Sermon: Wicked Bad Tenants are Really Bad

October 7, 2017

The Rev. Mark Pendleton

Christ Church, Exeter

Harvard Art Museums / Fogg Museum | Bush-Reisinger Museum | Arthur M. Sackler Museum

Wicked Bad Tenants are Really Bad

Having been born and raised in Ohio, I have prided myself with having what I think is a non-descript broad Midwestern accent.  Though I have lived and studied for a time in the South, I never picked up too much of the drawl – rarely saying ‘y’all’ or ‘fixin’.  My years in central Connecticut did not impact me as much as my children, who did pick up the peculiar way locals there say the words ‘New Britain’ or ‘Latin.’  Now living in northern New England, I have yet to start speaking the way locals here pronounce words like ‘harbor,’ ‘lobster,’ ‘chowder’ or ‘awesome.’    

And then there is the quintessential slang word of this part of the word.  ‘Wicked.’ That student is wicked smart, or it is a wicked cold day or that game last night was wicked crazy.  It is the regional adjective turned adverb. Trying to cash in on the popularity of the phrase there are reality shows on television such as ‘Wicked Tuna’ filmed out of Gloucester, chronically the dangers of deep sea fishing.  

There was a time, centuries ago, here in New England when the word wicked was associated with demons and evil.  Many of us probably heard of the stories of the Salem Witch trials in late 1600’s: the word wicked deriving from the Old English word for witch.  

The Merriam-Webster dictionary goes back even further. “Wickedness, it seems, is an epidemic in children's literature and fairy tales. Cinderella has her wicked stepmother; the Queen in Snow White is often called the Wicked Queen, and of course, there's the Wicked Witch of the West in The Wizard of Oz, whose origin story forms the basis of the spinoff novel and musical Wicked.”

For the second consecutive week, we hear a parable about a vineyard – the tried and true Biblical image of a luxurious and prized part of the world created by and tended by God.  Unlike a forest of trees or a field of wild flowers, a vineyard does not just grow on its own.  It takes planting, pruning and care. It is a product of a relationship between the Creator and the created.   

Yet the Biblical vineyard is not paradise – it is no garden of Eden.  When things go bad, they go really bad.  God was a demanding landowner as it turns out.  The prophet Isaiah describes it this way: “When God expected grapes, why did the vineyard produce wild grapes?” (Isaiah 5:1-7).  “When the Lord expected justice, what God saw was bloodshed.” In response, the pruning and protecting took a pause – the vineyard became overgrown with briers and thorns and no water would rain down upon it.  God was not pleased. 

For so many of us who have tried so hard to disavow the angry God thinking and theology that we may have learned in parochial school or from Old School Old Time preachers, I wonder if there still might be something to gain from imagining a God who is not too pleased with the vineyard that was planted so long ago and lent out to those of us who live in it. 

Jesus tells a parable about some very wicked tenants.  Not the cool wicked Boston kind, but the evil wicked variety.  What were the wicked tenants guilty of in this story?  It all started out promising: there was a fence, a wine press, and a watchtower to guard against danger.  All the things necessary for a good harvest of grapes. The tenants who leased the land were left in charge to do what tenants do: care for the land.  At harvest time, the owner came a calling to collect the grapes.  These were pretty simple terms.  Care for what you are agreed to care for while the owner was away. Yet as we hear, the tenants were awful and cruel to anyone sent by the owner to collect. These wicked tenants beat them and killed them.  A clear break with one of the clearest commandments that Moses received from God: “you shall not murder.”  Even the son of the owner was not spared. They not only did not respect the son – the heir -- they threw him out and killed him. 

What is the point Jesus is trying to make? Who is the audience?  And where might we be in this story of judgement? 

We live in a time where evil and wicked acts can be broadcast right into our living rooms.  There is little escaping them. Cell phone footage. Endless YouTube clips. Today we will pray a litany for those who died last week in Las Vegas.

A month or so ago I mentioned that I was growing weary and tired of the news. From the responses I received at the back of the church I sensed there were others in that camp.  Since the events of 9/11 some 16 years I have been operating under the thesis that tragedy at that scale can bring about some really bad theology.  The kind of theology that can make one feel that we are powerless to act in a world where cruelty wages war with goodness.

I have accumulated some go-to responses over these years. 

“Be not afraid.”  Echoing Jesus.  I would cite how many times Jesus brought calm to a moment of panic and fear.  Promising to be us until the end of the ages, the Risen Christ stood in the breach with his believers and declared that death and evil will not overcome us. 

I have also gone the naming evil route.  Admitting that we in Episcopal Church don’t talk about a personified devil, any mention of evil is the writ-large kind -- left for institutional ism’s like racism or the phobias that distort our appreciation of the fullness of humanity: xenophobia or homophobia.  Citing the baptismal covenant, we strive to persevere in resisting evil.  At times, we have to name evil acts.

Another thing I’ve done is to focus on goodness. Small – random or intentional – acts of kindness to the people we meet every day to remind us how we are connected.  How humanity is still connected and that we are to see in the other and our neighbor the good we hope to achieve in our own lives.

The medieval Italian St. Catherine of Siena wrote this: “keep in mind that each of you has your own vineyard. But everyone is joined to your neighbors’ vineyard without dividing lines. They are so joined together, in fact, that you cannot do good or evil for yourself without doing the same for your neighbors.”  

For me, I try not to confuse optimism with hope.   Am I optimistic that our political leaders will find the common ground necessary to try to seek some kind of compromise on a whole range of issues – including if it at a possible to prevent another Las Vegas from happening?   Optimistic no.  Hopeful yes.  

Dr. Cornell West, a fixture on television during turbulent times, makes a claim for what he calls ‘audacious hope.’ “And it’s not optimism. I’m in no way an optimist. Optimism is a notion that there’s sufficient evidence that would allow us to infer that if we keep doing what we’re doing, things will get better. I don’t believe that. I’m a prisoner of hope, that’s something else.”

In facing what we face today – dislocation, division, uncertainly, and fear stoked by acts of terror and hate -- I put in a plug for church and worship. I’ve said: we need each other. To lean on in crises, to celebrate joys, to open us our spaces to the wider community, and to grow from the exercise and discipline of prayer.  Ancient meets modern: sing, pray, break bread, visit the lonely, be filled with God’s spirit and go out into the world a little bit more whole and hope-filled than when we entered this space. 

The judgement of the parable of the wickedly wicked tenants is harsh.  “The Kingdom of God will be taken away from you and given to a people that produces the fruits of the kingdom.”  “And when the chief priests and the Pharisees heard this, they realized that he was speaking about them.”

One of the harshest criticisms that one can make of another is to call that person careless.  To entrust something of value to a friend, who forgets about it or breaks it. To enter into a relationship with another person and to squander their trust with deception. 

While some might hear the Ten Commandments as God wagging God’s finger at humanity to keep them from messing up, they can also be seen as ways to care for our relation with God and each other.  Be faithful to the one who gave us live.  Take care of the relationships that make up our lives: don’t lie, be envious, take what is not yours, keep the promises we make.  Respect life in all of its forms.

We are given this one life.  Remember that Christians believe in Resurrection not reincarnation. This is our turn in God’s vineyard.  Let us take good care of what we’ve been given.  Let us not reject those who come to us with words that we need to hear: peace over war.  Trust over fear. Love over hate. Open hearts vs. closed minds.

Sermon for October 1, 2017: The Cross, the Flag, Standing and Kneeling

October 1, 2017

The Rev. Mark Pendleton

Christ Church, Exeter

The Cross, the Flag, Standing and Kneeling

Let’s look a little closer at the today’s reading from Philippians, (2:1-13) a letter of Paul when he was in prison to a community that was in distress.  No one is quite certain what was dividing the Christian believers in this ancient city -- some of them may have felt forgotten or ignored by the apostle.  Yet Paul knew something true then as it is today: when a community feels threatened or  insecure they can quickly start behaving in destructive ways towards one another.  So, Paul urged unity over division: “be of the same mind, being in full accord and of one mind.  Do nothing from selfish ambition or conceit, but in humility regard others as better than yourselves.  Let each of you look not at your own interests, but to the interests of other.” 

Why do those words seem so appropriate for us to hear and echo today – in our communities, our nation, our world?  We hear it so often that a narrative is settling in.  We are more divided now than ever.  People live in their own bubbles and do not engage in real conversation with others with whom they may not agree.  We hear of people feeling threatened, forgotten, attacked, marginalized, labeled, stereotyped, is there any guidance from the Scripture for us? 

Let’s take this past week for example. 

The watercooler in America is a place – a metaphor even – where people come together to discuss everyday life and events.  Co-workers might share what they did last weekend or give their take about who got voted off on “Dancing with the Stars.” In some parts of the country the barber shop is that kind of place, or the beauty parlor, the local McDonalds or diner -- or the Rotary Club meeting.  News, controversies, scandals, a little gossip thrown in – they merge at places where people gather, listen and talk.

If one gathered around that proverbial watercooler this past week, there was probably one dominant topic of conversation.  Sadly, in my opinion, it may not have been the devastation in Puerto Rico and the growing humanitarian crisis unfolding in this U.S. territory. Rather it seemed that many were talking about what NFL football players were doing or not doing during the singing of the National Anthem before last Sunday’s games.

This all began more than a year ago when one player, Colin Kapaernick, took a knee during the playing of the Anthem to call attention to racial injustice – specifically police shootings of black men.  The controversy exploded when politics and sport converged, as the President weighted into the issue.   We saw entire NFL teams locking arms during the singing of the National Anthem played before the games, while some players took a knee.

Sports have long been seen, or perhaps idealized, as that one place in American life where people could come together to root for their team – celebrate victories or agonize defeats -- together.  Last Sunday our divided country seemed even more so, with fans and players taking sides, cheering some and booing others.  It was a mess.  What are you and I to make of all of this?

Christians know a few things about symbols and gestures.  As Episcopalians, we certainly do a lot of standing, sitting, bowing, and kneeling – ‘pew aerobics’ as the late Robin Williams called it.  When we sing hymns we stand, when we listen to preachers and Scripture we sit, and we confess our sins we kneel.   This nothing new.   (Ps 95:6-7) O come, let us worship and bow down, let us kneel before the Lord our Maker!

Many take on the practice as bowing in front of the altar as a gesture of honor and reverence for what we believe takes place in this space: bread and wine becoming the Real Presence of Christ in the Eucharist.  Some, especially if raised Roman Catholic, still genuflect – bending or touching one knee to the floor – as a gesture of worship and reverence.

Symbols are powerful.  They represent and define what words cannot fully describe. 

The main symbol of our faith is, of course, the cross.  Yet even this sacred symbol of the Christian faith – representing the death of Jesus to take away the sin of the world and leading to his Resurrection -- is not exclusively our own.   The cross is worn as a fashion accessory by rock stars and fashion models. It is painted, tattooed, sculpted by people of great, little or no faith.  I think of the haunting images of the rows and rows of white crosses at Arlington National Cemetery and Omaha Beach in Normandy France. I conjure up images of the K.K.K. setting crosses on fire in fields or in front of the home of those they want to threaten or intimidate. 

Symbols, as powerful as they can be, are not always the property of those who most believe in and care about them.  I believe that this is as true of the Christian cross as it the American flag and National Anthem.  They are shared by all – each of us drawing from them levels of inspiration and meaning. 

When a community is under stress, experiencing hardship, loss, disappointment, it is not surprising that anxiety levels go up.  At some point that distrust and anger gets reflected inward.  I’ve certainly seen and experienced churches go through this -- attendance and giving drops, clergy come and go, factions leave over the slightest controversy or slight.   

Many believe that we in this country and the world are living through a time of great dislocation and uncertainty. People are genuinely fearful of the future. Workers fear being replaced by technology.   We have fought two recent wars with all-volunteer troops where sacrifices have fallen disproportionally upon poorer communities and proud military families. Our nation’s nerves are raw.  In these moments, it can become harder and harder to presume the best intentions of those with whom we do not see eye to eye.

If good advice was the only thing that Paul could offer to the Philippians, Romans, Corinthians and other, I don’t believe they could have sustained the communities they way his words did.  He pointed them to Christ.  He reminded them of why and in whom they believed. 

Christ Jesus “was in the form of God and did not regard equality with God as something to be exploited.  Another way to think about this: If you know you are God’s son on earth, you might be tempted to use this perk to your advantage.  To live an easy comfortable life.  To eat, drink and be merry. To conquer and rule.  To accumulate, dominate and preside.  To retire to the countryside and live out a peaceful retirement and die of an old age surrounded by those who loved you.  To float over problems and discomforts without even touching the dirt and the grime of this world. We know, this was not Jesus’ chosen life.  He emptied himself, taking the form of a slave.  People cursed him, drove him out of their towns, judged him as a heretic, and maligned him for the company he kept.   Yet he humbled himself and became obedient to the point of death. 

If despised or rejected in his life, God also lifted him to heaven and gave him the name that is above every name, “so that at the name of Jesus ever knee should bend.”

Every knee should bend – interesting image. As a subject would bend a knee to her king or queen.  As a sign of respect and honor.  But this king would wear a crown of thorns not a crown encrusted with jewels and he would ache for the injustices of this world.

If, in a free society, we are not in full control of our symbols or gestures, we may never agree on the other’s views or actions.  And that can discourage and frustrate. 

What I hope we can learn to control, or at least own, is how we behave and respond.  “Do nothing out of selfish ambition or conceit, but in humility regard others as better than yourselves.”  That was the sameness of mind and being of full accord that Paul was getting at. 

What would Jesus do?  That pesky, repetitive and disruptive question comes around to us again and again. 

I said last week how many of Jesus’s parables show his concern for the least, the lowly, the last, the lost and the losers of society.  He emptied himself to become like the least and the lowly. 

Exodus 17:1-2  In the wilderness after the Exodus, there was no water for the people to drink. The people quarreled with Moses, and said, “Give us water to drink.”  People are thirsty for water that truly quenches our thirst for a more joy-filled and God grounded life.

There were no watercoolers in Jesus’ day. But there were wells.  It was at well where Jesus met a woman with a checkered past.  In the book that we have been reading midweek for our Living in Faith series, The Very Good Gospel by Lisa Harper writes that: “a well serves as a metaphor for a place of legacy and love. It is a place where deals are made and people are set apart for God’s purposes.  Jesus sat by Jacob’s well, and the nameless Samaritan woman – representing a cross section of ethnicities and living on the margin of the margins – met him there.”

So, the next time we are at those water coolers, barber shops, bus stops, and lunch breaks, as we engage and wade into the latest topic of public conversation and controversy, may our faith ground and inform us.  With all the conversation about standing or kneeling: who stands at the center of our lives?  Who are we willing to stop out and stand up for?  And what injustices can we no longer remain silent about and accept as given.    What heartache and longing will bring us to our knees?  

Paul was right: God is at work in us. 

The Cuban Episcopal Church Hoping to be Return to the Episcopal Church

They never wanted to leave.  No one, really, asked them for your opinion.  Yet in 1966, after having lost roughly 75% of their church membership to exile in the U.S., the House of Bishops voted to make the Missionary District of the Episcopal Church in Cuba autonomous. 

Autonomy was difficult.  Cut off from trade with the United States, so-called autonomy for the church in Cuba was more isolation than freedom.  Remaining faithful to the witness of the Gospel under Marxist anti-religion education and propaganda, the Episcopal Church continued to worship, baptize, bury, pray and visit the homebound and sick. 

Thirty years ago I had the opportunity to spend a year in Cuba as a seminarian and driver for the dean of the cathedral.  My son retraced that experience in 2013 as Young Adult Service Corps (YASC) volunteer – later meeting his soon-to-be Cuban wife.  Cuba is personal to my family and me.

Over the last four years I have led four trips from New Hampshire to Cuba to continue making connections, bringing down water filtrations systems for churches, and worshiping and praying with the faithful.  From the Obama to Trump administrations, the average Cuban has become inoculated and a bit numb from not knowing what the future will bring from its mighty neighbor to the north.  The contacts we make are the life-blood to an isolated island and independent church wanting to return to the family fold. 

A Task Force on Cuba, on which I serve, is charged with writing a resolution for General Convention in 2018 to welcome the Episcopal Church of Cuba back into The Episcopal Church.  They would, if approved, join other dioceses in the Caribbean such as Haiti, Dominican Republic and Puerto Rico.  A Friends of the Episcopal Church of Cuba organization has been founded to be a one-stop resource and network for those wanting to help create a future of hope with our faithful sisters and brothers.  You can learn more at https://www.friendsofeccuba.org/

As I write this update, our efforts are focused on helping the church in Cuba respond to the devastation of Hurricane Irma that stalled on the northern central coast of the island, causing unprecedented damage.  We stand with them, in good times and trial, to show that they are not alone. And they bless us. 

Havana, Cuba the day after Hurricane Irma

Standing with the Undocumented

I know what people say.  "They" are here illegally.  Our laws should be followed.  Not everyone can be let into this country.Others go further: Build a wall.

And, to me, it is clear that the system is broken.  A few years ago the U.S. Senate approved a bi-partisan comprehensive immigration reform bill that was never brought up for a vote in the House, where many believed it would have been passed. And signed by the President.

And here we are. A tragic mess.  

From the work I have been doing in the jail in Dover, what concerns me are the many traffic stops taking place in NH. Profiling immigrants.  These are not all the "bad hombres" mentioned in the campaign.  

Our society needs a real and wide conversation about how many advanced countries require and benefit from a vast pool of immigrant labor to do the work that many native born do not want to do. I'm not talking about I.T. professionals or engineers. I'm talking about the souls who work in our fields, pick blueberries in Maine, apples in New Hampshire and milk dairy cows in Vermont. They work in grinding poultry processing plants in Maryland and Arkansas and beef and pork processing mega-plants in the Mid-West.  Dangerous and tedious work. 

We can argue politics and demographics and laws, and I hope followers of Jesus will not lose sight of compassion and justice. Scapegoating outsiders for the many ills our society and culture carries risks.  

In the end, I know we as a nation of immigrants and ingenious peoples, can do better.  

Mark+ 

Sermon from August 27, 2017

August 27, 2017

The Rev. Mark Pendleton

Christ Church, Exeter

Taken by Steve Portalupi on August 21 in Kentucky 

Our Fragile Island Home

The great eclipse of 2017 came and went this week. It was the first to be seen from coast-to-coast in nearly 100 years with its shadow racing across the surface of the earth at 2000 mph.  We will our chance in seven years when the next solar eclipse will pass directly over the North Country here in New Hampshire. 

Of the many quotes and comments from those who experienced the great eclipse in person, there were common threads:  awe, wonder, community.

Two of our members from Christ Church, Elaine and Steve Portalupi, drove over 2000 miles and back for 2 minutes and 32 seconds that they said did not disappoint. Elaine commented how it was such a moving experience it brought tears to her eyes – “during totality I felt like I was touching the face of God.”    Steve: “It was both profound and exhilarating. Seeing and feeling the effects of our moon's interaction with our sun made me feel much more a part of our solar system.”

An Episcopal priest whose church was in the sweet spot in Kentucky picked up those themes: “It was like a moment of seeing the holy. And you had nothing to do with it. It was just a gift. It’s like you are looking at perfection” (The Rev. Alice Nichols).  During those 2 brief moments of totality, people everywhere cheered, howled, applauded, cried, danced, stood with their mouths gapping open. An event of a lifetime.  The ultimate bucket list event.  “Magical,” “spiritual,” “more than I could have ever imagined.” 

What was so clear to me was how the goal for so many onlookers was not to find a remote and solitary place to see the moon pass in front of the sun, but to experience this natural wonder alongside others.  Entire football stadiums filled -- churning with anticipation. 

For two brief minutes, millions of people in our country looked into the heavens and were elevated and drawn out of and away from their daily concerns.  The weight of the world’s problems lifted for a brief time. There was little talk of politics, terrorism, hatred or war.  Bill Nye the Science Guy gave the best advice leading up to event: don’t spend too much time looking through a camera or phone: “just be in the moment.” 

One of the more memorable phrases in the Eucharistic prayer C in our Prayer Book and gave rise to its nickname as the “Star Wars” version is: At your command all things came to be: the vast expanse of interstellar space, galaxies, suns, the planets in their courses.” And then: “this fragile earth, our island home.”

 As we witness the change in weather patterns and rising global temperatures – we see the enormous amount of rain being dumped over Texas as Hurricane Harvey pounds the coast -- perhaps the liturgical scholars who wrote Prayer C were onto something true.  This earth is fragile, it is home to all of us.  

This past Monday I imagined what the God of creation would say to humanity. Looking down at so many of people wearing those funny glasses.  “Is this what I have to do to get your attention?  Send the moon every few years and place it between the earth and the sun for a few minutes so that the light of day turns into darkness? Is that what will bring you together, stop working and go outside, make you realize your place in the vast universe, bring tears to your eyes and smiles on your faces and experience something of nature with millions of other people?  OK, then.  That’s what I will do. 

We know and believe now that God does not live up there and the devil down under the earth as our ancient ancestors did -- God is beyond space and time -- but looking heavenward for inspiration and meaning is still worth our collective effort.    

We stand in need a constant reminding of our place and purpose in this world.   Who God is, what God does, and what we ourselves are called to do and become to respond to this gift.

Paul wrote his most theological letter to the emerging church in Rome:  ²Do not be conformed to this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your minds, so that you may discern what is the will of God—what is good and acceptable and perfect. 

What might this mean to us?  Do not be conformed: be transformed. 

We spend a lifetime essentially conforming to what we should be. It starts early. Most of us, I believe, grow up as children seeking the affection and approval of our parents. Many us desire to be accepted within circles of friends.  So we incorporate ways of living to conform. Be kind.  Play nicely with our siblings.  Share. Don’t be rude.  Later on: study hard. Pay attention. Pick the right kinds of friends. Stay in your lane. Don’t color outside of the lines. Know your place.  

We spend a great deal of time and energy conforming to what our society and world tell us makes one happy and successful and good.  We know that advertisers paint a skewed version of perfection: the perfect body, family, career and life. The hard part is moving beyond what we are sold and told.    

Paul knows the Gospel and imagines a different way of living in the world. True transformation is a process that gets kick-started by this God we are all trying to understand more deeply and be in relationship with.

It is wonderful to stand in awe of the creation God has made: mountaintop experiences, eclipses, watching the sun rise and set over the ocean, enjoying the fruits of earth.  It is good to be transformed and changed by the awe and wonder that the God of creation forever activates.  And, let us be as inspired as we look into the heavens, to also look at our fragile island and those with whom we share this island home. 

We are to care for and about fragile things and people – the faces of God.  We can never forget those Jesus cared about:  the hungry, poor, sick, marginalized, sinner, outcast, and the stranger.  Who are they today?  The single mother, the disabled veteran living with the trauma of war, the transgender youth trying to figure out why she never felt in her own body what the world told him to feel, the immigrant who fled a violent homeland, risked his life and that of his children to work on our farms, pick our crops, and do other back breaking and tedious work that many here would rather not do. 

The late English writer G.K. Chesterton wrote this: “We should always endeavor to wonder at the permanent thing, not at the mere exception. We should be startled by the sun, and not by the eclipse. We should wonder less at the earthquake, and wonder more at the earth.”

Permanent things:  the sun, the earth, our island home.  It is all we have.