Monday, September 29, 2014

Santuario de Chimayo, September 27

This past Saturday we went with friends to the Santuario de Chimayo in northern New Mexico.  This holy place has been a center for healing and prayer since 1806, when a farmer discovered a cross at the site.  Pilgrims come and scoop up "holy dirt" to use for healing, as others do with water from Lourdes.
We weren't allowed to take pictures inside the churches or the chapel of dirt, so words will have to suffice.  Entering a small room, we saw a wall of abandoned crutches from people who no longer needed them.  In the center of the room is a small hole where the dirt is.  People can scoop up a bit of dirt, so we did.  I have no idea where the dirt comes from - it must be replenished, but no details are given.
There is a beautiful chapel done in the New Mexican style, dating from the 1830s.  Another tiny chapel holds reserved sacrament in exposition.  But the most powerful chapel is the children's chapel.  Walls are covered with photos of children who died, and of children to be prayed for.  There are dozens of baby shoes, in honor of the tradition that when Jesus' family fled to Egypt, they had no time even to put on his shoes.  There is simply an overflow of love here.
Another chapel honors the mix of cultures in this place.  An altar shows a Native American version of the Last Supper.  I'm trying to upload a photo.  It reminds me of the complicated history of Christianity in this place.  Catholicism was imposed on the indigenous peoples, but over centuries they have made it theirs in distinctive ways.
Chimayo is like much of northern New Mexico - standing between cultures, between times.  I'm not exactly "in" the faith it represents, but I can feel the love and the pain and the hope that people bring there.  Please pray for all those in search of healing today.

Monday, September 1, 2014

Sermon at St. John's Cornwall, August 31

I’m glad to be back with you.  Whenever we come together to worship it’s a special occasion.  We do well to remember God’s word to Moses: the place where we are standing is holy ground.  It is holy, as holy as the mountain where Moses met God.  The whole earth is God’s, and we are God’s.  It is all holy.
Sometimes, maybe most of the time, we don’t notice the holiness of the earth, or of one another, or of ourselves.  Most of the time we get up, wash, eat, and run out to whatever task is ahead of us.  We come home, we eat, we may run out again, or we may stay home.  But in most of that time, most of our days, I think it’s safe to say that we are not aware that we are in the presence of God.  And that may not be just an oversight.  It may be self-protection.
Moses sees a burning bush, a bush that burns but does not burn up, and he goes to investigate.  He’s not looking for God.  He’s just curious about the bush.  But God shows up, and calls him.  And it turns out that God put the bush there to get Moses’ attention.  He knew that Moses needed a lure, a hook, to get in range of God’s intent.
I don’t know about you, but that sounds familiar to me.  Sometimes, when I think I’m the beginning of the story, it turns out that God has been running ahead of me.  From my point of view, like Moses, it can seem that ideas about my life or my work start with me.  But eventually, sometimes, I can look back and say, “God was in that.”  It may not be a burning bush.  It may be a friend who tells you you should consider being an architect.  It may be someone you fall in love with.  It may be a chance encounter that changes your life.  

How would the history of Israel be different if Moses hadn’t turned aside to look at that bush?

How would your life, and the lives of others, be different if you had chosen another path?

How would your life be different if Jesus hadn’t gone to Jerusalem and given himself up to be killed?

Honestly, we don’t know.  That kind of question doesn’t have an answer.  It opens up a line of questions, a wondering, and that’s more valuable than an answer could be.

But Moses does turn aside.  He does take off his shoes.  He does hear God.  And his life, our lives are changed forever.
God starts by telling Moses about God’s plans and promises.  God will deliver the Israelites.  
But then comes the hard part.  It turns out that God will do all this through Moses.  Through a human being.  And not an obvious hero, but a fugitive from the Egyptians.
  In one sentence, God’s intention has become a specific human obligation.

“So now, go.”

It’s tempting to think that God waits for us to get on board, that God just wants us to do our best without risking too much.  We can tell ourselves that we’re doing as much as our neighbors.  We’re giving more than the minimum, even if we aren’t tithing.  We donate to charity.  Maybe we give some time to our community as well.  And those are good things.
But it seems that God’s plans always call us beyond our comfort zones.  They call us beyond where we volunteer to go, to the point where we have to be dragged.  We’ve learned that vocation is where the world’s need meets our bliss, as Frederick Buechner said, but we can forget that our bliss lies in God.  Bliss isn’t always comfort.
In the story of Moses we see God working through a vulnerable but courageous man.  God’s purposes depend on this fragile reed.  And God will give him a companion, his brother Aaron, to help.  But Moses has to go.
How would your world be different if he had said no?

Over and over, through the history of the Israelites, God will call people to lead and to speak to the people.  God calls Samuel, and Elijah, and Isaiah, and Jeremiah, and other prophets.  God calls Saul and David to rule, not because they’re so much better than others, but because they’re called.
In each case, the mystery that is God intersects with the history of humans.  We don’t know the name of this mystery, but we know when it shows up.  God works through these vulnerable people to achieve God’s purposes.
Finally, God goes all in.  In Jesus, God conjoins mystery and history.  God calls Mary, and Joseph, and Elizabeth, and a host of others to show us how to be part of God’s dream for the world.  Jesus is vulnerable like we are, but so close to the mystery that he can walk through the fears we all share to follow God’s dream.  
The disciples don’t get this.  Peter is horrified, and says, “No!  You can’t risk death!  You’re the Messiah!”
Peter doesn’t get the mystery yet.  Peter thinks he knows who Jesus is, he’s got Jesus fixed in the history of Israel.  But Jesus is where history and mystery meet.  The mystery of death and resurrection is so much bigger than Peter, or we, can grasp.  We want Jesus to get back in the history box of doing good, of teaching, of healing.  But no.  

Jesus wants to show us how to live out our vocations, our own calls. 
Jesus knows that the biggest barrier is fear, and the biggest fear is death.
Jesus wants us to be free of fear, so we can accomplish God’s purpose.

How would your life be different if Jesus had backed away?

How would your life be different if you back away?

How would it be different if you say yes?