1 post tagged “interruptions by god...”

A few years ago, while I was in New York attending a meeting, I had the pleasure of attending a church service in which Tracey Lind, Dean of the Cathedral in Cleveland, preached. Tracey has recently published a book – fancy and beautiful book called “Interrupted by God: Glimpses from the Edge”. I refer her book as “fancy” and “beautiful” because it’s a collection of her own black and white photographs and stories about her years doing urban ministry. It’s the kind of book that is substantive AND appropriate for coffee table. In this book and in her sermon that night, Tracey talked about her life of faith as a series of interruptions by God. She introduced us to people in her life that appeared out of the blue and altered the course of journey. She told us about unexpected moments of holiness where she experienced the overpowering love of God as she struggled on a particular fringe. Tracey admitted that sometimes these interruptions have been welcomed. Mostly though, she considered them to be a nuisance—at least initially…Interruptions after all have the habit of “breaking into the normal state of affairs….but, Christ often happens in the interruptions”.

Jesus says to Zacchaeus, “Hurry and come down from that tree; for I must stay at your house today.”  Talk about an interruption form the ordinary realm of possibility. I want you to think for a moment about a modern day public figure you associate with serious corruption. Then imagine God saying to that person: “let’s spend some time together at your house”. This is in essence what plays out in the Gospel text. Zacchaeus was a tax collector – a figure associated with corruption and well despised by the larger community. So I imagine that more than just a grumble went through the crowd when Jesus informed everyone that he would be spending time with Zachaeus at this sinner’s home. Much to everyone’s surprise, Zachaeus responds to Jesus’ pronouncement with a proclamation of repentance and generosity. “Lord” he says, “half of my possessions I will give to the poor and if I have defrauded anyone or anything, I will pay back four times as much.” So picture your modern day corrupt figure again and imagine that person voluntarily giving away his or her power and wealth and admitting wrongdoing. In today’s culture where the name of the game in the public sphere is never admitting defeat or wrongdoing, Zachaeus’ actions—in contrast--are humbling and bold.

Fortunately for us, our God is one who delights in interruptions that hold within them the gift of “another chance”. In her book, Tracey Lind tells the story of growing up in a Jewish and Christian household and being haunted by an exchange she had as a child with one of her Sunday School Rabbis. One day, after her Hebrew School had finished watching a documentary on the Holocaust, the Rabbi turned to Tracey and said “Tracey, you don’t look Jewish. You could have passed. What would you have done? Would you have died for your faith or denied it?!” In that moment Tracey didn’t have an answer. She didn’t know what it meant to pass. She didn’t know what it meant to die for one’s faith. She didn’t really know what faith was. She only new that she was angry embarrassed, confused and alone. So she just started back at him and finally said, “I don’t know.” Tracey has wrestled with that accusatory statement and probing question all the days of her life. It has permeated her dreams, it has kept her awake, it has stood with her in the pulpit and it has influenced every major life decision she has made. It was as an adult that Tracey was able to find some sort of resolution to THE QUESTION of her life. Several years ago, the adult Tracey, now priest who is also a lesbian woman, watched a gay colleague in her diocese stand trial in a landmark Church case for being a priest public about his committed relationship with another man. The pain of that process propelled her to speak aloud from the ten-foot-high pulpit of her church the truth of her life. In her sermon she said: “And now, to answer your question, God: No, I will not pass! Yes, I am ready and willing to claim who I am and to live and die for my faith!” The people of her congregation responded with a thunderous applause and a loud “Amen!” Today, Tracey continues to live out this ethic by having put herself forward as a candidate for the next Bishop of Chicago.

Zachaeus, a man short in stature in so many ways, dared to interrupt Jesus’ journey to Jerusalem. First he climbed a tree to flag him down and then he made a public statement of repentance. We don’t know what motivated Zachaeus in the first place to alter the trajectory of his life. But I’m willing to bet that an interruption from God caused him to climb that tree and then accept Jesus as both houseguest and Savior. In doing so, he became one of the saved sought out from the lost. Zacchaeus’ story is a dramatic one. The passage from Isaiah, however, is an example of an even harsh interruption from God, the hardest kind of interruption there is. Addressed to those whose hands are “full of blood” the instructions are terse: clean up, remove the evil and learn to do good or else….

The interruptions, however scary or delightful they may be, are spaces where we can connect most deeply with God and with humanity. Holidays aka Holy Days often serve this function on the collective level. This week alone we face a barrage of important and sacred days -- All Hallows’ Eve, All Saints’ and All Souls and this coming week, Election Day. All Hallows’ Eve, was originally observed by the ancient Celts as the day to celebrate the onset of Fall and the beginning of their New Year. It was also a festival of the dead, a time to remember those who had passed and a time when witches, goblins and demons could walk the earth. Lanterns made out of gourds were left along paths to guide the way home for ancestors while others were carved with scary faces and carried or placed on porches to ward off the demons and witches. These lantern gourds are now the fancy and fun carved jack-o-lanterns we see today.

All Saints’ and All Souls are about celebrating the lives of the Saints past present and future. In Mexican culture the Day of the Dead or Dia de los Muertos is an important version of this Holy Day. In most Mexican localities November 1 is set aside for remembrance of deceased infants and children, often referred to as angelitos (little angels). Those who have died as adults are honored November 2. From mid-October through the first week of November, markets and shops all over Mexico are replete with the special accouterments for the Dia de Muertos (Day of the Dead) including candles and votive lights, fresh seasonal flowers and a special bread of the dead. All of these goods are destined for the buyer's ofrenda de muertos or offering to the dead. At home members of the family might use the purchases to elaborate an altar in honor of deceased relatives. The spirits of the dead are expected to pay a holiday visit home and should be provided with an enticing repast and adequate sustenance for the journey. Meanwhile, at the family burial plot in the local cemetery, relatives spruce up each gravesite. The graves are then decorated according to local custom. On November 2 family members gather at the cemetery for gravesite reunions more festive than somber. Some bring along picnic baskets, bottles of tequila for toasting the departed or even a mariachi band to lead a heartfelt sing-along.

While the interruption of death is a topic largely avoided in North American culture, the Mexican Day of the Dead is meant not to be a morbid occasion, but rather a festive time. You may have been interrupted by such a makeshift altar recently.

The last planned interruption of this mini season will be Election Day. Elections, while not religious holidays, carry perhaps just as much moral weight as any Christian holy day. Every year, in the first week of November, we are asked to put our faith in action as we dig into our conscious and decided how we want our local, state and national governments to involved with the global human family. As people of faith, we are asked to seek justice in the world. In electing new leaders, this means making sure that the candidates or the propositions we endorse—as Isaiah puts it—rescue the oppressed, defend the orphan and plead for the widow, so to speak.

Tracey Lind writes: “Christ happens in the interruptions. Though I don’t always welcome them in the moment, I see interruptions as divine grace waiting to be recognized and received. In fact, I believe that the Risen Christ is always standing in the shadows of life, and every now and again, more often than not, comes out and is made known to us through some person, action, or event, an interruption into the ordinary realm of possibility. We never know when Christ is going to move from the shadows to the center stage. It just happens, and when it does, the normalcy and complacency of our lives is interrupted.” Jesus welcomed the interruptions. Let us do the same as we “run without stumbling” in our journey as fools for Christ.

Amen.

Year C, 22 Pentecost/Proper 26