Wednesday, October 29, 2008
BookShelf
There are some books that are floating around WSUMC. Almost literally. Take This Bread by Sara Miles is one such book. It has popped into my life, it found its way into one of Mike's recent sermons, and I spied a bag of copies in the sanctuary on Sunday. The Shack by William Young is another one. I know a few folks have read it, I saw it on a coffee table in 112 a few weeks ago, I bought my own copy yesterday, and then a stack found its way to a committee meeting this morning. I haven't read this, but you can be sure that I'll be reading it as soon as possible. I am also reading The Year of Living Biblically: One Man's Humble Quest to Follow the Bible as Literally as Possible by A.J. Jacobs. I've only read the first chapter, but its enjoyable and interesting so far. So here you have three books: one I've read, one I intend to read, and one that I am reading. I invite you to join me, share your thoughts as we go along, and add to the list of books we all ought to be reading!
Monday, October 6, 2008
It's Not Ours
Matthew 21:33-43
Generally, vineyards are lovely places. Think of picturesque wineries in France, California or the hills of Virginia. The wine makers watch as the grapes grow and then turn that fruit into a new creation—all on one estate. The kingdom of heaven, the new earth, must look a bit like this too: plump grapes growing on a hillside, people who take pride in their work, and fine wine and delicious banquets for everyone. Jesus talks so much about vineyards and wine. He talks about himself as the vine and us as the branches. He turns water into wine to quench the thirsts of wedding guests at Canaan and he turns his blood into wine to quench our thirst.
Let me tell you a story.
There once was a deity who built a church. He had lots of churches, but he placed this particular church in Old Town Alexandria. He built a fine sanctuary and a large education building. He underestimated the need for parking. Then he leased the church to tenants. These tenants were charged with the responsibility of nurturing the faith community, with genuinely reaching out to strangers, with worshipping the deity with vigor and thoughtfulness. Throughout the decades the church saw many changes in the world. It struggled and grew and struggled again. The congregation wrestled with who it was and who the deity wanted it to be. In times of growth they were strong and confident, in leaner times they became anxious and distraught.
Jesus doesn’t say much about the vineyard tenants. Whether or not they grow grapes and make wine, if they drink it all themselves, or sit around and do nothing. All we know, is that when the owner sends slaves to collect the produce, the tenants kill the slaves. Twice. When the owner sends his son to collect the harvest, the tenants kill him as well.
The tenants are wicked because they seem to have forgotten that the vineyard isn’t theirs and they are willing to murder the landowner’s messengers. The owner should then take that vineyard and give it to responsible tenants who will produce and yield fruit. So too, Jesus says, God will take the kingdom of heaven and give it to people who will produce fruit.
In our local vineyard on Washington Street, are we producing fruit?
Are we deepening our spiritual connection to God? Are we praying and exploring other spiritual disciplines? Do we bring our full selves to worship? Do we allow ourselves to invoke and experience the Holy presence of God? Are we deepening our relationship with God?
Are we welcoming the strangers in our midst, are we hospitable to our visitors and our new members? Are we nurturing and caring for one another?
Are we risking our comfort level and reaching out to those in need in service and mission? Are we sharing God’s love and connecting deeply with our broken, suffering world?
Are we using our financial gifts to benefit the kingdom of God?
Are we opening the doors to our community? As a down-town church on the cusp of Washington DC, how are we finding and living out our unique calling?
If it is at least our desire to do and be these things, then our hearts are in the right place. But that’s not enough. We need to work harder in our vineyard.
Drive around the countryside and you may find a closed, abandoned church. Travel through the city and you may find an old church with a new congregation now residing in it. To stay alive and vibrant the church has got to want to live. The people must produce fruit and gifts and graces. It must exist for reasons other than itself. It must engage God and its community.
Church is more than a Sunday morning activity, it’s a faith community that really hopes to help God change the world. We need to give our tithes, not out of guilt, but out of joy, as an investment in the life and vitality of our spiritual community. We need to make a commitment to be present, to be here for ourselves and each other, to nurture our community, to reach out to the suffering, to plant our spiritual roots and reach out in love to others.
Our church is a family. It is a place for us to tend our spiritual lives, to feed our physical bodies, to connect to our human family, and to reach out to our broken world. Your giving keeps everything going here. The hope is that we will give, not because we have to, but because we want to.
Being fruitful is not an option. Jesus comes across a fig tree without fruit, curses it, and it withers on the spot. He speaks of taking away a vineyard and giving it to those who will produce fruit. Those who will carry out his message, those who will do what he’s talking about, those who will comfort the poor and challenge the rich those who will love the unlovable, those who will risk everything for truth and justice and mercy.
As much as we may love our church, we have to remember that it does not exist solely for our purposes and joy. It is not a private winery. It’s not ours. It’s God’s church. It is God we worship we when come here, God that we seek for relationship, God that we look for in each other, God’s word that we proclaim and God’s word that we feast on. When we come to the table we realize that this act is one of the few that make us uniquely Christian. We speak of body and blood and bread and wine, flesh and food. The Eucharist is not supposed to make sense in our minds. It’s meant to connect our bodies to Jesus and to each other throughout the world. Christ is as near to us as the food that we eat. How could he communicate such closeness other than to lift the bread and say take this as my body. I’m going to die, to show you what it means to take love seriously, to live a life of integrity, to stand up for your convictions even when facing death. Jesus showed us how to live and love and he had to die for it because the status quo couldn’t handle what he was saying. Rather than search themselves for the truth, they murdered him. Jesus is God incarnate, God in human, fleshly form, fully human, fully God. Facing his death, Jesus knew he wouldn’t share that human form for long. He knew that his followers would no longer have a savior that they could physically touch. With bread and wine, Jesus created a symbol, a physical element that they could see and touch and smell and taste to represent a God they could no longer physically experience. Jesus didn’t shy away from the ickier parts of being human. He could talk about blood without being grossed out, because he knows that without blood our bodies cannot exist. When he took the cup, and said that the wine is his blood, he simply meant that blood gives us life and his blood gives us life. His cup is one of renewed life, of restorative wine. We’re acknowledging our human bodies and Jesus’ human body and we’re sharing the spiritual food that Jesus has prepared for us. Jesus provides us food, the way a mother’s body feeds her baby. This Sunday in particular we celebrate World Communion Sunday. Various other churches, or other denominations, in other towns and states and countries are also coming to the table of Christ. Together, we make up the body of Christ and together we seek to honor love and peace in a violent and broken world, to bear fruit and bring about unity for the present and coming vineyard of heaven.
Generally, vineyards are lovely places. Think of picturesque wineries in France, California or the hills of Virginia. The wine makers watch as the grapes grow and then turn that fruit into a new creation—all on one estate. The kingdom of heaven, the new earth, must look a bit like this too: plump grapes growing on a hillside, people who take pride in their work, and fine wine and delicious banquets for everyone. Jesus talks so much about vineyards and wine. He talks about himself as the vine and us as the branches. He turns water into wine to quench the thirsts of wedding guests at Canaan and he turns his blood into wine to quench our thirst.
Let me tell you a story.
There once was a deity who built a church. He had lots of churches, but he placed this particular church in Old Town Alexandria. He built a fine sanctuary and a large education building. He underestimated the need for parking. Then he leased the church to tenants. These tenants were charged with the responsibility of nurturing the faith community, with genuinely reaching out to strangers, with worshipping the deity with vigor and thoughtfulness. Throughout the decades the church saw many changes in the world. It struggled and grew and struggled again. The congregation wrestled with who it was and who the deity wanted it to be. In times of growth they were strong and confident, in leaner times they became anxious and distraught.
Jesus doesn’t say much about the vineyard tenants. Whether or not they grow grapes and make wine, if they drink it all themselves, or sit around and do nothing. All we know, is that when the owner sends slaves to collect the produce, the tenants kill the slaves. Twice. When the owner sends his son to collect the harvest, the tenants kill him as well.
The tenants are wicked because they seem to have forgotten that the vineyard isn’t theirs and they are willing to murder the landowner’s messengers. The owner should then take that vineyard and give it to responsible tenants who will produce and yield fruit. So too, Jesus says, God will take the kingdom of heaven and give it to people who will produce fruit.
In our local vineyard on Washington Street, are we producing fruit?
Are we deepening our spiritual connection to God? Are we praying and exploring other spiritual disciplines? Do we bring our full selves to worship? Do we allow ourselves to invoke and experience the Holy presence of God? Are we deepening our relationship with God?
Are we welcoming the strangers in our midst, are we hospitable to our visitors and our new members? Are we nurturing and caring for one another?
Are we risking our comfort level and reaching out to those in need in service and mission? Are we sharing God’s love and connecting deeply with our broken, suffering world?
Are we using our financial gifts to benefit the kingdom of God?
Are we opening the doors to our community? As a down-town church on the cusp of Washington DC, how are we finding and living out our unique calling?
If it is at least our desire to do and be these things, then our hearts are in the right place. But that’s not enough. We need to work harder in our vineyard.
Drive around the countryside and you may find a closed, abandoned church. Travel through the city and you may find an old church with a new congregation now residing in it. To stay alive and vibrant the church has got to want to live. The people must produce fruit and gifts and graces. It must exist for reasons other than itself. It must engage God and its community.
Church is more than a Sunday morning activity, it’s a faith community that really hopes to help God change the world. We need to give our tithes, not out of guilt, but out of joy, as an investment in the life and vitality of our spiritual community. We need to make a commitment to be present, to be here for ourselves and each other, to nurture our community, to reach out to the suffering, to plant our spiritual roots and reach out in love to others.
Our church is a family. It is a place for us to tend our spiritual lives, to feed our physical bodies, to connect to our human family, and to reach out to our broken world. Your giving keeps everything going here. The hope is that we will give, not because we have to, but because we want to.
Being fruitful is not an option. Jesus comes across a fig tree without fruit, curses it, and it withers on the spot. He speaks of taking away a vineyard and giving it to those who will produce fruit. Those who will carry out his message, those who will do what he’s talking about, those who will comfort the poor and challenge the rich those who will love the unlovable, those who will risk everything for truth and justice and mercy.
As much as we may love our church, we have to remember that it does not exist solely for our purposes and joy. It is not a private winery. It’s not ours. It’s God’s church. It is God we worship we when come here, God that we seek for relationship, God that we look for in each other, God’s word that we proclaim and God’s word that we feast on. When we come to the table we realize that this act is one of the few that make us uniquely Christian. We speak of body and blood and bread and wine, flesh and food. The Eucharist is not supposed to make sense in our minds. It’s meant to connect our bodies to Jesus and to each other throughout the world. Christ is as near to us as the food that we eat. How could he communicate such closeness other than to lift the bread and say take this as my body. I’m going to die, to show you what it means to take love seriously, to live a life of integrity, to stand up for your convictions even when facing death. Jesus showed us how to live and love and he had to die for it because the status quo couldn’t handle what he was saying. Rather than search themselves for the truth, they murdered him. Jesus is God incarnate, God in human, fleshly form, fully human, fully God. Facing his death, Jesus knew he wouldn’t share that human form for long. He knew that his followers would no longer have a savior that they could physically touch. With bread and wine, Jesus created a symbol, a physical element that they could see and touch and smell and taste to represent a God they could no longer physically experience. Jesus didn’t shy away from the ickier parts of being human. He could talk about blood without being grossed out, because he knows that without blood our bodies cannot exist. When he took the cup, and said that the wine is his blood, he simply meant that blood gives us life and his blood gives us life. His cup is one of renewed life, of restorative wine. We’re acknowledging our human bodies and Jesus’ human body and we’re sharing the spiritual food that Jesus has prepared for us. Jesus provides us food, the way a mother’s body feeds her baby. This Sunday in particular we celebrate World Communion Sunday. Various other churches, or other denominations, in other towns and states and countries are also coming to the table of Christ. Together, we make up the body of Christ and together we seek to honor love and peace in a violent and broken world, to bear fruit and bring about unity for the present and coming vineyard of heaven.
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