Reversal of Mission

By Mary Davis, Seminarian Intern

Good morning. Let me take a minute of your time, and for those of you whom I have not met yet, my name is Mary Davis, and I am a second year theological intern at Drew University in Madison, and on the path toward ordination here in this Diocese. I am spending this year with you here at St. George's as part of my "Field Work" experience, and part of this experience is, of course, preaching.

Today's parable of the Pharisee and the tax collector is a story told only in the Gospel of Luke. This story, along with many of the other stories or parables we've heard from Luke this fall, highlights a theme of "divine reversal" which, if we are not careful to look closely and intentionally at it, it is capable of seeming unreasonable to us.

For the Pharisees were the holy men of their age, and this particular Pharisee presented today in Jesus' parable, was one who had gone beyond the expectation of the law, was adhering to the code of purity, and then some. He was not only fasting once a week as the law required, but twice. And even better, (and I'm not just making a plug here because it's Stewardship season) he tithed on "all" of his income, going yet again, beyond what the law required.

Then, on the other hand, as you well know, Jesus compares this 'holy' Pharisee to the tax collector. His hated status in Jewish society is well known, since here was a Jew, who was a traitor, at best, by working for the Roman government, and at worst, more like a human parasite, feeding off of his fellow Jews.

Clearly, this is one of those stories, and Luke is famous for this, which presents for us a "radical reversal." Our sensibilities and sense of justice are challenged by the notion that the supposed 'holy man' here, the Pharisee, is not rewarded, while the sinful and parasitic tax collector is in fact exalted. "For all who exalt themselves will be humbled, but all who humble themselves will be exalted," says Jesus.

I chewed on this lesson for quite some time, repelled by the Pharisee's self-righteous prayer, yet caught myself, thankful, that I was not like the Pharisee! Interesting, hum? Yet this was not the first time I've caught myself thinking like that. Because, for those of you who don't know me yet, I have three children, three boys in fact, and these boys manage to continually humble me and my assumptions and highlight my own inner "Pharisee."

My oldest child, Ryan, who is now 15, suffers from the developmental disability called Asperger's Syndrome. It's on the Autistic Spectrum, and severely limits his ability to negotiate this social world in which we live. So it's easy for me, and certainly for others in our world, to judge his inadequacies, his shortcomings, and his single minded focus at times. And yet, if this wasn't bad enough (and I'm being slightly facetious here), perhaps the worst thing about his disorder is that he is totally enamored by Japanese Cartoons. You know the type - Yugioh, Pokemon, Digimon, Dragonball Z. If you haven't seen or heard of these cartoons, they are our imported animated figures from Japan, whose eyes are drawn much larger than our American-made cartoon figures, and when their mouths move, it is not in sync with our English words, because originally, Japanese words were scripted. These cartoons are the bane of my existence. Partially, because they are an almost constant source of background drama and noise in our house, but also because I have visions of my son as a 30-year-old, lying on my couch incessantly watching them. But just as I laid out my judgments, looking down upon my son's recreation of choice, one day, he sat up from his cartoon stupor and told me, "You know mom, this cartoon "Twitches" (which is a Japanese cartoon found on the Disney Channel about twin witches separated at birth) is a lot like Jesus and God." Intrigued, the Pharisee, I mean, the dutiful theological student and mother lifted her head from the dishes in the sink . . . "how so," I asked? He said to me, "Yeah, they are the forces that fight the darkness and evil that have filled the world and they want, more than anything else, to bring light to the world."

Now that's humility – there I was with my grand theological thoughts, my judgments, my self-righteous efforts, and all of them were rightfully squashed by my developmentally disabled teenager's insights in to darkness and light. His humble revelation about Jesus' mission to bring Light to the World was not an assessment of me, but rather, a simple statement that pulled me out of my rut of judgment, and allowed me to find the spark of God's grace within Ryan, and at the end of this day, Ryan's Japanese cartoons brought the light of Christ to me.

Henri Nouwen, a Catholic priest and author, whose work has spoken to me in many ways, wrote about this divine reversal. He called it the "reverse mission." And this is exactly what this parable in Luke shows us. Nouwen writes, "I have become aware that wherever God's Spirit is present, there is a reverse mission. . . [and] this reversal is a sign of God's spirit. The poor have a mission to the rich, the handicapped have a mission to the able-bodied, the dying have a mission to the living. Jesus shows us that the victims become our evangelists, calling us to conversion." And in that conversion, we humbly become aware that all of our efforts at learning - about ourselves, about others and about God - all of our efforts to do the right thing, and all of our attempts to fix our world, all of them mean nothing without God, without the humble admission that God's life and breath dwell in everyone.

There is another layer of "divine reversal" in this parable which causes me to sit up and take notice, especially during this Stewardship season, and again, it's the Pharisee. Because the title "Pharisee" is derived from the Hebrew verb, "to separate," which is exactly what the Pharisee had done. His prayers and actions, though beyond the code of purity and certainly beyond expectation, were done alone. The gospel reads, "The Pharisee, standing by himself, was praying thus . . . ." And I think that the other piece to this divine reversal draws us to one another, instead of away from each other. We all matter. All of our stories and practices of faith, God's working in our lives, are all part of telling a story of something that can't really be told because it's something that defies explanation, something that exceeds our comprehension. And yet, telling and sharing the story of our lives in Christ, here in this church, in this year, and as this congregation, is exactly what we are called to do.

Some of you might have heard this story before, but it comes to me from a book by Charles Foster, and he took it from one of Elie Wiesel's writings. But it's a story of a Great Rabbi, who whenever he saw misfortune approaching his community, followed the custom of going deep into the heart of the forest, and there he would ask God to save his people. He would go to a sacred place, and he would light a sacred fire, and he would say a special sacred prayer. And sure enough the disaster would be averted.

Well, this great rabbi died at an old age, and he was succeeded by his disciple, who was also a good and holy rabbi, but he did not learn all there was to know from his teacher, and when disaster would approach he would go to the same place in the forest, for he knew the place, and he would light the same sacred fire, for his knew how to make the fire, but he had forgotten the prayer. And so he would just remember that there was a prayer, and that would be enough. Disaster would be averted.

When he died and was succeeded by his disciple, again, the same pattern would play out. Only now, when disaster would approach the village, the disciple would go to the sacred spot in the forest, for he knew where that place was, but he hadn't learned how to light the sacred fire, and he didn't know the sacred prayer. And so he went to the place, and said, "Oh God, I'm here in this place, and I do not know how to light the fire, and I do not know the sacred prayer, but that must be enough." And it was.

And he lived to an old age and was succeeded by his disciple, yet another generation. By this time, the sacred place in the forest was lost. So when disaster approached the village, this rabbi knelt in his home, and said, "Oh Lord, God, I do not know the place in the forest, I do not know how to light the sacred fire, and I do not know the sacred prayer, but I know the story and that must be enough." And it was.

These Rabbis didn't pray for their communities and leave. And they didn't just talk about the "good old days" and revel in the past. Instead, they prayed, lighting the sacred fire and finding a sacred place, and then returned to community to embrace the future and teach the next generation. It's so important for all us to remember the story of a living God acting in our midst, but even more important, to live that story now, in community, and incorporate the generations to come into our story with God. Again, we all matter.

Our stories do not live and move in separateness, like the Pharisee. Our connectedness to generations before us – generations of 'tax collectors' and generations of 'pharisees' – allows us all, by the Grace of God, to embrace one another as community. By turning over and over and over and over again, returning time and time again to God, our story becomes one of humility, one which recognizes and values the breath of God that was given to all of us. That holy breath created a story of community, a place where our traditions, both old and new, are shared together - with each other, with God, and with the saints that traveled here before us.

This is true stewardship: offering ourselves and our treasures up to God, by humbly stepping out of the way of our own righteousness, so that all of our stories of faith may be used for God's work in this church, this community, and in the world today.

© 2007 Mary Davis

Healing & Gratitude

By The Rev. Bernard W. Poppe, Rector

In the Gospel we just read, Jesus told the leper who returned, "Get up and go on your way; your faith has made you well."

There are a lot of healing stories in the whole Bible and they number extremely high in the Gospels. The dimensions of healing are deep and wide and stories like this provide us with a backdrop to study and learn some of those dimensions. This particular story is one I like very much and quote from often in my conversations on healing.

As often happens, Luke introduces a story by saying that Jesus was on his way to Jerusalem. For the writer of Luke this is constantly important, it is the prism through which he sees Jesus ministry. Going to Jerusalem and all the events we now reenact liturgically through our Holy Week services. The healing and miracles Jesus performs on his way to Jerusalem are a preview and a foretaste of the ultimate healing and miracle yet to happen through the crucifixion and resurrection. By telling us again that Jesus was on his way, Luke ties this story into the larger story that is unfolding. The participants are of course unaware of what's coming, but for the writer and the generations of readers who know the outcome, the prism through which Luke sees Jesus' life, becomes the prism through which we see also. The injuries to body and spirit endured on Calvary are healed through God's ultimate healing grace and even death is not possible to God as seen in the resurrection. As readers who know this, we come to the story of the ten lepers a little more informed of the larger picture.

These ten people suffering from leprosy were careful to keep their distance as a sign of respect but also not to offend. There was the possibility of contagion and even beyond that the knowledge that as a Jew Jesus would have been obliged to avoid them as unclean. So they voiced their desperate pleas from a distance. Observing the law that only a Jewish priest could certify them as clean and able to be restored to the community, Jesus instructed them to go find the priest. The healing occurred along the way. Miraculous. Nine of them continued on, presumably to find the priest, be certified as healed and clean and find new lives as healthy people healed in body and healed in relationship by being welcomed back from the exile of their disease and banishment.

Yet for one of them there was unfinished business. Once he realized that he had been cured he returned to Jesus to thank him. Quite simply that. For the miracle of cleansing, the miracle of healing, the doors this opened up as far as being reestablished in the community -- there was an overwhelming sense of gratitude, and for this the man returned to Jesus to say thank you. Again, details are important in Luke's story. Jesus noted that of the ten healed, the only one returning to thank him was the Samaritan. We've run into Samaritans before -- the story of the good Samaritan who helped the injured man on the road, the woman at the well Jesus broke the rules to speak to was also a Samaritan, and many other general references to the people of Samaria. They were, as a people, considered foreign and not pure blooded Israelites. They were looked down upon and discriminated against. That Jesus healed the Samaritan leper again showed that he followed the law of compassion rather than the law of prejudice. By referring to this Luke also opens the door to us as readers to expand our vision of those considered worthy of God's love.

Another important part of this story is that they asked. Someone once told me "You don't ask, you don't get." There's a lot of truth in that. We might complain about nothing coming our way, and yet haven't taken the time to ask in any significant way. We may feel we don't deserve something, or that things are simply impossible, and we defeat ourselves by not even asking for that which is life giving and important to us and can be healing. Time and again the miracles come when people ask and God's abundance gives them so much and often more than what was asked for. That's not to say it comes wrapped in paper and recognizable. Sometimes it's subtle and hidden and needs to be revealed. Prayers are answered, but we need to ask.

Then for me the most important part of this passage -- Jesus tells the man that his faith has made him "well." He had already been cured of his leprosy, but the gratitude he showed healed him on an even deeper level. By being called "well," there is implied a spiritual healing of great importance. The Samaritan man didn't take his healing for granted. He acknowledged the source of his healing and deepened his relationship to the great healer with a simple act of gratitude. He did not allow his excitement of being cured allow him to forget this basic lesson of thanksgiving.

Gratitude is easily overlooked. And yet it is so important. Who among us doesn't like to be thanked for something we've done? It's nice to be recognized, gives us a little boost. It means work that we've done has been noticed and appreciated. We have a little glow of satisfaction and there's also some inspiration to do even more. But the gratitude we experience deepens the quality of the relationship we have with the person who thanks us. Part of their spirit reaches out to part of our spirit in a moment of communion. Whether an individual or a group, the act of thanking improves a spiritual bond. A few weeks ago at our celebration of the renovated Parish Hall we thanked many people who worked so hard to make that project happen. It was absolutely important to do that in a significant way that demonstrated the depth of gratitude on behalf of the full community of this church. And it was fun. People who get thanked get all embarrassed and have an "aw shucks" posture, but it still feels good. It draws us closer together as friends and community members.

How much more important it is for us to thank God for the miracles and healing we receive through God's grace and love. Sometimes we get so excited by the positive changes in our lives that we forget to take the time to recognize that God's love makes all things possible and that thanks are deserved. I don't think God's feelings are hurt if we forget to show gratitude, but it's important for us to show it. Taking the time to recognize what we have been given, where we have come along our way, how we've been healed in the many ways from body and spirit gives us an opportunity to be made not only healed, but "well." Recognizing the gift and thanking the giver deepens the relationship between us and God.

Gratitude takes practice. It seems odd to say, but I think it's true. We take so much for granted that we often forget to pause and realize the many blessings we've been given. Even things which appear negative, often turn out to be blessings in disguise. All the more reason to take time to examine our lives and review the many gifts we've been given. When and where appropriate, we should thank the people by whom blessings come. And above all, pause though the days ahead and observe the blessings of God through grace and thank God for them. Jesus was on his way to Jerusalem. He told the Samaritan man to "go on your way" wherever that way might go. We each have our own way to travel come what may. It is God that watches over us and heals us in the many ways we need healing, and it is our faith and gratitude that makes us well. Amen.

© 2007 St. George's Episcopal Church, Maplewood, NJ

Increase Our Faith

By The Rev. Bernard W. Poppe, Rector

In the Gospel passage we just read, the Apostles said to Jesus, "Increase our faith." This passage comes in the midst of a series of seemingly unrelated sayings, which happens from time to time in the Gospels. Jesus' response was that if they had faith the size of a mustard seed they could uproot a tree and replant it in the sea. That would be quite a trick! It's an interesting choice of seeds, however. In another parable, Jesus told them that the mustard seed is the smallest of seeds which grows into the largest of bushes or trees, depending on which Gospel lesson you read.

While the botanical accuracy of the parables is debatable, the point is entering into it as it was intended. If we had faith the size of a mustard seed, the smallest of the small -- we could accomplish the greatest of the greatest deeds. Faith is a truly amazing gift in each of us. How much do we have? How do we acquire more? Where will it take us and what will we do along the way? The Apostles had these questions answered in their lives in very powerful ways. We too, have these questions and to the degree we wrestle with them, we will find the answers for ourselves.

This lesson caps a series of difficult lessons. Again I find myself wanting to skip over the tough ones, but they stick out like sore thumbs and need attention. The lesson from Lamentations is heartbreaking. Often attributed to the prophet Jeremiah, this book of sadness chronicles the fall of the kingdom of Israel in narrative and poetic styles. Once a prospering and bustling kingdom, it boasted of thriving cities and grand buildings not the least of which was the temple in Jerusalem. They had a long heritage and legacy of great Kings like David and Solomon. But when they were conquered by the Babylonians all that was lost. Everything great about them was destroyed, their buildings, cities, their beloved temple, their way of life and even their people dragged away from their homeland and resettled hundreds of miles away in a foreign country where it was expected they would assimilate and over the generations forget there was even a country called Israel.

Jeremiah's laments were written and have lasted through the ages and express the grief of people in the midst of their suffering. The psalm complements this reading beautifully. It was believed to be written by someone who had been taken from Israel and resettled so far away. It begins with a melancholic tone and rises in anger to a pitch of rage that calls for the destruction of the babies of their enemies. It's a rage we are unaccustomed to and yet when we open our eyes and ears to comments today we can hear echoes of this shocking request. We hear it from the anguished lips of mothers and fathers who bury their children fallen in war on either side of any conflict. The rage captures not only the grief but confusion of the cruelty of others, the futility of war and the impotence of their own rage in the face of forces greater than they are. One of the more chilling moments in the new movie "The Kingdom" comes when people on both sides of the conflict in a terrorist attack in Saudi Arabia console the American and Saudi families of fallen soldiers by pledging to "kill them all." Our connection to this psalm is as deep as it is disturbing.

I've always been grateful that the Bible includes such raw emotion, even when it's negative. Simply because it's real and we can't gloss over it. We need to recognize it and confront it and with God's help overcome it. Like the Apostles who asked Jesus to increase their faith, ours too must increase to where we can take these foolish notions of war and greed and uproot them and throw them away.

In Paul's second letter to Timothy, he continues his mentoring of the young man and encourages his steadfast faith. He appeals to Timothy's spirit and reminds him of the spirit that Paul himself had bestowed upon him by the laying on of his hands -- an image from which we get our own ordination practices today. This spirit is not one of cowardice, but power, love and self discipline. These tools will see Timothy through his difficulties and these come through grace and grace is a gift of God. "Increase our faith." the apostles said. And God does, for them and us.

Today we celebrate the life of a beloved saint in the church's history -- St. Francis. We remember his kindness and poetry. His abiding faith and love of animals. We honor his sacrifices and devotion to the poor. He inspires us in our care for them, for the environment and for all of creation.

I became excited by the connection I saw in these readings today and the life of St. Francis. Believe me, it's not really a big stretch! In his early life, he was the son of a wealthy merchant and enjoyed the games and sport of spoiled rich young men of his time with out much concern for the future. When a local war broke out among neighboring kingdoms he thought it would be fun to go and do some fighting. His soft life did not prepare him for the brutality of the war he experienced. He sustained wounds that almost killed him and he was brought back to his parents' home where he recuperated.

Like the book of Lamentations, he saw his old life shattered by the realities of what he experienced. The false importance he placed on his earlier play cut him as deeply as his battle wounds and as he recovered he found a new purpose in living to help others and in that way find a richness in his life he had never known.

He was encouraged in his ministry, as Paul had encouraged Timothy and he found the power, love and self discipline to continue his work. And as his faith increased, he accomplished great deeds lasting into the present.

It is here that I want to find the good news today. There's not a person here, I suspect, who hasn't know some lament or rage for something in the past. There's not a person who hasn't felt somehow wronged by another and felt those horrible, deep feelings of sadness that come to victims and rage at the consequences they've had to pay for someone else's aggression, greed or thoughtlessness. It's how we're wired, it's natural and all too common.

What is not as easy, and yet ever so much more needed is the encouragement to move from being a victim to a victor. We can use the very hurts in our lives to make us stronger in our own spirits and more empathetic to others in their times of need. Like Paul to Timothy I have received encouragement in my own challenges, and I encourage you in yours to find the spirit of power, love and self discipline that God's grace provides us with. If we don't we stay in a hopeless spiral of rage and revenge. But we can move beyond that place to a stronger place where the increase of faith can bring out of us incredible accomplishments -- the most important perhaps will be to break the cycle of rage that plagues humanity. I've watched landscapers and observed that while it's sometimes difficult, replanting trees is fairly commonplace. What is truly a miracle to me is teaching a child how to get beyond anger to find healing and constructive response. It's a miracle and lesson we can only teach if we have found the way ourselves. And we can.

We live side by side with people from all over the world who live out their love or their rage in the actions of their lives. And the potential for this same love or rage lives side by side in each of us. We can choose how those raw emotions get acted out. We can make pledges to those around us to let the negative in our lives produce positive growth. And we can only succeed by grace and God's love.

Let us pray, Lord increase in us the faith to find the power, love and self discipline to conquer the anger and rage that is formed in us. Find in us the seeds of faith, whether small or large and bring them growth to accomplish in us that which we could never imagine. Inspire us with prophets and saints, encourage us with teachers and friends, be our guide and source of faith and allow us to be channels of your peace. Through Jesus Christ we pray. Amen.

© 2007 St. George's Episcopal Church, Maplewood, NJ