Church of St. Paul in The Desert

September 7, 2003 - Thirteenth Sunday After Pentecost

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September 7, 2003 - Thirteenth Sunday After Pentecost - Father Barry Woods

FIRST READING: Book of Proverbs 22: 1-2, 8-9, 22-23

PSALM: 125

SECOND READING: Letter of James 2: 1-17

GOSPEL: Mark 7: 24-37

So very often when we gather on these Sunday mornings, it is very difficult to figure out what the common theme of the lessons is. I am sure you have experienced this. It is difficult for preachers, and it is difficult for congregations. Sometimes, the preacher can't discern a common theme, and so he or she is forced to preach on three different themes. And so, the sermons become long and wandering, and everyone walks away scratching their heads, saying, "I wonder what that was all about?". Other times, it is even worse. There is no common theme, but the preacher forces a common theme into the lessons and restates all of the lessons so that they match what he or she thinks is the common theme. And, once again, everybody walks away saying, "I wonder what that was all about?". None of that ever happens in this Parish, and I am not being facetious - it doesn't happen here; but we have all been in Parishes, I am sure, where it does. So, there are some Sundays, many Sundays, where there is no readily discernible common theme in the lessons.

But that is not true this morning, is it? This morning, the common theme is very clear. The common theme of these lessons is partiality - partiality which excludes especially the poor and the outcast. In the lesson from Proverbs, the writer says, "The rich and the poor have this in common; the Lord is the maker of them all." And, in this line, you and I are reminded, if we needed a reminder, that no matter how well off you are or how poor you are, no matter what your sort and condition in life, we all have the same Creator. And you and I are once again reminded that, if we believe this, if we truly believe it, then there is no place in our lives for any kind of partiality.

In the second lesson, James nails the issue right up where everyone can see it, with no mincing of words, when he says, "But, if you show partiality, you commit sin". Not a popular word in the Episcopal Church, but it is pretty hard to escape the message of that second lesson. Partiality is a sin. When we show partiality, particularly partiality against the poor and the outcast, when we do that, we commit sin. We separate ourselves from our God.

And, in the Gospel, we have this curious story, where a woman of Cyro-Phoenician origin, a Gentile, an outcast of her time, comes to Jesus seeking healing, and He gives voice to one of the great partialities of His time. He gives voice to that partiality that excluded the Gentiles. He gives voice to that partiality by calling her, or comparing her, with a dog. Of course, He goes on to tear down that partiality, to remove it and to reject it, and He heals the woman's daughter.

And so, this morning, you and I, in these three lessons, are reminded that partiality denies God as Creator, that partiality is a sin, and that our Lord Jesus Christ did everything - one of the hallmarks of his whole ministry and life and death - was to remove partiality. We all experience partiality, and some of us commit it, it is sad to say. When it comes to the poor and the outcast, there are people around us, and maybe even sometimes ourselves, who say, "Well, if they are poor, it is because they made mistakes in their life, and they are not my responsibility." There are people around us who say, and sad to say, sometimes we, ourselves, who say, "If someone is poor, it is because they are lazy; it is a character defect, and it is not my responsibility". We have heard other people say, and sometimes we, ourselves, have said, "If they would just all go back to their own country, they wouldn't have these problems, and it is not my responsibility". And, when we hear those words in other people, and when, God forbid, we say them ourselves, the lessons today remind us that, in that moment, we have denied God as Creator. In that moment, we have committed sin, just as surely as if we had killed or stolen or committed adultery, we have sinned. And these lessons this morning remind us that, in that moment, when we hear those things or, God forbid, say those things, we are saying to the world, "Jesus died for nothing".

A professor, not too long ago, said something that has stuck with me. He was not a Virginia Seminary professor, and so it is quite amazing to me that I would have remembered what he said! (He also was not from the rector's seminary, so there is nothing here going on). But, this professor said, at one time, that one of the aspects of Christian worship is that it is a practice, it is a rehearsal for life. What he meant was that we gather together on these Sunday mornings, and we hear the Scripture lessons; we hear the record, the history of how God has guided His people in the past; and, in hearing those lessons, we are rehearsing, we are practicing, so that, when we go out into the world, we will be able to better see how He is guiding His people today - out there, in life, where it really matters. His point was that, when we gather around the altar and receive the Sacrament and experience the real presence of Christ in the Sacraments, it is a rehearsal, it is a practice for life, so that we will be better able to feel and see His presence - out there, in life, where it really matters. And his point was that, when we gather to say our prayers, we are practicing, we are rehearsing; we are making ourselves more sensitive to what is going on - out there, in life, where it really matters.

In a few minutes, you and I will, once again, hear the old familiar words of the prayer, "We most humbly beseech thee of thy goodness, O Lord, to comfort and succor all those who, in this transitory life, are in trouble, sorrow, need, sickness, or any other adversity." We will, once again, hear those old familiar words, and, this morning, let them not be just words. Let them be a rehearsal. Let them go down inside our hearts and re-sensitize our hearts to the plight of the poor and the outcast and all in adversity. Let those words seep down into our hearts and eradicate partiality of any kind, so that, when we leave here, our lives will be free of partiality - Out there, in life, where it really matters.

AMEN
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September 28, 2003 - 16th Sunday After Pentecost

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September 28, 2003 - 16th Sunday after Pentecost - Father Barry Woods

FIRST READING: Book of Esther 7: 1-6, 9-10, 9:20-22

PSALM: 124: 1-6

SECOND READING: James 5: 13-20

GOSPEL: Mark 9: 38-50

Have salt in yourselves. When I heard Father Suter read those words aloud - even though I read them to myself yesterday - when I heard them read aloud, I could feel my doctor cringe. He has been my doctor for several years now, and, every time I see him, he always says, "Use less salt". And I have tried and done a good job of using less salt, but he is never, ever, ever, satisfied, and I am sure that, if he were here this morning, which he is not, he would say, "Aha! Now I know why Barry doesn't do a good job with salt; it's against his religion to cut down on salt!"

But the salt this morning is, of course, not the salt that produces high blood pressure. The salt this morning that we are to have in ourselves is the salt of the Gospel of Jesus Christ - the mighty acts of God whereby He has rescued us from evil and death, and His powerful promises to restore us, finally, to a full relationship with Himself when Jesus comes again. The Gospel that has created a new people, you and me, for love and service to the world - this is the salt that we are to have in ourselves. The Gospel this morning reminds us to thank God that we do have this salt in ourselves.

The Gospel this morning is also a reminder that we can lose that salt. One of the ways we can lose that salt, it seems to me, is when we are too gentle in our war against evil. The picture of Jesus as meek and mild and gentle is a valid one and a good one, but it does not always serve adults in our battle with evil. Jesus did not come into the world to make a treaty with evil. He did not come in to make peace with it. He came to triumph over it. And His weapons were not the weapons of war - they were not the weapons of coercive power - they were the weapons of love, acceptance, and forgiveness, but they were weapons, nevertheless. Those same weapons are our weapons in our war against evil. But our love is not sentimental, touchy-feely, good feelings for people we like; and our acceptance is not approval; and our forgiveness is not pretending that nothing is wrong. Those are our weapons in our war against evil. Those weapons were bought for us at a terrible price, and we should never forget it. Those weapons were bought and paid for us by a man, the Son of God, who suffered and suffocated and bled to death on a cross overlooking the city garbage dump. And, when we go too gently in our war against evil, we cheapen that price, and we lose our salt.

Another way, it seems to me, that we can lose our salt is when we ally ourselves too closely with secular movements and parties and ways of looking at life - when we ally ourselves so closely with those secular movements that we lose our identity as Christians. We can and should ally ourselves with secular movements and parties. It is hard to avoid doing it. But, when we ally ourselves with those movements, parties, whatever, we go with the unique stance. We go with the love of God in our hearts, the name of Jesus Christ on our lips, and the sign of the cross on our foreheads. If we go in some other way and become so close to these secular movements that we lose that identity, then we become nameless faces on whatever the current bandwagon is, and we lose our salt.

And another way we can lose our salt is when we ignore those in need. The Gospel this morning talks about hands and feet and eyes that become stumbling blocks that cause us to stumble, and our hand causes us to stumble when we hold it up like this to someone in need and say, "I have no time for you; I have no resources for you." When that happens, our hand becomes a stumbling block. And our feet can become stumbling blocks when they cause us to cross to the other side of the street when we are being approached by someone in need, and when we cross over and pass by. And our eyes can become stumbling blocks for us when we turn a blind eye to those in need and pretend that they simply are not there. And when we use our hands and our feet and our eyes in those ways, it would be better for us if they were cut off. It would be better for us if a millstone was hung around our necks, and we were cast into the sea; because we have lost our salt.

When we leave here this morning, we will be singing the recessional hymn, and the words of the first verse go like this:

Where cross the crowded ways of life,

Where sound the cries of race and clan,

Above the noise of selfish strife,

We hear thy voice, O Son of Man.

This morning, the Gospel tells us what that voice is saying to you and to me -

Have salt in yourselves.

AMEN
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November 9, 2003 - 22nd Sunday After Pentecost

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November 9, 2003 - 22nd Sunday After Pentecost - Father Barry Woods

FIRST READING: Book of Ruth 3: 1-5; 4: 13-17

PSALM: 127

SECOND READING: Letter to the Hebrews 9: 24-28

GOSPEL: Mark 12: 38-44

I wonder why she did it. The Gospel story this morning tells us what the widow did, but it does not tell us why she did it.

By way of a little bit of background, you should know that, in first century Hebrew culture, widows did not occupy a very favorable state in life. All of the ancient codes of law have provisions for widows - some kind of inheritance provision - but not the Hebrew code, and it is a great mystery why such a Godly people would completely ignore, in their law, the plight of the widow. Of course, the Old Testament prophets are filled with admonitions against people who abuse widows, but the very existence of those admonitions indicates that widows occupied a very low place in society. No provision was made for any kind of inheritance whatsoever. It was probably a reflection of the Hebrew belief that, if a person died prior to reaching old age, he died from sin, and that sin was extended to all of his offspring and to his spouse - a hard teaching.

And also, by way of background, the treasury. . . There was a courtyard called the Court of the Women in the ancient temple, and, in this courtyard were a bunch of upside-down trumpets - trumpet-shaped containers - and it was into the top of these trumpet-shaped containers that the people placed their offerings, their taxes, and their tithes.

And so, the widow comes and places all that she had into one of these trumpets, and we know what she did - and we do not know why she did it.

It may have been not a voluntary act. Tithes and offerings, in those days, were a matter of law. They had to be given. So, perhaps she did it because she had to, to obey the law. I don't think that is why she did it, but it is a possibility.

Or, maybe, she did it because she felt some terrible guilt in her soul - something terrible that she had done or not done - and maybe giving all that she had was a way of expunging or relieving that feeling of guilt in her heart. Maybe that is why she did it. I don't think so, but maybe that is why she did it.

Maybe she did it because she wanted a little bit of notoriety. She didn't wear fancy clothes and blow trumpets like the Scribes and the Pharisees did, but she did get noticed - this poor woman putting all she had into the trumpet. She did get noticed, and maybe she did it because she wanted some notoriety - some notice. I don't think that is why she did it, but it's possible.

Maybe she did it because it was just a habit. You know, you just plunk something in that trumpet every time you go by it - it is just a habit to plunk it in. I don't think that is why she did it, but it's possible.

Maybe she did it because she was very, very realistic, and she had heard that the temple had a leaky roof and some plumbing that didn't work; and she just wanted to make sure that things kept going on together, and so she was just paying her share of the bills - you know, just to keep things going. Maybe that is why she did it. I don't think so, but it's possible.

Maybe she did it because of some blessing that had come into her miserable life, and her heart was filled with gratitude - gratitude to the God who had supplied something in her life that she was very happy with - some blessing. And, maybe she knew that, in some way, the temple - with all of its faults and all of its shortcomings and all of its human failings - that that temple was still the main sign, the main outward sign of God's Presence with His people. So, maybe she did it out of love and gratitude and a sense of mission, so that people around her would always know of God's Presence with them. Maybe that is why she did it.

I think so.

The Rector, who, as you know, is in Desert Hot Springs, where I was last Sunday, has asked me, along with the stewardship folks here in the Parish, to speak this morning about proportionate giving. Now, I am an ex-banker, so I am pretty good at arithmetic, and I know you are all pretty good at arithmetic, too. And you know all the formulas that you are supposed to have in your heart right now as you consider your commitment to this Parish. You know the arithmetic and what you are supposed to think about as a target - 10% of your income before taxes - and if that is not a realistic target for you, then you are supposed to come down a step and say - 10% of your income after taxes. And, if that is still a little bit too much, then there is what is known, in some circles, as the Episcopal tithe. Now, don't laugh! It is a pretty serious amount of money - it is $1 per week for every $1,000 dollars of pre-taxed annual income. That is another piece of arithmetic. That is 5.2%, by the way, in case you didn't know. And another formula is $1 per week for every $1,000 of annual after-tax income. And then you can bring it down a little bit more, and you can say, well $1 a week for every dollar I bring home - after all the deductions for medical care and all that. And then, of course, there is always $1 a week.

So, you know the arithmetic, and I won't bore you any more with that part of proportionate giving. But, in the next two weeks, each of us will have to deal with the question of how much we will commit to this Parish, and I hope that, as we deal with that question, we will think not only about what we have, but about what we have in our hearts. If you feel some compulsion to give, that is too bad. If you feel some guilt and think that giving will help that, you are wrong. If you are just going to take your share of the bills, well, we will take the money; but it is too bad. And, if you are just going to do it out of habit, we will take the money, but that is too bad. And what I hope is that we, as we ponder what we are going to do about this very personal thing, I pray that we will think not only, what do I have, but what do I have in my heart. And, hopefully, what we have in our hearts is the knowledge and the commitment that this place - with all of its faults and shortcomings and with all the things that are wrong - it is still the best sign in this community of the Presence of God in this place. It is still the best sign that people can hook onto when they need strength and love and forgiveness. It is still the best sign of the love of Christ for all of His people.

I think that, as I consider my pledge, and hopefully as you do, I will have in mind, not paying the bills, not paying the salary of the clergy, not doing any of those things - I will have in my heart the people who do not know Christ - the people out there for whom He is a stranger, the people out there who need Him, who need Him so much that they don't even know they need Him - and that we will keep them in mind and in our hearts.

I wonder why she did it? And I pray that we will all wonder why we do it.

AMEN
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December 21, 2003 - Fourth Sunday of Advent

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December 21, 2003 - Fourth Sunday of Advent - Father Barry Woods

FIRST READING: Micah 5: 2-5a

PSALM: 80: 1-6

SECOND READING: Hebrews 10: 5-10

GOSPEL: Luke 1: 39-55

More years ago than I care to think about, I was a student at the Virginia Seminary in Alexandria, Virginia - the Seminary - right Fred? We had about an hour between the end of morning chapel each morning and the beginning of the first class, and we used to spend that hour in a variety of ways, sometimes, of course, cramming for an exam. But, often, what we would do is that we would gather in the basement of the building where the student lounge was, and we would drink coffee, and we would have a little exercise among ourselves - no faculty present, just students - and, what we would do is that we would choose one person in a small group of six or seven men, and we would ask that one person to come up with one word or one phrase that, for him, described what it was to be a Christian, and he had to defend that position. Then he would make his case, and then we would all react to that - disagree, agree, what have you. Most of the time, we insisted that the word or phrase be from the Bible, but, once in a while, we would do this exercise, and the student-person was allowed to come up with his own phrase or use a phrase from some book that he had read, something other than the Bible. And, one morning, when it was my turn, I came up with this phrase: "Yes, but not yet". And, in defending my phrase as the key to the Christian life (of course, there is no right or wrong answer in all of this), I made the point that Christians live in the power of a great promise, a promise that, one day, Christ will come again, and everything will turn out the way we feel it should, and the way we know it should. Human life will be the way it ought to be; and the life of the world will be the way it ought to be; and all the good things that we are promised in Scripture will happen; and there will be a great monstrous Divine "Yes" to all of the promises - but not yet.

From the Old Testament lesson this morning: "He shall stand and feed His flock in the strength of the Lord" - Yes, but not yet. From the Gospel for this morning, "He has filled the hungry with good things" - Yes, but not yet. And, in a few minutes, we shall, once again, say in the Creed that we believe that "He will come again in glory to judge the living and the dead, and His Kingdom will have no end" - Yes, but not yet. All the things that you and I desire and crave for and the world longs for - they will all happen, Yes, but not yet. We live in this incredibly frustrating, in-between time - between the time of now and the "not yet".

How are we to live in this in-between time? The first thing, I think, we must all do is that we must never, ever, ever stop trusting the "Yes". No matter what life brings us, no matter how the life of the world seems to be going, you and I, as Christians, as the folks of Jesus, we must never, ever, ever let loose of that promise of "Yes". It must live in our hearts and in our minds and in our lives every day and every minute, no matter what; and, no matter what happens, we must never, ever, ever give up on the promise. We must never give up on the "Yes".

The second thing, I think, that maybe we need to do to live in this in-between time is to search constantly and expectantly and carefully through each of our days for the little "Yes's" that are there. Oh, they are partial, and, sometimes, they don't seem very significant, as compared to the negatives, but God has given us little "Yes's" in our lives and in the life of the world; and we need to search always and watch expectantly for them and work to bring them about - the little Yes's of life. God knows there are so many "Not-yet's" - "Not-yet's" in lives ruined by addictions and divorce and all the things that shred human lives. God knows we live in a time of political turmoil and wars and rumors of wars and all the other nasty stuff, but also, out there in your life and in mine, every day, there are little "Yes's"; and, you and I, if we are to live as Christians in this in-between time, we must look for those little "Yes's", and we must work to bring them about.

Finally, maybe there is one other thing that we should do in this "Yes, but not yet"-time. God has given us some signs of His Kingdom. He knew that there would be times when we would be discouraged and forget His promise, and so He gave us reminders, signs that we might always recall the promise. They are inconsequential by themselves, but He has given these signs to His Church to encourage His people in their pilgrimage toward the "Yes, but not yet". A little bit of water poured on a forehead, a little piece of bread placed in our hand, a small sip of wine to pass our lips - we must tend these signs with the most loving care and devotion that we can. We must submit ourselves to their power and tend them and love them with great affection. That is how we live in this in-between time, I think. We never stop trusting the "Yes". We look and work for the little "Yes's" of life, and we tend those great symbols of the Kingdom - the water, the bread, and the wine.

Maybe there is one more thing. Maybe one other thing that we can do to live in this in-between time is to say, from the bottom of our hearts, every day -

"Jesus, I love You; Jesus, I love You; Jesus, I love You"

- and keep saying it until that great day when He comes again, or maybe only until we simply run out of breath.

Yes - but not yet.

AMEN
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