An ancient African tale holds that before each child is born they are given their own special song. After the child’s birth, the community of family and village teach them their song. In times of crisis or distress in the life of a person, others sing that song to them to help them remember who they are.

We are God’s children and God sings our song to bring us back to who we are in times of uncertainty or confusion. Our song is heard in the events of everyday life, if we listen to our life with the awareness of how God communicates with us. Discernment in the experience of both natural and preternatural events can be learned. This retreat combined ancient spiritual practice, small groups, large groups, time for art/or journaling and laughter.

We met at the Presentation Center, Los Gatos: a lovely peaceful venue that used to be home to a community of nuns, the Sisters of the Presentation. While the program ran from late Friday afternoon to the end of Saturday afternoon, with accommodation and meals, a few women returned home for the Friday night.

]]> http://bedesblog.wordpress.com/2009/11/25/womens-fall-retreat/feed/ 0 judywernerhall 5 labyrinth photo http://bedesblog.wordpress.com/2009/11/10/breaking-bread-at-bedes-dinner-lecture-series/ http://bedesblog.wordpress.com/2009/11/10/breaking-bread-at-bedes-dinner-lecture-series/#comments Tue, 10 Nov 2009 19:19:36 +0000 judywernerhall http://bedesblog.wordpress.com/?p=1330 ]]>

“Great Expectations:

The Washington Consensus, the Stock Market, and the Promise of Prosperity in the Developing World”

— Peter Blair Henry —

Stanford University Konosuke Matsushita
Professor of International Economics

Thursday, November 19th, 6:30pm in the Great Hall

Suggested Donation is $12.00 RSVP jwhall@stbedesmenlopark.org

]]> http://bedesblog.wordpress.com/2009/11/10/breaking-bread-at-bedes-dinner-lecture-series/feed/ 0 judywernerhall http://bedesblog.wordpress.com/2009/11/03/sermon-twas-blind-but-now/ http://bedesblog.wordpress.com/2009/11/03/sermon-twas-blind-but-now/#comments Tue, 03 Nov 2009 21:32:12 +0000 judywernerhall http://bedesblog.wordpress.com/?p=1326 ]]>

21 Pentecost, Proper 25, October 25, 2009

Let’s begin by looking at the premise of the collect for today. Then we’ll use it as a lens, to view the lessons. In it, the church prays for the action of grace to increase within and among us. We ask for spiritual growth, in the exercise of faith, hope, and love. Translate faith as trust. It’s not so much about tenets of belief as about the willingness to risk godly living. And translate charity as altruistic love, born of compassion. To make the translations helps us to understand what we are requesting.

Although these godly virtues are gifts, we are asking for their increase, not for their own merit, but as means to an end. We request their growth in us, so that we may obtain what God promises. The implication is that, somehow, their exercise effectively contributes to their fulfillment. As we grow in these graces, they assist our godly aim. It means that trust, hope, and love, besides being spiritual graces, are also spiritual powers.

The psalm demonstrates the dynamic. This outburst of joy is about a glorious reversal of Israel’s misfortune. We know a song, a round about one of its verses, composed by Eric Law. It goes like this. (Sing the first line here.) The psalm is about the return of the remnant of Israel, of those who were scattered in exile returning to their homeland. But in the larger sense, it applies to anyone who has experienced deliverance from the misery of misfortune. When we hear the first half of the psalm, we assume it is the remembrance of deliverance or the announcement of the joyous reversal as it happens. God has already done great things for us, and we are glad, it says.

But the second half of the psalm makes it clear that Israel still awaits this deliverance. Restore our fortunes, they pray. Come racing to help us, like saving rain that waters the desert. Let’s set the psalm against the collect’s spiritual methodology. The first part of the psalm is then seen as a group exercise, a collective visualization, shared in trust, hope, and love. It is also an exercise in remembrance of the times in their history when Israel experienced deliverance. For instance, the return from exile is like an exodus in reverse, homecoming at last.

Athletes and their coaches know well the power of visualization as an enhancement of performance. When our daughter Gwen swam for UCLA, the team worked with a sports psychologist, who trained them in visualization technique. Scientists have studied this phenomenon, and research shows that the brain accepts visualization as a kind of practice or rehearsal. The same neurons light up in active imagination of physical action as do when the muscles actually fire during performance. Many athletes know how to enhance their physical outcomes in this way. We say that they psych themselves up for a game or match or meet.

Spiritual athletes have long applied the same approach, because it has proved to  be of help in the long distance exertion of a godly life. Indeed, not only the psalm, but the entire body of scripture, as well as our worship life, are examples of the collective exercise of trust, hope, and love, in combination with memory and anticipation. In recent years, psychological and sociological research has focused specifically upon those who follow a spiritual path and participate in a spiritual and communal practice. Those who do are shown to experience a greater sense of well being and greater longevity.

To state the obvious, the visions of fulfillment in the prophets, as well as Jesus’ own appropriation of them in his image of the reign of God, are forms of collective visualization. We have evidence that such active engagement of our collective imagination is efficacious. It moves our life and life itself toward their realization. We trust that it is so, because we hope it is so, because we love the dream of it becoming so.

Research results suggest that our inclination and yearning have a bearing upon the outcome we desire. Like the power of prayer, we recognize the power of trust, hope, and love, the power of memory and anticipation. These are gifts given particularly to humankind, characteristic dimensions of human consciousness for our particularly human vocation. The exercise of these spiritual gifts is influential in personal and communal becoming.

Many of us know from the experience of misfortune that trust, hope, and love can sustain us in adversity and foster recovery of well being. When we are joyfully surprised by the fulfillment we have long awaited, we have a hunch that our yearning played some part in its coming to pass. As we are on the lookout for cues from God, tracking and observing the operation of grace in our lives and in larger events, God’s goodness also takes a cue from us, attending our deepest longings.

The collect and psalm are about how trust, hope, and love collaborate in interaction with memory and anticipation and also with the amazing grace of God. Think of the collaboration of these energies within us, among us, and within the fabric of human events. Imagine that it’s something like the interactivity of sub-atomic particles, detected by the superconductor across the road. Patterns rearrange constantly, and possibilities are occasioned as their motions are mutually influenced.

Let’s apply our appreciation of this interaction to the story of blind Bartimaeus. Because he is blind and can’t work, Bart must beg to survive. Because he lives at the bottom of the heap, he is on the fringe of events. But he has acute hearing. He’s heard of Jesus and the reports of his healing power. Bart knows that this may be his only chance, as Jesus passes by en route to Jerusalem. He calls out insistently. He refuses to stop his hue and cry when the crowd presses him to stop pestering. Instead, he redoubles his efforts and turns up the volume.

Jesus hears him and invites him into the center of events. Jesus inquires as to the specifics of Bart’s petition. What do you want from me, he asks. Bart names the substance of his hope. Let me see again, he begs Jesus, and so he does.

Implicit in this interchange is Bart’s trust, hope, and love interacting with Jesus’ trust, hope, and love, while the disciples and the crowd seems preoccupied with other considerations. But what could be more important than the intersection of memory and anticipation with the interaction of trust, hope, and love? That’s where God is catalyzed in human events. That’s where grace erupts as redemptive energy.
Bart trusts the power of God to reside in a reputed healer. Bart’s hope is that the healer can restore his sight. Bart loves the vision of God that assumes that grace and power reside in godly souls for the benefit of the afflicted and for the binding up of communal wounds. Jesus shares Bart’s vision of God, humankind, and community, of how it works, of how it’s broken, of how its promise can be fulfilled.

Together they accomplish a miracle that neither could have achieved alone. Something powerful happens when people of trust, hope, and love share a vision of what’s possible in God. There is a catalytic quality to the interaction that advances the dynamic toward the fulfillment of the vision.
This story is surrounded by irony. It comes at the end of the tenth chapter. What has preceded it in the chapter is the story of the rich young man, someone who enjoyed being at the center of events. Yet he could not see Jesus’ invitation as a gift, and so no collaboration was possible. Then comes the disciples incredulity at the notion that wealth might be a handicap and Jesus’ reassurance that all things are possible with God. Then the disciples are preoccupied by contention, as Jesus tries to tell them what is about to unfold in Jerusalem. James and John want the glory seats. The others take offense. Jesus tells them that they have no idea what they’re talking about.

After all this preoccupation and distraction, blind Bartimaeus sees. And immediately after his example comes the entry into Jerusalem. Bart is among the disciples who follow Jesus into the holy city. Although Jesus has told him that he may go on his way rejoicing, Bart, unlike the others, is paying attention. He decides that his vision can improve even more in the company of Jesus. So he follows. And since Bart has his eyesight, he can enter the temple, to offer a sacrifice of thanksgiving.

We know the story of the faithful remnant of Israel, whom God recollects from the ends of the earth for their homecoming, one flock of one, good shepherd. But who are those who constitute the faithful remnant implied in these lessons? They are anyone whose trust, hope, and love meets that of another and together constellates the possibility of God. They are those who through memory and anticipation reconstitute themselves as God’s people, in all times and places, chosen to collaborate in grace. They are those who see in Jesus the possibility of God in human actualization.

Those who visualize their own becoming in his enhance their collaboration, their possibility, their performance. They tune the acuity of their hearing to God’s word, and so the promise leans towards fulfillment in them. They see beyond what is to what might be, given cooperation with God. They live lives of active imagination in the reign of God, and so that vision shapes their becoming and changes the world. Let’s say it this way. When the reign of God erupted on earth, then did we laugh aloud with jubilation. Let’s pray it this way. Increase your reign upon earth, that all may come to know your saving power. Then will humankind reap the harvest of health and wellbeing. Then will humankind fulfill its calling. Sing along if you know the Eric Law setting of the psalm verse.

Those who sowed with tears
will reap with songs of joy.
Those who go out weeping,
carrying the seed,
will come again with joy,
will come again with joy,
shouldering the sheaves.
AMEN

The Rev. Dr. Katherine M. Lehman+ Rector

All Saints Day, 2009

Homily by The Rector

Life is an awesome gift, with its inherent and inescapable freedom and responsibility. No one can relieve us of the privilege and gravity of our lives. We can love each other, care for each other, offer guidance and support to each other. But each of us must make something of our lives, and we remain answerable for our choices. Life is an awesome gift.

Will Dickens’ departure from us is a grievous loss. We are still shocked and stunned. We had no indication that he was in distress. As often as the questions return, we will never know what he was feeling or exactly what happened. Neither will we know if there might have been anything any of us might have done differently that might have changed the outcome. We must let the questions go as readily as they come.

What we do know and can say is that Will was a joy and delight to us. His life, besides being a gift to him, was also a gift to us. While we wish we could have had him with us longer, we are grateful for the time he was with us. We thank heaven for his indelible selfhood, for his boisterous company, for his signature grin.

Life is not easy, nor is it altogether benign. Terrible things happen. Sorrow abounds. Despair is a ready resort. Evil is real. We bear the collective load of human error all the time. It can get us down.

Our kids grow up in a compromised world. We want to protect and shelter them from the worst of it. We want to insulate ourselves from it too. But perhaps we do better to face it, in manageable doses, to address it and contend with it. Perhaps we do better to equip ourselves, and our children, to take a stand and so counteract that which is unworthy of the gift of life.

I’ve been imagining a world in which no one would be susceptible to despair. It would be a better world. It would be the world as Jesus envisioned it could be. We have a lot of work to do to live up to the example of human potential that he offered us. His response to the gift of life made the world a better place. As we live into his vision for us, as we take up that work of response, we are strengthened. And our children take heart from it. And all that is unworthy is put on notice.

Consider to what extent we take our hopes and dreams seriously. Do we take them as seriously as our fears and worst nightmares? Do we take them more seriously? What difference does it make in each case? To what extent do we live as though good is stronger than evil? Do we act upon that premise, or do we hedge our bets? To what extent do we live trusting goodness to prevail? To do so, even sometime, changes the world for the better. The world becomes a more encouraging place for all of us.

Today we are accountable for choosing our response to Will’s death, and to the other tragic deaths of Gunn students, just as we must chose our response to whatever weighs heavily upon our hearts and spirits. We gather here to respond in a way that honors our love for him, for them, for humanity and for life itself. We are here to remind ourselves that love is stronger than death. So we are told, and so we believe. We are here to receive strength, so we are more able to live in that consolation, with confidence.

Here is how we honor Will’s life, his love for us and ours for him. As we miss him, we uphold the meaning and purpose that makes life worthwhile. We celebrate the love that enfolds the Dickens and Dixon families, their friends and neighbors, and all of us. We align ourselves with the goodness, recognizing it as amazing grace, the very power of God at work. By choosing to affirm all that is best in this life, we honor those we love and see no longer, those here and now who need our best response, and those who come after us.

By that amazing grace, may we be given the strength to respond more and more with trust, hope, and love. So may we become God’s redemptive work in the world. AMEN

The Rev. Dr. Katherine M. Lehman+ Rector

Remarks by Will’s Friend, Alex Braelow

I first met Will when I was 5 years old on the playgrounds of Nixon Elementary School. Since that time we have become notorious for relating stories of our adventures and Shenanigans. For instance, I always smile when I remember us hiking on Mount Tam as rambunctious seven year olds. Will had somehow managed to convince my mom that it was a good idea to bring along a soccer ball, with the promise that we wouldn’t play on the hills. As soon as we crested the first hill, Will pulled out the soccer ball and kicked it over to an unsuspecting me. I think I turned in just enough time to see it disappear into the woods 100 yards below. I do believe it is safe to say that we climbed that hill more than once that day.

For as long as I’ve known Will, he never lost that mischievous streak, and neither have I. We had a sort of code, based on eye contact that signaled to each other that collaboration was a foot. One fine day at Shoreline Sailing and Windsurfing Camp, all of the campers were sitting under the shade of a large pine tree. While the others were eating lunch, relaxing, talking and pretty much enjoying a nice summer afternoon, Will and I had stumbled upon an unattended garden hose. Without a word, a plan began to form. At this juncture I would like to point out that we were the youngest campers by a good 4 years, and because of this we had taken a certain amount of hazing which meant one thing, Total Warfare. Before any campers finished their sandwiches, we descended upon them. We were a blur of torrential garden hose and war cries. We unleashed our half pint revenge upon them.  Somehow or another we retreated to the protective heights of the shady pine trees.  We were perched up there with a seemingly endless amount of ammunition commonly referred to as pinecones.  We sat there back to back pelting pinecones at enraged teenagers keen to put us back into our place.  Henceforth we were known to all as Chipmunk and Squirrel. I knew at that point that Will would always have my back and that we would always be friends.

But the best thing about Will was his blatant honesty. This past spring our two families piled into the Dickens white minivan and powered down the California coast visiting various colleges. After an exhausting week, we had one last college to visit, Cal Lutheran. At this point, Will, Alison and I had grown weary of our text book Gunn student responses to questions regarding our interests. When the tour guide turned his attention to Will and asked him, “What are you interested in?” Will, with his iconic grin, replied whole heartedly, “Girls!” I turned to my mom and I said, “That must have been the most truthful response all week.”

Whatever I think of in life, I always imagine Will being there. Graduating from Gunn, rooming in college and growing old in some retirement home making comments about how those long haired hippy kids should stay off the lawn. And I guess in many respects he will be, just not the way I imagined. Will was my friend; he was my brother and I will always remember those good times we had together.

Remarks by Will’s Aunt, Kitty Dixon

Will, William . . . his name means determined, protector, especially of his younger sister, Aly.

A son, brother, grandson, nephew, cousin and friend, a musician, water polo player, computer wiz, adventurer.

Most importantly, to all of us Will was an amazing person: creative, thoughtful, compassionate, and so sweet, a smile that lit up a room, a funny, upbeat guy who brightened our days.

A famous writer once said, “I wanted a perfect ending.  Now I’ve learned the hard way that some poems don’t rhyme and some stories don’t have a clear beginning, middle and end.  Life is about not knowing, having to change, taking the moment and making the best of it without knowing what is going to happen next…”

Will was great at enjoying the moment; he lived life to the fullest! We had so many special times as a family. He loved to visit his cousins in California, his brothers and their families in Texas and North Carolina. He’d climb trees with them, swim, hike, bike ride, always on the go.  As a  family, Janet, Dick, and the kids traveled all over: in the motor home to beautiful camping spots around the country, every Thanksgiving in Hawaii, and to his Dad’s roots in England.

Aly loved their times in Hawaii. They would wake up each morning and run straight from their rooms with their boogie boards and hit the waves!! She will miss that.

Aly, his sister and best friend, holder of his secrets, love of his life. They would spend hours together playing video games, sharing music, Aly always getting advice on guys from him. They had just started to visit colleges around California, excited about some that were a great fit for them.

Then there were the holidays at Grandma and Grandpa’s. We remember how much he loved going there, especially at Christmas time! When it was time to leave, Will would hide and his cousins, Jeff and Matt would have to find him and carry him out to the car! So hard to leave Grandpa’s train set behind.

And Grandma Mildred, his Nona, who never let him leave for school without a hug and a Kit Kat.

Will would reluctantly play the piano for us, from an early age, always sounded like the accomplished musician of someone much older, so musically inclined!

One of his cousins thinks of Will every time she sees red licorice. About 12 years ago at Janet and Dick’s home at Pine Mountain Lake, our entire family would be there for the fourth of the July celebrations. We’d get up early, get packed up for lunch and swimming and then we spent the day at the Marina building sand castles, participating in the water balloon toss and having fun. Will and Aly played non-stop along with all their cousins. That entire day from when we woke up until Will headed for bed, she remembers he and Alison had no fewer that 3 Licorice Red Vines in their hands (and all over there faces) at all times. I think between the two of them, they single handedly polished off an entire Costco tub of Red Vines that weekend.

Will was a great swimmer from early on. He had the pool in the backyard of their Palo Alto home. Many days were spent playing in that pool with family and friends. Will and his older cousins had so much fun making human pyramids in the water and water fights. One day Will’s cousins Matt and Jeff decided to jump off the roof of the pool house into the pool. As dangerous as it was with an unsteady roof, Will, much younger, was right there behind them joining in the fun. He was a fun loving kid.

His years in the water were so evident when he reached high school. He had a job as a lifeguard and made varsity water polo team as a freshman, became a certified scuba diver just last year in Hawaii. He was a great competitive athlete.

And his parents, Janet and Dick, who put family and kids above all else. Thanks to them, Will had a great life filled with fun, learning, adventure, travel, home and most of all love. He had the best.

Robert Browning Hamilton once wrote:

I walked a mile with Pleasure,
She chattered all the way.
But left me none the wiser
For all she had to say.

I walked a mile with Sorrow
And ne’er a word said she,
But oh, the things I learned from her
When Sorrow walked with me.

In these sad, tough times, it doesn’t help to ask, “Why us?” Why Will?”  Maybe we are the instruments who are left behind to perpetuate the life that was lost, give it meaning way into the future. We are left to appreciate the time we had with him, appreciating the life of William Dickens.

We miss you, Will.

Nuclear Tipping Point

followed by discussion with

The Honorable George Shultz

Thursday, November 5th, 4-6pm at St. Bede’s

Nuclear Tipping Point was produced by the Nuclear Security Project to raise awareness about nuclear threats and to help build support for the urgent actions needed to reduce nuclear dangers.
The 50-minute documentary film features former Secretaries of State George Shultz and Henry Kissinger, former Secretary of Defense Bill Perry and former Senator Sam Nunn as they share the personal experiences that led them to write two Wall Street Journal op-eds in support of a world free of nuclear weapons and the steps needed to get there. Their efforts have reframed the global debate on nuclear issues and, according to the New York Times, have “sent waves through the global policy establishment.”
The film is introduced by General Colin Powell, narrated by actor Michael Douglas and includes interviews with Soviet President Mikhail Gorbachev and California Governor Arnold Schwarzenegger.
For more information about the Nuclear Security Project, please visit
Nuclear_Security_Project_Home.htm

Requiem Mass in the Octave of All Souls

Choirs of St. Bede’s & Christ Church, Portola Valley

Presented at Christ Church, Portola Valley

Directed by Jane McDougle and Matthew Burt

Friday, November 6th,  7:30pm

John Rutter’s, Requiem (1985) is a beautiful, contemporary setting of the ancient texts for choir, soloists, and a small band of instruments. All are welcome at this lovely service, and will be invited to submit names of those to be remembered. Free will offering.

Choral Evensong for the First Sunday of Advent
St. Bede’s Choir with Jane McDougle and Rani Fischer
Sunday, November 29th, 5pm

Marking the turn of the church’s year into the rich and complex season of Advent is a wonderful opportunity for celebration in words and music. Focussing our attention on the witness of the prophets to the forthcoming birth of the Messiah, our Evensong will include things both ancient and modern. Christmas is coming: join with us in remembering the journey of the light from the darkness. The music will be from the Renaissance, with the choir’s Introit will be “Rorate coeli” by Jacobus Handl, the Magnificat and the Nunc Dimittis from Orlando Gibbons’ Short Service, and the anthem will be “Veni Domine” by Spanish composer Juan Esquivel.
Free will offering

“…You must first invent the universe.”

Here’s Carl Sagan and Stephen Hawking, prophets of our own time, in song.

Do you remember the old westerns on TV, when the highwayman would ride out of the brush to waylay the stagecoach? He’d point his six shooter at the driver and threaten, “Your money or your life!” He probably wanted only the money. What he really meant was, “if you don’t give me the money, I may have to shoot you to get it.” In a way, Jesus is answering the young man who waylays him with the same question, although meant differently. He’s posing real options. “In a forced choice, which is more important to you, your wealth or your life?” We’ll come back to that question.

We’ve also heard it said that you can’t take it with you, meaning that material assets aren’t worth much to their owner after death. However, ancient burial sites illustrate how the hope persists that some supplies just might come in handy, you never know. That’s how we get to see the opulence of King Tut’s tomb, on exhibit at the de Young. He was a rich young man too.

Let’s frame the gospel story by the other lessons, chosen to back it up. The psalm instructs us as to the brevity and contingency of human life. It is that knowledge that prompts us to seek whatever in life is most worthy, given that we have limited time, energy, and resources. It’s Mary Oliver who puts this most lyrically when she asks, “What will you do with your one, wild, and precious life?” How will you spend it?

If we were Epicureans, we’d answer eat, drink, and be merry, for tomorrow we may die. There’s a certain wisdom to that, to enjoy life while we have it to savor. But it doesn’t go far enough, as the rich young man knows. What about immortality? What about ultimate meaning? This fellow has it all, as we say, wealth and prominence. He’s an upstanding citizen, living the good life. Such questions about the more of our existence may move him to approach Jesus.

The epistle ups the ante, increasing the stakes. We are answerable to the God, who gives us life. The Word that creates, redeems, and sustains us also judges us. Our word must answer the Word. We must render an account of our stewardship. Call it the final audit. We are the trustees, the fiduciaries, of our lives and resources. God the Giver of all gifts and the incarnate Word will want to hear from us.

There’s a worldview behind the scriptures that will help us make better sense of the gospel interchanges. In biblical times, the majority lived in a subsistence economy. The peasantry operated mostly within extensive kinship networks, with exchange and barter as the principal economic currencies. In urban areas, trade and commerce were more developed. Commodities and coinage provided the principal currencies. In Jerusalem, the temple had its own monetary system, apart from the imperial coinage in general circulation. Among the urban elite and rural landowners, like the rich young man, society was organized around patronage, networks in which patrons, retainers, clients, and brokers shared reciprocal expectations.

Being outside these networks meant social disadvantage, perhaps even social stigma. Itinerant teachers and wonder workers, like Jesus and the disciples, had left the kinship systems of their villages. Matthew, an exception had left his trade in the city. Although there were rules of the road, itinerants were neither fish nor fowl, suspect as strangers, living beyond the law, maybe even outlaws. Jesus’ encounter with the prominent young man takes place in this setting. Jesus and his band of disciples are setting out on the next leg of their itinerant adventure, heading south from Galilee, throughout the region of Judea, towards Jerusalem.

The earnest fellow asks what he must do to inherit eternal life. Not only is he wealthy, but he’s scrupulously observant of the torah. This man is ambitious. Has he heard Jesus teach about eternal life before? His question to Jesus concerns not what he has but what he may lack. Does he hope to acquire the ultimate good? Does he seek reassurance that’s he’s already guaranteed it? Is he interested in hearing more about what this phrase may mean? Jesus gives him the answer he seeks, in the form of a question, good Socratic method. The fellow doesn’t like the answer he gets. He chooses to reject the teaching he sought. He returns to his former life, regretful that he can’t have it all. Jesus has said to him, in order to have eternal life, then life as you know it must end. You can’t have two lives, and leading a double life doesn’t work.

The young man represents for us all these possibilities. Are we restless with life as it is? Would we prefer to have it all? Do we need reassurance that we’re on the right track? Are we curious what the term eternal life may mean? In a way, he reminds me of young men who used to hop trains out of rural towns, seeking adventure. Does he want to run away with Jesus to a new way of life? Is he romanticizing the itinerant life of a disciple? Does he feel suffocated by social position and obligation? Or does he simply want another feather in his cap, yet another acknowledgment of his achievement? If it were our day and time, would his counselors be encouraging him to run for public office?

Jesus’ answer to him seems extreme to us, but Jesus is offering him freedom and responsibility. He is saying, you needn’t feel constrained by your life as it is. You are free to choose how to live and how to value your life. If you were to divest yourself of your holdings,  then you’d be free to come with us. That’s because he’d  no longer be constrained by his duties as a patron. Jesus explains, we’re running an experiment together. We seek to live into an alternative kind of society and economy, into a new kindom, if you will, into a new vision of who we can be and how we can become one, what we call a communion. If you’d like to explore eternal life here and now, you’re most welcome to join us.

Ironically, Jesus helps the young man realize his freedom to choose. He chooses chronos, ordinary time, rather than kairos, the rare moment of opportunity to enter into extraordinary time. Indeed, he has made his choice. Don’t you wonder what kind of answer he may have wanted? Did he want to hear that he had already successfully completed all the requirements, so he could safely rest upon his laurels? Whatever answer he wanted, his presupposition missed the invitation to enter into what would remain for him unimaginable. The possibility of God went begging.

There’s one assumption we don’t hold, that was part of the biblical worldview, and we need to take it into consideration in order to appreciate the passage. In close to a subsistence economy, when someone amasses prominent riches, it’s assumed that they are ill gotten gains, accumulated at the expense of others. Therefore, wealth is a mark of dishonesty. In general, we don’t think of wealth that way, in a capitalist economy. However, there are vestiges of that view. Think of heirs of the tycoons of yesteryear, who have become magnanimous social benefactors, openly expressing their hope to rectify their ancestors’ exploitation of others.

Regardless of the worldview of the scriptures, the questions remain for us. What is a life well spent? And what is the right relationship of money to life? The lessons urge us to re-construe the meanings of poverty and wealth, to take into account intangible, as well as tangible, goods, and to make use of spiritual, as well as physical, resources. Whether rich or poor, whether we stay put or go off wandering, it’s easy to miss the point of it all. It’s easy to miss the moments of opportunity and possibility we are presented. The epistle says that it’s not about the externals. It’s about motive and intention. Amos poses the questions in this way. What do we seek? Whom do we seek to serve? In the gospel story, it’s about whether we accept Jesus’ invitation into the experiment that can be made only among those who seek God. His question is, will you join us?

However high or low our so-called lot in life, Jesus invites us, each one and altogether, to claim our forgotten birthright as children of God and to live into our inheritance as heirs of God in Christ. It turns out that we are most richly endowed, most privileged in opportunity, and most accountable for paying it forward into God’s future.  We the baptized remember our heritage, gratefully gathered in eucharistic fellowship.

As for the camel and needle, let’s chalk that one up to Aramaic hyperbole. It is a way to emphasize how hard it is to transcend our worldview. It takes a lot of time and energy and attention to amass wealth. Money doesn’t grow on trees. It’s a preoccupying endeavor. Jesus is saying that we need to cultivate a different kind of focus, a singleness of heart, to preoccupy ourselves with God’s goodness. God is the one thing needful, the pearl of great price. If God’s goodness is what we seek, why then, we will find it. We will be found by God. Jesus is inviting the rich young man to focus his motive and intention upon God. If he does, then all else, all he is and all he has, will be put to right use.

This gets us to Peter, who gets lost in the story, overshadowed by the rich young man and the camel. Peter also accosts Jesus with the question. But what about those of us who left behind life as we knew it to accept your invitation? What will be our recompense and reward? Does Peter regret going off with Jesus on the road less taken? Does he wonder about the future he might have had up north in the fishing business? Is he uneasy about where all this may be leading? Jesus’ answer to him is like the last miraculous catch they made on the lake. Peter, the goods you will receive from this new way of living in community will overflow your nets, for yourself, for everyone around you, even for those beyond your knowing.

But just so the disciples don’t get too giddy about their great good fortune at this promise, Mark has Jesus add into the reassurance “and persecution,” to remind them of the prophet’s reward. Amos describes the suffering inflicted upon those who speak truth and execute justice at the city gates. And Mark’s own community suffered in the Neronian persecution in the sixties. In this added phrase, Jesus is preparing them for his eventual reward in Jerusalem. He is saying that they must come to appreciate the greater good that is being wrought, the yield that will accrue over time and across the board. He’s inviting them to pay it forward.

So then, what shall we answer, our money or our life? Good God, take both! Use all we are and all we have as you will and to your greater glory! AMEN

The Rev. Dr. Katherine M. Lehman+ Rector

19 Pentecost, Proper 23, October 11, 2009
Amos 5:6-7, 10-15
Psalm 90: 12-17
Hebrews 4: 12-16
Mark 10: 17-31

Still thinking of St. Francis Day and our Blessing of the Animals, Gracie Stewart–St. Bede’s Sunday School teacher and mother of four kids and one dog–just sent along this link to a video, entitled “God and Dog.”

It’s sweet, some might say syrupy. And the part of me that was raised on David Letterman and came of age with The Simpsons has difficulty surrendering to its sincerity. But that’s my problem. In fact, I think it’s good for me–almost a kind of spiritual discipline–for me to set aside my over-developed sense of irony and embrace this video for what it is. So here you go. Who knew something like this could inspire such soul-searching?