Making Change
Eleventh Sunday after Pentecost
August 20, 2006
The more things change, the more they stay the same. You’ve heard it said. And like me, you’ve probably scratched your head wondering exactly what this means. As a baseball fan, I’m convinced that it means I always will have my heart broken by the Chicago Cubs.
I do know that the saying is about change and how it’s something we must expect. And about how there are constants in our lives. The problem is trying to sort out what’s going to change and what’s going to remain the same.
Our Old Testament reading today from First Kings is about change. It begins with the death of King David, setting up the transition to King Solomon. Solomon says he is but a child – though that’s a figurative expression. He was probably 20 or so. But to inherit a kingdom, to have all the responsibility for war and peace and the welfare of the people on your shoulders…that must have been intimidating at any age.
Solomon was to preside over change, and change is never easy. Solomon was inheriting a kingdom that bore the indelible stamp of King David. The concept of Israel, the chosen people, had been around, of course, since the days of Moses back to Abraham. But David was the great king of that people, a uniter and military victor. David had conquered the Jebusites and took their most important city, the Citadel of Zion, and modestly proclaimed it the City of David. This eventually became the city we know as Jerusalem.
David was greatly loved by his people, despite his lapses in judgment in his personal life. He was a musician, a poet. A renaissance man before the Renaissance.
Then came Solomon. His brother, Absalom, was dead and obviously could not inherit the throne. But his brother Adonijah plotted against him from the beginning. Solomon worked fast. He showed that he could be as firm and ruthless as David, and had Adonijah slain.
Some things, then, would be the same. This would be a king who could rule with a firm hand. He would rule in the name of the Lord God, like his father. He would wipe out his enemies, like his father.
And some things would be different. If nothing else, he was a different person, a different king, than his father. People would see him stride by and know in their hearts that the world had changed. David, the man and king they loved, the man who was after God’s own heart—David was gone forever. And try as they might, some folks would never get over that fact.
Some things would actually be better under Solomon, though nobody could know that at the time. We know that Solomon would be wiser than David. This is the point of today’s reading. Solomon prayed for wisdom and was rewarded with that, and more. If there is any doubt, today’s reading is followed immediately by the famous story of the two prostitutes who each claimed a baby as their own. You know how that one turned out. Solomon looked crazy for a moment—“Cut him in half!”— but the true mother called out for her child and Solomon’s reputation as a wise king was cemented.
One of the greatest changes that came during Solomon’s reign was worship. Up to this point, the Jews worshiped by making sacrifices at altars. These altars were at what the Bible calls “high places,” scattered about the kingdom. Solomon would continue this tradition, and would build more of them for his foreign wives to meet their different religious needs. But you’ll note that the language of today’s reading is apologetic. Here and elsewhere, the writer of 1 Kings explains that in those days the people sacrificed at high altars.
You see, Solomon in his kingship would build the Temple. This would become the center for all Jewish worship. Even though Solomon obviously couldn’t sacrifice at a Temple altar that had not been built yet, it still seemed awkward to a later writer. The writer had to explain that things had changed in the interim.
Yes, things had changed. But things had remained the same. You’ve heard this in old movies, when the king dies the cry arises, “The king is dead, long live the king.” It’s a reference to the continuity of the office, of the kingship itself. That’s what the Jews experienced with the transition from David to Solomon. Difference and continuity.
The same held true in their worship. This must have been a huge change for people, to find that they were now limited to one place. Hard, but yet later generations would consider the very concept of religion to be impossible without the presence of the Temple. The psychological change may have been difficult, but there was continuity in worship. Sacrifice continued. The priesthood continued. And of course, the one true God continued to be worshiped. That is the most important thing, and certainly the Jews recognized this.
You’ve seen this in your own lives. The concepts of nation, family, religion remain constant. Yet things change. Wars come and go. Children grow. There are births and deaths. There are changes in worship, changes in ministers. Yet we still have religion, nation, family. I can’t speak for your families. I won’t speak for the nation. But religion—I can do that. Because there are constants even amongst the changes in our religious worship, and those constants are captured in today’s words from Jesus Christ.
If you were in the Episcopal Church before 1979, you went through changes in weekly worship with the introduction of what some people still call the “new” prayer book. One of the primary changes was to make the eucharist the central worship experience, with eucharist to be held weekly. The fact that the eucharistic service was now conducted in 20th century language and not in Elizabethan language actually drove some people out of the church. But the majority who remained were worshiping in the style advocated by Thomas Cranmer, the architect of the first Prayer Book back in 1549. Like Martin Luther, he advocated frequent communion, and he would have had the church offering holy communion weekly.
You have seen a change more recently here at St. Luke’s. There has been a transition from a rector to an interim rector to a deacon in charge. And there has been a less-obvious change on Sunday mornings in our worship. Over the past month, our morning worship has been conducted as what is unofficially called a “deacon’s mass.”
If you haven’t noticed a change, don’t worry. The difference is simply the absence of what is called the prayer of consecration, the eucharistic prayer. The bread and wine in our service already have been consecrated at another eucharist. In fact, the elements for today’s service were consecrated by Father Bruce White in a service at St. Michael and All Angels. So our service is a little different, and it’s because of the nature of the ministry.
You see, deacons in the Episcopal Church can conduct services, most typically morning and evening prayer. They are specialists in intercessory prayer. They are charged with linking the church with the needs of the world, with the poor and hungry, with the widow and the orphan.
In December, God willing, I will be ordained a priest in God’s holy, catholic and apostolic church. What will change in my ministry at that time is that I will be charged with the privilege and responsibility of granting absolution in God’s name, giving blessings, and consecrating the bread and wine at worship services.
And at that time, our service will look a little different again. Change.
And continuity. For what never changes is our purpose for gathering. Jesus said, “I am the Bread of Life. Whoever eats of this bread will live forever; and the bread that I will give for the life of the world is my flesh.” We will return again and again to exchange the peace with our neighbors, to repent of our sins, and to eat of the bread, the bread that brings us life everlasting.
Let us pray: O Lord Jesus Christ, who in a wonderful Sacrament has left unto us a memorial of your passion: Grant us, we beseech thee, so to venerate the sacred mysteries of your Body and Blood, that we may ever perceive within ourselves the fruit of your redemption; who lives and reigns with the Father and Holy Spirit, one God, for ever and ever.
Amen.
August 20, 2006
The more things change, the more they stay the same. You’ve heard it said. And like me, you’ve probably scratched your head wondering exactly what this means. As a baseball fan, I’m convinced that it means I always will have my heart broken by the Chicago Cubs.
I do know that the saying is about change and how it’s something we must expect. And about how there are constants in our lives. The problem is trying to sort out what’s going to change and what’s going to remain the same.
Our Old Testament reading today from First Kings is about change. It begins with the death of King David, setting up the transition to King Solomon. Solomon says he is but a child – though that’s a figurative expression. He was probably 20 or so. But to inherit a kingdom, to have all the responsibility for war and peace and the welfare of the people on your shoulders…that must have been intimidating at any age.
Solomon was to preside over change, and change is never easy. Solomon was inheriting a kingdom that bore the indelible stamp of King David. The concept of Israel, the chosen people, had been around, of course, since the days of Moses back to Abraham. But David was the great king of that people, a uniter and military victor. David had conquered the Jebusites and took their most important city, the Citadel of Zion, and modestly proclaimed it the City of David. This eventually became the city we know as Jerusalem.
David was greatly loved by his people, despite his lapses in judgment in his personal life. He was a musician, a poet. A renaissance man before the Renaissance.
Then came Solomon. His brother, Absalom, was dead and obviously could not inherit the throne. But his brother Adonijah plotted against him from the beginning. Solomon worked fast. He showed that he could be as firm and ruthless as David, and had Adonijah slain.
Some things, then, would be the same. This would be a king who could rule with a firm hand. He would rule in the name of the Lord God, like his father. He would wipe out his enemies, like his father.
And some things would be different. If nothing else, he was a different person, a different king, than his father. People would see him stride by and know in their hearts that the world had changed. David, the man and king they loved, the man who was after God’s own heart—David was gone forever. And try as they might, some folks would never get over that fact.
Some things would actually be better under Solomon, though nobody could know that at the time. We know that Solomon would be wiser than David. This is the point of today’s reading. Solomon prayed for wisdom and was rewarded with that, and more. If there is any doubt, today’s reading is followed immediately by the famous story of the two prostitutes who each claimed a baby as their own. You know how that one turned out. Solomon looked crazy for a moment—“Cut him in half!”— but the true mother called out for her child and Solomon’s reputation as a wise king was cemented.
One of the greatest changes that came during Solomon’s reign was worship. Up to this point, the Jews worshiped by making sacrifices at altars. These altars were at what the Bible calls “high places,” scattered about the kingdom. Solomon would continue this tradition, and would build more of them for his foreign wives to meet their different religious needs. But you’ll note that the language of today’s reading is apologetic. Here and elsewhere, the writer of 1 Kings explains that in those days the people sacrificed at high altars.
You see, Solomon in his kingship would build the Temple. This would become the center for all Jewish worship. Even though Solomon obviously couldn’t sacrifice at a Temple altar that had not been built yet, it still seemed awkward to a later writer. The writer had to explain that things had changed in the interim.
Yes, things had changed. But things had remained the same. You’ve heard this in old movies, when the king dies the cry arises, “The king is dead, long live the king.” It’s a reference to the continuity of the office, of the kingship itself. That’s what the Jews experienced with the transition from David to Solomon. Difference and continuity.
The same held true in their worship. This must have been a huge change for people, to find that they were now limited to one place. Hard, but yet later generations would consider the very concept of religion to be impossible without the presence of the Temple. The psychological change may have been difficult, but there was continuity in worship. Sacrifice continued. The priesthood continued. And of course, the one true God continued to be worshiped. That is the most important thing, and certainly the Jews recognized this.
You’ve seen this in your own lives. The concepts of nation, family, religion remain constant. Yet things change. Wars come and go. Children grow. There are births and deaths. There are changes in worship, changes in ministers. Yet we still have religion, nation, family. I can’t speak for your families. I won’t speak for the nation. But religion—I can do that. Because there are constants even amongst the changes in our religious worship, and those constants are captured in today’s words from Jesus Christ.
If you were in the Episcopal Church before 1979, you went through changes in weekly worship with the introduction of what some people still call the “new” prayer book. One of the primary changes was to make the eucharist the central worship experience, with eucharist to be held weekly. The fact that the eucharistic service was now conducted in 20th century language and not in Elizabethan language actually drove some people out of the church. But the majority who remained were worshiping in the style advocated by Thomas Cranmer, the architect of the first Prayer Book back in 1549. Like Martin Luther, he advocated frequent communion, and he would have had the church offering holy communion weekly.
You have seen a change more recently here at St. Luke’s. There has been a transition from a rector to an interim rector to a deacon in charge. And there has been a less-obvious change on Sunday mornings in our worship. Over the past month, our morning worship has been conducted as what is unofficially called a “deacon’s mass.”
If you haven’t noticed a change, don’t worry. The difference is simply the absence of what is called the prayer of consecration, the eucharistic prayer. The bread and wine in our service already have been consecrated at another eucharist. In fact, the elements for today’s service were consecrated by Father Bruce White in a service at St. Michael and All Angels. So our service is a little different, and it’s because of the nature of the ministry.
You see, deacons in the Episcopal Church can conduct services, most typically morning and evening prayer. They are specialists in intercessory prayer. They are charged with linking the church with the needs of the world, with the poor and hungry, with the widow and the orphan.
In December, God willing, I will be ordained a priest in God’s holy, catholic and apostolic church. What will change in my ministry at that time is that I will be charged with the privilege and responsibility of granting absolution in God’s name, giving blessings, and consecrating the bread and wine at worship services.
And at that time, our service will look a little different again. Change.
And continuity. For what never changes is our purpose for gathering. Jesus said, “I am the Bread of Life. Whoever eats of this bread will live forever; and the bread that I will give for the life of the world is my flesh.” We will return again and again to exchange the peace with our neighbors, to repent of our sins, and to eat of the bread, the bread that brings us life everlasting.
Let us pray: O Lord Jesus Christ, who in a wonderful Sacrament has left unto us a memorial of your passion: Grant us, we beseech thee, so to venerate the sacred mysteries of your Body and Blood, that we may ever perceive within ourselves the fruit of your redemption; who lives and reigns with the Father and Holy Spirit, one God, for ever and ever.
Amen.
posted by Michael+ at 8:56 PM
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