A sermon by Benjamin J. Newland on the 17th Sunday after Pentecost (Proper 21)

Esther 7:1-6, 9-10; 9:20-22

Psalm 124

James 5:13-20

Mark 9:38-50

When I sat down to write this sermon, I wanted to do two things. I wanted to share with you the story of Esther, and I wanted to explore with you the concept of hell. I re-read the entire book of Esther in preparation, and pulled C.S. Lewis’s final Narnia tale off my bookshelf to brush up on his neo-platonic vision of heaven and hell. Instead of doing either of these things, however, I immediately got sidetracked by the disciples making yet another mistake and Jesus correcting them in a perfectly fascinating way. There is generally more to say than can be said in a single sermon, so Esther and hell will have to wait for another time. Instead, let us talk of the casting out of demons.

In the eighteenth verse of the ninth chapter of the Gospel of Mark, a man whose son is possessed by a demon says to Jesus, “I asked your disciples to cast it out, but they could not do so.” Chapter nine verse eighteen is not part of our scripture portion for this morning, but it is important to us, because we begin today’s Gospel reading with the disciples reporting to Jesus that they had caught someone casting out demons even though he wasn’t a disciple, so they tried to stop him. If we only had today’s reading in mind, it might be possible to assign a reasonable motive to the disciples.

Perhaps they were concerned that this unknown person might be doing harm and using Jesus’ name while doing it. Maybe they were worried that Jesus’ teachings were getting misused and wanted only to protect their rabbi. If you didn’t know that almost immediately before this story the disciples themselves had failed to do Jesus work, it might be possible to think that they weren’t simply jealous of this stranger who seemed to be able to do the work of Jesus without even being a part of Jesus’ entourage. In fact, the only thing that happened between the disciples failure to cast out the child’s demon and this attempt to ban others from that same work was last week’s argument about which disciple was to be the greatest. Clearly, they are still not thinking along the lines Jesus would like them to.

Jesus, full of patience today, replies calmly. “Do not stop him… Whoever is not against us is for us.” This is a fascinating thing to say. Most often, when you hear this phrase spoken, the words ‘for’ and ‘against’ are switched, rendering the phrase, “Whoever is not for us is against us.” Said in that way, it sounds very much like an ultimatum; it sounds like “We are right, and you can either agree with us or go to hell”. The way Jesus says it this morning, “Whoever is not against us is for us,” sounds much more like an invitation; it sounds like “Perhaps we are not now reading from the same page, but I bet we are reading the same book.”

The disciples come to Jesus, hoping that he will be pleased with them for having maintained the sanctity of their tight-knit community. “We are Jesus’ true followers,” they reason, “we have put in the time  listening to him, made the sacrifices to stay with him, and run the risks of associating with him. Therefore, only we deserve to exercise power in his name.” You can understand their thinking, I expect; it is a very human kind of thought process that has led them to believe that they are special and others are not. Jesus informs them that they are only half right. They are special, but so are others. The work of God’s Kingdom, which is begun in Jesus, will be carried out by the disciples, yes, but also by anyone who is willing to work in the name of Christ.

It is not hard to apply this lesson to our own lives. How many times have you been told, by another Christian, that you are not really a Christian? Or that you are not Christian enough? That you, while you may think you are a Christian, are doing something, or believing something, that real Christians do not do or believe. As Episcopalians, it is easy to encounter this attitude when dealing with Christians from traditions that do not appreciate or understand our formal liturgical style. This need not be an issue of denominations, however; as Christians who vote for democrats you can find this kind of attitude amongst Christians who vote for Republicans. It works the other way around just as well. It is easy to put ourselves in the place of the anonymous exorcist whom the disciples disapprove of.

Now, a more difficult question. How many times have you told another Christian that they are not really Christian? Maybe you have pretty good control of your mouth and you’ve never said anything quite that rude out loud. So, how many times have you thought it? As members of a church with a formal liturgical style and fairly reserved behavior, how many times have you looked down on Christians who preach on street corners, or canvas neighborhoods, or speak in tongues? How many times have you, convinced that Jesus would surely hold exactly your own positions on the political issues of the day, automatically assumed that those on the other side of said issues who claim to be Christians are merely self-delusional? It is easier to be the wronged stranger than the jealous disciples, but the reality is that all of us have probably been on both sides of this equation at some point in our lives.

Allow me to be the first to admit guilt. I have only ever been an Episcopalian, though I came to it later in life than some. I think the Episcopal church is the best possible church. I am like a New Yorker who can’t quite believe that there are people who don’t want to live in New York City. I can’t quite believe that people who belong to other denominations are serious. Surely, given a proper understanding of all the options, everyone would choose to be an Episcopalian?

It is probably useful for a priest of the church to think he’s in the best possible church to be in. I wouldn’t make a very good Episcopal priest if I secretly thought the Baptists were way better at Christianity than we were. And yet, this is a very real and potentially harmful arrogance on my part. I am like the disciples who are assuming that they are the in-group—that they are the closest to, and most trusted of, Jesus Christ. Others may join the bandwagon, but we are the true disciples—the only real Christians.

Jesus says, no. No you are not the only real Christians. Whoever is not against us is for us. Or, in other words, those who work in Jesus’ name but not on our terms are not our enemies. We are not the only beloved children of God; or rather, we are, but so are all those other people who are trying to do the work of God in Jesus’ name. AMEN.

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The Friday Letters

25 September 2009

Sergius, Abbot of Holy Trinity, Moscow

My Brothers and Sisters in Christ,

As I write you this morning there is a rather nice fog loitering about the Puyallup Valley. The weather oracles predict sunshine later in the day, but each of the next ten days are foretold to have temperatures peaking at less that seventy degrees. It seems as if the long, hot summer may be at an end. The smell of the evening air these past few nights has certainly evoked Fall in my mind. Next week’s Friday Letter will reach you on the second day of October, and the fullness of the season will undoubtedly be upon us.

I would like to commend to your reading the book of Esther. On Sunday, we will read a portion of this most interesting Scripture comprising the climax of the story in chapter seven and jumping ahead to the institution of the Jewish Feast of Purim in chapter nine. In preparation for this week’s sermon I reread the entire book (it isn’t that long) and was reminded of how excellent a story it is, featuring such an amazing central character.

Having done my preparatory work early in the week I then proceeded to write a sermon that in no wise included Esther, being distracted as I was by the Gospel reading and Jesus’ statement that “Whoever is not against us, is for us”. You will hear nothing about Esther on Sunday morning from the pulpit, but she comes up so seldom in our lectionary that I didn’t want her to escape our notice entirely. Please read Esther; it is a wonderful book. Perhaps a few of us might be interested enough to read the book together at the Nine O’clock hour on Sundays in October? Just a thought; please let me know if you’d be interested.

Along with the weather that heralds Fall, all those events that go with the season are also upon us. There is much going on around the church in the next weeks. I encourage you to read The eClarion closely and keep up with out community life. I’ll be doing an in-depth update of our online calendar next week, so very soon you can turn to that source of information for details about all the activities and celebrations to come. I know many will regret the passing of warm days, but I look forward to Fall weather nearly as much as I look forward to the community events that go with it.

Peace,

Ben.

by Benjamin J. Newland

Proverbs 31:10-31

Psalm 1

James 3:13-4:3, 7-8a

Mark 9:30-37

The theme of the day is Wisdom. Our reading from the Old Testament is from the book of Proverbs, part of a collection of writings called Wisdom Literature. The Epistle reading from James addresses the contrast between wisdom from below and wisdom from above. Finally, while the Gospel passage does not mention wisdom directly, in it, Jesus upsets the conventional wisdom regarding greatness.

‘Conventional wisdom’ is a great phrase. It bears exactly the same utility as the phrase, ‘common sense’. You can turn both around on themselves to get a more accurate picture of the world. If someone tells you that something is just ‘common sense’, the witty reply is to say that common sense isn’t. ‘Common sense’ is not all that common. The same goes for ‘conventional wisdom’. In general, conventional wisdom isn’t wisdom. I don’t remember much about my High School physics class, but what I do remember is my teacher’s favorite saying: “The two most common elements in the universe are Hydrogen and Stupidity.” The first is a scientific truth. The second is a philosophical one.

Jesus & Co. are sneaking through Galilee, apparently because Jesus wanted some private instruction time with just the disciples. The don’t seem to have benefited overmuch from this intensive study though, because when Jesus again tries to tell them of the way his life will end, the still do not understand. They have come to understand that Jesus is special—set apart by God—but they continue to think of this specialness within the confines of conventional wisdom. So it is that when they arrive at Capernaum Jesus catches them out for having spent the last few miles trying to work out which one of them was in for the greatest share of the goodies once Jesus did whatever it was that he was going to do and became King of the World.

If we are going to talk about wisdom in the Biblical sense, it would be wise (no pun intended) to start with the Hebrew Scriptures. A certain portion of the Hebrew Scriptures are referred to as wisdom literature because of their style and content. Ecclesiastes, Ben Sirah, Job, certain of the Psalms, and the book of Proverbs are examples of wisdom literature. For the most part, they speak plainly and directly, which is a refreshing change for scriptures in general, and they address the topic of wisdom.

The portion of Proverbs read aloud this morning concerns the capable wife. While the straightforward address of wisdom literature is generally a good thing, in this poem it quickly becomes rather intimidating as the text heaps praise upon praise. The capable wife quickly becomes a super woman who can apparently do everything and do it surpassingly well. The capable wife is awake before dawn and after dark, runs a vineyard and a farm, produces goods for the market, takes care of the poor and her children, and acquires, prepares, and presents meals to her husband. Also, she’s very strong. Not even June Cleaver could stand up to this woman.

There are a few ways look at this possibly unrealistic portrayal. This first is simply to note that, while perhaps exaggerated, many woman are simply very impressive people, and the Bible too often overlooks that fact. I don’t know any women who can match up against every verse in this long poem, but I do know plenty who match up very well against individual verses are do so with a grace that certainly implies divinity to me.

Another way to come at this poem is from the metaphorical side. This is actually an acrostic poem—each verse begins with a letter of the Hebrew alphabet until all are used. Thus, it seems more likely a composite picture of women’s virtues rather than a portrayal of one woman. In fact, this may be a description of a personified Wisdom herself rather than any mortal woman.

Which leads us to one of the most interesting facets of wisdom literature. In the Hebrew Scriptures, Wisdom is more than a concept or means of teaching. Wisdom is God, or at least, an aspect of God. I don’t know enough about Hebrew theology to explain this very well from a Jewish perspective, but from a Christian perspective Wisdom is one of the ways we see the Holy Spirit in the Old Testament. Referred to as feminine, Wisdom is the mystical aspect of God that pervades human interactions and allows us to be close to God in the simple choices and thoughts of our lives. Thus wisdom literature, while it often seems concerned with practicalities and useful ways to live, is ultimately concerned with nearness to God.

Of course, when we talk about wisdom these days we generally aren’t talking about God, but about being clever, or smart, or intelligent. This debate about what wisdom really is—the fear of God or the brilliance of humanity—is not a new debate. It is the debate that James refers to in the Epistle lesson today.

“Who is wise?” James wants to know, and then implies the answer by ordering wisdom to be demonstrated through a good life and works done gently. There is a sharp divide between wisdom from above and wisdom from below and there is no question which James prefers. Wisdom from below reflects not God’s ordering of our lives but our own self interest. James cites envy and selfish ambition as primary sources for this wisdom of cleverness which we use to satisfy our own desires rather than God’s. This is an accusation just as powerfully against us today as it was against James’ original audience, for our popular culture today depends on envy and selfish ambition every bit as much as it depends on fossil fuels. That’s not an environmental argument, by the way, just a moral one.

James is fed up with conflict and yearns for peace. I’m quoting from my commentary now, “[James] is sick and tired of hearing what people think about faith in God. He is unimpressed by wisdom and understanding, at least the kind that people use to pound on one another. The only wisdom that interests James is the wisdom from above, which has nothing to do with having good ideas and everything to do with living good lives.”

So it was that when Jesus realized that his disciples had yet again failed to understand how differently Jesus planned to end things, and that they were still thinking in terms of envy and selfish ambition, he rebuked them not by arguing but by demonstrating the kinds of lives he was expecting them to live from now on.

“He sat down, called the twelve, and said to them, ‘Whoever wants to be first must be last of all and servant of all.’ Then he took a little child and put it among them; and taking it in his arms, he said to them, ‘Whoever welcomes one such child in my name welcomes me, and whoever welcomes me welcomes not me but the one who sent me.’”

The word Jesus uses for servant is diakonos, which we’ve made into Deacon, but before it meant a servant of the church it meant a person who served everyone else meals. A servant who ate only after everyone else ate, and only what, if anything, was left to eat. The connection between such a lowly servant and a child is not obvious to us anymore, but in the ancient near east of Jesus’ time children were every bit as lowly as such a servant.

Jesus says to his disciples, and to us, ‘conventional wisdom about who is greater than whom, and what you can expect for following me, is right out the window. The Wisdom that comes from God is anything but conventional. Let us pray that we might be wise enough receive that wisdom which comes from God, that we might be servants and children in God’s kingdom, that we might live lives of goodness and peace. AMEN.

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The Friday Letters

18 September 2009

My Brothers and Sisters in Christ,

I am, at this point, recovered from whatever disease was accosting my health last weekend. Monday was the day where I felt completely recovered but if I walked up a flight of stairs I had to take a nap because it exhausted me. Tuesday and on got progressively better.

It seems like I get sick after each vacation I take. Others report the same phenomenon, and claim that it has something to do with either A) being over stressed at work and collapsing when the stress is removed, or B) having a little too much fun on vacation. I don’t feel all that stressed normally, so maybe I’m having too much fun. Either way, I’ve got one more week of vacation left this year so I’ll try to be stress free and not have any fun. Next year I’m taking all my vacation at once. That way, I’ll get sick after the first week then be recovered by the time I get back!

I am very much looking forward to being with you all in church this Sunday. I’m ready for choral music and Sunday School, and to celebrate the Eucharist amidst my people again. Church is all about community, as far as I can tell, in all of its wonderful and tragic variety. I am, as are we all, called to be an individual of that community—not the body ourselves, but a member of the body—which is made whole in Jesus Christ.

Peace,

Ben.

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The Friday Letters

11 September 2009

My Brothers and Sisters in Christ,

One of the fun things about going to a convention is the Swag. If you’ve been away from the convention scene for awhile and aren’t up on the lingo, Swag is the free stuff you get from the vendors as you go from booth to booth. I was told this year that S.W.A.G. stands for Stuff We All Get, though whether the acronym came first or was cleverly appended after the fact is a Chicken-and-Egg question that I cannot answer. Swag might be something as little as a business card, or it might be a small sample of their product, or a chance to win something bigger in a drawing of some sort. I like to pronounce Swag with a faux-Germanic accent: Schwag. Gives it a touch of class I think.

Swag is fun at a regular, business-oriented kind of convention. Diocesan conventions don’t usually have too much Swag, though I do enjoy a walk through the vendor hall to see who’s selling what. General Convention, the national version of our local convention, has a huge convention hall full of every kind of Episcopal merchandise you could ask for, and then some that you didn’t ask for. I’m sure some of you have attended conventions related to your own professions and know what I’m talking about.

Of course, the convention I went to last weekend was decidedly not a business-related convention. PAX (the Penny Arcade eXpo) began as a video game conference ten years ago and has since evolved to include other forms of gaming and ‘nerd’ culture. There are panel discussions and lectures (I went to one on game theory and another on why it’s important for loosing to be fun), nerd themed concerts (yes, there are nerd bands. We call them ‘nerdcore’), and a myriad of opportunities to play games both video and tabletop. If regular Swag is kinda fun, imagine how much more fun Swag is when thought up and delivered by people who’s sole job it is to get you to play! Jieun and I picked up six new board games that I’m willing to bet you’ve never heard of. Let me know if you’d like a demo, but I’m warning you, if you still think Monopoly is a relevant board game you are in for a surprise.

In addition to Swag and new games, I managed to come home with another free gift. His name is H1N1, though he likes to be called by his gamer tag: SwineFlu. Honestly, I don’t know if that’s officially what I have, but H1N1 was going around at the convention and I’m feeling under the weather as of yesterday. I called my doctor this morning and was informed by her nurse that they weren’t testing otherwise healthy people with flu symptoms, but given my circumstances I should assume that I’m infected. Maybe I won’t get super sick myself, but I’m probably a carrier. I told her I was a priest and she said absolutely do not go to church on Sunday. So, good news for you! You get another week’s break from me!

In all seriousness, this is super frustrating to me. I feel like I’ve been sick more often since I moved to Puyallup than I’ve been at other churches. I can’t remember ever missing two Sundays in one year because of illness. This time is even worse, because I truly don’t feel all that bad and would normally choose to work despite the symptoms. Nevertheless, while I would almost certainly survive even a really bad case of influenza, there are those who attend our parish that might be in more serious danger, so, home I will stay. Fr. Joseph will be with you again on Sunday for an encore performance of last week’s liturgy.

One of the odd things about vacation for me is that while I am away from work it seems like I do quite a bit of thinking about work. This thinking is not the normal planning and task-dispatching work I do most of the time, but a more reflective kind of thinking about work in general. As I spent my week with family doing fun things I found myself subconsciously reflecting on my job. The conclusion I eventually came to was one I’ve arrived at before but enjoy seeing again: I really am very lucky to have the job I have. It is very difficult to imagine a church I’d rather be a part of, or people I’d rather bear sacraments to. As you celebrate this Sunday in my absence know that I will be thinking of you very sincerely that morning, particularly as this Sunday is the first Sunday of our new Sunday School, and I have such care for this new piece of our community life.

It’s probably at least 83% blasphemous to compare God to a vendor at a gaming convention, but I’m going to do it anyways. As you walk through the convention hall each vendor offers you Swag. You can choose to take it or not. Swag stands for Stuff We All Get, so in that sense there’s nothing all that special about it. And yet, if you don’t show up you can’t get it. If you choose not to attend at all, there is no Swag for you. If God had a booth at PAX, God’s Swag would be sacraments, I’m sure of it. I’m not sure if God would have the biggest, coolest booth, or the quietest, most humble booth. Either way, God’s love is Stuff We All Get, as long as we show up, attend the party, and accept it.

Peace,

Ben.

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