Within reach

Luke 3:7-18, Zephaniah 3:14-20; Philippians 4:4-7, Canticle 9 

On Wednesday morning this week, everything went wrong.

I woke up late; the cat had gotten into something he shouldn’t, public radio was fundraising instead of telling me news, and in the middle of my morning errands, hopping into the car to rush back to the office for a meeting,

the car wouldn’t start.

And wouldn’t start.

And wouldn’t…

Well, anyway, you probably know how that goes.

And when I finally arrived at the repair shop, all the folks at the desks were dealing with a sudden computer outage.

Half an hour later, I knew a few new things:

A new starter is expensive.

The closest part for my car was 90 minutes away.

They were still checking on the funny noise in the engine which might not be related.

I was about to miss a lunch meeting.

And I needed a new headlight.

Check your gut right now, if you’re me.  What’s going on in there?

Here’s the funny thing: I was totally calm right then.

Those guys with a line of customers and a computer outage were being friendly and calm and patient, in spite of a frustrating morning.  And that was contagious.

It wasn’t a big thing, just a lot of little things – the way something was said, a smile instead of a neutral expression, releasing the tension in humor instead of bunching it up in your shoulders. And little acts of generosity, like a ride to my lunch meeting.

By 3 pm, I had a car in perfect working order, a free fix for the funny noise, a productive lunch, and a backlog of reading and emails off my desk, thanks to all the waiting.

I had a big bite out of my bank account, too, but for a day with an expensive unplanned car repair, Wednesday was terrific.

Has that ever happened to you?  Think for a moment; recall a time when someone’s simple actions made a bad day good, or gave you hope, or just made you smile a little more.

It doesn’t always happen that way.

Life has a lot of rough edges.  And they cut deep, as often as not.

Today, the “pink” Sunday of Advent, is supposed to be “joy” Sunday.  Our readings, our canticle, our music, are all about rejoicing, giving glad praise and thanks to God for the nearness of our salvation.

And then we get to the gospel, which plunges us right in to John the Baptist yelling,

“You bunch of SNAKES!  What makes you think you can escape the coming judgment day?  You think you’re safe because you’re children of Abraham, the people who belong to God?  Think again – God can get better children out of rocks than you!”

Way to ruin the mood, huh?

John’s speech starts with snakes, and ends with unquenchable fire.

But Luke calls all of that “good news.”

And he means it.

Probably because most of what John says is about repentance. And repentance is a joyful thing. Because it’s not about being miserable, mad at yourself for your mistakes, and sad because you’ve hurt or lost people who matter to you.

Repentance is about changing your heart; turning around and starting fresh.

And his advice is so simple.

Share.

Be fair.

Don’t be a bully.

John’s talking to the people who aren’t supposed to be the good folks.  He’s talking to the people you expect to cheat, at least a little. In his day, those were the day laborers, the tax collectors, the mercenary soldiers.  People we would trust about as much as an unknown car mechanic.

And he’s telling them: If you have enough, share. Food, shelter, clothes.  Just share some of it.  Don’t take more than you’re owed – we all know the system’s set up for you to graft from it, but that doesn’t mean you have to.  Don’t use your power to get your own way – even if people expect you to.

It’s so simple.

The coming of judgment and salvation doesn’t require endless days of prayer and fasting – repentance, change of heart, is incredibly within reach.

That’s the big, beautiful, joyful truth of Advent and Christmas: God is near.

God is changing everything so that God comes within our reach. Close enough to touch, to hold in our hands, to lean on. 

Close enough to kick us in the shins and get us off our butts. 

Close enough to embrace when we need shelter.

It’s simple.

Our salvation, our holiness, our ability to live up to the standards of the kingdom of God is totally within reach.

And that’s particularly important when life shows its rough edges,

when life is hard enough to bruise, sharp enough to cut deep.

Days like Friday,

when people all over the nation cried for the pain and fear of Newtown, Connecticut,

when the parts of life’s path that are supposed to be smooth got suddenly sharp and dangerous.

On days like that, there are hundreds of little things that trigger our responses, that shape the way we react, and the way we affect others.

Facebook crystallizes these conversations and reactions – post after post, where grief and offered prayers mix with anger and complaints about gun control or social decline.

Then one of my friends posted a quote from Mr. Rodgers,

an action that changed my responses on Friday, that changed my heart:

"When I was a boy and I would see scary things in the news, my mother would say to me, 'Look for the helpers. You will always find people who are helping.'

To this day, especially in times of disaster, I remember my mother's words and I am always comforted by realizing that there are still so many helpers – so many caring people in this world."

So many helpers on Friday.

Teachers and staff and students who kept each other safe just by being quiet together, staying out of the way.

First responders just doing their jobs to the best of their ability, to contain the danger and respond to the tragedy.

Millions of people offering quiet prayers.

Look for the helpers. 

There will always be those who simply do what they can,

and it is those actions that transform the world,

whether it’s an ordinary car repair day,

or a nation-shaking tragedy.

And that’s good news.

Because you and I get to make a difference.  Every day.

Any tiny choice or action for generosity, fairness, and joy could be the place the kingdom of God breaks loose to embrace the world.

Can you think of one thing you could do this week?  

One small choice or action to be helpful, to be hopeful?

Remember that.  And please do it. The actions that change the world, that transform us, are all within reach.

Today is a day for joy,

because today, and this season, are all about recognizing that God is touchably near, that holiness, and hope, and living up to the kingdom of God, are entirely within our reach.

A day for giving thanks to God, because God chooses to be that close to us, on the awful days, the best days, and the ordinary days,

and God invites us to come closer, one simple action at a time,

today and always.

If only...

2 Samuel 23:1-7, Revelation 1:4-8, John 18:33-37

Have you ever found yourself saying, “If I could just have this, or do that, then everything would be okay”?If we won the lottery, if I got that job, lost 15 pounds, or if we could just get through one day without…then things would be better, I could be a better person, we could get things done.

If only more people came to our church, and gave lots money….just think of all the wonderful programs and ministry we could do.

If only.

It’s a wonderful thing, sometimes, if it creates hope, or action, when we try to make the world we want come true – whether that means changing our habits, preparing and interviewing for a new job, inviting someone new to church, or making phone calls and voting for your favorite candidate.

But not always.

Sometimes it’s just an escape,

a happy fantasy that doesn’t motivate any action, the way I used to imagine being a princess (which in my seven year old mind involved no chores, lots of books and pretty dresses, and sleeping late – actually, most of that still sounds pretty attractive!)

Winning the lottery would make a lot of those things possible (not to mention a new kitchen), but I don’t generally buy a ticket.

What about you?

What’s your “if only?”  Does it motivate you to change? or make you comfortable with what is, and less likely to change?

You see, today is an “if only” sort of Sunday for the church.

It’s a Sunday we call the Feast of Christ the King. A Sunday set aside to celebrate the idea that someday, preferably soon, Christ returns to rule the whole earth, obeyed by all nations and people.

There are glimpses of that perfect kingship in scripture.  Our reading from Revelation today is a vision of the shock and awe of the coming of Christ, as King, descending from the clouds.  The reported “last words” of David say that a good and godly king is like sunshine on a clear morning – full of hope and abundance – and that’s what we’re supposed to look for in Christ the King.

Chances are, more people would come to church, too.

If it sounds attractive, it’s supposed to.

The whole idea of “if only…” is that one or two changes would make the whole world a better place, one we’d love to live in.

That’s more or less why we celebrate Christ the King Sunday.  It was created in 1925 by Pope Pius XI, in the hope that celebrating Christ’s kingship would turn the rising tide of secularism and neglect and disrespect of the church. (Worked great, hm?)

I’m not sure when the Episcopal Church picked it up, but we do like occasions to celebrate. If only more people were paying attention to God, and scripture,
if only more people were making this kind of time in their week, their lives, to follow Christ,

wouldn’t the world be a better place??

I do think the world would be a better place with God more in charge, and us less so,

but that’s the trick.

God being in charge makes us less in charge.  God being in charge is likely to disrupt all our comfort zones, challenge our habits, and generally upset all of our expectations and order.

And that’s the trouble with Christ the King Sunday.

Because Jesus is exactly the king that nobody is looking for.

Exactly the king to disappoint all our expectations, challenge our comfort, and disrupt our habits. Even our church habits.

It’s not just that the man dumped over all the furniture in the Temple.

It’s his absolute refusal to take charge and turn the world into the one we were hoping for.

He’s not going to provide a chicken in every pot – an even range of economic prosperity and food security.  Instead he’s the kind of king who stuffs you with bread and fish when you’re not expecting it – and then vanishes.  The kind of king who refuses to make bread out of stones, even though he could feed the world if he chose.

He’s the kind of king who seems to yield to the opposition – to the religious authorities who can’t get it right, the political appointees of the foreign occupation force.

He’s the kind of king who would fail miserably on a battlefield, who is useless when we want to win the war, to prove we’re better than the other guys. 

Instead he’s the kind of king who gets tangled up in criminal prosecution, death, and endings – and then asks us why we gave up before resurrection.

The cross we hang over the altar at Calvary is a beautiful representation of our hope in God’s promise to us, and it’s incredibly misleading.

King Jesus is exactly the opposite of what we hope for.

And that’s a good thing.

Because God doesn’t deal in “if only…”

God deals in Truth.

Truth that comes down to the fact of our creation, that God is already in the world:

the Body of Christ, the face of humanity created in God’s image, to be good stewards, to take God’s care of one another and the world.

The reign of Christ, the kingship of God, comes down to when and how and whether we hear God’s truth in our hearts, calling us to let go of comfort in favor of service, to toss away security in favor of resurrection, to quit being right and being in charge in order to be generous and healing.

I do believe that one day Christ, God the Word, will rule the world. But I don’t believe it’s going to look like our triumphant cross; I don’t believe it’s going to involve the shock and awe and power of an arrival from the clouds.

I believe it’s going to happen from the ground up.

From the change in your heart, in mine, in others, when “if only” changes to “amen,” the ancient word that means “so be it; truth.”

Truth: If we don’t have enough before we win the lottery, we won’t have enough after, either.

Truth: It’s not the authority of the church, or frequent attendance, that Jesus teaches. If more people came, you and I, already here, would have to grow and change and reach out waaay beyond our comfort zone.

Truth: Our king is dead, and resurrection comes when we’re not looking.

Truth.

Christ the King has already come. 

And it definitely wasn’t triumphant.

But it was life-changing, world-changing, and real.

So today we look back to look ahead.

We remember that generosity, healing, life abundant, and death-defying love are already here; that God rules in the ways we least expect,

and the only question is whether we’ll notice,

overturn our own expectations,

and celebrate.

Amen.

Apocalypse Prep

Mark 13:1-8


Last weekend I had friends staying with me while they attended a science fiction writers and fans conference. She’s a doctor, he’s a writer, but at this conference they were part of the Zombie Squad – a commitment that involved walking the halls in specially designed zombie-defense riot gear to draw attention to their cause, and meeting convention-goers at an information table with flyers.

You see, the Zombie Squad is a national organization whose mission is “to educate the public about the importance of personal preparedness and self-reliance, to increase its readiness to respond to disasters such as earthquakes, floods or zombie outbreaks.”

“If you are prepared for zombies,” they say, “you’re prepared for anything.”

And they’re probably right.

I’m not prepared for zombies, myself, but the Zombie Squad gives some really good advice. They have a list of what you’ll need in your “Bug Out Bag” in case of evacuation or other emergency: water, food, first aid, batteries, duct tape, sunscreen, cash, toilet paper, can opener, etc. etc.  

It’s not much different from the list offered by the American Red Cross for non-zombie emergencies.

They suggest learning CPR and first aid skills, and knowing your evacuation route, just like the Red Cross – and they also emphasize forming a support system, paying attention to the news, and helping your community prepare through blood drives and food drives.

After all, if we’re ready for the zombie apocalypse, there’s not much a hurricane, earthquake, or flood can surprise us with.

It can be very appealing to be ready for anything. Knowing that we’re prepared for the end of the world gives us a sense of control in the face of chaos, and helps us manage our fear.  It’s just plain practical.

 I’ll bet that’s what Peter and James and John and Andrew were thinking when they took Jesus aside to pump him for information about disaster preparation.

It started when the disciples were admiring the Temple, the beauty and sturdy power of the building at the heart of their national and religious identity – and then Jesus announces that one day it will be destroyed so completely that not one stone will be left on another.

Yikes!

 So a few of them take him aside and ask – just exactly when will this be, and just exactly what’s supposed to happen then???  After all, if you know what and when, you can pack your bag, make your plans – you can be prepared.

But Jesus – as they might have expected after hanging out with him for a year or three – turns their hopes and questions upside down.

He never tells them when.  Eventually, he tells them that not even he knows that.  But he does give them an entirely different kind of preparedness lesson. 

You see, the Christian apocalypse doesn’t start and stop with disaster.  There are wars and earthquakes and chaos, even evacuations, but those are only incidental.

The word apocalypse means revelation, the lifting of the veil, and it’s the ultimate revelation of Christ, the return of the Messiah to bring the end of the age and the final reign of God, that Jesus is telling his disciples about, today.

For that, you don’t prepare to control the chaos.

For the apocalypse Jesus is talking about, you prepare to surf the chaos.

To ride through the upheaval of everything we’re used to, balanced in faith and trust.

For this apocalypse, you don’t manage the fear, you let go of the fear.  For this you don’t protect yourself, you take the risk of proclaiming good news – joy and hope and love – in the face of endings, chaos and fear.

We only heard the beginning of Jesus’ apocalypse preparedness lesson this morning.  It starts with what we heard: Watch out for false prophets.  Apparently there are going to be a lot of them, all claiming God’s authority.  (Have you noticed that happening?  I think some of them have TV shows now.)

There will be war and rumors of war, earthquake and famine – all things you and I have seen, more than once, in our lifetimes.  Jesus tells us not to be alarmed, because these are not really the end, only the beginning of the birth process.

Jesus goes on to predict that his followers will be hauled in front of governments and power brokers to testify. That the highest priority, the first thing, is that good news must be proclaimed in all nations. And to prepare for that, we come back to letting go of fear and anxiety, because the Holy Spirit does the speaking, through us. 

To let the Spirit work, we have to make our worry get out of the way.

The good news must be proclaimed most of all when it’s natural to worry, to be afraid; when it seems like the world is ending:

In little apocalypses like cancer, the ending of a marriage, the loss of a job and identity. 

Bigger disasters like hurricanes and earthquakes and global financial crisis. 

And most importantly, in the coming of the kingdom of God to overturn all our expectations and fill the world with God’s will.

Stay alert, Jesus says, because I have already told you everything.

I looked back through Mark’s gospel, and what Jesus has told us, over and over, is:
“Follow me” (1:17, 2:14, 10:21)

“Whoever wants to be first must be servant of all” (9:35, 10:44)

“Do not be afraid” (4:40, 5:36, 6:50)
“Go in peace, your faith has made you whole.” (5:34, 10:52)

And that’s what we need in the face of apocalypse.

Earthquakes and famine, flood and fire, are part of the end of the world, and part of the world we live in.  It wouldn’t hurt any of us to follow the example of my Zombie Squad friends and make sure we have supplies to keep our selves and our families safe.

But Jesus is preparing us for something completely different:

for following him into chaos that we ride in faith and trust,

letting go of fear and anxiety,

proclaiming good news that spreads

hope, joy, peace and wholeness.

If you’re going to pack a bag for that, you’ll need a few things that aren’t on the other list:

Courage.

Peace.

Faith, and trust in God.

Community.

Compassion.

Good news of joy and hope

You already have the instruction manual, Jesus tells us. “I have already told you everything.”

So pack your bag, or pack your heart: with courage, trust, love, and hope, and toss away all the fear.

The apocalypse – the revelation of the full-blown reign of God – is coming.

And if you’re ready for that,

you’re really ready for anything!