Confiteor (Ash Wednesday)

Confiteor

Ash Wednesday (Year ABC)
26 February 2020; 12 noon and 7 p.m. Spoken Mass

With Imposition of Ashes 
Homily Delivered at Trinity Episcopal Church

Ashland, Oregon  

The Rev. Fr. Tony Hutchinson, SCP, Ph.D.

Joel 2:1-2,12-17; 2 Cor 5:20b-6:10; Matt 6:1-6,16-21; Psa 103:8-14

God, take away our hearts of stone and give us hearts of flesh.  Amen.

Lent is a time of admitting to ourselves and to God the truth about ourselves.  The word “confession” does not mean “say you’re sorry.”  It means to acknowledge or publicly admit something:  that’s why a public declaration of faith is called a confession, like the Westminster “Confession of Faith” or St. Augustine’s great autobiographic book in the form of a prayer, “Confessions.”   The 1662 Book of Common Prayer is very clear that “Confession” is an acknowledgement or admitting of the truth about ourselves. 

“Almighty God, Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, maker of all things, judge of all men: We acknowledge and bewail our manifold sins and wickedness, which we, from time to time, most grievously have committed, by thought, word, and deed, against thy Divine Majesty, provoking most justly thy wrath and indignation against us. We do earnestly repent, and are heartily sorry for these our misdoings; The remembrance of them is grievous unto us; The burden of them is intolerable. Have mercy upon us, Have mercy upon us, most merciful Father; For thy Son our Lord Jesus Christ's sake, Forgive us all that is past; And grant that we may ever hereafter Serve and please thee In newness of life, To the honour and glory of thy Name; Through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.”

When it says the burden of our sins is intolerable, that is in the old sense of the word:  it means they cannot be borne or carried.  This confession, which remains in Rite I in our current Prayer Book, might strike us as a bit harsh and overly dramatic in its penitential tone, but its essence is one of admitting the truth.  And we must not forget the fact that we fall short of what God intended when he made us.  1 John says:  

⁵ This is the message we have heard from him and proclaim to you, that God is light and in him there is no darkness at all. ⁶ If we say that we have fellowship with him while we are walking in darkness, we lie and do not do what is true; ⁷ but if we walk in the light as he himself is in the light, we have fellowship with one another, and the blood of Jesus his Son cleanses us from all sin. ⁸ If we say that we have no sin, we deceive ourselves, and the truth is not in us. ⁹ If we confess our sins, he who is faithful and just will forgive us our sins and cleanse us from all unrighteousness. ¹⁰ If we say that we have not sinned, we make him a liar, and his word is not in us. (1 John 1:5-10)

In all of this, we must remember the truth expressed in the collect for Ash Wednesday:  God hates nothing God has made and forgives the sins of all who are penitent, that is, who turn back.  

The English word confession comes from the Latin Confiteor, meaning acknowledge as true.  It comes from the prefix con (with) and fateor “allow or admit.  The point is that we allow or acknowledge the truth together with someone, whether God, our community, or simply another person. 

We often miss the point when we talk about Lent as a season of “repentance,” “penitence,” and  “confession of our sins.”  We think of these terms simply as violating God’s laws or commands, and turning aside.  But sin as a concept is far broader than this legalistic view.    Most modern theologians define sin either teleologically or relationally:  something that turns us aside from what God intends when he creates us, or anything that separates us from God or others.    God loves us regardless, and so it is more a question of talking about things that in our own hearts and minds separate us from the love of God. 

  

Danish theologian Soren Kirkegaard said “Sin is: in despair not wanting to be oneself before God . . . Faith is: that the self in being itself and wanting to be itself is grounded transparently in God.”  Confession and repentance are processes that help us know who our real selves are, and make us more and more hopeful and welcoming of that truth.

Lent is a time to intentionally reconnect, both with what God intended when God made us, and with God himself.   We are told that to do this, we must be humble.  The Latin word for humble, humilis, is related to the noun for the ground, humus.  In the story of creation, the man and woman are called human because they are made from the soil, the humus: “Unto dust thou shalt return.”  So being humble means getting down to earth, close to our origin the dirt, sending down roots and getting grounded. 

For a holy Lenten fast, let us not rend our garments, but our heart:  open it to Jesus, and use these forty days to wander through our secret rooms at our leisure, seeking grounding.  

Accepting who we are, admitting or acknowledging the truth about ourselves, is the key in this grounding, in this getting close to earth, in this humility.  We are God’s creatures, whom he declared “very good” when he made us.  But we have turned aside from the beauty he saw in us when he declared us “Very good!”

If we open our hearts to Jesus, he will heal us.  He will give us strength, and the inner peace needed for the journey.  He will indeed make us anew in his own image, and bring us to his glory and joy.  

Thanks be to God.

Jan Richardson on Lent (midweek message)

Jan Richardson talks about what Lent and Ash Wednesday are really about in her poem “Rend Your Heart: A Blessing for Ash Wednesday”: 

Rend Your Heart: A Blessing for Ash Wednesday

To receive this blessing,
all you have to do
is let your heart break.
Let it crack open.
Let it fall apart
so that you can see
its secret chambers,
the hidden spaces
where you have hesitated
to go.

Your entire life
is here, inscribed whole
upon your heart’s walls:
every path taken
or left behind,
every face you turned toward
or turned away,
every word spoken in love
or in rage,
every line of your life
you would prefer to leave
in shadow,
every story that shimmers
with treasures known
and those you have yet
to find.

It could take you days
to wander these rooms.
Forty, at least.

And so let this be
a season for wandering
for trusting the breaking
for tracing the tear
that will return you

to the One who waits
who watches
who works within
the rending
to make your heart
whole.

She also writes:

Blessing the Dust

All those days
you felt like dust,
like dirt,
as if all you had to do
was turn your face
toward the wind
and be scattered
to the four corners
or swept away
by the smallest breath
as insubstantial—
did you not know
what the Holy One
can do with dust?
This is the day
we freely say
we are scorched.
This is the hour
we are marked
by what has made it
through the burning.
This is the moment
we ask for the blessing
that lives within
the ancient ashes,
that makes its home
inside the soil of
this sacred earth.
So let us be marked
not for sorrow.
And let us be marked
not for shame.
Let us be marked
not for false humility
or for thinking
we are less
than we are
but for claiming
what God can do
within the dust,
within the dirt,
within the stuff
of which the world
is made
and the stars that blaze
in our bones
and the galaxies that spiral
inside the smudge
we bear.

Have a holy Lent ending in joy. 

New Eyes, New Mind (Last Sunday before Lent A)

New Eyes, New Mind

Last Sunday of Epiphany (Year A)
23 February 2020; 8 am Spoken Mass; 10 am Sung Mass
Homily Delivered at Trinity Episcopal Church

Ashland, Oregon  

The Rev. Fr. Tony Hutchinson, SCP, Ph.D.

Exodus 24:12-18; 2 Peter 1:16-21; Matthew 17:1-9; Psalm 2

God, take away our hearts of stone and give us hearts of flesh.  Amen.

Transfiguration Sunday ends the season of Epiphany, or the Manifestation of Christ to the Gentiles.  In a very real way, the scene here is what we call in popular parlance an epiphany, a moment of clarity when all of a sudden we see things as they really are. 

We all have seen such a moment of clarity, both good and bad.  It is when you realize you have found the love of your life.  It is when a person in discernment comes to know what it is that God is calling her to.  It is when you suddenly are sure what your passion in life or work is.  It is what makes a destructive drunk "hit bottom" and begin to reach out for help.  It is when you realize you are in a destructive relationship and need to break it off.  It is when a diagnostician suddenly puts together all the symptoms, pathology, and life details of the patient and intuitively knows what disease she is dealing with.  It is when a scientist suddenly recognizes the pattern and comes up with a new hypothesis or theory.  It is when, of a sudden, we know that we love and trust God. 

We see the world with new eyes, and with them, we have a change in our ways of thinking and feeling, a new mind.  The great call of Jesus, “Repent, for the Kingdom of God is at hand” is better translated:  “Change your minds, for the Reign of God is already in your midst.”  This implies that the change of mind stems from this new perspective.  The transfiguration of Jesus on Mount Tabor is the last great manifestation of God in Jesus before the ultimate and definitive one, his miserable death and glorious resurrection. So Transfiguration Sunday is the last Sunday before the start of Lent, the great season of changing our hearts and minds, and with them, our behaviors, in preparation for Holy Week and Easter.  

But the epiphany on Mount Tabor—God’s glory shining in the face of Jesus—overwhelms Peter, and does not give him, not quite yet a new mind.  He does not realize yet that this is a revelation of how Jesus has always been, just hidden. That comes later, at the resurrection.

On Mount Tabor, Peter, seeing the two great icons of the Jewish tradition alongside Jesus—Moses for the Law and Elijah for the Prophets—thinks it is they who are giving his friend and teacher this new power and glory.  He wants to set up three little shrines to commemorate it.

Peter is thinking about Succoth (tabernacles, or booths), temporary shelters set up for the duration of the major harvest festival.  They stood for the tents of Israel during the 40 years of wandering in the desert while being fed on the Manna, the bread from Heaven, and symbolized human reliance on God, an appropriate sentiment for a harvest festival.  The prophet Zechariah had said that when the Messiah came, all the nations of the earth would go in pilgrimage to Jerusalem during the Succoth Festival and build such Booths as commanded by Moses.  God would punish any nation not doing by withholding the rain and sending drought, the punishment that Elijah had famously brought on King Ahab for three years (Zech 14:16-18; Exod 23:16; 34:22; 2 Kings 17).  

Peter wants to build the Succoth for Jesus, Moses, and Elijah to show that Jesus is another great figure in his religion, perhaps even the Messiah who would force all Gentiles to become Jews by invoking Elijah’s curse of drought. 

But God intervenes and sets Peter straight.  A light-filled cloud appears and covers everything. A voice identifies Jesus as the first thing, the real item. ‘This is my Son, the Beloved; listen to what he says!’   The cloud disappears, and all that remains is Jesus himself.  Moses and Elijah have dropped from view. 

The transfiguration is a moment of sudden clarity for the disciples that they don’t fully “get” until after the resurrection: the realization, in the words of John’s Gospel, that “Whoever has seen [Jesus] has seen the Father.” 

As today’s epistle puts it on the lips of St. Peter: “we have been eyewitnesses of God’s majesty,” and “have heard the voice from heaven saying ‘This is my Son, the Beloved, with whom I am well pleased.’”  For this reason, “we have the prophetic message more fully confirmed” (the King James here has “the more sure word of prophecy”).  That is, we understand the inner meaning and direction of the prophets’ words, having seen the Glory of God directly revealed in Jesus.   And this being so, “You will do well to be attentive to this as to a lamp shining in a dark place, until the day dawns and the morning star rises in your hearts.”  Paul elsewhere says that “gazing upon the glory of God shining in the face of Jesus” makes us ourselves undergo transfiguration or metamorphosis, changing from glory into glory, closer and closer to Jesus.

  

How can we “be attentive to” this epiphany, this revelation, this moment of sudden clarity when the early disciples first had an inkling of who Jesus truly was?  How do we “gaze upon the face of Jesus?” 

It is important to reflect on our Lord and Savior often and regularly.  That is why daily prayer and scripture reading is an essential part of any Christian’s intentional spiritual discipline.  Contemplation and practices that open the heart and mind are essential.  Regular Church attendance helps, but to gaze upon the Lord's glory, we must be the Church, not simply attend Church.  It is not just a passive act of admiration.  Following Jesus in doing corporeal acts of mercy, in serving our fellows, in standing with the outcast, the downtrodden, and the sick--these give us an experience of who Jesus is and what he does. 

Given the stresses of life, it is easy to lose heart.  It is easy to believe that people cannot change, that we cannot change.  But the miracle and mystery of our faith is this—we can change because God promises to change us.  In the Apostles’ Creed we affirm that we believe in “the forgiveness of sins, the resurrection of the body, and the life everlasting.”  This makes no sense at all if you don’t believe that God is at work transforming us, and that we shall be changed. 

Just as God sent that shining cloud to drive away Peter’s silly preconceptions and plans, God works with us as we look into the glorious face of Jesus and try to hear his voice.   God changes us.

Such change is sometimes hard, so hard that at times we do not know whether we will be able to bear it.  At other times it is a relief, as easy as taking off a heavy winter coat in the summer heat.  

When Paul says this turns us into "the image of Christ" he is not saying it removes our individuality.  What he describes is a transformation into our true selves, the individual people God intended when He created each of us, with all that makes us who we are, but absent the brokenness that we so often mistake for what makes us who we are. 

One of the greatest foundation stones of my personal faith is the experience of seeing transformed brothers and sisters around us, and seeing ourselves over the years as God works with us and changes us.  It doesn’t mean we are perfect, only that God is making progress in finishing his creation in us.   In the words of the classic line from African-American preaching quoted often by the Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. “Lord, I know I ain't what I outta be.  And I know I ain't what I'm gonna be.  But thank God Almighty, I ain't what I was!”

Charles Wesley in one of his hymns summed it up this way--

Finish then, thy new creation,
Pure and spotless let us be;
Let us see thy great salvation perfectly restored in Thee:
Changed from glory into glory,
'Till in heaven we take our place.
'Till we cast our crowns before thee,
Lost in wonder, love, and praise.  

It is not just in heaven when all of God's creation is done that this happens.  As we are transformed here and now, quickly or slowly, it makes us look around us in amazement at tokens of God's love about us, ourselves experience sudden clarity.  And then we gaze all the more, "lost in wonder, love, and praise," on the author and pioneer of it all. 

  

Thanks be to God.

Continue (Midweek Message)

Continue

Fr. Tony’s Midweek Message

February 19, 2020

As we approach Lent, we often start thinking about ways we need to change, sins we need to repent of.  But amendment of life need not be a grim joyless task of breaking with the past.  I share here with you a poem that captures it as holding a deep continuity with what we have experienced and done before: 

My Wish

By Maya Angelou

My wish for you
Is that you continue

Continue

To be who and how you are
To astonish a mean world
With your acts of kindness

Continue

To allow humor to lighten the burden
Of your tender heart

Continue

In a society dark with cruelty
To let the people hear the grandeur
Of God in the peals of your laughter

Continue

To let your eloquence
Elevate the people to heights
They had only imagined

Continue

To remind the people that
Each is as good as the other
And that no one is beneath
Nor above you

Continue

To remember your own young years
And look with favor upon the lost
And the least and the lonely

Continue

To put the mantel of your protection
Around the bodies of
The young and defenseless

Continue

To take the hand of the despised
And diseased and walk proudly with them
In the high street
Some might see you and
Be encouraged to do likewise

Continue

To plant a public kiss of concern
On the cheek of the sick
And the aged and infirm
And count that as a
Natural action to be expected

Continue

To let gratitude be the pillow
Upon which you kneel to
Say your nightly prayer
And let faith be the bridge
You build to overcome evil
And welcome good

Continue

To ignore no vision
Which comes to enlarge your range
And increase your spirit

Continue

To dare to love deeply
And risk everything
For the good thing

Continue

To float
Happily in the sea of infinite substance
Which set aside riches for you
Before you had a name

Continue

And by doing so
You and your work
Will be able to continue
Eternally

Next Tuesday is Shrove Tuesday, the day before Ash Wednesday and the beginning of Lent.  During the day, the Church will be open and I will be hearing confessions and giving absolution ("shriving" penitents).  At 5:30 p.m., we will have the Party of Parties Auction and Baked Potato Dinner in the Parish Hall to raise funds for our soical justice, corporal acts of mercy, and charitable outreach grants program.  On Ash Wednesday, we will have Sung Morning Prayer at 8:15 a.m., and then Holy Eucharist at noon and at 7:00 p.m.  We will offer the Imposition of Ashes and Invitation to a Holy Lent at all three services.   

Grace and Peace.

Fr. Tony+

Prayer against the Covid-19 Contagion

 Dr. Li Wenliang, of Wuhan, who alerted authorities of the contagion and later died of it. 

A PRAYER 

Loving God, source of all health and strength: you are our refuge and strength, our very present help in time of trouble. We humbly pray for help, guidance, and sustenance as we and our siblings in China, Asia, and throughout the world face the threat and danger of epidemic illness from the Covid-19 contagion.

We come to you in our need to ask your protection against this illness that has claimed many lives and has affected many more.

We pray for your grace for the people tasked with studying the nature and cause of this virus and its disease and of stemming the tide of its transmission. Guide the hands and minds of medical experts hat they may minister to the sick bravely with competence and compassion, protect them and keep them well.

We pray for governments and private agencies that bear the responsibility of finding cure and solution to this epidemic, and giving true and wise guidance to their people.

We pray that the afflicted may not suffer and may be restored to health soon. We pray for those in quarantine that they not contract the illness, not become depressed, and may find their isolation an occasion of respite, rest, and healing. 

We pray for the souls of those who have died, and for their families, friends, and communities.

We pray for those who write what many read and say what many hear that they may speak truth based on facts and not pass ill-founded rumor.

We pray that we all may carefully follow public health and medical advice that we may slow the spread of the illness and be spared its ravages.

We pray that the economic life of the region, the livelihoods of all affected, as well as their community life may be speedily restored.

Grant us the grace to have compassion and determination to work for the good of all and to help those in need.

Grant this through Jesus Christ, your Son our Lord, Who healed those who came to him and comforted those in grief and fear, Who lives and reigns with You, in the unity of the Holy Spirit, One God, forever and ever. Amen. (AAH)

Transforming Suffering (Midweek Message)

Transforming Suffering

Fr. Tony’s Midweek Message

February 12, 2020

“Human beings are born to trouble just as sparks fly upward.”  (Job 5:7)

Suffering is a part of human existence.  The Buddha taught that it in fact is the defining characteristic of being human, caused by attachment, wanting to hold on to things that we must lose, or gain things we do not have.  His solution to suffering was to remove attachment, to not just lower but to remove expectations.  We in the West usually find that “solution” too austere.  Instead, we see that there are usually three ways to respond to suffering.  1) We can tamp it down, simply eat the suffering, hold it in, and try to contain it with a “stiff upper lip.” This is a recipe for disaster:  the suffering will consume us, suck out all the joy of our lives, and ultimately twists itself into greater suffering.  2) We can transmit or transfer suffering, i.e., take our pain and dump it, intentionally or irresistibly, onto someone else, usually friends, families, and colleagues, often people weaker and more vulnerable than ourselves. When someone higher in the food chain hurts us, we hurt someone lower in the chain.  We may try to stifle it and then when the anger and sense of injustice overwhelms us, simply let loose on the nearest vulnerable target.  This is a recipe for ruined relationships, bitter living, and, again, greater suffering.  Or, finally, 3) we can transform our suffering, by embracing it (something close to Buddha’s solution), contemplating it, letting it become a point of solidarity with other sufferers, and then seeing it be transformed into love and service for them.   This last way is the only healthy and sound way of dealing with pain in our lives, the suffering that inevitably is part of living as a human being. 

Franciscan Fr. Richard Rohr says, 

 

“All healthy religion shows you what to do with your pain, with the absurd, the tragic, the nonsensical, the unjust and the undeserved—all of which eventually come into every lifetime. If only we could see these “wounds” as the way through, as Jesus did, then they would become sacred wounds rather than scars to deny, disguise, or project onto others. I am sorry to admit that I first see my wounds as an obstacle more than a gift. Healing is a long journey.  If we cannot find a way to make our wounds into sacred wounds, we invariably become cynical, negative, or bitter. This is the storyline of many of the greatest novels, myths, and stories of every culture. If we do not transform our pain, we will most assuredly transmit it—usually to those closest to us: our family, our neighbors, our co-workers, and, invariably, the most vulnerable, our children. Scapegoating, exporting our unresolved hurt, is the most common storyline of human history. The Jesus Story is about radically transforming history and individuals so that we don’t just keep handing on the pain to the next generation. Unless we can find a meaning for human suffering, that God is somehow in it and can also use it for good, humanity is in major trouble… We shouldn’t try to get rid of our own pain until we’ve learned what it has to teach.” 

Jesus taught, “If any want to become my followers, let them deny themselves and take up their cross daily and follow me.”  (Luke 9:23) 

When we hold and contemplate our suffering intentionally and with trust, and refuse the temptations of tamping it down or transferring it, we find ourselves in a new landscape of the mind and heart.  We find that our lives and expectations are not what we thought they were.  We sink our roots much deeper into our humanity and break into a new awareness of God and love.  We find solidarity with other sufferers (and even with those who cause suffering), realizing that we are all in this together.  And this brings us to a point of love and service for those who share our human condition. 

As Brother Richard also says, 

“Here we are open to learning and breaking through to a much deeper level of faith and consciousness. Please trust me on this. We must all carry the cross of our own reality until God transforms us through it. These are the wounded healers of the world, and healers who have fully faced their wounds are the only ones who heal anyone else.”

Following Jesus on the way of the cross means also following him on the way of resurrection.  By embracing our suffering, we triumph over it. 

Grace and Peace.

Fr. Tony+

Break Every Yoke (Epiphany 5A)

Break Every Yoke

9 February 2020

Fifth Sunday After Epiphany Year A

Homily for 8:00 a.m. Said and 10:00 a.m. Sung Mass

Trinity Episcopal Church, Ashland Oregon

The Rev. Fr. Tony Hutchinson, SCP. Ph.D.

Isaiah 58:1-9a (9b-12); Psalm 112:1-9 (10); 1 Corinthians 2:1-12, (13-16); Matthew 5:13-20

God, take away our hearts of stone, and give us hearts of flesh.  Amen

I had a really bad week.  You know me, and I am a left wing Democrat.  I say that more as a confession to you than as a boast or an exhortation to be like me.  I say it so you can know why I was so depressed and feeling hopeless.  The acquittal, the President’s victory lap, then the shocking performance at the National Prayer Breakfast, and then the reprisal firings of witnesses.  Yikes.  And then there were my friends and acquaintances who support the President, with their comments and criticisms of things I said and feel. 

I have learned to try to be respectful and differ without being disagreeable,  and have found that when my friends don’t do that, usually all I have to say is how I didn’t share their opinions, and ask for more grace from them when they went far afield.  And usually, they back off and rephrase things in respectful and more loving ways.  I have come to thank God for my Trumpist friends: as much as I disagree, they keep me honest and call me on my unfair or misinformed opinions.  Here’s the thing—these are folks from my high school years in Eastern Washington, or from more conservative congregations I have been in over the years.  Some were mentors, like my dear friend in the All Saints’ Chevy Chase choir who was leader of the tenor section and taught me how to sing liturgical music and chant.  And I know that they are good people, kind and loving, and dedicated to their ideals and values.  So when I am horrified by something they say or do, I remember their goodness, and phrase my complaint accordingly.  I find we usually actually can communicate.   I hope that I have as good effect on them as they have on me.

I woke up this morning to a message from an LDS cousin who reminded me that the glory of God permeates God’s creation.  The image of God is in each of us.  Now, I know that when I see things that just aren’t right, I tend to take this as a sign of original sin.  But she reminded me of original blessing—the good at the heart of us, this image of God we all bear, no matter how hard we try to distort it or hide it.   This to me is central. 

All of us, as children, tend to want fairness and to treat others as we would want to be treated.  The fact that most of us learn all too quickly to put our thumbs on the scales in our favor doesn’t erase this basic fact.  When we lived in Africa, our son Charlie was still pretty young.  When we would stop at a traffic light and were surrounded by beggars, many horribly mutilated by their parents or caregivers to make them a more pathetic spectacle to attract more sympathy and more charity, Charlie’s normal reaction was “Can’t we open the window and give them something?”  I had to explain that that would cause a riot—we would be swarmed by dozens of others who saw the gifts, and traffic would stop.  “Well, let’s find another way to help them,” was his reply. 

This is the reason I start my sermons with the prayer “take away our hearts of stone and give us hearts of flesh.”  We were created with hearts of flesh, and through studied habit have learned to suppress them, turning them to stone.  I pray that God put back in us the hearts he made when he created us. 

Todays’ scriptures all have a deep unity.  The Hebrew Scripture tells us to help the poor, build justice, stand with the downtrodden and those needing our compassion.  The Psalm says that the righteous are compassionate, give to the poor, and show the light of God.  Paul says he preaches without sophisticate, fancy-dancy rhetoric, but he preaches Christ alone—Christ on the cross.  He doesn’t preach the triumphant, victorious Christ, but God suffering for us, showing us that love for others always comes with a high price.  Then the Gospel:  You are salt, you are light, says Jesus.  He doesn’t tell us to be salt and light.  He says we already are it.  And how do we show this?  “Let your light so shine that others may see your good works and glorify their Father in Heaven.”  We show this basic image of God in each of us by being compassionate as God is compassionate, by helping those in need, by loving and serving.  

Yesterday we had a Vestry retreat, and much of the time was spent just telling each other about ourselves.  What an accomplished, smart, informed, and dedicated group of people--just like the whole parish!  Look at the things we do in this community to help others:   food and friends, homeless shelter, social justice advocacy, pastoral care, Celia's House Hospice, the great artistic expression of our gifted musicians here and in the community--expression of the joy we have in life, and, often, of our spiritual yearnings and aspirations.  I feel blessed to be a priest here and learn from you. 

Social justice is a major theme of the Bible.  If you are talking just in terms of number of verses mentioning things, the Bible is much more concerned with how we establish fairness and decency in our laws and in our economy, and how we treat the oppressed, the excluded, and the poor, than it is about other things.  The Hebrew Scriptures say it again, and again, almost on every page:  help the poor.  The homily I had prepared today listed many passages at length, but, convicted by Paul's words of not preaching with fancy-dancy stuff, I set that aside:  if you want to read much of it, look at the homily I preached on these texts three years ago (http://ellipticalglory.blogspot.com/2017/02/break-every-yoke-epiphany-5a.html).   I am not repeating it now, because I don't want you to go away beating yourself up thinking you could do more.  Of course, we all could do more, but again, that is because we already are salt, we already are light.  Compassion and service comes out of our own living in the heart of God, and in letting God's light shine through our deeds.  In part it comes by seeing the image of God not only in ourselves, but in others. 

Social Justice is a biblical doctrine, and anyone who claims to follow the Bible must be willing to work for social justice.  Anyone who truly wants their faith and actions to be grounded in the Bible will make it a major part of their efforts.  For followers of Jesus, it’s that simple.   

You are the light of the world, the salt of the earth.  Follow the heart of God in you and show compassion.   Let the image of God show forth, and let your light shine.  Share your bread with the hungry, share your house with the homeless.  Welcome the refugee, the alien.  When you see someone with inadequate clothing, cover them.  Help the poor and oppressed, and take up their cause. Loose the bonds of injustice, undo the thongs of the yoke, let the oppressed go free, break every yoke.

Amen. 

Apologies and Non-Apologies (Midweek Message)

Apologies and Non-Apologies

Fr. Tony’s Midweek Message

February 5, 2020

It is a good rule in life never to apologize.  The right sort of people do not want apologies, and the wrong sort take a mean advantage of them. 

~P.G. Wodehouse, The Man Upstairs

A stiff apology is a second insult.... The injured party does not want to be compensated because he has been wronged; he wants to be healed because he has been hurt.

 ~G.K. Chesterton

Never ruin an apology with an excuse. 

~Kimberly Johnson

True remorse is never just a regret over consequence; it is a regret over motive. 

~Mignon McLaughlin, The Neurotic's Notebook, 1960

Most of us have heard the term “non-apology apology.”  It means when someone goes through the motions of saying they're sorry for something but in the process actually does the opposite of apologizing.  We all can think of governmental leaders, from both sides of the political spectrum, caught in wrong doing, who try to manage things by issuing what their press team calls an apology, but ruin it by saying things like “I’m sorry you got your feelings hurt,” or “I regret the consequences of my action.”  Or they deny wrong-doing altogether, while appearing to penitently address the problem.  Almost always, the motive is to manipulate things so that the lawyers don’t get involved: the wrong-doer thinks, “if I admit wrongdoing here, that will be taken as evidence of guilt or liability when this goes to court.” 

Examples are many:  think Bill Clinton’s initial reactions to Monicagate, our current President’s almost pathological inability to admit fault, the Japanese government’s repeated statements of “sympathy” for victims of sex-slavery in World War II, or the U.S. government’s own efforts to manage public relations fall out from atrocities in the many wars it has waged over the last half-century.   We often hear from company customer service teams “We apologize for any inconvenience this may have caused.”  All such “apologies” seem to never be accepted as apologies, and for good reason.

Inter-personal counselors, sociologists, and trained peace builders all know that “I’m sorry you got your feelings hurt” feels like an additional assault to the one victimized by the wrong-doing—the wrong in the situation is seen as a mere artifact of the victim’s imagination or excessive sensitivity.  What was meant to sound like an apology in essence is an accusation of fault, further shaming and blaming the victim. 

People who have looked carefully at this in a variety of cultures and settings agree that for an apology to truly be heard as an apology and have any hope of building reconciliation or restoring relationships, it must have certain common elements: 

1)    An admission of fault and guilt that accepts responsibility for the wrong-doing, without seeking any mitigating excuses or shifting of responsibility. Naming the wrong-doing specifically helps us weed out fake apologies:  we say we're sorry only for the things for which we had responsibility.   This takes away the insincerity that cheapens our "I'm sorries" and just encourages our victims to think, "there he goes again!" 

2)    A confession of what specifically was wrong in the action, i.e., what values or moral principles shared by the wrong-doer and the victim were violated.  Clearly stating what was wrong in what one did and admitting it is essential in accepting responsibility.  Naming specifically what was wrong in the act helps establish common ground with our victim--we can at least agree on what was wrong in what we did rather than blaming each other for vaguely defined wrong.  Words of explanation here can help clarify our motives and intentions, but only if they do not pour salt on the wound by trying to avoid responsibility. 

3)    An expression of remorse for the wrong-doing and the real harms caused the victim.   "I regret I hurt you" passes muster here; "I'm sorry you allowed your feelings to be hurt" does not.   

4)    Sincere efforts at restitution or righting the harms done, or if such is not possible, asking what the victim believes might help make things better. 

5)    A commitment to pursue such restitution, and an affirmation that the wrong, if continuing, will stop immediately, and a firm undertaking that it will not be repeated (expressed, again, in specifics rather than vague abstractions).  

In essence, for an apology to work as an apology, the wrong-doers must cast themselves on the mercy of the victims, without excuse, explanation, or trying to manipulate things and wriggle out of the problem.   If this is not the basic transaction, then what you are pursuing is not an apology.  It is a further assault.    

Jesus calls us to be peace-makers.  Jesus calls us to seek reconciliation.  He calls us to love our enemies and pray for those who harm us.  Learning how to take responsibility for our misdoings and apologize sincerely, learning how to make amends, and if amends are not possible to at least sincerely seek forgiveness, is the first step of following Jesus in the messy areas of human relationships. 

Grace and Peace,

Fr. Tony+

To Enlighten the Nations (Candlemas)

He Qi, The Presentation in the Temple

To Enlighten the Nations
Homily delivered on the Solemnity of the Presentation of Christ

(Candlemas)

The Rev. Fr. Tony Hutchinson, SCP, Ph.D.
2 February 2020; 9:00 a.m. Sung Mass before Parish Meeting
Parish Church of Trinity, Ashland (Oregon)
Readings:  Malachi 3:1-4 ; Hebrews 2:14-18 ; Luke 2:22-40 ; Psalm 84

God, give us hearts to feel and love,

take away our hearts of stone
 and give us hearts of flesh. Amen.

This morning, I woke to a particularly hopeless nightmare.  And no, I am not talking about Brexit or the acquittal of the President.  It was a real nightmare: In it, I was celebrating Eucharist in a Church that looked like Trinity, but not quite, having bits and pieces from various churches I have worshiped in over the decades.  I was going to read the Gospel because Deacon Meredith was off doing a children’s liturgy.  But things had not been set up quite right, and instead of a Gospel Book, it was some random service book dolled up to look like a Gospel.  I couldn’t find the text, something from John 5, but I didn’t know exactly which passage because I couldn’t find the text. 

I looked out in desperation and asked for a bulletin from which to read the Gospel.  But as I did so, I realized the congregation members were not people I knew at Trinity—they were all strangers, every single one.  And the first bulletin I was handed was from weeks before and had the wrong Gospel.  The next wasn’t even a bulletin—it was some tract from a religious sect.  As I struggled and the dead silence grew, I got more and more panicked as I looked and threw away bulletin after bulletin, wrong gospel after wrong gospel.  Meredith showed up at the door, and brought me a proper Gospel book, but it was stuck together and I couldn’t open it.  As I realized that no one in the pews had ever opened a bulletin or followed it, and had no idea why I was holding things up, a loud whisper came from a nearby pew:  “Just sit down and let us get on with the service!”  For that guy, at least, it didn’t matter that we couldn’t find the right Gospel or read it.   I woke up sweating, in turmoil, and very, very frustrated.

Here’s a little secret:  clergy often have anxiety dreams.  And they often involve failed liturgy.  Deacon Meredith told me just last week of one she had had.  

Today, February 2, is 40 days from December 25.   In strict Jewish Law, a woman goes into semi-seclusion for 40 days after giving birth to a son.  It is thus today that we celebrate the coming of Mary and Joseph with the baby Jesus to offer sacrifice at the Temple at Jerusalem.   There, the elderly Simeon and the prophet Anna welcome them and express joy at Jesus’ coming.  They have been “awaiting the Consolation of Israel,” the moment God would act to set all things right.  They recognize in this baby the great light, the fire of the Day of the Lord that would burn away all that was wrong with the world.  Simeon bursts out into a song of gratitude: “Thank God, now I can die in peace!”  It is the Nunc Dimittis that we sang at the start of the procession and that we read in the Gospel.

This day is seen as the end of the Christmas season, though the great light continues to shine and Epiphany themes last until Lent.  Called Candlemas, it is marked in the Church with a candle-lit procession celebrating that light, with the blessing of the candles, oils, and wicks to be used in Church in the coming year, and candles brought in by parishioners for use in their homes. Included among the candles to be blessed is the year’s Pascal Candle, to be lit at the Great Vigil of Easter and then used in all baptisms and funerals. 

 

The scriptures that we use today for this feast all emphasize the coming of the “Day of the Lord” with light and fire:   Malachi says that Yahweh’s messenger will come “suddenly to his Temple,” and burn out, drive out, pollution of the Temple ministers so that the offerings they present may be pure.  Traditionally, Christians have seen this as a prophecy of Christ’s incarnation, including his driving the money-changers from the Temple, and setting up a priesthood offering the bloodless and pure sacrifice of the Eucharist, a re-presenting of what Christ did for us, and does for us.

The Hebrews passage ties in with this, since it describes Jesus’s life work in images taken from the Temple system of burnt offerings.  He is described as the Great High Priest presenting in the Heavenly Temple, once for all, a sacrificial offering to remove sin guilt.   He is thus seen as superior to Jewish Temple cult, which had repeated sacrifices in a temple made by human hands.  The incarnation, ministry, sufferings, death, and resurrection of Jesus are seen as what Jesus offers to God to purge away our guilt as the sacrifices of the Temple purged guilt.  But it also purges away death and our fear of death. 

It is important to remember that sacrifice here is a metaphor.  In Hebrews, Jesus presents his sacrifice to God not on the cross or in the garden, but after the Ascension—when he enters into the Holy of Holies in the Heavenly Temple.

Christ coming suddenly to his Temple is the scene we have in the Presentation of Christ to Anna and Simeon.  Christ as a baby.  As Hebrews says, Christ took on flesh and blood in order to rescue us from death.  The incarnation, God taking on human flesh and the mortality that implies, itself is saving.  Jesus’ birth, life, sufferings and death, and his glorious conquering of death are all a package.   This is one of the great theological reasons that make it hard to reduce the glorious mystery of what Christ did to merely substituted punishment in the unjust torments he suffered before his death.   There are some passages that talk about Jesus’ blood being shed to purge our guilt.  But these are only part of the picture.  For everyone of them, there are four or five that talk about Jesus’s birth or resurrection as key in God rescuing us in Jesus. 

Thinking about Simeon and Anna, Former Archbishop of Canterbury Rowan Williams wrote, “Candlemas is a promise that Jesus will be there for those who don’t think they belong… the forgotten, the eccentrics, they people we’d rather not think about.  Jesus is the one who brings the forgotten and ignored into the circle of light.”  

I suspect that in my dream, the Gospel from John 5 was the story of the healing of the lame man in the pool of Beth-Zatha.  It was in my mind because we read it in morning prayer recently.  The man was excluded and unable to get into the healing waters because of competition from others looking out for number one.  And Jesus just heals him, just heals him, without even letting him know who he is.  Only later, when the man shares his joy with others, does Jesus seek him out and tell him.    This missing Gospel has the same message as that of Candlemas:  Jesus is there for us, and we should be there for each other.  Hopelessness and alienation come from our being absent from this great truth. 

“A light to enlighten the nations, and the glory of your people Israel.”   Jesus as light of the world lightens us, and in his light we see light.  In him, there is no darkness at all.  And that light, kindled in us, must shine out and bless those about us.  As Jesus taught in the Sermon on the Mount, “Let your light so shine that others may see your good works and glorify their Father in Heaven” and “You don’t light a lamp to hide it under a bushel basket, but to put it one a stand so that it fills the whole house with light.”  That’s where the Gospel hymn comes from:  “This little light of mine, I’m gonna let it shine… let it shine, let it shine, let it shine.”    

But this light isn’t little.  It’s the light of God himself, and fills the whole world. 

May we follow this Light to the Nations, find hope and joy in him, and bring through our deeds of love and kindness light to those about us.    

In the name of Christ, Amen.