The times, they are a changin'--fast

In a recent response to a FaceBook posting by Diana Butler Bass regarding the current economic struggles, I wrote:

The challenge is that we are getting to the point (if we're not already there) in which the current model is unaffordable and unsustainable. The same "back to the good old days" mantra that reverberates throughout the church does so in politics and economics as well. The question is: How do we get a sustainable and compassionate economic system and how can we get enough of a momentum shift to elect folks to implement it?

I've previously spoken and written about the fact that the age of Modernity, which began to decay fifty years ago, has reached it's final years, if not months. In the face of the aftermath of the Great Recession, governments from school districts to states to our nation can no longer afford to keep alive the systems and patterns of life that all but the Greatest Generation (who are rapidly dying off...) accept as normal parts of life. We have come to the end of being able even to pretend to afford the lifestyle to which we have become accustomed--economically, socially, ecologically, even spiritually. The difficulty is that as we ask "What next?" very few people are willing to ask the question "How do we get a sustainable and compassionate system?" in any area of life. Most are looking backwards and warning of terrible calamities if some people (generally not them) don't "sacrifice" something to return to the "good old days" of yesteryear. Never mind that the "good old days" were rarely, if ever, good for everyone. In other words, those who look longingly back at the "good old days" are generally those with the most to lose, and thus those with the greatest fear of what is to come. Hence the place we at which we have arrived in our political discourse.


A colleague of mine has recently blogged about the absence of fear by those who have spoken truth to power in Egypt and in other parts of the world. Coincidentally (or perhaps God-incidentally), the Gospel for this coming Sunday addresses exactly this sort of basic fear. Jesus says:

"Therefore I tell you, do not worry about your life, what you will eat or what you will drink, or about your body, what you will wear. Is not life more than food, and the body more than clothing? Look at the birds of the air; they neither sow nor reap nor gather into barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not of more value than they? And can any of you by worrying add a single hour to your span of life? And why do you worry about clothing? Consider the lilies of the field, how they grow; they neither toil nor spin, yet I tell you, even Solomon in all his glory was not clothed like one of these. But if God so clothes the grass of the field, which is alive today and tomorrow is thrown into the oven, will he not much more clothe you-- you of little faith? Therefore do not worry, saying, `What will we eat?' or `What will we drink?' or `What will we wear?' For it is the Gentiles who strive for all these things; and indeed your heavenly Father knows that you need all these things. But strive first for the kingdom of God and his righteousness, and all these things will be given to you as well. (Matthew 6:24-34)

Keep in mind that Jesus is speaking to people in a much more materially precarious position than most of us are experiencing today. In Jesus' time there was no social safety net, no homeless shelter, no soup kitchen, not even any government that even pretended to be the least bit responsive. The people Jeus is speaking to live a tenuous existence in a region occupied by a hostile foreign army. Human life, as Thomas Hobbes would describe it more than 1500 years later was very often "...nasty, brutish, and short."

The point, then and now, is not to simply sit around hoping and praying for divine provision and deliverance. Jesus doesn't say "don't worry, be happy!" What Jesus does say is "Strive first for the kingdom of God and his righteousness." What that means for us is that we are called not to be paralyzed by worry, nor to react in fear, but to proactively partner with God in bringing God's kingdom to fruition in our own lives and in the lives of the people and systems that surround us. It is a call to action (strive) not reaction (worry). If we can get over our worries and our fears, what might God accomplish through us?

Light and Life: Epiphany

Hail! the heaven-born Prince of Peace!
Hail! the Son of Righteousness!
Light and life to all He brings,
risen with healing in His wings.

Hark! The Herald Angels Sing
-- Charles Wesley(1707-1788), 1739

A little light-hearted (pun intended) offering for today:



Several days ago, we marked the end of the Christmas season on Epiphany (January 6), the celebration of the arrival of the Magi at the stable in Bethlehem. Never mind that the chronology is problematic (i.e. how did they get there in 12 days, and why were Joseph and Mary in the same spot 12 days later, but I digress...). The point (I think...) is that Jesus was worshipped by Jew and Gentile alike from the moment of his birth--there was a recognition that God was doing something new and momentous in the world.

I always choke a bit on Christmas carols, such as Away in a Manger, that like to romanticize the birth narrative of Jesus. There is a sense from these songs that Mary and Joseph wandered into the sleepy little town of Bethlehem after a quick trip down the interstate, dropped by a local Motel 6, saw a "No Vacancy" sign, and settled into a nice comfortable stable where Jesus was born in serene silence with some nice heavenly music playing in the background. To the extent that the story is accurate, what you really have is a young couple forced by the authorities (occupying forces, no less) to make a perilous journey through often dangerous places to a town that had probably quadrupled in population, likely spending at least hours if not days trying to find somewhere, anywhere safe, to have a child that was literally in the process of being born and finally ending up in a cave or shabby outbuilding amongst none-too-clean animals and finding only a feeding trough to lay the newborn Jesus in as Roman soldiers patrolled the streets outside on alert for trouble. I'm guessing that Jesus probably was like most other children and screamed his lungs out at his birth. So, the story is pretty much of a young couple in trying circumstances having a baby in a filthy stable after being exhausted by travel and a fruitless search to find adequate lodging. Hardly the scene for the most important birth in human history!

Oddly enough, the story of the Prince of Peace being born in less-than-ideal circumstances, into a highly unsafe territory occupied by Roman forces gives me plenty of comfort. As I mentioned in my sermon last Sunday, Jesus is not born into peace, Jesus is our peace. God did not wait for ideal circumstances to break into the world in the person of Jesus--the flight into Egypt to avoid Herod's massacre of the children of Bethlehem demonstrates that. What God does do is come into our messy, harried, less-than-ideal lives and transforms them from the inside out. Slowly, even imperceptibly, but constantly and surely.

That's really what this Epiphany season is all about: light in darkness. The liturgical season of Epiphany highlights that in the midst of the winter darkness and cold, the light of Christ breaks in, warming and illuminating our lives. How will we each carry that light into the world?

Jars of Clay or Feet of Clay?

But we have this treasure in jars of clay to show that this all-surpassing power is from God and not from us. - 2 Corinthians 4:7

Last week I was thinking about the Gospel passage for this past Sunday, the Second Sunday of Advent, I thought about the Gospel as meaning "good news" and how much bad news surrounds us, even bombards us, on a daily basis. The economy is a shambles, people continue to struggle to make ends meet--even governments are struggling to make ends meet--and there seems to be a daily litany of people who we have put our hopes in to get us out of this mess and inevitably disappoint us with either personal failings or failing to move in the direction we think they should. They truly have "feet of clay," easily shattered.

By contrast, John the Baptist is not the least bit setting himself up as the solution to any problem. In fact, he is probably the least likely person you would want as a problem solver. He has this distressing habit of speaking his mind, no matter what that is, and he's not one for subtlety. As I thought about him and his message, I recalled the above passage and several things seemed to click. The fact is, all of us are clay jars--unadorned, perhaps dirty, hardly worthy of a second look from outside. And yet we have a treasure within us: the power of God to transform us and those around us. That's what the Incarnation is all about--God with us. May we know ourselves to be bearers of the light of Christ just as Mary was the bearer of the Christ that first Christmas.

Setting Us Free

"The inherited churchly institutions in the United States are typically engaged in inducing people to join, support and attend church ... in order to worship the church, not to glorify and enjoy God, and in order to enhance some churchly cult, not to esteem and enact the Gospel.  The sanction for this appeal is a venerable one - the sale of indulgences.  (People) are persuaded that by serving the church, by spending time and money and talent on the church, they can accomplish and exchange for merit and gain a justified status with God.  Yet secreted in the idolatry of church is the same futile worship of the power of death inherent in any idolatrous relationship. And from that, even when it is shrouded in the trappings of church, has Christ set (us) free." -- William Stringfellow, Imposters of God

A colleague of mine recently wrote a very interesting blog post referencing the above book. As someone who is Priest-in-Charge of a church in what I have often referred to as "the rebuilding phase" of its life, the above is pretty convicting--too often the church can become an end in and of itself rather than a means to the end of proclaiming the Gospel in word and deed. Though we have already set out our mission and vision at St. Edward's, the challenging part remains--discerning how God is calling us to live out, or incarnate, that mission and vision.  This morning I talked about the "the hope to which he has called [us]" (Eph 1:18b) to which St. Paul refers. That hope is the hope of All Hallows Eve and All Saints Day, that even death has been overcome to such an extent that we can make fun of it by dressing up as ghosts and goblins!

So where do we go with that hope? What do we do with it? How do we communicate it? And who will go with us? Stay tuned....

Room for Transitions

When talking with one of my wisdom friends recently (wisdom friend means someone with more grey hair than me) they talked about how we often don’t make room in our lives for times of transition; we don’t consciously acknowledge and attend to the emotional space of life changes, be they hopeful changes such as a new job or new opportunity or tough changes such as the loss of someone or the physical or cognitive changes in ourselves or those we love. Too often, they said, we tend to expect the same of ourselves in these moments as we do in other periods of our life. Too often we don’t find ways to mark and face openly that which our guts are registering quite clearly. -- Todd Donatelli, Father of the Bride blog entry at Episcopal Cafe

Though discussing the upcoming marriage of his daughter, Dean Donatelli makes an excellent point about making "room in our lives for times of transition." However, when I think of transition I think about the last year of my own life and the life of this congregation. My family and I had the transition of moving to temporary housing in San Carlos a year ago and then moving again to the Rectory in September. While we are profoundly grateful for a wonderful house and it is wonderful to be able to simply walk across the parking lot to and from work, this has certainly been a year of multiple transitions for our family. Of course, St. Edward's has been in transition for more than 18 months since my predecessor and others departed. We've spent the almost the entirety of my time here attempting to live into our identity as "ransomed, healed, restored, [and] forgiven" people, and we're making progress in that effort. When I look back on the last year, I can hardly believe all of the changes that have occurred!

So, it is perhaps past time to give ourselves a little room to settle in to this transitional period. The first "room" will be our combined All Hallows Eve/All Saints Day service at 9 a.m. a week from this coming Sunday, on October 31. We will gather, we will celebrate, we will take a breath, and we will liturgically and literally break bread together at the Eucharist and potluck, respectively. The second opportunity for "room" will be a four-week series on "Being the Church in the 21st Century" that will be on Wednesday evenings during Advent (December 1, 8, 15, and 22) from 7:30 to 9 p.m. in Hallstead Hall. We'll look at the various cultural shifts occurring in the world and how we as a church might not only survive but position ourselves to thrive in such a culture. More information to follow, and other opportunities for "room" will be announced as they occur.

Losing Heart and Praying Always

Jesus told his disciples a parable about their need to pray always and not to lose heart. - Luke 18:1

As we move through October as a parish, we come to the annual time in which we, once again, focus on God's call to us as a parish and make an appeal for resources (both time and money) to enable St. Edward's to fulfill that calling: The Fall Pledge Campaign. This is no mere exercise in strategic planning, nor is it a PBS-like fund-raising appeal (we don't even have thank-you gifts!), but rather, at its best, it is a careful and prayerful discernment of the realities of ministry in our mission context (West San Jose) and who God is calling us to be and what God is calling us to do within that context.

We have already articulated a four-fold mission: Welcome all. Worship fully. Witness to God's grace. Walk the way of Christ. That has been discerned by the Vestry and affirmed by the congregation. Now that big question: How exactly to we live that mission out?

The disciples were no strangers to discouragement. Over and over again, Jesus turned their world upside-down and shattered their expectations about what following Jesus should be like. Jesus refused to be limited by people's preconceptions (and misconceptions) about what being a Christ-follower should entail. The passage quoted above is a part of the Gospel reading for this coming Sunday. It is a reminder to us, yet again, that we do not accomplish the ministry to which God has called us in isolation. In fact, mistakenly believing that we can do things on our own causes us to "lose heart"--to lose the drive and the passion to do the work that God has given us to do. The solution? Pray always. Remind ourselves that rather that being cast into the world to fend for ourselves, we are instead full partners with God in the work of God in the world.

I don't know about you, but I find that I am frequently disheartened these days. The world is a mess, the economy is only sluggishly improving, and  people are hardly flocking to churches in droves. It is a difficult time in which to live, and even more difficult to live out one's Christian faith authentically--there is so much to distract and dishearten! Yet God's call to us is undiminished in either its applicability or its urgency--and we are made to respond to that call, and to do so joyfully!

So as we as a parish refine and recommit to our calling from God, I invite members and friends of St. Edward's to consider you own involvement in, and financial support of, God's mission and ministry in this place. Please pray always as we anticipate together what God would have us do in partnership with God.

Whose Kingdom Are We Building?

One of the best experiences I've had recently was a two-conference trip I took to Seattle several weeks ago. I began with a group of entrepreneurial Episcopal Church clergy that were gathered to talk about leadership in the Episcopal Church of the twenty-first century. Originally convened by retired Bishop Claude Payne (author of Reclaiming the Great Commission), the group was a collection of priests and bishops from across the country who were focused on a hopeful future for the Episcopal Church and not, for once, focused on the ongoing sexuality disputes that seem to come up whenever two or three are gathered, to paraphrase a biblical passage. We talked with each other, learned from each other, laughed with (and occasionally at) each other, and pretty much encouraged one another. There was no real "expert" who guided us along but simply a handful of colleagues sharing some of their own journey.

Perhaps one of the most profound questions I heard at that gathering is this one: "Whose kingdom are we building?" Those of us who work in and for the church tend to focus on survival of the institution--that desire to grow so that we preserve what is here for the future. Yet nowhere in the early church does there seem to be any similar emphasis. Most often, Jesus refers to the "Kingdom of God" and, in fact, in the Lord's Prayer we pray "thy/your Kingdom come." Even in the definition of church membership, it says nothing about the church as such. A member of the Episcopal Church is defined as someone who "works, prays, and gives for the spread of the Kingdom of God." So the question must always be asked: Are we building and spreading the Kingdom of God, or some substitute Kingdom?

After three days there, I then attended the Catalyst One Day conference in Seattle. At that conference, much more evangelically-based,  I heard Pastor Greg Groeschel of LifeChurch speak. Among other things he and other pastors talked about--guess what--building the Kingdom of God rather than building up individual churches! I also felt something I've rarely felt in such an evangelical gathering--a genuine welcome and acceptance of the variety of ways of doing and being church. I'm fairly certain that they would not agree with any number of theological positions that the Episcopal Church holds, but I heard not a word of condemnation or competition--just encouragement to build the Kingdom of God. How cool is that?!

Several days ago, as if to reinforce the message, I ran across following video from last year's multi-day Catalyst 2009 Conference:




What a great statement, and a great reminder, from two different and distinct voices: it's all about the Kingdom of God.

I pray that is what we are building here at St. Edward's as we have people come and, God willing, join us. I hope and pray that we are building the Kingdom of God, not the Kingdom of St. Edward's or, God forbid, the Kingdom of (Fr.) Tom. As we focus on our four-fold mission to welcome all, worship fully, witness to God's grace, and walk the way of Christ, I pray that others will be eager to join us on this journey.

See you Sunday---and bring a friend!