An Advent Conspiracy

It’s around this time of year-- the end of November and the beginning of December-- when I always start to get a little exasperated by the fact that before we are even able to finish the leftover turkey and cranberry sauce in our kitchens, the onslaught of Christmas marketing begins.  I get exasperated because, as Christians, the amount of marketing around Christmas can sometimes distract us from the fact that before December 25^th roles around, there is actually another very important season to celebrate—the season of Advent. 

The word Advent literally means “coming,” and it is a time when we prepare our hearts and spirits for the coming of God’s love into the world.  Yet in the midst of family obligations, travel plans, school Christmas concerts and all of the other events of the holiday season, it’s easy to forget that our primary focus during Advent should be on God.  We certainly wouldn’t know this from all the slick ads we see online, in the newspaper, or on TV—all of which are geared towards encouraging us to spend more time at the mall and buy more things we don’t need.  Therefore it’s up to us-- as Christians living in a post-Christian culture—to be intentional about living our lives a little differently than the massive consumer frenzy would have us do. 

That is in fact the mission of an internet campaign entitled “Advent Conspiracy.” They put it this way: “What was once a time to celebrate the birth of a savior has somehow turned into a season of stress, traffic jams, and shopping lists.  And when it's all over, many of us are left with presents to return, looming debt that will take months to pay off, and this empty feeling of missed purpose. Is this what we really want out of Christmas? What if Christmas became a world-changing event again?”  

And that is why, this Advent season, I would like to invite everyone to join with me in an experiment.  I would like to invite everyone to join the Advent Conspiracy.  Rather than letting ourselves get carried away with the superficial trappings of the holiday season-- rather than letting ourselves get overwhelmed by all the tasks we have on our to-do list-- let’s live differently this holiday season.  Let us embrace the true meaning of Advent and Christmas by worshiping more fully, spending less but giving more, replacing consumption with compassion, and actively sharing God’s love with all.  There are many ways to do these things, but here are some suggestions.  To worship more fully, consider spending time in contemplation, prayer, or scripture study rather than taking that extra trip to the mall.  To spend less but give more, consider making a small portion of your gifts be contributions to organizations like Heifer International, whose gifts can help poor families rise out of poverty.  Or simply spend less money and give more of yourself to the people you love.  For even more ideas about how to join the conspiracy, visit the campaign’s website at www.adventconspiracy.org  

The season of Advent is meant to be a time of spiritual renewal and active expectation as we celebrate “God with us.”  We are meant to watch, wait and pray, and to be alert for the movement of God’s spirit in the world.  Join me in the conspiracy, and let’s see if Christmas can once again change the world.

The Risky Business of Sharing Our Gifts: Matthew 25:14-30

Generally speaking, when it comes to the parable of the talents, I find myself in agreement with biblical scholar Phyllis Tickle, who has written in regards to this parable: “Welcome to one of the most difficult and contrary passages in our entire canon. One which, on the surface at least, is fraught with unattractive paradox.” It’s not too difficult to understand why she says this. To begin with, the harsh judgment that is carried out upon the third servant seems so unlike the merciful and forgiving God that we so often proclaim. Furthermore, it’s hard to understand why the servant is punished so harshly for simply trying to keep his master’s property safe. After all, a “talent”, in Jesus day, was no meager amount of money. For the average daily worker, it was the equivalent of about 15 years worth of wages. It was the largest unit of currency imaginable, and thus for a servant, it was an incredible amount of wealth to be responsible for. Who can blame him for wanting to keep that money safe? It’s not as if he spent the money— squandering it on fine clothes and food for himself. So why is he punished so harshly?

And then finally there are those troublesome last few lines—“For all those who have, more will be given; but for those who have nothing, even what they have will be taken away.”

I would imagine that by now, most of you have heard of the Occupy protest movement which began on Wall Street several months ago and has since spread to almost every major city in the country. The protesters call themselves the 99%-- referring to the growing income disparity between the richest 1% in our country and everyone else. One sign that I have seen quite a few religious protesters carrying is one that says: Jesus is with the 99%.

That seems easy enough to understand-- after all Jesus stands with the poor, the outcast, the common man… right?

But if that is true, then what is the last line of this parable all about? It almost sounds as if Jesus is positioning himself with the 1%. It sounds an awful lot like the reality of our current economy— the rich get richer, and the poor get poorer. For those who have much, more will be given. For those who have little, even what they have will be taken away.

So what do we make of all this? How can we possibly make sense of this parable?

To answer that question, there are some who would argue that it is merely a story about how we should always be willing to share the skills and talents that God has given us. That if we don’t use those skills and talents, they might grow stale or wither away. Now I don’t necessarily disagree with that idea, but I’m not sure that message alone really gets to the heart of what Jesus is saying. Remember that a “talent” in Jesus’ day was not a reference to gifts or skills, but was in fact a ridiculously large amount of money. Jesus consciously chose to use as an example the largest unit of currency he could think of— he must have done so for a reason.

Knowing this, there are others who argue that this really is a story about money--about the responsible investment of material wealth. Indeed, this is a popular parable for annual stewardship campaigns, and it does contain a valuable message about the need to use our resources in service of the gospel, rather than simply store them up to protect them. As today is stewardship Sunday, it would be very easy for me to tell you that this parable is about taking our financial resources and investing them in the church. But I’m not going to do that, because I don’t think that tells the whole story either.

To really get at the core of what Jesus is trying to tell us here, I think it’s first helpful to look at where this parable occurs in the larger narrative. This is in fact the last parable that Jesus ever told. Jesus tells his disciples this story right before heading into Jerusalem, where he knows he will likely be arrested and condemned. He knew he would be leaving them, and he wanted to give them something that would prepare them for the journey ahead. At the heart of this message to his disciples was a deep and profound challenge. I am going away, he is telling them, but I am leaving you with the great responsibility of carrying on in my name. I am leaving you with a gift greater than any you could imagine-- good news for the poor, salvation for all people-- in other words— the gospel— and I’m entrusting you to do something with it.  That is why Jesus uses the example of the “talent”—a measure of wealth that is practically unimaginable. Because the gift that he is really talking about— God’s grace and love— is also a gift that is immeasurable. And as recipients of such a gift, we are not meant to hide it away or keep it to ourselves, but to do something with it. 

And so at the end of the day, this is indeed a parable about stewardship. But it’s not just stewardship of our money. It’s stewardship of the gospel itself. And I suspect that for many of us, this is actually a lot harder than simply putting money in the offering plate every Sunday.  As our parable suggests, there is a certain amount of risk involved in sharing God’s greatest gift. Indeed, if it was easy and risk-free, I don’t think we would be living in the kind of world that we do-- a world where so many people are concerned more with their own security and comfort, than they are with the millions of people who live in poverty all over the world. A world where instead of sharing what we have and contributing towards abundant communities, we safeguard what belongs to us. We draw lines to delineate between what’s mine and what’s yours, what’s ours and what’s theirs.  We create boundaries to say who's in, and who's out.  This is a world that is desperate for a gospel of grace and hope.  This is the gospel we have been given, and we are meant to share it.  Indeed, we have a responsibility to share it.

Make no mistake--what Jesus is asking us to do here is not easy. And it can be scary to recognize the enormity of the gift that God has entrusted us with, and the responsibility that gift carries with it. Indeed it is fear which causes the third servant to bury his talent instead of using it. It is fear which has the potential to paralyze God’s gift within each of us-- fear that we don’t have enough, that we can’t make a difference, or that we are powerless. Fear of what other people will think of us, that we may be rejected, that we may fail. But if we draw back in fear, we lose our moral imagination for what is possible, we become timid, and we lose hope. We lose the ability to believe that God’s grace can truly transform lives. And at that point, it is we—not God-- who have consigned ourselves to the darkness.

In contrast with the fearful reactions that can hold us back, however, I want to share with you one illustration of what can happen when we are willing to put ourselves on the line in order to share God’s love and grace.

A few years ago, a group of homeless families in North Philadelphia decided to take up residence in an abandoned church. They had been living in a tent city a few blocks away, but the conditions outside had become unlivable— with rats and flooding making it especially dangerous for children. The church had been vacant for years, and so, the families moved in. Unfortunately, the denomination that owned the building was more concerned with protecting its property than caring for the homeless. As soon as they got wind of what was going on, they announced that the families had 48 hours to get out, or get arrested.

Well, a handful of Christians heard about this. They didn’t think that the church should be kicking homeless people out of a building that they weren’t even using. And so they decided to do something about it. At first it was maybe a dozen people who came to the church with sleeping bags and food. The said “we stand with you, and if they arrest you, they’ll have to arrest us to.” They took a big risk. It could have been a total failure. It could ended the next day, with the protesters getting arrested and the homeless people back out on the street. But that’s not what happened. Here is what did. 

The media found out what was going on, and word slowly started to get out that a church was kicking out homeless people. People from the neighborhood came by with donations of food and blankets. College students got involved and started camping out with the families. The fire department came by with smoke detectors, and helped the families make the building safe so they wouldn’t be evicted for violating fire codes. The church, once abandoned and locked up on Sunday mornings, became alive again. Sounds of music and laughter and praise rose up out of the building. People from all walks of life worshiped side by side-- homeless people and college students, activists and businesspeople. Eventually, after many weeks of continued action, the families held a press conference. And having watched all of this unfold on the news, people were moved by compassion and wanted to help. Some people donated homes. City agencies helped others find permanent housing. People pulled together to make sure everyone was taken care of.**

This is a true story. And it’s an incredible example of how grace can multiply and transform lives, if only we are willing to risk giving it away.

And so, the question we have to ask ourselves this morning is this: is our faith life about safety and reassurance and security? Or is it about risk-taking and openness and courage? Are we willing to let the gospel loose in the world—to invest our gifts in others, to make the invisible God visible? This morning, as we celebrate Stewardship Sunday, do we see ourselves merely as stewards of an institution? Or do we see ourselves as stewards of the gospel?

As we ponder these questions, I ask you to ponder one more. God has entrusted us with unimaginable gifts— the gifts of love, grace, and indeed the gift of life itself. God has entrusted us— despite all of our imperfections, and faults, and failings— with the ministry of grace and reconciliation. God has made us partners in that work. And so it would seem that the biggest risk taker of all, is in fact God. God has given us the gifts of life and grace so that we might begin to use those gifts to create more life, to create more grace. And if God is willing to take that risk with us, well then, what is stopping us from doing the same?

 **Read more about this story in "The Irresistible Revolution"  by Shane Claiborn.  Buy it here!

Becoming Pilgrims: A Meditation on Mark 1:14-20

In the far northwest corner of Spain there is a path which dates back to the 8th century-- it is a path that has been traveled by hundreds and thousands of men, women, and children. They come from all over Spain, France, Italy, and in fact from all over the world. These travelers walk for days, sometimes through blazing sun and dust, other days through rain and mud. At nightfall they stop to share bread and a simple meal with other travelers that they have met on the road. They nurse their sore and blistered feet, stretch their aching backs, and prepare to do it all over again the next day. They are pilgrims. Pilgrims traveling to one of the most famous pilgrimage sites in the world— the Cathedral of Santiago de Campostela. They come for many reasons-- some desire a miracle for themselves or a loved one, others feel the need for atonement over some past wrong. Most however, simply come to experience God on the journey. They come to connect to something larger than themselves, and ultimately, they come to be transformed.

Here at Park Church, you are also pilgrims-- though perhaps not quite in the same way. 500 years ago, to speak of pilgrimage was to speak of a physical journey to a sacred site— a cathedral or a shrine-- a physical place that was thought to be of special spiritual significance. In today’s modern world, however, we don’t necessarily attach the same kind of spiritual power to buildings or shrines. To be a pilgrim in today’s world has a much broader meaning. Writer Gregg Levoy defines pilgrimage as: “spending time searching for the soul— moving towards something that represents to us an ideal— truth, beauty, strength, or transcendence. For religious people, it is a journey towards deeper knowledge of God-- towards an understanding of God’s direction for our lives and discernment of where the Holy Spirit is leading us next. At its core, the word pilgrimage means simply a crossing place, or a point of transit.

Here at Park Church, you are also pilgrims. You are at just such a crossing place. You are pilgrims who have just completed one journey— that of seeking a new pastor- and are on the brink of beginning yet another. A journey of discovering who God is calling you to be as you move forward into the future. In many ways, it’s exciting to be pilgrims— on the brink of new adventures, full of hope and possibility about what is to come. But it’s not always easy to be a pilgrim either. Being pilgrims on a journey implies that there is work to be done, hazardous roads to be navigated, and uphill struggles to be overcome before one can arrive at the destination. Consider Jesus’ disciples— whom we hear about in this morning’s gospel message. Responding to Jesus’ call to leave their nets, they get up out of their boats--not knowing where they are going-- but willing to start their own pilgrim journey. A journey that would prove to be sometimes joyful, often bewildering, and occasionally even treacherous. In the end, however, it was a journey that brought them up close and personal with the living God in their midst.

Now there are times, upon hearing this remarkable moment in the gospel-- this moment when the disciples decide to leave everything behind to follow this man named Jesus, when I start to feel a little unsure of myself. If it had been me— I wonder-- would I have had the courage to do what they did? To leave everything behind to follow a man I barely knew? Is it all or nothing, we may ask ourselves? Can we really do this?? It’s natural, I think, before embarking upon a pilgrimage, to doubt ourselves. To doubt whether we have the capability to follow through with the journey. Maybe we don’t believe we are capable of the kind of total transformation and devotion that we read about in these old stories. Maybe we think our lives are just too full of other things-- work, family, financial obligations. And so we hesitate. But it’s important to remember that the disciples didn’t become perfect followers of Jesus overnight. Many of the stories that follow this one are not nearly as inspirational or impressive. There are stories in which the disciples misunderstand Jesus, question him, disappoint him, and even betray and deny him. It’s not until much much later in the story before the disciples really understand what they are meant to do. They didn’t know where they were going or how they were going to get there. And just like any pilgrims, they encountered plenty of obstacles, and made more than their share of mistakes along the way. But the important thing for us to keep in mind as we stand at the crossing point of our pilgrimage, is that they took that first step. They got up out of their boats and started the journey. One step at a time. So it is with us. We may hesitate before setting out on the path before us, but we can always find confidence in the knowledge that we don’t have to get there overnight. We don’t have to be perfect. We don’t have to have it all figured out. That, in fact, is what the journey is all about. And so, the crucial question we must ask ourselves— having stepped out onto the road-- having recognized that we too are pilgrims on this journey-- is what exactly are we journeying towards? What is it that we are seeking? This morning I would like to suggest two things that I believe are at the heart of Christian pilgrimage-- vocation and transformation.

First, in seeking vocation, we are seeking answers to two very important questions: “Who are we?” and “What is God calling us to do?” In the words of one scholar, seeking vocation means to attempt to discover “our place in the world, what God desires us to do, and the ability to do that work with passion, purpose, and pleasure. Seeking vocation means moving towards God’s direction for our lives.” Now of course this doesn’t mean that we give up all of our own dreams and aspirations in order to pursue someone else’s agenda for our lives. Being pilgrims seeking vocation means discovering (and perhaps sometimes rediscovering) and cultivating all the unique gifts that God has given us, and finding ways to share those gifts with others. My favorite definition of vocation comes from theologian Frederick Buechner, who said that vocation is where “our greatest joy meets the world’s deepest needs.” It’s about finding those things that bring us the most fulfillment and satisfaction, and then discovering where that lines up with the needs we see in the community and in the world around us.

Which brings me to the second thing that we seek as Christian pilgrims—transformation. On the road to finding our vocation, we open ourselves up to deep and meaningful personal transformation. Asking who we are as Christians, and seeking to discover God’s purpose for our lives, will bring us into closer relationship with God and with ourselves. But that’s not all we are after. Seeking vocation is not just a journey towards self-discovery and personal meaning— though it surely is that. To truly become a pilgrim, following in the way of Christ, our identity becomes rooted in something so much greater than just ourselves. We become part of a larger story— a story of people whose vocation includes the work of transformative work of hospitality, welcoming the stranger, binding up the brokenhearted, feeding the hungry, seeking peace and hungering for justice. It means looking at the world as it is, and understanding how we, with the gifts that God has given us, can work towards transforming it into the world as it should be.

The people of God have always been a pilgrim people. From those first disciples, to the pilgrims of Campostela, to you and me. We are called to continue the tradition of all who have gone before us-- striking out on new adventures, seeking God in new ways and taking risks in order to get a little closer to who God is calling us to be. We may not know exactly what lies ahead, but we are called to get up out of the boat— to follow where God’s spirit leads, to find where our greatest joy meets the world’s deepest needs, and to seek transformation of ourselves, our church, and our world.