[Propertalk] Homily for 1552

[Robert P Morrison]

For your entertainment, or not, here's the homily I've written for using with the 1552 prayer book service.

I like the way the "day" is designated in 1552 as "The ix Sonday"!

The Gospel is the story of the steward who was siphoning off the owner's profits.

Bob

THE EPISCOPAL PARISH OF ST. JAMES, LINCOLN CITY          THE ix SONDAY 
1 CORINTHIANS10:1-13		                 [ PROPER 14 b RCL  ]
 LUKE 16:1-92	                 [ THE TENTH SUNDAY AFTER PENTECOST ]
9th AUGUST, 2009
LITURGY USING 1552 PRAYER BOOK

	One of the e-mails I look forward to receiving on a somewhat sporadic basic is called “A Pause for Beauty: The Heron Dance E-Newsletter”. 1
	I’ve referred to it from time to time in sermons, more by way of passing along some of the verbal thoughts of an artist. What I may not have mentioned is that a picture of one of his original water colours accompanies each short essay. I don’t think I’ve seen one that I haven’t stopped to ask myself if there’s any way I could afford a print of these paintings. I think that’s where my mind latches on to the letter’s title – “Pause”. To pause is to stop what one is doing; to take time to allow every detail to register with one; to allow both sound and silence to penetrate one’s being; to give the possibility of thinking over all the choices, and decisions, and opportunities one can experience and in which one can participate – on a daily basis.
	The whole idea behind pausing – Rod MacIver’s pausing, anyway, I feel – is to help everyone who sees and reads what he paints and writes to understand that he details the sort of things we see, even in the short distance between the door of the Church and the end of NE 25th Street, before we even get to Highway 101.
	No, we may not see the proverbial heron of the title of his newsletter – but there are SO many things to notice, that we simply fail to allow to touch us.
	For instance, no matter how well the parking lot is blown free of leaves and debris, little patches of dried or not-quite-dry particles remain. Look, if you will, at the way that these arrange themselves according to the way the wind blows. See how one little cluster may sit comparatively still while another is constantly moving? Do we notice that? And, if we do, do we ever wonder why? Do we stop to ask about the way that even the slightest-looking piece of vegetation can alter the wind speed and direction?
	If we stand at the north edge of our property, and if we’re still enough, what do we see moving in the brush? And what DO these crows see in us and pass along to their friends? Are they laughing at the things we do? Or do they see in us some redeeming features and are telling one another to pay attention to what other species can tell them about God?
	Of course, pausing may seem foreign to our natures. We want to move quickly; we feel a need to get something done instantly. Maybe we worry that the opportunity may never return, and so, if we hesitate, for whatever reason, it’ll be lost. We’d rather tie up loose ends that allow for speculation, even at the expense of missing out on some details or different opportunities.
	Pausing is good for the soul, then, as well as for the body and the mind. It may even be seen as a sign of faith – that we trust God to be able to speak through inaction as well as action, through silence as well as sound. Pausing, then, could be defined as risking the discovery of God, no matter what the circumstances. It’s that burst of light that offers tremendous insight into the beauty all around us and helps us come closer to understanding that conundrum about the meaning of life.
	This is a bit like what we’re doing today and for the next three weeks. Most of us have at least a sense of the outline and flow of what we call “Holy Eucharist”. We may have come so close to the point of being able to work our way through the liturgy that we don’t notice the whirls of the Spirit’s movement in the words and actions. We may be in such a hurry that we fail to notice the miniaturized miraculous.
	Some people call these “God winks” – little moments through which the common-place take on a significance in which God speaks reassuringly, not necessarily of instant healing, but of God’s full Presence and knowledge of what’s engaging our attention and energy.
	But here we are immersed in different words, drawn into different sequences, offered in a different way. Instead of a usual Sunday, we’re drawn to think about the words we hear and the actions we see today, and to ask how they relate to our usual experience. We are, in a sense, taking stock of our place in our journey of salvation.
	That could be what Jesus was getting at in the really strange parable offered in this morning’s Gospel. It contains some pretty questionable activities. Someone who was supposed to be safeguarding another’s property, someone who was trusted and respected, had been ripping off the owner. So how does the thief try to remedy the situation? He compounds it by cheating in order to butter up a few of the owner’s clients. And this supposedly pleased God, said Jesus.
	Commentators have been rushing for a couple of thousand years now to absolve Jesus from blessing impropriety, and they’ve raised several different points.  
	One interesting tack has been developed. The Dead Sea Scrolls reveal that there was internal fighting among different groups of Jews in the time of Jesus. In the Qumran settlement there was a so-called “Community Rule” in which the phrase “sons of light” was used to describe sect members – the very phrase used in a disparaging way by Jesus in the parable. “If Jesus means to criticize 'the sons of light' here, the parable may be seen as being in line with many others of his sayings warning against spiritual vanity, the tendency of religious people to believe themselves better than 'irreligious' people;” 2
	What Jesus may have been saying, therefore, might not be that far off from what Rod MacIver implies by titling his reflections in water colour and word a “Pause” in which we can re-evaluate our lives. If Jesus’ story shocked everyone – as much today as if may have two thousand years ago – if Jesus’ story made people stop to look at how the Spirit may be swirling through word patterns and ritual, then maybe our use of the 1552 Prayer Book; maybe our surprise at the lack of ornaments and subdued colours at the Table; maybe the possible puzzlement, if not frustration, in being silent for so much of what is happening over a sixty minute period – all of these may give us as much pause as Jesus’ jolting message, and help us come closer to understanding and appreciating what Jesus said and did for us; what Jesus stands ready to say and do for us now – if only we take the time to pause now and again. The combination of this 1552 Prayer Book celebration and the Gospel assigned for today – assigned, by the way, back in the 1540s – this combination may remind us never to take anything for granted – whether it be the familiar Sunday observance and celebration of Jesus’ resurrection, or of our status as Episcopalians, whatever we may think that might be.
	Pausing may not always be at our own discretion. Perhaps it’s put on us by someone or something outside. Yet it’s STILL a gift. Pausing may not always show us only the beautiful, the comforting, the joyful. But it can bring us strength and growth – spiritual as well as emotional.
	Rod MacIver said in his “Pause for Beauty” offering this past week, “Love is a combination of positive energy and enthusiasm for life, or some aspect of life. Love is a celebration of life. Of all of the negatives that one can focus on—pain, suffering, adversity, violence—love is an affirmation of the beauty that nonetheless exists. It is a choice that despite the downers, life is good. Love is a vote for the beauty and mystery that surrounds us. It is a triumph. Love is a choice.”
	So unaccustomed congregational silence and strongly worded exhortations MAY remind us of the seriousness of our call to follow Jesus and commit to God.
	And to define all of this – a gift from 1552 -  I wonder if we realized fully that when we came into this room, the Table was already set – the bread was on the Table, so was the wine. Just as in all of life, God had prepared for us even before we walked in through the door.
	God give us Pause!

NOTES

1	My thoughts were inspired by  Up on Trickle Creek - A Pause for Beauty 314 Heron Dance Rod MacIver 311  pauseforbeauty.blogspot.com/
2	Parable of the Unjust Steward - Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia Jun 3, 2009 en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Parable_of_the_Unjust_Steward

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Robert P. Morrison
The Episcopal Parish of St James,
PO Box 789
Lincoln City, Oregon, 97367

541-994-2426 (Church)