The Great Hall

I'd been there before, but the sheer size of the place still overwhelms me.  You see its towers dwarfing the city around it as you approach through the narrow, medieval lanes.  It's easy to forget what century it is until you see the ads for cell phone service in the windows of 17th century buildings.  But even so there is an eerie feeling of having been on a long, long journey of several generations and finally coming home.  And that home is Canterbury, the religious institution in England with the longest uninterrupted history.  Augustine of Canterbury established it in 597.

In the high middle ages it was a place of pilgrimage, not just for the fact that it is the mother-church of the Anglican Communion, but because it is the site of a church-state conflict gone horribly wrong in the 12th century.  Thomas Becket was made Archbishop of Canterbury in 1162.  A strong-willed prince of a man, he ran headlong into the strong-willed Henry II over the rights of the church.  Back and forth they went for several years.  At one point Henry is supposed to have said in utter exhasperation, "Who will rid me of this troublesome priest?"  Whereapon 4 rogue knights, seeing an opportunity to gain favor with their sovreign, murdered Thomas in the Cathedral.

T. S. Eliot in his artful play on the story called "Murder in the Cathedral" puts these poignant words in Thomas' mouth, "Herein lies the greatest treason, to do the right thing for the wrong reason!"

Thomas' temptation, as Eliot creates it, is, knowing that his death at the hands of the political powers is highly probable, to respond with a humble submission to his fate just as Jesus had done--proving himself thereby more honorably humble than the recalcitrant king!  Poignant words because in a sense they resound throughout this ancient church even to this day.

In doing interviews, my son Landon and I found that most of the people there had not come as pilgrims.  Many of them were not even religious.  They came out of an interest in history, to see this thing everyone talks about, to see ancient architecture, to wonder at the hoary halls.  They came, doing the right thing, but for utterly the wrong reasons!  We resorted to asking people if they had come for religous reasons before asking for an interview!

In another more sublte way Canterbury does the right thing for the wrong reason.  The Nave walls are lined almost continuously from back to front on both sides with large marble slab monuments to military accomplishments around the world in the name of the English Crown.  Some of them had only oblique references to God, a few had none at all.  These seem to culminate a thread of thought that goes back all the way to the 14th century Black Prince.  Edward of Woodstock was the eldest son of Henry III and would have become King except that he died a year before his father.  He was an exceptional military leader of the English against the French, especially at Crecy and Poitiers (the French would obviously emphasize "black" rather than "prince.")  He became very popular because of this and is burried in the Cathedral.  Until the recent act of parliamant that allows a non-Anglican to assume the British throne, there has always been a blurry line between issues of state and issues of church, matters of earth and matters of heaven.  To do the right thing for the wrong reason...

But under all that confusion is the Undercroft.  Down there the hoary ages still hang in the air.  Ancient columns still seem to echo the chants of the Benedictine monks who have worshipped there through the centuries.  Modern monuments to social justice issues feel strangely at home with the peeling smoke of distant candles.  Here somehow, the undercurrent of the Spirit is still flowing, deep and cool and strong.  Perhaps this foundation is the key to this church's longevity after all.....

Altruism is officially DEAD!

An add on TV this morning showed a couple of ribbons marking out a Christmas gift (mind you, this is still pre-Thanksgiving.)  A gift card of the kind afixed to such packages appears in the intersection of the ribbons and the words, "To:" and "From:" magically appear on it.  Then between the two words in italicized letters these words write themselves:  "Get a wow from everyone!"  Texas Lotto tickets sprout from behind the card like magic.

Like magic we now give in order to get--to get a wow.  It's not in the giving, it's in the getting.  And the ones who get the most are the people who profit from the Texas Lotto, and the people who lose are the ones who can't afford to buy the tickets but do anyway.

It's official.  Altruism is dead!

Thanksgiving is Remembering

When Israel entered the Promised Land God warned them:  "Do not forget."

Do not forget!  When your wealth increases, and your power increases, and your satisfaction with life increase, do not forget where it all came from.  Do not forget the provision of God in the wilderness, for the abundance of the Promised Land comes from the same generous hands.  Gratitude is the fruit of a good memory.

It behooves us, therefore, to remember where our bounty comes from.  Take, for example, what is going to weigh our tables down this afternoon.  Let's start with the centerpiece of it all, the turkey.

Contrary to popular belief, turkey is not manufactured in the back rooms of the HEB store.  Turkey actually comes from a farm.  The farm got the turkey from a breeder.  The breeder got the turkey eggs from breeder hens and toms, who ultimately got their original turkeys from a Native American who had the turkeys as domesticated birds.  The Native Americans got the turkeys from the woods, which is ultimately where all our turkeys come from.  When you sit down to carve the great bird remember that it is a fruit of this North American continent on which we live.

Let's go to the dressing.  Now, there are two kinds of dressing, and they take us two different places.  There is bread dressing, which is wheat based.  The wheat comes from farms in the northwest, cultivated by huge machines they used to call tractors, but now look more like monstrous transformer toys.  They plant sections and sections of wheat that produce enough to feed the world.  But wheat was originally domesticated in the Fertile Crescent 11,000 years ago or so.  When you spoon out your dressing remember that it is the fruit of the cradle of civilization, come to us from half a world away.

Then there is cornmeal dressing.  Corn is also one of those early grains, it is the most widely produced cereal grain in the western hemisphere.  It was domesticated in central America, probably about the same time as wheat.  Remember that when you shovel in that wonderful cornmeal dressing you are receiving a gift from southern Mexico.

And then there are the spices.  Spices span the globe.  Literally thousands of herbs and spices go into our foods from every corner of the earth.  Most of the spices we use in dressing come from Italy and around the northern Mediterranean.  When you taste their subtle flavors remember to give thanks in Italian!

Mashed potatoes come from us not from either Idaho or Ireland.  They come to us from Peru.  When Landon and I were in Lima last summer we went to an open air market.  I asked one lady in a stall to tell me about all the potato varieties she had for sale.  She quickly ran through at least a dozen and apologized because there were so many more she did not have for sale!  When you drown your mashed potatoes in gravy remember the high mountain air of the Andes and give thanks to the Incas.

I could go on.  Green beans were first bred by Calvin Keeney in Le Roy, New York in 1894.  Pumpkin is a product of Native American horticulture of the eastern seaboard.  Pumpkin Pie originated when colonists cut off the top of pumpkins, scooped out the seeds, filled them with milk, spices and honey and roasted them over hot coals.  And the full feeling—it  comes when the sugar in your blood reaches thresholds that tell your glandular system to stimulate you to stop eating!

Our Thanksgiving bounty comes to us from literally everywhere.   It comes from places of origin around the globe, it comes from the dawn of civilization to just a hundred years ago.  In a sense, when your "remembering" goes back this far, it catches up all of creation, and places it beautifully on your table, thanks to the incredible bounty of the One who created it all in the first place.

There is another time when we do the same thing.  When we gather around the table of the Lord each Sunday we recognize the bounty of the Lord in our creation and redemption, and we make "Eucharist," we give thanks.  Every meal in your house is a shadow of the Great Meal we celebrate here.

Let us eat, then, and be thankful!

Sheeply and Goatly

Last Sunday after Pentecost, November 20, 2011, St. Christopher's Episcopal Church, Killeen, TX

Sheep and Goats…sheep get to go to heaven, goats have to go to the other place.  I'm so glad I'm a sheep…..

Isn't that the meaning of this passage?  That's how we normally think about it, right?  The sheep are the people who are saved, who are on their way to heaven, and the goats, well, poor guys, they drove so fast to the ball game that they missed the ticket office.  Sorry, but, that's not me....

 Seems to me that telling the difference between the sheep and the goats is really pretty important, don't you think?  I mean, I know I'm a sheep, and I know you're a sheep, at least.....

The tricky thing is, sheep and goats are sometimes hard to tell apart.  A sheep says, Baaaa...." a goat goes, "Baaaa....."  A sheep eats grass and shrubs, a goat eats grass and shrubs.  Rams have horns and billy goats have horns.  A sheep poops little round black balls, a goat poops little round black balls.  I know what you're thinking:  Sheep have wool and goats don't.  But some sheep don't have wool, and some goats do!  I have a suspicion that if you shaved a sheep and a goat down to the bare skin nobody in here could tell which was which.

But Jesus makes it very clear that there is a huge difference—the difference between heaven and not-so-heaven.  It must be that the differences that matter are not on the outside, but on the inside.  Sheep have 54 chromosomes, goats have 60.  And....oh, yeah, this is a parable, not a biology lesson.  The differences don't really hinge on physical  differences.  They hinge on something else.  It seems they hinge on what sheep do compared to what goats do.

I saw a herd of goats once when I was a kid in Ecuador.  They were feeding along the inside of a narrow draw, nibbling whatever they could find.  It was a sandy draw with steep sides, and some goats found a little ledge with some grass on it.  They promptly formed a line and moved down this ledge eating everything to the ground.  But the ledge got narrower and narrower until finally, to maintain footing, they were leaning against the wall beside them.  Finally, it gave out completely.  The first goat jumped up on his back legs and spun around to face the next goat square on, and pushed by and forced him off the ledge!

 I've never seen a heard of sheep do that.

Sheep and goats really are different.  Goats are smarter than sheep.  They think about things and work the angles on them,  they try and push and get ahead by their own incessant will, like in the Old Testament reading when God says He'll judge against the ones that push with shoulder and flank and butt the weak ones and keep them from the grass and water.  Goats are smart enough to think they can figure it out by themselves.  Goats, for the purposes of this parable, are willful.  The goats in Jesus' parable did all the things that the sheep did, but they did them willfully, not willingly.  They fed the hungry and clothed the naked and visited the prisoner and tended the sick because they could manage a personal advantage out of it.  They did not do it "for the least of these, my brothers."  They did not meet the Lord in the face of the weak.  They met their own ambition.

Sheep, on the other hand, are lost without a shepherd.  European explorers in the 14th - 18th centuries had a habit of releasing goats on deserted islands and returning later for a stock of meat.  All it took was a billy and a couple of nannies,  And a year later there would be 46  of them!  Cabrito for supper!  It was so successful that in many places their descendents have become a plague that costs millions of dollars to control.

They didn't release sheep.  If they came back a year later for sheep all they would have found were fat coyotes, all dressed in Armani wool.  The only exception was New Zealand, that, at European contact, hosted no land-based predators.  It is the only place in the world where the natural environment is so benign that there is actually a population of feral sheep! 

So sheep, for the purposes of this parable, are willing rather than willful.  They do what they are led to do, the go where they are led to go, and they thrive only when under good care.

There are two very important differences between willfulness and willingness that are important for us this morning.  First, whereas the willful are often well provisioned, only the willing are grateful.  There are people who still say, “Give my hard-earned money to the church!  Are you kidding?”  “Charity begins at home, I take care of my own.”  “I'm a self-made person, I deserve what I've got.”  It is an attitude of pushing ahead, of forging one's own way, of working the angles.  It's willful and it is goatly.

On the other hand, the sheep looks at the pasture it didn't make, and the stream it didn't channelize or dam, and the shepherd standing watch, and is full of gratitude.  This is willing and it is sheeply.

This morning we are bringing in our pledge cards.  This is a sheeply action, full of gratitude, willing to do what is right in the face of the needs of the Kingdom.  And I'll give you the bottom line.  10% registers in God's books as "full gratitude."  My wife and I tithe to the church, and then give elsewhere as well.  It can be done,  How grateful are you?  How willing?

Secondly, whereas both the willful and the willing are surprised, only the willing are pleasantly so.  The goat who is always working the angles is surprised when his efforts to control the other goats fail.  I know, because I've been there myself!  You find yourself trying not to say things like. “"Don't be such a horn-head, that patch of daisies is for Grass-breath over here!"  And, "Oops, ledge ran out, careful, I’m comin' back through!"  Sooner or later our willfulness proves inadequate to the challenges of life, leaving our goat-hood in a considerable crisis.

On the other hand, the willing depend on the greater vision and wisdom of the Shepherd.  When things don't go as expected, it's OK.  Thomas Merton, on the drive to the Monastery at Gethsemane, Kentucky, writes that he was incredibly aware of two things within.  On the one hand an overpowering desire to enter the monastery, and on the other a complete peace if for some reason he were not accepted.  Iif he had been rejected his plan was to join the Army.  The willing steps onto the green pasture and says, “Wow, this is incredible!  The shepherd must love me so!  I wonder what is coming next?”

“I wonder what is coming next?” expresses a sense of expectancy, whose personal work is not to bring about the surprise, but to be as quiet and attentive as possible so as not to miss it when it comes!  Today is not only Thanksgiving Sunday, Christ King Sunday, Parish Meeting and Parish Thanksgiving Meal, it is also the last Sunday in the Season after Pentecost, and the last Sunday before the beginning of Advent.  (Yes, the year has shot by us like a patriot missile!)

Our theme during Advent this year will be "Expectancy, Preparing for the Great Surprise."  Next week we will introduce a little meditation aid that will help you build that sense of expectancy during Advent, and assist that willing sheep-hood within.

Yes, I can be a sheep, and you can be one, too.  By loving one another and the needy of the world for Him as He has asked us to, with humble and open hearts, our wonderful surprise will be to see him in the very faces of the ones we love on His behalf.

Ordeal

In north Wales, along the coast, there is a little town called Holywell.  It gets its name from a legend that dates from the 7th century about a beautiful young woman named Fride.  The name is the Welsh version of "Brigid," as in St. Brigid of Ireland, and harks even to pre-Christian days when the goddess Brigid watched over the hearth, the family and the flocks.

Fride of Wales was born to a pagan chief and a Christian mother.  She was baptized into her mother's faith and as she grew the call to become a nun grew apace within her.  But her beauty was desired by a neighboring prince, Caradog.  One day as she was in the field he found her and sought to have his way with her.  She resisted, and fled toward the church where her uncle, Beuno, was saying Mass.  When he saw that his intentions were frustrated Caradog flew into a rage, drew his sword and cut Fride's head off.

Beuno heard the commotion and came outside the church. He at once took in what happened and cursed Cardog, who melted into a mist and sank into the ground.  He then scooped Fride's severed head and placed it again on her body.  She was revived to life, became a nun and lived out her days in convents in the area.  Where her hed hit the ground a spring erputed, and it soon became a place of pilgrimage and a site of healing.  Beuno took to washing daily in the spring, standing on a certain stone.  The prefix "wini" was added to Fride's name, which means "Glorious," and the site became known as Winifred's Well.  Depictions of Winifred always show a hairline scar around her neck, something she is purported to have had to her dying day.

In the 14th century a shrine was built, and the spring was encased in a stone frame in the shape of a star.  From there the water runs out into a large pool about four feet deep.  The water is fresh out of the ground and is very cold.  Beuno's stone is fixed to the bottom of the pool.  People come from all around to seek healing.  They walk around the perimeter of the pool three times saying the rosary, and then they dip themselves in the frigid water three times standing on Beuno's stone.  It may sound superstitious to our ears, but the pile of crutches left behind by those who have been healed is testimony to a greater reality.

Landon and I watched people come and endure the cold-water ordeal--and it is an ordeal!  I sat for a time with my legs dangling in the water. Within minutes my toes were aching and numb.  It was obvious that it took more desire for divine help than for creature comforts to complete the discipline.  Their faces were supplicant and patient, hopeful and supremely humble.

One young couple came with their two children, a boy of about 10 and another of about 2.  The little one was in a stroller, and he had his arm in a sling.  Obvously the parents had come to seek healing for the little boy.  Instinctively I asked his name.  "Paddy," they said.  I knelt down, made the sign of the crosss on his forehead, blessed him and prayed for his healing.  When I looked up mother and father and friends were looking at me with wide and expectant eyes.  Would I bless them, too?  "I'm Anglican, not Catholic," I protested, but that meant nothing to them at that moment.  I went down the line pronouncing a blessing on each one, and receiving 100-fold in return myself.

These peoples' faith looked a bit different than mine and may be less educated than mine, but in many ways they put me to shame!

Our Rightful Home

Pentecost 19, Proper 25, October 23, 2011, St. Christopher's Episcopal Church, Rev. Paul Moore

There once was a king who lived in a kingdom far, far away and a long time ago.  He lived with his queen in his castle, but he was very sad.  He had no children, and that made life lonely.  But soon enough the queen shared the happy news that they were going to have a child.  A beautiful baby girl was born to them, and they were not sad any longer.

They noticed that the baby had just the same shape of nose as her father, and everyone thought it was cute!  They decided to throw a big party and invite all the important people in the kingdom.  The day was set, invitations went out, and people began to arrive for the big day.  The party started, and all was going very, very well.  The whole kingdom was happy with the new little princess.  The food was yummy, the decorations were fun, and everybody was having a good time.

But, just at the height of the party a man in a dark hood stole into the castle.  He made his way to the crib with the baby princes, and before anyone could stop him he scooped up the baby and disappeared into the crowd.  Police were called, they searched and searched, but could not find the hooded man or the baby princess.  Heartbroken, the king and queen called off the rest of the party and sent everyone home.  And they cried and cried that night for their baby girl.

The years passed, and the king and queen grew older.  A son was born to them, and everyone remembered the daughter who had disappeared so many years before. They remembered her with love and longing.  The son grew up to be brave and strong and handsome, everything a kingdom would want in their next king.  And he had his father's nose, and people said he would have his father's wisdom and kind ways.

One day the young man was out traveling through a neighboring kingdom.  He came across a young woman working in a field.  Her clothes were dirty and torn, her hair was uncombed.  But what caught her attention was her nose.  It looked just like his.  Quietly he approached her.  She was a little afraid to speak with a prince, but he quieted her fears, and pointed out that they had noses that looked alike.  That made her laugh.  The prince asked where she was from.  She said she had been sold as a slave when she was a small girl, and had worked for her master all her life.

The young man went home and told his aging father.  The father immediately gathered soldiers, they went to the house where the young woman lived, there they found an old man, the one who had bought the girl.  The king said, "You see your slave girl's nose?  You see mine?  You see my son's?  You have a princess for a slave!"

But the man said, "In this kingdom slavery is allowed.  I paid a high price for her.  You cannot just take her away from me."

So the prince, the king's son, pulled out his money bag and said, "What do you want for her?"

“She is very expensive. She is a good worker, she will cost you all that you have in your money bag.”  Gladly the son emptied the money bag on the table, and bought his sister back into freedom.

Oh, the rejoicing when the princess came back to the castle.  They combed her hair, and gave her beautiful clothes to wear once again, and the whole kingdom came to welcome her home.

Well you might wonder why I told you this story.  This morning a beautiful young lady is going to be baptized.  Baptism is like bringing the princess home.  We are all born children of God, the great and wise King of the Universe.  But sin stole the human race away, and we lost contact with who we really are.  We became slaves to sin, who was not our real master at all.  So Jesus, God's son, came to earth, and found us, He paid a very high price to buy us back again, He died on the cross and rose again, just for us.

And now, we bring a princess back to the castle.  We say, "Though we were all once slaves to sin, now, by the grace of God, we can return to our rightful home and live with our father, our brothers and sisters, and all the people of God!"

And just as the princess in my story had to get new clothes and have her hair combed, so we, in this family, share with those newly returned, what it means to live in God's family.  We teach them how to say thank you for rescuing us and bringing us home by the things we think, say and do, by gathering with one another on Sundays, and by sharing what we have to help rescue and bring back other children of God who have not yet been brought back to the castle.

This morning we baptize a young lady of 10 years of age.  She will become your sister in Christ, she is another princess in this castle of our King and Father.  Remember her in your prayers.  As you see her encourage her, walk with her, show her how to express her gratitude, and let her know how special she is.

Context, Context, Context

Pentecost 18, Proper 24, October 16, 2011, St. Christopher's Episcopal Church, Rev. Paul Moore

Last weekend a significant event happened in the world of college football.  A momentous game was played between the University of Texas and Oklahoma University.

Unfortunately, the game was decidedly uneven.  The final score of 55 to 17 is an embarrassment to UT fans all over the world, I spoke on Monday to a former member of St. Christopher's who happens to be an OU fan, even she was embarrassed!  But it is not fair to consider that this is the nature of the game between these two teams.  There is a larger context into which to put this.  This "Red River Rivalry" goes back more than 100 years, some other decidedly unbalanced games were:

1908: OU 50, UT 0

1952: OU49, UT20

1956: OU 45, UT 0

1973: OU 52, UT 13

1986: OU 47, UT 12

1987: OU 44, UT 9

2000: OU 63, UT 14

2003: OU 65, UT 13

The only "blow-out" in UT's favor was 1909, OU 0, UT 30.  This makes it look like OU is the stronger team, but not necessarily.  UT holds 59 wins over OU since 1900, and OU only 42.  (5 games were ties.)  To understand the Red River Rivalry one must place the games played in the context of more than 100 years of games.

Context is what we see reflected in the lessons today.  In the first one, through the mouth of the prophet God calls Cyrus of Persia His anointed one.  The word is the same as "Messiah."  Now Cyrus is a pagan king at this point, yet what Cyrus is going to do fits into God's overall plan for him, and so from the beginning God claims Cyrus as his servant.  The will of God is the context in which to understand Cyrus.

In the Epistle Paul writes to the Thessalonians.  He praises them for their faithfulness, yet in the end he gives thanks to God for them, for even their faithfulness is a gift.  The grace of God is the context for their spiritual lives.

In the Gospel lesson those pesky Pharisees try to trap Jesus again.  They move the conversation into the realm of politics.  Is it right to pay tribute to Caesar?  The word is best translated "tribute," not "tax,"  Tax, for us, is kind of a franchise.  You pay your money, you get to live here and enjoy the amenities of the place.  But tribute is different.

Many scholars (though there is no solid consensus on this) identify the Tiberius denarius as the coin involved.  The inscription on it says, “The worshiped son of a worshiped god.”  Tribute is a statement of loyalty, loyalty to Tiberius Caesar, the emperor who declared himself to be God.  And so, is it right to pay allegiance to Caesar as God?

Jesus asks for a coin.  But Jesus says, Give to Caesar what is Caesar’s, but to God what is God’s.  God alone is God, and God mints no coins nor is represented by an image.  It is OK to pay tribute to Caesar, because Caesar is not God, in spite of his claims otherwise.  But give to God what is God's.  Pay your tribute as an act of recognizing that God is not reducible to a coin or an earthly kingdom, Much less this Tiberius upstart.  The nature of God is the final context of this question.

One cannot minimize the importance of context.  In real estate one says that there are three things that are important in buying or selling a house: Location, Location, and location.  There are three things that are important to you as a Christian:  context, context and context.

There is a delightful Zen story of a man who wanted to become the student of a certain master.  He pleaded with the master until finally the master conceded.  For three years the man lived with the master, watched his every move, and studied his every action.  But the master said nothing to him.  Finally he blurted out, “I have spent 3 years living with you as your student and you have yet to teach me anything!”  The master replied angrily, “What have you been doing all this time?  I have taught you every day by what I did, were you not listening?”  God is our “Zen Master.”  A very wise person said that God shows up disguised as your life.  If you say that you do not have God in your life, in once sense you are completely correct.  You do not have God in your life, God has you in His.  If you do not know it it's because you have not yet woken up.  The spiritual life is life that is awake.  Spiritual disciplines are the process by which we wake up.

For most of us, our bodies wake up in the morning by hearing an alarm clock.  That buzzer is like the spiritual disciplines of the Christian life.  They call you to certain behaviors that tend to open  your spirit to deeper questions and deeper movements.  They get you in touch with how God has shown up disguised as your life.

This is easily illustrated with money.  You can say that the context of your financial health is a combination of:  Your earning power, your spending history, your capacity to save, and your values as a person.  But if you look more deeply you see that God gave you the gifts you have to earn, God granted you the ability to spend, and God expects to inform your values. God is the context for your finances.  So it is to God that you express your gratitude for all the above, offering back to him a percentage of what you have received, and exercising the spiritual discipline of the stewardship of treasure.  Your pledge for next year is not a tax, it is tribute, tribute to God, a statement of loyalty in gratitude for showing up as the context of your life.

Remember, you do not have God in your life, God has you in His.  Wake up and smell—heaven!