St. Margaret's Sermon Archive
Lent IV - The Rev. Dr. Margaret Guenther 03/26/06
Numbers 21: 4-9
Ephesians 2: 1-10
Here we are at the midpoint of Lent: the novelty has worn off, and we are ready for spring, color, joy, feasting. CVS has been filled with Easter baskets for weeks. And here we are with a scary reading from the Book of Numbers: the children of Israel are lost in the desert, complaining about the food, and then punished for their bad humor with a plague of venomous snakes. Our lot is not so bad as the children of Israel in the wilderness. Snakes are rare around Dupont Circle, geographically at least we know where we are, and the somberness of Lent is a self-imposed time of reflection. But I suspect that in these edgy times we could all use some good news.
A bit of lore that threatens to be forgotten altogether: this fourth Sunday of Lent used to be a kind of break, known as Laetare Sunday or Refreshment Sunday. In those parishes as blessed as St. Margaret’s, Lenten purple or sackcloth is set aside for a lovely rose. In that bygone England of Merchant-Ivory films this was Mothering Sunday, when the overworked servants got an afternoon off to visit their mothers.
So this is a good day to lighten us, have a nice dessert and maybe visit an aged relative. But more importantly, it’s a good time to pause on our journey to Golgotha and take stock–look outward as well as inward.
T his passage from the letter to the Ephesians is particularly apt for a time of reflection. It is a wise letter; it could well be addressed to the Episcopal Church today, in these uneasy times as we yearn for clear answers in church and rest of life. It would benefit us to read, mark, learn and inwardly digest it. It deals with the big questions: Why are we here? Indeed: why are we? And what are we supposed to do?
If there is one clear message in the Letter to the Ephesians it is God’s promise that the faithful are assured of a secure place in God’s purpose, that–regardless of life’s uncertainties and perils–the God who made us and loves us holds us safely in God’s love.
I have a quarrel with the NRSV translation of this passage. The word for “walk” occurs frequently in the Letter to the Ephesians. In Jesus time this was a metaphor for the way one lived. So I would restate two crucial sentences in the language of the older version: “And you [Christ] made alive, when you were dead through the trespasses and sins in which you once walked, following the course of this world” AND For we are [God’s] workmanship, created in Christ Jesus for good works, which God prepared beforehand, that we should walk in them,
So let’s look at this bit of Paul’s letter as a hiker’s guide; to make sure that we are walking in the right direction. Walks are big these days–we walk for the homeless, we walk to find a cure for cancer, we walk to support or protest. Gandhi walked to protest British tyranny, and four decades ago black and white folk walked to Selma.
Powerful and useful as they are, those walks are largely symbolic But most of us don’t walk much these days, as a means from getting from here to there, and increasingly cars have devices that take the guesswork out of navigating. And of course, there is always MAPQUEST.
But our life in Christ is one long walk, and we need to be sure that we are headed in the right direction. To speak of our journey has become a cliche–I find myself wanting to drop to the floor and creep toward the door whenever I hear it. Yet cliches exist because they are so very true.
We may not have a map, but we are assured that God has a plan. I am reminded of this daily by the sign that I have posted outside my office. (I swiped it from a convent so I think its theology is sound.) It says: “Good morning. This is God. I will be taking care of everything today so I won’t need your help. Have a nice day.” It doesn’t mean that we are not adjured to be attentive or that God has no work for us –indeed, God seems to have plenty of work for us. But we are not in charge
God’s plan is strengthening, reassuring, and full of promise: we are already saved, held, loved, valued by God. This is not an invitation to complacency, but a challenge, to redirect our energy and passion, to let go of what the old words of the Prayer Book call “faithless fears and worldly anxieties”–even in a very anxious world.
God’s plan and promise remind us that all is gift. Paul writes, “ For by grace you have been saved through faith, and this is not your own doing; it is the gift of God–not the result of works, so that no one may boast.”
All is gift–this is a difficult concept for our high-achieving, acquisitive society. Surely, by my efforts, we have earned–and deserve–all the good things that come to us. When we are aware that all is gift, that indeed we own nothing–despite real estate and bank accounts and stock portfolios–we are compelled to grow in gratitude–gratitude to God and gratitude to our brothers and sisters, known and unknown, whose labor sustains us, indeed keeps us safe . Difficult as it is, indeed it is the work of a lifetime: we must learn to hold all things lightly, to broaden our perspective, to find peace and freedom in our transience.
Sometimes it is hard to acknowledge our giftedness; after all, people might think that we are boasting–just notice our self-deprecating response to compliments (even when we feel that they are well-deserved). It can be an illuminating Lenten exercise to make a list--I love lists!–of things great and small, tangible and intangible–that are clearly gifts from God.: your energy, your imagination, your creativity, your tenacity, your patience, your impatience, your vision–the list can go on and on. And then say thank you! (Sometimes I envision writing a new rite of confession, in which the “penitent” candidly acknowledges all of God’s gifts. The priest would listen carefully then ask, “Is that all?” Maybe then the “penitent” would back track and dig a little deeper.)
Claiming our gifts compels us to accept authority and to be good stewards of all that we have been given. Good stewardship is hard work; it sometimes calls for risk and almost always calls for vision and action.
What are we supposed to do with our gifts? Paul’s words are a call to action. He writes: For we are what God has made us–God’s workmanship–created in Christ Jesus for good works, which God prepared before hand, that we should walk in them.
It’s impossible to pass a day without hearing warnings about our physical unfitness. From all sides–TV, the print media, and those sternly admonitory health letters sent out by various medical schools--we hear that we are a nation of obese couch potatoes. That may be true, but I see a more serious, deeper challenge in Paul’s words to the Ephesians–and to us. There is no place for spiritual couch potatoes; we were created in Christ Jesus for good works, which God prepared beforehand, that we should walk in them. So it is time to get moving, to walk and work in service of the God who made us, loves us, and keeps us safe.
Ephesians 2: 1-10
Here we are at the midpoint of Lent: the novelty has worn off, and we are ready for spring, color, joy, feasting. CVS has been filled with Easter baskets for weeks. And here we are with a scary reading from the Book of Numbers: the children of Israel are lost in the desert, complaining about the food, and then punished for their bad humor with a plague of venomous snakes. Our lot is not so bad as the children of Israel in the wilderness. Snakes are rare around Dupont Circle, geographically at least we know where we are, and the somberness of Lent is a self-imposed time of reflection. But I suspect that in these edgy times we could all use some good news.
A bit of lore that threatens to be forgotten altogether: this fourth Sunday of Lent used to be a kind of break, known as Laetare Sunday or Refreshment Sunday. In those parishes as blessed as St. Margaret’s, Lenten purple or sackcloth is set aside for a lovely rose. In that bygone England of Merchant-Ivory films this was Mothering Sunday, when the overworked servants got an afternoon off to visit their mothers.
So this is a good day to lighten us, have a nice dessert and maybe visit an aged relative. But more importantly, it’s a good time to pause on our journey to Golgotha and take stock–look outward as well as inward.
T his passage from the letter to the Ephesians is particularly apt for a time of reflection. It is a wise letter; it could well be addressed to the Episcopal Church today, in these uneasy times as we yearn for clear answers in church and rest of life. It would benefit us to read, mark, learn and inwardly digest it. It deals with the big questions: Why are we here? Indeed: why are we? And what are we supposed to do?
If there is one clear message in the Letter to the Ephesians it is God’s promise that the faithful are assured of a secure place in God’s purpose, that–regardless of life’s uncertainties and perils–the God who made us and loves us holds us safely in God’s love.
I have a quarrel with the NRSV translation of this passage. The word for “walk” occurs frequently in the Letter to the Ephesians. In Jesus time this was a metaphor for the way one lived. So I would restate two crucial sentences in the language of the older version: “And you [Christ] made alive, when you were dead through the trespasses and sins in which you once walked, following the course of this world” AND For we are [God’s] workmanship, created in Christ Jesus for good works, which God prepared beforehand, that we should walk in them,
So let’s look at this bit of Paul’s letter as a hiker’s guide; to make sure that we are walking in the right direction. Walks are big these days–we walk for the homeless, we walk to find a cure for cancer, we walk to support or protest. Gandhi walked to protest British tyranny, and four decades ago black and white folk walked to Selma.
Powerful and useful as they are, those walks are largely symbolic But most of us don’t walk much these days, as a means from getting from here to there, and increasingly cars have devices that take the guesswork out of navigating. And of course, there is always MAPQUEST.
But our life in Christ is one long walk, and we need to be sure that we are headed in the right direction. To speak of our journey has become a cliche–I find myself wanting to drop to the floor and creep toward the door whenever I hear it. Yet cliches exist because they are so very true.
We may not have a map, but we are assured that God has a plan. I am reminded of this daily by the sign that I have posted outside my office. (I swiped it from a convent so I think its theology is sound.) It says: “Good morning. This is God. I will be taking care of everything today so I won’t need your help. Have a nice day.” It doesn’t mean that we are not adjured to be attentive or that God has no work for us –indeed, God seems to have plenty of work for us. But we are not in charge
God’s plan is strengthening, reassuring, and full of promise: we are already saved, held, loved, valued by God. This is not an invitation to complacency, but a challenge, to redirect our energy and passion, to let go of what the old words of the Prayer Book call “faithless fears and worldly anxieties”–even in a very anxious world.
God’s plan and promise remind us that all is gift. Paul writes, “ For by grace you have been saved through faith, and this is not your own doing; it is the gift of God–not the result of works, so that no one may boast.”
All is gift–this is a difficult concept for our high-achieving, acquisitive society. Surely, by my efforts, we have earned–and deserve–all the good things that come to us. When we are aware that all is gift, that indeed we own nothing–despite real estate and bank accounts and stock portfolios–we are compelled to grow in gratitude–gratitude to God and gratitude to our brothers and sisters, known and unknown, whose labor sustains us, indeed keeps us safe . Difficult as it is, indeed it is the work of a lifetime: we must learn to hold all things lightly, to broaden our perspective, to find peace and freedom in our transience.
Sometimes it is hard to acknowledge our giftedness; after all, people might think that we are boasting–just notice our self-deprecating response to compliments (even when we feel that they are well-deserved). It can be an illuminating Lenten exercise to make a list--I love lists!–of things great and small, tangible and intangible–that are clearly gifts from God.: your energy, your imagination, your creativity, your tenacity, your patience, your impatience, your vision–the list can go on and on. And then say thank you! (Sometimes I envision writing a new rite of confession, in which the “penitent” candidly acknowledges all of God’s gifts. The priest would listen carefully then ask, “Is that all?” Maybe then the “penitent” would back track and dig a little deeper.)
Claiming our gifts compels us to accept authority and to be good stewards of all that we have been given. Good stewardship is hard work; it sometimes calls for risk and almost always calls for vision and action.
What are we supposed to do with our gifts? Paul’s words are a call to action. He writes: For we are what God has made us–God’s workmanship–created in Christ Jesus for good works, which God prepared before hand, that we should walk in them.
It’s impossible to pass a day without hearing warnings about our physical unfitness. From all sides–TV, the print media, and those sternly admonitory health letters sent out by various medical schools--we hear that we are a nation of obese couch potatoes. That may be true, but I see a more serious, deeper challenge in Paul’s words to the Ephesians–and to us. There is no place for spiritual couch potatoes; we were created in Christ Jesus for good works, which God prepared beforehand, that we should walk in them. So it is time to get moving, to walk and work in service of the God who made us, loves us, and keeps us safe.