Year A Proper 20
September 18, 2011
Rev. Catherine L. Wright
St. Andrew’s, Elyria
Sarah is wearing a little outfit today with daisies on it. That is what you notice first- the daisy on her shirt, the ones running up the tights, the ones along the edge of her skirt. But the surprise comes when she flips over- a frog right where she sits down. A frog among the daisies. It reminds me of a friend’s page on Caring Bridge- a website for those who are ill to post updates and keep everyone informed with one post. His site is based on frogs. The frog has come to stand for Fully Rely on God. FROG.
Our first lesson for today has the Israelites out in the desert and, as is often the case with God’s people, all people, grumbling. We are going to starve out here! So they are provided for. Just enough. Manna for the day. Manna- the Hebrew word for what is Ma. Manna is literally what is it. If they try to store it up, make piles to create wealth, to separate themselves from others, they succeed only in creating a mess. We are told in a part of the chapter we don’t read today that the stored manna would breed worms and become foul- not only not giving them more than others but giving them a mess to clean up.
In our Gospel for today, the workers are paid a day’s pay, enough to feed one’s family for the day. Sufficient, like the manna in the desert. Enough for the day.
There are no levels to heaven, no closer seats to God for those who earn them. You are either in or out, and in is all good. No preferred seats, owners boxes, or on the other side, seats with “obstructed views”. We were discussing this idea at home, and my daughter didn’t get it. She is having a hard time seeing the board in one of her classes, and couldn’t figure out how it wouldn’t be like that in heaven- some in better spots than others. But it is more like the blackboard is in front of everyone- each person has an unobstructed view. It is sufficient and complete for everyone.
Work is important. We are not designed to be idle all day. Paid or unpaid, we are created to engage in meaningful labor. Without paid work to go to, we need something meaningful to occupy our time. The healthiest retirees are the ones who find hobbies and organizations to volunteer at and not those who are parked in front of the tv all day. When you do nothing, you start to believe that you can’t do anything.
The opportunity to work in the vineyard is in itself a gift. We are privileged to be allowed into the vineyard, to participate in God’s loving work in the world. We can answer that call to work, or stand idle and waste one’s life altogether. God does not want anyone’s life to be wasted, so the invitation is offered over and over and to everyone. Come, join us, there is sufficient for everyone. Work to do, and you will receive what you need.
And the counter to this call to work- on the seventh day you will rest. Work is good, but it needs to be balanced. Six days to be creative, to work, to build. And a day to remember that in the end it is God alone who truly creates, builds. One day to rest, relax, remember that there is a God and we are not him.
How often do we do work hoping that it will earn us extra rewards? Are we serving God only to avoid punishment or obtain a payment? Then we are acting like a servant. And we are more than servants- we are like the children of the owner and work without coercion as a gift of love, wanting to please God because pleasing God makes us happy too- not because we hope for extra bread in the desert, or pay at the end of the day. The work has value in and of itself.
We often see ourselves as the first laborers in this story- we have worked for so long and are angry at what others have gotten when they are late to the office. But what about when we have received what we did not deserve? When have you been late to the party, arriving at the spot to find work at the end of the day.
I think about the people who love me, even though they don’t have to. What doors have been opened to you that might not have been? When has the manna for that day just seem to have appeared out of nowhere for you?
Are we envious of others gifts, talents, abilities, possessions, social status? Our own gifts can be diminished when we are focused on others.
This parable points out to us our refusal to rejoice in the blessings of others. We are invited through this parable to let go of our focus on fairness and comparing our lives to others. It invites us to be generous, as God is. To give thanks that we and others often, regularly receive that which we did not work for, do not deserve.
Wednesday, September 21, 2011
Richard Paul Wilbert Funeral Homily 9/17/2011
Richard Paul Wilbert Funeral Homily
9/17/2011
St. Andrew’s Episcopal, Elyria
Rev. Catherine L. Wright
Isaiah 25:6-9
Psalm 139
2 Corinthians 4:16-5:9
John 14:1-6
On behalf of Richard’s family, I want to take this opportunity to thank you for being here today, and for the prayers, and calls and the many ways you have walked with the Wilbert family during this last week and a half in particular.
I have heard it said- it is hard work bringing people into and out of this world. Birth and death. Not easy, things often don’t go as expected. But when you can get past the stressful parts of both, they are often beautiful, grace filled events. Richard death, I believe, had many grace filled, beautiful moments. His family knew it was coming. He knew it was coming. He was able to tell them each that he loves them, and that he loved everybody. It had never been easy for him to say those words, but the final days were that opportunity.
Richard had many titles. He was called a husband, father, Grumpa to his grandchildren. He was called the milkman, pump operator and even occasionally Dick. But the most important title he had is one we all carry, every person on this earth- Child of God.
As many of you are aware, I have a new child. My daughter Sarah is just over 7 months old. Many of you may have seen her last night, at the visitation. The Wilberts have definitely seen her- she has joined me on visits to see Richard in the hospital, she is around this place after services on Sundays. But don’t try and hold her. She is at that age where she will smile at you a bunch, but she only lets a few of us hold her without the tears coming on. She knows who she is safe with and the rest of you she is not so sure of.
I had not expected to be able to take her so many places and to have it work. With my older children my primary job was them- not a congregation. And I know our days of gallivanting around together are numbered- once she is mobile she will not be happy riding around in her stroller and I will not be happy with her running loose through hospitals and hospice centers. But for now, she finds that many places are just fine with this new person being there. She belongs in a way that has delighted and surprised me. She is welcomed, accepted, cherished.
Richard also had these worries: Who am I safe with? Where do I belong?
He knew that if Linda, his beloved wife of 52 years, was around he was okay. So making sure she was around took lots of his time. The cell phones were buzzing if she was not in sight! And I kept hearing about his snacks, all lined up on a tray. I will be okay as long as there are things for me to eat, now and something for later.
He was raised in the Roman Catholic Church, married at St. Andrew’s and this was his home parish. But his family knew he never really felt like he belonged here or at any other church. This was Linda and the children’s place- he would rather be at work or catching a game. We all know folks like that- perhaps you are like that. Just waiting to see if the roof is going to cave in because you have walked through the door. Let me reassure you- This congregation is almost 175 years old, and there are no reports of a person’s presence causing any structural troubles.
Sarah’s room was prepared for her as we anticipated her arrival. The grandparents and the congregation too, buying and making and fixing to get all things ready. Some of the people she will never really know: gifts from members who die too soon for her to know, cribs from friends we don’t keep in close contact with. But all played a part, all made the way ready.
So it is with Jesus. He is the way, and the truth and the life and it is by him that Richard and each of us have a place forever- this is true whether we feel very comfortable in this church and service, or are trying to figure out how we came to be here today. Whether Jesus is someone we spend a great amount of time with or someone we aren’t sure exists at all. For all of us, the promise is made, the preparations completed. In our Gospel read today, Jesus tells his followers not to let their hearts be troubled, not to worry. He will go and prepare a place for them. For each of them and for each of us. A place where, as our first lesson reminded us, death has been swallowed up and a wonderful banquet prepared- much more than a few snacks lined up on a tray table. This is a place where Richard, and all of us, belongs and it is with God, finally, that we can rest in peace, secure in the hands of the one who created each of us and loves us more than we can begin to imagine. Richard belongs and is safe- thanks be to God. Alleluia, alleluia.
9/17/2011
St. Andrew’s Episcopal, Elyria
Rev. Catherine L. Wright
Isaiah 25:6-9
Psalm 139
2 Corinthians 4:16-5:9
John 14:1-6
On behalf of Richard’s family, I want to take this opportunity to thank you for being here today, and for the prayers, and calls and the many ways you have walked with the Wilbert family during this last week and a half in particular.
I have heard it said- it is hard work bringing people into and out of this world. Birth and death. Not easy, things often don’t go as expected. But when you can get past the stressful parts of both, they are often beautiful, grace filled events. Richard death, I believe, had many grace filled, beautiful moments. His family knew it was coming. He knew it was coming. He was able to tell them each that he loves them, and that he loved everybody. It had never been easy for him to say those words, but the final days were that opportunity.
Richard had many titles. He was called a husband, father, Grumpa to his grandchildren. He was called the milkman, pump operator and even occasionally Dick. But the most important title he had is one we all carry, every person on this earth- Child of God.
As many of you are aware, I have a new child. My daughter Sarah is just over 7 months old. Many of you may have seen her last night, at the visitation. The Wilberts have definitely seen her- she has joined me on visits to see Richard in the hospital, she is around this place after services on Sundays. But don’t try and hold her. She is at that age where she will smile at you a bunch, but she only lets a few of us hold her without the tears coming on. She knows who she is safe with and the rest of you she is not so sure of.
I had not expected to be able to take her so many places and to have it work. With my older children my primary job was them- not a congregation. And I know our days of gallivanting around together are numbered- once she is mobile she will not be happy riding around in her stroller and I will not be happy with her running loose through hospitals and hospice centers. But for now, she finds that many places are just fine with this new person being there. She belongs in a way that has delighted and surprised me. She is welcomed, accepted, cherished.
Richard also had these worries: Who am I safe with? Where do I belong?
He knew that if Linda, his beloved wife of 52 years, was around he was okay. So making sure she was around took lots of his time. The cell phones were buzzing if she was not in sight! And I kept hearing about his snacks, all lined up on a tray. I will be okay as long as there are things for me to eat, now and something for later.
He was raised in the Roman Catholic Church, married at St. Andrew’s and this was his home parish. But his family knew he never really felt like he belonged here or at any other church. This was Linda and the children’s place- he would rather be at work or catching a game. We all know folks like that- perhaps you are like that. Just waiting to see if the roof is going to cave in because you have walked through the door. Let me reassure you- This congregation is almost 175 years old, and there are no reports of a person’s presence causing any structural troubles.
Sarah’s room was prepared for her as we anticipated her arrival. The grandparents and the congregation too, buying and making and fixing to get all things ready. Some of the people she will never really know: gifts from members who die too soon for her to know, cribs from friends we don’t keep in close contact with. But all played a part, all made the way ready.
So it is with Jesus. He is the way, and the truth and the life and it is by him that Richard and each of us have a place forever- this is true whether we feel very comfortable in this church and service, or are trying to figure out how we came to be here today. Whether Jesus is someone we spend a great amount of time with or someone we aren’t sure exists at all. For all of us, the promise is made, the preparations completed. In our Gospel read today, Jesus tells his followers not to let their hearts be troubled, not to worry. He will go and prepare a place for them. For each of them and for each of us. A place where, as our first lesson reminded us, death has been swallowed up and a wonderful banquet prepared- much more than a few snacks lined up on a tray table. This is a place where Richard, and all of us, belongs and it is with God, finally, that we can rest in peace, secure in the hands of the one who created each of us and loves us more than we can begin to imagine. Richard belongs and is safe- thanks be to God. Alleluia, alleluia.
Monday, September 12, 2011
September 11, 2011 Proper 19 Remember
Year A Proper 19
9 11 2011
Rev. Catherine Wright
St. Andrew’s, Elyria
(RCL) Exodus 14:19-31 and Psalm 114 or Exodus 15:1b-11,20-21; Romans 14:1-12; Matthew 18:21-35
Nine Eleven. Ten years later, it is a day still full of impact. We speak of where we were. What was going on in our lives before everything stopped. How we heard. What we did. We remember. The world changed, and we froze in place when it did. Before night fell, the nineteen hijackers had killed 2,973 people. And the shock waves were felt all over.
Those shock waves left us grasping for things to steady ourselves with. Reports of parents getting their kids out of school, just to have them close. Business men leaving their appointments unmet and rushing home. Friends calling each other, reconnecting.
And people flocked to the churches.
We returned to that which we know transcends these shock waves in our world- large and small. We held on to God. We found ourselves in church so that we could remember. Remember the truths that did not change no matter how many buildings fell or people hurt others for misplaced ideals or desires.
We went to remember. And one of the things that we needed to remember is that we have a God that forgives all our debts, and others’ debts- even when we can’t.
On this day, we read a parable of Jesus’ about grace and forgiveness. Jesus tells of a man who is not simply in debt; he faces an impossibly large mountain of money to repay. One Biblical scholar, Eugene Boring, has calculated that as King Herod’s annual income from all taxes from all his territories was a mere 900 talents per year, the 10,000 talents would exceed all of the taxes of Syria, Phoenicia, Judea, and Samaria as well. The parable is hyperbole; no servant could amass a debt so large. Then, when the king cancels the debt, the man, now free from the burden, goes out to demand payment from someone who owes him a debt equal to a hundred days’ wages.
We owe what we cannot possibly repay. We have been given everything- our very life a gift from God. And past that we have the love and care of God. Even as our actions fall short of what God wants for us, even as our sins mount up higher and higher until there is no way we could begin to atone for them. We can’t be good enough- the debt is too high to repay. We are lost, destined to be cast into debtors prison forever. Through faith in Jesus, the Christ, we can repent, turn back from our sins, and find the debt has been canceled. We walk out the doors with nothing over our head, released from all that we owed. And then, like the merciless servant, we go expecting everyone else to pay up for the hurts they cause us. We remember and hold it over others for every pain and misstep they have taken. Forgetting the log that was just in our eye, we see only the logs in others.
Jesus’ point is well made. God has forgiven each of us so much that we should go out to forgive others. But aren’t some acts too great to forgive? On this day of all days, we know how great an evil can grow within the confines of the human heart. We know just how much pain us humans can cause one another.
Archbishop Desmond Tutu knows about forgiveness through the daring act of helping lead South Africa through truth and reconciliation after the end of Apartheid. This involved thousands of acts of confession and forgiveness. He has written of this process saying, “Forgiveness does not mean condoning what has been done. It means taking what happened seriously and not minimizing it; drawing out the sting in the memory that threatens to poison our entire existence. It involves trying to understand the perpetrators and so have empathy, to try to stand in their shoes and appreciate the sort of pressures and influences that might have conditioned them.”
Barbara Brown Taylor points out that “When you allow your enemy to stop being your enemy, all the rules change. Nobody knows how to act anymore, because forgiveness is an act of transformation. It does not offer the adrenaline rush of anger, nor the feeling of power that comes from a well-established resentment. It is a quiet revolution, as easy to miss as a fist uncurling to become an open hand, but it changes people in ways anger only wishes it could”. (Christianity Today, Feb. 9, 1998)
Forgiveness is not self-imposed amnesia. It is not pretending that nothing really awful occurred. The scars remained even on the risen Christ. The damage has been done. But we move on, holding on to those we care about, remembering our God who loves us and calls to us even on dark days. Remembering that God has fought the ultimate battle with death for us and has won.
And we continue on. Changed, but not destroyed. Today is our Rally Day. A day to remember many of the wonderful ministries that go on here at St. Andrew’s. The things we do for each other and for those in our community. The many ways we are God’s hands in this hurting world- teaching others about God’s love, worshipping together, strengthening each other, providing food for those in need, a kind smile in a time of need. On this day we at St. Andrew’s remember- not just 9/11, but that we are a forgiven people empowered to help bring about God’s kingdom in this world. Even as we acknowledge the evil that exists in this world and that we are sometimes a part of, we know that all of the really important battles have already been won for us.
Each week we stop what is going on in our lives and we come together to remember. We come to this table to be reminded of all God has done and will do for us and to be strengthened for the work God has given us to do in the week ahead. I give thanks to God for this place and all of the people of St. Andrew’s as we remember together- not just today but every week.
9 11 2011
Rev. Catherine Wright
St. Andrew’s, Elyria
(RCL) Exodus 14:19-31 and Psalm 114 or Exodus 15:1b-11,20-21; Romans 14:1-12; Matthew 18:21-35
Nine Eleven. Ten years later, it is a day still full of impact. We speak of where we were. What was going on in our lives before everything stopped. How we heard. What we did. We remember. The world changed, and we froze in place when it did. Before night fell, the nineteen hijackers had killed 2,973 people. And the shock waves were felt all over.
Those shock waves left us grasping for things to steady ourselves with. Reports of parents getting their kids out of school, just to have them close. Business men leaving their appointments unmet and rushing home. Friends calling each other, reconnecting.
And people flocked to the churches.
We returned to that which we know transcends these shock waves in our world- large and small. We held on to God. We found ourselves in church so that we could remember. Remember the truths that did not change no matter how many buildings fell or people hurt others for misplaced ideals or desires.
We went to remember. And one of the things that we needed to remember is that we have a God that forgives all our debts, and others’ debts- even when we can’t.
On this day, we read a parable of Jesus’ about grace and forgiveness. Jesus tells of a man who is not simply in debt; he faces an impossibly large mountain of money to repay. One Biblical scholar, Eugene Boring, has calculated that as King Herod’s annual income from all taxes from all his territories was a mere 900 talents per year, the 10,000 talents would exceed all of the taxes of Syria, Phoenicia, Judea, and Samaria as well. The parable is hyperbole; no servant could amass a debt so large. Then, when the king cancels the debt, the man, now free from the burden, goes out to demand payment from someone who owes him a debt equal to a hundred days’ wages.
We owe what we cannot possibly repay. We have been given everything- our very life a gift from God. And past that we have the love and care of God. Even as our actions fall short of what God wants for us, even as our sins mount up higher and higher until there is no way we could begin to atone for them. We can’t be good enough- the debt is too high to repay. We are lost, destined to be cast into debtors prison forever. Through faith in Jesus, the Christ, we can repent, turn back from our sins, and find the debt has been canceled. We walk out the doors with nothing over our head, released from all that we owed. And then, like the merciless servant, we go expecting everyone else to pay up for the hurts they cause us. We remember and hold it over others for every pain and misstep they have taken. Forgetting the log that was just in our eye, we see only the logs in others.
Jesus’ point is well made. God has forgiven each of us so much that we should go out to forgive others. But aren’t some acts too great to forgive? On this day of all days, we know how great an evil can grow within the confines of the human heart. We know just how much pain us humans can cause one another.
Archbishop Desmond Tutu knows about forgiveness through the daring act of helping lead South Africa through truth and reconciliation after the end of Apartheid. This involved thousands of acts of confession and forgiveness. He has written of this process saying, “Forgiveness does not mean condoning what has been done. It means taking what happened seriously and not minimizing it; drawing out the sting in the memory that threatens to poison our entire existence. It involves trying to understand the perpetrators and so have empathy, to try to stand in their shoes and appreciate the sort of pressures and influences that might have conditioned them.”
Barbara Brown Taylor points out that “When you allow your enemy to stop being your enemy, all the rules change. Nobody knows how to act anymore, because forgiveness is an act of transformation. It does not offer the adrenaline rush of anger, nor the feeling of power that comes from a well-established resentment. It is a quiet revolution, as easy to miss as a fist uncurling to become an open hand, but it changes people in ways anger only wishes it could”. (Christianity Today, Feb. 9, 1998)
Forgiveness is not self-imposed amnesia. It is not pretending that nothing really awful occurred. The scars remained even on the risen Christ. The damage has been done. But we move on, holding on to those we care about, remembering our God who loves us and calls to us even on dark days. Remembering that God has fought the ultimate battle with death for us and has won.
And we continue on. Changed, but not destroyed. Today is our Rally Day. A day to remember many of the wonderful ministries that go on here at St. Andrew’s. The things we do for each other and for those in our community. The many ways we are God’s hands in this hurting world- teaching others about God’s love, worshipping together, strengthening each other, providing food for those in need, a kind smile in a time of need. On this day we at St. Andrew’s remember- not just 9/11, but that we are a forgiven people empowered to help bring about God’s kingdom in this world. Even as we acknowledge the evil that exists in this world and that we are sometimes a part of, we know that all of the really important battles have already been won for us.
Each week we stop what is going on in our lives and we come together to remember. We come to this table to be reminded of all God has done and will do for us and to be strengthened for the work God has given us to do in the week ahead. I give thanks to God for this place and all of the people of St. Andrew’s as we remember together- not just today but every week.
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