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In which Megan gives a recounting of her activities

Hey, remember when I used to post things on this here blog?  Ah, good times!

Behold, I have not forgotten you!  I have just been swallowed up by lots of other things, which leave precious little time for blogging.

These things include:

  1. Writing for Lent Madness 2016 (I’m going to win one of these years.  Just not this one.)
  2. Writing for McSweeney’s.  (That sound you hear is my grandmother clutching her pearls in the Great Beyond.  Sorry, Naw Naw.)
  3. Writing a thingie for Trinity, Wall Street (not online yet)
  4. Writing a thingie for Church Publishing (not published yet)
  5. Working at diocesan summer camp in the Ozarks (my campers and I all developed the same heat rash.  So adorable.)
  6. Taking 3 vanfuls of teenagers to New York and Boston over two weeks (Those youth now know how to ride the NYC subway at rush hour like PROS.)
  7. Taking 3 vanfuls of teenagers around outreach sites in Kansas City over one week. (We struck fear and awe into the hearts of many a non-profit with our hard work.)
  8. Having Many Thoughts about the latest season of the Great British Baking Show. (Nadiya’s facial expressions are all of our facial expressions.)

Then, there was of course the normal round of preaching, pastoral care, troubleshooting the plumbing, diocesan crises, etc, that happens when you’re a priest in a parish.

Today, I’m 2 days past my eight-year anniversary of being a priest.  And while I could have predicted precious little of what my career has included, I am grateful for every single bit of it.  I pause to note here that initially, when I first considered this call, I hesitated because I thought being a priest would be ‘the easy route’ over being an actress.  God has been laughing pretty hard ever since.

Stay tuned for what will amount to a Sermon Dump over the next few days–wherein I post my backlog of sermons from the past few months.

Hype Babies, Part 2

I took a week off which wasn’t really a week off.  I went to the Forma conference in Philadelphia and introduced my WeMo colleagues to the joy and wonder of Wawa.  Then I took a train up to NYC for a few days because it has been over 2 years since I have been in the city, and that is just plain unacceptable.

I saw lots of friends I haven’t seen in a long time, and wandered aimlessly around Central Park and the Met.  I ate egg and cheese on hard rolls and drank cheap diner coffee (breakfast of the gods, I tell you) and rode the subway like a pro.  And oh yes, I SAW HAMILTON.  (Will probably write more about that later. Will probably also goad every single person I know into going back to see it with me for as long as it runs.)

Now, back in the swing of things, everything has picked up pace again.  Lent Madness is back up and running (go vote!  www.lentmadness.org! ) and they are foolishly letting me write for another year.  And we’re packing up the office to relocate to the 4th floor tomorrow for a series of months as the east wing is renovated.

On the preaching front, Hype Baby got some competition on Sunday.  Behold, the advent of Hype TODDLER!

I don’t know what is happening, but evidently, my manically-waving hands and odd faces attracts the attention of small children, who then feel free to chime in loudly.  Which makes for a pretty epic church experience.  Longer story at the asterisk.

Here’s what I said:

Rev. Megan L. Castellan
February 14, 2015
Lent 1
Luke 4


Conflict between Satan’s idea of who Jesus is, and how Jesus sees himself (existing to serve God/others)—Who are you?

This passage from Deuteronomy is a lot of fun, though granted it doesn’t immediately sound like it.  It’s one of the many passages that feature heavily in the traditional Seder meal, and has coordinating action that goes along with it—as a big part of that service, the people all recite the formula “My Ancestor was a wandering Aramean,” and then you dip some matzoh and trade it around.  You say it several times. (The other really fun charade-like passage is “God saved us with his mighty arm, and outstretched hand.—and overtime you talk about the mighty arm of God doing something, the leader is supposed to either point to or wave their lamb bone around emphatically.  See, liturgy is fun, y’all.)

Now, I grant you—this, like most liturgical actions, can seem slightly strange to outsiders; it’s not quite clear what this is talking about, since Abraham isn’t an Aramean insofar as we can tell, and who knows why the writer of Deuteronomy thinks he was?
But the sense of it,  the overall meaning is clear—because it neatly sums up who God wants the Jewish people to see themselves as.  When this line was recited at the Temple, and even now at the Seder meal, Jewish people recall the same story: They were descended from wanderers, had been saved from oppression, and now, their job was to protect and save others.  Bam.  There it is in one.  My ancestor was a wandering Aramean, so I might save others who wander.  

That’s part of why we have holy texts—to remind us of who we are, since we’re liable to forget.  The scriptures we have collect for us the record of other people’s relationship with God and who they were—how they struggled and what they figured out, or didn’t figure out.  The goal is that we can take all that knowledge—that huge story— and use it in light of our own story.
Problem is that scripture is confusing.  There’s some weird stuff in there—giants, sea monsters, and a dragon at one point.***  And also, scripture is contradictory.  One moment, there’s a story about being kind to the widow, orphan, and alien in the land—the next, there’s a story about driving a spike through the head of an enemy.  The idea that the Bible speaks with a unified voice on much of anything is pretty odd.
And exhibit A of this is the Gospel
Where, hello!  The devil himself quotes scripture to Jesus.  Who quotes it right back.  
Please note that neither of them quotes it incorrectly, or twists the meaning—they’re both pretty much correct.  Though, this is a good argument for why prooftexting is going to land you in trouble.  
In this episode, the devil comes to Jesus and starts to tempt him with some really nice stuff: free food!  Unlimited power!  Flying!  
And for each temptation, Jesus argues back with a nice scripture quote.  But Satan is ready with some of his own.
It’s worth noting that ‘satan’ here isn’t quite what we think of as the devil—the embodiment of all evil.  It’s pretty close, but the Hebrew ‘ha-satan’ was originally a courtroom term which meant “The accuser.”  The idea was that heaven was set up like an actual courtroom, and God needed someone to argue with, so there was this prosecuting attorney figure.  They weren’t good or bad, necessarily—they just were there to argue the other side of things.  Largely because God was always the one who judged, and interceded for humanity—something that couldn’t happen if God just talked to himself all the time.  (See, they had thought this out.)
ANYWAY.
Satan comes in, and does his arguing thing, but it’s a little more than that.  He offers stuff.  And all the stuff that he offers is predicated on the same idea—Jesus should really be way more flashy than he currently is being.  He’s the Son of God?  (Which Satan doesn’t dispute, BTW) then he should make himself some magic food!  He’s so smart and wise and loving?  Then he should take over the world and coerce EVERYONE into knowing and loving him!  He’s so holy?  Then he should make God prove how much he loves him!!!
The through-line here is that Satan has a clear idea of who Jesus is—a wonder-working, glory-seeking, magic worker who is out for himself.  Self-focused.  Self-involved. The definition of sin.
But Jesus knows better.  Jesus’ idea of himself comes not from himself alone, but from his relationship with God—from the knowledge that it is this relationship that gives him identity—not himself alone.  Jesus repeats the idea that he’s great, yet he’s still dependent on God.  
Jesus by himself is awesome, and could totally make himself a magic sandwich.  But it is through his relationship with God that he is able to become more.  Able to reach people, and realize his vocation to be the Messiah for a whole world.  It’s through being humble, and relying on God, not just himself, that he becomes more.  That’s who he is.  

As wonderful as we are,  and we are, we aren’t the be all, end all.  We need other people and we need God.  
We need other people to give us different perspectives and to challenge  our preconceptions.  We need them to be vehicles of God’s love for us.  
And we need God to remind us of who we are.  We need God to be bigger than we are, —to lift some of this weight off our shoulders, and to inspire us to do better.  We need God to knit together all of our stories.  
We are never who we are alone.  We are always who we are in connection with others, and with God.  It is these other relationships that help guide us to who we are, that help us construct our stories. In the midst of competing voices and claims about who we might be.

Lent is a time to reconnect with who we are. To recall our story, in relationship with God. In service to others. To tease out the story of ourselves as we truly are, and not as the accusers around us would have us be.

A time to reconnect with our core identity and story as beloved children of God, who don’t have to save the world, but do have to love it.  Who were chosen by God in baptism, and never have to be any more or less, than that.

Amen.

***It was at this point that a 3 year old boy in the front row turned around and loudly whispered “SEA MONSTERS!!!!!” in great excitement to his parents and assorted family members.  I didn’t hear until later that he proceeded to hush them quiet, and comment that “Wow, she really knows some deep stuff!”

After church, he approached me with great trepidation, and at his mother’s urging, told me that I did a good job.  I returned the compliment, and thanked him for listening to what I said so attentively.

Hype kids for the win, y’all.

Christmas Pageants, Joseph, and Peace

We don’t have a true Christmas pageant at St. Paul’s.  What we have is a pop-up version, where all the children in attendance at the early service of Christmas Eve are given a costume upon arrival, and conscripted into being one of the characters in The Friendly Beasts, which the choir sings in the middle of the service.  They then walk forward, looking adorable, and stand there as the gospel is read.  It’s pretty foolproof.

But this year, one of our resident 5 year olds became alarmed that we were lacking a Joseph.  Deciding to take matters into her own hands, she raced out into the congregation, and cornered every boy she could find of reasonable age.  “Could you please be Joseph for us?  Because we need one VERY BADLY.” she explained to everyone, eyes wide in the do-or-die seriousness of small children.  After she had approached about 5 boys, and left one crouched in the corner of his pew in terror (she really was quite persistent), I finally figured out what she was doing, and suggested that we might leave him alone to think about it for a bit.  She brightened, “Ok, Mother Megan! He can come and find us when he’s ready. Maybe there are more people on the street outside who haven’t come inside yet!” To the front door she ran, the flock of costumed children trailing behind her, to shout an invitation to everyone outside.

I told my rector later that she should probably be put in charge of PR relations and evangelism for St. Paul’s, if not the diocese.  I was only half-kidding.  Children haven’t learned yet that religion isn’t polite to talk about in public, lest you offend someone, or that you shouldn’t tell everyone you know about this wonderful place you go to every week because you might get laughed at.  Really, we should let them do evangelizing.

Here’s what I said Christmas Eve.

Rev. Megan L. Castellan

December 24, 2015

Christmas Eve, Year C

Luke 3

 

The opening of the Christmas gospel is just plain weird.  The real opening now, not the part that Linus starts with, in A Charlie Brown’s Christmas, because he’s a kid, and he’s allowed to cheat.

The writer of Luke’s gospel starts out, not with that peaceful scene in a pasture somewhere, but with announcing a census.  Not exactly an attention-grabber. “In those days, there came a decree from Emperor Augustus that all the world should be registered.  This was the first registration and was taken while Quirinius was governor of Syria.”  Well…alright.

This seems neither Christmas-y, nor very interesting, and yet, the writer is VERY CONCERNED ABOUT IT.  This census, we are told, was so important that every person had to return back to their own town and village–their ancestral home.

And so it is that Joseph and Mary hit the road for Bethlehem, along with a thousand other people.  It is this census that gets Mary and Joseph stranded in a barn for their baby’s birth.  It is this census that starts the whole thing moving in the direction we know so well.

If you know a lot about history, then you know that this emperor mentioned here was real, and really important.  Caesar Augustus reunited the Roman Empire after his uncle–another famous guy named Julius Caesar, was assassinated.  Augustus ushered in what’s been called ‘the pax romana’–those two centuries where Rome itself considered itself stable, peaceful.

Rome was the strongest thing in the world, able to conquer almost anything in its path.  From one end to another, Rome proclaimed that it had finally established peace on the earth.

They had to announce this pretty loudly, you see, because there was a lot of fighting happening.  The way Rome held onto its empire was through constant expansion–invading and subduing new people and new territory.  And then, of course, they had to put down the constant rebellions, which they did in brutal fashion.  Stomping down the various conquered peoples until everyone was frozen into compliance.  Augustus Caesar had brought peace, all right–but it was peace at the end of a pretty bloody sword.  

The gospel writer takes pains to remind us that it was THIS emperor who is the background here…so recall Augustus Caesar, when you think about that lovely scene with the shepherds in the fields, watching by night.  Now, shepherds, despite how idyllic they seem to us busy city folk, were not popular back then.  They were dirty, smelly people at the lowest level of society, who grazed their sheep on other people’s land, and neglected their families in order to hang out with barnyard animals.  They were nobodies.  Literally.  Because while Mary and Joseph have to report for the census–the shepherds haven’t gone anywhere.  The census hasn’t included them–they literally do not count in Rome.  The pax romana, the glories of the empire do not include them.

And yet.  

And yet, it was to those who didn’t count that the angels brought the message of the holy birth.  It was to these uncounted people that the angels announced the coming of peace on earth.  

And how did that peace arrive?  Did it arrive with military might and power, crushing the weak and laying low the countryside with fear?

Not at all.  This peace arrived in the person of a tiny, helpless baby. It came born to a young couple, scared and alone, left homeless.  It came among the left behind and the lost.  

The peace the angels proclaimed was worlds away from the pax romana.  The peace that Jesus brought into the world at his birth rests, not in the power of weapons, or the rule of fear.  It rests instead in a tiny baby, born to us, into this terrible and wonderful drama of humanity.  

When God became human in that manger in Bethlehem, the human experience changed forever.  No longer would we be alone in our human joys and sorrows.  Now, God would know what it felt like to grow, to learn.  To laugh and to cry.  To love, and to grieve.  Now, there was nothing in all creation that could separate us from the love of God, because that love had come down to where we are.  And that love would prove to be stronger than anything.  Even stronger than death.

The shepherds must have been entirely confused, when they got to the stable and saw what was going on.  What sort of king was this, that was just a baby?  What sort of victory, what sort of peace could this baby, hours old, red and squalling, possibly offer?  

But it is Christ’s peace that comes to us where we are, that gathers us all in, villager, shepherd, wandering traveller alike.  It is Christ’s peace that proves more persuasive than armies, and more mighty than emperors.  It is that humble, vulnerable peace of Christ that nothing can shake.

Christmas this year finds us again facing a scary world.  Everything seems frightening and off-kilter right now–even the weather.  There’s violence on the news at night–wars around the world, and the threat of sudden catastrophe again looming here at home.  So there are many who would urge us to be afraid.  Politicians march across the screen and tell us that the only answer to an uncertain world is power, strength, and more of both.

But the truth of Christmas, the miracle of Christmas, is that neither power, nor unlimited strength, nor unending violence make for peace.  For everything that Caesar Augustus tried, lasting peace eluded Rome.  

Peace, true peace, comes to us on this night, in this way, in the shape of a helpless, tiny baby.  It comes to us as God comes to earth, becoming human, so that God might better love us.  It comes to us in humility and weakness.  It comes to us as the nameless are seen, and the poor are glorified.  It comes to us as God’s love shines bright upon the earth as the stars above. It comes to us as we embrace that love, living out our lives in the way that Jesus Christ showed us.

This is the peace the angels sang about, the peace they proclaimed to a bunch of smelly shepherds in a field.  This is the peace that nothing can shake.  This is the peace that appears in the midst of chaos, war, and brokenness.  And this is the peace that God gives to us tonight.

So glory to God, and peace to all on earth.

Amen.

 

International Priest of Mystery

Remember when I said that I preached at Robyn’s church?  Robyn (in full-blown Wedding Brain) says to me the day before, “Oh, I told everyone that your sermon would be up on your blog.  Because they really want to read it.” (Then, I made her stand next to a statue of a horse so I could take her picture.  I’m such a good maid of honor–It’s going on my resume.)

I think, “Oh, crap.  This means I actually have to write it all down now.”

Here’s what I said (more or less.)

 

September 20, 2015

Year B, Ordinary Time, Proper 20

Anglican Church of Canada

Proverbs 31, Mark 8

 

When I was a kid, my mother looked forward to Mothers Day with great enthusiasm.  She would accept the handmade cards, and the sloppy pancakes and orange juice breakfasts from my brother and I, but her favorite part was her own invention.  She requested that whenever she wanted, on that day, Aaron and I had to stand up, point to her, and say this thing.  

 

Accordingly, several times during the day, in the middle of dinner, before bed, whenever, Mom would say, Ok, do it!”  And Aaron and I would gamely stand up, point a finger at her, and repeat, like devout myna birds, Blessed!  Blessed!”  

 

Mom thought this was just the best thing ever.  She was a very literal soul, and she could imagine no higher honor.

 

This passage from Proverbs 31 has long been held up as the benchmark for successful womanhood in some circles.  I was joking with Robyn earlier this week that evidently, the Holy Spirit has clearly been playing a trick on her, with this passage in the lectionary the week of her wedding, because for a lot of people, this is what the perfect wife was.  Its like the prototypical Good Housekeeping or Cosmopolitan.  Heres what you should be!  Heres what you should aspire to!  

 

And not unlike todays fashion magazines, its an overwhelming and terrifying standard that probably only imaginary people can actually meet.

 

This woman here described manages a successful household perfectly, she has happy children and marriage, she cooks, she spins, she manages land deals, she gets up before dawn, she makes clothing and basically runs the city.  No big deal.  Anyone can manage THAT.  

Pardon me Im going to go lie down for a nap.

 

Its important to note here, that no scholar thinks this laundry list is proscriptive.  That isits not a list of what someone MUST do to be a good woman. Its descriptive:  women who are capableand Im going to come back to that word in a seconddo stuff like this.  Stuff like this is said about them, they manage things like this…but not all of this, not all of the time.  

 

And note, too, that this is a really varied list.  Trading for land!  Running businesses!  Raising kids!  Supporting a household!  When you separate out the aspirational woman-quality we sometimes read into this, its pretty amazing.  All these different images of women, all being blessed and happy.  

 

All being capable’—which is not a fantastic word from the Hebrew, actually.  A better word is valiant.  The Hebrew roughly translates as a woman of valor’—this idea that binds that varied list together.  A woman of valor can be found possibly doing all these amazing things, just generally being amazingsort of a murky term, but a strong word.  A strong idea.

 

A woman of valor is clothed with strength and dignity, she laughs at whats to come.

 

So instead of glorifying beauty, grace, meekness, or any other stereotypical Good Housekeeping-type wordthis passage praises valor.  Strength.  as the one unifying trait of the righteous individual.

 

Because if you glance over at the disciples this week, theyre not quite the picture of strength.  The disciples have just witnessed Peters confession of Jesus as the Messiah, and Jesusimmediate announcement that because of this fact, hes going to have to be tried and killed in Jerusalem.  

They react badly to this news (as they do to most things.)  Peter tries to talk Jesus out of it (that doesnt go well) and then, when Jesus reasserts that he actually will have to die, the disciples still wont listen.  They ignore him.  They grumble.  Thinking maybe they can change it, or maybe denial is the way to goand they get in on this conversation about which among them is the greatest.  

 

Because surely a really great, a really strong man can avoid this sort of suffering and death.  

 

The disciplesnotion of what constitutes strength and greatness is different than Jesus’.….and I wager it is different than the writer of Proverbs.  

They have been trying to avoid the truth of where Jesus is calling them.  They have been trying to deny, to cover it up, to bluster through it.  They want to find strength where the world tells us it lies–in bluster, in ego, in pushing through it, in force.

Yet Jesus, when confronted with their arrogance, holds up a little child, and asks them, and us, to face the world like that—with vulnerably.  Without pretense or anything the world would call greatness.  To embrace whats coming with vulnerability. Because this is where true strength, true valor lie.

 

The strength of the child, and the valor of Proverbs dont lie in anything like what the world calls greatness.  They dont like in wealth, or the amazing ability to be better than everyone else.  They lie in a deep sense of knowing who God is, and who you are.  Thats it.

 

Because when you know that, then what can the world do to you?  When you know who you arethat you are a beloved child of God, made good, made worthy, made in the image of Godwhen you know who God is,  that God loves you indescribably, that God wills the world into goodness and redemption and calls us to recreate it with him, that nothing can separate us from this divine lovethen no power in the world can shake you.  

No laundry list of expectations can trouble you.  No suffering can deingrate you.  No outside voice can make you feel other than what you know yourself to be.

It is that inner certainty, that inner conviction in the love of God, and the worthiness of ourselves that gives us the strength to take up our cross and go to Jerusalem.  To reach out our arms and embrace a suffering world.  To love the world around us, as we are already loved.

It is only when we know ourselves to be deeply loved that we are able to rise and be valiant indeed.

Amen.

 

 

If only it were that easy.

St. Paul’s has been using red vestments each time there is a publicized mass shooting incident in the US.  We’ve been doing this since the Charleston attack, and no, actually, it was not my idea.  This one came from the rector.  As a result, the prevalence of gun violence has been front and center in our congregation all summer.

I should admit here that gun violence was the first political issue I was ever passionate about.  I started following the issue when I was 12, due to some events in my family, and the advocacy of a 7th grade history teacher who kept pointing out how history intersected with current events, and shouldn’t we start forming our own opinions on these things?

So, I have a weirdly specific knowledge of the history of gun control in this country.  Along with the Israel/Palestine conflict, it is one of those topics where you need to be sure you have an extra half hour before you engage me in conversation thereupon.

But I’ve never spoken about it from the pulpit.  Part of that is that Jesus never speaks about guns in the gospel  (swords, though, he has some opinions on.  #swordcontrolnow!)  And part of that is that this is America, and gun control is not an unemotional topic.  In church, or at least in the churches I’ve served, I actually believe it is easier and less polarizing to bring up gay marriage, or racism, or Medicaid expansion, than it is to bring up guns.

Until this week.   I talked about it this week, because I feel like someone needs to talk about it–it’s the elephant, staring in the corner of the room each time politicians lament in the aftermath of another tragedy, and mourn the ‘unforeseen’ and the ‘unpreventable’ events.

So here’s what I said.  (It’s in roughly note form, just for a change of pace. Yay?)

Rev. Megan L. Castellan

August 30, 2015

Proper 15, Ordinary Time Year B

Mark

—When I spent a summer in Israel and Palestine, my parents were understandably stressed.  They were not huge fans of this plan of mine, but they knew from long experience that talking me out of something I had decided to do was a non starter.

—So the day before I got on the plane, my mother “helped me pack.” 

—She made copies of every piece of paper I had—passport, airplane ticket, medication list, social security card, drivers’ license, everything.

-And what she didn’t make a copy of, she sorted into ziplock baggies.  She would not sit down and SHE WOULD NOT REST until everything I owned was either copied in duplicate, stored in a ziplock, or tied together with rubber bands.

—This made no sense.  It was a weird obsession, and not at all like my mother. 

—But it wasn’t about organization at all, of course.  It was her way of Doing Something to help me, since she couldn’t process the hugeness of me in Jerusalem for 3 months. 

—Big picture was too scary, so she went nuts with the little things.  The things she could get her hands on.  Those would save me!  

—I’m going to venture a guess to say that this impulse is where the Pharisees have their problem.

—We can’t deal with the immensity of what we’re supposed to be facing—so we get caught up in this minute arguments. 

—Rather than sort out how well we’re loving God, caring for creation and loving our neighbor—which are really big things to tackle, and take a lot of work and thought, we get caught on whether the most important thing to talk about is works or grace, or whether being religious means you have to hate these people or those people. 

—and it’s not from a lack of caring, necessarily, these arguments.  It’s from being overwhelmed by the bigger stuff, maybe.  So we get fixated on the tiny stuff.

—And so, behold the Pharisees. 

—Now, the Pharisees get a bum rap, which is too bad, because they’re really rather fantastic.  The Pharisees were basically one of many groups within the Judaism during Jesus’ time who were working really hard for a reformation.

—The problem had come up that the vast majority of Jews living in Judea really weren’t observant at all.  They didn’t have a clue about their own religion. 

—Not because they didnt’ care, but just because being observant of religion back then was HARD. 

—You had to go all the way to the Temple in Jerusalem several times a year, and you had to tote along your live offerings, and it was expensive and next-to-impossible if you lived up north in Galilee (like Jesus—because that’s at least a week’s trek there, then a week’s trek back.)

—So, what ended up happening was that the only people who really WERE religious were those who had been paid for it, and those who could afford it—the priests and those who lived in Jerusalem and who had $$$. 

—That’s hardly what God wants, judging from the prophets, right?

—This problem concerned the Pharisees, so they worked on making Judaism more accessible. 

—They wanted EVERYONE, no matter who, no matter how poor or rich, to participate in the worship and service of God. 

—WHICH IS A GREAT IDEA.

—They worked on teaching the average Farmer Joe in Galilee about the Torah, and how even he! could observe it without a nearby temple.  He can say his daily prayers!  He can assemble in the synagogue!  He can purify himself in the mikveh, which he can build in his own backyard!  EVERYONE CAN BE A GOOD JEW. 

—And, for the record, it’s the Pharisees that save Judaism after the fall of the Temple in Jerusalem. 

—So don’t hate on the Pharisees.  Their big idea was great.  In fact, Jesus agrees with the big idea of the movement—

—His problem is that they get caught up in the minutae…because the overall goal is so big.

—Rather than concentrating on bringing the good news of God to the masses, what the Pharisees seem to have ended up doing was getting into fights about handwashing.  And the cleanliness of bowls.

—And that stuff isn’t the goal.  Religious observance—loving God, loving your neighbor is the goal.  And those things are only helpful insofar as they help you reach that goal.

—And meanwhile, the Pharisees largely weren’t addressing the major issues that were rampant in society. 

—The part of the reading the lectionary skips is where Jesus points out that the Pharisees went nuts over handwashing, but had no problem with people dedicating money to the Temple, and leaving their parents and relatives penniless. 

—They’re obsessing over the details, because the wider issues are too big.  Too overwhelming to change.  You can’t change something so big as the economic structure of the Temple, but hand washing?!  LETS GET ON IT.  THAT WILL MAKE GOD HAPPY WITH US. 

—But here’s the thing—when doing the work of God, there’s nothing too big to contemplate.  There’s no problem too overwhelming to change.

—When God calls us into the world, we are called not just to small things, but to big things.  So we can’t let the little things distract us.  The little things cannot save us.  The small things don’t hold salvation.

—It’s in this context that I want to talk about the events of the past few weeks.  We’ve been marking every mass shooting in the US by placing red vestments on the altar.  And as you may have noticed, we’ve been wearing red a lot.  Rare is the week we can keep green up—and in fact, there have not been two sundays together, since the beginning of the summer, in which green has been on the altar.

— It’s not your imagination—mass shootings are on the rise in the US—USA today estimates that mass shootings (situations where someone kills 4 or more people) happen about once every 8 days.  But we don’t actually know how many there are, because there’s no mandatory reporting being done. 

—And each time it happens, the same refrain gets trotted out—oh things would be different if those people had just been armed.  We can be safe if we just have more guns.  Over and over again.  It makes sense—we want to be safe, we want to feel secure, and that’s a big, huge problem that seems too big to solve.  So the temptation is to look for some small thing to fix on. 

—But you know what? Currently, 42% of the guns in the world are owned by civilians in the US.  Think about that.  42% of the guns in the WHOLE WORLD are owned by civilians in the US.***

We have a lot of guns.  And still, we have more deaths through gun violence than any other country on the face of the earth. So the pertinent question becomes–exactly how many guns do we need before we are safe?  Before the shootings stop?  

—But more importantly—we are Christians.  We aren’t called to put our faith in little things, in hand washing, in guns, in things we can hold onto and see. 

—Our safety, we believe, comes from God.  Not a weapon.  God alone makes us safer.  We cannot depend on guns or weapons or more or better armor.   

Because God calls us to love each other.  And serve one another.  And care for one another.  Which we can hardly do when we live in mortal fear of everyone around us. 

So, as hard as it is, we have to put down these small things that consume our attention—these idols that distract from the God we worship.  We have to put down the guns that promise safety, the hand washing that promises holiness.  And we have to embrace the vulnerability of believing that God alone can make us safe, and God alone can make us holy. 

And God alone has already shown us the path of life, stretching out ahead of us.  We just need to put down these small idols, and trust that God is enough.

Amen.

*** That statistic came from this: http://www.vox.com/2015/8/24/9183525/gun-violence-statistics