[Propertalk] Proper 14 b

[robertpmorrison at charter.net]

I don't think I posted this yet. It's still in the hands of the editor!


Bob


THE EPISCOPAL CHURCH OF ST. ALBAN, ALBANY                     THE 
ELEVENTH SUNDAY AFTER PENTECOST
2 SAMUEL 18:5-9, 15, 31-33                            PROPER 14 B RCL
EPHESIANS 4:25 – 45:2		                       12th AUGUST, 2012
JOHN 6:35, 41-51        						         PSALM 130

	What’s the world coming to, that we think gathering around a small pool 
of water can make a difference? Will it protect Amy, and Connor, and 
Nathan from all harm to body or mind? Will it guarantee them a job, or 
even decent grades in school? Will it protect them from being hungry? 
Will it ensure that they have happy family lives, and live to see their 
children and grandchildren mature?

	These aren’t trick questions, but the answer to each is, “No!” That 
should be obvious from our own experience as much as from our knowledge 
of our spiritual ancestors who worked, who re-created, who laughed and 
cried, AND wrestled with God to try to come to a deeper understanding of 
who God is and what life is about.

	The surprising thing is that despite everything our ancestors went 
through, they held on to their faith, finding in it some sort of comfort 
to help them overcome their physical, and emotional, and spiritual 
difficulties. Even looking around this room we can see examples of those 
who’ve had difficulties in their lives and yet come here, faithfully, 
week in, week out, and praise God for blessings received and ask for 
even more for the days ahead.

	Water is NOT magic. Simply put, it is one of the sources of life. 
Without it we’d all wither away. Take last weekend, for instance. In all 
that heat, we all automatically reached for another glass of water more 
often than we may ordinarily do. Our bodies are filled with water. Water 
is necessary for the formation and transmission of the life that courses 
through our bodies. So it makes sense that we gather around water.

	This isn’t any water, however. Looking at it, we’ll review our sacred 
history. As we ask God to bless it for this special Sacrament of 
Commitment and Renewal we’ll remember hearing of God moving over water’s 
surface in blessing near the beginning of time.

	There’s an interesting physical concept tied up in this. We live in 
what’s called a “Closed System”. That means, in this case, that all the 
water on earth recycles. It exists as oceans from which winds carry it 
into the air, from which, in turn, it falls on the land and, eventually, 
returns to the oceans. This means that what we do with water, what we 
put in it, or do not put in it, returns time and again. More 
interestingly in the case of baptism, the water which I’ll pour into the 
basin, having come down from the Cascades, has an incredible history all 
its own. Molecules within that water may have been touched by – well, 
let your imagination run; by your parents, your grandparents, the first 
Natives in this part of the continent; maybe even by Jesus Himself, and 
before Him; Naaman who was cured of leprosy; or Moses and the Egyptians.

	We’ll gather round water and, if our minds and imaginations are allowed 
to run unleashed for a while, we may be able to discover just how 
inter-related everything is. We’ll stand to watch, perhaps holding our 
breaths, to watch as one of the most precious elements we have is given, 
freely, to Amy, and Connor, and Nathan as a sign of God’s favour, as a 
sign of blessing. We’ll make verbal commitments to God about Any, and 
Connor, and Nathan, that we’ll do whatever we can to help them, whether 
it’s in terms of their physical, emotional and spiritual health; or 
their ability to enjoy education and employment in their vocations; 
perhaps some of us will even be there to celebrate when their children 
come to the water to receive baptism.

	What we do when we gather around the water is also about ourselves 
though. We look at the water and we renew our own vows, so ensuring that 
everyone is accorded every opportunity in and for life – everyone 
without exception; every opportunity without exception.

	Water, especially baptismal water, is the great reconciler, the 
restorer of life. It’s the celebration of God in which we re-image God 
pouring out love on us just as the water is poured out, splashing here 
and there, indiscriminately joining each of is to one another not just 
in this room, but throughout all history.

	The image is the same as the bread over which we’ll pray and which 
we’ll break in order to share. Jesus didn’t invent bread. Not even His 
mother did. Moses didn’t invent it. “The history of bread goes back at 
least 30,000 years. The first bread produced was probably cooked 
versions of a grain-paste, made from roasted and ground cereal grains 
and water, and may have been developed by accidental cooking or 
deliberate experimentation with water and grain flour.” 1

	There’s that water again!

	One of the things we remember best about Jesus is the way that He took 
this ancient means of survival and vested it with intense meaning, not 
just about Himself, He said, but of our relationship with the Creator of 
all that is.

	Once again, we’re presented with an element of reconciliation, of 
renewal, of relationships. That’s what the whole cycle of Baptism and 
Eucharist is about. It describes how we’re related to the Source of 
Being and to every last human who lives, who ever has lived and whoever 
will come to life. We bathe, we eat, we drink and we discover once again 
what human existence is all about. We’re drawn closer and closer, with 
every celebration, to God and to one another and discover our own 
identity in how each of us functions as individuals but also as members 
of the One family of God.

	But, for all the times we turn on the faucet, or pour water in a glass, 
or someone quenches our thirst by offering water to us; for all the 
times bread appears on our tables, is brought to us in a restaurant as 
the beginning of satisfying our hunger, for all the times we pick up one 
bread or another as we move through the day; and for all the people who 
ask, who beg, for nothing but a glass of eater and a piece of bread; for 
all these times, sad to say we often forget how these two elements are 
given to unite us.

	The most recent widely-publicised demonstration of the way in which 
some refuse to see the significance of the familial status we’re granted 
on earth through water and bread, is the killings at the Sikh Temple in 
Wisconsin. At a time when people should be working together, to ensure 
that the effects of drought and heat don’t wipe out not just crops but 
people’s livelihood, possibly their existence, why does even one person 
turn away from the water for which everyone seems to long? We forget so 
easily about giving that cup of water, about sharing, about belonging. 
Instead, we categorise, we minimize, we criminalise, and we extinguish.

	A “New Yorker” article this week talked about a few people who openly 
sought to remind their brothers and sisters of the way in which all 
belonged as people of God. In Uganda, where sexual orientation is a 
touchstone of who is human and who is not, and those who are decreed 
non-human are jailed for life or killed; in Uganda, a place described as 
“hell for gays—a place where they are suffering and being attacked 
constantly—and, despite the need to combat such threats, L.G.B.T. 
Ugandans were tired of hearing a story that ignored their nuanced 
experiences of both joy and hardship. But (Ugandan) Nabagesera was also 
sincerely pleased: a crowd of nearly a hundred people had come out, 
fears of arrest notwithstanding, to celebrate their existence. The air 
was thick with confetti, paint fumes, and anticipation.” This despite 
the fact that they might all be killed and no one would stand up for 
them, merely because of their sexual orientation. 2

	In the past seven days we’re reminded what it means to celebrate with 
Amy, and Connor, and Nathan as they are baptized; we’re reminded that 
those whom God calls – to Baptism, to Eucharist, to Marriage, to 
whatever we sense about how God would have us use our gifts – we’re 
reminded that not only does our celebration take place in this room, at 
this hour, but in every room, at every hour, on every occasion. Wherever 
Amy, and Connor, and Nathan may be, for the rest of our lives, we as the 
church are called to be with them, with all the children of God, to 
protect and to serve, without any discrimination, so that we may all 
find our place at “that table where (God’s) saints feast for ever in 
(God’s) heavenly home”. 3

	We’re called to watch the water, to watch the bread, and to savour the 
power which God gives us through them.

	There’s an interesting phenomenon in our world just now. It’s called 
“The Slow Movement.” Professor Guttorm Fløistad summarizes the 
philosophy, stating:

	“The only thing for certain is that everything changes. The rate of 
change increases. If you want to hang on you better speed up. That is 
the message of today. It could however be useful to remind everyone that 
our basic needs never change. The need to be seen and appreciated! It is 
the need to belong. The need for nearness and care, and for a little 
love! This is given only through slowness in human relations. In order 
to master changes, we have to recover slowness, reflection and 
togetherness. There we will find real renewal.” 4

	What we do this morning is to celebrate the change that God is working 
out all around us – changing lives, one and two at a time, so that we 
can sense the love and real renewal which God wishes us to experience. 
Poet and Editor Christopher Smith links slowness with our appreciation 
for all that God has done and continues to do and, interestingly, 
invites us to discover this through poetry, both words and the very act 
of living itself.

	Smith suggests that, because of speed, and our desire or compulsion to 
be first and fastest, “we are rapidly losing the capacity to be 
attentive to and present with others, as God was present with the 
Israelites throughout the Old Testament and as Jesus was present with 
his disciples and followers. A pressing question of our times therefore 
is: how do we begin to imitate the presence and attentiveness of Jesus 
in a culture that is marked by rampant inattentiveness?” 5

	Could this be one reason why we find individuals so much at odds with 
one another; groups intimidating and dehumanising one another; nations 
struggling to see anything worth respecting in another?

We do a tremendous number of things today. God, in this Water, in this 
Bread does a transformative thing for each of us. And the Water and the 
Bread call us to serve one another, without hesitation, without fear, 
without distinction, until we eat and drink with Christ at the 
fulfillment of His reign.

  	The editor Smith wrote, 	“For me, poetry is a practice that is 
helping me begin to slow down and become more attentive. Learning to 
read a poem carefully trains us to pay extraordinary attention to the 
sounds and images of language that we might easily overlook in our 
haste.”

	Poetry is all around us in the world, and in the people with whom God 
has related us. We simply need to be reminded of this, and to see God in 
the poetry of Water and Bread of Life.

	We need to watch the water – slowly. Watch all of life – slowly – in 
case we miss Jesus.

NOTES:

1 	http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/History_of_bread

2	“Gay and Proud in Uganda “ by Alexis Okeowo. New Yorker August 6, 2012 
http://www.newyorker.com/online/blogs/newsdesk/2012/08/gay-and-proud-in-uganda.html

3	Celebration and Blessing of a Marriage,  BCP page 430

4	The Slow Movement – wikipedia: 
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Slow_Movement

5	“In Defense of Poetry” by C. Christopher Smith
August 6, 2012 
http://www.relevantmagazine.com/culture/books/defense-poetry



Robert P Morrison
Interim Vicar
The Episcopal Church of St Alban
PO Box 1556
Albany OR  97321   541-921-1076 (cell)