Monday, July 30, 2018

Sermon: Where

Photo by Benny Jackson on Unsplash

Sermon Preached on July 29, 2018
Proper 12B RCL
The Rev. Vicki K. Hesse,
Director of the Whitaker Institute, 
Episcopal Diocese of Michigan
St. Paul’s Episcopal Church, Brighton, MI

Good morning.  My name is Rev. Vicki Hesse.
I serve the Diocese as the Director of the Whitaker Institute.
The Whitaker Institute is the educational arm of the Diocese.
Ask: Who here has taken a class from the Whitaker Institute? 

Our overall purpose is (slowly)
to form disciples to carry on the ministry of Jesus Christ.
(that’s a big mission, but we have a big God!)
We do this through about a dozen Dio-wide programs for
members of our faith community as lifelong formation.

Three programs you may know include:
Safe Church courses (now being revised),
“Academy for Vocational Leadership,” a local school for ordained ministry and
“Exploring Your Spiritual Journey,” aka EYSJ,
for anyone (lay or called to ordination) to learn how God is calling them.
These are only three of several programs.
Perhaps there will be time at coffee hour
to learn more about learning and working together
for mutual transformation.

So thank you, Fr. Deon, who is on vacation this week,
for your invitation to be here today. 
Now we gather our minds and hearts and breathe into this space
as we reflect on our gospel message today.
(Prayer)
During my last year of seminary,
my bishop (of WNC) required us seminarians
to complete the GOE’s, the General Ordination Exams[1].
These were six on-line essay questions
scripture, history, theology, ministry, worship, ethics.
offered over three days. And it was timed. 
We felt our lives depended upon answering these correctly.
During the preparation season, we developed a mantra,
“answer the question, the whole question,
and nothing but the question, so help me God.”
What we learned from previous GOE test takers was
that the more you wrote,
the more likely you’d write yourself out of an effective answer. So
“answer the question, the whole question,
and nothing but the question, so help me God.”

I’ve been thinking this week about questions. 
And here’s why.  In today’s gospel text,
Jesus went up the mountain, sat down
and when he saw a large crowd coming toward him,
he asked Philip, “Where are we to buy bread for these people to eat?”
Notice, the question: “where” are we to buy bread for these ppl?
Not, “can you give me a budget
for how much it would cost to buy bread”
nor “how much food do you think we need
to feed all these people?”
nor even, “can you see if there is anyone
who has any extra food in their picnic basket
to help feed those ppl who brought nothing?”

Answer the question, the whole question and nothing but the question, Philip. 
Jesus asked “where,” Andrew, not how much. 
See, Philip and Andrew offered an answer
from their context, their conventional perspective. 
They focused on money. They focused on food.
They tried to solve this under their own power.
They didn’t see any part of “the question behind the question.”

How often in our world today,
is a response offered not for the question asked? 
With so much uncivil discourse in our political bantering
that we are tempted to forget the real question,
to notice what is really at stake. 
And in our emotional response,
we sometimes lose perspective of what is the truth.
And so we answer in conventional binary ways –
that person is “right” or “wrong.” 
Or that opinion is “factual” or “fake.”
Opiod crisis? Affecting us or not affecting us?
Poverty among children? In our community or not in our community?
But wait – what is the question, the whole question, nothing but the question?

Our societal dependence on scientific fact
can blind us from God’s overarching command
to care for the earth anyway. 
Sometimes a neighborhood’s “not in my back yard” approach
prevents us responding to a national crisis
of health and poverty that affects our neighbors
and the children all around us anyway. 
Human’s traditional binary categories
cannot comprehend in advance
what Jesus has to offer to our context, our lives, our world.

“Answer the question, the whole question, and nothing but the question, so help me God.”

Remember that little sentence, just after Jesus asks Phil about bread,
“He said this to test him,
for he himself knew what he was going to do” ? THERE is a clue.

Jesus knew that there was enough food,
regardless of Philip and Andrew’s poorly articulated answer
to their GOE question. 
That was the astonishing thing:
Turned out - Jesus was the source of food enough, as the Son of God. 

Jesus knew that to feed people, to ensure they were satisfied,
he had to anticipate their needs. 
He knew that to fill people’s bellies
would require a good ambiance. 
“Make the people settle down[2] and sit on the grass,” he commanded,
alluding to the line from Psalm 23,
which of course Jesus, as any good Jewish rabbi would know.
So then he took the loaves and the fish,
gave thanks and what did he do?
Astonishingly, He himself was the one to feed them.  

For Jesus knew that he himself was the gift of life – the source of life -
through this feeding by the five loaves and two fish. 

From WHERE will the bread for these people come?
From Jesus himself.
Who offered food for their bellies until there were even left overs?
Jesus himself.
What is the answer to the question, the whole question, nothing but the question?
Jesus himself.

That was the good news then and it is still the good news today. 
Jesus anticipates our needs
and provides more than we can ask or imagine. 

But we do resist Jesus. Why is that?
We resist because society poses the wrong question.
We resist because we want to control.
We resist because we value security over love.
We resist because we are afraid.
We resist because we are strange, unique, distinct creatures
who doubt that Jesus knows us *that* well.

What would it be like to truly
“answer the question, the whole question, and nothing but the question”?
We can  ask, what is at stake?

Then we live into what Poet Rainer Marie Rilke says,
“Be patient toward all that is unsolved in your heart
and try to love the questions themselves.”

Today, Jesus invites us to know from WHERE…
“we are to buy bread for these people to eat?”
WHERE is the whole question of our lives.
From WHERE will our bread come?
From Jesus himself.

Okay, confession time. I have been watching
– binging, really – the new season of Queer Eye. 
In this 2018 TV reality show, Queer Eye features the “Fab Five”
– five gay men who (on the surface)
“make over” a clueless protagonist
in the areas of grooming, fashion, food, culture, and home decor.
As Sojourner’s magazine recently wrote[3],
“… each episode becomes more than a makeover
as the … fab five breaks through the hero’s [inner] walls
and reach the root of their low self-esteem.”
As the real-life person integrates improved choices,
they ultimately find a deep confidence
to be exactly who they are: distinct, exotic, quirky, and joyful,
bringing their whole lives into question.
What does this show have to do with
answering Jesus’ question, “From WHERE will the bread come?”
This show offers a glimpse of the astonishing power of Love.
God’s Love disguised in these ministering Fab Five.

From WHERE will your bread come?
From Jesus himself  - his grace and astonishing presence.
It is Jesus himself that is
the inspiration behind your “Second Sunday” food drive for Gleaners.
It is Jesus himself that is
the inspiration for your own “Loaves & Fishes” ministry that
continues to provide free, nutritious meals
in a caring environment with special concern
for families and senior citizens.
It is Jesus himself that guides all the people gathered here at St. Paul’s
          To love and serve each other: as you know –
people who are in need
and people who are struggling
to experience God’s love in active, tangible ways.

Today’s good news is about Jesus’ grace for all people, the source of life abundant.

In the last part of the gospel text today we read that
Jesus walked across the water to the disciples’ boat.
They were terrified.
When Jesus says, “It is I, do not be afraid,” they recognize him,
and they reach their destination. 
Notice: When they recognize him, they are already WHERE they were going.

When recognize Jesus, we arrive.
And, when we arrive, Jesus recognizes us.
We are WHERE we are supposed to be.
So for the question, the whole question, and nothing but the question,
The answer is – IN JESUS. In his grace and glory.

Do not be afraid.

Amen.


[1] The GOE aims to evaluate the perception and analysis of issues in the several areas; the application of training and resources; the demonstration of knowledge and pastoral sensitivity; and the articulation of views. For more info, see http://www.episcopalgbec.org/index.php cited on July 28, 2018.
[2] David Bentley Hart, “The New Testament: A Translation” (New Haven, Yale University Press, 2017), p. 181

Sunday, July 22, 2018

Sermon: Jesus is There. And There.


Photo by Edwin Andrade on Unsplash

Sermon Preached on July 22, 2018
Proper 11B RCL
The Rev. Vicki K. Hesse,
Director of the Whitaker Institute, 
Episcopal Diocese of Michigan
All Saints Episcopal Church, East Lansing, MI

Listen here

Good morning.  My name is Rev. Vicki Hesse.
I serve the Diocese as the Director of the Whitaker Institute.
The Whitaker Institute is the educational arm of the Diocese.
Ask: Who here has taken a class from the Whitaker Institute? 

Our overall purpose is (slowly)
to form disciples to carry on the ministry of Jesus Christ.
(that’s a big mission, but we have a big God!)
We do this through about a dozen Dio-wide programs that
educate, equip and empower
members of our faith community with lifelong formation.

Three programs you may know include:
Safe Church courses (now being revised),
“Academy for Vocational Leadership,” a local school for ordained ministry and
“Exploring Your Spiritual Journey,” aka EYSJ,
for anyone (lay or called to ordination) to learn how God is calling them.
These are only three of several programs.
Perhaps there will be time at coffee hour
to learn more about learning and working together
for mutual transformation.

So thank you Pastor Kit, who is on vacation this week,
for your invitation to be here today. 

Intro
Some of you were raised Episcopalian,
others came to this church from other denominations. 
My early denomination was church of the outdoor sports-
hiking, biking, riding.
And early in my conscious adult relationship with God,
before I was baptized,
my friend Mary Ann invited me
to a deserted place to rest awhile. 
We both had busy lives in IT – she in CT and me in CO. 
We needed to rest.
She had heard about this retreat being offered in Wyoming
by author Marcus Borg and
she thought that I might be interested.
The ranch was sparsely inhabited,
with a lodge and half a dozen cabins
scattered throughout the gray, sage-dotted hills
with a barn and corral where they kept horses for trail rides.

I mostly went because Mary Ann was a good friend
and I needed a break.
At the first evening after dinner,
we gathered in the living room.
We introduced ourselves, why we were there and what we hoped for.
I sheepishly gave my reason as rest and time with my friend.
Others were there for more profound reasons.

Soon, Borg began delving into scripture with
a review of his (then) most recent book,
Reading the Bible Again for the First Time. 
As he told of the metaphorical and
image-packed understanding of the bible,
I was drawn in.
God captured me through a passion of learning and discovery
that placed inside me a deep desire to know more
and to feel God’s love and forgiveness. 

During those seven days,
I could hardly wait for the evening sessions. 
Those sessions healed my scars
from bible-thumping-literalists
that I had previously experienced.
Who knew that learning could be so healing?

Well, apparently Jesus did. 
Because in today’s gospel story,
we hear about how when the disciples had
“come away to the deserted place,”
they and Jesus were met at their retreat destination. 

So many people recognized them
and arrived ahead of them
that the place seemed to Jesus like they were
in a field of sheep without a shepherd. 
So what did he do? He taught them. 
Jesus knew that learning could be so healing. 

Interestingly, the term we read here as
“deserted” or “uninhabited” place
is same word used in the opening chapter of the gospel,
“describing both where
Jesus spent forty days in the desert before his ministry began
and
the place to which he withdrew to pray after his first healing miracles.”[1]
Jesus must have sensed their combined fatigue
and excitement like he had felt
and invited them to pray together.

And that is where we, too, can find Jesus.
In deserted, uninhabited places. 
Not only in comfortable spa-like settings,
where we feel God’s presence when times are good.
But also in
Those dry prayer-free parts of our inner lives
where God seems so distance.  There is Jesus.
Those parched, painful, grieving places we know
when our best friend dies or
our when our aunt receives a diagnosis of cancer.  There is Jesus.
Those dehydrated, isolated places
where no one seems to know that we are despairing
with harsh questions about why anything matters.  There is Jesus.
Those wind-swept, uncivil, political bantering places
that are so pervasive in our society. There is Jesus.

Do you want to meet Jesus?
Go so those deserted, uninhabited places.  There is Jesus.

Just know, however, that a crowd might be there.
For when the crowd sees the disciples in the boat
Leaving the shore, they run ahead and greet them.
So deserted places remain so for only a short time.
There, the people are rushing about seeking healing.
Yearning for God.
Aching in pain.
Complaining about the negative society.
Lamenting oppression and discrimination.

Throughout the whole region, in villages or cities or farms,
wherever Jesus goes,
they beg for healing love. They beg for healing heartache. They beg for forgiveness. They beg for liberation from debts. They beg for kindness from others.
And that is where Jesus is, in the midst of them.

(pause)
Earlier this year,
Whitaker hosted priest Mike Kinman,
who was Dean of the Cathedral in St. Louis, MO.
He was there during that wilderness experience
of the city during the Ferguson shooting of Michael Brown.
The riots came near the church, he said,  
so he and a group of clergy spoke on the phone
and agreed to meet in the next day
for a panel discussion about the situation.

And there, he was convicted for not wanting to meet Jesus. 

For one of the Baptist pastors got up from the panel discussion
and went out into the crowd. 
Calling Kinman to join him. 
As he did so, with some trepidation,
Kinman met the participants in what is now known
as the #blacklivesmatter movement. 

These protestors were vulnerable. They were different from him. 
Mostly young, black, women, who spoke truth to power and with passion. 
Kinman recalled something like,
“that is where I met Jesus that day, in the midst of the crowd,
in the movement of the spirit, with the chaos and fear
and love that the crowd shared.

"My pastor friend said to me,
“If you want to meet Jesus, you gotta get out on the street.”
He was right.  I felt very vulnerable and very loved by God.”[2]
Kinman continued, “How do you know when you have met Jesus?
“You weep more. You laugh more. You get more confused.
You struggle more.”
And you know you are beloved,
made in the image of God, and nothing can take that away from you.”[3]

So there was this crowd
And there was Jesus, in the midst of it. 
The people begged him that they might touch “even the fringe of his cloak.” 
They begged to be in his personal space, where you can feel the healing. 
That’s what Kinman experienced.
That’s what we experience, too, when we are serving others,
in the presence of their vulnerability
and in the sharing of our vulnerability.
That vulnerability is the fringe of Jesus’ cloak.

The good news today is that
God in Jesus loves you and forgives you
whether you recognize him or not.
You can seek him out in deserted, uninhabited places of your life.
Or you can jump into the fray of people
milling about like sheep without a shepherd. 
In these seemly dissimilar places, Jesus is there. 
You will recognize him.

And, Jesus already recognizes you.
Jesus is working in your life already
in more ways that you can ask or imagine. 

So rest awhile in his love.
Feel that peace that the world cannot give –
that comes through the presence of Jesus. 
Come close to the fringe and be healed.

Amen




[1] Commentary on Gospel of Mark, New Interpreter’s Bible, Volume VIII, page 600

[2] From my memory at Epiphanies Conference, February 21,2018. St. John’s Episcopal Church, Royal Oak, MI


[3] Article by The Rev. Jonathan Sams, The Record – a publication of The Episcopal Diocese of Michigan