to him and say, “This is a deserted place, and the hour is now late; send the crowds away so that they may go into the villages and buy food for themselves.” Jesus said to them, “They need not go away; you give them something to eat.” This is the point really. This is what disciples and followers of Jesus are meant to do. They whine. “But we only have five loaves an two fish!” Bring it to me. Jesus takes the loaves, blesses the loaves, breaks the loaves and gives them to the disciples to give to the more than 5,000 people – if you count the women and children. Which we always should.

 

“And all ate and were filled; and they took up what was left over of the broken pieces, twelve baskets full.” Everyone is satisfied, just as Isaiah had said. There are plenty of leftovers for others to be fed. We find it difficult to understand such a story. I suspect you may have noticed that we act out this very story every Sunday, at this table which is open to all who are hungry, all who are in need of healing, those who seek the true bread of life. We take, bless, and break the bread, and give it away, “without money, without price.” Week after week after week. 

The kingdom living, in which we are invited to live here and now, is not about “every man, woman, and child for themselves.” Jesus tells us that his Father imagines that people who are made in God’s image are to operate as a mutual aid society. Those who follow Jesus are to find ways to meet the needs of others, especially those who are sick, disabled, and otherwise living at the margins of society. Disciples, or followers, always means us. We also know he feels the same way about healthcare. At one end of the Sea of Galilee are hot springs, spas, where people came from all over the ancient world and paid large amounts of money to experience the healing waters of the hot springs. And there is Jesus, on the banks of Galilee, just giving away food and healing people of all kinds of dis-ease. For free. No wonder he was locked up. He was bad for business, and bad for the local economy. The early church never forgot these moments, witness that it is one story repeated in all four gospels. The meal the church chose to share recalls this story. It is the memory of this story that explains that we read in the Book of the Acts of the Apostles that the church grew by the thousands every day! It was a mutual aid society, utterly unlike life in the empire.

When you were born, God had a dream about you.

In the dream you had found a loaf of bread.

You worried for the poor of the world, and you decided to

feed everyone from your loaf. From one loaf of bread?

Yes. It was a magic loaf. And it wasn’t a dream.

God’s dream came alive in you as it did for Jesus.

And the world has never been the same.