Showing posts with label First Sunday in Lent. Show all posts
Showing posts with label First Sunday in Lent. Show all posts

Sunday, March 9, 2014

The Church needs to repent

My sermon today is based on Matthew 4:1-11:

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         As you have gathered by now, we have entered the Holy season of Lent, a special time set aside by the Church for repentance, penitence and forgiveness.
         So I want to ask your forgiveness up front about this sermon. Forgive me: I want to ask you a loaded question:
         When you think of the word “Christian,” what words come to mind?
         You could call me a professional Christian, so I have something of a vested interested in how we are thought of.
         But, alas, I must admit that first words that come to my mind when I hear the word “Christian” are not always positive.
Some of the words that come to me about the word “Christian” are “narrow,” “judgmental,” “self-righteous” and “dogmatic.”
         Perhaps some of you might have similar reactions to the word Christian?
         I thought so.
         I often meet people, including in this church, who say they don’t want to be known as Christians, and often it is these negative connotations that are the reason.
You might say they love Christ, but Christianity, not so much.
         I bring this up on the First Sunday of Lent as a way of acknowledging that in this season of penitence, we have a great deal to be penitent about as a church.
         This Lent, let’s start our repentance with the Church asking for forgiveness.
This repentance needs to start in from our pulpits. And let that begin here with me.
         For this to be meaningful, our penitence should include substantive actions that change the negative images that Christianity evokes.
One of my priest friends, Lynell Walker, preached a sermon last Sunday that grabbed my attention on this point. I want to read you this paragraph from her sermon:

“What would it be like if when you heard the word ‘Christians’ you came up with: Oh, I know them. They are a people utterly committed to forgiveness. They are about making this earth reflect God’s generosity. They see to it that grace rains on the just and the unjust. They are even in fervent prayer for those who mean us harm.” 

Yet we know it doesn’t quite look that way.The long history of Christianity is filled with inquisitions, Crusades, and the persecution of Jews, Muslims, and fellow Christians.
Christians have used the Bible to justify slavery and all manner of prejudice and abuse.
         Sadly, persecutions and prejudices are not behind us, but are still with us.  I am especially mindful that in Uganda the government recently approved a law that makes it a criminal offense to be gay or lesbian, punishable by long prison terms, and a crime to hide someone who is gay or lesbian, punishable by long prison terms.
         Before we dismiss this as the backwardness of a developing nation, we need to know that it is American Christians who have been the driving force behind this law in Uganda.
         I am also mindful that it is Christians, who in the name of religious freedom, have pushed for a law in Arizona that would make it OK to discriminate against gay people.
People of all political stripes, left and right, urged its veto, and I am thankful that the governor of Arizona did so.
         What should especially concern us about these trends is that in the name of Christ, there are Christians who want to break the connections we have with each other as human beings by being able to discriminate against people they don’t like.
That should not be what Christianity is about.
And, forgive me, there is one more recent example, though subtle. Russians invading the Crimea is not only about geopolitics, it also has a religious undertow.
David Brooks wrote a fascinating column last week in the New York Times pointing out that Vladimir Putin ordered his regional governors to read books that assert the messianic role of the Russian Orthodox Church in restoring a Greater Russia.
Annexing Ukraine is viewed as part of that mission. Politics and religion are definitely mixed up in the new Russia.
I want to be very careful on this topic. I am not an expert, though let me mention that Lori and I spent a brief time in the Soviet Union as journalists.
We definitely learned that Russia is a complicated and contradictory culture.
As I say, I want to be careful on this topic, and the pulpit is not a good place for a lecture on geopolitics.
         And I especially share the concern of many about mixing politics with religion, but let’s also note that politics has been mixed up with religion for a very long time.  
So I let me suggest that in this penitential season, Christianity itself needs to repent of the political sins we have committed in the name of Christ.  
          I believe at the root of much of what is wrong with Christianity, and really all religions, is the quest for institutional power.
         The gospel lesson we hear today is a huge antidote – and warning to the institutions of religion. 
In the story, Jesus, filled with the Holy Spirit, is led away from the refreshing waters of the River Jordan and into the desolation of the desert where he has this frightening vision of the Devil.
I know that as modern people we have a hard time with the concept of Satan or the Devil.
What the gospel writers are getting at is that evil is not just an abstract idea, but is a tangible force in the world.
And so Jesus is confronted by the force of evil, and he is tested by the greatest temptation of all: Power.
Jesus is dared to use power to turn stone into bread; to use power to stay unharmed if he falls from the pinnacle of the Temple in Jerusalem;
And then comes the biggest test of all: he is tempted to take power to rule every kingdom.
He can fix everything if he will take power, but to take power, he must stay in the clouds above us, and ultimately rob us of our freedom to be human.
The end will justify the means, or so the devil argues.
But Jesus rejects all of it.
Instead, he chooses to be here, with us, in the griminess of the world.
He chooses to be with us especially in those moments when we feel the most powerless.
He chooses to be with the refugees, not the oligarchs. He  their confronts power and shows it to be empty.
Jesus defines both his humanity and his divinity by being with us in the Valley of Lent.
This rejection of power also invites us to make a finer distinction about how we view our involvement in the world, and our involvement politics.
Are we involved in the world to bring justice to the oppressed, relief to the captives, and peace to the nations?
Or do we seek power for our own comfort and for the comfort of our institutions?
As the gospel story will unfold this Lent, Jesus does one more thing: He invites us to walk out of the valley, as difficult as that walk might be.
He invites us to be agents of forgiveness and reconciliation; agents of love and kindness; agents of generosity and grace.
We are invited to be peacemakers.
The question for us is how we will walk the walk? How will we be known as Christians?

“Oh, I know them. They are a people utterly committed to forgiveness. They are about making this earth reflect God’s generosity. They see to it that grace rains on the just and the unjust. They are even in fervent prayer for those who mean us harm.”

         May it be so. Amen.

Sunday, February 17, 2013

What if you know you are the beloved?

Judean desert, photo by Alexey Sergeev
Today's sermon is based on today's gospel lesson for the First Sunday in Lent: Luke 4:1-13

Here is the sermon:

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Have a seat.

It’s time we had a little serious talk about Lent.

Last week we were up in the thin air on the mountain at the Transfiguration with Jesus, Moses and Elijah. Everything was shimmering and dazzling.

But today is Lent, the most serious season of the church year.

Here is what I want you to do about Lent this year: I want you to relax a little, ease up on the guilt, ease up on your worries, and take things a little slower and a little more simply.

All of which is to say: I want you to take Lent seriously like you never have before.

I want you to start every single day of Lent with a prayer – I learned this prayer from New Hampshire Bishop Gene Robinson. Here goes – repeat after me:

“I am the beloved of God.”

I want you to repeat that to yourself every single morning in Lent. Let’s do it again:

“I am the beloved of God.”

And I want you to start every single day for the rest of your life with that prayer.

“I am the beloved of God.”

I want you to say that enough times that you really believe it.

And then I want you to ask yourself a question every single day for the rest of your life: How does this make me feel to really know I am the beloved of God?

If you really know this – really believe this about yourself – that you truly are the beloved of God – where is that leading you in your walk with God?

And then ask, what is blocking you from walking on your path with God?

That is the reason for serious self-examination in the time of Lent.

What needs to change for you to live fully into being the beloved of God?

Where have you turned away from the path God would have you take? What is in your way?

Lent is a season of penitence. This is not about fake, sappy piety, but about having an honest conversation, at your deepest core, with God about where you are called to go and how to get onto that path.

That makes Lent a season of change, sometimes radical change.

If you want to give up something for Lent, give up whatever stops you from taking the next step on your path with God.

Is it an unhealthy habit? Or a distraction?

Give up being too busy to smile. Give up being too busy to pray and to listen. Or how about giving up being afraid to hear the small still voice telling you that you really are the beloved of God?

Find a way to simplify, slow down, lighten up, and discover again what really matters in life. Be generous like you never have before.

Do not simply withdraw into your own personal Lent, but look for the beloved of God in everyone you meet.

And that makes Lent something more than about us as individuals. Lent is really about all of us walking this path together.

If we can embrace a Holy Lent that is both inside us and beyond ourselves, maybe we might see that the hunger and pain of the world is ours, too.

That is why we open our doors to ministries like PACEM when we host women who are down on their luck, and have no other place to sleep to get out of the winter cold.

It is why we are involved in IMPACT, a coalition of 26 congregations in Charlottesville that is tackling the knotty systemic issues of homelessness and unemployment.

We do these things not just because they are good to do, but because we are connected to each other in this world as the beloved people of God.

The fact that Lent comes in the middle of winter is no accident. Maybe we need the chill of the air to remind us to be a little closer to each other.

Lent is the long season into the valley of Good Friday. Easter is coming, but not yet.

Nor is it an accident we get this strange story today from the Gospel of Luke. Like much else in Lent, the story is designed to shake us from our comfort zones.

Jesus, filled with the Holy Spirit, is led away from the refreshing waters of the River Jordan and into the desolation of the desert where he has a frightening vision of the Devil.

He is tested by the greatest temptation of all: Power.

He is offered the power to turn stone into bread; the power to rule every kingdom; the power to stay unharmed if he falls from the pinnacle of the Temple in Jerusalem.

Each of these tests has Jesus hovering above the world like the Greek God Zeus.

He can fix everything if he will stay above it all – and above us.

The ends will justify the means, or so the devil argues.

But Jesus rejects all of it.

Instead, he chooses to be down here, with us, in the griminess of the world. He chooses to be with us especially in those moments especially when we feel the most powerless.

He defines both his humanity and his divinity by being with us in the Valley of Lent – not hovering above us.

And then Jesus does one more thing: He invites us to walk out of that valley, as hard as that walk might be.

He invites us to know – to really know – that each of us is truly the beloved of God – always and forever – every single day of our life. AMEN.

By James Richardson, Fiat Lux