Canterbury Evening Prayer Reflection 3

Reflection on John 4:22-26

Today’s reading is a small part of the much longer account of the interaction between Jesus and the Samaritan woman at Jacob’s Well. The story in it’s entirety happens to be the longest dialogue recorded in the Gospels. In this story, Jesus and the Samaritan woman are discussing the Jewish and Samaritan faiths, which, while similar in many ways because they have the same roots, differ in some of the particulars. One of the key differences is that the Samaritans accepted only the Pentateuch, the first five books of the Hebrew Bible, as Scripture. From the Jewish perspective they had an incomplete picture of God” (O’Day, 568).

At the heart of today’s passage is the concept that true worship of God entails worshiping in Spirit and truth. Conceptually, this creates a conflict between the Samaritan woman and Jesus, a Jew. While not specifically discussed in the passage, they have differing interpretations of what worshiping in Spirit and truth means. The one thing they can agree on, however, is that a Messiah will come to bring salvation to the world and will reveal the truth. While the Samaritan woman believes that this will happen at some point in the future, Jesus knows differently. He informs the woman that the Messiah has already come, and that he, Jesus, is the Messiah. Looking at the entire story of salvation as portrayed in the Gospels, we see a paradox, however. “Salvation does originate from God’s own people, the Jews, but some Jews do not receive that offer of salvation in Jesus. For example, the offer of salvation made by Jesus (a Jew) has been rejected by the Jew Nicodemus but will be accepted by the Samaritans” (O’Day, 568).

To me, this paradox all boils down to the central concept of worship in Spirit and truth, on how various faith traditions interpret Spirit and truth. Biblical scholar and homiletics professor Gail O’Day notes that “Worship of God in spirit and truth does not point to an internal, spiritualized worship but to a form of worship that reflects and is shaped by the character of God” (O’Day, 568). As Christians, we are constantly attempting to discern what is Spirit and truth, what it means for us, and what it reveals to us about God and about our life as God’s children. In this respect, we are not so different from the Samaritan woman who seeks to understand Spirit and truth, and in a chance encounter, meets it face to face.


References

O’Day, Gail R. “The Gospel of John: Introduction, Commentary, and Reflection.” In Vol. IX of The New Interpreter’s Bible. Edited by Leander E. Keck, et al. Nashville: Abingdon Press, 1995.

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Memorial Service for Charlie Hart

Memorial Service – Charles McKey Hart

(June 9, 1919 – October 8, 2006)
Lamentations 3:22-26,31-33; Psalm 46; 2 Corinthians 4:16-5:5; Psalm 23; John 14:1-6
Tuesday, October 17, 2006 – St. Alban’s, Westwood

As we gather to say our farewells and to honor the life of Charlie Hart, I think it is particularly appropriate that we have this Gospel reading from John. This passage that we just read is the beginning of Jesus' farewell discourse to his disciples. In this discourse, Jesus sums up the purpose for his completed ministry on earth and tells his disciples about what is to come – about his death and resurrection. More importantly, for them, and for those of us gathered here today, he tells about what it means for humanity that he will be resurrected and ascend to Heaven.

When Jesus talks about going to his Father’s house, he is not just talking about location, but also about relationship (O’Day, 740). “The imagery of the dwelling places points to the inclusion of others in the relationship with God and Jesus. Jesus uses the domestic imagery to say ‘My return to God will make it possible for you to join me in the relationship that the Father and I share’” (O’Day, 741). For him to go, through death and resurrection, to his Father's house, with dwelling places for all, was to prepare a place of permanent fellowship. This Gospel passage is, therefore, not about separation, but about deeper fellowship.

Jesus promises to take his own to himself. This is a “promise of the arrival of the hoped-for age, which is marked by reunion and reconciliation with God, by inhabiting one’s ‘place’ in God’s home” (O’Day, 741). Jesus’ life, death, and resurrection provide us with the certainty that we are God’s beloved children and that God wants nothing more than for us to be reconciled to Him in this life, and to spend eternity with him when our lives on this earth are completed. His life, death, and resurrection provide the means by which this can and will happen for each and every one of us.

As evidenced throughout scripture, our Judeo-Christian faith is all about relationship – our relationship to our God and our relationships to one another. Ours is a story of a God who created us in his image. Ours is a story of a God who continually seeks to be in relationship with us. Ours is a story of men and women who seek to be in relationship with one another. Because of our story, we know that it is through relationship that we ultimately seek to know and be known by the One who created us. We accomplish this through community – through our communities of faith, and through the communities that are our families and friends. This importance of community was exemplified by the life of Charlie Hart.

While small of stature, Charlie was a giant among men when it comes to creating and being part of community. Charlie has been characterized as having twinkling eyes and a big, cheerful smile. These physical attributes complimented a similarly winning personality – a non-stop and contagious sense of humor, a strong sense of integrity, a genuine interest in those he encountered, the ability to inspire and cheer on others, a passion for a number of varied activities, and compassion for his fellow human beings.

First and foremost, Charlie was a “people person.” Because of his winning personality, everyone loved Charlie and loved to be with him. And he obviously loved being around other people. Alice, his wife, once commented that there was “never an invitation he said ‘no’ to.” Even later in life, he would not allow a little thing like being confined to a wheelchair to keep him from accepting an invitation. On one occasion, he attended a party while in his wheelchair. Rather than be relegated to the sidelines, he insisted on sitting in the middle of the room so that he could be with all the other partiers and be in the midst of all the action.

When Cynthia and Mary Ann selected the Gospel reading for this service, I immediately had an image of Charlie entering heaven and instantly going from room to room, introducing himself and getting to know the neighbors. And I’m sure that if there were not a party for him to be invited to, he would get busy and organize one himself.

But his greatest joy was his family. He deeply loved his family, particularly his grandchildren and great-grandchildren, with each of whom he had a special and unique relationship. He was always there for each of them, no matter what the need. And as a result, they were always there for him, even to the end. He obviously taught his family the meaning of love, which they gratefully and joyously returned to him. But as much as he loved his family, by far his greatest love was Alice, his beloved wife. At one point near his death, he commented that he just wanted to hold her hand. After five years apart, he finally got his wish.

If unconditional love and devotion to community are the hallmarks of the Kingdom of God, Charlie will fit right in in Heaven. And I think it’s safe to say that he certainly provided a foretaste of that Kingdom while he was here. Charlie lived the Gospel and proclaimed it to all he met through his actions.

Remember, today’s Gospel is not about separation, but about deeper fellowship. When Jesus opens his discourse by saying “Do not let your hearts be troubled,” he is exhorting his disciples “to stand firm in the face of his departure, when the events [of his death] may look to them as if evil and death are having their way. It is a rallying cry for strength” (O’Day, 740). These words and their intended meaning ring true for us here today, just as they did for the disciples. In this time of grief, and in the days ahead when the loss of Charlie’s life and his absence will be most painfully felt by you, his family and friends, remember this rallying cry. Yes, Charlie is no longer here physically, but that does not mean he is gone. He is still with you. He lives on in your hearts – in the memories of your time together and the joy you feel when you think about them, in the lessons that he taught you, in how he touched your lives to help form the persons you are today.

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


References

O’Day, Gail R. “The Gospel of John: Introduction, Commentary, and Reflection.” In Vol. IX of The New Interpreter’s Bible. Edited by Leander E. Keck, et al. Nashville: Abingdon Press, 1995.

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The Rich Young Ruler and Listening for the Heartbeat of God

Proper 23 – Year B
Amos 5:6-7,10-15; Psalm 90:1-8,12; Hebrews 3:1-6; Mark 10:17-27(28-31)
Sunday, October 15, 2006 – St. Alban’s, Westwood

Now you have to admit, as we start our annual stewardship campaign, today’s Gospel lesson is pretty scary. How would you like to have Jesus as the chair of your stewardship committee? Imagine that stewardship talk.

“Do I have to pledge to be a member of the parish?”

“Of course you do.”

“Well, how much should I pledge?”

“You know the guidelines.”

“So I should do proportional giving?”

“Sorry, not enough.”

“Okay, so I have to tithe to be a member?”

“Nope. Still not good enough.”

“Well then, what do I have to pledge to be a member?”

“Everything. You have to give all your money to the church. Oh, and you have to sell all your possessions and give that money to the church, too. If you do that, then we’ll talk about your membership status.”

If we’re brutally honest with ourselves, the vast majority of us would go running for the door. The pews would be empty, or at least, pretty nearly so. Come Monday morning, the rector would have received so many calls she would have no choice but to call a special vestry meeting to figure out what to do about the situation.

The reality is that in contemporary American society, people cannot readily survive without money and possessions. Our society and its institutions just aren’t set-up or equipped to deal with that way of life. Even our ecclesiastical institutions, our parishes, diocese, the Episcopal Church, or the entirety of Christianity, are not equipped to deal with that way of life – with a constituency comprised entirely of people without financial means or material possessions, of a constituency totally reliant upon society or the Church for their support. This is most vividly evidenced by the lack of success of our nation’s welfare system, and of the lack of sufficient resources available to care for the needy in our midst – the hungry, the homeless, and those without access to basic human services.

Yes, the demands that Jesus places on his disciples and the demand he places on the rich young ruler to give up everything to follow him may be the Gospel ideal. Wouldn’t it be a wonderful world if our society, if our religious institutions, were able to provided for all the needs of all the people? Personally, I would love to not have to worry about having enough money to pay the bills, or provide maintenance and upkeep on my possessions. Sure, there are small pockets within the Church where this is possible. There are monastic communities where the men or women living in them have given up all their possessions and all their money to serve God. And in return, they are provided with what they need for a reasonably comfortable life. But such communities are the exception, not the rule – they are the exception to our societal norms, because they follow the rule of the Gospel.

But the fact remains, we have this difficult, if not troublesome, passage from Mark’s Gospel. “Jesus’ sayings on the difficulty in entering the reign of God is repeated twice for emphasis. We cannot ‘read around’ it; it is not a minor point in the passage, but at its heart” (Hanson, 21). So, let’s take a look at what this means, and then we can start to figure out what to do about it – we can start to figure out our response so that we may remain true and faithful to the Gospel and living as Jesus commands us.

First, let me say that if we are astonished by the demands made by Jesus, and the seriousness with which he seems to make them, we are not alone. According to Mark, Jesus’ “exclamation that it is difficult for those who have riches to enter the Kingdom of God” also astonishes the disciples, “presumably because they, like many of their contemporaries, saw wealth as an indication of God’s pleasure” (Hooker, 242). The understanding of the day was that God granted wealth and power to some people and that these people would use those gifts for the service and betterment of society. Even today, this perspective continues to be prevalent among many who have wealth and power. So, for Jesus to make statements condemning wealth and demanding that people give up all they have was a radical indictment against prevailing social constructs. His statements and demands floored everyone, including his closest followers and companions.

In explaining the meaning of Jesus’ demands, Biblical Studies scholar K. C. Hanson frames the argument in terms of the economic institutions of the day – the patronage conferred by the wealthy and powerful upon those of lower social and economic status. Hanson writes, “Put in terms of patronage, the wealthy tend to see themselves as self-sufficient. Jesus’ call to discipleship entails a commitment and loyalty to God, his patronage (the kingdom), his broker (Jesus), and the community of his other clients (Jesus’ followers). The wealthy have their own clients, estate obligations, and complex business arrangements. The time, energy, and commitment that Jesus is calling for is precluded by the life-style of the wealthy” (Hanson, 22). While the terms may be slightly different, the concept continues to apply today. And while many of us would not consider ourselves wealthy or powerful by contemporary standards, the principles nonetheless apply to us. Compared to the rest of the world, we are the wealthy and the powerful. The bottom line for contemporary society, according to Hanson, is that “one thing is clear from the Gospels: Jesus did not try to cover up the consequences of discipleship. Following him means calling our commitments and loyalties into question, both in terms of our values and of the institutions to which we align ourselves. He does not call us to be more ‘pious,’ but more loyal” (Hanson, 23). Jesus’ demands are not related to “asceticism, but to commitment and loyalty over against self-sufficiency” (Hanson, 21).

New Testament scholar Pheme Perkins shifts the perspective ever so slightly, noting that “the story of the rich man who turns down the invitation to discipleship illustrates the fact that desire for wealth can stifle the seed sown by the Word” (Perkins, 648). The complexity of dealing with wealth and possessions occupies our time and energy and keeps us from focusing on what the Gospel commands of us. Perkins goes on to relate the situation to contemporary Christians, regardless of social or economic status. She asserts that “Resisting the pressures of a consumer culture, which generates perpetual needs for more and new possessions, is difficult for many Christians today. Our excess consumption may deprive others of resources they need just to survive. It is a hidden form of structural greed that wastes the world’s resources and creates suffering for others we may never meet” (Perkins, 649). But despite this indictment against all of us in twenty-first century American culture, Perkins offers a glimmer of hope. She points out that today’s Gospel lesson “provides an important example of how the apparent impossibility of renouncing all things to follow Jesus can be both possible and even rewarding. The key lies in Christianity as a new community, the ‘family’ gathered around Jesus” (Perkins, 651).

How do we avert the dire consequences implied in Jesus’ discussion on wealth and obtain the rewards that he alludes to at the end of the Gospel passage? If we answer that, we are well on our way to addressing the issue of stewardship. After all, stewardship is about more than just money. It’s about our entire relationship with and use of everything God has given us: money, material possessions, time, our gifts and talents, and our entire selves – body, mind, and spirit.

This past week, I attended the Fall Clergy Conference in Solvang. While actually a misnomer, the event was not so much intended to be a conference as a retreat. The primary purpose of the event is to bring clergy together from all over the Diocese for fellowship, to reconnect with one another, and to provide a time of rest and relaxation. In addition, there is some content built into the event. The focus of this clergy conference was on spiritual self-care, on exploring ways of connecting with God, on the theme of listening for the heartbeat of God.

Monday morning, the first full day of the conference, was absolutely wonderful. After morning prayer, we had a brief program to help set the tone for the day. Melissa McCarthy, a priest in the Diocese, a former dancer, and a dear friend, led us in an experience involving breathing exercises and body movement. Done in a very safe and non-threatening way, the experience was designed to help us to be present to the movement of the Holy Spirit in our lives at that moment and to help us listen for the heartbeat of God.

After the breathing and movement exercise, I decided that I would take a long walk into the countryside. I set off with no preconceived agenda about what I would do or what I would think about. I just wanted to walk and allow myself to be open to the promptings of the Spirit. At first, I had no particularly profound thoughts. I was just enjoying the peace and quiet of the countryside and being in the beauty of God’s creation. After awhile, I discovered that my thoughts turned to the exercise that guided me to hear the heartbeat of God in the midst of an otherwise crazy period. Guided by the Spirit, my mind started making connections to the sense of being in community and the importance of community to us as a people of faith; and to the importance of listening for and actually hearing the heartbeat of God, both as individuals and as a community. I began to realize, through the promptings of the Holy Spirit, the connection between that morning’s activities and the message that Jesus proclaims in today’s Gospel lesson.

When Jesus tells the rich young ruler that he must sell all that he owns, give the money to the poor, and to follow him, he is telling the young man that he must listen for the heartbeat of God. Jesus recognizes that all the hub-bub of every day life, all the frenetic activity that life demands of us, our concern over money and the material things in life, only serve to get in the way of hearing what God is saying to us – they distract us from hearing the heartbeat of God. Only by clearing our minds and our lives of all those concerns will we be free to sit and listen for and to the heartbeat of God. And when we are able to do that, we will be able to hear and understand what is of greatest concern to God. We will begin to realize what it is that we must do to live in harmony with God’s desires.

If we listen to the heartbeat of God, we will hear God calling us to engage in the work of creating equality for all God’s beloved children. We will begin to recognize how out of whack our society is in the work of inclusivity and social justice. We will begin to recognize that “the price society pays for a few to be wealthy” results in many who are poor. We will begin to recognize how seriously God, as revealed in Scripture “take[s] the challenge to do economic and social justice” (Gottwald, 13). By attending to the heartbeat of God, we will see that we are all God’s children, rich and poor, powerful and weak.

The message of today’s Gospel lesson is specifically intended for us, the wealthy and powerful of the world. It is a call to action. It is a call to stewardship. In this lesson, we are the rich young ruler who is called by God to be stewards of all creation, to care for all of creation. The most precious resource in all of creation is humanity, which is made in God’s image. For God, that means leveling the playing field so that all may be equal, not only in God’s eyes, but in the eyes of one another. We can only come to that realization through stripping ourselves of all that distracts us and listening to the heartbeat of God, which cries out for justice. The Church, as the physical Body of Christ in a broken world, is the instrument by which justice for the poor and the oppressed can be achieved. By giving of ourselves to the Church, through our financial resources, as well as our time and our talents and gifts, we strengthen the Church to do the work that God, through Jesus, has called us into – to care for our fellow human beings, God’s children.

Does that mean giving up everything we have? I don’t think so. In our contemporary society that is not feasible. But today’s Gospel does call us to take a long hard look at how we use our resources. It means loosening our attachment to the material, reducing our obsession with our own agendas and self-concerns, and diverting our attention to those things that are of concern to God – to listening to the heartbeat of God and acting in concert with what we hear by using our resources – all our resources – to not merely give lip service to proclaiming the Kingdom of God, but to work toward really making it happen.

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


References

Hanson, K.C. Proclamation 4: Aids for Interpreting the Lessons of the Church Year: Series B Pentecost 3. Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 1991.

Hooker, Morna D. The Gospel According to Mark. In Black’s New Testament Commentaries series. London: Hendrickson Publishers, 1991.

Lagerquist-Gottwald, Laura and Norman K. Gottwald. Proclamation 6: Interpreting the Lessons of the Church Year: Series B Pentecost 3. Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 1996.

Perkins, Pheme. “The Gospel of Mark: Introduction, Commentary, and Reflection.” In Vol. VIII of The New Interpreter’s Bible. Edited by Leander E. Keck, et al. Nashville: Abingdon Press, 1995.

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Canterbury Evening Prayer Reflection 2

Reflection on Luke 7:36-50

As I pondered today’s reading from the Gospel According to Luke, I was struck by the image of the woman who came to Jesus, knelt at his feet, wept, and began to bathe his feet with her tears and to dry his feet with her hair. And then, she kissed his feet and anointed them with the ointment. This reminded me of the tradition at Maundy Thursday services of washing people’s feet. For me, it is always an incredibly humbling experience to have someone else tenderly wash my feet and then to dry them with a soft towel. I also find it very humbling to actually wash the feet of another person. While I find this simple act to be humbling, I also find joy in washing another’s feet. There is great joy in being able to be of service to another – to wash and soothe the tired feet of a fellow traveler on life’s journey

Now in Jesus’ day, it was the custom to provide water to one’s guest so he could wash his feet after a journey in sandals along dusty roads. This was a sign of hospitality and of providing refreshment to weary travelers. Generally, water was merely provided. The guest would have to wash his own feet, which was fine, as the feet were considered to be an intimate part of the body. If the host was wealthy and had slaves, one of the slaves might be directed to wash the feet of the guest.

Admittedly, the actions of the woman, who is characterized as being a sinner, are a little over the top, even given the customs of the day. She was not a slave in the household, so had no official standing for washing anyone’s feet. In fact, she was an uninvited guest in the home of the Pharisee. No one seemed to know who she was, other than the fact that she was a harlot. She did not use water to wash Jesus’ feet. She used her own tears. She did not use a towel to dry Jesus’ feet. She used her own hair. And then, as if that weren’t enough, she actually kissed Jesus’ feet and anointed them with ointment, with expensive, perfumed oil. The woman completely violated social convention. Touching someone’s feet was considered an intimate, act, carrying sexual overtones. Similarly, a woman letting down her hair also carried sexual overtones. Everyone in the room, with the exception of Jesus, was scandalized by the acts of this brazen woman.

So why did this unnamed woman do such scandalous things? We aren’t told how or why, but somehow, she knew who Jesus was. She knew that he was the key to her salvation, that he was her savior. Her actions demonstrated her love and gratitude. In a moment of abandon, she expressed that love and gratitude in a completely unconventional and unorthodox way – in a way that defied all social convention. She abandoned every shred of dignity she might have had and unashamedly professed that love and gratitude not with mere words, but in her very actions. And in so doing, Jesus saw that she truly loved him and that she was truly grateful for what he would do for her – for the forgiveness that he would grant her. She probably didn’t know it at the time, but deep in her heart of hearts, she has such profound faith in Jesus that could only be expressed in action.

In the eyes of the Pharisee, the woman’s actions were not only scandalous, but they also represented a challenge to his honor. The woman had honored Jesus in a way that he did not. Even more so, the woman honored and loved Jesus in a way that he could never bring himself to do – through intimate actions that would have not only violated social constructs but which would have destroyed his standing as a person of wealth and prestige, his standing as a Temple authority. The Pharisee was so wrapped up in what was proper and what was “demanded” by his position in life that he was not able to recognize his need forgiveness. As a result, he gained nothing. The woman, on the other hand, had nothing to lose. She recognized her need and received forgiveness joyfully and in abundance. Her selfless, loving response is accepted as faith, which results in not only her forgiveness, but also in peace.

Two thousand years later, we still have the same dilemma as illustrated in the Gospel lesson. Like the Pharisee, we invite Jesus in. But how far are we willing to go to gain the forgiveness and the peace that he offers – that are ours for the asking? Do we play things safe and live by societal expectations, or do we go against those expectations and give in to the passion deep within us and act in love and gratitude made possible by faith to embrace Jesus in a most intimate way?

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Canterbury Evening Prayer Reflection 1

Reflection on Luke 4:14-30

This is a time of new beginnings. We are beginning a new academic year. We are beginning a new program year at the Episcopal Campus Ministry and at the United Methodist Campus Ministry. For me, it is my first year as an ordained clergy person. For some of you, this is the beginning of a new way of life – a life away from your parents, on your own, possibly for the first time – a life as an adult. All of these are significant new beginnings.

New beginnings are terribly exciting. There is the sense of excitement and exhilaration at the prospect of starting something new, of becoming someone new, of entering into new possibilities. There is a sense of anticipation about what will yet be. But, at the same time, new beginnings can bring a sense of uncertainty – they hold an element of the unknown, potentially bringing with them a sense of confusion, questioning, or even fear. What will this new thing, this new phase of my life look like? What will it feel like? How will I be changed by the experience?

Today’s scripture passage provides some guidance to help us face new beginnings head-on. The passage we just read from Luke tells of the beginning of Jesus’ public ministry. In his first public act following his baptism and being tested in the wilderness, Jesus goes to Nazareth, his home town. He goes to the synagogue on the Sabbath and is given the scroll of the prophet Isaiah to read. Unlike today, there was not a fixed lectionary – a designated set of readings for the day. Jesus had the opportunity to choose the lesson that he would read and use as a basis for the subsequent teaching – for the equivalent of the sermon. What passage did he chose?

The Spirit of the Lord is upon me,
because he has anointed me
to bring good news to the poor.
He has sent me to proclaim release to the captives
and recovery of sight to the blind,
to let the oppressed go free,
to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor.

On the surface, this was a pretty typical passage to be selected for reading in the synagogue. This passage, which would have been known to all Jews, is about the hope of the coming of the Messiah – a pretty good, and pretty safe topic for the start of public ministry. But then Jesus blows the congregation out of the water. He begins his teaching by saying “Today this scripture has been fulfilled in your hearing.”

Right off the bat, he basically equates himself with the Messiah – that he has been anointed by God to bring good news to the poor, to proclaim release to the captives and recovery of sight to the blind, and to free the oppressed. Talk about a gutsy statement for your first day of ministry! Now, of course at this point in his public ministry, which had only just begun, Jesus had not accomplished all these things. But what he was doing was laying out the agenda for his ministry – he was giving a preview of what he would accomplish over the next three years. Of course, on this side of Christ’s death and resurrection, we know that while these things he cited in Luke were pretty miraculous, they were only a fraction of what he would ultimately accomplish during his ministry – of what he would accomplish on our behalf.

Did Jesus know exactly what his public ministry would entail? Maybe he did, maybe he didn’t. But one thing is certain from this Gospel lesson – he had a vision for what his ministry would look like and he was able to boldly proclaim that vision by taking the words of scripture and applying them to himself, by making them his own.

By starting this year by attending this worship service, we are making a statement about the true source of our visions and the source of strength that will help us achieve those visions, just as Jesus did in that synagogue in Nazareth. As we begin this new year, this new phase of our journeys, I challenge each of us to follow the example of Jesus and boldly proclaim our vision for our own paths, and to boldly live into that vision, trusting in the power of the God who sent Jesus to minister to the world, and who likewise sends us to minister to the world in our own unique ways.

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Ephphatha!

Proper 18 – Year B
Isaiah 35:4-7a; James 1:17-27; Psalm 146:4-9; Mark 7:31-37
Sunday, September 10, 2006 – St. Alban’s, Westwood

Thomas Merton, the Trappist monk, explains openness and interdependence employing the imagery of begging bowls used by Buddhist monks. He says, “The begging bowl of the Buddha represents not just a right to beg, but openness to the gifts of all human beings as an expression of this interdependence of all beings . . . Thus when a monk begs from the layman it is not as a selfish person getting something from someone else. He is simply opening himself to his interdependence” (Brussat, 335).

The Gospel equivalent of this illustration is portrayed in today’s lesson from Mark. It is the story of a man who is deaf and has, as Mark terms it, “an impediment in his speech,” who is brought to Jesus for healing. Mark tells us that those bringing the man begged Jesus to “lay his hands on him.” The fact that they begged Jesus to heal him implies the desperate plight of the man (Gundry, 383). He is unable to speak for himself and must rely on others, on his community, to speak on his behalf. Since we humans rely so much on our sense of hearing to obtain information and to know what’s going on around us, it is likely that the deaf man did not know who Jesus was or that he had the ability to heal his affliction. He is totally reliant on his community to take action on his behalf – to take him to this mysterious man from Galilee in the hopes that he might be healed.

The story that ensues is an account of the healing that occurs. In a rather strange ritual, Jesus takes the man aside, puts his fingers in the man’s ears, spits and touches the man’s tongue with his saliva, and says “Ephphatha” – an Aramaic word translated as “be opened.” And with the performance of this ritual and the utterance of that seemingly magical word, the man’s entire life changed. He is completely healed. Perhaps, for the first time in the man’s life, he can hear and he can speak properly. And in those first moments following this miraculous healing, the man undoubtedly uses his newly acquired gift of proper speech to proclaim the wonderment of what he had experienced, to proclaim the praises of the man who healed him, and to proclaim thanks to the God who had made this all possible.

But what Mark tells us is only about the physical healing. There is also a spiritual component to the healing which is probably even more important for the man, and most certainly for us. Now, we don’t know anything about the man’s spiritual life. But Alistair Bain, a priest in the Anglican Church of Australia, notes that “It is important to remember that people such as the deaf-mute – and lepers and the less-obviously physically ‘objectionable’ – were effectively excluded from any kind of public or outward access to God through the temple. The advent of Jesus meant that the outcast and marginalized suddenly –perhaps for the first time in their lives – had direct access to God” (Alistair Bain). Perhaps, prior to his healing, the man had some sort of faith in and devotion to God. But that faith and devotion would have necessarily, by the circumstances of his afflictions, been relegated to the confines of his own home and his own heart – it would not have been permitted to be expressed in places of public worship. So, for the first time in his life, this man is able to publicly proclaim praise to God.

For us, “the physical restoration of the [man] represents the ability to hear and see spiritually which is given to those who believe in Jesus” (Hooker, 184). This is very important, for as New Testament scholar Pheme Perkins points out, “unless people can tell others what they know, they do not really know it. Believers need to recognize the need to speak about their experience of salvation. They speak to others in testimony and to God in thanksgiving and praise” (Perkins, 613). In his newly acquired ability to speak properly, the man was able to express what he believed. And undoubtedly, because of the miracle that he had just experienced, that expression of what he believed was far stronger and emphatic than anything he had thought about or felt in his heart up to this point.

“Ephphatha,” while foreign to the Greek-speaking inhabitants of the region, was not a “magic” word, like “abracadabra” – it was a common Aramaic word – a common word in the language Jesus spoke regularly. Mark records it to emphasize the power that a magic word would be thought to have (Gundry, 384). But the power and significance that the word had was far beyond a command for the ears to be opened and the tongue to be loosed. “Jesus addresses the word, not to the man’s ears, but to the man himself” (Gundry, 384) – to be open to healing, but also to be open to receiving the love of God – the love of God that makes the healing possible – the healing that is the sign of God’s love. Therefore, that one word, “Ephphatha,” expresses the obvious opening of the man’s ears and loosening of his tongue. But it also expresses his openness to God’s love, manifested in his healing, and his openness to publicly express his faith and to proclaim the love of God that he has experienced first-hand through the miracle bestowed at the hands of Jesus. Jesus is addressing the word to the man, with the intent that it be heard by all of us – “Ephphatha” – be opened.

So what does “Ephphatha” mean for us? For those of us who are able to hear and to speak? For those of us who are able to publicly proclaim our faith? Obviously, this word, spoken to us, today, in this place, is not in response to physical deafness or muteness. Rather, it is in response to a spiritual deafness, which leads to a spiritual muteness. Or rather, I should more appropriately say it is in response to the potential for spiritual deafness, which leads to spiritual muteness.

Merriam-Webster’s On-Line Dictionary defines “deaf” as “lacking or deficient in the sense of hearing : unwilling to hear or listen.” “Mute” is defined as being “unable to speak : lacking the power of speech : characterized by absence of speech: as felt or experienced but not expressed.” If we are spiritually deaf, we are unwilling or unable to hear or listen to what God is saying to us, what God is calling us to do or be. If this happens, the likely result is spiritual muteness – a condition in which we may have felt or experienced God’s grace and mercy, but are not able to express it. It’s not that we haven’t had experiences of grace in our lives. It’s more a matter of either not having the language to express it, or not having recognized God working in our lives because we have, for whatever reason, tuned out God’s voice.

I don’t mean to come off as accusatory or unduly harsh. Spiritual deafness is nothing to be ashamed of. It’s part of being human. I believe in large part that it is a symptom of our current age and society. It has been since at least the Enlightenment, if not before. I myself have been known to suffer from this affliction. Let me tell you about one of my “Ephphatha” experiences – perhaps my biggest “Ephphatha” experience.

Ever since high school, I have struggled with a sense of being called to ordained ministry. Invariably, I would be going along my merry way, engrossed in my own life, when all of a sudden I would get this overwhelming feeling that God was calling me to ordained ministry. Being basically happy with my life the way it was, I would generally just ignore those feelings, and they would go away. The spiritual equivalent of sticking your fingers in your ears and saying loudly, “La la la la la, I can’t hear you.” And sure enough, God would go away. So I would continue with my life for awhile, until, boom, there were those feelings again. This went on for a number of years. I would have months of uninterrupted bliss and then God would pop in again with the same old request. I don’t remember when exactly it was, but ignoring these periodic interruptions by the Divine just didn’t seem to work anymore. I suppose it made God happy that I was finally listening. God now had my attention, but I still had no intention of actually hearing, let along acting.

I decided that I needed to change my approach. So, I began arguing with God. I came up with all sorts of great reasons why I shouldn’t go into the priesthood – all sorts of roadblocks to preclude me from following God’s call. Even though I wasn’t listening to God, God seemed to be listening to me. God took the hint and left me alone. And I continued with my contented little life. For a little while, anyway. But God can be persistent. After a while, God would come back with the same old request. And I can be very stubborn. I would rattle off the same list of excuses, plus any new ones I have come up with. This went on for years – the battle of wills between God and yours truly. Over time the frequency between interruptions became shorter and shorter, and the intensity of the encounters with God became stronger and stronger. Eventually, the sense of call became so intense that I finally had to give in to God and start listening to what God was saying – to start really hearing the message. I realized that I had to be open to God. And the rest, as they say, is history. But one of the things that I learned through the experience was that when I really listened to what God was asking and was open to God, I was blessed beyond measure. All the roadblocks I had thrown up disappeared, and all the problems I anticipated never materialized. God took care of it all.

As Johann Wolfgang von Goethe once commented, “The moment one definitely commits oneself then Providence moves too. All sorts of things occur to help that would never otherwise have occurred. A whole stream of events issues from the decision, raising in one's favor all manner of unforeseen incidents, meetings, and material assistance, which no man would have dreamed would come his way” (Johann Wolfgang von Goethe). But if I am brutally honest with myself, I still have bouts with spiritual deafness. Only now, it’s more a matter of just plain not hearing, as opposed to willfully tuning out or ignoring God. Having completely turned my life upside down to follow God’s calling, I know better. I know the love and mercy of God that Goethe was talking about. Sometimes I just get too wrapped up in what I’m doing and don’t take time to listen for God’s voice. That gentle voice gets drowned out by the cacophony that is my own thoughts and frenetic activity.

That’s one of my own examples of struggling with spiritual deafness. Perhaps you have your own, to some extent or another. So how do we counteract the affliction of spiritual deafness? We need to learn to listen in a new way. Rather, we first need to be opened to listening, to hearing, in a new way. As today’s Gospel demonstrates, Jesus has spoken the invitation to allow that to happen – “Ephphatha” – be opened. He has spoken those words to us a number of times. They are spoken to us every time we walk into this place. They are spoken to us and made part of us by virtue of our baptisms. They are spoken to us and reinforced every time we approach this table to participate in the Eucharist and partake of Christ’s Body and Blood.

Sometimes the invitation to “Ephphatha” can actually be heard with the ears. Sometimes it is heard in the words of Scripture – possibly even an old familiar passage you have heard numerous times before, but then you hear it as with new ears, speaking to you in a way it never has before. Sometimes it is heard in the words of our prayers – in the Prayers of the People or a collect or the Eucharistic Prayer. Sometimes it is heard in a hymn sung by the congregation or an anthems sung by the choir. And hopefully, on occasion, it is heard in the words of a sermon.

But the invitation to “Ephphatha” is not always heard with our ears. More often than not, the invitation to be opened is not audible, but is conveyed in more subtle ways. Maybe it is experienced in the gentle smile of a fellow parishioner. Or maybe felt through a handshake or an embrace during the Peace. Or perhaps it is conveyed in a kind gesture or a helping hand. In these cases, the invitation of “Ephphatha” is only discerned as a gut feeling – it is felt in the heart. You may not know it at the time, but that’s what’s happening. The Spirit is issuing you a subtle invitation to be opened – to be opened to the love of God as manifested through another person.

To more fully hear what God is saying to us, our hearts need to be opened – opened to the Word proclaimed in the liturgy, and to the inaudible word proclaimed in the actions of those around us. We need to start listening with our hearts. I wish I had some magic formula for how to make that happen. But as Rabbi David A. Cooper comments, “Our work is not so much to find a teacher as to improvise our own receptivity and sharpen our ability to hear the teachings all around us” (Brussat, 283). What I can offer is the example of the deaf-mute in today’s Gospel lesson. What his example tells us is that to be able to listen with our hearts, we need to be open to the healing power of Christ – to the knowledge that regardless of who we are or what we have done, Christ offers and gives the gift of healing – the gift of hearing in a new way, with our hearts.

In his book Silence of Unknowing, Terence Grant, a specialist in Eastern and Christian mysticism, offers the following suggestion: “If we want to learn more about Christ, if we want to experience Christ more deeply in our lives, then we have to be open to things that might seem alien, threatening to us” (Grant, 35). We must allow ourselves to be open, to be vulnerable, to be willing to trust in the God who gives us these experiences – and to be willing to take the time to sit in silence with those experiences, with the God who reveals Godself in them, and to discern what is being spoken from the heart of God to our own hearts.

Receiving the gift of healing and hearing requires that we respond in some way. As demonstrated in the Gospel lesson, the opening of the heart that occurs not only brings new hearing, but also a new ability to speak. We gain the ability, even the uncontrollable desire to proclaim God’s glory and praise. This serves as an example to others, just as the deaf man is an example to us. And while not specifically discussed in the Gospel, Jesus’ overall message is clear – we are called to be opened to others. We are called to help others to hear the word of God. We are called to help others be healed and transformed into the persons God has called them to be, just as we are being transformed into who God is calling us to be. And we are called to help others speak – to speak for those who have not been heard by society, so that they too may be healed and transformed into who God is calling them to be.

“The basis of the Good News about Jesus in Mark's Gospel is that Jesus restores people to community. His healings are about incorporating people into a new system where there are no outcasts” (Br. Clark Berge, SSF). Christ died so that we might be healed, that we might be given a new way of hearing and speaking, that we may no longer be alienated from God or each other, but be restored to community. We are called to be open to God’s message; to be open to the possibilities; to live into that example; to proclaim the love and mercy that God has for all creation; and, in the process, to welcome each other into a new way of being where we are all sisters and brothers, inextricably linked in and through the heart of God.

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


References

Bain, Alistair. “Thirteenth Sunday After Pentecost, Year B.” Sermons That Work: Selected Sermons, September 2000 (5 September 2006).

Berge, Clark. “Thirteenth Sunday After Pentecost, Year B.” Sermons That Work: Selected Sermons, September 2000 (5 September 2006).

Brussat, Frederic and Mary Ann. Spiritual Literacy: Reading the Sacred in Everyday Life. New York: Simon & Schuster, 1996.

Grant, Terence. The Silence of Unknowing: The Key to the Spiritual Life. Liguori, MO: Liguori/Triumph, 1995.

Gundry, Robert H. Mark: A Commentary on His Apology for the Cross. Grand Rapids, MI: William B. Eerdmans Publishing Company, 1993.

Hooker, Morna D. The Gospel According to Mark. In Black’s New Testament Commentaries series. London: Hendrickson Publishers, 1991.

Perkins, Pheme. “The Gospel of Mark: Introduction, Commentary, and Reflection.” In Vol. VIII of The New Interpreter’s Bible. Edited by Leander E. Keck, et al. Nashville: Abingdon Press, 1995.

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First Searmon at St. Alban's Westwood

Proper 14 – Year B
Deuteronomy 8:1-10; Psalm 34:1-8; Ephesians 4:(25-29)30-5:2; John 6:37-51
Sunday, August 13, 2006 – St. Alban’s, Westwood

In my former life, prior to going to seminary and being ordained as a deacon, I was a transportation planner. My job was to look at the amount of traffic using particular intersections, roadways and freeways; analyze the operations; compare those operations with local and state standards; and, if the operations did not meet the specified standards, determine what improvements would be needed to improve operations to satisfactory levels – admittedly, a losing battle in Southern California. Having done that type of work for nearly 20 years, I tend to approach life from a very rational, planning and engineering based approach. For me, like most of us, things need to make logical sense.

That being said, the transportation planner in me has a really hard time understanding why it took Moses and the Hebrews 40 years to go from Egypt to Canaan. Straight line, that’s only about 170 miles. I know traffic around here is really bad, but even in LA, it wouldn’t take 40 years to go 170 miles. Although, there are times when it seems like it. So what’s with this 40 years of wandering in the wilderness? Even at a leisurely pace, it should have taken Moses and company a few weeks, a month max, to get to the Promised Land. So what happened?

Now, there’s a really bad joke that the reason it took 40 years was because Moses was a typical man and would not stop to ask for directions. But I think that today’s Old Testament lesson tells us just the opposite. The Book of Deuteronomy purports to be Moses’ farewell address to the people, occurring near the end of the 40 year journey. In this address, delivered on the plains of Moab, just across the Jordan from Canaan, the Promised Land, Moses recounts the mighty acts of God, solemnly warns the people of the temptations that await them in their new home, and “pleads for loyalty to and love of God as the condition for life in the Promised Land” (Oxford Study Bible). Moses tells the people, “Remember the long way that the Lord your God has led you these forty years in the wilderness, in order to humble you, testing you to know what was in your heart, whether or not you would keep his commandments” (Deut. 8:2). The time in the wilderness was not aimless wandering, as appears on first glance. Rather, this time of wandering had a specific purpose. It was a time of teaching and of testing. It was a time which God used to establish a covenant with the people – a covenant in which they would be God’s people, and He would be their only god. More importantly, it was a time for God to educate Moses and the people about what it means to be in covenant.

Like any learning process, there was a period of testing and of humbling. The time in the wilderness was a time when, as the people really began to learn what it meant to be in covenant, the more they realized how flawed they were and how unworthy they were to be selected to be God’s chosen people. They came to realize that it was a great privilege to be God’s chosen people. They also learned, or rather experienced first-hand, that that no matter how badly they missed the mark, no matter how badly they messed up, God would not abandon them – that God would still be their God, and would ultimately lead them to the land God had promised to them. God provided care for the Hebrews in the wilderness, proving God’s faithfulness to the people. But it was not without cost. Like so many learning experiences in life, it was not easy. There was a period of uncertainty and of pain, as the lessons were learned, absorbed, and made part of the very being of the people. This came in the form of challenges and temptations of disobedience, something that was felt by these rag-tag wanderers for the first time. Ultimately, Israel is humbled by the experience. The “seriousness of the intent to maintain loyalty to God’s covenant had been tested and the consequences of disobedience had begun to be felt” (NIB, 355).

As Moses reminds the people of the hard lessons learned over the past 40 years, his message is consistent. The people are to “remember that the Lord God who have [them] the land also gave [them] the commandments to observe” (NIB, 354). God has given them a firm and indisputable foundation upon which to build their lives, both individually and as a community – the foundation upon which they are to live and die as the chosen people of God – the Ten Commandments. Moses reminds them of their hunger and their thirst in the wilderness – the physical hunger they experienced, sated by manna, a gift from God; the thirst they experienced, satisfied by water gushing from a rock, again a gift from God. Yes, God provided for the physical needs throughout the 40 years of wandering. But then Moses tells the people that “one does not live by bread alone, but by every word that comes from the mouth of the Lord” (Deut. 8:3).

Old Testament scholar Ronald Clements notes that in this simple, well-known statement is demonstrated the indisputable truth that “God’s care is sufficient for all human needs. To ask for more than this becomes a mark of human arrogance and greed, with a consequent loss of the essential perception that the most fundamental of all human needs are spiritual. Accordingly, the Word of God is the most precious gift, and it alone makes possible life within the divine order” (NIB, 356). More important than providing for the physical needs of the people, God provides for their spiritual needs. The people have known poverty and have been satisfied. But, as Clements notes, “Real poverty is poverty of the spirit” (NIB, 357). That’s what the 40 years in the wilderness was about – it was about teaching the people, or rather letting the people come to the realization on their own, that their spiritual needs, and their spiritual fulfillment, were far more important than satisfying ordinary physical needs.

After the 40 years of wandering in the wilderness, the people are on the threshold of the Promised Land. To describe what awaits, Moses tells the people, “the Lord your God is bringing you into a good land, a land with flowing streams, with springs and underground waters welling up in valleys and hills, a land of wheat and barley, of vines and fig trees and pomegranates, a land of olive trees and honey, a land where you may eat bread without scarcity, where you will lack nothing” (Deut. 8:6-9). We’re back to a description of the physical – of what the new land will be like, what will be provided by God. The delights promised are a far cry from the manna, the quail, and the water provided by God in the wilderness. What is promised are delights far greater and more extravagant than what they have had in the past 40 years. What they had in the wilderness were rations for mere physical subsistence. What will be had in their new home is a veritable feast. What they had in the wilderness was bologna sandwiches and water. What will be available in their new home will be lobster, filet mignon, caviar, and champagne.

What is not described is the care for the spiritual needs. But I think we can read between the lines here. If the spiritual needs and their fulfillment are far more important than the physical needs; and the provision for the physical needs will be far more extravagant than anything they have ever known, how much more will their spiritual needs be met in this new land? The Hebrews are coming out of a period of spiritual struggle and poverty, of basic spiritual subsistence, into a time of unlimited spiritual riches and fulfillment – into a time when, with the guidance of the foundation established by their time in the wilderness, they will have the opportunity to grow spiritually in ways as yet unimagined. They will have the opportunity to fully live into what it means to be in covenant, in partnership, with God, to be God’s chosen people, to be God’s beloved children.

Before we move on, I’d like us to stop for a moment and have each of us think about our own personal wilderness experiences – about those times in your life when you have felt like you are wandering in the wilderness, lost, alone, without anyone to take care of your needs, be they physical or spiritual – or both. How did you get through those times of wandering? Who came through in those times of need, to provide you with relief, to help guide you to a new land, filled with promise and hope? And what did you learn about yourself through this time of wandering, or in looking back with new eyes? It’s not always easy, and it may take some doing, but in that experience, where was God working in your life, caring for you, leading you to a new land? If you look hard enough, you will find God there – working through the circumstances, working through some unlikely Moses, to lead you to a new life.

Or do you still feel like you’re wandering, in need of someone to care for you, to provide for your needs? Each circumstance is unique, but God has promised to be with us, to guide us through the wilderness, and to care for us on that journey – just as he promised the Hebrews. That’s not to say that things will be easy. They weren’t always easy for the Hebrews. But in the end, we, like them, will be transformed and strengthened – but only if we have the courage to stick it out and follow God and whatever Moses God provides for us, to be a guide and companion on the journey. Ultimately, like the Hebrews, we will be brought to a new land, to a new life, filled with good things.

The same goes for communities of faith. A community, like this congregation, is a living, breathing, organism. As a community, there are times when we may feel like we have lost our way and are wandering in the wilderness, trying to find our way to a new life together – a life in which we are faithful to the one who called us into being. God, too, is in the midst of all this, guiding us and encouraging us, if we will only suspend our own desires, if we will only listen and follow, if we will allow ourselves to be humbled.

So how do we get through our wandering and to a new place filled with life and joy? Easy! Faith and perseverance. Okay, maybe not easy, but certainly doable, if we just give it a shot, if we just humble ourselves to follow God’s will as opposed to our own. God promised Moses and the Hebrews a good life, filled with good things; a life in which people would want for nothing, and be filled with all that they need. Out of faith, they trusted in God’s promises and were willing to follow – even though it meant years of wandering, being tempted, and being humbled. By remaining faithful to their covenant with God, they were ultimately transformed into the people God was calling them to be – the chosen people of God, and brought into a new land and a new life.

Just as God promised the Hebrews a good life, so too, Jesus makes a similar promise in today’s Gospel lesson from John. In fact, Jesus promises an even better life – eternal life. Jesus says “This is indeed the will of my Father, that all who see the Son and believe in him may have eternal life; and I will raise them up on the last day” (John 6:40). This is one of the greatest promises Christ gives us – that we can have eternal life. Unlike the Hebrews, we are not promised a life in a new land that will only last as long as we live. Rather, we are promised that that new life will last beyond this life – that it will last forever.

Not only that, but the conditions are incredibly easy. Jesus expands on this life-giving offer, by saying, “I am the living bread that came down from heaven. Whoever eats of this bread will live forever; and the bread that I will give for the life of the world is my flesh” (John 6:51). This is how Christ fulfills his promise to us – that he gives himself, his very flesh, his very humanity. He gives his life for us, so that we may have eternal life.

How do we obtain this eternal life? Again, the answer is so simple. Merely by believing in Him, we will be given the gift of eternal life with him. No strings attached. All we have to do is believe that He is the Son of God, believe that he came into the world to save us, to protect us, to fulfill our needs, and to guide us through the wilderness into a new life – a life in which all our needs will be met beyond our wildest dreams – and not just for the rest of our lives, but forever. Unlike the manna, which God gave the Hebrews to sustain them in the wilderness, and unlike the land of wheat and barley, the land where we may eat bread without scarcity, Jesus is God’s true life-giving gift to the world. Jesus’ flesh is the bread that will give eternal life.

This is not just Jesus’ doing. It is the will of God, the Father. Jesus says “No one can come to me unless drawn by the Father who sent me” (John 6:44) and that “Everyone who has heard and learned from the Father comes to me” (John 6:45). God has taken the initiative. God prompts us to seek Christ. God invites us to accept Jesus and believe in Him. God offers us the gift of his Son, not just the bread of life, but the bread of eternal life. It is up to us how we respond. God does not force us to say “yes.” God does not place impossible conditions or restrictions on our acceptance. God extends the invitation to all, and wants us to accept, to say “yes” to redemption and to eternal life. “God’s initiative toward humanity is held in tension with human decision and response.” The choice is ultimately ours.

What do we have to lose by not accepting God’s invitation? Absolutely nothing! What do we have to gain? Everything. We gain eternal life. We gain a guide and companion to guide us through those wilderness experiences in our lives, a caretaker who will provide for all our needs, physical and spiritual, as we journey through this life into the life eternal. And unlike the Hebrews who had to wait 40 years for results, the benefits to us are immediate. We don’t have to wait. Merely by accepting the invitation, we gain a foretaste of eternal life. As we gather in this community to pray, worship, and fellowship, we obtain a glimpse of the joy to be had in the company of the saints. As we gather at the Table and partake of Christ’s Body and Blood, we are given a glimpse of the life-giving sustenance that will be ours at the eternal heavenly banquet. In this, Christ has given us a firm and indisputable foundation upon which to live and die as the chosen people of God.

In one of my favorite verses from the Psalms, which we read today, the Psalmist says “Taste and see that the Lord is good; happy are they who trust in him” (Ps 34:8). “Taste and see that the Lord is good.” This is the promise of what awaits us if we accept. We will have great joy if we open ourselves to experiencing God’s goodness and mercy, available to us through the Eucharist, through the Body of Christ, through one another living in community, and through all of God’s creation. But this is only a glimpse, only a pale imitation, only a foretaste, of the joy we will experience for eternity, as we enter into eternal life with Christ – into eternal life made possible by Christ’s gift to us. Like the early Hebrews, our forebears, we are standing on the threshold of a new land, of a new time, of a new way of being. God has issued the invitation for us to enter. Christ has provided the means of our entry into eternal life. All we need to do is humble ourselves, accept the invitation, and step over the threshold to a new life.

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Farewell Sermon at St. Francis of Assisi

Trinity Sunday – Year B
Exodus 3:16; Romans 8:12-17; John 3:1-16
Sunday, June 11, 2006 – St. Francis of Assisi Episcopal Church, San Bernardino

There is a scene early in the musical “The Sound of Music” in which the Mother Superior and the other nuns are discussing some issues surrounding Maria, a novice at the abbey. Maria appears to be unruly and unpredictable, not abiding by the expectations and norms of the community. She is always late for chapel services, is never where she is expected to be, and does not always perform the duties that are expected of the members of the religious community. Maria clearly lives life on her own terms. This is not to say that she is not religious or that she does not have a solid relationship with God. Quite the contrary. As the musical unfolds, it becomes obvious that Maria, despite her apparent disregard for human authority, does answer to a higher authority. She is prompted by a spirit that others in her life just do not seem to comprehend. It is in contemplating this enigmatic situation, this enigmatic young nun, that the older, seemingly wiser nuns break into song, singing “How do you solve a problem like Maria?”

As I contemplate the enigmatic entity we know as the Trinity, I am tempted to break into song, along with those Austrian nuns, “How do you solve a problem like the Trinity?” As a lay person, I often heard a number of clergy persons comment that they really do not like preaching on Trinity Sunday. They tend to find it difficult to prepare sermons on such a complex topic, at least in such a way that makes the concept of the Trinity readily understandable to people who do not have formal theological education. They would just as soon have someone else bear the burden of attempting to edify their congregations on the subject. Now that I am a member of the ordained clergy, I am beginning to see why my colleagues feel that way. Even for those of us with formal theological education, who have spent three or more years studying such concepts as the Trinity, it is difficult to get our minds around the subject, let alone to actually articulate any coherent thoughts on the matter.

The primary problem, at least as far as I am concerned, is that the concept of the Trinity is just too mysterious for our human minds to comprehend, at least in its totality. Yes, we can look at the various Persons of the Trinity, the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit, and attempt to describe what we know of each. Holy Scripture provides us with some insight into each Person of the Trinity. But what is contained in Scripture does not provide a complete picture of the Trinity in its entirety. In fact, other than the Trinitarian formula of baptizing a person in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, there is not unified reference to or explanation of the Trinity. What we do know, we have to piece together from various references to the individual Persons in the New Testament. For 2,000 years, theologians have been pondering, debating, and arguing over the specific nature of the Trinity, and the relationship between the three Persons of the Trinity. In the early church, various sects of Christianity were formed because of differing understandings of the Trinity. Each sect considered the others heretical for their beliefs. Church councils were convened to resolve the heresies. And while we have come to some common understandings within Christianity, there is still disagreement on the subject.

But I’m going to let you in on a little secret. There is an answer for every complex theological issue, including the nature and relationship of the Trinity. And that answer is, “It’s a mystery.” My theology professor, Ellen Wondra, always hated when we used that answer in class discussions. But she was the one who provided us with that answer. Of course, to prevent us from using it as a cop-out, to prevent us from avoiding struggling with difficult issues, we were only allowed to use “it’s a mystery” in the last ten minutes of class.

But when it comes to the Trinity, I firmly believe that it is a mystery. After all, how can the three Persons of the Trinity also be one Person? How can the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit be separate entities, but at the same time be one God? How can one Person also be three Persons? How can we believe in one God, who also breaks down into three separate Persons that are complete in and of them selves? It’s enough to give you a headache. If the best theological minds of the last 2,000 years have not solved the issue, it’s no wonder we struggle with the concept. And why? Because it’s a mystery.

But I don’t want to use that as a cop-out. It is a fact. There are just some things about God, and by extension, the Trinity, that we cannot know in our limited human existence. Even though we cannot know all there is to know about God and the Trinity, we still experience the actions and movement of the Trinity in our lives, both individually and communally. Through those actions and movement, we can get some sort of understanding of the Trinity. We may not have answers about the existential nature of the Trinity, but we can and do have insight into the experiential nature of the Trinity.

Our lesson from Paul’s Letter to the Romans provides us with some insight. Paul tells us in verse 14 that “all who are led by the Spirit of God are children of God”. In verses 16 and 17, he goes on to explain that “When we cry, ‘Abba, Father!” it is that very Spirit bearing witness with our spirit that we are children of God and if children, then heirs, heirs to God and joint heirs with Christ”. The thread that runs through these references is that of relationship – the relationship among the various Persons of the Trinity, and our relationship to them. We know that Christ is the Son of God, the Son who is sent by the Father to establish direct human relationship with us, and to be our redemption. The Son is sent to reconcile God’s beloved creation, us, to God’s-self. In so doing, we are made God’s children by adoption. But there is just one tiny problem. While Christ provides the human connection between God and humanity, Christ is no longer physically present to provide that direct connection in an ongoing way. The Father and the Son are in direct relationship. But something more is needed to extend that relationship to us, to God’s creation, so that we may be in direct relationship with the Father and the Son. That’s where the Holy Spirit comes in.

According to the Nicene Creed, the profession of our faith that we pray nearly every Sunday, the Holy Spirit “proceeds from the Father and the Son.” The Father and the Son are in direct relationship and together, they send the Holy Spirit. Gail Ramshaw, Professor of Religion at LaSalle University, notes that “For Paul, the Spirit is the power of the resurrected Christ alive and operative in the community of the baptized: the Spirit of God is nothing other than the Spirit of Christ” (Ramshaw, 375-6). The Holy Spirit, at once the Spirit of God the Father and the Spirit of Christ the Son, allows for a direct connection, a direct relationship between God, Christ, and us.

While we cannot directly know God, nor can we be in direct contact with Christ because of his death, resurrection, and ascension, we can know and be in relationship with them through the power of the Holy Spirit. Like any relationship, the parties involved have an ongoing, transformative affect on each other, if they allow such transformation to occur. We cannot know how we might affect God or the Holy Spirit, but we know the Holy Spirit certainly affects us, if we let her. As Ramshaw states, “The passage in Romans 8, in which Paul writes of Christians calling God Abba, Father, stresses our life as led by the Spirit of God. Because the baptized people now embody the Spirit that Christ once embodied, we stand before God in the same relationship that Christ enjoyed. The verses 15-16 suggest that Paul is not laying down a law about the church’s address in prayer as much as explaining the ongoing power of the Spirit of God among the baptized” (Ramshaw, 377). That power of the Spirit, operating among us, is the force that provides the bond that allows us to experience relationship with the remainder of the Trinity, with the Father and the Son.

The power of the Holy Spirit, operating in our lives, is also manifest in another important way. Again, we turn to Gail Ramshaw, who notes that “In some of the biblical images of inspiration by the Spirit, the recipient is an individual. However, many passages of the Old and New Testaments describe the Spirit as alighting on the whole community (Ramshaw, 377). “It is in the baptized community that we experience most fully the Spirit of the Creator, which for Christians is the same as the Sprit of the resurrected Christ” (Ramshaw, 377-8). For me, this is one of the most important functions of the Holy Spirit, to provide the energizing force that makes possible community, particularly the community that is the Body of Christ. Now that is not to say that community is not possible without the Holy Spirit. Rather, the type of community that occurs in the Church is only possible through the Spirit.

The Holy Spirit is understood by the church to be “the mysterious power or presence of God in nature or with individuals and community, inspiring or empowering them with qualities they would not otherwise posses. The term ‘spirit’ translates Hebrew and Greek words denoting ‘wind,’ ‘breath,’ and by extension, a life-giving element.” The Spirit, which is the Sprit of the Creator and the Spirit of the resurrected Christ, provides the unifying force that connects us with both the Father and the Son, providing us with life inseparably bound together with that of the Father and the Son. The Spirit makes possible our life with God and with Christ.

Because the Spirit infuses the community and the individual members of the community with the life-giving connection with God and Christ, the members of the community, by extension, have a special bond with each other. This is a bond empowered by the Holy Spirit, as inseparable and as intimate as is the bond between God and Christ. It is just such a bond that we enjoy here at St. Francis, a bond that is intimate and inseparable.

One of the key aspects of the Holy Spirit is her unpredictability, particularly in the way she influences our lives. In our Gospel lesson, John tells us that “The wind blows where it chooses, and you hear the sound of it, but you do not know where it comes from or where it goes. So it is with everyone who is born of the Spirit” (John 3:8). “The divine Spirit is a mysterious wind, which we realize without seeing, which we honor without understanding. The good news is that the Spirit of God is always higher, always lower, more powerful and more pervasive, than we have yet imagined it to be” (Ramshaw, 378). So it is with everyone who lives in community energized and made possible by the Spirit. The Spirit moves us, influences us, in unexpected ways. And being a community energized by the Spirit, we influence each other and are transformed by each other in unexpected ways, in ways we have yet to imagine.

If you question this, think about times when a member of this faith community has reached out to you in a time of need; or said a kind word when you were down; or challenged you to do something that you might not otherwise have tried. The ways in which this community and its members have influenced each other are numerous, and in many ways, unintended, unexpected, and unimagined. While I cannot speak to how each member of this community has influenced and transformed other individual members or the community as a whole, I can speak to its impacts on my life, to your impact on my life.

I came to this community nearly 16 years ago, on St. Francis Day of 1990. Having just moved to the area, I was searching for a new church home. I walked in late, because I thought the service began at 9:30. Being St. Francis Day, there was only one service beginning at 9:00. So I walked in right in the middle of Father David’s sermon. The place was packed, so I stood in the back of the church. After a couple of minutes, Ken Mann noticed that I was standing back there, got up, came to me, and took me to sit with him and Mary. I was a stranger, but I was made welcome, to feel like a special guest. I knew in that moment that this was a place in which the Spirit was obviously active, energizing the community to be the Body of Christ. I knew this was a place that I could call home.

Over the last 16 years, this community has been an integral part of my life. You have provided me with opportunities to grow in my faith. You have provided me with opportunities to explore and participate in leadership, teaching, liturgical, and pastoral roles. You have challenged my views and beliefs. You have challenged me to take on roles and responsibilities that I didn’t think I was capable of or ready for – roles and responsibilities that you knew I could handle and was ready for. You have supported me, prayed for me, and nurtured me. And through all of this, you were slowly and systematically lifting me up to God’s service. You were helping me to discern and realize my true calling. And with your gentle yet pervasive and persuasive encouragement, I finally made the ultimate leap of faith – to give up my career and embark on the journey toward ordained ministry.

And now, after all these years, your work is done. I have accomplished that which you have challenged me and lifted me up to do. I walked into this place 16 years ago a lay person seeking a church home, and I walk out today, an ordained member of the clergy, seeking to do God’s work in the world – work that you have helped prepare me to do.

But even though I may be leaving, your influence will still be with me. For me, this is vividly illustrated in a story told by Peggy Tabor Millen, in Mary’s Way. She writes:

“I was on a train on a rainy day. The train was slowing down to pull into a station. For some reason I became intent on watching the raindrops on the window. Two separate drops, pushed by the wind, merged into one for a moment and then divided again–each carrying with it a part of the other. Simply by that momentary touching, neither was what it had been before. And as each one went on to touch other raindrops, it shared not only itself, but what it had gleaned from the other. I saw this metaphor many years ago and it is one of my most vivid memories. I realized then that we never touch people so lightly that we do not leave a trace.”

This is how the Trinity works in our lives. Through the power of the Holy Spirit, which blows in, mysteriously touching our lives, we are transformed and inseparably bonded to the Father and the Son, even though we may not be able to touch them or see them. As a community, we are inseparably bonded to each other. We transform each other in unexpected ways. And even when we may mo longer be together, we are still part of each other, still influencing each other, still transforming each other. And we go on to touch the lives of others, and when we do so, we share with them a part of those who have previously touched us. And the process continues, extending the web of connection among us, all because of the power of the Trinity, made manifest in our lives by and through the Holy Spirit. How does this happen? It’s a mystery—a mystery of relationship, made possible by God, in Christ, through the Holy Spirit—a mystery of the relationship of the Trinity, and of our relationship with the Trinity. But thanks be to God for that mysterious power of the Trinity which binds us to God, to Christ, and to one another.

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First Sermon as an Ordained Person

Day of Pentecost – Year B (RCL)
Acts 2:1-21; Psalm 104:25-35, 37b; Romans 8:22-27; John 15:26-27, 16:4b-15
Sunday, June 4, 2006 – St. Bede’s Episcopal Church, Los Angeles

Can you feel it? Something awesome is about to happen – something unparalleled in the history of the entire world. And we are witnesses to it. More importantly, we are all heirs to it.

Today is Pentecost, the celebration of the coming of the Holy Spirit, often referred to as the birthday of the church. The central lesson for this day is the account of the first Pentecost as recorded by Luke in the Acts of the Apostles. Luke tells us of a new beginning, of our beginning as Christians.

We all know about new beginnings. We have all experienced them – starting school for the very first time; graduation from high school; graduation from college; starting a new job or changing careers; marriage or entering into a committed relationship; having children; moving to a new city; or even just to a new house; retirement. In the last three years, I have gone through enough new beginnings to last me a lifetime. In the last 48 hours alone, I’ve experienced a number of new beginnings. On Friday, I graduated from seminary with my Masters of Divinity degree. Yesterday, I was ordained into the Sacred Order of Deacons. And today I begin my ministry as an ordained person, serving God, the church, and the world.

New beginnings are terribly exciting. There is the sense of excitement and exhilaration at the prospect of starting something new, of becoming someone new, of entering into new possibilities. There is a sense of anticipation about what will yet be. But, at the same time, new beginnings can bring a sense of uncertainty. By human nature, we generally like to know what’s going on. As a result, new beginnings hold an element of the unknown, potentially bringing with them a sense of confusion, questioning, or even fear. What will this new thing, this new phase of my life look like? What will it feel like? How will I be changed by the experience?

Most of the new beginnings we undertake tend to be planned to some degree. We can anticipate their coming, and as a result, have the opportunity to prepare ourselves. But that was not the case with the Disciples on that first Pentecost. Prior to his Ascension, Jesus did tell them that they would be baptized with the Holy Spirit “not many days from now.” But they had no idea specifically when that would happen, or what that would look or feel like. Luke tells us that the Disciples and other followers of Jesus were together when “suddenly from heaven there came a sound like the rush of a violent wind.” The closest thing I can think of are freak thunderstorms that often occur in the Midwest and in the desert. One minute, it can be bright and sunny outside. And then all of a sudden, the wind kicks up, clouds roll in, there is a loud clap of thunder, and the sky opens up, dumping rain. Now imagine that happening in your living room. That’s what the Disciples would have experienced – well without the rain. It would have been a most startling experience.

And then, as if that weren’t enough, a bunch of strange things began happening. Tongues of fire appeared, resting on each person present. And then everyone started talking in their native languages, but despite this, each person was still able to understand what the others were saying. Luke tells us that in amongst all these events, those in attendance were bewildered, amazed, and perplexed. I should think so!

It was with this preamble that the Holy Spirit burst on the scene, starting something new. But how, exactly does this constitute something new, rather than just a bizarre experience? What did this bursting in of the Holy Spirit mean for those gathered, for the followers of Jesus? And what does it mean for us? For this we need to look at the shift that occurs in the course of scripture, particularly in the New Testament.

The account in Acts is a pivotal point in the New Testament. The story moves from being about Jesus to being the story of all Christians. Now of course, Jesus’ story is our story, but the main focus of action in the Gospels is Jesus. What happens in the first four books of the New Testament, in the Gospels, certainly applies to us, but it is not our own doing. Many of the events and parables are learning experiences for the Disciples and are intended to provide the ground rules by which all followers of Jesus are to live. What happens there is done on our behalf, and done to us. But in Acts, the focus shifts. The story becomes one of how the early Christians began to come to grips with life without their beloved Master and teacher, how they struggled with living according to Jesus’ teachings, how they formed a community and began living into their life and identity as Christians. This is only made possible by the Holy Spirit, who brought them together and infused them with the inspiration and the zeal to carry on without the physical presence of their Master.

Jesus was a dynamic teacher. It is easy to follow when you have such a leader that is willing and able to forge the way. But this was the time of the Roman occupation of Judea. The Roman forces in collaboration with the Judean authorities had conspired to kill this dynamic leader who posed a threat to everything they had built and stood for. In such circumstances, it could be considered foolhardy for a ragtag band of fishermen and common folk to attempt to continue a revolution, particularly without their leader. We know from the account of Jesus’ death that after he had been crucified, his followers went into hiding, fearing for their own lives. And rightly so. The Roman forces were among the most methodical and ruthless in the history of the world. They had succeeded in eliminating the threat that Jesus posed to their dominance and order. They would not have wanted any of his followers to rally around a martyr, to keep his dream alive, and to have the opportunity to gain popularity among the citizenry. Played right, martyrs are powerful symbols and can provide even greater zeal for a movement. The Romans would certainly have known this, and would have taken steps to prevent such a thing from happening on their watch. Yes, the Disciples were justified in fearing for their lives.

The fact that Jesus’ followers were still together for some period following his death indicates that they believed in what their Master had taught them. Jesus had instilled in them a zeal that could not be easily squelched by threat of Roman intervention. Thanks to Peter’s leadership and passion, the one who had been Jesus’ right-hand man in the band of Disciples was somehow able to keep the group together and to keep the dream alive. That was undoubtedly not an easy task, given the threat to life and limb faced by anyone who might profess to have been a follower of Jesus of Nazareth. Not to mention the uncertainties they would have had about their own abilities. After all, Jesus was the Son of God. How could a bunch of simple humans continue his work? Given these fears, these uncertainties, the Disciples weren’t sure how to continue what their Master had begun. But with the coming of the Holy Spirit, there was the infusion of new inspiration, confidence, and divine guidance. The movement that Jesus had started took on a life of its own.

Kenneth Scott Latourette, a twentieth century historian whose most famous book was A History of Christianity, writes, “From discouraged, disillusioned men and women who sadly looked back upon the days when they had hoped that Jesus “was he who should redeem Israel,” they were made over into a company of enthusiastic witnesses. From them, faith in Jesus Christ spread rapidly and spontaneously to many centres of the Greco-Roman world and even beyond it. They did not lose their individual characteristics nor were they immediately emancipated from their weaknesses.”

What is particularly interesting is the role of the Disciples in all of this. Latourette continues, noting that “Most of the eleven apostles seem to have remained obscure. As least we do not have authentic reports of most of them after Pentecost. Except as names cherished in the memory of the Church and for stories about them which cannot be verified, the majority of them disappeared from history.” The Holy Spirit inspired the followers of Jesus to continue the revolution by spreading it to the ends of the earth. The remaining eleven Disciples could not have done it on their own. What was needed was a grass-roots movement in which the people were empowered to be messengers of Christ’s teachings. The Holy Spirit provided the needed energy and courage to make this happen. To more fully understand, we need to take a look at who the Holy Spirit is.

The Holy Spirit is understood by the church to be “the mysterious power or presence of God in nature or with individuals and communities, inspiring or empowering them with qualities they would not otherwise posses. The term ‘spirit’ translates Hebrew (ruach) and Greek (pneuma) words denoting ‘wind,’ ‘breath,’ and by extension, a life-giving element. With the adjective ‘holy,’ the reference is to the divine spirit, i.e., the Spirit of God,” sent by God to fulfill God’s purposes.” The Old Testament tells us that the Holy Spirit has always been around. She was present in creation along with God; she provided inspiration and revelation, especially to the prophets; and she serves as God’s presence in the covenantal community. The New Testament expands and significantly transforms the understanding of the Holy Spirit in Christianity. Many New Testament passages suggest that the Holy Spirit is sent jointly from God and the Risen Christ. Because of this, the Holy Spirit comes to represent both the presence and activity of God and the continuing presence of Jesus Christ in the church – providing divine presence and guidance. In John’s view, the spiritual knowledge or insight imparted by the Holy Spirit, unavailable until after Jesus’ death and resurrection, make Christian faith and understanding fully possible for the first time. Hence, the coming of the Holy Spirit to the Disciples on that first Pentecost provided them with the full understanding of their faith and of what Jesus had been trying to tell them during the three years he was with them – understanding of what was already in their hearts and souls, but only needed a catalyst to release it.

An analogy of the Pentecost experience from our own culture is the classic movie, The Wizard of Oz. In the movie, we start off seeing a normal day in the life of one Dorothy Gale, a girl growing up on her aunt and uncle’s farm in Kansas. As with most of us, some days are better than others. And Dorothy was not having a good day. She retreats to the safety of her bedroom, seeking refuge from what she deems a cold, cruel world, and from a cruel authority in the form of Miss Almira Gulch. In the midst of this, a huge storm appears – a tornado, a mighty wind. The wind picks up the house, Dorothy and all, including her beloved Toto. The house lands in a place quite unlike her native Kansas. There she meets all sorts of strange and interesting people such as dancing and singing Munchkins. She goes on a series of adventures as she attempts to get to the Emerald City of Oz, in hopes of finding the Wizard who might be able to help her get back home. Along the way she makes several unlikely friends, including the Scarecrow, the Tin Woodsman, and the Cowardly Lion – friends who exhibit Wisdom, Compassion, and Courage. She also faces a number of dangers including threats by and attacks from the Wicked Witch of the West and her band of flying monkeys.

With the help of their new found friends, Dorothy and Toto make it to the Emerald City, a beautiful city, full of promise and hope. After a few more adventures, including encounters with the cantankerous Wizard and more attacks by the Wicked Witch and her flying monkeys, everything appears to be set for Dorothy to return home. But something goes wrong and Dorothy misses the balloon that is supposed to transport her and the Wizard to Kansas. Glinda, the Good Witch of the North shows up to save the day. She tells Dorothy that she has had the power to return home all along, that all she needs to do is click her heals three times and say “There’s no place like home.” Bidding good-bye to all her new friends, Dorothy takes Toto in her arms, clicks her heals while repeating the magic words, and finds herself in her bedroom in Kansas, surrounded by her family and friends. In that moment, everything seemed to be alright in Dorothy’s world and she understood what is important in life. But what had changed? Were things different at home? Had the people in Kansas changed? No, Dorothy was different. She had changed.

Had Dorothy really been in Oz and been changed by the experiences she had there, or was the whole thing merely a dream? We will never know for sure. But one thing is certain, Dorothy experienced her life in a new light, a light made possible by a journey that began with a rush of wind. It is not so important whether the journey really occurred or whether it was a dream. The important thing was that the journey was ultimately an interior one, in which she was able to go into the depths of her being and discover what was really there. She was able to traverse through the fear and pain in her life, to find her inner spirit, in which resided love and hope. This love-filled and hope-filled spirit was there all along. She just needed some help finding it. And in finding that spirit, she was able to see the world with eyes made open and bright by the spark of the Holy Spirit.

I imagine that was how the Disciples encountered the Holy Spirit on Pentecost. No, they were not transported to a new and strange land, nor did they experience mass hallucinations or dreams. However it happened—and we can’t know that as it is one of the mysteries of how the Holy Spirit works—the Holy Spirit came upon them and touched the hearts and minds and souls of those frightened fugitives. Through her inspiration, she helped them go deep into their very beings, to glimpse their own spirits and souls. And there, just like Dorothy, they found that they had what it takes to continue in the way of life envisioned by their Master, Jesus. They found that they had the strength and courage to risk life and limb, to defy the authorities and the religious and cultural norms of the day, to dare to do something new. Inspired by the Holy Spirit, they dared to continue the revolution that Jesus had started. They knew that even though Jesus was no longer present physically, he was still present in other ways – through the example he had shown them while he was alive, through the teachings he had given them, through the love and hope he had shared with them, and most importantly, through the Holy Spirit that continues Christ’s work in the world – through the Holy Spirit that would use them as instruments to continue Christ’s work in the world.

The Holy Spirit allows us, prompts us, inspires us, to go deep within ourselves to gain an understanding of what it means to be children of God. She provides the means for understanding our faith and our Christian tradition. The story of Pentecost and the entire Book of Acts provide us with the necessary connections between our faith, our life in Christ, and the outward signs of how we live that faith. To this end, the Book of Acts shows us that there is a close connection among four elements important to our Christian faith: the proclamation of the gospel, baptism, the laying on of hands, and the reception of the Holy Spirit. In Acts and in Paul’s letters, reception of the Holy Spirit brings the gifts needed for Christian ministry and extends the presence and power of Christ to each new generation of Christians. Today, in this community, we have the opportunity to witness first hand the coming of the Holy Spirit. We have already witnessed it in the proclamation of the Gospel, both in the hearing of the scripture lessons, and hopefully in this sermon (heaven knows I needed the help of the Holy Spirit in preparing it). But perhaps more important is the fact that we will witness the baptism of Kristen Weirick [at the 10:00 liturgy / in a few minutes]. Today is not only the birthday of the church, it is also Kristen’s spiritual birthday, by virtue of her baptism.

Baptism is one of the two sacraments defined by the church as being central to our identity as Christians (the other being the Eucharist). Baptism is the entrance rite into the covenant community. This rite represents purification, the washing away of sins. In this rite, Kristen will participate in Jesus’ death and resurrection, dying to sin and her former life, and rising to new life in Christ. This act will represent her full incorporation into the Body of Christ and adoption as one of God’s children. The thanksgiving over the baptismal water invokes the imagery of the exodus through the Red Sea, in which the Hebrews crossed over to a new home. Kristen will cross over from her former life into a new home in this faith community and the broader church.

Baptism also carries with it the pouring out of the Holy Spirit on those who are being baptized. When John the Baptist baptized Jesus in the River Jordan, we are told that the Holy Spirit descended upon him and God said “You are my beloved son, with you I am well pleased.” So too, today, as Kristen emerges from the baptismal waters, a changed woman, the Holy Spirit will descend upon her. And in that moment, with the imparting of the Holy Spirit on the newest member of the Body of Christ, we know that God will be saying, “Kristen, you are my beloved daughter, with you I am well pleased.”

Pentecost is a reminder, a celebration, of the coming of the Holy Spirit into our lives and into our community. Pentecost was not a single occurrence that occurred nearly 2,000 years ago. It is an event that occurs for each of us on the day of our baptism, when we arise from the baptismal waters, made new in our life in Christ, at which time the Holy Spirit descends upon us and takes up residence in our hearts, in our souls, and in our lives. Our job, should we dare accept the challenge, is to allow our lives to be transformed by the infusion of the Holy Spirit, and like the Disciples, carry on the revolution, despite the authorities and cultural norms of our own day.

Because of that first Pentecost and the coming of the Holy Spirit, there was a new beginning that 2,000 years later has exploded to engulf the entire world. But there is still more work to be done to transform the world into the kingdom that Christ came to proclaim. We can each do our part, guided by the same Spirit, as we proclaim and live the Gospel to our little pieces of the world. Let us embrace with enthusiasm this new beginning, and all new beginnings provided by our God and our Savior, acting through and guided by the Holy Spirit.

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

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