Send Us Anywhere You Would Have Us Go

I meant to post this earlier but the week got away from me. Here's my sermon from Sunday, October 9 ... with thanks to Liz Habecker, Jack Spong, Jan Nunley and Delonte Gholston. I was totally preaching to myself ... and a week later, still am.

October 9, 2016 | All Saints Church, Pasadena

Send us anywhere you would have us go,
only go there with us.

 Place upon us any burden you desire,          
only stand by us to sustain us.

 Break any tie that binds us,
except the tie that binds us to you.

Amen.

A week ago Friday I sat on my porch and wrote these words:

On what is for me a Sabbath day I am embracing gratitude for health, friends and family; for a new chapter beginning at All Saints; for the gifts of romping dogs and baseball -- especially this weekend the gift of Vin Scully. For music, theater and art that expresses what words alone cannot -- and for the pulse of love, justice and compassion beating at the heart of the universe.

And I am acknowledging this morning the toll that the deep ache of grief and sadness which saturates the very fabric of our beautiful and broken world is taking on my soul. The ugliness and polarization of this election cycle pointing a spotlight on systemic racism, sexism and ignorance that contaminate our nation.

The constantly growing list of hashtags that has become a numbing litany of the heartbreaking reality that black lives do NOT matter as much as white lives in our country. The scourge of gun violence that infects our nation -- taking the lives of children in our streets and police officers in the line of duty. And the very real fear of what impact the marshaling of forces and resources to preserve white privilege and patriarchy will have -- not only on all those on the margins but on what's left of the American Dream.

I can't embrace the gratitude without acknowledging the grief -- and at the same time I can't acquiesce to despair because of the gratitude. And so I sit on this Sabbath day in the both/and vortex ... until the dryer buzzes and it's time to fold laundry.

Shared on my Facebook page,
the comments in response told me I was not alone
in naming both the challenges and opportunities
of living in this moment in our history –
and that I am most certainly not alone
in the struggle to balance grief, gratitude
and a whole boatload of other feelings as well.

One place I go to for wisdom in seeking that balance
is back to the words I began with this morning –
the words of the blessing I inherited
from the priest who mentored me through my ordination process 20 years ago – words she inherited from her bishop Jack Spong 20 years earlier.

Send us anywhere you would have us go,

 only go there with us.

The very definition of being Christians – followers of Jesus – is to be sent.
Indeed, the definition of the word “apostle” in Greek is “one who is sent away.”

So as wonderful as it is to gather here on Sunday morning

in this awesome space with these fabulous people

and these gorgeous flowers with this beautiful music

the point of our being here is not our being here.

The point of our being here is going there.

Of being sent.

Of going out from here as beacons of God’s love, justice and compassion

in order to make a difference in the world.

In order to build the kingdom.

In other words the point of the church is not what happens in the church.

The point of the church is what happens in the world because of the church.

If you’ve spent more than two or three Sundays

in the pews here at All Saints Church none of that will come as news you.

But I remember when it was news to me.

Born at Good Samaritan Hospital and baptized at the Old Cathedral

I never remember not being part of the church.

But I do remember the first time I ever heard that going to church

was not the point of going to church.

It was 1980-something and I was a young mother at Saint Paul’s in Ventura.

There was a Wednesday night soup and study series during Lent –

and I signed up to go … partly because it was Lent

and I wanted to do something to deepen my spiritual life

and partly because there was child care

and I could talk to adults for a couple of hours once a week.

 One Wednesday night we had a visiting priest from South India

and his subject was “building the kingdom of God.”

And he used this example that I’ve never forgotten.

 He asked us to picture a big, tall, beautiful building under construction.

And then he asked to picture the scaffolding that surrounded the building

while it was under construction … supporting it and framing it

as it rose into the sky until it was ready to stand on its own.

He told us to think of the building as the Kingdom of God

we’ve been called to build here on earth as it is in heaven …

the kingdom we pray about every time we pray the Lord’s Prayer.

And then he told us to think of the scaffolding surrounding the building

as the church.

 And this is the part where he rocked my world.

“The point of the church is not the church

in the same way the point of the scaffolding is not the scaffolding,” he said.

“The point of the church is to build the kingdom.

And when the church gets it wrong

is when it spends so much time polishing, preserving and fussing

with the scaffolding that it forgets to build the building –

forgets to build the kingdom.”

 It was in that moment in that parish hall on that Wednesday in Lent

I realized for the first time WHY it is we need the church –

and not just as a place to go once a week to talk to adults!

I realized that the church is not an end in itself –

but that it is essential to our work of building the kingdom of God.

And that was a learning that I took with me – eventually into seminary –

and have carried with me through 20 years of ordained ministry.

Through those years I’ve had plenty of opportunities to remember

that when the church becomes an end in itself

rather than a means to build the kingdom

it needs to be reminded of what its purpose is – what its role is

– what its mission is.

The church – meant to be a deliver system for the liberating love of God –

needs to be challenged to take that message out into the world

just as Jeremiah challenged the exiles in Babylon

to “seek the peace and prosperity of the city” to which they had been sent.

Just so we are called to take the Good News of God’s love, justice and compassion into the city … into the streets … into our politics.

Yes, our politics. As my brilliant friend Jan Nunley explains:

“Politics is the art and science relating to citizens

making decisions in community about their community.

Politics can be done well or badly, by crooks or honest people,

but in the end, the business of government is not to turn a profit for some,

but to order society, as nearly as possible, for the good of all.”

To order society, as nearly as possible, for the good of all.

Not the good of some.

Not the good of just those who look like us, worship like us, or even vote like us.

The good of all

And that brings me to part two of the prayer and blessing we began with this morning:

Place upon us any burden you desire
 only stand by us to sustain us.

Today is October 9. A month from today – November 9 –

the longest election cycle in the history of voting will be over.

And no matter who gets elected to what by which margin on November 9^th

we will wake up with the burden of moving forward together as a nation

which – whether we’re all acting like it or not at the moment –

was conceived in liberty and dedicated to the proposition

that all people are created equal.

The burden that has been placed upon us

is the burden of having seen what we cannot unsee –

and our response must be to trust

that the God who promises to stand by us to sustain us

will sustain us as we move forward on November 9

to make a way where it looks like there is no way.

For we have seen the ugliness and polarization of this election cycle.

We have seen the systemic racism, sexism and ignorance

that contaminate our nation.
We have seen the political system –

intended to “order society, as nearly as possible, for the good of all”

fail to live up to that high calling

descending instead into bickering, bias and partisan gridlock.

We have seen the constantly growing list of hashtags

that has become a numbing litany of the heartbreaking reality

that black lives do NOT matter as much as white lives in our country.

And we are reminded that the reason we continue to say BlackLivesMatter

is BECAUSE all lives matter --

and until we become a nation where we ACT like all lives matter -- equally --

saying BlackLivesMatter reminds us to be the change we want to see.

The burden that has been placed upon us –

the burden of seeing what we might otherwise have ignored –

is also the opportunity to be that change we want to see

as we are healed of our blindness

as surely as Jesus healed the ten lepers in this morning’s Gospel. 

Healed of our blindness to the polarization, alienation and ignorance

that afflicts our nation we can be liberated

to be sent back out with antidotes of love, justice and compassion –

tools to build that kingdom come on earth as it is in heaven.

Break any tie that binds us

except the tie that binds us to you

Break any tie that binds us except the tie that binds us

to the God who not only loved us enough to become one of us

but who is the very source of the love that is stronger even than death.

As resurrection people we celebrate the triumph of love over death

not just on Easter Sunday but every day we draw breath in this realm –

every time we choose love over fear –

every time we step up and step out in the name of the Jesus

who is the incarnation of all that is loving, liberating and life-giving.

In the words of an old favorite quote:

“The great Easter truth is not that we will be born again someday

but that we are to be alive here and now by the power of the resurrection.”

The great Good News of God in Christ Jesus is not about salvation someday

but about liberation from the fear of death today – here – now.

And liberated from the fear of death

we are freed to risk stepping up and speaking out

in the service of dismantling all that stands in the way

of our human race becoming the human family it was created to be –

even when it means breaking ties of dogma, doctrine and denomination

that have everything to do with the church-as-scaffolding

and nothing to do with the Kingdom of God.

I want to close with a story of a moment from last week
when I had the privilege of actually seeing that kingdom building in action
here in Pasadena.
It happened last Tuesday at an early morning meeting of Pasadena faith leaders convened in a conference room at Fuller Seminary
in response to the death of JR Thomas –
a conference room that became very holy ground.
It was a glimpse of what can happen when the Spirit sends us and stands with us – of what the church looks like when it is building the kingdom.

Hear the words of Pastor Delonte Gholston:

“The church in Pasadena will not stand on the sidelines in the wake of yet another hashtag. As the church always has, we will comfort those who mourn. As the church always has, we will honor the image of God in the hurting and the marginalized. As the church always has, we will lead our brothers and sisters who are "not there yet" into a place of deeper knowing and understanding toward communities that are hurting. We will hold this family, this community, this city, and this country in the light of Christ.  Even in the midst of chaos, anguish and confusion, we will hold the light of Christ. JR Thomas was a child of God, made in the image of God and we will hold the light of Christ to stand for justice, even as we mourn and grieve that his light was snuffed out, even as he and his family cried out for help. The Spirit of God is hovering over the deep and saying, "let there be light."

Let there be light.

Let there be love.

Let there be liberation.

And then send us anywhere you would have us go.

Amen.

Again With the Coming Out Story

On July 4, 1996 at noon eastern time I was in the choir at the National Cathedral. While crowds of tourists milled about the nave of the cathedral and others gathered outside or headed toward the Mall for the fireworks festivities scheduled later it the day or lined up to see the opening-that-day film “Independence Day” (remember that one?) a remnant of us gathered in the cathedral choir for a festival celebration of the Feast of American Independence, BCP style.

The music was glorious, the lessons inspiring and the privilege of receiving Holy Communion at the altar in this amazing “house of prayer for all people” as we celebrated the birth of a nation dedicated to “liberty and justice for all” was an amazing gift I will always remember.

Oh … and I came out.

In the cathedral. On the Fourth of July. In the middle of festival Eucharist I had the great “aha” moment – the epiphany – the “I-shoulda-had-a-V8” realization that the God who had “fearfully and wonderfully” made me had made me gay. And called me to priesthood. And told me “now, go back and be the priest I called you to be.”

That’s my coming out story. I’ve told it many times before but on this “Coming Out Day” it seemed worth telling again. It seemed worth reminding myself – and anybody else who wants to listen in – that I did not come out from the fringes of anything but from what former Presiding Bishop Frank Griswold famously called "the diverse center."

I came out in the context of a spiritual journey that began with my baptism at St. Paul’s Cathedral in Los Angeles in 1954 (go ahead and do the math!) and continued through Junior Choir, confirmation class, Altar Guilds and Vacation Bible Schools, ECW Boards, teas and luncheons, Diocesan Conventions, vestries and parish day school boards and finally seminary, ordination and parish ministry.

My coming out had nothing to do with a political act. It had nothing to do with a genital act. It had to do with recognizing that I could not be fully present at altar if I was not fully present in myself – and it had to do with being raised in a church where +John Hines taught me that “justice is the corporate face of God’s love,” +Ed Browning told me that in the Episcopal Church there would be no outcasts and the consecration of +Barbara Harris incarnated for me the hope that this church was actually willing to live into its high calling to live out a radically inclusive gospel.

So Happy “Coming Out Day” to me – and to the scores of LGBT Episcopalians like me. Are we a challenge to the wider church? I hope so. And I hope we continue to be. I hope that our voices of faith and witness will continue to preach, to protest and to prophesy – that we will stand in the temple and tell the Good News of God in Christ Jesus made present in our lives, our vocations and our relationships. That we will preach that Good News in and out of season.

And here's to our core American values of liberty and justice for all and to everyone committed to our core Episcopal values of respecting the dignity of every human being. Not because we’re politically correct but because we’re gospel obedient -- and because we're going to do whatever we can to offer a rebuttal to the rabid rhetoric of the religious right who have taken the Good News of God’s inclusive love and distorted it into a weapon of mass discrimination. Of humiliation. Of homophobia.

Because the stakes are too high. Because the damage to precious souls is too costly. And because the truth that there are people of faith who proclaim justice and compassion — not judgment and condemnation — is too important not to step up and speak out. As Harvey Milk said “You must come out ... and once and for all, break down the myths, destroy the lies and distortions.” And for me as a Christian, those lies and distortions include hijacking my faith and turning it into weapon to wound God’s beloved LGBT children.

So Come Out, Come Out wherever you are. Come Out as proud LGBT members of the rainbow tribe. And if you happen to be the Christian variety, then Come Out as a Christian, too. Break down some myths. Destroy some lies and distortions. And if we do it long enough and loud enough and together enough eventually we will be done. And October 11th will roll around and nobody will need to Come Out because there won’t be any closets left.

And wouldn’t that be fabulous?

Homily for the Feast of Saint Francis

Got to preach at the bilingual service here at All Saints on Sunday 10/2 ... on Saint Francis as patron saint of environmental justice and icon of faith in action in our broken and beautiful world.

Whenever there is a list of the “most popular” saints you can count on Saint Francis being on it. The prayer that we associate with him, "Lord, make me an instrument of your peace," is arguably one of the most popular prayers ever circulated. His statue appears in gardens around the world – including ours here at All Saints. The patron saint of peace-makers and ecologists he is associated with works of mercy to the poor and marginalized and -- perhaps most famously -- with animal lovers.

Because of his great love of animals Saint Francis not only shows up on bird baths and bird feeders but it has become the custom that on his Feast Day all across the world people gather for “blessing of the animals” services like we had here on the lawn this morning … with an amazing assortment of “all creatures, great and small” from dogs of every shape, size and temperament to cats, rodents and even a few reptiles.

All of this to mark the ministry of Saint Francis – who believed that nature itself was the mirror of God. He called all creatures his “brothers” and “sisters,” even preached to the birds and – legend has it -- persuaded a wolf to stop attacking some locals if they agreed to feed the wolf. In our 21st century blessings of our animal companions and family members we are reminded through the ministry of a 13th century saint that we are connected to all creatures created by God and – as stewards of God’s creation – we have a responsibility to care for and respect all who share with us life on this fragile Earth.

And so – for me – Saint Francis is arguably the perfect patron saint for us to turn to in this time of global climate crisis … to support us in the work we have to do to live out the gospel in the world as advocates for environmental justice and to challenge those who ignore or dismiss climate change as a “myth” or “hoax.”(And as hard as that may be to believe there are some who do … I’ve actually seen them on the evening news!)

That brings me to another famous set of words attributed to Saint Francis – words that may not be as famous as the “make us instruments of your peace” prayer but important words nevertheless.

And those words are: "Preach the Good News at all times -- and if necessary use words.”

If necessary … use words.

Preaching for Francis didn’t just happen from words in a church on Sunday by a preacher in a pulpit. Preaching for Francis happened in the world through the actions of living out God’s values of love, justice and compassion … for the whole human family AND for all creatures, great and small. As a lover of animals, peace and creation Francis was also a man of action. Putting God’s love for the world into action was how he preached the Good News at all times – using words IF necessary.

And in his actions he challenged the church of his day – a church that had settled into valuing power and privilege over the call to follow Jesus out into the world in the service of the poor, the oppressed and the marginalized. His “rule of life” was quite simply "To follow the teachings of our Lord Jesus Christ and to walk in his footsteps” – and as he lived out that rule he inspired others to join him ... giving up money, power and privilege and creating the Franciscan Order to serve the poor, the oppressed and marginalized … an order that continues to live out the Gospel in the world all these centuries later.

Saint Francis was willing to challenge the church to look beyond what it had become – an institution serving those who were already inside its walls and in its pews – and call it to live up to its high calling to actually be the hands and feet of Jesus in the world.

Saint Francis loved Jesus enough to challenge the church of his day -- and we celebrate his ministry when we follow in his footsteps by challenging the church of OUR day just as he did in his. And we do that when we challenge the church to not settle for building the church but continue to the work of building the Kingdom.

And what do I mean by that? Let me tell you a story.

A long time ago when I was a young mother my church had a Wednesday night soup and study series during Lent – and I signed up to go … partly because it was Lent and I wanted to do something to deepen my spiritual life and partly because there was child care and I could talk to adults for a couple of hours once a week.

One Wednesday night we had a visiting priest from South India and his subject was “building the kingdom of God.” And he used this example that I’ve never forgotten.

He asked us to picture a big, tall, beautiful building under construction. And then he asked to picture the scaffolding that surrounded the building while it was under construction … supporting it and framing it as it rose into the sky until it was ready to stand on its own.

He told us to think of the building as the Kingdom of God we’ve been called to build here on earth as it is in heaven … the kingdom we pray about every time we pray the Lord’s Prayer. And then he told us to think of the scaffolding surrounding the building as the church.

And this is the part where he rocked my world. “The point of the church is not the church in the same way the point of the scaffolding is not the scaffolding,” he said. “The point of the church is to build the kingdom. And when the church gets it wrong is when it spends so much time polishing, preserving and fussing with the scaffolding that it forgets to build the building – forgets to build the kingdom.”

It was in that moment in that parish hall on that Wednesday in Lent I realized for the first time WHY it is we need the church – and not just as a place to go once a week to talk to adults! I realized that the church is not an end in itself – but that it is essential to our work of building the kingdom of God. And that was a learning that I took with me – eventually into seminary – and have carried with me through 20 years of ordained ministry.

And through those years I’ve had plenty of opportunities to remember that when the church becomes an end in itself rather than a means to build the kingdom it needs to be reminded of what its purpose is – what its role is – what its mission is.

That’s exactly what Saint Francis did by leaving the safety and security of the institutional church and going out into the world to preach the Gospel … using words if necessary. Taking the church out into the world and meeting people where they were in order to bring the Good News of God’s love, justice and compassion to them … not waiting for them to show up but going out to where they were.

And one of the things I heard in our rector-elect Mike Kinman’s sermon on Homecoming Sunday was the challenge to us to do exactly that … to both continue and to expand our commitment to going out to be the church in the world … beyond these walls … in both word and action … as we take the Good News to a world yearning for hope and healing … and as we work to be the change we want to see in our struggle to be part of the solution rather than contribute to the problem of climate change … as we work to dismantle systemic racism and stand with those who work to make #blacklivesmatter not just a hashtag but a reality in this nation.

The challenges we face are great – but the God who sends us out to love and serve the world in God’s name is greater. So on this Saint Francis Day let us pray to always to be open to the inspiration by the same Spirit who inspired Saint Francis – the saint whose love of all creation sent him out into the world as a beacon of that love, justice and compassion. Let us pray that today that the same beacon will continue to shine through us in our day as it did through him in his.

May God make us all instrument of peace, agents of compassion and followers of Jesus – on this Saint Francis Day and always. Amen.