Grace Episcopal Church, Madison NJ
April 25, 2010
Year C: The Fourth Sunday of Easter
Acts 9:36-43
Psalm 23
(Revelation 7:9-17)
John 10:22-30
The Life of Sheep
Each year when Good Shepherd Sunday rolls around, I think back to my time at General Seminary, particularly the many hours spent in the seminary chapel, the Chapel of the Good Shepherd.
Behind the chapel altar there is a line of large statues carved from Italian marble. The four Evangelists are there along with Peter and Paul and the Old Testament figures, Moses and Elijah. And in the center, towering above the other statues, is Jesus the Good Shepherd. In the statue the Good Shepherd is wearing long, flowing robes. His head is graced by a halo. In his left hand he holds a metal staff and in his right arm cradles a little lamb, while a larger lamb stands at his side.
This impressive statue of the Good Shepherd and his two lambs presents a warm, cozy, even somewhat sentimental scene.
But, there is nothing warm cozy or sentimental about the scene presented in today’s reading from the Gospel of John. I’m starting to sound like a broken record, but it bears repeating once again that this gospel was written around the end of the First Century, several generations after the earthly lifetime of Jesus.
It was written for a Christian community faced with the painful separation from Jewish life. Unfortunately, readers and hearers like us who are far removed from that painful separation, are left with a gospel that has been misused all too often by Christians to attack Jews. So, knowing that Jesus and all of his first followers were Jews, when we hear the people who challenge, criticize and ultimately reject Jesus referred to as “the Jews” we need to remember that this is shorthand for “the Jewish religious establishment” or “the Jews who opposed Jesus.”
Anyway, the little scene we heard today is a kind of follow-up to an earlier exchange between Jesus and his opponents when Jesus had declared, “I am the Good Shepherd. The good shepherd lays down his life for the sheep.” Jesus also said, “I am the good shepherd. I know my own and my own know me, just as the Father knows me and I know the Father.”
Now the Evangelist John continues this shepherd and sheep talk between Jesus and his opponents. John tells us Jesus and his opponents are at the Temple, which would have definitely been the place to be because it was the festival of the Dedication – better known to us as Hanukkah – the festival that celebrates the re-consecration of the Temple after it had been defiled by pagan worship.
That location would have really resonated to the first readers and hearers of the Gospel since the Romans had destroyed the Temple several decades before the gospel was written. On top of that, the early Christians – and certainly the author of this gospel – were already thinking of Jesus as the new and eternal Temple.
So during Hanukkah and at the Temple, Jesus is once again challenged by his opponents. They want to know if he is the messiah, saying “How long will you keep us in suspense?” Another possible translation, which I like better, is something like, “How long will you annoy us?”
Jesus replies by returning to the shepherd and sheep imagery. This time, though, the image is more like Jesus the Good Shepherd entering the sheepfold and calling out to the sheep. Some, but not all, of the sheep respond to Jesus’ voice, put their trust in Jesus, and gather around Jesus – just like those sheep in the statue.
And we are some of those sheep, aren’t we? Somehow, some way, you and I have heard the voice of the Good Shepherd calling to us. Maybe we heard the voice of the Good Shepherd calling to us through our parents who raised us in the faith. Maybe we heard the voice of the Good Shepherd in a Sunday School teacher or in a sermon that made a powerful impression. Maybe we heard the voice of the Good Shepherd in a friend who offered comfort during a tough time or in the neighbor who invited us to church one Sunday.
Maybe we heard the voice of the Good Shepherd in the calling to us in the Word of God or in a thin sliver of bread and a sip of wine. Maybe we heard the voice of the Good Shepherd in the beauty of a hymn. Maybe we heard the voice of the Good Shepherd in the person who nagged us about getting out of bed and going to church on Sunday.
Somehow, you and I have heard the voice of the Good Shepherd. In our baptism, ready or not, we became members of his band of sheep. And later today at the cathedral a whole flock of our brothers and sisters will stand up on their own and confirm that, yes, they are sheep belonging to the Good Shepherd.
But, then what? Is that it? What is the life like for sheep who have heard the voice of the Good Shepherd? Are we sheep just supposed to be like the sheep in that statue – nice and warm and cozy with Jesus? Well, that’s part of it. That’s what we do here in church. This is a pretty warm and cozy place. Each week Lauren has to expend quite a bit of energy to wrap up the passing of the peace and continue the service. It’s obvious how comfortable people are here – how adults and children really see Grace Church as a second home.
But that warmth and coziness of community is just part of our life as sheep. The warmth and coziness we find here is supposed to strengthen us, to nourish us, to prepare us, to inspire us, to do our work out there in the world.
The sheep of the Good Shepherd are not supposed to spend all their time warm and cozy here in the sheepfold. No, the sheep of the Good Shepherd – you and I – are supposed to go out into the world and continue the work of the Good Shepherd.
In the seminary chapel statues of Peter and Paul stand alongside the statue of the Good Shepherd. Those two great apostles were among the first sheep who went out into the world and gave their lives continuing the work of Jesus.
Last Sunday we heard the powerful story told in the Acts of the Apostles of Paul’s encounter with the Risen Christ on the road to Damascus. Paul heard the voice of the Good Shepherd and it transformed him from someone who persecuted Jesus’ followers into a faithful apostle giving his life continuing the work of Jesus.
And today the author of the Acts of the Apostles shifts the focus to Peter – and makes two big points. First, the Good News has already spread beyond Jerusalem. The raising of Tabitha from the dead took place in Joppa – an important Jewish port on the Mediterranean.
The second point is that Peter has come a long way from the Peter we see in the gospels – the Peter who earnestly tried to understand Jesus’ message but usually fell short; the Peter who betrayed Jesus three times in his greatest moment of need. We’ve even come a long way from the Peter we saw last week, who not knowing what to do after the Resurrection, returned to his old life fishing out on the Sea of Galilee.
Today we see Peter after he has been transformed by the Holy Spirit. Today we meet Peter continuing the healing work of Jesus. In the passage just before what we heard today, Peter healed a paralytic – a very Jesus-like miracle. And today in the most Jesus-like miracle of all, the author of Acts tells us that Peter raised the faithful disciple Tabitha from the dead.
The point of all this is that Paul and Peter and the other faithful disciples heard the voice of the Good Shepherd and then went out and continued the healing work of Jesus. That’s the life of sheep.
Well, if the author of the Acts of the Apostles were writing today, he might note that the Good News has reached all the way to Madison, New Jersey. And I hope he would describe how you and I have heard the voice of the Good Shepherd, how we live the life of sheep by going out into the world continuing the healing work of Jesus.
What does that healing work look like for us?
Well, since we live in a materialistic society that values and judges people based how many and what kinds of things they possess, maybe we can continue the healing work of Jesus by living a different kind of life. Maybe, with God’s help, we can live into our baptismal promise to respect the dignity of every human being.
How else could we continue the healing work of Jesus?
Well, we live in a society that seems to be in love with violence – physical violence but also emotional and verbal violence. We live in a society that presents violence as entertainment, a society that believes violence solves problems, a society which all too often seems to reward the bully. Maybe we can continue the healing work of Jesus by rejecting violence and challenging those who use violence. Maybe, with God’s help, we can live into our baptismal promise to love our neighbor as our self.
How else can we continue the healing work of Jesus?
The most important way we can continue the healing work of Jesus is to allow the voice of the Good Shepherd to speak through us. We can allow the voice of the Good Shepherd to speak through us as we raise children in the faith. We can allow the voice of the Good Shepherd to speak through us when we offer comfort to someone going through a tough time. We can allow the voice of the Good Shepherd to speak through us when we invite a neighbor to church some Sunday and even when we nag someone we love to get up on a Sunday morning and come to this warm and cozy sheepfold.
Maybe, with God’s help, we can live into our baptismal promise to proclaim by word and example the Good News of God in Christ.
Continuing the healing work of Jesus is risky, though. It was risky for Jesus himself and it was risky for Peter and Paul who both died violent deaths because they were sheep of the Good Shepherd. Yet they and we have the promise of Jesus – the promise that far outweighs any risks – the promise symbolized in that warm and cozy scene of Jesus the Good Shepherd holding his sheep.
Paul understood that promise when he wrote to the church in Rome that he was convinced that nothing “will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord.”
Or as Jesus is quoted in the Gospel of John, “My sheep hear my voice. I know them and they follow me. I give them eternal life, and they will never perish.”
Somehow you and I have heard the voice of the Good Shepherd. We come here to be strengthened and encouraged. Then we go out to continue his healing work in the world. That’s the life of sheep.
Amen.
Sunday, April 25, 2010
Sunday, April 11, 2010
The Buoyancy of God
Grace Episcopal Church, Madison NJ
April 11, 2010
Year C: The Second Sunday of Easter
Acts 5:27-32
Psalm 118:14-29
(Revelation 1:4-8)
John 20:19-31
The Buoyancy of God
As I’ve gotten a little older more and more when I remember things about the past I question the reliability of my memory. Did that really happen the way I remember? Or sometimes I feel kind of removed from things that I know happened. In my memory it feels like I’m watching a movie or a TV show in which I’m one of the actors.
Some of the most vivid memories of my childhood come from the summer my family belonged to the Skyline Cabana Club. I think it was the summer of 1973 and I was about six years old. The Skyline Cabana Club was in Jersey City, just next to what is today Liberty State Park. Back then, however, the park was just a dream for what was mostly abandoned railyards.
Anyway, I don’t know how it would stack up against Noe Pond, but to us from the mean streets of Jersey City, the club was an amazing oasis. There were fields and playgrounds, restaurants, and lots of cabanas. As I remember them, the cabanas were too small to be anything other than large changing rooms. But the centerpiece of the Skyline Cabana Club was the pool.
It was the biggest, deepest pool I had ever seen. It was an in-ground and it had diving boards that seemed dangerously high to six year-old me. I had been in modest, above-ground backyard pools, but this pool was something very different and pretty scary. Reasonably cautious, I stayed in the shallow end and was definitely too afraid to even go near the diving boards.
I wish I could remember all the details. But at the pool one day I guess I must have been talking about my fear of the pool and the diving boards. Suddenly my aunt’s boyfriend (who was a lifeguard) scooped me up and carried me to the tallest of the three diving boards. I remember trying not to panic and not to cry in front of this guy who was in high school and who seemed so much older and so much bigger than I.
In my memory I can picture the scene. I can see him carrying me out onto the diving board, bouncing and jumping off. I remember opening my eyes for an instant and seeing the steps of the ladder racing by. And then we were in the water. And then I was on the surface, coughing, my little arms and legs wiggling, and my aunt’s boyfriend holding on to me and guiding me back to the pool’s edge.
I can’t claim to remember everything with complete accuracy but I know it was a dramatic experience. I wish I could tell you that it was a breakthrough experience for me – that I got out of the pool, ran up onto the diving board and jumped in again.
But, in fact, it took a long time before I gained confidence in the water. It took a long time before I was able trust that I would be OK in the water. It was a long time before I trusted in the buoyancy of the water.
This is how faith develops and grows. Faith is not perfected by a sudden and dramatic experience. And faith is not so much convincing ourselves that facts about God are true. Instead faith is much better understood simply as developing trust in God. In his book The Heart of Christianity, Marcus Borg writes, “Faith as trust is trusting in the buoyancy of God. Faith is trusting in the sea of being in which we live and move and have our being.
“Faith as trust is trusting in the buoyancy of God.” I really like that.
“Faith as trust is trusting in the buoyancy of God.” This is very difficult.
Every year on the Second Sunday of Easter the Church presents the story of an apostle who had some difficulties trusting in the buoyancy of God.
I like that each year the Church offers the story of Doubting Thomas on the Second Sunday of Easter. I like it because it reflects a certain honesty and realism on the part of Christianity. We recognize the claim that we make – the claim that Christ is risen, that the Lord is risen indeed – is a claim that is not easy for us to accept or trust. Faith is trust and, let’s be honest, it’s not easy for most of us to trust.
The story of Doubting Thomas is wonderful, but it does create some problems. It’s found only in the Gospel of John - the last of the four gospels, written near the end of the First Century, a couple of generations after the arrest and crucifixion of Jesus. This gospel was written for a community that was now faced with an excruciating choice.
Of course, there had been tensions all along between the Jewish religious authorities and Jesus and his first followers. We heard some of that tension in the reading from the Acts of the Apostles when Peter and the others were testifying before the council. But, for the most part, for the first few decades after Jesus’ earthly lifetime it had been possible for Jewish believers in Jesus to continue to worship in the synagogue. For those first few decades it was possible to both Jewish and Christian.
But by the end of the First Century both Judaism and Christianity were changing. The Temple in Jerusalem had been destroyed by the Romans, believers in Jesus were increasingly claiming that he was divine, and meanwhile more and more non-Jews were discovering Jesus and seeing him not only as the Jewish messiah but the messiah for the whole world.
And so near the end of the First Century the Jewish followers of Jesus faced a choice: continue to follow Jesus and cut themselves off from Jewish life or reject Jesus and remain in the faith tradition of their ancestors.
You can imagine just how difficult that choice must have been.
I mention this little history lesson because for most of Christian history parts of the Gospel of John – and most especially the story of the Passion and Resurrection of Jesus – have been used to justify Christian anti-Semitism.
And so each time we read these scriptures, each time we read that the disciples locked the doors of the house “for fear of the Jews” it is necessary to remind ourselves of the context in which this text was written. The Jesus movement began as a Jewish movement and the Gospel of John was written by Jews, to Jews and for Jews.
The disciples may have been afraid of the authorities, of the religious establishment, but since they were all Jews themselves, it would make no sense for them to be afraid of “the Jews.” And of course the later “Christian” idea that the Jewish people bear collective responsibility for the death of Jesus would have been incomprehensible to the author of the gospel and its first readers and hearers.
With that context in mind, what might the powerful story of Doubting Thomas powerful story might say to us here and now?
There’s always been a lot of speculation about why Thomas wasn’t with the other apostles when the Resurrected Christ first appeared. I’ve imagined Thomas out in the desert, venting his anger and disappointment by yelling into the sky at God. Recently I read something written by a seminary classmate who suggested a beautiful and intriguing idea: maybe Thomas wasn’t around because he was off tending to the burial of Judas.
In any event, like the first readers and hearers of the gospel and of course like us, Thomas was not present at the first resurrection appearance. Maybe like the first readers and hearers of the gospel and maybe like us, Thomas doubted the claims made by the other disciples. But then, Thomas, better late than never, rejoins the group and has his dramatic encounter with the Resurrected Christ.
The gospel quotes Jesus as saying to Thomas and, in effect, saying to us, “Have you believed because you have seen me? Blessed are those who have not seen and yet have come to believe.”
In effect Jesus says, blessed are those who trust in the buoyancy of God. Blessed are those who trust that in Christ we see what God is really like. Blessed are those who trust that for Christ death was not the end. Blessed are those who trust that since Christ is risen, then for us also death is not the end.
We often wonder why Thomas wasn’t around when the disciples first encountered the Resurrected Christ. But, I wonder what the rest of his life was like. There is an ancient tradition that Thomas brought the Good News all the way to India. Wherever he went he must have carried the powerful memory of his encounter with the Resurrected Christ.
But I wonder if as time passed he began to doubt again. I wonder if he didn’t start to doubt his own memory. I wonder if he didn’t look back on all that had happened and wonder if that had really happened the way he remembered. I wonder if he didn’t look back and it seemed like he was watching himself playing a part in a great drama.
Thomas had a powerful experience, but I bet that dramatic experience didn’t perfect his faith. I think it must have taken the rest of his life to build trust in the buoyancy of God. Like all of us, each day in the midst of the ordinary and extraordinary challenges of life, Thomas needed to pay attention and to be open to the power of God. Just like for all of us, it must have taken the rest of his life of seeing and sensing the power of God for Thomas to let go, to breathe, and to trust in the buoyancy of God.
At the 11:15 service we’re going to baptize a child, Katelyn Anne. The baptism may not seem as dramatic as encountering the Resurrected Christ in a locked room. It may not seem as dramatic, but it will be. In baptism God will make an unbreakable, indissoluble bond with Katelyn Anne. Yet Katelyn’s plunge into the water, this encounter with the Resurrected Christ, will of course not perfect her faith. No this baptism, this plunge into the water, this encounter with the Resurrected Christ, will be for her as it is for all Christians, the beginning of a lifetime of letting go, of breathing, and trusting in the buoyancy of God.
Amen.
April 11, 2010
Year C: The Second Sunday of Easter
Acts 5:27-32
Psalm 118:14-29
(Revelation 1:4-8)
John 20:19-31
The Buoyancy of God
As I’ve gotten a little older more and more when I remember things about the past I question the reliability of my memory. Did that really happen the way I remember? Or sometimes I feel kind of removed from things that I know happened. In my memory it feels like I’m watching a movie or a TV show in which I’m one of the actors.
Some of the most vivid memories of my childhood come from the summer my family belonged to the Skyline Cabana Club. I think it was the summer of 1973 and I was about six years old. The Skyline Cabana Club was in Jersey City, just next to what is today Liberty State Park. Back then, however, the park was just a dream for what was mostly abandoned railyards.
Anyway, I don’t know how it would stack up against Noe Pond, but to us from the mean streets of Jersey City, the club was an amazing oasis. There were fields and playgrounds, restaurants, and lots of cabanas. As I remember them, the cabanas were too small to be anything other than large changing rooms. But the centerpiece of the Skyline Cabana Club was the pool.
It was the biggest, deepest pool I had ever seen. It was an in-ground and it had diving boards that seemed dangerously high to six year-old me. I had been in modest, above-ground backyard pools, but this pool was something very different and pretty scary. Reasonably cautious, I stayed in the shallow end and was definitely too afraid to even go near the diving boards.
I wish I could remember all the details. But at the pool one day I guess I must have been talking about my fear of the pool and the diving boards. Suddenly my aunt’s boyfriend (who was a lifeguard) scooped me up and carried me to the tallest of the three diving boards. I remember trying not to panic and not to cry in front of this guy who was in high school and who seemed so much older and so much bigger than I.
In my memory I can picture the scene. I can see him carrying me out onto the diving board, bouncing and jumping off. I remember opening my eyes for an instant and seeing the steps of the ladder racing by. And then we were in the water. And then I was on the surface, coughing, my little arms and legs wiggling, and my aunt’s boyfriend holding on to me and guiding me back to the pool’s edge.
I can’t claim to remember everything with complete accuracy but I know it was a dramatic experience. I wish I could tell you that it was a breakthrough experience for me – that I got out of the pool, ran up onto the diving board and jumped in again.
But, in fact, it took a long time before I gained confidence in the water. It took a long time before I was able trust that I would be OK in the water. It was a long time before I trusted in the buoyancy of the water.
This is how faith develops and grows. Faith is not perfected by a sudden and dramatic experience. And faith is not so much convincing ourselves that facts about God are true. Instead faith is much better understood simply as developing trust in God. In his book The Heart of Christianity, Marcus Borg writes, “Faith as trust is trusting in the buoyancy of God. Faith is trusting in the sea of being in which we live and move and have our being.
“Faith as trust is trusting in the buoyancy of God.” I really like that.
“Faith as trust is trusting in the buoyancy of God.” This is very difficult.
Every year on the Second Sunday of Easter the Church presents the story of an apostle who had some difficulties trusting in the buoyancy of God.
I like that each year the Church offers the story of Doubting Thomas on the Second Sunday of Easter. I like it because it reflects a certain honesty and realism on the part of Christianity. We recognize the claim that we make – the claim that Christ is risen, that the Lord is risen indeed – is a claim that is not easy for us to accept or trust. Faith is trust and, let’s be honest, it’s not easy for most of us to trust.
The story of Doubting Thomas is wonderful, but it does create some problems. It’s found only in the Gospel of John - the last of the four gospels, written near the end of the First Century, a couple of generations after the arrest and crucifixion of Jesus. This gospel was written for a community that was now faced with an excruciating choice.
Of course, there had been tensions all along between the Jewish religious authorities and Jesus and his first followers. We heard some of that tension in the reading from the Acts of the Apostles when Peter and the others were testifying before the council. But, for the most part, for the first few decades after Jesus’ earthly lifetime it had been possible for Jewish believers in Jesus to continue to worship in the synagogue. For those first few decades it was possible to both Jewish and Christian.
But by the end of the First Century both Judaism and Christianity were changing. The Temple in Jerusalem had been destroyed by the Romans, believers in Jesus were increasingly claiming that he was divine, and meanwhile more and more non-Jews were discovering Jesus and seeing him not only as the Jewish messiah but the messiah for the whole world.
And so near the end of the First Century the Jewish followers of Jesus faced a choice: continue to follow Jesus and cut themselves off from Jewish life or reject Jesus and remain in the faith tradition of their ancestors.
You can imagine just how difficult that choice must have been.
I mention this little history lesson because for most of Christian history parts of the Gospel of John – and most especially the story of the Passion and Resurrection of Jesus – have been used to justify Christian anti-Semitism.
And so each time we read these scriptures, each time we read that the disciples locked the doors of the house “for fear of the Jews” it is necessary to remind ourselves of the context in which this text was written. The Jesus movement began as a Jewish movement and the Gospel of John was written by Jews, to Jews and for Jews.
The disciples may have been afraid of the authorities, of the religious establishment, but since they were all Jews themselves, it would make no sense for them to be afraid of “the Jews.” And of course the later “Christian” idea that the Jewish people bear collective responsibility for the death of Jesus would have been incomprehensible to the author of the gospel and its first readers and hearers.
With that context in mind, what might the powerful story of Doubting Thomas powerful story might say to us here and now?
There’s always been a lot of speculation about why Thomas wasn’t with the other apostles when the Resurrected Christ first appeared. I’ve imagined Thomas out in the desert, venting his anger and disappointment by yelling into the sky at God. Recently I read something written by a seminary classmate who suggested a beautiful and intriguing idea: maybe Thomas wasn’t around because he was off tending to the burial of Judas.
In any event, like the first readers and hearers of the gospel and of course like us, Thomas was not present at the first resurrection appearance. Maybe like the first readers and hearers of the gospel and maybe like us, Thomas doubted the claims made by the other disciples. But then, Thomas, better late than never, rejoins the group and has his dramatic encounter with the Resurrected Christ.
The gospel quotes Jesus as saying to Thomas and, in effect, saying to us, “Have you believed because you have seen me? Blessed are those who have not seen and yet have come to believe.”
In effect Jesus says, blessed are those who trust in the buoyancy of God. Blessed are those who trust that in Christ we see what God is really like. Blessed are those who trust that for Christ death was not the end. Blessed are those who trust that since Christ is risen, then for us also death is not the end.
We often wonder why Thomas wasn’t around when the disciples first encountered the Resurrected Christ. But, I wonder what the rest of his life was like. There is an ancient tradition that Thomas brought the Good News all the way to India. Wherever he went he must have carried the powerful memory of his encounter with the Resurrected Christ.
But I wonder if as time passed he began to doubt again. I wonder if he didn’t start to doubt his own memory. I wonder if he didn’t look back on all that had happened and wonder if that had really happened the way he remembered. I wonder if he didn’t look back and it seemed like he was watching himself playing a part in a great drama.
Thomas had a powerful experience, but I bet that dramatic experience didn’t perfect his faith. I think it must have taken the rest of his life to build trust in the buoyancy of God. Like all of us, each day in the midst of the ordinary and extraordinary challenges of life, Thomas needed to pay attention and to be open to the power of God. Just like for all of us, it must have taken the rest of his life of seeing and sensing the power of God for Thomas to let go, to breathe, and to trust in the buoyancy of God.
At the 11:15 service we’re going to baptize a child, Katelyn Anne. The baptism may not seem as dramatic as encountering the Resurrected Christ in a locked room. It may not seem as dramatic, but it will be. In baptism God will make an unbreakable, indissoluble bond with Katelyn Anne. Yet Katelyn’s plunge into the water, this encounter with the Resurrected Christ, will of course not perfect her faith. No this baptism, this plunge into the water, this encounter with the Resurrected Christ, will be for her as it is for all Christians, the beginning of a lifetime of letting go, of breathing, and trusting in the buoyancy of God.
Amen.
Sunday, April 04, 2010
In the Garden
Grace Episcopal Church, Madison NJ
April 4, 2010
Sunday of the Resurrection: Easter Day
Acts 10:34-43
Psalm 118:1-2, 14-24
1 Corinthians 15:19-26
John 20:1-18
In the Garden
Alleluia! Christ is risen! The Lord is risen indeed! Alleluia!
I’m not sure why, but for some reason last night at the Great Vigil of Easter it felt especially good to finally say and sing “Alleluia!”
Maybe because this weekend the weather has been so beautiful, more than ever it seemed to me that there was a real disconnect between what was going on in church and what was going on in the world.
On Good Friday, while the world was outside enjoying the radiant sunshine and warm breezes, here in church we were remembering the betrayal of Jesus in a garden, we were remembering the cries of the crowd calling for his crucifixion; we were remembering his death on the cross and his burial in brand-new tomb.
And Holy Saturday was a disorienting day, too. Again it was beautiful outside. But the Church was in a strange place, somewhere between death and life. In the beautiful morning a handful of us gathered for the simple Holy Saturday service. There was no communion, of course, highlighting the absence of the executed messiah.
But then there were the first stirrings of life here in church. The altar guild arrived and began the remarkable transformation of the bare church into this dazzling display of life and color.
It’s a wonderful thing to see, but by necessity we were getting ahead of ourselves.
So, as always, the Great Vigil of Easter began with the lights off – the absence of light bringing us right back to Good Friday, bringing us right back to the death of Jesus on the Cross, bringing us right back to the tomb.
Maybe in the gloom of the shadowy church we remembered what had gotten us into this mess. Maybe we remembered how because of sin and selfishness and betrayal, human beings – we – had broken our relationship with God. Maybe in the gloom of the shadowy church we remembered the story of that first garden when man and woman hid from God who right from the start was seeking them out, wanting to walk in love with humanity.
Maybe in the gloom of the shadowy church we remembered Good Friday. Maybe we remembered how in Jesus God had come and lived among us. Maybe we remembered how Jesus taught and healed and reached out to the poor and the oppressed.
Maybe in the gloom we remembered all that bad history between God and humanity.
But then in the midst of the gloom of the shadowy church, the Paschal Candle was lighted - symbolizing the resurrection, symbolizing that God is more powerful than death. The Paschal Candle was lighted, symbolizing that nothing can extinguish the light of Christ.
This is the Good News! And the only correct response to this joyous good news is to praise God. So in the service last night we read once again the stories of God’s saving acts. The prayer book offers nine options but requires only two. And the prayer book requires that the story of Israel’s deliverance at the Red Sea must be read. When all hope seemed to be lost, God always manages to turn death into life. We look back at these stories of salvation and give praise to God..
But those great acts of God recorded in the Old Testament are a prologue to God’s greatest act of all – the Resurrection of Jesus Christ.
Genesis tells us that creation began in a garden. Genesis also tells us that the relationship between God and humanity was broken in a garden. The Evangelist John tells us that Jesus was betrayed in a garden. And as we heard just a few minutes ago, the Evangelist John also tells us that the new creation begins in a garden. The healing of the broken relationship between God and humanity begins in a garden.
But, that’s not all. After Mary Magdalene encountered the resurrected Christ – after first mistaking him for a gardener – she went to the disciples and announced, “I have seen the Lord.” Magdalene’s encounter with the Resurrected Christ and her willingness to share this joyous good news marks the beginning of the Christian community. The Christian community began right there in that garden. Later, at the end of the Great Fifty Days of Easter, on Pentecost, the Christian community received the gift of the Holy Spirit and became the Church.
Over time the Church’s understanding of its identity and mission changed and deepened. As we heard in the lesson from the Acts of the Apostles, the Church came to understand that Jesus is the messiah for the whole world. So Peter can say to the gentiles, “I truly understand that God shows no partiality, but in every nation anyone who fears him and does what is right is acceptable to him.”
Paul, who never met Jesus during his earthly lifetime, spent his life traveling around the Mediterranean world telling people from many different nations that Jesus is Lord of all and that Jesus is risen. And Paul understood what Christ’s resurrection means for us. Paul saw the connection between that first garden where the relationship between God and humanity was broken and that other garden where Magdalene encountered the Risen Christ. Paul understood the awesomely Good News of what Christ’s resurrection means for all of us. Paul writes to the Corinthians, “for as all die in Adam, so all will be made alive in Christ.”
Recognizing that Jesus has opened the way for all of us, Paul and Peter and so many others were willing – and are willing – to give away their lives sharing this Good News with the world.
And thanks to all of those women and men who gave away their lives sharing the Good News of Christ, here we are today – here we are, the Church remembering this greatest saving act of God, the raising of Jesus Christ from the dead.
But, you know, as much as the Church has changed over the past two thousand years, at our core, we’re still right there with Mary Magdalene in the garden.
At our core, you and I – the Church – we’re still right there with Mary Magdalene in the garden, encountering the Resurrected Christ. In very special ways we encounter the Resurrected Christ in the water of baptism and we encounter the Resurrected Christ in the bread and wine we receive at the Lord’s Table.
At our core, you and I – the Church – we’re still right there with Mary Magdalene in the garden. We encounter the Resurrected Christ in Scripture and, who knows, maybe even in the sermon. We encounter the Resurrected Christ in the hymns and the prayers. We encounter the Resurrected Christ when we receive forgiveness of our sins and exchange a sign of peace with our brothers and sisters.
You and I – the Church – encounter the Resurrected Christ when we become the Body of Christ in the world – raising large sums of money for Haiti, dropping a can of food into the barrel, visiting the sick and lonely, ladling soup into the bowls of hungry people, sharing in one another’s joys and sorrows.
At our core, you and I – the Church – we’re still right there with Mary Magdalene in the garden. We’re in the garden – the place where God gives us all that we need. We’re in the garden, where Christ really is the gardener, caring for us, tending to us, praying alongside of us. We’re in the garden - where God gives us rich soil and fertile plants. We’re in the garden – where God gives us abundant rainfall and plentiful sunshine. We’re in the garden – the place where God gives us all that we need and gives us the freedom and the skill to feed and bless one another.
At our core, you and I – the Church – we’re still right there with Mary Magdalene in the garden. We’re in the garden – the place where God searches for us, wanting to be in relationship with us. We’re in the garden – the place where we discover that nothing – nothing - not even death – can extinguish the light of Christ.
We’re still right there with Mary Magdalene in the garden – surprised, tearful, and overjoyed. We’re in the garden – encountering the Resurrected Christ.
Alleluia!
April 4, 2010
Sunday of the Resurrection: Easter Day
Acts 10:34-43
Psalm 118:1-2, 14-24
1 Corinthians 15:19-26
John 20:1-18
In the Garden
Alleluia! Christ is risen! The Lord is risen indeed! Alleluia!
I’m not sure why, but for some reason last night at the Great Vigil of Easter it felt especially good to finally say and sing “Alleluia!”
Maybe because this weekend the weather has been so beautiful, more than ever it seemed to me that there was a real disconnect between what was going on in church and what was going on in the world.
On Good Friday, while the world was outside enjoying the radiant sunshine and warm breezes, here in church we were remembering the betrayal of Jesus in a garden, we were remembering the cries of the crowd calling for his crucifixion; we were remembering his death on the cross and his burial in brand-new tomb.
And Holy Saturday was a disorienting day, too. Again it was beautiful outside. But the Church was in a strange place, somewhere between death and life. In the beautiful morning a handful of us gathered for the simple Holy Saturday service. There was no communion, of course, highlighting the absence of the executed messiah.
But then there were the first stirrings of life here in church. The altar guild arrived and began the remarkable transformation of the bare church into this dazzling display of life and color.
It’s a wonderful thing to see, but by necessity we were getting ahead of ourselves.
So, as always, the Great Vigil of Easter began with the lights off – the absence of light bringing us right back to Good Friday, bringing us right back to the death of Jesus on the Cross, bringing us right back to the tomb.
Maybe in the gloom of the shadowy church we remembered what had gotten us into this mess. Maybe we remembered how because of sin and selfishness and betrayal, human beings – we – had broken our relationship with God. Maybe in the gloom of the shadowy church we remembered the story of that first garden when man and woman hid from God who right from the start was seeking them out, wanting to walk in love with humanity.
Maybe in the gloom of the shadowy church we remembered Good Friday. Maybe we remembered how in Jesus God had come and lived among us. Maybe we remembered how Jesus taught and healed and reached out to the poor and the oppressed.
Maybe in the gloom we remembered all that bad history between God and humanity.
But then in the midst of the gloom of the shadowy church, the Paschal Candle was lighted - symbolizing the resurrection, symbolizing that God is more powerful than death. The Paschal Candle was lighted, symbolizing that nothing can extinguish the light of Christ.
This is the Good News! And the only correct response to this joyous good news is to praise God. So in the service last night we read once again the stories of God’s saving acts. The prayer book offers nine options but requires only two. And the prayer book requires that the story of Israel’s deliverance at the Red Sea must be read. When all hope seemed to be lost, God always manages to turn death into life. We look back at these stories of salvation and give praise to God..
But those great acts of God recorded in the Old Testament are a prologue to God’s greatest act of all – the Resurrection of Jesus Christ.
Genesis tells us that creation began in a garden. Genesis also tells us that the relationship between God and humanity was broken in a garden. The Evangelist John tells us that Jesus was betrayed in a garden. And as we heard just a few minutes ago, the Evangelist John also tells us that the new creation begins in a garden. The healing of the broken relationship between God and humanity begins in a garden.
But, that’s not all. After Mary Magdalene encountered the resurrected Christ – after first mistaking him for a gardener – she went to the disciples and announced, “I have seen the Lord.” Magdalene’s encounter with the Resurrected Christ and her willingness to share this joyous good news marks the beginning of the Christian community. The Christian community began right there in that garden. Later, at the end of the Great Fifty Days of Easter, on Pentecost, the Christian community received the gift of the Holy Spirit and became the Church.
Over time the Church’s understanding of its identity and mission changed and deepened. As we heard in the lesson from the Acts of the Apostles, the Church came to understand that Jesus is the messiah for the whole world. So Peter can say to the gentiles, “I truly understand that God shows no partiality, but in every nation anyone who fears him and does what is right is acceptable to him.”
Paul, who never met Jesus during his earthly lifetime, spent his life traveling around the Mediterranean world telling people from many different nations that Jesus is Lord of all and that Jesus is risen. And Paul understood what Christ’s resurrection means for us. Paul saw the connection between that first garden where the relationship between God and humanity was broken and that other garden where Magdalene encountered the Risen Christ. Paul understood the awesomely Good News of what Christ’s resurrection means for all of us. Paul writes to the Corinthians, “for as all die in Adam, so all will be made alive in Christ.”
Recognizing that Jesus has opened the way for all of us, Paul and Peter and so many others were willing – and are willing – to give away their lives sharing this Good News with the world.
And thanks to all of those women and men who gave away their lives sharing the Good News of Christ, here we are today – here we are, the Church remembering this greatest saving act of God, the raising of Jesus Christ from the dead.
But, you know, as much as the Church has changed over the past two thousand years, at our core, we’re still right there with Mary Magdalene in the garden.
At our core, you and I – the Church – we’re still right there with Mary Magdalene in the garden, encountering the Resurrected Christ. In very special ways we encounter the Resurrected Christ in the water of baptism and we encounter the Resurrected Christ in the bread and wine we receive at the Lord’s Table.
At our core, you and I – the Church – we’re still right there with Mary Magdalene in the garden. We encounter the Resurrected Christ in Scripture and, who knows, maybe even in the sermon. We encounter the Resurrected Christ in the hymns and the prayers. We encounter the Resurrected Christ when we receive forgiveness of our sins and exchange a sign of peace with our brothers and sisters.
You and I – the Church – encounter the Resurrected Christ when we become the Body of Christ in the world – raising large sums of money for Haiti, dropping a can of food into the barrel, visiting the sick and lonely, ladling soup into the bowls of hungry people, sharing in one another’s joys and sorrows.
At our core, you and I – the Church – we’re still right there with Mary Magdalene in the garden. We’re in the garden – the place where God gives us all that we need. We’re in the garden, where Christ really is the gardener, caring for us, tending to us, praying alongside of us. We’re in the garden - where God gives us rich soil and fertile plants. We’re in the garden – where God gives us abundant rainfall and plentiful sunshine. We’re in the garden – the place where God gives us all that we need and gives us the freedom and the skill to feed and bless one another.
At our core, you and I – the Church – we’re still right there with Mary Magdalene in the garden. We’re in the garden – the place where God searches for us, wanting to be in relationship with us. We’re in the garden – the place where we discover that nothing – nothing - not even death – can extinguish the light of Christ.
We’re still right there with Mary Magdalene in the garden – surprised, tearful, and overjoyed. We’re in the garden – encountering the Resurrected Christ.
Alleluia!
Friday, April 02, 2010
The Marginal Messiah
Grace Episcopal Church, Madison NJ
April 2, 2010
Good Friday
Isaiah 52:13-53:12
Hebrews 10:1-25
John 18:1-19:37
The Marginal Messiah
If we didn’t know better, we would think that this is how the story ends. If we didn’t know better we would think that with the brutal death of Jesus on the Cross, the story of God reaching out to humanity had once and for all come to an end.
It’s a story truer than history, a story that began in a garden, a story that began with God seeking out human beings for friendship – God seeking to walk in love with us. But, we know how that worked out. Human beings gave into temptation and chose betrayal instead - and our relationship with God was broken.
The story of the Hebrew Scriptures is the story of God making a deal with God’s people – a covenant that God promises to never break, no matter what. But God wanted more than just a contractual relationship with the people. Over and over God appointed patriarchs and judges and prophets in a relentless but seemingly hopeless attempt to repair our broken relationship with God. And over and over God’s messengers were rejected
And the story of the New Testament is the story of God doing something truly unexpected and mind-blowing in an apparently all-out effort to repair the broken relationship with humanity. God becomes uniquely present in an individual human being, Jesus of Nazareth. When we look at Jesus we see what God is really like.
One of our Eucharistic Prayers captures beautifully Jesus’ life and ministry: “Living among us, Jesus loved us. He broke bread with outcasts and sinners, healed the sick, and proclaimed good news to the poor. He yearned to draw all the world to himself. Yet we were heedless of his call to walk in love.”
“Yet we were heedless of his call to walk in love.” Beautiful language for the very ugly scene we just heard described in John’s Gospel. This was the last of the four gospels, written near the end of the First Century, a couple of generations after the arrest and crucifixion of Jesus. The gospel was written for a community that was now faced with an excruciating choice. For the first few decades after Jesus’ earthly lifetime it had been possible for Jewish believers in Jesus to continue to worship in the synagogue. For those first few decades it was possible to both Jewish and Christian.
But by the end of the First Century both Judaism and Christianity were changing. The Temple in Jerusalem had been destroyed by the Romans, believers in Jesus were increasingly claiming that he was divine, and meanwhile more and more non-Jews were discovering Jesus and seeing him not only as the Jewish messiah but the messiah for the whole world.
And so near the end of the First Century the Jewish followers of Jesus faced a choice. Continue to follow Jesus and cut themselves off from Jewish life or reject Jesus and remain in the faith tradition of their ancestors.
You can imagine just how difficult that choice must have been.
I mention this little history lesson because for most of Christian history parts of the Gospel of John – and most especially the Passion – have been used to justify Christian anti-Semitism.
And so each time we read these scriptures it is necessary to remind ourselves of the context in which they were written. The Jesus movement began as a Jewish movement and the Gospel of John was written by Jews, to Jews and for Jews.
And so the later “Christian” idea that the Jewish people bear collective responsibility for the death of Jesus would have been incomprehensible to the author of the gospel and its first readers and hearers.
However, the author of the gospel and the first readers and hearers of the gospel certainly mourned the tragedy of what happened to Jesus. After God took the risk to reveal God’s Self in Jesus, after all the teaching and the healing and the miracles, we end up once again with God betrayed by humanity in a garden. More than that, we end up with God buried in a garden.
You have to admit that if we were writing an opera or a novel this would be an intensely sad and immensely powerful ending.
If we didn’t know better we’d think this is how the story ends.
But let’s back up and look more closely at these betrayals. It’s easy to explain the temptation that led to the betrayal in the Garden of Eden, isn’t it? You know the story; God says all of this is yours, except for the fruit of this one tree. I remember back in my teaching days, when students were taking exams they would not be allowed to use the bathroom or to get a drink from the water fountain. There were always a few students who would immediately fixate on these reasonable prohibitions – maybe because they wanted to cheat or more likely just because they wanted what was forbidden.
We all know about that kind of temptation, and maybe we know about the betrayal that can come if we give into that kind of temptation.
But why the betrayal of Jesus?
The Gospel of John doesn’t have anything good to say about Judas. He’s described as a thief, as someone who pretends to be interested in the poor. In the end, though, the explanation we’re given for Judas’ betrayal of his Lord is that “Satan entered into him.” Satan the tempter enters Judas and he acts out the old, old story of human beings giving in to temptation and betraying God.
What was the temptation for Judas? Maybe Judas wanted Jesus to be a different kind of messiah. Maybe Judas wanted Jesus to boldly challenge and overthrow the Romans and the Temple Priests and to create his kingdom here and now on earth.
If that’s the case, then the real temptation for Judas was to see the world his way and not the way God sees the world. Maybe Judas’ downfall was remaining too focused on what the world saw as central – the Roman imperial regime and the powerful Jewish priestly class. But, God’s focus is different.
It turns out that when we look to the margins we find the heart of God.
God chose to enter the world on the margins. The priest and scholar John Meier has referred to Jesus as “a marginal Jew.” Jesus was raised in Galilee – an agricultural land given to the humble work of growing of grapes and olives, to fishing and to the herding of sheep. The sophisticated people in Jerusalem saw the Galileans as backward country bumpkins – easy to identify because of their funny accent. The way the world saw it, Jerusalem was the center and Galilee was on the margins.
God enters the world through this marginal Jew with a funny accent, Jesus of Nazareth. Born under circumstances that must have provoked lots of gossip, Jesus spent most of his earthly lifetime on the margins – growing up and beginning his ministry in Galilee, reaching out to the other marginal people, the fishermen, the shepherds, the women, the tax collectors, the blind, the ill. Jesus is the marginal messiah.
When we look to the margins we find the heart of God.
Throughout his earthly ministry, Jesus doesn’t have much to do with those the world considers central. Instead Jesus lifts up those the world dismisses as marginal.
In the Beatitudes Jesus lifts up the poor in spirit, the mourners, the meek, those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, the merciful, the pure in heart, the peacemakers, the persecuted. Jesus says in the kingdom, in God’s way of seeing the world, these are the people who are central. The world dismisses them as marginal, but it’s when we look to the margins that we find the heart of God.
The world sees accumulating wealth and possessions as absolutely central. But when a man who had obeyed the commandments asked Jesus what he must do to inherit eternal life, Jesus told him, “You lack one thing; go, sell what you own, and give the money to the poor, and you will have treasure in heaven; then come, follow me.” Not a common view, to be sure. When we look to the margins we find the heart of God.
The world teaches hate your enemy, hold a grudge, and seek revenge on those who hurt you. And yet just a few weeks ago here in church we once again heard the familiar parable of the Prodigal Son. The way the world sees things, the father in that story should have shut the door in the face of the disgraceful son who had gone off and wasted his inheritance. Instead, when the father spots his lost son approaching in the distance, Jesus tells us, “he was filled with compassion; he ran out and put his arms around him and kissed him.”
The world would have condemned the son as a loser, leaving him to rot at the margins of society. Yet, when we look to the margins we find the heart of God.
In much of the world today, half of humanity is seen as marginal. At best women are at best second-class citizens and at worst women are reduced to handing over control of their lives to fathers and husbands. Yet, two thousand years ago the gospels tell us that Jesus the marginal messiah treated women with great respect and friendship. He engaged in conversation with – and revealed his identity to – the Samaritan woman at the well. When the crowd was willing to stone the woman caught in adultery, Jesus instead challenged the men who would condemn her and offered mercy to the woman.
The sisters Mary and Martha were two of his closest friends and, of course, there was Mary Magdalene. On Sunday once again we will hear the story of Mary Magdalene, the apostle to the apostles. Then as now women were on the margins of society. And over and over, Jesus lifts up what the world dismisses as marginal.
When we look to the margins we find the heart of God.
If God owned a newspaper or a cable news network I believe God would open news bureaus in all the marginal places. There would be news bureaus in Camden; in Port-au-Prince; in Flint, Michigan; in a refugee camp in Sudan; in a small mining town in Appalachia; and maybe even a few blocks away, right here in Madison, where poor people are hidden away, crammed into tiny apartments.
When we look to the margins we find the heart of God.
So, what about us? Let’s face it; living here we are some of the most fortunate people in the world. Does this mean that we buy into what the world considers to be central? Or, although we are fortunate enough to live here, are we willing to look to the margins? Are we willing to even try to see the world how God sees the world? Or do we give into the temptation to just see the world our way?
If we see as central what the world sees as central then just like Judas we fall to temptation and betray Jesus, the marginal messiah.
If we don’t even try to see the world how God sees the world, if we don’t even try to look to the margins, then we fall to temptation and join with Judas in betraying Jesus, the marginal messiah.
“Living among us, Jesus loved us. He broke bread with outcasts and sinners, healed the sick, and proclaimed good news to the poor. He yearned to draw all the world to himself. Yet we were heedless of his call to walk in love.”
If we didn’t know better we would think this is how the story ends. But we know the story doesn’t end at the tomb. We know that God’s not done reaching out to us. We know that God’s not done trying to heal the broken relationship with us. We know on Sunday morning we’ll gather with Mary Magdalene in the garden and make the joyful discovery that Jesus has conquered death.
But for now let’s mourn all the times we’ve looked away from the margins. Let’s mourn all the times we’ve been heedless of Jesus’ call to walk in love. For now, let’s mourn our betrayal of Jesus, the marginal messiah.
April 2, 2010
Good Friday
Isaiah 52:13-53:12
Hebrews 10:1-25
John 18:1-19:37
The Marginal Messiah
If we didn’t know better, we would think that this is how the story ends. If we didn’t know better we would think that with the brutal death of Jesus on the Cross, the story of God reaching out to humanity had once and for all come to an end.
It’s a story truer than history, a story that began in a garden, a story that began with God seeking out human beings for friendship – God seeking to walk in love with us. But, we know how that worked out. Human beings gave into temptation and chose betrayal instead - and our relationship with God was broken.
The story of the Hebrew Scriptures is the story of God making a deal with God’s people – a covenant that God promises to never break, no matter what. But God wanted more than just a contractual relationship with the people. Over and over God appointed patriarchs and judges and prophets in a relentless but seemingly hopeless attempt to repair our broken relationship with God. And over and over God’s messengers were rejected
And the story of the New Testament is the story of God doing something truly unexpected and mind-blowing in an apparently all-out effort to repair the broken relationship with humanity. God becomes uniquely present in an individual human being, Jesus of Nazareth. When we look at Jesus we see what God is really like.
One of our Eucharistic Prayers captures beautifully Jesus’ life and ministry: “Living among us, Jesus loved us. He broke bread with outcasts and sinners, healed the sick, and proclaimed good news to the poor. He yearned to draw all the world to himself. Yet we were heedless of his call to walk in love.”
“Yet we were heedless of his call to walk in love.” Beautiful language for the very ugly scene we just heard described in John’s Gospel. This was the last of the four gospels, written near the end of the First Century, a couple of generations after the arrest and crucifixion of Jesus. The gospel was written for a community that was now faced with an excruciating choice. For the first few decades after Jesus’ earthly lifetime it had been possible for Jewish believers in Jesus to continue to worship in the synagogue. For those first few decades it was possible to both Jewish and Christian.
But by the end of the First Century both Judaism and Christianity were changing. The Temple in Jerusalem had been destroyed by the Romans, believers in Jesus were increasingly claiming that he was divine, and meanwhile more and more non-Jews were discovering Jesus and seeing him not only as the Jewish messiah but the messiah for the whole world.
And so near the end of the First Century the Jewish followers of Jesus faced a choice. Continue to follow Jesus and cut themselves off from Jewish life or reject Jesus and remain in the faith tradition of their ancestors.
You can imagine just how difficult that choice must have been.
I mention this little history lesson because for most of Christian history parts of the Gospel of John – and most especially the Passion – have been used to justify Christian anti-Semitism.
And so each time we read these scriptures it is necessary to remind ourselves of the context in which they were written. The Jesus movement began as a Jewish movement and the Gospel of John was written by Jews, to Jews and for Jews.
And so the later “Christian” idea that the Jewish people bear collective responsibility for the death of Jesus would have been incomprehensible to the author of the gospel and its first readers and hearers.
However, the author of the gospel and the first readers and hearers of the gospel certainly mourned the tragedy of what happened to Jesus. After God took the risk to reveal God’s Self in Jesus, after all the teaching and the healing and the miracles, we end up once again with God betrayed by humanity in a garden. More than that, we end up with God buried in a garden.
You have to admit that if we were writing an opera or a novel this would be an intensely sad and immensely powerful ending.
If we didn’t know better we’d think this is how the story ends.
But let’s back up and look more closely at these betrayals. It’s easy to explain the temptation that led to the betrayal in the Garden of Eden, isn’t it? You know the story; God says all of this is yours, except for the fruit of this one tree. I remember back in my teaching days, when students were taking exams they would not be allowed to use the bathroom or to get a drink from the water fountain. There were always a few students who would immediately fixate on these reasonable prohibitions – maybe because they wanted to cheat or more likely just because they wanted what was forbidden.
We all know about that kind of temptation, and maybe we know about the betrayal that can come if we give into that kind of temptation.
But why the betrayal of Jesus?
The Gospel of John doesn’t have anything good to say about Judas. He’s described as a thief, as someone who pretends to be interested in the poor. In the end, though, the explanation we’re given for Judas’ betrayal of his Lord is that “Satan entered into him.” Satan the tempter enters Judas and he acts out the old, old story of human beings giving in to temptation and betraying God.
What was the temptation for Judas? Maybe Judas wanted Jesus to be a different kind of messiah. Maybe Judas wanted Jesus to boldly challenge and overthrow the Romans and the Temple Priests and to create his kingdom here and now on earth.
If that’s the case, then the real temptation for Judas was to see the world his way and not the way God sees the world. Maybe Judas’ downfall was remaining too focused on what the world saw as central – the Roman imperial regime and the powerful Jewish priestly class. But, God’s focus is different.
It turns out that when we look to the margins we find the heart of God.
God chose to enter the world on the margins. The priest and scholar John Meier has referred to Jesus as “a marginal Jew.” Jesus was raised in Galilee – an agricultural land given to the humble work of growing of grapes and olives, to fishing and to the herding of sheep. The sophisticated people in Jerusalem saw the Galileans as backward country bumpkins – easy to identify because of their funny accent. The way the world saw it, Jerusalem was the center and Galilee was on the margins.
God enters the world through this marginal Jew with a funny accent, Jesus of Nazareth. Born under circumstances that must have provoked lots of gossip, Jesus spent most of his earthly lifetime on the margins – growing up and beginning his ministry in Galilee, reaching out to the other marginal people, the fishermen, the shepherds, the women, the tax collectors, the blind, the ill. Jesus is the marginal messiah.
When we look to the margins we find the heart of God.
Throughout his earthly ministry, Jesus doesn’t have much to do with those the world considers central. Instead Jesus lifts up those the world dismisses as marginal.
In the Beatitudes Jesus lifts up the poor in spirit, the mourners, the meek, those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, the merciful, the pure in heart, the peacemakers, the persecuted. Jesus says in the kingdom, in God’s way of seeing the world, these are the people who are central. The world dismisses them as marginal, but it’s when we look to the margins that we find the heart of God.
The world sees accumulating wealth and possessions as absolutely central. But when a man who had obeyed the commandments asked Jesus what he must do to inherit eternal life, Jesus told him, “You lack one thing; go, sell what you own, and give the money to the poor, and you will have treasure in heaven; then come, follow me.” Not a common view, to be sure. When we look to the margins we find the heart of God.
The world teaches hate your enemy, hold a grudge, and seek revenge on those who hurt you. And yet just a few weeks ago here in church we once again heard the familiar parable of the Prodigal Son. The way the world sees things, the father in that story should have shut the door in the face of the disgraceful son who had gone off and wasted his inheritance. Instead, when the father spots his lost son approaching in the distance, Jesus tells us, “he was filled with compassion; he ran out and put his arms around him and kissed him.”
The world would have condemned the son as a loser, leaving him to rot at the margins of society. Yet, when we look to the margins we find the heart of God.
In much of the world today, half of humanity is seen as marginal. At best women are at best second-class citizens and at worst women are reduced to handing over control of their lives to fathers and husbands. Yet, two thousand years ago the gospels tell us that Jesus the marginal messiah treated women with great respect and friendship. He engaged in conversation with – and revealed his identity to – the Samaritan woman at the well. When the crowd was willing to stone the woman caught in adultery, Jesus instead challenged the men who would condemn her and offered mercy to the woman.
The sisters Mary and Martha were two of his closest friends and, of course, there was Mary Magdalene. On Sunday once again we will hear the story of Mary Magdalene, the apostle to the apostles. Then as now women were on the margins of society. And over and over, Jesus lifts up what the world dismisses as marginal.
When we look to the margins we find the heart of God.
If God owned a newspaper or a cable news network I believe God would open news bureaus in all the marginal places. There would be news bureaus in Camden; in Port-au-Prince; in Flint, Michigan; in a refugee camp in Sudan; in a small mining town in Appalachia; and maybe even a few blocks away, right here in Madison, where poor people are hidden away, crammed into tiny apartments.
When we look to the margins we find the heart of God.
So, what about us? Let’s face it; living here we are some of the most fortunate people in the world. Does this mean that we buy into what the world considers to be central? Or, although we are fortunate enough to live here, are we willing to look to the margins? Are we willing to even try to see the world how God sees the world? Or do we give into the temptation to just see the world our way?
If we see as central what the world sees as central then just like Judas we fall to temptation and betray Jesus, the marginal messiah.
If we don’t even try to see the world how God sees the world, if we don’t even try to look to the margins, then we fall to temptation and join with Judas in betraying Jesus, the marginal messiah.
“Living among us, Jesus loved us. He broke bread with outcasts and sinners, healed the sick, and proclaimed good news to the poor. He yearned to draw all the world to himself. Yet we were heedless of his call to walk in love.”
If we didn’t know better we would think this is how the story ends. But we know the story doesn’t end at the tomb. We know that God’s not done reaching out to us. We know that God’s not done trying to heal the broken relationship with us. We know on Sunday morning we’ll gather with Mary Magdalene in the garden and make the joyful discovery that Jesus has conquered death.
But for now let’s mourn all the times we’ve looked away from the margins. Let’s mourn all the times we’ve been heedless of Jesus’ call to walk in love. For now, let’s mourn our betrayal of Jesus, the marginal messiah.
Thursday, April 01, 2010
Transformational Leadership
Grace Episcopal Church, Madison NJ
The Messenger
Curate’s Corner
Transformational Leadership
I have mentioned before that I have given a good deal of thought to the subject of leadership. What is effective leadership? Is Christian leadership any different from solid leadership in the secular world? Well, during Lent I had two very different experiences which have helped me to clarify my answers to these big questions.
The first experience was “Beyond the Baptismal Covenant: Lay Leadership for the 21st Century,” a three-part program sponsored by the Diocese of Newark, led by Donald Romanik, president of the Episcopal Church Foundation, and held right here at Grace Church. Mr. Romanik suggested that, although the Episcopal Church has enshrined lay leadership since at least the first General Convention in 1785, for much of the Church’s history the clergy were expected to lead and lay people were encouraged to simply follow. He claimed that the 1979 Book of Common Prayer marked a significant shift in our understanding of church leadership. He pointed to this sentence from the Catechism: “The ministers of the Church are lay persons, bishops, priests, and deacons” (BCP pg. 855). Mr. Romanik argued that over the past thirty years the lay people of the Church have begun to live into their top billing, but now during a time of rapid change we need to go even further and encourage “transformational leadership” among the laity.
These ideas were rattling around my brain when I had my second experience. I was invited to speak at St. Vincent Academy, an all-girls Roman Catholic high school in Newark, where I had taught history in the early and mid-1990s. For the past 35 years during the week before Holy Week the juniors and seniors are sent out to volunteer at schools, hospitals, day care centers and other places providing social services as part of an a remakable program called “Students in Community.” I was invited to speak at the “Sending Forth” on the Friday before they began this adventure in service.
In my talk I reflected back on my time at SVA and used as my theme a quote I first had heard back then and has stuck with me ever since. Marian Wright Edelman, president of the Children’s Defense Fund, once said, “Service is the rent we pay to be living. It is the very purpose of life and not something you do in your spare time.” Isn’t that a great line? I suggested to the students that this truth is what they had been learning at St. Vincent’s. To clinch my case I quoted a portion of the school’s wonderful mission statement:
Saint Vincent Academy inspires students to develop lifelong commitments to Christian service and a capacity for hope, compassionate leadership and the desire to transform the world into a more just and peaceful society.
The pieces all came together! The SVA mission statement elegantly links service, leadership and transformation. When I reflected on this I realized what should have been obvious all along: The only truly transformational leadership is servant leadership. The late Bishop of Atlanta, Bennett J. Sims, once wrote, “Servant leadership defines success as giving, and measures achievement by devotion to serving.” I said to students that not only were they going out to offer service but that they were also to be servant leaders.
Imagine the transformation that would take place if all of us aspired to be servant leaders! Actually, we don’t have to imagine because at Grace Church that transformation is already underway thanks to our many servant leaders. Think of the person who sacrifices a week of vacation to take care of a laundry list of odd jobs that needed doing around church. Think of the person who personally visits all of the organizations who receive outreach money from us. Think of the person who faithfully and quietly reaches out to people who are shut in at home or living in a nursing home. Think of the person who offers his expertise to struggling churches in the diocese. Think of the person who anonymously matches the money raised by our children to help the people of Haiti. All of these people and many more are not just offering service but are also acting as servant leaders.
Finally, especially during Eastertide we should look to the greatest of all servant leaders, Jesus of Nazareth. In his life of love and sacrifice, Jesus models for us true greatness and true leadership through service. Each year during Holy Week at the Compline for Kids service we reenact the foot washing done by Jesus at the Last Supper for his closest followers, the people who would take the lead in carrying his message to the world. Deeper than words, this dramatically humble action taught them - and teaches us - that the ultimate transformational leadership is servant leadership.
The Messenger
Curate’s Corner
Transformational Leadership
I have mentioned before that I have given a good deal of thought to the subject of leadership. What is effective leadership? Is Christian leadership any different from solid leadership in the secular world? Well, during Lent I had two very different experiences which have helped me to clarify my answers to these big questions.
The first experience was “Beyond the Baptismal Covenant: Lay Leadership for the 21st Century,” a three-part program sponsored by the Diocese of Newark, led by Donald Romanik, president of the Episcopal Church Foundation, and held right here at Grace Church. Mr. Romanik suggested that, although the Episcopal Church has enshrined lay leadership since at least the first General Convention in 1785, for much of the Church’s history the clergy were expected to lead and lay people were encouraged to simply follow. He claimed that the 1979 Book of Common Prayer marked a significant shift in our understanding of church leadership. He pointed to this sentence from the Catechism: “The ministers of the Church are lay persons, bishops, priests, and deacons” (BCP pg. 855). Mr. Romanik argued that over the past thirty years the lay people of the Church have begun to live into their top billing, but now during a time of rapid change we need to go even further and encourage “transformational leadership” among the laity.
These ideas were rattling around my brain when I had my second experience. I was invited to speak at St. Vincent Academy, an all-girls Roman Catholic high school in Newark, where I had taught history in the early and mid-1990s. For the past 35 years during the week before Holy Week the juniors and seniors are sent out to volunteer at schools, hospitals, day care centers and other places providing social services as part of an a remakable program called “Students in Community.” I was invited to speak at the “Sending Forth” on the Friday before they began this adventure in service.
In my talk I reflected back on my time at SVA and used as my theme a quote I first had heard back then and has stuck with me ever since. Marian Wright Edelman, president of the Children’s Defense Fund, once said, “Service is the rent we pay to be living. It is the very purpose of life and not something you do in your spare time.” Isn’t that a great line? I suggested to the students that this truth is what they had been learning at St. Vincent’s. To clinch my case I quoted a portion of the school’s wonderful mission statement:
Saint Vincent Academy inspires students to develop lifelong commitments to Christian service and a capacity for hope, compassionate leadership and the desire to transform the world into a more just and peaceful society.
The pieces all came together! The SVA mission statement elegantly links service, leadership and transformation. When I reflected on this I realized what should have been obvious all along: The only truly transformational leadership is servant leadership. The late Bishop of Atlanta, Bennett J. Sims, once wrote, “Servant leadership defines success as giving, and measures achievement by devotion to serving.” I said to students that not only were they going out to offer service but that they were also to be servant leaders.
Imagine the transformation that would take place if all of us aspired to be servant leaders! Actually, we don’t have to imagine because at Grace Church that transformation is already underway thanks to our many servant leaders. Think of the person who sacrifices a week of vacation to take care of a laundry list of odd jobs that needed doing around church. Think of the person who personally visits all of the organizations who receive outreach money from us. Think of the person who faithfully and quietly reaches out to people who are shut in at home or living in a nursing home. Think of the person who offers his expertise to struggling churches in the diocese. Think of the person who anonymously matches the money raised by our children to help the people of Haiti. All of these people and many more are not just offering service but are also acting as servant leaders.
Finally, especially during Eastertide we should look to the greatest of all servant leaders, Jesus of Nazareth. In his life of love and sacrifice, Jesus models for us true greatness and true leadership through service. Each year during Holy Week at the Compline for Kids service we reenact the foot washing done by Jesus at the Last Supper for his closest followers, the people who would take the lead in carrying his message to the world. Deeper than words, this dramatically humble action taught them - and teaches us - that the ultimate transformational leadership is servant leadership.
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