Black History Month and my knapsack of privilege: So what?

Sermon preached at St Patrick's, Long Beach; February 28, 2021

          About 10 years ago I attended a memorial service for a man who had founded a non-profit..  The man had begun a marketing firm while he was still in college and became a millionaire by the age of 29.  He was the picture of success.  He did everything right.  But one day he and his wife realized that their lives were falling apart.  They knew that something drastic had to happen or they would literally drown in their financial success.  So after careful consideration and prayer they sold everything they had, gave the money to charity, and headed off to a place in rural Georgia called Koinonia (Koi Noin ya).  It is a Greek word that refers to a shared fellowship – in particular a shared Christian fellowship. 

At Koinonia he came under the tutelage of a man by the name of Clarence Jordan.  Jordan had founded Koinonia on the principles of a life lived in community where work, worship, and worldly possessions are shared.  Jordan and his followers after him challenged the racial and economic injustice and sought a life lived in self-sacrifice – shunning the “good life” so to speak for a life dedicated to following the teachings of Jesus.  But Koinonia is perhaps best known – not for Clarence Jordan – but for the work of his student and friend whose life we celebrated.  (More info on Wikipedia)

His name was Millard Fuller and he spent most of his life finding ways to provide shelter for the most disenfranchised people.  They built modest houses on a no-profit, no-interest basis, making homes affordable to families with low incomes. Homeowner families were expected to invest their own labor into the building of their home and the houses of other families. This reduced the cost of the house, increased the pride of ownership and fostered the development of positive relationships. Money for building was placed into a revolving fund, enabling the building of even more homes.  In 1974 Habitat for Humanity International was founded and I suspect you know the rest of the story.

Tuck that story away in your heart for a minute and let’s look at this reading from Mark’s Gospel.  Mark is the earliest Gospel and one that was written to a community that was living under tremendous persecution from both Roman and Jewish authorities.  They would have understood suffering in a way that few of us do.  As these stories in Mark unfolded it became increasingly clear that the disciple’s idea of “messiah” was not what Jesus had in mind.  And so, today, Jesus tells them that in order for God’s Kingdom to come about it is inevitable that he will be rejected by his people, suffer great torture, be murdered.  Before Jesus could get to the part about the “third day” the disciples had stopped listening.  They were horrified -Peter most of all.  And so Peter pulls him aside and Mark says “rebukes him”  Jesus’ response is swift and sure.  He calls Peter Satan and tells him to get out of his way. 

As I read this, I kept going back to last week where Jesus was tempted by Satan in the wilderness and cared for by angels.    Satan, we are told in other Gospels, offered Jesus’ wealth, power, and might if he would deny his love for God.  Jesus’ rebukes Peter, because Peter is challenging his vocation – tempting him with doubt.  But Jesus knows that the hand-writing is on the wall.  He cannot, in good conscience, stop himself from teaching and preaching about helping the poor, visiting the sick, reaching out to the outcasts in society. 

Jesus knows that unless he speaks out they will have no advocate to stand with them in the face of Roman tyranny and religious persecution.  The peace and comfort of God’s Kingdom will not come about unless he takes a stand and yet if he takes a stand he will most assuredly be tortured and killed.   That’s the human side of the dilemma.     But Jesus also knows that somewhere somehow God will not allow hatred and malice to overcome the Love of God.  Jesus is absolutely committed to serve God by offering himself fully as servant and no amount of suffering will interfere. 

And then Jesus turns to the other disciples, to the gathered crowd, and yes to us and says that we too have a decision to make.  We too have a line to draw in the sand.  We too, if we desire to be disciples - followers of Jesus - will have to make a decision between the comforts of our human life and the discomfort of standing with those who are neglected, marginalized.  We too will have to make a decision whether to hide our light under a bushel or stick it out there in the wind for all to see knowing that someday – someone is likely to bite that finger off. 

February is Black History month.  This year I have heard more stories about the contributions of people of color to our world than at any other time.  And yet there is hanging over us all the reality of systemic racism, the travesty of white privilege, and the danger of terrorists who would destroy our country in order to promote white supremacy.   Truth be told we can say the same thing about homophobia or misogyny, or isolationism.   It seems to me that this Lent we are those disciples who are faced with the decision to discard the values that have supported us all of their lives and take up the responsibility to stand with and to support those who are marginalized, to honor and respect all of creation.  In the down and dirty – what do you say at the grocery store when someone makes a racist statement, or refuses service to someone who is gay, or passes over a candidate for promotion because she is a woman.  When faced with income, education, or housing disparity... do we turn away or do we speak up at the ballot box and on the street corner?  Do we – living here in Mississippi with a tragic history of slavery, racism, and oppression weighing us down like a ball and chain - speak out openly and clearly to reject the racist rhetoric or do we smile uncomfortably, say nothing, and play like the guy next door didn’t really mean the threats and name-calling.      

It is hard to hear these words of Jesus about carrying crosses, denying ourselves, giving up our life – hard to hear them and frightening to the core.  We are taught from birth that avoiding conflict, protecting our self-image, looking past the panhandler on the street, locking our doors, keeping order, these are the things that will make us safe, happy and content.  And the opposite – challenging the injustice of our culture, risking our safety to open the door to the stranger, sacrificing our own comfort and peace so that others may come in from the cold, these things are not what our society tells us will bring us happiness.    And yet those are exactly the things that Jesus says will bring us life.

This morning I am asking you to just consider what if – Jesus is exactly right and the way of the world is exactly wrong.   What if letting go of whatever it is that prevents you from listening to that still small voice in your heart that is calling you to answer Jesus’ call to discipleship is exactly the thing that will open you to a new life in Christ.  I don’t know what it is that Jesus has for you to do – but you know.  I don’t know who Jesus is calling you to love – but you do.  I don’t know who Jesus is asking you to talk to about God’s love – but you do.  I don’t know who needs you to pray with them – but you do.  You do because when you ask him, Jesus will show you the way.  When you pray God will answer with the assurance of love.

One of the things that I really miss in the contemporary liturgies are the “Comfortable words”...  “Hear the word of God to all who truly turn to him – Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for my yoke is easy and my burden is light and you will find rest for your souls”.  That is the enigma here.  That is the mystery of discipleship.  Taking on the cross brings rest for our souls.  Millard Fuller knew it.  And the world is a better place for his having lived.  The question for us this Lent is what cross do we need to take up in order to make the world a better place for us having lived?

The Lord is my Shepherd

 

The Psalm this week is Psalm 23.  The last time we heard this psalm was Easter 4, Good Shepherd Sunday.  It, like Isaiah 25, is often read at funerals because it offers comfort and reassurance to a people who are hurting and filled with anxiety and uncertainty. 

Often though when a text is familiar to the bone, I find that the message I hear in the text can change according to the situation in which I find myself.  Psalm 23 read on Good Shepherd Sunday might call up images of Jesus carrying a lamb on his shoulders.  I have one of those images on a small icon with the admonition from my bishop to “Feed my sheep”.   Psalm 23 read at a funeral might bring comfort as “the valley of the shadow of death” leaps to center stage.  And perhaps this coming Sunday, in the context of Jesus’ parable of the wedding banquet, I might look for reassurance in the table prepared in the presence of my enemies.

This week in your prayer time think back to that Sunday in May as we fasted from Eucharist and wondered when life would return to “normal”.  Perhaps you might go to the website and listen to Pastor Barb’s sermon to jog your memory.  Then take some time in prayer to see how Psalm 23 speaks to you today. 

There is a collect in the Order for Compline that invites us who are “wearied by the changes and chances of this life” to find rest in “God’s “eternal changelessness”.  Hurricanes, Covid, elections….  grief, exhaustion, fear, all of these are passing moments.  God’s love and compassion endures.  See you in church on Sunday.

Buen Camino,

Mother Jane

Labor Day Sermon

A Homily on Conflict.

Preached at St Patrick's Episcopal Church in Long Beach Mississippi

September 6, 2020

Click here for homily.

Matthew 18:15-20

Jesus said, “If another member of the church sins against you, go and point out the fault when the two of you are alone. If the member listens to you, you have regained that one. But if you are not listened to, take one or two others along with you, so that every word may be confirmed by the evidence of two or three witnesses. If the member refuses to listen to them, tell it to the church; and if the offender refuses to listen even to the church, let such a one be to you as a Gentile and a tax collector. Truly I tell you, whatever you bind on earth will be bound in heaven, and whatever you loose on earth will be loosed in heaven. Again, truly I tell you, if two of you agree on earth about anything you ask, it will be done for you by my Father in heaven. For where two or three are gathered in my name, I am there among them.”

Sowing Seeds in this New Covid 19 World

A farmer set out to plant some seeds

As he was sowing he noticed birds so he went and bought some aluminum foil and a fake scarecrow to scare off the birds.  He hung it all up and resumed sowing

But he noticed some of the seeds were falling on rocky ground so he went for his wheelbarrow and shovel and spent a long time getting the rocks all stacked up and thinking about what he might do with them.  Then he went back to the sowing but soon he began to see thorny weeds coming up and he knew that the weeds would steal the nutrients in the soil from the seeds so he headed out to buy weed killer, but opted instead for pulling them.

By the time he found his gloves and pulled the weeds it had gotten dark so he went inside and went to bed.

The next morning he woke up and picked up his seed pouch and headed out to plant. Much to his surprise there was a large bird sitting on the scarecrow, the places that he thought he had cleared of rocks seemed to have more rocks than ever, and the weeds that he had pulled up were sprouting new shoots from the left over roots.  At first he thought he would cry then he threw back his head and began to laugh.  He grabbed his seed pouch and began flinging seeds everywhere.  And much to his surprise the more seeds he sowed the more he seemed to have.  That year the harvest was more bountiful than it had ever been before.  Now none of this made any sense to him but wonder of wonders – he had never been happier in his life.

Let him who can hear - hear.

Not the traditional telling of the parable.  From a sermon by Barbara Brown Taylor who teaches at Piedmont College in GA.  Barbara’s words struck such a chord with me that I decided to share some of them with you.  So giving credit where credit is due much of the basis for my words today was inspired by her sermon.

In her sermon on the parable of the sower, Taylor tells us when she hears this parable her immediate response is to do a mental inventory of what kind of soil she offers for God’s Word.  In her words she tries to figure out if she is good enough dirt.  Her immediate response is to hear the parable as being all about Barbara.  But then she says that if that is true then the parable should have been called “the Parable of the Dirt”  Of course that is not its name and so Taylor turns to the real center of the parable – the sower – God.  The focus is not on us and our attempts at perfection, but rather it is on the generosity of the sower who did not give a whit about the quality of the ground, but rather tossed the seeds of blessing, the seeds of salvation around for all comers – and there seemed to be no limit to the abundance of those blessings.  

It is hard not to make a parable allegorical – by adding an interpretation years later.  Each player is assigned a meaning that may or may not be part of the original intent of Jesus - the birds are the “evil one”, the weeds – the cares of the world, and so on.  That is what happens when we use that familiar understanding that Barbara Brown Taylor called the “Parable of the Dirt”.  Everything has to stand for something.  But the way we have begun to understand parables is that they really only carry one point and that point will probably have something to do with a very deep understanding of God,

W  of what God’s Kingdom is like,

W  of what it means for us to be so loved by God that there is no limit to the honor, blessings and the grace that God showers upon us – regardless of whether we are worthy of those blessings or not. 

W  We are invited to stop trying to make ourselves more acceptable to God by being the perfect receptacle for God’s love. 

W  We are invited to use our imaginations and to lead with our hearts instead of our logical minds and

W  to envision a different way of being in relationship with God and with each other – one that is upside down from what we see everyday. 

In many ways parables tease us with more questions than answers.  They are like a painting of a crystal clear lake in a mountain valley.  We see the landscape, but if we open ourselves to look deeply into the vision of the artist, we are also aware of the life and vitality of the place.  Parables are dynamic and offer us insight into our own time and place - they change the way we see and understand very familiar images.   Parables take our understanding of the world we live in - and turns that understanding on its head.   They tell us that our idea of the way things are is not the same as God’s idea of how the world works.  And they leave us with the choice of whether or not we want to live our lives in the world’s reality or in God’s reality. 

The Parable of the Sower is about how God acts in unexpected ways of generosity, faithfulness, and hope – not what the early Christians expected of life - and certainly not what we expect in our world today.  But isn’t this what Jesus is trying to tell us?  From the Parable of the Sower we learn that we can live our lives hoarding our gifts, our possessions, our love and compassion or we can share them – give them away with reckless abandon the way the sower does. 

This morning I want to suggest that the Parable of the Sower is EXACTLY what we here at St Patrick’s need to hear.  We are struggling to hold our parish together in the face of fear, anger, despair, selfishness, isolation, loss, helplessness, - on and on…  And it would be much easier to simply succumb to the temptation to blame or shame ourselves or others for the challenges that we face.  But to do so would be to make ourselves the dirt that determines where and how God’s seeds might grow – and that is just not what Jesus is offering us this morning.  

Jesus is inviting us to let go of our assumptions about the way things “should” be.  Inviting us to open ourselves up to the unexpected, the non-traditional – the unfamiliar.  to scatter our seeds widely and with glorious abandon just as God showers us with love - widely and with glorious abandon.

2020 has ripped the foundation of our church from us by isolating us and depriving us of the very Body and Blood of Christ on which our community is nurtured and sustained.  Our response can be to withdraw, to take our marbles and go home or to step out in faith and share the gifts that we have in the same way that the Sower shared the seeds of God’s love.  Share our gifts without judging the value or the potential of the opportunity we meet.  Share them with the assumption that the outcome is not left up to us alone, but is in fact the Word of God that does not return without having accomplished that for which it was sent.  Share them without worrying about running out.  That is one of the crucial pieces of faith – that we give the job of replenishing our strength up to God.  We cannot be the Source – God is.

If we are to be Jesus’ disciples then we must turn our focus to the scattering of the seeds of God’s Kingdom using whatever means we have and giving thanks to God for providing the love we share.

I pray that as we live into this new way of being church, that we will put aside our assumptions and come God’s Tables together.  I pray that God will lead us into a new place of ministry and mission.  I pray that the ministry

W  begun with energy and purpose on the beach and

W  sustained by the faithfulness of the people at St Patrick’s,

W  then bolstered by the hope of a fledgling Lighthouse

will continue to flourish and give hope to those who worry that they will be forgotten.  But we can only do that by putting aside our fears and our judgments and picking up our pouch of seeds to scatter those Kingdom seeds widely and with reckless abandon.  Amen

What are you after this Easter?

Mathew tell us that when the women arrived at the tomb the earth shook and the stone rolled away - the very bowels of the earth shook when God acted.  It rings true that everything we know is disrupted by God’s intervention – and rightly so, but more likely than not we are more closely aligned with the soldiers - whose fear of the unknown power of God to transform our very lives - turns them to stone.  Like the emoji with the sun glasses we shield our eyes and our hearts from the blinding light of resurrection.  Instead of a tables turning realignment of justice and love, religion, - as society teaches it - becomes the backdrop for social stability, cultural conformity, and relational order.  Instead of calling us to act boldly out of a passionate fervor to extend God’s reign, religion can become for us a code of behavior and a mesmerizing narcotic. God shaking the earth is not on most folks list of what I came to church to hear.  Sorry…..  Newsflash ….  Jesus is on his way to Galilee.  You will need a new pair of sneakers to catch him and the joy of life that we all hope to find today.

 Some preachers in their online pulpits will give fiery sermons on the evils of one human frailty or another.  Some will offer words of consolation and pacification for the troubles that the world today is facing.   Some will invite you into meditation and reflection on the beauty of the world around us even in the midst of pandemic.  Some will try to explain away one of the more mysterious theological tenets.  Such sermons may comfort or cause us to mend our errant ways and they will give us a feeling of joy, but those who hear a steady diet of such are likely to respond the same way that the disciples did – saying that the women claiming that the earth had moved were absolutely nuts.

Each of these “joy’ sermons have one common thread of error.  At the core they are all about me….  all about you…  all about us….  Church for these congregations is where we come to get pumped up for one service project or another, or where we come to be sustained and nourished in order to juggle the demands of parenthood, jobs, relationships and all, or perhaps to see where my path went astray and to be reassured of forgiveness for the sins of omission and commission, or perhaps to get my perspectives realigned as my mother used to tell me.  Well yes….  It is all of that and there is nothing wrong with whatever it is that brings us here….  God and your Vestry and your rector welcome you warmly!!  And we want you to come back – Sunday after Sunday online or in person…  But that is not the real joy that God offers to us.

 This story of an empty tomb is not about us…..  It is about God.  It is about God who is on the move.  In fact it is about God who is taking on the ills of this world head on.  God who doesn’t meet us at the tomb or in the garden, but who walks with the healthcare workers, the police officers, the grocery store clerks, the delivery drivers, and on and on.  God who seeks out the lost and the lonely.  God who reaches out to the woman in the mask with the grocery cart who is petrified of what might be lurking in the air…. and offers her comfort.  God who hears the voices calling from the wondows of their houses – who lament the tragic loss of life and who only want a chance to live without fear or anger.  God who confronts the rich man and tells him that idolizing the things in his life will rob him of salvation.  God the truth teller, God the sin namer, God the life giver, God the earth shaker.  God whose call to us in this life moves us from “What am I to do?” to a much more fearsome place of asking, “What is God doing?”.  That is the mystery that lies at the bottom of our joy this Easter.  What is God doing in the world?  God pierces the darkness with light.  God creates.  God loves, God heals.  God raises the dead to new life.  Dare we come today and look with the women into the emptiness of the tomb with wonder and awe?  Dare we set out for Galilee – enter into the unknown – go in search of God?

Rev Susan Gleason posted a story on Facebook about her encounter with a small child at the Holy Thursday service she attended.  This little girl has a lot to say about why we are all here today.

 “Last evening, I attended a Maundy Thursday service.  Just before communion a young woman entered the sanctuary with a little girl.  My first response, as they walked past the choir loft and behind the table where the pastor and church members were reenacting the Last Supper, was to wonder who would be so bold as to come so late to the service and not enter through the back door.  The two had barely found seats in the front row when we were called to line up to receive the sacrament.  My husband and I fell in line behind the woman and child.  The woman kept bending down to speak to the child who was pointing in various directions.  When she caught my eye the woman whispered to me that the little girl had been outside riding her bike and said that she wanted to come into the church.  The woman explained, “My family was not religious but I figured ‘Why not?’”  Now, the little girl wanted to know where God was.  She pointed again toward a corner of the church, “Is he there?”  I bent down and told her, “God isn’t a body…God is spirit and God is everywhere…In our hearts and all around us.”  She looked confused and pointed in yet another direction.  “Is he there?”  I tried again, “Do you know how you can’t really see the wind?”  She nodded.  I continued, “But you know it’s there because you can see what it does?”  She nodded again and seemed less agitated.  “Well,” I told her, “God’s kind of like that.” The line had continued to move as we whispered and the woman and child were now at the front.  “And,” the woman added, “God gives us bread.”  The smiling pastor extended the platter which held a broken loaf and a dish of gluten free crackers.  The child hesitated and the pastor nudged a broken piece toward her.  The woman also offered her one of the crackers.  They then returned to their seats and when the service ended, I looked for them, hoping to share more, but they had gone.  I don’t know if they will come again but even if they do not, I hope that on a day when it matters most, that little girl will choose again to look for God, knowing that she may find some answers and that she will be fed.”  

I don’t know if you will find what you are looking this Easter.  I don’t know if you will be back next Sunday either.  I don’t know who will fall in love or get a new job with more money or who of us will face change, or loss, or even death in the coming days.  But I do know this.  God has acted in the world and God is with us through whatever trials or tribulations life deals out to us.   I do not understand it nor can I control it.  But I am grateful and I am full of joy.  And what’s more I know where to go to see God…  in all the Galilees of the world….  Out there and in here and I know that when I see God in the faces of my brothers and sisters…there God will give us bread.

What is your name?

February is Black History Month.  My daughter-in-law wrote about a conversation she had with Liam the other day.  He overheard a news broadcast mentioning Black History Month and asked why it is Black history month when the color of the skin is brown.  Jackie wisely did not trivialize his thought nor did she give an extended lecture.  Rather she asked him what he thought they would want to be called.  Liam answered “By their name”

Of course it is more complicated than that.  Right?  Maybe.  Or perhaps we are missing the whole point of Black History Month.  As a child in rural Louisiana I was taught literally nothing about the part people of color played in the making of our nation other than the many ways in which we oppressed, enslaved, and tried to eliminate them.  Nor was I taught about the persecution of Gay and Lesbian individuals.  Harsh words I know, but I know of no other way to talk about the Trail of Tears, the Triangle Trade, the Sand Creek Massacre, the Pulse Nightclub massacre or decades of lynching, voter suppression, bullying, and profiling.  As an adult I began to pick up on the massive injustice.   I wondered about the moral validity of separate but equal or the existence of reservations.  What I have come to understand is that it is literally impossible for me to imagine the pain and suffering of people of color or immigrants or the LGBTQ+ community in our country.  If I truly want to know our history, then I must listen to the stories told by those who have experienced that history.  In other words I must know them by their name.

Julius Lester is the author of a children’s book called “Let’s Talk About Race”.  He gently leads us to imagine going out into the world with no skin – where it is impossible to tell woman for man, dark skin tone from light skin tone, Hispanic from Caucasian, etc etc.  Instead he says the thing that makes us who we are is not gender or race or place of origin, rather it is our STORY.  He asks what kind foods do you like?  What is your favorite time of day?  When were you born?  WHAT IS YOUR NAME?  The book ends:  “I am so , so, many things besides my race.  To know my story, you have to put together everything I am.  Beneath the skin we all look alike.  You and Me.”  And then he admonishes us ….  “I’ll take off my skin.  Will you take off yours?”

Studying the history of our country should include more than one perspective.  Black History Month is important because we need to know the stories of others in order to fully understand our own stories.  Perhaps we also need a "Native American History month, a Growing up Gay History Month, a Born in the South, or the North or the Midwest History Month.  Silly and overkill - perhaps.  But until we know the stories of the parts, we will not know the story of the whole.  

We are inextricably linked – you and I.  We all have fears - nuclear war- car wrecks, climate change, house fire, being robbed or raped.  We all have likes and dislikes - spinach, thunderstorms, magnolias, cats and dogs, spy movies, reading.  We all have pain, sorrow, love, loss.  We are not so different you and I.  I’ll tell you my story.  Will you tell me yours?

Images of God - A Conundrum!

In our book club, which will meet this Tuesday at 6, we are reading the Dance of the Dissident Daughter by Sue Kidd Monk.  Since I had driven to Jackson to play tennis I was totally immersed in listening to the book.  Then when I read the Gospel lesson for today I could not believe my luck…  How easy this will be I thought!  Just talk about resurrection!  Well no….  It’s more complicated than I had thought on first blush.  The thing is it is hard for me to get past the parable to Jesus’ message.  The injustice just jumps off the page.

How dare the Sadducees to assume that this woman who had not born any children for seven brothers has no say in the matter herself.  And here we are, in an “enlightened society” and we just read this story focusing on Jesus’ authority - without ever giving her rights, her dignity, her humanity a thought.  At least we have read it that way for some 2000 years.  But I suspect that you, like me, find this parable revolting.

How did this happen?  How can we overlook the assumption that a woman is simply chattel and not worth a moment of concern.  I get a lot of ribbing for my “adjustments to the liturgy”  Most often the changes I make involve substituting God for Lord or Creator for Father.  Instead  of “Praise Father Son and Holy Ghost in the Doxology I sing “Creator. Christ, and Holy Ghost”. I would use Spirit but the notes don’t match.  LOL 

There is, though, a serious method to my madness.  Lord usually translates adonai, which is the equivalent of ruler or master.  Sometimes it is translated from Yahweh (Jehovah), the sacred covenant name of the Desert God of the Hebrew people.  God, on the other hand, most often translates elohim, which appears to mean something like "the mighty one."   For me it is the difference between “set over” and “set apart”.  To be set over is to rule, to control but to be set apart implies a companionship and mutually loving relationship.  I also realize that there are times when the syntax makes it awkward to make that substitution.  But here’s the thing, everytime it is awkward it makes us think about what we are saying.  Sue Kidd reminds us:

“The core symbols we use for God represent what we take to be the highest good....These symbols or images shape our worldview, our ethical system, and our social practice--how we relate to one another.  For instance, [Elizabeth A.] Johnson suggests that if a religion speaks about God as warrior, using militaristic language such as how "he crushes his enemies" and summoning people to become soldiers in God's army, then the people tend to become militaristic and aggressive.
Likewise, if the key symbol of God is that of a male king (without any balancing feminine imagery), we become a culture that values and enthrones men and masculinity.”
― Sue Monk Kidd, The Dance of the Dissident Daughter: A Woman's Journey from Christian Tradition to the Sacred Feminine

The Patriarchy that is woven into our Gospel lesson today is a perfect example of the normalization of a tradition that has little of nothing to do with God who is Love.  And it effects not only our liturgy and music and prayer, it infects our everyday lives.  It tears down the value of half of God’s children and puts unreasonable stress on the other half.  Kidd’s book is subtitled “A Woman’s Journey from Christian Tradition to the Sacred Feminine”.   There is a fundamental truth in the realization that in fact this awakening is a journey of loving self that opens the door for being able to love the other.  What we say in our worship can place roadblocks or build super highways for that journey.  In truth we have no way of speaking about God, about the “mighty one, the holy one” without images.  Our images and our symbols, Kidd says, those things expressed in our music, in our prayer, in our physical space, they create a universal language that the deepest reaches of our souls understand.   (loosely quoted)

There is a theological truth… Lex Orandi Lex Credendi.  Our prayer shapes our belief.  Embedded in our Eucharistic prayer is an admonition from the celebrant…  Proclaim the mystery of faith!  And the congregation responds “Christ has died, Christ has risen, Christ will come again”.  Right there in the midst of the Eucharistic Prayer we profess to believe in Christ’s Resurrection and note that it is unprovable and therefore mysterious.  Mystery is one of my favorite words.  It is at once awful and wonderful, powerful and gentle, forceful and yielding, firm but graceful.  Mystery is that which we seek, but which is just outside of our grasp. 

In our gospel lesson this morning the people with the rule books, the Sadducees, try really hard to make Jesus slip up and look like a fool in front of all those people who have been following him around and listening to him teach.  These Sadduccees were well-heeled politically and economically.  They followed the Torah, but put less emphasis on the writings of the prophets than some other groups.  Since Torah does not speak of Resurrection they did not profess to believe in it.  Other Jewish sects, notably the Pharisees, did believe in some form of resurrection.  Jesus doesn’t really sidestep their question, but neither does he fall into their trap.  Instead he alludes to a different paradigm for living, one that is not bound by mortal constraints.  But, I am not going to delve heavily into the theology of the Resurrection now, rather I want to make the point that this particular story that is told about Jesus is less about the theology of resurrection and more about the authority which Jesus has claimed. 

The Sadducees address Jesus as Teacher, but only to set him up –– asking a trick question designed to stump rather than to enlighten –– attempting to embarrass Jesus –– to undercut his authority as a teacher.  They invite Jesus into the no-win territory between the no-resurrection Sadducees and the resurrection Pharisees –– a place where he is bound to alienate at least half the crowd.  But Jesus is not stumped.  Instead he boggles the mind by taking the discussion out of the present context all together- honestly I think He would have been uncomfortable with 7 brothers owning a woman… -  He leads those gathered into that place of mystery where the boundaries of 1^st century Palestine society do not apply.  To a place where the children of God transcend mortal coils and live in relationship with God and with each other throughout eternity - for in God all are alive. 

Jesus’ teachings in Luke, so full of parables and healings stories, serve as an invitation to us to move beyond the confines of our own limited knowledge and experience and to embrace the mystery of abundant love and mercy.  Come and see, take, eat, enter in, behold, consider, dwell.  Jesus invites us to consider a different way of being in relationship with God and with each other.  The invitation we have is to consent to a relationship that surprises us, astounds us, comforts us and baffles us.  But for this relationship we must put away our earthly desires, paradigms, ways of being, and open ourselves up to the limitless possibilities of God.  We must turn from being in control to trusting that whatever is down the road, God will travel it with us.  We must as Sue Kidd says, allow the feminine Goddess in each of us burst out of the shackles of patriarchy.

Trusting in God in this way allows us to free ourselves from the literalistic rules that limit God.  Frees us from energy sapping guilt and shame.  Trust allows us the time and space to let life happen without worry and anxiety about what others think of us or how we will juggle all the balls that we carry around day to day.  Trust liberates us to live joyfully in the midst of the mystery of God.  How we express that trust in word and action really does matter.  Amen