St. Michael’s Episcopal Church, Gainesville FL
The Chapel of the Incarnation, Gainesville FL
June 26, 2011
Year A, Proper 8: The Second Sunday after Pentecost
Genesis 22:1-14
Psalm 13
Romans 6:12-23
Matthew 10:40-42
Offering Hospitality to God
If you were in church last week you know that we heard a very long passage right from the start of the Book of Genesis. It was the creation story – or, actually, the first creation story - found in the first book of the Bible.
For the authors of Genesis, creation reached its crescendo when God created human beings – made in God’s image and likeness, and declared by God to be very good.
We didn’t hear what happened next, but we know the story. In the beginning, God and human beings were this close. And then because of our sin and selfishness and disobedience the close relationship between God and humanity got broken.
Human beings hid in shame from God – God who comes looking for us, asking, “Where are you?”
In some ways we’ve never stopped hiding. But, the best news of all time is that God never stops looking for us - God never stops reaching out to us - and God never stops wanting to be in relationship with us.
The entire sweep of the Scriptures is a restoration story. It’s the story of God reaching out to us – wanting to restore the very good bond between us – the bond that had been broken so long ago.
Jesus is at the center of that restoration story, of course.
But, others have played their part. One of the towering figures of God’s restoration story is Abraham.
In our first lesson today we heard one of the best-known and most disturbing Bible stories: the sacrifice – or rather, the almost sacrifice – of Isaac.
It’s a troubling story because taken out of context it makes God seem sadistic – testing Abraham by challenging him to offer his beloved son Isaac as a burnt offering. In telling the story, the authors of Genesis brilliantly build excruciating tension - until finally we’re told, “Abraham reached out his hand and took the knife to kill his son” and was stopped only by a last second intervention from an angel of the Lord.
Now, let’s be honest - if this story were all we knew about God I doubt any of us would be here today.
But, of course, Abraham already knew a lot about God before he received this bewildering request – and thanks in large part to Jesus, you and I know a lot more about God than what we heard in this story.
So, what is this odd and disturbing story all about? Where’s the Good News in this tale of testing, trust and sacrifice?
To answer these questions we have to look at the life of Abraham as a whole. In the Book of Genesis, Abraham is presented as a model of faith and as a friend of God. One biblical scholar describes Abraham as living “a life that stands open to God’s direction.”
And God’s close relationship with Abraham is a glimpse of the kind of relationship God wants to have with all of us.
Abraham is a model for us because even under difficult and bewildering circumstances, Abraham usually remains open to God - Abraham usually welcomes God into his life - Abraham is usually hospitable to God.
For us, Abraham’s story began at age 75 when God told him to leave his home and with his wife and his nephew travel into the unknown new land of Canaan.
Abraham could have said no - I’m old, I’m tired, I don’t want to leave home. But, instead Abraham welcomed God into his life – Abraham was hospitable to a sometimes bewildering and challenging God.
Abraham is a great role model for us in part because like us he’s imperfect. There’s the story of Abraham and Sarah in Egypt when he passes off his wife as his sister in an effort to save his life – not exactly his best moment! For a time she became one of the Pharoah’s wives until God blows their cover and Abraham and Sarah are expelled from Egypt. To make matters worse, we’re told Abraham pulled the same stunt a second time in a place called Gerar where the king took Sarah until God told him the truth in a dream.
Like us, Abraham sometimes gave into fear and stumbled, damaging his relationship with God and the people closest to him.
Mostly, though, Abraham lived a life open to God’s direction – he had come to know that God cared for him and that God kept God’s promises.
At the same time, Abraham lived in a time and place when and where it was not unheard of in times of great distress for people to sacrifice their children to appease the gods. And the greatest sacrifice of all would be to give up an only son.
So God’s request to sacrifice Isaac would have been very difficult, but not unprecedented.
Let’s look at today’s passage more closely.
First we’re told, “God tested Abraham.”
For me, this is the hardest part of this passage. I could be wrong and you don’t have to agree with me, but I don’t think God tests us like this. After all, God already knows us better than we know ourselves. So, if this is a test it may be not so much a test for Abraham but rather a test for God – a way for God to make a little more progress restoring the broken relationship with humanity.
As this story unfolds we learn more about God than we do about Abraham.
We already know that Abraham is a friend of God.
We already know that Abraham was willing to give up his past – he did just that when God called him to leave home. Now, God was asking Abraham to give up his future by sacrificing his son. Although it’s an excruciatingly difficult request, we can be pretty sure how Abraham would respond to the God he had welcomed into his life – the God he come to know so well and trust so much.
In fact, Abraham doesn’t seem to think he’s being tested. He hears God’s call and he doesn’t hide in fear. Instead Abraham answers God, “Here I am.”
He could be faking it, but throughout the story it seems like Abraham has at least some confidence that God isn’t really going to make him go through with this.
Abraham tells the other young men, “Stay here with the donkey; the boy and I will go over there; we will worship, and then we will come back to you.”
Abraham tells a confused Isaac, “God himself will provide the lamb for a burnt offering, my son.”
But, if God does make him go through with this, Abraham seems to be confident that God must plan to bring out some good that he can’t foresee.
At the last moment Isaac is spared and given the chance to play his own role in the restoration of the broken relationship between God and humanity.
In this test we learn that God doesn’t want us to sacrifice our children. And although a ram is sacrificed in the story, the truth is God doesn’t need or want us to sacrifice animals either.
Instead, because God loves us what God wants – what God has wanted all along – is for us to be like Abraham – to let God into our lives, to offer hospitality to God - to live a life that stands open to God.
What would offering hospitality to God look like for us today? What would standing open to God look like for us today?
Although you never know, it’s unlikely that God will speak to us quite as directly as God did to Abraham thousands of years ago. But, like Abraham we need to be prepared to let go of our past and be ready to radically change our future in service to God.
Most of the time, though, living a life that stands open to God is much simpler, less dramatic but no less challenging, than what Abraham faced.
In today’s gospel lesson, we heard Jesus describing what the church – the Christian community – should look like. Jesus said to his disciples,
“Whoever welcomes you welcomes me, and whoever welcomes me welcomes the one who sent me.”
It’s when we practice hospitality to everyone – to the rich and poor, people of every race and color, gay and straight, the smelly and the well-scrubbed, people we really like and people who drive us up the wall – it’s when we practice hospitality to everyone that we offer hospitality to God.
When, like God’s friend Abraham, we offer hospitality to God, then through us God continues repairing the bond that was broken long ago.
When, like God’s friend Abraham, we offer hospitality to God, then through us, God continues the great restoration story.
Amen.
Sunday, June 26, 2011
Monday, June 13, 2011
A Charismatic Church
St. Michael’s Episcopal Church, Gainesville FL
The Chapel of the Incarnation, Gainesville FL
June 12, 2011
Year A: The Day of Pentecost
Acts 2:1-21
Psalm 104: 25-35, 37
1 Corinthians 12:3b-13
John 20:19-23
A Charismatic Church
A couple of Sundays ago I was standing outside before the start of the 8:00 service (at St. Michael’s).
A woman I hadn’t seen before pulled up, parked her car and made her way towards the church. I greeted her and we exchanged some pleasantries. She took a step closer to the church and then she stopped, looked at me with what seemed like embarrassment and said,
“Can I ask you a question?”
I said, “Sure.”
And then she said, “Is this still a charismatic church?”
As you may know, for Christians the word “charismatic” refers to the gifts of grace we receive from the Holy Spirit.
But, “charismatic” is also shorthand for a certain type of very emotional worship.
And, sure enough, that’s what she meant by “charismatic.” It turns out that she had last been at St. Michael’s about fifteen years ago when the presence and power of the Holy Spirit was celebrated in very vivid ways – ways more typical of a Pentecostal church, but certainly not unheard of in Episcopal churches.
When she asked me her question, I wasn’t sure if she was hoping the answer was yes or no.
So, I began by making a stupid joke about how I like to think of myself as having charisma, but, then said, no, nowadays St. Michael’s is pretty much a straightforward, middle of the road Episcopal church.
Fortunately, she was relieved by my answer and seemed to appreciate our quiet and dignified traditional language service.
I’ve told that story to a few people and each time it’s gotten a chuckle.
But, the more I’ve thought about it – and especially today on the great feast of Pentecost - I really regret how I answered her question.
The truth is that we are a charismatic church whenever we are open to the power of the Holy Spirit.
Jesus promised to send the Holy Spirit to guide and strengthen all of his followers – and that includes us.
Jesus kept his promise back in the First Century and Jesus keeps his promise today.
Although we may not speak in tongues or roll around on the floor, this church – and every Christian community that strives to be faithful to Jesus Christ – is filled with the Holy Spirit.
From the Episcopalians to the Pentecostals, every church that is open to the power of the Holy Spirit and strives to love God and neighbor is a charismatic church.
In today’s lessons we heard two different accounts of how the first disciples received the Holy Spirit.
Although John’s and Luke’s accounts of have different details, for both the essence of Pentecost is the same.
Jesus gives them – gives us – the Holy Spirit to be the charismatic church continuing Jesus’ work on earth.
In the passage from the Gospel of John that I just read Pentecost takes place on the evening of Easter. The resurrected Jesus appears to his disciples who were still afraid of the religious authorities who had helped get Jesus killed.
Notice that John doesn’t say that this appearance is limited to the apostles. John doesn’t specify how many were hiding in the locked room. The Holy Spirit is a gift for all of Jesus’ followers – not just for an elite.
And just as God had breathed life at the start of creation, so now Jesus breathes on his disciples – giving them the Holy Spirit and making them – making us – a new creation.
The charismatic church is born to continue the work of Jesus on earth.
Meanwhile, in our first lesson we heard the familiar story in the Acts of the Apostles, where Luke the Evangelist gives us a different – more public - take on Pentecost.
The details are different but the essence of the Pentecost stories is the same.
Jesus gives them – gives us – the Holy Spirit to continue Jesus’ work on earth.
In Luke’s version it’s now fifty days since Easter, but once again the disciples were gathered in “one place” in Jerusalem when suddenly they received the gift of the Holy Spirit.
Luke tells us, “All of them were filled with the Holy Spirit and began to speak in other languages, as the Spirit gave them ability.”
The charismatic church is born to continue the work of Jesus on earth.
I have no idea which of the two Pentecost stories is more historically accurate. All I know is that Pentecost happened because Pentecost happens all the time.
Pentecost happens when Christians gather together and allow the Holy Spirit to work through them – sometimes that may mean speaking foreign or even unknown languages and sometimes that may mean worshipping from a carefully crafted prayer book that links us to Christians past, present and future.
Pentecost happens when we allow the Holy Spirit to work through us, continuing the work of Jesus by reaching out in loving service to the nobodies, the outcasts, the disposable and despised people of our time.
Pentecost happens when we allow the Holy Spirit to work through us, offering forgiveness to those who wrong us.
Pentecost happens when we allow the Holy Spirit to work through us, sharing God’s love with the multitudes of people here in our own community and around the world burdened by fear and despair.
Pentecost happens all the time because the Holy Spirit is poured out on us all the time, beginning in the water of Baptism where God makes an indissoluble – an unbreakable bond – with all of us.
In Baptism, God promises that the Holy Spirit will be with us forever – in good times and not so good – when we are most faithful and when we have the deepest doubts.
In Baptism, God promises that the Holy Spirit will be with us forever – when we really do continue the work of Jesus and when we do shameful things that we hope no one ever finds out about.
In Baptism, God promises that Pentecost will happen all the time.
In Baptism, God promises that every church where people strive to be faithful to Jesus Christ will be a charismatic church - continuing the work of Jesus on earth.
Amen.
The Chapel of the Incarnation, Gainesville FL
June 12, 2011
Year A: The Day of Pentecost
Acts 2:1-21
Psalm 104: 25-35, 37
1 Corinthians 12:3b-13
John 20:19-23
A Charismatic Church
A couple of Sundays ago I was standing outside before the start of the 8:00 service (at St. Michael’s).
A woman I hadn’t seen before pulled up, parked her car and made her way towards the church. I greeted her and we exchanged some pleasantries. She took a step closer to the church and then she stopped, looked at me with what seemed like embarrassment and said,
“Can I ask you a question?”
I said, “Sure.”
And then she said, “Is this still a charismatic church?”
As you may know, for Christians the word “charismatic” refers to the gifts of grace we receive from the Holy Spirit.
But, “charismatic” is also shorthand for a certain type of very emotional worship.
And, sure enough, that’s what she meant by “charismatic.” It turns out that she had last been at St. Michael’s about fifteen years ago when the presence and power of the Holy Spirit was celebrated in very vivid ways – ways more typical of a Pentecostal church, but certainly not unheard of in Episcopal churches.
When she asked me her question, I wasn’t sure if she was hoping the answer was yes or no.
So, I began by making a stupid joke about how I like to think of myself as having charisma, but, then said, no, nowadays St. Michael’s is pretty much a straightforward, middle of the road Episcopal church.
Fortunately, she was relieved by my answer and seemed to appreciate our quiet and dignified traditional language service.
I’ve told that story to a few people and each time it’s gotten a chuckle.
But, the more I’ve thought about it – and especially today on the great feast of Pentecost - I really regret how I answered her question.
The truth is that we are a charismatic church whenever we are open to the power of the Holy Spirit.
Jesus promised to send the Holy Spirit to guide and strengthen all of his followers – and that includes us.
Jesus kept his promise back in the First Century and Jesus keeps his promise today.
Although we may not speak in tongues or roll around on the floor, this church – and every Christian community that strives to be faithful to Jesus Christ – is filled with the Holy Spirit.
From the Episcopalians to the Pentecostals, every church that is open to the power of the Holy Spirit and strives to love God and neighbor is a charismatic church.
In today’s lessons we heard two different accounts of how the first disciples received the Holy Spirit.
Although John’s and Luke’s accounts of have different details, for both the essence of Pentecost is the same.
Jesus gives them – gives us – the Holy Spirit to be the charismatic church continuing Jesus’ work on earth.
In the passage from the Gospel of John that I just read Pentecost takes place on the evening of Easter. The resurrected Jesus appears to his disciples who were still afraid of the religious authorities who had helped get Jesus killed.
Notice that John doesn’t say that this appearance is limited to the apostles. John doesn’t specify how many were hiding in the locked room. The Holy Spirit is a gift for all of Jesus’ followers – not just for an elite.
And just as God had breathed life at the start of creation, so now Jesus breathes on his disciples – giving them the Holy Spirit and making them – making us – a new creation.
The charismatic church is born to continue the work of Jesus on earth.
Meanwhile, in our first lesson we heard the familiar story in the Acts of the Apostles, where Luke the Evangelist gives us a different – more public - take on Pentecost.
The details are different but the essence of the Pentecost stories is the same.
Jesus gives them – gives us – the Holy Spirit to continue Jesus’ work on earth.
In Luke’s version it’s now fifty days since Easter, but once again the disciples were gathered in “one place” in Jerusalem when suddenly they received the gift of the Holy Spirit.
Luke tells us, “All of them were filled with the Holy Spirit and began to speak in other languages, as the Spirit gave them ability.”
The charismatic church is born to continue the work of Jesus on earth.
I have no idea which of the two Pentecost stories is more historically accurate. All I know is that Pentecost happened because Pentecost happens all the time.
Pentecost happens when Christians gather together and allow the Holy Spirit to work through them – sometimes that may mean speaking foreign or even unknown languages and sometimes that may mean worshipping from a carefully crafted prayer book that links us to Christians past, present and future.
Pentecost happens when we allow the Holy Spirit to work through us, continuing the work of Jesus by reaching out in loving service to the nobodies, the outcasts, the disposable and despised people of our time.
Pentecost happens when we allow the Holy Spirit to work through us, offering forgiveness to those who wrong us.
Pentecost happens when we allow the Holy Spirit to work through us, sharing God’s love with the multitudes of people here in our own community and around the world burdened by fear and despair.
Pentecost happens all the time because the Holy Spirit is poured out on us all the time, beginning in the water of Baptism where God makes an indissoluble – an unbreakable bond – with all of us.
In Baptism, God promises that the Holy Spirit will be with us forever – in good times and not so good – when we are most faithful and when we have the deepest doubts.
In Baptism, God promises that the Holy Spirit will be with us forever – when we really do continue the work of Jesus and when we do shameful things that we hope no one ever finds out about.
In Baptism, God promises that Pentecost will happen all the time.
In Baptism, God promises that every church where people strive to be faithful to Jesus Christ will be a charismatic church - continuing the work of Jesus on earth.
Amen.
Sunday, June 05, 2011
The Body of Christ
St. Michael’s Episcopal Church, Gainesville FL
The Chapel of the Incarnation, Gainesville FL
June 5, 2011
Year A: The Seventh Sunday of Easter
Acts 1:6-14
Psalm 68:1-10, 33-36
1 Peter 4:12-14, 5:6-11
John 17:1-11
The Body of Christ
Each year the Church invites us to celebrate and reflect on the story of Jesus’ Ascension. But, we can’t really talk about the Ascension without talking about Easter and without looking ahead a little bit to the great feast we’ll celebrate next week, Pentecost.
First of all, by passing through death into life, Jesus has been transformed in powerful and mysterious ways.
For example, Luke tells us that the disciples on the road to Emmaus didn’t recognize the resurrected Jesus until the breaking of the bread – followed immediately by Jesus vanishing from their sight.
But, Luke, along with Matthew and John, insists that although different and transformed, the resurrected Jesus was still the same Jesus that the disciples had known in life.
The evangelists insist the tomb was empty because Jesus had risen in the same body that had previously contained his spirit, the same body that had blessed the bread and the wine just a few days before, the same body that had been nailed to a piece of wood.
After the Emmaus story, Luke tells us that the resurrected Jesus appeared to the frightened disciples in Jerusalem saying, “Look at my hands and my feet; see that it is I myself. Touch me and see; for a ghost does not have flesh and bones as you see that I have.”
And then to underline the point, Luke tells us that the resurrected Jesus asks his disciples if they have anything to eat. Luke writes, “They gave him a piece of broiled fish, and he took it and ate it in their presence.”
Now, obviously, it would have been much easier and much more plausible for the first Christians to claim that beginning on Easter they began to experience the “spirit of Jesus” – that although he had died horribly on the cross, Jesus was still very much alive in their hearts.
Most people, I think, could and would buy that kind of claim.
But, Christians claimed and proclaimed something much more amazing – and much more difficult for people then and now to believe – Jesus had risen in the flesh and had appeared to his disciples.
In Luke’s sequel, the Acts of the Apostles, he tells us that the appearances of the resurrected Jesus continued for forty days – a very biblical number.
The appearances of the risen Jesus continued until, as we heard in today’s first lesson, Jesus was lifted up and vanished from sight.
Luke adds the very poignant touch of the disciples gazing up to heaven – with, I would imagine, with their mouths hanging open.
Then the two men in white robes tell the disciples to quit looking for Jesus up in the sky, adding, “This Jesus, who has been taken up from you into heaven, will come in the same way as you saw him go into heaven.”
Now, if you’re looking for an explanation of how exactly all of this happened, I’m afraid you’ve got the wrong preacher. And, anyway, I’d be suspicious of anyone who claimed to understand or explain the Resurrection and the Ascension.
But, the point is that at the Ascension Jesus’ body has vanished from our sight so we could receive the Holy Spirit.
Jesus’ body has vanished from our sight so we can see who we really are.
Jesus’ body has vanished from our sight so we can be who we really are.
Jesus’ body has vanished so we can be the Body of Christ in the world.
St. Paul may have been the first to think in these terms – to recognize that the Church is the Body of Christ in the world. In his first letter to the Corinthians Paul wrote,
“Now you are the body of Christ and individually members of it.”
But, for my money, the best expression of the awesome gift, responsibility and challenge of being the Body of Christ in the world comes from the 16th Century Spanish mystic, Teresa of Avila. She wrote,
Christ has no body now but yours
No hands, no feet on earth but yours
Yours are the eyes through which He looks
compassion on this world
Christ has no body now on earth but yours.
The wounded and resurrected body of Jesus has vanished from our sight.
And so that means, through the power of the Holy Spirit, we are the Body of Christ in the world.
That’s one of the reasons we come here - to be reminded that we are the Body of Christ in the world.
Every time we see the baptismal font – or even better every time we witness and celebrate a baptism – we are reminded that in the water of baptism we become part of the Body of Christ.
The most powerful reminder that we are the Body of Christ in the world comes every time we gather at the table and take the bread of life and the cup of salvation into our bodies – each receiving the same portion, each becoming more deeply woven into the Body of Christ in the world.
What happens here, though, is meant to strengthen us for the work of being the Body of Christ out there in a suffering and broken world.
As St. Paul recognized so clearly, each of us has our own unique part to play as a member of the Body of Christ in the world.
On Friday at our (St. Michael’s) potluck supper I was so moved when Susan talked about seeing her work combating pests that threaten crops as her vocation – particularly her goal of finding solutions affordable by poor farmers around the Caribbean, not just by a handful of wealthy international conglomerates.
Whether we’re protecting our food supply or feeding the poor downtown or donating money or simply praying for people who have no one to pray for them, we each have our own unique part to play in the Body of Christ.
But, Teresa of Avila gives us the most important general description of what it means for each of us to be members of the Body of Christ in the world.
She tells us that ours “are the eyes through which Christ looks compassion on this world.”
Ours “are the eyes through which Christ looks compassion on this world.”
“Looks compassion.” That’s a mysterious and beautiful expression, isn’t it?
During his earthly lifetime, Jesus didn’t solve every problem, didn’t fix everything and everyone that was broken.
But, Jesus “looked compassion” through love - by loving especially the outcasts, the nobodies, the hopeless, the disposable people of the First Century – the lepers, the women, the tax collectors, the children.
Instead of looking up to the sky for Jesus, we are to “look compassion” on the outcasts, the nobodies, the hopeless and disposable people of our time and place.
Instead of looking up to the sky for Jesus, we are called to be the Body of Christ right here and now in the world.
At the Ascension, Jesus’ body has vanished from our sight so we could receive the Holy Spirit.
Jesus’ body has vanished from our sight so we can see who we really are.
Jesus’ body has vanished from our sight so we can be who we really are.
Jesus’ body has vanished from our sight so we can be the Body of Christ in the world.
Amen.
The Chapel of the Incarnation, Gainesville FL
June 5, 2011
Year A: The Seventh Sunday of Easter
Acts 1:6-14
Psalm 68:1-10, 33-36
1 Peter 4:12-14, 5:6-11
John 17:1-11
The Body of Christ
Each year the Church invites us to celebrate and reflect on the story of Jesus’ Ascension. But, we can’t really talk about the Ascension without talking about Easter and without looking ahead a little bit to the great feast we’ll celebrate next week, Pentecost.
First of all, by passing through death into life, Jesus has been transformed in powerful and mysterious ways.
For example, Luke tells us that the disciples on the road to Emmaus didn’t recognize the resurrected Jesus until the breaking of the bread – followed immediately by Jesus vanishing from their sight.
But, Luke, along with Matthew and John, insists that although different and transformed, the resurrected Jesus was still the same Jesus that the disciples had known in life.
The evangelists insist the tomb was empty because Jesus had risen in the same body that had previously contained his spirit, the same body that had blessed the bread and the wine just a few days before, the same body that had been nailed to a piece of wood.
After the Emmaus story, Luke tells us that the resurrected Jesus appeared to the frightened disciples in Jerusalem saying, “Look at my hands and my feet; see that it is I myself. Touch me and see; for a ghost does not have flesh and bones as you see that I have.”
And then to underline the point, Luke tells us that the resurrected Jesus asks his disciples if they have anything to eat. Luke writes, “They gave him a piece of broiled fish, and he took it and ate it in their presence.”
Now, obviously, it would have been much easier and much more plausible for the first Christians to claim that beginning on Easter they began to experience the “spirit of Jesus” – that although he had died horribly on the cross, Jesus was still very much alive in their hearts.
Most people, I think, could and would buy that kind of claim.
But, Christians claimed and proclaimed something much more amazing – and much more difficult for people then and now to believe – Jesus had risen in the flesh and had appeared to his disciples.
In Luke’s sequel, the Acts of the Apostles, he tells us that the appearances of the resurrected Jesus continued for forty days – a very biblical number.
The appearances of the risen Jesus continued until, as we heard in today’s first lesson, Jesus was lifted up and vanished from sight.
Luke adds the very poignant touch of the disciples gazing up to heaven – with, I would imagine, with their mouths hanging open.
Then the two men in white robes tell the disciples to quit looking for Jesus up in the sky, adding, “This Jesus, who has been taken up from you into heaven, will come in the same way as you saw him go into heaven.”
Now, if you’re looking for an explanation of how exactly all of this happened, I’m afraid you’ve got the wrong preacher. And, anyway, I’d be suspicious of anyone who claimed to understand or explain the Resurrection and the Ascension.
But, the point is that at the Ascension Jesus’ body has vanished from our sight so we could receive the Holy Spirit.
Jesus’ body has vanished from our sight so we can see who we really are.
Jesus’ body has vanished from our sight so we can be who we really are.
Jesus’ body has vanished so we can be the Body of Christ in the world.
St. Paul may have been the first to think in these terms – to recognize that the Church is the Body of Christ in the world. In his first letter to the Corinthians Paul wrote,
“Now you are the body of Christ and individually members of it.”
But, for my money, the best expression of the awesome gift, responsibility and challenge of being the Body of Christ in the world comes from the 16th Century Spanish mystic, Teresa of Avila. She wrote,
Christ has no body now but yours
No hands, no feet on earth but yours
Yours are the eyes through which He looks
compassion on this world
Christ has no body now on earth but yours.
The wounded and resurrected body of Jesus has vanished from our sight.
And so that means, through the power of the Holy Spirit, we are the Body of Christ in the world.
That’s one of the reasons we come here - to be reminded that we are the Body of Christ in the world.
Every time we see the baptismal font – or even better every time we witness and celebrate a baptism – we are reminded that in the water of baptism we become part of the Body of Christ.
The most powerful reminder that we are the Body of Christ in the world comes every time we gather at the table and take the bread of life and the cup of salvation into our bodies – each receiving the same portion, each becoming more deeply woven into the Body of Christ in the world.
What happens here, though, is meant to strengthen us for the work of being the Body of Christ out there in a suffering and broken world.
As St. Paul recognized so clearly, each of us has our own unique part to play as a member of the Body of Christ in the world.
On Friday at our (St. Michael’s) potluck supper I was so moved when Susan talked about seeing her work combating pests that threaten crops as her vocation – particularly her goal of finding solutions affordable by poor farmers around the Caribbean, not just by a handful of wealthy international conglomerates.
Whether we’re protecting our food supply or feeding the poor downtown or donating money or simply praying for people who have no one to pray for them, we each have our own unique part to play in the Body of Christ.
But, Teresa of Avila gives us the most important general description of what it means for each of us to be members of the Body of Christ in the world.
She tells us that ours “are the eyes through which Christ looks compassion on this world.”
Ours “are the eyes through which Christ looks compassion on this world.”
“Looks compassion.” That’s a mysterious and beautiful expression, isn’t it?
During his earthly lifetime, Jesus didn’t solve every problem, didn’t fix everything and everyone that was broken.
But, Jesus “looked compassion” through love - by loving especially the outcasts, the nobodies, the hopeless, the disposable people of the First Century – the lepers, the women, the tax collectors, the children.
Instead of looking up to the sky for Jesus, we are to “look compassion” on the outcasts, the nobodies, the hopeless and disposable people of our time and place.
Instead of looking up to the sky for Jesus, we are called to be the Body of Christ right here and now in the world.
At the Ascension, Jesus’ body has vanished from our sight so we could receive the Holy Spirit.
Jesus’ body has vanished from our sight so we can see who we really are.
Jesus’ body has vanished from our sight so we can be who we really are.
Jesus’ body has vanished from our sight so we can be the Body of Christ in the world.
Amen.
Sunday, May 29, 2011
Not Left Orphaned
St. Michael’s Episcopal Church, Gainesville FL
The Chapel of the Incarnation, Gainesville FL
May 29, 2011
Year A: The Sixth Sunday of Easter
Acts 17:22-31
Psalm 66:7-18
1 Peter 3:13-22
John 14:15-21
Not Left Orphaned
I wouldn’t say that I’m a news junkie, but it’s true that I read the newspaper everyday and most days I check a couple of news websites to keep up with what’s going on.
Part of it is just habit, I guess. And part of it is that I think it’s important to be informed, though the truth is there’s not much I can do about all of the mostly horrible stuff that’s reported in the news.
And keeping up with the news can be dangerous for our souls. Last week a friend asked me how it affects me to every day read stories about natural and man-made disasters that create so much pain for so many here in our own community, across our country and around the world.
Of course, there’s nothing new about living in a world filled with natural and man-made disasters.
In today’s lesson from the Gospel of John, we glimpsed an unfolding man-made disaster: Jesus was about to be arrested and killed in an especially brutal and humiliating way.
As I mentioned last Sunday, one of the unique features of the Gospel of John is what’s called the “Farewell Discourse, Jesus’ lengthy good-bye to his disciples during the Last Supper.
Try to imagine the scene.
The disciples – everyday working people, as thickheaded as all of us – felt a power in Jesus like they had never experienced before. From Jesus they heard teaching like they had never heard before. And through Jesus they saw signs like they had never seen before.
And while lots of people encountered Jesus, only a handful of people seem to have given away their lives to follow him. They may not have always understood Jesus, but they loved him enough to walk away from family and friends to be his disciples.
But, throughout Jesus’ ministry there was always this disturbing background buzz. It was a disturbing background buzz caused by conflict – conflict between Jesus and the religious establishment.
But it was also a disturbing background buzz caused by Jesus’ own predictions of his arrest and death.
I’m sure, like all of us, the disciples were good at denial and tried to tune out this disturbing background buzz – to ignore it, to hum over it, to pretend it wasn’t there.
But, now at the Last Supper, that disturbing background buzz has moved front and center. The disciples can no longer deny it or avoid it.
Last week we heard Jesus tell his friends that he was going ahead of them to prepare a place where they would all be reunited.
We heard Jesus boldly tell his disciples that since he and the Father are one, when they had seen Jesus they had in fact seen God.
We heard Jesus tell his disciples that he was going to the Father, which will give him the power to advocate for us, to see to it that our prayers are answered.
That’s all very good news. But, I suspect the disciples were still struggling to accept that in a very real – and horrible – way Jesus was leaving them.
Even if they believed everything Jesus was telling them – a big if – it still must have been scary for them to imagine what life was going to be like without Jesus – their leader, their friend, their teacher, their Savior.
Which brings us to today’s section of the Farewell Discourse.
Jesus has told the disciples that he will be advocating for them in heaven. But, now he also promises that God will send another advocate to be with them forever. This advocate – the Paraclete – a word that is also translated as comforter, counselor, friend or helper – is the Spirit of truth – and is also in some sense the spirit of Jesus himself.
Jesus says to his disciples, “I will not leave your orphaned; I am coming to you.”
Over the centuries artists have struggled to depict the Holy Spirit. Most of us are familiar with the tongues of fire and of course the dove, but neither image really does justice to the power and presence of the Holy Spirit in our lives.
It’s hard to describe the Holy Spirit. But if we keep our eyes and ears open we can feel the power and presence of the Holy Spirit all around us – we can know that we have not been left orphaned.
It’s thanks to the power of the Holy Spirit that the Apostle Paul – a Pharisee who had one of the most dramatic conversion experiences of all time – had the courage to give away his life in service to Jesus.
Thanks to the power of the Holy Spirit, Paul left behind everything that was familiar and spent the rest of his life traveling around the Mediterranean world, telling people about Jesus.
In today’s lesson from the Acts of the Apostles, we find Paul in Athens, of all places. In the First Century, Rome was the center of imperial power but Athens was still the hub of classical civilization.
Thanks to the power of the Holy Spirit, here’s Paul sounding very much like a Greek philosopher telling the learned and wise Athenians that he has discovered the “unknown god” – the Lord of heaven and earth - that they have been searching for all along.
It’s thanks to the power of the Holy Spirit that we have the Scriptures, including the Gospel of John that we’ve been reading these past few weeks.
Think about it for a second. Most scholars agree that this gospel was written near the end of the First Century – 70 or so years after the earthly lifetime of Jesus.
Over those many decades the Holy Spirit was at work keeping the presence of Jesus alive among the first disciples and then among the next generations who had never seen Jesus in the flesh.
Near the end of the First Century the writer or writers of this gospel knew from their own experience that Jesus kept his promise to send the Holy Spirit. The stories of Jesus were still alive. People were still giving away their lives to follow Jesus. And in a world filled with much despair and suffering the Good News was spreading beyond anyone’s wildest imagination.
And, today in a world still filled with much despair and suffering if we keep our eyes and ears open we can feel the power and presence of the Holy Spirit all around us. We can know that we have not been left orphaned.
As you know there are a lot of poor and homeless people in Gainesville. In part because of its location, at the chapel we get a fair number of people who come by looking for help.
Frankly, the frequent appeals can get old fast, but there are a couple of regulars that I’ve gotten to know a little bit and try to help in very small ways – including a woman who comes by every couple of days asking for a few dollars. On Friday I realized that I hadn’t seen her all week.
I mentioned to someone at the chapel that I was worried about her and asked her to say a prayer for her.
No kidding – five minutes later she walks in the same as always. But the two of us at the chapel were so stunned at the timing that we greeted her with spontaneous joy and relief. She was shocked and taken aback – but for a moment we all felt the power of the Holy Spirit at work in a world filled with suffering and despair.
And even sometimes when you follow the news you can find the Holy Spirit at work and know that we have not been left orphaned.
I was deeply moved by the visit a couple of weeks ago of Queen Elizabeth to Ireland.
Considering all the horrible history and still-unfinished business between Britain and Ireland, I’m sure many people – maybe even the Queen herself – never thought such a visit would ever be possible.
The security arrangements were extraordinary. When the Queen arrived, decked out in green, at first she looked a little worried about what kind of welcome she’d receive.
Along with the Irish president she laid a wreath and bowed her head at the Garden of Remembrance, where Ireland honors those who gave their lives in the fight for independence from Britain.
In her well-received speech at the state dinner the Queen spoke about, “the importance of forbearance and conciliation. Of being able to bow to the past, but not be bound by it.”
The visit was a huge success. By the end, the security was eased a bit, the Queen was receiving standing ovations, smiling broadly, and breaking from her schedule to greet friendly Irish onlookers eager to meet her.
Of course, there is still plenty of suffering and despair in Ireland, in Gainesville and around the world. Yet, when we keep our eyes and ears open we can feel the power and presence of the Holy Spirit all around us.
When we pay attention, like Paul and the first disciples we know that Jesus has kept his promise. We know that we have not been left orphaned.
Thanks be to God.
Amen.
The Chapel of the Incarnation, Gainesville FL
May 29, 2011
Year A: The Sixth Sunday of Easter
Acts 17:22-31
Psalm 66:7-18
1 Peter 3:13-22
John 14:15-21
Not Left Orphaned
I wouldn’t say that I’m a news junkie, but it’s true that I read the newspaper everyday and most days I check a couple of news websites to keep up with what’s going on.
Part of it is just habit, I guess. And part of it is that I think it’s important to be informed, though the truth is there’s not much I can do about all of the mostly horrible stuff that’s reported in the news.
And keeping up with the news can be dangerous for our souls. Last week a friend asked me how it affects me to every day read stories about natural and man-made disasters that create so much pain for so many here in our own community, across our country and around the world.
Of course, there’s nothing new about living in a world filled with natural and man-made disasters.
In today’s lesson from the Gospel of John, we glimpsed an unfolding man-made disaster: Jesus was about to be arrested and killed in an especially brutal and humiliating way.
As I mentioned last Sunday, one of the unique features of the Gospel of John is what’s called the “Farewell Discourse, Jesus’ lengthy good-bye to his disciples during the Last Supper.
Try to imagine the scene.
The disciples – everyday working people, as thickheaded as all of us – felt a power in Jesus like they had never experienced before. From Jesus they heard teaching like they had never heard before. And through Jesus they saw signs like they had never seen before.
And while lots of people encountered Jesus, only a handful of people seem to have given away their lives to follow him. They may not have always understood Jesus, but they loved him enough to walk away from family and friends to be his disciples.
But, throughout Jesus’ ministry there was always this disturbing background buzz. It was a disturbing background buzz caused by conflict – conflict between Jesus and the religious establishment.
But it was also a disturbing background buzz caused by Jesus’ own predictions of his arrest and death.
I’m sure, like all of us, the disciples were good at denial and tried to tune out this disturbing background buzz – to ignore it, to hum over it, to pretend it wasn’t there.
But, now at the Last Supper, that disturbing background buzz has moved front and center. The disciples can no longer deny it or avoid it.
Last week we heard Jesus tell his friends that he was going ahead of them to prepare a place where they would all be reunited.
We heard Jesus boldly tell his disciples that since he and the Father are one, when they had seen Jesus they had in fact seen God.
We heard Jesus tell his disciples that he was going to the Father, which will give him the power to advocate for us, to see to it that our prayers are answered.
That’s all very good news. But, I suspect the disciples were still struggling to accept that in a very real – and horrible – way Jesus was leaving them.
Even if they believed everything Jesus was telling them – a big if – it still must have been scary for them to imagine what life was going to be like without Jesus – their leader, their friend, their teacher, their Savior.
Which brings us to today’s section of the Farewell Discourse.
Jesus has told the disciples that he will be advocating for them in heaven. But, now he also promises that God will send another advocate to be with them forever. This advocate – the Paraclete – a word that is also translated as comforter, counselor, friend or helper – is the Spirit of truth – and is also in some sense the spirit of Jesus himself.
Jesus says to his disciples, “I will not leave your orphaned; I am coming to you.”
Over the centuries artists have struggled to depict the Holy Spirit. Most of us are familiar with the tongues of fire and of course the dove, but neither image really does justice to the power and presence of the Holy Spirit in our lives.
It’s hard to describe the Holy Spirit. But if we keep our eyes and ears open we can feel the power and presence of the Holy Spirit all around us – we can know that we have not been left orphaned.
It’s thanks to the power of the Holy Spirit that the Apostle Paul – a Pharisee who had one of the most dramatic conversion experiences of all time – had the courage to give away his life in service to Jesus.
Thanks to the power of the Holy Spirit, Paul left behind everything that was familiar and spent the rest of his life traveling around the Mediterranean world, telling people about Jesus.
In today’s lesson from the Acts of the Apostles, we find Paul in Athens, of all places. In the First Century, Rome was the center of imperial power but Athens was still the hub of classical civilization.
Thanks to the power of the Holy Spirit, here’s Paul sounding very much like a Greek philosopher telling the learned and wise Athenians that he has discovered the “unknown god” – the Lord of heaven and earth - that they have been searching for all along.
It’s thanks to the power of the Holy Spirit that we have the Scriptures, including the Gospel of John that we’ve been reading these past few weeks.
Think about it for a second. Most scholars agree that this gospel was written near the end of the First Century – 70 or so years after the earthly lifetime of Jesus.
Over those many decades the Holy Spirit was at work keeping the presence of Jesus alive among the first disciples and then among the next generations who had never seen Jesus in the flesh.
Near the end of the First Century the writer or writers of this gospel knew from their own experience that Jesus kept his promise to send the Holy Spirit. The stories of Jesus were still alive. People were still giving away their lives to follow Jesus. And in a world filled with much despair and suffering the Good News was spreading beyond anyone’s wildest imagination.
And, today in a world still filled with much despair and suffering if we keep our eyes and ears open we can feel the power and presence of the Holy Spirit all around us. We can know that we have not been left orphaned.
As you know there are a lot of poor and homeless people in Gainesville. In part because of its location, at the chapel we get a fair number of people who come by looking for help.
Frankly, the frequent appeals can get old fast, but there are a couple of regulars that I’ve gotten to know a little bit and try to help in very small ways – including a woman who comes by every couple of days asking for a few dollars. On Friday I realized that I hadn’t seen her all week.
I mentioned to someone at the chapel that I was worried about her and asked her to say a prayer for her.
No kidding – five minutes later she walks in the same as always. But the two of us at the chapel were so stunned at the timing that we greeted her with spontaneous joy and relief. She was shocked and taken aback – but for a moment we all felt the power of the Holy Spirit at work in a world filled with suffering and despair.
And even sometimes when you follow the news you can find the Holy Spirit at work and know that we have not been left orphaned.
I was deeply moved by the visit a couple of weeks ago of Queen Elizabeth to Ireland.
Considering all the horrible history and still-unfinished business between Britain and Ireland, I’m sure many people – maybe even the Queen herself – never thought such a visit would ever be possible.
The security arrangements were extraordinary. When the Queen arrived, decked out in green, at first she looked a little worried about what kind of welcome she’d receive.
Along with the Irish president she laid a wreath and bowed her head at the Garden of Remembrance, where Ireland honors those who gave their lives in the fight for independence from Britain.
In her well-received speech at the state dinner the Queen spoke about, “the importance of forbearance and conciliation. Of being able to bow to the past, but not be bound by it.”
The visit was a huge success. By the end, the security was eased a bit, the Queen was receiving standing ovations, smiling broadly, and breaking from her schedule to greet friendly Irish onlookers eager to meet her.
Of course, there is still plenty of suffering and despair in Ireland, in Gainesville and around the world. Yet, when we keep our eyes and ears open we can feel the power and presence of the Holy Spirit all around us.
When we pay attention, like Paul and the first disciples we know that Jesus has kept his promise. We know that we have not been left orphaned.
Thanks be to God.
Amen.
Sunday, May 22, 2011
Confidence
St. Michael’s Episcopal Church, Gainesville FL
The Chapel of the Incarnation, Gainesville FL
May 22, 2011
Year A: The Fifth Sunday of Easter
Acts 7:55-60
Psalm 31:1-5; 15-16
1 Peter 2:2-10
John 14:1-14
Confidence
Lately I’ve been thinking a lot about farewells.
Partly that’s because it’s been so quiet around the chapel with most of the students away on summer break – or off beginning the next chapter of their lives after commencement.
Partly, I guess, it’s because of all the attention given to the prediction made by Harold Camping, the founder of Family Radio, that the Rapture was certain to begin yesterday, May 21, 2011.
We’ve seen this before. Every once in a while people come along making these bold predictions with what seems to be complete certainty. In the paper I saw a photo of a man who believed that the end was at hand holding a sign that read in part, “The Bible guarantees it.”
This time around the prediction of Judgment Day seems to have convinced more people than usual. Maybe it’s because of the extreme weather experienced in many places lately. Or maybe it’s because we are living in a time of great political and social change that is unnerving lots of people.
Or because of the tough economic times, maybe people just want Jesus to return and make all their troubles go away.
Mostly, I think people fall for these kinds of predictions because we crave certainty.
On the front page of Friday’s New York Times there was a poignant, disturbing and a little bit funny story about the seemingly normal Haddad family of Middletown, Maryland.
Robert and Abby Haddad, parents of three very skeptical teenagers, were among the many people certain that the Rapture was going to occur yesterday. In fact, they were so certain that nearly two years ago Abby left her job as a nurse to devote herself to spreading the word about the approach of Judgment Day. The couple stopped making home improvements and quit saving for their kids’ college educations.
Perhaps hedging their apocalyptic bet just a little, Robert held on to his job as an engineer at the Department of Energy.
For their part, the kids managed to hold on to their sense of humor.
One of the children said, referring to her mother, “She’ll say, ‘You need to clean up your room.’ And I’ll say, ‘Mom, it doesn’t matter, if the world’s going to end!’”
That’s funny, but the parents’ certainty created real pain their family. One of the skeptical teens was quoted as saying, “My mom told me directly that I’m not going to get into heaven. At first it was really upsetting, but it’s what she honestly believes.”
It’s surprising me that Bible-believing Christians can fall so easily for these people who predict with such certainty the precise date of the Second Coming. It’s surprising because here’s what Jesus himself had to say on the subject in Mark 13:32:
“But about that day or hour no one knows, neither the angels in heaven, nor the Son, but only the Father.”
If Jesus himself doesn’t know, then it seems pretty unlikely that Harold Camping or Robert and Abby Haddad or anyone else would have any way of knowing about the date of Judgment Day.
I’ve also been thinking about farewells because of today’s gospel lesson, which is part of what’s known as the “Farewell Discourse” in the Gospel of John.
Remember that John is the last of the four gospels to be written, probably around the end of the First Century.
So, the Gospel of John is the product of divine inspiration working through several generations of Christian reflection on the meaning of Jesus’ life, death and resurrection.
One of the distinctive features of the Gospel of John is what’s called the “Farewell Discourse” – Jesus’ lengthy good-bye to his disciples.
Jesus knows that time is growing short for him on earth. During his ministry Jesus has tried to teach his disciples through parables and through his own example. Now, though, there’s not much time left, and, as we all know, the disciples have often been clueless.
So, in these last hours Jesus wants to give his disciples – wants to give us – confidence by passing on what’s most essential.
We can’t be certain about when the world will end.
We can’t be certain about when we will die.
We can’t be certain about the many things that only God knows.
But, because God revealed the way, the truth and the life in Jesus, we can be confident about what’s most important.
We can be confident about the kinds of lives God wants us to live.
We can be confident that God wants us to give away our lives in loving service to one another, especially to the poorest and weakest among us.
We can be confident that we are loved more than we could ever imagine. We can be confident that God loves us enough to live among us. We can be confident that God loves us enough to rescue us from our sin. We can be confident that God loves us enough to die for us.
Because God revealed the way, the truth and the life in Jesus, we can be confident that, in the end, love is stronger than death.
We hear that kind of confidence in the story of Stephen, deacon and martyr.
Stephen confidently preached the Gospel to an unfriendly audience not certain of how it would be received. When his message was violently rejected, to the end Stephen remained confident. The author of the Acts of the Apostles describes Stephen as imitating Jesus in his life and death – confidently giving away his life for the Gospel.
In a less dramatic way, I encountered that kind of confidence about ten years ago when my grandmother was dying in the hospital. At one point she looked at me and said, “I know where I have come from and I know where I am going.”
I’m not sure she knew that she was quoting Jesus. (It’s John 8:14.) But, in her own “farewell discourse” my grandmother was expressing simple but profound confidence. She wasn’t expressing the certainty of someone who believed that she had her theology in perfect order or who had said just the right religious words or who was in on some secret knowledge derived from biblical calculations.
No, my grandmother was expressing the simple but profound confidence in God’s love – the love that had shaped the way she had lived her life – the love that she had shared with me and so many other people during her life.
My grandmother was expressing the quiet confidence that the God whose love she had felt throughout her life in good times and not so good would not abandon her now in her hour of need – and would not abandon her in whatever awaited her beyond death.
Faith is that kind of confidence.
Faith isn’t about certainty.
Faith isn’t being certain when the world will end or when we will die.
Faith isn’t being certain about who’s “saved” and who’s “left behind”.
Faith isn’t being certain about who’s going to heaven and who’s going to hell.
Faith isn’t being certain about the many things that only God knows.
Faith is confidence in what’s most important.
Faith is confidence in God who reveals the way, the truth and the life in Jesus.
And, finally, faith is confidence that we can never really say farewell to God – and that God never says farewell to us.
Amen.
The Chapel of the Incarnation, Gainesville FL
May 22, 2011
Year A: The Fifth Sunday of Easter
Acts 7:55-60
Psalm 31:1-5; 15-16
1 Peter 2:2-10
John 14:1-14
Confidence
Lately I’ve been thinking a lot about farewells.
Partly that’s because it’s been so quiet around the chapel with most of the students away on summer break – or off beginning the next chapter of their lives after commencement.
Partly, I guess, it’s because of all the attention given to the prediction made by Harold Camping, the founder of Family Radio, that the Rapture was certain to begin yesterday, May 21, 2011.
We’ve seen this before. Every once in a while people come along making these bold predictions with what seems to be complete certainty. In the paper I saw a photo of a man who believed that the end was at hand holding a sign that read in part, “The Bible guarantees it.”
This time around the prediction of Judgment Day seems to have convinced more people than usual. Maybe it’s because of the extreme weather experienced in many places lately. Or maybe it’s because we are living in a time of great political and social change that is unnerving lots of people.
Or because of the tough economic times, maybe people just want Jesus to return and make all their troubles go away.
Mostly, I think people fall for these kinds of predictions because we crave certainty.
On the front page of Friday’s New York Times there was a poignant, disturbing and a little bit funny story about the seemingly normal Haddad family of Middletown, Maryland.
Robert and Abby Haddad, parents of three very skeptical teenagers, were among the many people certain that the Rapture was going to occur yesterday. In fact, they were so certain that nearly two years ago Abby left her job as a nurse to devote herself to spreading the word about the approach of Judgment Day. The couple stopped making home improvements and quit saving for their kids’ college educations.
Perhaps hedging their apocalyptic bet just a little, Robert held on to his job as an engineer at the Department of Energy.
For their part, the kids managed to hold on to their sense of humor.
One of the children said, referring to her mother, “She’ll say, ‘You need to clean up your room.’ And I’ll say, ‘Mom, it doesn’t matter, if the world’s going to end!’”
That’s funny, but the parents’ certainty created real pain their family. One of the skeptical teens was quoted as saying, “My mom told me directly that I’m not going to get into heaven. At first it was really upsetting, but it’s what she honestly believes.”
It’s surprising me that Bible-believing Christians can fall so easily for these people who predict with such certainty the precise date of the Second Coming. It’s surprising because here’s what Jesus himself had to say on the subject in Mark 13:32:
“But about that day or hour no one knows, neither the angels in heaven, nor the Son, but only the Father.”
If Jesus himself doesn’t know, then it seems pretty unlikely that Harold Camping or Robert and Abby Haddad or anyone else would have any way of knowing about the date of Judgment Day.
I’ve also been thinking about farewells because of today’s gospel lesson, which is part of what’s known as the “Farewell Discourse” in the Gospel of John.
Remember that John is the last of the four gospels to be written, probably around the end of the First Century.
So, the Gospel of John is the product of divine inspiration working through several generations of Christian reflection on the meaning of Jesus’ life, death and resurrection.
One of the distinctive features of the Gospel of John is what’s called the “Farewell Discourse” – Jesus’ lengthy good-bye to his disciples.
Jesus knows that time is growing short for him on earth. During his ministry Jesus has tried to teach his disciples through parables and through his own example. Now, though, there’s not much time left, and, as we all know, the disciples have often been clueless.
So, in these last hours Jesus wants to give his disciples – wants to give us – confidence by passing on what’s most essential.
We can’t be certain about when the world will end.
We can’t be certain about when we will die.
We can’t be certain about the many things that only God knows.
But, because God revealed the way, the truth and the life in Jesus, we can be confident about what’s most important.
We can be confident about the kinds of lives God wants us to live.
We can be confident that God wants us to give away our lives in loving service to one another, especially to the poorest and weakest among us.
We can be confident that we are loved more than we could ever imagine. We can be confident that God loves us enough to live among us. We can be confident that God loves us enough to rescue us from our sin. We can be confident that God loves us enough to die for us.
Because God revealed the way, the truth and the life in Jesus, we can be confident that, in the end, love is stronger than death.
We hear that kind of confidence in the story of Stephen, deacon and martyr.
Stephen confidently preached the Gospel to an unfriendly audience not certain of how it would be received. When his message was violently rejected, to the end Stephen remained confident. The author of the Acts of the Apostles describes Stephen as imitating Jesus in his life and death – confidently giving away his life for the Gospel.
In a less dramatic way, I encountered that kind of confidence about ten years ago when my grandmother was dying in the hospital. At one point she looked at me and said, “I know where I have come from and I know where I am going.”
I’m not sure she knew that she was quoting Jesus. (It’s John 8:14.) But, in her own “farewell discourse” my grandmother was expressing simple but profound confidence. She wasn’t expressing the certainty of someone who believed that she had her theology in perfect order or who had said just the right religious words or who was in on some secret knowledge derived from biblical calculations.
No, my grandmother was expressing the simple but profound confidence in God’s love – the love that had shaped the way she had lived her life – the love that she had shared with me and so many other people during her life.
My grandmother was expressing the quiet confidence that the God whose love she had felt throughout her life in good times and not so good would not abandon her now in her hour of need – and would not abandon her in whatever awaited her beyond death.
Faith is that kind of confidence.
Faith isn’t about certainty.
Faith isn’t being certain when the world will end or when we will die.
Faith isn’t being certain about who’s “saved” and who’s “left behind”.
Faith isn’t being certain about who’s going to heaven and who’s going to hell.
Faith isn’t being certain about the many things that only God knows.
Faith is confidence in what’s most important.
Faith is confidence in God who reveals the way, the truth and the life in Jesus.
And, finally, faith is confidence that we can never really say farewell to God – and that God never says farewell to us.
Amen.
Wednesday, May 18, 2011
Shepherds, Sheep, Bishops and Us
St. Michael’s Episcopal Church, Gainesville FL
May 18, 2011
Year A: Wednesday in the Fourth Week of Easter
Sermon Preached on the Occasion of the Visit of
The Rt. Rev. Griselda Delgado Del Carpio, the Episcopal Bishop of Cuba
Acts 2:42-47
Psalm 23
1 Peter 2:19-25
John 10:1-10
Shepherds, Sheep, Bishops and Us
I grew up in Jersey City – a large, paved-over place overshadowed by the much larger New York City, just across the Hudson River.
Being formed in such a very urban environment I’ve always struggled with the sheep and shepherd imagery that is found throughout the Bible, in both the Old and New Testaments.
I’ve never seen a shepherd in person – and the only sheep I’ve encountered were enjoying the cozy protection of a petting zoo.
Maybe those of you who grew up in rural Florida or Cuba or Bolivia have an easier time than I do relating to the sheep and shepherd imagery in the Bible.
Certainly in Palestine, past and present, sheep and shepherds were all over the place, so it’s no surprise that sheep are mentioned more than 500 times in the Bible. In the Old Testament most of the references are literal while in the New Testament the references tend to be metaphorical – Jesus is the Good Shepherd and we are his sheep.
No matter where we’re from it’s a beautiful and powerful image.
Jesus is the Good Shepherd and we are his sheep.
A beautiful image, but, so what?
What do these beautiful metaphors for Jesus and us have to do with our daily lives back in Jersey City or here in Gainesville or in Cuba or anywhere?
Today- right here and now - how exactly does Jesus act as our shepherd?
Today – right here and now - how exactly are we his sheep?
Part of the answer is found in today’s passage from the Acts of the Apostles where we get a glimpse of life in the early church. Like us, those early Christians were living in a time when the resurrected Christ was no longer present in the way that he had been in those amazing first days after Easter.
Instead Jesus the Good Shepherd was present – is present – in the Church, in the apostles’ teaching and fellowship, in the breaking of the bread and the prayers.
It’s here in church that we are reminded that we are all sheep, loved and cared for by the Good Shepherd.
Now, near as I can tell, in a real pasture sheep don’t have any responsibilities except sticking together.
But, as Christians you and I have some very important responsibilities.
Of course bishops are well aware of their responsibilities. They are the heirs of the apostles and are expected to be shepherds - to search for the sheep who go astray, to reach out to the sheep who are not yet part of the flock, to protect the sheep from those who want to harm the flock.
I imagine that every bishop is reminded of those awesome responsibilities every time she takes up her crozier - her staff – the powerful symbol of the bishop’s role as shepherd.
But, the rest of us, you and I, we’re not just sheep. As part of the Body of Christ in the world we are also called to be shepherds. We are also called to take on the sometimes tedious, occasionally infuriating, often demanding and always important work of shepherding Christ’s flock.
At every baptism the congregation is asked, “Will you who witness these vows do all in your power to support these persons in their life in Christ?”
And the congregation responds with gusto, “We will!”
When we say we will do all in our power to support our fellow Christians in their life in Christ we sign up to be shepherds.
As Christians we are the Body of Christ in the world. As Christians we are the Good Shepherd in the world. As Christians we sign up to be shepherds.
We are shepherds when we gather together as we have this evening, devoting ourselves to the apostles’ teaching and fellowship, to the breaking of bread and the prayers.
We are shepherds when we reach out in love to someone who doesn’t have a home or enough food to eat.
We are shepherds when we reach out in love to someone who is sick and afraid of the future.
We are shepherds when we reach out in love to someone who mourns the death of one they love.
We are shepherds when we reach out in love to someone who has wronged us and offer forgiveness.
We are sheep and we are shepherds.
A bishop is reminded of the awesome responsibility of being a shepherd every time she takes up her staff.
But, the staff should serve as a reminder for all Christians - here in Gainesville, in Cuba, and everywhere.
It should remind us of the love of Jesus the Good Shepherd for us, his sheep.
It should also remind us that we are sheep who are also called to be shepherds – that by God’s grace we are the Body of Christ in the world – that by God’s grace we are the Good Shepherd in the world, today, right here and right now.
Amen.
May 18, 2011
Year A: Wednesday in the Fourth Week of Easter
Sermon Preached on the Occasion of the Visit of
The Rt. Rev. Griselda Delgado Del Carpio, the Episcopal Bishop of Cuba
Acts 2:42-47
Psalm 23
1 Peter 2:19-25
John 10:1-10
Shepherds, Sheep, Bishops and Us
I grew up in Jersey City – a large, paved-over place overshadowed by the much larger New York City, just across the Hudson River.
Being formed in such a very urban environment I’ve always struggled with the sheep and shepherd imagery that is found throughout the Bible, in both the Old and New Testaments.
I’ve never seen a shepherd in person – and the only sheep I’ve encountered were enjoying the cozy protection of a petting zoo.
Maybe those of you who grew up in rural Florida or Cuba or Bolivia have an easier time than I do relating to the sheep and shepherd imagery in the Bible.
Certainly in Palestine, past and present, sheep and shepherds were all over the place, so it’s no surprise that sheep are mentioned more than 500 times in the Bible. In the Old Testament most of the references are literal while in the New Testament the references tend to be metaphorical – Jesus is the Good Shepherd and we are his sheep.
No matter where we’re from it’s a beautiful and powerful image.
Jesus is the Good Shepherd and we are his sheep.
A beautiful image, but, so what?
What do these beautiful metaphors for Jesus and us have to do with our daily lives back in Jersey City or here in Gainesville or in Cuba or anywhere?
Today- right here and now - how exactly does Jesus act as our shepherd?
Today – right here and now - how exactly are we his sheep?
Part of the answer is found in today’s passage from the Acts of the Apostles where we get a glimpse of life in the early church. Like us, those early Christians were living in a time when the resurrected Christ was no longer present in the way that he had been in those amazing first days after Easter.
Instead Jesus the Good Shepherd was present – is present – in the Church, in the apostles’ teaching and fellowship, in the breaking of the bread and the prayers.
It’s here in church that we are reminded that we are all sheep, loved and cared for by the Good Shepherd.
Now, near as I can tell, in a real pasture sheep don’t have any responsibilities except sticking together.
But, as Christians you and I have some very important responsibilities.
Of course bishops are well aware of their responsibilities. They are the heirs of the apostles and are expected to be shepherds - to search for the sheep who go astray, to reach out to the sheep who are not yet part of the flock, to protect the sheep from those who want to harm the flock.
I imagine that every bishop is reminded of those awesome responsibilities every time she takes up her crozier - her staff – the powerful symbol of the bishop’s role as shepherd.
But, the rest of us, you and I, we’re not just sheep. As part of the Body of Christ in the world we are also called to be shepherds. We are also called to take on the sometimes tedious, occasionally infuriating, often demanding and always important work of shepherding Christ’s flock.
At every baptism the congregation is asked, “Will you who witness these vows do all in your power to support these persons in their life in Christ?”
And the congregation responds with gusto, “We will!”
When we say we will do all in our power to support our fellow Christians in their life in Christ we sign up to be shepherds.
As Christians we are the Body of Christ in the world. As Christians we are the Good Shepherd in the world. As Christians we sign up to be shepherds.
We are shepherds when we gather together as we have this evening, devoting ourselves to the apostles’ teaching and fellowship, to the breaking of bread and the prayers.
We are shepherds when we reach out in love to someone who doesn’t have a home or enough food to eat.
We are shepherds when we reach out in love to someone who is sick and afraid of the future.
We are shepherds when we reach out in love to someone who mourns the death of one they love.
We are shepherds when we reach out in love to someone who has wronged us and offer forgiveness.
We are sheep and we are shepherds.
A bishop is reminded of the awesome responsibility of being a shepherd every time she takes up her staff.
But, the staff should serve as a reminder for all Christians - here in Gainesville, in Cuba, and everywhere.
It should remind us of the love of Jesus the Good Shepherd for us, his sheep.
It should also remind us that we are sheep who are also called to be shepherds – that by God’s grace we are the Body of Christ in the world – that by God’s grace we are the Good Shepherd in the world, today, right here and right now.
Amen.
Sunday, May 15, 2011
More Than a Lifeguard (Chapel of the Incarnation)
The Chapel of the Incarnation, Gainesville FL
May 15, 2011
Year A: The Fourth Sunday of Easter
Acts 2:42-47
Psalm 23
1 Peter 2:19-25
John 10:1-10
More than a Lifeguard
I’ve started reading a book called Almost Christian. The book is a summary of and reflection on the recent National Study of Youth and Religion – a massive, multi-year look into what American teenagers think about religion.
The survey found that young people – probably mirroring their own parents – are not hostile to religion. That’s the good news.
They just don’t care about it very much. That’s the bad news.
On one level, we might rejoice that young people don’t hate religion or despise the church.
But, apathy is probably even worse than strong, if negative, feelings.
Here’s how the author summarizes what American youth think about religion:
1. A god exists who created and orders the world and watches over life on earth.
2. God wants people to be good, nice, and fair to each other, as taught in the Bible and by most world religions.
3. The central goal of life is to be happy and to feel good about oneself.
4. God is not involved in my life except when I need God to solve a problem.
5. Good people go to heaven when they die.
When you think about all the horrible things that people could think or believe, this is not a bad set of beliefs. We might even agree with at least some of them.
But, especially on this Good Shepherd Sunday, it’s number four that really catches my attention:
God is not involved in my life except when I need God to solve a problem.
The author describes this belief as thinking of God as a divine lifeguard. We don’t think about very much about God the lifeguard when we’re having a great time splashing our way through life.
But, the moment something goes wrong, the moment there’s a crisis, the lifeguard suddenly becomes very important. And later, once the crisis passes, we don’t think about the lifeguard again - until the next time we’re in trouble.
There’s nothing wrong exactly with thinking about God as a lifeguard, except that it’s such an impoverished metaphor for who God really is and for the role that God wants to play in our lives.
The Lord is my lifeguard doesn’t quite cut it, does it?
A lifeguard is way up there, while we’re down here in the pool.
A lifeguard is way up there, looking down on anonymous people bobbing in the pool, ready to jump into action at the first sign of trouble.
And, it’s true that, like a lifeguard, God comes to our aid when there’s a crisis, pouring out the grace and strength we need in a crisis.
But, God is much more than a lifeguard. God is a shepherd.
God is a shepherd who knows us and cares for us. God is a shepherd who’s down here with us – wanting to be discovered by us and known by us.
At the heart of our Jewish-Christian tradition is the story of God reaching out us, revealing Godself to us, innumerable ways, over and over again.
A couple of weeks ago there was a story in a British newspaper of a young Scottish girl named LuLu who was told by her teachers to write a letter to God. In this letter she was told to ask God, “how did you get invented?”
LuLu’s parents were startled when they heard about this assignment. Rather than trying to answer the question themselves, they forwarded Lulu’s question to a number of British religious leaders. One of those leaders, Rowan Williams, the Archbishop of Canterbury, took the time to personally respond to LuLu’s question.
In his response the archbishop imagined how God would reply to LuLu’s question. Here’s part of it:
‘Dear Lulu – Nobody invented me – but lots of people discovered me and were quite surprised. They discovered me when they looked round at the world and thought it was really beautiful or really mysterious and wondered where it came from. They discovered me when they were very very quiet on their own and felt a sort of peace and love they hadn’t expected.
Then they invented ideas about me – some of them sensible and some of them not very sensible. From time to time I sent them some hints – specially in the life of Jesus – to help them get closer to what I’m really like.”
The archbishop’s response to LuLu is both charming and profound.
His response touches on the great truth of how we discover God who is so much more than a lifeguard.
When we look at the beauty of the world, we discover a God of unlimited imagination and creativity.
When we make time for quiet – to reflect and pray – we discover God in a sense of peace and love we hadn’t expected.
And most especially in Jesus the Good Shepherd, we discover a God who loves us enough – who wants so much to be discovered by us - to join us on earth as a flesh and blood human being.
In Jesus the Good Shepherd we discover a God who calls us each by name.
In Jesus the Good Shepherd we discover a God who gives us life and wants us to have it abundantly.
And we heard what that abundant life is like in the snapshot of the early church in today’s reading from Acts:
“Those who had been baptized devoted themselves to the apostles’ teaching and fellowship, to the breaking of bread and the prayers.”
With that foundation of prayer and worship the first Christians made room for God and grew ever closer to the Good Shepherd. And, we’re told that with that foundation of prayer and worship the apostles did amazing signs and wonders.
And when they faced inevitable times of crisis in their lives, those early Christians didn’t look to God as a lifeguard because, thanks to Jesus, they knew God was already right there in the water with them.
In times of crisis, those early Christians looked to God they knew as a shepherd – God who knew them, loved them, protected them and led them.
And what was true in the First Century is just as true now in the Twenty-First Century.
Just look around.
We gather here in the chapel each week (some of us even during the summer!) just like the first Christians – telling and hearing the old stories, supporting one another, breaking bread and praying together.
We gather here in the chapel to make room for God – to grow closer to God.
We gather here in the chapel to get to know God not as a lifeguard watching from afar but to get to know God as a shepherd right here in the pasture with us.
So, when the inevitable times of crisis come in our lives, we won’t look to God as just a lifeguard because, thanks to Jesus, we know that God is already down here with us in the sometimes dangerous and frightening waters of life.
When the inevitable times of crisis come in our lives, we can look to God we knew as a shepherd – God who knows us, loves us, protects us and leads us.
Amen.
May 15, 2011
Year A: The Fourth Sunday of Easter
Acts 2:42-47
Psalm 23
1 Peter 2:19-25
John 10:1-10
More than a Lifeguard
I’ve started reading a book called Almost Christian. The book is a summary of and reflection on the recent National Study of Youth and Religion – a massive, multi-year look into what American teenagers think about religion.
The survey found that young people – probably mirroring their own parents – are not hostile to religion. That’s the good news.
They just don’t care about it very much. That’s the bad news.
On one level, we might rejoice that young people don’t hate religion or despise the church.
But, apathy is probably even worse than strong, if negative, feelings.
Here’s how the author summarizes what American youth think about religion:
1. A god exists who created and orders the world and watches over life on earth.
2. God wants people to be good, nice, and fair to each other, as taught in the Bible and by most world religions.
3. The central goal of life is to be happy and to feel good about oneself.
4. God is not involved in my life except when I need God to solve a problem.
5. Good people go to heaven when they die.
When you think about all the horrible things that people could think or believe, this is not a bad set of beliefs. We might even agree with at least some of them.
But, especially on this Good Shepherd Sunday, it’s number four that really catches my attention:
God is not involved in my life except when I need God to solve a problem.
The author describes this belief as thinking of God as a divine lifeguard. We don’t think about very much about God the lifeguard when we’re having a great time splashing our way through life.
But, the moment something goes wrong, the moment there’s a crisis, the lifeguard suddenly becomes very important. And later, once the crisis passes, we don’t think about the lifeguard again - until the next time we’re in trouble.
There’s nothing wrong exactly with thinking about God as a lifeguard, except that it’s such an impoverished metaphor for who God really is and for the role that God wants to play in our lives.
The Lord is my lifeguard doesn’t quite cut it, does it?
A lifeguard is way up there, while we’re down here in the pool.
A lifeguard is way up there, looking down on anonymous people bobbing in the pool, ready to jump into action at the first sign of trouble.
And, it’s true that, like a lifeguard, God comes to our aid when there’s a crisis, pouring out the grace and strength we need in a crisis.
But, God is much more than a lifeguard. God is a shepherd.
God is a shepherd who knows us and cares for us. God is a shepherd who’s down here with us – wanting to be discovered by us and known by us.
At the heart of our Jewish-Christian tradition is the story of God reaching out us, revealing Godself to us, innumerable ways, over and over again.
A couple of weeks ago there was a story in a British newspaper of a young Scottish girl named LuLu who was told by her teachers to write a letter to God. In this letter she was told to ask God, “how did you get invented?”
LuLu’s parents were startled when they heard about this assignment. Rather than trying to answer the question themselves, they forwarded Lulu’s question to a number of British religious leaders. One of those leaders, Rowan Williams, the Archbishop of Canterbury, took the time to personally respond to LuLu’s question.
In his response the archbishop imagined how God would reply to LuLu’s question. Here’s part of it:
‘Dear Lulu – Nobody invented me – but lots of people discovered me and were quite surprised. They discovered me when they looked round at the world and thought it was really beautiful or really mysterious and wondered where it came from. They discovered me when they were very very quiet on their own and felt a sort of peace and love they hadn’t expected.
Then they invented ideas about me – some of them sensible and some of them not very sensible. From time to time I sent them some hints – specially in the life of Jesus – to help them get closer to what I’m really like.”
The archbishop’s response to LuLu is both charming and profound.
His response touches on the great truth of how we discover God who is so much more than a lifeguard.
When we look at the beauty of the world, we discover a God of unlimited imagination and creativity.
When we make time for quiet – to reflect and pray – we discover God in a sense of peace and love we hadn’t expected.
And most especially in Jesus the Good Shepherd, we discover a God who loves us enough – who wants so much to be discovered by us - to join us on earth as a flesh and blood human being.
In Jesus the Good Shepherd we discover a God who calls us each by name.
In Jesus the Good Shepherd we discover a God who gives us life and wants us to have it abundantly.
And we heard what that abundant life is like in the snapshot of the early church in today’s reading from Acts:
“Those who had been baptized devoted themselves to the apostles’ teaching and fellowship, to the breaking of bread and the prayers.”
With that foundation of prayer and worship the first Christians made room for God and grew ever closer to the Good Shepherd. And, we’re told that with that foundation of prayer and worship the apostles did amazing signs and wonders.
And when they faced inevitable times of crisis in their lives, those early Christians didn’t look to God as a lifeguard because, thanks to Jesus, they knew God was already right there in the water with them.
In times of crisis, those early Christians looked to God they knew as a shepherd – God who knew them, loved them, protected them and led them.
And what was true in the First Century is just as true now in the Twenty-First Century.
Just look around.
We gather here in the chapel each week (some of us even during the summer!) just like the first Christians – telling and hearing the old stories, supporting one another, breaking bread and praying together.
We gather here in the chapel to make room for God – to grow closer to God.
We gather here in the chapel to get to know God not as a lifeguard watching from afar but to get to know God as a shepherd right here in the pasture with us.
So, when the inevitable times of crisis come in our lives, we won’t look to God as just a lifeguard because, thanks to Jesus, we know that God is already down here with us in the sometimes dangerous and frightening waters of life.
When the inevitable times of crisis come in our lives, we can look to God we knew as a shepherd – God who knows us, loves us, protects us and leads us.
Amen.
More Than a Lifeguard (St. Michael's)
St. Michael’s Episcopal Church, Gainesville FL
May 15, 2011
Year A: The Fourth Sunday of Easter
Acts 2:42-47
Psalm 23
1 Peter 2:19-25
John 10:1-10
More than a Lifeguard
I’ve started reading a book called Almost Christian. The book is a summary of and reflection on the recent National Study of Youth and Religion – a massive, multi-year look into what American teenagers think about religion.
The survey found that young people – probably mirroring their own parents – are not hostile to religion. They just don’t care about it very much.
On one level, we might rejoice that our young people don’t hate religion or despise the church.
But, apathy is probably even worse than strong, if negative, feelings.
Here’s how the author summarizes what American youth think about religion:
1. A god exists who created and orders the world and watches over life on earth.
2. God wants people to be good, nice, and fair to each other, as taught in the Bible and by most world religions.
3. The central goal of life is to be happy and to feel good about oneself.
4. God is not involved in my life except when I need God to solve a problem.
5. Good people go to heaven when they die.
When you think about all the horrible things that people could think or believe, this is not a bad set of beliefs. We might even agree with at least some of them.
But, especially on this Good Shepherd Sunday, it’s number four that really catches my attention:
God is not involved in my life except when I need God to solve a problem.
The author describes this belief as thinking of God as a divine lifeguard. We don’t think about very much about God the lifeguard when we’re having a great time splashing our way through life.
But, the moment something goes wrong, the moment there’s a crisis, the lifeguard suddenly becomes very important. And later, once the crisis passes, we don’t think about the lifeguard again - until the next time we’re in trouble.
There’s nothing wrong exactly with thinking about God as a lifeguard, except that it’s such an impoverished metaphor for who God really is and for the role that God wants to play in our lives.
The Lord is my lifeguard doesn’t quite cut it, does it?
A lifeguard is way up there, while we’re down here in the pool.
A lifeguard is way up there, looking down on anonymous people bobbing in the pool, ready to jump into action at the first sign of trouble.
And, it’s true that, like a lifeguard, God comes to our aid when there’s a crisis, pouring out the grace and strength we need in a crisis.
But, God is much more than a lifeguard. God is a shepherd.
God is a shepherd who knows us and cares for us. God is a shepherd who’s down here with us – wanting to be discovered by us and known by us.
At the heart of our Jewish-Christian tradition is the story of God reaching out us, revealing Godself to us, innumerable ways, over and over again.
A couple of weeks ago there was a story in a British newspaper of a young Scottish girl named LuLu who was told by her teachers to write a letter to God. In this letter she was told to ask God, “how did you get invented?”
LuLu’s parents were startled when they heard about this assignment. Rather than trying to answer the question themselves, they forwarded Lulu’s question to a number of British religious leaders. One of those leaders, Rowan Williams, the Archbishop of Canterbury, took the time to personally respond to LuLu’s question.
In his response the archbishop imagined how God would reply to LuLu’s question. Here’s part of it:
‘Dear Lulu – Nobody invented me – but lots of people discovered me and were quite surprised. They discovered me when they looked round at the world and thought it was really beautiful or really mysterious and wondered where it came from. They discovered me when they were very very quiet on their own and felt a sort of peace and love they hadn’t expected.
Then they invented ideas about me – some of them sensible and some of them not very sensible. From time to time I sent them some hints – specially in the life of Jesus – to help them get closer to what I’m really like.”
The archbishop’s response to LuLu is both charming and profound.
His response touches on the great truth of how we discover God who is so much more than a lifeguard.
When we look at the beauty of the world, we discover a God of unlimited imagination and creativity.
When we make time for quiet – to reflect and pray – we discover God in a sense of peace and love we hadn’t expected.
And most especially in Jesus the Good Shepherd, we discover a God who loves us enough – who wants so much to be discovered by us - to join us on earth as a flesh and blood human being.
In Jesus the Good Shepherd we discover a God who calls us each by name.
In Jesus the Good Shepherd we discover a God who gives us life and wants us to have it abundantly.
And we heard what that abundant life is like in the snapshot of the early church in today’s reading from Acts:
“Those who had been baptized devoted themselves to the apostles’ teaching and fellowship, to the breaking of bread and the prayers.”
With that foundation of prayer and worship they grew ever closer to the Good Shepherd. And, we’re told the apostles did amazing signs and wonders.
In times of crisis, those early Christians didn’t look to God as a lifeguard because, thanks to Jesus, they knew God was already right there in the water with them.
In times of crisis, those early Christians looked to God they knew as a shepherd – God who knew them, loved them, protected them and led them.
And what was true in the First Century is just as true now in the Twenty-First Century.
Just look around.
Four years ago, right here at St. Michael’s, in a time of crisis, a handful of people put their faith in Jesus the Good Shepherd.
And look what happened and is happening.
Thanks to Jesus the Good Shepherd and a handful of hardworking sheep, a church that just about everyone thought was going to die lived on.
More and more people found and continue to find Jesus the Good Shepherd right here in this pasture.
Lately about sixty sheep have been gathering each Sunday in this pasture.
And today I’m pleased to announce that for the first time since the split St. Michael’s has hired a parish administrator.
So, look what happens when week after week we come here and listen to the old stories of Scripture, when, like the early Church, we devote ourselves “to the apostles’ teaching and fellowship, to the breaking of the bread and the prayers.”
Look what happens when, despite our own weaknesses and failures and frustrations, we allow God into our lives, allow God to be our shepherd.
Look what happens when we recognize and share the great news that God is so much more – and wants to be so much more - than a lifeguard watching over us from a distance.
Look what happens when we recognize and share the great news that the Lord is our shepherd.
Thanks be to God.
Amen.
May 15, 2011
Year A: The Fourth Sunday of Easter
Acts 2:42-47
Psalm 23
1 Peter 2:19-25
John 10:1-10
More than a Lifeguard
I’ve started reading a book called Almost Christian. The book is a summary of and reflection on the recent National Study of Youth and Religion – a massive, multi-year look into what American teenagers think about religion.
The survey found that young people – probably mirroring their own parents – are not hostile to religion. They just don’t care about it very much.
On one level, we might rejoice that our young people don’t hate religion or despise the church.
But, apathy is probably even worse than strong, if negative, feelings.
Here’s how the author summarizes what American youth think about religion:
1. A god exists who created and orders the world and watches over life on earth.
2. God wants people to be good, nice, and fair to each other, as taught in the Bible and by most world religions.
3. The central goal of life is to be happy and to feel good about oneself.
4. God is not involved in my life except when I need God to solve a problem.
5. Good people go to heaven when they die.
When you think about all the horrible things that people could think or believe, this is not a bad set of beliefs. We might even agree with at least some of them.
But, especially on this Good Shepherd Sunday, it’s number four that really catches my attention:
God is not involved in my life except when I need God to solve a problem.
The author describes this belief as thinking of God as a divine lifeguard. We don’t think about very much about God the lifeguard when we’re having a great time splashing our way through life.
But, the moment something goes wrong, the moment there’s a crisis, the lifeguard suddenly becomes very important. And later, once the crisis passes, we don’t think about the lifeguard again - until the next time we’re in trouble.
There’s nothing wrong exactly with thinking about God as a lifeguard, except that it’s such an impoverished metaphor for who God really is and for the role that God wants to play in our lives.
The Lord is my lifeguard doesn’t quite cut it, does it?
A lifeguard is way up there, while we’re down here in the pool.
A lifeguard is way up there, looking down on anonymous people bobbing in the pool, ready to jump into action at the first sign of trouble.
And, it’s true that, like a lifeguard, God comes to our aid when there’s a crisis, pouring out the grace and strength we need in a crisis.
But, God is much more than a lifeguard. God is a shepherd.
God is a shepherd who knows us and cares for us. God is a shepherd who’s down here with us – wanting to be discovered by us and known by us.
At the heart of our Jewish-Christian tradition is the story of God reaching out us, revealing Godself to us, innumerable ways, over and over again.
A couple of weeks ago there was a story in a British newspaper of a young Scottish girl named LuLu who was told by her teachers to write a letter to God. In this letter she was told to ask God, “how did you get invented?”
LuLu’s parents were startled when they heard about this assignment. Rather than trying to answer the question themselves, they forwarded Lulu’s question to a number of British religious leaders. One of those leaders, Rowan Williams, the Archbishop of Canterbury, took the time to personally respond to LuLu’s question.
In his response the archbishop imagined how God would reply to LuLu’s question. Here’s part of it:
‘Dear Lulu – Nobody invented me – but lots of people discovered me and were quite surprised. They discovered me when they looked round at the world and thought it was really beautiful or really mysterious and wondered where it came from. They discovered me when they were very very quiet on their own and felt a sort of peace and love they hadn’t expected.
Then they invented ideas about me – some of them sensible and some of them not very sensible. From time to time I sent them some hints – specially in the life of Jesus – to help them get closer to what I’m really like.”
The archbishop’s response to LuLu is both charming and profound.
His response touches on the great truth of how we discover God who is so much more than a lifeguard.
When we look at the beauty of the world, we discover a God of unlimited imagination and creativity.
When we make time for quiet – to reflect and pray – we discover God in a sense of peace and love we hadn’t expected.
And most especially in Jesus the Good Shepherd, we discover a God who loves us enough – who wants so much to be discovered by us - to join us on earth as a flesh and blood human being.
In Jesus the Good Shepherd we discover a God who calls us each by name.
In Jesus the Good Shepherd we discover a God who gives us life and wants us to have it abundantly.
And we heard what that abundant life is like in the snapshot of the early church in today’s reading from Acts:
“Those who had been baptized devoted themselves to the apostles’ teaching and fellowship, to the breaking of bread and the prayers.”
With that foundation of prayer and worship they grew ever closer to the Good Shepherd. And, we’re told the apostles did amazing signs and wonders.
In times of crisis, those early Christians didn’t look to God as a lifeguard because, thanks to Jesus, they knew God was already right there in the water with them.
In times of crisis, those early Christians looked to God they knew as a shepherd – God who knew them, loved them, protected them and led them.
And what was true in the First Century is just as true now in the Twenty-First Century.
Just look around.
Four years ago, right here at St. Michael’s, in a time of crisis, a handful of people put their faith in Jesus the Good Shepherd.
And look what happened and is happening.
Thanks to Jesus the Good Shepherd and a handful of hardworking sheep, a church that just about everyone thought was going to die lived on.
More and more people found and continue to find Jesus the Good Shepherd right here in this pasture.
Lately about sixty sheep have been gathering each Sunday in this pasture.
And today I’m pleased to announce that for the first time since the split St. Michael’s has hired a parish administrator.
So, look what happens when week after week we come here and listen to the old stories of Scripture, when, like the early Church, we devote ourselves “to the apostles’ teaching and fellowship, to the breaking of the bread and the prayers.”
Look what happens when, despite our own weaknesses and failures and frustrations, we allow God into our lives, allow God to be our shepherd.
Look what happens when we recognize and share the great news that God is so much more – and wants to be so much more - than a lifeguard watching over us from a distance.
Look what happens when we recognize and share the great news that the Lord is our shepherd.
Thanks be to God.
Amen.
Saturday, May 07, 2011
Discovering God
The Wedding of Katherine Huening and Asher Walden
May 7, 2011
Song of Solomon 2:10-13; 8:6-7
Colossians 3:12-17
Mark 10:6-9, 13-16
Discovering God
A couple of weeks ago there was a story in a British newspaper of a young Scottish girl named LuLu who was told by her teachers to write a letter to God. In this letter she was told to ask God, “how did you get invented?”
LuLu’s parents were startled when they heard about this assignment. Rather than trying to answer the question themselves, they forwarded Lulu’s question to a number of British religious leaders. One of those leaders, Rowan Williams, the Archbishop of Canterbury, took the time to personally respond to LuLu’s question.
In his response the archbishop imagined how God would reply to LuLu. Here’s part of it:
‘Dear Lulu – Nobody invented me – but lots of people discovered me and were quite surprised. They discovered me when they looked round at the world and thought it was really beautiful or really mysterious and wondered where it came from. They discovered me when they were very very quiet on their own and felt a sort of peace and love they hadn’t expected.”
The archbishop’s response to LuLu is both charming and profound.
His response touches on the great truth of how we discover God.
The story of God and humanity is a story of God being passionately in love with us – the passionate love that we hear in the words of the Song of Solomon – the passionate love “strong as death.” and “fierce as the grave.”
Because God loves us so much, is so passionate about us, God is always reaching out to us, eager to be discovered by us.
The story of God and humanity is a story of God reaching out us – from God searching for an ashamed Adam and Eve hiding in the garden to God revealing in Christ’s empty tomb that, in fact, love is stronger than death.
And God continues to reach out to us, eager to be discovered by us.
We discover God in the words of Scripture as when the author of the Letter to the Colossians writes, “Above all, clothe yourselves with love, which binds everything together in perfect harmony.”
We discover God when we stop and realize, despite all of the world’s sadness and suffering, just how amazingly good it is to be alive.
We discover God when we open our eyes, look around us, and see the beauty of nature.
We discover God in the quiet of our hearts, when, as the archbishop wrote, we feel a sort of peace and love that we never expected to feel.
We discover God in the love that we share with those closest to us – with our wives and husbands, with our parents and our children, with our dearest friends.
And, every once in a while, God goes a little overboard. Every once in a while God wants so much to be discovered that God reaches out to us in all of these ways, all at the same time.
That’s what’s happening today. That’s what God is doing right here as we gather to witness the union of Katie and Asher.
We are discovering God right here and now.
We are discovering God in the beauty of this place.
We are discovering God in the beautiful passages of Scripture that we’ve heard today.
We are discovering God in the quiet of our hearts, as we reflect on the amazing journeys that brought these two wonderful people together, the unlikely journey that brought Katie and Asher here and now to make the commitment of a lifetime.
We are discovering God in the love that Katie and Asher share with each other, in the love that I saw was powerful and obvious enough to shine through even our long distance Skype sessions to prepare for today and for a life together.
And now we’re here.
We’re here to celebrate and give thanks.
We’re here to celebrate and give thanks for the love of God that we discover in so many ways, but today especially in the love of Katie and Asher.
Katie and Asher, today is a milestone on the journey of discovery that has been and will be your life together.
Katie and Asher, if you keep your eyes open, during the good times and the not so good, you will continue to discover God in one another, in the love that you share, and in the life that you have begun to build together.
And, Katie and Asher, if you keep your hearts open, you will continue to give all of us the great gift of discovering God in you, helping all of us to feel a sort of peace and love we hadn’t expected.
So, thanks to you both for sharing your love with us.
And thanks be to God for always reaching out to us, always eager to be discovered.
Amen.
May 7, 2011
Song of Solomon 2:10-13; 8:6-7
Colossians 3:12-17
Mark 10:6-9, 13-16
Discovering God
A couple of weeks ago there was a story in a British newspaper of a young Scottish girl named LuLu who was told by her teachers to write a letter to God. In this letter she was told to ask God, “how did you get invented?”
LuLu’s parents were startled when they heard about this assignment. Rather than trying to answer the question themselves, they forwarded Lulu’s question to a number of British religious leaders. One of those leaders, Rowan Williams, the Archbishop of Canterbury, took the time to personally respond to LuLu’s question.
In his response the archbishop imagined how God would reply to LuLu. Here’s part of it:
‘Dear Lulu – Nobody invented me – but lots of people discovered me and were quite surprised. They discovered me when they looked round at the world and thought it was really beautiful or really mysterious and wondered where it came from. They discovered me when they were very very quiet on their own and felt a sort of peace and love they hadn’t expected.”
The archbishop’s response to LuLu is both charming and profound.
His response touches on the great truth of how we discover God.
The story of God and humanity is a story of God being passionately in love with us – the passionate love that we hear in the words of the Song of Solomon – the passionate love “strong as death.” and “fierce as the grave.”
Because God loves us so much, is so passionate about us, God is always reaching out to us, eager to be discovered by us.
The story of God and humanity is a story of God reaching out us – from God searching for an ashamed Adam and Eve hiding in the garden to God revealing in Christ’s empty tomb that, in fact, love is stronger than death.
And God continues to reach out to us, eager to be discovered by us.
We discover God in the words of Scripture as when the author of the Letter to the Colossians writes, “Above all, clothe yourselves with love, which binds everything together in perfect harmony.”
We discover God when we stop and realize, despite all of the world’s sadness and suffering, just how amazingly good it is to be alive.
We discover God when we open our eyes, look around us, and see the beauty of nature.
We discover God in the quiet of our hearts, when, as the archbishop wrote, we feel a sort of peace and love that we never expected to feel.
We discover God in the love that we share with those closest to us – with our wives and husbands, with our parents and our children, with our dearest friends.
And, every once in a while, God goes a little overboard. Every once in a while God wants so much to be discovered that God reaches out to us in all of these ways, all at the same time.
That’s what’s happening today. That’s what God is doing right here as we gather to witness the union of Katie and Asher.
We are discovering God right here and now.
We are discovering God in the beauty of this place.
We are discovering God in the beautiful passages of Scripture that we’ve heard today.
We are discovering God in the quiet of our hearts, as we reflect on the amazing journeys that brought these two wonderful people together, the unlikely journey that brought Katie and Asher here and now to make the commitment of a lifetime.
We are discovering God in the love that Katie and Asher share with each other, in the love that I saw was powerful and obvious enough to shine through even our long distance Skype sessions to prepare for today and for a life together.
And now we’re here.
We’re here to celebrate and give thanks.
We’re here to celebrate and give thanks for the love of God that we discover in so many ways, but today especially in the love of Katie and Asher.
Katie and Asher, today is a milestone on the journey of discovery that has been and will be your life together.
Katie and Asher, if you keep your eyes open, during the good times and the not so good, you will continue to discover God in one another, in the love that you share, and in the life that you have begun to build together.
And, Katie and Asher, if you keep your hearts open, you will continue to give all of us the great gift of discovering God in you, helping all of us to feel a sort of peace and love we hadn’t expected.
So, thanks to you both for sharing your love with us.
And thanks be to God for always reaching out to us, always eager to be discovered.
Amen.
Sunday, May 01, 2011
Verification
St. Michael’s Episcopal Church, Gainesville FL
The Chapel of the Incarnation, Gainesville FL
May 1, 2011
Year A: The Second Sunday of Easter
Acts 2:14a, 22-32
Psalm 16
1 Peter 1:3-9
John 20:19-31
Verification
By now, the world has moved on from Easter. The Easter candy that everybody likes has already been eaten. The Easter baskets have been put away for another year, or they’re still out, looking a little threadbare with just a few stray jellybeans or some unpopular candy all that’s left.
But, here in church it’s still Easter. The paschal candle is still front and center, symbolizing the light of Christ in the world. The lilies are still giving church a beautiful fragrance. And since it’s still Easter, we began the service with the great acclamation of faith:
Alleluia! Christ is risen!
The Lord is risen indeed! Alleluia!
It’s the great acclamation of our faith – Jesus was dead and then God raised Jesus on the third day. It’s the heart of our Christian faith – it’s what we are expected to believe – it’s what we say we believe each time we stand and say the words of the Nicene Creed.
But, if we’re honest, many of us would admit that we often struggle with our faith, we struggle with the great acclamation of our faith that Christ is risen.
Part of faith is agreeing that certain claims are true. Part of faith is standing and saying the creed as if it were a checklist of claims that we can agree are true. I believe in this, that and the other thing…
But, a much more important part of faith is trust.
And trust is very difficult for many of us, isn’t it? Trust is difficult because we’ve all been lied to, betrayed, misled, and hurt more times than we’d care to count.
Trust is difficult for many of us because we have not always been trustworthy.
So, we’re suspicious of people’s motives – what’s in it for you? Are you somehow trying to take advantage of me? Why are you being so nice to me?
For many of us, the best we can do is the supposedly Russian proverb frequently quoted by President Reagan, “Trust but verify.”
If you stop and think about it, that proverb presumes an open heart, a willingness to trust. But that proverb also reflects the real and important fact that we don’t want to be taken advantage of, don’t want to be abused, don’t want to be played for a fool.
“Trust, but verify.”
Here in church it’s still Easter here and it’s still Easter at the start of today’s gospel lesson. It’s Easter and, maybe like us, the disciples seem to be having some trust issues.
Last week, you’ll remember, the Evangelist John described the appearance of the Resurrected Christ to a stunned and overjoyed Mary Magdalene. We left off with Mary going to the other disciples, telling them “I have seen the Lord”, and telling them what he had said to her.
We’re not told exactly how the disciples reacted to Magdalene’s amazing news – but I think we can rule out that the disciples trusted blindly what Mary told them. John does give us a clue about the disciples’ trust issues at the start of today’s passage when he tells us that in the evening of the same day the disciples were hiding fearfully in a locked room. The locked room powerfully symbolizes the closed hearts of the disciples. They lack the openness that is the beginning of trust.
But then Jesus appeared – still himself with the wounds on his hands and his side.
Jesus appeared – still himself but also transformed – he mysteriously entered the locked room and then in a kind of mini-Pentecost, he breathed the Holy Spirit onto his disciples.
At this point trust is no problem for the disciples. At this point the disciples have received all the verification they will ever need. Like Mary Magdalene, they can say with complete confidence, “I have seen the Lord!”
But, what about the rest of us?
Like us, the Apostle Thomas was not present for this powerfully convincing appearance of the Risen Christ. When he hears the news from the other disciples, he is appropriately skeptical. But, notice that Thomas doesn’t close himself off. Thomas doesn’t run away from Christ and his friends, trying to forget that his time with Jesus had ever happened.
No, Thomas has the openness that is the beginning of trust. He is open enough to the possibility that the disciples are telling him the truth that he still spends time with them.
And then Thomas gets his famous verification when the wounded and risen Christ appears once again.
Thomas is often called “Doubting Thomas” and I guess that’s true. But, really Thomas is the patron saint of all of us who struggle with faith as trust. Thomas is the patron saint of “Trust but verify.”
Since we’re here in church on the Second Sunday after Easter – when things have returned to normal and many people have returned to their normal Sunday activities – it’s safe to say that we all have a certain amount of openness to the claims of Christianity – a certain amount of openness to the acclamation that Christ is risen, the Lord is risen indeed.
We have the openness that is the beginning of trust.
But, how and when do we get verification?
We are not likely to encounter the Risen Christ the disciples did in the locked room long ago.
But if, like Thomas, we begin with openness that is the beginning of trust, we can get verification all around us.
The author of the Gospel of John declares that the gospel is “written that you may come to believe.”
We get verification in the Scriptures when we read and hear these old texts and feel God’s love and grace in the deepest meanings and messages that transcend time and space.
We get verification in our own Christian community right here. We get verification when we come here and in the words of the great spiritual we can really feel that “there’s a sweet, sweet Spirit in this place, and I know that it’s the Spirit of the Lord.”
We get verification when we exchange the peace with friend and stranger alike. We get verification when we come together at the Lord’s Table and each receive the same portion of the bread of heaven and each drink from the same cup of salvation.
Most of all, we get verification after we leave here. We get verification when we go out those doors into the world and live lives different from our neighbors, with values different from what the world thinks is important.
When we devote our lives to living out the words of the Baptismal Covenant, we can really feel the presence of the Risen Christ with us and with the people we encounter and serve.
We get verification when persevere in resisting evil, and we sin, we repent and return to the Lord.
We get verification when we proclaim by word and example the Good News of God in Christ.
We get verification when we seek and serve Christ in all persons, loving our neighbor as ourselves
We get verification when we strive for justice and peace and respect the dignity of every human being.
The doubtful but openhearted Apostle Thomas is our patron saint – Thomas is the patron saint of “trust, but verify”.
Thomas received special verification that the Lord is risen indeed. But, I bet that wasn’t the last verification that he received. According to tradition, Thomas brought the Good News of Christ all the way to India – and, in fact, sacrificed his life for Christ there.
As powerful as his personal verification was, I am sure that over the course of his journey of sharing the Good News, his journey of serving and loving the strangers he met, Thomas, like us, received ever surer verification that, alleluia, Christ is risen.
Amen.
The Chapel of the Incarnation, Gainesville FL
May 1, 2011
Year A: The Second Sunday of Easter
Acts 2:14a, 22-32
Psalm 16
1 Peter 1:3-9
John 20:19-31
Verification
By now, the world has moved on from Easter. The Easter candy that everybody likes has already been eaten. The Easter baskets have been put away for another year, or they’re still out, looking a little threadbare with just a few stray jellybeans or some unpopular candy all that’s left.
But, here in church it’s still Easter. The paschal candle is still front and center, symbolizing the light of Christ in the world. The lilies are still giving church a beautiful fragrance. And since it’s still Easter, we began the service with the great acclamation of faith:
Alleluia! Christ is risen!
The Lord is risen indeed! Alleluia!
It’s the great acclamation of our faith – Jesus was dead and then God raised Jesus on the third day. It’s the heart of our Christian faith – it’s what we are expected to believe – it’s what we say we believe each time we stand and say the words of the Nicene Creed.
But, if we’re honest, many of us would admit that we often struggle with our faith, we struggle with the great acclamation of our faith that Christ is risen.
Part of faith is agreeing that certain claims are true. Part of faith is standing and saying the creed as if it were a checklist of claims that we can agree are true. I believe in this, that and the other thing…
But, a much more important part of faith is trust.
And trust is very difficult for many of us, isn’t it? Trust is difficult because we’ve all been lied to, betrayed, misled, and hurt more times than we’d care to count.
Trust is difficult for many of us because we have not always been trustworthy.
So, we’re suspicious of people’s motives – what’s in it for you? Are you somehow trying to take advantage of me? Why are you being so nice to me?
For many of us, the best we can do is the supposedly Russian proverb frequently quoted by President Reagan, “Trust but verify.”
If you stop and think about it, that proverb presumes an open heart, a willingness to trust. But that proverb also reflects the real and important fact that we don’t want to be taken advantage of, don’t want to be abused, don’t want to be played for a fool.
“Trust, but verify.”
Here in church it’s still Easter here and it’s still Easter at the start of today’s gospel lesson. It’s Easter and, maybe like us, the disciples seem to be having some trust issues.
Last week, you’ll remember, the Evangelist John described the appearance of the Resurrected Christ to a stunned and overjoyed Mary Magdalene. We left off with Mary going to the other disciples, telling them “I have seen the Lord”, and telling them what he had said to her.
We’re not told exactly how the disciples reacted to Magdalene’s amazing news – but I think we can rule out that the disciples trusted blindly what Mary told them. John does give us a clue about the disciples’ trust issues at the start of today’s passage when he tells us that in the evening of the same day the disciples were hiding fearfully in a locked room. The locked room powerfully symbolizes the closed hearts of the disciples. They lack the openness that is the beginning of trust.
But then Jesus appeared – still himself with the wounds on his hands and his side.
Jesus appeared – still himself but also transformed – he mysteriously entered the locked room and then in a kind of mini-Pentecost, he breathed the Holy Spirit onto his disciples.
At this point trust is no problem for the disciples. At this point the disciples have received all the verification they will ever need. Like Mary Magdalene, they can say with complete confidence, “I have seen the Lord!”
But, what about the rest of us?
Like us, the Apostle Thomas was not present for this powerfully convincing appearance of the Risen Christ. When he hears the news from the other disciples, he is appropriately skeptical. But, notice that Thomas doesn’t close himself off. Thomas doesn’t run away from Christ and his friends, trying to forget that his time with Jesus had ever happened.
No, Thomas has the openness that is the beginning of trust. He is open enough to the possibility that the disciples are telling him the truth that he still spends time with them.
And then Thomas gets his famous verification when the wounded and risen Christ appears once again.
Thomas is often called “Doubting Thomas” and I guess that’s true. But, really Thomas is the patron saint of all of us who struggle with faith as trust. Thomas is the patron saint of “Trust but verify.”
Since we’re here in church on the Second Sunday after Easter – when things have returned to normal and many people have returned to their normal Sunday activities – it’s safe to say that we all have a certain amount of openness to the claims of Christianity – a certain amount of openness to the acclamation that Christ is risen, the Lord is risen indeed.
We have the openness that is the beginning of trust.
But, how and when do we get verification?
We are not likely to encounter the Risen Christ the disciples did in the locked room long ago.
But if, like Thomas, we begin with openness that is the beginning of trust, we can get verification all around us.
The author of the Gospel of John declares that the gospel is “written that you may come to believe.”
We get verification in the Scriptures when we read and hear these old texts and feel God’s love and grace in the deepest meanings and messages that transcend time and space.
We get verification in our own Christian community right here. We get verification when we come here and in the words of the great spiritual we can really feel that “there’s a sweet, sweet Spirit in this place, and I know that it’s the Spirit of the Lord.”
We get verification when we exchange the peace with friend and stranger alike. We get verification when we come together at the Lord’s Table and each receive the same portion of the bread of heaven and each drink from the same cup of salvation.
Most of all, we get verification after we leave here. We get verification when we go out those doors into the world and live lives different from our neighbors, with values different from what the world thinks is important.
When we devote our lives to living out the words of the Baptismal Covenant, we can really feel the presence of the Risen Christ with us and with the people we encounter and serve.
We get verification when persevere in resisting evil, and we sin, we repent and return to the Lord.
We get verification when we proclaim by word and example the Good News of God in Christ.
We get verification when we seek and serve Christ in all persons, loving our neighbor as ourselves
We get verification when we strive for justice and peace and respect the dignity of every human being.
The doubtful but openhearted Apostle Thomas is our patron saint – Thomas is the patron saint of “trust, but verify”.
Thomas received special verification that the Lord is risen indeed. But, I bet that wasn’t the last verification that he received. According to tradition, Thomas brought the Good News of Christ all the way to India – and, in fact, sacrificed his life for Christ there.
As powerful as his personal verification was, I am sure that over the course of his journey of sharing the Good News, his journey of serving and loving the strangers he met, Thomas, like us, received ever surer verification that, alleluia, Christ is risen.
Amen.
Sunday, April 24, 2011
An Everlasting Love
St. Michael’s Episcopal Church, Gainesville FL
The Chapel of the Incarnation, Gainesville FL
April 24, 2011
Easter Day
Jeremiah 3:1-6
Psalm 118:1-2, 14-24
Acts of the Apostles 10:34-43
John 20:1-18
An Everlasting Love
Alleluia! Christ is Risen!
The Lord is risen indeed! Alleluia!
In today’s first reading God speaks through the Prophet Jeremiah to the people of Israel who were captives in Babylon. Through Jeremiah, God promises a homecoming – a restoration to the way things were always meant to be.
Through Jeremiah God says, “I have loved you with an everlasting love; therefore I have continued my faithfulness to you.”
The story of God and humanity is a story of God loving us with an everlasting love. It’s a story of God reaching out to us – reaching out to us, over and over.
Unfortunately, the story of God and humanity is also a story of humanity rejecting God’s everlasting love; a story of humanity hiding in shame from God just as in the story of Adam and Eve hiding from God in the garden.
But despite all of that human rejection and all of that human hiding, through prophets like Jeremiah, God continued to reach out to us.
And, then in the fullness of time, God reached out to us in a unique and final way, in the life, death and resurrection Jesus of Nazareth.
When we look at Jesus we see God’s everlasting love.
When we look at Jesus we see what God is really like.
And when we look at Jesus we see what we are meant to be like – what we were always meant to be like.
In Jesus, we see a God who enters the world on the margins – in out of the way places like Bethlehem, born to a couple of nobodies, surrounded by shepherds and farm animals.
In Jesus, we see a God who is most easily found with the poor and the outcast – a God most easily found with the people hanging out in downtown Gainesville at Bo Diddley Plaza or waiting in line for a meal at St. Francis House.
In Jesus, we see a God who especially loves the mourners and the persecuted. In God’s kingdom they are the blessed ones.
In Jesus, we see a God who loves us enough to experience the worst rejection - a God who loves us enough to die for us.
But, God’s love for us is an everlasting love. So, death of Jesus on the cross is not the end of the story.
God continues to reach out to us.
That’s the amazingly good news that we celebrate on Easter. That’s the amazingly good news that Mary Magdalene discovered – in what is one of the most powerful and beautiful passages in Scripture.
We’re told that Mary came to the tomb on the first day of the week.
We’re not told why she’s there, but any of us who have ever visited the grave of one we love know why. It must seem to her that all that’s left of Jesus is memory - and a dead body just beyond view.
Then to Mary’s shock and horror, just when it seemed there could not be any more bad news in this whole sad story, she discovered the open and empty tomb.
Peter and the other disciple look into the tomb, discover it empty and then run back home – maybe back to hiding?
But not Mary Magdalene. No hiding for her. She stands and weeps. She stands and weeps, representing all of us who have wept over our sad and broken world, who have wept over the cruelty of the world, who have wept over a world filled with so much suffering and loss.
But, despite all of our rejection and hiding, despite all of our own cruelty and selfishness, God loves us with an everlasting love.
Mary discovered God’s everlasting love when she heard the resurrected Christ call her by name, “Mary!”
Mary discovered that not even death itself can defeat God’s everlasting love of us.
And then Mary went and told the others. She went and told them, “I have seen the Lord.”
And now two thousand years later, here we are on Easter Day in Gainesville, Florida. Here we are gathered in this place, telling and hearing these old stories of God’s everlasting love.
They are the best stories, but, we wouldn’t come here to tell and to hear these old stories of God’s everlasting love, if we can’t also experience God’s everlasting love in our own lives.
If we open our hearts, if we really pay attention, if we don’t try to hide, we also can experience God’s everlasting love.
In our baptism the resurrected Christ has called each of us by name, just as he called Mary Magadalene by name (and just as he called Eowyn by name last night when she was baptized.)
Beyond our baptism, we experience God’s everlasting love just by being alive – just by living on this beautiful planet, filled with breathtaking sights and amazing creatures – including alligators.
We experience God’s everlasting love in the love of our friends and family – those still with us here – and those whose presence we still feel in memory and more.
We experience God’s everlasting love when we come here and extend the sign of peace with one another – people we’ve known forever and people we’ve never met – people we like, and people maybe we’re not too crazy about.
We experience God’s everlasting love when we come here and gather around the table – all eating the same bread and drinking from the same cup.
We experience God’s everlasting love alive in us when we quietly visit the sick and the lonely – when we help someone with the rent or to fill up their gas tank – when we help the stranger even if we’re pretty sure we’re being scammed – when we pray for suffering people – when we pray for our enemies.
We experience God’s everlasting love alive in us when we forgive those who wrong us.
If we open our hearts, if we really pay attention, if we don’t try to hide, we also can experience God’s everlasting love.
Early on the first day of the week, Mary Magdalene discovered that - no matter much we reject God or try to hide from God - God continues to reach out to us.
Mary Magdalene discovered that God continues to love us with an everlasting love – a love far more powerful than death itself.
On this Easter Day, the only question for us is how do we respond to God’s everlasting love?
Like so many do we reject God’s love? Do we try to hide from God’s love?
Or, like Mary Magdalene, do we receive the gift of God’s everlasting love in Jesus and then head out through those doors, head out into Gainesville, head out intothe world, proclaiming joyfully by word and deed, “I have seen the Lord”?
Alleluia! Christ is risen!
The Lord is risen indeed. Alleluia!
The Chapel of the Incarnation, Gainesville FL
April 24, 2011
Easter Day
Jeremiah 3:1-6
Psalm 118:1-2, 14-24
Acts of the Apostles 10:34-43
John 20:1-18
An Everlasting Love
Alleluia! Christ is Risen!
The Lord is risen indeed! Alleluia!
In today’s first reading God speaks through the Prophet Jeremiah to the people of Israel who were captives in Babylon. Through Jeremiah, God promises a homecoming – a restoration to the way things were always meant to be.
Through Jeremiah God says, “I have loved you with an everlasting love; therefore I have continued my faithfulness to you.”
The story of God and humanity is a story of God loving us with an everlasting love. It’s a story of God reaching out to us – reaching out to us, over and over.
Unfortunately, the story of God and humanity is also a story of humanity rejecting God’s everlasting love; a story of humanity hiding in shame from God just as in the story of Adam and Eve hiding from God in the garden.
But despite all of that human rejection and all of that human hiding, through prophets like Jeremiah, God continued to reach out to us.
And, then in the fullness of time, God reached out to us in a unique and final way, in the life, death and resurrection Jesus of Nazareth.
When we look at Jesus we see God’s everlasting love.
When we look at Jesus we see what God is really like.
And when we look at Jesus we see what we are meant to be like – what we were always meant to be like.
In Jesus, we see a God who enters the world on the margins – in out of the way places like Bethlehem, born to a couple of nobodies, surrounded by shepherds and farm animals.
In Jesus, we see a God who is most easily found with the poor and the outcast – a God most easily found with the people hanging out in downtown Gainesville at Bo Diddley Plaza or waiting in line for a meal at St. Francis House.
In Jesus, we see a God who especially loves the mourners and the persecuted. In God’s kingdom they are the blessed ones.
In Jesus, we see a God who loves us enough to experience the worst rejection - a God who loves us enough to die for us.
But, God’s love for us is an everlasting love. So, death of Jesus on the cross is not the end of the story.
God continues to reach out to us.
That’s the amazingly good news that we celebrate on Easter. That’s the amazingly good news that Mary Magdalene discovered – in what is one of the most powerful and beautiful passages in Scripture.
We’re told that Mary came to the tomb on the first day of the week.
We’re not told why she’s there, but any of us who have ever visited the grave of one we love know why. It must seem to her that all that’s left of Jesus is memory - and a dead body just beyond view.
Then to Mary’s shock and horror, just when it seemed there could not be any more bad news in this whole sad story, she discovered the open and empty tomb.
Peter and the other disciple look into the tomb, discover it empty and then run back home – maybe back to hiding?
But not Mary Magdalene. No hiding for her. She stands and weeps. She stands and weeps, representing all of us who have wept over our sad and broken world, who have wept over the cruelty of the world, who have wept over a world filled with so much suffering and loss.
But, despite all of our rejection and hiding, despite all of our own cruelty and selfishness, God loves us with an everlasting love.
Mary discovered God’s everlasting love when she heard the resurrected Christ call her by name, “Mary!”
Mary discovered that not even death itself can defeat God’s everlasting love of us.
And then Mary went and told the others. She went and told them, “I have seen the Lord.”
And now two thousand years later, here we are on Easter Day in Gainesville, Florida. Here we are gathered in this place, telling and hearing these old stories of God’s everlasting love.
They are the best stories, but, we wouldn’t come here to tell and to hear these old stories of God’s everlasting love, if we can’t also experience God’s everlasting love in our own lives.
If we open our hearts, if we really pay attention, if we don’t try to hide, we also can experience God’s everlasting love.
In our baptism the resurrected Christ has called each of us by name, just as he called Mary Magadalene by name (and just as he called Eowyn by name last night when she was baptized.)
Beyond our baptism, we experience God’s everlasting love just by being alive – just by living on this beautiful planet, filled with breathtaking sights and amazing creatures – including alligators.
We experience God’s everlasting love in the love of our friends and family – those still with us here – and those whose presence we still feel in memory and more.
We experience God’s everlasting love when we come here and extend the sign of peace with one another – people we’ve known forever and people we’ve never met – people we like, and people maybe we’re not too crazy about.
We experience God’s everlasting love when we come here and gather around the table – all eating the same bread and drinking from the same cup.
We experience God’s everlasting love alive in us when we quietly visit the sick and the lonely – when we help someone with the rent or to fill up their gas tank – when we help the stranger even if we’re pretty sure we’re being scammed – when we pray for suffering people – when we pray for our enemies.
We experience God’s everlasting love alive in us when we forgive those who wrong us.
If we open our hearts, if we really pay attention, if we don’t try to hide, we also can experience God’s everlasting love.
Early on the first day of the week, Mary Magdalene discovered that - no matter much we reject God or try to hide from God - God continues to reach out to us.
Mary Magdalene discovered that God continues to love us with an everlasting love – a love far more powerful than death itself.
On this Easter Day, the only question for us is how do we respond to God’s everlasting love?
Like so many do we reject God’s love? Do we try to hide from God’s love?
Or, like Mary Magdalene, do we receive the gift of God’s everlasting love in Jesus and then head out through those doors, head out into Gainesville, head out intothe world, proclaiming joyfully by word and deed, “I have seen the Lord”?
Alleluia! Christ is risen!
The Lord is risen indeed. Alleluia!
Saturday, April 23, 2011
Brave and Noble Warriors for Christ
St. Michael’s Episcopal Church, Gainesville FL
April 23, 2011
The Great Vigil of Easter
The Baptism of Eowyn Verhaeren
Genesis 1:1-2:2
Genesis 7:1-5, 11-18; 8:6-18; 9:8-13
Exodus 14:10-15:1
Zephaniah 3:12-20
Romans 6:3-11
Matthew 28:1-10
Brave and Noble Warriors for Christ
Alleluia! Christ is risen!
The Lord is risen indeed. Alleluia!
The story of God and humanity is a story of God reaching out to us – a story of God reaching out to us over and over again.
At the start of tonight’s service we heard some examples of God reaching out to us – some stories of God’s saving deeds in history - some stories of our salvation.
We began with the story of creation – the story of God pouring out bottomless love and unquenchable imagination to create this fragile and beautiful planet surrounded by the vast expanse of interstellar space. We heard the story of God’s creation of human beings – human beings made in the image and likeness of God.
We didn’t hear the story of human beings messing up that close relationship with God. We didn’t hear it because, well, it’s Easter and we’re trying to be upbeat. And we didn’t hear it because, really, we don’t need to hear it. We know only too well how often we mess up – how often we mess up our relationship with God, our relationship with one another, our relationship with all of creation.
Yet, the good news is that despite all that messing up, God doesn’t give up on us.
God continues to love us, to reach out to us.
And tonight we celebrate God’s ultimate reaching out to us in the life, death and resurrection of Jesus.
In the life of Jesus, we see what God is really like.
We see a God who enters the world on the margins – born to a couple of nobodies in an out of the way place.
We see a God who is the God of the losers – the God of the poor in spirit, the mournful, the meek, the hungry and thirsty, the merciful and the persecuted.
We see a God who’s most easily found with the people hanging out tonight downtown in Bo Diddley Plaza or the people waiting on line for a meal at St. Francis House.
In the life of Jesus we see what God is really like.
And in the death of Jesus we see what God is really like.
In the death of Jesus, we see a God whose kingdom is a mortal threat to the political and religious authorities of the world.
In the death of Jesus we see a God who is willing to be weak, a God who is willing to be rejected by us, a God who is even willing to be killed by us.
In the death of Jesus, we see a God who forgives the worst we’ve ever done or could ever do.
In the death of Jesus we see what God is really like.
But, this is the night when we celebrate the resurrection.
In the resurrection of Jesus we see what God is really like.
In the resurrection of Jesus we see a God who never gives up on us. We see a God who will not allow sin and death to drive us apart.
In the resurrection of Jesus, we see a God who gives us a fresh start, a second chance.
In the life, death and resurrection of Jesus, we see what God is really like.
And in the life, death and resurrection of Jesus we see what we are meant to be like – what we were always meant to be like.
In The Lord of the Rings, the character Eowyn is both beautiful and a brave and noble warrior.
And even if we’re not named Eowyn, that’s what we’re supposed to be like.
To love us so much, despite all our flaws, God must find us very beautiful.
And as Christians, we are meant to be brave and noble warriors for Christ, caring for those the world thinks of as the losers.
We are meant to be brave and noble warriors for Christ, united with the poor in spirit, the mournful, the meek, the hungry and thirsty, the merciful and the persecuted.
We are meant to be brave and noble warriors for Christ, challenging the political and religious authorities of the world – and facing the consequences of that challenge.
We are meant to persevere in resisting evil.
We are meant to proclaim by word and example the Good News.
We are meant to serve Christ in all persons
We are meant to strive for justice and peace among all people.
All of this seems nearly impossible. And it would be impossible to be a brave and noble warrior for Christ if we were on our own.
But, the joy of Easter is that we’re not on our own.
In the water of Baptism God makes an indissoluble bond – an unbreakable bond – with us, just as tonight in the water of baptism, God made an unbreakable bond with our own Eowyn.
As St. Paul explained to the church in Rome, in the water of baptism we die with Christ – and in the water of baptism we rise with Christ.
We messed up in the worst way imaginable by nailing Jesus to the cross.
Yet, God responds to our messing up by raising Jesus on the third day – by turning death into life.
So, Eowyn, no matter how many times you mess up, no matter how many mistakes you make, God will always love you and be with you.
And no matter how many times the rest of us mess up, nothing can ever separate us from the love of God.
The story of God and humanity is a story of God reaching out to us – reaching out to us over and over again.
And God’s ultimate reaching out to us is in the life, death and resurrection of Jesus Christ.
In the life, death and resurrection of Jesus we see what God is really like.
And in the life, death and resurrection of Jesus we see what we are meant to be like.
Alleluia! Christ is risen!
The Lord is risen indeed! Alleluia!
April 23, 2011
The Great Vigil of Easter
The Baptism of Eowyn Verhaeren
Genesis 1:1-2:2
Genesis 7:1-5, 11-18; 8:6-18; 9:8-13
Exodus 14:10-15:1
Zephaniah 3:12-20
Romans 6:3-11
Matthew 28:1-10
Brave and Noble Warriors for Christ
Alleluia! Christ is risen!
The Lord is risen indeed. Alleluia!
The story of God and humanity is a story of God reaching out to us – a story of God reaching out to us over and over again.
At the start of tonight’s service we heard some examples of God reaching out to us – some stories of God’s saving deeds in history - some stories of our salvation.
We began with the story of creation – the story of God pouring out bottomless love and unquenchable imagination to create this fragile and beautiful planet surrounded by the vast expanse of interstellar space. We heard the story of God’s creation of human beings – human beings made in the image and likeness of God.
We didn’t hear the story of human beings messing up that close relationship with God. We didn’t hear it because, well, it’s Easter and we’re trying to be upbeat. And we didn’t hear it because, really, we don’t need to hear it. We know only too well how often we mess up – how often we mess up our relationship with God, our relationship with one another, our relationship with all of creation.
Yet, the good news is that despite all that messing up, God doesn’t give up on us.
God continues to love us, to reach out to us.
And tonight we celebrate God’s ultimate reaching out to us in the life, death and resurrection of Jesus.
In the life of Jesus, we see what God is really like.
We see a God who enters the world on the margins – born to a couple of nobodies in an out of the way place.
We see a God who is the God of the losers – the God of the poor in spirit, the mournful, the meek, the hungry and thirsty, the merciful and the persecuted.
We see a God who’s most easily found with the people hanging out tonight downtown in Bo Diddley Plaza or the people waiting on line for a meal at St. Francis House.
In the life of Jesus we see what God is really like.
And in the death of Jesus we see what God is really like.
In the death of Jesus, we see a God whose kingdom is a mortal threat to the political and religious authorities of the world.
In the death of Jesus we see a God who is willing to be weak, a God who is willing to be rejected by us, a God who is even willing to be killed by us.
In the death of Jesus, we see a God who forgives the worst we’ve ever done or could ever do.
In the death of Jesus we see what God is really like.
But, this is the night when we celebrate the resurrection.
In the resurrection of Jesus we see what God is really like.
In the resurrection of Jesus we see a God who never gives up on us. We see a God who will not allow sin and death to drive us apart.
In the resurrection of Jesus, we see a God who gives us a fresh start, a second chance.
In the life, death and resurrection of Jesus, we see what God is really like.
And in the life, death and resurrection of Jesus we see what we are meant to be like – what we were always meant to be like.
In The Lord of the Rings, the character Eowyn is both beautiful and a brave and noble warrior.
And even if we’re not named Eowyn, that’s what we’re supposed to be like.
To love us so much, despite all our flaws, God must find us very beautiful.
And as Christians, we are meant to be brave and noble warriors for Christ, caring for those the world thinks of as the losers.
We are meant to be brave and noble warriors for Christ, united with the poor in spirit, the mournful, the meek, the hungry and thirsty, the merciful and the persecuted.
We are meant to be brave and noble warriors for Christ, challenging the political and religious authorities of the world – and facing the consequences of that challenge.
We are meant to persevere in resisting evil.
We are meant to proclaim by word and example the Good News.
We are meant to serve Christ in all persons
We are meant to strive for justice and peace among all people.
All of this seems nearly impossible. And it would be impossible to be a brave and noble warrior for Christ if we were on our own.
But, the joy of Easter is that we’re not on our own.
In the water of Baptism God makes an indissoluble bond – an unbreakable bond – with us, just as tonight in the water of baptism, God made an unbreakable bond with our own Eowyn.
As St. Paul explained to the church in Rome, in the water of baptism we die with Christ – and in the water of baptism we rise with Christ.
We messed up in the worst way imaginable by nailing Jesus to the cross.
Yet, God responds to our messing up by raising Jesus on the third day – by turning death into life.
So, Eowyn, no matter how many times you mess up, no matter how many mistakes you make, God will always love you and be with you.
And no matter how many times the rest of us mess up, nothing can ever separate us from the love of God.
The story of God and humanity is a story of God reaching out to us – reaching out to us over and over again.
And God’s ultimate reaching out to us is in the life, death and resurrection of Jesus Christ.
In the life, death and resurrection of Jesus we see what God is really like.
And in the life, death and resurrection of Jesus we see what we are meant to be like.
Alleluia! Christ is risen!
The Lord is risen indeed! Alleluia!
Friday, April 22, 2011
Good Earth
St. Michael’s Episcopal Church, Gainesville FL
April 21, 2012
Good Friday
Isaiah 52:13-53:12
Psalm 22
Hebrews 10:16-25
John 18:1-19:42
Good Earth
Whenever people die, it’s perfectly normal to reflect on the meaning of their lives.
Sometimes, especially if a person has lived a long, full, loving life, we give thanks for a life well lived and quietly hope the same for us.
And sometimes, if a person dies young or tragically, we wonder why, we mourn the lost promise – and quietly whisper the cliché, “There but for the grace of God go I.”
Reflection about the meaning of the life and death of Jesus probably began when his lifeless body still hung on the cross.
His mother and the other women and the Beloved Disciple standing at the foot of the cross, probably barely able to look through their tears at Jesus’ battered body, must have struggled to make sense of what had happened to this man – son, friend, rabbi.
And I imagine the disciples - wherever they were hiding - must have also begun reflecting on Jesus, reflecting on the meaning of his life, reflecting on the meaning of their time together. And, maybe they also reflected with shame on their own cowardly abandonment of their teacher and friend, the one who had so recently broken bread with them, the one who had just washed their feet.
We know of course what’s going to happen next. Unlike the women at the foot of the cross and the other disciples we’re already planning and anticipating the celebrations that will take place tomorrow night and Sunday morning.
Of course, the resurrection didn’t stop people from reflecting on the meaning of Jesus’ life and death – just the opposite, really.
Among Christians in the early centuries there was a lot of reflection about Jesus’ nature. Who and what was Jesus?
Some people had a hard time accepting that Jesus was a human being just like us. Instead, some people argued that, like a character out of mythology, Jesus was a divine being who was only pretending to be a human being.
People who believed Jesus was just pretending to be a human being could and did point to how Jesus is usually depicted in the Gospel of John. More than the other gospels, John nearly always presents Jesus as being very much in control, very confident about his identity, and very certain of his mission.
In the Gospel of John, Jesus often seems more divine than human. Usually Jesus doesn’t seem to share the doubts and fears that you and I have in abundance.
From the cosmic opening verses of his Gospel, John makes the point that the Word of God has come and lived among us in Jesus of Nazareth - Jesus who lived right here on this same beautiful and fragile planet where today you and I go about our lives.
As we just heard in the reading of the Passion, the great tragedy is that people not so different from us rejected God’s presence and nailed the Word of God to a piece of wood.
Two thousand years ago it was the Jewish religious authorities and the Roman political authorities who killed Jesus. But, I suspect the abandonment by his friends hurt Jesus more than the nails that pierced his wrists.
And, let’s face it, few if any of us, would have done better than the cowardly disciples or the people in the crowd calling for Jesus’ death.
John is the most spiritual of the gospels, but even John presents the stark fact that Jesus’ body was a vulnerable human body – just like our bodies.
Jesus’ body was a body born of a woman – and so Mary endures the agony of watching her son die an excruciating death.
Jesus’ body was a vulnerable human body – a body that was easily flogged by physically stronger men.
John tells us that Jesus’ face – a real face just like ours - was struck.
John tells us that a mocking crown of thorns was placed on Jesus’ head and a mocking purple robe draped over his battered body.
John tells us that Jesus was thirsty – just as our own mouths get parched.
None of this was happening on a mysterious spiritual plane, but right here on planet earth. Flesh and blood human beings brutalized another flesh and blood human being - an old, old story.
But, as the first Christians reflected on the life and death and resurrection of Jesus of Nazareth, they came to a mind-blowing conclusion. As the first Christians continued to experience Jesus’ presence in Scripture, in the bread and the wine, in one another, in their hears, they came to a mid-blowing conclusion.
They came to the mind-blowing conclusion that in a unique and unexpected way, God entered our flesh and blood world in this particular human being – this particular human being who was battered and killed by those temporarily more powerful than he.
When we look at Jesus we see what God is really like.
And, then, despite that horrible rejection – God still didn’t – and still doesn’t give up on us.
Why?
The only possible answer is love.
God loves us - not in some abstract way – God doesn’t just love the idea of us – God loves flesh and blood us.
God loves the good creation – loves this beautiful and fragile planet where Jesus walked among us and where today you and I go about our lives.
And so, because God loves us and loves creation, God reveals God’s Self to us in Jesus of Nazareth.
God reveals God’s Self in Jesus who taught about the kingdom of God; Jesus who gave sight to the sightless; Jesus who gave new life to those thought to be dead forever.
We look at Jesus and see what God is really like.
And because Jesus is a flesh and blood human being – we look at Jesus and see what we are meant to be – what we were always meant to be.
We look at Jesus and see that we are meant to give of ourselves in loving service to one another.
We look at Jesus and see that we are meant to love the good creation just as God loves the good creation.
Reflection about the meaning of the life and death of Jesus probably began when his lifeless body still hung on the cross.
And the fruit of that reflection is that when we look at Jesus, we see what God is really like.
And when we look at Jesus, we see what we are meant to be like.
Amen.
April 21, 2012
Good Friday
Isaiah 52:13-53:12
Psalm 22
Hebrews 10:16-25
John 18:1-19:42
Good Earth
Whenever people die, it’s perfectly normal to reflect on the meaning of their lives.
Sometimes, especially if a person has lived a long, full, loving life, we give thanks for a life well lived and quietly hope the same for us.
And sometimes, if a person dies young or tragically, we wonder why, we mourn the lost promise – and quietly whisper the cliché, “There but for the grace of God go I.”
Reflection about the meaning of the life and death of Jesus probably began when his lifeless body still hung on the cross.
His mother and the other women and the Beloved Disciple standing at the foot of the cross, probably barely able to look through their tears at Jesus’ battered body, must have struggled to make sense of what had happened to this man – son, friend, rabbi.
And I imagine the disciples - wherever they were hiding - must have also begun reflecting on Jesus, reflecting on the meaning of his life, reflecting on the meaning of their time together. And, maybe they also reflected with shame on their own cowardly abandonment of their teacher and friend, the one who had so recently broken bread with them, the one who had just washed their feet.
We know of course what’s going to happen next. Unlike the women at the foot of the cross and the other disciples we’re already planning and anticipating the celebrations that will take place tomorrow night and Sunday morning.
Of course, the resurrection didn’t stop people from reflecting on the meaning of Jesus’ life and death – just the opposite, really.
Among Christians in the early centuries there was a lot of reflection about Jesus’ nature. Who and what was Jesus?
Some people had a hard time accepting that Jesus was a human being just like us. Instead, some people argued that, like a character out of mythology, Jesus was a divine being who was only pretending to be a human being.
People who believed Jesus was just pretending to be a human being could and did point to how Jesus is usually depicted in the Gospel of John. More than the other gospels, John nearly always presents Jesus as being very much in control, very confident about his identity, and very certain of his mission.
In the Gospel of John, Jesus often seems more divine than human. Usually Jesus doesn’t seem to share the doubts and fears that you and I have in abundance.
From the cosmic opening verses of his Gospel, John makes the point that the Word of God has come and lived among us in Jesus of Nazareth - Jesus who lived right here on this same beautiful and fragile planet where today you and I go about our lives.
As we just heard in the reading of the Passion, the great tragedy is that people not so different from us rejected God’s presence and nailed the Word of God to a piece of wood.
Two thousand years ago it was the Jewish religious authorities and the Roman political authorities who killed Jesus. But, I suspect the abandonment by his friends hurt Jesus more than the nails that pierced his wrists.
And, let’s face it, few if any of us, would have done better than the cowardly disciples or the people in the crowd calling for Jesus’ death.
John is the most spiritual of the gospels, but even John presents the stark fact that Jesus’ body was a vulnerable human body – just like our bodies.
Jesus’ body was a body born of a woman – and so Mary endures the agony of watching her son die an excruciating death.
Jesus’ body was a vulnerable human body – a body that was easily flogged by physically stronger men.
John tells us that Jesus’ face – a real face just like ours - was struck.
John tells us that a mocking crown of thorns was placed on Jesus’ head and a mocking purple robe draped over his battered body.
John tells us that Jesus was thirsty – just as our own mouths get parched.
None of this was happening on a mysterious spiritual plane, but right here on planet earth. Flesh and blood human beings brutalized another flesh and blood human being - an old, old story.
But, as the first Christians reflected on the life and death and resurrection of Jesus of Nazareth, they came to a mind-blowing conclusion. As the first Christians continued to experience Jesus’ presence in Scripture, in the bread and the wine, in one another, in their hears, they came to a mid-blowing conclusion.
They came to the mind-blowing conclusion that in a unique and unexpected way, God entered our flesh and blood world in this particular human being – this particular human being who was battered and killed by those temporarily more powerful than he.
When we look at Jesus we see what God is really like.
And, then, despite that horrible rejection – God still didn’t – and still doesn’t give up on us.
Why?
The only possible answer is love.
God loves us - not in some abstract way – God doesn’t just love the idea of us – God loves flesh and blood us.
God loves the good creation – loves this beautiful and fragile planet where Jesus walked among us and where today you and I go about our lives.
And so, because God loves us and loves creation, God reveals God’s Self to us in Jesus of Nazareth.
God reveals God’s Self in Jesus who taught about the kingdom of God; Jesus who gave sight to the sightless; Jesus who gave new life to those thought to be dead forever.
We look at Jesus and see what God is really like.
And because Jesus is a flesh and blood human being – we look at Jesus and see what we are meant to be – what we were always meant to be.
We look at Jesus and see that we are meant to give of ourselves in loving service to one another.
We look at Jesus and see that we are meant to love the good creation just as God loves the good creation.
Reflection about the meaning of the life and death of Jesus probably began when his lifeless body still hung on the cross.
And the fruit of that reflection is that when we look at Jesus, we see what God is really like.
And when we look at Jesus, we see what we are meant to be like.
Amen.
Thursday, April 21, 2011
Participants
St. Michael’s Episcopal Church, Gainesville FL
April 21, 2011
Maundy Thursday
Exodus 12:1-4, (5-10), 11-14
1 Corinthians 11:23-26
Psalm 116:1, 10-17
John 13:1-17, 31b-35
Participants
I’m sure many of you are aware that this year marks the 150th anniversary of the start of the Civil War. Last week there were commemorations of the first shots of the war – the first shots fired by the Confederate forces on Fort Sumter, barely visible in the predawn gloom of Charleston Harbor.
Large numbers of Civil War re-enactors with their obsessive attention to every detail, down to making sure they have the right kind of laces in their boots and the right blend of coffee in their cups, converged on Charleston and recreated the beginnings of our bloodiest war - as history buffs, tourists and the merely curious looked on.
I can understand the appeal of historical reenactments like this. And I can understand why people want to be re-enactors. There’s a genuine appeal to immersing yourself in the past, becoming expert in a particular time and place, a particular group of people. I’m sure it’s fun, interesting, and educational.
But, though it may seem like it, we are not here tonight for a historical reenactment.
Yes, like those people in Charleston, tonight we are remembering an event that took place in the past. We are remembering an event that took place in a room in Jerusalem on or near the Passover, nearly two thousand years ago.
Jesus and his closest friends and disciples went to Jerusalem for the great Passover feast. Throughout his ministry, Jesus had warned his followers what was going to happen to him. Most of the time they seem to have not understood – or maybe they just didn’t want to understand.
But now in this room at Passover, even the dimmest and most stubborn of Jesus’ followers must have understood that the unthinkable was happening - Jesus’ life was going to end. Jesus’ life was going to end in an especially dismaying, shocking, horrific way.
After Jesus’ death and resurrection, the disciples must have spent a lot of time remembering and reflecting on all that they had experienced with their teacher. And this last meal remained an especially vivid memory for the rest of their lives. They must have told the story of this last meal over and over.
In fact, I think it’s safe to say that what we call the Last Supper is the most memorable and most remembered meal of all time.
In the brief passage from his first letter to the Corinthians, written twenty or so years later the events of that Passover, St. Paul gives us the earliest account of the Last Supper and the way the first Christians remembered it and experienced it– and have continued to remember it and experience it right down to today.
All four gospels tell the story of Jesus’ last meal with his friends, though the descriptions differ a bit.
Each year on Maundy Thursday we hear the account of the Last Supper in the Gospel of John. The Gospel of John was the last of the four gospels to be written so -no surprise - John’s account of the Last Supper is by far the longest of the four.
But, what is surprising is that in his long description of the Last Supper, John makes no mention of Jesus instituting the Eucharist. There’s no mention of Jesus blessing and sharing the bread and wine and instructing his followers to do the same in his memory.
Instead, only John paints the remarkable picture of Jesus the Son of God washing the feet of his friends.
In Jesus’ remarkable act of humility, we see what God is really like. We see a God who loves us beyond our imagination. We see a God who pours out grace on us – pours out grace to serve us, to strengthen us, to purify us.
In Jesus we see what God is really like.
And in Jesus we see what we are meant to be like.
Jesus tells his followers, commands his followers, “For I have set you an example, that you should do as I have done to you.”
And so over and over we gather around the Lord’s Table, hearing the words of Jesus echo down through the centuries, echo through and beyond time and space, “This is my body. This is my blood.”
And on Maundy Thursday we have a ritual foot-washing.
At the first foot-washing, once he realized how important it was, Peter exclaimed, to Jesus, “Lord, not my feet only but also my hands and head!” That sounds like Baptism to me. And, so from time to time, we gather around the font – as we’ll do here on Saturday night - joyfully pouring water and welcoming a new member of the Christian community.
But, aside from me, we don’t do these things in period costume as if we were historical re-enactors.
We don’t dress up as if we were at a biblical theme park. We come to the table just as we are - wearing our normal clothes – ordinary 21st Century clothes – because we are not re-enactors.
Those re-enactors in Charleston last week weren’t really firing the first shots of the Civil War.
But, when you and I come to the table with our hands and hearts outstretched, we are in a mystical but very real way gathered around Jesus at the Last Supper. We really are united with the first disciples and with Christians through the centuries.
We’re not re-enactors, we’re participants.
And when I symbolically wash the feet of a few of our parishioners, at first glance it may look like a historical reenactment. But, notice they’re not dressed in period costume.
The foot-washing is meant to remind us of what Jesus did for his followers – people just like us. The foot-washing is meant to remind us that Jesus calls us – commands us – to be like him – to live lives of loving service to others.
And so when we quietly visit the sick and the lonely – when we help someone with the rent or to fill up their gas tank – when we help the stranger even if we’re pretty sure we’re being scammed – when we pray for the suffering – when we pray for our enemies - then we’re not re-enactors.
We’re not re-enactors.
We’re participants.
In our own time and place, right here in Gainesville, we’re participants in the life of Christ – a life like bread that is broken to feed the multitudes – a life like wine poured out to quench the thirsty – a life like water washing away grime – a life of loving and humble and sacrificial service.
In Jesus we see what God is really like.
And in Jesus we see what we are meant to be like.
Amen.
April 21, 2011
Maundy Thursday
Exodus 12:1-4, (5-10), 11-14
1 Corinthians 11:23-26
Psalm 116:1, 10-17
John 13:1-17, 31b-35
Participants
I’m sure many of you are aware that this year marks the 150th anniversary of the start of the Civil War. Last week there were commemorations of the first shots of the war – the first shots fired by the Confederate forces on Fort Sumter, barely visible in the predawn gloom of Charleston Harbor.
Large numbers of Civil War re-enactors with their obsessive attention to every detail, down to making sure they have the right kind of laces in their boots and the right blend of coffee in their cups, converged on Charleston and recreated the beginnings of our bloodiest war - as history buffs, tourists and the merely curious looked on.
I can understand the appeal of historical reenactments like this. And I can understand why people want to be re-enactors. There’s a genuine appeal to immersing yourself in the past, becoming expert in a particular time and place, a particular group of people. I’m sure it’s fun, interesting, and educational.
But, though it may seem like it, we are not here tonight for a historical reenactment.
Yes, like those people in Charleston, tonight we are remembering an event that took place in the past. We are remembering an event that took place in a room in Jerusalem on or near the Passover, nearly two thousand years ago.
Jesus and his closest friends and disciples went to Jerusalem for the great Passover feast. Throughout his ministry, Jesus had warned his followers what was going to happen to him. Most of the time they seem to have not understood – or maybe they just didn’t want to understand.
But now in this room at Passover, even the dimmest and most stubborn of Jesus’ followers must have understood that the unthinkable was happening - Jesus’ life was going to end. Jesus’ life was going to end in an especially dismaying, shocking, horrific way.
After Jesus’ death and resurrection, the disciples must have spent a lot of time remembering and reflecting on all that they had experienced with their teacher. And this last meal remained an especially vivid memory for the rest of their lives. They must have told the story of this last meal over and over.
In fact, I think it’s safe to say that what we call the Last Supper is the most memorable and most remembered meal of all time.
In the brief passage from his first letter to the Corinthians, written twenty or so years later the events of that Passover, St. Paul gives us the earliest account of the Last Supper and the way the first Christians remembered it and experienced it– and have continued to remember it and experience it right down to today.
All four gospels tell the story of Jesus’ last meal with his friends, though the descriptions differ a bit.
Each year on Maundy Thursday we hear the account of the Last Supper in the Gospel of John. The Gospel of John was the last of the four gospels to be written so -no surprise - John’s account of the Last Supper is by far the longest of the four.
But, what is surprising is that in his long description of the Last Supper, John makes no mention of Jesus instituting the Eucharist. There’s no mention of Jesus blessing and sharing the bread and wine and instructing his followers to do the same in his memory.
Instead, only John paints the remarkable picture of Jesus the Son of God washing the feet of his friends.
In Jesus’ remarkable act of humility, we see what God is really like. We see a God who loves us beyond our imagination. We see a God who pours out grace on us – pours out grace to serve us, to strengthen us, to purify us.
In Jesus we see what God is really like.
And in Jesus we see what we are meant to be like.
Jesus tells his followers, commands his followers, “For I have set you an example, that you should do as I have done to you.”
And so over and over we gather around the Lord’s Table, hearing the words of Jesus echo down through the centuries, echo through and beyond time and space, “This is my body. This is my blood.”
And on Maundy Thursday we have a ritual foot-washing.
At the first foot-washing, once he realized how important it was, Peter exclaimed, to Jesus, “Lord, not my feet only but also my hands and head!” That sounds like Baptism to me. And, so from time to time, we gather around the font – as we’ll do here on Saturday night - joyfully pouring water and welcoming a new member of the Christian community.
But, aside from me, we don’t do these things in period costume as if we were historical re-enactors.
We don’t dress up as if we were at a biblical theme park. We come to the table just as we are - wearing our normal clothes – ordinary 21st Century clothes – because we are not re-enactors.
Those re-enactors in Charleston last week weren’t really firing the first shots of the Civil War.
But, when you and I come to the table with our hands and hearts outstretched, we are in a mystical but very real way gathered around Jesus at the Last Supper. We really are united with the first disciples and with Christians through the centuries.
We’re not re-enactors, we’re participants.
And when I symbolically wash the feet of a few of our parishioners, at first glance it may look like a historical reenactment. But, notice they’re not dressed in period costume.
The foot-washing is meant to remind us of what Jesus did for his followers – people just like us. The foot-washing is meant to remind us that Jesus calls us – commands us – to be like him – to live lives of loving service to others.
And so when we quietly visit the sick and the lonely – when we help someone with the rent or to fill up their gas tank – when we help the stranger even if we’re pretty sure we’re being scammed – when we pray for the suffering – when we pray for our enemies - then we’re not re-enactors.
We’re not re-enactors.
We’re participants.
In our own time and place, right here in Gainesville, we’re participants in the life of Christ – a life like bread that is broken to feed the multitudes – a life like wine poured out to quench the thirsty – a life like water washing away grime – a life of loving and humble and sacrificial service.
In Jesus we see what God is really like.
And in Jesus we see what we are meant to be like.
Amen.
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