18 November, 2012

The Apocalypse



Year B
Proper 28
Daniel 12:1-3;
Hebrews 10:11-14, 19-25;
Mark 13:1-8


To really engage with today’s readings, there is a need to understand the type of literature they are, and more importantly to understand how this genre of literature was used during the time they were written.  You see, these are all apocalyptic literature.  To make sense of today’s readings, we must reclaim the definition and understanding of what apocalyptic literature is and how these passages were understood when they were written, to understand why they were even written.  Tragically these readings and many others along with the term have been high jacked and manipulated—they have been used and abused to breed fear; to teach about a God of judgment and vengeance; a God of exclusion.  These writings, however, were not meant to be that then and they are not meant to be understood that way now.  As difficult as it may be to get our heads around; apocalyptic writing was meant to be comforting, to be revelatory—to reveal an ever present, ever loving God who is working with and through us, who is intimately involved in our lives, in our suffering, and in our joys.  Yes, these writings and other apocalyptic literature are hard, they name hard things, but what they are trying to do is to give meaning to that which seems—meaningless--, to give voice to the anxiety and to remind us—to remind us that God has not abandoned us even when we feel abandoned.  They were written to be a witness to the people then and to us now --a witness of God’s presence in the face of loss and destruction; of anxiety and uncertainty.
          During this time, the people faced a great deal of oppression both from the political forces of the world as well as from division within the church—sounds kind of familiar doesn’t it?  These words were written to bring comfort—it sort of feels like “with friends like this who needs enemies”, but truly they were.  During this time there was a lot going on and the people were filled with anxiety, with dread and with fear.  Cherished institutions ceased to function in meaningful ways, it didn’t make sense—it was the end of the world as they knew it.  And instead of increasing fear as some people would like to do today, these words were written to bring hope—to bring hope in the new beginning that was coming and that we now know did come.
          Hope is another difficult word to fully grasp.  The kind of hope God speaks of is not wishful thinking; it’s not the kind of hope like “I hope I get a nap today.”  No this hope is belief—100% belief that things will be different; it is pure and total faith.  It is the kind of hope Martin Luther King Jr embodied and expressed when he said, “I have a dream”—he didn’t say I have a dream and I hope ya’ll are up to the challenge, I hope it will come true.  That’s the worldly view of hope.  If King had that kind of hope, I’m not sure he would have been able to continue in his fight for justice and equality; to continue to persevere when it seemed so immense and often futile.  But he did have hope.  The hope he had believed that the world could be and should be different even though all the evidence proved otherwise.  King then was the voice, the hope against the violence and oppression that existed then and we as the church can be the hope, the voice who declares another way now.  A way that seems impossible, but we know that with God all things are possible.  We can be the voice that shines the light on-that reveals a new way; a new world—the world that is and is still yet to come.  We can be and must be the voice of that hope; we must be the incarnate here and now pointing to the in breakings of the Kingdom of God—not focusing on the end of the world as some want us to do.  Not focusing on trying to figure out; to calculate when the world will end and who will be in and who will be out.  No, as the church we are called to focus on and to name not the what ifs but rather the what nows.  We are called to stand up and say there can be and is a new world that has arrived and is arriving—a world of mercy and righteousness and equality. 
          We are called to give voice to the voiceless and hope to those who feel hopeless even to and among ourselves.  We must proclaim a hope for and in the Kingdom of God—a time when justice and righteousness will reign completely—a time when disease, cancer, depression, grief and isolation, economic and environmental anxieties, oppression and destruction are no more.  This apocalyptic language is speaking to give us comfort and reminding us that God is faithful—it is not to minimize the truth of the times, but it is to maximize the understanding that God’s activity in the world has been, is and will continue to be present working with and through us.
          I’m going to let ya’ll in on a secret—and I know this will be hard for you to believe, but my children do not always get along.  Sometimes, they fuss and fight, and sometimes they even provoke each other purposefully.  One of my children can just look at the others and gently shake his head in a way that sends the others into orbit.  He knows how to get them, and it works.  I am not advocating sibling conflict, but there is something to be learned from it; how does this child of mine know exactly what will provoke his brother and sisters?  How does he know what will get them going; will get them heated up?  It is simply because he has paid attention; he has noticed that which will aggravate; that which will stir up a frenzy of emotion—that which will get the others actively involved.
          Our epistle today tells us to do just that—to provoke one another to love and good deeds.  Provoking one another does not have to be negative.  To provoke is defined as “stimulate or give rise to; stimulate or incite someone to feel or do something” and that is what we are meant to do as a community of faith.  As a community of faith that gathers; that must gather not only here on Sunday morning, but also throughout the week and throughout the world—the physical and the virtual world  (Giving you permission to access all of your social media),        in our world we are to provoke one another to love and good deeds.  To pay attention and to draw attention to those things in the world that are unjust, destructive, and tragic—our love and good deeds could be as simple as bringing a casserole to a someone facing a time of crisis; it could be handing out hundreds of turkeys, visiting the lonely, or it could be speaking out publically, marching in rallies, questioning the institutions.  But all that we do, that we provoke one another to do must point to the Kingdom of God here and now and the Kingdom yet to come.  It must point to the God of love and compassion and mercy and inclusion.  Our words and actions must say there is another way to live and to be and it is the way of Jesus Christ.  All these people trying to figure out when the world will end and judgment will come don’t seem to understand that through the life and death of Jesus that has already happened.  It has already been the end of the world as we know it, and gradually step by step, bit by bit, the new world is awakening.  Amen

06 November, 2012

Why I Love All Saints

I love All Saints Sunday although I must admit the love was not immediate--no my love for All Saints grew out of sheer terror.  See, 17 years ago my eldest, Sarah Katherine, was baptized on All Saints Sunday.  The day before, Chris and I sat in on an incredible baptismal preparation class, and I was already overwhelmed by the promises I was about to make on behalf of my child.  That compounded with the All Saints hymns, readings, and sermon about did me in.  Tears streamed down my face as I thought about the enormous responsibility of rearing a child in the faith.  I just wanted a full night's sleep and yet here I was making promises about how I was going to live my life and how I was going to help my child grow in faith.  Two months before when leaving the hospital, Chris and I were laughing that the hospital staff was actually letting us leave with a baby--that's how prepared we felt.  On that Sunday 17 years ago, I was not laughing.

What I missed that day, and what I have learned more and more since helps me to understand why we even celebrate All Saints.  Simply, I didn't need to live in fear that day because we are all a part of the community of saints  Yes I was making some profound promises, but I was making them surrounded by a witness of  many Saints who had gone before, and I was making them within a community of faith that would continue to nurture our family and be our present day saints.

That lesson first became apparent in Athens, GA.  Wednesday morning women's Bible study became my source of community, my place of hope and love.  All the women were wonderful, but two in particular nurtured me, challenged me and loved me through some of the most difficult days of rearing children and coming to grips with an alcoholic mother.  They loved me in spite of my flaws; they loved my children; they encouraged me by sharing their stories of pain and joy as they reared their own children; and they have not left me--both women are still very much a part of my life Saint Betsy and Saint Fran.

I left the womb of Athens and moved onto Pittsburgh where I was again surrounded by a community of saints.  One woman in particular cared for me and loved me again with all my flaws, my youthful arrogance, and my loneliness and pain.  She was rearing three fabulous children who became family to mine.  So many times in the years which have passed, when I was faced with a difficult situation with the children or with friends, I would think "What would Janie do?"  And I was blessed last spring to spend time with my Saint Janie.

Fast forward a few years, and a move to England.  I truly did love living there.  There were challenges (it's very cold); and there was loneliness, but I grew in ways I never imagined I could.  I began the discernment process in England and that process forced me to really look at myself, who I was not only as a wife and mother but as  person called by God into ministry.  There were (and still are) many times, I nostalgically crave those days of being home all day, baking and ironing and volunteering, but this saint never let me stay in the past.  She pushed me, challenged me, and sometimes straight out nagged me to "just get on with it."  When Chris was offered a job back in his hometown of Louisville, I was ready to give up on the process and return to a role I loved, but she wouldn't let me.  She sided with Chris and said that I was not to move back if my process was to stop.  Saint Helena saw me as a loving wife and mother, but more importantly she saw me and forced me to see myself as a child of God.

For these women and so many more, I give thanks.  And that is why I fell in love with All Saints Sunday--it is a day I remember them; I honor them, and I thank them.