You Are What You Eat

Eleventh Sunday of Pentecost (Proper 15) – Year B (RCL)
Proverbs 9:1-6; Psalm 34:9-14; Ephesians 5:15-20; John 6:51-58
Sunday, August 16, 2009 – Trinity, Redlands

The Romans of the first century often thought that the early Christians were downright savages, that they were cannibals. After all, their religion required that they eat flesh and drink blood. While the Romans may have been a bit misguided in their understanding of Christianity, it is certainly easy to see where they got their notions when we read the sixth chapter of John’s gospel – the portion we have been examining for the last few weeks.

Over the last several weeks, we have been looking at Jesus’ “bread of life” discourse. At first glance, it may seem rather tedious that we keep having Gospel lessons with the same imagery week after week. And I warn you, we get even more of it next week. But it is important to realize that the reason John portrays Jesus making such lengthy and seemingly repetitive discourses is twofold. First, what is being said is incredibly important to John’s Christology, to his understanding of who Jesus is. That being the case, John gets somewhat repetitive to allow the concepts being presented to fully sink in, rather than just wash over us. And second, such discourses are lengthy precisely because the concepts being presented are complex and need a systematic explanation in order for us to begin to fully comprehend both the meaning and the implication for our lives of faith. Hence our protracted Gospel readings for the month.

To recap, two weeks ago, we had Jesus merely saying that he is the bread of life. Last week, he provided more explanation – that this bread of life has come down from heaven, and that whoever eats of this bread will live forever. We are beginning to see a slow and systematic building of intensity – in the nature of the imagery and in the depth of its meaning. So, not surprisingly, this week’s portion of the on-going discourse has Jesus taking the imagery to a whole new level – “the bread that I will give for the life of the world is my flesh.” While this statement was included in last week’s lesson, it provided this somewhat cryptic statement without exposition. But today, more of the total image is revealed, and we receive more explanation as to what it all means.

The explanation is facilitated by the fact that the gathered Jews are obviously grossed out by the image of eating flesh. “How can this man give us his flesh to eat?” And rather than try to ease their discomfort, to say nothing of their disgust, Jesus only serves to make matters worse. “Very truly I tell you, unless you eat the flesh of the Son of Man and drink his blood, you have no life in you.” Unless you are a cannibal, this statement on first glance is an affront to anyone's human sensibilities. But such a concept is particularly repugnant to Jews. Kosher dietary laws specifically prohibit observant Jews from drinking the blood of slaughtered animals. This is because blood is the essence of life – life is contained in the blood. They believe that the soul is contained in the blood. To drink the blood of an animal would be to take in its life essence, its soul, to have it comingle with one’s own soul. While I have not found any specific explanation of why this would have been viewed as being so bad, my educated guess is that in so doing, the person would take on the soul of the animal, take on the life essence of something lower, more base, something impure, thereby corrupting the person and rendering him or her ritually unclean.

In using the imagery that he does, and all the accompanying connotations for devout Jews, Jesus is for all intents and purposes likening himself to a slaughtered animal, as an animal placed as a sacrifice on the Temple altar. This side of the crucifixion and resurrection, we Christians see that this is somewhat appropriate imagery, foretelling what would happen to him. But for those involved in the scene, it was quite inappropriate, if not downright heretical.

If we keep with the imagery of Christ as a slaughtered, sacrificial victim, we begin to see that such action, if truly come down from heaven, if truly ordained by God, recasts the imagery and the antecedent Jewish dietary restrictions in a completely new and different light. By his implied imagery of eating the flesh of the slaughtered animal and drinking its blood, Jesus is, in effect, overturning the old dietary laws. Not with respect to the physical food that is eaten, but certainly with respect to spiritual nourishment. Eating the flesh and drinking the blood of this new sacrificial being, of Jesus, would no less entail the taking in of the life essence, the spirit of Christ, than would drinking the blood of a slaughtered animal entail taking in the soul of that animal. But instead of taking in the soul of a lowly creature that would taint and render impure the essence of the one partaking of it, taking in the flesh, the blood, the life-giving essence, the spirit of Christ, would result in taking in something even more pure, something more divine. By Jesus being fully human and fully divine, eating his flesh and drinking his blood would mean ingesting and sharing in a touch of the divine, of that which is given by the Creator to provide life to all humanity. The one who eats Jesus’ body and drinks his blood would share in God’s Spirit, would share in eternal life. The Spirit of God and of Jesus becomes inextricably linked with our spirit. God and Jesus become part of us, and in so doing, we become part of Jesus. This is what Jesus means when he says “Those who eat my flesh and drink my blood abide in me and I in them.”

I think further explanation of this is provided in the Old Testament lesson from Proverbs. Today’s reading from Proverbs talks about Wisdom. To fully understand and appreciate the message of this lesson, it is important to understand that Wisdom is often used in Old Testament writing as a personification for the Spirit of God, what we call the Holy Spirit. And while God the Creator is always personified as masculine, Wisdom as used for the Spirit is always personified as feminine.

So, in today’s Old Testament lesson we have Lady Wisdom, the Holy Spirit personified, preparing a banquet, a festive meal, just as Jesus provides on numerous occasions. Throughout his earthly ministry, Jesus centered much of his activity around meals. Jesus provides a meal for his disciples prior to his arrest and crucifixion. Jesus promises that we will ultimately share in a heavenly banquet. Wisdom, in preparing her banquet, even uses the same primary elements that Jesus uses. She invites us, “Come, eat of my bread and drink of the wine I have mixed.” Note that this imagery was written some six centuries before Jesus lived in the flesh, before Jesus used the imagery of bread and wine to describe his banquet, to describe himself.

When combined with the Gospel lesson, several things become clear about this banquet. First is that this banquet is definitely ordained by God. The Spirit of God provides a banquet in which all are invited. And then, the Son of God provides greater clarification about the nature of the banquet meal. The bread is not just any old bread, but is the bread of life, the flesh of the Son of God. And the wine is not just any old wine, but is the blood of the Son of God.

And the second thing about this banquet, foretold in the Old Testament, in the history and wisdom of our Jewish forebears, and brought to fulfillment in an earthly sense through Jesus Christ in the giving of the bread and the wine, his body and his blood, and yet to be brought to its ultimate fulfillment in the heavenly banquet in celebration of the victory of the Kingdom of Heaven, all of this points to the fact that the ultimate goal of salvation history is the heavenly banquet, for which Jesus will provide the bread and the wine - his flesh for the bread, his blood for the wine.

And this banquet is to be life changing. We talked about drinking Jesus’ blood as resulting in the taking in of his life essence, of his Spirit. While the Old Testament does not use this imagery, it certainly indicates that the banquet is life-changing. Proverbs tells us that Wisdom’s invitation to her banquet is an invitation to “lay aside immaturity, and live, and walk in the way of insight.” The banquet provides transformation, the opportunity for new life.

Jesus’ invitation in John provides the same thing – the opportunity for new life. Not only new life, but eternal life. And that life is embodied in us, as we live in Christ and Christ lives in us. This life is embodied in us as we share in the intimate relationship with Christ, only made possible through partaking of his body and his blood. Through the Eucharist, Christ becomes part of our very being. As one commentator puts it, “today's rather scandalously carnal, incarnational gospel reminds us that Jesus intends to have all of us, body and soul. His truth wants to burrow deep within us, to consume us as we consume him, to flow through our veins, to be digested, to nourish every nook and cranny of our being” (Willimon, 361). This is only made possible through the partaking of the Eucharist, the foretaste of the heavenly banquet.

And for us, the most important thing is that this intimate relationship that Jesus talks about, this abiding, is not something passive, that we just let happen. Abiding is active, current, here and now. It requires something of us. It requires determination. It requires action. It requires that we boldly walk up to that altar rail, that we joyfully hold out our hands to receive the bread and the wine, that we confidently claim our share of the heavenly banquet. And in so doing, we take our place at the table, and are not only given bread and wine, body and blood. We are given, we are assured, new and eternal life. That is Lady Wisdom’s invitation to us. That is Jesus Christ’s invitation to us. That is Christ’s promise to us.

So come. Let us partake of this banquet, this holy meal of bread and wine, of body and blood, that Christ may nourish us, may abide with us, may give us the gift of eternal life he yearns for all to have.

In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.


Reference
Willimon, William H. “John 6:51-58, Homiletical Perspective.” In Feasting on the Word: Preaching the Revised Common Lectionary – Year B, Volume 3, Pentecost and Season After Pentecost 1 (Propers 3-16). Edited by David L. Bartlett and Barbara Brown Taylor. Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox Press, 2009.

NB - The title of this blog post was not my idea, per se. During the Peace at the 8:00 service, one of my LEMs said, "I guess your sermon just shows that you are what you eat." I couldn't help using Roger's comment as the title for the sermon.

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Spiritual Nutrition

Ninth Sunday of Pentecost (Proper 13) – Year B (RCL)
Exodus 16:2-4,9-15; Psalm 78:23-29; Ephesians 4:1-16; John 6:24-35
Sunday, August 2, 2009 – Trinity, Redlands

In recent decades, our nation has undergone some paradoxical shifts in our perception and awareness regarding the food we consume. By this I mean that, as a whole, the shifts we have made are downright contradictory. On the one hand, we have become a nation increasingly dependent on fast food and junk food – things we can eat on the go because we are just too busy to sit down and have a proper meal. On the other hand, we are increasingly concerned with what we eat – the nutritional value of the food, whether it’s organic or raised using growth hormones.

The government has established Recommended Dietary Allowances for certain nutrients, as well as maximum recommended levels of such things as fat, sodium, etc. These requirements are now collectively referred to as Dietary Reference Intakes (DRIs). In addition, they have established the food pyramid, which gives us guidelines for eating the proper amounts of certain types of foods to promote growth and to maintain healthful living. We are provided with additional guidance through the nutrition labeling that is provided in most every food product sold in this country.

When we are young, we tend not to pay too much attention, if any at all, to such things as food pyramids, DRIs, and nutrition labeling. Except when we have to learn about such things in school. When we are young, we are invincible and can eat whatever we want, at least that is what we think. And many have metabolisms that permit them to eat as much of whatever they want with no apparent problems. But as we get older and our bodies and metabolisms change, we have to be more conscious of what we eat. Our bodies require certain things, and certain amounts of those things, not to mention less of other things, in order to maintain, or to at least try to maintain, some semblance of health. As a result, we become more aware of what we eat, or at least, our doctors tell us we should be. We find that we do more research on nutrition. We read those nutritional labels more carefully.

In a way, today's scripture lessons, taken in total, could be viewed as the scriptural equivalent of the food pyramid and the DRIs. Today's lessons could be viewed as nutrition labeling, of sorts – nutrition labeling for the health of our spiritual lives and for proper nourishment of the Body of Christ, of which we are a part.

All three lessons are about the giving of gifts. Specifically the giving of gifts, of nutritional elements, that promote some aspect of health. As we move thought the lessons, not so much in the order read but in the order in which they appear in scripture, in which they chronologically recount the story of God’s people, we find that the nature of the gifts, and the type of health they promote and maintain, shifts from the physical to the spiritual.

In the lesson from Exodus, we have the account of how God provided for the physical health and wellbeing of the Israelites as they traveled from Egypt to the Promised Land. In this story, the people are hungry. Without food, they will not be able to continue on their journey. So God provides for their physical needs. He provides quail and manna –physical food to sustain the Israelites on their journey, to allow them to fulfill their mission and enter into the Promised Land, to fulfill their destiny and become the Chosen People from whom the fulfillment of salvation history would proceed.

In the Gospel lesson from John, we find Jesus beginning to make the transition from, the connection between, physical sustenance and spiritual sustenance. He does this when he says, “Do not work for the food that perishes, but for the food that endures for eternal life.” At this point, we don’t know what this “food that endures for eternal life” is. I find it interesting that the disciples immediately respond with “What must we do to perform the works of God?” While we aren’t told what led the disciples to do so, they seem to connect this spiritual food that Jesus mentions with the work of God.

In response, Jesus tells them that “This is the work of God, that you believe in him whom he sent.” The work that they, that we, must be about is the work of faith. The work of God is to believe in Jesus Christ, and not only to believe it, but to live into it. The work of God is to be the Body of Christ in the world, to all those whom we encounter, day to day.

And Jesus begins the transition from physical nourishment to spiritual nourishment when he says, “I am the bread of life. Whoever comes to me will never be hungry, and whoever believes in me will never be thirsty.” This statement links Jesus with the manna, with physical sustenance needed by the Israelites to carry out their journey. This statement proclaims that Jesus is the spiritual sustenance that first the disciples, and then we, require in order to carry out our journeys of faith.

And finally, in his letter to the Ephesians, Paul completes the transition from physical to spiritual sustenance and provides us with more definitive guidelines to help us achieve what Jesus has asked of us – to do the work of God. In writing to the church at Ephesus, Paul discusses the gifts, talents, and graces that the people need for their journey – not just the people of Ephesus, but all who follow Christ. Paul provides us with a clear statement of our goal. He says, “we must grow up in every way into him who is the head, into Christ, from whom the whole body . . . is equipped.” Paul has moved completely away from the physical journey to the Promised Land where God’s Chosen People will establish their earthly home, and on to the spiritual journey involved in the building up of the Body of Christ, of preparing for the Kingdom of God, the eternal home of us all.

Paul goes on to state that in order to achieve this goal, “each part [must be] working properly, promot[ing] the body’s growth in building itself up in love.” This is the result of proper spiritual nutrition. Earlier in the epistle lesson, Paul tells us that what is needed to achieve and maintain this spiritual nutrition, that which promotes the growth of the individual and of the Body as a whole, are humility and gentleness, patience, bearing with one another in love, and maintaining unity in the bond of peace. In some respects, these are the equivalent of strong bones and teeth, the skeleton on which the body is built, on which the muscles and ligaments that allow us to do the work of God are attached.

Paul then goes on to give the spiritual equivalent of the food pyramid and the Dietary Reference Intakes required to promote spiritual growth, to allow for the development of our lives of faith, and in so doing, to promote the growth of the entire Body of Christ. Just as in the human body, each part needs different nutrients to maintain proper health and functioning, so too in the Body of Christ, do we need different attributes, different nutrients if you will, to make for a healthy body. Each of us plays a different part. Each of us has a different purpose that contributes to the overall functioning of the Body of Christ. Paul tells us that “each of us was given grace according to the measure of Christ’s gift.” Each of us is given the gifts, the nutrients, that we need to contribute to the Body. Paul goes on to spell out what these gifts are. “The gifts he gave were that some would be apostles, some prophets, some evangelists, some pastors and teachers.” Through these gifts, these nutrients, we have what we need to achieve the goals established by God through Christ – “to equip the saints for the work of ministry, for building up the body of Christ, until all of us come to the unity of the faith and of the knowledge of the Son of God, to maturity, to the measure of the full stature of Christ.”

Paul uses very broad categories to describe the gifts required to nourish the Body of Christ – apostles, prophets, evangelists, pastors, teachers. This is like the general categories for nutritional elements needed by the physical body – vitamins, minerals, amino acids. But we know there are much more specific functions, much more specific gifts that provide for the nourishment of the body. Just as we have various types of vitamins, minerals, and amino acids that serve very specific functions, so too are we each given very specific gifts to provide for the nourishment of the Body of Christ. Just as no nutrient can provide all of the needs of the human body, Paul implies that we are not called to be all things for the nourishment of the Body of Christ. We are each called to specific ministries that promote the health and wellbeing of the Body of Christ.

We see that here at Trinity. Not all are called to be clergy. Not all are called to engage in outreach work. Not all are called to be teachers. We each have our specific functions, our own unique way of nourishing and building up the Body of Christ and of ministering to the world. Some are called to be on the Altar Guild. Some are called to feed the hungry. Some are called to visit shut-ins and those in the hospital. Some are called to work to educate our children and youth. Some are called to be Eucharistic Ministers. Some are called to be lectors. Some are called to be on the Vestry. I could go on and on, but you get the picture. The bottom line is that what you are doing for the parish and in the world is just what God is calling you to do. What you are doing is integral to providing nourishment for and thereby building up the Body of Christ in this place.

In the Old Testament, manna is a sign of God's presence in the wilderness. In the New Testament, Jesus is a sign of God's presence in our lives. In our own time, we as the Body of Christ are a sign to the world of God's presence through Jesus Christ. Each of us, no matter what we are doing, as long as we are doing something, is providing for the health and maintenance of the Body of Christ, for, as Paul said, “promot[ing] the body’s growth in building itself up in love,” for helping nourish the Kingdom of God, here and now.

In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.

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Plumb Lines in Our Midst

Sixth Sunday of Pentecost (Proper 10) – Year B (RCL)
Amos 7:7-15; Psalm 85:8-13; Ephesians 1:3-14; Mark 6:14-29
Sunday, July 12, 2009 – Trinity, Redlands

You know how you have a conversation or an experience in the distant past that somehow manages to stay with you? It’s not like it is always in the forefront of you consciousness, but is nonetheless a permanent part of who you, with the experience occasionally popping into mind, even years later. One of those conversations for me happened when I was a senior in high school. I was in the youth lounge at our church, sitting on the couch. There were only two other people in the room. One was Bobby, a dear friend who is about three years younger than me. The other was Bobby’s sister. I don’t recall now why we were the only ones there, why there weren’t other members of the youth group present.

While I don’t remember what we were specifically talking about, I do remember somewhere in the course of the conversation I said something that included some rather colorful language. I don’t even remember now what it was. But that isn’t important. What I do remember is that Bobby’s whole demeanor, usually very easy-going and jovial, changed in an instant. His face went pale. He sat there on the floor, staring at me with his mouth open, in a look of shock. And then he started crying. Not sobbing, but just a few tears rolling down his face. I asked what was wrong. He stammered a little and said he couldn’t believe that I had just said what I did. And then his voice took on a blaming tone. He went on about how he looked up to me, how I was model for him as to what it meant to be a Christian, how he had wanted to be like me, until now. While I don’t remember verbatim what was said, I do specifically remember Bobby saying that I was always straight parallel lines and right angles. He was using imagery that both of us could relate to. At that time in our lives, we were both fascinated by architecture and he knew that I took a lot of drafting classes in school, requiring the use of such tools as t-squares, triangles, and architect’s scales to draw exact lines according to precise geometric principles. So his simple imagery conveyed a wealth of information – and criticism.

In uttering whatever comment I did, in Bobby’s minds, his mental image of me, that image of precise lines and right angles, had gone askew. The lines were no longer straight and parallel. Those lines no longer met at standard 90 degree or 45 degree angles. He no longer knew who I really was. The reality did not match his carefully constructed model. I felt like I had been punched in the gut. I was dazed. While I know we went on to talk about Bobby’s feelings and I tried to justify that I was still the same person he had always known, et cetera, et cetera, et cetera, the details are lost. But what is permanently fixed in my mind of that conversation, of that experience, was the image Bobby had built of parallel lines and right angles, and how that had been destroyed, or at least cast into doubt – how in the mind of my friend, my very character was being called into question. How would I be able to salvage what, in that moment, seemed to be a rapidly crumbling relationship? The only thing that seemed reasonable in the moment was that to salvage the friendship, I would have to reestablish the image of straight, parallel lines and right angles.

It didn’t occur to me at the time, and I seriously doubt it occurred to Bobby either, but what had happened in that conversation, what had happened in our relationship up to that point in time, was that Bobby had set up an equivalent of a plumb line against which I was being measured – against which our friendship was being measured and evaluated. To refresh your memory, a plumb line is a cord with a weight attached, used to create a vertical line. This vertical line is used as a reference in building a structure, such as a wall, to make sure that the structure is exactly vertical and perfectly aligned. While Bobby did not use this exact analogy, his use of references to straight, parallel lines and right angles was the design equivalent.

Today’s Old Testament lesson from the Book of Amos has God setting a plumb line in the midst of His people. Just as Bobby was using straight parallel lines and right angles to assess my character and to evaluate our relationship, so too, God is using the plumb line to assess the character of the people of Israel and to evaluate the straightness and trueness of their relationship with God. The questions being asked in such evaluation is “are they conforming to the standards set for them? Are they traveling the straight and narrow, or have they deviated from the path?”

The implication in the story of Amos is that, no, the people of Israel are not following the specified path. In this lesson, God has set a plumb line against a wall built that had been built according to exacting standards. The wall, a metaphor for the life of the Israelites, had been built square and true using a plumb line – the law given at Mount Sinai. But over time, the people had slipped, and are no longer living according to the square and true measure of the Law. They have wandered off, deviating from the straight path of the plumb line. The course being followed is no longer one of straight parallel lines and right angles.

When a brick layer or stone mason builds a wall, he evaluates its alignment using a plumb line. If the wall is not straight and true, not perfectly vertical, the worker has no choice but to tear it down and start all over again. This is the implication in today’s lesson. God has warned that if corrections are not made, if Israel does not return to the straight and true path of the Law, Israel will need to be torn down and rebuilt.

What is important to remember, however, is that the plumb line is not just a tool of measurement, to determine if a structure is square and true. It is also a tool of construction. And, if used regularly throughout the building process, can even be a tool of adjustment, an indicator of how things need to be changed in order for the structure to be brought back into alignment. If deviations are caught in time, the plumb line is not just a tool of assessment and of condemnation. It can also be used as a tool of restoration. In the case of Israel, the plumb line is a tool to bring the people back into alignment with God’s law – to bring them back to faithfulness.

Unlike our Jewish forebears, the measure of our faithfulness is not based so much on the law. Rather, our faithfulness, the structure that comprises our lives of faith, is built on the image and likeness of God. For us Christians, the plumb line is Jesus Christ. It is his image and likeness, the image and likeness of God made flesh, that we can look to and assess how far we miss the mark, how far off from the straight and true the structure of our lives of faith really are. And it is that image that we can look to in order to assess what corrections need to be made in our lives to bring us back into alignment with what and who we are called to be.

This is not always easy work. We see this in today’s gospel lesson about Herod Antipas and John the Baptist. In our tradition, Herod is vilified for executing John the Baptist. He is condemned for giving into his passions, for not having the backbone to stand up to his wife, for being overly concerned with what his guests will think of him if he backs out of his promise to do whatever his daughter asks of him. And maybe this criticism is well-justified. When measured against the plumb line established by our faith, Herod certainly was not following the straight and true in his actions.

But for a moment, I’d like to give Herod the benefit of the doubt. Mark tells us “for Herod feared John, knowing that he was a righteous and holy man, and he protected him. When he heard him, he was greatly perplexed; and yet he liked to listen to him” (Mk. 6:20). Herod recognized that John was righteous and holy. He recognized that there was something to what John the Baptist preached. While he was still operating out of a place of fear, a place of confusion, there seemed to be that deep part of him that was drawn to John’s message. There was that part of him that recognized the truth in what John proclaimed. There was that part of him that wanted to believe the message. There was that part of Herod that saw the plumb line that John represented, and saw for himself that he was not straight and true. But I think deep down inside, he really wanted to be. He really wanted to be able to conform to the plumb line.

Herod found himself caught between competing standards and expectations: the Roman Empire versus the Kingdom of God, secular versus religious, political versus spiritual, the comfortable versus the uncomfortable, acceptance versus rejection, retribution versus justice, damnation versus grace. I think Herod saw the plumb line hung in his midst. He saw how, in many ways, his life was out of whack, not in keeping with the truth proclaimed first by John and then by Jesus. I like to think, given time, Herod may have come around. If he had had more time to listen to John, to absorb what was being said, to contemplate the truths John proclaimed, Herod might have had a genuine conversion experience. But, we will never know. His hand was forced before he was ready to admit to and stand up for the truth.

I dare say that in many ways, we are not all that different from Herod. We live in a world and society with competing, often contradictory standards and expectations. We hear the words of the prophets raised up by the Church. We see the plumb line set in our midst by our God. We find them enticing, yet perplexing. We know what we are called to do, yet we waver, even resist. But that’s why we do all this in community. We need each other to help us make sense of the plumb lines in our midst, and to help hold each other accountable.

My friend Bobby had an image of me, erroneous thought it may have been, that became a plumb line against which he assessed his own life. The irony was that he used that same plumb line to assess me, and I came up lacking. In so doing, Bobby then became the plumb line for me. Through this mutual exchange, we were both able to assess, to change, and to grow in our lives, as human beings, as people of faith, and as brothers.

Such is the awesome responsibility we carry as Christians. We have Christ as our plumb line, but that plumb line is exhibited and lived out through us. Many times, we are called to be the plumb lines for others – for our fellow Christians, as well as, and particularly for, those who may not know Christ firsthand, but only know of Him through us.

Sure, we’re not always going to get it right. When measured against the plumb line of Christ, we will, at times, undoubtedly come up lacking. But the Good News is that God doesn’t put plumb lines in our midst just to judge us, to find us lacking, and to condemn us to destruction. Rather, God gives us a chance. God puts plumb lines in our midst to help in self-evaluation, for us to assess how we are doing. These same plumb lines give us the opportunity to make corrections along the way, allowing us to be more straight and true in the practice of our faith. That is the grace of God made possible through Jesus Christ. That we are always given a chance – as many chances as we need – to correct the way we are going, to make our lives new again in Him.

So keep your eyes and ears open. You never know where, or how, or in whom, a plumb line may be revealed. But they are there, in the most unexpected places, in the most unexpected people. And while it may not seem like it at the time, they are gifts from God, intended to help make us better Christians, to be more faithful, and to become who God is calling each of us to be.

In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.

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What Kind of Sandwich Would You Like?

Fourth Sunday of Pentecost (Proper 8) – Year B (RCL)
Wisdom of Solomon 1:13-15, 2:23-24; Psalm 30; 2 Corinthians 8:7-15; Mark 5:21-43
Sunday, June 28, 2009 – Trinity, Redlands


What we have here is a sandwich. Seriously. That’s what Biblical scholars call the literary style represented in today’s gospel lesson. A sandwich consists of a story that is interrupted by another seemingly unrelated story, like in today’s gospel. We have the story of Jairus coming to Jesus to beg him to heal his daughter, to which Jesus agrees. On the way to Jairus’ house, that story line is put on hold while we hear about the woman with hemorrhages. Only after that story is resolved do we get back to the story of Jairus and his daughter, which then plays out to its joyful conclusion.

When used in scripture, this style is also a theological device, with the story in the middle serving as the theological key to the sandwich as a whole. While all the synoptic gospels contain sandwiches, Mark is particularly masterful at the art of, shall we say, sandwich making, employing this device in unique ways to highlight and emphasize major themes of the Gospel. In fact, Mark uses the sandwich technique a total of nine times in his short gospel.

In some ways, the middle story might be considered the more important and more interesting bit – just like when you order a sandwich, you are probably more concerned about what goes in it than with the type of bread being used. That’s not to say the “bread” part, the story on either side of the central “filling,” isn’t important. We need it all, bread and filling, to make a theologically tasty and satisfying sandwich.

That being the case, I want to focus primarily on the story of the woman with the hemorrhages, but not completely forgetting the story of the healing of Jairus’ daughter, as it does provide some nuances that only serve to enhance our understanding of the meaning of the central theological themes Mark is attempting to convey through the use here of the sandwich technique.

So let’s start with the woman herself. Suffice it to say, she’s had a rough life, as indicated in the scriptural account. But when we really consider the implications of what is told about her, it is safe to say her life is worse than rough. Given all that she’s had to suffer and endure, the woman suffering from hemorrhages is, cursed, at the very least, four times over. First, she obviously is experiencing a physical illness, one she had had for 12 years. Since she is a woman, and the affliction entails hemorrhaging, the affliction is in all likelihood gynecological in nature. Second, as Scripture tells us, she has depleted her financial resources in multiple attempts to obtain relief from many physicians, who, by all indications, were probably quacks, taking advantage of her for financial gain. Third, these quacks did not only leave her destitute, but also left her worse off medically, thanks to ineffective and even injurious “remedies.” And fourth, while not specifically mentioned, but as would certainly be the case under Jewish levitical law, she is undoubtedly considered ritually unclean – one, because she has an illness, and two, because of the nature of the hemorrhaging she experiences.

As a result of all this, the woman experiences illness and poverty. She experiences isolation and social alienation. She experiences powerlessness and vulnerability. This is quite the opposite of Jairus, who is a wealthy and powerful leader in the community. Because of his status, Jairus is free to walk up to Jesus and ask for his help. Because of her status, the woman should be nowhere near a crowd of people. Because of her circumstances, it is her duty to stay away, living on the margins of society. And if anyone should come anywhere near her, she is obligated under the law and by social convention to warn them that she is unclean, warning them so that they not risk being made ritually unclean by their contact with her.

Despite being beset by such horrendous circumstances and despite her obligation to her fellow humanity, what does this poor, marginalized woman do? She breaks all social, legal, and religious convention and enters into a crowd. And to make matters worse, she willfully and blatantly touches not only a ritually clean and healthy person, but a man, no less. Three strikes against her. But to her defense, and what is of paramount importance from our perspective, is that she does this, she reaches out to Jesus, because she has faith – faith that if anyone can help her, he can.

We’ll get back to the woman, but I want to turn to Jesus for a moment. One of the questions that troubles me every time I hear this story is why does this woman cause Jesus to feel the power flowing from him, while others pressing in upon him on this and countless other occasions, do not have a similar effect?

While we’re not specifically told, I believe it has to do with the way she touches him, with what motivates her to reach out, even just to touch the hem of his robe. I believe it is because of her faith – a faith so profound, a deep knowledge that he is her only hope. Now, I don’t personally think that the power leaves him per say, as much as he feels a connection with her because of her profound faith. I believe he feels his spirit, the power within him energized by the Holy Spirit, connecting with her spirit, as if his and her spirits are rushing to greet each other, as two friends who have not seen each other in ages rush to greet each other and to embrace. It is as if her spirit says to his, here I am, and I recognize you as my life and my hope, and his spirit turns and rushes toward hers, shouting, “my beloved.” This is all made possible by the woman’s faith in Jesus, that he is the channel to the healing power and presence of God.

I think another thing that is equally important is the fact that the woman could have just as easily taken her gift of healing and gone on her way. She could have slipped through the crowd, undetected. Jesus and those around him would have been none the wiser. Instead, when Jesus senses the connection between them, the touching of spirits, the resulting healing, and attempts to discern the reason, she stops and confesses that she is the one who touched Jesus. She falls down in fear and trembling, presents herself before Jesus, confessing her faith.

So too, Jesus could have just as easily continued on his way after he sensed the power flowing from him. With so many people around him, it could have been anyone. It would be like looking for a needle in a haystack. And chances are, the person responsible would not step forward. So why bother to find out? Chalk it up as one of those strange experiences, the cost of being the Son of God. But no, he stops and diligently attempts to figure out what has happened, and more importantly, to determine who is the cause. This is incredibly important. In doing this, in seeking out the person who has touched him in faith, Jesus is attempting to reciprocate. He is seeking relationship with this person of faith.

In falling at his feet in fear and trembling, the woman is undoubtedly afraid. She has violated all sorts of social, religious, and legal taboos in daring to touch Jesus. But instead of chastising her, Jesus calls her “daughter” – yet another sign of relationship. And in falling at his feet in fear and trembling, she is experiencing “the fear of one who knows that she is coming into relationship with God” (Edington, 192).

The question occurs to me, would the woman have been truly, permanently healed if she had not stopped and confessed her faith in Jesus? We will never know. But I do know that in kneeling before Jesus, she gives a physical, tangible sign of her belief, of her faith. She gives a physical, tangible sign of relationship with Jesus. And in return, Jesus gives a physical, tangible sign of his relationship with her. He proclaims “Daughter, your faith has made you well; go in peace, and be healed of your disease.”

Being sandwiched within the story of Jairus and his daughter provides the story of the woman with the hemorrhage with even more detail. Jairus is rich and powerful. The woman is poor and on the margins of society. The fact that Jesus interrupts his travel to Jairus' house indicates that wealth and social status are of no importance to Jesus. The woman is in as much need as Jairus. The fact that he has money and power make no difference to Jesus. It's not that she has a more immediate or pressing need. Jesus could have had her make an appointment with the disciples and he would get back to her. After all, she had gone for 12 years without relief. What difference would a few more hours make? If anything, the fact that Jesus stops to be with her, putting Jairus on hold, indicates that in his mind, the needs of the marginalized take precedence over the needs of the wealthy and powerful. But in the end, all are worthy of healing. Regardless of who we are, all are worthy of being touched by Jesus, of being made whole, of being called Daughter or Son.

Now all of that being said, it’s time for the disclaimer. Such stories as the healing of the woman with the hemorrhages and the healing of Jairus’ daughter can be a bit precarious for us modern-day Christians. We see how the faith of a woman results in her healing. We see how the faith of a father results in the healing of his daughter. We may be tempted to think that if we just have enough faith, our desires, our prayers, for healing will be answered. And then if those prayers are not answered as we would have hoped, we may be tempted to question whether we have enough faith. We may be tempted to question whether God really hears us, and if He does, does he really care about us, about our needs?

As your pastor, I implore you never, never, entertain such questions. God does hear us. God does care about us and about our needs. The Gospel assures us of that. The very fact that God sent his Son to live among us, to die for us, to be resurrected for us, is proof of that. It is proof that God desires for us and has literally moved heaven and earth, to provide us with the ultimate healing – with new and eternal life with Him. And while everything will work out fine in the end, that does not mean that the road to get there will always be an easy one.

As one minister so wisely put it, “it may be helpful to remember that prayers for healing are not simply utilitarian. That is to say, prayer is not simply a matter of bending the vector of divine will toward my will, my needs, and my hopes. More profoundly, to ask something of God is to edge into deeper relationship with God. God's mind may or may not be changed, but I—my mind and heart—may be” (Lindvall, 190).

This is so important, so profound, so central to our understanding of our relationship with God, these words bear repeating. “Prayer is not simply a matter of bending the vector of divine will toward my will, my needs, and my hopes. More profoundly, to ask something of God is to edge into deeper relationship with God. God's mind may or may not be changed, but I—my mind and heart—may be.”

No matter the response, no matter the outcome, prayer is useful. Prayer is necessary. Why? Because prayer is a sign of faith. Prayer is a sign of relationship. Prayer is our spirit reaching out and touching God’s Spirit in faith. And in response, God’s Spirit asks “Who touched me?” Our response of faith is to fall down before our God, to profess our continued faith, to enter more fully into relationship with Him. And in response, God’s Spirit cries out “My beloved Daughter, my beloved Son, you took a risk of faith, and now you’re healed and whole. Live well, live blessed!” (Mk 5:34, The Message).

In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.



References
Edington, Mark D. W. “Mark 5:21-43, Theological Perspective.” In Feasting on the Word: Preaching the Revised Common Lectionary – Year B, Volume 3, Pentecost and Season After Pentecost 1 (Propers 3-16). Edited by David L. Bartlett and Barbara Brown Taylor. Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox Press, 2009.

Lindvall, Michael W. “Mark 5:21-43, Pastoral Perspective.” In Feasting on the Word: Preaching the Revised Common Lectionary – Year B, Volume 3, Pentecost and Season After Pentecost 1 (Propers 3-16). Edited by David L. Bartlett and Barbara Brown Taylor. Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox Press, 2009.

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Oh Hear Us When We Cry To Thee . . .

Third Sunday of Pentecost (Proper 7) – Year B (RCL)
Job 38:1-11; Psalm 107:1-3, 23-32; 2 Corinthians 6:1-13; Mark 4:35-41
Sunday, June 21, 2009 – Trinity, Redlands


What a depressing bunch of readings! All the scripture lessons appointed for today are filled with images of struggle and chaos. We start off with Job, that poster boy for a life filled with calamity. The portion of the Book of Job that we have today is in the aftermath of all the struggles Job has been forced to endure. Despite being a righteous and faithful man, Job has had to suffer unspeakable traumas – the loss of his property and wealth, the death of his servants, the death of his children, and finally he is beset with terrible health problems. He’s managed to survive all of this, and now, in today’s lesson, Job is engaged in an argument with God. And as if to add insult to injury, God gets downright sarcastic with Job. “Where were you when I laid the foundation of the earth? Tell me, if you have understanding. Who determined its measurements—surely you know!”

Then there’s Paul, writing in his second letter to the church in Corinth. He goes on and on about the traumas he has had to endure during the time that he has been traveling around the Mediterranean, establishing churches and proclaiming the Gospel. “Through great endurance, in afflictions, hardships, calamities, beatings, imprisonments, riots, labors, sleepless nights, hunger,” just to name a few of his complaints.

And then there’s the gospel lesson from Mark, recounting the story of the disciples in a boat on the Sea of Galilee, when “A great windstorm arose, and the waves beat into the boat, so that the boat was already being swamped.” And even when the disciples turn for help to Jesus, who happened to be sleeping in the stern of the boat during all this chaos, the response they get is not what one would necessarily expect from the Messiah, the Son of God. Not unlike God’s response to Job, Jesus’ response is a bit on the sarcastic side. “Why are you afraid? Have you still no faith?”

Even the Psalm contains images of doom and gloom. In amongst beautiful language extolling the Lord’s goodness and ever-enduring mercy, what starts off as a song of praise is interrupted with images of stormy winds stirring up high waves of the sea.

We might as well be reading the front page of the San Bernardino Sun or the Redlands Daily Facts. Where’s the Gospel, where’s the Good News, in amongst all this chaos and struggle, all this doom and gloom?

In all fairness, the scriptures are meant to reflect the human condition. They are the stories of ordinary human beings who are attempting to live their lives, to eke out an existence, while also attempting to be faithful to God. But the reality of our human condition is that life is not a bed of roses. Stuff happens. Sometimes, bad stuff happens. Even for people of faith, no matter how faithful we may be, bad stuff can happen. In fact, odds are, at some point in our lives, something bad will happen to us. We’re human. We get sick. We grow old. Accidents happen. We live in a human society. Our lives are intertwined with those of others. And some of those people will unintentionally, or sometimes even intentionally, hurt us. We live on a planet that can be sometimes harsh and unleash destructive forces like storms and earthquakes. And no matter how faithful we are, no matter how often we go to church, no matter how many prayers we say, none of this going to change. Bad stuff will still happen.

In the midst of such struggles, who of us has not cried out to God, “why?” Perhaps one of the most frustrating things is the fact that that question is never answered to our satisfaction. God does not seem to answer. Even the church is at a loss to provide an adequate answer.

Does that mean God doesn’t listen to us? Of course He does. Does that mean that God doesn’t care? Of course not. God does care for His creation. Despite today’s scripture lessons with all the chaos and struggle, doom and gloom, that reflect our human condition, they also reflect the fact that we are not alone. Even though, at times, we may have to deal with some sort of struggle or suffering in our lives, we do not have to face it by ourselves. We do not have to go it alone.

Growing up in a military family – I am fond of saying that I spent the first 16 years of my life in the Marine Corps – we generally attended church at the chapel on the base that served as home. The Marine Corps does not have chaplains of its own, so relies on Navy chaplains to staff Marine Corps base chapels. Just as in our Anglican tradition, you can go anywhere in the world and feel comfortable with the liturgy because it is always based on the Book of Common Prayer, so too, in Navy and Marine Corps chapels, there are certain things that are always the same. While the actual structure of the liturgy would vary depending on the denomination of the chaplain, there were common elements to all worship services. The most notable, the one thing that was always the same, was the closing hymn. It was always “Eternal Father, strong to save,” also known as the Navy Hymn, the sequence hymn we just sang. For old time’s sake, I was tempted to ask Jeff to use it as our closing hymn today, but it actually made more sense to use it as the sequence.

Now, the version of the hymn we usually sang in Navy chapels was a little different, but the message was the same, and is summarized in the repeated phrase: “O hear us when we cry to thee, for those in peril on the sea.” As a child, I always felt such comfort singing the words of the Navy Hymn, and particularly those words “O hear us when we cry to thee, for those in peril on the sea.” As I have reflected on that time in my life, I realize that the sense of comfort was on multiple levels. One level, one shared with every other person in the chapel, was the sense of God caring for and keeping safe our military personnel – those who were in the chapel, but also, and perhaps more importantly, those who were away, often in troubled areas of the world. It was a comfort to know that God was looking out for the likes of my father and my uncle, of my friends’ parents, of the numerous people I encountered on a daily basis.

But I now realize that the words of this hymn provided a sense of comfort, even assurance, at an even deeper, more personal level. These words provided me with a sense that no matter what might happen to me, God would be there to take care of me. It was some of the earliest feelings I had of an abiding trust in God, of an assurance that regardless of whether we are faithful to God or not, God is always faithful to us.

This is born out in all of today’s lessons. In fact, “Eternal Father, strong to save” was inspired in part by some of the imagery of today’s Psalm, Psalm 107, and by today’s gospel lesson from Mark, among other portions of scripture.

Now, of course, even with such comfort and assurance, it does not mean that times of struggle or chaos will be a cake walk. As we’ve established, we are but human. And that brings with it all sorts of emotional stuff in response to what goes on in our lives, no matter how much we may try to be rational about our circumstances. While all of the readings are about life in struggle, addressing life in the midst of chaos of one form or another, they are also about the human emotions that accompany the times of struggle and chaos. Probably the greatest of these are fear and anger. And even these are reflected in today’s scripture lessons. Job is certainly angry at God for the injustices perpetrated upon him. And while the story does not say so, he was also probably even a little fearful. Who wouldn’t be with all that he had to endure? And the disciples in the boat with Jesus were, in no uncertain terms, filled with fear.

Each of today’s lessons provide us with particular insight into how to deal with our fear and anger, how to deal with the uncertainty that is present in those times of struggle and chaos that inevitably confront us.

The encounter between Job and God is a rather interesting one. The part we have in today’s reading is the beginning of a very lengthy discourse by God in response to Job’s questions as to why all these terrible things have beset him. It is interesting because, one, as I’ve already noted, God uses a rather sarcastic tone with Job. It’s as if God is saying “you’re putting yourself in the place of God when in actuality, the whys and wherefores are really none of your concern.” And two, despite the lengthy response, spanning four chapters, God never directly answers Job. Instead, he recounts all the details and wonders of creation. But yet, even in this, God does provide an answer of sorts, if we read between the lines. In his response, God is essentially providing assurance that all creation is a gift from God to humanity. Creation is the way in which God has revealed Himself to humanity. In all that is, God is present. Even in the chaos and suffering that we experience, God is there, ever present, not something apart from our suffering.

The challenge for us is to enter into the experience and to find God in the midst of our suffering. As one commentator so aptly put it, “The deepest places of our knowledge of God are often those places that we cannot explain: [such as] experiences of tranquility in the presence of pain.” This is one of the great mysteries of our relationship with God, of our existence as the people of God. That being the case, “Perhaps the church's vocation has less to do with explaining the root of that mystery and more to do with making space for that kind of mystery to be known and shared” (Connors, 150).

The experience of Paul is more of a direct application of this principal of having faith that God is in the midst of all life, including our struggles and our suffering. In our reading from 2 Corinthians, while he does not specifically state it, the tone of Paul’s words convey the fact that he has unwavering faith in the greater purpose to which God has called him. Despite all the suffering he has endured for the sake of the Gospel, faith in God and in what he was called to do kept Paul going in the midst of his various struggles.

And I believe that the key to understanding this whole concept of having faith in the midst of life’s chaos can be found in Jesus’ response to the disciples as they sit fearfully in the boat in the midst of a violent storm. What are Jesus’ words? The first thing he says to them is “why are you afraid?” Well, in some respects, this is one of those “duh” moments. But then again, in asking “why are you afraid?” Jesus is acknowledging the fear experienced by the disciples. He does not say, “don’t be afraid,” which in the midst of a terrible storm could be interpreted as being patronizing or dismissive. No, the feelings are real, even if, from Jesus’ perspective, a little unfounded. But they are not he, and Jesus recognizes this. He recognizes that the disciples still have some work to do in the area of faith. So, he attempts to meet them where they are, attempts to understand the reason for their fear, and to help them understand and to begin top come to grips with it. Only then can he begin to address it. And that he does. He then goes on to the heart of the matter: “Have you still no faith?” Faith in him, faith in God, is what is ultimately needed to weather the storms that life throws at us.

The bottom line in all of today’s scripture lessons is the same. In every case, the protagonists – Job, Paul, the disciples – do not have to face the ordeals, the chaos, alone. In all cases, God, in some form or fashion, is there in the midst of it with them. He was there all along. The only thing was, they all, Job, Paul, the disciples, had to work through the very natural, but very limiting emotions, that kept them from seeing that God was always there, protecting them, giving them strength to carry on.

Only when we have articulated the feelings of fear, and even of anger toward God, only when we have come to terms with those very human feelings that can get in the way of seeing that God has not abandoned us, that God will never abandon us, that He is always with us, can we then be in a position to be still and listen for God – for the God who is always in our midst, saying “Peace! Be still!” In the midst of storms, we are challenged to listen to and to rediscover our faith in God’s word, the word that proves God is ever-present, no matter what may happen to us or around us.

I believe Emily Bronte, the daughter of an Anglican priest, summed it up most eloquently in her poem, “No Coward Soul is Mine.” She writes:

No coward soul is mine,
No trembler in the world's storm-troubled sphere:
I see Heaven's glories shine,
And faith shines equal, arming me from fear.

This is the faith of another nineteenth century Anglican who was able to write, “O hear us when we cry to thee for those in peril on the sea.” This is the faith that will see us through whatever struggles and chaos life may throw our way.

In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.


References
Connors, Andrew Foster. “Job 38:1-11, Pastoral Perspective.” In Feasting on the Word: Preaching the Revised Common Lectionary – Year B, Volume 3, Pentecost and Season After Pentecost 1 (Propers 3-16). Edited by David L. Bartlett and Barbara Brown Taylor. Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox Press, 2009.

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Bible Study with Alzheimer's Patients

Several weeks ago, the parish received a call from the program coordinator (or as I like to refer to her, the cruise director) at Somerford Place, a residential facility here in Redlands for Alzheimer’s patients (an extremely nice facility, BTW). There are several churches and religious groups in the area that periodically come in and do worship or Bible study. The "cruise director" wanted to know if Trinity would be interested in doing something similar, providing a more mainline perspective (most of the other groups tend to be a little more on the fundamentalist-evangelical end of the spectrum). David (the rector) and I talked about it and he said he really doesn’t have time to add another program, but if I wanted to do it, go ahead. I decided it would be interesting to at least give it a try. So, I contacted Somerford Place and agreed to do a trial run of every other Mondays during June to see how things go.

Yesterday was the first attempt. I have to admit I was a little nervous. I have no experience dealing with Alzheimer’s patients. I didn’t know what to expect. But I must say, I was pleasantly surprised. There were about 25 people present. Now, about a quarter of them were dozing, but everyone else seemed to be at least somewhat engaged. And there were about five or six who did respond to questions and invitations to share their own insights.

Being the day after Pentecost, I decided to focus on that. I started off with a little discussion about Pentecost. Then I focused on Romans 8:22-27, the Epistle lesson for Pentecost. After one of the patients read the lesson, I essentially gave a recap of my sermon from Sunday. I thought that would be good because in my sermon I focused on how the Holy Spirit is always with us, particularly in times of need. I thought the patients just might be able to relate to that. And they did. After my reflection, I invited people to comment and add their own insights or experiences. There were several people who did open up and talk a little about times of need in their own lives. There were a number of occasions when someone would come up with something that might have seemed tangential or even unrelated to the topic of discussion, but I was generally able to take such comments and use them as a springboard for further discussion.

The Holy Spirit definitely was present in our time together. My initial concerns and uncertainty were quickly dispelled and I felt pretty comfortable with the way things went. Actually, I was pretty surprised that things went so well for the first time out of the chute. I can hardly wait to see what will happen in two weeks.

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The Gift That Keeps On Giving

Pentecost Sunday
Acts 2:1-21; Psalm 104:25-35,37; Romans 8:22-27; John 20:19-23
Sunday, May 31, 2009 – Trinity, Redlands


On this, the Feast of Pentecost, we remember and celebrate the giving of the gift of the Holy Spirit to humanity. Each of the scripture readings we just heard deal with the Holy Spirit and the giving of that same Spirit in some form or fashion.

Of course, the first reading, from the second chapter of Acts, is the signature story for Pentecost. It is the story that we all tend to think of when we think of this day, this event. This is the story of the rushing in of the Holy Spirit, in the form of a violent wind. Accompanying the arrival of the Spirit, or perhaps a manifestation of it, is the appearance of tongues of fire resting on each of the persons present, and the proclaiming of the gospel in many languages, with those present speaking in their varied native tongues, but also being able to understand the words being proclaimed by others. We are told that this story takes place 50 days after Christ’s resurrection and was in keeping with Christ’s promise to send an Advocate in his place following his ascension. This fulfillment of Christ’s promise was witnessed by a multitude, not only Jesus’ disciples, but a myriad of others, including devout Jews and newly converted Gentiles from all over the known world.

The Gospel lesson from John, on the other hand, is a little more limited in scope. In this account, the gift of the Holy Spirit is not given to a multitude, but rather is only given to ten of the disciples – the original Twelve minus Judas Iscariot, who had committed suicide, and Thomas, who was inexplicably absent. And rather than occurring after Christ’s ascension, this conveying of the gift of the Holy Spirit occurred much earlier. In fact, it occurred on the Sunday evening of Christ’s resurrection. And rather than the Holy Spirit being sent by Christ, this bestowal of the gift of the Spirit was directly initiated by Christ himself – “he breathed on them and said to them, ‘Receive the Holy Spirit.’” Very different circumstances, very different cast of characters, but the same Spirit.

Despite the differences between the Acts and the John stories, the purpose is essentially the same. In both cases, the Holy Spirit is given to humanity as a gift to provide the continuing presence of Jesus among his followers in the aftermath of his death and resurrection. The Holy Spirit is given as a gift to guide the community of believers, to inspire them, to energize and vivify them for the continuation of the work begun by their master – the work of proclaiming the gospel and building the Kingdom of God that they would now be called to continue.

The third story, the lesson from Romans, is quite a bit different. Written some 25 years after the Pentecost event, this passage does not deal with the events leading up to or experienced in the giving of the gift of the Holy Spirit. Rather, Paul, writing to a disparate group of Jews and Gentiles that comprised the Church in Rome, talks about the Holy Spirit in the context of the entirety of salvation history, from the beginning of creation right up to the present day. He is concerned with the implications of the gift of the Holy Spirit for humanity, where humanity has been, where it is, and where it is going. While written to a group of early Christians in Rome in the mid-first century, the meaning and implications continue to be significant and applicable for us Christians, nearly two thousand years later and half-way around the world.

Paul captures the essence of the meaning and implications for the Holy Spirit in our lives in the very first line of today’s Epistle lesson. “We know that the whole creation has been groaning in labor pains until now; and not only the creation, but we ourselves, who have the first fruits of the Spirit, groan inwardly while we wait for adoption, the redemption of our bodies.” Unlike the other two readings which document the sending of the Holy Spirit to particular groups of people on behalf of all humanity, Paul, in his reporting talks about the continuing work of the Holy Spirit, delivered upon the entirety of creation, for all humanity. And he makes clear that the coming of the Holy Spirit was not a single event that happened nearly 2,000 years ago, but an event that is ongoing. The Holy Spirit was not sent once, but is continually being sent for the benefit of us all. The gift of the Holy Spirit is on-going and is all-encompassing.

In saying that the whole creation is groaning in labor pains, Paul invokes the image of physical creation. In this passage, we have the meeting of seemingly polar opposites – creation and Holy Spirit, the physical and the spiritual. This should be of great comfort to us. We often think of the Holy Spirit as a source of inspiration, as a guiding power in our lives. And it is. But the Spirit is more than that. Much more.

Throughout our lives, we have periods when our own lives are filled with the groaning of labor pains. When we struggle with the burden of choices and decisions, with discerning what is right for us, with what God is calling is to do and be. Such times are sometimes difficult. They can cause much soul searching, much anguish, much internal struggle, much spiritual pain. We are filled with the groaning of labor pains as we struggle with emotional hardships. With the pain of loss, of the death of a loved one, of the end of a relationship, of the loss of a job, as we struggle to make sense out of what is happening, of figuring out how we will possible go on in the face of such all-consuming emotional pain. We are filled with the groans of labor pains as we struggle with physical limitations, with the onset of infirmity and disease, as our bodies, once young and vibrant, betray us and succumb to the inevitabilities of age.

I think Paul is right in using the imagery of labor pains. For in such periods of our lives, regardless of whether the pains have their root in the spiritual, the emotional, or the physical, we are indeed struggling to give birth to something new, to a new creation born of God and of the Spirit, born of our very being – the new creation that God is calling us to be. What is being born may not at first glance be pleasant or fun or joyful. But in the new life born of the groans of labor pains, spiritual, emotional, or physical, something new is indeed being born. We are being born into a new way of being whether we like it or not. But even if it is not what we would have envisioned for ourselves, there is hope in what is being brought forth. For the constant in all of this is the hope of redemption promised through the death and resurrection of our Lord Jesus Christ. These are labor pains filled with, and only made possible through, our faith and an abiding sense of hope.

When Paul talks about hope, which for him, is the hope of redemption, we are not talking about hope in our contemporary understanding. We are not talking about wishful thinking. We are talking about something that is already promised to us. We are talking about trusting that it will happen. We are talking about the certainty that it will happen. We are talking about the pregnant expectation that the promises made to us by our Savior will be brought to fruition in due time. We are talking about the knowledge in faith that it will happen.

Paul assures us that in the face of this sure and certain hope, even in the face of the groaning of labor pains that we may face along the way, we are not alone. We have been given the gift of the Holy Spirit to accompany us on the journey that ultimately leads to the fulfillment of that which we hope for. We have the Holy Spirit to help us make the most of the journey so that when it is complete, when the promise is fulfilled, we will have the most fruitful experience possible. In this, the Spirit walks with us, keeping us company, encouraging us, keeping the sense of hope alive even when we feel that things have become hopeless. In this, the Holy Spirit carries us when we feel as if we cannot possibly take another step.

There are even times on the journey when we may feel that we cannot even so much as utter a prayer on our own behalf. While the other readings imply that the Holy Spirit is a gift from God through Christ to the disciples, and by extension to us, to strengthen, inspire, and energize us for what we are called to do, the reading from Romans implies a much more relational approach. The Holy Spirit is not a one-way conduit with God’s energy and grace flowing from God to us. Paul implies that the conduit works both ways. The flow goes both ways – from God to us, but also from us to God. The “Spirit helps us in our weakness; for we do not know how to pray as we ought, but that very Spirit intercedes with sighs too deep for words.” Even when we cannot find the words to pray, when all we can do is heave a heavy albeit pregnant sigh of frustration, anger, sorrow, fear, or resignation, the Holy Spirit is there to take that sigh and lift up to God, transformed by the power of the Spirit into the most eloquent of prayers that cannot help but be heard by God, cannot help but pierce God’s heart.

On this day, we celebrate the most precious gift of the Holy Spirit, sent by our risen and ascended Lord to provide continuation of the gift of his love, strength, and encouragement in his physical absence. Over the years, there have been many products and services that have claimed to be “the gift that keeps on giving.” The only gift that truly can bear up to that moniker is the Holy Spirit. We can be assured that the Holy Spirit will be present, providing us with Christ’s love day after day after day, for as long as we live. And that at all times, in times of joy and particularly in times of need, the Holy Spirit will be with us, the Holy Spirit IS with us, through every groaning from life’s labor pains, through every cry for help, and even when all we can do is utter a pathetic sigh. Because of this promise, every day is Pentecost. This is our sure and certain hope. This is our sure and certain reality.

In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.

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Blah Blah Blah Love

Sixth Sunday of Easter – Year B (RCL)
Acts 10:44-48; Psalm 98; 1 John 5:1-6; John 15:9-17
Sunday, May 17, 2009 – Trinity, Redlands


My first year of seminary, we had a dean who, whenever he preached a sermon, always seemed to focus on “love.” Even if the lessons didn’t contain the word “love,” Dean Lemler could still manage to make love the central theme. Since Tuesday was the Dean’s Mass where the dean preached, we could nearly always count on a weekly sermon on love. It almost became a joke among the seminarians. Jim was well aware of this as well, as evidenced by a story he told on himself. Apparently while a parish priest, there was an occasion when a young child was in church. For whatever reason, the child’s mother wasn’t there that day. When the child got home, the mother asked, “what was the sermon about.” The child innocently responded, “The usual. Blah blah blah love. Blah blah blah love.” As you can imagine, us seminarians had a field day with that one.

Dean Lemler would have been in heaven with today’s lessons, particularly the second reading and the Gospel, which are very similar, coming out of the Johanine tradition and therefore carrying the same Christological perspective. Blah blah blah love. Blah blah blah love. In a way, that’s almost what the lessons sound like. It seems as if every other word is “love.” Blah blah blah love. Blah blah blah love. As a result, today’s lessons can be mind-boggling, if not downright mind-numbing.

In fact, one commentator, a specialist in the art of homiletics, in examining the Epistle lesson from First John, says “Anyone hoping to track by means of linear reasoning through these few verses of 1 John is likely to emerge seriously frustrated—the author certainly seems to be going around in circles!” (Schlafer, 491). While the lesson from First John contains some central images and concepts that are intended to illustrate the meaning of Christian love, upon hearing them described, the logic, for the twenty-first century Western mind, is hard to follow. “We know that we love the children of God when we love God and obey his commandments.” We can get so wrapped up in trying to logically analyze what is being said that we get caught in a loop that is almost impossible to rationalize our way out of.

To spare us too much of a headache, our friend the commentator has synthesized this passage down into a few key concepts. In order of appearance, these are ideas about belief; relationship, both human and divine; love; obedience; commandments; conquest and victory; and faith. That’s a lot crammed into a mere five verses. No wonder we have a hard time wrapping our minds around all of this. In fact, this same commentator describes this section of biblical text as “a bloodless ballet of abstract categories,” as “an elaborate procession of empty theological circumlocutions,” and as “a vortex of sentimental religious jargon, sucking its audience down in a rhetorical swirl” (Schlafer, 491). Maybe blah blah blah love is a little easier to understand.

But to help us out, and to redeem the meaning of this potentially confusing passage, this homiletical expert provides another image that might just provide the clarity we need, shedding light on the meaning of blah blah blah love. He proposes the metaphor of “something like the orderly attraction of a gravitational field—one in which belief, kinship with God and one another, love, obedience, the commandments of God, triumph over the world, and ‘our faith,’ are all elements encircling each other, held in orbit by a centering energy point, named by the writer as Jesus the Christ” (Schlafer, 491). I think this is a wonderful image to help us understand what the author of First John is attempting to describe. Sort of translating it into a twenty-first century world view, or rather, cosmological view.

The only modification I would make would be that we have all these elements, all these attributes and characteristics of Christian life, held in orbit around and by a centering energy force called Jesus Christ, just as the planets orbit the sun. But instead of love being one of those characteristics, I would say that love is the attractive force holding all else in orbit around Christ. Love is the gravity that keeps it all together. Just as the sun is the source of the gravitational field that influences our solar system, Christ is the source of love that influences the attributes of Christian life. Love, that attractive force between us and our Savior, is what binds together our system of belief, relationship, obedience, God’s commandments, victory in the world, and faith. Without love to bind us with Christ, all else would be meaningless; all else would go flying off into the cosmos, set adrift to wander without aim or purpose.

And just as we require the force of gravity to keep us grounded here on terra firma, so too do we require the force of love generated by Christ and manifest through our relationship with Christ and one another, to keep us firmly grounded in the Christian faith. Without gravity, we would all float off into outer space. Without Christ and the love generated and made possible through him, we would similarly float off into a meaningless existence, drifting about without aim or purpose.

With all this talk of love, it is probably worth a little explanation of what love is and what it is not. When we think of love, most of us will naturally think of the warm, fuzzy, feelings we have toward those with whom we are closest and most intimate. We think of the emotional type of love epitomized in Hallmark cards. But that’s not what we’re talking about here. It’s not what Jesus or the author of First John are talking about. That emotional sense of love is far too narrow, far too limiting. That notion of love tends to be, although not always, possessive, dominating, containing a degree of self-interest, can be coercive, and in limited supply.

Jesus was talking about a far broader definition of love. Unlike English, which only has one word for love, the original Greek of the New Testament has four words for love, each with a differing sense and set of characteristics. The word consistently used in both today’s Epistle and Gospel lessons is agape. While we translate agape as “love,” there are probably more accurate translations that better convey the sense of what it means and of what Jesus was talking about. Agape is translated into Latin as caritas, which made its way into English as “charity.” Rather than love, it means more of a concern for others. The full extent of what agape means is a concern for others that is not possessive or dominating, not coercive, and which allows the other to be who he/she is or is called to be. And most importantly, it is not limiting or limited, but is expansive and in great abundance. With these characteristics, it can be applied, and Jesus even commands us to apply, agape, love, not just to those whom we like or are close to, but to everyone, even those we do not particularly like, to our enemies.

Perhaps this is easier said than done, but when we remember what agape really means, what this definition of love really means, it leaves a little more room to have love for those whom we would not want to or be able to love under our more emotional definition. But remember, we are talking about a love that is a grounding force in our lives, as humans and as Christians – a love that is made possible by and through our relationship with Jesus Christ, the grounding force of our life and faith. Jesus provides the example. Remember, after all, that Jesus, out of his love for us, was willing to die so that we might be saved. And if we’re brutally honest with ourselves, we may not always be the most lovable of individuals. We may have things about us that are not that easy to like. But Jesus had such concern for us, regardless of who we are, that none of that mattered. His love for us extends to all of us, regardless of who we are.

As I said, it’s not easy. It takes practice. Lots of practice. Perhaps a lifetime of practice, to love in the way Jesus has called us to love. But with time, with practice, with the example and help of Christ, the one who first loved us so that we might love others, love becomes less and less of an emotional, even a superficial expression, and more and more a transforming power in our lives.

Part of how that slow and gradual change happens is in our communal life together, in our communal life of worship. This is expressed in the concluding section of our lesson from First John, in which the author gives very specific information about our central, grounding force, about Jesus Christ. “This is the one who came by water and blood, Jesus Christ, not with the water only but with water and the blood.” In this addendum to the explanation of the meaning of love, of the centrality of Jesus Christ to the outpouring of love, to our living that love in our daily lives and ministries, Christ is explicitly described in terms of water and blood. For us, these are tangible signs and reminders of who Christ is. They are tangible reminders of not only who he is, but of all that flows from and is held together by him – our beliefs, our relationships with God and with one another, our expressions of love, our obedience to him, particularly in following God’s commandments, in our striving to conquer the world to bring victory to the kingdom he has ushered in, to our every expression of our faith. Water and blood are the central signs of who we are as Christians. They are the central signs, the grounding influence in our communal worship, which is itself an expression of our life together. They are the ultimate expression of Christ’s love for us, and as such, reminders to us of the love we are to have for one another and for all whom we encounter.

While not explicitly used every time we worship, water is the sign and symbol of our full inclusion in the community of faith, through baptism in water and the Holy Spirit. It is through water that we are made members of the Body of Christ. In water we die to our old way of life and are born again to new and eternal life in Christ. Every Sunday, either directly or indirectly, we remember the waters of baptism, of what that means to us, and through whom that has been made possible, Jesus Christ. This is an expression of our inclusion in God’s family, and a reminder that we too must welcome all we encounter as fellow brothers and sisters in Christ.

And every Sunday when we come together to worship, we employ the sign and symbol of blood, or more explicitly, of body and blood. Every time we celebrate the Eucharist at this table, we take the bread and the wine, and through our prayers and the words of the Great Thanksgiving, we remember what Jesus said at the Last Supper – “this is my body” and “this is my blood.” We remember that these holy gifts were given to us and to all for the forgiveness of our sins. We remember and celebrate that through these holy gifts, we are made one with Christ in his Body, that we are made one with each other in his Body. Through these holy gifts we are nurtured and fed, giving us the strength we need to go back out into the world, carrying the gift of Christ’s love to all those whom we encounter in our day-to-day lives.

Water and blood. Washing and feeding. Inclusion and sending out. This is what the signs of our worship are all about. This is what love is all about. That is how we receive the love that Christ freely gives to us. What we do with it is up to us. We can keep it for ourselves and feel all nice and warm inside. Or we can take it out into the world, and spread it among all those we encounter – those we love, those we like, and even those we do not particularly like. Only by doing this will we be loving as Christ has commanded us to love. And in so doing, we will truly be living as Christ has commanded us to live.

Or put another way, blah blah blah love, blah blah blah live.

In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.


References
Schlafer, David A. “1 John 5:1-6, Homiletical Perspective.” In Feasting on the Word: Preaching the Revised Common Lectionary – Year B, Volume 2, Lent Through Eastertide. Edited by David L. Bartlett and Barbara Brown Taylor. Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox Press, 2008.

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The Gospel According to Whoopi

Fourth Sunday of Easter – Year B (RCL)
Acts 4:4-12; Psalm 23; 1 John 3:16-24; John 10:1-18
Sunday, May 3, 2009 – Trinity, Redlands


“I am the good shepherd. I know my own and my own know me, just as the Father knows me and I know the Father.”

Who among us doesn’t get a warm, fuzzy feeling when we hear today’s Gospel lesson invoking the imagery of Christ as the good shepherd? I would hazard a guess that most of us, upon hearing this story, or any of the similar Gospel stories such as the parable of the lost sheep, recall the various paintings or stained glass windows we have seen depicting Jesus as a shepherd – such as this window here in our own church. Such images always depict Jesus holding a lamb, looking caringly down at it, while the lamb gazes at Jesus with a look of peace and contentment. And at Jesus feet, there are generally several other sheep, looking up at him in grateful adoration. When seeing such images, we cannot help but identify with the lamb in Jesus’ arms or the sheep at his feet, feeling that sense of peace and contentment, of being cared for, of grateful adoration for the One who is our shepherd. After all, that was Jesus’ intent. We are the sheep, and he is the one who shepherds, who tends those under his care – his sheep, us.

But when we really stop and think about the imagery being presented, should we really feel all warm and fuzzy? By all rights, we should probably actually be a little offended. The imagery Jesus uses to describe us, his followers, is that of sheep. Have you ever stopped to think what sheep are really like? They are basically stupid, senseless animals who have a tendency to wander off and get in trouble if not watched every moment. They don’t follow directions. They want to do their own thing. And left to their own devices, they have a tendency to get themselves in some pretty difficult predicaments. Sheep require a lot of watching, a lot of care and guidance, to keep them out of trouble, to keep them safe from harm, to keep them alive.

Wait a minute. That does sound an awful lot like human beings, doesn’t it? I mean, as much as I hate to admit it, I probably have more qualities of sheep than I care to acknowledge. And who of us couldn’t use some occasional help and guidance to keep us on track and out of trouble?

Now I certainly don’t mean to disrespect any of you or to denigrate the human race. And I honestly do not think that Jesus, in using the imagery of sheep and shepherd, was intending to offend his followers. In the rural, pastoral society of Jesus’ time, the image of sheep and shepherd would have been common, one to which nearly everyone could relate, at least on some level. It was a convenient image to convey the sense of caring and concern that Jesus was attempting to impart to his followers.

And in conveying this imagery of sheep and shepherd, Jesus actually manages to take it to another level, at least as applied to the relationship between sheep and shepherd, between Jesus and us, his followers. Remember, Jesus said, “I am the good shepherd” but followed it up with the statement, “I know my own and my own know me, just as the Father knows me and I know the Father.” Jesus is talking about not just tending his sheep, but of actually knowing them. Tending sheep is not just his job. The sheep under his care are not just objects to be looked after. Those under his care are individual beings whom he knows. What did he say? “I know my own and my own know me, just as the Father knows me and I know the Father.” He relates his knowledge of his sheep, of those he is charged to care for, in terms of relationship. As one commentator notes, this knowledge “is not something abstract but realistic, concrete, grounded in love and mutuality” (Heen, 41). We’re not just talking about casual acquaintances. Jesus really knows his sheep. He really knows us. Jesus says he knows us just as his Father knows him and he knows his Father. Jesus is not talking about any relationship. He is talking about intimate, caring relationship.

When you consider that Jesus is talking about an intimate caring relationship with his sheep, with those under his care, there is much more to what Jesus is saying in today’s Gospel. There is much more about what he wants for us than to just keeping us together and out of trouble. Perhaps a modern-day equivalent of this broader story is contained in one of my favorite moves, Sister Act 2: Back in the Habit. For those of you who may not have seen this absolutely delightful movie, it and the first Sister Act movie are about a Las Vegas lounge singer named Deloris Van Cartier, played by Whoopi Goldberg. In the first movie, Deloris goes into a witness protection program, whereupon the police hide her in a San Francisco convent, where she masquerades as a nun, Sister Mary Clarence. As Sister Act 2 begins, she is back in Las Vegas. The nuns she befriended in the first movie need her help to teach the music class at the high school they serve. So, Deloris dons a habit once again, and goes to Saint Francis High School in San Francisco, reprising her masquerade as Sister Mary Clarence.

Sister Mary Clarence is immediately placed in the position of being shepherd to a bunch of unruly sheep. Her students are a bunch of undisciplined, street-wise kids from the poor neighborhood surrounding the high school. They are not interested in school. They just want to hang out on the streets, have fun, and coast through high school by taking easy classes, like music (okay, for some us, that would not be easy, but hey . . .).

As she attempts to tend, to reign in her sheep, Sister Mary Clarence comes to recognize that her students, who are resistant to her attempts to make them work, do have musical talent, although not of the type proscribed by the school curriculum. She sees great potential in these kids – a group of kids that many of the teachers, the school administration, and other adults have written off as being useless with no future. In the process of working with the students, she manages to instill a little discipline, teaches them to harness their energy and their talent, teaches them the importance of teamwork, and turns them into a choir. When she started working with them, they were uncooperative, getting into trouble, and couldn’t work together to save their lives. By the time she was done, they were a choir – a choir that manages to make it to the finals of a state choir competition.

Sister Mary Clarence was made shepherd over a bunch of unruly sheep. Despite their resistance and lack of discipline, she saw potential in them. Because she loved them, cared for them, and wanted the best for them, she was willing to work with them and to help them discover and realize that potential.

I think that when Jesus says he is the good shepherd, what he is really saying is that he is a shepherd to a bunch of unruly sheep, who have a tendency to wander off and get in trouble, in the same way that Sister Mary Clarence was shepherd to a bunch of unmotivated, undisciplined, street-wise students. And just like Sister Mary Clarence, Jesus sees the potential in his sheep. He sees the potential in us. This is all because he is not just tending sheep. He is in relationship with us – intimate relationship. Because he loves us, cares for us, and wants the best for us, he is willing to work with us and to help us realize our potential. The difference between Jesus and Sister Mary Clarence is that while Sister Mary Clarence, or rather Deloris Van Cartier, was willing to put her Vegas career on hold for a few months to help her sheep realize their potential, Jesus was willing to put his life on the line for his sheep. He was willing to go to the cross, to suffer and to die, for the sake of his sheep. He saw such potential in us that he was willing to do whatever it took so that that we might discover and realize that potential. Sister Mary Clarence gave her sheep a new chance that they might realize their potential. Jesus gave us new life that we might realize ours.

Part of this process of discovery and realization of our potential means taking responsibility for our actions. For us Christians, those called into the Body of Christ, that means a double whammy. Not only are we responsible for ourselves, we are also responsible for the realization and well-being of the entire Body. For us, that means the church. As we’ve already noted, Jesus tells us “I know my own and my own know me, just as the Father knows me and I know the Father.” This statement doesn’t just point to the love and mutuality inherent in the relationship between Christ our shepherd and us, his sheep. As related to us, this knowledge, this love and mutuality, “flows from the love of God through Christ to abide in the church. Christ, who shares this mutuality both with God and with humanity, is the only and perfect mediator between heaven and earth” (Heen, 41). Christ is the mediator between God, the Creator, and us, made in the image and likeness of God, called to be co-creators with God in the building of the Kingdom. That is the potential given to us by virtue of being God’s beloved creation. That is the potential we are called to realize.

We here at Trinity have an exciting opportunity to enter into and engage in this process of co-creation, in this process of discovering and realizing our potential. As we have announced over the last several weeks, the parish is about to embark on a strategic planning process. Through this process, we will have the opportunity to prayerfully and critically evaluate life and ministry here at Trinity. We will look at our strengths, those gifts, graces, and talents which contribute to the effective mission of this place. And we will look at our weaknesses or areas that are opportunities for growth, those areas which may be holding us back from expanding our current ministry or from engaging in new forms of ministry. Based on this evaluation process, we will then discern what this means for Trinity parish, developing a plan whereby we might expand upon and maximize our strengths. We will prayerfully discern where God is calling Trinity to go and what God is calling is to do in the future.

In short, we know that there is great potential in this place. Christ, as our good shepherd, recognizes that, and has called us to discover and realize that potential. Through this strategic planning process, we will work on identifying what that potential is, and discern the best way to realize it, to make it not just a dream, but a reality. But to do that, we need help, lots of help. There is no way that the handful of people comprising the Strategic Planning Steering Committee can cover all the bases. We need people who have experience in the many different areas of parish life and ministry. We need your experiences. We need to know what your gifts, graces, talents, and passions are. Collectively, we are the Body of Christ in this place. It is only collectively that we will be able to discern what our potential is and it is only collectively that we will be able to realize that potential.

I find it most appropriate that we are embarking on this strategic planning process, on this opportunity to discover and realize our potential, during Eastertide. After all, this is the season of resurrection, of new life, of the promise made to us by the Risen One of new and eternal life. That promise does not just apply to us as individuals. It also applies to us as the Body of Christ, which is only made possible through Christ’s death and resurrection. By providing us with the hope and promise of new life, Christ was saying, “I see great potential in you.” The best thing we can do to honor that potential, to honor and receive the gift that God through Christ has given us, is to do our best to discover and realize that potential.

In this Easter season, we celebrate the One who died for us, who was raised to new life for us, who defeated the bonds of sin and death, who by his actions promises us new life. But even more, we are called to recognize that that new life begins here and now, filled with hope and a great deal of potential. And with Christ, our good shepherd to guide us, to support us, to encourage us, we have all that we need to discover and realize that potential.

In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.


References
Heen, Erik M., et al. New Proclamation: Year B, 2009, Easter through Christ the King. Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 2008.

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