Joyful, Costly Grace

House of Prayer Episcopal Church
Year C: The Third Sunday of Advent
December 17, 2006

Zephaniah 3:14-20
Philippians 4:4-9
Psalm 85
Luke 3:7-18

Joyful, Costly Grace

You know, Advent is kind of a two-sided season. On the one side we spend these four Sundays getting ready for the big celebration of Christmas. And so hopefully in the midst of all the usual holiday busyness we spend some time reflecting on what it means that God so loved the world that He sent us Jesus. But then there’s that other side of Advent when we are supposed to prepare for the Second Coming of Jesus – the last days, the days of judgment. And so hopefully in the midst of all the usual holiday busyness we spend some time reflecting on parts of our life that need some work – the times when have we failed to love God and love our neighbor. That’s why during Advent churches like ours are decorated in purple – the same color we use during Lent.

Now, the way it’s supposed to work is that the first two Sundays of Advent are when we focus on the Second Coming – so they’re more serious and somber. But, the second two Sundays are when we get ready for the joy of Christmas. And today, the third Sunday of Advent, is supposed to be the most joyful – that’s why we break from the purple and use a pink candle.

Of course you all know that when I realized that I would be leaving House of Prayer I didn’t feel very joyful at all. But when Pastor Judy and I decided that I would end my time here today, I thought well at least it’s the third Sunday of Advent – the most joyful Sunday of Advent. So even if we’re not feeling particularly joyful at least I can count on today’s lessons to lift our spirits.

And things started off well didn’t they? Those readings from Zephaniah and Philippians are joyful aren’t they? Paul writes to the Philippians, “Rejoice in the Lord always.” Psalm 85 is one of my favorites with that wonderful line “Mercy and truth have met together; righteousness and peace have kissed each other.” And then we turn to the Gospel and once again we join the crowds going down to the Jordan to be baptized by John.

And John greets us with – “You brood of vipers!” These people who are so eager to be baptized – John calls them snakes! Hey wait a second! What happened to the joyful third Sunday of Advent? I mean, we have the pink candle and everything! Why would the church offer this reading today? It certainly doesn’t sound very joyful to be called a snake!

I mean, it’s not a compliment right? We wouldn’t say, “Oh, Chris is a great guy – he’s a real snake!” No, we call people snakes when they are mean, selfish and sneaky. Snakes probably get a bad rap, but it’s no accident that the devil takes the form of a serpent in the Garden of Eden story. Snakes are slithering, slinky and scary. It’s just not very nice to call someone a snake.

Especially these people going down to the Jordan – they seem to be doing the right thing. I mean, they are going to John to be baptized – it’s not like they’ve gone to make fun of him or to hurt him. It doesn’t seem very polite for John to welcome these people by calling them “a brood of vipers” – a bunch of snakes. It sure doesn’t seem like a good way to grow your church! Could you imagine if we welcomed people here to House of Prayer by calling them snakes? During the announcements we could have them stand up, tell us their names, and then we’d all shout – you brood of vipers!”

But, despite the insults, people keep coming to John to hear him preach and to be baptized by him in the Jordan. So what’s John up to? Well, he knows these people. He knows that they think all they have to do is get dunked in the Jordan and everything will be all right between them and God. These people think that just because they are Jews – sons and daughters of Abraham – then they are all set. John rejects all those assumptions and warns them - and us - that faithfulness to God is not so easy – it’s not about getting a splash of water or belonging to a certain group of people. John tells them - and tells us - that faithfulness to God requires us to repent and to sacrifice. Really John is saying we need to change our ways. Why? Because when we repent and sacrifice we open our hearts and allow God to transform us. Not easy, but definitely worth it.

You know, I’m reminded of my time as a high school teacher. At the start of the school year every once and a while a kid would let me know how happy he was that he got a teacher we’ll call “Mr. Smith” - who everyone knew was very easy. Probably hoping to get me to react, the student would say something like, “It’s great, Mr. Murphy. In Mr. Smith’s class we don’t have to read the textbook or have tests and quizzes. We just get to talk about politics and sports. He’s so cool!” I would nod and smile and say something like, “Good for you – sounds like you’ve got it made.” Then a few months would go by and I’d see that same kid and I’d ask, “Hey, how’s it going? Are you still enjoying Mr. Smith’s class?” And very often the student would put on kind of a half smile and admit that, although Mr. Smith was a great guy and all, he did kind of miss the reading and the quizzes.

I guess this actually was a pretty good learning experience for kids like that. Because in school as in all of life it’s only through challenge and sacrifice and, yes, some suffering that we are able to grow and move toward fulfilling our potential. It’s only through challenge and sacrifice that we are transformed. Not easy, but definitely worth it.

So John warns the crowd and warns us. If we’re serious about being faithful to God, it’s going to cost us. If we’re serious about being faithful to God, we’ll have to give away that second coat. If we’re serious about being faithful to God it’s going to cost us.

Maybe some of you have heard of Dietrich Bonhoeffer. He was a German pastor, theologian and martyr who was actually very much influenced by the time he spent in the 1930s studying at Union Seminary in New York. While he was in New York on Sundays he would visit some of the black churches in Harlem, most especially Abyssinian Baptist Church. There he fell in love with the Spirituals and he was moved by preachers who knew and preached that faithfulness to God came at a cost.

Later Bonhoeffer wrote a wonderful book called The Cost of Discipleship. In it he wrote about what he called cheap grace and costly grace. He writes that cheap grace is “grace without discipleship, grace without the cross, grace without Jesus Christ.” Bonhoeffer doesn’t come right out and say it, but cheap grace is no grace at all.

For Dietrich Bonhoeffer and John the Baptist – and I believe for all of us – the only real grace is costly grace. Bonhoeffer writes that costly grace is “costly because it calls us to follow, and it is grace because it calls us to follow Jesus Christ. It is costly because it costs a man his life, and it is grace because it gives a man the only true life. Above all, it is costly because it cost God the life of his Son.” For Dietrich Bonhoeffer and John the Baptist – two men who gave their lives for the truth - the only real grace is costly grace. And for us, too, as followers of Jesus Christ, the only real grace is costly grace.

In a real way I know that this morning I am what they call “preaching to the choir.” If ever there was a church that knew about costly grace, it’s this beautiful House of Prayer. Over the past year and a half as I have gotten to know you – to know this place – time and again I have been deeply moved by the many sacrifices that you have made to keep this church going. I have been inspired by the generosity and genuine care that you show each other week after week, year after year. I am sure, like my high school student, there have been many times when you wished just for once it could be easy – that it didn’t have to always be such a struggle. I am sure that like those people who stood before John the Baptist there have been times when you thought that you were entitled to have this church and shouldn’t have to work so hard at it. But if it were easy I’m not sure the Circle of Prayer would be quite so powerful. If it were easy, I’m not sure this church would be as special as it is - and be so difficult for me to leave.

Like John the Baptist and Dietrich Bonhoeffer we know that there is only one way. We know the only real grace is costly grace. We know there is no Christmas without Advent. We know there is no forgiveness without repentance, no love without sacrifice, no life without suffering. And as I’ve said before from this pulpit, if we ever forget that the living God is a suffering God – here at House of Prayer there’s a powerful reminder hanging right over the altar.

You know, it’s interesting that John chose to call those people snakes. I’m sure John was trying to insult them – or at least to get their attention. But although they are slithery and slinky and scary, snakes also have the amazing ability to shed their skin all in one piece. They shed their skin to get rid of parasites – they shed their skin to stay alive. Although in our tradition snakes have been mostly associated with evil, other cultures have seen the snake – with its ability to be transformed by shedding its skin - as a powerful symbol of renewal and resurrection.

And really, isn’t that what John the Baptist was trying to teach the crowds? Isn’t Baptism all about renewal and resurrection? Isn’t our Christian faith all about renewal and resurrection? And isn’t House of Prayer all about renewal and resurrection? Look around – God is faithful. All the hard work, all the sacrifice and suffering has brought House of Prayer to this time of renewal and resurrection. We can taste and see the goodness of the Lord. Together, thanks be to God, we snakes are shedding our skin and beginning a new life!

What do you know? This Third Sunday of Advent is joyful after all.

Amen.

God is Present, God is Faithful, God Wins

House of Prayer Episcopal Church
November 19, 2006
Year B: BCP Proper 28
Daniel 12: 1-13
Hebrews 10: 31-39
Mark 13: 14-23
Psalm 16

God is Present, God is Faithful, God Wins

Well, I’m glad that I heard Pastor Judy’s sermon last week before I sat down and read our readings for today. If you were here last week, you may remember that she shared with us that her favorite thing about the Bible was its honesty. The writers of Scripture don’t try to cover up the bad parts of the story. The writers of Scripture don’t paint a pretty picture so that we’ll feel better about ourselves and the world. Judaism and Christianity don’t pretend that somehow if we sign up for these religions we will be spared life’s pain and sorrow. The Bible is not a self-help book that promises to give us a pain-free life. In fact, very often Scripture warns that if you answer God’s call things are going to get tough. Sometimes very tough. And so we read passages like the ones we heard today and we wonder, where’s this “Good News” I’ve heard so much about? Well, here’s the Good News in a nutshell: although life can be very hard and painful the whole message of Scripture from Genesis to Revelation can be summed up in word – Emmanuel. God with us. Especially when everything is falling apart, especially when the worst thing we could imagine has happened, the Bible insists that God is with us, that God is always faithful, and in the end God wins.

But, it’s true, at first glance today’s readings paint a pretty grim picture. The prophet Daniel is writing during a very bleak period in Jewish history – the Second Century BC. Israel was under the rule of a man who hated the Jews and put many of them to death. Worst of all, he desecrated the Temple in Jerusalem – for Jews, the most sacred place on earth. A pagan altar was built in the Temple and a pig was sacrificed on it. You can imagine how horrifying this was to the Jewish people. We can imagine how they lost hope. We can imagine them asking, why doesn’t God protect us? Why does God allow us to suffer? Everything seemed to be falling apart. The worst thing they could imagine has happened. And yet, in the midst of all this pain, suffering and fear, Daniel hears God say that God will be faithful to God’s people. The worst thing possible has happened and yet Daniel insists that God is present, God is faithful, and God wins.

The writer of our second lesson, from the Epistle to the Hebrews, is brutally honest. He writes, “It is a fearful thing to fall into the hands of the living God.” Written a couple of generations after the time of Christ, the writer of Hebrews is trying to encourage Christians to remain faithful even though things are obviously not going well. He writes, “…you endured a hard struggle with sufferings, sometimes being publicly exposed to abuse and persecution.” It’s easy to imagine these persecuted early Christians having second thoughts – you know, maybe it would be better to go back to Judaism or back to worshiping the emperor. Maybe this whole Jesus thing was a big mistake – or maybe it was a fraud. Why doesn’t God protect us? Why does God allow us to suffer? Everything seemed to be falling apart. The worst thing they could have imagined has happened. Faced with all this suffering and all these questions, the author of the Epistle to the Hebrews insists, “But we are not among those who shrink back and so are lost, but among those who have faith and so are saved.” God is present, God is faithful, God wins.

And finally we come to Jesus. Today’s gospel lesson is taken from the thirteenth chapter of Mark, which is sometimes called the “Little Apocalypse.” Jesus is predicting the destruction of the Temple in Jerusalem – which did of course happen when the Romans burned it down in the year 70. Jesus describes a chaotic, terrifying situation –he feels sorry in particular for pregnant women at this time. Jesus is predicting the destruction of the holiest place on earth – the collapse of Jewish civilization - and warns that his followers will not escape the suffering. But, if you read all of Mark 13 what you discover is that while Jesus admits that things are going to get tough – there will be a great deal of suffering and loss – yet he calls on his followers through all their pain and fear to be faithful because God is present, God is faithful and God wins.

These are not easy things to talk about or to preach about. We already know that life can be very hard, painful and sad. So what do these old stories of suffering mean for us here at House of Prayer near the end of this bloody and painful year of 2006? As we look out at the world what do we see?

Well of course we see an ongoing war in Iraq that has killed and maimed thousands and thousands of servicemen and women and has brought the Iraqi people from the brutality of Saddam Hussein to the terror of chaos. And despite what some say, there seems to be no easy way to end the bloodshed. To commemorate Veterans Day last Saturday afternoon, for about six hours, the names of all the servicemen and women who have died in Iraq and Afghanistan – nearly 4000 people – were read aloud at Grace Church in Nutley. I read for about twenty minutes and it was almost unbearable – the only way to get through it was to focus on just reading the names and not thinking that there are real people behind those words. Not thinking that these were people who loved and were loved. Not thinking that these were people who had hopes and dreams and now all of that was lost.

And like our Jewish and Christian ancestors we ask: Why didn’t God protect them? Why does God allow us to suffer?

And closer to home, here at House of Prayer, we’ve had our share of sadness and suffering this year. Some of us have faced or are facing serious illness. Some of us have cared for someone who is sick. Some of us have lost a loved one. Things are not turning out the way we expected, the way we hoped - we are losing our leader and wonder what the future will bring. These old buildings have served long and well, but, although they’re shinier this morning, they are showing their age. Where will we find the money, the time, the energy to do all the things that need to be done?

Like our Jewish and Christian ancestors we ask: Why doesn’t God protect us? Why does God allow us to suffer?

If we are true to our faith we have to admit there are no easy answers to these questions. A year and a half ago I spent the summer working as a chaplain at Christ Hospital. It was, as you might guess, a very powerful, painful and challenging experience. Very often (every day, really) I met people – both patients and their families – whose whole lives had been thrown into total chaos by accidents and illness. Very often people would say something like, “I never thought something like this could happen to me.” “I always thought things would stay the way they had always been.” I was glad that my job as chaplain was to listen, ask questions, but not to offer answers. After all, what answers could I offer anyway? What do I know?

I discovered as I talked to these suffering people that very often they had no connection to a faith community. Many of them had stopped going to church long ago for all the usual reasons. But, now, faced with a catastrophe, they were lost – they often felt very alone, asking questions like “Why me?” If they thought about it all, God seemed very remote and unreal.

This was so tragic because I truly believe that we mostly experience God in community. Sure, sometimes we can feel God’s presence in our personal prayer, but that is no substitute for being here together. The message of today’s readings – the message of the entire Bible is Emmanuel – God with us. But that’s no promise that we’ll be free of suffering – just the opposite really. So we are called to stick together – to support one another, to bear one another’s burdens, to pray for one another, to love one another. We find God in our community as we gather week after week. We find God in our prayer circle and our fellowship. We find God in coming together to clean this place up! We find God in being there for one another in good times and bad. And, of course, we find God at this holy table.

The only thing I have ever experienced that comes close to the catastrophes described in today’s readings took place on September 11, 2001. The night before I had actually taken my first class at the seminary, so I began that crisp, clear day with great excitement and hope for the future. Maybe I had found what I was supposed to do with my life. And then the world came crashing down as my students and I watched through our classroom window as those horrible events unfolded a mile away.

Like our Jewish and Christian ancestors we asked: Why doesn’t God protect us? Why does God allow us to suffer?

In those first few chaotic hours, wondering if this was just the beginning of a series of attacks, I tried to get in touch with Sue who was working in Manhattan at the time. I checked our answering machine and in the midst of frantic calls from Sue’s family there was a message from Dave Hamilton, the rector of our church. He wanted to make sure we were OK and told us that there was going to be a Eucharist at church that night.

It took hours for Sue to get back to New Jersey. Exhausted and stunned and afraid we made our way to church on that eerily quiet night. In the face of yet another catastrophe, the Christian community came together once again to tell our story - the story of Jesus – the crucified and risen Lord. The story of Emmanuel – God with us.

In his homily Dave said something that I’ve never forgotten and that helped get me through those difficult days. He quoted the famous Yale chaplain William Sloane Coffin. William Sloan Coffin gave a sermon after the death of his son in a drunken driving accident. Faced with this unbearable loss and asking the same questions that we and our ancestors have asked, William Sloane Coffin said, God's heart was the first of all our hearts to break.

“God’s heart was the first of all our hearts to break.”

In that little community in Jersey City we got no easy answers but we were reminded of God’s loving presence among us. We were reminded that even when we face the unexpected, when life become chaotic and terrifying, even when we face unbearable loss, God is fully present among us – suffering with us and pouring out grace upon us. In our faith there is no promise of a painless life. But, in the Cross we know that God is a suffering God. And in the empty tomb we know our story ends not in suffering and death but in resurrection and new life.

So let us today, in the midst of our fears and suffering, give thanks to God for the gift of community – for the gift of this community – for this House of Prayer – where in good times and bad - we truly best know Emmanuel – God with us. God is present, God is faithful – and God wins.

Amen.

Called to Lead, Called to Serve

House of Prayer Episcopal Church
September 24, 2006

Year B: Proper 20
Wisdom 1:16-2:1-22
James 3:16-4:6
Mark 9:30-37
Psalm 54

Called to Lead, Called to Serve

I wonder what it’s like to be Mark Beckwith this morning. Yesterday as many of you know he was elected the next bishop of Newark on the third ballot. It all happened so surprisingly fast that I missed it – by the time I got to the convention at lunch time we already had a new bishop-elect.

Well, this morning I imagine Mark Beckwith standing among his congregation up in Worcester, Massachusetts and reading today’s gospel. He must be feeling a mix of emotions – excitement, fear, joy and sadness. A huge weight of responsibility has just been placed on his shoulders. But, whatever mix of emotions he’s feeling, the fact is he has been called to be a leader, he has been called to be our leader. So it must be something the day after the election to stand among your people and read Jesus’ surprising, upside-down words to the bickering disciples. Jesus says, “Whoever wants to be first must be last of all and servant of all.” Ah. So, congratulations Bishop-elect Beckwith – sure you get the fancy title, the pointy hat, the purple shirt, and all the rest – but today Jesus is reminding this new bishop that since he is called to lead he is called to be servant of all. Poor guy!

But wait a second! You know, actually Jesus isn’t only talking to Mark Beckwith this morning – Jesus isn’t even only talking to bishops or priests this morning. No, Jesus is talking to all of us. Jesus is calling all of us, each in our own special way, to lead. Jesus is calling each of us, each in our own special way, to serve. In our baptism we all have accepted the challenge of leadership and service. Let me remind you of a couple of the questions in the Baptismal Covenant:
* Will you proclaim by word and example the Good News of God in Christ?
* Will you seek and serve Christ in all persons, loving your neighbor as yourself?
* Will you strive for justice and peace among all people, and respect the dignity of every human being?

If we answered “I will, with God’s help” to these questions (and I know we did!) then we – all of us – not just bishops and priests and wardens - have accepted the call to lead and to serve.

In today’s reading from Mark’s Gospel I love that the disciples are once again bickering – really rings true, doesn’t it? And what are they arguing about? Of course -who is going to be number one, who is going to have power. Typical. But when we take a closer look at this story we see that Mark has the disciples bickering right after Jesus has revealed something awesome and amazing and frightening. Jesus has predicted his own betrayal, death and resurrection. No surprise, the disciples don’t understand what Jesus is saying and they are afraid. But rather than ask Jesus to explain his amazing prediction, they change the subject to something much more manageable – they argue about who’s going to be in charge – who will be the greatest.

So here Jesus has revealed the heart of his mission to his closest friends. But rather than opening themselves up to this overwhelming reality, the disciples close back in on themselves.

Has this ever happened to you? Have you ever felt that it’s all too much to handle? That there’s too much going on? Maybe you’re trying to juggle two jobs? Maybe you can’t find a job? Maybe you have a new opportunity but you’re not sure if you’re up to the challenge? Maybe the kids are driving you nuts? Or are your parents driving you nuts? Maybe you or someone you care about is facing illness? Like the disciples have you been confronted with something big and challenging but rather than opening yourself up to it have you closed up within yourself?

I know that I have been going through something like that lately. I’ll even admit this in front of a member of the Commission on Ministry. As many of you know, the end of the long road to ordination is almost in sight for me. But lately I’ve been having a hard time being enthusiastic about the seminary and even the church. I find that I’m tired of all the fighting about sexuality and power. I’m tired of people being totally sure they are right and that God is on their side. I’m tired of the seminary and the often tense and intense environment over there. And, of course, like you I’ve been very sad that Pastor Judy, and probably I, will be leaving House of Prayer. So, anyway, although I had a great summer I’ve pretty quickly gotten myself into very negative rut. Could just be senioritis, but I think it’s more than that. The expression that Sue has heard me say too often, and even my parents have heard, is “I’m just sick of it.”

Just this Friday I hit a low point. In the morning we had a class meeting over at the seminary about General Ordination Exams and beginning to look for jobs. Oh, boy – more stuff to worry about - really not what I felt like talking about. I went home and instead of working on this sermon as I planned, I just sort of moped around feeling anxious and just plain old unhappy.

Finally when Sue got home we talked about my gloomy mood. And as we talked I realized that I had turned in on myself. Faced with some big, exciting, but frightening changes I forgot what it’s all about and why I had gotten myself – or God had gotten me – into this in the first place. And as I read and re-read today’s gospel I came to understand that Jesus is calling all of us to lead by serving. Jesus is calling all of us to set aside our petty bickering. Jesus is calling all of us to move beyond ourselves, move beyond our fears, beyond our wants and open ourselves up to the full life that God dreams for us. Jesus is just up ahead of us on the road – calling to each of us, saying “Come on, I have something wonderful to tell you – you are called to lead – you are called to serve.”

And so the disciples were called to move beyond their own fears and to lead and serve. And so we are called to move beyond our fears and to lead and serve.

During the bishop election there were two phrases from the candidates that stuck in my head. The candidate from Florida, Chip Stokes, talked about how he would challenge our churches to be excellent. I know some people were put off by that, maybe even here at what some of you call the “slightly less than perfect church.” But I thought a lot about what he said and I wondered what exactly it would mean to be an excellent church. Stokes talked about things like having a physical plant that was in tip-top shape, a full program of activities, and so on. Fair enough. But the more I thought about it, I decided that excellence for a church can’t just be the same as excellence in a school or the business world. Excellence for a church can’t just be the bottom line – although of course finances are important. And anyway in today’s gospel Jesus makes it very clear that his standards are not the standards of the world.

Which brings me to the other phrase that has stuck in my head these past few weeks. When asked to define evangelism, our next bishop, Mark Beckwith, quoted a 19th Century missionary who said “an evangelist is one beggar telling another beggar where the bread is.”

A powerful image. And it seems to me a great definition of what it means to be an excellent church and to be true Christian leaders and servers. As I said to Pastor Judy a couple of weeks ago, House of Prayer is excellent in ways that really matter – yes, sure, the buildings may still need some work, but here we genuinely care for our sisters and brothers. Anyone who was here last week and stood in our Circle of Prayer knows the power of that love and care. We are a real Christian family.

And also last week in the midst of sadness and fear we came together for the International Festival. Maybe the numbers weren’t quite what we might have hoped, but once again this little church came together to celebrate and to enjoy each other’s company. At one point as the music was blaring and lots of kids were running around, Deacon Kathleen leaned over to me and said “This is a real family church!”

And so it is. House of Prayer is a family church and it is an excellent church. But our new bishop’s words still ring in my ears – an evangelist is one beggar telling another beggar where the bread is.”

So my fellow beggars, we are called to do some work. We are called to move out beyond ourselves and to serve the world beyond those doors. We are called to set aside our own fears and anxieties and reach out for the full life that God has promised us. In our baptism we Christians are all called to be leaders - we are all called to be great - we are all called to be excellent. We are called to serve.

These next few important months maybe we can take some time and reflect on how we at House of Prayer can reach out even better to the beggars of every kind who are just outside those doors in Newark and beyond. We know where the bread is – it’s right here – it’s here with us – it’s in the Word of God, it’s in our prayer circle and especially at our altar. We know where the bread is – it’s in our care and love for one another. We know where the bread is – it’s playing on the swings out in the church yard, enjoying good food and dancing (or trying to dance) to a reggae beat. Oh, we know where the bread is, all right. The question is - will we let the other beggars know?

As we face the future we may feel fear and anxiety. But today’s gospel reminds us that Jesus is on the road with us every step of the way. He’s calling us to lead; he’s calling us to serve. Jesus is on the road just up ahead of us saying, “Come on, I have something wonderful to tell you – you are called to lead, you are called to serve.”

Transfiguration and Transformation

House of Prayer Episcopal Church
Year B: The Feast of the Transfiguration
August 6, 2006

Exodus 34: 29-35
2 Peter 1: 13-25
Luke 9: 28-36
Psalm 99

Transfiguration and Transformation

Well, sisters and brothers, it’s always nice to come home to House of Prayer! And it’s especially nice to be here for Transfiguration, one of the major feasts of the church. I’m sure that most of us have something really special planned for this afternoon – maybe a traditional Transfiguration dinner and then later we’ll exchange Transfiguration gifts? I see Stella is here, back from Florida. I know she has a big Transfiguration party tonight. I wasn’t invited, though. I guess it must be “out of sight out of mind…” I’m sorry that this year I didn’t get around to sending out Transfiguration cards…you know, it’s been kind of busy…Hmm…you’re looking at me kind of funny. Don’t tell me you don’t have special Transfiguration customs here at House of Prayer!? Oh boy, I’ll have to talk about this with Pastor Judy when she returns!

I’m just kidding, of course. Although it really is one of the most important feasts of the church - maybe because for us it falls in the summer - the truth is that Transfiguration doesn’t get a whole lot of attention. And that’s too bad. Transfiguration is about what happens to Jesus on the mountain. But, Transfiguration is also about what happens to Peter. Transfiguration is also about what happens to us. Peter opens his heart to the power of God in Jesus Christ and he is transformed. And if we open our hearts to God’s power we can be transformed too.

Besides the fact that it’s summertime, I suspect there’s a deeper more troubling reason that we ignore Transfiguration. The scene that Luke depicts in today’s gospel lesson is really mysterious and strange. It’s very hard to explain exactly what’s happening here. We have the familiar scene of Jesus going off to the mountain to pray and Peter and some of the other disciples struggling to stay awake. So far, so good. But then Jesus is mysteriously transformed and then Moses and Elijah appear “in glory” talking to Jesus. And then, as if this wasn’t enough for one night, the voice of God commands, “This is my Son, my Chosen; listen to him!” Wow! This is a lot to take in and to try to make sense of. Listening to Luke’s account I think we can hear him straining to come up with the words to somehow describe this awesome experience. And so, since the Transfiguration story is so mysterious and supernatural, we’re more than happy to let it pass by and not spend too much time trying to figure out what all this might mean for us.

And you know what, we can just skip over the Transfiguration… unless of course you’re asked to preach on the Transfiguration! So as I thought about and prayed about the Transfiguration, first of all I realized I was very relieved that Peter was there and that we have a record of what he had to say about all of this. I’m always happy when Peter appears in the gospels because so often he’s a really good stand-in for us. Over and over Peter – this great apostle and saint - tries his best but let’s face it much of the time he really just doesn’t get it. So the good news is that there’s hope for us all!

So, anyway, Peter witnesses this amazing event on the mountain and what’s his response to all that he’s seen and heard? I know, let’s build three booths – one for Jesus, one for Moses and one for Elijah. We’ve just had a wonderful, powerful experience – let’s build a shrine, this way we can come back and remember the Transfiguration year after year.

Now I think this is a perfectly reasonable response. I’m a big local history fan and I enjoy reading historical markers that tell me on this spot in this year something important happened. In fact there’s a historical marker right outside on the front of the rectory telling the story of that old building and the 1887 invention of motion picture film upstairs in the attic. Now that’s some important history, but just imagine if we had seen Jesus, Moses and Elijah out on Broad Street! We would definitely want to put some kind of monument to mark the spot. And each year we would come back and remember that amazing experience. “Remember when we saw Jesus on Broad Street? Were you there? Oh sure, I saw him too. Wasn’t that something?” But the truth is, year by year our memory would fade and eventually all of us who experienced this amazing event would be gone. And our monument would just be collecting dust on the side of the road.

So, Peter’s suggestion is perfectly reasonable. He says, “Master, it is good for us to be here; let us make three dwellings, one for you, one for Moses and one for Elijah.” And then Luke adds, “Not knowing what he said.” Peter’s suggestion is reasonable, but unfortunately he just doesn’t get it. At least not yet. The Transfiguration is not about marking the spot where exactly these events took place. The Transfiguration is about Jesus, God’s beloved Son, God’s Chosen One. And the Transfiguration is about the transformation that takes place in us when we open our hearts to the power of God in Jesus Christ. The Transfiguration is about the transformation that takes place when we do what the voice of God says – listen to Jesus! Transfiguration is about something that never fades away.

But because we resist opening our hearts to this transformation in Christ, just like Peter we’re more than happy to move along onto next week’s subject.

But this is a huge mistake. Because if we do give in to fear and just ignore the Transfiguration we’re missing out on who we are really called to be. And unless we are transformed by the power of God in Jesus Christ I believe there can be no meaningful and lasting transformation in our lives and in the world. No transformation in us – no transformation in the world. And I think we can all agree now more than ever the world desperately needs to be transformed. The world needs Jesus and the world needs us!

One of the nice things about today’s lessons is that not only do we get to hear from Peter at the Transfiguration; we also get to hear from Peter near the end of his life in the reading from Second Peter. Now we hear from a wiser Peter who has reflected for many years on what he had experienced with Jesus. I’m sure there were times when he wondered if it had all been a dream. Was that really Moses and Elijah talking with the Lord?

But after all those years of prayer and reflection the voice of old Peter insists that what he saw and heard on that mountain was real. And then he uses a very beautiful expression when he says that we should pay attention to his message “as to a lamp in a dark place.” “As to a lamp in a dark place.” Peter has spent years praying, thinking, reflecting on his experiences with Jesus and the other disciples. And what has happened to him? Peter has been transformed. Peter has grown from being that sincere but bumbling fisherman to being a great Christian leader who now is passing on his wisdom to the next generation.

Transfiguration – the power of God to transform us. And the good news for Peter - and for us - is that we don’t have to “get it”. The most important thing is for us to be open to the power of God working in us and in the world around us. Openness can be hard. It’s easy to close ourselves up. But for Peter and for us that openness to God’s power comes through prayer and simply paying attention. Look at the Transfiguration story again. It’s no accident that all this happens when Jesus has gone to the mountain to pray. And Peter and the other disciples are able to see this amazing scene because they are paying attention – they have stayed awake and they have seen God powerfully at work in the world around them.

Prayer and paying attention – as to a lamp shining in a dark place. It’s really as simple, and as awesome as that. Prayer and paying attention are the beginning of our own transformation into the people God dreams we will be. Prayer and paying attention are the beginning of our transformation into the people who we really are.

And what would our transformation look like? We know the answer to that. Just look around. We experience some of that transformation each week here at House of Prayer. Our transformation would look like – it would be – love. Our transformation takes us from being maybe self-centered, frightened, suspicious, doubtful people into loving people. We become people who love without counting the cost. We can become people who really do see Jesus, Moses and Elijah out on Broad Street! That’s the power of Transfiguration.

Again, think of Peter. This fisherman who doesn’t really “get it” is transformed into a man who gives up everything for Christ. At the end, according to tradition, he gives even his very life for Christ when he is crucified in Rome.

Since this transformation makes us who we really are, we adults ought to pay more attention to young children as our role models in life and in faith. Children who have not yet become hardened and cynical by the world. Here’s one example: Last weekend Sue and I were at a child’s birthday party. One of the kids there was a five year old boy named Thomas. In his young life Thomas has already had his fair share of troubles – his parents have split up he’s had some behavioral problems. Anyway, that afternoon he was happily playing with another five year old boy, a kid he barely knew, named Noah. After a while Thomas came over to his dad and with great seriousness and sincerity said, “I love Noah so much.”

Now I admit that my first thought was to dismiss him: “Oh that’s very cute. But, come on, give me a break, you don’t love Noah – you don’t even know him! You’re too young to even know what love even is!” But this week as I reflected on the Transfiguration I kept going back to that little moment at the party. I came to see that young Thomas’s declaration of love for his new friend Noah was a beautiful glimpse of what our transformed, transfigured lives, can be. His innocent words were a reminder of who we really are and of who God calls us to be. When we are transformed by the power of God in Jesus Christ - we love!

So there you have it. Maybe we should have a Transfiguration party! Happy Transfiguration Day! Let’s set aside our fears and on this summer day let’s celebrate Jesus, God’s Chosen One. Let’s celebrate God’s power to transform us and our world. Today we are reminded that all we need to do is open our hearts, through prayer and paying attention, to God’s presence and power among us. Like Peter we can know Jesus as God’s Chosen One. Like Peter we can be transformed. Like Peter our message of love can be like a lamp shining in a world that has grown very dark. And like a little boy named Thomas we can say to our brothers and sisters, “I love you so much.”

Amen.

Mustard Seed Moments

House of Prayer Episcopal Church
Year B: Proper 6
The Second Sunday after Pentecost
June 18, 2006

Ezekiel 31:1-6, 10-14
2 Corinthians 5:1-10
Mark 4:26-34
Psalm 92

Mustard Seed Moments

Being a city person, sometimes the farming examples in the Bible leave me a little confused and scratching my head. I mean, in Jersey City the closest I ever get to a farm is the produce section at Shop Rite!

But in today’s gospel Jesus describes the Kingdom of God using a farming example that even us city people can understand.

What is the Kingdom of God like? It’s like someone scattering a tiny mustard seed on the ground and miraculously it grows into a plant, ripe for the harvest. It grows into a plant big and sturdy enough to hold a bird’s nest. These tiny seeds eventually provide food and shelter for many.

I think we can understand this seed image because if we think about it we are here in church because we have experienced people planting tiny mustard seeds in our own lives. We have experienced simple acts of kindness and generosity. Acts of faith and hope. Maybe these seeds were planted by our parents. I think the mustard seed parable is especially appropriate for Father’s Day because, at their best, fathers are called to do lots of small but deeply powerful things for their families. My father is a teacher now, but when my sister and I were growing up he had an office job that he hated. Yet, day after day he got up in the morning and forced himself to do something he really didn’t want to do – for us. To the world, this is a simple, little thing, not really worth mentioning – just one man taking care of his family, doing his duty. But of course there’s nothing simple or little about it. Like so many others, through his sacrifice he was planting seeds of love and hope in his family. That’s what the Kingdom of God is like.

You’ll notice that Jesus is not talking about the past or the future. Instead, by using the simple example of a seed, Jesus is reminding us of something amazing and wonderful – truly Good News - we can begin to experience the Kingdom of God here on earth. We can experience the Kingdom of God out in the fields or even right here on the streets of Newark. If we really pay attention, if we are mindful, we can experience the Kingdom of God right here, right now. If we really pay attention, if we open our hearts to the Holy Spirit and plant even the tiniest of seeds we can help to build the Kingdom of God, right here at House of Prayer and right now in June of 2006.

I don’t know about you, but I am relieved that Jesus uses the tiny mustard seed as his example of the Kingdom of God. Anything bigger than a mustard seed would be just too much to handle. You know, since I have been off from school I’ve had some extra time to read the newspaper. I’m sure I don’t need to tell you that in many ways things are not going very well in our cities, our world, and our church. The paper is filled with senseless death and destruction – and not only in faraway places like Iraq and Afghanistan. It’s really overwhelming – way too much to handle. Just this past week in my hometown Jersey City a young man was stabbed and killed right in the middle of Journal Square and a teenage girl hanging out on a cliff drinking beer fell to her death while reaching for her cell phone. What in the world can we do to stop our young people – or people of any age – from putting themselves or others in danger? Let’s face it, we’re just a little church in Newark. What can we in this little church do to stop this terrible waste of precious life? The challenges facing our cities seem overwhelming – way too much to handle.

And then there’s the world itself. Again, I don’t need to tell you that the newspaper is filled with stories of war, famine, corruption, and pollution. Many millions of people around the world and in our own country live in fear of natural disasters. Did you see the devastation in Indonesia after the recent earthquake – and now many of these same people are facing a volcano that is erupting! And, of course, much of our own Gulf Coast still lies in ruins after last year’s storms – and another hurricane season has already begun. The challenges and problems of the world seem overwhelming – way too much to handle. Let’s face it, we’re just a little church in Newark, what can we do?

And, lastly, you may have heard that these days we have a few problems in the Episcopal Church. As many of you know, (and a couple of our young people are experiencing) right now the Episcopal Church is in the middle of its General Convention, trying to find a way to bridge the gap between those who think gay people should be fully welcomed and celebrated by the church and those who believe that by accepting homosexuality the church is turning away from God - rejecting the Bible and two thousand years of Christian teaching. The church is trying to hold together people who say that the Holy Spirit has led us to a new understanding and people who think we have fallen into Satan’s trap. What in the world can we here at House of Prayer do about this? Let’s face it, we’re just a little church in Newark. Really, what can we do? The challenges facing the Episcopal Church seem overwhelming – way too much to handle.

So, have I got you feeling overwhelmed yet? Is there anything we can really do about all these problems? Is there anything we can really do to ease all this suffering? What can we do? Jesus gives us the answer in today’s gospel. Here’s the Good News. Jesus says we are all called to begin small – just a mustard seed – and then we are called to trust that God will take the tiny seed that we plant and grow something that feeds and shelters many. What a relief – we don’t have to do everything. All we need to do is to open our hearts and allow God to work through us. All we need to do is to pay attention, to be mindful, to look for opportunities to plant seeds. We don’t know how God will work with what we have planted – just as the farmer doesn’t know how the seed grows into the shrub. All we Christian “farmers” need to do is to look for what we might call “mustard seed moments” – chances for us to plant seeds and then let God do the rest.

Getting ready for today’s sermon these past few days I have been on the lookout for some of these “mustard seed moments.” I’d like to share a couple with you.

My home parish, St. Paul’s in Jersey City, runs a summer program for kids. I have seen the program in action a few times – I’ve actually tried to do some Bible study with these kids, and believe me they ask some really tough questions! Anyway, it’s a great program – a fun, safe place for city kids in the summer. It’s a bargain, but in reality of course some people in the community can’t afford it. This year a member of the choir – a professional singer who I’ve always thought of as a nice, talented person but not really part of the parish – offered to pay the entire fee for one kid during the summer. That’s over 600 dollars. This was offered quietly and privately from someone who came to church to sing but apparently realizes the Christian life calls us to give of ourselves. It’s a quiet, generous, powerful “mustard seed moment.” And who knows what God will do with this act? How will this child be affected by spending the summer at St. Paul’s? How will others be transformed by this selfless act? What kind of plant will be produced by this tiny mustard seed?

Now someone you know. Of course, Lucye has been organizing an upcoming trip with young people to go down to New Orleans and to help with the rebuilding. I should let her tell the story but last week she and some of her crew went to St. Stephen’s in Millburn. They talked about what they hope to do and then offered the parishioners at St. Stephen’s the chance to write a prayer or a message of hope on the work gloves that they will be using in Louisiana. What a great idea and what a powerful symbol! The people of St. Stephen’s offered not only their prayers but also over 600 dollars for this effort. Mustard seeds are being planted in Millburn, too! Is this trip going to solve the problems of the Gulf Coast? Of course not, but who knows what God is going to do with this work and those prayers? In a real sense, thanks to God, all the mustard seeds we plant today continue to grow throughout eternity in ways that we can hardly imagine.

And then there is the Episcopal Church. Oh boy. I wonder what our young people who are out at General Convention would say to those on all sides of the issues tearing apart the Episcopal Church. What would they say to those who suggest that we cannot pray together? What would they say to those on all sides who say to beloved sisters and brothers in Christ, “We have no need for you.” What would we say? I would say, come to House of Prayer. Set aside your differences and come to church with us. Come as you are – imperfect and broken. Come to our imperfect and broken church and join hands in our circle of prayer. Come kneel with us, and reach out our hands and take this holy bread and wine. (Or grape juice, if you prefer!) I think they might say – and I know I would say – if you think we can’t be a church together, before you walk away come to House of Prayer.

Well, it just so happens that one of our young people at convention actually spoke at one of the hearings. Charles, a “mustard seed” who has grown up in this church, and was nurtured not only by his mom but by so many others here, spoke out in favor of a resolution called “Justice, Respect and a Living Wage.” This resolution challenges the church to support workers’ rights, especially the right to form a union and earn a living wage. Let me quote Charles’ statement from the convention – a real “mustard seed moment”:
“We talk about the great work we do as a church – justice for this and justice for that. Who do you think put those pitchers of fresh water on your table? Who put those clean table cloths on your table? Who do you think cleans these carpets after we leave? And these people – many of them immigrants – do not even make minimum wage, much less a ‘living wage.’ C’mon, people. This is your chance to improve the lives of people right here.”

Sure, we’re just a little church in Newark. But, we sure can plant mustard seeds! And we can have faith that God will take what we have planted – what we have planted in sometimes very rocky soil – and in ways we can’t imagine, transform each little seed into a rich harvest. We can have faith that God will transform each little seed into a beautiful plant, a plant providing food and shelter for many.

This is our Christian faith. Of course we can clearly see the many challenges facing our cities, our world and our church. And although we may sometimes get afraid or discouraged, Jesus reminds us that our job is to open our hearts and build the Kingdom of God, right here, right now, one mustard seed at a time.

Amen.

It's Still Easter and It's Still Lent

House of Prayer Episcopal Church
Year B: The Third Sunday of Easter
April 30, 2006

Acts 4: 5-12
1 John 1:1-2:2
Luke 24: 36b-48
Psalm 98: 1-5

It’s Still Easter and It’s Still Lent

It’s great to be back at House of Prayer for the Third Sunday of Easter. I don’t know about you, but actually it feels like to me that Easter was quite a while ago. We’ve moved on to the next thing. I’m finishing (OK, starting) term papers and getting ready for exams. The stores have long since discounted the chocolate bunnies and even the peeps. Easter, it seems, has been put away for another year. But in the Church, at least, it’s still Easter. It’s still Easter.

Today’s readings give us a very dramatic before and after picture. Or, actually I guess I should say they give us a dramatic after and before picture. In the first reading from Acts we find the apostles Peter and John imprisoned by the Temple authorities for healing the sick and publicly teaching that Jesus is the Messiah who has risen from the dead. Questioned by the most powerful men in Jerusalem, the lowly fisherman Peter boldly tells the priests that Jesus, the man who they handed over to Pilate to be executed – the stone that was rejected – has become the cornerstone. This Jesus who was killed as a common criminal, has become the way to salvation. To speak that way to the chief priests must have taken a lot of courage! Remember, both Peter and John knew very well that if the religious establishment could get rid of Jesus, they could just as easily get rid of these two nobodies.

But in today’s reading from Luke’s Gospel we have a very different picture of the apostles. Not much courage or boldness here – more like fear and confusion. It’s still Easter – it’s Easter night. Earlier in the day, remember, Luke tells us that Mary Magdalene and the other women found the empty tomb, and heard from the two men in “dazzling clothes” the most amazing news – Jesus is risen! Of course, when the women told the men what they had seen and heard, the guys were understandably skeptical, but, to his credit, Peter runs to the tomb - where he finds only linen cloths. His Lord was gone. Could it be true? Could it really be true? Could Jesus really be risen from the dead? It’s still Easter.

Then Luke tells a wonderful story of Jesus appearing to two disciples on the road to Emmaus. They don’t recognize it’s Jesus at first, not until he breaks the bread and vanishes from their sight. It’s my favorite passage in the Bible and I’m tempted to preach on it right now, but this morning all we need to know is that these two disciples don’t actually make it to Emmaus. No, they turn back to Jerusalem and tell the other followers of what they have seen and heard. Jesus is risen! We saw him in the breaking of the bread! It’s still Easter.

This is where today’s reading from Luke picks up. Try to imagine yourself as one of Jesus’ followers right now – especially one of Jesus’ male disciples. These guys had really let down Jesus. I’m sure Jesus was disappointed, but he probably wasn’t surprised. He knew their weaknesses better than anyone. Remember what had happened in the garden the night he was arrested? The disciples couldn’t even stay awake for Jesus. And when the going got really tough, the disciples got going all right. According to Luke, they abandoned Jesus to die alone on the cross. As Luke rather politely puts it, “all his acquaintances, including the women who followed him from Galilee, stood at a distance, watching these things.”

Now, I’m going to guess that the amazing news that Jesus had risen, the reports that people had actually seen Jesus and talked with Jesus, would, yes, make the disciples wonder and hope, but this news would also make the disciples very uncomfortable and even afraid. I mean, the feelings of guilt must have been intense. Think for a moment of a time that you really let someone down. Still feels terrible, doesn’t it?

So now imagine you abandoned Jesus in his great moment of need. You left him to hang on the cross to die alone, to die the most shameful death, to die nailed to a tree as a common criminal. And now it seems somehow that Jesus has risen from the dead. I’m not sure that I could face Jesus, or would want to face Jesus, after all that has happened. What if Jesus is angry? Who could blame him? What if Jesus now rejects us because we failed him, abandoned him, rejected him, in his greatest moment of need? I am sure the disciples were very sorry. I am sure the disciples repented for what they had done, or for what they had not done. I am sure the disciples hoped, somehow, for forgiveness. It’s still Easter.

And then late that night Jesus appears. “Peace be with you,” he says. It seems to me that those simple, beautiful words are meant to immediately let the disciples know that, yes, they are forgiven. Although he has every reason in the world to at least be angry, Jesus instead offers peace. But, notice that Jesus does not pretend that nothing has happened. How uncomfortable it must have been for the disciples to see those wounds. To see the nail marks in his hands and feet. To truly face what had happened. To be reminded of the real pain and suffering of Good Friday. But, although they can’t, and shouldn’t, forget what has happened, the disciples who were filled with sorrow and repentance are forgiven by Jesus.

It’s still Easter. In fact, repentance and forgiveness is a powerful, central part of the Easter story. And it’s a powerful part, or should be a powerful part, of the church’s message today. Notice in today’s gospel how Jesus describes the mission of the church – uh, that would be our mission, yours and mine – “repentance and forgiveness of sins is to be proclaimed to all the nations…” Repentance and forgiveness of sins. I wonder how much attention the church actually gives these days to repentance and forgiveness. And yet Jesus says proclaiming repentance and forgiveness is the mission of the church!

The disciples must have been amazed and very relieved to hear Jesus call for repentance and offer forgiveness. So it turns out that yes, it’s still Easter, but in a sense, it’s still Lent too.

You know, I love the church seasons as much as the next person. I like when we shift our focus in Advent and Lent, Christmas, Easter and Pentecost. I like when we change colors, prayers and music. I like that we get to see all the beautiful vestments and altar hangings that we’re blessed to have here at House of Prayer. But, there’s a danger if we take the seasons too literally. We can end up dividing our faith into boxes – sort of like the boxes where we might keep our Christmas or Easter decorations. You know, well it’s Lent so let’s open up the “Lent Box” and take out the awareness of our sinfulness and need to repent, and God’s ever-willingness to forgive us. Repentance, that’s a nice decoration for Lent. And when Lent’s over we put repentance back into the “Lent Box” and it’s out of sight until next year. Because, now it’s Easter, so let’s crack open that box, move the bunnies and baskets out of the way, take out the alleluias, the joy, the sense of Jesus with us even now.

Well, if that’s what we do then maybe we would be better off getting rid of the seasons, or maybe just celebrating all the seasons all the time. Sure, the different colors in church might clash and not look so nice, (and I guess the altar guild won’t be happy) but mixing the seasons together would be a reminder that yes it’s still Easter, but in a sense it’s also still Lent. Yes, hopefully we experience the joy of the resurrection, but at the same time hopefully we also can still feel our sinfulness and need for forgiveness. All year long – not just during certain seasons.

This is important because at the center of Christianity is transformation, a change of heart. That’s what the disciples experience as they move from fear and failure to courage and confidence. Peter’s heart is transformed by Jesus’ forgiveness. He goes from being the man who cowardly denies Jesus three times to being the man we read about in the Acts of the Apostles today – boldly telling the priests and the scribes that Jesus the messiah has risen from the dead. What a powerful transformation – what an amazing change of heart! And the transformation doesn’t just happen once. Through prayer and by trying to live the Christian life, year after year season after season, it grows and deepens. That’s the power of Christianity! And that power, the power of the Holy Spirit, is available to all of us right here, right now in the House of Prayer!

How does this transformation start? I think there’s only one way, and that is through repentance. Admitting the times we have failed, the times that we have abandoned God and abandoned our brothers and sisters. Turning to God and asking for forgiveness. In today’s epistle reading from First John we heard such a hopeful message, “If we confess our sins, he who is faithful and just will forgive our sins and cleanse us from all unrighteousness.” And, “If anyone does sin, we have an advocate with the Father, Jesus Christ the righteous.” Even if it scares us, and if we’re being real it should scare us, we can repent and offer our confession to God. And we can do this with confidence because we know that God is ready always to forgive – in fact, it is God who is calling us to repentance and forgiveness. And Jesus is saying to us right here and now as he said to the disciples long ago, “Peace be with you.”

Just as that repentance and forgiveness transformed the apostles from a bunch of cowards hiding in a locked room to bold people risking and sacrificing their lives to proclaim Jesus as messiah, so we too will be transformed. Our hearts will be changed. That’s the power of God working through us – transforming fear and death into hope and new life. It’s still Easter and it’s still Lent. Thanks be to God!

Someone who understood the need in our lives for both Lent and Easter was our new friend Lancelot Andrewes, the 17th Century English bishop we reflected on this morning in the spirituality group. I will close with one of his beautiful prayers, which I hope can be our prayer today:

Let us pray.
Blot out, O Lord, as a thick cloud of night our transgressions
and as a morning cloud our sins,
make us children of the day and of the light,
grant us to walk chastely and soberly as in the day.
Vouchsafe, O Lord, to keep us this day without sin.
Keep us from the arrow that flieth by day,
and from the sickness that destroyeth in the noonday;
deliver us from the hand of the hunter and from the noisome pestilence;
from the evil of this day keep us.
Today salvation and peace be to this house.
O let me hear thy loving kindness, for in Thee is my trust;
show Thou me the way that I should walk in,
for I raise my soul to Thee.

Amen.

Angry Jesus

House of Prayer Episcopal Church
Year B: 3 Lent
March 19, 2006

Exodus 20: 1-17
Romans 7: 13-25
John 2: 13-22
Psalm 19: 7-14

I was going to begin this sermon by marching down the aisle to the back of the church and angrily overturning that little table back there where there are calendars and House of Prayer t-shirts and mugs for sale. But then I thought better of it – after all I am only a seminarian here and those mugs are so nice I’d hate to break them!

But, what a scene John describes in today’s gospel! The cleansing of the Temple is one of the stories that actually appears in all four gospels – obviously it made quite an impression on Jesus’ earliest followers. And that’s no surprise – imagine being a follower of this radical rabbi, a rabbi who is not at all part of the religious establishment. And then this outsider rabbi brings us followers of his to the absolute center of Jewish faith and life –the Temple in Jerusalem, the most awesome place in the world, the place where the ark of the covenant was kept in the Holy of Holies. And then this outsider rabbi makes a huge scene, angrily overturning tables, panicked animals baaing and mooing and coins clattering on the stone floor.

In an amazing, shocking detail, John has Jesus wielding a whip and yelling at the people selling doves in the Temple, “Take these things out of here! Stop making my Father’s house a marketplace!” Well, this is definitely not the groovy, laid-back, peaceful Jesus of my 1970s childhood. This is a very different side of Jesus, rarely seen in the Gospels, and not usually talked about much in church. Jesus is angry. Jesus is really angry.

So, why is Jesus so angry? The thing is, the people in the Temple changing money and selling animals really weren’t doing anything wrong. These activities were allowed by the Temple authorities – in fact, they were truly necessary for worship and sacrifice to take place in the Temple. The many Jews who were coming to Jerusalem from throughout the Roman Empire could not use coins depicting the Emperor, just as, if the Temple stood today, American Jews could not use their coins with images of Lincoln, Jefferson, Roosevelt and Washington. That would be idolatry and of course as we were reminded by our reading from Exodus, idolatry is forbidden.

The main function of the Temple was the sacrifice of animals. Probably the first thing visitors to ancient Jerusalem would have seen, and smelled, was the all-day grilling of animals taking place at the Temple, in the center of the city. Jews coming to the Temple, then, had to buy their unblemished animals at the Temple and offer them to the priests and to God as a sacrifice. They weren’t doing anything wrong – just like it’s not wrong for us to sell some t-shirts and mugs to support and celebrate this church.

So, why is Jesus so angry? Well, of course, I’m not the psychology professional up here, but it seems to me that we usually think of anger as a negative emotion. We try to bottle it up, or cover it up (like I sometimes do) with humor. Anger, both in ourselves and in others, is very scary. But, like all our other emotions, anger is very natural and very human and it’s pretty healthy to express anger – it’s a sign to everyone that this is really important, this really matters. It may be a little frightening and upsetting to other people, but it gets their attention. I remember as a teacher I would rarely raise my voice in the classroom, but when I did it usually made my students quickly settle down. (OK, it didn’t always work.) Now, if a person is angry all the time, that’s something different, and then, of course, they need some help to deal with whatever is going on. But, we know that Jesus is not angry all the time. In fact, John highlights this by setting the temple story just after the wedding at Cana where Jesus celebrates a marriage and joyfully, and playfully, transforms water into wine.

So why is Jesus so angry? Jesus’ anger certainly lets us know this is important, this really matters. Jesus wants to get our attention, and he’s got it.

Jesus is so angry because the power of sin is so strong. Jesus’ anger teaches us, reminds us that sin is so powerful; truly sin soils everyone, sin spoils everything, even worship in the holiest place on earth. The Temple had become more about exchanging money and grilling animals than worshiping the one true God. The power of sin!

Now, you know one of the complaints that some people have about the Episcopal Church is that we don’t talk enough about sin. I don’t know if that’s true – after all, each Sunday we publicly confess in front of all our brothers and sisters and before God that we have sinned “in thought, word and deed, by what we have done and by what we have left undone.” We express remorse for failing to love God and to love our neighbor. And we beg forgiveness. I doubt that anyone here ever chosen not to participate in the confession. I doubt any of us has ever said, “You know what, I had a great week – no sins against God or my neighbor! I’m going to skip this part and go get a cup of coffee!”

So, Jesus is so angry because sin is so powerful and in a real sense contaminates all of us and everything. Sin soils everything, even worship in the Temple, even worship in the church.

Why is sin so powerful – why is there so much sin in all of us? Good question! But, since I’m only a seminarian I’m not even going to try to explain that – even Jesus himself doesn’t explain it – throughout the Gospels he just points to sin’s reality and sin’s power. Traditionally the Church has taught about Original Sin, the sin inherited from Adam and Eve and infecting all of us. Whatever you might think about that, it’s an accurate description of our situation, don’t you think?

On some very deep level, we know that something has gone very, very wrong in the world, and in us. This is not the way the world was supposed to be. This is not the way we were meant to be. This is not God’s dream and hope for the world, and for us.

Throughout history God has tried over and over to nudge us in the right direction – to reveal God’s self, to reveal God’s dream for the world, God’s dream for us. And, yes, sometimes in anger, God has pointed out our sinfulness to us, and challenged us to live in a way that gives life, not death. In the reading from Exodus this morning we heard one of the most central, most dramatic, most lasting examples of God’s revelation to us – the giving of the Ten Commandments. Because the commandments are so familiar, and today so politicized, we miss how radical they really are. The commandments are an attempt by God to reshape the world into a place where all people are honored and respected, life is cherished, and the creating, redeeming God is praised. God offers a vision of a society in which everyone – women and men, children, slaves, foreigners and even animals have the opportunity to rest from the labors, just as on the seventh day God rested and marveled at creation.

Well, what do you think, did the Ten Commandments and the rest of the Law defeat sin? No, not exactly. St. Paul spells out the unfortunate answer very clearly for us in today’s reading from the Letter to the Romans. Paul speaks for all of us when he declares “I am of the flesh, sold into slavery under sin. I do not understand my own actions. For I do not do what I want, but I do the very thing I hate.” Paul says sin is so powerful, so ingrained in us, that it prevents us from really doing good, even when we really want to do good. Sin spoils everything, everything, even worship in the Temple, the holiest place on earth. The Law serves as an accusation, an indictment – it identifies sin and so we can’t plead ignorance like children, “But, I didn’t know it was wrong.”

So the Law did not defeat sin. Well, one thing many of us have learned is that our God is a persistent God. This is probably not orthodox, but I often think how frustrating we all must be for God. I’m sure it is God’s perfect love that has saved us from God throwing in the towel, and giving up on us. And it is only God’s perfect love and perfect grace that has saved us from destroying ourselves.

No, God doesn’t give up, and instead in the fullness of time God sent this outsider rabbi from Galilee, this Jesus who reveals who God really is, and reveals who we really are. In Jesus, fully human and fully divine, God says, this is who I really am. And in Jesus, fully human and fully divine, God says to us, this is who you really are. In Jesus we see what humanity looks like without the destructive infection of sin. In the end, that’s the message of the Gospel, isn’t it? God says here, this is who I am – be like Jesus, be like me, and share with me in the banquet of eternal life.

As Paul puts it, “Who will rescue me from this body of death? Thanks be to God through Jesus Christ our Lord!”

But, even though it’s only the third Sunday of Lent, we know what’s coming, don’t we? Certainly in this House of Prayer, we are reminded of the crucifixion every Sunday as we gaze up at the crucified messiah. Again, I can only wonder at the pain, frustration, disappointment, and yes anger, experienced by God – the ultimate rejection. God comes into the world and because the power of sin is so great, human beings once again reject the message and the messenger, and nail him to a cross.

I suspect that even with all the disappointments of the past, all those golden calves, all that sin, this time God hoped for a better outcome. But, even then, God doesn’t give up on us – transforming pain, humiliation and death into joy, glory, and life on the third day.

You know, the more I study the more I realize that Christianity is kind of a tricky religion. There is what some people call an “already – not yet” quality to our faith. We know that Jesus’ resurrection has changed everything forever – that we have been shown the way to full life with God. In Jesus we have become “at one” with God. And yet, our faith also recognizes that we’re not there yet, and sin remains so powerful in our lives – soiling us and spoiling everything.

Probably the biggest danger for us is to think that sin doesn’t really affect us so much – I mean, we’re not much for sinning, after all we’re good church-going folk, aren’t we? Now, those people who are still home in bed this morning, or having a big stack of delicious pancakes at IHOP, oh boy, now there are your sinners! Or, the people we read about in the newspapers or see on TV doing horrible, unspeakable things – those are the real sinners, not us!

No, Jesus’ anger in the Temple reminds us that if sin infects the holiest place on earth, then sin infects you and me and everything, including, of course, the church. Jesus’ anger has gotten our attention – he’s telling us this is important - we must not place our faith in the Temple, or the church, or any other human institution. Because of sin, we will be disappointed over and over. We must not turn these human institutions into gods, into idols. Instead, with St. Paul let us say, “Who will rescue me from this body of death? Thanks be to God through Jesus Christ our Lord!”

And so especially this Lent when we make our confession here in church and in our own prayers, let us ask for the strength to put our faith in the one true God, revealed to us in Jesus – Jesus who shows us who God really is – Jesus who shows us who we are really meant to be. Jesus who stretches out his arms on the hard wood of the cross – and draws the whole world to himself.

Amen.

Listening for the Call

House of Prayer Episcopal Church
Year B: 2 Epiphany
January 15, 2006

1 Samuel 3: 1-10(11-20)
1 Corinthians 6: 11b-20
John 1: 43-51
Psalm 63: 1-8

Listening for the Call

God is calling us, right here, right now. Today’s readings remind us in very powerful ways to listen very carefully for God’s call. The readings remind us that God is calling all of us, right here in the House of Prayer, right here in Newark, right now in January 2006. But, are we listening for God’s call? And if we aren’t, why not?

In the Old Testament reading we see God calling not the old priest Eli, as we might expect, but instead the young boy, Samuel. Samuel at first has trouble recognizing God’s voice, but with a little help from Eli, Samuel is able to hear God’s message. In the reading from John’s Gospel, Nathaniel at first is skeptical about this Jesus character – he sarcastically asks if anything good can come out of Nazareth – a little backwater town, an unimportant place, certainly not the hometown of the messiah! In both cases, at first Samuel and Nathaniel don’t really understand what’s going on – they don’t recognize God’s call. But, in both cases, with a little help from others, they were open to the possibility that God might be calling them. Nathaniel accepts Philip’s invitation to “Come and see.” Nathaniel’s openness allows him to recognize who Jesus of Nazareth really is – “Rabbi, you are the Son of God! You are the king of Israel!” Samuel is also open. He follows Eli’s advice and when he hears God’s call the boy says, “Speak for your servant is listening.”

“Speak, for your servant is listening.” That’s the heart of today’s message. God is at work all around us. Right here, right now. God is speaking directly in our hearts and also through the people around us. But with Samuel do we say, “Speak for your servant is listening”?

Last week some of you may have seen the first episode of the new TV show “The Book of Daniel.” I have mixed feelings about the show – and I’m not sure I can or should recommend it – but it’s certainly “must see TV” for someone in the process of becoming an Episcopal priest. (Kathleen, deacons should probably watch it, too!) Anyway, the show is about a suburban priest (with the historic name Daniel Webster) who has more than his fair share of troubles – he’s addicted to vicodin, his wife is an alcoholic, his brother-in-law stole millions from the church, his daughter is selling drugs, his adopted son is involved with a girl in the congregation – who happens to be the daughter of a wealthy and powerful warden, he lost one son to leukemia and struggles to deal with his other son’s homosexuality, his mother has Alzheimer’s, his father is a retired conservative bishop who does not really approve of his son the liberal priest, and his bishop hangs around the church a lot criticizing Father Webster’s preaching. Other than that not much happened in the first episode!

Oh, and one other thing – Father Webster occasionally sees, and has conversations with, Jesus. Some people have criticized the show for using Jesus in this way, but there was one brief scene between them that worked really well. Webster and Jesus are in a car when the priest asks Jesus,
“Am I chosen?’
Jesus says, “No.”
The priest responds, “Well, why do you talk to me?”
“I talk to everyone,” Jesus says.
The priest says, “Few mention it.”
Jesus says, “Few hear me.”

“I talk to everyone. Few hear me.” Even though this is from just a kind of silly TV show, it rings true, doesn’t it? Maybe in your own life there have been special times when you have really sensed God’s presence or in some way heard God’s voice, heard God’s call. But, most of the time – at least for me and maybe for you too – we assume that God has fallen silent, or would have nothing to say to ordinary people like us. And many of us fill our lives with so much busyness and so much noise that we really aren’t open, we really aren’t available, to hearing God’s call.

Now, as you’d probably guess, because I’m in the process of becoming a priest, the bishop and others, including Pastor Judy, have challenged me to pray and think a lot about what God might be saying to me. Over the past couple of years I’ve had to try to open myself up to God’s call. To really listen. And I’ve been asked to share what I have discovered. Now, although sometimes I get a little tired of talking and writing about it – overall it has been an amazing gift to be challenged to pray and listen – to try to discern what God’s call to me might be.

But since this has been a wonderful journey for me, it makes me sad to think that most people never get this chance – are never given the opportunity to really take time and listen for God’s call. This time to pray and reflect is a gift everyone should have. Because God certainly doesn’t just call people like me, God calls all of us – maybe especially the most unlikely of us. Like Nathaniel in today’s gospel, we are all called to be disciples. Our job is to figure out with God’s help how we will live out our lives as disciples. In big and small ways God is always speaking, always nudging us in the right direction. But, like the TV Jesus says “I talk to everyone, but few hear me.”

Maybe one of the reasons we don’t listen is because we assume that God wouldn’t have much to say to ordinary people like us. These past few months I’ve gotten to know this place and I know it’s filled with good and kind people. We go about our lives, doing the best we can. But, we’re not famous – we’re plain folks. We’re ordinary people, right? What in the world would God have to say to us?

Yet the readings from Samuel and John tell us that it is precisely ordinary people like us that God calls out to. The big-shot priest Eli doesn’t hear God at all. Instead it is a boy, Samuel, who receives the message from God. Just a boy! Just a child! What does he know? Yet, he knows enough to open himself to God’s presence and to listen for God’s voice. In the gospel, Nathaniel seems to be just an ordinary person sitting under a fig tree. Although at first he dismisses Jesus, this ordinary person is able to open himself up to Philip’s invitation and to “come and see” the messiah.

And, of course, we have Jesus himself. God chooses to come into the world, to reveal God’s self, in someone born in Nazareth – a sleepy little backwater town. “Can anything good come out of Nazareth?” Yet in this humble carpenter God reveals who God really is - and in Jesus God calls us to be who we really are. “Can anything good come out of Nazareth?” Today, I suppose some would ask – Can anything good come out of Newark? Can anything good come out of Jersey City? If we pay attention to God’s call to us, we know the answer to those questions. God is calling us, right here in this House of Prayer – right here in Newark – right here in the shadow of Route 280. God is calling us right here, right now. Do we say “Speak, for your servant is listening?”

Maybe another reason why we don’t listen is we struggle with prayer, especially when we pray on our own. I love praying with all of you, especially in the Circle of Prayer. But on my own it can be a challenge. Lots of times, when I try to pray I get distracted thinking about all the things I need to get done. I get distracted by the TV or checking my email for the tenth time that day. And I get frustrated when prayer doesn’t feel productive – when I don’t hear God’s call. It feels like I’m wasting precious time.

That’s one of the reasons I’m so excited about the spirituality group we’ll be starting in a couple of weeks. I’m hoping on Sundays before church we can take some time to pray together – to try different types of prayer and to share with each other how we hear God’s call to us. I’m looking forward to setting aside this special time together to pray, reflect and share. I’m looking forward to hearing God speak through everyone in the group. You’ll be hearing more about this. Everyone’s welcome and I hope you’ll join us.

When we forget that God is calling us right here, right now, or when we get frustrated as we struggle to pray, fortunately the Church gives us the examples of lots of role models, saints, who overcame their own challenges through prayer. Tomorrow the entire nation pauses to remember one of those saints – Martin Luther King, Jr. Nearly forty years after his assassination, I suppose Dr. King is most remembered for his non-violent civil rights actions – especially the Montgomery bus boycott and the March on Washington. He’s remembered for his “Letter from a Birmingham Jail” and the “I Have a Dream Speech.” But, unfortunately, I don’t think he is much remembered as the man of prayer that he really was. It’s forgotten or overlooked that the Gospel and prayer was the foundation of Dr. King’s life and actions. One of the best biographies of Dr. King devotes only half a page to his prayer life and never even mentions God. And this book is over a thousand pages long! But, like Samuel and Nathaniel, Martin Luther King faithfully opened himself up to God’s call – and it was his sense of God’s presence that supported him through his work – that made his work more than just a dream.

During the Montgomery boycott, Dr. King and his family received numerous death threats. After one frightening late night telephone threat, Dr. King got up and nervously heated up a pot of coffee. He put his head in his hands, bowed over the kitchen table and prayed aloud, “I am here taking a stand for what I believe is right. But now I am afraid. The people are looking to me for leadership, and if I stand before them without strength and courage, they too will falter. I am at the end of my powers, I have nothing left. I’ve come to the point where I can’t face it alone.”

At that moment, Martin King felt the presence of God like he never had before. He remembered that it seemed like a voice said to him, “Stand up for righteousness, stand up for truth. God will be at your side forever.”

His fear left him and Dr. King carried on his work, assured to the end of God’s presence and support. God doesn’t promise that there won’t be suffering – but God does promise God’s presence through it all. Like Samuel and Nathaniel, Dr. King listened for God’s call. And in the unlikely place of Montgomery, Alabama, he heard God and felt God’s presence. As we start a new year and as we remember Dr. King – and Samuel and Nathaniel - let’s open our hearts and ears to God. Right here in Newark. Right here in this House of Prayer. Like Samuel, let’s say to God, “Speak for your servant is listening.”

In Your Heart You Know He's Right

House of Prayer Episcopal Church, Newark NJ
October 23, 2005

Year A: Proper 25 BCP
Exodus 22: 21-27
Psalm 1
1 Thessalonians 2: 1-8
Matthew 22: 34-46

“In Your Heart You Know He’s Right”

Breathe on us, Breath of God, fill us with life anew,
that we may love what thou dost love, and do what thou wouldst do.

The twenty-third Sunday after Pentecost does not exactly sound like a particularly special day – let’s face it we’re not talking Easter, or Christmas, or even Epiphany here. And yet, in this Sunday’s Gospel passage, in this little exchange between Jesus and one of his opponents, we find ourselves very close to the heart of the Christian message, the heart of our lives in Christ. When an unnamed Pharisee challenges Jesus to name the greatest commandment, Jesus quotes from the Bible, the Book of Deuteronomy, “You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your mind.” Creatively then Jesus links that commandment with a verse from another Bible book, Leviticus, “You shall love your neighbor as yourself.” Jesus tells the Pharisee that these commandments are the heart of the matter, the way to understand everything, what it’s all about: “On these two commandments hang all the law and the prophets.”

Reflecting on this passage for the last few days, waiting patiently for inspiration to strike, I’ve heard one name over and over in my head…Barry Goldwater. Now, some of you are old enough to remember Barry Goldwater, but you won’t be put on the spot – although that would probably be a lot of fun. For those who don’t or won’t admit that you remember him, Goldwater was a longtime Republican senator from Arizona and the unsuccessful Republican candidate for president in 1964. But, you’re probably asking, why in the world think of Barry Goldwater today? Well, I think, I hope, the reason is that in 1964 Goldwater used one of my all-time favorite political campaign slogans – “In your heart you know he’s right.” “In your heart you know he’s right.” This arrogant political slogan might actually help us in reflecting on today’s gospel.

Of course we don’t know much about the Pharisee who questions Jesus, but he’s still an interesting character. Most translations describe him as a lawyer, but maybe scholar of the law would be better. Any Pharisee, or scholar of the law, worthy of the name would have been familiar with the scripture Jesus quotes.

Yet, what did this scholar feel or think when Jesus creatively linked these two concepts together – love of God and love of neighbor? And it’s amazing how Jesus seems takes this leap like it’s no big deal, no sweat. What was the reaction of this scholar of the law to Jesus’ deep but almost casual answer? Well, it’s too bad that Matthew does not record the Pharisee’s response to Jesus’ answer, instead moving on to Jesus’ own questions for the Pharisees. Maybe this scholar was surprised, or shocked, or unsatisfied, or disturbed, or impressed. We don’t know, but I’m going to guess that this Pharisee felt what I sometimes feel and maybe you feel when we read the Bible and hear Jesus speak this way, when we hear Jesus teach with authority – in our hearts, we know he’s right. Love of God, love of neighbor. Of course, that’s what it’s all about. This truth is what we need to remember when we read all the Scriptures. Of course, of course. In our hearts, we know he’s right.

If that’s true, if in our hearts we know Jesus is right, then what’s really terrible is how often we choose to ignore the truth that Jesus taught the Pharisee and is teaching us today. We know it in our hearts, we’ve heard it repeated a million times, and yet we choose to live in ways very different from love of God and love of neighbor.

What makes our actions really upsetting is that if we miss this central commandment, which we know in our hearts is right, we’ve really missed it all. We can’t hope to understand the God revealed in the Scriptures, we can’t hope to know Jesus, we can’t hope to understand ourselves, we can’t really be Christians, if we miss or forget this teaching.

So if this is so important, so crucial, why today do we, maybe even nice church-going folk like us, miss this great commandment so often - forgetting it, ignoring it, tucking it away behind some old clothes in our dresser drawer? I think we can agree that there are many reasons – reasons that might be dumped into a big crate and labeled “sin.” I’m sure by now you’ve all figured out you’re your own ways to sin, but today I offer one sin from my own collection – the destructive sin of self-centeredness.

I’m sorry to say that unfortunately, I have found it very easy to forget this simple, profound truth that Jesus is teaching us today. Especially during my first year over at the seminary, I found it very easy to forget this greatest commandment.

As some of you know, in my previous life for fifteen years I was a history teacher. It was a job I really liked – I liked history, I liked kids, and I liked sharing history with them – watching them struggle, think and grow. I especially loved the opportunity to build a little community in each of my classes. And, if I’m honest, I have to admit that I liked the attention I received as a teacher too. (The summers off weren’t bad either.) My last year as a teacher was really good and I left feeling positive about the past and excited about the future.

So after a relaxing summer, seminary began. Almost immediately I felt shaky – had I made the right decision leaving the sure thing, leaving my little school community? I had to deal with anxieties that reminded me a lot of when I was in high school - Would I fit in? Would I make friends? Do well academically? Maybe most scary of all, would I be able to learn how to sing, or even just chant? (At least the music professor eventually determined that I wasn’t tone deaf – now that was some welcome good news!) But, what if I had made a big mistake? Whose idea was this anyway?! Well, I thought, with sickening turns of my stomach, there was no turning back – I doubted my Roman Catholic high school would welcome me back, even if my old job were available. As my confidence dropped I just did not feel like myself – I lost my sense of humor, felt tired, weird, and scared.

But by the grace of God, and the support of people who care about me, I got through it and did OK. I have to say, though, it was a big relief to finish the last day of classes and head for home.

Then, of course, after a couple of weeks it was on to what’s called CPE – Clinical Pastoral Education, where I worked as a chaplain in a hospital and hopefully learned some pastoral skills. One of our first things we did was to create a “Verbatim with God” – we had to write down a little conversation between God and us. It shocked and hurt me how frustrating and difficult I found this exercise. I tried talking to God, but nothing – I could not imagine what God and I might have to say to each other. In the end my dialogue turned out to be more like a monologue – me trying to talk with God but seemingly getting no divine response.

When we read our “Verbatims with God” in our CPE group I had a sinking feeling, a kind of panic, as I realized that my classmates all seemed to be a lot closer to God than I was. Even if they had problems, at least they were actually had some kind of relationship with God! Concerned, one of the CPE supervisors said that my conversation with God, my relationship with God, seemed lifeless. I can still feel how hard that word hit me. Lifeless.

Looking back on all of this now, I realize that I was an example of what happens when we forget what Jesus is telling us in today’s Gospel. Under the stress of a big change, I had turned in on myself. I had lost sight of the central truth that we are born to love and born to be loved. Instead, in my fear and insecurity, I had become self-absorbed, self-centered, closed to the love coming to me from God through the people in my life. And since I was so focused on myself I was certainly not very able crack open my heart and offer love to the people I encountered in my life.

This love of God and love of neighbor that Jesus is teaching us about, in Greek it’s called agape, this love is action. This love that Jesus is teaching us about is a commitment, a doing. It’s a total life of love – since we can’t separate our love of God from our love of neighbor, even if we wanted to. But, we can’t do this love; we can’t even really accept this love, if we can’t stop thinking about ourselves.

The fact is if we’re self-centered we’re not going to be able to love the way Jesus calls us to love. It reminds me of another one of Jesus’ best-known and most difficult sayings, which Matthew places in Chapter 10. Jesus tells his followers, “Whoever does not take up the cross and follow me is not worthy of me. Those who find their life will lose it, and those who lose their life for my sake will find it.”

Here, and in the Great Commandment, in the Beatitudes, throughout the Gospels – and truly throughout Jesus’ life, we are called over and over again to a life of love. And if we sometimes feel unloved, as a friend of mine says, all we need to do is look at the Cross to remember just how much we are loved. The entire message of the Bible it seems to me can be summed up in that beautiful name, Emmanuel – God with us. So if we feel lifeless and lost we know that God is with us and God doesn’t give up. God is tirelessly, constantly at work in our lives, providing us with new opportunities to love and be loved.

Back to my CPE story. After my lifeless “Verbatim with God”, I realized with a shock just how far I had drifted from God during that first difficult seminary year. God and I put all this to good use. That sadness drove me to work harder at figuring out just what I believed about God in my life. Somehow that lifelessness helped my prayer as I cried out in a way I hadn’t in a long time, “Where are you, God?” and “Help!” And somehow facing my own little fears and insecurities helped make me much more sensitive to the fears and needs of the patients I visited each day. My own crying out to God helped me to really pray with people facing illness and loss who were also crying out to God – People asking in their own ways “where are you?” and “help!”

Being present in the confusion and anxiety of patients and their families was certainly not easy, but it served as a reminder. Being present for love and reconciliation among patients and their families served as a reminder too. It was a reminder of what Jesus is teaching us today, a reminder of the truth of God, the truth that lies at the heart of our lives – that we are born to love and be loved – this is who we really are – this who God calls us to be – this is who God dreams we will be. And in our hearts we know Jesus is right.

A couple of weeks ago when I was walking through downtown on my way to the vestry meeting here at House of Prayer, I stopped in front of a beautiful church on Washington Park. Doug tells me it had been home to a Presbyterian congregation, a group that hung in there as long as it could, but finally closed its large, beautiful church not long ago. Maybe some of you know it. I felt sad looking at this building, wondering what would happen to it now. Then I looked up above the doorway and carved into the masonry were the words: “Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all thy heart and with all thy soul, and with all thy mind. Thou shalt love thy neighbor as thyself.” Whoever they were, these departed Newark Presbyterians got it – they understood what is most important. And in a small way they continue to share this good news through the building they have left behind.

So on this plain, old 23rd Sunday after Pentecost, we are reminded of the simple, beautiful truth of our life in Christ – all that we are commanded to do and be. To love the Lord our God with all our heart, soul and mind. And to love our neighbor as ourselves. Today let us go forth from this house of prayer remembering what Jesus teaches us - that we are born to love and be loved. In our hearts we know he’s right.

Amen.