The angels encamped around us this year

Orion Nebula, NASA

“The angel of the LORD encamps around those who fear him, and delivers them.”

– Psalm 34:7

My childhood admission: I used to be afraid of a lot of things. I saw the movie “The Blob” with Steve McQueen about space goo from a meteor that landed on earth and ate everyone, especially kids sitting in movie theaters. The Blob oozed under seats and out of heat ventilators.

For years I thought The Blob might be under my bed. Ok, I really didn’t think that, but just to be safe, I did not let my hand hover below the bed at night.

More seriously, I was also afraid of the concept of infinity. The idea that space goes on and on forever scared the daylights out of me. I can’t explain exactly why, but it did. Still does.

The idea of infinite time also scared me. What came before time? Does time end? If time does end, did existence ever exist? If time doesn’t end, how does that work?

Adding to my fear, in church the preacher used to talk about God living outside of time and God coming at the end of time. How does that work?

Call me a neurotic kid with such strange fears. My parents thought I should be more worried about spelling tests and my “times table.”

Yet, I think some of my childhood fear about infinity and time might be what the biblical admonitions about “fear of the LORD” are getting at. It is tempting to translate the word “fear” into “awe” (of the LORD), and that works one level. But creation is so vast, and the concepts of time, space, infinity, are truly so beyond human comprehension that there must be more to this than awe. Who are we to think we can understand this? Who are we to think we can tame the universe? There is a lot to be afraid of out there.

We cannot know God easily or directly. The Book of Job ends with God bellowing at Job, “Where were you when I laid the foundations of the earth? Tell me, if you have understanding.” (Job 38:4). We don’t.

I bring this up as a way of suggesting that we might enter the new year with a measure of humility about our most cherished beliefs and opinions about everything from religion to politics. We are but mortal, made from dust and to dust we shall return. God’s ways are not our ways, and we are living on a finite rock in a tiny corner of the universe. Our conflicts over religion and politics are comparatively trivial. There is so much we don’t know even about ourselves and our planet, let alone the rest of the universe.

We might want to hold lightly to our opinions, listen to each other a little more closely, care for each other a little more deeply, and not be so certain we have this God thing figured out so perfectly. “Fear of the LORD is the beginning of wisdom,” so the wise rabbi says in Proverbs 1:7.

There is hope in this. The Morning Prayer reading for today begins with Psalm 34 and its prayer for wisdom and peace. Lately I’ve been reading the psalms from the Revised Standard Version of the Bible rather than the psalms tucked into the back of the prayer book. I like RSV version better including Psalm 34, especially this line: “The angel of the LORD encamps around those who fear him, and delivers them.”

May each of us find the angels encamped around us this year, protecting us from evil and from the arrogance of our own certainty. May many blessings light our path. And let’s be careful out there.

By James Richardson, Fiat Lux

What wakes you up in the middle of the night?

Presiding Bishop Katharine Jefferts Schori, who we hosted for three days in January in the midst of a blizzard, preached at the Easter Vigil at Christ Church, Binghamton, NY, a few days ago. You might hear a few echoes of what she said to us. Before we get too far into the Easter season, here is her sermon:

The Most Rev. Katharine Jefferts Schori
Presiding Bishop and Primate
The Episcopal Church

What are you most afraid of? What wakes you up in the middle of the night? For some here tonight it's probably about where the next paycheck will come from. I have one friend who's just been diagnosed with ovarian cancer, and another whose son is in jail for statutory rape. For almost all of us, there is some primordial fear linked to thoughts about our freedom and our own mortality.

Fear can keep us from life and hope, and any possibility of new creation. I've known people who died a lot younger than they probably should have, because they just weren't able to acknowledge that their symptoms were signs of something serious. It was somehow easier to ignore that intuitive knowledge than it was to face the possibility and get more information, like going to the doctor.

We've been haunted this week by the story of an Irish immigrant girl in South Hadley who committed suicide because her classmates taunted her so unmercifully. She saw no hope.

Fear could paralyze the people of Haiti, but they go on, with the help of their friends, working yet one more time to build a society of abundance for all.

Fear could have stopped Martin Luther King that night after his house was bombed. But that experience of violence led him deeper into his conviction that God had something else in mind. He went forward in hope, even though it led to his death 42 years ago in Memphis.

Your own American Civic Association is going forward, even more deeply committed to helping new generations of immigrants and refugees. The deaths here a year ago could have been the end of that work of building community, but the fear engendered in the shootings did not prevail.

We're here tonight looking for hope.

We're here tonight to hear the old, old story of God bringing life out of death, and finding a new way through the fear that so often paralyzes us.

The ancient prophets have two responses to that kind of terror: "fear not, for God is with you," and "learn wisdom." We just heard each of those comfortable words twice. Moses says to his traumatized band, "don't be afraid, stand firm, God will deliver you." Zephaniah says to a much later band of depressed and terrified people, that the day will come when they will hear that “God has turned away your enemies, there’s no need to fear disaster any more. Don’t be afraid, God is with you.”

Isaiah and Baruch both talk about Wisdom -- and it's important to know that Wisdom is a personification of God. If God is the architect of creation, then Wisdom is its builder or crafter, and she's often spoken of as hosting a feast, which is what we hear in Isaiah, "turn in here and get what you need -- wine, milk, bread. Come and feast and return to God." Baruch speaks of befriending wisdom in order to find peace -- or in other words, the absence of fear.

In a few minutes we'll hear the oldest gospel account we have of the Resurrection (Mark). It tells about Mary Magdalene, another Mary, and Salome, coming to the tomb at dawn and finding it empty. The angel tells them, "fear not, he's not here, go find him in Galilee. He's waiting for you there." "Fear not, for God is with you." But they flee the tomb and run away, terrified.

Yet somehow those women at the tomb found the strength and courage to tell their story. They turned in at wisdom's door and discovered peace. We only know the good news of Easter because they told of their frightful encounter. Wisdom's invitation keeps on going out: "turn in here, join the feast, find blessing, life, light, and peace."

We still struggle to find the courage to tell frightening news. My friend who's just gotten the cancer diagnosis announced it in an email blast like this, "It is against my religion to share extremely personal information or to ask anyone for help, but the Universe has sent me a lesson here and it’s time for me to start learning it." I find it intriguing that she'd start that way -- and it's a reminder that religion doesn't always tell good news. I think she means that she wants to be self-sufficient, and not dependent on others. But she goes on to tie it to a sense of being connected to all that is. It's an echo of that ancient teaching, "the fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom." That "fear of the Lord" is an unfortunate translation in the old King James, because it actually means something more like a "deep awareness of God's otherness" or "being in awe of the Creator's majestic work." Yet it is that sense of awe and connection to all that is that encourages any of us to turn in at Wisdom's door and join the feast.

That's what Jesus did over and over again. He insisted that God's intent is for a feast for all people, not just the rulers of the Roman empire. He healed and fed and welcomed people who had been put out of the feast by religious rules or their own suffering. At the end of his ministry, he turned his face toward Jerusalem and the feast that waited for him there -- a feast he celebrated with his disciples in an upper room, and continued through the ages in the banquet we're going to share here -- but also the feast of his own life, made holy in its offering. He went to Jerusalem to challenge the un-wise, who insist that power, rules of exclusion, and violence rule this world. Jesus offered an alternative kingdom, where all are welcome to the feast, none is excluded, and no one lives in fear or want.

We all hunger for that feast. We search for a link with something or someone beyond our limited or painful or excluded experience. We have a deep yearning to transcend the nothingness of death, to bring meaning into what we most fear.

Fear not, for God is with us. Christ is risen, trampling down death, entering into hell to search for those who can find no way out, going ahead to wait for his disciples. Fear not, and join the feast created before the beginning of the world.

Photo from Bishop Katharine's visit at St. Paul's Memorial Church, Jan. 31, 2010

"Do not be afraid, Abram, I am your shield"

Today's sermon is based on Genesis 15:1-12, 17-18; Philippians 3:17-4:1; Luke 13:31-35

“Do not be afraid, Abram, I am your shield.”

Do you notice the first words the Lord Almighty tells Abraham? “Do not be afraid.” It is the same thing angels say when they make an appearance in the Bible: “Do not be afraid.”

What is this about being afraid and God? Maybe there is something scary about encounters with the sacred that make people feel afraid.

Maybe God knows that people become afraid when talk turns to religion: the road map of the Spirit is very sketchy, and religion can get you into a lot of trouble in a hurry in the world.

Look at the lessons this morning: fear laces throughout: God challenges Abraham to go on a long journey to a land far away; he has no idea where he is going, or how to get there, or who he might meet along the way. That is scary.

Or take the letter to the Philippians: Paul is writing to a persecuted Christian community that is facing death at any moment, and he is telling them to not be afraid.

Or take Jesus in the gospel lesson from Luke: His followers tell him that Herod is out to kill him, and Jesus ignores them. “It is not my time yet,” he tells them, “I have much to do, and besides I need to get to Jerusalem first. So stop worrying.”

All of these stories are about journeys that are filled with peril. These stories aren’t necessarily about great people with great faith.

Some people have faith, some people don’t. The stories don’t all have happy endings. What ties these stories together is God’s faithfulness to God’s people. In each story God is present, and God finds a way to bring people home from their journey, no matter how bleak or frightening the situation looks at the time.

So, that raises a question for me: Were those who wrote the Bible unafraid? I don’t think so. Then as now, there was much to fear: wars, disease, crime, natural disasters, and all manner of evil.

Then as now, bad things happen to good people through no fault of their own. All of us here know that – all of us – no matter our age or station in life.

And into that uncertainty comes our God who implores us: Do not be afraid.

Why do we hear this now, in Lent? Maybe because this is the time of year when we are most in need of hearing it.

The fact that Lent comes in the middle of winter is no accident. Lent is the 40 days leading up to Good Friday and Jesus dying on the Cross. Easter is coming, but not yet. First is the journey through the valley of the shadow of Lent, and it is tempting to not go there. But go anyway.
On this journey, we are asked to pay attention to what we see and experience on our walk to Easter.

Lent is a time of surprises. It is a time that we set aside for being just a little more intentional about our walk with God, the time to look inward at what separates us from God, and what separates us from those around us.

The reason we “give up” something for Lent isn’t out of masochistic obligation, but to bring ourselves into a place where we notice the presence of God in the ordinary.

So if you want to give up something, give up being distracted, or give up being too busy to smile or to laugh. Give up being too busy to pray.

Or this: how about giving up being afraid to hear the small still voice telling you that you really are loved, you truly are the beloved of God?

How about giving up fear for Lent?

Find a way to simplify, slow down, lighten up and discover again what really matters in life. That might lead you to saying yes to a new adventure in your life. It might lead you to reaching outside yourself by participating in one of our ministries in the community that we are celebrating today as part of our Centennial.

Notice one more thing: After God tells Abraham to not be afraid, Abraham replies, “O Lord, what will you give me?”

That sounds like a rather impertinent question: What’s in it for me?

And God replies: everything is in it for you: You will have many heirs, and much abundance; grace upon grace is yours forever. So stop worrying. “I am your shield.”

God tells Abraham that no matter how hard the journey, no matter how terrifying the darkness descending, God will be there with Abraham and his descendants.

“I am your shield,” God tells us.

We are the descendants of Abraham, each one of us. God’s promise of faithfulness to Abraham is God’s promise to us – and is ours forever. AMEN

Photo of the Abraham stained glass window at Canterbury Cathedral; the window dates from the 12th century and is south facing.