Showing posts with label crowd. Show all posts
Showing posts with label crowd. Show all posts

Tuesday, September 10, 2019

Sermon: Prize

Image by Free-Photos from Pixabay

Pentecost 16, Year C
The Rev. Vicki K. Hesse,
Director of the Whitaker Institute,
Episcopal Diocese of Michigan
Sermon for September 8, 2019
Preached at St. Michael’s Episcopal Church
Grosse Pointe Woods, MI

Text here
May the words of my mouth
and the meditation of all our hearts
be acceptable to you,
O Lord, our strength and our redeemer. Amen

Good morning, St. Michaels!
What joy to be with you again.
My name is The Rev. Vicki Hesse
and I serve as the Director of the Whitaker Institute,
the educational arm of the Diocese. 
It is my honor to be with you today,
thank you for the invitation!
~~~~~~~~
This Gospel text today
does not seem like the kind of thing
that would pass for
an effective marketing message in today’s world. 

Come to the church!  Woohoo!
Hate your father and mother! 
Pick up your cross! 
This is the kind of thing
that could be trending on the TV show The List:
Ten Reasons Not To Be A Disciple of Jesus:
10. You have to hate your family.
9. You have to love your neighbor. 
[As the t-shirt says, “thy homeless neighbor, thy muslim neighbor, thy black neighbor, thy gay neighbor, thy immigrant neighbor, thy Jewish neighbor, thy Christian neighbor, thy atheist neighbor, thy addicted neighbor….”]
The smelly neighbor, the annoying neighbor,
…you get it.
8. You have to pray unceasingly, give thanks in all things, and with fear and trembling (Thanks, St. Paul).
7. You have to be last to be first
6. You have to be the servant of all the others.
5. You have to listen to understand rather than being understood.
4. You have to want to share your feelings, and that means talking to people you don’t know.
3. You have to give up all your possessions.
2. You have to carry a cross.
1. The number one reason not to be a disciple?
You have to sacrifice your life
and everything you love.
Who wants to sign up?  Because this is hard work!
Nope, this is not a marketing message
that would be the least bit attractive in our society.
Which is kind of the point, here. 
Jesus wanted to be clear
with the “large crowds” that were following him. 
He said:
Sit down, estimate the cost.
See if you have what it takes, he said,
to complete what you started. 
Sit down, consider this:
are able to oppose what stands between
you and abundant life? 
Are you ready to give up all your “possessions”?

My guess is that after Jesus described
what it would really take to be a disciple,
that large crowd traveling with him
might have dwindled, a bit. 
Jesus sharpened the paradox
between loving the world and loving God
almost to the point of contradiction.[1] 
Like usual, he provoked the crowd.
That they take stock. 
That they realize the depth of their feelings for this world.
That they let go of their
white-knuckle grip on the world as they knew it.
That they confront and expose to question
what they have always held dear:
family, friends, respect, winning. 

That they face the many little deaths as life dealt them.
And so he asked them, in not so many words,
do you know what you are getting into?”

I mean, do we know what we are getting into?

Think about your baptism. 
Did you know what you were getting into? 
Did you have some inkling
about what it meant to be a disciple of Jesus? 

So, a story:
I was baptized as an adult. 
My friend Lynn was getting baptized
for his 50th birthday.
Witnessing his baptism
at this little Episcopal church I had started attending,
the thought occurred to me,
why can’t I be baptized too? 

So at the next available baptism Sunday,  January 6th, 2000,
I was baptized. 
Did I know what I was getting into?
Nope.
No one showed me the caution tape
around the baptismal font.  
No one turned on the neon lights
about the cost of discipleship.  
No colleague parishioner cautioned me
about transformation.
All of that was glossed over by my own blindness… 
My eye was on the prize:
The love of God that surpasses all understanding.
The surprise of grace that drenched me with joy.
The liberation from shame driven by job loss.
The salve of healing from wounds of addiction.
The forgiveness for broken relationships.
The relief of pretense of living as a heterosexual person.
The life-giving realization that this new family,
this faith community,
would have my back forEVER.

But I didn’t really know what I was getting into.

Dietrich Bonheoffer[2],
in “The Cost of Discipleship,”
reminds us that,
“Through the call of Jesus,
[we] become individuals and
each [of us] must stand before Jesus
and fix our eyes on him. 
When Christ calls,
he delivers each person
from the immediacy of the world and
to the immediacy of Christ.   
This is no slow growth.
This is no progressive sanctification. 
From the call of Christ (our baptism)
There is no turning back.”

Do you know what you are getting into?

The crowds were following, and
Jesus turned.  Jesus “turned”
– in other words,
he changed his perspective
as a human
and took on God’s loving stance.
He taught them. 
Jesus turned and
showed the large crowds the caution tape.  
He flipped on the neon lights.
He cautioned about discipleship.   
You really want to follow me? 
Okay, here goes, he says. 
And he outlined the cost of discipleship
“that can demand leaving home and family
and all those whom the disciple naturally loves best.
Because Jesus himself had left the home which he loved.”[3]
And here, in this cautionary teaching,
he demanded then and he demands now
the “hating” of those people and possessions
(hate as “putting distance between”)
whom the disciple (we) loves most
– so as to love God in Jesus the most. 
For the prize.
He had his sights on the prize.  
“Jesus is inviting us to a full-bodied Christian faith
that stands over and against all those things
that are often presented to us as “life” by our society”[4]
as what makes for success: accumulation, reputation,
and security ”[5]

See, Jesus turned, and he showed them, loved them and
reminded them
over and over
about the caution tape
since the beginning of his ministry. 
And this is why Jesus mades his own sacrifice,
of course,
so that it need not be about our choices
or our willingness, even. 

Because Jesus assures us of God’s love and forgiveness. 
Because God’s promise of life is always in front of us.
And God’s unconditional love
frees us to be a disciple with grace. 
Because God’s love endures for ever. 
Because God’s love is stronger than death. 
Because nothing, “…neither death, nor life, nor angels,
nor rulers, …, nor powers, , nor anything else in all creation,
will be able to separate us
from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord.”[6]

…. And in turning, Jesus reminded them
and us
that in “becoming a disciple,”
you will know, and he promised,
God’s ever faithful love.
That love will set you free.
That love will lighten your load.
That love will cost you your “life.”

Remember, at our baptism
we renounce Satan, the spiritual forces of wickedness,
the evil powers of the world and sinful desires.

And we turn to Jesus Christ – as he turned to us –
and we accept him as our Savior,
putting our whole trust in his grace and love
and promising to follow and obey him.

So in our baptism, it is,
as Bonhoeffer wrote,
a “fait accompli with Christ and in Christ,”
that we live a Way of Love. 
And in this Way of Love,
we become a new family,
a new community,
a new people. 
So in this fellowship,
we live with the promise and guarantee
of the love of God for EVER. 

By the grace of God and the work of Jesus Christ,
we too live in a new fellowship.
With God’s help, we can give up all our possessions. 
With God’s help, we can make the sacrifice that is love.

For Love is one thing that only grows when it is given away. 

Turn today, my siblings in Jesus and accept that call.
You do know what you are getting into.

God knows what you are getting into.
And, it is a fait accompli that Jesus will use you.
Jesus will take your life, your love, your all. 

That’s the prize of discipleship.
Amen




[1] Alan Richardson, A Theological Word Book of the Bible, p.102
[2] Dietrich Bonhoeffer, The Cost of Discipleship, (New York, Simon and Schuster, 1937, First Touchstone Edition 1995) p. 94-101
[3] Ibid.
[4] David Lose, “Life-giving Sacrifice” cited here on September 6, 2019
[5] Ibid.
[6] Romans 8:38-39

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