It seems two things are true this
time of year
—that the
days get shorter, and that Matthew’s Parables of the Kingdom of Heaven drop
into still greater gloom.
These parables are building, leading us
to the Passion of Jesus—the culmination, the centerpiece, of his Gospel.
Then the early church was left, like
these servants, these slaves—forced to function with an absent master, to struggle
on as disciples without Christ’s clear footsteps to follow. To wrestle with the
consequences of getting it wrong, of misusing the Grace of God given to them,
of wondering and speculating how their actions looked from the other side of
heaven.
Infusing all of that into these stories
given to them by Jesus—telling each other about the Kingdom of Heaven, what the
Rule of God was looking like in both good times and bad.
That’s what
these parables are about.
Let us pray.
In the last month or so the #MeToo
movement—women opening up about their experience of sexual harassment, has hit
the world like a spotlight sweeping over a dirty kitchen floor—stunning a herd
of cockroaches before they can escape back under the fridge and in the shadowy
cracks of the cupboards.
Powerful men in Hollywood, the Church,
Academia, Sports, Politics, Journalism, and Medicine have all been caught flat
footed and exposed—there may be actual consequences for their actions, there
may be a measure of justice for those they hurt. Perhaps the Kingdom of
Heaven is a little like that.
My cousin Anna from Minnesota was recently my houseguest—and I did warn her,
the Parsonage is a bachelor pad with 2 shedding cats in it. And she excused my
mess, but did leave me with Marie Kondo’s book The Life-changing Magic of
Tidying Up: The Japanese Art of Decluttering and Organizing…
I imagine there are 2 potential version
of me. One who can get past the
statement that “socks stored in your
drawer are on holiday” and reads through the book and gets something good
out of it
—and one who scoffs at the idea that socks
have feelings and puts the book into his “never read” pile.
That first version of Chris might take seriously his stuff and take the time to
ask what objects give him joy and which
do not, and gladly purge and pass on the things that aren’t doing it for
him.
The second version of Chris might not take the time to figure out what things
of his are important to him and thus be afraid
to let go of any of it.
The first would learn to let go of things,
for they weren’t his in the first place…
the second
would eventually need a storage unit
to fit everything in.
The one who let go would find joy,
the one who held tightly would not. Perhaps
the Kingdom of Heaven is a little like that.
Yesterday was National Adoption Day. A day when adoption agencies all across
the country push to finalize adoptions, and a day when families formed through
adoption tell their stories.
Yesterday at
the Union County Courthouse in Elizabeth, 9 families formalized their adoption;
one mother, Keisha Archibald, for whom this was her second adoption, said, “It’s not a job to me, it’s a purpose in
life.”
Similarly, Arthur Brooks—a fellow who writes about charitable giving—wrote,
“giving to charity is proven to make people happier, healthier, and richer—but
in truth, I don’t know or care what the adoption of my daughter has done to my
income or health—but my happiness? It spikes every time she looks at me and I
remember that magic day we met.”
Putting in the time and love it takes to raise a child, adding to it the
hurdles of the adoption process—it’s all nothing compared to the joy received
back double and more, the grandest of celebrations— Perhaps the Kingdom of Heaven is a little like that.
A homebound parishioner reading this sermon later in the week will think,
“That’s great, but my abilities are on the wane—what
can I do to fit into this story? Can I only be the servant who buries her
coin?”
Doesn’t she know, when one of our Sunday School students created a card for
her, and another went and visited her in the nursing home—they received so much,
you allowed
them to grow and make connections with people of different ages who weren’t
family
—you richly
blessed their life by opening up to them like that.
You cracked
open the Kingdom for them, so they could see it! Thank God. Perhaps the Kingdom of Heaven is a little like
that.
Margaret—this is your last day with us as Director of Music.
Can you
believe it will be just under 4 months? You’ve done so much in such a little
time. The gifts God has given you, you have made use of and passed on, so
generously.
The All
Saints Hymn Sing,
opening your home
to the choir,
offering up
whole new worship settings you’ve composed,
the leaven
your whole family has been to all of
us here at St. Stephen. Perhaps the Kingdom
of Heaven is a little like that.
And finally. Last week’s Agape Meal was amazing, at least for me as the Pastor.
You see… on a
typical Sunday so much of the service is me
doing all the Holy Things… right.
But Last
Sunday, I got to simply be an emcee of the Holy,
I was just
there to moving the crowd
—I just transitioned us from Holy Thing to Holy
Thing
—I wasn’t
doing any of it
—it was
plain, at least for me…
it was plain to
see that none of it was my doing, it was
all just gift,
all just the
things God was already doing here among us…
I’m
sure the Discipleship Team, heading up the service,
was
less aware of the sheer grace of things last week, but let me tell you
—God
is doing wonderful things in the lives of everyone here,
and
it is so good to take a long glimpse at it every now and again!
Perhaps the Kingdom of Heaven is a
little like that.
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