The McRib & the Saints of God

Sermon from November 6, 2011
(All Saints’ Sunday – Year A)
Matthew 5: 1-12
St. Alban’s Episcopal Church, Waco, Texas

During this past week, several news stories have caused me to question a very important part of American life.
During this past week, I have been led to explore the identity and makeup of a mystery.
During this past week, I have been compelled to ask:
What is in a McRib?

The McRib is the pork sandwich at McDonald’s that first debuted in 1982.
The McRib has a devout following of disciples.
From TV commercials, it looks as if the McRib is a slab of pork ribs, smothered in BBQ sauce, garnished with pickles and onions and served on a hoagie roll.
The meat on the McRib is shaped so that you can actually see the indentation of ribs.

In 2005, however, McDonald’s discontinued the McRib from its regular menu.
Now the McRib comes out only for a season, only for a limited time of a few weeks.

However, the McRib is not at all what it seems.
The McRib does not actually have any ribs in it at all.
In fact, what looks like a slab of pork encasing several ribs, is actually pressed together animal parts such as pig organs and lips and other unmentionables.
There is not a single bone in a McRib.
Instead the “meat” is pressed together to give it a shape that just looks like ribs are present.

On October 24th of this year, the McRib returned again for its elusive appearance on McDonald’s menu.
And during this past week, I have been compelled to ask:
What is in a McRib?
And I have discovered that the McRib is not at all what it seems.

And in this season of All Saints, I have been compelled to ask:
What is in a saint?
And I have discovered that a saint is not at all what it seems.

When we ask:
What is in a saint?
We immediately think of the perfection of the saints, a perception of perfection that is fed by TV and movies and popular culture.

When exploring what is in a saint, we might come to the conclusion that saints are perfect people, people who are nice and sweet and destined to be angels in heaven.
Saints, we think, are the goody two shoes who never backtalk in the classroom and who are models of good manners.
Saints, we think, are smothered in a sweet and savory BBQ sauce, a delight to everyone.

In this last week, I have asked the question:
What is in a McRib?
And I have also asked the question:
What is in a saint?
And I have discovered that the McRib – and the saints of God - are not what they might seem.

If we want to know who the saints of God are, we can listen to Jesus’ careful description in his Sermon on the Mount in the Gospel of Matthew.
In the Gospel of Matthew, Jesus climbs up a mountain, sits down and teaches us:

Blessed are you who are poor in spirit, who know you need God - for you are a saint.
Blessed are you who mourn, who are acquainted with grief - for you are a saint.
Blessed are you who are gentle in spirit, who do not answer your problems with violence - for you are a saint.
Blessed are you who hunger and thirst, who are starving for the intangibles of life - for you are a saint.
Blessed are you peacemakers, who keep the peace by forgiveness - for you are a saint.
Blessed are all of you when you live counter-culturally, when you protest against injustice and get made fun of because you are different and get bullied for standing up for the weird kid in your class - for you are saints.
Rejoice and be glad, for you are not perfect.
Rejoice and be glad, because you are already a saint of God, today.

What is in a saint?
Inside a saint are some messy ingredients that we might not expect.
A saint is not someone who is perfect, who flies around with the angels up in heaven.
A saint is a human being who is poor in spirit, sad, hungry, thirsty, persecuted and forgiving.
A saint is someone who can be a pain in the neck to the unjust establishment.
A saint is someone whose feet are firmly planted on this earth, bringing the kingdom of God among us.
A saint is someone whose head is not up in the clouds, but whose heart is bent toward the people who now live on this earth.

Maybe it is just about where I am right now spiritually.
But I have grown weary of a Christianity that is so preoccupied about what heaven will be like or about what will happen to us when we die or about when “the second coming” will be (which, by the way, the phrase ‘second coming’ is not even in the Bible).

Instead, just as I want to know the messy details of what is inside a McRib,
I yearn to truly know the messy, gross and earthy details of what is inside the saints of God who are on this earth.

For Christianity is not about the pristine and the perfect.
Christianity is about the messy and unpredictable people who live on this earth.
Christianity is not about us flying away to escape our humanity.
Christianity is about a God who comes among us, on this earth.
Christianity is about a God who makes us saints, saints who bring God’s kingdom to this earth.

And so we fervently pray to our Father:
Your kingdom come.
Your will be done.
On earth, as it is in heaven.

Last Thursday, the Waco Tribune-Herald wrote an unexpected article about a football player at McGregor High School.
When we picture a high school football player, we expect a guy who is big and tall and strong.
Yet, Isaac Villafana, who is a wide receiver, is only 3 feet 9 inches tall.
For several years, Isaac had been the team manager,
But for his senior year this year, he wanted to suit up.
So the coach allowed Isaac to be an active part of the team.

On the outside, it would seem that Isaac could never play football.
Yet even with his disabilities, Isaac completes all the drills and two-a-days with his teammates, not asking for any special treatment.
Isaac does not ask to be taken away from this cruel earth, with all its disabilities and messiness.
Instead, Isaac has brought the kingdom of God to this earth, as his presence among his teammates has transformed the hearts of the players on the McGregor football team.

Isaac Villafana is Jesus among us.
Isaac is a short, disabled wide receiver who brings God’s kingdom of love and forgiveness and acceptance and transformation down to this earth.
Isaac is an unexpected saint.

What is in a McRib?
What is in a saint?
It is certainly not what it seems.

For the saints of God are not perfect.
The saints of God are imperfect and disabled and messy people like you and me and the hundreds of people whose names are on the walls of St. Alban’s today.
The saints of God are the poor in spirit, the hungry, the sad, the persecuted, the troublemakers who bring God’s kingdom to this earth.

So rejoice and be glad that you are not perfect.
Rejoice and be glad that today - on this earth - you are a saint.

AMEN.

We Have Crossed the River

Sermon from November 7, 2010
(Pentecost 24 – All Saints’ Sunday – Year C)
Luke 20: 27-38
St. Alban’s Episcopal Church, Waco, Texas

When I was in college, I was probably pretty unusual in that I did attend church on most Sundays.
However, because of the various Saturday night activities that many college students partake in, sometimes getting up for church on Sunday morning was just not an option.
Therefore, I was glad that the Episcopal parish in downtown Austin, St. David’s Episcopal Church, did offer a weekly Sunday service at 6 pm on Sunday evenings.
Among my friends in the dorm - and among my Episcopal college friends - we affectionately referred to the Sunday evening Eucharist at St. David’s as “the Hangover Mass.”

When I would attend the Sunday evening Eucharist at St. David’s in downtown Austin, I was always struck by the ancient stained glass windows in that historic church.
St. David’s Episcopal Church dates back to 1853 and many of the windows in that church are well over a hundred years old.

I always sat on the right hand side of the church, and in the right hand aisle of that church is a famous stained glass window.
This stained glass window is beautiful, and if my memory serves me correctly, the central part of the window depicts a nautical symbol, such as the anchor for a ship.
This window always reminded me that Austin was established as a river town, a town that is still deeply connected to the Colorado River and to Lake Travis.
This stained glass window was dedicated to a woman named Maggie, a woman whose dates of birth and death were from the 1800s.
And the words in this beautiful window read:

Maggie: she hath crossed the river.

Many of us question what happens when we cross the river between life and death.
Many of us would like to know what happens after we die.
We want to know if we will cross the river into heaven.

A good friend of mine, the Rev. Randall Trego, is the chaplain at St. Luke’s Episcopal Hospital in The Woodlands.
Randall told me last week that the number one question that is asked by hospital patients, especially those who are terminally ill, is this:
“Pastor, am I going to go to heaven when I die?”

Jesus, near the end of his earthly life, is questioned about this very same thing.
Those who are with Jesus want to know what will happen when we die, when we cross the river, after our death.
So a silly hypothetical question is posed to Jesus about a woman who has 7 husbands, 7 brothers whom she marries in succession.
The question is which of the 7 husbands will be married to the woman when they all get to heaven.

Yet Jesus answers this silly question by telling us that we are asking the wrong question.
The central question of the Christian faith is not about heaven.
The central question of the Christian faith is about resurrection, as Jesus replies that all of us are daughters and sons of the resurrection.

You see, the concept of heaven, the concept of an afterlife, is not particularly Christian.
In Greek mythology, the dead are carried across the River Styx into an afterlife.
Buddhists believe in several different layers of heaven.
Muslims believe that those who have led a good life are granted an entrance into heaven.
And in contemporary, secular American life, when someone dies, we tell the family:
“She is in a better place” or
“He was a good man, so I am sure he is heaven.”

The concept of heaven, the concept of an afterlife, is not unique to Christians.
However, while the concept of heaven is not unique, the concept of the resurrection of the dead is unique to the Christian faith.

You see, my brothers and sisters, only Christians believe that we have already passed over from death to abundant life.
Only Christians believe that we have been already been killed, dead and buried with Christ in Baptism - and then raised, resurrected, to a new life of grace.
Only Christians believe that the great chasm between death and life is not when our bodies die,
But the great chasm between death and life is the troubled waters of Baptism.
Only Christians believe that we have already crossed the river.

Therefore, I want you to take a moment to look around at the names written on the walls on the inside of this church.
I want you to take a moment to look at the names of the saints who have gone before, because the men and women who are represented by the bricks on our walls are the very same as us.
Just take a look at these names...

To God, both the names on these walls and the human bodies in the pews are the very same.
To God, all of us, both the living and the dead, are sons and daughters of the resurrection.
To God, all of us, both the living and the dead, have already died in Baptism and are now living resurrected lives.
To God, all of us have already crossed the river.

So if we have already crossed the river,
If we have already died and been resurrected in the waters of baptism,
Then how do we live a resurrected life?

For me, for Jeff Fisher, I must remind myself that I have already been killed at my Baptism - so what else can this world do to me?
To me, living the resurrected life means that I do not have to be afraid of homeless people, because I am already resurrected and living on the other side of the river.
To me, living the resurrected life means that I do not have to be afraid of giving away my money and my things, because I am already resurrected and living on the other side of the river.
To me, living the resurrected life means that I do not have to be afraid to imitate the lives of the saints:

Therefore, I can imitate the love for God and the love for others of my 4 dead grandparents, whose names are on these walls.
I can imitate the love for the poor of St. Francis of Assisi.
I can imitate the intense prayer life of St. Teresa of Avila.
I can imitate the passion for justice of Martin Luther King, Jr.
I can imitate the obedience and courage of the Blessed Virgin Mary.
I can do all these things through Christ who strengthens me, because I am a son of the resurrection, already living abundantly, on the other side of the river.

Many people ask the question:
“Will I go to heaven when I die?”

While this is not a bad question to ask, it is not a particularly Christian question to ask.
And I know this because I have examined the liturgy for the Burial of the Dead, the funeral service in The Book of Common Prayer of the Episcopal Church.
And my examination of the burial liturgy revealed to me that when your heart stops beating and your funeral is held here in this church,
At your burial service, the word “heaven” will only be said - just one time.
Yet the words “resurrection” and “life” and “baptism” will be said over and over again.

You see, my friends, the quest of the Christian faith and life is not heaven.
The quest of the Christian faith and life is to live an abundant and eternal and resurrected life, now.

Because, as Christian people, we have already passed from death to life in the waters of Baptism.
As Christian people, all of us are alive, whether our bodies are breathing in these pews or our names are up on these walls.
As Christian people, all of the baptized are already daughters and sons of the resurrection.

For to God, all of us are already saints.
To God, we have crossed the river.

AMEN.

Small in Stature, Tall in Faith

In 1977, Randy Newman wrote a song called “Short People” that rose to the top of the charts and became a hit on the radio, singing “short people got nobody, short people got nobody to love.”

In the Gospel reading for this Sunday, Luke tells us, specifically, that Zacchaeus was a man who was “short in stature.” The short man, Zacchaeus, climbs up a sycamore tree to see Jesus, because he has “got nobody to love.” In the end of the story, we know that Zacchaeus is tall in stature, tall in faith, proclaiming that he gives half of all his possessions to the poor, making restitution with those he has cheated.

At St. Alban’s, over the next week, we will be celebrating the saints of God. We will celebrate those who are tall in faith at our All Hallows’ Eve service this Sunday at 5:00 PM, at the All Saints’ Day Eucharist at noon on Monday and on All Saints’ Sunday, November 7. We recognize that the church is made up of people, people who might be short in stature, yet are tall in faith.

Whether you are tall or short, skinny or not, white, black or brown, scamper up a sycamore tree to see Jesus. Become tall in faith and you will have somebody to love.