Authority

A sermon preached at Faith Episcopal Church on December 14, 2008.

The wolf and the lamb – such a lovely image for a new way of being. Think about it, in the hierarchy of wild things, the wolf is part of the elite power structure. They are predators, good ones, and they are very smart. Wolves live in close knit communities and they hunt in packs. We are frightened of them. Think of all of fairly tales and fables with wolves as the bad guy – Little Red Riding Hood, Peter and the Wolf, the Three Little Pigs, the Boy Who Cried Wolf. We talk of throwing someone to the wolves, in desperate times the wolf is at the door and the idea of a wolf whistle carries with it the threat of violation. Wolves frighten us because it feels as though they might have power over us. In the animal kingdom, they have authority.

The lamb on the other hand is the meekest, weakest little fluffy adorable thing you can imagine. Lambs need to be tended and cuddled and they make us smile when they frolic about in the fields of springtime. They represent all that is innocent, pure and vulnerable. Lambs are precious, as in Mary had a little one…the prophet Nathan tells King David a story about a man whose darling little lamb was taken for dinner by the mean rich neighbor, we call children “little lambs.” And yet we are afraid of them also – afraid that they are us and that we too are vulnerable, without authority.

In the new heaven and new earth, there will be no dangerous hierarchy – the symbols of inequality meet in the middle and sit down for a meal. No one will be more powerful or more innocent than anyone else. Where now is authority? It is apparently in the relationship of the opposites – freely given by both parties.
This has been quite a week in the news when it comes to power and authority. Illinois Governor Rod Blagojevich gave us all a glimpse of toxic power and authority running amok. Machiavelli is looking smarter all the time. My main question all week was “why was this man entrusted with authority to begin with?” By what criteria do we assign authority? Apparently we still live in a world that is conflicted about power and how to exercise authority appropriately.

Think about the word – it comes from author – one who creates or originates something. Webster defines authority as “the power to command, determine, influence or judge.” There’s an important distinction to be made here – power can be taken or assumed and fear is one of it’s henchmen – authority must be earned and granted. One rarely has authority in the absence of respect. It was the Bishop’s authority – the authority ascribed by his office – that sent me here – I have authority only to the extent that I earn your respect and hold it in sacred trust. I only have authority if you decide that I do. I believe that the true authority here – other than God – is our commitment to a vision of that holy mountain on which peace reigns and no one is hurt or abused.

Jesus was often challenged by his adversaries about the source of his authority. His words and teaching had inherent power and the scribes and Pharisees wanted to know its source and how he came to be in possession of it. Jesus knew who he was and what he came to reveal. In my often used Dictionary of Biblical Imagery it says that “authority is legitimate power. It implies freedom as well as permission to decide and to act.” Jesus’ authority came from his inner sense of who he was, what God is and he dedicated its use to the revealing of God and the empowering of humanity.

The Episcopal Church has always had an intriguing take on authority. Richard Hooker – Anglican theologian under Elizabeth I, first identified the Three Legged Stool. We give authority to the interplay of Scripture, the Traditions of Christianity and an ever evolving understanding of Reason. We invest considerable authority in the laity of this church – we are democratic, not dogmatic. Last week I spoke of the central tenet of the Protestant Reformation – sola scriptura, scripture sola which granted to the Bible the only and ultimate authority about Jesus, God and God’s will. That worked if you were a Lutheran or a Calvinist, but we are not and have always had a broader understanding of authority. Discontented voices in the Episcopal Church have conveniently overlooked this fact as they have attempted to anchor their criticism in our refusal to put all of our authority eggs in one basket. In this time of The Great Emergence questions of authority have been tossed up in the air like so many juggling balls.

Phyllis Tickle hit one nail squarely on the head as she tries to imagine what the church will look like when this period of Great Emergence has finally revealed the new way of being Christian (The Great Emergence, Baker Books, 2008). She described a church in which people understand their relationship to a congregation based on a sense of belonging instead of belief in a particular doctrine or practice. The old model was believe, behave, belong. There was a prescribed set of ideas to which one agreed which determined conduct which led to an eventual status of belonging. What appears to be coming is some form of belong, behave, believe. One simply belongs to a gathering of Christians by virtue of a shared humanity and an affinity with the individuals involved in whatever the group as a whole is doing. Those who chose to go deeper into the community will begin to engage in the behavior of the group. Out of the active engagement in the life and mission of a congregation, a sense of what one truly believes will emerge. The best experience of this I can describe happens with our children – they belong here – mostly because their parents have brought them – but they know that they belong. They take part in communion, which to them is a symbol of belonging. As they grow up and begin to ponder that sense of welcome and freely available belonging, it might lead to open hearts and compassion, welcome and generosity, as well as a sense of holy belonging to all that is. They belong; they practice communion; eventually they believe in communion.

The church that is emerging right now is suspicious of anything that would put limits on the belonging because to limit belonging short circuits the wonders that it can lead to. The Episcopal tradition is curiously well positioned to make this transition. I say curiously because it appears that we have all of the books, and prescribed behaviors and creeds that appear to come out of the old believe, behave, belong model. But I would claim that we – particularly here at Faith – are not held back by the old model. No one here is told that they have to believe a particular set of facts, no one is told that there is a right way of joining in worship or understanding our holy meal. There is nothing that stands in the way of anyone belonging. What our liturgy does is to make available practices that open us up to belonging to each other and to God. I frankly don’t care whether you say the Nicene Creed or not. The old words do not have inherent authority, their power resides in our willingness to remember and honor a shared history, they are a memory tool. What you believe about God the Creator, Jesus the divine idea and that free radical, the Holy Spirit – is for you to contemplate and decide.

In Advent, as we await that which is not yet completely arrived, we imagine the wolf and lamb at peace, we know that there is a holy. We cannot get there alone, but together we will bring the mountain of peace into the world.
Come, o come, Emmanuel.

A sermon preached at Faith Episcopal Church on November 30,2008

A professor stood before his philosophy class with some items on his
desk in front of him. When the class began, wordlessly, he picked up
a very large and empty mayonnaise jar and proceeded to fill it with golf balls. He then asked the students if the jar was full. They agreed that it was.
The professor then picked up a box of pebbles and poured them into the jar. He shook the jar lightly. The pebbles rolled into the open areas between the golf balls. He then asked the students again if the jar was full. They agreed it was.
The professor next picked up a box of sand and poured it into the jar.
Of course, the sand filled up everything else. He asked once more if the jar was full. The students responded with a unanimous "YES." The professor then produced two glasses of wine from under the table and poured the entire contents into the jar, effectively filling the empty spaces between the grains of sand. The students laughed.

"Now," said the professor, as the laughter subsided, "I want you to recognize that this jar represents your life. The golf balls are the important things; your family, your children, your health, your friends, and your favorite passions; things that if everything else was lost and only they remained, your life would still be full. The pebbles are the other things that matter like your job, your house, and your car. The sand is everything else; the small stuff. If you put the sand into the jar first, he continued, "there is no
room for the pebbles or the golf balls. The same goes for life. If you spend all your time and energy on the small stuff, you will never have room for the good things that are important to you.

Pay attention to the things that are critical to your happiness. Play
with your children. Take time to get medical checkups. Take your partner out to dinner. Play another 18 holes. Do one more run down the ski slope. There will always be time to clean the house and fix the disposal. Take care of the golf balls first; the things that really matter. Set your priorities. The rest is just sand."
One of the students raised her hand and inquired why he had used wine instead of water. The professor smiled. "Now there is a good observation and I am glad you asked. It just goes to show you that no matter how full your life may seem, there's always room for a couple of glasses of wine with a friend."

There are two reasons that I like this story for this week. First, it follows very nicely the season of Thanksgiving. To be truly grateful, you must have contemplated your life and your blessings. You will quickly see the overt blessings, your family, your health, your secure existence, the many opportunities that your life affords you. On closer examination, you might also find gratitude for apparent limitations in your life, which present new opportunities for thoughtful sacrifice and discernment about what is truly important. I remember being very surprised when I found myself being thankful for the depression that I had suffered years ago. Without it I wouldn’t have learned some vital things about myself; I would not have really matured as an adult. It goes without saying that as a priest, my having experienced that dark night of the soul helps me pastor more effectively to those who are struggling, but it goes beyond that. Without that dark night of the soul, I could never have conquered fear; without having felt that depth of despair, I would never have truly been able to truly appreciate the emergence…sunshine feels warmer after a long grey spell. It was the hardest thing I ever went through in my life, and I am so grateful for it.

The other reason I like this story now, on this first Sunday of Advent, is that it leads us to a eucharistic theology—and I don’t just mean the part about sharing a glass of wine with a friend! The atmosphere of Advent is one of anticipation, waiting to end estrangement and isolation. We know that there still more to life than we have experienced. We know there is more we can fit into the jar. Like the students in the professor’s class, we have come to realize, especially here in our Faith community, that just when we thought we had filled our jars, we discovered there was room for more, and not just more stuff, but the really important stuff.
All of our lessons this morning address the issue of waiting and staying alert to what is coming. Isaiah speaks of those who wait on God, Paul refers to those who await the revealing of the Christ, and Mark’s Gospel quotes Jesus himself talking about how important it is to stay alert for what is to come. This sense of expectation leaps out of the ancient writings and lands right in our midst. Indeed, much seems to be shifting in our world.

The world out there is changing. Social and economic systems are in flux. The internet changed politics, now we wait to see if it will it change governance, community is happening in cyberspace, new social structures are emerging, and Western Christianity is best described as a whole lotta shakin’ goin on! In her new book, The Great Emergence, Phyllis Tickle, of whom you have heard me speak before, explains the historical backdrop for what is now being recognized as a new reformation a new form of Christianity emerging. This emergent church, which has manifestations within the traditions of not just the Episcopal Church but the Presbyterian, Lutheran, Methodist, and other protestant denominations, is being driven by a movement that seeks a new expression of spirituality, a new understanding of authority. As with any emerging phenomenon, we can only wait and see what and how it develops, but my guess is it will have great relevance to us in the Episcopal Church and as we learn how to take ourselves beyond our walls with new tools and new ideas.

In the upcoming weeks of Advent, we will visit this great emergence in more detail, but the message for today is that we must first adopt a certain attitude, or perspective. We must expect that even if our mayonnaise jar appears to be full, there is more that can be fit into it. We must wait, with both great awareness and anticipation, for what God continues to reveal about what is important, what we can do to make the world better, what we can do to make ourselves better. And we must be willing to open our minds, expect the unexpected, thirst for new ideas rather than remain stagnant.

Two thousand years ago, the Jews in Israel were awaiting change, hoping for change. They were hoping for more of an old idea rather than something radically new. And when something new is being born, no matter what you think it will be, it is always something else. New ideas, new ways of expressing old ideas come when we stay awake and ready for the unexpected. Our readiness is the fertile soil of new ideas. You might have the big picture, the vision of the world as it could be and be completely surprised by the road that takes you there. So stay awake, keep an open mind, keep an open heart and greet everything that comes with courage and hope.

Divine GPS

A sermon preached at Faith Episcopal Church on November 23, 2008.

When Peter and I got our little Honda hybrid, it came with a GPS system. We both looked at it and thought, “we’re never going to use that!” Apparently, I underestimated my excitement over knowing where I am at all times. I am now unabashedly head-over-heels in love with GPS. The woman who lives inside my dashboard is unfailingly patient despite my intentional messing with her. When I change the route she has given me, she graciously reroutes the little map and her “If you must…” is left unspoken. I appreciate that about her. The only thing that might make her better would be if on command, she would let me know where all of you were. I take that back—it's kind of creepy.But when you think about it, the divine GPS does just that. God never actually loses track of anyone. It’s more like we wander off, intentionally leaving our cell phones at home. The calls keep coming in, but we are not there to answer them all.

The OT reading today says, “I myself will search for my sheep, and will seek them out.” How will God do that? If we believed in God as some supernatural being, then we might indeed think that God can find us like some celestial posse. But we are seeking a more enlightened understanding of God’s nature. We want to grasp how God’s greatness is embedded in all aspects of life, a divine spirit energy that communicates not only with but through all creation. We are that part of creation that is aware enough to decide to listen and try to comprehend – that’s spiritual journey work. Of course, we also choose to put our hands over our ears and go La, la la, I can’t hear you.

What might be happening with God when we try to hide? If God is Energy, it would obviously be even more “patient” than the woman in my dashboard, calmly adjusting the desired route to the one we have chosen, but always with the same destination in mind for us. However, like our GPS system, we arrive at our destination most efficiently when we follow the route guide has suggested.

Here is where things get a little more interesting, however. It might surprise you that I spent this week researching the Second Law of Thermodynamics for some help with this topic. After all, if divine energy is in all things and the Second Law applies to all energy, there must be something useful we can learn from it.

Frank Lambert, Professor Emeritus of Chemistry at Occidental College here in LA explains on his website that “The second law of thermodynamics says that energy of all kinds in our material world disperses or spreads out if it is not hindered from doing so.” The greater the dispersion, the higher the entropy. I had a delightful email exchange with Professor Lambert, who cautioned me, in the strongest terms, not to try to use entropy as an analogy – he was most insistent it only applies to atoms and molecules. He worried for my reputation as a preacher. It was very kind, but I’m going to ignore his advice.

One of the first things I did was send the professor’s email to my science geek husband, and sure enough, he jumped in with entropy as one of the central tenets of information theory. Of course it has applications outside atoms and molecules.” Professor Lambert not withstanding, physical laws do provide great metaphors in the search for spiritual truth.

Think of light – we know how fast it travels, we know how it behaves. And as a practical matter, we also know how it disperses. You can read by a candle right next to you but not one across the room, because of how much the light has dispersed. But think of what happens with a laser. With lasers, the light is concentrated into a powerful beam, and it is projected in just one direction—very little dispersion.

So here is our metaphor—God’s Spirit, the divine energy, is everywhere—sometimes highly dispersed, sometimes laser like in its focus. We are also being searched out by that energy, that Spirit, and sometimes we sense it focused on our lives.

The question then becomes, what is OUR role in how divine energy either diffuses and becomes highly entropic or turns into a clear expression of God’s love? Containing the forces of entropy always require work of some sort. For God’s love to become a manifest reality, we must provide some measure of that work. We do so in community and apply ourselves toward the many ministries and programs that help those in need. Without it, the energy of God, no matter how pure and divine, diffuses into the atmosphere. That is why we hear in our Gospel message today Jesus speaking of how important it is that we visit, feed, and clothe the least in God’s Kingdom.

A couple of weeks ago the collect of the day was about scripture. “Blessed Lord, who caused all holy Scriptures to be written for our learning: Grant us so to hear them, read, mark, learn, and inwardly digest them, that we may embrace and ever hold fast the blessed hope of everlasting life.” This collect is acknowledgment of the need for us to respond. If you never consider what wisdom the Bible has for you, if you avoid it by leaving the book closed you will never benefit from the word of God that lies in it as a baby lies in a cradle, to quote Martin Luther. We are only lost when we don’t want to be found.

When we don’t want to be found, we don’t want to hear God’s call to thoughtful stewardship of our lives, our time, our relationships, our planet. We keep stepping out of the way of God’s energy hoping that it will dissipate and finally stop trying to get our attention.

I want to go back to our hybrid car because I think it’s a wonderful analogy for how our “work” can combat entropy in God’s Kingdom on Earth, and the life of the church. A hybrid takes energy that would otherwise be dissipated into the environment during downhill coasts and braking and channels it back into its battery system, recharging it. We can do the same here at Faith. When we come together, we bring a great deal of energy, and naturally some of that dissipates when we leave and rejoin our weekly routines. But instead of allowing it to dissipate completely, we can stay better connected throughout the week and perhaps even occasionally mesh together some of the extra energy we have to expend and share it in a new form of “work” to ward off the effects of entropy. I have seen it happen recently in Rome to Canterbury and Anna’s Guild gatherings, and it is a special experience, for in seeking each other out, we come to understand how indeed God seeks us out.

God’s search energy is constantly seeking us. Not to chastise us or put the fear of God in us but to focus and make useful the desire to love and to create the Kingdom of Christ, the Kingdom of Peace, the Kingdom of love.