Sermon, Easter A
by Fr. Todd Young - Sunday, March 23 2008, 10:03 AM

And the angel said, "Go and tell the disciples 'He has been raised from the dead'." So they left the tomb quickly with fear and great joy.

They left with fear and great joy.

I get the joy part of this; but how is it that on this day of the first resurrection, on this day when the two Marys are assured that Jesus lives, how is it that they left with fear?

First, let's take the angel out of the picture. Angels, I've said before, are Scary Dudes. Almost always, the first words they speak are, "Be not afraid." So the angel does play a part in the fear of the women. But I think there's something more, something deeper, something emotional.

We hear at various points in the gospels that both Marys believe Jesus is the Messiah and we hear that they believe in the resurrection. But this belief, up to this point, has been of a personal nature. It's a belief that says, "I believe in God," and stops there. And while belief is a good and necessary thing, the women are asked to do more. We are asked to do more.

The angel tells the women to go and tell the disciples that Jesus has been raised from the dead. He is telling them to put their faith into action. He is telling them to proclaim to other people publicly what they have believed in private -- namely that Jesus is the one who has defeated death and through him we are led into life.

If I were to ask if you believed that Jesus is the Son of God and if you believed that he was resurrected from the dead, I'm betting that most of you would answer in the affirmative. Which is right in line with the Marys. They also believed Jesus was the Son of God and the Messiah.

But in addition to asking if you believe, I am also going to ask you to go out from here and proclaim that belief. I am going to ask you to go tell people that Jesus has been raised from the dead. And here's the catch -- not only am I going to ask you to tell people that Jesus has been raised, but I expect you to tell eleven people; and next week I am going to ask you if you did what was asked of you.

Afraid?

I think that this is where the fear comes in. It's a fear of having to tell people what you believe. It's a fear of not being taken seriously, or worse, that those people will think you believe in fairy tales. It's a fear of having to actually stand up and be noticed for what you believe.

So how do we temper that fear? How do we overcome our fear of proclaiming our faith in a resurrected man to other people? Because, to be honest, if we can't do that, our parishes, on a local level, will close, and Christianity, on a global level, will cease to exist. Christianity, remember, is based on relationships with other people and our willingness to proclaim our belief. So how do we keep this enterprise going and how do we overcome our fear?

We overcome it through joy.

We have just come through what we call Holy Week. I would be willing to bet that the two Marys have come through what they would call Hell Week. It began with Jesus' triumphal entry into Jerusalem -- people waving palm branches, laying their coats on the road and shouting, "Hosanna!" It ended with Jesus being laid in a tomb.

In between those events, we hear about and participate in a variety of events. They include a meal among friends, a servant leader, the willingness to submit to Jesus, our act of betrayal, a trial, our condemnation of the same man we sang "Hosanna!" to, his crucifixion and death, and the loss of a man we love that leaves us wondering, "Where do we go from here?" It is an intensely emotional week that often leaves me drained; and that's to say nothing of how those women who were actually there felt.

Yes, the week ends with Jesus being laid in the tomb, stone cold dead. But it begins early in the morning with new life.

Early in the morning, before dawn, the women went to the tomb. Early in the morning, before dawn, we gathered out back. What the women found was an empty tomb and new life. What we found was the light and warmth of a new fire. We have all moved from darkness to light, from death to life.

The women saw and were told that Jesus was no longer there. They were told that he has been raised from the dead. They were told that he was, in fact, alive. And in that news there was great joy.

We light the fire and process into the church as we sing, "The light of Christ!" We hear stories about creation, freedom and life. We began in darkness and watched as the sun crept over the mountains lighting up the valley. As we moved through the liturgy, the darkness gave way to light. And then, at a specific point, all the lights in the church came on, bells were rung, candles on the altar were lit and we shouted, "Alleluia!"

Both of these events, the empty tomb and the lighting of the church, are joyous occasions that are cause for celebration. The women were ecstatic that Jesus was alive. It's sort of like knowing that someone you love was on the bus to Spokane that went off the edge of Lookout Pass but then hearing that they survived the accident. We have participated in one of the great liturgies of the Church, a service that calls us to rejoice, sing and be glad in the victory of Christ over death. This service should bring a joy that seeps out into every part of our life.

This is our dilemma: fear and joy.

How are we going to depart here today? Well, if you take my mandate to tell other people that Jesus has been raised seriously, probably with a little fear. And if you take with you the excitement of this service, with joy. Like the two Marys, we are certainly going to leave here with fear and joy.

But the bigger question is this: Which wins? Will fear gain the upper hand, or will joy triumph? If fear wins, then this service is just another service, the resurrection is not that important, and tomorrow is just another Monday.

But if joy wins, then this service becomes the first day of a new life, the resurrection is so vitally important that our excitement about new life seeps into every aspect of our being, and tomorrow . . . tomorrow has no chance of becoming simply another Monday.

We have just come through a traumatic week. We have seen light overcome darkness. We have seen the empty tomb. We have seen life triumph over death. We know that Life WINS! And with that knowledge, with that excitement, with that JOY, fear doesn't stand a chance.

Alleluia! Christ is risen!

Sermon, Proper 28C, Luke 21:5-19
by Todd Young - Sunday, November 18 2007, 07:54 AM

Today's gospel is part of what is called Jesus' apocalyptic discourse. When you hear that word, apocalypse, what do you think of? The end of time? Global warfare? Mass destruction? Four horsemen? People running through the streets shouting, "It's the Apocalypse!!!!"

These images have crept into our view of the end of the world, and "apocalypse" has become defined as some sort of great and terrible event. For those of you who were at the End of the World sessions, you'll recall that apocalypse doesn't mean any of that. Apocalypse simply means a revealing, or an unveiling. The apocalypse, then, is the revealing of God's kingdom; or the unveiling of that which is currently hidden from our eyes.

As we wind down this long, green Season after Pentecost, this is an appropriate thing to be concentrating on. This season is ending. We are looking forward to Christ the King Sunday, and then on into Advent where we look forward and back to the coming of the Messiah. This little apocalypse begins to unveil for us God's kingdom.

But before we get too far gone in apocalyptic thought, I want to look at what started this. What was it that sent Jesus off talking about the end times, wars, famines, plagues and persecutions? What triggered this discourse?

It was the remarks about how beautiful the temple was and all of the gifts inside that were dedicated to God. In short, it was the "Look what we did" attitude of those around Jesus.

Let me rephrase that: it wasn't necessarily their "Look what we did" attitude that set Jesus off. More than likely it was their inability or refusal to look at the larger picture. Did they make the temple beautiful because they wanted to show off their religion? Or did they make their temple beautiful in thanksgiving to God for his place in their lives? Are they honoring God or themselves?

Jesus must have thought the latter because he goes off on this apocalyptic discourse saying, in effect, "These things you think are permanent will all be thrown down in the age to come."

The opening of this passage, with the second hand report of comments about the temple, I found to be particularly relevant to us. Why? Because in two weeks we will dedicate a new lectionary book and Advent wreath. In two weeks, Christ Church will officially be 111 years old. Christ Church is also getting a new paint job, thanks to a generous donation. And St. Paul's is working towards new carpet and an interior paint job.

As I looked forward to the service in two weeks and to the structural improvements of these parishes, I couldn't help but feel a little proud of what was going on. And then I read the gospel for today. "As for these things you see, all will be thrown down." Oops.

Why do we do this? Why do we spend money on paint, carpet, fancy books, expensive wreaths and other fine things? Why not just meet in someone's house and, as Judas said, donate all that money to the poor? We do it because we are apocalyptic people.

Let me explain.

The kingdom of God is being revealed and unveiled through us. It is being revealed by our presence here. Through our actions -- participation in the food bank, Lenten breakfasts, Holy Week activities, Advent programs, hosting Habitat bicyclists, and other things (including the first two items of our mission statement -- Invite and Include) -- through our actions we are revealing the kingdom of God. And as we grow, as we invite and include, as we reach out, the Ruby Valley will come to see God's presence revealed through us.

One of the things we do well is worship. Our liturgy is participatory. It is a place where we can be communally alone. It is reverent and holy. As those of us who are long-time Episcopalians know, and new people find out, it is deeply meaningful. And at the climax of the service we participate in that foretaste of the heavenly banquet that we call communion.

The fancy books, wreaths, paint, carpet, candles and everything else, all of that is our attempt to help unveil the kingdom of God. That kingdom is more wondrous and beautiful than anything we can imagine. But we try. And all of our things, although destined to be thrown down, are our attempt to unveil that beautiful holiness.

While we are revealing and unveiling God's kingdom, we are also doing something else, sometimes consciously and sometimes unconsciously: we are testifying to these things. We are a witness to the world on God's behalf. That witness may get us into trouble at times, but we aren't to worry. A daily cross comes to mind. Nobody said this would be easy; but Jesus did say he would be with us.

Wars, rumors of wars, natural disasters and great portents are all part of the equation. Remember, people will try to equate these things with the end times. But we are not to follow. We are to witness for God. We are to reveal God's kingdom through our actions and through our invitation. And we are to unveil God's kingdom by including people in our worship.

Our buildings will eventually be thrown down. But that's not for us to know when. What is for us to know is that we have a part in revealing God's kingdom to the world and unveiling the beauty of it all right here, right now.

Welcome to the Apocalypse.

Sermon, Proper 27C, Luke 20:27-38
by Todd Young - Sunday, November 11 2007, 07:59 AM

For the past several months we have been on a journey. Where is that journey taking us? It's taking us to Jerusalem. We have been heading this way for what seems like forever now. Well, here we are.

The triumphal entry (the donkey, the palms, All glory laud and honor, the rocks and stones) was just last chapter. We've moved from pastoral concerns and cares in the surrounding countryside into Jesus' ministry in Jerusalem. For Luke, Jerusalem is the central location of the story: everything leads up to, culminates at, and continues on from, that city. Consequently, Jesus becomes more intentional, more focused, more driven and faces more confrontations.

In this section, Jesus is faced with three questions: that of his authority, that of monetary tributes, and that of resurrection. These questions were posed by the Sadducees. Outside Jerusalem, Jesus' opponents were the Pharisees. In Jerusalem, at the temple where he was teaching, he's now being opposed by the Sadducees, the temple priests. Jesus is an outsider, and they want nothing to do with him; and they certainly don't want him upsetting the delicate balance of power.

Just so you know, Judaism wasn't monolithic; there were different sects within the religion that held to very different beliefs. The Pharisees, for all the run-ins that they had with Jesus, did have a resurrection theology. The Sadducees did not. Their question about the resurrection, however, isn't actually about resurrection. Their question is one of power and control. It's an attempt to force Jesus into a box as well as, perhaps, divide the audience.

Most of the time, when you ask a question, you hope to learn something, to gain a new understanding, or to clarify a confusing issue.

Why did you paint the doors red?
Are you going to paint the whole church white?
Do you think we should get red or green carpet?

Other times, however, we ask questions not to learn anything, but to corner our opposition, label them and attack them.

Don't you think it's wrong to kill unborn children?
Are you saying we should let terrorists rule our country?
Why do you support illegal immigration?

These are the questions Jesus faces. By what authority do you do these things? Is it lawful to give tribute to Caesar? Whose wife will this woman be?

These questions, like the others I used as examples, have no basis in information. The people asking them have not intention of entering into a reasoned debate or of even considering how a different answer than their own might be valid. When faced with that attitude we often react to the attitude, not the question.

"How can you be so unreasonable?"
"How can you be so liberal?"

But Jesus doesn't react, he simply answers the question.

And the question posted today is this: Whose wife will the woman be in the resurrection?

There are a couple of ways I could go here, but let me focus on resurrection and what Jesus says about that. First of all, the Sadducees are missing the point. You can't apply the rules and expectations of this world to that of the resurrection. We will be like angels and are children of God. It is a scene so different from anything we know that it is almost unimaginable. No wonder Isaiah and Ezekiel and John had a hard time explaining their visions.

Second, in the resurrection we are changed. We don't' simply become immortal beings with our same bodily characteristics. We are changed, both physically and spiritually. We who are dead will become alive.

I talked about the end of the world in our last two study sessions. And in those discussions I talked about the differences between "Left Behind" and "Narnia." This was one of the differences. In Narnia, people die. In Narnia, Aslan dies. Death is part of the equation, but so is resurrection. Everyone eventually dies and everyone is ultimately changed.

In "Left Behind," however, death is an abomination. Death is to be feared. Which is why the "Really True Christians" don't experience death; they simply are whisked away at the Rapture to live happily ever after forever. It's immortality without change. In short, there is no death and there is no resurrection.

To experience resurrection is to experience death. We aren't immortal. Our souls aren't immortal. But we ARE resurrected into new life. God enables the dead to live.

Live how? you might ask. I don't know. Only God knows. We do know that God is the God of the living; the God of Abraham, Isaac, Jacob, the Saints and you and me. We aren't immortal. We won't be sucked up into heaven by some great rapture vacuum cleaner. We will die. But we also know that, like Job proclaimed, our Redeemer lives and we will live again in resurrected form. And that is something to celebrate.

Amen.

Sermon, All Saints Sunday, Luke 6:20-36 by Todd Young - Friday, November 9 2007, 12:09 PM

Today we celebrate All Saints. This is the day when we celebrate the inter-communion of the living and the dead in the Body of Christ, and when we commemorate those whose profession of the faith led directly to their earthly death.

The traditional gospel for today is from either Matthew or Luke. It is one of the few places where I get to choose the gospel reading, and I chose this passage not because I like Luke's version better than Matthew's, but because I wanted you to hear the additional verses that Luke adds. Those are the verses that start with, "Love your enemies . . . "

Last week, if you remember, I preached on John 14 (I am the way, the truth and the life; no one comes to the Father except through me) and the necessity to have an honest relationship, as exemplified by the two men in prayer at the temple. These additional verses from today's gospel follow up on that theme of relationship.

Love your enemies. Do good to those who hate you. Bless those who curse you. Pray for those who abuse you. These are hard sayings, something about a camel and a needle come to mind. Hard sayings, but there they are. And like other non-fuzzy passages, we have to deal with them.

One of the difficulties of this passage is that it talks about non-reciprocal relationships. It's easy to love those who love you, or to pray for those who protect you; even sinners do that. But that is in a mutually agreeable relationship. We are asked to go deeper. We are asked to go beyond what comes naturally and try to build relationships that are difficult.

In saying, "Love your enemies, etc etc etc," Jesus is telling us that the behaviors and actions of others -- especially of those who seem to be against us -- Jesus is telling us that those actions are not to determine our responsive behavior. It's easy to love those who love us. It's just as easy to hate those who hate us, and it is that reciprocity that Jesus is asking us to go beyond. He is asking us to love others not because they love us, but because they are human, created in God's image and God loves them just as he loves us.

A past issue of the ATR focused on reconciliation. One article was written by Miroslav Volf, a survivor of communist-era Yugoslavian secret service interrogation. He was threatened, interrogated, abused and tortured as an enemy of the state; much like our government has treated recent prisoners who have been given the same label.

Volf says at one point, "To triumph fully, evil needs two victories. The first victory is when evil is perpetrated; the second victory is when evil is returned."

This is what Jesus knew and Volfe found out: that evil feeds on itself. One evil act doesn't condemn all of humanity; but an evil act followed by evil act followed by evil act does. The way to break the cycle of violence is to not commit violence in return.

There was an old Star Trek episode that dealt with this very thing. Actually, there were several, but the one I'm thinking of in particular was an episode called "Day of the Dove." In this episode, an alien life form stows onto the Enterprise. A bunch of Klingons happen to be on the ship (I forget why), and this alien arranges for the humans and Klingons to fight a never-ending battle.

As it turns out, the life form feeds on anger and violence. A slight provokes an angry response. Violence begets violence. Eventually the alien is discovered and the two sides drive it out of the ship by laying down their weapons and making peace. A violent response begets more violence. In order to break the cycle, we need to prevent that second response.

Love your enemies. Pray for those who abuse you. Do good to those who hate you.

Notice that those statements are addressed to the victim. We may still be abused or hated or cursed, but it is incumbent upon us to not let our response be dictated by that first hateful encounter. It is through a peaceful response, or at least a non-violent response, that we can begin to break the cycle of violence. This sort of response not only works to break that cycle, but it also works to heal us. How much better would we be individually if we chose not to carry burdens of hatred and anger around with us?

The history of the Church is awash in the blood of the martyrs; saints who proclaimed the kingdom of God to their peril. Men and women were burned, mauled and crucified for their faith and their proclamation of peace. The saints of the Church are those people who refused to respond in kind, but responded with love, prayer and blessings.

On this celebration of All Saints, let us remember those who have gone and died before. Let us pledge to not beget violence with violence but with peace, as did those saints. Let us work for peaceful relationships amongst those who wish us harm. Let us proclaim the peace of the Lord. And let us not be afraid, because it is through death that we live.

Sermon, Proper 25C, Luke 18:9-14
by Todd Young - Sunday, October 28 2007, 06:55 AM

In the 14th chapter of the Gospel of John, Jesus says, "I am the way, and the truth, and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me." This verse has been used and abused for centuries.

It has been used as an evangelism tool. In its best sense, people use this verse to talk about the importance of Jesus and their relationship with him. They use it to say, in effect, "Jesus offers eternal life and it is through him and that relationship that this life is gained." It is through him that we understand how to relate to the Father and to those among us. Through him I find hope and salvation.

And it has been abused as a Conversion Club. From Constantine to the Crusades to the Inquisition to the Puritans all the way up to the hard line fundamentalists who maintain you must proclaim Jesus as your personal Savior or be damned to hell, all because he said, "I am the way and the truth and no one comes to the Father except through me." This verse has caused problems for a very long time.

It is baptism by the sword -- you either proclaim Jesus as your personal Savior or die; either way, you're going to meet your maker and I am only too happy to be of assistance.

Part of what this particular passage does is that it makes people feel right. I believe in Jesus. Only I have access to God because only those who believe in Jesus can get to God. And because they know that they are right, there could be a tendency to trust in their own righteousness and treat others with contempt.

At least I have the answer. At least I am going to heaven. At least I am not a sinner. At least I am not like those other people . . .

Once upon a time there were two men who went to church to pray. One man prayed, "Look at the good example I set for others: I don't steal, I take care of my parents, I am not an adulterer, and I tithe."

The other prayed, "Have mercy on me God, for I know my sins only too well and against you only have I sinned. Forgive me my sins and create in me a clean heart, O God."

There are a couple of things going on here. First, Jesus told this parable to some who trusted in themselves that they were righteous. And that's the problem right there: people who trusted in themselves that they were righteous. Righteousness isn't determined by us. Neither is it a competition or comparison -- I go to church, I'm a good person, I tithe, unlike all those other people, all those other sinners.

Righteousness can only be determined by those to whom we are accountable. Like our jobs, we don't' determine if we are good employees, our boss and customers do that. But we try to do it anyway, don't we? Silently comparing ourselves to those we view as not as good as, or as worthy as, or as less than us and our self-centered ideals. Why do we do that? Because it makes us feel better. Look how good I am.

The other thing that needs to be pointed out in this story is that we are all sinners. If we are honest with ourselves, we can all admit that we commit sins both of omission and sins of commission. Whether it's cheating on our taxes, telling little white lies, not offering hospitality due to race or social status, or withholding resources our of fear, the list of our sins goes on.

We all sin. We are all in need of forgiveness. And at some point we all need to be brutally honest with ourselves and confess those sins. At some point we need to say, "Have mercy on me Lord, a sinner in your sight;" because if we don't recognize this about ourselves, we aren't being honest. And if we aren't being honest, then we are lying; which means . . . we are sinning.

Now don't misunderstand me. I'm not talking about self-flagellation or constantly praying for "us miserable sinners" who have a "sorely deserved punishment hanging over our heads." But what I am talking about is honestly. Like the psalmist says, God doesn't want burn offerings, but rather humbleness and honesty and relationship.

Be honest with yourselves. Where is the sin in your life and where is your need for confession and repentance? Don't trust in yourself and your own righteousness; but be humble and honest. Trust in God's willingness to forgive, and trust n his desire for relationship.

And it will be in that relationship that we can find the way, the truth and the life.

Sermon, Proper 24C, 2 Timothy
by Todd Young - Sunday, October 21 2007, 06:58 AM

Today I thought we'd ramble through 2 Timothy. There were a couple of passages in this letter that got me thinking, and since I really didn't want to sermonize about the whiny widow, I thought spending some time in Timothy would be a good thing.

The first thing I want to point out is that this letter, along with 1 Timothy and Titus, are pretty well considered to be inauthentic letters; that is, most scholars don't think these three were written by Paul. Some of the vocabulary is similar, but the style of the letters are just ..... different. So it seems that these were written by another person, probably a follower of Paul, in his name.

There are some people for whom this is a big deal. “If Paul didn't write it, then how can I believe anything else in the Bible?”

This is the wrong attitude. The issue isn't whether or not this is an authentic Pauline letter, the issue is the fact that the Church Fathers thought it was an important document worthy of being classified as Scripture and that it appears in our canon. The specific authorship doesn't matter; the fact that it's classified as Scripture does. And in this letter, the author, who I will just call Paul for argument's sake, says that all scripture is inspired by God and useful for teaching, reproof, correction and training. He doesn't say, “Only Scripture written by certain people,” or, “Only Scripture that you agree with,” or, “Only Scripture that comforts you.” He says, “All Scripture.” If we insist on limiting authorship to just Paul, then we also must insist that other people can't be inspired by God.

As I said and as Paul wrote, “All Scripture is inspired by God.” What this means is simply this: All Scripture. If you haven't noticed, there's a lot of stuff in the canon. From Genesis to Revelation, there are a lot of books, letters and writings. Some of it seems to contradict itself. That is, if we focus on specific verses and if we ignore the big picture of Scripture. In this second letter to Timothy, Paul is trying to get across the idea of the Big Picture of the gospel. Paul talks about his aim in life: his teaching, his faith, his patience, love and steadfastness. He is pointing this out because the gospel is both a way of life and life changing. The Gospel is too big to be relegated to a few verses. The Gospel is contained in All of scripture.

And just what is the Gospel? Condemning people to hell for being different, proclaiming a litmus-test salvation where only the most holy people are allowed in or insisting that you will know God loves you if you are rich is not the gospel of scripture. The Gospel of scripture includes the defeat of death and resurrection to new life; it includes a Trinitarian formula that is based on a complete reading of All of Scripture; it includes the belief that through Jesus Christ we have new life; it includes loving God, neighbor and self; it includes radical hospitality; and it includes looking at the Big Picture.

This is important because if we lose sight of the Big Picture, if we start focusing on certain verses to hold up our position, then we fall into the trap of idolatry. We fall into the trap of making an idol out of certain words out of certain passages and we forget that God and the Gospel are so much bigger than that. If we look at the Big Picture, then we let God out of the box and realize that all we can do is let God be a part of us and our life. If we focus on certain words of certain verses, then we can keep our god in our box and we get to keep control. But keeping control isn't part of the Gospel; giving up our control is.

And Paul knew this. What happens when we get caught up in minutia? We argue. “Remind them of this, and warn them before God that they are to avoid wrangling over words, which does not good but only ruins those who are listening.”

How many times have we been caught up in fighting for what's right because the Bible says so RIGHT HERE? How many times have churches been torn apart because a group of people find one or two or seven or eleven verses that verify their particular belief about a particular issue? We get into those arguments and we lose sight of the Gospel. That is why Paul is telling Timothy (and us) to have nothing to do with stupid and senseless controversies because they only breed quarrels.

Before you know it, we aren't talking about the Gospel anymore, we are arguing about which group is more holy and more right than the other one. Or we are arguing about which group is more exclusive and more heretical, and then we excommunicate each other.

That doesn't mean, however, that anything goes. It does mean that we need to watch out for people who corrupt the Gospel message of death, resurrection, love and inclusiveness. We need to be on our guard against those false teachers that Paul warns us about. He gives us an indicator of what these people are up to in their moving from place to place, moving away from the Gospel and upsetting people, gossiping and getting involved in those small controversies.

Contrast this with the urging of Timothy to remain steadfast, not be quarrelsome, to show patience and gentleness. We need to follow Paul's advice and proclaim the Gospel at all times, but we must do it with patience and gentleness.

This is why I don't offer easy answers, because the Gospel is bigger than a few specific verses. This is why I'm constantly trying to get you to look at the Big Picture. This is why I am willing to talk with people who disagree with me. This is why I teach that being a disciple is a daily process and that evangelism over time is better for everyone in the long run.

So here are a few things to remember from this inauthentic letter of Paul's: All scripture is important; read it all. Be steadfast, patient and gentle. Avoid arguing over particular words. Focus on the Big Picture of the Gospel – the death and resurrection of Jesus, our new life in Christ, and the radical hospitality of God.

The Lord be with your spirt. Grace be with you.

Sermon, Proper 23C, Luke 17:11-19
by Todd Young - Sunday, October 14 2007, 06:58 AM

Where are we? If you've been following the Gospel readings, where are we? Or, to ask it another way: where are we going? In case you've forgotten, Luke reminds us at the beginning of this gospel passage: "On the way to Jerusalem . . ."

Long journeys can be trying at times. Sometimes we lose our enthusiasm for the trip. We might want to give up and turn around, not realizing how far we've come. Other times we totally forget where we are going and we ask ourselves, or others, "Why am I doing this?" But I think most times we simply drift.

Like a ship without a navigator or without a rudder, we lose sight of our destination or we get blown off course. Things begin to look the same. The journey becomes a grind. Other things catch our attention. And before we know it, we've somehow drifted off course, stranded somewhere that we never intended.

"If I could do it all over again . . ."

That's drift.

Sometimes we can drift so far off course that we find ourselves not just in a place we didn't expect, but totally lost. Have you ever been totally lost? I don't mean lost like I-forgot-the-map-and-don't-remember-what-street-to-turn-on lost, or honey-pull-over-and-ask-for-directions lost; but lost like there's-nobody-around-and-everything-looks-the-same-sick-to-your-stomach lost.

I've been there a couple of times. It's not fun. And you hope and pray that someone will find you or that you'll find a way out of your predicament. Now granted, it was only for a short time and I didn't have to saw my arm off with a Swiss Army knife or eat ants; but that sick feeling was still there.

These are the lepers today. Their circumstances have set them adrift. Pushed to the edges, lost to society, nobody looking for them, trying to be seen by others. These ten lost people see their chance in Jesus. "Master, have mercy on us!"

Jesus does something interesting here. He doesn't touch them. He doesn't ask them if they want to be healed. He simply tells them to go show themselves to the priests. He met them where they were. He didn't put any conditions on them. He treated them like normal and he allowed them to return to normal lives. He saved them from drifting and put them back on course.

That's what we really want when we are lost, isn't it? To be saved from drifting. To be put back on course. To be set straight so we can continue with our lives as planned. Sometimes being saved means we get on with our life. Sometimes being saved is a life-changing experience. We see both here.

Ten people had drifted away from normal life. Ten people cried out to Jesus for help. Ten people who had been lost were found. Ten people were set straight. Nine people returned to normal and got on with their lives.

Maybe they returned to their families. Maybe they got jobs. Regardless of their post-healing status, they were set straight and could continue on their journey. They are a lot like us. We go sailing through our lives, maybe with a plan, maybe not, and getting so caught up in our daily living that we fail to see when we're off course. Eventually we notice the problem and cry out for help. We get set straight and then we happily go on our way again.

Ten people were healed. Nine went on their way. One came back to joyfully praise God. And the one who came back wasn't part of the regular crowd; he was an outsider, a foreigner.

We are on a journey. We are on a journey of faith. We are on a journey of physicality. In our faith journey, my goal is to strengthen you, challenge you, and get you to a place you've never been. In our physical journey, my goal is the same; to strengthen, challenge and move this congregation to a place we've never been. That includes increasing our membership, improving our financial well-being, and getting our two assisted congregations to stand alone as unassisted congregations.

An ambitious undertaking to be sure, and a long journey. We won't get there tomorrow. But I believe we will eventually get there. And as we make that journey, there's no doubt in my mind that we will drift at times. We may get distracted by current events or storms that threaten to end our journey. Hopefully we can recognize when that happens. And when it does, I pray that we have the courage to cry out for help.

But here's the bigger prayer: that when we are straightened out, that when we are lost and then found, that when we get back to normal, that when we are saved, we do more than simply get on with our lives. I pray we will joyfully thank God for bringing us back and I pray that that joy is visible to everyone around us.

We are all on a journey. We all drift form time to time. We've all been saved. Are you here because it's just a normal part of your life? Or can you be like the Samaritan and joyfully give thanks to God for saving you? And if it's the latter, how does that joy manifest itself in you?

Yes, we are on a long journey, just like everyone else. Let's just not be normal about it.

SERMON, PROPER 22, LUKE 17:5-10
by Todd Young - Tuesday, October 9 2007, 07:17 AM

Master and slave. What image does that give you? Maybe it's ancient people taken into slavery after a war and rowing a Roman ship. Maybe it's the mistress of the mansion directing the house slaves. Or maybe it's the white Southern plantation owner overseeing the field hands with his bull whip. Regardless of the imagery, our visions of master and slave are almost universally negative.

And yet, the reality of master and slave was prevalent in the time of Jesus. It was so prevalent and so ingrained into society that it made its way into several parables of Jesus. It was taken for granted that slavery was part of the natural order of the world. The problem for us and our modern mindset is this: how do we apply words spoken some 2000 years ago that reference a society we don't understand into our society and lives of today?

One way to do this is to define the words technically, eliminate all of the emotional ties and images, and then insert ourselves into the technical definition.

Let's start with Master. A master is one who is in charge of, such as the master of a ship, or the maser of ceremonies. A master is one who is an expert at, or has attained the highest ranking possible, such as a master of martial arts. A master is someone who can lay claim to, or owns, a living being; as in, we are a dog's master.

Second, let's look at Slave; and for Slave I will substitute Servant. A servant is one who tends to someone else; waiters and waitresses are your servers, or servants. A servant is one who does the bidding of another person; a bell hop in a fancy hotel is a servant. A servant is a person or animal whose time is claimed by another at any hour of the day. Going back to the dogs, we can order that dog to go with us anytime we so choose.

Those are some rather benign terms and definitions. The one we want to focus on is, not surprisingly, the last one in each scenario – the one with the dogs. In that example, and putting a human spin on it, the master can lay claim to every moment of the life of the servant, no questions asked. Being a servant means that your life totally revolves around your master. Everything you do is for their benefit. Everything you do should reflect positively on them. You are an extension of your master.

Not only that, but there is no such thing as service above and beyond the call of duty. If the master tells the servant to clean the living room and the servant also cleans the dining room, kitchen, bathrooms and washes the windows, there is nothing extraordinary about that. The servant is still serving the master. What is expected is that the servant serve.

All of this gets back to the gospel. The short reading today, only five verses long, is part of a longer passage directed at the disciples. This whole section, what we heard and what the lectionary excluded, has to do with living together in a community of faith.

Don't you be the one to cause a new person of faith to sin.
If someone sins, make them aware of that fact.
If they repent, forgive them.
Forgive often, as often as they repent.
You are the leaders, you must lead by example and you must serve God, your master.

And there it is. God is the Master of everything and everyone. We are his servants. God the master is asking us to be careful in our communities. God the master is asking us to be forthright with each other. God the master is asking us to be tolerant and forgiving of others. God the master is asking us to remember who we serve and to remember that everything we do should reflect positively on God. And he is asking that we should remember that service is the highest calling to which we strive for. We don't do this for greater rewards. We don't do this for personal glory. We don't do this on a casual basis.

We are God's servants. God has an all-encompassing claim on our life of every minute of every day. Our hymns today, if you pay attention to them, reflect this idea of servanthood.

Lord be thy word my rule.
O Jesus I have promised to serve thee to the end.
Every task, however simple, sets the soul that does it free.

So here's the long and short of it: We are servants of God. Jesus is telling us that there is nothing higher than servanthood. That's a two-point statement. First, since being a servant is the highest goal we try to attain, then we need to constantly remember to not put ourselves first. That's not to say to let people walk all over us, but it is saying that, like Jesus came to serve, we need to put ourselves in a position where, by our service, we lead them into a deeper and closer relationship with God.

Second, what we do for God and for the church are things that are expected of us. We don't serve on the altar guild, or as lectors or organists or care for the grounds or take out the trash or . . . or . . . or . . . whatever it is we do in order to be recognized as special or to be given community service awards. We simply do it because it needs to be done and because we are serving God in ways that we feel called.

That is not to say, however, that we can ignore the service of others. We need to remember to say thank you for jobs well done, or for jobs simply done. We need to remember to ask people if they are willing to do something even though we know very well that the person will do it. And we need to remember to never take for granted the service of others. We need to do these things because a) we are all servants, none of us is more important than another; and b) it's how we care for and respect each other. We are a community of servants, and it is in caring for and recognizing each other that we build up our community.

So, how do we apply words spoken some 2000 years ago that reference a society we don't understand into our society and lives of today? First, we need to understand that God really is master of everything. Second, we need to understand and submit to the fact that God lays claim to our lives every minute of every day.

And when all is said and done, instead of proudly listing off all of the things we have accomplished, trying to pad our stats and puff up a self-important reputation, we will simply answer, “We have done only what we ought to have done.”

And then it will be up to God to say, “Well done, good and faithful servant; come into your reward.”

SERMON, PROPER 21C, LUKE 16:19-31
by Todd Young - Sunday, September 30 2007, 06:39 PM

Today is our annual pet blessing. Normally this would happen closer to the actual feast day of St. Francis (October 4), but Convention got in the way this year. Someone said to me, "Isn't it interesting how your celebration of St. Francis coincides with a gospel lesson where dogs lick the sores of Lazarus?"

That got me thinking: Just how are these two intertwined?

Let's start with the parable of Lazarus. This parable is a follow-up to last week's story about the dishonest manager and is addressed to Pharisees rather than disciples. It's set up by pointing out that the Pharisees had heard the previous story - You can't serve God and wealth - and ridiculed Jesus because they "were lovers of money."

This is not to say they were greedy; because, in fact, they were following their interpretations of the Law. They did have a theological context for their position. That context comes right out of Deuteronomy 28 which basically says that if you observe all the commandments of the Law you will be blessed in all things. And the sign of God's blessing and favor upon a person is obviously shown by their bank account and possessions. Is anyone else thinking abut "The Prayer of Jabez" right about now?

"God loves me so much that He bought me this new Hummer." Right.

But that's the idea. The blessed will prosper and the wicked will be cursed. And you will know who is blessed and who is cursed simply by looking at them. Jesus, however, turns this upside down when he says that the rich man goes down to eternal torment while the poor beggar is raised up to heaven.

Now before you go thinking that this is an anti-money parable or sermon, it's not. Do not take this parable as proof that God condemns the rich to hell and rewards the poor with heavenly comfort. What this parable has to do with is right living and right interpretation of scripture.

No matter what our position, left or right, liberal or conservative, we cannot simply choose those few favorite passages that support our view and disregard all the rest. Those are often called "clobber passages" because they spell out in black and white our favorite position and they are used to end all discussion and study.

A right reading doesn't stop with the passages that we like. A right reading includes all of scripture, and a right interpretation tries to live within those vast guidelines. So you will be blessed if you obey the law. But the law also includes instructions on caring for the poor, widowed and orphaned. It includes sharing one's harvest with the transient. It includes welcoming the stranger. Isaiah talks about bringing the homeless into your home, striving for justice and freeing the oppressed. Jesus sums all this up by saying, "To whom much is given, much is required."

Luke, remember, is very much concerned with reversals. It started in the Magnificat and continues up through this parable and beyond. We are called on to care for and protect those less fortunate than ourselves, the "least of these." This parable of Lazarus and the rich man isn't about reversing the eternal fortunes of rich and poor because they were rich and poor; this parable is about misreading scripture and the failure of the rich man to care for -- the failure of him to even see -- Lazarus.

And this brings me to St. Francis. He was the son of an exceedingly wealthy merchant, who, like most fathers, wanted to see Francis succeed in life and wanted to hand down the family business. As Francis traveled through the area, he met beggars and lepers and, for the most part, avoided them.

One day, however, he decided to interact with these less fortunate and socially outcast people. Now the story is obviously much more detailed, but you get the idea. Shortly thereafter, and against his father's wishes, Francis gave up all material possessions and vowed to serve the poor just as they were -- poor. The Franciscan order was born.

The order grew quickly and in about ten years Francis was no longer in direct control of it. The rule of strict poverty was relaxed and it never quite maintained that ideal of Francis. His biography in LFF states, "Of all the saints, Francis is the most popular and admired, but probably the least imitated."

Francis, while extreme, had a right reading of scripture. He realized that it is the duty of those who have much to care for those who have little or nothing. "The least of these" became Francis' focus.

And, in case you're wondering, that focus extended to all of God's creation, including animals. Animals aren't here simply for our pleasure, to use and abuse as we see fit. According to the second story of creation, animals were created to be our helpmates and partners to care for the earth. And like Lazarus, animals have no voice and are often ignored. St. Francis was concerned with the least of these, from people to animals.

What I would like you to take home today is an awareness on avoiding selective scriptural interpretations and a willingness to emulate St. Francis in his concern and passion to care for the least of these. And then, thinking on that, how might your time, talent and treasure help our parish reach out to those who we don't normally see? How might your time, talent and treasure help our parish reflect God's kingdom and include the excluded? How might your time, talent and treasure help us thrive?

SERMON, PROPER 20C, LUKE 16:1-13
by Todd Young - Sunday, September 23 2007, 06:49 AM

Money. What do you think of when I say that word? I am willing to bet that, if you are honest, you're feeling a little uncomfortable or having a least a few negative thoughts right about now. What is it about money that gets us all goofy? People who don't have it need. People who have it want more of it. We have fights over minimum wages that actually let people live, but nobody ever talks about a maximum wage. And is it just me, or do people get really uncomfortable when a priest starts talking about money? Hold onto that thought.

Today's gospel is one of the few parables that really seem to upset people. The first area of concern for some is that Jesus commended a dishonest man for his actions. Now you might try to rationalize his behavior, or maybe even gloss it over, but the fact remains that the guy was a thief. This is typical white collar crime and is no different than the Enron scandal or any number of church treasurers or priests who have skimmed money off the top. It's like saying, "Good job, Mr. Skilling."

Another reason is because Jesus is praising the dishonest man for his shrewdness and saying we should be more like that. Clever, shrewd, cunning, crafty, all words that we want to use to describe politicians, business people, or used car salesmen; we don't necessarily attribute those words to saints in the kingdom. But there it is, "make friends for yourselves by means of dishonest wealth." Wow.

Let's consider these two objections. First there is the issue of dishonesty. Please note that it's not dishonesty that Jesus is praising, it's the recent actions of a dishonest man. Jesus has eaten with sinners and tax collectors and has had his feet anointed by a woman who was probably a prostitute. And in all cases, we can easily say that Jesus welcomes the sinner into his life. But those seem to be generalities. Today, though, maybe it hits a little more close to home. Maybe we see a little of ourselves in this man. Maybe it's because the sins of those unnamed sinners, tax collectors and prostitutes are so far removed from us. But let's face it; we've all been dishonest at some point in our lives. Either with our taxes, or greater than normal profits, or pens and paper from the office, you name it.

But nobody is perfect. So when Jesus looks into the eyes of someone and says, "Your sins are forgiven," or allows a prostitute to pour herself out to him, why is that any different than finding a dishonest manager and saying, "Look, even this guy did something right"? What that means is that Jesus can look at me and say, "Look, even you did something right."

The second issue is the man's shrewdness or cunning or craftiness. This bothers some people because it seems as if Jesus is advocating for Clyde's Christian Center -- "Step right up! Have I got a deal for you!"

One of my commentaries addresses this in the most wonderful way: the problem lies in the anti-cerebral bias in the church and the unwillingness, if not inability, of many to conceive of thinking as a kingdom activity.

"Thinking" is kingdom behavior. If we are going to contend in this world, if we are going to convince people this is the way to go, if we are going to store up eternal treasures, if we are going to put God first, then we must know how to deal with this world. We must be shrewd on a grander scale than just to our retirement plans, because how we handle property and money has eternal consequences.

So let's go back to your thoughts about money. How do you handle your finances? Are you holding onto every last penny out of fear; or are you, like the dishonest manager, willing to part with riches you don't really need? I've said this before, but maybe you could part with that Cadillac Escalade or Hummer or whatever that only you drive in favor of a smaller car with better gas mileage. And then donate the difference to the church or other charity. Or maybe your house is too big for you now that the kids have moved on. What are you doing with all that extra space? Maybe downsizing is in order. And those are just two extreme examples.

But as we come to the end of the year and we start looking forward to the RVEC budget, and as we start to grow, we all must consider how much we really need and how much we can pledge to these places. Our two parishes are important places, both spiritually and historically. I, for one, want to see them thrive and light up this valley.

We need to manage our resources well. We need to use our possessions to gain the future. We need to not be afraid and hold tightly to what we've got, but we need to be courageous and share the wealth. For the dishonest manager, the most important thing in his life was himself. For us, for the children of light, I would ask you to consider how important this place is and then manage your resources accordingly and shrewdly.
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SERMON, PROPER 19C, LUKE 15:1-10
by Todd Young - Sunday, September 16 2007, 06:44 AM

Most of us here are parents, whether by planning or by accident or maybe by both. No one has to tell you that it's a tough job. And in the beginning, if you can remember back that far, we had certain ideas about how to raise the kids and how to be a parent. Well, as I'm fond of repeating, "It's more complicated than that."

But regardless of the changes over the years to our parenting ideals and practices, and changes to our kids, it seems that our overall goal is to prepare and develop our children for adulthood. This process takes time, at least 17 years and sometimes as long as 32. We teach, we explain, we expand, we give everything slowly over time so that our kids receive the benefit of what we have to offer. Eventually, we hope, they grow into adults we can be proud of.

Why am I talking about parenthood & childhood? Because all of this happens over time. In today's gospel, the tax collectors and sinners were coming near to Jesus to listen. The religious leaders were complaining that Jesus "welcomes sinners and eats with them." We don't know for sure, but you might surmise that Jesus was giving a party at his home base, or that he was hosting some sort of picnic in the park. It is clear that Jesus wasn't the one invited in, but that he invited the people; he gave of his hospitality.

In the parables he tells of the lost sheep and lost coin, it doesn't take a genius to figure out that God is being compared to the shepherd and the woman. They are all searching for something. They are all giving of their time to bring something back into the fold -- the shepherd his sheep, the woman her coin, and God the sinner.

And they are not giving just a little of their time, they are giving all of their time and all of their effort. They search UNTIL the lost item is found. That doesn't mean you look for 5 or 10 minutes and then decide it will turn up eventually or is lost forever. That means you look day and night forsaking all other responsibilities until you find what you are looking for. If that is the case, you could be looking for hours or days or weeks or who knows how long.

But there is also waiting. Focusing on the sheep here (because coins don't care), their shepherd has left them. Not simply left them safely in the pen, but left them in the wilderness. What does this part of the parable say to us?

Here's what I think. We are the church and as the sheep of the flock are part of those 99 left in the wilderness. We want to be with God. We want to be led by Jesus. But we are now in the wilderness wandering like sheep without a shepherd. And we are waiting for our shepherd to return. We need to wait patiently because we don't know how long it will be until our shepherd returns with that lost sheep.

Waiting patiently. This is something we don't do very well. I read an article this past week in the ATR called, "The Haste of Sin, the Slowness of Salvation," by Jeff Vogel. In it he focuses on how Irenaeus saw the importance and necessity of patience in salvation and the sinfulness of haste.

We see this in the Eden story when the man and the woman take the fruit. Irenaeus put forth that God has always intended to give humans a share in the divine nature; but because of humanity's created state, we would need to learn to bear this gift over time. Just like you don't give a 7-year old the keys to the car but you work with the child over time giving small pieces of adulthood until they can bear it; so too was God going to give humanity small pieces of divinity over time until we could bear it. But rather than wait patiently for the gift to be manifested, humanity was impatient and tried to take that which could only be given.

We also see this sin of haste in the Exodus passage. When the people saw that Moses delayed coming down from the mountain, they manufactured their own gods. They couldn't wait for the divine gift to be bestowed upon them, so they attempted to take it. They tried by force to achieve the finality of their flight from Egypt when, in fact, the gift of freedom was so much greater than they could imagine; so they fell short.

We see this today in both our own church and in the wider body of Christ. People are so eager to achieve the finality of their salvation that, in haste, they fail to see the larger gift. In their haste, they attempt to create a place pure, holy, and God-like. One of the requirements for this place is that only the good people are allowed in and the sinners are not only unwelcome but actively pushed away.

This is the sin of haste. We understand what God wants. We have determined which sinners to ban. We will establish our version of the kingdom. We will take the gift of salvation for ourselves and put an end to the evils in the world.

The problem, though, is that we cannot take what must be received. Adam and Eve couldn't wait for the gift of knowledge to be given them, they chose to take it. The Israelites couldn't wait for the gift of God to come down from the mountain, so they created their own gods of gold. Our biggest temptation is to stop waiting on God.

Vogel wrote, "it is the very act of waiting on [God's gift], of not grasping at it, that accustoms one to receive it." Just like children need to wait on receiving certain gifts and privileges over time on their journey towards adulthood, we must also wait on God's gift of salvation and divine life-sharing over time.

From the gospel of Mark, "whoever does not receive the kingdom of God as a little child will never enter it," takes on a whole new meaning. Receive as a child, slowly and over time.

We are the sheep in the wilderness. If we hastily run off, if we try to hastily take the flock in our own direction, we could very well be lost forever. Instead, let us explore this place. Let us discover what it has to offer. Let us patiently wait for the return of our shepherd with the lost sheep. And then let us receive his gift of leadership and fully participate in the life he will lead us too.

Let us wait upon the Lord and receive the gift of life, rather than try to hastily take it and fall short.

SERMON, PROPER 18C, DEUT. 30:15-20, LUKE 14:25-33
by Todd Young - Sunday, September 9 2007, 07:08 AM

One of the tag lines for the movie Forrest Gump was, "Run, Forrest, run!!" And run he did. He ran. And he ran and ran and ran, running almost all across the country. In the course of his running, he attracted quite the crowd until there was something like hundreds, if not close to a thousand, people running with him. And as near as I could tell, most of those people followed him because lots of people were following him.

When I was a kid, my favorite team was the Dallas Cowboys. Men with names like Staubach, Pearson, Garrison, Hill, Lilly, Too Tall, Waters and Renfro were my heroes. I bled blue, white and silver. But in the 1972-73 season, the Miami Dolphins went undefeated and won the Super Bowl. That following season, I became part of the large crowd that jumped on the Dolphin bandwagon.

The same thing is happening with Jesus. He's on his way to Jerusalem. People have heard about this preacher who can cut down the hypocritical religious leaders and the healer who works miracles. They've heard about him and they want to be near him. They want to jump on that winning bandwagon and follow along with everybody else, just like the people who ran with Forrest Gump and just like me when I became a temporary Dolphins fan.

It's important to note that Jesus didn't call or invite these people. Nowhere in this passage does he invite them to become his followers. Here's something interesting about that: in all but two cases in Luke (and then one is debatable), every person Jesus invites to follow him does so, and every person who attempts to follow Jesus of their own volition is dissuaded from doing so. Jesus knows something about us. He calls us to follow him when we are ready to hear it. He calls us when we are ready to begin putting God first in our lives. Those who want to follow because it's the popular thing to do, or because they want to be in control of who they follow and they because they want to set the conditions of their following, will be sorely disappointed.

And that brings me to today. Again, in almost all cases, those who ask to follow are met with stiff opposition. No one who looks back is fit for the kingdom. Sell all you own and come follow me. Whoever comes to me and does not hate father, mother, wife, children, brother, sister, cannot be my disciple. Those are harsh words. What is Jesus saying?

In this context, hate doesn't have the connotation we give that word. If it did, this one verse would wipe out an entire body of scripture urging us to love our selves, neighbors and enemies. But we can still use this word hate and hopefully get at the idea Jesus is putting forth.

When we hate something, what we are saying is that we want no part of that something. During a breakup, if you hate your ex-boyfriend you don't want him creeping back into your life. My daughter hates certain foods and she will turn away from them. So then, when Jesus says to hate all these people, think of it as turning from them towards Jesus, or of not allowing outside loyalties to stand between you and God.

And this goes back to the Old Testament lesson: "but if your heart turns away and you . . . are led astray to bow down to other gods . . . you shall perish." Moses was warning the people not to let outside influences creep into their lives; to turn away from them and remember to put God first. In other words, know the cost of discipleship.

This is why if we wait for people to walk through our doors we will fail. Those people hear things about taking up your cross, daily sacrificial living, selling possessions, hating family members, and it scares them. This is why Christianity is relational.

If we meet people where they are, if we get to know them on their level, if we relate to them what this means to us, if we invite them, then they have someone to guide them and use as an example. Then they can see what this is about and it may not appear so scary.

Discipleship is hard work and sometimes harsh words are necessary to convey that. Our goal is to bring all people into God's loving embrace and make them guests at his heavenly banquet. But never forget that our goal isn't numbers based and