Canon John Bedingfield's sermon for December 20, 2020

In the name of the God of the Annunciation, Amen.

This is Mary Sunday, as you can easily tell from our Gospel reading.  This is the Sunday when we consider Mary’s decision to say “Yes!” to God’s offer to participate as God changed the world.

Have you ever seen a painting of The Annunciation – that moment where the angel Gabriel announced to Mary that God was entering her life in a very new and unusual way?  Well, I took to Google this week and started looking at all of the paintings of this event, some by masters and others by folks who painted in relative obscurity.  I found that the vast majority of these artistic representations do not come anywhere near showing how I truly believe the event of Gabriel’s visitation unfolded.

Most of these paintings show Mary to be a grown woman.  We know from our knowledge of ancient Palestine and ancient Jewish custom, that most women – girls really – married at a very young age.  The rabbis of the day held the opinion that twelve was an acceptable age for the girl to be engaged – and that thirteen was a good marrying age.  Very few of the paintings show Mary to be a pre-teen or even a thirteen-year-old.

Then there is the really odd commonality in many of these paintings, that they show Mary reading – usually something that we can easily imagine to be Scripture.  Remember that Mary was in Nazareth – a backwater town in the armpit of the Roman Empire, in the year 30 BC or so.  I am willing to bet that only the rabbi in town could read – and perhaps even he couldn’t.  And even if several people in town could read, there is very little chance that one of them was a young girl.

Perhaps my biggest issue with Annunciation paintings, is that they generally show Mary with a beatific smile (many look suspiciously like the Mona Lisa).  She is always dressed impeccably, exceedingly calm, and many times wearing what looks to be a nun’s wimple (the white head covering that all nuns used to wear and some still do).  In still others, Mary has a halo over her head, indicating that she is holy.

My problem with all of these portrayals, is that they lose Mary’s ordinariness – which, I believe, cheapens the story.  Fabrizio Boschi almost got it right.  In his painting, Gabriel and the seraphim, are about to bless Mary, and instead of the knowing smile and the total comfort with the situation, Mary is almost recoiling and looking askance at them.  This one, as I said, is almost right, but not quite.  Again, Mary is too old in the painting, and her expression, although appropriately showing confusion and some level of disbelief, she seems to be asking Gabriel, “What, are you kidding me?”

For my money, Dante Gabriel Rossetti, in his 1850 painting, The Annunciation, other than the halo that Mary wears, came the closest to representing the important things about this story.  In his work, Rossetti shows an obviously young girl, cowering as far back into the corner of her bed and the wall, as she can get.  She cannot bring herself to look at the angel, and the look on her face says, “I have no idea what all of this means.”

You see … despite the way that painters have painted this scene, and despite the way that some religious writers have written about it, Mary’s visitation from Gabriel was an example of the extraordinary intersecting with the ordinary.  It was a completely ordinary girl being confronted with the Archangel who, throughout Scripture, was tasked with taking messages directly from God and transmitting them directly to humans, usually with a corresponding power and understanding – and with a call to perform some function for God.  That’s the reason that every time Gabriel appears in Scripture, his entrance is accompanied by the words, “Do not be afraid.”  Because, let’s face it, if we saw Gabriel right here, right now, we would be petrified.

Mary being initially frightened and later confused, is important, because it means that Mary was just like us.  She was NOT born from a virgin mother herself, as some legend holds.  There is nothing in Scripture that indicates what Mary’s parents’ names were, much less about her conception and childhood.  All of that stuff comes from legend and apocryphal accounts.  And all of those legends are designed to make us believe that Mary was different from us, even before Gabriel visited.  That is nonsense, and I believe that it does damage to her story.

The true power of the story of the Nativity (which was preceded by the story of the Annunciation) is that the God of the entire universe – indeed, the God of all that is – came to be one of us in a completely ordinary place, to a completely ordinary mother; that is, completely ordinary before Gabriel appeared.  Because after the Archangel appeared, nothing in Mary’s life was ever ordinary again'.

Mary’s story is at its most powerful, not in who she was before that day.  It is at its most powerful when this completely ordinary, confused, frightened, and shocked young girl looked at the Archangel of God and said, “Okay.  I’ll do what you ask.”  That is where heaven and earth intersected for a time, and out of which came the Incarnation of God.  Without Mary’s, “Here am I, the servant of the Lord; let it be with me according to your word.” none of the rest would have been possible.

Episcopal priest and extraordinary author, Barbara Brown Taylor, said, 

"Mary wins her place in history not for her cleverness, nor for her beauty, nor even for her goodness.  She becomes the most important woman in the world simply because she is willing to say yes to an angel’s strange proposal without a clue where it will lead her.  Doing so, she becomes the prototype for all of us who are also invited to bear God into the world."

And that is really the point of Mary’s story, isn’t it?  She received a call from God that was decidedly more dramatic than most of ours.  But make no mistake, we are all called to bear God in the world.  And how we answer our own calls dictates whether or not that part of God’s mission in the world will be accomplished.

Sometimes when we get a call from God, it can seem that it is not really a call from the Almighty.  After all, the work that God calls us to do can seem so ordinary: handing out bulletins, cooking for a potluck (or even more important, cleaning up afterward); setting up for, or clearing after a Eucharist.  In some cases, our calling seems somewhat higher: teaching a Sunday school class or being a church musician.  But as we all know very well, everything God calls us to do can be a struggle, so that sometimes we wonder why we bother.  The point of the story is that everything we are called to do: the high and the low; the ones that bring adulation and the ones no one notices; those that seem irreplaceable and those that feel completely unimportant; all fit into God's scheme of things in ways that we cannot understand, any more than Mary could fully understand what Gabriel told her.  And just as it was with the totally ordinary Mary, it matters less whether or not we execute our tasks with skill and gracefulness, than it does that we approach them with devotion.  I read recently that, “God desires, not the skill of our hands, but the love of our hearts.  The person who has only the ability to love God and neighbor is all important [to] God….”

When God asks, say “yes.”  Then dive in and watch what wonders God can work.  Amen.

[Advent 4B Sermon 122020, 2 Samuel 7:1-11, 16; Canticle 3 or Canticle 15; or Psalm 89:1-4, 19-26, Romans 16:25-27; Luke 1:26-38]

Canon John Bedingfield's homily for December 13, 2020

 

This is twice in two weeks that we’ve had a Gospel reading about John the Baptist.  What’s the deal?  Why would the lectionary compilers put the same story in, to be told on successive weeks?  The short answer is, the characters may be the same, but the story is not.

In last week’s passage from Mark’s Gospel, we heard about John the baptizer, where he lived and where he preached.  We heard that the central message of his preaching was repentance.  That’s not exactly what John’s Gospel wants us to understand from this event.  

As you are probably aware, the three synoptic Gospels (Matthew, Mark and Luke) along with the Gospel of John, all tell the same story – the Good News of Jesus Christ – but each tells it in its own way.  And just as it is with families, where stories that are central to the family’s history are told differently, depending upon which family member is telling the story, so it is with the Gospels.  Mark’s account brought the spotlight to bear on John the Baptist’s message – repent and return to the Lord – whereas the Gospel of John wants us to understand who the Baptist was, who he WASN’T, and what John (the Gospel writer) saw his mission to be.

You see, St. John – the Gospel writer, not the Baptist – has a very central point to make in his telling of Jesus’ story.  He wants to make sure that we “get” the fact that Jesus was God Incarnate – the same God who created the earth, who chose to become fully human in order to connect with us in a new and different way.  The “Light,” which is how the writer of this Gospel refers to Jesus before the beginning of His earthly ministry, the “Light,” came into the world to save the world from itself, from its sin and the death that naturally follows sin.  The Light came into the world to show the world what was hiding in the dark corners that humans had created, and to save humanity from all of the horrors that they had created in that darkness.  But those who were in charge of Israel’s religion in the first Century did not understand who Jesus was – and they showed that they didn’t understand who John the Baptist was either.

When the leaders of the Temple in Jerusalem went out into the wilderness to find this crazy preacher who was out there baptizing people and teaching them about the Light, they asked the Baptist, “Who are you?”  But John didn’t tell them who he was.  Instead he told them who he was NOT.  He was NOT the Messiah.  He was NOT Elijah – the greatest Hebrew prophet.  John didn’t acknowledge to the authorities, the fact that he WAS a prophet, instead he told them that – whatever they decided to call him – he took his marching orders from the same place that the prophet Isaiah took his.  He was the one whose voice was crying in the wilderness, make straight the way of the Lord.

That’s how the writer of the fourth Gospel understood the mission of John the Baptist.  He was the herald – the one who announced the coming of the One who was so great that John wouldn’t even presume to untie His shoe for Him.  But as important as this announcing aspect of John’s mission was, the writer of this Gospel gives John an even more important title – witness to the Light.  

The author of the 4th Gospel says that John was “the witness,” or in Greek, (martyreo).  If we think for a minute about how different that is from Mark’s description of the baptizing preacher of repentance, we might get something quite profound out of this Gospel portrayal.  

Have you ever testified in a courtroom?  Perhaps you saw an accident happen and were called to testify about it.  Or maybe someone you knew had a dispute with someone else and you knew some important facts about the dispute.  Maybe you’ve only seen courtroom activities on television and in the movies.  If that is the case, let me tell you that what you know about courtrooms is NOT true.  Not only have I examined and cross-examined quite a few people in courtrooms in my time, I have also been called to testify on one occasion.  And it gave me a whole new empathy and appreciation for what witnesses are called to do.

During my second year out of law school, one of the projects I was given to do involved a piece of property being foreclosed upon and determining whether or not an insurance policy had to pay out when the debtor defaulted on his note with the bank.  I did my job and advised the insurance company on how to proceed.  Years later, I was called to testify in Federal Court after the bank had sued their insurance carrier – the carrier I had advised.  It was while I was sitting on the witness stand, being attacked, not only for my legal abilities (or lack thereof), but also for the accuracy of my memory and my propensity to tell the truth (or lack thereof), that I developed an understanding of the word witness.

Legal proceedings cannot move forward without witnesses.  Witnesses establish what happened and what did not in any lawsuit.  Each side in a lawsuit knows what it believes the truth to be and therefore each side knows what the witnesses need to say in order for their side to win.  But witnesses are funny things.  They only know what they know.  And if they’re honest, they only testify to what is within their knowledge and understanding – and that makes one side or the other angry.  That’s why it is interesting to note that the Greek word, martyreo has the same root as the word martyr.

John the Baptist was the first witness to the Light that came into the world – Jesus.  The knowledge he had of Jesus, the knowledge that he worked so hard to impart on the crowds who came from all over to listen to him, was knowledge that didn’t make John popular with the Pharisees and Scribes.  John witnessed to a Light that was desperately needed in the Temple as well as throughout the world.  He testified to a Light that would come and illuminate all of the abuses that were taking place in Israel, abuses of the Romans against the Israelites; abuses by the wealthy of the poor; abuses by these religious leaders of both the system of worship and the people who came to the Temple to worship.  

Sometimes light shining on our activities is the LAST thing we want to have happen.  And so, the martyreo becomes the martyr, which we know ultimately happened to John.  When witnesses don’t testify the way we want them to, the way that helps OUR case, we want them to pay a price, to be martyred for what they have done.  And that’s what King Herrod ordered be done to John later in the story.

John witnessed Jesus.  John knew things about Jesus that the court of public opinion needed in order to make up its mind.  John witnessed.  And some members of his jury believed, and some got angry because their version of the truth was shown to be wrong.  But the important thing for John was the witnessing itself, the simple telling of the truth about the Light of the world.  No matter what the authorities thought; no matter what the world thought, John witnessed to the Light he knew.  We can do the same.  We are called to do the same.  

This morning, listen to what John witnessed – the Light of the World coming into our lives to lead us in the way of truth and life.  This week, when you’re out there trying to avoid virus exposure as you finish your Christmas preparations, or while you are trying desperately to get everything done before the holiday gets here, stop and remember what John witnessed.  We are called to witness the same thing.  

We’ve experienced the power of Christ in our lives, just like John did.  Now it’s our turn to witness that power to the world, in the things we say, the things we do – in the way we live our lives.

In the name of the God who comes into the world to save and judge us, Amen.

[Advent 3B Sermon 121320, Isaiah 61:1-4, 8-11; Psalm 126 or Canticle 3 or 151 Thessalonians 5:16-24; John 1:6-8, 19-28]

On-line service option from Father Garrett at Church of the Holy Cross, Shreveport, December 6, 2020

Father Garrett Boyte and others at Church of the Holy Cross offer a Morning Prayer for today's service.  Follow the link to Facebook below to watch the service: 

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Canon John's homily for November 29, 2020

Welcome to the first Sunday of a new Church year.  On this first Sunday of Advent, our readings require some thought, before we can figure out if there is a pattern to them, an overall message that we should take away from them.

As I said last week, Advent readings call us to begin to prepare ourselves for the coming of the Christ child, the Christmas event.  And at the same time, they call us to prepare for the Second Coming of Christ.  In actuality, three things are being thrown at us simultaneously today, and we are asked to catch them all and to try to juggle them, as we consider what we will do with them.  So let’s get started.

First there is the Old Testament prophet, Isaiah.  Today’s passage comes from a section of his writings in which he was bemoaning the fact that the people had forgotten God’s ongoing work in the world, and were acting as if God was absent from their lives.  He says in the section we just heard,

O that (God) would tear open the heavens and come down, so that the mountains would quake at (God’s) presence-- as when fire kindles brushwood and the fire causes water to boil-- to make (God’s) name known to (God’s) adversaries, so that the nations might tremble at (God’s) presence!

You can almost hear the anguish in Isaiah’s voice as he pleads with God to please come down from heaven and make Himself known to the people.  The prophet says that the people have sinned because they don’t know who God is anymore and, to Isaiah’s mind, this must make God angry.  But really, Isaiah is calling on God to come home and be with the family.

I’m sure that there are more than a few of you who experienced a time like I did when I was a child.  I was in kindergarten when my parents took me to a large store and I got separated from them.  When I looked up and discovered that the man I was standing next to was not my father, I was panicked.  My father was gone.  I was alone.  And I had a sudden, desperate need to see him again.   That is exactly where Isaiah finds himself.

God, the Father of all things, had been gone – at least in the peoples’ perception – for a long time.  When Isaiah spoke to the people, he was longing for the Father to return home, even if He was angry, just to show the people that the Father loved them enough to come back – although it meant punishment would be meted out when He returned.  And while Isaiah wanted an old-time show of power from God – fire and mountains trembling – he didn’t want these things to come too close to the people.  That is why the prophet said, “Do not be exceedingly angry, O LORD, and do not remember iniquity forever.”  In other words, it is OK for you to be mad enough to shake the earth up a little bit, but please God, don’t be so angry that you get rid of your children.

Now, unlike Isaiah, we 21st Century Christians know the next chapter of the story.  We know that God did, indeed answer the prayers of Isaiah and others, to return to the world in a form in which people could see God.  We know that God came down to inhabit the earth.  This is the second thing we are asked to juggle today; the fact that God did not come back the way Isaiah requested or expected.  Instead of a being a god of strength and power, coming back to the earth to shake things up; God had another plan.

We have the benefit of the New Testament.  And we know that God did, in fact “come home.”  The Latin term, adventus, from which we get Advent, means, “coming,” as in “coming home.”  We are asked today to take this second item and consider that, instead of coming in a blaze of glory and power, God came in the form of a helpless infant.  God came to earth, not as the mighty warrior.  Instead, God came in human form, meek and humble and full of love, so that all the people of the world could see and experience the mightiest power of God – the power of love.

Jesus is the fulfillment of every promise God made to the children of Israel.  God made a covenant (or contract) with the those children, in which God gave them this world to live in.  God gave them dominion over the earth.  And God gave the children the scariest of all gifts, free will.  God then said, “take care of yourselves and take care of each other.  I will be around, but I will not be walking in the garden with you anymore.”  As time went by, God gave the children the law, and the prophets to explain the law.  Then, when the time was right, God came back to earth in human form, to fulfill the promise of a new way of living.

And as we know from the Gospels, Jesus set the standard for living as a person.  He who was completely human, but without sin.  He lived, died and was resurrected to save us from sin, but also to show us how to live in this world.  Through our exercising of that frightening free will, we had gotten so far off course – in Isaiah’s time and on through Jesus’ time – that we no longer knew how to live as children of God.  We had misbehaved badly while the parent was away.  When Jesus came, He came not as the stern, judging parent, but as the example of what we should have done while we thought we were alone.

That brings us to the third ball we have in the air this morning, the Second Coming.  Again, our modern-day prophets are yelling that we have gotten so far off course, we have stopped living like children of God.  In many ways, our world no longer reflects God’s creative love, and it no longer functions as the product of Jesus’ redeeming power.  So some say, we must look to see what it means that Jesus will come back to earth again.

Just as we heard last week from Matthew, Mark tells us that when Jesus returns, it will be like the Father, returning in judgment of those who have misbehaved.  Jesus tells His listeners in today’s passage, that there will be suffering and darkness and all the stars will fall from the sky.  Then, those who have misbehaved while the parent was away, will have to answer for the mess.

So what do we take away from our juggling act this morning?  Since we can’t slow the balls down enough to consider each one separately, we will have to look at the blurred images as a whole.  Here we need to look at what St. Paul said to the Corinthians.

Paul says that if we stay awake and alert, and consistently try to emulate Jesus in our everyday lives, we have already been enriched in Christ enough that we are not lacking in anything we need.  Our Spiritual Gifts are sufficient as we await the day of our Lord’s return.

So the message for us is involved, but basically pretty simple.

God has been in relationship with God’s people since time began.

God’s part of the covenant relationship has always been fulfilled – God has always loved us unconditionally.

We have failed to fulfill our part of the covenant throughout history, by not loving God and each other. 

God came to earth as a human being in order show us, for all time, what it means to be a child of God. 

At some time in the future, God, in Christ, will return and the final era of judgment will be upon us.

It seems to me we ought to be paying particular attention this year when the baby comes on December 25th, so that we intentionally take note of the fulfilled promises of God.  Christ will return in judgment.  But God promised that we would have all we need to be ready.  That promise, like all of God’s promises, has been fulfilled.  We’re ready for the return of Christ, if we want to be ready.  Let’s want to be ready.

In the name of one God, Father, Son, and Holy Spirit.  Amen.

[Advent 1B, Sermon 112920, Isaiah 64:1-9a; Psalm80 or 80:1-7; 1 Corinthians 1:1-9; Mark 13:(24-32)33-37]

Canon John Bedingfield's sermon for November 22, 2020

 

This is the last Sunday of the church year.  Next Sunday begins a brand-new year with the season of Advent — the season of preparation, in which we prepare for the arrival of the Christ child.  So why would we use this week before Advent to celebrate the festival of Christ the King, with all of these odd and worrisome readings?  Quite simply, because of the Alpha and Omega — the circle of life — the beginning and the end.  Next week we will look at the beginning of the story of Jesus, this week, we look at what Jesus tells us about the very end.

In this Gospel reading, Matthew tells us what Jesus has to say about the end of time or the second coming of Christ.  Jesus says that He will come back to earth in glory, with all the angels, and will sit on the throne of righteousness.  Notice the differences between what it was like when Jesus came to earth the first time and what it will be like next time.  The first time He came as a poor, helpless child, born to a teenage mom, in a backwater village.  He was born in the lowliest of all circumstances in the most unlikely of places.  In other words, he was not only like us, he was born into an even more humble beginning than most of us.  And after he was grown, he was an itinerate preacher, depending upon other people for his very existence. Now contrast that with what Matthew describes today.

Jesus will return in triumph and great glory.  With angels around Him and with all nations of the world gathered before Him.  He will sit on the throne of glory, as ruler of the world.  What a difference!  

You see, the first time He came, He wanted to draw us closer to Him and to show us a glimpse of the heavenly kingdom, so that we would know who it was that called us and why it was that we should respond.  Jesus was gentle and humble and healing because that is what humans respond to the most positively.  By his humility, he taught us the power of humility and by his love, taught us the power of love.  But when Jesus returns, it will not be the time for all of that.  As Matthew’s Gospel makes clear this morning, Jesus’ return will usher in the judgment.  Sheep will go one way and goats will go the other.  Some will be ushered into the glory of God’s heavenly eternity and others will be cast into the eternal fire where there will undoubtedly be weeping, wailing and gnashing of teeth — as Matthew is so fond of saying.

We in the Christian world are very familiar with this notion of God’s judgment.  Medieval artists have painted foreboding pictures of flames and fire and demons torturing the unfortunate who end up in hell.  In more modern times, we have had movies to show us hell and its agonies.  2005’s Constantine, had scenes where the hero and heroine each got pulled into hell and then rescued.  The director’s vision was a vast, desert-like wasteland, with scorching heat, howling winds and skeletal demons running wild.  No matter who is describing it — from Dante Alighieri’s Inferno to modern movies — images of hell are meant to frighten us.

People have spent lifetimes, and great sums of money trying to “make it up” to God so that they can avoid what they believe might await them when Jesus is the judge of all humanity, or upon their death, whichever comes first.  And it was the Roman Catholic clergy’s practice of selling indulgences — a sort of a “get out jail free” pass that could be purchased to keep one from going to purgatory, or worse yet hell, that was the final straw for Martin Luther, and the catalyst for his founding of the Lutheran church.  

Some of us worry a great deal about God’s judgment and hell and what might befall us at some future date, and Matthew makes it fairly plain that a negative judgment would not be a pleasant thing.  But I’ll let you in on a little secret, if we read this Gospel passage the way I believe Jesus would want us to, we will get an entirely different picture of Jesus as King, coming in judgment.

True enough, Matthew says Jesus will come in judgment, with power and might like we cannot imagine.  But what happens next in this section of the Gospel?  What follows the discussion of separating the sheep from the goats?  The discourse on doing acts of mercy, charity and kindness for the least of Jesus’ brothers.  Jesus says we will all be counted as the “blessed of the Father,” who “inherit the kingdom prepared” for us from the foundation of the world, if we will give Jesus some food, a drink, some clothing, simple nursing care and a visit in time of need.  Jesus says, when we do this to the least of His brothers, we do these things for Jesus himself and we will inherit the kingdom.  That sounds to me like a choice, not like an arbitrary selection of sheep versus goats.  This sounds to me more like us walking up to two signs and seeing “Sheep this Way” with an arrow, and “Goats this Way” with an arrow pointing the opposite way, rather than like a conveyor belt on which we ride until we get to the point where Jesus looks at us and points up or down, without giving us any explanation.  To me, today’s reading is the text which proves something that one of my seminary professors told us many times.  He said, “the gates of hell are locked from the inside.”  That means that we get to hell, indeed we stay in hell, by our choice, not by God’s choice.

John 3:16 tells us that God so loved the world that He gave His only son to the end that all who believe in him should not perish, but have everlasting life.  That is a great statement of the God whom I have read about and experienced in my own life.  The God of all creation, who made a covenant with the children of Israel and said, “you are my children and I am your God, I will never abandon you.”  That same God has always been faithful to that covenant, no matter how many times the children have been unfaithful.  That same God loves us so much that God became incarnate, took on our very humanity in order save us from our sinful selves.  Jesus died once for all.  His death and resurrection broke the bonds of death and threw open the gates of hell.  But there were still people in hell, trapped in a prison of their own making.  The only thing that Jesus could not and cannot save us from is our own choice to ignore His calls to us.

Today’s discussion of caring for the least of Jesus’ brothers and sisters is a call to us to live a Christ-like life; to do those things that Christ would do in every situation.  With this simple choice — simple to make, not so simple to carry out — we can self-select as sheep and rest certain that we will inherit the kingdom prepared for us when Jesus returns.

Now, here comes the rub — the process of selection is never over.  At least not until our lives on earth are over.  Every day, in every encounter of our lives, there are two signs hanging over our path.  We need to keep those signs in mind as we go about our daily business during the week.  Let Jesus’ words and the vision of the signs guide us as we are faced with decisions like, “what do I do when this homeless man comes up to me and asks me for money?”  Or, “how should I deal with my child, who has disappointed me so badly?’  Or, “what is the best way to handle my boss whose demands are totally unreasonable?”  Or, “How do I treat this member of the congregation who pushes my buttons and gets on my last nerve?”  It is all of one big piece, you see.  How we treat God’s children is, in every instance, how we treat Jesus.  

So the next time you are faced with a situation in which people have been divided into groups or camps, into “us” and “them,” or otherwise given a label so that you are tempted to treat them as somewhat less than human, remember that the signs hanging over the groups may look like, “us” and “them” when we look at them, but to Jesus, they may just read, “Sheep” and “Goats.”  Self-selection is available all day, every day.  Be careful what you choose.

In the name of Jesus Christ, who will come again in glory, to judge the world.  Amen.

[Proper 29A Christ the King, Matthew 25:31-46]

Canon John Bedingfield's sermon for November 15, 2020

 

In the 1994 film, A Simple Twist of Fate, Steve Martin’s character, Michael McCann becomes a complete recluse after his marriage ends badly.  Every cent he earns goes into the purchase of gold coins.  And every so often, he pours himself several stiff drinks, takes his gold coins from their specially engineered hiding place, counts them, and sits in smug satisfaction at his ownership of them.  Then he hides them again and, when he wakes up from his drunken stupor, goes on with his miserable, lonely life.  It is only after McCann’s coins are stolen that he changes, through a simple twist of fate that causes him to open himself up, through taking in an orphan girl to raise.  The rest of the movie deals with his growing in, and learning about love while teaching his daughter those lessons.

Today’s “Parable of the Talents,” has some parallels with Steve Martin’s film, or more correctly, with the novel Silas Marner, which inspired the film.  Jesus told His listeners that a very wealthy man was going on a trip, and while he was gone he left a huge fortune in the care of three of his servants.  Now before we think about the implications of this parable, we need to put it in perspective.  Jesus says that the master gave these servants 5 talents, 2 talents and 1 talent, respectively.  We know what “talent” means to us, but what did it mean when this parable was first told?

In Jesus’ time, a talent was a measure of gold or silver, based upon weight.  Centuries earlier, in the days of Moses, a talent was established as the measure that a man could carry by himself.  Scholars today use 75 pounds as the measure of a talent.  So, if we are talking about a talent of gold, we would be talking about 1,200 ounces.  When I was writing this, gold was selling for $1,868/oz.  That would mean that today a talent would be worth approximately $2.24mil.

So the master brought his three servants in and gave the first one $11.2mil.  Then he gave the second one $6.7mil.  And to the last one, he gave $2.24mil.  And we know what happened then.  The 5 talent servant and the 2 talent servant went out and invested the money and doubled what they had.  But the 1 talent servant did as Michael McCann did in the movie.  He created a very secure hiding place and put the money there, so that no one else would get it and he would have it all when he needed it.  But as with Michael McCann, who ultimately lost all of his money, things did not work out exactly as the 1 talent servant thought they would.

When the master returned, he called all three servants to account for the money they had been given.  Servants numbered 1 and 2 are roundly praised and commended for risking the master’s money, and doing great things with it.  But what of the Michael McCann servant – the one who hid the money and waited?  Even before he told the master what he had done with the money, he started explaining (or making excuses) for his inaction.  He said that he knew the master to be a harsh man who basically got his money without doing any work.  And he said that he was afraid of the master, so he hid the money rather than taking a chance on the master getting angry.  The master then became furious with the third servant.  Ironic, no?

So what does this parable have to teach us, particularly in the season of annual stewardship campaigns?  It is simply this: The 1 talent servant does not get in trouble because of what he did.  He gets in trouble because of what he did not do.  The master in the parable does not get angry because that servant did not make him richer.  No, the master gets angry because the servant does not know who the master really is – and therefore does not trust the master enough to take a risk.  You see, nothing in the story says that the master really was a harsh or bad man, only that the servant believed him to be so.  Because the servant did not know the master, he was unwilling to trust that it would be ok to take a risk with his money.

That is what this parable has to tell us: we have been given talents by God – a God whom we can always trust to know and love us – and we are called to risk it all to bring glory to that God.  It does not matter whether your “talents” from God are millions of dollars (as was the case in the story) or if your talents lie in something more modest, like the ability to teach or welcome or sing or read – or simply a smaller amount of money than the master in the story had.  Whatever your talents may be, you need to risk them in service to God.

In order to risk our talents, we must be willing to put them out there and see what God will do with them.  We must be ready to let go of our control over our talents, to lay them at God’s feet and to say, “Here they are Lord, use them as you will.”  We must look at all our talents, see where we might put them to use, and then – in the words of Nike – “Just do it.”

It is a risk to say, in November of 2020 — the era of COVID-19 pandemics and economic uncertainty — what you will give to the Church for all of 2021.  But trust in the grace and goodness of God, risk your talents, and give back to God as graciously as God has given to you.  Then listen as God, the master of all, says to you, “Well done, good and faithful servant; you have been trustworthy in a few things, I will put you in charge of many things; enter into the joy of your master.”

In A Simple Twist of Fate, Michael McCann loses everything that he tried so hard to keep safe.  All of his carefully hidden gold is suddenly gone.  But then, he risks the greater treasure, his heart and takes in an orphaned girl.  And God finds him to be a good and faithful servant, and Michael enters into the joy of his master.  The same can happen for us when we risk everything that is dear to us and try to do what God wants us to do.  What do you say?  Let’s risk it all and enter into the joy of our Master.

In the name of one God, Father, Son, and Holy Spirit.  Amen.

[Proper 28A Sermon 111520, Judges 4:1-7; Psalm 123; 1 Thessalonians 5:1-10; Matthew 25:14-15, 19-29]

Canon John Bedingfield's sermon for November 8, 2020

[The Rev. Canon John Bedingfield will be leading Holy Eucharist each Sunday at 10 am at Christ Episcopal, Saint Joseph.

For those not attending services in-person, Father Garrett Boyte, Church of the Holy Cross, Shreveport, offers Morning Prayer on Facebook each Sunday at 11am.  Father Garrett also offers daily Evening Prayer services on Facebook at 6pm each day. https://www.facebook.com/holycrossdowntown/]

There is a dream that I’ve had multiple times since my ordination.  Every time the details are slightly different than they were in previous versions (I’m in a different place, there are different people around), but it is always a very vivid dream and I always wake up with a feeling of anxiety after I have it.  

Generally speaking, in the dream there is a major church service scheduled.  Sometimes I am at a church that I recognize, other times it is someplace that I’ve never seen in real life.  But regardless, this major service is about to start and the Bishop is there — in fact, in some dreams there are a lot of bishops there.  My role in the service is always the same, I am the one in charge of making sure that the liturgy is well planned, and goes smoothly.  At the climax of the dreams, everyone is ready to process into the church.  The Bishops are in formal vestments, lined up and ready to start.  I look down and discover that, while I am wearing my white alb, I do not have a stole on.  So I start hunting frantically for a stole — any stole — because the stole is the symbol of priestly office.  As I am madly looking for my stole, I notice that I don’t have my prayer book either.  I decide that I can do without that, I’ll go from memory.  But then I see that I am also barefoot.  As the Bishops started to process into the church (oblivious to my predicament) I wake up.

I generally have a dream like this before Holy Week, Easter, Christmas, or Diocesan Convention; those times when there are lots of details to attend to and subconsciously I’m concerned that one or more will be overlooked.  Psychologically, this is not an uncommon dream and its source is pretty obvious – it has to do with getting anxious about the possibility of being ill prepared for a coming event.  That’s what today’s Gospel is all about.

The parable of the bridesmaids is a story about preparedness.  In the Israel of Jesus’ time, weddings were a really big deal.  If you think that the phenomenon of throwing huge, never-ending wedding celebrations is a new one, you’d be wrong.  In 1st Century Israel and Palestine, a wedding was a time when friends and relatives from far and wide would come to share in the joy of the festivities.  And because people had so far to travel, and travel itself was so difficult, the wedding celebration went on for days, with people coming, staying, and going as they needed.  But one of the highlights of the festivities was when the bridegroom came in the night to take his bride from her father’s house and carry her back to his house – to their new home.  When the bridegroom came, his way would be lit by the unmarried women – the bridesmaids – of the village, who would all hold oil lamps for the bridegroom to see where he was going.

The story we just heard is one of Jesus’ parables that is actually more of an allegory than a parable – meaning that there are characters and situations of the story that can be directly assigned to other people or things.  The bridegroom in this story is Jesus.  The wedding feast is the Second Coming – Jesus’ triumphal return to earth — the time when all humankind will be subject to the judgment of Christ.  And the bridesmaids are us – those who will be prepared and those who will not.

This story appears in the middle of a long speech, or discourse, that begins in the 24th chapter of Matthew and continues until the Last Supper and the beginning of the passion narrative in chapter 26.  In this discourse, Jesus prepares the disciples for his departure from them by explaining that He will return at the end of time, on the last day, when He will appear with lightning across the sky, “on the clouds of heaven with power and great glory.”  In this story, Jesus wants the disciples to understand that part of their vocation; part of their calling is to be ready for the 2nd Coming.  Part of the message they are to take out to the world after Jesus’ ascension into heaven is that Christians need to prepare for Jesus’ return.

This allegory of the bridesmaids tells us a couple of things about being ready.  First is, we have absolutely no idea when Jesus will return so constant preparedness is the order of the day.  Jesus made it clear, throughout this discourse, that only God knows the timing of the 2nd Coming, so … always be ready.  

The second thing to take from this allegory is what happened to the foolish bridesmaids when they discovered that they didn’t have enough oil.  They asked the other bridesmaids for some of their oil.  After all, they were all involved in the same celebration.  They were all waiting for the return of the same bridegroom.  They were all members of the same village, the same community.  So it only made sense that those with enough oil would share with those who had too little.  Jesus’ hearers must have been thinking of the feeding miracles they had seen Jesus perform.  They must have been thinking, “of course they will all pool their resources, offer them to God and then there will be enough.”  But that’s not Jesus’ point at all.

The oil in this story is not a worldly resource that people need to survive, like bread, fish or water.  The oil in this allegory is the righteousness of the bridesmaids.  It is righteousness that Jesus says we need to be prepared with, before He comes again.  We can be really anxious to see Jesus again.  We can go to bed as excited as children on Christmas Eve, anticipating His triumphant return, but unless we are prepared as righteous people, we will be sorely disappointed.  You see, righteousness is something we cannot pool or borrow.  It is something we have to have, something we have to develop on our own.  The twentieth century Scottish theologian, William Barclay, put it this way,

"This text warns us that there are certain things which cannot be borrowed.  The foolish (bridesmaids) found it impossible to borrow oil, when they discovered they needed it.  A man cannot borrow a relationship with God; he must possess it.  A man cannot borrow a character; he must be clothed with it.  We cannot always be living on the spiritual capital which others have amassed.  There are certain things which we must win or possess for ourselves, for we cannot borrow them from others."

I think Barclay had a good sense of Jesus’ vision of righteousness.  Unfortunately, today when we think of righteousness, what we are really thinking of is self-righteousness; that aura that some folks put off, that they’re better Christians (indeed, better people) than we are because of what they do or how they live.  That is not the righteousness that Jesus had in mind.  Barclay talks about our relationship with God and our character.  That’s what righteousness is really about.

We can do good works all day long and have a horrible relationship with God.  And we can have good character traits; honor, truthfulness, generosity, love, and have no relationship with God at all.  But those are the exceptions.  St. Paul said that works without faith are hollow.  And to paraphrase St. James, show me someone with faith and I’ll show you someone who does works.  Our character and our relationship with God are intertwined.  We need both to be whole.  And both are required for us to be righteous.

We live in a particularly fractured and difficult world right now.  All around us are the voices of people who tell us to be fearful of each other and to treat each other as enemies, simply because we disagree about issues.  There is no righteousness in that mindset at all.  As our Presiding Bishop has preached so often, “If it’s not about love, it’s not about God.”  Being afraid of each other — or worse yet, wanting to see harm come to each other — because we think about issues differently, is very far removed from the righteousness of God.  I don’t care which political party you identify with.  I don’t care which news outlet is your favorite.  When we agree to be divided from other children of God, and we wish them harm, we are walking apart from the righteousness Jesus requires of us.

If we will spend less time trying to “correct each other,” that is, being self-righteous, and spend more time and effort on trying to love each other the way Jesus loves us, we will have all the righteousness we need.  We will not only begin the healing that this world so desperately needs, but we will also be ready for the bridegroom’s return.  And we will have no reason to fear – no reason to dream of being unable to find our shoes at an important moment – because the bridegroom knows if the bridesmaids are ready.  

In the name of one God, Father, Son, and Holy Spirit.  Amen.

Proper 27A Sermon 110820,Joshua 24:1-3a, 14-25; Psalm 78:1-7,1 Thessalonians 4:13-18; Matthew 25:1-13

The Rev. Canon John Bedingfield's homily for November 1, 2020

 For those who are ready for in-person worship, The Rev. Canon John Bedingfield will lead Christ Episcopal Church, Saint Joseph, at 10am in Holy Eucharist, November 1, 2020.

Canon John's homily:

All Saints A Sermon 110120

Revelation 7:9-17; Psalm 34:1-10, 22

1 John 3:1-3; Matthew 5:1-12

This is All Saints Sunday, the middle day of the three day remembrance of those who have gone before us.  That is: All Hallows’ Eve (Halloween); All Saints Day; and All Souls Day, which is November 2nd.  In recent years, we have sort of folded All Souls into All Saints and have largely done away with the separate Monday liturgy.  But whether you talk about All Souls or All Saints day, you are talking about the same basic thing – The Commemoration of the Faithful Departed.  Remembering the departed – particularly those whom we love but see no longer, is an important thing for human beings.

For my wife, Donna, my children and me, this is a particularly tender All Saints Day.  Donna’s mom died in February, and my dad died on Wednesday — both of Covid-19.  So our family is particularly attuned to remembrances this year.  And it is a good thing to remember those who have gone on before.

At this time of the year, we often get a little misty-eyed when we think back to other times and places when our loved ones were here with us.  But today we do not just think about missing the loved ones who have passed on.  We also pray for these folks because (as our Book of Common Prayer puts it), “(W)e still hold them in our love, and because we trust that in God’s presence those who have chosen to serve him will grow in his love, until they see him as he is.”

There is something very comforting in that statement.  For one thing, it assumes that our loved ones have gone to be with God.  And although there is a huge exegetical and theological discussion we could have about this, in this sermon I will refer to that as heaven.  Now I know that for most of our relatives, their being in heaven is a given.  But face it: you have one or two whose arrival at the pearly gates is not a done deal (at least not in your mind).  And that brings me to a serious question.  Who is going to be in heaven when you get there?

There is an old joke that goes:

A man arrived at the gates of heaven.  St. Peter asked, “What is your denomination?”  The man said, “Methodist.”  St. Peter looked down his list, and said, “Go to mansion number 24, but be very quiet as you pass mansion 8.”

Another man arrives at the gates of heaven.  “Denomination?”

“Lutheran.”

“Go to mansion 18, but be very quiet as you pass mansion 8.”

A third man arrived at the gates. “Denomination?”

"Episcopalian."

“Go to mansion 11, but be very quiet as you pass number 8.”

The man, being an Episcopalian, couldn’t help but ask a question.  He said, “I can understand there being different places for different denominations, but why do I have to be quiet when I pass mansion number 8?”

St. Peter said, “Well the Baptists are in mansion number 8, and they think they're the only ones here.”

Obviously, that joke will work for every denomination – just some more accurately than others.  And that is because we do not really know much of anything about heaven, not in a scientific proof sort of knowledge anyway.  Unless you are someone who has had a near-death experience and have come back to write a book, you almost certainly have no firsthand experience about what heaven is like, or who its inhabitants are.  But fortunately for us, we have St. John and his famous Revelation to fill in some blanks.

The Revelation of John is apocalyptic literature, meaning that it was written to a group of people who suffered from extreme oppression and was intended to give them hope of the future, even in the midst of that suffering.  And in doing so, John used cryptic and vivid images to tell his readers what the end of time and what heaven would be like.  In what we just heard, he says that he, “[L]ooked, and there was a great multitude that no one could count, from every nation, from all tribes and peoples and languages, standing before the throne and before the Lamb, robed in white, with palm branches in their hands.”  One thing that John’s revelation told him, and something he is trying to tell us, is that we cannot begin to imagine how many people will be living with God.  And perhaps more importantly, we cannot say who those people will be.

Think for just a minute about who you believe might not be in heaven.  Maybe it is old uncle Merle, who is the meanest member of the family – the one no one wants to sit next to at Thanksgiving.  Perhaps you were taught that the majority of people whose skin color differs from your own will never be in heaven.  Or is it those “other people” across the world who do not subscribe to our beliefs?  Maybe it is the people whose sexuality, or political or social doctrines, are opposite from your “correct” views?  No.  Wait.  I know.  It’s those lazy, shiftless, poor people who have such a sense of entitlement.  Those people cannot possibly have earned their way into the same heaven as us, right?  The answer to all of those questions is an emphatic “No!” at least if we believe what the Apostle John tells us.  We are not the judges of anyone else’s fitness for eternal life.  Jesus died and rose again – one time for all.  Jesus’ sacrifice was wholly sufficient to wipe away the sins of the entire world, thereby making eternal life a real hope for us all.  When John said all nations, tribes, people and languages, that was a completely and totally inclusive statement, meant to exclude absolutely no one.

There is a poem that made its way around the Facebook world a while back.  It is called Heaven’s Surprise, and I believe it was written by a man named Rod Hemphill.  It goes like this:

I was shocked, confused, bewildered as I entered Heaven's door, 

Not by the beauty of it all, nor the lights or its decor.

But it was the folks in Heaven who made me sputter and gasp-- 

The thieves, the liars, the sinners, the alcoholics and the trash.

There stood the kid from seventh grade who swiped my lunch money twice. 

Next to him was my old neighbor who never said anything nice.

Herb, who I always thought was rotting away in hell,

Was sitting pretty on cloud nine, looking incredibly well.

I nudged Jesus, 'What's the deal? I would love to hear your take. 

How'd all these sinners get up here? God must've made a mistake.

'And why's everyone so quiet, so somber - give me a clue.'

'Hush, child,' He said, 'they're all in shock. No one thought they'd be seeing you.'

As we remember and pray for all of our beloved relatives who have gone on to the nearer presence of God, let us take some time to pray for all those whom we never thought would get to heaven.  And then let us pray that those people are praying for us.

Amen.

Father Riley's homily for October 25, 2020

PROPER XXV - A- 20 - Lev. 19.1-2, 15-18, 1 Thess 2.1-8, Matt. 22. 34-46

I have been fortunate enough to travel to the Holy Land on two separate occasions. No trip to the Holy City of Jerusalem is complete without a visit to the Wailing Wall.

Near the wall and to the west are a series of alcoves, some of which house libraries containing ancient texts. I discovered them quite by accident as I walked around the sacred site.

Rabbinical students and local elders gather there on a daily basis to debate the various writings and commentaries on scripture by ancient rabbis. As I observed, some participants become quite animated as they argue against their counterpart’s point of view.

In the time of Jesus, the Pharisees had found 613 commandments in the scriptures and often debated about which one was central. In today’s gospel reading from Matthew, a lawyer, who is also a Pharisee, asks Jesus in order to test him, which one of the commandments was the greatest.

The answer he received was both a touch of the familiar and the new. The Pharisee simply wanted to engage Jesus in a debate about which of the 613 commandments of the law were “great” and which were of lesser consequence. It was not an uncommon topic among the rabbis of the day.

Jesus responds by quoting Deut. 6.5 and Lev. 19.18. Both of which are familiar to us, as we all learned in our catechism class they constitute the Summary of the Law, as Christ says, “on these two hang all the law and the prophets.”

Every Jew knew and recited the first one on a daily basis. It is called the “Shema,” for the first word in Hebrew is “hear.” Hear O Israel, the Lord your God is one…The second one, however, the love of neighbor, was and still is often misunderstood. In his response, Jesus creates a new understanding of love of neighbor as an expression of love of God.

The second commandment, “you shall love your neighbor as yourself,” means to love your neighbor “as being yourself,” not as some interpret as saying “love your neighbor as you love yourself.” That is to destroy the force of the statement. How much we love ourselves is not the standard by which Christ is calling us to love others.

Think about it, some people do not love themselves, and there are others who love themselves to the exclusion of all. Then, there are those people in the world who by their words and actions we find most difficult to say that we “love” them. Could it mean that there are those who find us just as difficult to love as well?

Perhaps, but does that mean God does not love them or us? Certainly not. God loves us all in spite of ourselves. God’s love for all mankind was manifested on the cross. If that were not true, none of us would be able to obtain the promise of life eternal, which is ours through the life, death and resurrection of Jesus Christ.

We are called to love our neighbor as being of the same nature as we ourselves are, as being created in God’s image and likeness just as we are. As we heard Jesus in last week’s gospel telling those who came to test him with the question about taxes, that we bear the image of God, and therefore we are to render ourselves unto God, for we belong to Him.

Some of the early church fathers taught, that we find our true self in loving our neighbor. The greatest commandment, therefore, is really two: love God and love one another. Everything else depends upon these two. For as Jesus commanded in another place, “love one another as I have loved you.”

Christ is speaking of divine love, the love God has for each of us, and not what often passes as “love” in the world as we know it. Remember the scene on the beach following the resurrection where Christ draws Peter aside and asks him “do you love me more than these”? Jesus was referring to the other disciples.

Peter responded that he did, but in his response he used the Greek word for brotherly love, “philia.” However,  Christ was asking him using the Greek word for divine love, “agape.” In other words, Christ was asking Peter “do you love me, as I love you?"

God is love, as St. John writes, and we love because He first loved us, and it is for the love of God that we are called to love one another. Lest we forget, the love of God in Christ is a sacrificial love.

We cannot know it or begin to understand it, much less put it into action, unless we know Christ. To love as God loves us means we are to look past the human flaws we all possess and see in the face of friend and stranger the divine image we all bare.

The Jews of Jesus’ day thought they knew what the commandment to love their neighbor meant. However, their understanding was limited to their fellow Jews. St. Luke has given us the story of the “Good Samaritan” that demonstrates their flawed thinking.

Many today as well think they know what the commandment means, but in practice limit their “love” to those they choose to give it to the exclusion of others.

Jesus, however, expands the meaning to include all, Gentiles and Jews alike. If we are to follow Him, we must learn to love as Christ loves us. God gives us the gift of grace to love as He loves.

However, in order to do so, we must learn to sacrifice our own self-interests, our pride and prejudices and our frail human understanding of what love is in exchange for the divine love we are called in Christ to put into practice in loving our neighbor as our self.

With that said, let us pray that God will fill the space we create in our hearts by sacrificing those very things with the gifts of Faith, Hope, and Love, so that we may live into the new life which we have been called in this world, and obtain the promise of eternal life in the next, by loving what God commands. AMEN+

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Father Riley's homily for October 18, 2020

PROPER XXIV - A - 20 - Is. 45. 1-7, 1 Thess 1. 1-10, Matt, 22. 15-22

Ever since his arrival in Jerusalem, to shouts of Hosanna, Jesus has been confronted and challenged by the Pharisees, elders and scribes. His fame and popularity have preceded him. They challenged his authority after he cleansed the Temple and they refused to answer his question concerning John Baptist’ mission for fear it would incriminate them.

They squirmed as he told the parable of the vineyard and of the unjust stewards knowing he was pointing a finger at them. They listened intently as he related the parable of the wedding feast in last week’s gospel without making a comment. Now they plot to entrap him but they do not wish to be confronted and challenged by him again in front of the people.

Thus, they send their allies, the Herodians, who were pro-Roman and supporters of the Jewish puppet king, Herod to trap Jesus into making a political miscue concerning the paying of taxes. They ask him, “is it lawful to pay taxes to the emperor or not? “ A ‘yes’ from Jesus would turn the Jewish people against him as being pro-Roman, while a ‘no’ would bring charges of treason by the Romans.

Christ’ answer defeats their cunning and shows that a believer can render the state its due while serving God. Jesus asks for a coin. The coin bears the image of the emperor and is properly paid to him, so each person bears the image of God and therefore belongs to God.

Conflict arises only when the state demands that which is contrary to God, or conflicts with our Christian responsibility to God. Some would argue that is the case today in regards to the restrictions being placed on worship by the state in view of the pandemic and in the name of public safety.

Christ remarks ‘Give therefore to the emperor the things that are the emperor’s, and to God the things that are God’s,’ leaves his would be accusers unable to declare him a political rebel as much as they would like to, especially in light of his triumphal entry into the holy city.

No where in the gospels is Jesus interested in a crafty escape from the hands of his foes. He is not preoccupied with self but with the life of his listeners. He is forever waiting and watching for those moments of grace when through his words and actions he can return us to our rightful relationship with our God.

“Show me the money for the tax,” he says to his challengers. Jesus is not telling us what we already know, namely that our taxes ought to be paid. He is not telling us that the payment to God is due. Rather, he is revealing to us who we are, what we are.

The “coin” is what we work for, and some even slave for. Many have come to believe that the coin is the measure of their value, the symbol of their worth. However, the true measure of our value has to do with the likeness and inscription borne on our bodies and our souls.

God has cast each of us in His own image. Our vocation as Christians is to remain faithful to our allegiance to God through our witness to Christ. At baptism, we said “yes” to God’s invitation to turn to Jesus Christ and accept him as our Savior, to put our whole trust in his grace and love, and promised to follow and obey Him as our Lord.

We were signed with the cross on our foreheads and marked as Christ’ own forever and sealed by the Holy Spirit as such. That indelible cross we bear, however, is not visible to the world. It is by our words and actions that we make ourselves known as Christians to those around us.

As St. Paul wrote to the young Christians at Thessalonica, “we are to imitate Christ having received the word with joy and inspired by the Holy Spirit so as to become an example to all.”  

The vows and promises we made at the font of life were preceded by our renouncing anything and everything in this world that would destroy, corrupt, or draw us away from the love of God.

For some that can be the “coin,” the inordinate pursuit of wealth that becomes the focus of their life and draws them away from the love of God. For others it is the gaining of authority and the power that comes with it that corrupts them in their abuse of it as they weld it over those around them.

For many, however, it is simply the focus on self and self-interest at the expense of all.

None of the above, however, negates that indelible mark of the cross and the Christian responsibility that comes with it to fulfill our baptismal vows and promises we made to God.

To have both feet firmly planted in this secular world without any regard to the next, leaves us vulnerable to the very things we renounced. Lest we forget, none of us is able to fulfill our vows and promises to God without God’s help.

Throughout the gospels, whether Jesus is teaching, preaching or healing, he is inviting us to come and follow Him. By following Him, we find our true self. As Thomas Merton wrote in his “7 Story Mountain, “in order to be what I was created to be, I have to cease to be what I want to be. “

In Christ and through Christ we are shown the way to the One who has made us, whose image, we bear, and to whom we ultimately belong, the God and Father of all.

The question for us today and at anytime as Christians, is whether the kingdom of Caesar is more important to us than the kingdom of God for our answer to that question will determine where we spend eternity. AMEN+

Father Riley's sermon for October 11, 2020

PROPER XXIII - A - 20 - Is. 25. 1-9, Phil. 4. 1-9, Matt. 22 1-14

“Once more Jesus spoke to them in parables…” Like the preceding parables, this one proclaims the transfer of the kingdom from the faithless Jews to the Gentiles. The setting is a joyful wedding banquet.

The Old Testament lesson as well as the Psalm and the Gospel for the day all speak of God preparing a meal of celebration for those who have been invited. Isaiah speaks of a great feast that one day God will prepare for his people. On that day, those who have long awaited for God’s appearing will have a veil, as it were, lifted from their eyes so those seated at God’s table will recognize Him in their midst and rejoice in His salvation.

The Psalmist reminds us that God is always with us in good times as well as bad. Even in the presence of our enemies God is there anointing us and spreading a table before us. The scene of the wedding banquet, in today’s gospel is a symbol of the feast that has long been associated with the coming of the fullness of God’s kingdom.

Jesus is the bridegroom. The Church is the bride of Christ. All those who have been invited to the wedding feast and who have accepted God’s invitation will be seated as long as they are properly clothed. The parable is self-explanatory.

God has been planning this wedding feast for a long time. His invitation was sent first to Israel his chosen people. The prophets were his servants who delivered the initial invitation. Then came John the Baptist delivering the invitation to repentance and to prepare for the coming of the Promised One by confessing their sins and being baptized.

For his efforts, John was beheaded. Then Christ came reiterating John’s message of repentance and announcing that the kingdom has come. That God’s invitation was open to all who would believe in Him as the one sent from God. For his efforts, they crucified him.

Those invited first refused the invitation. Those later invited made excuses why they could not be there. Finally, in Jesus, all are invited, the good and the bad. However, in Jesus’ story, one showed up without the proper attire.

The King refuses to seat him; instead, he has him thrown out.

The parable of the wedding feast has to do with the final judgment, when the fullness of God’s kingdom will be realized when Christ comes again. All those who belong to him and have lived faithfully the new life to which they have been called in Christ will be seated at God’s table surrounded by the Holy Apostles and saints.

This is another one of those stories in which we hope we are not like the one rejected for improper attire, but rather that we are one of those whom God can say have lived our lives faithfully and are ushered to our seat at His table to enjoy the riches of the kingdom.

Nevertheless, we are sometimes like those who have received the invitation but act as if we have never opened it. We go on with life as usual, and make excuses of everyday concerns, which are not in themselves sinful, but when allowed to absorb all of our thoughts and energy they can very effectively stand between us and the full acceptance of the joys of the kingdom.

As Christians, we have all been invited to the party and at our baptisms, we said “yes” to God’s invitation. For us to say, “Yes” to God’s invitation means being willing to put on the mind of Christ and to follow his mode of behavior. Actions have consequences, moral choices matter.

Real human life is not like a game of chess where even if we do badly the pieces get put back into the box at the end of the day and we can start again tomorrow. Too many Christians today, as well as many non-believers, think they can live life as they choose and all will be well in the end.

That is not what the story tells us today. We want to hear a nice story about God throwing a party and all are invited. We don’t want to know or think about final judgment, or about demanding standards of holiness without which no one will see God, or the weeping and gnashing of teeth. This is not the lesson we want to learn. It is not the scene we wish to envision.

Often people dislike this parable because of what it does teach. There is a difference between the wide-open invitation and the message so many want to hear today. We want to hear that everyone is ok exactly as they are: that God loves us as we are and doesn’t want us to change.

People often say this when they want to justify a particular type of behavior, but that argument does not work. Jesus encountered the blind, lepers, cripples, prostitutes and extorioners as he preached and taught kingdom concepts on his way to Jerusalem and the cross.

Jesus did not say, “You are ok just like you are.” His love reached them where they were, but his love refused to let them stay as they were. Love wants the best for the beloved. Their lives were transformed, healed, and changed.

God hates what they are doing and the effect it has on everyone else and on themselves as well. If they do not change, they cannot remain forever in the party. That is the point of the end of the story. Other wise it leaves us puzzled.

God’s kingdom is one in which love and justice, truth and mercy and holiness reign unhindered. They are the clothes one needs to wear now for they are the proper attire for the wedding feast when Christ and those who belong to Him are united forever. Until that day comes, as Christians, we have the Eucharist to remind us of God’s invitation. It is a foretaste of the heavenly banquet.

In the Eucharist we are fed from God’ altar with the bread of heaven, the Body and Blood of Christ. Our faith helps us to realize that our celebration is authentic. Through the eyes of faith, we recognize God in our midst in the breaking of the bread and in the prayers.

Having been fed and nourished with the sacrament, we are sent back out into the world to love and serve as faithful witnesses of Christ our Lord until the Day of His coming again. On that day, the fullness of the kingdom will be realized by all, as the presence of God in Christ will be recognized by all.

Moreover, we who have been judged faithful will be ushered in to take our place at God’s table surrounded by the Holy Apostles and Saints and in the presence of Him who has made us His own, even Jesus Christ, our Lord. AMEN+

 

 

 

Father Riley's homily for October 4, 2020 and news

The Rev. Canon Gregg Riley will lead the congregation of Christ Episcopal, Saint Joseph, in Holy Eucharist Sunday at 10am October 4 and 18, 2020.

Beginning in November 2020, Father Riley will no longer serve as Priest in Residence at Christ Episcopal, Saint Joseph.  Information regarding our plans for November and beyond will be made available as soon as possible.

Online Morning Prayer services Sundays at 10am are available from Bishop Jake Owensby on the diocesan Facebook page:

https://www.facebook.com/epiwla/

 11am Sunday Morning Prayer services and daily 6pm Evening Prayer services (Mon-Sat) are available from The Rev. Garrett Boyte, Church of the Holy Cross, Shreveport on their Facebook page:

https://www.facebook.com/holycrossdowntown/

PROPER XXII - A - 20 - Is. 5:1-7, Phil. 3: 4b-14, Matt. 21: 33-46

“Almighty and Everlasting God, you are always more ready to hear than we to pray, and to give more than we either desire or deserve…” Today’s collect is one of my favorites as it reminds me, and should remind all of us, of God’s gracious goodness, love, and mercy. We have all been blessed beyond anything we might imagine that we deserve.

Our gospel reading and that of the Old Testament go hand in hand with the collect to illustrate God’s goodness, mercy, and love. Israel was God’s chosen people. They were the blessed of God. Throughout the Old Testament, they are often referred to as God’s vineyard.

They were given a mission to be “the light of the world.” Yet, we see and hear through the eyes and mouths of God’s prophets that Israel had failed in her purpose. Again and again, the prophets had called her to turn back to God, to renew the mission God had given her, to be what God had called her to be.

But, they were a stubborn people, stiff-necked, and hardhearted. However, God’s expectations of them never changed. As His vineyard, they were to produce “good fruit” but we see in today’s first lesson this was not the case. Instead of yielding grapes, his vineyard (Israel) yielded wild grapes.

 “God expected justice, but saw bloodshed; righteousness, but heard a cry.”

By the time of Jesus, not much has changed. Jesus has the attention of the chief priests and Pharisees in today’s passage, which picks up where last week’s left off, and delivers yet another parable that is pointed directly at them. It too is an allegory of Israel as the vineyard, and themselves as the tenants and God’s expectations of them.

An interesting aside is the fact that during the time of Jesus there was embossed above the gates of the Temple a vine full of grapes; a symbol of Israel’s status in the eyes of God. They saw themselves as God’s vineyard, but the grapes they were producing were not what God expected of them.

The indications of Jesus’ parable is obvious: Israel’s role as the people of God has not been faithfully discharged, indeed God’s servants, the prophets, have been rejected by Israel, which will soon reject God’s son, the cornerstone of God’s new building Jesus alludes to in today’s passage.

God had blessed Israel more than she deserved. God had been patient with her, compassionate and merciful. The Kingdom of God should have been realized in the Jewish people and God’s rule manifested to the world. But as was in the time of Isaiah, so it is in the time of Jesus, Israel had failed.

Jesus delivers his parable and concludes with a question of his audience; a question to which, unlike the one he previously posed, concerning John, which they refused to give and answer, this time they give the right answer.

Their right answer, however, brought with it their condemnation. “Therefore I tell you, the kingdom of God will be taken away from you and given to a people that produces the fruits of the kingdom.” When the chief priests and Pharisees heard this, they knew that Jesus was speaking about them.

God’s expectations of his people do not change. In both cases, injustice and violence are hardhearted responses to God’s overtures of care and love. Both the Old Testament and Gospel lessons are teaching us about the hardness of heart and ingratitude to God.

When we read and hear lessons like these, we do not like to see ourselves in them. Yet we are there. The Bible, from Genesis to Revelation is a single story of God having revealed himself to man and man’s response to that revelation. Within scripture, we have examples of those men and women who did respond to God and produced the “fruit” God expected of them.

We also have examples of those who chose not to respond in the manner in which God expected. Yet, God holds out his compassion, and mercy to all in the hopes that those who have rejected him will one day turn and accept him.

The prophets of the Old Testament had one mission that of proclaiming God’s desire for Israel to return to him; to turn their hearts of stone into hearts of flesh and to produce the fruits of righteousness and justice.

To get, as the Ezekiel said in last week’s lesson, a new heart and a new spirit. Jesus’ mission was the same. His teaching about the kingdom and God the Father was meant to turn the hearts and minds of the people (Israel) back to God, the compassionate one who longed for their return.

The new building that Jesus is speaking of in today’s parable of which he is the chief cornerstone, is the Church. The Church and we are church, have been given that same mission that was given to Israel. We are to proclaim the kingdom and the King, and to live our lives as faithful servants of the One who has invited us to inherit the riches of the kingdom alongside him.

Jesus longs for us to be as compassionate as God is. Why do we find it so difficult? Why are our immediate responses to often selfish and hostile? Perhaps it is because being compassionate is dangerous. It can change our lives, our relationships.

It will affect our outlook on life. We will see things differently, as God sees things, and that may require a conversion of our hearts. Compassion is not weak. It takes strength. Compassion keeps us human.

Today’s gospel story is about that and more. It tells us how Jesus has now come to Jerusalem to confront the tenant farmers with God’s demand for repentance, for Israel to be at last what it was called to be, the light of the world.

And if we dare see ourselves in this story, we see Jesus coming into our lives to confront us, to challenge us to turn our hearts of stone into flesh, to see as God sees and to be what God has called us, and expects us to be, compassionate, and faithful witnesses of Christ producing the fruits of justice and righteousness.

To know Christ, then, and the power of His resurrection, as St. Paul says, is to know God, who is always more ready to hear than we to pray, and to give more than we either desire or deserve, and not through any merits of our own, but through the merits and mediation of Jesus Christ our Savior, to Him be the glory now and forever. AMEN+

Father Riley's homily for September 27, 2020 and news

The Rev. Canon Gregg Riley will lead the congregation of Christ Episcopal, Saint Joseph, in Holy Eucharist Sunday at 10am October 4 and 18, 2020.

Beginning in November 2020, Father Riley will no longer serve as Priest in Residence at Christ Episcopal, Saint Joseph.  Information regarding our plans for November and beyond will be made available as soon as possible.

Online Morning Prayer services Sundays at 10am are available from Bishop Jake Owensby on the diocesan Facebook page:

https://www.facebook.com/epiwla/

 11am Sunday Morning Prayer services and daily 6pm Evening Prayer services (Mon-Sat) are available from The Rev. Garrett Boyte, Church of the Holy Cross, Shreveport on their Facebook page:

https://www.facebook.com/holycrossdowntown/

An Invitation From Bishop Jake Owensby:

I hope you’ll join me for a series of in-person Zoom conversations called “A Love Shaped Life” Thursdays (6:00 p.m. CDT) in October. This coming Thursday (Oct. 1) we’ll be talking about letting go as a spiritual challenge.

No charge. No registration. All you need to do on Thursday is click this link: https://us02web.zoom.us/j/81224620632?pwd=V1V1dmJGQW12djZmb2hDVWp0a1lZZz09

Father Riley's homily:

PROPER XXI - A - 20 - EZ. 18:1-4, 25-32; PHIL. 2:1-13; MATT. 21:23-32

Today’s gospel reading begins with a question from the chief priests and elders to Jesus. They want to know by what authority he is doing the things he is doing. Moreover, they want to know who gave him the authority.

Before we get into Jesus’ response, we need to back up a bit in Matthew’s 21^st chapter to what caused the elders to raise the question in the first place. Prior to Christ’ encounter with the priests and elders in the Temple, he has entered Jerusalem humble and riding on a borrowed colt to the shouts of Hosanna. In some people’s minds, he is the fulfillment of the messianic prophecy.

Following his triumphal entry into the Holy City, Christ has gone into the Temple courtyard and driven out the moneychangers. Jesus is not a priest, only the priests have the authority to cleanse the Temple. Yet, he has done what only messiah had a right to do when and if messiah comes. In addition, he has healed all those brought to him.

Thus, the chief priests and elders confront him. The people crowd around him and listen intently to the exchange that takes place between Jesus and his inquisitors in today’s passage. They raise the question of his authority to do such a thing because their authority has been questioned, as it were, by Jesus’ actions.

Jesus is not ready to reveal his identity as Messiah to his scoffers. Rather, he confounds them with a question about John Baptist. Their question and Christ’ question of them requires the same answer and would lead a person to confess that Jesus has come from heaven.

Whether they know the right answers or not, the chief priests and the elders waffle on Christ’s question, and end up by saying they do not know about the origin of John’s baptism. Any answer they might have given would have brought them trouble.

If they could not, or were not willing to admit who John was, they are not willing to admit who Jesus is. Jesus responds to their refusal to answer his question by giving them a parable of the two sons who were asked by their father to go and work in his vineyard.

It is an interesting story, which I would imagine that most of us could relate to. We have all said “yes” to something or someone and then did not follow through. In addition, we have all said “no” and then later changed our mind. However, here, Jesus is zeroing in on the religious leaders.

The priests and elders may not have believed that John was a prophet; but supposed he was, what follows? Some people did what John said, even though in the eyes of the elders they looked like they were rebelling against God. 

Other people refused to do what John said, even though they looked like God’s chosen ones in rejecting John. Just like the two sons in today’s parable, one of whom said “no” to his father, but then did what he was asked to do, the other who said “yes” but then did not do it.

In Jesus’ parable, the tax collectors and prostitutes stand for the first son. The way they were living their lives was a “no” to God; but when they heard John, they changed, repented, confessed their sins, and were baptized.

The second son who said “yes” but did not fulfill his mission, refers to the chief priests and elders who stood in the Temple and seemed outwardly to be doing God’s will. However, they were merely keeping up appearances. They refused to believe John’s message, not only about repentance but also about messiah who was standing unknown in their midst.

Sometimes we are the son who says “yes” and then we go our own way. At other times we are like the one who at first says “no” then we have a change of heart and go and do what God has asks us to do. It has to do with being obedient.

Christ is our example of one who accepts the divine will with complete obedience, trust, and love. As St. Paul reminds us. It is Jesus who “being in the form of God, did not count equality with God a thing to be grasped, but gave it up, taking the form of a servant… and being found in human form he humbled himself and became obedient unto death, even death on a cross.”

The challenge of this parable for us today is to make sure we are responding to Jesus, allowing him to confront us at every point where we have been like the second son saying “yes” to God and yet continuing in our ways that lead us away from God.

Change is possible. One is not bound by his or her past unless one chooses to be. Repent and live! As the prophet proclaims, for the Lord has no pleasure in the death of anyone.

It is not enough that outwardly we strive to “keep up the appearance” that we are Christians. What is needed is a new heart and a new spirit as the prophet Ezekiel proclaims that will not only make us want to give our “yes” to God but to follow through with it.

In baptism, we said our “yes” to God. In baptism we took on Christ by dying with him and being raised to new life in Him; a life we are to live to God with complete obedience, trust, faith, and love. Jesus Christ is the source of that new heart and spirit.

Once we get our response to Jesus as Lord of our Life in order, then as his followers we are to go out into the market place of life to challenge the world. We do this by the way we live our lives in love and service as faithful witnesses of Christ our Lord, so that we are asked “by what right are you doing that?’

To which the proper answer would be not to confuse them with riddles about John the Baptist, but to tell them about Jesus the Christ. How His coming into our life has changed who we are, the way we think, and the way we act.

For now, our life is hide in Christ in whom we live and move and have our being; to Him be the glory forever and ever. AMEN+