Wandering Through Advent

Advent 1C; Jeremiah 33:14-16; Luke 21:25-36; St. Paul’s Smithfield, NC 11/29/2015 

Over the past few days I’ve been wondering what it might be like to use the labyrinth as a metaphor for the season of Advent.  In fact, my hope for the four Sundays in Advent is that those who wish to do so will use a weekly Advent liturgy for labyrinth walking created by Anglican Priest Sally Welch.  I will be using it on Sunday mornings with the Youth Class at 10:00, and adults are welcome to join in with us. 

Advent reminds us that we are an eternal people in the midst of a mystifying journey, all the while living in a temporal world that is passing away.   In a book on labyrinth walking, author  Lauren Artress suggests that as we walk the labyrinth, we come to understand that we “are not human beings on a spiritual path, but spiritual beings on a human path” (Walking a Sacred Path).  Or, as C.S. Lewis reportedly said, “You don’t have a soul, you are a soul.  You have a body.”

Advent is a time to slow down a bit and pay attention to the journey – a hard thing to do in the midst of the cacophony of sound, and the busyness of the world around us – the busyness of our own hearts.

Advent is meant to be a time of listening for God – a time for preparing to receive the presence of God in our lives.  And I will admit that at times I make the mistake of talking when I should be listening.  Perhaps that happens to you as well.  The first Sunday of Advent rolls around and we’re so busy with the holidays – or so busy with work – or so busy trying to figure out family stuff that so often comes to a head this time of year – we get so busy we forget to listen to one another, we forget to listen to God, and we even forget to listen to our own hearts.  For me, that’s where our labyrinth can come in to play. 

Walking the labyrinth in the quiet of each morning before I sit down at my desk, get on the computer or phone, or meet with someone, gives me the time to pause – to listen – and to reflect.  It’s a time of holiness and a time of wholeness for me.  It might be something God is calling at least some of you to trying during the season.  So, in a nutshell, here’s how I see labyrinth walking as a way of participating in the weekly, and perhaps for some of us daily, rhythm of Advent.

The first week of Advent talks about things that supposedly will happen in the distant future.  The stories of our faith speak of tumultuous times when the Day of the Lord – or the return of Christ will come upon us.  Depending on what liturgical year we are in, we have different visions of cataclysmic endings of the world and of end times.  Year C – the liturgical year we are beginning this morning – has visions in the Gospel of confusion and distress – and visions of Christ returning in great glory. 

But the overall picture we get in Jeremiah, First Thessalonians, and Luke are images of promise even in the midst of the turmoil. 

“The days are surely coming, says the LORD, when I will fulfill the promise I made to the house of Israel and the house of Judah. In those days and at that time I will cause a righteous Branch to spring up for David; and he shall execute justice and righteousness in the land. In those days Judah will be saved and Jerusalem will live in safety” (Jeremiah 33:14-15).  Paul prays, “may the Lord make you increase and abound in love for one another and for all, just as we abound in love for you. And may he so strengthen your hearts in holiness that you may be blameless before our God and Father at the coming of our Lord Jesus with all his saints” (1 Thess. 3:13).  Jesus speaks of our redemption, and tells his disciples that even if heaven and earth were to pass away, his word will not pass away” (Luke 21:28,33), and in that promise we have hope as well.

Whenever we walk the labyrinth we find ourselves at first walking long wide curves out in the distant the edge of the labyrinth.  We know we are headed toward the center – our resting place along the labyrinthian journey.  But the center is still far off, and the end of the journey even further.  The long, wide curves remind us of the journey that will unfold before us.  There will be a time when the turns come more often and each one is a tight turn, bringing with it a complete reversal of direction.  But for now, the journey stretches out before us without haste.  Can we begin our Advent journeys without haste?  Can we begin our journeys without the weight of the world on our shoulders and the busyness of life crashing down upon us?  Are we willing to live with some uncertainty and expectation in our lives – not knowing what comes next, but trusting God to journey with us this Advent?

The journey into the labyrinth is a process of letting go.  This First Sunday of Advent we are invited and challenged to let go of the noisiness and busyness of this world and look to the promise of a new creation centered in our love for God and our love for neighbor.

The second week of Advent John the Baptist will come on the scene and he will call us to make some sharper turns, some 360 degree turns which will quite possibly remind us of what it means to repent – to turn around – to turn back toward God.  We can walk the labyrinth and let go of the brokenness of our world and make a commitment to work for a change to the structures that so often objectify the people of this world.

During the third week of Advent we will move closer to the center circle and the turnings are just as sharp but maybe they feel even sharper because the circle is smaller and we will be reminded of how important it is to find our home in God.  Just as it looks like we’re ready to step into the center of the labyrinth we’re suddenly moving away again.  On this third Sunday we may quite well bristle at hearing John shout out, “You brood of Vipers!  Who warned you to flee the wrath of God?” Hey John, are you talking to me?  He can’t be talking about me, can he? 

He better not be talking about me!  We walk the labyrinth and seek to let go of our own brokenness that separates us from each other and from the love of God in our lives.

Finally the fourth Sunday in Advent will come upon us – this is the Magnificat Sunday, when Mary proclaims her understanding of God's vision for the world – what will one day be called by many “the beatitude Kingdom” – and her son, Jesus, will usher in that kingdom as its king.   We will walk the labyrinth on the fourth Sunday as one way to ready ourselves, a way to ready our souls and bodies, for the coming of the Christ child.  We journey with Mary on that final stage to Bethlehem that we might, with angels and with all the saints of heaven and earth, celebrate the promise of hope in Jesus that we call Christmas.

Advent is meant to remind us that we are eternal people walking a temporal path in a world that is passing away.  We are spiritual beings journeying on a human path.  “You don’t have a soul, you are a soul.”Advent is our opportunity to take time to listen – not just for the angel’s song of good tidings – but take time to listen to God – take time to listen to one another with open hearts – take time to listen to our neighbor with open hearts – and perhaps most importantly, as followers of Jesus, take time to listen with open hearts to those who despair of ever being listened to or heard by anybody.

We are an Advent people – we come to this season with anticipation of a great joy which will be for all people – the advent of Jesus, our Lord and Savior – the advent of our Christmas hearts. 

The Beatitude King

Proper 29B; John 18:33-37; St. Paul’s Smithfield, NC 11/22/2015

Jim Melnyk: “The Beatitude King”

Once again we’ve made it to the end of a liturgical year – our liturgical New Year’s Eve of sorts.  We have changed the color of our hangings to white from the five plus months of Ordinary Time green.  Next Sunday the hangings will be the quiet blue of Advent.  But for today, the hangings are white – as we celebrate what has become known to many in the Episcopal Church as Christ the King Sunday.  

This feast day came to be in 1925 as a response to the horrors of World War One, brought to us through the Roman Catholic Church.  It found its place on the Last Sunday after Pentecost in 1961.  And so when we recognize that Christ the King Sunday is less than 100 years old as part of a two thousand year-old faith tradition, we realize it is still in its infancy, and that we are still wrestling with all the theology that surrounds this special day. This is especially true for us because our primary paradigms of kingship or monarchy in general are based on old movies and histories of feudal kings – on The Lord of the Rings or The Game of Thrones – or the mostly ceremonial aspects of places like England. 

Jesus does not come among us as the next Herod, the next Charlemagne, or the next Charles or William of England for that matter.  He doesn’t even come among us as the next David – though he’s David’s heir.  He’s not a raging monarch who rules with an iron fist and steals a nation’s resources for his palace.  He’s not a king who sends out armies of soldiers and missionaries to conquer lands and drag them into his empire.  Nor did Jesus come among us to be a figure head king with a parliament working alongside or above to rule the kingdom.

Last Sunday I mentioned a quote by Michaela Bruzzese who wrote, “Christ’s kingdom is the beatitude kingdom, the upside-down kingdom where the last are first, where those who suffer for justice and righteousness will be comforted.  It is a place where the community considers ‘how to provoke one another to love and good deeds’ (Hebrews 10:24).  That would make Jesus the Beatitude King – the King Almighty from Daniel and Revelation – the Alpha and the Omega – is the Beatitude King who stands in all humility before Pilate who is robed in all the splendor of Rome.  Humility, justice, compassion, and love over and against the war machine that is Rome – over and against the power of the Emperor – over and against societies that judge people by their worth – or their threat – to the kingdom rather than their worth as human beings created in the Divine image.  Jesus – our Beatitude King – enters into Jerusalem only to find there is no room for him in the city – no room for him in the hearts and minds of those who surround Pilate’s headquarters and cheer his arrest – no room for him in the Roman world where authority comes from military might rather than a heart of grace – no room for him except on the hard wood of a Roman cross. 

But something more than Jesus stands on trial before Pilate this day.  The Good News of God in Christ Jesus stands on trial.  Love for God, love for neighbor, love for the stranger – the one we too often label “the Other” – stand on trial this day.  “Blessed are you who are poor, for yours is the kingdom of God” stands on trial before Pilate. “Blessed are you who are hungry now, for you will be filled” stands on trial.  “Blessed are you who weep now, for you will laugh” faces judgment.  “Blessed are the merciful, for they will receive mercy” stands challenged.   “Blessed are the peacemakers, for they will be called children of God” stands on trial before Pilate this day.  Royal power is the prosecuting attorney with fear sitting in the second chair.  And I don’t think it’s much different today.  We still live in a world where might makes right – a world where power and status wield influence and the meek too often get swept away rather than inherit anything, let alone the earth.

The King we worship this day and every day as Christians is the King who says, “Come to me, all you that are weary and are carrying heavy burdens, and I will give you rest.  Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me; for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls” (Matt. 11:28-29).  The King we follow is the King who says, “Do not judge, so that you may not be judged” (Matt. 7:1) – who says, “In my Father’s house there are many dwelling places” (Jn. 14:2a) - who gently washes the feet of his disciples, including Judas – who says, “I give you a new commandment, that you love one another. Just as I have loved you, you also should love one another” (Jn. 13:34).

The King we worship this day and every day as Christians is a King whose family was turned away from the best B&B in Bethlehem, and who began his life as a refugee, fleeing King Herod’s wrath before he was two years old – a King who in the end gave his life as a ransom for many – a ransom for all – that the whole world might come within his saving embrace.  The King we worship this day as Christians is One whom death could not contain – is the One who lives to shake our lives like thunder and challenge us to lives of love.

What wonderfully Good News we have to share as followers of the One we call Christ!  The Beatitude King stands before Pilate this day and opens for all the gate of heaven!  And we don’t have to prove a blessed thing to be included in that great gift of love – which is Good News precisely because it seems so hard to be faithful all the time – or even some of the time.

Mother Teresa offered a way for how we might model the Beatitude King in our lives.  “People are unreasonable, illogical and self-centered; LOVE THEM ANYWAY. If you do good, people will accuse you of selfish ulterior motives; DO GOOD ANYWAY.  If you are successful you win false friends and true enemies; SUCCEED ANYWAY.  The good you do will be forgotten tomorrow; DO GOOD ANYWAY.  What you spent years building may be destroyed overnight;

BUILD ANYWAY.  People really need help but attack you if you help them; HELP PEOPLE ANYWAY…” (Synthesis Today, 11/19/2015).

In a short while we will move from the Liturgy of the Word to the Liturgy of the Table.  As we begin the Great Thanksgiving we will be using a Proper Preface for Christ the King Sunday from Common Worship, a supplemental book of liturgies used by the Church of England.  It reads: “It is indeed right, our duty and our joy, that we should always sing of your glory, holy Father, almighty and eternal God, through Jesus Christ your Son our Lord. For you are the hope of the nations, the builder of the city that is to come. Your love made visible in Jesus Christ brings home the lost, restores the sinner and gives dignity to the despised.  In his face your light shines out, flooding lives with goodness and truth, gathering into one in your kingdom a divided and broken humanity” (Common Worship, P. 545).

This morning, as we find ourselves living in a world faced with turmoil and pain – a world where we are constantly told to be afraid – we cannot lose sight of the reality that we follow Jesus, whom we believe to be the Son of God who became enfleshed and lived among us, and yet One who, according to his own testimony through St. Matthew, had no place to rest his head (Matt. 8:20).  As followers of this Jesus, we are challenged to hear the cries of fellow human beings who have no home – challenged to hear the cries of those who find themselves despised by all – and make room in the Inn.

Jesus did not come to us as the next Herod – or the next Charlemagne – or even the next Charles or William of England.  Jesus comes to us as the Beatitude King – the king who turns the terrors of this world upside-down – the One who lives to shake our lives like thunder, and challenge us to lives of love.

More Than the Color of a Coffee Cup

Proper 28B; Heb. 10:11-25; Mark 13:1-8; St. Paul’s, Smithfield, NC

11/15/2015 Jim Melnyk: “More Than the Color of a Coffee Cup”

This past week Facebook and various online news sites had been inundated with debate about the color and lack of holiday markings on Starbucks coffee cups.  The amount of emotional and real-time energy around the debate was overwhelming – and I’ll admit to time and energy spent calling it all silly.  Apparently Starbucks’ decision to use a red cup without snowflakes or evergreens emblazoned upon them has constituted a new front on the “War against Christmas.”  Not to be outdone, Dunkin Donuts announced that they will sport holiday coffee cups – meaning, I guess, unlike other Grinch-like purveyors of coffee.

           

Recalling last week’s sermon about how we choose to make room for God in our lives and in this world as Advent and Christmas approach, I find the whole debate about coffee cups not only a bit disconcerting, but extremely flippant.  I can’t help but think that if folks brought this complaint before the Heavenly Court it would be thrown out as a frivolous lawsuit.  But that’s where we are these days.  It seems that to some, if we don’t say “Merry Christmas” or put snowflakes and Christmas trees on coffee cups that get used in the morning and thrown into the trash before lunch, we’ve somehow dismissed Christmas as meaningless.  And I have to think that God weeps over such craziness.

           

And then as Friday evening approached us as we sat in the safety of our own homes and businesses on the east coast, word spread about the horrific events as they unfolded in Paris, and coffee cup feeds on Facebook were quickly replaced with images of the Eiffel Tower, the Arc de Triomphe, and the French Flag.  Nearly 130 people killed and another 300 wounded – a third of them critically.  Our response of grief, anger, and prayer was swift. 

But it also leaves me wondering: where were the Facebook updates about the two bombs that went off in Beirut, killing 43 souls and wounding over 200?  How many people changed their status to “Baghdad” after at least 36 lives were taken in bombings, and at least that many wounded?  What, we might ask, makes the loss of one soul more important or earth-shaking than the loss of another?

Author Michaela Bruzzese unknowingly pointed out the folly of things like coffee cup wars in the midst of a chaotic and hurting world.  She writes:  “With the close of the liturgical year, next week the church prepares to celebrate Christ as king.  Christ's kingdom is the beatitude kingdom, the upside-down kingdom where the last are first, where those who suffer for justice and righteousness will be comforted.  It is a place where the community considers ‘how to provoke one another to love and good deeds’ (Hebrews 10:24); where we can ‘all (emphasis added) enter the sanctuary by the blood of Jesus’ (Hebrews 10:19).… Jesus assures us,” she writes, “that the coming of the kingdom will truly bring cataclysmic changes, especially to structures of death that oppress and exclude those who seek justice, mercy, and love” (Michaela Bruzzese, Preaching the Word, Sojourners Online).

Our newsfeeds blow up over disposable coffee cups and human beings killing one another over religious and political ideologies.  Meanwhile we listen as the Prince of Peace talks about the walls of the temple being on the verge of tumbling to the earth – a time when all will be thrown down (13:2), and we realize this human mess is as old as the human race.  The world argues – and even kills one another – over what it means to treat one another with dignity and the author of Hebrews reminds us of a God who will put the teachings of God in our hearts, and write them on our minds (10:16).

What does it mean, in the midst of coffee cup wars when as baptized Christians we promise to “work for justice and peace for all persons, and respect the dignity of every human being?”  Are we living into those vows?  Starbucks and Dunkin Donuts aside, how and when do we fail to see Christ in one another, and respect one another’s dignity, when we disagree with each other?  Coffee cup wars are just an outward sign of humanity’s inability or lack of desire to honor the image of God within one another.

What does it mean for us in the midst of Beirut, Baghdad, and Paris when we follow the One who said, “Blessed are the peacemakers (Mt. 5:9) and “You have heard that it was said, ‘You shall love your neighbor and hate your enemy.’  But I say to you, Love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you, so that you may be children of your Father in heaven? (Mt. 5:43-45a) 

What does it mean for us when we have a Savior who says to his disciples, and so also to us, “You have something more important with you here than the temple which stands before you: despite all of its massive stones, and its beautiful walls and vessels of gold, silver and bronze.  And though both will be thrown down by this world, this temple which stands before you will be raised by the glory of God.”?  What does it mean for us to follow the One who sheds his Godhead to become human flesh and dwell among us, and who willingly gives up his life for the life of the world? (Phil. 2:5-8)

Our lessons from Daniel and Mark are both what Biblical Scholars call “Apocalyptic Literature.”  They deal with cataclysmic changes people of God saw as necessary for the Day of the Lord to occur – for what we as Christians might call the fulfillment of the coming kingdom.  Apocalyptic Literature, like today’s lessons, is often filled with violence. But let us be assured that the violence we find in these passages is not divine violence – not divine terror.  We humans are the ones who bring such terror about – and as a species we are pretty good at doing just that (Synthesis, 11/15/2015).  And while we can talk about the terror and violence of Beirut, Baghdad, and Paris, every day in the United States people die from domestic violence, from drive-by shootings, from suicide, and from preventable illnesses.  What do we as followers of the Prince of Peace do with that reality?  Personally, I’m not sure of the answer – other than to say humanity has to learn what it means to love God with all our heart, and to love our neighbor – and the stranger among us – as ourselves. 

Reflecting on what comes next in France, The Very Rev. Lucinda Laird, the Dean of American Cathedral in Paris writes, “…our prayers must lead us to action.  Here in France I suspect there will be very, very strong anti-Muslim sentiment, and one thing we must do is stand with our Muslim brothers and sisters, and foster conversation and understanding.  I think we also need to work harder to care for the flood of refugees fleeing terror in their own countries – work for immediate care and for political solutions.  You will need to find your own mission in the US, but I know that it must involve continued dedication and commitment to making justice and making peace, and being a light in the darkness” (Episcopal Café).  How broad a brush will we use as we point our fingers at whom is to blame for such tragedies?  Especially when Moslem clerics, scholars, and lay people are saying groups like ISIS do not speak for them – and do not understand the true teachings of Isam.  How narrow a brush when looking at our own sin?  For the poet/singers say, “The worst things in life are justified by belief” (U2, Raised by Wolves – thanks to Chris Scarboro for the reference).

A story is told of an exchange between a peasant and a holy man.  While the story sounds as if it is about wealth alone, I believe we can see in it whatever it is we desire to ultimately possess – whether that be wealth, status, or even absolute truth. 

“The peasant came running up to a holy man, who was resting under a tree. ‘The stone!  The stone! Give me the stone the precious stone!’

‘What stone?’ asked the holy man.

‘Last night I dreamed that I would find a holy man who would give me a precious stone that would make me rich forever,’ replied the peasant.

The holy man rummaged through his bag and pulled out a stone. ‘He probably meant this one,’ he said as he handed it to the peasant. ‘I found it on a forest path a few days ago.  You can certainly have it.’

The man looked at the stone in wonder.  It was a diamond, probably the largest diamond in the whole world; he took it and walked away.  All night he tossed in the bed, unable to sleep.  Next day at the crack of dawn he woke the holy man and said, ‘Give me the wealth that makes it possible for you to give this diamond away so easily’” (From People for Others, printed in Synthesis, 11/15/2015).

Lord Jesus, we pray that you place the teachings of God in our minds and write them upon our hearts, and then give to us the wealth that made it possible for you to give so freely your life for the life of this world.

Plenty Good Room for All God’s Children!

Proper 27B; Mark 12:38-44; St. Paul’s, Smithfield, NC 11/8/2015

Jim Melnyk: “Plenty Good Room for All God’s Children!”

Well we're one week into November and it’s started already. The Hallmark Channel began their Countdown to Christmas on November 1^st, All Saints Day – Christmas movies everyday for 55 days and then done the day after.  XM Radio began broadcasting two Christmas stations on November 2^nd with more to come in the following weeks. Stores are already stocking their shelves with Christmas products – have been for some time now, and their decorations are already up in many places.  Now I realize most of us won't put any of our hardcore Christmas decorations up until at least the day after Thanksgiving, but that hasn’t stopped the marketplace!

The lessons that we have coming up in the next few weeks will begin to deal with the end times, and then we have two very important feasts, both dealing with Christ as King – and as different as they at first sound from one another – they are eerily similar in what they have to tell us. 

The first feast comes near the end of November – the 22^nd to be exact – and the second feast comes just over a month later near the end of December. On November 22 we will celebrate the Feast of Christ the King.  In this year’s lesson from the Gospels we will find Jesus standing before Pilate in Jerusalem – on trial for his life.  Having come into that Holy City being proclaimed as a king only days before, Jesus will come to the end of his ministry and find out there is no room for him in Jerusalem, except on the hard wood of one of Rome’s crosses. 

Following Christ the King Sunday we will enter into the season of Advent, and our lessons will point to the challenges we face of being human beings who seek to live faithfully into God’s call for us to reflect the image of God within.  The world will be talking about Christmas and we’ll find ourselves, at least for a short while, talking about the end of the world.

By the time December 24^th rolls around, the Holy Family will have entered into Bethlehem, only to find out that there is no room for them in any of the dwelling places of the city.  We know the story, right?  With Mary ready to give birth at any minute, they will be shuttled off to a cave – to a rock-walled hole in the hillside – where she will give birth to the Son of God in the midst of the farm animals and feed stands.  Glory to the newborn King!

A king who is born in a stable and dies on a Roman cross – how absurd our faith must have looked to outsiders in the first century – how strange a faith for those of us willing to take that closer look in the twenty-first century.  The one we call Son of God – born in poverty and soon fleeing to Egypt for his very life – is the one who ends up crucified as a treasonous villain because there was no room in the collective human heart to hear his words.

What, we might ask, do these feast days have to do with a widow placing two small copper coins in the temple treasury? Not much if we just stick to the time-worn Stewardship Sunday talks about the two copper coins and the widow willingly giving out of what little she had.  You know – even two copper coins are important if that’s all you can give.  Others gave a little out of their abundance – she gave all that she had to live on.  What an incredible sacrifice.  Imagine if we could all give with the intensity of her faithfulness?  Imagine what a witness we could be in the world around us.

But I think Jesus is trying to tell us more than to carefully consider our pledge cards for 2016. What if we see in the poor widow God’s unwavering welcome to someone despite their class – despite their lack of wealth – despite their inability to do a whole lot around the parish? 

In Jesus’ day, wealth was a sign of God’s blessing on a person – and there’s still a whole lot of that bad theology going around today.  Poverty or disease was seen as God’s retribution for sin – and there’s still too much of that theology around today as well.  Rather than point out and celebrate those who give out of their abundance, Jesus points out this poor widow who gives probably more than she can – and he tells us, “To this woman – to this poor widow – belongs the kingdom of God.  That’s turning some of his – and some of our – modern day theologies upside-down – or rather, upside-right.

And we can think of others we see who put their meager copper coins in the plate – perhaps the little child whose quarter or pennies make too much clatter on the edge of the polished brass – yes, to that child belongs the kingdom of God – and she – or he – belongs right there in the midst of the congregation.  Remember, it’s the children that Jesus embraces and places in the midst of disciples as an example of kingdom faith.  

The widow’s act of giving pointed out by Jesus is a sacramental sign of giving oneself to God.  Her sacramental act reminds us that by the time Jesus reaches Jerusalem he will give the only thing he has left to give – and that gift is his life for the life of this world.

Jesus’ act of recognizing the woman’s gift is a sacramental act as well – as an outward and visible sign of God’s grace.  Jesus calls us to the sacramental act of welcoming folks into the midst of the congregation – no matter their stripe – and we are called by God to extrapolate that sacramental act to anyone we would deem not worthy or too much of a nuisance to be in our midst.  We can knock our heads against the wall in frustration, we can try to spiritualize it as best we can, or we can even try to make believe the passages don’t exist – but today’s lesson from Mark underscores what Jesus has told his disciples time and time again: whoever wishes to be first and greatest of all must be a servant to all.

In some ways all our faith stories are all about making room.  They are stories about God making room in the whole of creation for us, and stories about a world that time and time again has refused to make room for God – stories like the one about another widow, this one living centuries before Jesus in the Gentile city of Zarephath.  Facing the prospect of imminent death for herself and her son, God sends the prophet Elijah to sojourn with her for a while – God sends Elijah to a Gentile – and she welcomes Elijah.  Trusting God’s word, she makes room for the prophet in the midst of her poverty, and even feeds him from what she thought would be her last meal.

The rest of the Old Testament is comprised of stories about Moses and the prophets always calling us back to God – calling us to love God with all our heart and to love our neighbor, and the stranger, as our own selves.  And they are stories about God’s readiness and longing to receive us back. 

The Gospels are stories about a God who becomes human flesh to live among us and call us back into covenant relationship, and about how all too often we can’t even make room for a little baby at an Inn.  They are stories about God who comes among us a loving, liberating, and reconciling king, and how the only room we make for that king is on the hard wood of the cross.  Our faith stories tell us about a God who calls for us to care for the lonely, the brokenhearted, and those who have been cast down, and how we all too often desire those people to remain on the outskirts of our world, or even better, out of sight.

But our stories are also stories that remind us that no matter how many times we fail at God’s call to us – no matter how many times we forget our Baptismal promises – no matter how many times we think of ourselves first and others as an after-thought

– that no matter how many times we fail, God is there to call us back into the center of God’s world – into the center of God’s heart – and welcome us like long lost family.

           

God making room for us and calling us to make room for “the other” is something we celebrate and give thanks for when we get it right – which we so often do at St. Paul’s.  And, recalling our successes over the years, we also remember that we are challenged to call others to that same spirit of openness and welcome.

Presiding Bishop Michael Curry loves to use the songs his grandma sang to help illustrate the power of God’s love for us and the power of the Gospel to be Good News for all.  He has often quoted a nineteenth century spiritual sung by slaves for whom precious little room was made by the Church and by the world:

 “Plenty good room, plenty good room,

Good room in my Father’s kingdom;

Plenty good room, plenty good room,

Just choose your seat and sit down.”

There’s plenty good room in the house!