Changing the Rules

To Read the Collect and Texts from this Sunday, please click here.

The Sixth Sunday after the Epiphany, Year A

February 16, 2014

The Rev. Christopher L. Caddell

If there was one rule in Ms. Robinson’s third grade classroom it was “Thou shalt not shoot baskets at the trashcan.”

I’m not sure what else I remember about third grade, but I do remember that.  Consequently I also remember quite clearly my feelings one spring afternoon as I sat out of recess as a punishment for something I clearly did not do. 

I sat in that room with one of my classmates, each of us writing furiously on a piece of paper, “I will not shoot baskets at Ms. Robinson’s trashcan.”

We each had to fill two pages, front and back, with that sentence.  I learned quite quickly that writing in large letters was not going to cut it.  As I crumpled up those two pieces of paper, she peered over her glasses to see if I had the gall to pitch it at the trashcan.

I did not, and I sat down in a huff to begin again.  As I wrote, the list of injustices mounted in my mind.

Ms. Robinson, had not actually seen me do anything wrong.  When asked who threw it, I had done the brave and valiant thing of keeping my mouth shut.  I was not going to be a snitch. 

It was my classmate, after all, whose shot went wide and landed at her feet.  I had not thrown a single piece of paper…yet.  Perhaps there was some intent for the future, but truth be told, in my mind, I had done nothing wrong.  The rules had changed – or so I thought – and here I sat, being punished for a crime I had not committed.  It was an injustice, and in the third grade few penalties were harsher than loosing your free time on the playground.

In some ways, it is that same line of logic that I hear Jesus taking into today’s readings.  He’s changing the rules, and in some cases I’m not quite sure I like it.

From last week’s gospel, we heard Jesus proclaim,

Do not think that I have come to abolish the law or the prophets; I have come not to abolish but to fulfill. For truly I tell you, until heaven and earth pass away, not one letter, not one stroke of a letter, will pass from the law until all is accomplished… unless your righteousness exceeds that of the scribes and Pharisees, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven.

Today’s reading follows directly on the heels of that proclamation and goes on to provide concrete examples of just what Jesus is talking about.

Murder, adultery, swearing of oaths – all of these are cornerstones of the Jewish Law, and all would have been recognized as having not only moral implications, but religious ones as well.  The Law had been handed down by God through Moses, and to follow the Law is what made you a good Jew.

By the time of Jesus, the Pharisees had made a name for themselves in being strict interpreters of the Law.  Their knowledge and adherence to it was unsurpassed by anyone.  They knew what was permissible and what was impermissible, and their interpretations were looked to in order to determine what was acceptable under the Law.  It was, after all, adherence to the Law that made you righteous, acceptable and worthy in the sight of God.

And it is in this context that Jesus instructs his disciples on this very sacred piece of Jewish tradition.  Jesus casts the net so far and wide that it is hard to imagine someone not being touched in some way by his words. He takes the cornerstones of the Jewish faith and expands them.  Far from negating the Law, he pushes the boundaries out, redefines the terms of the Law, and makes them more stringent. 

Anger is the equivalent to murder. A stray glance is as grievous as a physical act.  Even a harsh word brings about judgment and punishment.

When it’s defined in these terms, even the Pharisees don’ t have a chance.

If I am being honest, I want Jesus to say the exact opposite of what he says.  The overarching Christian narrative is one of love, and grace, and forgiveness.  Christians speak of a God who loves us unconditionally, whose very nature is, in fact, love.  I want to hear Jesus say, ‘All those laws are foolish.  They get you nowhere in the sight of God.’

On one hand it seems as if Jesus does no more than the Pharisees themselves – offering an interpretation of the Law.  But as is so often the case with Jesus, the words hold a deeper challenge.

In the expansion of these basic principles of the Jewish faith, Jesus challenges everyone within earshot to probe deeper into the heart of what it means to live as God intended. 

For Jesus and his followers, the question is not, ‘What must I do (or not do) in order to follow the Law, in order to be righteous?’, but rather, ‘How is God calling me to be – both inside and out – in order that I might reflect the love of God in all my relationships?”

That is what Jesus is after.  And that is what Jesus will model for his disciples (and for us) all that he does.

Our salvation is not only connected to a right relationship with God, but also deeply connected to having right relationships with our families, our friends, our neighbors, and as we will hear next week, even with our enemies.

Far from the legalism of the Pharisees, Jesus points his disciples to look to the spirit of the law that was always intended to foster just and right relationships between humankind and God, and humankind to each other.

The temptation in hearing this text today is to add these more stringent interpretations to the list of do’s and don’t do’s, and to use them as a measuring stick on how we are doing in following Jesus. 

To do so would, in my opinion, be a mistake – not only because we would be doomed to failure, but also because it would miss the deeper question Jesus is asking – How is God calling me to live my life so that I might reflect his love in all of my relationships more fully, more completely, and more abundantly?

For those who remember older versions of the Prayer Book, or are accustomed to a Rite I service, you will recall that each Eucharist begins with the words that come much later in Matthew’s gospel.  Not surprisingly it comes from another confrontation with the Pharisees. 

When asked which commandment was the greatest, Jesus replies,

You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your mind. This is the first and great commandment. And the second is like unto it: You shall love your neighbor as thyself. On these two commandments hang all the Law and the Prophets.

This is at the heart of Christian discipleship.  It is the basis of what Jesus teaches his disciples on that mountain by the sea, and what will define both the life and death of Jesus.

May it also be what defines our life as we seek to follow him.  Amen.

High Value Commodities

The Fifth Sunday after the Epiphany, Year A

February 9, 2014

The Rev. Christopher L. Caddell

 

What is the most valuable thing in your possession?

 

Is it your house?

 

Your bank account?

 

Maybe it is a family heirloom, or a set of photographs that remind you of a special occasion or trip.

 

There is a house that I pass each day on my way home from church.  More often than not, I see a the man who lives there in his driveway polishing and waxing his jet-black Mustang GT.  Obviously it is one of his most valued possessions.

 

This morning’s gospel is a fairly familiar one.  In fact the whole scene is familiar.  It comes from the Sermon on the Mount, which in Matthew’s gospel is a long, extended teaching that Jesus directs to this new group of disciples that have answered the call to follow Jesus.  

 

The images that Jesus uses are memorable and ones that almost everyone would have heard at some time or another.  “You are the salt of the earth ….”  You are the light of the world….”

 

We talk of people being “the salt of the earth” meaning they are good, honest, hard-working people that would do just about anything for anyone. While people like that are certainly the kind of friends I like to have, it’s not what Jesus was saying to his disciples.

 

Likewise, Sunday School children all around the world learn the song, “This Little Light of Mine,” and cute as it may be having children wave their finger in the air and hiding it under a bushel, again such an idea falls short of the powerful metaphor Jesus is trying to convey.

 

Salt and light are two things that we today hardly notice at all.  Salt packets are in every fast-food meal, on every dining table, and found in abundance in almost every pantry.

 

Light is available on demand.  If it’s not bright enough for you, turn on another switch.  Even if the power does go out, we have back up generators and battery powered flashlights to keep us totally out of the dark.  I couldn’t tell you the last time I wanted or needed light and was without the possibility of obtaining it.

 

But for those disciples sitting around listening to Jesus salt and light were very expensive commodities.  Salt was packed in and traded like any other rare good of the time.  In some times and places salt was traded ounce for ounce for gold.  Roman soldiers were often paid in salt, which is where we get our term, “salary.”

 

Light was also very valuable.  Of course the sun cast abundant light in the day, but when night fell it was very expensive to create light.  You had to burn something – either firewood, which was in short supply, or oil, something else that cost a substantial sum of money.

 

The metaphor that Jesus is painting is one that places the disciples side by side with these highly valued commodities.  Not only are these things of surpassing value, but also are highly sought after and useful. These twelve people sitting around listening to Jesus will be the means through which others will be blessed.

 

It is the beginning of a movement that will go far beyond what those twelve men could have ever thought possible.  

 

Just 25 or 30 years later, Paul makes a bold claim as he reminisces about how the Church was established in Corinth.  Paul says that as he arrived in this Roman city, the message he shared was simple – Jesus and his extraordinary example of love.  Yet now, now that that community has matured, he assures this community that they have the mind of Christ.  That is a very bold claim!  No longer are they simply passive hearers of the gospel, but active participants, doing the things that Jesus himself would do.  By the power of the Spirit, the members of this community are searching, discerning, and seeking the knowledge and will of God.

 

A small community of people is now living into being salt and light in their own ways, in their own community.

Earlier last month at the Annual Parish Meeting, we were reminded that in 2014 we are celebrating 30 years of being an Episcopal congregation in Dripping Springs.  

 

In April of 1984, a group of twelve people gathered in the snack bar of the High School to celebrate the Eucharist.  Six weeks later the congregation held an organizational meeting at the United Methodist Church and were formally named The Episcopal Church of the Holy Spirit.

 

By November, the church was meeting in a dance studio and reported an average attendance of 20 and a budget of $9,376.  A few months later the Diocese will formally recognize this new congregation, and by August the first piece of property off 290 & RR 12 will be purchased.

 

Fifteen years later the church will move to where we sit today. 

 

Looking back it is hard to believe the strides that have been made in such a relatively short period of time.  Temporary meeting places gave way to more permanent locations.  Some of you sitting here today have seen many of those changes come about.  Yet it is not just about buildings and meeting spaces.

 

Since that day in 1984, this congregation has grown from 12 members to 110 families representing 225 active members. Our average attendance that began at 20 is now 120.  And none of this accounts for the hundreds of people who have been touched by this congregation – those who were once active but have died or have moved away, those who have been blessed by attending a wedding or a funeral here, the children and families who have passed through this place as their first experience of school, finding a loving and nurturing environment that helps children begin their lives with the knowledge that everyday is one in which they live in the sight and love of God.

 

This congregation has a history of being salt and light – an extremely valuable resource to the community of Dripping Springs.

 

Jesus does not, however, give his disciples much time to bask in the glow of this high praise he gives his disciples.  

 

Salt is useful, but only as long as it continues to be salt.

 

Light is not something hidden away, but placed high so that all can see it.

As we prepare to celebrate 30 years of being Holy Spirit in Dripping Springs, we can and should look back in wonder and awe at the things that God has done through his faithful people in this community.

 

Yet Jesus’ words to his disciples are in the present and active tense.

 

You are the salt of the earth.

 

You are the light of the world.

 

God’s mission is never one to rest on that fact alone.  God calls us through the power of the Spirit to search, to seek, to discern, and to act on what is next for this community he has planted in Dripping Springs, Texas.  

 

You and I are the most valuable possession God has.  In Christ, we are God’s salt of the earth and God’s lights to the world.  The challenge comesby living into and being that valuable resource that we are – everyday, every week, every month, every year.

 

God has wonderful plans for this community.  I believe with all my heart that we have just begun to break the surface.  Yet I also believe that if we live into our calling to be salt and light in this community in which we have been placed, in another thirty years, the people who come after us will look back in awe and wonder at what God has accomplished through us.

 

May Jesus’ words to his disciples (and to us) ring loudly in our ears, and may we go forward with the resolve to be God’s salt and light in this community of Dripping Springs.  Amen.

 

Ordinary or Extraordinary?

The Third Sunday after the Epiphany, Year A

January 26, 2014

The Rev. Christopher L. Caddell

The world is full of seemingly ordinary people who are able to do extraordinary things.  Over the past year or so, the world has been captivated by a few of their stories. 

People like Malala Yousafzai, the young woman who stood up for women’s education in Pakistan, and even after being shot by the Taliban continues to be a force of change in her part of the world.

We were also recently reminded of the contributions of Nelson Mandela, who endured prison in apartheid South Africa, only to become it’s first democratically elected president. 

And Pope Francis, the first non-European pope since the 8^th century, is already changing the face of the Roman Catholic Church, as well as the perception of Christianity around the world.

While each of these may not seem too ordinary to us now, they most likely would be unknown to us had they not chosen to follow a call.  Perhaps amongst other things, one thing each of these amazing people has in common is a sense of their vocation that has enabled them to do extraordinary things.

In his book Let Your Life Speak, author Parker Palmer says that vocation can be understood as “something I [must] do, for reasons I’m unable to explain to anyone else and don’t fully understand myself but that are nonetheless compelling.”[1] 

That’s how we often think of vocation in the Church, if we think of it at all.  Vocation is a word that carries a certain amount of weight, usually accompanying a radical change in someone’s life that defies a rational explanation.  It’s the model that’s placed before us again and again, and deeply embedded in the psyche of the Church. 

We get our ideas about vocation from both scripture and tradition.  The Old Testament patriarchs and matriarchs hear God’s voice and make large and tangible changes in their ways of life – leaving familiar surroundings and relative safety behind to move to a foreign land. 

The prophets respond to God’s call by speaking out against corrupt authority and doing it in a way that attracts attention to themselves.

Paul leaves behind a lifetime of learning and dedication to Judaism only to become the most ardent and outspoken of apostles of the early Christian movement. 

And from beyond the biblical witness, the Church leaves behind a legacy of people who have been dedicating their lives to Christian vocations by serving as monks and nuns, priests and pastors, Christian educators and authors. 

All leaving behind some semblance of “normal life” to pursue this vocation.

Today’s gospel text is another example.  It is Matthew’s version of Jesus calling the first disciples.  Peter, Andrew, James, and John will come to be four of Jesus’ closest friends and companions.

On one hand we could say that these four men fit the pattern of vocation that I have just described.  Their decision to follow will take them places that were unfamiliar and away from the safety of home.  As they left their nets and boats behind others must have thought they were foolish and unwise. Certainly in following Jesus they did something that arguably they couldn’t fully explain either to themselves or to others, but nevertheless found so compelling that they had no other choice but to follow Jesus.

We, of course, have the benefit of knowing the rest of their story.  We know what is coming for these four men – the amazing things that they will see and do, what they will learn, and what they will teach to others, and the influence that they will have on generations of people far and wide all the way down to you and me. 

Peter, Andrew, James, and John may be ordinary fishermen, but it is hard to separate out of our minds who they will become and the impact they will have.  Just like Malala Yousafzai, Nelson Mandela, or Pope Francis, it is hard to see the simple beginnings of these four disciples.

Perhaps that is why it is important for us to be reminded so often of just how Jesus called his disciples.  Last week we heard John’s version, with the invitation to “Come and see.”  But this week it is Matthew, and that invitation is somewhat different. 

There is the invitation to from Jesus to follow, but there is more to it.  “Follow me,” Jesus says, “and I will make you fishers of people.”

The invitation is not about following just Jesus to observe what he is doing, but to follow by entering into a relationship with him, with each other, and with those that they will meet along the way.  These ordinary fishermen, living an everyday life, are invited to be a part of God’s plan for salvation by choosing to be in relationship with others.

The question for us is not whether or not we have a vocation, a call.  The fact that you are here is evidence enough to say that you have been called, and that you are already responding to that call.  We are, however, reminded this morning that our vocation joins us to one another in relationship, both inside and outside the walls of this building.  And it is through those relationships that we have the chance to participate in God’s mission of salvation.

Perhaps that is a little hard to wrap our minds around.  I’ll admit it can seem far-fetched.

But humor me for a moment, and I want you to call to mind one significant relationship in your life, someone who has made you who you are today.  Think of someone who has taught you how to love, how to forgive, how to be when you are truly at your best. It could be a long-term relationship, or a brief encounter, but someone who has shaped your life in some meaningful way.

Hold that person in your mind.  You got it?

Now imagine that that you and that person never met.  

How would you be different?  What in you would be lacking because that relationship never happened?

Now I want you to call to mind someone in your life now; someone to whom you have a significant connection. It can be someone brings you particular joy, or sorrow, or frustration, or hope.  Hold that person in your mind.

How is God using you to make a meaningful difference in that person’s life?  How does that Christ-shaped relationship bring this person and the world a little closer to God’s vision for his creation?

That is the vocation, the call of a disciple – to allow God to work through the people and relationships he places in our lives.  And while we may think of our lives as ordinary, following Jesus and being fishers of people brings about extraordinary things.  Amen.

---

[1] Parker J. Palmer, Let Your Life Speak: Listening for the Voice of Vocation, San Francisco: Jossey-Bass, 2000, 25.

Where to begin?

The Second Sunday after the Epiphany, Year A

January 19, 2014

The Rev. Christopher L. Caddell

Where do you begin?

The first major construction project that I was involved in was nearly twenty years ago now.  It was the new Special Events Center on the campus of a University that will remain unnamed for the purposes of this sermon.  But it suffices to say that it was a complex and complicated project.

I was a lowly student worker back then, with the grand title of Assistant to the Project Inspector.  I took the job not knowing very much about anything that I would be doing.  All I knew was that I needed a job, preferred that it be in the construction industry, and the University was hiring. 

On my first day, I walked into the Project Inspectors office to find an extremely gruff man, hardened by forty years of field experience and aged by the carton of cigarettes he smoked each day.  Ken wasted no time in putting me to work.

On my first day he handed me a stack of papers – something that I later came to know were called Addendums – that reflected changes to the construction plans.  Those plans were daunting.  Nearly 1,000 pages in plan sheets, a three volume spec book (each of which required their own 4” three-ring binder), and a set of Addendums that were almost as thick.

 On my first day, I was told to take the Addendums and “post” them to the plans. Posting is essentially a cut and paste project – something that I’ve watched both my children do in Kindergarten – but after staring at this new project for several hours you could hardly tell I had even started.

I was overwhelmed.  What had I gotten myself into?  I hadn’t a clue what I was doing, and I was sure that this job was not going to last long.  I didn’t even know where to begin.

After spending nearly half the day tucked away in my office, my new boss walked in and in his gruff voice said, “Come on kid, let’s go for a walk.”  I was sure that this was the point where he was going to tell me, “Don’t you know anything?  You’re probably not cut out for this job.”

Instead, we walked out to the project site where they were drilling the first pier.  Ken didn’t say much but rather just let me watch as this massive piece of equipment drilled a six-foot diameter hole thirty-feet deep into the ground.

I’m sure the look on my face said it all.  I was amazed and astonished.  I had never been around such a complex project in my life, and yet here I was with absolutely no clue what I was doing.

That day began what would be a daily ritual for Ken and me.  Every day we would find a time to walk around the project together.  Whether it was sitework, structural, or finishes we would spend an hour or two together looking.  Ken remained a man of little words – often just pointing and leaving me with the task of trying to figure out what his experienced eye saw.

But four years and two major construction projects later, I had seen a lot.  Over the next eight years, I would see and learn even more.  But looking back I had come a long way from “I don’t even know where to begin.”

I imagine that story resonates in many places in our lives.  There are all kinds of places where we can feel unqualified, overwhelmed, and completely lost.  Not the least of which is our journey of faith. 

Last week we were reminded that God is continually making new beginnings.  Noah, Abraham, Moses, the people of Israel, Jesus– all of these were new starts, fresh beginnings.  And today we have another new beginning.  It is John’s version of the calling of the first disciples.

 Andrew, along with another of John’s disciples, meets Jesus for the first time.  It is John’s words about Jesus that make them curious – Look; here is the Lamb of God!

One wonders what they hoped to find in following Jesus.  Perhaps they didn’t even know.  After all, when Jesus questions them about what they are looking for, the best that they can offer is a question about where he is staying.

Would they have even followed had they known what lay ahead for them? 

What if Jesus had said, to follow me you will travel far and wide,

sleep in boats and in the fields,

never know where your next meal will come from,

listen to my teaching and witness the things that I do

and then be pushed to do those same things in my name.

And by the way, all of this will put you in grave danger.

And when the time is right, I will confront the authorities in Jerusalem,

and you will witness my brutal execution and burial,

and you will run for your lives.

Oh, and when all of that is completed,

that’s when it all really begins for you,

because you will carry on what I will begin,

travelling even farther and sharing this message with an even larger audience,

and coming into your own conflict with authority,

and losing your own life for the sake of others.

Instead, Jesus offers the very simple invitation to “Come and see.”

He doesn’t tell them what lies ahead.  He doesn’t even answer their question.  Just the gentle invitation to follow and see for themselves.

The teaching will come.

The challenges will be there.

The work, that even looking back is seemingly impossible, will come in time.

But it is the journey with Jesus, all beginning with a simple invitation, which will form them, prepare them, and give them the power to do ministry in his name.

That simple invitation is ours as well. 

Come and see.

Take a walk.

Journey with me and see what will come. 

Whether we are just beginning that journey or have been on this road our whole life, Jesus invites us deeper and deeper into the mystery of our faith with the simple words, “Come and see.”

It is our invitation to accept, and all we have to do is follow.  Amen.