Sermon for the Celebration of the Feast of St. Francis of Assisi

As a Franciscan who deeply values the example of St. Francis,

            I always appreciate the opportunity to help others

                        to see more in Francis than the blessing of animals.

Not that this is unimportant!

            We humans desperately need to get over our species bias,

                        our racism that sees the human race

            as more intelligent than other creatures, and therefore more important.

We need to get it that we are a part of the whole ecosystem,

            dependent on the other components of that ecosystem,

and, honestly, the ecosystem could get along just fine without us,

                        and probably a whole lot better.

That being said Francis knew the interrelationship of all the beings in creation.

            The Canticle of Creation expresses that fully.

Francis refers to Brother Sun, Sister Moon, brother fire and sister water,

            and our sister, Mother Earth, who generates so much that is life sustaining.

But Francis is known for more than his ecological astuteness.

There is the Francis who kissed the leper

            and identified with his Savior to such an extent

                        that he adopted a radical poverty so as to live the way Jesus did.

That close identification with Jesus reached its fullness

            when Francis experienced within his own body

                        the same wounds as Jesus bore in his crucifixion.

Today I want to talk about another aspect of Francis

            that I think is very timely and relevant to the issues of today

                        and what we are all facing to some degree or another.

This is Francis as the agent of peace in the 13^th Century and the 21^st Century.

Understand that Francis is a peace saint,

            a reconciler between God and humans

            and a reconciler among humans, one with another.

When Francis was a young man and still trying to achieve personal glory

            as a knight in shining armor,

he rode out from Assisi with many of his peers

            to engage in battle with the town of Perugia,

                        some 10 or 12 miles away,

            where there had been long standing contention between the two –

                        feudal warfare perpetuated over the generations.

Francis had been taken prisoner

            and had languished a year in a dungeon in Perugia,

                        before returning home ill and re-thinking the vain glory of war

Not many years later, now gathering many brothers about him

            and living a life of extreme Gospel poverty,

Francis was approached by those who also wanted to follow his example

            but who were married and had families to care for.

“Give us a rule of life to live by too,” they demanded of him.

And so the Third Order came into being.

In the rule that Francis gave them,

            as well as living simply and penitently,

                        Francis gave them a way to live reconciliation and peace:

“You are not to bear arms,” he told them.

As the medieval feudal system depended largely

                        on the serfs, the common people, for their standing armies,

            and as the Third Order grew rapidly to many thousands of members

                                                                                    throughout Europe,

the number of serfs available for carrying on the continual warring

                        between lords and fiefdoms shriveled up.

The influence of St. Francis of Assisi essential brought to an end

            the whole era of feudal warfare.

But there is another story about Francis often overlooked

            until this last decade or so.

In 2005, just four years after 9/11, on October 4

            the Feast of St. Francis of Assisi coincided with

                                                Rosh Hashanah, the Jewish New Year,

                                                and the beginning of Ramadan.

This convergence provided a great opportunity for interfaith dialog,

            a time for learning about one another – Jew, Muslim and Christian –

            in order to build bridges of reconciliation and peace

                        in a time of war, violence and fear.

And it provided an opportunity to look with new understanding

            at the story of Francis during the 5^th Crusade

                        and his encounter with the Sultan Malik al-Kamil.

One thing this shows is that interfaith dialog is not new,

            is not a product of just this generation.

Eight hundred years ago Francis was engaged in

            a high level, interfaith dialog for the sake of reconciliation and peace.

The story goes that Francis and one of his brothers, Illuminato,

                        traveled to Damietta, Egypt, in 1219 during the 5^th Crusade,

            and they went where they weren’t supposed to go.

Risking their lives they sought out the Saracen leader,

            Sultan al-Kamil, who intrigued by Francis’ audacity,

                                                            and after some testing,

                        engaged with Francis in open-minded conversation.

Although Francis was unsuccessful in his attempt to see

                                    the sultan converted,

            he was granted safe passage instead of martyrdom,

            and the Sultan then gave offers for a truce and possible peace.

He also told Francis that although he could not become a Christian

                                    because of his leadership position,

            would Francis pray for him.

Now the reason Francis was able to get so far with the Sultan

            was not because of having convincing arguments

            or proving his way was the right way,

                        but through his openness of heart, his ability to listen and observe.

It was through his acceptance and willingness to embrace

                                                                                    all who came into his path.

No one was a leper to him anymore.

            No one was turned away from or rejected.

            Everyone was welcomed as though they were Christ himself.

Francis went to his enemy because he knew that he would find in him

                        what he had found in the leper – Jesus.

For always in the unexpected places Jesus is to be found.

In the two weeks that Francis and Brother Iluminato spent with the Sultan

            the conversation shifted,

                        moving into a place where neither had been before.

They found a space for dialog that they both could be in,

            a space liberated from the two warring sides,

            a place in which they could speak what was vital to life and death

                        that was not shared by the rest of those around them.

Liberated from the outer condition of the Crusade

            they could share with each other their spirituality,

                        talk about experiencing God in prayer.

This enabled them to get beyond stereotypes and differences.

During the 5^th Crusade, the one Francis took part in,

            his mission was not to defeat, but to embrace the enemy.

And what began as a confrontation in the Sultan’s tent evolved

            as each came to realize that before him was another human being

                        who knew God,

and so the need to convert was not the point;

            there was no need to turn the other to a different religion.

The Sultan was deeply impressed by Francis,

                        especially the way he was living what he preached,

                                    how he revealed Christ in his life.

And Francis was learning from the Sultan and his people

            a way of worshipping God that the people of Europe could benefit from.

For instance he came home to his brothers,

            and immediately encouraged them to prostrate themselves in praise to God

                        whenever they heard a church bell ring.

We have an extant prayer of St. Francis written after this encounter with the Sultan

            that praises God in the style of

                        the Islamic praises of the names or attributes of Allah.

I quote it in part:

“You are holy, Lord, the only God, and your deeds are wonderful.

You are strong.  Your are great. You are the Most High.

            You are almighty.  …

            You are Good, all Good, supreme Good…

You are love, You are wisdom, …

            You are joy and gladness. … justice and moderation.

You are beauty. …

            You are our haven and our hope.

You are our faith.  Our great consolation,

            Great and wonderful Lord, God almighty, Merciful Savior.”

So this example of Francis, I would like you to consider,

            is now today for us more relevant than ever.

Look at the issues around refugees, terrorism, immigration, Islamaphobia,

            and political and economic polarizations.

Francis went where he wasn’t supposed to go.

We are responsible for how we relate to the stranger living with us,

                        the immigrant, the refugee, the one who looks different,

            our social lepers.

Can we embrace them like Francis did?

Can we go where we are not expected to go? –

            to the place that brings reconciliation and peace.

Sermon at Emmanuel, Mercer Island, Sept. 4

I have to tell you about an interesting incident of synchronicity

                        that happened last Monday.

I was out walking my dog,

                        when we passed a recycle dumpster out by the curb,

            and there on the ground propped up against it was a book.

The title stood out clearly: Go Into the City

That struck a bell.

Those were the words spoken to Saul on the road to Damascus

                        in the dramatic vision of the Resurrected Jesus

            turning reality on its head for this rabid terrorist of the early Church.

“Arise, and go into the city, and it shall be told you what you must do.”

So, of course, I leaned over and picked it up.

What I had in my hands was a book published in 1986,

            but looking like it had never been opened; it was in pristine condition.

Go Into the City, Sermons for a Strenuous Age, by John Compton Leffler

John Leffler, some of you may know, was the dean of St. Mark’s Cathedral

                                    for 20 year back in the last century.

In the 70’s I had been a student at the Diocesan School of Theology

            and had taken his homiletics course for which I wrote my first sermons.

Dean Leffler was known for his sermons

            which were clear and accessible to the listeners.

His intention was to awaken each person in the congregation

            to a realization of our true destiny

                                                as a people created in the likeness and image of God.

The focus of his sermons was often on current issues of social justice and action

            such as his opposition to the Viet Nam war.

He was not hesitant to express uncomfortable truths.

What made this serendipitous find stand out for me

            was that I had just been thinking about the next Sunday’s sermon.

So naturally I kept the book and have been reading these sermons from my teacher,

            whom I remember as being somewhat Yoda-like in appearance.

Here are a couple of gems from his sermons that seem to me apropos for us here:

“Nothing kills religious worship so quickly as monotony.

Nothing stifles religion’s vitality so completely as being poured into a narrow mold.”

Pointing to 1 Corinthians 12, the passage about the variety of gifts but one Spirit,

he wrote, “That is what makes a church vital –

            when each man and woman, boy and girl,

            contributes of his God-given ability to the achievement of the common goal.”

and this which goes with it:

            “What he (the Apostle Paul) … object[ed] to was the easy assumption

            that the church existed primarily as a background

            for the peculiar talents of its leaders.”

He then referred to a saying I hadn’t heard since childhood:

            “Let George do it.”                        Anybody remember that saying?

Let George do it, meaning hand off responsibility to …

            the rector, the senior warden, whoever else was active in the congregation.

Do you suppose there might be a synchronistic connection for us

            between that particular book propped up by the dumpster

            and this moment in the transition process for this congregation?

We could do some mulling over about whether our mold for worship,             personal and corporate, our relationship with God, is too narrow.

We are reminded of the role each of us here

            has in the life of the whole congregation

                        for fulfilling both our own personal and our community purpose.

And we are warned that the church doesn’t exist as a backdrop

            for exhibiting the next talented and charismatic rector

                        who will stand out in the larger community.

Don’t expect the next rector at Emmanuel to be “George.”

And we can’t just use this time right now in the life of the parish

            to have the attitude of  “Let Allan do it.”  God bless our Senior Warden!

I say all of that so that I can ease into the Gospel for today,

            a passage which is difficult to hear, but just can’t be avoided.

Jesus looked at the large crowds traveling with him and said,

 “Whoever comes to me and does not hate father and mother,

            wife and children, brothers and sisters,

            yes, and even life itself,                                    cannot be my disciple.”

It’s not like we can take a pass on these words of Jesus.

             They appear in all four Gospels at least eight times.

That repetition indicates

            “This is important.  Pay attention.”

My religious order, the Third Order, Society of St. Francis,

            places these words at the very first of our rule and principles.

“Those who love their life lose it,

            and those who hate their life in this world will keep it for eternal life.”

“Whoever does not carry the cross and follow me

            is not able to be my disciple.”

“…none of you is able to become my disciple

            if you do not give up all your possessions.”

This is a message from Jesus that we don’t want to hear.

If we take his words seriously, then it sure looks like Jesus is asking too much.

Does he really mean for us to hate father and mother,

spouse and children, brothers and sisters, and even life itself?

Let me ask a different question:  Do we all live in love and harmony?

            No!                       

There is no evidence in history of people living in love and harmony

            for more than the briefest period of time

                        before war breaks out, one war after another.

Even more difficult is just living together in families. 

Have you noticed, parents,

            how children start fighting with their siblings from very early on.

The hate is already there, mixed certainly with actual love,

            but how many of you parents can recall some time during raising those kids,

                        that they yelled, “I hate you,”

            if only out of their frustration at not getting their own way.

So we bear our own cross, the wounds of life that have killing effect on us,

            all those crisis points

and here we are like the great multitudes following Jesus,

            showing up here in church.

Why would somebody follow Jesus?

Because there is a natural liberation about him.

            You follow Jesus because everything else starts dropping away.

This is what has been happening in our lives already,

                as we have been drug through these crises and difficulties and woundings.

We’ve been coming here to church for awhile.

We are already in this process

            where our values and attachments are being shifted.

There is a presence and a love that you have to admit.

Jesus, in this Gospel passage today, is saying,

            I’ll pull you through all this,                    

                        and I can pull your family through too.

Yes, count the cost.  It will touch all your attachments.

Don’t you know that your attachment to life

            is actually attachment to the fear of death.

But follow Jesus and you  will know freedom.

Why would we follow Jesus and trust these words which confront our sensibilities?

Here’s what I know:

            Jesus is the light of the world. 

            His whole being, so much more than his words even, radiate love. 

This love enlivens every encounter people have with Jesus,

                        even when he confronts them,

            because it is for the purpose of awakening them

            into the truth of their potential that they are ignoring. 

In each of us is light lost in our self enclosed darkness. 

That light is our life and freedom. 

It is how salvation can get expressed in us. 

The expression of the light in each of us in relationship to each other  –  is love.

Our capacity as beings is to come to full recognition of self

            as a harmony of all the rays of God’s radiant light, love and wholeness                                     so that love may be realized without condition in the world. 

This is your capacity, truth and purpose for being.

The mindset of the world distorts and obscures this divine radiance. 

The mind of the world lives in ignorance of this light

            through unconscious and impoverished thievery           

                        substituting counterfeit, artificial light in the form of gratification

                                    which entertains us without enlightening.

So here’s an idea:

Simply giving attention to Jesus sacrifices the mind of the world. 

In the act of turning attention to Jesus,

            freedom opens immediately in the revelation of light.

Jesus does that in our lives.

            Let him work.

                        Can you dig it?