The Body of Christ

St. Michael’s Episcopal Church, Gainesville FL
The Chapel of the Incarnation, Gainesville FL
June 5, 2011

Year A: The Seventh Sunday of Easter
Acts 1:6-14
Psalm 68:1-10, 33-36
1 Peter 4:12-14, 5:6-11
John 17:1-11

The Body of Christ

Each year the Church invites us to celebrate and reflect on the story of Jesus’ Ascension. But, we can’t really talk about the Ascension without talking about Easter and without looking ahead a little bit to the great feast we’ll celebrate next week, Pentecost.

First of all, by passing through death into life, Jesus has been transformed in powerful and mysterious ways.

For example, Luke tells us that the disciples on the road to Emmaus didn’t recognize the resurrected Jesus until the breaking of the bread – followed immediately by Jesus vanishing from their sight.

But, Luke, along with Matthew and John, insists that although different and transformed, the resurrected Jesus was still the same Jesus that the disciples had known in life.

The evangelists insist the tomb was empty because Jesus had risen in the same body that had previously contained his spirit, the same body that had blessed the bread and the wine just a few days before, the same body that had been nailed to a piece of wood.

After the Emmaus story, Luke tells us that the resurrected Jesus appeared to the frightened disciples in Jerusalem saying, “Look at my hands and my feet; see that it is I myself. Touch me and see; for a ghost does not have flesh and bones as you see that I have.”

And then to underline the point, Luke tells us that the resurrected Jesus asks his disciples if they have anything to eat. Luke writes, “They gave him a piece of broiled fish, and he took it and ate it in their presence.”

Now, obviously, it would have been much easier and much more plausible for the first Christians to claim that beginning on Easter they began to experience the “spirit of Jesus” – that although he had died horribly on the cross, Jesus was still very much alive in their hearts.

Most people, I think, could and would buy that kind of claim.

But, Christians claimed and proclaimed something much more amazing – and much more difficult for people then and now to believe – Jesus had risen in the flesh and had appeared to his disciples.

In Luke’s sequel, the Acts of the Apostles, he tells us that the appearances of the resurrected Jesus continued for forty days – a very biblical number.

The appearances of the risen Jesus continued until, as we heard in today’s first lesson, Jesus was lifted up and vanished from sight.

Luke adds the very poignant touch of the disciples gazing up to heaven – with, I would imagine, with their mouths hanging open.

Then the two men in white robes tell the disciples to quit looking for Jesus up in the sky, adding, “This Jesus, who has been taken up from you into heaven, will come in the same way as you saw him go into heaven.”

Now, if you’re looking for an explanation of how exactly all of this happened, I’m afraid you’ve got the wrong preacher. And, anyway, I’d be suspicious of anyone who claimed to understand or explain the Resurrection and the Ascension.

But, the point is that at the Ascension Jesus’ body has vanished from our sight so we could receive the Holy Spirit.

Jesus’ body has vanished from our sight so we can see who we really are.

Jesus’ body has vanished from our sight so we can be who we really are.

Jesus’ body has vanished so we can be the Body of Christ in the world.

St. Paul may have been the first to think in these terms – to recognize that the Church is the Body of Christ in the world. In his first letter to the Corinthians Paul wrote,
“Now you are the body of Christ and individually members of it.”

But, for my money, the best expression of the awesome gift, responsibility and challenge of being the Body of Christ in the world comes from the 16th Century Spanish mystic, Teresa of Avila. She wrote,

Christ has no body now but yours
No hands, no feet on earth but yours
Yours are the eyes through which He looks
compassion on this world
Christ has no body now on earth but yours.

The wounded and resurrected body of Jesus has vanished from our sight.

And so that means, through the power of the Holy Spirit, we are the Body of Christ in the world.

That’s one of the reasons we come here - to be reminded that we are the Body of Christ in the world.

Every time we see the baptismal font – or even better every time we witness and celebrate a baptism – we are reminded that in the water of baptism we become part of the Body of Christ.

The most powerful reminder that we are the Body of Christ in the world comes every time we gather at the table and take the bread of life and the cup of salvation into our bodies – each receiving the same portion, each becoming more deeply woven into the Body of Christ in the world.

What happens here, though, is meant to strengthen us for the work of being the Body of Christ out there in a suffering and broken world.

As St. Paul recognized so clearly, each of us has our own unique part to play as a member of the Body of Christ in the world.

On Friday at our (St. Michael’s) potluck supper I was so moved when Susan talked about seeing her work combating pests that threaten crops as her vocation – particularly her goal of finding solutions affordable by poor farmers around the Caribbean, not just by a handful of wealthy international conglomerates.

Whether we’re protecting our food supply or feeding the poor downtown or donating money or simply praying for people who have no one to pray for them, we each have our own unique part to play in the Body of Christ.

But, Teresa of Avila gives us the most important general description of what it means for each of us to be members of the Body of Christ in the world.

She tells us that ours “are the eyes through which Christ looks compassion on this world.”

Ours “are the eyes through which Christ looks compassion on this world.”

“Looks compassion.” That’s a mysterious and beautiful expression, isn’t it?

During his earthly lifetime, Jesus didn’t solve every problem, didn’t fix everything and everyone that was broken.

But, Jesus “looked compassion” through love - by loving especially the outcasts, the nobodies, the hopeless, the disposable people of the First Century – the lepers, the women, the tax collectors, the children.

Instead of looking up to the sky for Jesus, we are to “look compassion” on the outcasts, the nobodies, the hopeless and disposable people of our time and place.

Instead of looking up to the sky for Jesus, we are called to be the Body of Christ right here and now in the world.

At the Ascension, Jesus’ body has vanished from our sight so we could receive the Holy Spirit.

Jesus’ body has vanished from our sight so we can see who we really are.

Jesus’ body has vanished from our sight so we can be who we really are.

Jesus’ body has vanished from our sight so we can be the Body of Christ in the world.

Amen.

Not Left Orphaned

St. Michael’s Episcopal Church, Gainesville FL
The Chapel of the Incarnation, Gainesville FL
May 29, 2011

Year A: The Sixth Sunday of Easter
Acts 17:22-31
Psalm 66:7-18
1 Peter 3:13-22
John 14:15-21

Not Left Orphaned

I wouldn’t say that I’m a news junkie, but it’s true that I read the newspaper everyday and most days I check a couple of news websites to keep up with what’s going on.

Part of it is just habit, I guess. And part of it is that I think it’s important to be informed, though the truth is there’s not much I can do about all of the mostly horrible stuff that’s reported in the news.

And keeping up with the news can be dangerous for our souls. Last week a friend asked me how it affects me to every day read stories about natural and man-made disasters that create so much pain for so many here in our own community, across our country and around the world.

Of course, there’s nothing new about living in a world filled with natural and man-made disasters.

In today’s lesson from the Gospel of John, we glimpsed an unfolding man-made disaster: Jesus was about to be arrested and killed in an especially brutal and humiliating way.

As I mentioned last Sunday, one of the unique features of the Gospel of John is what’s called the “Farewell Discourse, Jesus’ lengthy good-bye to his disciples during the Last Supper.

Try to imagine the scene.

The disciples – everyday working people, as thickheaded as all of us – felt a power in Jesus like they had never experienced before. From Jesus they heard teaching like they had never heard before. And through Jesus they saw signs like they had never seen before.

And while lots of people encountered Jesus, only a handful of people seem to have given away their lives to follow him. They may not have always understood Jesus, but they loved him enough to walk away from family and friends to be his disciples.

But, throughout Jesus’ ministry there was always this disturbing background buzz. It was a disturbing background buzz caused by conflict – conflict between Jesus and the religious establishment.

But it was also a disturbing background buzz caused by Jesus’ own predictions of his arrest and death.

I’m sure, like all of us, the disciples were good at denial and tried to tune out this disturbing background buzz – to ignore it, to hum over it, to pretend it wasn’t there.

But, now at the Last Supper, that disturbing background buzz has moved front and center. The disciples can no longer deny it or avoid it.

Last week we heard Jesus tell his friends that he was going ahead of them to prepare a place where they would all be reunited.

We heard Jesus boldly tell his disciples that since he and the Father are one, when they had seen Jesus they had in fact seen God.

We heard Jesus tell his disciples that he was going to the Father, which will give him the power to advocate for us, to see to it that our prayers are answered.

That’s all very good news. But, I suspect the disciples were still struggling to accept that in a very real – and horrible – way Jesus was leaving them.

Even if they believed everything Jesus was telling them – a big if – it still must have been scary for them to imagine what life was going to be like without Jesus – their leader, their friend, their teacher, their Savior.

Which brings us to today’s section of the Farewell Discourse.

Jesus has told the disciples that he will be advocating for them in heaven. But, now he also promises that God will send another advocate to be with them forever. This advocate – the Paraclete – a word that is also translated as comforter, counselor, friend or helper – is the Spirit of truth – and is also in some sense the spirit of Jesus himself.

Jesus says to his disciples, “I will not leave your orphaned; I am coming to you.”

Over the centuries artists have struggled to depict the Holy Spirit. Most of us are familiar with the tongues of fire and of course the dove, but neither image really does justice to the power and presence of the Holy Spirit in our lives.

It’s hard to describe the Holy Spirit. But if we keep our eyes and ears open we can feel the power and presence of the Holy Spirit all around us – we can know that we have not been left orphaned.

It’s thanks to the power of the Holy Spirit that the Apostle Paul – a Pharisee who had one of the most dramatic conversion experiences of all time – had the courage to give away his life in service to Jesus.

Thanks to the power of the Holy Spirit, Paul left behind everything that was familiar and spent the rest of his life traveling around the Mediterranean world, telling people about Jesus.

In today’s lesson from the Acts of the Apostles, we find Paul in Athens, of all places. In the First Century, Rome was the center of imperial power but Athens was still the hub of classical civilization.

Thanks to the power of the Holy Spirit, here’s Paul sounding very much like a Greek philosopher telling the learned and wise Athenians that he has discovered the “unknown god” – the Lord of heaven and earth - that they have been searching for all along.

It’s thanks to the power of the Holy Spirit that we have the Scriptures, including the Gospel of John that we’ve been reading these past few weeks.

Think about it for a second. Most scholars agree that this gospel was written near the end of the First Century – 70 or so years after the earthly lifetime of Jesus.

Over those many decades the Holy Spirit was at work keeping the presence of Jesus alive among the first disciples and then among the next generations who had never seen Jesus in the flesh.

Near the end of the First Century the writer or writers of this gospel knew from their own experience that Jesus kept his promise to send the Holy Spirit. The stories of Jesus were still alive. People were still giving away their lives to follow Jesus. And in a world filled with much despair and suffering the Good News was spreading beyond anyone’s wildest imagination.

And, today in a world still filled with much despair and suffering if we keep our eyes and ears open we can feel the power and presence of the Holy Spirit all around us. We can know that we have not been left orphaned.

As you know there are a lot of poor and homeless people in Gainesville. In part because of its location, at the chapel we get a fair number of people who come by looking for help.

Frankly, the frequent appeals can get old fast, but there are a couple of regulars that I’ve gotten to know a little bit and try to help in very small ways – including a woman who comes by every couple of days asking for a few dollars. On Friday I realized that I hadn’t seen her all week.

I mentioned to someone at the chapel that I was worried about her and asked her to say a prayer for her.

No kidding – five minutes later she walks in the same as always. But the two of us at the chapel were so stunned at the timing that we greeted her with spontaneous joy and relief. She was shocked and taken aback – but for a moment we all felt the power of the Holy Spirit at work in a world filled with suffering and despair.

And even sometimes when you follow the news you can find the Holy Spirit at work and know that we have not been left orphaned.

I was deeply moved by the visit a couple of weeks ago of Queen Elizabeth to Ireland.

Considering all the horrible history and still-unfinished business between Britain and Ireland, I’m sure many people – maybe even the Queen herself – never thought such a visit would ever be possible.

The security arrangements were extraordinary. When the Queen arrived, decked out in green, at first she looked a little worried about what kind of welcome she’d receive.

Along with the Irish president she laid a wreath and bowed her head at the Garden of Remembrance, where Ireland honors those who gave their lives in the fight for independence from Britain.

In her well-received speech at the state dinner the Queen spoke about, “the importance of forbearance and conciliation. Of being able to bow to the past, but not be bound by it.”

The visit was a huge success. By the end, the security was eased a bit, the Queen was receiving standing ovations, smiling broadly, and breaking from her schedule to greet friendly Irish onlookers eager to meet her.

Of course, there is still plenty of suffering and despair in Ireland, in Gainesville and around the world. Yet, when we keep our eyes and ears open we can feel the power and presence of the Holy Spirit all around us.

When we pay attention, like Paul and the first disciples we know that Jesus has kept his promise. We know that we have not been left orphaned.

Thanks be to God.

Amen.

Confidence

St. Michael’s Episcopal Church, Gainesville FL
The Chapel of the Incarnation, Gainesville FL
May 22, 2011

Year A: The Fifth Sunday of Easter
Acts 7:55-60
Psalm 31:1-5; 15-16
1 Peter 2:2-10
John 14:1-14

Confidence

Lately I’ve been thinking a lot about farewells.

Partly that’s because it’s been so quiet around the chapel with most of the students away on summer break – or off beginning the next chapter of their lives after commencement.

Partly, I guess, it’s because of all the attention given to the prediction made by Harold Camping, the founder of Family Radio, that the Rapture was certain to begin yesterday, May 21, 2011.

We’ve seen this before. Every once in a while people come along making these bold predictions with what seems to be complete certainty. In the paper I saw a photo of a man who believed that the end was at hand holding a sign that read in part, “The Bible guarantees it.”

This time around the prediction of Judgment Day seems to have convinced more people than usual. Maybe it’s because of the extreme weather experienced in many places lately. Or maybe it’s because we are living in a time of great political and social change that is unnerving lots of people.

Or because of the tough economic times, maybe people just want Jesus to return and make all their troubles go away.

Mostly, I think people fall for these kinds of predictions because we crave certainty.

On the front page of Friday’s New York Times there was a poignant, disturbing and a little bit funny story about the seemingly normal Haddad family of Middletown, Maryland.

Robert and Abby Haddad, parents of three very skeptical teenagers, were among the many people certain that the Rapture was going to occur yesterday. In fact, they were so certain that nearly two years ago Abby left her job as a nurse to devote herself to spreading the word about the approach of Judgment Day. The couple stopped making home improvements and quit saving for their kids’ college educations.

Perhaps hedging their apocalyptic bet just a little, Robert held on to his job as an engineer at the Department of Energy.

For their part, the kids managed to hold on to their sense of humor.

One of the children said, referring to her mother, “She’ll say, ‘You need to clean up your room.’ And I’ll say, ‘Mom, it doesn’t matter, if the world’s going to end!’”

That’s funny, but the parents’ certainty created real pain their family. One of the skeptical teens was quoted as saying, “My mom told me directly that I’m not going to get into heaven. At first it was really upsetting, but it’s what she honestly believes.”

It’s surprising me that Bible-believing Christians can fall so easily for these people who predict with such certainty the precise date of the Second Coming. It’s surprising because here’s what Jesus himself had to say on the subject in Mark 13:32:

“But about that day or hour no one knows, neither the angels in heaven, nor the Son, but only the Father.”

If Jesus himself doesn’t know, then it seems pretty unlikely that Harold Camping or Robert and Abby Haddad or anyone else would have any way of knowing about the date of Judgment Day.

I’ve also been thinking about farewells because of today’s gospel lesson, which is part of what’s known as the “Farewell Discourse” in the Gospel of John.

Remember that John is the last of the four gospels to be written, probably around the end of the First Century.

So, the Gospel of John is the product of divine inspiration working through several generations of Christian reflection on the meaning of Jesus’ life, death and resurrection.

One of the distinctive features of the Gospel of John is what’s called the “Farewell Discourse” – Jesus’ lengthy good-bye to his disciples.

Jesus knows that time is growing short for him on earth. During his ministry Jesus has tried to teach his disciples through parables and through his own example. Now, though, there’s not much time left, and, as we all know, the disciples have often been clueless.

So, in these last hours Jesus wants to give his disciples – wants to give us – confidence by passing on what’s most essential.

We can’t be certain about when the world will end.

We can’t be certain about when we will die.

We can’t be certain about the many things that only God knows.

But, because God revealed the way, the truth and the life in Jesus, we can be confident about what’s most important.

We can be confident about the kinds of lives God wants us to live.

We can be confident that God wants us to give away our lives in loving service to one another, especially to the poorest and weakest among us.

We can be confident that we are loved more than we could ever imagine. We can be confident that God loves us enough to live among us. We can be confident that God loves us enough to rescue us from our sin. We can be confident that God loves us enough to die for us.

Because God revealed the way, the truth and the life in Jesus, we can be confident that, in the end, love is stronger than death.

We hear that kind of confidence in the story of Stephen, deacon and martyr.

Stephen confidently preached the Gospel to an unfriendly audience not certain of how it would be received. When his message was violently rejected, to the end Stephen remained confident. The author of the Acts of the Apostles describes Stephen as imitating Jesus in his life and death – confidently giving away his life for the Gospel.

In a less dramatic way, I encountered that kind of confidence about ten years ago when my grandmother was dying in the hospital. At one point she looked at me and said, “I know where I have come from and I know where I am going.”

I’m not sure she knew that she was quoting Jesus. (It’s John 8:14.) But, in her own “farewell discourse” my grandmother was expressing simple but profound confidence. She wasn’t expressing the certainty of someone who believed that she had her theology in perfect order or who had said just the right religious words or who was in on some secret knowledge derived from biblical calculations.

No, my grandmother was expressing the simple but profound confidence in God’s love – the love that had shaped the way she had lived her life – the love that she had shared with me and so many other people during her life.

My grandmother was expressing the quiet confidence that the God whose love she had felt throughout her life in good times and not so good would not abandon her now in her hour of need – and would not abandon her in whatever awaited her beyond death.

Faith is that kind of confidence.

Faith isn’t about certainty.

Faith isn’t being certain when the world will end or when we will die.

Faith isn’t being certain about who’s “saved” and who’s “left behind”.

Faith isn’t being certain about who’s going to heaven and who’s going to hell.

Faith isn’t being certain about the many things that only God knows.

Faith is confidence in what’s most important.

Faith is confidence in God who reveals the way, the truth and the life in Jesus.

And, finally, faith is confidence that we can never really say farewell to God – and that God never says farewell to us.

Amen.

Shepherds, Sheep, Bishops and Us

St. Michael’s Episcopal Church, Gainesville FL
May 18, 2011

Year A: Wednesday in the Fourth Week of Easter
Sermon Preached on the Occasion of the Visit of
The Rt. Rev. Griselda Delgado Del Carpio, the Episcopal Bishop of Cuba
Acts 2:42-47
Psalm 23
1 Peter 2:19-25
John 10:1-10

Shepherds, Sheep, Bishops and Us

I grew up in Jersey City – a large, paved-over place overshadowed by the much larger New York City, just across the Hudson River.

Being formed in such a very urban environment I’ve always struggled with the sheep and shepherd imagery that is found throughout the Bible, in both the Old and New Testaments.

I’ve never seen a shepherd in person – and the only sheep I’ve encountered were enjoying the cozy protection of a petting zoo.

Maybe those of you who grew up in rural Florida or Cuba or Bolivia have an easier time than I do relating to the sheep and shepherd imagery in the Bible.

Certainly in Palestine, past and present, sheep and shepherds were all over the place, so it’s no surprise that sheep are mentioned more than 500 times in the Bible. In the Old Testament most of the references are literal while in the New Testament the references tend to be metaphorical – Jesus is the Good Shepherd and we are his sheep.

No matter where we’re from it’s a beautiful and powerful image.

Jesus is the Good Shepherd and we are his sheep.

A beautiful image, but, so what?

What do these beautiful metaphors for Jesus and us have to do with our daily lives back in Jersey City or here in Gainesville or in Cuba or anywhere?

Today- right here and now - how exactly does Jesus act as our shepherd?

Today – right here and now - how exactly are we his sheep?

Part of the answer is found in today’s passage from the Acts of the Apostles where we get a glimpse of life in the early church. Like us, those early Christians were living in a time when the resurrected Christ was no longer present in the way that he had been in those amazing first days after Easter.

Instead Jesus the Good Shepherd was present – is present – in the Church, in the apostles’ teaching and fellowship, in the breaking of the bread and the prayers.

It’s here in church that we are reminded that we are all sheep, loved and cared for by the Good Shepherd.

Now, near as I can tell, in a real pasture sheep don’t have any responsibilities except sticking together.

But, as Christians you and I have some very important responsibilities.

Of course bishops are well aware of their responsibilities. They are the heirs of the apostles and are expected to be shepherds - to search for the sheep who go astray, to reach out to the sheep who are not yet part of the flock, to protect the sheep from those who want to harm the flock.

I imagine that every bishop is reminded of those awesome responsibilities every time she takes up her crozier - her staff – the powerful symbol of the bishop’s role as shepherd.

But, the rest of us, you and I, we’re not just sheep. As part of the Body of Christ in the world we are also called to be shepherds. We are also called to take on the sometimes tedious, occasionally infuriating, often demanding and always important work of shepherding Christ’s flock.

At every baptism the congregation is asked, “Will you who witness these vows do all in your power to support these persons in their life in Christ?”

And the congregation responds with gusto, “We will!”

When we say we will do all in our power to support our fellow Christians in their life in Christ we sign up to be shepherds.

As Christians we are the Body of Christ in the world. As Christians we are the Good Shepherd in the world. As Christians we sign up to be shepherds.

We are shepherds when we gather together as we have this evening, devoting ourselves to the apostles’ teaching and fellowship, to the breaking of bread and the prayers.

We are shepherds when we reach out in love to someone who doesn’t have a home or enough food to eat.

We are shepherds when we reach out in love to someone who is sick and afraid of the future.

We are shepherds when we reach out in love to someone who mourns the death of one they love.

We are shepherds when we reach out in love to someone who has wronged us and offer forgiveness.

We are sheep and we are shepherds.

A bishop is reminded of the awesome responsibility of being a shepherd every time she takes up her staff.

But, the staff should serve as a reminder for all Christians - here in Gainesville, in Cuba, and everywhere.

It should remind us of the love of Jesus the Good Shepherd for us, his sheep.

It should also remind us that we are sheep who are also called to be shepherds – that by God’s grace we are the Body of Christ in the world – that by God’s grace we are the Good Shepherd in the world, today, right here and right now.

Amen.

More Than a Lifeguard (Chapel of the Incarnation)

The Chapel of the Incarnation, Gainesville FL
May 15, 2011

Year A: The Fourth Sunday of Easter
Acts 2:42-47
Psalm 23
1 Peter 2:19-25
John 10:1-10

More than a Lifeguard

I’ve started reading a book called Almost Christian. The book is a summary of and reflection on the recent National Study of Youth and Religion – a massive, multi-year look into what American teenagers think about religion.

The survey found that young people – probably mirroring their own parents – are not hostile to religion. That’s the good news.

They just don’t care about it very much. That’s the bad news.

On one level, we might rejoice that young people don’t hate religion or despise the church.

But, apathy is probably even worse than strong, if negative, feelings.

Here’s how the author summarizes what American youth think about religion:

1. A god exists who created and orders the world and watches over life on earth.

2. God wants people to be good, nice, and fair to each other, as taught in the Bible and by most world religions.

3. The central goal of life is to be happy and to feel good about oneself.

4. God is not involved in my life except when I need God to solve a problem.

5. Good people go to heaven when they die.

When you think about all the horrible things that people could think or believe, this is not a bad set of beliefs. We might even agree with at least some of them.

But, especially on this Good Shepherd Sunday, it’s number four that really catches my attention:

God is not involved in my life except when I need God to solve a problem.

The author describes this belief as thinking of God as a divine lifeguard. We don’t think about very much about God the lifeguard when we’re having a great time splashing our way through life.

But, the moment something goes wrong, the moment there’s a crisis, the lifeguard suddenly becomes very important. And later, once the crisis passes, we don’t think about the lifeguard again - until the next time we’re in trouble.

There’s nothing wrong exactly with thinking about God as a lifeguard, except that it’s such an impoverished metaphor for who God really is and for the role that God wants to play in our lives.

The Lord is my lifeguard doesn’t quite cut it, does it?

A lifeguard is way up there, while we’re down here in the pool.

A lifeguard is way up there, looking down on anonymous people bobbing in the pool, ready to jump into action at the first sign of trouble.

And, it’s true that, like a lifeguard, God comes to our aid when there’s a crisis, pouring out the grace and strength we need in a crisis.

But, God is much more than a lifeguard. God is a shepherd.

God is a shepherd who knows us and cares for us. God is a shepherd who’s down here with us – wanting to be discovered by us and known by us.

At the heart of our Jewish-Christian tradition is the story of God reaching out us, revealing Godself to us, innumerable ways, over and over again.

A couple of weeks ago there was a story in a British newspaper of a young Scottish girl named LuLu who was told by her teachers to write a letter to God. In this letter she was told to ask God, “how did you get invented?”

LuLu’s parents were startled when they heard about this assignment. Rather than trying to answer the question themselves, they forwarded Lulu’s question to a number of British religious leaders. One of those leaders, Rowan Williams, the Archbishop of Canterbury, took the time to personally respond to LuLu’s question.

In his response the archbishop imagined how God would reply to LuLu’s question. Here’s part of it:

‘Dear Lulu – Nobody invented me – but lots of people discovered me and were quite surprised. They discovered me when they looked round at the world and thought it was really beautiful or really mysterious and wondered where it came from. They discovered me when they were very very quiet on their own and felt a sort of peace and love they hadn’t expected.

Then they invented ideas about me – some of them sensible and some of them not very sensible. From time to time I sent them some hints – specially in the life of Jesus – to help them get closer to what I’m really like.”

The archbishop’s response to LuLu is both charming and profound.

His response touches on the great truth of how we discover God who is so much more than a lifeguard.

When we look at the beauty of the world, we discover a God of unlimited imagination and creativity.

When we make time for quiet – to reflect and pray – we discover God in a sense of peace and love we hadn’t expected.

And most especially in Jesus the Good Shepherd, we discover a God who loves us enough – who wants so much to be discovered by us - to join us on earth as a flesh and blood human being.

In Jesus the Good Shepherd we discover a God who calls us each by name.

In Jesus the Good Shepherd we discover a God who gives us life and wants us to have it abundantly.

And we heard what that abundant life is like in the snapshot of the early church in today’s reading from Acts:

“Those who had been baptized devoted themselves to the apostles’ teaching and fellowship, to the breaking of bread and the prayers.”

With that foundation of prayer and worship the first Christians made room for God and grew ever closer to the Good Shepherd. And, we’re told that with that foundation of prayer and worship the apostles did amazing signs and wonders.

And when they faced inevitable times of crisis in their lives, those early Christians didn’t look to God as a lifeguard because, thanks to Jesus, they knew God was already right there in the water with them.

In times of crisis, those early Christians looked to God they knew as a shepherd – God who knew them, loved them, protected them and led them.

And what was true in the First Century is just as true now in the Twenty-First Century.

Just look around.

We gather here in the chapel each week (some of us even during the summer!) just like the first Christians – telling and hearing the old stories, supporting one another, breaking bread and praying together.

We gather here in the chapel to make room for God – to grow closer to God.

We gather here in the chapel to get to know God not as a lifeguard watching from afar but to get to know God as a shepherd right here in the pasture with us.

So, when the inevitable times of crisis come in our lives, we won’t look to God as just a lifeguard because, thanks to Jesus, we know that God is already down here with us in the sometimes dangerous and frightening waters of life.

When the inevitable times of crisis come in our lives, we can look to God we knew as a shepherd – God who knows us, loves us, protects us and leads us.

Amen.

More Than a Lifeguard (St. Michael's)

St. Michael’s Episcopal Church, Gainesville FL
May 15, 2011

Year A: The Fourth Sunday of Easter
Acts 2:42-47
Psalm 23
1 Peter 2:19-25
John 10:1-10

More than a Lifeguard

I’ve started reading a book called Almost Christian. The book is a summary of and reflection on the recent National Study of Youth and Religion – a massive, multi-year look into what American teenagers think about religion.

The survey found that young people – probably mirroring their own parents – are not hostile to religion. They just don’t care about it very much.

On one level, we might rejoice that our young people don’t hate religion or despise the church.

But, apathy is probably even worse than strong, if negative, feelings.

Here’s how the author summarizes what American youth think about religion:

1. A god exists who created and orders the world and watches over life on earth.

2. God wants people to be good, nice, and fair to each other, as taught in the Bible and by most world religions.

3. The central goal of life is to be happy and to feel good about oneself.

4. God is not involved in my life except when I need God to solve a problem.

5. Good people go to heaven when they die.

When you think about all the horrible things that people could think or believe, this is not a bad set of beliefs. We might even agree with at least some of them.

But, especially on this Good Shepherd Sunday, it’s number four that really catches my attention:

God is not involved in my life except when I need God to solve a problem.

The author describes this belief as thinking of God as a divine lifeguard. We don’t think about very much about God the lifeguard when we’re having a great time splashing our way through life.

But, the moment something goes wrong, the moment there’s a crisis, the lifeguard suddenly becomes very important. And later, once the crisis passes, we don’t think about the lifeguard again - until the next time we’re in trouble.

There’s nothing wrong exactly with thinking about God as a lifeguard, except that it’s such an impoverished metaphor for who God really is and for the role that God wants to play in our lives.

The Lord is my lifeguard doesn’t quite cut it, does it?

A lifeguard is way up there, while we’re down here in the pool.

A lifeguard is way up there, looking down on anonymous people bobbing in the pool, ready to jump into action at the first sign of trouble.

And, it’s true that, like a lifeguard, God comes to our aid when there’s a crisis, pouring out the grace and strength we need in a crisis.

But, God is much more than a lifeguard. God is a shepherd.

God is a shepherd who knows us and cares for us. God is a shepherd who’s down here with us – wanting to be discovered by us and known by us.

At the heart of our Jewish-Christian tradition is the story of God reaching out us, revealing Godself to us, innumerable ways, over and over again.

A couple of weeks ago there was a story in a British newspaper of a young Scottish girl named LuLu who was told by her teachers to write a letter to God. In this letter she was told to ask God, “how did you get invented?”

LuLu’s parents were startled when they heard about this assignment. Rather than trying to answer the question themselves, they forwarded Lulu’s question to a number of British religious leaders. One of those leaders, Rowan Williams, the Archbishop of Canterbury, took the time to personally respond to LuLu’s question.

In his response the archbishop imagined how God would reply to LuLu’s question. Here’s part of it:

‘Dear Lulu – Nobody invented me – but lots of people discovered me and were quite surprised. They discovered me when they looked round at the world and thought it was really beautiful or really mysterious and wondered where it came from. They discovered me when they were very very quiet on their own and felt a sort of peace and love they hadn’t expected.

Then they invented ideas about me – some of them sensible and some of them not very sensible. From time to time I sent them some hints – specially in the life of Jesus – to help them get closer to what I’m really like.”

The archbishop’s response to LuLu is both charming and profound.

His response touches on the great truth of how we discover God who is so much more than a lifeguard.

When we look at the beauty of the world, we discover a God of unlimited imagination and creativity.

When we make time for quiet – to reflect and pray – we discover God in a sense of peace and love we hadn’t expected.

And most especially in Jesus the Good Shepherd, we discover a God who loves us enough – who wants so much to be discovered by us - to join us on earth as a flesh and blood human being.

In Jesus the Good Shepherd we discover a God who calls us each by name.

In Jesus the Good Shepherd we discover a God who gives us life and wants us to have it abundantly.

And we heard what that abundant life is like in the snapshot of the early church in today’s reading from Acts:

“Those who had been baptized devoted themselves to the apostles’ teaching and fellowship, to the breaking of bread and the prayers.”

With that foundation of prayer and worship they grew ever closer to the Good Shepherd. And, we’re told the apostles did amazing signs and wonders.

In times of crisis, those early Christians didn’t look to God as a lifeguard because, thanks to Jesus, they knew God was already right there in the water with them.

In times of crisis, those early Christians looked to God they knew as a shepherd – God who knew them, loved them, protected them and led them.

And what was true in the First Century is just as true now in the Twenty-First Century.

Just look around.

Four years ago, right here at St. Michael’s, in a time of crisis, a handful of people put their faith in Jesus the Good Shepherd.

And look what happened and is happening.

Thanks to Jesus the Good Shepherd and a handful of hardworking sheep, a church that just about everyone thought was going to die lived on.

More and more people found and continue to find Jesus the Good Shepherd right here in this pasture.

Lately about sixty sheep have been gathering each Sunday in this pasture.

And today I’m pleased to announce that for the first time since the split St. Michael’s has hired a parish administrator.

So, look what happens when week after week we come here and listen to the old stories of Scripture, when, like the early Church, we devote ourselves “to the apostles’ teaching and fellowship, to the breaking of the bread and the prayers.”

Look what happens when, despite our own weaknesses and failures and frustrations, we allow God into our lives, allow God to be our shepherd.

Look what happens when we recognize and share the great news that God is so much more – and wants to be so much more - than a lifeguard watching over us from a distance.

Look what happens when we recognize and share the great news that the Lord is our shepherd.

Thanks be to God.

Amen.

Discovering God

The Wedding of Katherine Huening and Asher Walden
May 7, 2011

Song of Solomon 2:10-13; 8:6-7
Colossians 3:12-17
Mark 10:6-9, 13-16

Discovering God

A couple of weeks ago there was a story in a British newspaper of a young Scottish girl named LuLu who was told by her teachers to write a letter to God. In this letter she was told to ask God, “how did you get invented?”

LuLu’s parents were startled when they heard about this assignment. Rather than trying to answer the question themselves, they forwarded Lulu’s question to a number of British religious leaders. One of those leaders, Rowan Williams, the Archbishop of Canterbury, took the time to personally respond to LuLu’s question.

In his response the archbishop imagined how God would reply to LuLu. Here’s part of it:

‘Dear Lulu – Nobody invented me – but lots of people discovered me and were quite surprised. They discovered me when they looked round at the world and thought it was really beautiful or really mysterious and wondered where it came from. They discovered me when they were very very quiet on their own and felt a sort of peace and love they hadn’t expected.”

The archbishop’s response to LuLu is both charming and profound.

His response touches on the great truth of how we discover God.

The story of God and humanity is a story of God being passionately in love with us – the passionate love that we hear in the words of the Song of Solomon – the passionate love “strong as death.” and “fierce as the grave.”

Because God loves us so much, is so passionate about us, God is always reaching out to us, eager to be discovered by us.

The story of God and humanity is a story of God reaching out us – from God searching for an ashamed Adam and Eve hiding in the garden to God revealing in Christ’s empty tomb that, in fact, love is stronger than death.

And God continues to reach out to us, eager to be discovered by us.

We discover God in the words of Scripture as when the author of the Letter to the Colossians writes, “Above all, clothe yourselves with love, which binds everything together in perfect harmony.”

We discover God when we stop and realize, despite all of the world’s sadness and suffering, just how amazingly good it is to be alive.

We discover God when we open our eyes, look around us, and see the beauty of nature.

We discover God in the quiet of our hearts, when, as the archbishop wrote, we feel a sort of peace and love that we never expected to feel.

We discover God in the love that we share with those closest to us – with our wives and husbands, with our parents and our children, with our dearest friends.

And, every once in a while, God goes a little overboard. Every once in a while God wants so much to be discovered that God reaches out to us in all of these ways, all at the same time.

That’s what’s happening today. That’s what God is doing right here as we gather to witness the union of Katie and Asher.

We are discovering God right here and now.

We are discovering God in the beauty of this place.

We are discovering God in the beautiful passages of Scripture that we’ve heard today.

We are discovering God in the quiet of our hearts, as we reflect on the amazing journeys that brought these two wonderful people together, the unlikely journey that brought Katie and Asher here and now to make the commitment of a lifetime.

We are discovering God in the love that Katie and Asher share with each other, in the love that I saw was powerful and obvious enough to shine through even our long distance Skype sessions to prepare for today and for a life together.

And now we’re here.

We’re here to celebrate and give thanks.

We’re here to celebrate and give thanks for the love of God that we discover in so many ways, but today especially in the love of Katie and Asher.

Katie and Asher, today is a milestone on the journey of discovery that has been and will be your life together.

Katie and Asher, if you keep your eyes open, during the good times and the not so good, you will continue to discover God in one another, in the love that you share, and in the life that you have begun to build together.

And, Katie and Asher, if you keep your hearts open, you will continue to give all of us the great gift of discovering God in you, helping all of us to feel a sort of peace and love we hadn’t expected.

So, thanks to you both for sharing your love with us.

And thanks be to God for always reaching out to us, always eager to be discovered.

Amen.

Verification

St. Michael’s Episcopal Church, Gainesville FL
The Chapel of the Incarnation, Gainesville FL
May 1, 2011

Year A: The Second Sunday of Easter
Acts 2:14a, 22-32
Psalm 16
1 Peter 1:3-9
John 20:19-31

Verification

By now, the world has moved on from Easter. The Easter candy that everybody likes has already been eaten. The Easter baskets have been put away for another year, or they’re still out, looking a little threadbare with just a few stray jellybeans or some unpopular candy all that’s left.

But, here in church it’s still Easter. The paschal candle is still front and center, symbolizing the light of Christ in the world. The lilies are still giving church a beautiful fragrance. And since it’s still Easter, we began the service with the great acclamation of faith:

Alleluia! Christ is risen!
The Lord is risen indeed! Alleluia!

It’s the great acclamation of our faith – Jesus was dead and then God raised Jesus on the third day. It’s the heart of our Christian faith – it’s what we are expected to believe – it’s what we say we believe each time we stand and say the words of the Nicene Creed.

But, if we’re honest, many of us would admit that we often struggle with our faith, we struggle with the great acclamation of our faith that Christ is risen.

Part of faith is agreeing that certain claims are true. Part of faith is standing and saying the creed as if it were a checklist of claims that we can agree are true. I believe in this, that and the other thing…

But, a much more important part of faith is trust.

And trust is very difficult for many of us, isn’t it? Trust is difficult because we’ve all been lied to, betrayed, misled, and hurt more times than we’d care to count.

Trust is difficult for many of us because we have not always been trustworthy.

So, we’re suspicious of people’s motives – what’s in it for you? Are you somehow trying to take advantage of me? Why are you being so nice to me?

For many of us, the best we can do is the supposedly Russian proverb frequently quoted by President Reagan, “Trust but verify.”

If you stop and think about it, that proverb presumes an open heart, a willingness to trust. But that proverb also reflects the real and important fact that we don’t want to be taken advantage of, don’t want to be abused, don’t want to be played for a fool.

“Trust, but verify.”

Here in church it’s still Easter here and it’s still Easter at the start of today’s gospel lesson. It’s Easter and, maybe like us, the disciples seem to be having some trust issues.

Last week, you’ll remember, the Evangelist John described the appearance of the Resurrected Christ to a stunned and overjoyed Mary Magdalene. We left off with Mary going to the other disciples, telling them “I have seen the Lord”, and telling them what he had said to her.

We’re not told exactly how the disciples reacted to Magdalene’s amazing news – but I think we can rule out that the disciples trusted blindly what Mary told them. John does give us a clue about the disciples’ trust issues at the start of today’s passage when he tells us that in the evening of the same day the disciples were hiding fearfully in a locked room. The locked room powerfully symbolizes the closed hearts of the disciples. They lack the openness that is the beginning of trust.

But then Jesus appeared – still himself with the wounds on his hands and his side.

Jesus appeared – still himself but also transformed – he mysteriously entered the locked room and then in a kind of mini-Pentecost, he breathed the Holy Spirit onto his disciples.

At this point trust is no problem for the disciples. At this point the disciples have received all the verification they will ever need. Like Mary Magdalene, they can say with complete confidence, “I have seen the Lord!”

But, what about the rest of us?

Like us, the Apostle Thomas was not present for this powerfully convincing appearance of the Risen Christ. When he hears the news from the other disciples, he is appropriately skeptical. But, notice that Thomas doesn’t close himself off. Thomas doesn’t run away from Christ and his friends, trying to forget that his time with Jesus had ever happened.

No, Thomas has the openness that is the beginning of trust. He is open enough to the possibility that the disciples are telling him the truth that he still spends time with them.

And then Thomas gets his famous verification when the wounded and risen Christ appears once again.

Thomas is often called “Doubting Thomas” and I guess that’s true. But, really Thomas is the patron saint of all of us who struggle with faith as trust. Thomas is the patron saint of “Trust but verify.”

Since we’re here in church on the Second Sunday after Easter – when things have returned to normal and many people have returned to their normal Sunday activities – it’s safe to say that we all have a certain amount of openness to the claims of Christianity – a certain amount of openness to the acclamation that Christ is risen, the Lord is risen indeed.

We have the openness that is the beginning of trust.

But, how and when do we get verification?

We are not likely to encounter the Risen Christ the disciples did in the locked room long ago.

But if, like Thomas, we begin with openness that is the beginning of trust, we can get verification all around us.

The author of the Gospel of John declares that the gospel is “written that you may come to believe.”

We get verification in the Scriptures when we read and hear these old texts and feel God’s love and grace in the deepest meanings and messages that transcend time and space.

We get verification in our own Christian community right here. We get verification when we come here and in the words of the great spiritual we can really feel that “there’s a sweet, sweet Spirit in this place, and I know that it’s the Spirit of the Lord.”

We get verification when we exchange the peace with friend and stranger alike. We get verification when we come together at the Lord’s Table and each receive the same portion of the bread of heaven and each drink from the same cup of salvation.

Most of all, we get verification after we leave here. We get verification when we go out those doors into the world and live lives different from our neighbors, with values different from what the world thinks is important.

When we devote our lives to living out the words of the Baptismal Covenant, we can really feel the presence of the Risen Christ with us and with the people we encounter and serve.

We get verification when persevere in resisting evil, and we sin, we repent and return to the Lord.

We get verification when we proclaim by word and example the Good News of God in Christ.

We get verification when we seek and serve Christ in all persons, loving our neighbor as ourselves

We get verification when we strive for justice and peace and respect the dignity of every human being.

The doubtful but openhearted Apostle Thomas is our patron saint – Thomas is the patron saint of “trust, but verify”.

Thomas received special verification that the Lord is risen indeed. But, I bet that wasn’t the last verification that he received. According to tradition, Thomas brought the Good News of Christ all the way to India – and, in fact, sacrificed his life for Christ there.

As powerful as his personal verification was, I am sure that over the course of his journey of sharing the Good News, his journey of serving and loving the strangers he met, Thomas, like us, received ever surer verification that, alleluia, Christ is risen.

Amen.

An Everlasting Love

St. Michael’s Episcopal Church, Gainesville FL
The Chapel of the Incarnation, Gainesville FL
April 24, 2011

Easter Day
Jeremiah 3:1-6
Psalm 118:1-2, 14-24
Acts of the Apostles 10:34-43
John 20:1-18

An Everlasting Love

Alleluia! Christ is Risen!
The Lord is risen indeed! Alleluia!

In today’s first reading God speaks through the Prophet Jeremiah to the people of Israel who were captives in Babylon. Through Jeremiah, God promises a homecoming – a restoration to the way things were always meant to be.

Through Jeremiah God says, “I have loved you with an everlasting love; therefore I have continued my faithfulness to you.”

The story of God and humanity is a story of God loving us with an everlasting love. It’s a story of God reaching out to us – reaching out to us, over and over.

Unfortunately, the story of God and humanity is also a story of humanity rejecting God’s everlasting love; a story of humanity hiding in shame from God just as in the story of Adam and Eve hiding from God in the garden.

But despite all of that human rejection and all of that human hiding, through prophets like Jeremiah, God continued to reach out to us.

And, then in the fullness of time, God reached out to us in a unique and final way, in the life, death and resurrection Jesus of Nazareth.

When we look at Jesus we see God’s everlasting love.

When we look at Jesus we see what God is really like.

And when we look at Jesus we see what we are meant to be like – what we were always meant to be like.

In Jesus, we see a God who enters the world on the margins – in out of the way places like Bethlehem, born to a couple of nobodies, surrounded by shepherds and farm animals.

In Jesus, we see a God who is most easily found with the poor and the outcast – a God most easily found with the people hanging out in downtown Gainesville at Bo Diddley Plaza or waiting in line for a meal at St. Francis House.

In Jesus, we see a God who especially loves the mourners and the persecuted. In God’s kingdom they are the blessed ones.

In Jesus, we see a God who loves us enough to experience the worst rejection - a God who loves us enough to die for us.

But, God’s love for us is an everlasting love. So, death of Jesus on the cross is not the end of the story.

God continues to reach out to us.

That’s the amazingly good news that we celebrate on Easter. That’s the amazingly good news that Mary Magdalene discovered – in what is one of the most powerful and beautiful passages in Scripture.

We’re told that Mary came to the tomb on the first day of the week.

We’re not told why she’s there, but any of us who have ever visited the grave of one we love know why. It must seem to her that all that’s left of Jesus is memory - and a dead body just beyond view.

Then to Mary’s shock and horror, just when it seemed there could not be any more bad news in this whole sad story, she discovered the open and empty tomb.

Peter and the other disciple look into the tomb, discover it empty and then run back home – maybe back to hiding?

But not Mary Magdalene. No hiding for her. She stands and weeps. She stands and weeps, representing all of us who have wept over our sad and broken world, who have wept over the cruelty of the world, who have wept over a world filled with so much suffering and loss.

But, despite all of our rejection and hiding, despite all of our own cruelty and selfishness, God loves us with an everlasting love.

Mary discovered God’s everlasting love when she heard the resurrected Christ call her by name, “Mary!”

Mary discovered that not even death itself can defeat God’s everlasting love of us.

And then Mary went and told the others. She went and told them, “I have seen the Lord.”

And now two thousand years later, here we are on Easter Day in Gainesville, Florida. Here we are gathered in this place, telling and hearing these old stories of God’s everlasting love.

They are the best stories, but, we wouldn’t come here to tell and to hear these old stories of God’s everlasting love, if we can’t also experience God’s everlasting love in our own lives.

If we open our hearts, if we really pay attention, if we don’t try to hide, we also can experience God’s everlasting love.

In our baptism the resurrected Christ has called each of us by name, just as he called Mary Magadalene by name (and just as he called Eowyn by name last night when she was baptized.)

Beyond our baptism, we experience God’s everlasting love just by being alive – just by living on this beautiful planet, filled with breathtaking sights and amazing creatures – including alligators.

We experience God’s everlasting love in the love of our friends and family – those still with us here – and those whose presence we still feel in memory and more.

We experience God’s everlasting love when we come here and extend the sign of peace with one another – people we’ve known forever and people we’ve never met – people we like, and people maybe we’re not too crazy about.

We experience God’s everlasting love when we come here and gather around the table – all eating the same bread and drinking from the same cup.

We experience God’s everlasting love alive in us when we quietly visit the sick and the lonely – when we help someone with the rent or to fill up their gas tank – when we help the stranger even if we’re pretty sure we’re being scammed – when we pray for suffering people – when we pray for our enemies.

We experience God’s everlasting love alive in us when we forgive those who wrong us.

If we open our hearts, if we really pay attention, if we don’t try to hide, we also can experience God’s everlasting love.

Early on the first day of the week, Mary Magdalene discovered that - no matter much we reject God or try to hide from God - God continues to reach out to us.

Mary Magdalene discovered that God continues to love us with an everlasting love – a love far more powerful than death itself.

On this Easter Day, the only question for us is how do we respond to God’s everlasting love?

Like so many do we reject God’s love? Do we try to hide from God’s love?

Or, like Mary Magdalene, do we receive the gift of God’s everlasting love in Jesus and then head out through those doors, head out into Gainesville, head out intothe world, proclaiming joyfully by word and deed, “I have seen the Lord”?

Alleluia! Christ is risen!
The Lord is risen indeed. Alleluia!

Brave and Noble Warriors for Christ

St. Michael’s Episcopal Church, Gainesville FL
April 23, 2011

The Great Vigil of Easter
The Baptism of Eowyn Verhaeren
Genesis 1:1-2:2
Genesis 7:1-5, 11-18; 8:6-18; 9:8-13
Exodus 14:10-15:1
Zephaniah 3:12-20
Romans 6:3-11
Matthew 28:1-10

Brave and Noble Warriors for Christ

Alleluia! Christ is risen!
The Lord is risen indeed. Alleluia!

The story of God and humanity is a story of God reaching out to us – a story of God reaching out to us over and over again.

At the start of tonight’s service we heard some examples of God reaching out to us – some stories of God’s saving deeds in history - some stories of our salvation.

We began with the story of creation – the story of God pouring out bottomless love and unquenchable imagination to create this fragile and beautiful planet surrounded by the vast expanse of interstellar space. We heard the story of God’s creation of human beings – human beings made in the image and likeness of God.

We didn’t hear the story of human beings messing up that close relationship with God. We didn’t hear it because, well, it’s Easter and we’re trying to be upbeat. And we didn’t hear it because, really, we don’t need to hear it. We know only too well how often we mess up – how often we mess up our relationship with God, our relationship with one another, our relationship with all of creation.

Yet, the good news is that despite all that messing up, God doesn’t give up on us.

God continues to love us, to reach out to us.

And tonight we celebrate God’s ultimate reaching out to us in the life, death and resurrection of Jesus.

In the life of Jesus, we see what God is really like.

We see a God who enters the world on the margins – born to a couple of nobodies in an out of the way place.

We see a God who is the God of the losers – the God of the poor in spirit, the mournful, the meek, the hungry and thirsty, the merciful and the persecuted.

We see a God who’s most easily found with the people hanging out tonight downtown in Bo Diddley Plaza or the people waiting on line for a meal at St. Francis House.

In the life of Jesus we see what God is really like.

And in the death of Jesus we see what God is really like.

In the death of Jesus, we see a God whose kingdom is a mortal threat to the political and religious authorities of the world.

In the death of Jesus we see a God who is willing to be weak, a God who is willing to be rejected by us, a God who is even willing to be killed by us.

In the death of Jesus, we see a God who forgives the worst we’ve ever done or could ever do.

In the death of Jesus we see what God is really like.

But, this is the night when we celebrate the resurrection.

In the resurrection of Jesus we see what God is really like.

In the resurrection of Jesus we see a God who never gives up on us. We see a God who will not allow sin and death to drive us apart.

In the resurrection of Jesus, we see a God who gives us a fresh start, a second chance.

In the life, death and resurrection of Jesus, we see what God is really like.

And in the life, death and resurrection of Jesus we see what we are meant to be like – what we were always meant to be like.

In The Lord of the Rings, the character Eowyn is both beautiful and a brave and noble warrior.

And even if we’re not named Eowyn, that’s what we’re supposed to be like.

To love us so much, despite all our flaws, God must find us very beautiful.

And as Christians, we are meant to be brave and noble warriors for Christ, caring for those the world thinks of as the losers.

We are meant to be brave and noble warriors for Christ, united with the poor in spirit, the mournful, the meek, the hungry and thirsty, the merciful and the persecuted.

We are meant to be brave and noble warriors for Christ, challenging the political and religious authorities of the world – and facing the consequences of that challenge.

We are meant to persevere in resisting evil.

We are meant to proclaim by word and example the Good News.

We are meant to serve Christ in all persons

We are meant to strive for justice and peace among all people.

All of this seems nearly impossible. And it would be impossible to be a brave and noble warrior for Christ if we were on our own.

But, the joy of Easter is that we’re not on our own.

In the water of Baptism God makes an indissoluble bond – an unbreakable bond – with us, just as tonight in the water of baptism, God made an unbreakable bond with our own Eowyn.

As St. Paul explained to the church in Rome, in the water of baptism we die with Christ – and in the water of baptism we rise with Christ.

We messed up in the worst way imaginable by nailing Jesus to the cross.

Yet, God responds to our messing up by raising Jesus on the third day – by turning death into life.

So, Eowyn, no matter how many times you mess up, no matter how many mistakes you make, God will always love you and be with you.

And no matter how many times the rest of us mess up, nothing can ever separate us from the love of God.

The story of God and humanity is a story of God reaching out to us – reaching out to us over and over again.

And God’s ultimate reaching out to us is in the life, death and resurrection of Jesus Christ.

In the life, death and resurrection of Jesus we see what God is really like.

And in the life, death and resurrection of Jesus we see what we are meant to be like.

Alleluia! Christ is risen!
The Lord is risen indeed! Alleluia!

Good Earth

St. Michael’s Episcopal Church, Gainesville FL
April 21, 2012

Good Friday
Isaiah 52:13-53:12
Psalm 22
Hebrews 10:16-25
John 18:1-19:42

Good Earth

Whenever people die, it’s perfectly normal to reflect on the meaning of their lives.

Sometimes, especially if a person has lived a long, full, loving life, we give thanks for a life well lived and quietly hope the same for us.

And sometimes, if a person dies young or tragically, we wonder why, we mourn the lost promise – and quietly whisper the cliché, “There but for the grace of God go I.”

Reflection about the meaning of the life and death of Jesus probably began when his lifeless body still hung on the cross.

His mother and the other women and the Beloved Disciple standing at the foot of the cross, probably barely able to look through their tears at Jesus’ battered body, must have struggled to make sense of what had happened to this man – son, friend, rabbi.

And I imagine the disciples - wherever they were hiding - must have also begun reflecting on Jesus, reflecting on the meaning of his life, reflecting on the meaning of their time together. And, maybe they also reflected with shame on their own cowardly abandonment of their teacher and friend, the one who had so recently broken bread with them, the one who had just washed their feet.

We know of course what’s going to happen next. Unlike the women at the foot of the cross and the other disciples we’re already planning and anticipating the celebrations that will take place tomorrow night and Sunday morning.

Of course, the resurrection didn’t stop people from reflecting on the meaning of Jesus’ life and death – just the opposite, really.

Among Christians in the early centuries there was a lot of reflection about Jesus’ nature. Who and what was Jesus?

Some people had a hard time accepting that Jesus was a human being just like us. Instead, some people argued that, like a character out of mythology, Jesus was a divine being who was only pretending to be a human being.

People who believed Jesus was just pretending to be a human being could and did point to how Jesus is usually depicted in the Gospel of John. More than the other gospels, John nearly always presents Jesus as being very much in control, very confident about his identity, and very certain of his mission.

In the Gospel of John, Jesus often seems more divine than human. Usually Jesus doesn’t seem to share the doubts and fears that you and I have in abundance.

From the cosmic opening verses of his Gospel, John makes the point that the Word of God has come and lived among us in Jesus of Nazareth - Jesus who lived right here on this same beautiful and fragile planet where today you and I go about our lives.

As we just heard in the reading of the Passion, the great tragedy is that people not so different from us rejected God’s presence and nailed the Word of God to a piece of wood.

Two thousand years ago it was the Jewish religious authorities and the Roman political authorities who killed Jesus. But, I suspect the abandonment by his friends hurt Jesus more than the nails that pierced his wrists.

And, let’s face it, few if any of us, would have done better than the cowardly disciples or the people in the crowd calling for Jesus’ death.

John is the most spiritual of the gospels, but even John presents the stark fact that Jesus’ body was a vulnerable human body – just like our bodies.

Jesus’ body was a body born of a woman – and so Mary endures the agony of watching her son die an excruciating death.

Jesus’ body was a vulnerable human body – a body that was easily flogged by physically stronger men.

John tells us that Jesus’ face – a real face just like ours - was struck.

John tells us that a mocking crown of thorns was placed on Jesus’ head and a mocking purple robe draped over his battered body.

John tells us that Jesus was thirsty – just as our own mouths get parched.

None of this was happening on a mysterious spiritual plane, but right here on planet earth. Flesh and blood human beings brutalized another flesh and blood human being - an old, old story.

But, as the first Christians reflected on the life and death and resurrection of Jesus of Nazareth, they came to a mind-blowing conclusion. As the first Christians continued to experience Jesus’ presence in Scripture, in the bread and the wine, in one another, in their hears, they came to a mid-blowing conclusion.

They came to the mind-blowing conclusion that in a unique and unexpected way, God entered our flesh and blood world in this particular human being – this particular human being who was battered and killed by those temporarily more powerful than he.

When we look at Jesus we see what God is really like.

And, then, despite that horrible rejection – God still didn’t – and still doesn’t give up on us.

Why?

The only possible answer is love.

God loves us - not in some abstract way – God doesn’t just love the idea of us – God loves flesh and blood us.

God loves the good creation – loves this beautiful and fragile planet where Jesus walked among us and where today you and I go about our lives.

And so, because God loves us and loves creation, God reveals God’s Self to us in Jesus of Nazareth.

God reveals God’s Self in Jesus who taught about the kingdom of God; Jesus who gave sight to the sightless; Jesus who gave new life to those thought to be dead forever.

We look at Jesus and see what God is really like.

And because Jesus is a flesh and blood human being – we look at Jesus and see what we are meant to be – what we were always meant to be.

We look at Jesus and see that we are meant to give of ourselves in loving service to one another.

We look at Jesus and see that we are meant to love the good creation just as God loves the good creation.

Reflection about the meaning of the life and death of Jesus probably began when his lifeless body still hung on the cross.

And the fruit of that reflection is that when we look at Jesus, we see what God is really like.

And when we look at Jesus, we see what we are meant to be like.

Amen.

Participants

St. Michael’s Episcopal Church, Gainesville FL
April 21, 2011

Maundy Thursday
Exodus 12:1-4, (5-10), 11-14
1 Corinthians 11:23-26
Psalm 116:1, 10-17
John 13:1-17, 31b-35

Participants

I’m sure many of you are aware that this year marks the 150th anniversary of the start of the Civil War. Last week there were commemorations of the first shots of the war – the first shots fired by the Confederate forces on Fort Sumter, barely visible in the predawn gloom of Charleston Harbor.

Large numbers of Civil War re-enactors with their obsessive attention to every detail, down to making sure they have the right kind of laces in their boots and the right blend of coffee in their cups, converged on Charleston and recreated the beginnings of our bloodiest war - as history buffs, tourists and the merely curious looked on.

I can understand the appeal of historical reenactments like this. And I can understand why people want to be re-enactors. There’s a genuine appeal to immersing yourself in the past, becoming expert in a particular time and place, a particular group of people. I’m sure it’s fun, interesting, and educational.

But, though it may seem like it, we are not here tonight for a historical reenactment.

Yes, like those people in Charleston, tonight we are remembering an event that took place in the past. We are remembering an event that took place in a room in Jerusalem on or near the Passover, nearly two thousand years ago.

Jesus and his closest friends and disciples went to Jerusalem for the great Passover feast. Throughout his ministry, Jesus had warned his followers what was going to happen to him. Most of the time they seem to have not understood – or maybe they just didn’t want to understand.

But now in this room at Passover, even the dimmest and most stubborn of Jesus’ followers must have understood that the unthinkable was happening - Jesus’ life was going to end. Jesus’ life was going to end in an especially dismaying, shocking, horrific way.

After Jesus’ death and resurrection, the disciples must have spent a lot of time remembering and reflecting on all that they had experienced with their teacher. And this last meal remained an especially vivid memory for the rest of their lives. They must have told the story of this last meal over and over.

In fact, I think it’s safe to say that what we call the Last Supper is the most memorable and most remembered meal of all time.

In the brief passage from his first letter to the Corinthians, written twenty or so years later the events of that Passover, St. Paul gives us the earliest account of the Last Supper and the way the first Christians remembered it and experienced it– and have continued to remember it and experience it right down to today.

All four gospels tell the story of Jesus’ last meal with his friends, though the descriptions differ a bit.

Each year on Maundy Thursday we hear the account of the Last Supper in the Gospel of John. The Gospel of John was the last of the four gospels to be written so -no surprise - John’s account of the Last Supper is by far the longest of the four.

But, what is surprising is that in his long description of the Last Supper, John makes no mention of Jesus instituting the Eucharist. There’s no mention of Jesus blessing and sharing the bread and wine and instructing his followers to do the same in his memory.

Instead, only John paints the remarkable picture of Jesus the Son of God washing the feet of his friends.

In Jesus’ remarkable act of humility, we see what God is really like. We see a God who loves us beyond our imagination. We see a God who pours out grace on us – pours out grace to serve us, to strengthen us, to purify us.

In Jesus we see what God is really like.

And in Jesus we see what we are meant to be like.

Jesus tells his followers, commands his followers, “For I have set you an example, that you should do as I have done to you.”

And so over and over we gather around the Lord’s Table, hearing the words of Jesus echo down through the centuries, echo through and beyond time and space, “This is my body. This is my blood.”

And on Maundy Thursday we have a ritual foot-washing.

At the first foot-washing, once he realized how important it was, Peter exclaimed, to Jesus, “Lord, not my feet only but also my hands and head!” That sounds like Baptism to me. And, so from time to time, we gather around the font – as we’ll do here on Saturday night - joyfully pouring water and welcoming a new member of the Christian community.

But, aside from me, we don’t do these things in period costume as if we were historical re-enactors.

We don’t dress up as if we were at a biblical theme park. We come to the table just as we are - wearing our normal clothes – ordinary 21st Century clothes – because we are not re-enactors.

Those re-enactors in Charleston last week weren’t really firing the first shots of the Civil War.

But, when you and I come to the table with our hands and hearts outstretched, we are in a mystical but very real way gathered around Jesus at the Last Supper. We really are united with the first disciples and with Christians through the centuries.

We’re not re-enactors, we’re participants.

And when I symbolically wash the feet of a few of our parishioners, at first glance it may look like a historical reenactment. But, notice they’re not dressed in period costume.

The foot-washing is meant to remind us of what Jesus did for his followers – people just like us. The foot-washing is meant to remind us that Jesus calls us – commands us – to be like him – to live lives of loving service to others.

And so when we quietly visit the sick and the lonely – when we help someone with the rent or to fill up their gas tank – when we help the stranger even if we’re pretty sure we’re being scammed – when we pray for the suffering – when we pray for our enemies - then we’re not re-enactors.

We’re not re-enactors.

We’re participants.

In our own time and place, right here in Gainesville, we’re participants in the life of Christ – a life like bread that is broken to feed the multitudes – a life like wine poured out to quench the thirsty – a life like water washing away grime – a life of loving and humble and sacrificial service.

In Jesus we see what God is really like.

And in Jesus we see what we are meant to be like.

Amen.

What God Is Really Like

St. Michael’s Episcopal Church, Gainesville FL
The Chapel of the Incarnation, Gainesville FL
April 17, 2011

Year A: The Sunday of the Passion: Palm Sunday
Matthew 21:1-11
Isaiah 45:21-25
Psalm 22:1-11
Philippians 2:5-11
Matthew 26:36-27:66

What God Is Really Like

We are told that the moment Jesus died on the cross, the curtain of the temple was torn in two, from top to bottom.

That curtain – a large tapestry - hung in front of the Holy of Holies – the innermost part of the Temple where in a sense God was believed to dwell. The tearing of the curtain when Jesus dies symbolizes that now God is no longer hidden from view.

In the life and death of Jesus, we see what God is really like.

We see a God who enters the world on the margins – in out of the way places like Bethlehem, born to a couple of nobodies, surrounded by shepherds and farm animals.

In the life and death of Jesus, we see what God is really like.

In the life and death of Jesus we see God at work transforming this broken, messed up world into a kingdom – a downside-up kingdom in which blessed are the poor in spirit, blessed are those who mourn, blessed are the meek, blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, blessed are the merciful, blessed are the pure in heart, blessed are the peacemakers, blessed are those who are persecuted for righteousness’ sake, and blessed are those persecuted on Jesus’ account.

In the life and death of Jesus, we see what God is really like – building a kingdom for those the world thinks of as the losers.

In the life and death of Jesus, we see what God is really like.

In the life and death of Jesus, we see God’s power quenching thirst. We see God’s power giving sight to the sightless. In the life and death of Jesus, we see God’s power giving new life to those thought to be dead.

In the life and death of Jesus, we see what God is really like.

And at the start of today’s service, we heard how at least some people greeted Jesus – how at least some people welcomed God into their midst – with a parade, with songs, with hope and joy.

Jesus’ parade is a parody of political and military parades. Jesus doesn’t enter the capital city riding a magnificent stallion the way a triumphant king or warrior would. There’s no army in uniform - just a ragtag group of supporters welcoming their unlikely king with branches and acclamations of “Hosanna!”

Maybe more even than Jesus’ own followers, the political and religious leaders saw the immense power behind Jesus’ humility and simplicity. The political and religious leaders recognized that this unusual parade was a glimpse of a kingdom in which they aren’t in charge – the kingdom in which it’s the losers of the world who are blessed.

The political and religious leaders saw very well the threat posed by this revolutionary rabbi from Nazareth – and so, helped by own of his own, they moved quickly against Jesus.

Matthew downplays the responsibility of Pilate and the Romans and places more blame on the Jewish religious leaders and the crowd that chose the bandit Barabbas rather than Jesus of Nazareth.

In truth, there’s plenty of blame to go around.

In the life and death of Jesus we see what God is really like. We see a God who is rejected over and over – rejected at the start of creation in the garden; rejected by the leaders and the crowds in Jerusalem two thousand years ago; rejected by us more often than we’d ever want to admit.

While there’s plenty of blame to go around, in this case it’s the Romans who do the deed. Crucifixion was a common and particularly brutal form of Roman punishment, reserved for non-citizens who were viewed as threats to the empire. It was a punishment reserved for the losers.

The victims were literally and figuratively stripped of their dignity.

For Jews, a crucified person was ritually unclean, an untouchable.

Many people mistakenly think that the crucified bled to death from their wounds. The truth is worse. In most cases they became gradually too weak to breathe and eventually suffocated – often after hanging on the cross for days.

Jesus himself died relatively quickly, perhaps a sign that the Son of God was already physically weak even before this ordeal began.

Matthew tells us that, not long before he died, Jesus cried out from the cross, quoting from the start of Psalm 22, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?”

In that cry of anguish, Jesus is united once and for all with the all the broken people of the world – all the broken people who in the midst of great suffering still hope and trust in God.

In that cry of anguish, Jesus is united once and for all with the losers who will be – who are – blessed in the kingdom of God.

When Jesus took his last agonizing breath the curtain in the Temple was torn in two. God is no longer hidden from us.

In the life and death of Jesus, we see what God is really like.

In Jesus, born in an out of the way place to a couple of nobodies, we see what God is really like.

In Jesus, who taught about the downside-up kingdom of God, we see what God is really like.

In Jesus, who gave sight to the blind and new life to the dead, we see what God is really like.

In Jesus, who endured the pain, shame and abandonment of the cross, we see what God is really like.

In the life and death of Jesus, we see what God is really like.

Amen.

The Agony of God

St. Michael’s Episcopal Church, Gainesville FL
The Chapel of the Incarnation, Gainesville FL
April 10, 2011

Year A: The Fifth Sunday in Lent
Ezekiel 37:1-14
Psalm 130
Romans 8:6-11
John 11:1-45

The Agony of God

Here in church over the past few Sundays in Lent we’ve been hearing very long excerpts from the Gospel of John.

As I’ve mentioned before, the Gospel of John is the last of the four gospels to have been written, probably some time around the end of the First Century, several generations after the earthly lifetime of Jesus.

In part because it’s a relatively late gospel, it’s also the most theologically sophisticated of the four gospels.

There has been more time for people to reflect on who Jesus was and is – more time to reflect on the meaning of Jesus’ life, death and resurrection.

We hear some of the fruit of that reflection in the grand and cosmic opening verses of the Gospel of John:

“In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God.”

“And the Word became flesh and lived among us, and we have seen his glory, the glory as of a father’s only son, full of grace and truth.”

Throughout the Gospel of John, Jesus is presented very much as the Word made flesh – as God’s Son in whom we see what God is really like.

Throughout the Gospel of John, Jesus is presented as more divine than human - very much in control, very certain of his mission and its eventual outcome.

Just like the other gospels, the Gospel of John describes powerful supernatural acts of Jesus. But in John these supernatural acts are not called miracles. In the Gospel of John the powerful acts of Jesus are called signs.

In the Gospel of John, Jesus performs signs to point to the truth – the truth about God, the truth about himself, the truth about us, and the truth about life and death.

For example, at the wedding at Cana Jesus turned water into wine not because it was something amazing to do, though, of course it was amazing. Jesus also doesn’t go around doing this all the time, though I’m sure it would have gotten him invited to a lot more parties! Jesus changed water into a wine as a sign pointing to the truth that it’s in Jesus that we find overflowing abundance.

Another example: the man born blind we heard about last week was given sight not because it was something amazing – and merciful - to do, though of course it was amazing and merciful. And Jesus doesn’t go around giving sight to every blind person he met. Jesus gave the man sight as a sign pointing to the truth that it’s in Jesus that we really see the power and love of God.

And today, we heard the story Jesus’ greatest sign – the raising of his beloved friend Lazarus from the dead.

Again, Jesus doesn’t travel around to every funeral in the area raising the deceased back to life.

The entire sequence of events in the Lazarus story is designed so that in this sign Jesus can point to and reveal the glory of God.

So, Jesus waits two extra days after receiving word that his friend Lazarus was ill.

Jesus misses out on the funeral. Jesus wasn’t there to console Mary and Martha.

When Jesus arrives Lazarus has been dead for four days.

There was a belief in Judaism that the spirit hovered near the body for three days after death. So, when Jesus arrives on the fourth day, there can be no doubt that resuscitation is impossible: All hope is lost. Lazarus is dead – really dead.

Now the stage is set for Jesus’ greatest sign. John is about to tell the story of how Jesus – how the Word of God made flesh living among us – reveals that death is no match for the power of God.

But first, looking at Mary and the others mourning Lazarus, surrounded by their grief, Jesus seems to be overcome with emotion.

John tells us that Jesus was “greatly disturbed in spirit and deeply moved.” The word translated as “deeply moved” is more accurately translated as “angered.”

And then, Jesus, the Word of God, cries.

Now, if we were talking about anyone else, this reaction would be no surprise. Anger and sadness at the death of a friend is perfectly normal human behavior, of course.

But, John nearly always presents Jesus the Word of God as being supremely confident and in control – so he must have had an important reason to include the details of Jesus seeming to lose control. John must have had an important reason to include the details of Jesus angry and weeping.

In his anger and in his tears Jesus is most fully human.

And in his anger and in his tears Jesus is also most fully divine.

John seems to be making the point that in the anger and tears of Jesus we see that, just like us, God is angered by the power of suffering, grief and death.

In the anger and tears of Jesus we see that, just like us, God is saddened by our suffering, grief and death.

In the anger and the tears of Jesus we see the agony of God – the agony of God who loves us.

In the anger and tears of Jesus we see the agony of God – the agony of God who loves us and who suffers along with us.

The agony of God leads God to act.

It’s because of the agony of God that the Word became flesh and lived among us.

It’s because of the agony of God that Lazarus was raised from the dead. It’s because of the agony of God that we are given this powerful sign of God’s triumph over death.

Jesus cries with a loud voice, “Lazarus, come out!”

And love defeats death.

Of course, the story doesn’t end there. In his book What Jesus Meant, Garry Wills writes, “Jesus embraced his own death when he gave life to Lazarus.”

In the Gospel of John, when Jesus raises Lazarus from the dead he sets in motion a chain of events leading to his arrest and execution. This awesome and unprecedented act of power and love convinces the powers that be that Jesus is just too dangerous to live.

And so on Good Friday we will see even more clearly the agony of God.

On Good Friday we will see the agony of God who came and lived among us and was rejected by people just like us.

On Good Friday we will see the agony of God whose offer of love was rejected with nails and a crown of thorns.

But, the good news is that, despite even this painful rejection, God doesn’t give up on us. God doesn’t leave us in our sin, suffering and grief.

The agony of God leads God to act.

The agony of God leads to the best news for us for all time.

The agony of God leads to Easter morning, when love defeats death once and for all.

Thanks be to God.

Give Glory to God!

St. Michael’s Episcopal Church, Gainesville FL
The Chapel of the Incarnation, Gainesville FL
April 3, 2011

Year A: The Fourth Sunday in Lent
1 Samuel 16:1-13
Psalm 23
Ephesians 5:8-14
John 9:1-41

Give Glory to God!

Well, another Sunday brings another very long reading from the Gospel of John.

As I mentioned last week, most scholars consider the Gospel of John to be the last of the four gospels to have been written – probably sometime around the end of the First Century – several generations after the earthly lifetime of Jesus.

That late date means that this gospel is the product of divine inspiration working through several generations of Christians as they reflected on the meaning of the life, death and resurrection of Jesus.

The Gospel of John is also the product of an early Christian community in crisis.

The Temple in Jerusalem had been destroyed by the Romans in the year 70. Jews had considered the Temple to be the holiest place on earth – in a sense God’s dwelling place - so its destruction was a extremely traumatic experience.

The Temple’s destruction led Jews to reassess and restructure their faith. Judaism had been amazingly diverse – in fact, there were many different Judaisms, many different ways of being a Jew. But now the Temple’s destruction led Jews to think carefully about what exactly it meant to be a Jew.

By the end of the First Century many Jewish religious leaders had real doubts about whether the Jewish followers of Jesus – the people who claimed Jesus was the long-awaited messiah, the people who believed Jesus was the Son of God who had risen from the dead, the people who gathered each week for the Lord’s Supper - were in fact still part of the Jewish community.

So, the Gospel of John was written at a time when Jewish followers of Jesus faced an excruciating choice. Do they continue to follow Jesus and cut themselves off from the community – the nation – the people - of their ancestors? Or, do they remain part of the synagogue and turn their back on Jesus and his followers?

When we hear passages from the Gospel of John like the one I just read, on one level we are hearing a story of how different people responded to a powerful sign performed by Jesus – giving sight to a man blind from birth.

But, on another level, we are hearing a story about the crisis faced by a Christian community decades later. The people referred to as “the Jews” are really the Jewish religious authorities. The people referred to as “the Jews” are the Jewish religious authorities who challenged the followers of Jesus to take the risk of their lives, to break from the past and head into an uncertain future.

Over time, the Church forgot some of this history – forgot that everyone in this and other stories was Jewish – including Jesus. The negative depiction of “the Jews” in Christian scripture, especially in the Gospel of John, served as a tragic foundation for the horrors of Christian anti-Semitism.

All that I’ve said so far is a – hopefully – interesting history lesson. But it’s much more than history. As Christians, you and I face the same kind of choice as the man born blind, the man’s parents, the religious authorities and those early Jewish followers of Jesus living near the end of the First Century.

How do we respond to what we’ve seen – what we continue to see?

The man’s parents pass the buck. Talk to our son – we don’t want to get involved.

The religious leaders stubbornly and arrogantly think they’re the only ones who can really see - and so they miss out on seeing God at work.

And how does the man born blind respond to his extraordinary gift?

The Pharisees said to him, “Give glory to God!” In this context, “Give glory to God!” is a legal command to testify. The Pharisees command the man born blind to testify to what he has experienced, to testify to the gift he has been given, to testify to what he has seen.

Give Glory to God!

And, as best he can, that’s exactly what he does. Although his physical sight was restored after he washed in the pool of Siloam, it takes time to for his spiritual sight to clear.

First, he doesn’t know where Jesus is.

Then, he declares that Jesus is a prophet.

And finally he recognizes Jesus as the Son of Man.

But, although it takes time for his spiritual sight to clear, all along the man born blind testifies as best he can to what he has experienced, testifies to the gift he has been given, testifies to what he has seen.

In our own lives, you and I have probably never experienced something quite as dramatic as what happened to the man born blind. But, then again, maybe we have. When we stop and think about it, we see that we have received extraordinary gifts from God.

We’ve received the gift of life itself. We exist – which in itself is pretty amazing. We all receive the simple pleasures of life on this beautiful planet - feeling the warmth of the sun on our faces, hearing the birds chirping in the morning, enjoying the taste of food and the refreshment of cold water.

And most of us have received the gift of Baptism – the water in which God makes an indissoluble, an unbreakable bond with us.

In the water of Baptism God shows us the bottomless depths of love.

And day after day, Sunday after Sunday, we receive the gift of being part of the Church. For all the church’s failings and faults, it’s here that we experience God’s love in a community like no other. It’s here that we experience God’s love with people we might not otherwise ever meet or might not otherwise even want to meet. It’s here that we experience God’s love through God’s Word, through the Body and Blood of Christ, through the simple exchange of peace, through our fellowship and care for one another.

No doubt the distractions, burdens, disappointments and fears of life can cloud our spiritual vision. Like the man born blind, it takes time – maybe a lifetime – for our spiritual vision to clear.

Yet, although his spiritual vision was still not clear, the man born blind gave glory to God. The man born blind testified to what he had experienced, testified to the gift he had been given, testified to what he had seen.

How about us? are we willing to give glory to God by testifying to what we have experienced, by testifying to the gifts we have been given, by testifying to what we have seen?

We testify by the way we live our lives out there in the world.

We testify by living lives and by having values that are very different from the values out there in the world.

And, sometimes, like the man born blind we testify through our words. Like the man born blind, each in our own way, we tell people out there in the world, “One thing I do know, that though I was blind, now I see.”

The story of Jesus giving sight to the man born blind operates on several levels.

On one level, it’s a story about how everyone responds in very different ways to what they have seen.

On another level, it’s a story about the Jewish Christian community around the end of the First Century facing the excruciating choice between the faith of their mothers and fathers or stepping out into an uncertain future as followers of Jesus.

And now here today you and I face our own decision. Although our spiritual vision may not be completely clear, how do we respond to the gifts we have received?

How do we respond to what we have seen – what we continue to see – all around us?

Like the man’s parents, do we pass the buck?

Like the Pharisees, do we stubbornly and arrogantly refuse to see?

Or, like the man born blind, do we testify?

Do we give glory to God?

Amen.