Sermon: November 13, 2011 - Had I not gotten sick

TALENTS AND TYRANTS
Sermon Notes of The Reverend Canon Robert A. Picken
Cathedral of the Incarnation, Garden City
Twenty-Second Sunday after Pentecost – Proper 28
November 13, 2011

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A few weeks ago I celebrated my fifth anniversary of ordination. It’s no major milestone, but it gave me the opportunity to reflect upon my experience thus far. One of the things I’ve discovered is that my vantage point sometimes makes mine of the strangest vocations as well as a rewarding one. My breath has been taken away by both joy and shame; I’ve seen the gifts and the weaknesses of people up close; and, I learned more about myself in my first year of ordained ministry than I did in my lifetime before that. But, what has struck me most, in the honored position in which I stand in the Church, is that what I witness is a story of talents and tyrants told again and again.

The classic interpretation of this parable in Matthew’s Gospel focuses on the importance of investing our talents and sharing our gifts. (It’s not a parable about investing our money – though one of our gifts may be money. In Latin and Greek, a ‘talent’ was a specially weighted coin or amount of coins. You may be interested to learn that the English word “talent,” meaning gift or ability, comes from this parable and its interpretation of the centuries.) Read this way, the point of the story is the importance of growing our talents or the gifts God entrusts to us. Our response may involve risk, but fruitfulness is the goal. In this interpretation, the one-talent steward demonstrates a failure of faith as well as a failure of fruit-bearing. He is the fool and the rest are wise.

We focus on the accountability of the one who squanders (or hides) what he was to have used and multiplied. Fear and self-interested righteousness can lead one to bury their gifts. And for this, Jesus regularly rebukes the wealthy and especially the religiously privileged.

The inspiring part of this parable comes (by no means at the end but) at the beginning: the entrusting of talents, the multiplication of resources, and the granting of blessings. That’s how many of us read this parable: as a call to multiply our talents and receive blessings. What’s not to like? It’s what our abundant-life hopes are all about. The interpretation hooks us. Work hard, invest your talents, yield a return, and get blessed! But, if you opt out by taking the talent and burying it, if you live in fear and self-protection, you’ll lose big. You’ll lose not only the growth of your talents but also the appreciation of the blessing bestowed.

A friend and colleague remarked that he sees part of his ministry as being a cheerleader of sorts for this kind faithful sharing. Describing a recent moment in his ministry, he said that what gave him the most joy was to not only witness others faithfully sharing their talents, but more so the joy that they received in sharing their love with others.

(I could leave it right there and sit down. But, in honor of making it five years with being throw out of the Church, I’m feeling a bit rebellious. I’m going to ignore the advice of my homiletics professor, who said, “don’t give them more than one interpretation of Scripture, when one will do.” I always wrestle with this parable. I don’t think Jesus was simply talking about money – or our gifts and abilities. [Kristin has natural talent for painting; Larry is a talented musician.] It’s about something larger than that and requires us to turn the parable on its head a bit.)

The one-talent steward responded, “Master, I knew that you were a harsh man, reaping where you did not sow, and gathering where you did not scatter seed.” His illegal game is named for what it is, and his harsh, demanding greed is exposed by the only one who refuses to be co-opted. Maybe the one-talent steward isn’t the fool… but he pays the price for whistle-blowing, for his boldness.



This interpretation asks whose voices matter in a world filled with power abuse. If we focus on the accountability of the master, rather than that of the one-talent steward, we see him exposed in his corruption. Here, living faithfully means naming the reality of abusive power or standing with one who is not cowering in fear but bold and ready to suffer the consequences of being bold.

I’m not speaking politically or socio-economically (though, I’m sure you could), but rather in our daily living. I have not been ordained long but I have witnessed those standing bold in interventions, complicated family situations, friendships, and personal relationships, in the workplace, school and, even, the Church. It takes boldness and it takes faith in God’s grace to respond to harmful selfishness of others.

In this parable, Jesus is talking about vocation and the grace given when we accept and enter into a covenant with God. To a new Christian listening to this gospel in, shall we say, Rome in about the year 85, what would immediately strike home would be the meaning of baptism and the task set before the baptized.

To early Christians at that time, baptism was not merely a church rite, something done to little Stevie or Mary to which friends may be invited who never darken the narthex of the church except when friends are hatched, matched, or dispatched. Far from it.

Those early Christians were giving their lives for God. In times of relative tranquility they probably just lost their jobs, their reputations, and even their families by becoming Christians. During turbulent times they faced arrest and execution. Nowadays in America we may be baptized without exciting much comment at all and the cost of being a Christian and an Episcopalian may seem minimal.

We may bemoan the feuding, fussing, and fighting we witness in our church and wish people would be quiet and pay their tithe; but apart from that, our pew is safe, and we are safe, and perhaps our willingness to sing our hymns and say all those prayers God seems to like may just get us a seat in heaven.

If you are honestly not too uncomfortable about this last thought, this parable is for you.

Both readings of this parable emphasize accountability; both readings are about squandering talent because of a tyrant. In one case the tyrant is the steward’s fear. Burying even one talent squanders opportunity, allowing the tyranny of fear to trump all else. In the other reading, a person who abuses power squanders the potential freedom of another steward.

In our trust that Jesus is Lord, we find strength to confront tyrants (and systems) without ourselves becoming one or falling prey to one. We are invited to a full and fruit-bearing life that is open and expansive and hopeful. This is the vision of humanity flourishing that neither the fearing steward nor the harsh master ever experience.

Each one of us in our baptism was given a wealth of love and an intimate experience of the presence of God. We renew that gift at each Eucharist, as we receive Jesus into our lives and join with the hosts of heaven in worship and thanksgiving.

And, we go into a world where temptations and distractions exist on every side for different reasons. The kingdom of a rightly ordered power that comes near us in Jesus, sets us free from tyranny and directs us to life abundant.

That good news may unbury our talent or give us voice – either way it is a witness to a God who gives good gifts.

Sermon: September 25, 2011

WALK THE WALK
Sermon Notes of The Reverend Canon Robert A. Picken
Cathedral of the Incarnation, Garden City
Fifteenth Sunday after Pentecost – Proper 21
September 25, 2011


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I enjoy wandering through old cemeteries. Some of the monuments are incredibly ornate and detailed and some of remarkably simple. Many grave-makers seem to be more like resumès for the deceased, while others give us an insight into the life of that person. I have always wondered what an archeologist hundreds of years from now might say about our society when he or she uncovers these tombs. Would it seem that we were people who were concerned about how we lived our lives or simply what we accomplished in them?

The common Ignatian spiritual discipline is to write your own epitaph. The design is to approach your life today by looking back from your death. Can you write your epitaph? What would you write on you grave-stone? What would someone else say about? Do you actions today match what you say about yourself in death? In other words, if you want it to say ‘devoted father,’ would the life you live today match that? Or, more accurately, if you want it to name you as a Christian, would the people who go to your funeral be surprised to learn this fact?

In his letter to the Philippians, Paul tells us that we must be of the same mind as Jesus, and the only way to accomplish that is through love, humility, and reconciliation – not through conceit or selfishness.
It is very difficult to be a community in our world today. The world we live in today causes us to struggle for balance between the individualism that is encouraged by society and our desperate need to belong. We struggle to reconcile ourselves and be at peace in a world that is connected by technology but knows little about anyone outside our circles.

Let us not trivialize Paul’s message – love, humility, and reconciliation are not just buzz words. They are deeply connecting words that speak through our hearts and souls. They are foundational words used throughout the gospels as Jesus models love, humility, and reconciliation for us.

These characteristics are evident in the parable we heard in today’s gospel. The father, who is the owner of a vineyard, has two sons, and he asks them both to come to work with him. The first son refuses to honor his father’s request but he changes his mind, repents, and then goes to work in the vineyard. The son has a change of heart that he acknowledges through his repentance – a sign of humility, love, and his willingness to discern and reflect reconciliation. The second son says he will go to work but he does not. His actions are an example of selfishness and lack of integrity.

Jesus does not just tell a story about a father and his two sons, but further describes community-building to the elders and chief priests in the temple through their own attitudes about John the Baptist and those who turned to faith through him. Jesus tells them that they had a chance to hear what John had to say about justice and righteousness, but they chose to remain fixed on their laws and those things that secured their power. He confronted their selfishness and lack of integrity directly while simultaneously demonstrating that this did not build up the community of faith.

Jesus uses the faith of the tax collectors and prostitutes who heard John’s message and changed their ways to show community-building at its best. They model the personal responsibility we each have to change, seek justice, listen, and hear the truth in differences. The prophetic words of Ezekiel say clearly that those who have considered and turned toward a change for justice and willingness to hear truth in difference will live. They will find a new heart and a new spirit.



Listening and hearing our readings in the context of celebrating our corporate lives is another step. The next step requires that we share our hearts with each other and then with everyone we encounter in our lives. This doesn’t mean that we “evangelize” to everyone everywhere. But as St. Francis is attributed as saying, “Preach the gospel at all times. When necessary, use words.”

An apologist and philosopher recently debated the existence of God at a major university. At the end of the debate, the apologist had clearly had the better arguments and one could say “won” the debate. During the open question period that followed, a student stood up and began listing atrocities done in the Name of God: crusades, persecutions, wars, discrimination… and then those things done by so-called religious: theft, sexual assault, and so on. Many in the crowd cheered. It did not prove that God did not exist, it proved the brokenness of human nature. But, the point was made that it’s easier to ‘talk the talk’ then ‘walk the walk.’

What we say and do here in our worship needs to be evident in the way we live and relate. Living a life of a faith means that there is no break between our words and actions. Living a faith-filled life means that we can discern God’s voice in those expected and unexpected places and that we not only listen but are willing to change as we grow in our personal faith and community.

We want to be people who, when asked who we are, can reply with confidence because we know our hearts and souls and live accordingly. We want to be a people who have mercy on those in need, dismantle injustice and practice humility as we listen to the Spirit’s call on our lives. In short, we want to do justice, love mercy, and walk humbly with our God.

Sermon: October 2, 2011

STEWARDS OF THE VINEYARD
Sermon Notes of The Reverend Canon Robert A. Picken
Cathedral of the Incarnation, Garden City
Sixteenth Sunday after Pentecost – Proper 22
October 2, 2011


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In France, it is illegal to not maintain a vineyard. Under the law, even if you owe the smallest acreage of vines, you are required to produce grapes. What many people do with these small vineyards is join a wine cooperative; they have professionals maintain and harvest the vineyard, produce the wine and share in the profit. Someone else cares for the land; yet, in the end, they still own it and reap the rewards.


In today’s gospel lesson, Jesus tells us a story, about an anonymous landowner. We hear it and we figure it’s just another ordinary, unremarkable, simple story: no complications, no allusions, no hard life lessons to be learned. Jesus’ story appears to be just another story. (Another parable about a vineyard.)

In this parable, we can imagine the landowner as a metaphor for God the Father. The Creator did a lot more than plant a vineyard, put a fence around it, dig a wine press in it, and build a watchtower; but those images show us some basic truths. God created this earth, and the land on it; God separated the water from the land; God leased the land to people; and God developed the property, with and through the work of those human hands. Simple, right? God owns the universe, and we are mere tenants in it, or stewards of it.

And then we look at the history of the Israelites: God sent his holy prophets to his people, and great leaders, and monarchs, people like King David, Moses, the prophets Isaiah and Jeremiah. And yet the people didn’t listen to what the leaders said. They rebelled, and sinned, and transgressed the law – again and again and again. So God sent his only son, saying, “They will respect my son.”

Up until now, we can imagine this story – and Jesus’ place in it – with no difficulty whatsoever. The landowner’s son, of course, represents Jesus, God’s son. And the son, like Jesus, comes to the story after a series of unsuccessful attempts to deliver a message. Yet when Jesus tells this story, he knows – and reveals – something else about himself. Jesus predicts something more profound than his return home. Jesus predicts his death, his murder at the hands of our fellow humans.

Just imagine what it was like to hear Jesus tell this story. Just imagine how it feels to see him drive out all who were selling and buying in the temple, to hear him say, “My house shall be called a house of prayer, but you are making it a den of robbers.” Just imagine what it would be like to take part in the great procession from the Mount of Olives, with Jesus riding on a donkey, and the crowds shouting, “Hosanna in the Highest!” Just imagine what it was like to sit and listen to him tell stories – prophetic stories, about himself and about us – the very next morning. T(hat’s the setting for this passage from Matthew’s gospel, by the way.)

Today’s gospel is not about Jesus teaching on a mountainside early in his ministry, or visiting a village to cure the sick. Today’s gospel is about Jesus stopping to teach on his way to the cross. Jesus tells us this story – his story and the story of salvation history – in simple, uncomplicated, ordinary terms. He does this, I suspect, not because he thinks we lack any knowledge or common sense; rather, because he wants to be sure we don’t miss the simplicity of the message.

God has not given up on the ancient Israelites, just as God has not given up on us. No matter how unloving and uncaring, no matter how many mistakes we make, no matter how often we turn away from his messengers, God still loves us, and continues to reach out again and again and again.

And when we reject a stone, when we turn away from Jesus, when we kill the landowner’s son or commit some lesser sin, God just turns around and takes that very rejection and makes it into the cornerstone of the strongest foundation ever, for a structure built of love. God hasn’t given up on us: not then, not now, not ever.

For God loves us, and desperately wants us to produce fruit for the kingdom. God craves a new Jerusalem, where all people live together in harmony, where peace and prosperity abound, where truth and justice reign.

So often in the Church, we see ourselves connected to a place – that is a particular building which we call ‘church.’ Church is often see as a destination or even an action – we’re going to church. But, the Church is more than that – these are simply buildings, as beautiful as they are. As Scripture says, God cannot be contained in temples made by human hands, God is found in each one of us and in the our common life together. These buildings as beautiful as they are, and as in much need of repair as they are, cannot be seen as the end-all-and-be-all of our life together. Our buildings will simply become museums if we do not continue to build on our strong foundation of good ministries and programs.

We are the Body of Christ here on earth, and it must be our care and delight to help lift up the most lowly, to exalt the humble and meek, to fill the hungry with good things. Justice, mercy, and love for all people: that is what God intends. And we can help.

When the landowner returns, let us be found working not for our own selfish greed, but for the good of all people. By more faithful participation in God’s mission for humanity, we can and will make this world a better place for every one of God’s beloved children. Amen.